Chapter Ten
He slept like Eros, the god of love, all golden flesh and sexual magic. Standing in the hallway peering into Bastian’s bedroom, Charlie watched in awe as the soft morning light played over his slumbering features. She tucked the house key into the side pocket of her purse and kicked off her sandals. A click rang out when the door latch caught, and her gaze jerked over her shoulder. The brush of her clothes falling to the floor echoed loudly in her ears but he didn’t stir, and a smile inched out. Dr. Hot was about to get his buns scorched.
With a firm grip on the peach-flavored lube, she tiptoed to the left side of the bed and slid beneath his sheet. The whisper of linen didn’t infiltrate his sleep, not even when her skin met his. Bastian slept half on his side, half on his back, but it was enough to bring his face close to hers on the pillow. The downy kiss she trailed across his lips was met with a sigh but not one of wakefulness. Her tongue followed her lips’ path and he shifted but never woke.
She pulled back and stared. Damn, and Bastian said she slept like the dead. With light but firm fingers, she trailed a line up his arm, across his collarbone and down his chest. A guttural noise mixed with an exhale but he didn’t move. She traced her name across his heart. A twinge halted her. Her in his heart. Bastian didn’t know how deeply in her heart he was, how much she needed him, how badly losing him would hurt.
The thought was too frightening to examine so she shoved it behind the wanton slut in her nature and let her fingers explore. Hard planes and lines defined his upper torso and she glided her touch across each one. She might tease him about his time spent in the boxing ring but the benefits were definitely worth it. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat with a slow steady rhythm and she paused, just letting the power flood through her. A burnished copper dusting of hair tapered downward toward his navel, and she followed it with light caresses. His stomach tightened and she stopped. No, he was still asleep. But something was waking up.
A feminine grin erupted as the pale blue sheet rose, tenting beside his hip. Bastian shifted, murmuring in a low sleepy tone words she couldn’t make out. Her brow tightened. The hell with this teasing shit. She planted her lips on his and sank her hands into his hair. Bastian woke up…kind of.
A moan warmed her tongue seconds before his slipped into her mouth. One firm hand reached out and brought her close, molding her frame to his. A growing hardness poked into her thigh and Charlie nearly purred. Bastian normally didn’t sleep naked but apparently last night he had, and she was going to take full advantage of that. Still trapped in some erotic dream that better be featuring her, he assaulted her mouth with far more hunger than a simple wake-up kiss. What was he dreaming about? The whisper of her name curved her lips against his.
That was more like it.
His hand skimmed down her back, curled around her hip. Even asleep, his kisses bombarded her mind with sensual and provoking sensations. He nipped and licked with a passion that called to hers, drawing a storm from a rain shower. Warm, sleep-loosened muscles hardened, rolling her deeper into the pillow, his tongue sliding down her neck, his hard cock against her belly. Her arms wound around his shoulders, and she arched to give him access to her throat.
Maybe she whimpered, she wasn’t sure, but something jerked him to full wakefulness and his head reared back.
Bastian blinked rapidly, slivers of the dream sliding away. A double whammy of lust and surprise tore through him. He’d been having a dream, the type of dream a man hated to wake up from, only to discover it wasn’t completely a dream. She was here, naked beneath him, bare breasts visible in the morning glow.
“Charlie! What are you doing here?”
Her greeting was a side serving of tongue grazing along his collarbone, and a shudder worked from his lower spine to his shoulders. He couldn’t take this. Not this morning. Not so close on the edges of what had promised to be a hell of a wet dream.
“Giving you a wake-up call.”
She took his gaping mouth and his tongue automatically dove inside the warmth. Her fingers left his shoulders and smoothed down his ribs heading south. A groan rose from his belly. She was going to kill him, and rigor mortis wouldn’t be the only thing making him stiff. He tried to move away, to lift his body from hers, but her legs curled around his thighs. A brush of damp feminine flesh along his shaft froze him into place. So close.
“Charlie, don’t do this to me.”
She nipped his neck. “You said you had a craving for honeyed peaches, remember?”
The sweet fruit fragrance burst into the room with a plastic click. His eyes snapped open, focusing on the clear bottle in her hand, and an internal lion roared. She brought lube? Peach-flavored lube? The scent married with dream images and his cock jerked in readiness.
A slick palm circled around him and an agonized moan ripped from his throat.
Heaven had to be peach-infused, or maybe it was hell. No, it was hell because her hand’s slow, sliding motion was pure torture. His hips thrust against her hold without permission. Too good, too tempting. If he didn’t get out of bed right this minute he’d lose it and drive so hard inside her she’d taste peaches for a week.
One knee came up to force himself to a stand but she tightened her fingers, and his teeth clamped shut. Oh God. His body listened to nature, not his brain. Her thighs fell open, begging for his touch. He did try, firming his stomach and peeling her grip from him. But it backfired and his hand brushed her core. So hot. So soft. He had to touch her again. Just once more.
The creamy heat beckoned him, welcomed the invasion, and he slipped one finger along a silken fold. She moaned around his tongue, her hips bowing upward. She wanted more. God help him, so did he. His finger sank inside her.
A growl rippled his gut. So tight. She was so tight. So wet the lube was an oxymoron. His thumb flicked up, over her clit, and she whimpered into his mouth. A rich womanly scent blended with artificial fruit essence, drilling through his olfactory nerves. He’d never kissed any woman with as much hunger as he did Charlie, and she gave back every ounce of her own appetite. Her hand on his shaft never slowed. The wet sucking noise mimicked the real thing and he fought a snarl.
Fighting Charlie was hard, fighting himself was harder and he wavered, longing to give in, to possess her as he’d wanted for so damn long. She was more than willing, more than ready, and he was hard enough to pound nails. He wanted to pound her instead.
A clench squeezed his finger and her hips rocked up. Mere inches separated them from joining, all he had to do was lower himself and slide inside that heated grasp. Her breathless whisper of his name almost undid him.
So close…so easy…so tempting…
He surged from her embrace, tore her hands from his quaking body and rolled away. He sucked in air in huge gulps. Too fucking close. He had to get out of here. The mattress clung too fiercely to the sheet so he thrust it off and grabbed his discarded boxers, holding them to his fully aroused erection. The ice pack he’d carried to bed lay on the floor and he kicked it in irritation.
“Damn it, Bastian!” Anger sharpened her tone. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to fuck me right now.”
Chest heaving with his struggle, he dared a look back to her. “No, I can’t. But I want more than right now. I want forever.”
Her jaw went rigid and her lips twisted into a sarcastic squiggle. “You know, I’d say screw the damn bet but I doubt you’d even screw that, would you?”
Crude. She got crude when she was hurting. He hurt her by pulling away, he knew that. But he had no choice. She was worth so much more than a quick fuck, couldn’t she see that? “Is this really still about a fucking bet to you?”
She pitched the clear bottle at him and he reflexively caught it.
“Don’t even try denying you’re going to jack off in the shower. Use that and know you could have the real thing instead.”
Her screech was muffled as he shut the bathroom door. The flip of the lock made her scream louder.
“Arg! I hate you right now, Sebastian William Talbot. I hate you with a passion. I hope you get chapped palms and a hangnail scrape. And you damn well better be thinking about me or I’ll make your life a living sexual hell!”
Like she isn’t already. Bastian jerked the shower to hot and stepped under the stinging spray, ducking his head to let the water sluice over his face. Goddamn, she’d better say yes soon. She had to or he’d be fitted for a new white coat, one with sleeves in the back.
Now his balls ached from denial as well as trauma. He grabbed the peach lube with a growl. Doctor Bushani’s orders, after all, and he might as well let his imagination wander. It didn’t have far to wander, just the other side of the door.
Steam swirled around him and hot water pounded his scalp. He stayed there, letting the tensions bleed away on rivers of water. Charlie had no idea what she did to him. He’d been dreaming of her splayed beneath his mouth, her rich peach essence thick on his tongue. And she’d brought fucking peach lube into his bed! Oh, she was evil. The hard-on that hadn’t diminished at all jerked in need, and his hand dropped to it.
A palmful of slick orange gel heated to his body temperature and he closed his grip around his aching shaft. A groan threatened to erupt and he tamped it down. Bad enough she knew what he was doing, but he’d be damned if she listened to him moaning her name.
God, she was tight. Tighter than he expected, although that thought shamed him. Of course, she often announced after a station break how many Kegels she’d done during commercials. He’d never really believed her until now. His hand slid up and down, imagining sliding inside her slick walls. He’d never last inside her.
A heady scent filled the tiled room, lacing the steam with a summery fragrance that bordered on erotic. Peaches. Where in the hell had she come up with that little fact? Granted, she was right but he’d never thought about it until she mentioned it. Now he couldn’t get the fruit out of his mind. Silently, he vowed he would taste every crevice of her peach before finally taking her.
The dream returned in blazing color. Charlie, moist and warm, thighs parting before him…his lips skimming her flushed skin…whimpers sounding above him…pale pink layers quivering beneath his tongue…juicy…peach succulence flowing against his lips while his tongue sought and found the tiny nub…so sweet…her hips thrusting to his mouth…capturing that bud and sucking, flicking his tongue over the pulse…ripe, so ripe for plucking…his name panting, her thighs trembling…fingers tightening in his hair…
Climax poured over him, hotter than the water and sweeter than the oil, while images of Charlie flooded him. A moan ripped from his belly, and he clenched his teeth but her name rasped from his lips. Thick ribbons of white arced against the tile.
His hand shot out to the wall for balance. Chest heaving, he blinked, clearing water and the sultry images away. Three things registered. First, other than a slight twinge, there had been no real pain. Second, there had been no blood mixed in the pearly white. Third, Charlie was clapping. He was relieved and mortified at the same time.
Charlie was grumpy. He’d grabbed his clothes and kissed her goodbye—a peck on the forehead, like she was a sister or something. Or a best friend. Not like someone whose name he’d just called out while masturbating. Spitefully, she’d flung off the sheet and cocked her leg, dropping her fingers to her wet cleft, daring him to watch. He’d shaken his head and sighed but left the room with just a towel around his waist. Damn him and his saintly restraint.
After a thoroughly empty orgasm she’d fallen asleep, then woken up in Bastian’s bed, alone. Whatever surprise he had planned was scheduled for tonight and she didn’t have a clue what it was. A note propped on the pillow simply told her to be gowned and ready at seven.
Ready for what? Charlie grumbled up her mother’s back walkway. The white gate protested her entry with a squeak, and she twisted the doorknob. It didn’t budge. She tried again. Her mother never locked the back door.
“Mom?” Peering through the curtained window, Charlie could see shadows moving but no one answered the door. “Mom, it’s me. I need to pick up my laundry.”
An inside shadow grew larger as someone approached with heavy steps. The lock clicked and Caz stepped out, firmly shutting the door behind him. Tucking the tips of his fingers inside faded blue jean pockets, he rocked on his heels.
“Hey, Littlebit.”
“Boo? What are you doing here?”
“Uh…” Eyes shifting left and right, he stumbled for an excuse. Charlie waited through his obvious mental searching. “Nothing. I mean, yeah, Eddy and I have a date.”
“A date, huh?”
“Yeah, a date. Why? You have a problem with me dating your mom?”
“Nope. She can date whoever she wants although she prefers older men, not younger.”
His chin shot up. “Maybe I’m an exception.”
“Sure you are. Look, I just need to pick up my laundry.”
“Laundry? You mean you want to come in?” The idea seemed to terrify him and he braced one hand on the door frame, blocking any entry. “I can bring it over later. Yeah, that sounds good. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll bring it—”
“What are you and my mom up to? Has Bastian got you helping with this surprise thing of his?”
Deflated, his shoulders sank and his face fell. “Cut me some slack here. He promised if I said one word about it, he’d remove my spleen with a spoon. And although I’m not too sure what a spleen does, I think I should try to keep mine inside my body. Just pretend you never saw me, okay?”
“He’s not a surgeon so I think you’re safe. What are you two doing?”
“A spoon, Charlie, not a scalpel. Surgeons don’t use spoons, pissed-off older brothers do. Trust me, I’ve boxed with him. He hits hard and fights dirty. Sorry. Not talking. Go home.”
“No can do. For all I know, you and my mother are being held hostage and they’re forcing you to lie right now. I need to get inside the house to ease my mind. Move it.”
He shook his head in amusement. “My spleen ranks over your mind. Go home.”
“Mom!” Charlie called. “Make Boo move so I can come in and get my clothes.”
“Oh, good Lord, Charlie.”
From behind the closed door, she heard her mother sigh before the knob jiggled. A huge green plastic basket overstacked with folded laundry appeared, clutched by irritated hands.
“Take this and go home, you nosy little pain in the ass.” She thrust the basket at Charlie. Tilting her head up to the man beside her, her mother smiled broadly. The look they shared was conspiring and annoying. “Do you know she has weaseled every present out of me for at least fifteen years? She just doesn’t give up, serves her right to be wondering for a change.”
Eddy slid her hand around Caz’s elbow. Together they stared at her, a united front of silence, recruited soldiers in Bastian’s ambush. Aggravation boiled to the surface and Charlie stomped her foot.
“Oh wait.” Eddy darted back inside the house. Caz merely grinned at her
“This cat-that-ate-the-canary look you have going? Not attractive, Boo.”
“Rub my belly and I’ll purr for you but no way am I talking.”
Charlie growled but that damn infuriating grin only widened.
“He really got you this time, admit it.”
“He can have me anytime he wants. I just want to know what he’s up to.”
“Six-two, I think.” Caz leaned on the door frame, a huge tattooed barricade. “I’m not even going to guess at other measurements. That takes family bonding to a disgusting level.”
She tightened her mouth. “You are no longer allowed to drive my car.”
Eddy slithered out with a handful of mail. She pulled the door shut behind her and tucked the stack in the side of the laundry basket. “There, mail call. Now go home and get ready.”
“Get ready for what? Tell me!”
“No. I happen to like Bastian.”
“Right this minute, I don’t.” She glared her most bitchy face at her mother.
Eddy patted her cheek. “Now, do you want your face to freeze like that?”
Laughter carried across the lawn as Charlie stalked away. Only the laundry clutched in her hands prevented her from making a rude finger gesture. Frustration rolled in her stomach as she pounded up the stairs and dropped the basket inside her bedroom. The force made the neat stacks of clothing jump and wrinkle up. Ignoring them, she collapsed facedown on her bed. She hated surprises. Bastian knew that, damn him. So did her mother.
After kicking the mattress a few times, she sagged. There had to be some way to figure out what Bastian was planning. Her brain shifted through ideas while her hands were putting her laundry away. She grabbed the mail and sifted through it, tossing out junk and sorting bills. Two responses to her job search sped her heart, and she ripped into a letter from Chicago. The bland greeting deflated her shoulders and she knew before the first sentence that it was a rejection.
The trilling phone interrupted her and she scrambled over the pillows, searching for the handset.
“Hello?”
“Boo says you’re being nosy.”
“She stomped her foot!” In the background, Caz’s amusement was loud. “Temper tantrums, I love it.”
“Wait, you picked Boo up? You were just here and didn’t come up?”
“No time. I have shit to do today.”
“Damn it, Bastian. This is driving me nuts. Give me a hint here. What are you doing?”
“Right this minute we’re sitting in traffic and laughing at you.” True to his word, masculine chuckles sailed through the phone line.
Her hand gripped the hard plastic, wishing it was Bastian’s secretive neck. “You dragged my mother and your brother into this and still won’t tell me? How fair is that?”
“Haven’t you ever heard that all’s fair in love and war?”
“Oh, screw that crap. Tell me what you’re planning.”
“I’m planning on surprising you.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Well, I love you, so deal with it. Go take a shower and cool off. I can hear your brain overheating. See you at seven.”
He disconnected before she could respond but it didn’t prevent her from screaming into the receiver.
“You’re the biggest wuss I’ve ever seen,” Bastian grumbled, handing over another large box that weighed next to nothing. “You’re over six foot tall. How can you be scared of a little spider?”
Caz shivered exaggeratedly. “Little spider, my ass. Did you see it? That thing was the size of a quarter, not counting the legs. Hurry the hell up and let’s get out of here. And call an exterminator or something, Jesus.”
They grabbed the last two boxes and carried them down the stairs with Bastian snickering over his brother’s spider phobia. Caz took it until Bastian’s SUV was full.
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t rib you about shit you’re scared of.”
“What am I afraid of?” Bastian shot back. Something about the way Caz bit his lip chilled Bastian’s blood. The tease left his voice. “What? Just say it.”
His brother sucked in a breath then shook his head. “Forget it. I need food before I go back. Eddy and I are going to have to haul ass most of the night to get this done.”
A frown tugged at his mouth but he followed Caz up the walkway. An unfamiliar blue car pulled in the drive behind them. Bastian looked over his shoulder and froze.
“That’s Lisa.”
“What the hell does she want?” Caz grumped. Bastian snapped a disgusted look at his brother then headed back down the sidewalk.
His ex-wife stepped out of the car before he could reach her. “Hey.”
“Hey, Bastian.” She gave him a weak smile. “I finally got around to finishing the nursery and…I found some old med-school textbooks in the closet. I thought you might want them back.”
She opened the rear door and pulled out two old hardcovers. Bastian didn’t even bother glancing at the titles. He was too busy studying her face. He hadn’t been with her for years without learning when Lisa was near tears and trying to hide it. He started to ask but then remembered he didn’t have that right anymore.
She caught him looking and he fumbled. “You look good.”
A bright sheen was blinked away and her smile quivered. “For a woman who spent thirty-three hours in labor a week ago, I look amazing. I even managed to put clothes on today and I think they almost match.”
A swallow balled in his throat as he glanced into the backseat. An infant seat was covered with a pale yellow blanket. “You didn’t have to bring the books over now. They could have waited.”
Lisa rubbed her arms as if she were freezing despite the sunny weather. “I just needed to escape the house. It seemed like a good idea.”
“Lisa, are you all right?” His mouth shot off before his brain processed.
“I don’t know.”
The note of confusion and loss in her tone curdled his gut, and he moved her aside with one hand. “Come on, I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue but she didn’t make an effort either. The seat belt latch unhooked and he lifted the baby carrier out. She went to take it but he nailed her with his firmest doctor look. “I’ve got it. You shouldn’t be lifting anything yet.”
He motioned her ahead, slung the diaper bag from the floor to his shoulder then trailed her up the sidewalk. His heart pounded. God, hadn’t he longed for this? How many times did he dream of him and Lisa bringing their child to this house, to show off their baby to his mother? He had wanted so badly to give her her first grandchild. But it hadn’t happened and she’d passed away just after his divorce was final. This was his home now and there would be no bringing home of any babies, ever.
Caz stood just inside the foyer. His pinched gaze jerked from the baby carrier to Lisa before turning hard. “Oh nice, Lisa. Think you can throw a bit more salt on those wounds?”
“Boo, shut up!”
Lisa’s eyes went wide and she spun to him. “Oh, Bastian, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think…I’m sorry. I should go.”
“No, it’s all right.” Bastian glared at Caz. “I’m fine. Let’s go in the kitchen.”
Sucking in a wet inhale, she scurried toward the back. Bastian hissed, “Stay out of this. She needs a friend. I was her husband for too long to not be there for her now.”
Caz’s eyes locked on the carrier. “Still think she’s wrong for bringing the kid. Sue me.”
Bastian barreled past him. Lisa was staring out the window, both arms wrapped around her middle. The girl he’d loved was still there but she was buried beneath a few years and a recent childbirth. She’d been fastidious when he knew her, never leaving the house unless every hair was in place. Now her pale brown hair looked unbrushed but shoved into a clip out of her face. There were circles under her eyes and lines of exhaustion around her mouth. The too-large maternity shirt was wrinkled and a faint spit-up stain graced her shoulder.
Her breasts were larger and he immediately felt like a creep for noticing. He gently placed the covered seat on the table and dropped the bag to the floor. Sliding the books onto the counter, he closed his eyes. “Are you nursing? I’ll make some tea if you can’t have coffee.”
She nodded. “Tea sounds good.”
“How’re Patty and Donald?”
“Mom and Daddy are fine. He finally retired and is now obsessed with fishing. Mom makes him strip in the mudroom when he comes off the lake.”
Her voice was hollow. Small talk faded away. He filled the kettle and dug for the box of tea before looking at her. Lisa hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to do this. His life with Lisa had ended over four years ago and even though they’d parted as amicably as possible, the pain was still there. Nothing more was said as the water heated.
“Does Paul know you’re here?”
“No, but he wouldn’t care.”
Bastian steeled his jaw. He really didn’t want to talk to his ex-wife about her current marriage trouble. A coo sounded from beneath the blanket and he made himself look over. He didn’t want to see her baby either.
He set the steaming cup on the table and sat down. Lisa joined him with a small smile. “Thanks. And thanks for the flowers. I didn’t expect that.”
He’d sent a flower arrangement to the hospital but even though he was only down in the ER, he hadn’t gone to the seventh floor to see her, see it. One brow dropped when he realized he didn’t know if her baby was a boy or a girl. He kept his eyes away from the blanket.
“What’s up?”
The Earl Grey held her attention for a long moment before a tear finally slipped over her lashes. “Do you remember when we were first married? That apartment over the bakery?”
A laugh burst out before he could catch it. “Oh, yeah. The smell made up for the cracks in the kitchen floor, the wonky closet doors and leaky bathroom sink.”
“Remember how we used to laugh at the neighbors?” A glow flashed on her face. “They had sex as loud as they argued.”
Bastian groaned. “After listening to that for hours, paying the rent was embarrassing.”
“I keep thinking about that place. It was small and shabby and we were living on a shoestring but we were happy.” Her voice broke. “When did I stop being happy? When did I turn into a nagging bitch who was so determined to have a baby that I lost my husband?”
“Lisa, don’t.” He reached over and took her hand. “You weren’t a bitch. We wanted a baby and we tried but it just didn’t work. We both changed after that.”
“Maybe it was God’s way of saying I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I keep thinking that if it weren’t for wanting a baby, you and I would still be married, still be happy. But I pushed and demanded an—”
“We’d have divorced eventually no matter what. We’d changed too much from the kids who met at that pep rally.”
“Did I…?” She lifted the cup, set it down without sipping. “I know you had some trouble accepting…Did I do that to you? Make you feel like less…of a man?”
Bastian sighed and dropped his head back. Price of a return visit to hell—one cup of tea. Delayed misplaced guilt from a new mother’s raging hormones—no extra charge. “No. That was all me. All that resentment and anger and…and fear boiled over into every corner of our lives. Look, we both had issues. There’s no one person to blame. Why are you rethinking this now?”
“I heard you’re marrying Charlie.” She sent him a quick look then studied her teacup.
“I asked her, she hasn’t said yes yet.”
She turned the cup around and around and he waited, braced for what he knew was coming. “Did you…I mean, before we split, did you and she—”
“No, I never lied. Charlie was my friend. It just grew into something more.”
“Are you happy now? I mean, do you love her?”
Thoughts of Charlie warmed his chest and he let the smile out as wide as it wanted, feeling his cheeks lift. “Yeah, I am happy and yeah, I love her.”
Lisa’s lower lip trembled. “I wanted a baby. Now…I love her, I do. But I just…I’m not happy. Paul thinks I’m crazy but I just—I don’t feel like I can do this.”
Her. Lisa had a daughter. His eyes darted to the yellow blanket, and a bittersweet ache formed under his ribs. They’d wanted to name their daughter Gillian. Had she given their name to her daughter? He slammed a mental door shut on all the feelings that rushed him and turned to what he always had, medicine.
“Have you talked to your doctor? Postpartum depression is normal. You’re exhausted. Your hormones are all over the place. Your body just finished a marathon. It’s okay to ask for help, Leelee.”
Her nickname, one he’d given her in college and stopped using somewhere around the second year of arguments, closed her eyes.
“Paul says the baby blues are all in my head and I just need to toughen up.”
“Not to sound like a bitter ex-husband here but, from a medical point of view, Paul’s an asshole. Is he helping you at all?”
She dashed tears from her face and shrugged. She fiddled with the tea bag. “He tries. But she scares him. She’s so little and he’s afraid to touch her, afraid he’ll break her or something. He’s a good man, he’s just clueless what to do.”
A liquid blurting noise jerked her face toward the carrier and she stood, pulling the blanket off. Bastian got a flash of pink clothes and a bald head before he turned away. A noxious odor filled the room. Lisa looked at him apologetically. “Sorry. This bothers you.”
“Trust me, a drunk on a four-day bender makes a lot worse smell. It’s okay,” he protested but she shook her head.
“Stop. Kids bother you since…You switched specialties mid-residency after the tests came back. I should’ve thought before I showed up. I just didn’t know where else to go and…”
“I can take her.” Standing just inside the door, Caz’s voice was timid. “I mean, I can take her into the parlor and let you guys talk or whatever.”
Lisa’s smile shivered just a bit. “She needs a diaper change.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Caz picked up the bag and went to grab the carrier handle but Lisa’s fingers tightened on the sides. He stopped. “I won’t hurt her.”
Her grip slid away. “I know that. Sorry, I’m just a mess right now.”
Caz nodded and lifted the baby seat. He paused before leaving. “Babies liked to be talked to, right? I’ll sing her a song. What’s her name?”
“Eleanor but we call her Elli.”
“No smoking around her, Boo,” Bastian cautioned.
His brother sent him a “no shit” look then disappeared with the baby. Lisa turned to him with wide, wet eyes. He didn’t think but stood and opened his arms. She dove into them and wept. He propped his chin on her head, just letting her cry. So many times at the end of their marriage, he’d wanted to hold her like this, to give her some comfort, find some comfort in her embrace. But they’d been too bitter, too angry, and they’d done nothing but hurt each other. This felt like closure to him, a healing of a wound he hadn’t realized still ached.
When her sobs finally slowed, he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Call your doctor. Get some help. Call your mom and have her come visit. Tell Paul I said to man up and be a father. He’s lucky to have you both.”
At five minutes after seven, Charlie was reapplying more lipstick when her door banged open on the ground level. The wooden steps echoed as Bastian sailed up them.
“I’m sorry. I’m late. I had to make one more stop and the line…Charlie.” His feet slammed to a halt and his jaw dropped. With a warm pride filling her breast, she watched his gaze slide from the top of her hair to her feet.
She’d chosen a chic, 1940s-inspired gown in shimmering black. The simple sweetheart neckline with wide straps drew attention to her framed bustline and nipped waist while remaining tastefully prim. Hugging the curves from her hips to her knees, the skirt fell to a fan, emphasizing her silhouette. She accompanied it with long white opera gloves and the understated diamond stud earrings he’d given her for Christmas. Her black hair cupped her head, focusing his gaze on her flaming ruby lips. The look was timeless and, in her opinion, suited her perfectly.
“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” Bastian stopped and swallowed. “But tonight, you’re…stunning.”
His comment humbled her. Men had told her she was beautiful before. The words meant nothing. Bastian made her feel it, and her heart quivered. “Thank you.”
Beneath his classic tuxedo jacket, his chest expanded with a deep breath. “Ready?”
“Where are we going?”
“Let’s go find out.” Down to the wire and still he held his surprise out of her reach. Her head shook with amazement.
“You win. Just let me grab my handbag.” Twirling to the counter, she clutched the drawstring bag and Bastian’s gasp shivered up her spine.
“Where’s the rest of your dress?”
From her hairline to the top swell of her behind, the air kissed her skin, bared for his eyes. The front may have purred subdued sensuality, but the back screamed reckless temptation. The look she sent him was pure tease.
“You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.” Clearing his throat, he caught her eyes. Admiration and desire flared with sparkling clarity. “I like it very much.”
“Good. Did you really threaten Boo with a spoonectomy?”
“First rule of brothers, never admit to anything. Got my behind out of many groundings growing up.”
She laughed up into his face and caught the whiff of spearmint from the breath that grazed her cheek. An elbow rose before her and she curled her fingers underneath and allowed him to lead her into his surprise.