Secret Baby Scandal(6)

"Thank you." She straightened the spit cloth that he'd tossed over his  suit jacket, trying not to notice the attractive vision this powerful  man made while holding his son-their child-with such tenderness. "While  it's tempting to hold him all the time, I'm learning to rest more often.  I was so tired the whole first week."

"I wish I'd been there to help you," he said simply. "Parenting is a  team sport." He patted the baby twice, elicited the necessary burp, then  tucked the infant in the crook of his arm as securely as he carried a  football for a first down. "That's why I stand by the marriage offer. I  don't call that cold-blooded. I call it keeping your eye on the end  zone. It would benefit our son for us to work together."

"I don't think a child gains anything from parents who aren't happy and  yet force themselves to be together. We'd be better off trying to  figure out how to effectively co-parent." Feeling rumpled and flustered,  she fastened her dress. What woman wanted to field a marriage proposal  over the head of a newborn, her breasts sore and her body bone-weary  from the physical odyssey of a first pregnancy?

She knew it was foolish to care, but she could only imagine how she  looked right now. And yes, she wished she could have met Jean-Pierre in  one of her sleek Stella McCartney dresses, but they were all still too  small for her postpartum body to fit into.

"I'm not sure your father is going to think much of a plan to co-parent  from separate homes." He wrapped a dangling swath of blanket around the  baby's foot.

"My father also parented his football players more than his own  daughter, so I'm not accepting advice on the subject from Jack Doucet."  She loved her father, but she'd witnessed the way he indulged the elite  athletes, giving them preferential treatment. As a teen, it had hurt to  see him spend more time with them, showing up at a college prospect's  house on the weekend to establish a relationship while blowing off  Tatiana's debate championship-or any other noteworthy accomplishment.

Although, even as she said it, she realized that Jean-Pierre might bear  more of her father's disappointment than she would. But she'd learned  long ago she couldn't make decisions to please other people. She relied  on herself and no one else.

"Of course." He agreed more easily than she'd expected. "This is a lot  for both of us to take in right now. We'll talk tomorrow. I can put him  to bed for you if you want to get some sleep." He laid a hand over hers,  a tender gesture that stirred all those emotions she couldn't control  lately.

But no matter how kindly he offered help now, she couldn't forget that  he'd walked away from her last time. Underneath the civil politeness, he  was still the same athlete who'd spent weeks fuming silently at her  while she'd methodically proved his former teammate guilty of sexual  harassment. Afterward, he had continued to defend the man. If not for  the spike of attraction that had never been too far beneath the surface  with them, she and Jean-Pierre didn't have anything in common.

Except now they shared responsibility for this precious life they'd created.

"I have a night nurse. She can take him. She knows his routine." She  glanced into Jean-Pierre's eyes quickly. "I'm sorry. You can do it soon,  but please, can we keep things simple for tonight? We have so much to  sort through."                       
       
           



       

Sliding her hand out from under his, Tatiana reached to take the baby,  more exhausted now than she had been after eighteen hours of labor. She  hadn't known how stressful speaking to Jean-Pierre would be.

But now that he finally knew the truth, some of that weight had been shifted off her shoulders.

"I'm sure the night nurse is great." He didn't hand over the sleeping  infant. "But since I have lost weeks I'll never recover with him, I  would appreciate being able to put him in his bed for the night."

The cool words didn't hide his judgment of her-he blamed her for not coming to him sooner about the pregnancy.

"Follow me." Too weary to argue, she rose to her feet, gladly leaving  behind the gorgeous Louboutin heels. The shoes that once brought her so  much joy were now instruments of torture.

She led the way up the curving staircase of her apartment, a prewar  building with plenty of amenities for children that she would be taking  advantage of now that she could share the news of her baby with the  world.

"Should you be climbing so many stairs?" He was beside her suddenly, his hand on her lower back.

It was a warm touch despite his frustration with her.

"Stairs are fine. I didn't have a C-section so I'm in good shape."  Figuratively speaking. Her actual shape still leaned toward the soft  side.

"I hope you are taking care of yourself." His touch fell away as they  arrived on the second floor and she pointed the way to César's room.

The night nurse greeted her as they entered the nursery, but discreetly retreated to her own bedroom across the hall.

"I am. I'm looking forward to bringing him out in the stroller for  walks once we speak to my family. The fresh air will be good for both of  us." Leaning into the antique crib she'd bought online and had shipped  to the house before she'd even returned from the Caribbean, Tatiana slid  aside the blue baby blanket. It went with the aquatic theme of the  room.

She'd need major amounts of fresh air after speaking to her father.  He'd always set the bar so damn high for her. Even when she was soaring  at the top of her class or making junior partner ahead of schedule at  her firm, she felt the pressure of his expectations. Now? She couldn't  even imagine telling him that his first grandson was a Reynaud.

"We can see your parents first thing in the morning. But I would like  to leave for New Orleans shortly afterward." He bent into the crib and  laid César beside a stuffed baby whale.

One broad shoulder brushed the starfish mobile as he straightened, setting off a few gentle musical notes.

"You're going there to tell your family?" She knew his parents, Theo  and Alessandra Reynaud, had been divorced for years and weren't even  full-time residents of Louisiana anymore. Alessandra worked in  Hollywood. Theo globe-hopped, content to live off his family's money.  But Jean-Pierre's grandfather, Leon, still acted as the Reynaud  patriarch in the public eye.

Leon, who had fired Tatiana's father from the Mustangs and created the  Doucet-Reynaud rift. Her stomach clenched at the thought of facing him.

"My family can wait." Jean-Pierre stared down at her in the soft blue  glow of the nursery's night-light, his strong male presence radiating  warmth and making her realize how close they stood. "We need to go there  together to fulfill the promise I made in a televised interview this  evening. I told the world you were going to be a guest of the Reynauds  before the Gladiators-Hurricanes game."

The words didn't make sense at first. He couldn't be serious about them simply pretending to be dating.

"I don't understand. Now you must see that's impossible." She gestured  to the crib, where César clutched a handful of blanket. "I can't leave  New York."

"We are a family now, Tatiana, whether you want to be or not." His  voice suggested a patience that his body language did not. He loomed  over her, tense and unyielding. "It makes more sense than ever that you  come to Louisiana with me while we work out some logistics of  parenting."

Her gaze slipped back down to César, peaceful and unaware of the  tension between his parents. She knew that Jean-Pierre was right. They  had to find some way to raise their child together even though there  would be no wedding. No pretend romance to mask the animosity between  them.                       
       
           



       

Maybe, given some time, she could negotiate a peaceful future for her  son in the same way she argued court cases. She would find a way to get  on top of her runaway pregnancy hormones and the mixed feelings she  still had for Jean-Pierre-hurt, resentment, attraction. A potent mix.

"I'll need a private room," she said finally, tilting her chin up and  laying the groundwork for this very dicey compromise. "I will go with  you, but I can't perform a charade for the media or our families."

"Meaning you won't pretend to like the father of your child?" One heavy eyebrow arched as he watched her.

Her heartbeat quickened for no discernible reason. They were drawing boundaries, weren't they? That was a good thing.

"Meaning there will be no maneuvering each other by implying an  engagement or imminent wedding that we both know will not happen."