The Watson Brothers (9 page)

Misunderstanding his meaning, Ariel swallowed, then tried to reassure him. “I’ll be fine, Sam. You don’t owe me anything.” And to try to prove that, she added, “I’m sorry we ended up at the same bar again, but Duluth isn’t exactly a hotbed of social outlets. My choices were pretty limited and I promise it was an accident.”

Very slowly, the pain seemed to leave him and he stiffened. “What were you doing there, then?”

Ariel took a step away from that gritting tone. “I wasn’t trying to watch over you. I promise.”

Her assurances only annoyed him more. “Then
why?
”

She glanced around at the rapt faces of their audience. No one looked ready to intervene and rescue her, so she scowled and thrust her chin up. “I was there to…well to be sure again.”

His face went blank, then turned red and angry. “
Damn it, Ariel
. I thought you were already sure.”

“Don’t you dare yell at me, Sam. I’ve had a rough enough week as it is.”

He drew a slow breath, gathering himself. “I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders drooped. “It’s not your fault. I was the pushy one.”

“I don’t mean that.”

Pete laughed. “No, he definitely doesn’t mean that.”

“Shut up, Pete.”

Still grinning, Pete said, “You should be thanking me, you know. I’m the one who got her there in the first place.”

Sam and Ariel turned to stare at him. “How’s that?” Sam demanded to know.

“Why, I got a new girlfriend, that’s how. I finally realized she was waiting for me to do that.”

Ariel’s brows shot up. “You knew?”

He snorted. “Everyone saw you two ogling each other.”

Gil and Belinda nodded.

“You fought it, Sam, I’ll give you that. But any time I brought her around, you watched her more than I did.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did, Son,” Belinda told him. “The poor girl couldn’t blink without you noting it.”

Hesper laughed. “If it was anything like the way he looks at her now, I’m surprised she didn’t go up in flames.”

Exasperated, Sam rubbed his face, then suddenly stiffened. His hands dropped to his sides and he stared at Pete. “You saw her car that night. That’s what you meant about it being impossible to miss, even in the dark.”

“Of course I saw it.” Pete snorted. “Why do you think I told you all that stuff about her? Hell, I don’t gossip about women, especially women I love—as friends—so get rid of that evil look, all right? I just wanted you to know up front how she felt about you.”

Humiliated beyond all reason, Ariel tried to inch away, anxious to escape. Without looking at her, Sam caught her wrist and kept her at his side. “Then you came back here the next morning and pretended outrage, reading me the riot act like…”

“Like a brother who loves you, yeah. I was trying to make it easy for you to give up, you know, salvage your pride and all that. I figured you could blame me or something since I pretty much figured you hadn’t told her that you love her.” He elbowed Gil hard. “But Gil here showed up and everything got off track.”

Ariel cleared her throat. “Really, none of this is necessary. I don’t expect Sam to—”

Sam cast her a look. “Get used to it, honey. They’re all pushy as hell, but they’re part of the package.”

“They are?”

His eyes narrowed. “My house, my rules. Love me, love my family.”

Her heart started a furious pounding and she couldn’t get a breath. “But…”

Sam gave up with visible bad grace. “I didn’t want to involve you in my life, all right? I didn’t want you to be at risk for being around me and with me. I didn’t want you always worried and afraid.” He touched her cheek, and Ariel felt the gentleness, the uncertainty. “You’re so soft, Ariel. And so sweet. You aren’t cut out for my life.”

Belinda scowled. “What am I, chopped liver? I’m your mother and I’m certainly a part of your life. You don’t consider me sweet or soft?” The venomous glare she gave her son kept him silent.

Gil and Pete, however, snickered with good humor.

“And don’t forget your baby brother.” Pete put the back of his hand to his head in a gesture of emotional distress. “I’m traumatized nightly, thinking about all the risks you take. I believe you’ve stunted my growth.”

Since Pete was six-two, his claims were deliberately absurd.

Booth nodded vigorously in agreement. “Poor Hesper here can’t sleep at night, listening for young Sam, wanting to make sure he gets home safe and sound.” He harrumphed. “Don’t see him concerning himself with the likes of us though.”

The bulldog barked.

Sam said, “How I feel about Ariel is different, damn it.”

With the concise, no-nonsense tone he was known for, Gil said, “Then will you please tell her so? She looks to be in an agony of suspense.”

Sam took one look at her, nodded, then faced his family. “I need to sit down. Will you all just leave?” And then just as quickly, “Not you, Ariel.”

Pete said, “He still has to propose.”

Ariel fried Pete with a look. She would definitely get him later. Couldn’t he see that his brother was in pain and not up to all that teasing? “Come on, Sam. I’ll help you inside.”

Sam allowed her to hug into his uninjured side, attempting to offer him support; then he looked back at his family and grinned. “Bye.”

His mother said, “We’ll leave, but I expect to hear from you in the morning.”

Sam nodded. “Ariel or I, one will give you a call.” And then he stepped inside and kicked the door shut. “Peace, at last.”

“Are you all right?”

“Getting better by the minute.” Then: “Upstairs, babe. I need to lie down.”

“Oh, Sam.” Her worry was a live thing, but Sam went up the steps without too much help from her and once in his room, he lowered himself painfully to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Will you help me get my clothes off?” When she stared at him, he said, “I want to lie down.”

“Oh. Yes of course.”

“I’m not hurt that bad, but the loss of blood…”

She went pale and rushed to get him out of the shirt Gil had brought up to the hospital for him. Snowy white gauze wrapped diagonally over his dark, powerful chest, from his right shoulder to beneath his left arm, covering him front and back. Ariel touched her hand to her mouth and just knew she was going to cry.

Sam kicked out of his shoes, then stood. “My pants?”

She shook herself. The last thing Sam needed now was a whining, weepy, overly emotional woman on his hands. The way he held his right arm, it had to be hurting him. “Of course.”

Going to her knees, Ariel stripped off his socks and reached for the fly to his slacks. He was hard.

Her gaze snapped up to his.

He grinned. “Hey, you’re on your knees in front of me, sweetheart, ready to take off my pants. What did you expect?”

She’d missed him so much, and loved him more than that. She just couldn’t take his teasing right now. “You’re hurt, damn it. Be serious.” Shaking now, Ariel pulled his pants down over his hips and Sam stepped out of them.

His hand touched the top of her head. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week, Ariel. I finally have you here, alone in my bedroom. Believe me, I’m taking this very seriously.” Wearing only his underwear—and that tented—he sat in the bed and leaned carefully back against a pillow on the headboard. He let out a long sigh. “Now strip off your clothes and get into bed with me.”

Her stomach flip-flopped. “Sam…”

“My house, my rules.”

His voice was gentle, but his gaze burned and Ariel felt a smile twitch on her mouth. “Your rules are ridiculous and you know it. There’s no way you’re up to…that.”

“That?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that I need to hold you, and I’m thinking you’re more inclined to say yes if you’re naked in bed with me.”

“Yes about what?”

He stared at her a long moment, then, in the softest, most uncertain tone she’d ever heard from him, he said, “About whether or not you’ll marry me.”

Her mouth fell open. “Sam?”

He scowled, rallying forth arguments. “Look at it this way, if you marry me you get to change some of the rules because it’ll be your house, too.”

Happiness bubbled up, swelled until Ariel felt ready to burst. Watching his face, her own wide smile in place, she stripped off her clothes and climbed in beside him. Sam urged her close to his left side, shifted until he was comfortable, then said, “Now, tell me you love me again. It’s the truth, I need to hear it.”

“I love you, Sam.”

He groaned, hugged her as tightly as he could, considering he was hurt, and kissed her hair. “I love you, too, Ariel. So much that I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t marry me. At first…well, I hate to admit it, but I was as fretful as an old woman.”

“If you said that to your mother, she’d bop you on the head.”

He smiled. “I don’t like the thought of you worrying about me when I’m at work, and I absolutely can’t stand the thought of you showing up where I am, maybe interfering and putting yourself at risk.”

“As long as I know where you’re at and what you’re doing, I won’t get in your way.”

“And you won’t worry?”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do about the worry, Sam. I love you.” She gently touched the front of his bandages. “You’re a good cop—”

“A great cop.”

She laughed. “And you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. But I’ll still worry. You’ll just have to accept that.”

“I’ll accept it,” he growled, “if you’ll agree to marry me.”

“I’ll marry you.”

“Thank God.” They fell silent for a long moment, holding each other, Ariel with her hand over his heart. She thought he might have dozed, but then he said, “About those rules? There’s only one you can’t tamper with, okay?”

Ariel twisted to smile up at him. He looked rugged, wounded, and horny. She laughed. “And which rule is that?”

“The one about being naked at breakfast. I’ve decided I like that rule, and starting every day off with a view of your sweet backside…well, know that you’re stuck with me forever, okay?”

Ariel grinned. “As long as it goes both ways. And that, Officer, is my rule.”

Gil Watson was both nervous and excited—an odd combination he hadn’t experienced since his first years of college. These days he was confidence personified, commanding even, an in-charge guy perfect for the corporate world. He prided himself on his professional demeanor, his calm outlook on life. He had a business to run for his family; they relied on him and he enjoyed that.

He’d grown up—and in the process permanently buried all wild inclinations.

But today, the figures blurred on the computer screen in front of him. He wasn’t getting much work done, which seemed to be the norm of late, rather than the exception. It had taken only one phone call to throw him off track, but then, it wasn’t every day a man learned he had a daughter, a daughter he hadn’t known of until two weeks ago.

He hadn’t been the same since.

Would she look like him? At two and a half years, was a child developed enough to look like anyone? What he knew about babies wouldn’t fill a thimble. At thirty-two, he concentrated on knowing business, family responsibility, and finances. And not to brag, he also knew women.

But he knew zilch about being a father.

It still boggled his mind that Shelly had never said a word. He saw her two or three times a year, whenever business took him to Atlanta. He’d been to her office, to her home, met her coworkers and friends. Right after his father’s death three years ago, he’d been so sick at heart that he’d done things he wasn’t proud of.

Like using Shelly.

Not that she hadn’t been willing. She’d sent him one of her looks and he’d reciprocated, and within the hour they’d gone from business associates to lovers. He still remembered the wild, frenzied way she’d taken him. For two days, he kept her in his motel room burning up the sheets. She’d catered to his sexual needs, his fantasies, and even his less than orthodox demands—
the demands he’d thought well under control
. She’d been everything he’d physically wanted and needed at the time.

In truth, she’d wrung him out and left his body and mind thankfully blank for an entire weekend, relieving his sense of loss for his father, obliterating his concern about taking over the family business and the overwhelming responsibilities he’d accepted as his own.

It was when he’d awakened and saw her looming over him, smiling with too much emotion for a mere sexual coupling, that Gil had realized his mistake. Shelly wanted a husband and apparently saw him as a prime candidate. But he didn’t want the burden of a wife added to the new load he already carried.

His oldest brother was a cop, his youngest brother still in school, and his mother had never involved herself with the company. Taking over the successful family novelty business and keeping them all financially solvent had naturally fallen to Gil. Outwardly, he was the most staid, the only one who’d shown an interest, his father’s protégé.

No, the last thing he’d wanted was a wife to further muddy the waters, so he’d done what he considered wise and responsible. He’d gently explained his lack of interest and had never again touched Shelly sexually. Yet she’d had his baby and continued to associate with him as a close friend. Without once ever telling him.

Gil’s stomach clenched over such a deception. He hadn’t known, damn it, but that was no excuse. Shelly had taken care of their baby alone and now she was gone. He couldn’t make things right by her—but he could raise their daughter. And he would.

Giving up, he closed out the computer program and leaned back in his chair, his mind churning with regrets and curiosity and that persistent nervousness. A baby, his baby. Jesus.

A small commotion in the outer office drew him forward again in his chair. He grew alert, his brows drawn in confusion when the door opened and his assistant stuck her head in. Her frown rivaled his own. “Gil, you have…company.”

At fifty, Alice wasn’t prone to melodrama. Her expression had Gil rising from his desk in a rush. “Who is it?”

“Well, the young lady introduced herself as Anabel Truman. And the youngest lady is Nicole Lane Tyree, as I understand it, although all she’s done is suck her thumb.”

Every muscle in Gil’s body went rigid. His brain cramped. His daughter was here—
with Anabel
—two weeks early. He rounded his desk with a long stride.

Damn Anabel; he’d offered to come to her, to buy her airline tickets, to pay for their transportation. As contrary and outrageous as ever, she’d refused, telling him it’d be at least ten days before she could leave. Ten long days before he’d get to meet his baby.

Yet she was here, at his office, where he didn’t want her to be, rather than at his home where he might keep his private business private for a little while longer. At least until he could figure out what to do, how to proceed…

Arms crossed and eyebrows lifted, Alice moved out of his way as Gil charged forward. If this was a deliberate ploy on Anabel’s part to discredit him, he’d—well, he didn’t know what he’d do yet, but he’d think of something. Because Anabel had been Shelly’s roommate, he’d known her as long as he’d known Shelly. She was always there when he visited, always twitting him, picking at him. Her presence was always unnerving; she made him think things he shouldn’t think, things he had tried not to think now that he had new responsibilities to consider.

As Shelly’s best friend, she’d been off-limits then. But no more.

He threw the door wide and then froze, his heart shooting into his throat, his stomach dropping, his knees almost giving out. Damn it, why did Anabel have that effect on him?

She looked the same as always: seductive. He’d never really liked her. She was too outspoken and pushy. Too overtly sexual and in your face. Too…hot. She was one of those women you just knew would be incredible in the sack and it made him nuts.

It wasn’t just her jewelry, her overdone makeup and risqué clothing that had made her far too difficult to ignore. There’d been something about the way she watched him, too, her close attention, the carnality in her gaze that made him wonder if their basic natures might mesh.

That thought had kept him on edge whenever he was around her.

Now he realized that she might have watched him for the simple reason that he was Nicole’s father and didn’t know it. He might have totally misread her.

When she’d called, her tone had been devoid of accusation, empty of any real emotion when usually she teemed with emotion. She’d told him of Shelly’s death, of his baby girl, all with a detachment that had left him bewildered and floundering—a situation he didn’t like one bit. He was used to being in charge, of knowing what he did and why and having no doubts whatsoever.

Did it matter to Anabel that he hadn’t known of the baby?

She stood there now in low-slung, faded jeans, a clinging stretch top of bright pink and…oh God, she had a belly button ring. He fixated on that for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time before he heard her low, throaty laugh. He jerked his gaze up to her face.

The woman was beyond outrageous, and in the months since he’d last seen her she’d only grown more so. “Anabel.” Thankfully, his tone was even, polite. “This is a surprise.”

“I know.” She grinned, and that grin was so teasing that Gil felt it like a tactile touch. Then he saw the exhaustion she tried to mask, the utter weariness in every line of her body.

Sudden worry overwhelmed every other emotion. “What’s happened?”

At the sound of his voice, a pale face surrounded by dark curls peeked out from behind Anabel’s knees. Until that moment, Gil hadn’t noticed the tiny hands hugging around her legs, the little bare feet behind hers.

The baby, his baby, was hiding.

At his very first glimpse of her, Gil’s heart turned over. He couldn’t get enough oxygen into his starved lungs. She was so tiny, he hadn’t expected…

Without really thinking about it, he went to one knee, putting himself more on her diminutive level. “Nicole?”

The little girl blinked enormous chocolate brown eyes framed by long lashes. Her rosebud mouth crumbled and she tried to climb up the back of Anabel’s legs, saying, “Mommy!”

Mommy?
Taken aback, Gil lifted a brow and looked to Anabel for some explanation.

Anabel pulled Nicole around to her front and playfully scooped her up, holding her to her breasts and laughing. “Hey, little rat, remember what I told you? I promise you don’t need to be afraid.”

Little rat? But the child had a stranglehold on Anabel that she couldn’t pry loose, so it didn’t appear she’d taken offense at the less than complimentary endearment.

Anabel glanced at Gil and shrugged in apology. “It’s been a long trip and she’s tired.”

Disappointment shook him, but Gil hid it. At least he hoped he did. He rose slowly to his feet again. “Come into my office.” Stepping back, he held the door open until Anabel had swept past him. He could feel her energy, detect her light flowery scent. Behind on his office floor she’d left a large colorful bag overflowing with a tattered stuffed bear, a faded print blanket, a squeeze bottle of juice, and other baby paraphernalia.

Blank-brained, at an utter loss, Gil looked at Alice.

In her typical no-nonsense manner, Alice lifted the bag and pressed it into his hands. “The child might need this.”

“Of course.” The damn thing weighed a ton. “Hold all my calls and cancel any appointments.”

“You were meeting your mother and brother for lunch.”

His brain scrambled in panic mode before settling on a course. “Call Sam. Tell him Anabel is here. He’ll understand.”

“You’re the boss.” Alice hesitated. “Gil, if you need anything else…”

She’d been his father’s secretary, and now his. She was protective and loyal, and Gil sent her a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” Then, on second thought he added, “How about some coffee, Alice?”

“I’ll bring it right away.”

“Thank you.” Gil stepped into his office, shut the door, and tried to figure out what to do next. He silently tallied the facts at hand: Anabel was here, a woman he shouldn’t have wanted, but did. His daughter was here, a child he’d only just found out about but already cherished. His life was about to undergo some drastic changes. He had to do
something
—but all he managed was to stand there, watching the two of them.

Anabel had sprawled in his black leather desk chair, the child on her lap, and she was whispering in Nicole’s ear, kissing her downy cheek, and rubbing her narrow back.

Gil wanted to hold her. He wanted to cuddle his child and know her and let her know him. The feeling was so alien, yet so powerful, Gil naturally shied away from it.

“We’re starving.” Anabel glanced up at him. “You got anything to eat?”

Finally having a purpose, Gil strolled to his desk to perch on the edge and pushed the intercom button. “Can we order up some lunch, too, Alice?”

“Sandwiches, pizza, soup.”

He turned to Anabel, leaving the choice up to her, and she said, “Pepperoni pizza. Maybe some salad for me, too. And a Mountain Dew if it’s available—I could use the caffeine kick. I have juice for Toots, here.”

Alice said, “Give me fifteen minutes.”

With that accomplished, Gil settled back, linking his fingers and resting his hands on his thighs. The pose was relaxed when he felt anything but. He made note of so many things at once. The dark circles under Anabel’s green eyes, the windblown disarray of her short, fawn-colored hair. The row of hoop earrings in her left ear, each increasing in size. Five total, he counted, the largest about as big as a quarter.

A tattoo circled her upper arm. It appeared to be a horizontal flower vine, but it was too delicate for him to be sure without leaning forward for a closer look. And he wasn’t about to get that close to her.

Nicole twisted slightly to see him, but she kept her nose stuck in Anabel’s neck, her arms locked around her. Her round eyes were huge and wary.

Gil tried for his gentlest smile. “Hello there.”

“’Lo.”

He badly wanted to touch her, and he didn’t deny himself. Slowly reaching out with only one finger, he stroked the silky soft hair over her temple. His heart threatened to punch through his chest.

She shied away, going back into hiding and gripping Anabel with new fervor.

“Give her time, Gil. She’s been through a lot.”

The idea of what she’d been through smote him clean through to his soul. He was her father; he should have been there for her, protecting her, making her feel safe and secure no matter what else happened. He cleared his throat. “And you, as well. I know you and Shelly were close.”

She looked away. In a whisper she said, “Toward the end, I barely knew her at all.”

Toward the end? The end of what? Shelly had died suddenly in a car wreck, Anabel had told him. What did she mean, then? But his questions would have to wait until Nicole wasn’t listening. He didn’t know how much a child her age might comprehend, and he wouldn’t risk adding to her trauma.

Alice knocked before stepping in with a tray of coffee and cups. “This will get you started before the lunch arrives. The little girl has something to drink?”

Anabel shoved to her feet with Nicole still clinging like a determined monkey. “Juice—never leave home without it.”