Celebration's Baby

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  As Charles Jordan stood there looking at her through those too-familiar eyes, she knew in her heart of hearts that the winds of love had indeed blown into her kitchen and that she’d read the signs correctly.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Charles said.

  Maya nodded and clutched the box in front of her, grateful she had something to do with her clumsy hands since she felt as awkward and shy as a schoolgirl.

  Why was this so hard?

  “Would you like to take a walk?” Charles asked. “We can leave the chocolates at the desk.”

  He must’ve sensed her uncertainty, because before she could even answer, he took the box from her and gave it to Maria to hold on to.

  They walked side by side out into the early evening air.

  “It’s the perfect night for a walk,” Charles said. “I’ve been dying to get outside all day. How is business today?”

  Finally, Maya found her voice, thanks to how relaxed Charles was and how easy he was making their time together.

  “It was good, busy,” she said. “But I still found time to make your salted caramels and another surprise.”

  “A surprise? I love surprises.” He slanted her a glance laced with a mischievous smile. “If I wasn’t enjoying my time with you so much, I would be tempted to turn around and go back and see what the surprise is. That is, if you brought it.”

  “I did. They’re in the box with your salted caramels. It’s the funniest thing. The other day as I was placing an order with one of my suppliers, I came across an orange extract that looks like it could be a fair substitute for the one I used to use for the Borgias. They overnighted it to me. I tried it. And it is almost identical to the one that was discontinued. So not only did I order several cases of the extract, but I used the rest of the bottle to whip up a batch of Borgias.”

  Charles’s brow shot up—another expression that made Maya weak in the knees.

  “Are you telling me that I am one of the privileged few who gets to sample your first batch of Borgias after all these years?”

  They had found their way to Central Park and were heading toward the gazebo.

  “Yes, you are. And I expect an honest assessment. I need to know if they compare to the old tried-and-true. That is, if you can remember. It’s been so long. How many years did you say?”

  Her stomach did a loop-the-loop as she asked the question. Having been so tongue-tied earlier, she was having trouble keeping her filter in place.

  “It’s been twenty-nine years,” Charles said. “And I still remember the taste of them as if it were yesterday. A man doesn’t forget something that sweet and that special.”

  They were standing under the gazebo now, face-to-face, inches apart. Maya was vaguely aware of people walking past on the sidewalk a good ten yards away. They were there, but not really. All she could see was Charles, looking at her looking at him.

  If she squinted her eyes, just enough to blur out the background, to soften the lines, he looked just like—

  No.

  She took a step back, turned and walked over to the gazebo’s rail. She wasn’t going to do this to herself. From this distance she could see Charles Jordan.

  She needed to focus on Charles Jordan.

  Not Ian Brannigan.

  Charles Jordan.

  Charles must have sensed the shift in her mood, because he walked over to the same rail that Maya was leaning against, but he left a good bit of space between the two of them.

  “Isn’t Facebook a wonderful thing?” he asked. “I was thrilled when I found you online.”

  If she analyzed his words, he might have sounded a little like a stalker. But he didn’t scare her.

  “Is that so? How long have you been following me? And should I be worried about that?”

  He laughed. “Oh, dear God, I hope you’re not worried about it. I promise, I’m harmless. That’s why I’ve stayed away for so long.”

  Maya’s heart started drumming a rapid staccato. She could hear it in her ears. That’s when she realized she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

  Charles leaned back on the rail and crossed one foot over the other.

  “Twenty-nine years ago, Ian Brannigan was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  All the blood drained from Maya’s head, and her peripheral vision went a little white and hazy. She gripped the gazebo’s wooden railing as she waited for him to continue. She wanted to ask, How did you know Ian? But she couldn’t dislodge the words from her throat.

  “He witnessed a crime that left him injured and in need of protection. Not only for his own safety, but for the safety of those he loved.”

  “No, that’s not right,” Maya said. The words sounded like they were coming from outside her body. “Ian was killed in an accident. His mother told me....”

  Charles was looking at her with pleading eyes.

  No...it couldn’t be. Maya wouldn’t let herself believe what she was thinking. If she dredged up the hope that she’d buried so long ago and let herself believe even for a second of a second...and then it turned out that he was...

  “Death from the accident was exactly what UK Protected Persons Services wanted everyone to believe. And there was an accident. A terribly disfiguring accident. As far as the world was concerned, Ian Brannigan was dead. But—”

  “Ian?”

  He nodded. “God, how I’ve missed you, love.”

  In an instant she was in his arms. His lips were on hers; his hands were in her hair.

  And she knew.

  Even after all those years, after all that time apart, looking so different, he still tasted the same and she still fit perfectly in his arms. He was the piece of the puzzle, the piece of her heart that had been missing for nearly thirty years.

  Breathlessly, she pulled away, bracing herself to wake from a dream—a dream she’d had so many nights she’d lost track. The dream would be so real; she could feel him, taste him. He was always so alive and then morning’s light—the thief that it was—would steal him away. She’d wake up alone with the phantom ache in the place where her heart used to be.

  Tonight, with a symphony of cicadas playing in the background and the perfume of night-blooming jasmine in the air, she opened her eyes and Ian was still there. She clung to him as tears streamed down her face.

  “Please tell me this is real. Even after all these years, you’re not gone. You’re really here.”

  He answered her with a kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes. When he finally released her, she drank him in with her eyes. Her finger traced the scar at his collar.

  She had so many questions.

  “But why? What happened to you, Ian?”

  He told her the story of how when he met her he had been doing undercover work for Interpol. He had been caught in the cross fire of an organized crime operation that he had been trying to take down for several months. In the process, his car had gone off a rocky cliff between Monaco and Nice, France. He had been hurt badly. In fact, he had been close to death. That’s when his superiors had made the decision to declare him dead and give him a new identity for his protection and that of those he loved.

  “It was too dangerous,” he said. “I couldn’t subject you and my family to the harm that those sociopaths would’ve inflicted upon you, your family, my family in the blink of an eye. So they declared me dead, rebuilt my face and gave me a new identity in a new country. The work I had done coupled with the ongoing investigation had helped send away the heads of the criminal organization. Last month, the last dangerous person associated with that organization was executed. It’s finally safe enough for me to contact you without putting you in danger.”

  “Does it mean that we can be t
ogether?”

  “If you’re willing to give Charles Jordan a chance, yes. Ian Brannigan is legally dead.”

  “No, he’s not,” said Maya. “He’s very much alive in my heart. I just hope that Charles Jordan is willing to hear what I have to say. Because he’s missed out on a lot over the twenty-nine years he’s been gone.”

  * * *

  “We need to talk,” Bia said when Aiden got home from work that evening.

  The shoot had gone later than he’d planned. They were already over budget for the month, and they still had a week left to go. He was hungry and tired and a little edgy. All he wanted was an ice-cold beer and a kiss from this woman who was becoming the center of his universe.

  We need to talk was not what he wanted to hear when he walked in the door.

  She was sitting on the far side of the sofa in the shadows of the living room, which was lit by only one small table lamp. She had her feet curled underneath her, and she looked incredibly small sitting there all alone in the dim room.

  Aiden immediately knew that something was wrong.

  “Is everything all right? Is the baby okay?”

  All the possibilities of all the things that could go wrong collided in his head with the result of a fifty-car pileup.

  “The baby’s fine. But I had a visitor today. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it. There’s a lot that we need to talk about.”

  Hugh’s family? They were the first ones to pop into his head. Had that attorney—what was his name? Had he told the family and had they come to say they wanted to be part of the child’s life?

  “Duane came to see me today.”

  “Duane Beasley?”

  That was almost as bad as Hugh’s family.

  “What did he want?”

  “To tell me that you set him up the night of the bachelor party.”

  Ah, man. Not this again.

  He raked his hand through his hair, reminding himself to watch his tone. He shouldn’t take out his irritation on Bia. He was hungry, he was irritable and he was tired of this same subject.

  “We’ve been round and round about this, Bia. Duane is a big boy. He’s responsible for his own actions. What the heck was he doing here? Thought he lived in Ohio or somewhere like that?”

  “He lives in Idaho. But he travels with his job. That’s why he was here. He was in Dallas on business. Aiden, did you hire a prostitute to seduce Duane?”

  She’d never phrased the question quite that way before. The question had always been whether he set Duane up. Not if he had specifically hired someone with the express purpose of seducing him.

  Ah, man. He wasn’t going to lie to her.

  “Well, I have never hired a prostitute. I hired a dancer for Duane’s bachelor party. There’s a fine line in that profession. I’m not saying that all dancers or even most dancers are prostitutes. But sometimes they cross the line.”

  “Aiden, cut to the chase. Did you ask the woman to seduce my fiancé?”

  Before he’d always managed to nip this conversation in the bud with the fact that Duane had free will. Tonight Bia was asking another question. Had he asked the woman to seduce Duane?

  He looked up at the ceiling. His pulse was pounding in his temples. His blood was rushing in his ears. He looked down at his shoes, weighing his words. Finally he looked back at Bia. Into those eyes that were dark with pain and questions.

  Damn that bastard.

  “Even if he had a naked woman crawling on him, he should’ve said no,” said Aiden.

  “Aiden, just answer my question. Yes or no? Did you tell her to seduce him?”

  He could tell that she read it in his eyes even before he could say the word. She scooted to the edge of the couch. Her palms were braced on the cushions on either side of her.

  “Aiden, you were married to Tracey at the time. Why did you do it? Why did you set up Duane? Got him drunk, hired a woman to put it in his face? Why would you do that to me?”

  “Bia, why would you want a man who would be unfaithful to you?”

  “That’s beside the point right now. I trusted you, Aiden. I trusted you to take my fiancé out, not to sabotage my marriage. And what about your marriage, Aiden? Why would you do this?”

  “Bia, Tracey and I were already separated at this point—”

  “So you wanted to break up Duane and me, too? Why? Because misery loves company.”

  “No, that’s not what it was. It wasn’t the first time that Duane had cheated on you. I just didn’t want to see you get stuck with someone who didn’t deserve you. Because you have always deserved so much more.”

  He wanted to say, “Because I’ve always loved you,” but the words were stuck in his throat.

  God, man-up.

  “Who made you the morals police?”

  “I’ve loved you my entire life. I realized it too late. Or at least I thought it was too late, until now. We don’t have to keep being the star-crossed lovers, Bia. We can do this.”

  She took off the diamond ring, set it on the coffee table and gave it a shove. It sailed toward him, went off the end of the table and landed at his feet.

  Then she sat back in the corner of the couch, drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. “Just go, Aiden. It’s too late for us.”

  * * *

  The next morning Bia awoke to the sound of a ringing phone. The first thought that went through her head was, Aiden?

  Oh, please let it be Aiden. But it wasn’t. It was Maya.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Maya virtually sang into the phone.

  Bia glanced at the clock. It was seven o’clock. She’d overslept. She’d have to hurry or she’d be late for work. Even so, phone pressed to her ear, she rolled over onto her back and threw her arm over her eyes.

  “Good morning,” she said, not even trying to infuse the slightest enthusiasm into her voice.

  “Did I wake you up?” Maya asked. “I thought you would be up already. Don’t you have to work today?”

  “Yeah, I do. I had a rough night last night.”

  “I’m sorry. Were you feeling sick again?”

  “No, Aiden and I broke up. I mean, if you can even call it that. If we were even together. I gave him back the ring.”

  “What happened?” Maya asked, alarm apparent in her voice.

  “It’s a long story. Maybe we can meet for lunch and I’ll tell you. I could use some advice. Speaking of, you never gave me the Charles Jordan report.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Are you there?” Bia asked.

  “I am,” Maya answered. “Funny you should mention that. Because I do have news.”

  “Good news?” Bia asked.

  “Very good.”

  “What? Were you going to wait for me to drag it out of you?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you were up for it right now given the situation with Aiden.”

  Bia rolled onto her stomach. “Please, I’m dying for some good news. In fact, would you like to meet for breakfast? I’m not feeling exceptionally motivated this morning. Maybe your happiness will jump-start my day. Wow. Maybe I can start living vicariously through my mother.”

  * * *

  Bia had to stop by the office before she met Maya. She just had to run in to take care of one call. She’d left the number on her desk.

  Good grief, she was scattered. She needed to get herself together and get her head back in the game. Easier said than done, when her heart was heavy with regret.

  She’d slept fitfully, waking up every few hours and wondering if she’d done the right thing giving the ring back to Aiden. And the conclusion she came to was of course she had. It wasn’t a real engagement, despite the ring and the proposal and the chemi
stry between them. The fact remained that the only reason he had proposed was to save her from the XYZ scumbag.

  She didn’t need saving.

  Maybe she needed to prove that to herself as much as anyone.

  Problem was, she had started to believe their PR. If it was going to end sometime, it might as well be now. She hadn’t seen or heard from the XYZ reporter since Maya had chased him out of her shop. He had probably decided that there was no news here. At least not the kind of news he got paid for raking up. No doubt he was somewhere else turning over rocks to see what would jump out. Good riddance.

  On her way to work, she thought of something funny and immediately reached for her phone to call Aiden. Then she didn’t.

  This was exactly the thing that she didn’t want to happen. Now everything was messed up. Now she felt weird about calling him for the least little thing like she used to. Because now the least little thing seemed like a big inconvenience.

  Not only that, but she needed some space to get him out of her system. That’s what you got when you played with fire. You got burned.

  But no one was going to save her from this fire but herself.

  She parked and made her way into her office, dropping her purse on the credenza behind her desk. As she was moving papers around, looking for the scrap of paper with the number she needed, she noticed Nicole standing in the doorway.

  “Did you need something?” Bia asked.

  “Where’s your ring?” Nicole asked.

  Bia glanced at her finger as if she expected to see it there. Of course she didn’t, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with Nicole. “It’s not there, is it? Don’t you have something you need to do? Should I find something for you to write about?”

  By now she sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West. But her snark had done the trick. Nicole frowned at her and turned around and walked away.

  Within fifteen minutes, Bia was walking into the diner next door to her office. The hostess greeted her with a warm, cheery smile and asked how many would be in her party. Bia spied Maya’s red curls across the restaurant.

  “Thanks, but I see my party right over there,” she said.