Impulse Control (18 page)

“Leave everything to me.”

He looked so excited, she almost felt guilty as she smiled back at him. She’d leave everything to him—everything except texting Rich Bergman to make sure they had a camera crew tonight. She didn’t realize her hand was pressed to her chest until Russ peeled it away and pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. His heart was a slow, steady thud in her ear, making her own beat faster. Arousal stirred in her center.
We won’t have one more night together, but there’s no reason we can’t have a delightful afternoon.

She slipped her arms around his waist, exploring the broad, hard muscles of his back. His bare skin heated beneath her palms, making them tingle. She pressed a kiss to his sternum. “Let’s not waste a good nap driving. Billy loves his car seat. Think you can wear him out while I clean up the kitchen? I’m feeling a little tired myself.” Teasingly, she ran her hands up his washboard abs and over the hard swell of his pecs. “I think I could use a nap before we leave, if you know what I mean.”

He grabbed her butt and hauled her up for a kiss, then released her and reached for his phone. “As soon as I make our reservation, I’ll devote one hundred percent of my energy to making sure he conks out long enough for me to wear
you
out completely.”

The intensity in his voice thrilled her, and she felt his heavy-lidded gaze on her as she wiped Billy off and then started gathering dishes. When she set Billy on his feet, he headed straight for Russ. Absently, Russ laid a hand on his head as he charmed whoever was on the other end of the line. She moved to whisk her son away, but Russ shook his head and sank to the kitchen floor, pulling Billy into his lap and tickling him.

The breath left her lungs in a pained grunt, and Russ glanced up, looking concerned. She forced a reassuring smile as she reached for her phone and snapped a photo of them together. Then she called up Bergman’s number in her contacts and began to type.

Chapter Fourteen

Susannah eyed the diaper bag on the backseat of her car. It contained everything she’d need to keep Billy occupied while they waited for their food. Leaving it in the car would guarantee a miserable dinner. Resolutely, she slammed the door. She had an emergency diaper and wipes in her purse, the barest baby survival equipment, and misery was the point, wasn’t it?

Russ handed the keys of her car to the valet and pocketed the ticket. He’d insisted on driving, and she’d refused to put Billy in his Jeep. Her child wasn’t riding in anything with a roll bar, and she didn’t care if it made the car safer or not. They’d compromised, and she’d enjoyed being chauffeured, not that she planned to admit it.

Russ lifted Billy to his shoulders. As they walked toward Inferno, her stomach grumbled, reminding her they’d skipped lunch to spend two hours in bed while Billy snoozed. Getting dressed had been a slow process, since Russ kept divesting her of every item of clothing she put on.
Too prim. I’ll never be able to resist the urge to rip it off, even in public. Too proper. Who do you think you’re fooling?

Out of desperation, she’d slipped into a clinging bright red dress with a plunging neckline she’d bought on a whim and never dared to wear outside of the dressing room. He’d smoothed the fabric over her hips and slid the zipper up her back, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.
There’s my Wild Woman
, he’d said.

She shivered.

“Cold?” He lowered Billy into the crook of one arm, opened the door of the restaurant, and ushered her inside. The hostess greeted them with a warm smile, took her wrap, and led them to a table in the center of the main room. It was the best table in the house, the see-and-be-seen location. Russ looked pleased, and she bit her lip, knowing it hadn’t been his celebrity that had secured such a prime dining spot. Bergman had called in a favor.

She waited for Russ to notice the cameras, but he was completely engrossed in securing Billy in the state-of-the-art high chair parked at their table. She was glad it was a sturdy model. No matter what happened tonight, at least he wouldn’t get loose. She had a sudden vision of Billy darting into the kitchen to grab a wooden spoon so he could attack the shins of unwary diners.

When he got the straps adjusted, Russ held up his hand. Billy stared blankly, so Russ took her son’s hand and brought it to his own, leading him through a complicated series of manly fist bumps and gestures. Russ held up his hand again, making a bring-it-on motion, and Billy slapped his palm and giggled. Her heart turned inside out, forcing the breath out of her lungs as if she’d been kicked.

The cameras closed in.

Suddenly she didn’t want them there anymore, ruining moments that might happen tonight. Dismay spun her stomach into hard knots and she turned, wondering if she could shoo the camera crew away, rush out to the car, get the diaper bag, and pretend they were a real couple, but when she glanced over her shoulder at Russ, he was standing with one hand on Billy’s small shoulder. His gaze swept the room, taking in the cameras and the extra space around their table. The easy joy he’d displayed with Billy was gone.

“Susannah?” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

Even though she felt like a traitor, she knew it was for the best. He was leaving, and she needed to be done with this farce, privately and publicly. If he was angry with her it would only make things easier—and make for better television.

She cleared her throat. “Bergman assured me every diner would sign a release form or be offered a reservation on another night.”

One of his brows lifted in a mocking arch. “I’m glad we’ve got that covered. Care to enlighten me as to the rest of the program? Clearly, I missed an e-mail.”

She felt a flush heat her cheeks. “We’re having that date you’ve been begging me for.” Cold sweat trickled down her back, reminding her of how sweaty they’d gotten in bed this afternoon. “We did it your way on the mountain, and then we did it my way in the kitchen.”
Oh God, that sounded terrible.

Russ snorted.

She hurried on before he could say anything. “The logical
conclusion
,” she stressed the word, “of our series is to blend our environments. You invited me out to dinner in a fancy restaurant, so here I am—with my young son.”

“Actually, to follow your logic to its natural
conclusion,
we should take Billy camping, but I see where you’re going. Let me guess—you expect me to fumble and flail.” His voice was cold, measured, and his eyes were hard.

She forced herself to remain expressionless even as her stomach twisted. “I devoutly hope so.”

A broad grin cracked his face. “Game on.”

…

Russ pulled out Susannah’s chair, ignoring her astonished expression, and helped her get settled. She obviously thought he couldn’t rise to the occasion. Had she learned nothing about him in the time they’d spent together?

As he moved toward his seat, Billy reached toward the table, snagged a butter knife faster than Russ would have thought possible, and aimed it at his mouth. Russ grabbed his tiny fist and gently pried it away. The instant the knife left his hand, Billy screamed. Loudly. Like a banshee. Russ could feel every eye in the place, as well as several cameras, focus on them. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be, little dude? A temper tantrum? You want to play that game with me?”

Billy made a dive for a fork. Russ blocked him. Billy howled again.

A busboy stepped in to pour water into the glass directly in front of the high chair.
Seriously?
Russ could feel Susannah hovering, ready to step in, but he was determined to handle the kid’s opening moves alone. He grabbed a napkin from the center of the table—of course
that
deadly item was placed out of Billy’s reach—shook it out of its complicated fold, and tossed it over Billy’s head.

While the kid shrieked and clawed at the napkin, Russ moved all the tableware and breakable objects out of reach. For good measure, he folded the tablecloth and tucked it up onto the table, just in case Billy decided to make a grab for that, too.

The napkin sailed to the floor just as Russ sank into his chair. He picked it up and covered his face. “Peek-a-boo.” He dropped one corner of the napkin and winked.

Billy grinned.

Russ put the napkin in his lap and reached across the table to take Susannah’s hand. Between them, Billy strained to reach the other two napkins on the table. Without looking away from Susannah’s wide eyes, Russ tossed one onto his tray.

She ripped her hand out of his grasp, snatched the last napkin, and put it in her lap. “Way to go, Wild Man, but I’ve heard the menu here is amazing. Let’s see how you do when it takes me half an hour to choose what I’d like to eat.”

“No problem.” He looked around for their server. A woman hurried toward them with menus. As soon as she reached their table, he held up his hand. “We don’t need to see a menu. Can you have the chef choose three courses for us, please? We’re not picky. Heck, I’ve seen my date eat soup straight out of a can and chase it with Spam on crackers.” He kept his eyes on Susannah, who was clenching her jaw so hard she looked like her face might crack. “Do you have any food allergies, darling?”

“I’d like to see a menu,” she grated out.

“I’m going to take that as a no. Where’s your spirit of adventure, Susie? Don’t you trust the chef?”

Her eyes shot daggers at him. “What’s Billy going to eat?”

“I have a daughter about his age,” their server piped up. “How about bread, butter, smashed potatoes, overcooked broccoli…does he eat salmon?”

Susannah nodded enthusiastically.

Russ shook his head. “No salmon. Better let me see one of those menus, after all.” He gave it a quick scan, looking for something simple. What would the son of a chef like to eat? “Let’s try some plain roasted chicken.”

He knew he’d picked a winner when Susannah’s glare sharpened further. He grinned, watching her fume and enjoying the hell out of it. “I’ll have iced tea, but have the sommelier pair wines with her courses. I’m on baby duty tonight, but I want Susannah to enjoy herself. She doesn’t get out much.” He handed back the menu.

“Yes, sir.” The server hurried away from the table.

What a stroke of luck.
Since their server had a small child of her own, he had no doubt their courses would hit the table in a timely manner, no matter how much Susannah dawdled. “Relax, Susie, nothing but good times ahead.”

Her gaze was on Billy, and a smug smile tipped the corners of her mouth.

He looked at the kid. Billy was sitting quietly, staring off into space as if he were pondering the mysteries of the universe, perfectly content. He couldn’t resist needling her. “And you thought I was going to flail.”

A loud sound ripped the air. Unmistakable. Ripe. Loaded.

“Not it.” Susannah’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. “You’re on baby duty, remember? Somehow I doubt they have changing stations in the men’s room…but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Billy grunted softly, but with effort, and Russ could only imagine the shit-storm taking place in his diaper. Flashing back to this morning, he shuddered. “Twice? He does this twice a day?” Every fold and crease of the kid’s chubby little butt had been covered with slime. His junk had been… Oh dear sweet Jesus…the tiny package of wipes Susannah was holding up was never going to do the job.

He wasn’t going to quit. She was right. He’d figure something out.

Russ stood, shrugged out of his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He unbuckled Billy and held him up in the air, looking for telltale signs of seepage. So far, so good. As he tucked Billy on his hip, the stench made him change his mind. He set him on his feet instead. Clasping the kid firmly by his tiny hand, he accepted the diaper and wipes from Susannah.

“Good luck, soldier.” She sat back, grinning as their server placed a breadbasket, an array of spreads, and a glass of white wine in front of her.

Warmth filled his chest as she eagerly picked up her knife, and he was surprised to realize he didn’t mind taking care of Billy while Susannah relaxed with great food and wine. Sure, she was trying to torture him, and the next few minutes weren’t going to be pleasant, but the trade-off was sweet: she trusted him with her son. He was definitely winning this round.

He bent to kiss her cheek. “We’ll be back in a flash, darling.”

…

She managed to hold her fake smile until Russ turned his back, but then she collapsed in her chair, unable to take a single bite. Paralyzed, she sat, knife in hand, watching Russ and Billy make their way toward the restrooms. She knew there was a camera on her, just as she saw one following them, but she couldn’t summon her game face. Billy stopped at every table, staring and babbling at the restaurant patrons, and Russ let him take his time, alternately waiting patiently or cajoling him toward the back of the room. Her heart quaked. She dropped the knife and grabbed her wineglass, downing the entire thing.

It only took seconds for her head to feel light.
Skipped lunch. Crap.
But it helped. She could function now. Once again, Russ had foiled her attempt to force him out of his element. Apparently,
he
could function in every environment. Tent, kitchen, bed, shower…restaurant. She stopped that line of thought before she could imagine what kind of moves Russ might pull in a public restaurant. After the way he’d hauled her out of the kitchen last night, she wouldn’t put anything past him.

I give up.

There was no point in trying to sandbag Russ. He was a natural with kids, and it was going to be a great show no matter what Billy did. She’d actually heard a camerawoman giggle when her son erupted, and people who hung out behind cameras for a living were notoriously hard to surprise. They’d seen and heard everything.

She looked around the dining room, noting the shell-shocked expressions of the women in Russ and Billy’s path to the restroom. Obviously, their combined cuteness was exploding every ovary in the room. Hers were certainly shattered. No doubt they’d encounter more baby bumps in the road tonight, but Russ would roll right over them, triumphant. Honestly, how could a man be so sexy heading off to change a crappy diaper? If he were any other guy, she wouldn’t be trying to scare him away. She’d be trying to think of ways to keep him around.

Her heart skipped a beat. So why wasn’t she? He was great with kids, fantastic in bed, smart, funny, gorgeous, rich…

And leaving…
Right.

She buttered a piece of bread for Billy so it would be waiting for him when he got back. After what Russ was undoubtedly enduring in the restroom, she could throw him a bone for taking one for the team.

I’m starting to like the word “we.”
His statement echoed through her mind again, and a light sweat broke out all over her body. She hadn’t let herself believe it, but what if he meant it? What if there was a chance—even a remote one—that Russ was enjoying her company as much as she was enjoying his?

She was still wondering when he appeared in the dining room a few minutes later, a grin of victory lighting his face. Billy was slung upside-down over one shoulder, and as they got closer to the table, she realized Russ was making monkey noises and Billy was doing his best to mimic them. Her heart squeezed tight and then exploded in her chest, forcing out every bit of resistance. She couldn’t pretend anymore—about anything. She was going to miss him like crazy.

Russ spun her son under his arm, twirled him through the air, and deposited him in the high chair, buckling the straps while Billy giggled. Russ dropped into his chair. “Mission accomplished. I had to sacrifice my T-shirt, but we survived.”

She made a face to disguise her breathlessness. “Please tell me you didn’t put him on the floor of the men’s bathroom.”

“Hell, no. You were right—not a single flat surface. I used the changing table in the ladies’ room, but I put my T-shirt under him, just in case, you know…spillage.”

“You went into the ladies’ room? And changed his diaper? Shirtless?” She imagined him taking off his button-down shirt and tie to get to his T-shirt. If any of the women in the dining room had known what was going on in the restroom, there would have been a stampede.