My Sweetest Sasha: Cole's Story (Meadows Shore Book 2) (10 page)

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two.

“Alexa, just because it’s only one night or a single afternoon doesn’t mean it can’t be respectful and pleasurable … for everyone. There’s an ocean between what you had with that douchebag and a long-term relationship. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

“I know. I’m not judging anyone, and I’m not a prude, but I know what I need before I take my clothes off.”

“What do you need?” he asked tenderly, squeezing her hand, hoping what she needed didn’t involve a picket fence, two kids and a dog, with
promises of forever.
Why do you care what she needs?
a voice in his head shouted.

“I need to feel safe, physically and emotionally, to trust completely, and to be completely trusted. I need to feel that there’s some kind of give and take, something that’s bigger than the sex.
You don’t need a long-term relationship to have those things, but you can’t get them from a casual hookup.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

They watched the game on the sofa in his office, where he resisted the urge to move closer to her, pull her onto his lap, and kiss her until she forgot all about that piece of shit from law school.

She was genuine, kind, and honest. From the moment he met her, he knew she’d give him a fair shake. But if he were honest with himself, he’d admit it had turned into more than that.

He could tell her anything, and counted on her to cue him when he was off the mark. She’d helped him through this ordeal with Christian, made it a little less painful. He enjoyed having his first cup of coffee with her on the way to work, looked forward to eating dinner with her in his office every evening, and having a little time to unwind with her on the way home. What he hated was walking her inside, and then turning around and getting back in the car and going home to bed without her.

* * *

The game was nearly over when Cole’s phone rang, rousing him from his quiet thoughts. He’d been distracted all evening, and now he was talking to someone in a different language—Portuguese, she guessed. She couldn’t understand a word he said, but he was quite animated.

“I knew it. Sophie’s on her way in,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Who were you talking to?”

“My grandmother. Portuguese is easier for her, especially on the phone.”

“Have you been bilingual your whole life?”

“For as long as I can remember. Do you like babies?”

“Yes. I love them,” she said. “Owen’s more than twenty years younger than I am, and when he was born, I fell in love. I held him every chance I got.”

“Your face always glows when you talk about Owen.”

“He’s the light of my life.”

“Come on, let’s go. You can meet my family. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to provide some dirt on me.”

“I don’t need to go. This isn’t work-related—it’s your family. You don’t need me tagging along.”

He dragged her off the sofa. “Come on, we’re going to have a baby. First one born of this generation. You never know what crazy thing I might do.”

* * *

His excitement was infectious, and she found herself excited about the new baby too. They were the first ones downstairs, arriving even before Sophie and her frantic husband, Max.

Cole grinned at Sophie when she walked through the heavy glass doors into the emergency room, stopping to put her hand on the wall for support, clearly experiencing some discomfort.

“Aren’t you going to say I told you so?” she snarled between contractions.

“Nah, not today. Maybe tomorrow.”

He grabbed a wheelchair and helped her get comfortable, reminding her to breathe through the contractions, while Max tried to wrap his head around what the two of them were talking about.

“Cole told me I was in labor earlier today.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” he said to Cole.

“I didn’t have any smelling salts. Go register her. I’m going to take her up to labor and delivery.”

He turned to Alexa. “Help him. As human beings go, he’s pretty useless right now.”

She helped Max get Sophie checked in, and then walked him back to labor and delivery. He epitomized the sitcom stereotype of the expectant father. There were a couple of instances when Alexa worried she might actually need those smelling salts Cole joked about. Maybe there was something to that stereotype after all.

Cole’s family began to trickle in. There were so many of them—young and dazzling, each in their own way. But no one shone more than his grandmother, Avó Angelina, who was there for the birth of her first great-grandchild.

It was easy to tell they were from wealth and power, not because they behaved with off-putting snobbery, but because of the way they carried themselves. Like Cole, they were comfortable with who they were. He’d once told her that when you lived in a fishbowl, if you didn’t figure out who you were pretty quickly in life, others would define you, and you’d be hurt by the barrage of arrows they fired at you, trying to bring you down. But if you knew who you were, it was harder for them to get into your head, or nick your heart.

Everyone was friendly toward her and very playful with one another. They hung on Cole’s every word when he came out to give them periodic updates. Eventually Sophie grew tired of Cole and kicked him out of the room for good. He joined his relatives and reported that she was doing great, “Cranky and bossy as hell. It means the baby will be here very soon,” he assured them.

Alexa felt like a voyeur intruding on a most sacred family event. She slipped away quietly and went to her office, knowing if Cole was paged, she would be paged, too. She wanted to give him privacy with his family while they celebrated the new life.

* * *

Cole searched the waiting area for Alexa. He hadn’t noticed her leave, but she was gone. He knew he should be relieved she’d left, but he wasn’t. They’d logged a lot of hours together, day and night, and everything in between. He enjoyed spending time with her, and on the rare day when he was off, he missed her, really missed her. In some odd way, he wanted her here with him when the baby was born. He wanted to share the experience with her, wanted her to be part of his family’s joy.

He tried to push the thought from his mind, but like everything else involving Alexa, it wasn’t easily dismissed.

* * *

He stood at her office door and watched for a minute before barging in, ending her peace and quiet. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the first time he’d laid eyes on her, upside down, skirt bunched at her waist, completely oblivious to him and his filthy thoughts. He shook his head and smiled.

Her ear buds were plugged into the computer, and she pounded on the keyboard. She’d taken off her jacket and was wearing a lilac shirt with the collar turned up. Her bare arms were toned and satiny smooth. Deep in thought, her brow furrowed, and her fingers stilled on the keys.

While he watched, she did that thing with her hand she always did, sweeping the gold strands off her face, tucking them behind her ear with one easy motion. Something about the way she used her hand like that was so damn hot. Yoga had made her body lean and graceful, and everything about the way she moved was so goddamn sexy.

In the past month he’d run her ragged, and hadn’t always been kind to her, but she never once complained. When he finally convinced her to let him pick her up on his way into the hospital, she waited outside every morning, rain or shine. And she was always grateful for the stupid three-dollar coffee and pastry he brought her, although it still embarrassed her. On the second day he brought it to her, she’d refused to accept it, and he’d thrown it in the trash right in front of her, and promised to throw the coffee and pastry away every day if she didn’t take it. The next morning, when she refused breakfast again, he walked over to the trashcan and she’d shouted, “Okay, okay, I’ll take it! Stop wasting food!”

One day she brought him a jar of blueberry jam she’d made to thank him for all the coffee and pastries. His grandmother and aunts made jam, so he knew it took a lot of time and patience, and was touched that she used her rare free time to make something special for him.

When he was a little boy and his grandmother made jam, his mother would always spoon a little of the still warm confection over vanilla ice cream for him and his brothers. It was so sweet and delicious, and made the ice cream melt into pastel puddles you could slurp from a spoon.

He remembered asking his mother, “
How do they make jam?”

“Berries and sugar.”

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He couldn’t imagine they could make berries and sugar taste so delicious.

“Well, there is one secret ingredient,” she whispered.

“I knew it! What is it?”

“Love. Vovó sprinkles love on the berries while they’re cooking. That’s why the jam’s so sweet.

When he tasted Alexa’s jam, it was sweet and delicious like his grandmother’s, and he wondered if she’d sprinkled on some love too.

But aside from all the goodness that was Alexa, there was something happening with her. He wasn’t so wrapped up in his own problems that he missed it. Something dark she refused to talk about. She carried the weight of the world around, and some days even her beautiful smile couldn’t obscure it.

He hated not knowing what troubled her. It left him powerless, impotent, and he despised those feelings. It drove him crazy. He was a surgeon; he identified problems and cut them out.

When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she gave him that look, the look that made his heart pound and his fingers itch to touch her. It had been more than a month, and he hadn’t made any advances. He’d all but promised himself he wouldn’t, but it was becoming more difficult every minute he was around her. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted her under him, fast and hard, or slow and gentle all night long. He wanted it all.

Sometimes he thought she might want him, might welcome his touch, but the situation was too complicated, especially for her. He didn’t give a shit about any of it, but he knew she’d feel like she’d done something wrong, and when he made love to her, he didn’t want her to feel that anything was wrong. He wanted her to feel like everything was right. That it was perfect. Just perfect.

* * *

Sometimes she saw it in his eyes when he looked at her, a ravenous hunger that aroused her and left her wanting. But each time, she forced the thought out of her head, hoping her body would take the hint. She was sure he’d be respectful, and a generous lover, satisfying her beyond the wildest imaginings. But one night with him would leave her lonely and aching.

Cole stood in the doorway flashing a smile that made her heart skip beat. He was himself, always. She loved that about him. So damn comfortable in his own skin, it had sent shivers dancing through her the first time they met, and from that moment on, he’d challenged her to get comfortable with herself, to own it, without apologies. He encouraged her to establish her own standards, to view herself through her own lens, to define her own dreams. Even though he sometimes pushed back, he was the first person since her grandmother passed who really accepted her for who she was, and this had created an environment where she could accept herself.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Cole, but she knew she wanted something—something more. Maybe it was too much to hope for, maybe she was foolish to think he’d ever want her, but sometimes … sometimes, like now, she caught him looking at her in a way that made her believe he wanted more, too.

“The baby was born, thought you’d like to know,” he said.

“Everyone healthy?”

He nodded.

“Girl or boy?”

“Girl. Those Claytons just keep adding more damn females to the world for me to worry about.”

She laughed and her eyes shimmered in the dim light of the room.

“Would you like to meet her?”

“I would love to.”

* * *

Sophie was in her room nursing the baby. “Are we interrupting?” asked Cole.

“No. Come in.” Sophie reached for a soft pink blanket, draping it over her shoulder for a little privacy.

“Sophie, do you remember Alexa from last night?”

“Yes, of course. Hello, Alexa.”

“Thought I’d bring her by to see our beautiful new baby. Where’s Max?”

“I sent him out to take a shower and get me some food.”

“There’s food out by the nurses’ station.”

“I heard someone sent breakfast to the nursery, labor and delivery, and the maternity unit. Wonder who that could’ve been?”

“They earned it, did a great job. Took good care of my favorite girls,” Cole said as he gently scooped the baby out of her mother’s arms and propped her over his shoulder, rubbing her back until she gave up a big burp.