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CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER SETTLING AVA in her new crib for an afternoon nap, Emma went to her bedroom and began to unpack her few possessions. She could hear Larenzo moving around in his bedroom across the hall, and the closeness of the quarters made her feel...aware.

She was still overwhelmingly attracted to Larenzo. It was a fact she had to acknowledge, and perhaps acknowledging it would help her to deal with it. Larenzo had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in her that way any more, and she didn’t even want him to. At least, she shouldn’t want him to. Emma let out a rueful sigh as she acknowledged the truth—and strength—of her feelings. But she also knew their relationship, if they even had one, was way too complicated already.

And yet the tenderness he’d shown with Ava, the consideration he’d shown her...they chipped away at her defences. Made her remember. Made her want things she had absolutely no business wanting.

She might believe in Larenzo’s innocence, but that didn’t mean he was safe.

Ava was still sleeping after she’d unpacked, and so Emma headed out to the living room. The room was spacious and luxuriously appointed, if a little bland. No personal photographs or mementoes, but then Larenzo had bought the place only a week ago. It had probably come furnished.

She prowled around the room, glancing at the antique vases, the gilt mirrors, feeling restless and not quite knowing why.

She gazed out of the window at the leafy enclave of Central Park and as she imagined taking Ava to one of the playgrounds there, exploring the city with her daughter, her spirits lifted a little. She could make this work. She had to make this work, at least for a little while.

‘Was your room adequate?’

Emma spun around to see Larenzo standing in the doorway of the sitting room. He’d changed from his more casual clothes of this morning to a well-tailored suit in navy-blue silk, and he looked, as he always did, devastatingly attractive. Even from across the room Emma felt the force of his magnetism, and it nearly propelled her forward, towards him. She held onto the window sill for balance as she answered him.

‘Yes, thank you. More than adequate. This is a beautiful apartment, Larenzo.’

‘You must change anything you don’t like.’

She thought of telling him she wouldn’t be staying long enough to warrant such changes, but somehow she couldn’t make herself say the words. She just nodded instead, and Larenzo turned towards the door.

‘I have to go out now, for some business meetings, but I should be back this evening.’

‘Okay.’ Emma wasn’t sure why this surprised her, but it did. What had she expected—she and Larenzo would spend the day together? Larenzo had made it clear they would be living separate lives, brought together only by Ava, which was how she wanted it. How she had to want it. ‘Do you—do you want me to make something for dinner?’ She saw surprise flash across Larenzo’s face and she wondered if she’d pushed some undiscussed boundary, crossed some invisible line. Maybe Larenzo had no intention of eating with her or Ava. She had no idea how this was meant to work, how it was going to work.

‘If it’s no trouble, that would be fine,’ he finally said.

‘It’s no trouble.’

With a nod of farewell, Larenzo left the apartment and Emma stood there for a moment, feeling the emptiness all around her, not able to decide if she was relieved he had gone...or disappointed.

She made her way to the kitchen, which was huge, a hymn to granite and stainless steel, with every possible kitchen gadget and appliance. There was, however, no food. She stared into the empty depths of the enormous sub-zero fridge and wondered what Larenzo had been eating for the last few days.

When Ava woke a little while later Emma buckled her daughter into the top-of-the-line stroller that she found in the foyer.

Outside on Central Park West, a brisk autumn breeze blowing and Ava thankfully distracted by all the sights and sounds around them, Emma headed towards Columbus Avenue and the local shops. She felt better with every step she took, the city’s vibrant life seeming to infuse her with energy and purpose.

At a local grocery she bought all the ingredients for lasagne, a simple but warming meal on this cold autumn day. She paused in front of a wine shop and then recklessly bought a bottle of Chianti to go with it. She’d already pushed the boundaries of their arrangement by suggesting she cook for Larenzo. Why not own it?

This was her life, at least for now, and she wanted to enjoy it. Ava started getting restless in the stroller, so Emma headed back. Once she was up in the apartment she brought the groceries into the kitchen and settled Ava onto the floor with a few wooden spoons and copper pans. While her daughter made as much noise as she possibly could, Emma bustled around, assembling the lasagne and tossing a salad.

She started to relax as she worked; she’d always enjoyed cooking, and it actually felt good to be mistress of her own kitchen, instead of an interloper in Meghan’s. As much as her sister had made her feel welcome, Emma had been conscious of how much of an imposition she really was. Here, at least, she had a job to do, a potential role. Perhaps she could act as Larenzo’s housekeeper. It would be a way of earning her keep and making herself useful.

She was just sliding the lasagne out of the oven when Larenzo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, and his jaw was darkened with five o’clock shadow, all of it making him look deliciously rumpled and sexy.

He paused, taking in the sight of the kitchen, and Emma realised what a mess it was, with pots and spoons all over the floor for Ava’s entertainment, and the detritus from her cooking all over the counters.

‘Sorry, I’m not very good at cleaning up as I cook,’ she said.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Larenzo glanced around the room again, and Emma couldn’t tell anything from his expression. ‘I like it,’ he said at last. ‘Shall I set the table?’

He was already getting the forks and knives from the drawer, and Emma watched him, a strange pressure building in her chest. This was all so...normal. So cosy.

Ava had noticed her father and abandoned her pots and spoons to crawl over to him and pull herself up, clutching his legs. Larenzo glanced down at her, his whole face softening into a smile that made that pressure in Emma’s chest turn painful.

‘I’m afraid she’s dented a few of your pots and pans,’ she said stiltedly, turning her gaze to the salad she was needlessly tossing. ‘She doesn’t know her own strength.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Larenzo scooped Ava up with one hand, settling her on his hip as he took the cutlery to the table in the dining nook of the kitchen. ‘This is a bit more manageable than the dining room,’ he said as he laid the table. ‘I think the table in there seats twenty.’

‘Planning on having any dinner parties?’

‘No. I don’t think I know twenty people who would come to a dinner party I hosted, unless it was to gawp and gossip.’ He spoke tonelessly, without self-pity, and Emma eyed him curiously as she brought the lasagne to the table.

‘You don’t have many friends in America?’

‘I don’t have many friends, full stop,’ Larenzo answered. ‘A stint in prison shows you who your true friends are, and mine turned out to be rather few.’

He tried to put Ava in the high chair he’d brought to the table, but the toddler shrieked and arched her back, sticking her legs straight out. Emma watched, amused, as Larenzo tried his best before looking up with a wry smile.

‘She’s really quite strong.’

‘Yes, and she doesn’t like being strapped in.’ Emma plucked Ava from the chair and put her back down on the floor. ‘She’ll want to join us when we sit down.’

‘I suppose I have a lot to learn.’

‘Fortunately Ava provides a steep learning curve,’ Emma answered with a smile.

Emma brought the meal to the table and they both sat down. Just as she’d predicted, Ava crawled over to them, wanting to be part of things.

Larenzo glanced down at his daughter, smiling when she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He settled her in her high chair this time without Ava making any protest. ‘Tell me about the last ten months,’ he said to Emma when he’d sat down again. ‘Or even before that. How was your pregnancy?’

‘Mostly uneventful, thankfully,’ Emma answered. ‘I was pretty nauseous for the first three months,’ she continued. ‘But then it settled down. She was quite the kicker, though. I couldn’t sleep most nights because it felt like she was playing football inside of me.’

Larenzo smiled at that, his whole face lightening, and Emma quickly looked down at her plate. Larenzo’s smile was dangerous.

‘And the birth? It went well?’

‘As well as these things go,’ Emma answered frankly. ‘It hurt. A lot.’

‘Why didn’t you get pain relief?’

‘No time. She came a week early; she wasn’t due until New Year’s Eve. And I didn’t think I could actually be in labour, because the contractions were irregular and they didn’t hurt all that much.’ She let out a sudden, embarrassed laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.’

‘Why not? I want to hear it.’

‘Really?’ She heard the scepticism in her voice, and Larenzo must have too, because he nodded firmly.

‘Absolutely. I missed this, Emma. I want to know now.’

But would he have wanted to know then? If Larenzo hadn’t gone to prison, would he have been an involved father? Would they be dating or even married now? Emma’s cheeks heated at the thought. She was glad Larenzo had no idea the turn her thoughts had taken. She cleared her throat and continued. ‘Well, Meghan had been telling me how first babies take for ever, and as it was Christmas Eve I was hoping the contractions might die down. I didn’t want to be in the hospital over Christmas.’

‘Understandable.’

‘But they didn’t, and by the time I realised we needed to go to the hospital, Ava was almost ready to make her arrival.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘Meghan was pushing me in a wheelchair into the delivery ward, and I was bellowing at the top of my lungs. I’m not so good with pain.’

‘I wish I could have been there,’ Larenzo said quietly, and Emma knew he meant it.

Before she could think better of it, she asked the question that had been dancing through her mind. ‘What do you suppose would have happened, if you hadn’t gone to prison?’

Larenzo frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I would have stayed on as your housekeeper. I would have told you I was pregnant right away.’ She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, although she didn’t know what.

Larenzo sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘The truth is, Emma, if I hadn’t gone to prison, if I hadn’t known I was going to go to prison, there wouldn’t have been a baby. That night happened because I knew I was going to be arrested in the morning.’

‘Oh.’ Emma blinked, stupidly feeling hurt by this, and not quite sure what to do with that emotion. ‘I see.’

‘You gave me something precious that night.’

‘My virginity?’ she filled in, trying to joke, but it came out flat.

‘No, I didn’t mean that, although that of course is precious too.’

She really didn’t want to be having this conversation. She kept looking at her plate, focusing on the food she no longer felt like eating.

‘I meant comfort,’ Larenzo said quietly. ‘Human connection. Pleasure, not just physical pleasure, although there certainly was that. But pleasure in talking to you, and being in your company. Playing chess, seeing your photographs...that night made a memory that sustained me through many dark days in prison.’

‘Oh.’ And now she didn’t feel so hurt. She felt...honoured that she’d been that important to him, and deeply thankful that their one night together had meant something to him, as it had to her. ‘Well, I’m glad about that, I suppose.’

‘And look at the result.’ He glanced at Ava, who now had tomato sauce in her hair, before turning back to Emma with a smile. ‘I don’t have any regrets, since she came out of it. But I think she needs a bath.’

‘Do you want me to—?’ Emma half rose from her chair as Larenzo unbuckled Ava from her high chair.

‘I can do it,’ he said.

‘She can be pretty tricky in the tub—’

As if to prove her point, Ava started wriggling out of Larenzo’s grasp, and soon his shirt was splattered with tomato sauce.

Larenzo looked rather endearingly amazed by his daughter’s gymnastics and Emma rescued him. ‘I’ve found this is the best way sometimes,’ she said, and, tucking Ava under her arm as if she were a parcel, she took her to the bathroom.

Larenzo followed, standing in the doorway while Emma put Ava down and turned the taps on. ‘Fortunately she likes her bath,’ she said, and turned to look over her shoulder. Her breath dried in her throat as she saw he was unbuttoning his shirt. What, she wondered distantly, was so mesmerising about his long brown fingers sliding buttons out of their holes? Something was, because she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sight.

‘I’d rather not get my shirt wet,’ Larenzo explained. ‘I have a feeling Ava is a splasher.’ He shrugged out of his dress shirt, revealing a plain white T-shirt underneath that clung to the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen.

‘She is,’ Emma answered, and finally managed to drag her gaze to Larenzo’s face. She couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes, and she hoped that he hadn’t noticed how she’d been staring. Wanting.

She knew she should go back to the kitchen and clean up their dishes, but she felt as if her feet were rooted to the floor, and all she could do was watch as Larenzo battled Ava out of her clothes and then plopped her in the tub, one strong hand resting on her back to keep her steady.

‘Is this right?’ he asked, and the uncertainty in his voice made Emma’s heart ache.

‘Yes...yes, that’s perfect.’ She felt as if her feelings were a kaleidoscope that Larenzo twirled every time he spoke. In these unguarded moments of honesty everything in her swelled with feeling, ached with loss.

What if things could have been different? What if that night had still happened, without the arrest, and she and Larenzo had built a relationship? What if they’d become a proper family, rather than this awkwardly constructed temporary one?

Emma knew she shouldn’t torment herself with such thoughts. She’d never been looking for that kind of relationship, and, in any case, there was no going back. And yet as she gazed helplessly at Larenzo bathing their daughter, she almost wished there were.

Half an hour later Emma had cleaned up the kitchen when Larenzo emerged from the nursery with Ava in her pyjamas.

‘You’ve buttoned up her pyjamas wrong,’ she remarked in amusement as Larenzo raked a hand through his hair.

‘Those things are worse than a straitjacket. There are a million buttons.’

‘It’s a learned skill.’

‘Clearly.’ He pulled his damp T-shirt away from his chest, and Emma tried not to stare at his perfect musculature, or remember how warm and satiny his skin had felt, how she’d once put her lips to his taut abdomen...

‘She’s ready for bed, I think,’ Emma said. ‘I’ll get her bottle ready.’ She’d brought a can of infant formula from Meghan’s, and now she poured cooled boiled water into a bottle and added a few scoops of the white powder. ‘You were a little low on groceries, by the way,’ she said. ‘I don’t think there’s anything for breakfast.’

‘I can arrange for food to be delivered, unless you’d prefer to do it yourself.’

‘Actually, I was thinking about that,’ Emma said. She’d finished making the bottle and Ava was reaching for it with both hands. ‘I’m not comfortable just living off your generosity, and one thing I know how to do is be a housekeeper.’

Larenzo stilled. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I could be your housekeeper. You don’t have to pay me, but at least it will make up for mine and Ava’s room and board.’

Larenzo’s face had darkened as she spoke. ‘Ava is my daughter, Emma, and you are her mother. This isn’t a question of room and board.’

Emma took a deep breath, knowing she needed to say this even if part of her didn’t want to. ‘It is for me, Larenzo.’ He didn’t answer and she continued, keeping her voice steady with effort, ‘Look, you said yourself you aren’t interested in a relationship. You want to get to know Ava, and I respect that. But the only reason I’m here is because Ava is. So it makes sense for me to have a role. A job.’

Still Larenzo didn’t speak, and Emma could see the emotions battling on his face. She just didn’t know what they were. Did he want there to be more between them? Or was that just her foolish, wishful thinking? Sighing, she hoisted Ava more firmly on her hip. ‘I’m going to put her to bed. Think about it, at least.’

She was at the door when Larenzo finally bit out, ‘Fine, you can act as housekeeper. But I don’t want any responsibilities you needlessly put on yourself to take away from Ava’s care.’

‘Many women manage a home and a baby,’ Emma answered, doing her best to keep her voice mild. ‘I think I can too.’ Larenzo said nothing and as she headed to the nursery with Ava, Emma wondered why this didn’t feel more like a victory.