Gently rubbing the top of Nicole’s hand, Vic looked up at the nurse and smiled. “You think so?”
The nurse nodded with a smile. “Her heartbeat is stronger, and her respiration settles whenever you speak. Whatever you’re saying to her, don’t stop.”
Vic waited until the nurse left the room and repeated even more forcefully than before what she’d said to Nicole over and over from the moment she walked in. “Live.”
* * *
“Man, that’s the third bowl of cobbler you’ve eaten,” Vic teased later that evening in the dining room after she and Baptiste had settled the girls down for the night.
“I know,” A.J. acknowledged. “But nobody makes peach cobbler better than you.” He patted his lap and once Vic settled, wrapped his arms around her waist. “How’s Nicole doing?”
Vic shared with Baptiste Nicole’s reaction to her during her visit. She also told him that she planned to go back every day until Nicole regained consciousness. Finally, she ended by relating her conversation with Ron. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and her heart because she’d finally found the place inside of her to forgive Ron.
A.J. responded by giving her a long, passionate kiss.
Vic chuckled when she was finally able to gather her senses again. She looked at the bowl. “You bet’ not tell Zach I make my cobbler with no sugar.”
“Really?” A.J. was stunned.
“Umm-hmm. Everything I cook now is either low in fat or sugar-free.”
“Why?”
“Child, diabetes runs in my family. Plus, a few years ago, I suffered with high blood pressure from messing around with those crazy people at work. They almost had my pressure up to stroke level.” She wiggled her bottom against him. “Besides, with these big hips, I knew I needed to make a lifestyle change and lose some weight.”
“You’re not big.”
“Hey, I fill out a fourteen real good. That’s about as far up the ladder as I want to go.”
“But you’re a good-looking fourteen.”
“Yeah, right. You’re just saying that because you want me around to feed you.”
“No. I want you, period,” he answered easily.
Vic glanced at him, clamping her thighs together. The softness in his gaze made her body jerk with desire to be touched by him, soon. “I want you, too.”
He stood and grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s clean up the kitchen. It’ll probably be thirty more minutes before the girls are really asleep.”
* * *
With his arms stretched wide on the back of the Jacuzzi, A.J. let Vic settle herself between his legs. “What about you? Did you always want to be a nurse?”
She smiled. “Actually, becoming a nurse was not what I set out to do. Even though I had an excellent example in Mom, it wasn’t until I was challenged by one of my teachers at a career-day fair in high school that I decided to take the plunge.” She chuckled and glanced around at him. “It’s funny how Harrison and I followed after Mom and became healthcare professionals.”
“But you ended up in administration. Why?”
“After I graduated from nursing school, I worked in pediatric oncology for a couple of years. Took care of a little guy whose parents were like Nicole’s; they didn’t have insurance. That’s when I started to really understand the disparity between the haves and the have-nots. I literally had to fight tooth and nail to get the hospital to provide the treatment I knew he should receive.”
“Did he make it?”
Vic smiled happily. “He did, and to this day I stay in contact with him and his family. After that incident, I knew in order to change the system I had to be at the table where decisions are made.”
“Why did you quit?”
She chuckled. “The main reason was to get away from you.”
He whispered against her ear and jokingly said, “I never would have guessed that.”
She laughed. “Hush, man. No, seriously, I got tired of the cat fighting. This person, that person worried about their next promotion instead of doing their job. Plus, I had a boss who was a closet racist.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He about flipped the day I came to work with my dreads.”
Lifting them in his hand, A.J. let them fall through his fingers one by one. “I like them. So what was his problem?”
“He told me off the record that my ‘look,’ ” she explained, making quote signs with her fingers, “wasn’t conservative. The dumb dickhead wouldn’t have known what conservative was if it slapped him upside his head.”
“Honey,” A.J. said, chuckling, “I’m going to have to wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” She made the Girl Scout sign. “I promise from now on to watch my language around the girls.”
A.J. threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Too late, mon amour.”
Vic craned her neck so her vision was better aligned with his. “Whatcha mean, too late?”
“The two little women around here who can talk also know how to curse—in French.”
“What?” Vic laughed. “Who taught ’em?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. As much as this family gossips, no one owns up to that one.”
Vic focused straight ahead, pondering a question she’d been meaning to ask for months. “Baptiste, why’d you put T-One and T-Two in separate classes at school?”
“Because I used to dress them alike and their teacher was having a really difficult time telling them apart.”
“Come on now, Baptiste. Yeah, they’re identical, but those two munchkins are as different as night and day.”
“We know that, but I can understand the difficulty someone else would have who doesn’t really know them all that well.”
Vic nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Ready for a shower?” he whispered in a husky tone next to her ear.
The desire in his voice caused a chill to race down her spine. “Mmm-hmm. And I’m ready for what comes after the shower, too.”
* * *
Upon Baptiste’s insistence, Vic slept in late the next morning. When she finally woke up around ten, her breakfast consisted of soggy Cheerios and half-burnt toast, courtesy of Taylor and Tyler. She cringed when she looked down at the breakfast tray Baptiste helped them bring to the bed. She hated Cheerios. But she lovingly ate every single one of them, grateful to her two girls for the gesture. In between eating her breakfast, she fed Bébé and CeCe their breakfast after first insisting they be tucked on each side of her.
Around noon, she walked into the living room with a laundry basket under her arm and noticed Baptiste sitting at the dining room table. Frowning, he stared at the stack of papers spread out in front of him.
Chuckling to herself, she walked over to the table. “Man, what’s wrong with you? You look like a bear.”
He sighed. “I’m trying to balance my checkbook.”
She lifted her brow. “Do you go into hyperventilation this way every month when you reconcile your statement?”
“No. Usually Aimee does it for me.”
Vic knew that Aimee, A.J.’s youngest sister, was a Stanford-educated CPA and usually handled all of the family finances. She placed the basket on the floor and pointed at the bank statements. “Here, if you do laundry, I’ll balance.”
A.J. stood and nodded. “Gladly.”
Vic sat and shuffled through the papers. She causally asked, “So, this is your personal checking account, right?”
A.J. picked the laundry basket off the floor. “No. It’s the household account, but the personal account needs to be balanced, too, so have at it, if you’d like.” He headed off toward the laundry room, but stopped and turned around. “Let me know what day we can go to the bank. I need to add your name to the accounts.”
“’Kay,” Vic absently mumbled, glancing over the statements. Her eyes bulged at the ending balance. She didn’t even recall the numbers in front of t
he six zeros she’d counted. And this was just the household account? Lord, she was scared to know the amount he had in his personal checking account.
Vic finished reconciling Baptiste’s accounts and headed toward the laundry room. Before she reached the door, she heard the sounds of muffled laughter coming from inside. She was just about to open her mouth to fuss at him for joking around and taking two hours to finish a load and a half of laundry when she saw something truly amazing.
Baptiste and the girls were atop the clothes strewn across the floor. He was using something as simple as dirty clothes to teach and observe. Each time he held up a piece of clothing, Taylor and Tyler were able to identify the colors or tell him whether it was big, medium, or small. And whenever he positioned himself behind Bébé and CeCe and made a playful razing sound, they would crawl away as fast as they could while he sat back, observing their gross motor skills.
Vic smiled at the priceless moment being shared between a father and his daughters.
What the heck? The laundry could wait.
* * *
Around three that afternoon, Vic walked past the living room and found Baptiste sitting comfortably in an old, tattered recliner, with remote in hand, waiting for the opening pitch of his favorite baseball team, the Oakland A’s.
“Baptiste…”
A.J. never took his gaze away from the television screen. “Yes, mon amour?”
“Man, why did you bring that raggedy chair back inside my living room?”
“Because this is where it belongs,” he answered without hesitation.
It had taken her over forty-five minutes to get it out of the living room and into the garage. With her mouth wide open, she stared at him in disbelief. “But I moved it out of here yesterday.”
“And I brought it back in today.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he interrupted.
“Baptiste…”
“Listen, woman, you and those other four little bitty women in my life have taken over, and I’m thrilled.” He pressed a button on the remote to turn the volume up. “But I’m telling every last one of you right now, this chair stays.”
“The leather is split; the springs are about to come through, and even the handle on the side is broken.” She hid a giggle.
He pouted, firmly gripping the arms of the recliner. “I don’t care. It’s mine.” He ran his hand along the cracked upholstery. “This recliner and I have traveled around the world together. And we’ve gone through three World Series together.” He jerked his head back, decisively declaring, “And come what may, we’re staying together.”
She leaned over him, whispering next to his ear, “What if I want to watch the game with you one day?”
“Anytime you want, you can snuggle up in my lap.”
She straightened and placed her hands back on her hips. “Men…sports…” She shook her head, completely at a loss to explain how someone with millions in not one, but two bank accounts couldn’t—no, correction—wouldn’t purchase something as simple as a new lounger.
The chair had to go. She leaned over him again. Her voice dipped to a sultry tone as she ran her fingers up and down the bulge in his jeans, her tongue circling his ear lobe. “What will it take for you to reconsider?”
A.J. closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the feel of her hands rubbing him this way. He wasn’t giving up his chair, though. Breathless, he stuttered, “N-Nothing.”
Vic walked away, flashing a wry smile. She’d show him he wasn’t the only one who could come up with a crazy scheme.
* * *
Vic made one last check on the girls around nine that evening. She went inside their rooms, tucked them securely under the covers, kissed them good night, turned up the volume on the baby monitors, and headed for a shower.
She draped her damp body in a huge towel after a long shower with Baptiste. Standing in front of the dresser, she picked up a bottle of scented lotion.
A.J. walked from the bathroom a few moments later with a towel tucked at his waist. He came up behind her with a box in his hand that he’d retrieved from the top drawer of his nightstand.
“Close your eyes, mon amour.”
She followed his instructions, and moments later, felt something being placed around her neck.
“Oh, my God, Baptiste,” she said in awe once she stared into the mirror at the custom-designed, diamond-and-platinum necklace with the letters ABW.
A.J. circled his arms around her waist, nuzzling his mouth up and down the side of her neck. “Now whenever you say it, you’ll be telling the truth.”
She chuckled with her head back slightly, looking up at him. “What, that I’m an angry black woman?”
“No,” he answered, chuckling back. “That you’re Alcee Baptiste’s woman.” Removing her towel, he picked up the lotion, poured a generous amount into his hand, and slowly spread the creamy substance on her body.
“Je t’aime.” After he finished, he burrowed his nose into the side of her neck.
With her head thrown back, she gasped with pleasure as his lips traveled along the width of her shoulders. “I love you, too.” She looked in the mirror at him. “You know I’m supposed to be living in Atlanta now, right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he moaned, and lightly bit down on her neck. “Never made it there, did you?”
Vic chuckled. “Nope, and I’m so happy I didn’t.” She stared in the mirror at their reflection for a long time. “Baptiste, we really do need to get married.”
“We do?” he whispered, never removing his mouth from her scented skin.
Vic chuckled at the irony of it all. She’d vowed never to fall in love with him, and now she was the one asking him to marry her.
“Yeah, we really do.”
“Why should I marry you, mon amour?”
Vic gasped in disbelief until she glanced in the mirror and noticed the wicked grin that made his lips curl upward. “Because we love each other.”
“I don’t know, mon amour,” A.J. muttered huskily, cupping her lush breasts together with his hands. With a loving gaze, he looked in the mirror at the woman he loved more than life itself. “You might not be the woman I want to marry,” he murmured. Desire and passion swept across her face when he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers.
“What will it take to convince you?” She breathed softly, her eyelids drifting to half-mast. The feel of his roaming hands made her ache for him to take her nipple inside his mouth.
He turned her around by the shoulders to face him and obliged her telepathic request when he circled her nipple with his tongue, then drew it in and sucked hard.
“This…” A.J. snatched the towel from his waist. “Turn back around, mon amour, and hold on to the dresser for me.” With his large hands clamped at her waist, he inclined her forward slightly, nudging her legs apart with his thigh. “Whatever you do, don’t close your eyes. Promise me.”
“’Kay.” Vic clutched the dresser’s edge for balance and a not-so-soft moan escaped her lips when he planted open-mouthed kisses along her backbone. He palmed one hand to her stomach while the other caressed her breast. Her arms trembled and her heart raced from the sheer agony of want. She arched her back and waited.
“Don’t look away,” he rasped, the warmth of his breath searing the area right below her ear. “I need to see you convince me.” Bent at the knees, he slid inside her. The feel of being locked in her warmth caused a moan to work its way from deep in his chest.
She watched with passion-laden eyes as he moved inside her with exquisite slowness, thunderous groans escaping from his throat.
“Baptiste,” she whispered and dropped her head, knowing she was two heartbeats away from climaxing, “I can’t watch anymore.”
She felt his powerful arms tighten about her waist. Her flesh felt as though it was about to rip in two. He was relentless and continued to rock against her, each thrust becoming harder, every stroke going deeper until she shut her eyes and blocked o
ut everything but his soft utterance.
“Convince me, Honey,” he groaned, his voice rough with passion.
That was when all inhibition fled. Removing her hands away from the dresser, she bent forward until her fingertips touched the floor.
“Baptiste…” Her voice rose to a soprano pitch, then dipped to a deep, strangled wail as the slickness of his sweat-drenched belly covered her back. His tone escalated to a mighty roar, and his thrusts became harder, faster, and more urgent until their cries mingled together and finally ebbed on her whispered plea, “Marry me…”
Chapter 14
“Mom,” Vic lifted CeCe over her shoulder, gently patting her on the back as she looked over at her mother. “After she’s had her bottle, you need to burp her like this.”
The expression on Louise’s face indicated she thought Vic’s demonstration was ludicrous. “Oh, you mean the same way I did with the three I had when they were babies, right?”
Vic was oblivious to her mother’s wisecrack. She frantically searched through the diaper bag and raced over to her father after Louise took CeCe from her arms. “Now, Daddy, this is a Pamper,” she noted and held it up. “When you change the babies, use this.”
Chuckling, George Vincent peered over his half-rimmed glasses and accepted the disposable diaper. He inspected it from top to bottom. “Yep, looks similar to the ones I used to put on you years ago.”
A.J. stood off to the side and chuckled. It was Monday morning, and Taylor and Tyler were at school. Louise and George Vincent were going to baby-sit Bébé and CeCe while he and Vic went down to the Oakland police station. It was the first time since the babies’ arrival that Vic had been separated from them. He had never dreamed she’d go through parent withdrawal anxiety this severe. “Honey…”
“Uh?” Vic answered hesitantly, but didn’t move.
“Come on, mon amour.” He placed his arm around Vic’s shoulders and guided her toward the front door. “I believe Louise and G.V. know what they’re doing.”
“Yeah,” Louise drawled. “We got this.”
When a Man Loves a Woman (Indigo) Page 15