Hearing her name called from the water shook her from her thoughts, giving her a welcome distraction from her fears. She looked up to see Jean-Pierre standing on the bow of his yacht peering her way. She didn't need to see his expression to recognize the curiosity and concern in his body language. And didn't that remind her how well she knew him even if they hadn't done more than exchange social niceties for years? Well, except a year ago when they'd exchanged a little more than niceties.
She hurried toward him, telling herself not to be rattled. Not to fall into the trap of thinking she needed his strong arms around her to steady her. Too bad for her, she'd dreamed about sinking into his arms all night long. That and a whole lot more.
"Everything okay?" He straddled the dock and the boat to help her aboard, his sure hand gripping her forearm.
For a moment, their bodies brushed against each other enticingly. The warmth of his thigh tantalized her, evoking a memory of being naked with him while he lay above her...
"Fine," she blurted, leaping back from the contact so fast she had to catch herself against the captain's chair. "Just fine."
His eyes searched hers.
"I hope my brother didn't upset you." He took her by the shoulders and steadied her, his fingers stirring more of the sensual memories she'd tried hard to forget these last months. "We agreed to tell our families about César before we figure out how to go to the press."
"Of course. I'm not upset." She had to keep herself in check or he would see the hunger she was feeling.
His hands stilled on her arms and he studied her for so long she wondered if he recognized what she was feeling. Was her reaction to him more obvious than she realized?
"Don't forget why we planned this outing." His words were softly spoken, a gentle rumble between them while they stood so close.
"To show any press lurking nearby that we're spending time together. That there is no bad blood between us." Although that had honestly been the last thing on her mind after the conversation with Dempsey. Not to mention the upsetting phone call from her father before she'd even rolled out of bed this morning.
A call in which he'd upbraided her for keeping him in the dark about his grandson. Browbeat her for information about when she was going to return to her practice as a trial lawyer instead of the research work she'd taken on recently. Appearances mattered to Jack Doucet and apparently a behind-the-scenes job wasn't good enough for his daughter.
"We are going to have to do better than just demonstrate a lack of enmity. We need to show we're more than just friends, Tatiana. We're building a story so we can introduce César to the world." He lowered his head closer to hers, his lips brushing her hair as he spoke into her ear. "But if you leap away every time I touch you, no one is going to buy it."
The warmth of his body next to hers awakened every nerve ending. He smelled good, like spices and fresh air. She closed her eyes for just a moment, breathing him in. She lifted her palms to his chest, touching him on instinct. And while she might tell herself that touch maintained a few inches of space between them, she knew better. Having her hands on him was a simple pleasure too good to deny herself after the tumultuous last weeks.
"Agreed." Standing there with him on the lightly rocking deck, she understood the value of what he was suggesting. Pretending a romance between them would only benefit their son.
"Seriously?" He tipped up her chin and the warm sun bathed her cheeks.
"Yes. Your plan makes sense." As worried as she'd been about the reactions of their families to the baby news, she was even more concerned about the way it would play in the press. She'd worked too hard cultivating her career and her professional reputation to be portrayed as a superstar athlete's baby mama.
His dark gaze searched hers. "I'm not used to wrangling an agreement out of the hard-nosed attorney so easily."
"Maybe motherhood has softened my edge." She fought the urge to turn her cheek more firmly into his touch. "It's probably just as well I left litigation behind to focus on legal research."
Releasing her, he frowned. "You're sharp and talented no matter what aspect of the law you're practicing."
She missed his touch even as she felt grateful for the reprieve from the sensual attraction. She watched him untie a cleat hitch on the stern and climb over the bow to follow his lead on the other cleat.
"Thank you." She wasn't accustomed to praise for her work from the people in her life. Usually, her colleagues were a better source of encouragement than her parents.
And, of all people, Jean-Pierre had reason to resent her skills as a lawyer. He'd made it abundantly clear he didn't agree with her efforts to win a judgment against his friend Marcus.
But as they set off onto the lake for the day, she tried to put that behind her to focus on the future. It all started with a believable story, just as he'd said.
She hoped it didn't matter that the romance they were building was strictly for show.
* * *
An hour into their boating expedition, Jean-Pierre found the cove he'd been looking for.
He didn't know if Tatiana would even recognize it after so many years, but he was pulling out all the stops to remind her of their past together-a time when they'd been happy. He wasn't ready to talk about her case against Marcus or the way the media was quickly resurrecting that story. He hoped she didn't know about that.
She certainly hadn't mentioned anything about seeing the day's headlines. Instead, they'd focused on having a fun outing with the grim determination of two high achievers. Tatiana had always succeeded at anything she tried thanks to a need to please the people around her-namely her father. As for Jean-Pierre, he'd usually met his goals by refusing to accept any outcome but the one he chose. So they'd both adopted their game faces, mindful of the fact that they were probably being followed by the telephoto lenses of enterprising journalists along the shore.
None of it sat well with him. He craved one real moment with her. Some kind of honest interaction not dictated by what they wanted the cameras to see.
"I can't believe you brought me here." She peered over her shoulder at him from where she lay sunbathing on a deck lounger. She'd slathered on sunscreen, willfully ignoring his repeated offers to help apply it to her back.
The need to touch her grew with every second he spent in her company, but he was trying to play his hand carefully, biding his time until she couldn't resist the current between them any more than he could.
"You remember it?" He pressed the button to lower the anchor on the thirty-six-foot sport yacht.
She shifted positions on the bright yellow towel draped over the lounger.
"We went skinny-dipping here." She arched a dark eyebrow at him.
He noticed how her glossy brown curls had escaped the knot she'd twisted at the back of her head. Everything about her was lusher than he remembered. Her hair had gotten longer and thicker, the curls even more riotous than they'd been ten months ago. And her curves...
He couldn't even think about the eye-popping differences in her figure without facing the uncomfortable physical consequences. He should have noticed right away when he'd seen her at the Coliseum, but she'd been wearing some kind of loose dress that had hidden everything but her mile-long legs. Today, however, in a sleek black one-piece bathing suit, her hourglass shape was the kind that screen sirens had made famous in another era. Extravagant breasts. Generous hips.
He needed to remember she was still recovering from childbirth. But his brain wasn't working on all cylinders right now.
"Did we?" He didn't dare step out from behind the bridge until he had himself under control from just thinking about her, his body's reaction impossible to hide. "It was too dark for me to get a good look that night, so I was never sure if you really took it all off."
"You know perfectly well you copped a feel underwater," she retorted. "Don't pretend."
"I told you that was a fish." He thumped a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "I completely respected your ‘no touching' boundaries." He grinned at the memory.
"You had a squirrely brand of ethics even then, Mr. Reynaud." She propped big sunglasses on top of her head and rose to stand at the starboard rail. "It seems funny that mystery fish chose to brush against my left breast."