The Watson Brothers (10 page)

“Juice,” Nicole mimicked. She stuck out one skinny arm in demand, grasping at the air with her tiny fingers.

Gil wanted to melt on the spot. She was by far the most precious thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll get it for her.”

“Thanks.” Anabel hoisted her small burden a little higher in her arms. “Methinks naptime is closing in.” She winked at Gil, then moved to the leather couch and pried Nicole loose to sit her on the cushion next to her. “You’re giving him a complex, rat. Say hi again, like you mean it this time.”

Nicole sat there, her pudgy bare feet sticking off the couch cushion, sizing him up with an unblinking stare. To Gil’s surprise, she suddenly treated him to a beatific smile, wrinkling her little pug nose and scrunching her whole face up. “Hi.”

“Good girl.” Anabel accepted the coffee that Alice handed to her and took a long sip, groaning in pleasure. “Wonderful. You’re an angel, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Alice retreated from the room.

Cautiously, not wanting to startle her, Gil handed his daughter her juice. “Is it cold enough for you?”

“She doesn’t like it cold, do you, Nicki?” Nicole didn’t answer. She had the squeeze bottle tipped up, guzzling away until juice ran down her chin. Anabel quickly put her coffee aside to relieve her of the drink. Eyelids drooping, Nicole turned to her side, put her head in Anabel’s lap, and just that easily, dozed off.

“She’s run out of gas.” Anabel smoothed the dark curls, straightened the wrinkled T-shirt. “She’s been up all morning, poor little thing. Long car trips make her nauseous. We’re lucky we got here with only one barfing episode.”

Gil drew himself up. “You drove?”

“Wanna keep your voice down? She konks out fast, but she’s a light sleeper. If she’s back up after only ten minutes, she’ll be a hellion. You’ll boot us out before she can show you her sweeter side.”

Boot out his own daughter? Never.

“Hey, can you maybe produce some music? Background noise would help her sleep, and then we can…chat about things.”

Annoyed at both her censure and that the child had been ill, Gil went to a console and turned a switch. Doors slid open to reveal a state-of-the-art television, and CD and DVD players. He glanced through his collection, picked out a classic Beach Boys CD, and put the volume on low.

Once the music filtered into the room, he turned to face Anabel Truman, his emotions boiling too close to the surface.

She beat him to the punch, blinking green eyes in horror and whispering, “What the heck is
that?
”

“What?”

“That…noise.” She gave a theatrical shudder.

“The Beach Boys?” He should have known she’d take exception to his choice. In the past, she’d taken exception to everything.

“I forgot that you have the most deplorable taste in music.” She snorted. “You listen to crap that a fifty-year-old guy would like.”

Gil drew himself up. He would not be sidetracked by her ridiculous insults. “Forget my preference in music. Let’s talk about how you got here.”

Shrugging, she said, “I drove.”

“All the way from Atlanta?”

“Yep.” Unconcerned, Anabel stretched out her long legs and slumped back in her seat, nursing her coffee like a drunk nursed a whiskey. The pose exposed more of her soft belly, making it hard for Gil to concentrate. “We left at five this morning, stopped several times, and now we’re here.”

Forcing himself to look away from her negligent and somehow provocative posture, Gil went back to his desk, but he didn’t seat himself in the chair. Again, he chose to rest his hip against the surface. He was a mature man, calm and collected, always with a purpose. A peek at a woman’s belly did not waylay him. “Why, Anabel? I offered to fly you both in.”

“We New Age gals like to have our transportation with us. Who knows when you might piss me off and I’ll have to leave? No way will I be dependent on you.”

She said all that in such an amicable, even tone that it took a moment for the words to sink in. Once they did, anger washed away his calm façade. “We should be very clear with each other, don’t you think, Anabel?”

“Sure.” She rested her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

Damn it, Gil couldn’t help but notice her belly again, how cute the colored stone looked there. He also noticed her breasts and the lack of a bra. Her nipples were smooth and soft right now, but he imagined a woman like Anabel could be easily aroused with a soft, leisurely suckle. She was so open about things, so casual about her body and her thoughts…

It’d been too damn long since he’d had a woman.

It’d been years since he’d had the raw, uninhibited sex he preferred. Not since that night with Shelly…

Again, he reined himself in. “She’s my daughter.”

“You don’t have to growl it.” Looking boneless and exhausted, her eyes still closed, Anabel said, “Anyone who sees you two together will know you’re her dad. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s the spittin’ image of you.”

Gil glanced at the toddler, but in her slumber, her adorable little face was smooshed up against Anabel’s denim-covered thigh, making it impossible to assess her features. How could she look like him? He was a two-hundred-pound man, dark enough that he had to shave twice a day to avoid beard shadow. Nicole was petite and precious and sweet. He recalled the way her dark brown eyes had assessed him, the same color brown as his own. Her hair was as dark, too, but silky soft and curly, unlike his own. So the coloring was the same, but there the similarities ended.

As he stared at Nicole, he felt that elusive yearning again, expanding inside him, almost choking him. How long would it take before his daughter accepted him? He cleared his throat. “You brought her to me.”

Anabel’s eyes snapped open. “Whoa, big boy. I brought her to meet you. We’ll see about anything else.”

“She’s mine, Anabel.” He wasn’t certain about everything, but he had no bones about that. “She belongs with me.”

Her breasts rose on an anxious breath. Carefully, she straightened and slid the child over so that she curled on her side, forming a small adorable lump on the couch. Anabel pushed to her feet. Gil knew she wanted to look in calm control, but her eyes had darkened to a forest green and her hands were curled tight in restraint. “Nicki loves me, Gil. I’m the one who’s cared for her. I’m the one who’s raised her so far. I’m the one who’s loved her.”

Where had Shelly been if Anabel raised Nicole? Gil shook his head. “I didn’t even know about her.”

“That was Shelly’s decision, not mine.” She strode to him, her body rigid, desperation pulsing off her in waves. “If I’d told you, she said she’d take Nicki from me. I couldn’t let that happen. In every way that is most important, Nicki is mine.”

Feeling as though he stood on the edge of a deep cliff, Gil waited.

Anabel drew a breath, collecting herself. She tucked in her chin, met Gil’s gaze squarely. “There’s only one way you can have her.”

Narrowing his eyes, Gil played along, knowing damn good and well that he’d never let her go, not now, no matter what. “And that is?”

She licked her lips, but her hesitation lasted no more than a few seconds. “You can marry me.”

The timely arrival of pizza saved Anabel from saying any more. Not that she’d be able to get a single word out with Gil standing there, stunned mute, his expression leaning toward incredulity.
Well, what had you expected, Anabel? Open arms and gratitude?
She twisted her mouth in a grimace, wanting to cry, to sleep, wanting to grab Nicki and run as far and as fast as she could.

Those options weren’t open to her.

While Alice bustled into the office with a fragrant box of pizza and a salad, Gil turned away to the window. He looked stiff, outraged, confused. He looked…well, delicious.

With a fine trembling making her unsteady, Anabel reseated herself behind his desk in his cushy chair. The fancy office hadn’t thrown her. She’d known he was well off, just from the fifteen-hundred-dollar suits he wore whenever he visited Shelly. He was always well-groomed, well-spoken, polite and polished.

He hid his true nature well. But she knew, oh yeah, she did. She knew and she understood, and hopefully that’d be her ace in the hole.

Before she bungled this more, she needed to eat and she needed to sleep. Gil didn’t look ready to let her do either. Damn her big blabbermouth. The stress had taken its toll and she wasn’t thinking clearly to have just blurted that out. Now she’d have to retrench, laugh it off, give him a little more time to get used to her.

Maybe seduce him.

Alice put out napkins. “Sam said he expects a full accounting tonight. He’ll speak to your mother for you.”

“Damn it…”

“No. He said he’d keep her from visiting until you invited them, but he also said not to press your luck.”

“Meaning my mother isn’t known for her patience.”

Alice just smiled. “Let me know if you need anything else.” After she’d again left them, Gil strolled to the front of the desk, facing Anabel. She sat there, mostly numb, not quite daring enough to meet his gaze, while he served her a slice of pizza and the salad she’d ordered. “You can eat while you explain that outrageous comment.”

She wished he sounded more passionate and less reasonable. If she read him wrong, if Shelly had mistaken things, then she’d blow this for sure.

Reaching for calm control, which wasn’t really her forte on her best day, Anabel said, “Not much to explain.” She took a huge bite of pizza and groaned at the mingled delights of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and spicy pepperoni. “Oh God, that’s good.”

Gil stared at her mouth, making her self-conscious. “Have you eaten since this morning?”

“I packed some stuff for the rat, but no, I didn’t take much time to eat.” She’d been too rushed, too desperate to find an alternative to the unthinkable, and far too nervous about her improbable success.

His antagonism thickened. “Must you call her that?”

“What?” Anabel peeked at him, then indulged in another large bite. He was every bit as autocratic as she remembered, and just as contained. Gil Watson never voiced his temper, never made public mistakes, was never indecisive or uncertain.

“Rat.” He said it like a dirty word. “It’s insulting.”

From the day she’d met him, Gil had made his disapproval of her known. Oh, he wasn’t mean-spirited enough to say anything, and he was never cruel. But the way he looked at her, the rigid way he held himself in her presence, told it all.

He disliked what he assumed to be her laid-back lifestyle. He disapproved of her choices, choices he knew nothing about.

He judged her and found her lacking—but he wanted her anyway. She could tell as much, whether he admitted it or not. She wanted him, too, so she had no problem with that. Even in the face of his condemnation, she’d always liked him. A lot. By necessity, he’d never known the whole story, not about her or the basis for her choices. Would it matter? She hoped so.

He’d make a good father to Nicki, and if it all worked out as she hoped, he’d make a passable husband so that they could be a family, the type of family Nicole deserved. Gil might not ever love her, but that didn’t matter at this point. He would care for his daughter. He would protect them and give Nicki everything she needed.

He deserved the truth, so she mustered her wavering courage and bared her soul. “I love her more than life. She knows that. Rat is just a pet name for her.”

“I don’t like it.”

Anabel grinned and saluted him with her cola. “Already the protective father. Remember that when she’s demanding and whiny and stubborn.”

He glanced at Nicole’s sweet little face with disbelief. “You’re just being snide and there’s no reason for it.”

She laughed. Oh, was he in for a surprise if he expected Nicki to be the perfect child. She was delightful and precious, but also as cranky and contrary as any other toddler. “Sorry. Just let me have two more bites before I faint from hunger and I promise I’ll magically transform into a pleasant being.”

He appeared doubtful at that, but nodded. “What about Nicole? I thought you said she was hungry, too.” He stopped beside the couch, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets, his head down as he watched his daughter. Her T-shirt had ridden up, showing her pale, soft back and the top of plastic-covered training pants above the waistband of her shorts. His expression was fixed, clouded with emotions.

Watching him watch Nicole made Anabel’s heart hurt. He’d missed out on so much. Anabel could almost feel his desire to pick Nicki up, to hug her. It had been wrong to keep the baby from him, but what choice had she been given?

Softly, suffering smothering regret, Anabel said, “I guess she was more tired than hungry.” She cleared her throat. Getting sentimental at this point would blow everything. “She’ll eat when she wakes up.”

“How long does she normally nap?”

“Maybe an hour if we’re lucky.” Anabel stared at his broad back, visible through the perfect fit of his tailored dress shirt. “Where will we sleep tonight?”

Gil’s head snapped around and he stared at her over his shoulder. His piercing attention settled on her like a thick blanket, further unnerving her.