Читать книгу Six Of The Best Of Desire 2016 - Maisey Yates, Andrea Laurence - Страница 13

Four

She was really doing it. Spending two weeks with Gervais in his mansion on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. She’d slept in his house and now that her luggage had been sent over from the hotel, she had more than a jersey to wear. She tugged at the hem, the fabric surprisingly soft to the touch, the number cool against the tips of her breasts.

This was actually happening. Last night had been more than just an overnight fluke. True to his word, Gervais hadn’t been pushy about joining her here. But she felt his presence all the same.

And she was here to stay. A flutter of nerves traced down her spine as she fully opened the pocket doors to get a better look at the guest suite. She crossed the threshold from the bedroom to the sitting room, clothes in hand.

But she paused, toes sinking into the rich texture of the red Oriental rug. The way the light poured through the window in the sitting room drew her eye. Stepping toward the window, she took a moment to drink in the twinkled blue of Lake Pontchartrain.

The morning sun warmed her cheeks, sparking prisms across the room as it hit the Tiffany lamps. Glancing at her reflection in the gilded-gold mirror that was leaning on the mantel of the fireplace, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Mind wandering back, as it had a habit of doing lately, to Gervais. To the way his eyes lingered on her. And how that still ignited something in her...

But it was so much more complicated than that. She pushed the thought away, moving past the cream-colored chaise longue and opening the cherrywood armoire. As if settling her belongings in drawers gave her some semblance of normalcy. A girl could try, after all.

Her hand went to her stomach, to the barely perceptible curve of her stomach. A slight thickening to her waist. Her body was beginning to change. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive.

And her emotions were in a turmoil.

That unsettled her most of all. She was used to being seen as a focused academic, a military professional. Now she was adrift. Between jobs. Pregnant by a man she barely knew and with precious little time to settle her life before her family and the world knew of her pregnancy. She had a spot reserved for her in a graduate nursing program this fall, and she wanted to take coursework right up until her due date. But then what?

A knock on the door pulled her back to the present. She opened the paneled door and found a lovely, slender woman, wearing a pencil-thin skirt and silky blouse, tons of caramel-colored hair neatly pinned up. A large, pink-lipstick smile revealed brilliant white teeth.

She extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Adelaide Thibodeaux. Personal assistant to Dempsey Reynaud—the Hurricanes’ coach. Gervais asked me to check in on you. I just wanted to make sure, do you have everything you need?”

Erika nodded. “Thank you. That is very kind of you to look in on me.”

“I’ve been a friend of Dempsey’s since childhood. I am happy to help the family.” She wore sky-high pumps that would have turned Erika into a giantess—exactly the kind that she enjoyed wearing when she wasn’t pregnant and less sure-footed.

“Did you have my things sent over?”

Adelaide’s brow furrowed, concern touching the corners of her mouth. “Yes, did we miss anything?”

“Everything is perfect, thank you,” she said, gesturing to the room behind her. “The home is lovely and comfortable, and I appreciate having my personal belongings sent over.”

“We want you to enjoy your stay here in the States. It will be a wonderful publicity boon for the team to have royalty attending our games.”

Erika winced. The last thing she wanted was more attention from the media. Especially before she knew how she was going to handle the next few months.

Adelaide twisted her hands together, silver bracelets glinting in the sunlight. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not. It is just that I am not a fan of football, or competitive sports of any kind.” It was a half-truth. Certainly, no matter how she tried, she just didn’t understand the attraction of football. But she couldn’t tell Adelaide the real reason she didn’t want to be a publicity ploy.

“And yet clearly you’re quite fit. You must work out.”

“I was in the military until recently, and I do enjoy running and yoga, but I have to confess, team sports have never held any appeal for me.”

“No?” Adelaide frowned. “Then I am not sure I understand why you are here— Pardon me. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business.”

Erika searched for a simple answer. “Gervais and I enjoyed meeting each other in England.” Understatement. “And since there is a conference in the area I plan to attend, I decided to visit.” Okay, the conference was a lie, but one she could live with for now.

“Of course.” Understanding lit her gaze, as if she was not surprised that Gervais would inspire a flight halfway across the world. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your checking on me. But I am independent.” She had always been independent, unafraid of challenges.

“I wasn’t sure of the protocol for visiting royalty,” Adelaide said, her voice curling into a question of sorts. As if a princess couldn’t fend for herself. “You are a princess.”

“In name only, and even so, I am the fifth daughter.”

“You’re humble.”

“I have been called many things, but not that. I am simply...practical.”

Pink lips slipped back up into a smile. “Well, welcome to New Orleans. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“As do I.” She had a feeling she was going to get to know everyone exceptionally well. Erika’s thoughts drifted back to Gervais. She certainly wanted to get to know him better.

Adelaide started to leave, then turned back. “It might help you on game days if you think of football as a jousting field for men. You were in the military and come from a country famous for female warriors. Sure, I’m mixing time frames here with Vikings and medieval jousters, but still, if you see the game in the light of a joust or warrior competition, perhaps you may find yourself enjoying the event.”

The door closed quietly behind her.

A joust? She’d never considered football and jousting. Maybe...maybe she’d give that a shot.

Her gaze floated back to the window, back to Lake Pontchartrain. It stretched before her like an exotic promise. Reminded her she was in a place that she didn’t know. And it might be in her best interest to find any way into this world.

To make the most of these days here, to learn more about the father of her child, she would need to experience his world.

And that meant grabbing a front-row seat.

Yet even as she plucked out a change of clothes, she couldn’t help wondering... Had Adelaide Thibodeaux welcomed many other women into this home on Gervais’s behalf?

* * *

Today was quite the production. Gervais watched the bustle of people filling the owners’ suite at Zephyr Stadium for a preseason game day. Tickets for special viewing in the owners’ box were sold at a premium price to raise money for a local charter school, so there were more guests than usual in the large luxury suite that normally accommodated family and friends.

His sister-in-law Fiona Harper-Reynaud was a renowned local philanthropist, and her quarterback husband was the golden boy of New Orleans, which added allure to her fund-raising invitation. Henri—beloved by fans as the Bayou Bomber—was the face of their franchise and worth every cent of his expensive contract. He was a playmaker with the drive and poise necessary to make it in the league’s most closely dissected position.

The fact that female fans loved him was a bonus, even though it must be tough for Fiona sometimes. But she seemed to take it in stride, leveraging his popularity for worthy causes. Today her philanthropic guests sat casually on the dark leather chairs that lined the glass of the owners’ suite. Half-eaten dishes with bottles of craft beer peppered the table in front of them as the clock ticked down the end of the second quarter that saw the Hurricanes up by three points.

Yet Gervais’s eyes sought only one person. Erika.

He’d been busy greeting guests and overseeing some last-minute game-day business earlier, so he hadn’t gotten to spend any time with her yet. She was tucked away, in a leather sofa by the bar, sipping a glass of sparkling water with lemon, wearing a silky, fitted turquoise dress that brushed her knees and caressed her curves with understated sex appeal. He knew full well where those enhanced curves came from.

From carrying his baby inside her.

She scrunched her toes in her heeled sandals, reaching down to press her thumb along the arch of her foot. The viewing box was cool—downright chilly. But was the New Orleans heat bothering her? The climate was a far cry from where she lived. He wanted to help her feel more comfortable, to love his home city as much as he did so they wouldn’t be forced into some globe-hopping parenting situation. He wished they could have had a private breakfast to talk, but he’d been called away to the game. Thank goodness Adelaide had offered to check on her personally. Dempsey’s assistant and longtime friend remained the one good thing that had come from Dempsey’s early years spent living a hardscrabble life before their father had found him.

Adelaide had texted Gervais this morning, assuring him that Erika had everything she needed.

Now he watched Erika eyeing the food the servers carried. Caviar nachos and truffles pizza. Delicious delicacies, but she declined the offerings whenever the waitstaff stopped in front of her. Though she certainly looked hungry.

“Is the food not to your liking?” He stepped toward her, smoothing his tie and wondering if he should look into the foods native to her homeland. “We ordered a special menu for the event today, but we can have anything brought in.”

Nearby, a group of women cheered as Henri connected with one of the rookie receivers running a slant route down on the field. No doubt, it would be one of Henri’s last big plays of the game, since they needed to test the depth of the quarterback position with some of the backup talent.

Erika stood, moving closer to him, the scent of magnolia pulling his focus away from the game and slipping under his guard, making him recall their weekend together. Making him remember the view of her long legs bared just last night in a jersey that had covered her only to midthigh. He’d barely slept after that mouthwatering visual.

“Gervais, this is all incredible and definitely far more elaborate than I would have expected at a football game. Thank you.”

Her response had been polite, but he could see something tugging at her. So he pressed, gently, “But...”

She took a few steps toward the glass, gesturing to the seats below, where fans were starting to crowd the aisles as halftime neared. “Honestly? My mouth is watering for one of those smothered hot dogs I see the vendors selling. With mustard and onions.”

“You want a chili dog?” He couldn’t hide a grin.

Right from the start she’d charmed him with the unexpected. She was a princess in the military. A sexy rebel. And despite all the imported fare weighing down the servers’ trays, she wanted a chili dog.

“If it is not too much trouble, of course.” She frowned. “I did not think to bring my wallet.”

“It’s no trouble.” He wouldn’t mind stepping out of the temperature-controlled suite into the excited crowd. How long had it been since he’d ventured out from behind the tinted-glass windows during a game? It had been too long.

He leaned to whisper in her ear, hand bracing her on the small of her back. “Pregnancy craving?”

She blinked quickly, her breath quickening under his touch. “I believe so. Mornings are difficult with nausea, but then I am starving for the rest of the day. Today has been difficult, with all the travel yesterday and jet lag.”

“Then I will personally secure an order for you.” He smiled. “I have to say I wouldn’t mind having one for myself.” He touched her shoulder lightly, aching to keep his hands on her. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Erika moved closer to the glass and took a seat, looking down into the field, her eyes alert.

There was no fanfare in yoga or running, so Erika looked on at the halftime show with a sense of wonder. LSU’s band performed in tandem with a pop star local to the area, sending the fans into wild cheers as a laser light show sliced the air around her. The scents of fog and smoke wafted through the luxury suite’s vents, teasing her oversensitive nose.

This box was quite different from the Wembley luxury suite where she’d met Gervais. The Reynaud private domain was decorated with family memorabilia, team awards and lots of video monitors for comfortable viewing in the back of the box right near the bar.

But she enjoyed her front-row seat, watching intently.

So this really did have a form of old-world pageantry mixed with a dash of medieval jousting. Her military training made her able to pick out various formations on the field below, the two teams forming and re-forming their lines to try to outwit one another. Viewing the game this way had been a revelation—and definitely not as boring as she’d once thought. And she couldn’t wait to taste one of the chili dogs once Gervais returned.

Fiona Harper-Reynaud, the quarterback’s wife and Gervais’s sister-in-law, if Erika remembered correctly, tilted her head to the side. “Princess Erika, you look pensive.”

“I have been thinking about the game, trying to understand more about what I’ve seen so far, since I am actually quite a neophyte about the rules. My sisters and I were not exposed much to team sports.”

A few of the other women laughed softly into their cocktail napkins, eyeing Erika.

Fiona smiled, crossing her elegant legs at the ankles. “What an interesting choice, then, to spend time with Gervais when you’re not a football enthusiast.”

“I am learning to look at the game in a new light.” She would read more about it now that she knew her child would be a part of this world.

She couldn’t allow her son or daughter to be unprepared for their future, and that meant football. She could not sit in this box overflowing with Reynauds and fail to realize how deeply entrenched they were in this sport.

“How so?” Fiona traced a finger on her wineglass, her diamond wedding ring glinting in the light from a chrome pendant lamp.

Erika pointed down to the field, where the head coach and his team were now returning to the sidelines. “Adelaide Thibodeaux suggested I think of this as a ritual as old as time, like an ancient battle or a medieval jousting field. The imagery is working for me.”

“Hmm.” Fiona lifted one finely arched eyebrow. “That’s quite a sexy image. And fitting. Armor versus shoulder pads. It works. I’ll have to spin that for a future fund-raiser.”

“That sounds intriguing.” And it did. If it helped Erika to appreciate the game more, it could certainly appeal to someone else.

“Perhaps I should rethink the menu, too, as I may have overdone things with this event.” She picked up a nacho and investigated it.

“The food is amazing. Quite a lovely, fun spread,” Erika offered, smiling at her.

“But you want a chili dog—or so I overheard you say.”

“I hope you did not take offense, as I certainly did not mean any.” Erika fought the urge to panic. She bit down her nerves—and a wave of nausea. This was easily explainable. “I am in America. I simply want to experience American foods served at a regular football game.”

A server walked by with another fragrant tray of caviar nachos—too fragrant. She pressed her hand to her stomach as another wave of indigestion struck, cramping her stomach.

Fiona’s eyebrows rose but she stayed silent for a moment. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Did Fiona know somehow, even though she didn’t have children? There seemed to be an understanding—and a sadness in her eyes.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she wondered if Fiona had ever found herself in Erika’s situation. Not the pregnant-with-a-handsome-stranger situation, but the other one. The one where she was an outsider who shouldered too much responsibility sometimes.

The weight of that thought bore down on her, making her stomach even more queasy. She fought back the urge, praying she could get to her feet and to the ladies’ room before she embarrassed herself.

Erika bit her lip, shooting to her feet, only to find the ground swaying underneath her. Not a good sign at all, but if she could just grab the back of her seat for a moment to steady herself... There. The world righted in front of her and she eyed the door, determined. “I will be right back. I need to excuse myself.”

And the second she took that first step, the ground rocked all the harder under her, and she slumped into unconsciousness.