She crossed her fingers that other rhythms would return just as easily.
A spritz of cologne. A hint of lip gloss. And then, at last, the white bathrobe she had worn that night she crashed the convention. Except this time, the only thing she was wearing beneath it was herself.
She turned off the water, opened the door a crack and listened. She couldn’t make out words, but the steady rise and fall of Boone’s voice told her that all was well. She stepped into the bedroom, made sure all the essentials were within easy reach on the bedside table, and patted the pillow.
“Be back soon,” she promised the bed, and off she went.
Heart thudding, she padded barefoot into the kitchen. Boone had Jamie on his shoulder, walking back and forth while doing the Ward Off Trouble jiggle.
“A few more minutes, buddy,” she heard him say as she approached. “I know you’re hungry, but your mom really needs a chance to—”
“Hey,” she called as she entered. “Everyone survived, I see.”
Boone turned. She assumed he had planned to say something. But he stopped in his tracks, mouth slack, eyes wide, as he took her in.
She waited, letting him look. She needed this. He needed this. This moment when nothing was said but everything was understood, when she was pretty sure he was physically incapable of speech or movement, when need thickened and perfumed the air as strongly as the first lilacs of spring.
“Kate?” he said at last, and the hope she heard there told her that she had been so, so right to play it this way.
“Come on,” she said, crooking her finger. “You’re going to learn how to put Jamie to bed.”
But he didn’t move. “Jesus, Kate,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“Not a doubt in my mind.”
“But you said—”
“I was wrong.” She couldn’t let him list the reasons she had given. If that happened, she would have to explain. And even though she longed to tell him the truth, that she loved him, she knew he wasn’t ready to hear those words. She wasn’t going to do or say anything that might push him away.
Instead, she padded into the kitchen, reached for Jamie, and slid one hand up Boone’s chest.
“You go ahead and shower while I feed him.”
He nodded and turned. Too late, she realized he was headed for the upstairs bathroom.
“Nuh-uh. Down here.” She hooked a finger over the neckline of his T-shirt and backed toward her room, pulling him in her wake. He still seemed befuddled, but when they stepped over her threshold he seemed to catch the mood.
“Maybe I’m just forgetful,” he said, “but I think we’ve already had a few lessons in how to put Jamie to bed. Are you saying you haven’t taught me everything?”
“More like parceling out the lessons. Teaching you each piece as you’re ready.”
“And you think I’m ready now?”
She deliberately dropped her gaze, then raised it to meet his with a smile. “Oh, I am one hundred percent positive of that.”
With that, she let go of his shirt, gave him a little nudge to turn him around and—slowly, deliberately—planted a kiss in the middle of his back. Even through the woven cotton she could feel the way every muscle tightened.
“Go,” she said, giving him a little push toward the shower, where she knew he would be surrounded by the lingering scent of her body wash.
“I’ll be teasing him without even trying,” she whispered to Jamie as she settled in the rocking chair. “Two points for efficiency.”
But it was more than that, she admitted as she rocked and hummed, burped and relocated. She might be used to having Boone watch while she nursed their child, but tonight, she didn’t want him to see her as a mother. Tonight, she wanted to be just Kate and Boone. She wanted the night to close down around them the way it had before, blocking out everything else but them.
She couldn’t wait.
In one of his rare instances of excellent timing, Jamie finished and she could put herself back together before Boone opened the door. Someday she would remember this and forgive the kiddo for forgetting to make his bed or pick up his toys, and he would never know why.
She realized, belatedly, that she hadn’t thought about fresh clothes for Boone. Though as she let herself openly and eagerly drink in the sight of his bare chest above the towel riding low on his hips, she couldn’t say she was complaining about that oversight.
He hovered in the doorway. Waiting to see if she had changed her mind? Oh, no, no. She was going to disabuse him of that notion right away.
“Come here.” She crooked her finger, drawing him over, pointing to the bed. Once he was perched on the edge she and Jamie snuggled in beside him. “Ready?”
It was a safe bet that the slightly strangled sound he made meant he had passed ready a long time ago.
“See, you know how to give him a bath and change his diaper and all that good stuff, but I haven’t done anything about the songs.”
“There are songs?”
“Yes, indeed. They’re the most important part of bedtime. At least, they will be until he’s ready for stories.”
“I can think of a few things that might be even better than stories.”
“Really? You’ll have to tell me about them later.”
Oh, how she had missed this. Sex was wonderful and awesome and mind-blowing and all those good things, and she was most definitely looking forward to having her entire being hijacked by everything that was Boone, but this playing, this teasing, this drawing things out—this was just as important in its own way. She was having fun.
“It’s not just wedding DJs who need to know the right song for the right time,” she explained with mock seriousness. “It’s one of the major parenting skills. Now, we can’t do any of the bouncy ones, because he just ate.” She refused to have her second First Time be accented with Eau de Spew. “But there are plenty of others. Like ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider.’”
“I think I’ve learned that one.” He raised his palms, stared at them for a moment, then added, “But I’ll be dipped if I can remember what to do with my hands.”
“Like this.” She held her hands in front of her—awkwardly, since she was reaching around a bobbing baby—and touched opposite thumbs to forefingers. “That’s right. Then you twist, like so.”
It took him a couple of attempts but he caught on. “Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Like riding a bicycle,” he said.
“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “Now.” She used her hand to draw circles in the air. “Next one. ‘The bum-ble bee, goes a-round the tree, with a bzzzzzz!’” She took Boone’s hand and guided it to Jamie’s tummy. Two sets of chortles—one deep, one delighted—surrounded her.
Oh, if she could freeze a moment to live forever, this could be the one.
They moved from spiders and bees to monkeys jumping on the bed and swinging in the trees, then to slower, quieter ones. Her pulse jumped as she felt the familiar heaviness against her arm that meant Jamie was on the verge of slumber.
But there was one last song she had to get through first.
“This is the one we do before I put him down every night. No actions, just words. And if Paul McCartney ever hears this, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.” She gathered Jamie onto her shoulder and swayed back and forth while she launched into the words she had cobbled together over long sleepless hours when the only songs she could remember were oldies. Which was why her son’s favorite lullaby was a slowed-down take on “She Loves You.”
“Mommy sings to you, and she loves to teach you ga-a-ames. Daddy’s in Peru, but he loves you just the sa-a-ame.”
She caught Boone’s eye. “Chorus,” she whispered, and he got the message, joining in.
“We love you, yeah, yeah, yeah. We love you, yeah, yeah, yeah. We love you, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
When she finished, Boone
whispered against her ear, “I am never going to be able to listen to the Beatles again.”
A heady mix of anticipation, nervousness and uncertainty bubbled in her veins as she eased off the bed and settled Jamie in his crib. All of a sudden, she didn’t know what she should do next. The playfulness that had brought her this far seemed to have been sucked out of the room, leaving a giant looming pile of hesitation in its place. Not about whether or not she should do this. Oh, hell, no. But it had been so long that she wasn’t sure she remembered how to get from point A to point B.
“He, um, usually falls asleep pretty quickly,” she said in a low voice—easy, since Boone was standing directly behind her with his hands on her shoulders. “But we should probably move out of his sight.”
“Any place in particular we should go?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE BED WAS the logical location, but Kate found she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Instead, she took his hand and guided him to the pillow-lined window seat. She started to sit beside him, both feet on the floor, but he shook his head.
“Hang on.” He positioned himself sideways in the window, bracing himself at one end, then tugged her down so she was nestled against him. Her back was against his chest and his arms were around her waist and his legs stretched out on either side of hers. She closed her eyes and melted into him, not sure if it was more calming or arousing to be cradled against him this way. It felt as if bubbles were pushing out of her veins and popping against her skin, leaving it prickly and keenly aware of every breath he took, every play of his muscles against her.
This. I have to remember this.
For a few breaths they stayed silent. Anticipating. Reacquainting. Their right hands were laced together, but her left one rested on his thigh and his was nestled tantalizingly close to the underside of her breast, and just sitting there, she could swear the Eagerness Meter was jumping by the second.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I have a one-track mind.” His words were low against her ear, the vibrations tickling her back and rippling through her. “But right after I booked my flight—before you set the, um, ground rules for while I was here—I did some reading. About, you know.” He kissed the spot below her ear. “The first time after having a baby.”
“I’m glad you did. It cuts down on how much I’ll have to explain.”
“Oh, consider me educated. And mildly terrified.” He laughed against her hair, sending spark-shivers down her spine. “Some of them made it sound so scary that I started to wonder how anyone ever...and then I reminded myself how many couples have second or third kids, and I thought, okay, this must be survivable.”
Second or third kids. “Kind of like labor,” she said, keeping it light to cover the sudden twist in her heart. What she would give to have another baby with Boone, to see what miracles their genes could produce another time...
No. She wasn’t going to waste time on who knows and if only. Not tonight, not for the rest of their time together.
Instead, she tipped her face up to look at him as directly as was possible.
“I’ll tell you if there’s a problem. I promise.”
He kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just swear to me you won’t let me hurt you.”
Wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, it was easy to feel the muscles of his biceps tensing, to hear the apprehension in his voice. And while a part of her was blown away by his concern, something about it felt off. Too much. Like that moment when she’d first handed Jamie to him in the bathroom and he’d stepped back.
But this was different.
Or was it?
What if I drop him?
I’m sorry I made you back up.
Swear to me you won’t let me hurt you.
She pulled herself out of his embrace and spun to face him, kneeling before him, her hands on his shoulders and her eyes locked on his. “Listen to me, Jackson Boone, and listen up good, okay? I trust you. No—I know you. I know that you have overcome odds that would have left other men knocked to the ground. I know that you’re full of care and compassion, even though there was practically none of it in your life for so long. And I know—well, I suspect—that you think your past is some sort of guarantee that you’re going to hurt me or Jamie or both of us.”
His fast intake of breath told her she’d hit that nail straight on the head.
“But let me tell you this. I might have spent most of the last year on a different frickin’ continent, but before that I spent an awful lot of hours with you, and never once did I see anything that made me fear for my safety. Not. Once. Just like I’ve never worried about you with Jamie.” She placed her palm on his chest, spreading her fingers wide. “All I’ve seen is a truly amazing father who keeps getting better every day.”
He wasn’t convinced. His doubts were reflected in his clouded eyes, in the tight line of his jaw.
“You have to believe me, Boone. I know what I’m talking about. Day care director, remember? I’ve been trained in recognizing problems. I’ve had to make the calls to Children’s Aid, and trust me, I’ve never been wrong about a situation. Do you honestly think I would let you near Jamie if I had any fears about you?”
“I...I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” He swallowed. “But—”
“But nothing. Boone. Listen. Do you have any idea how easy it would have been for me to send you back to Peru without ever telling you I was pregnant?”
The light dawning in his eyes gave her hope that she was getting through.
“I could have, you know. And I would have. Don’t think for a minute that I wouldn’t have kept it a secret if I had even the teensiest, tiniest worry about you.” She crept forward, sliding her hands back to his shoulders, daring a light kiss on his forehead. “But I didn’t do it. I told you right away. I did everything I could think of to make sure you were a part of our son’s life, and I’m still doing that, and I’ll keep on doing it, because you are a wonderful, loving, totally together father. And Jamie is beyond lucky to have you in his life, and I am damn lucky to have you as my—”
Husband. She wanted to say husband but caught herself in the nick of time.
“My partner,” she finished, sliding higher and closer, curling forward to kiss his chin. “In parenting. And in laughter. And in bed, because, Boone, if you had any idea how much I want you right now, you—”
The rest of her words were crushed out of her by his swift embrace. Silenced by his kiss. Sent squeaking when he swung his feet to the ground and grabbed her around the waist and tumbled her onto the bed, falling beside her, around her, above her. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head and stared down at her, his gaze filled with all the heat and need she remembered in every aching cell, but this time there was more. She couldn’t place it until he kissed her again. Slowly this time. Tenderly. Gentle and lingering and yet with more emotion than she could ever remember.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and she had to swallow down the sudden rush of tears.
God, she loved him.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tighter, clinging to the rightness of being with him again and pushing aside the truth she hadn’t dared say—that nothing he could do would compare to the pain she was going to face when he left.
* * *
WHEN BOONE WOKE the next morning, his first thought was that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly.
His second thought was that his deep slumber was only partly due to the sex, though he wasn’t going to discount that. But he was pretty sure the main reason he’d slept so well was because of Kate’s ability to hear beyond his words.
Do you have any idea how easy it would have been for me to send you back to Peru without ever telling you I was pregnant?
He h
ad never thought of that. And the thing was, she was absolutely right. She could have broken up with him as soon as she knew Jamie was on the way, or at least before things became obvious. He could have gone back without ever even suspecting. And given her own experience with her father, Kate would have known that sometimes silence was the best choice.
Instead, she had given him both the gift of their son and the gift of her trust.
He had no idea what he’d done to deserve any of this. But he was damned well not taking it for granted.
In the early morning light, he drank in the sight of this woman who had upended everything about his world. She lay on her side half under the covers, the blankets pulled haphazardly across her torso and one arm tucked beneath her pillow. There was a thin blue line on her thigh, like a vein suddenly made visible. He stared at it in lazy surprise. Had that been there before? Or was that one of the changes brought about by nine months of carrying their son?
He hadn’t been around to watch her stomach grow large except via video feed, had never placed his hand on her abdomen and felt the kick from inside. But he could look now.
Slowly he eased the blankets back and gently touched his finger to her stomach. Was it softer than he remembered? Yeah. A little. The pink lines running up and down her lower abdomen were new, too. Were these stretch marks? He tried to remember everything he had read while she was pregnant. There had been something about those lines, something that made them sound almost like a trial to avoid, what with all the discussions of how to prevent them and the reassurances that they would fade over time. He didn’t know why. Other than looking like they might have hurt a bit, he didn’t see any problem with them. They were like a tattoo to him, an unspoken message to anyone who saw them that this body had made a miracle.
His gentle touch hadn’t seemed to bother her so he flattened his palm over her abdomen, wondering how it had felt to house someone inside her. She had tried to describe the sensation of Jamie’s kicks and twists, but it was still beyond his imagination. Not the physical part as much as the thought that there was another person living within. How the hell did women walk around and carry on with their everyday lives as if this was just a regular thing, when they were busy making another whole person? Jesus. If it were up to him, pregnant women would be entitled to nine months of nonstop massages and pampering, complete with a steady stream of fresh fruit and personal chefs.
First Came Baby Page 15