“Hey,” Nina said. “This is happening, okay? Max’s dad is here and this is happening. The only thing you can control is how you respond, what kind of guidance you give when Max comes to you, because he will come to you. You’re his mom. The cornerstone of his life. He won’t make his decisions alone.”
Aubrey nodded. She picked up her office phone. If Cassidy was going to get through this to-do list before the rehearsal dinner, she needed to get here now.
Chapter 12
“Your timing is impeccable,” Justin said, opening the door.
Aubrey stood just on the other side of the threshold in a casual shirt and skirt. Nothing, of course, that you’d ever see in an office in the world of finance, but still quite smart for a farm in Kansas. A small smile played around her lips, but uncertainty was in her eyes. His eyebrows creased.
What was on her mind? His body immediately responded to her. A visceral response. As a grown man, he’d come to believe he could force down his responses to women, and usually he could, simply by thinking of something unpleasant. He usually turned to a memory of his fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Viscetti. She’d been a rather old and plump woman with bad gas, orthopedic shoes, and a mole on her chin that was always home to a tiny gray hair. Unfortunately, Mrs. Viscetti was doing little to help Justin now, even while he attempted to conjure up her glasses and her bulging eyes that were forever giving him a glare. Regardless, his body was reacting to the presence of Aubrey—her scent, her legs, the knowledge that her breasts, which he’d kissed and stroked not many hours before, were there in front of him.
“May I come in?”
“Oh yes, certainly.” Justin pulled his thoughts from his attempt to picture the old battle-ax.
Aubrey walked in, and with her came a breeze of that horribly fresh air that he wasn’t quite yet accustomed to but was beginning to like. “How is my timing good?”
“Hmm?”
Her eyes, those damnable green eyes. Even with the melancholy behind them, the worry lines that creased the edges of her face, she was still abominably attractive.
“Oh, timing. Right. Well, I just got the papers from the attorneys about Max’s paternity. They’re ready for us to sign. Then we get them back to the attorneys and file the paperwork with the court and we’re done.”
Aubrey nodded, a deep breath, filling her lungs. She walked toward the kitchen counter where Justin had just removed the paperwork from the envelope before the knock at the door.
“Quite a thick stack of paper, and all those yellow tabs? That’s where we sign?”
Justin lifted the stack and flipped through the pages. “So it would seem. I believe there are copies for you and copies for me and copies for the court.”
He handed her a stack. She took them and walked toward the couch as she read. Even now she still pursed her lips, and her eyebrows pulled together when she concentrated. He remembered that look from years before. He’d often studied her face when they worked together. He’d been quite fond of that particular look, which indicated complete concentration. Beautiful concentration. Justin sat in the chair perpendicular to the couch, and he too began to read. The scent of Aubrey was a distraction. Lavender and mint and sunshine and fresh air.
“Coffee?” he asked and stood. His attorneys had drafted the damn documents; he didn’t need to read them.
“Yes please,” she said without looking up. “I get this set about paternity no problem.” She set one stack on the coffee table. “But what about these?” Her eyes looked up at him. “You want me to sign these to change Max’s name?”
“He is a Travati.” Justin poured coffee into a cup. “You still use milk and two sugars?”
“You remember?” A tiny smile danced over her lips, and for a moment the sadness in her eyes actually lifted.
He’d like to see that sadness be banished. He knew that he and this stack of papers and her worries about Max were causing these fears and this sadness. “Of course,” he said and finished making her coffee. He walked toward the couch and reached out to hand her the mug. “I remember a lot of things.” His voice was lower, softer. He did remember things about her, things that had stuck in his mind. There’d been many women since her; he couldn’t remember their faces or the scent of them. But Aubrey Hayes, who had worked for him for nearly eighteen months and absented herself from his life over a decade ago? Yes, her he remembered.
“Your favorite color is this emerald green, very close to your eyes.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and her smile began to form with his words.