Accidental Father (3 page)

“I didn't say it was evil.” Her voice was hoarse with frustration. “I happen to like chocolate very much. But I have a hard time getting him to drink regular milk. When he has chocolate milk, he doesn't want the plain variety.”

He quirked a brow at her. “So you
have
given him chocolate milk before?”

She leveled him with a murderous glare, and he knew he'd gone too far.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm just kidding with you.” He studied his shoes for a moment, searching for the words to explain. When he looked back up their gazes locked. “Also, I'm a little nervous. You see, I've never done
this
before.”

He gestured to the boy, who had fallen sound asleep on Julianne's shoulder.

“I haven't either.” When she lowered her gaze to look at the sleeping baby, the image of Leonardo da Vinci's
Madonna
returned. She was a classic beauty with her dark hair and piercing blue eyes. How had this escaped him yesterday?

In an instant, the magnitude of all that had unfolded yesterday flooded back to him, answering his question.

As she looked up at him, she bit down on her lower lip, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them. Neither of them knew what they were doing. Though she seemed to be a hell of a lot better at it than he was.

“Look, it's cold out here, and I should get him inside. The best thing for him would be to take him back to the hotel. He missed his nap this morning, and he's overtired. Would you like to walk back with us?”

“Sure. Would you like to take a car rather than walk?”

“If he'll stay asleep when I put him in his stroller, it would probably be easier to walk. The hotel isn't far.”

Liam stayed sound asleep after Julianne laid him down. As Alex watched her cover the boy
with blankets, tucking him in all snug and warm, a powerful emotion washed over Alex. He knew in an instant that his life had just changed.

Irrevocably.

“I
s this your first trip to Paris?” Alex asked Julianne as they made their way along the Boulevard St. Michel toward Julianne's hotel.

She was relieved that Liam had stayed asleep when she'd placed him in his stroller. Even though it was cold, the baby was warm and comfortable. Julianne wanted to walk back to the hotel rather than ride the short distance so that she could get some much-needed exercise. She'd been cooped up indoors for rehearsals and hadn't had a chance to soak up much of Paris. To be honest, she realized as she walked, she wanted more time to talk to Alex—to get to know him—er—Liam's
father—because they'd have so little time together before she and the boy returned home.

“Yes, it's my first time here,” she said. “I've always wanted to visit, but until this trip, the opportunity never presented itself.”

He shot her a sidelong glance and a charming smile that made her a little nervous. A fun kind of butterfly-nervous that she didn't understand. Maybe it was being in Paris, or more realistically, maybe it was because Alex Lejardin had proven himself to be a different man than the self-involved cad she'd thought he was before she met him yesterday.

She offered him a shy smile and looked away, training her gaze on the storefront windows as she pushed the stroller along the sidewalk. The windows felt like a safe place to keep her gaze. Even though she could see his rolling reflection as it jumped from window to window as they walked by, sometimes their images made eye contact in the glass. He would smile or make a face and she would laugh—who knew he could be so funny? Other times he'd be looking straight ahead. When he wasn't looking at her, it would spark a strange disappointment that was equally gripping and unfamiliar.

If she didn't know better, it almost felt as though Alex Lejardin was flirting with her. Harmlessly.
Nothing sleazy or suggestive. Just simple
ooo-la-la,
man-to-woman attention that threw her off kilter and reminded her that she was a woman who was tempted to flirt back.

And wasn't that just like a Frenchman?

But her flirting muscles were terribly out of shape because she'd had no reason to exercise them in ages. So she stuck to the reflective “window flirting” until, as they passed a cute little dress shop, Julianne could've sworn she saw the Men in Black—the guys from the park—reflected in the shop window. A startled jolt shot through her. She stopped and whipped her head around to look for them.

But they weren't there.

“What's wrong?” Alex asked.

“Nothing.” As she stood there, she did a slow, sweeping scan of the wide street that was teeming with pedestrians and cars. It would've been easy for the Men in Black to get lost in the crowd. “Well, actually, strangely enough, I thought I saw someone…”

“Someone from the orchestra?”

She shook her head. “A couple of guys I thought I saw lurking around at the park when we were waiting for you. It just startled me for a moment.” Hearing herself insinuate that someone might be
following them sounded a little crazy. “It must have been a trick of the light on the glass.”

Alex glanced around, as if he were trying to pick them out of the crowd, but then his eyes snared hers again, the natural light made the green rim around the iris even more pronounced. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope of amber and honey, moss and tortoiseshell.

“May I ask you a question?” he said.

She blinked and looked away because she realized she'd been staring into his eyes too long. “Sure.”

She bent down to check on Liam, to adjust his blankets and make sure he was still sleeping soundly. He was, and he looked like, an angel. The sight of him warmed her from the inside out.

“Something you mentioned yesterday at the office keeps lingering in my thoughts. You mentioned that in America the arts are struggling for funding. I'm just curious, how is it that your orchestra is able to tour Europe if funds are so tight? I'm fascinated by this. Do you mind talking about it?”

Now he was the one staring intently at her, and she forced herself to look him in the eyes as they started walking again.

“A sponsor, of course.”

He nodded as if he'd already guessed as much.

“Was it a European sponsor?”

So many questions. But that was fine. Kind of nice, actually. Since they'd left the park he'd been making a genuine effort to engage her. She appreciated it, especially because small talk had never been her forte. It was nice how easily they seemed to get along now that the initial ice was broken. Their getting along would be important in the future since Alex seemed interested in being a part of Liam's life.

“Yes, we were fortunate to be invited on a six-city, European tour arranged by the Pedersen Foundation. It's an arts organization based in London that raises money to send orchestras on tour. Their mission is to raise awareness of the arts and culture in other nations. The concert tomorrow night is the last performance on the tour, and then we return home the day after tomorrow. It's been the trip of a lifetime. Would you like to come to the concert? I can leave tickets for you at will call.”

“I'd love to come, but I'm happy to purchase my tickets. To support the arts.”

“That's very generous of you, but comps are one of the few benefits of my job. I haven't had anyone to share them with. It would be wonderful to be able to use them once on this tour.”

It dawned on her that he might want to bring a
date, which put a different kind of butterfly feeling in her stomach.

“How many tickets should I leave for you?”

“Now it's my turn to say that's very generous of you. One ticket would be very much appreciated. Perhaps we could have a late dinner after you're finished? If it wouldn't interfere with Liam or another engagement you might have with the orchestra or with the Pedersen Foundation? It would be a great time to discuss plans for Liam.”

Of course he only wants to be informed of my plans for the boy. I'm thrilled that he's interested and will definitely keep him apprised of everything that happens in Liam's life.

“That would be lovely. Thank you. As far as I know, there's nothing scheduled for after the concert. Although things sometimes come up last minute. Would you mind keeping the plans flexible?”

Alex nodded his consent. “Too bad my brother wasn't aware of your tour. You could've come to St. Michel.”

“St. Michel? As in, the Boulevard St. Michel?”

She gestured around the street on which they walked.

“No.” Alex laughed. “I'm talking about the
island. It's a separate principality right off the coast of France.”

Despite the cold, Julianne felt heat fan across her cheeks. Even though she felt silly and decidedly uncultured, like an uneducated geography failure—his voice was a soothing rich mellow timbre with the tones of a well-played cello.

“Don't worry, many people have never heard of it” he said. “We don't hold a major car race like Monte Carlo does to attract tourists. I'm from St. Michel originally. My brother is the state's minister of arts and culture.”

“St. Michel. Of course,” she said, suddenly remembering. “Last year an American woman made headlines when she discovered she was the long-lost heir to the throne.”

Alex nodded. “But I'll bet you didn't know that that woman, Sophie Baldwin Lejardin—the queen of St. Michel—is my sister-in-law.”

Julianne stopped in her tracks. “Are you kidding?”

Alex shook his head. “Why would I kid about something like that? She married my brother, Luc.”

“The minister of arts and culture?”

“No. Luc was formerly the minister of protocol.
Now he is the prince consort. My middle brother, Henri, is in charge of arts and culture.”

 

Julianne stared at him with eyes so large and blue that for a fleeting moment he wanted to swim in them. Until he remembered himself, and the sobering fact that she was Liam's aunt, Marissa's sister. Not a woman to be trifled with. Perhaps rather than acting like an imbecile and making faces at her in the glass to hear her laugh, it would be best to direct his gaze straight ahead.

Not at her.

Not at her blue eyes.

Perhaps at his son sleeping in the carriage.

He also decided that it would be a good time to begin easing into the fact that she undoubtedly did see the security agents who were following her. Given the dangerous nature of his job of fighting human rights violators—who were another breed of terrorist—coupled with the fact that Liam was related to the royal family of St. Michel, Secret Service agents would now be a permanent presence in her and Liam's lives.

Arranging for Julianne and Liam to be guarded was among the first things he'd done once Julianne's story checked out.

The last thing he wanted was Liam or Julianne
to be used as a pawn in the sick game of world politics. Of course, that posed another problem: Liam would be much safer in St. Michel rather than in the States with his aunt.

Funny, twenty-four hours ago, the last thing he would've wanted was to be saddled with a child. Now, the thought of protecting his son was his greatest priority.

He simply needed to figure out how to let Julianne know the magnitude of the situation without scaring her.

 

“How long have you been with the orchestra?” Alex asked

“Three years.” Inwardly she cringed at her short, closed answer. Really she needed to make a better effort at keeping up her end of the conversation.

“Where else did you perform on this tour?”

“Rome, Milan, Barcelona, Madrid, Nice and now Paris.” She checked off the cities on her fingers as she named them. “Actually, it's my first time out of the U.S. Marissa was the adventurous traveler in the family.”

They strolled silently for a few moments, Marissa's memory walking between them like a silent ghost.

There were so many questions she wanted to
ask him about his relationship with her sister: How did he and Marissa meet? What had they meant to each other—or what had she meant to him? She'd already heard Marissa's side of the story, but Alex had been a bit closed about his relationship with her sister, saying only that they were “good friends.”

Good friends
who had a baby?

The thought knocked the breath out of her. Before Marissa died, it had been three years since Julianne had seen her sister. They were both busy. Marissa had her work; Julianne had just landed the position with the orchestra. They talked often, e-mailed more frequently. They'd fully intended to see each other—for the holidays or one of their birthdays. Or when Liam was born…

The wind whipped her hair across her face, making her eyes water. She stopped and pretended that something had blown into her eye.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked.

“Yes, I'll be fine. Just give me a moment. Let me close my eyes and see if it'll water itself out.”

Actually, no, she wasn't fine. She was a coward. That was the long and short of it. She'd been too afraid to venture to war-torn Afghanistan to be with her pregnant sister when Marissa needed her most, when she was giving birth. Julianne had
rationalized it—written it off with valid excuses. Perfectly valid, rational, reasonable excuses.

She had performances. Her orchestra mates needed her. She couldn't just up and leave. They were planning this European tour, rehearsing night and day…and even though she wouldn't be there when Liam was born they could meet in Paris when Julianne was here with the orchestra. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…as if they had all the time in the world.

Three years
since she'd seen her sister.
Three years.
And now it was too late. Julianne realized, as she stood there with Marissa's baby in a stroller and the man who'd fathered the child standing beside her, that even though she thought she and her sister were close, she really hadn't known Marissa at all.

And now she never would.

“Here, let me have a look.”

“No. I'm okay.” Julianne waved him off and turned away from him again. She sucked in a deep breath, summoning her composure.

A moment later, she felt stronger and swiped away the remaining tears that somehow had managed not to brim over.

She walked closer to a storefront window to check her reflection in the glass hoping her mascara
was still in place. But it wasn't her own face that caught her eye—it was the old, battered flute haphazardly tossed in with the rest of the junk in the so-called antique shop window.

It was a Bundy. Identical to the one she'd started with in junior high school. It was an oldie, but certainly not an antique. And not very valuable. In fact, she'd seen similar models on eBay for as little as $5.00—though flutes at that price were few and far between and she grabbed them up as soon as she found them. It would certainly be worth checking this one out. There were always more kids who needed a chance to make music than there were instruments.

She glanced at Liam, who was still sound asleep, snuggled down into his blankets.

Yes, it would definitely be a find for one of the kids who received help from her A World of Music foundation. She turned to Alex. “I know this is crazy, but would you mind staying out here with Liam while I go inside? I want to check on this flute in the window.”

He looked confused. “For you?”

She laughed, feeling more like herself again. “Oh, no, not for me, for one of my students. Liam seems comfortable and I'll only be a moment.”

Alex nodded. “Sure, take your time.”

 

Alex knew about Julianne's charitable foundation, A World of Music. The investigator had given him a brief outline of it in Julianne Waterford's dossier when Alex had ordered the background check. No wonder she was so good with kids, he thought as he watched her through the shop's glass door.