Surprised by Family: a Contemporary Romance Duet (23 page)

Then a flicker of dry amusement tightened on his lips. “I do know that. You wrote me a whole poem about it once. All about my eyes, and my laughter, and my heart—”

“Oh!” she gasped, trying to cover his mouth to stifle the words. “You ass! You are never to refer to that poem again.”

He laughed, free and uninhibitedly, in a way she hadn’t seen him laugh since he was a boy.  “Why not? Don’t you feel the same way about me now?”

“Maybe a little. But those feelings will quickly change if you bring up the poem again.”

“All right. No talk of the poem.” He cupped her face in one of his hands. “Maybe I’ll write a poem about you instead.”

All of her spark melted at the expression on his face. “What will it say?”

“It will say that Leila’s eyes and her laughter and her heart found me when I was lost and brought me home. It will say my heart only came alive because of her.”

Her eyes burned at the words, the feeling, so openly expressed. “That will be a better poem than mine.”

“I like your poem.” He leaned down to kiss her lips very gently. “I still have it somewhere.”

“You do not!”

“I do. I kept it.”

Her cheeks were burning with joy and a little embarrassment. “Because you like to pull it out and laugh at it?”

He chuckled and drew her into a hug. “Maybe I kept it at first because I thought it was funny. But it did mean something to me. That someone felt that way about me.”

“I’ll have you know it wasn’t just a silly girlish crush. I loved you with a deep, yearning passion that consumed me. I couldn’t live without you.”

He laughed again. “I’m glad to hear it. Now you know a little of how I feel now about you and the girls.”

When she processed his words, she jerked away from him and stared up at his face. He looked absolutely exhausted but also happy and slightly amused. Not self-conscious at all. “What did you say?” she demanded.

He lowered his brow. “What do you mean? I was just teasing you about—”

“You said that I know how you feel now. I loved you with a deep, yearning passion that consumed me. I couldn’t live without you. And you said…”

He looked slightly taken aback. He cleared his throat. “You, uh, knew that, right?”

She felt a surge of awe and joy, mingling in her chest, her throat, her eyes, all at once. “You love me?”

He shifted slightly on the bench. “That was the point of this whole dramatic gesture. I thought you would figure it out.”

She just stared at him, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Anyway, I do,” he said at last. “Love you.”

“And the girls?” She clasped her hands together in a futile attempt to contain her rising excitement.

He drew his brows together. “Of course, the girls.”

Leila threw her arms around him. Hugged him as tightly as she possible could.

Then she pressed clumsy kisses against his neck and told him, “We love you too.”

***

A little while later, they were still sitting on the bench together, both too dazed and happy and exhausted to speak, when two little voices shouted from across the lawn, “Mommy! Mr. Baron! Mommy! We’re here!”

They turned to see the twins approaching, their blond ponytails streaming out behind them as they galloped over to the bench, Miss Martin approaching more slowly behind them.

“You’re
here
, Mr. Baron!” Charlotte exclaimed, as she reached the bench just a little before Jane. “We didn’t know you were here!”

“I’m here,” Baron acknowledged, half-smiling at the girls’ obvious delight.

“I’m glad!” Jane said, throwing her arms out and reaching up for a hug.

Baron hugged her back, making room when Charlotte pushed in to share the hug.

Leila watched with a hitch in her throat.

She could see so clearly that he needed them. They gave him joy and strength and support—as much as he gave them. He wanted them to be part of his life, just as he wanted her.

“We were sad that you broke up with Mommy,” Charlotte told him. “We thought it was wrong.”

“It was wrong,” he agreed. “I’m not going to break up with your Mom ever again.”

“Promise?” Jane asked.

“I promise.”

That evidently deserved another hug from both of them.

When they pulled away, both girls were beaming. Leila managed to get her emotions under control as Charlotte went into a long discourse on what happened in their gymnastic lessons that morning.

Finally, Jane asked, “Can we play a little while, Mommy?”

Leila glanced at her watch. “Sure. We can stay a half-hour or so.”

“Will you play with us, Mr. Baron?” Charlotte asked.

“Oh, we can be the two captured princesses,” Jane added, evidently hit with sudden inspiration. “And you can be the hero who rescues us!”

“Yay!” Charlotte exclaimed, dancing a little jig of excitement. “Please, Mr. Baron?”

“Now girls. Mr. Baron has had a busy weekend, and he might be a little tired.”

Before the girls could respond, Baron intervened. “I’m not that tired. I could probably manage to be the hero for a little while.”

He stood up, and the girls tugged on Leila’s arms too. “Come on, Mommy,” Jane insisted. “You can be a princess with us.”

So Leila was one of three princesses trapped in a dungeon, and Baron was the hero who rescued them in a variety of creative and unpredictable ways.

It wasn’t the worst way to spend a half-hour.

“All right, Charlotte,” Leila said, trying to keep the tiredness out of her voice. “It’s time to sit down at the table again. Our food will be here soon.”

Leila’s back was hurting. She was exhausted from all the end-of-the-semester work she’d finally finished up. She still hadn’t done any of her Christmas shopping, and all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and sleep.

“I’m Hannibal,” Charlotte declared from the top of the bronze elephant sculpture she’d climbed onto a few minutes ago. “And I’m crossing the Alps with the Carthaginians!”

Leila shook her head, wishing they hadn’t come to a restaurant with décor that was so tempting for children to play on. The restaurant had opened just a few weeks ago, and it had become such a hit that most people had to get on a list and wait for three months before they could get a reservation.

Not Baron, of course.

Leila hadn’t felt like going out at all tonight, but the girls had been restless and Baron had been wanting to try this new place.

“Hannibal made it across the Alps,” Leila said, pitching her voice as cheerfully as she could. She wondered if any other seven-year-old girls knew as much history as hers did. “And it’s time for the victory banquet.”

Charlotte looked briefly interested in this new possibility for her game, but then she kept rocking enthusiastically on the elephant, as if the poor, lumbering thing could manage a gallop over the mountains. “It’s not time for the banquet yet,” Charlotte whined. “I still haven’t made it across the Alps to fight the Romans!”

Leila very well recognized the stubborn jut of the girl’s chin, and she was just too tired to deal with it.

Baron had taken Jane to the bathroom, and she couldn’t let her daughter get away with bad behavior, no matter how exhausted she was. “Charlotte, now,” Leila said, trying to convey authority in her tone as she put a hand on her aching back. “This is your last warning. Come to the table with me.”

Charlotte looked over at her, hesitating and pausing in her ride. Then she scowled and patted the elephant's head. “Go, Carthage, go!” she cried, waving her hand in what was probably supposed to be a war rally.

Leila was close to tears now, her eyes burning with fatigue. She’d been grading for two weeks straight. She hadn’t been sleeping well for the last month, since she could never seem to get comfortable. Plus, she was embarrassed over the scene Charlotte was making at the restaurant. It wasn’t a stuffy, formal place, but it was exclusive—since only the most influential guests could get reservations—and it felt like everyone was staring at her and wondering how the frumpy woman with the poorly-behaved child had managed to get inside the doors.

Leila had tried to dress decently this evening in an expensive, navy blue cardigan and flowing pants set that didn’t wrinkle and draped somewhat attractively, but she still felt sloppy, with her hair slipping out of her low braid and her face red from the heat in the room and her frustration.

“Charlotte, now,” she said, her voice sharper. “You’ve already lost your dessert tonight. If you don’t get down right now, you’ll lose something else.”

Having to punish the girls had been exhausting lately, and she wondered if it was her fault that Charlotte was misbehaving now. Maybe she hadn’t been as strict as she should have been with them over the last couple of months.

“Mommy, no!” Charlotte wailed, bringing even more unwanted attention to them. “I want dessert!”

“Well, you can’t have it,” Leila said. “Now—”

A male voice came from behind her then, unexpectedly. “Charlotte, obey your mother. Immediately.” Baron’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked like a whip.

He had approached to stand beside Leila, holding a nervous-looking Jane by the hand.

Charlotte’s face crumpled pitifully, and she crawled off the elephant, her knee-length blue skirt getting hiked up in the process in a way that made Leila sigh and hope no one else saw her daughter’s panties. Then Charlotte drooped with the rest of them to their table, whimpering a little.

Both girls always deflated like popped balloons when Baron put his foot down with them.

Leila was immensely relieved that the little incident was over. She gave Baron a grateful look when he put a supportive hand on her aching back as they walked.

Then they all slid into their horseshoe-shaped banquette table, Leila a little awkwardly. She would have preferred a regular chair, but she wasn’t going to complain, since their table was obviously positioned the best in the restaurant.

Charlotte cuddled up at her side, sniffling and shaking a little.

Leila put her arm around her.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” the girl told her, stretching up to whisper the words in her ear.

Leila smiled and relaxed. “That’s okay, sweetie,” she said, stroking the girl's messy hair. “Next time obey right away so you don’t have to lose your dessert.”

Charlotte appeared quite dismayed over the loss of her favorite part of the meal and burrowed against Leila’s belly.

Jane had been quiet and wide-eyed during the incident—both girls were always dreadfully uncomfortable when the other was getting in trouble—but she seemed to understand now that it was over. She perked up and started telling Leila and Baron about the tile mosaics of elephants, giraffes, dolphins, and panda bears in the bathroom.

Their food came soon, and things settled down even more. Charlotte ate her food, although she was very subdued and kept slanting Baron worried, hesitant looks.

Baron himself appeared handsome and composed in his black dress shirt, and he responded pleasantly to Jane's and Leila’s comments, but Leila thought he looked a little stretched. He’d been unusually tired too, she knew—since he’d had to pick up some of the parenting slack over the last month because Leila had so little energy.

He didn’t say much to Charlotte. Leila knew it wasn’t because he was angry with her but because he was uncomfortable—afraid she was mad at him or had been hurt by his tone. Baron was still a little insecure about his ability to be a parent to the girls, no matter how often he proved himself to be an excellent one.

When Charlotte finished her bread and mashed potatoes but only picked at her meatloaf, Baron asked the server for some ketchup. When it arrived, he handed it to the girl without comment. Charlotte, who had obviously been too anxious to ask for it herself, took it gratefully and dumped a generous portion onto her meatloaf.

Leila felt bad that she hadn’t remembered to get ketchup for Charlotte herself, but she couldn’t help but be touched by Baron’s silent consideration for the girls. He knew them so well now. He loved them.

Leila and Jane got dessert—Baron didn’t, Leila was sure, so Charlotte wouldn’t be the only one without it. Jane had wanted to share her dessert with her sister, but Leila had to refuse the sweet gesture as it would take the teeth out of the punishment.

They were finishing up when Charlotte asked in a tremulous voice, “Papa?”

Baron rested quiet, dark eyes on the girl. “Yes, sweetheart.”

Encouraged by his response, Charlotte straightened up a little. “Are you mad at me?”

Leila felt a weird little ache in her chest when she saw his face crack slightly. “No. I’m not mad. I was disappointed that you disobeyed your mommy, but I’m not mad.”

Charlotte’s little face relaxed. “I’m sorry.”

Baron nodded and gave the girl a little smile. “Thank you.”

Charlotte scooted over in the banquette toward Baron and stretched up, offering him her cheek. Baron leaned over to kiss it. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, very, very softly.

Charlotte beamed up at him. “I love you too, Papa.”

Leila’s hormones were obviously completely out of control, since she was almost in tears as she watched them.

She still remembered, four or five months ago, shortly after she and Baron had gotten married in their little church, when Jane had been stricken with a terrible ear infection. The poor thing was in horrible pain, and they couldn’t give her the prescribed pain reliever as often as she seemed to need it. Both Leila and Baron had stayed up with her, trying to ease her earache and comfort her.

Jane had been lying on the couch with her head in Baron’s lap, tossing and turning and whimpering. Leila had been preparing another warm compress and was coming back into the living room when Jane suddenly cried out, “Daddy!” and reached a hand out blindly.

Baron had been stroking the girl’s hair gently, but she saw his face twist at Jane’s pitiful cry. She knew how hard it would be for him to hear Jane cry out for her father in her distress. They’d reached a fairly workable system with Rick—he saw the girls every few months and, now that he’d gotten remarried, seemed satisfied with that level of contact—but Baron was obviously more of a father-figure to the girls than Rick had ever been.

When she received no response, Jane groped around with her hand again. “Daddy!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Baron had said, his voice oddly hoarse. “Your daddy isn’t here right now. Can I help you instead?”

Jane had blinked and turned her little body to look at Baron. Her expression was pained and disoriented, but she managed to explain with characteristic sobriety, “I meant you. You’re my daddy too, aren’t you?”

Baron had made a choking sign and his face had twisted wrenchingly before he’d pulled Jane up into a hug.

Leila was worried about their calling Baron “Daddy,” since Rick was still part of their life, and she’d been working hard to maintain a good relationship with him. They settled on “Papa” as an alternative and checked with Rick to make sure he was all right with it. He’d said the girls could call Baron what they wanted—as long as everyone understood he was still their father. Leila didn’t know what other stepfamilies did, but she knew something knit itself together inside Baron every time the girls called him “Papa.”

“I love you too, Papa,” Jane piped up, evidently feeling a little left out of the sappy proceedings.

Baron reached out his other arm and drew Jane against him as well. “Well, good,” he said, kissing the top of her head with a smile. “Because I love you so much that I would be completely crushed if you didn’t love me back.”

“And I love all three of you,” Leila said. “But I’m the one who’s pregnant here, and I’m getting kind of tired, so is it all right if we head back home?”

***

Baron was trying to work and not having much success.

For one thing, he was feeling a weird ache of nostalgia as he sat in the library of his family home.

The other reason for his distraction was more concrete.

“Papa?” a voice came from the doorway, the third interruption in the last hour. “What was the name of the big metal thing that crashes down to keep invaders out?”

Baron looked up and saw Charlotte peeking into the study. “Portcullis,” he replied.

“Jane, it’s port-cullis!” Charlotte yelled to her sister, who was probably halfway across the sprawling house. “Thank you,” she added in a more moderated tone.

“You’re welcome.”

Exhaling deeply, he turned back to his computer screen. They’d come out yesterday for the Christmas holidays, just as they had the year before. He still remembered the girls’ joyful exuberance on discovering that they were going to spend their holiday in the old stone house, which they assumed must be some sort of castle. When they’d arrived yesterday, their enthusiasm for the setting returned, and they’d been “playing castle” all day.

Baron had been trying to work, since Leila had given him firm instructions on how he wasn’t allowed to work on Christmas Eve or Christmas day. So today was his last chance to get ahead a little. He’d done better this morning—getting through a lot of email and having a couple of phone meetings. But this afternoon his focus had been drifting more and more from the tasks at hand.

Work wasn’t as overwhelming now that he’d done some reorganization and hired some more staff on the executive level, but there would always be more work than he had time for.

He hadn’t heard a word from Steven after the settlement.

He wondered if he should just give up now and go play with the girls. Or, even better, find Leila and take care of some of his restlessness.

“Don’t you think you’ve worked enough?” another female voice came from the doorway, this one more lilting and more mature.

Baron closed out his email and turned off his computer. “You must have read my mind.” He turned in his chair to see Leila approaching.

She was absolutely beautiful, although she just snorted when he’d told her that recently. Their son was due in less than a month now, and the curve of her belly was heavy. But her fair skin glowed, and her very pronounced curves were unexpectedly sensual and compelling.

He’d been plagued with lust for her for months now—even more than he usually was—ever since the pregnancy had begun to show. She’d been quite willing to accommodate him during the earlier months, but recently she’d been too uncomfortable to have much sex. Baron, of course, didn’t complain, but unsatisfied desire had been making him unusually restless.

Leila said it made him grumpy, but he wasn't convinced that was the best choice of words.