Читать книгу Bound By A Baby - Maureen Child - Страница 13

A few nights later, Simon had had enough of slipping through his own house like a damn ghost. Ever since the kiss he had shared with Tula, he’d kept his distance, staying away not only from her, but from the baby as well. He wondered where in the hell the paternity test results were and asked himself how he was supposed to keep his mind on anything else when memories of a too brief kiss kept intruding.

Hell, it wasn’t just the kiss. It was Tula herself and that was an irritation he hadn’t expected. She was in his mind all the time. Moving through his thoughts like a shadow, never really leaving, always haunting.

She walked into the room and he felt a hard slam of desire pulse through him. His body was hard and his hands itched to touch her. But she seemed blissfully unaware of what she was doing to him, so damned if he’d let her know.

“Maybe we should talk about how this is going to work,” he said when Tula walked into the living room.

Lamplight shone on her blond hair and glittered in her eyes so that it almost looked as if stars were in their depths, winking at him. She was nothing like the women he was usually drawn to. And she was everything he wanted. God, knowing that she was there, in his house, right down the hall from his own bedroom, was making for some long, sleepless nights.

Oblivious of his thoughts, she smiled at him, crossed the room and dropped into a wingback chair on his right. Curling her feet up beneath her, she said, “Yes, the baby went right to sleep as soon as I laid him down. Thanks for asking.”

He frowned to himself and silently admitted that, no, he hadn’t been thinking about the baby. Hardly his fault when she was so near. He dared any man to be able to keep his mind off Tula Barrons for long. “I assumed he was sleeping since he’s not with you and I can’t hear him crying.”

She studied him for a thoughtful moment. “Don’t you think you should start being a part of the whole putting-Nathan-to-bed routine?”

“When I get the results of the paternity test, I will.”

Until then, he was going to hang back. Taking part in bath time a few nights ago had taught him that he was too damn vulnerable where that baby was concerned. He had actually thought of himself as the boy’s father.

What if he found out Nathan wasn’t his?

No, better to protect himself until he knew for sure.

“Simon, Nathan is your son and pretending he isn’t won’t change that.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” he said, standing to walk to the wet bar across the room. “Do you want a drink?”

“White wine if you’ve got it.”

“I do.” He took care of the drinks then sat down again opposite her. Outside, night was crouched at the glass. A fire burned in the hearth and the snap and hiss of the flames was the only sound for a few minutes. Naturally, Tula couldn’t keep quiet for long.

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?”

“This,” he said, sweeping one hand out as if to encompass the house and everything in it.

“Well, that narrows it down,” Tula mused, taking a sip of wine. “Look, I get that you’re a little freaked by the whole ‘instant parenthood’ thing, but we can’t change that, right?”

“I didn’t say—”

“And I’ve closed up my house and moved here to help you settle in—”

“Yes, but—”

“You’ll get to know the baby. I’ll help as much as I can, but a lot of this is going to come down on you. He’s your son.”

“We don’t know that for sure yet and I think—”

She ran right over him again and Simon was beginning to think that he’d never get the chance to have any input in this conversation. Normally, when he spoke, people listened. No one interrupted him. No one talked over him. Except Tula. And as annoying as it was to admit, even to himself, he liked that about her. She wasn’t hesitant. Not afraid to stand up for herself or Nathan. And not the least bit concerned about telling him exactly what she thought.

Still, he was forced to grind his teeth and fight for patience as she continued.

She waved her glass of wine and sloshed a bit onto her denim-covered leg. She hardly noticed.

“So basically,” she said, “I’m thinking a man like you would feel better with a clear-cut schedule.”

That got his attention. “A man like me?”

She smiled, damn it and his temperature climbed a bit in response.

“Come on, Simon,” she teased. “We both know that you’ve got a set routine in your life and the baby and I have disrupted it.”

This conversation was not going the way he’d planned. He was supposed to be the one taking charge. Telling Tula how things would go from here. Instead, the tiny woman had taken the reins from his hands without him even noticing. Simon took a sip of the aged scotch and let the liquor burn its way down his throat. It sat like a ball of fire in the pit of his stomach and he welcomed the heat. He looked at Tula, watching him with good humor sparkling in her eyes and not a trace of the sexual pull he’d been battling for days.

Irritating as hell that she could so blithely ignore what had been driving him slowly insane. Fresh annoyance spiked at having her so calmly staring him down, pretending to know him and his life and not even once allowing that there was something between them.

Plus, in a few well-chosen words, Tula had managed to both insult and intrigue him.

“I don’t have a routine,” he grumbled, resenting the hell out of the fact that she had made him sound like a doddering old man concentrating solely on his comfortable rut in life.

She laughed and the sound filled the big room with a warmth it had never known.

“Simon, I’ve only been in this house a handful of days and I already know your routine as well as you do. Up at six, breakfast at seven,” she began, ticking items off on her fingers. “Morning news at seven-thirty, leave for the office at eight. Home by five-thirty…”

He scowled at her, furious that she was reducing his life to a handful of statistics. And even more furious that she was right. How in the hell had that happened? Yes, he preferred order in his life, but there was a distinct difference between a well-laid-out schedule and a monotonous habit.

“A drink and the evening news at six,” she went on, still smiling as if she was really enjoying herself, “dinner at six-thirty, work in your study until eight…”

Dear God, he thought in disgust, had he really become so trapped in his own well-worn patterns he hadn’t even noticed? If he was this transparent to a woman who had known him little more than a week, what must he look like to those who knew him well? Was he truly that predictable? Was he nothing more than an echo of his own habits?

That thought was damned disconcerting.

“Don’t stop now,” he urged before taking another sip of scotch. “You’re on a roll.”

“Well, there my tale ends,” she admitted. “By eight I’m putting the baby to bed and I have no idea what you do with the rest of your night.” She leaned one elbow on the arm of the chair and grinned at him. “Care to enlighten me?”

Oh, he’d like to enlighten her. He’d like to tell her she was wrong about him entirely. Unfortunately, she wasn’t. He’d like to take her upstairs and shake up both of their routines. But he wasn’t going to. Not yet.

“I don’t think so,” he said tightly, still coming to grips with his own slide into predictability. “Besides, I didn’t want to talk about me. We were going to talk about the baby.”

“For us to talk about the baby,” she countered with a satisfied nod, “you would have to actually spend time with him. Which you manage to avoid with amazing regularity.”

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“It’s a big house, Simon, but it’s not that big.”

He stood up, suddenly needing to move. Pace. Something. Sitting in a chair while she watched him with barely concealed disappointment was annoying.

Simon knew he shouldn’t care what she thought of him, but damned if he wanted her thinking he was some sort of coward, hiding from his responsibilities. Or an old man stuck in a routine of his own devising. He walked to the wide bay window with a view of the park directly across the street. Moonlight played on the swing sets and slides, illuminating the playground with a soft light that looked almost otherworldly.

“I haven’t gotten the paternity test results back yet,” he said, never taking his gaze from the window and the night beyond the glass.

“You know he’s yours, Simon. You can feel it.”

He looked down at her as she walked up beside him. “What I feel isn’t important.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Simon,” she said sadly, looking up at him. “In the end, what you feel is the only important thing.”

He didn’t agree. Feelings got in the way of logical thought. And logic was the only way to live your life. He had learned that lesson early and well. Hadn’t he watched his own father, Jarod Bradley, nearly wipe out the family dynasty by being so chaotic, so disordered and flighty that he neglected everything that was important?

Well, Simon had made a pledge to himself long ago that he was going to be nothing like his father. He ran his world on common sense. On competency. He didn’t trust “feelings” to get him through his life. He trusted his mind. His sense of responsibility and order.

Which was how he’d slipped into that rut he was cursing only moments ago. His father hadn’t had a routine for anything. He’d greeted each day not knowing what was going to happen next. Simon preferred knowing exactly what his world was doing—and arranging it to suit himself when possible.

Besides, despite what Tula thought, he wasn’t so much actively avoiding Nathan as he had been avoiding her. Ever since that kiss. Ever since he’d held her breasts cupped in his hands he hadn’t been able to think of anything else but getting his hands on her again. And until he figured out exactly what that would mean, he was going to keep right on avoiding her.

Damn it, things used to be simple. He saw an attractive woman, he talked her into his bed. Now, Tula was all wrapped up in a tight knot with the child who was probably his son and Simon was walking a fine line. If he seduced her and then dropped her, couldn’t she make it more difficult for him to get custody of Nathan? And what if he had sex with her and didn’t want to let her go? What then?

There was no room in his life for a woman as flighty and unorganized as she was. She thrived in chaos. He needed order.

They were a match made in hell.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes,” he muttered, though he was actually trying to not listen to her.

Which was no more successful than trying not to think about her.

Tula wasn’t comfortable in the city.

Ridiculous, of course, since she’d spent so much of her childhood there. Her parents separated when she was only five and her mother, Katherine, had moved them to Crystal Bay. Close enough that Tula could see her father and far enough away that her mother wouldn’t have to.

Crystal Bay would always be home to Tula. Right from the first, she’d felt as though she belonged there. Life was simpler, there were no piano lessons and tutors. Instead, there was the local public school where she’d first met Anna Cameron. That friendship had really helped shape who she was. The connection with Anna and her oh-so-normal family had helped her gain the self-confidence to eventually face down her father and refuse to fall in line with his plans for her life.

Now being in San Francisco only reminded her of those long, lonely weekends with her father. Not that Jacob Hawthorne was evil, he simply hadn’t been interested in a daughter when he’d wanted a son. And the fact that his daughter didn’t care at all about business was another big black mark against her.

Funny, Tula thought, she had long ago gotten past the regrets she had for how her relationship with her father had died away. Apparently though, there was still a tiny spark inside her that wished things had been different.

“It’s okay though,” she said aloud to the baby who wasn’t listening and couldn’t have cared less. “I’m doing fine, aren’t I, Nathan? And you like me, right?”

If he could speak, she was sure Nathan would have agreed with her and that was good enough for now.

She sighed and pushed the stroller along the sidewalk. Nathan was bundled up as if they were exploring the Arctic Circle, but the wind was cold off the bay and the dark clouds hanging over the city threatened rain.

She and the baby had been in that house for days and it was harder and harder to be there without thoughts of Simon filling her mind. She knew it was pointless, of course. She and Simon had nothing in common except that flash of heat that had practically melded them together during that amazing kiss.

But she couldn’t help where her mind went. And lately, her mind kept slipping into wildly inappropriate thoughts of Simon. Which was exactly why she had bundled Nathan up for a walk. She needed to clear her head. Needed to get back to work on the book that was due by the end of the month. It was hard enough eking out the time for illustrations and storyboards while the baby was napping. Forcing herself to work on the Lonely Bunny’s antics while daydreaming about Simon made it nearly impossible.

Whenever Tula was having a hard work day, she would take a walk, just to feel the bite of the fresh air, see people, listen to the world outside her own mind. Ideas didn’t pop into an idle mind. They had to be fostered, engendered. And that usually meant getting out into the world.

Actually, one of her most popular books had been born at the grocery store in Crystal Bay. She remembered watching a pallet of vegetables being delivered and immediately, she’d felt that magic “click” in her brain that told her an idea was forming. Soon, she’d had the story line for Lonely Bunny Visits the Market.

“So see, Nathan, we’re actually working!” She chuckled a little and picked up the pace.

There were so many people scurrying along the sidewalks, Tula felt lost. But then she’d been feeling a little lost since settling into Simon Bradley’s house. She hadn’t written a word in three days and even her illustrations were being ignored. She couldn’t keep this up much longer. She had deadlines to meet and editors to appease.

And Simon was taking up so many of her thoughts, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.

The only bright side was that she knew Simon was feeling just as frustrated as she was. That he wanted her as much as she did him. And she couldn’t help relishing that sweet rush of completely feminine power that had filled her when he’d practically thrown her out of the bathroom during Nathan’s bath time a few days ago. He hadn’t trusted himself around her.

Which was just delicious, she thought. Of course it would be crazy to surrender to whatever it was that was simmering between them. She had Nathan to think about, after all. She couldn’t just give in to what she was feeling and not think about the consequences.

Don’t I sound responsible? she thought with surprise.

Well, she was. Now. Now that she had Nathan in her life, she had to judge every decision she made along the measurement of what was good for him. And sleeping with his father couldn’t be a good idea. Especially knowing that it was up to her to decide when Simon was ready for custody.

She stopped short.

Was that why he had kissed her?

Was he trying to seduce her into giving him Nathan?

“Now, that’s a horrible thought,” she said aloud.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hmm?” Tula looked at the older woman who had stopped on the sidewalk to look at her. “Oh, sorry. I was actually talking to myself.”

“I see.” The woman’s eyes went wide and she hurried past.

Tula laughed a little, then stepped to the front of the stroller to check on Nathan. “Well, sweetie, I think that nice lady thought I was crazy.”

He kicked his legs, waved his arms and grinned at her. All the approval she needed, Tula thought, and stepped around to push him along the sidewalk again.

There were stores, of course. Small boutiques, coffee bars and even a cozy Italian restaurant with tables grouped together on the sidewalk.

But what caught her eye was the bookstore.

“Let’s go see, Nathan.”

She stepped inside and paused long enough to enjoy the atmosphere. An entire store devoted to books and the people who loved them. Was there anything better? Crossing to the children’s section, Tula smiled at the parents indulging their kids by sitting on the brightly colored rugs to pick out books.

When she saw a little girl reading Lonely Bunny Makes a Friend Tula’s heart swelled with pride.

She wandered over to the shelf where her books were lined up and, taking a pen from her purse, began signing the copies there.

A few minutes later, a voice stopped her mid-scrawl.

“Excuse me.”

Tula looked at a woman in her mid-forties with a name tag that read Barbara and smiled. “Hi.”

The woman looked her up and down, taking in her faded jeans, blue suede boots and windblown hair before asking, “What are you doing?”

Tula dug into her purse and pulled a roll of gold-and-black autographed copy stickers that she always carried with her. “I’m the author and I thought since I was here I would just sign your stock, if that’s all right.”

She had never had trouble before. Usually bookstores liked having signed copies of the books on the shelves to help with sales.

“You’re Tula Barrons?” Barbara asked with a wide grin. “That’s wonderful! My daughter loves your books and I can tell you they sell very well for us here in the store.”

“I’m always glad to hear that,” Tula said and hurried her signature as Nathan started to fuss.

“You live locally?” Barbara asked.

“Temporarily,” Tula told her and felt a slight wince inside at the admission. She didn’t know how long she would be staying in the city, but she was already dreading having to leave both Nathan and Simon.

“Would you be interested in doing a signing here at the store?” the woman asked. “We could set it up for you to do a reading at the same time. I think the kids would love it.”

“Uh,” Tula hedged, not sure if she should agree or not. Normally, she would have, of course. But now that she had Nathan to worry about…

“Please consider it,” Barbara urged, looking around the children’s area at the brightly colored floor rugs, the tiny tables and chairs. “I know most authors hate doing signings, but I can promise you a success! Your books are very popular here and I know the children would get a big kick out of meeting the woman who writes the Lonely Bunny stories.”

Tula followed her gaze and looked at the dozen or so kids sprinkled around the area, each of them lost in the wonders of a book. Yes, her life was a little up in the air at the moment, but a couple hours of her time wasn’t that much of a sacrifice, was it?

“I’d love to,” she finally said.

“That’s great,” Barbara replied. “If you’ll just give me a number where I can reach you, we’ll set something up. How does three weeks sound?”

“It’s fine,” Tula told her. While Barbara went to get a pad and pen to take down her information, Tula told herself that in three weeks, she might be back living in Crystal Bay. Alone. That would mean a drive into the city for the signing, but if she was gone from Simon’s life, she would at least be able to stop in and see Nathan while she was here.

Her heart ached at the thought. That baby had become so much a part of her life and world already, she couldn’t even imagine being nothing more than a casual visitor to him. She put the signed book back on the shelf, walked to the front of the stroller and went down to her knees.

Running her fingers across the baby’s soft cheek, she looked into brown eyes so much like his father’s it was eerie and said, “What will I do without you, Nathan? If I lose you now, you won’t even remember me, will you?”

He laughed and kicked his legs, turning his head this way and that, taking in all the primary colors and the bright lights.

Her already aching heart began to tear into pieces as she realized that Nathan would never know how much she loved him. Or how much it hurt to think of not being a part of his life.

She’d agreed to be the baby’s guardian for her cousin Sherry’s sake. But Tula had had no idea then that doing the right thing was going to one day destroy her.

Simon got home early the following day and no one was there to appreciate it.

Damned if he’d be so boring that Tula could set her watch—if she had the organizational skills to wear one—by him. He was still fuming over her monologue the night before, ticking off his daily routine and making him sound as exciting as a moldy rock.

In response, Simon had been shaking up his routine all day long. He had gone through the flagship of the Bradley department stores, stopping to chat with clerks. He’d personally talked to the managers of the departments, instead of sending Mick to do it. He had even helped out in the stockroom, walking a new employee through the inventory process.

His employees had been surprised at his personal interest in what was happening with the store. But he had also noted that everyone he talked with that day was pleased that he’d taken the extra time to listen to them. To really pay attention to what was happening.

Simon couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t done it years ago. He was so accustomed to running his empire from the sanctity of his office, he’d nearly forgotten about the thousands of employees who depended on him.

Of course, Mick had ribbed him about his sudden aversion to routine.

“This new outlook on life wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain children’s book author, would it?”

Simon glared at him. “Butt out.”

“Ha! It does.” Mick followed him out the door and down the hall to the elevator. “What did she say that got to you?”

He was just aggravated enough by what Tula had had to say the night before that he told Mick everything. He finished by saying, “She ticked off my day hour by hour, on her fingers, damn it.”

Mick laughed as the elevator doors swept closed and Simon stabbed the button for the ground floor of the department store. “Wish I’d seen your face.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“Well come on, Simon,” Mick said, still chuckling. “You’ve got to admit you’ve dug yourself a pretty deep rut over the years.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a tight schedule.”

Mick leaned against the wall. “As long as you allow yourself some room to breathe.”

“You’re on her side?”

Grinning, Mick said, “Absolutely.”

Grumbling under his breath at the memory, Simon stalked up the stairs, haunted by the now unnatural silence. For years, he’d come home to the quiet and had relished it. Now after only a few days of having Tula and the baby in residence…the silence was claustrophobic. Made him feel as if the walls were closing in on him.

“Ridiculous. Just enjoy the quiet while you’ve got it,” he muttered. At the head of the stairs, he headed down the hall toward his room, but paused in front of the nursery. The baby wasn’t there, but the echo of him remained in the smell of powder and some indefinable scent that was pure baby.

He stepped inside and let his gaze slide across the stacked shelves filled with neatly arranged diapers, toys and stuffed animals. He smiled to himself and inspected the closet as well. Inside hung shirts and jackets, clustered by color. Tiny shoes were lined up like toy soldiers on the floor below.

In the dresser, he knew he would find pajamas, shorts, pants, socks and extra bedding. A colorful quilt lay across the end of the crib and a small set of bookshelves boasted alphabetically arranged children’s books.

Tula might thrive in chaos herself, he mused, but here in the baby’s room, peace reigned. Everything was tidy. Everything was calm and safe and…perfect. He’d had a crew in to paint the room a neutral beige with cream-colored trim, but Tula had pronounced it too boring to spark the baby’s inner creativity. It hadn’t taken her long to have pictures of unicorns and rainbows on the walls, or to hang a mobile of primary-colored stars and planets over the crib.

Shaking his head, Simon sat down in the cushioned rocker and idly reached to pull one of the books off the shelves. Lonely Bunny Finds a Garden.

“Lonely Bunny,” he read aloud with a sigh. Now that he’d heard her story, he could imagine Tula as a lonely little girl with wide blue eyes, trying to make friends with a solitary rabbit. He frowned, thinking about how her mother had so callously treated her daughter’s fears.

He was feeling for Tula. Too much.

Opening the book, Simon read the copyright page and stopped. Her name was listed as Tula Barrons Hawthorne.

He frowned as his memory clicked into high gear, shuffling back to when he was dating Nathan’s mother, Sherry. He remembered now. She had been living here in the city then and she’d told him that her uncle was in the same business as Simon.

“Jacob Hawthorne.” Simon inhaled slowly, deeply, and felt old anger churn in the pit of his stomach.

Jacob Hawthorne had been a thorn in his side for years. The man’s chain of discount department stores was forever vying for space that Simon wanted for his own company. Just three years ago, Jacob had cheated Simon out of a piece of prime property in the city that Simon had planned to use for expansion of his flagship store.

That maneuver had cost Simon months in terms of finding another suitable property for expansion.

Not to mention the fact that Jacob had bought up several of the Bradley department stores when Simon’s father was busily running the company into the ground. The old man had taken advantage of a bad situation and made it worse. Hell, he’d nearly succeeded in getting his hands on the Bradley home.

By the time Simon had taken over the family business, it was in such bad shape he’d spent years rebuilding.

Jacob Hawthorne was ruthless. The old pirate ran his company like a feudal lord and didn’t care who he had to steamroll to get his own way.

At the time Simon had briefly dated Sherry, he’d enjoyed the thought of romancing a member of Hawthorne’s family, knowing the old coot would have been furious if he’d known. But Sherry’s own clingy instability had ended the relationship quickly. Now, though, he had a son with the woman—which made his child a relative of Jacob Hawthorne.

There was a bitter pill to choke down. And he figured it would be even harder for the old pirate to swallow it. But there was more, too. If Sherry and Tula were cousins, then Tula was also a relative of Jacob Hawthorne. Interesting. But before his thoughts could go any further, his cell phone rang.

“Bradley.”

“Simon, it’s Dave over at the lab.”

He tensed. This was the call he’d been waiting for for days. The results of the paternity test were in. He would finally know for sure, one way or the other.

“And?” he asked, not wanting to waste a moment on small talk when something momentous was about to happen.

“Congratulations,” his old friend said, a smile in his tone. “You’re a father.”

Everything in Simon went still.

There was a sense of rightness settling over him even as an unexpected set of nerves shook through him. He was a father. Nathan was really his.

“You’re sure?” he asked, moving his gaze around the room, seeing it now with fresh eyes. His son lived here. “No mistakes?”

“Trust me on this. I ran the test twice myself. Just to be sure. The baby’s yours.”

“Thanks, Dave,” he said, tossing the book onto the nearby tabletop and standing up. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

When his friend hung up, Simon just stared down at his phone. No problem?

Oh, he could think of a few.

Such as what to do about the woman who was making him insane. The very woman who stood between him and custody of his son.