"That might not be such a bad thing," she admitted softly as they climbed the steps toward the front entrance, camellias in bloom in urns near the entrance.
"I want to take care of you." With just two fingers, he stroked her hip, a small gesture with an incredible impact she felt through the thin layers of her jade-colored dress. "In whatever way you'll let me."
Her mind went in all kinds of seductive directions. He'd taken care of her with exquisite care in their explosive night together. For that matter, back when they were dating, she'd been a virgin, but even then Jean-Pierre had taught her memorable lessons about other ways to find satisfaction. He'd taken good care of her then, too, even if they'd refrained from ever having sex.
Until the night they'd made César. They had been long past virginity days, but they'd still had a first time together. Their only time?
Tongue-tied, she smoothed back her loose hair and tried to recover.
"You're blushing," he said in her ear, the soft whisper almost a caress in itself. "And it's killing me."
She braved a look at him then, only to find he was watching her with the same hunger she was feeling. If they hadn't been headed to a family dinner party, she might have dragged him back to his house. But just then, he pressed the doorbell.
"Welcome home, Mr. Reynaud." An attractive gray-haired woman in a pressed black uniform stood aside to let them enter. "Won't you come in?"
Tatiana's stomach muscles clenched as they stepped into the echoing foyer. She took in the white marble floors and walls covered in hand-painted murals depicting a fox hunt. An impressive banister wrapped around a huge staircase with a landing that looked big enough for a cocktail party.
"They're outside," the servant informed them, gesturing for them to go through a room on the left. "We're serving cocktails by the fire."
The woman hurried ahead to open a second set of doors, but Jean-Pierre shook his head.
"I know the way. Thank you." After dismissing the help, he returned his attention to Tatiana as they walked through an opulent dining room surrounded by silk curtains and set aglow by the light of a breathtaking chandelier. Fresh flowers dotted the table at regular intervals.
Nerves tightening with every step, she smoothed a hand over her hair. She'd left it loose after her shower, but now she wished she'd gone with a more polished style.
"You look beautiful." Jean-Pierre's voice startled her, mostly because he seemed to have read her mind.
No. He guessed she was nervous because she was fidgeting with her hair like a preteen. She should have worn one of her navy court suits that gave her the mental armor for battle, clothes that reminded her she was smart and well prepared for her job.
"Thank you." She appreciated his thoughtfulness even as she resented him for seeing that vulnerability. She needed to work out a plan for co-parenting with him, not rely on him for muscle massages and emotional support. This was the same man who'd walked out on her after the most passionate encounter of her life. "I'll be fine. I'm ready."
Nodding, he seemed to accept her at her word. He led her out of the dining room and into a more casual family space with an entertainment bar and Palladian windows overlooking the pool and grounds. A slow Cajun love song drifted on the breeze, the accordion and fiddle pouring out a heartfelt zydeco tune. Torches were lit at regular intervals around the pool in addition to landscape lighting that highlighted ornamental plantings and statues. To one side of the pool, she thought she spied an outdoor kitchen. But the hearth area was unmistakable, a fire already ablaze in the stone surround. Built-in stone seating was covered with thick cushions protected by a pergola, where another wrought-iron chandelier hung, this one more casual.
She couldn't see the faces of the people out there, but she heard their laughter, saw the movement of a couple slow-dancing to one side of the pool.
"They don't bite," Jean-Pierre promised, waiting for her while she took it all in.
"You forget I met Henri before he was fully domesticated." She had always liked the Reynaud brothers. When they were younger, she loved to see them wrestle and play, always in competition with each other, from sports to board games to who could eat their cereal faster.
Sometimes, when her father would spend a week with Leon to plot and plan a strategy for trades, she would roam free with the boys on their big ranch in Texas, or else they'd stay here. The best part of the Louisiana house had always been the lake. Before they were old enough to take out boats, they'd still built sand castles or tried to dam a little waterway that ran into Pontchartrain. She hadn't needed to worry about appearances with them back when Jack Doucet had viewed Leon Reynaud as a trusted friend. It was only afterward that her father had warned her never to reveal the financial hardship brought on by the rift. That part was in the past, but the resentment hadn't faded.
"He channels the fierce side into game days now." He paused at the screen door leading out onto the patio. "Although you'd never know he had a fierce side lately to look at him with Fiona." He pointed to the couple she'd seen dancing by the pool.
The two moved as one, the woman's long black skirt wrapping around the man's thigh when he turned her, their steps synched to a private beat. Just looking at them made Tatiana's heart ache. There'd been a time she'd longed for that kind of romance in her life. Now, her heart was full of love for César and she was glad for it. But a mother's all-consuming tenderness for her child was a far cry from the emotional bond so obviously shared by the dancers.
Everyone on the pool patio looked happy, in fact. The two couples seated near the fireplace spoke animatedly. An extravagant blonde held court with a story that required both hands to tell. Tatiana almost hated to interrupt them. It would have been awkward enough setting foot in the Reynaud home after the way Leon had fired her father. And her dad had reciprocated, bashing the family's lauded football savvy in the press, calling Leon a mircromanaging control freak who couldn't share the spotlight with anyone who knew more than him. The quotes came to mind easily even now. But that wasn't all; tonight she had to get reacquainted with the family at the same time she introduced them to them to the child she'd kept secret.
"Here we go." Jean-Pierre palmed the small of her back, guiding her through the door out into the night air.
The scent of burning firewood wafted on the breeze, mingling with the chlorine tinge of the pool. Six sets of eyes turned toward them as they strode closer.
"It's the prodigal son returned," Jean-Pierre called to them. "I'm back on the bayou and ready for a wedding."
Tatiana couldn't process who shouted what, but he was greeted with a chorus of male taunts with every step.
"I hope you can find a tie before the wedding."
"I thought I was the prodigal son?"
"Technically, we're not on the bayou, dude."
But despite the ribbing, his brothers descended on him, giving him a variety of punches, backslaps and complicated handshakes that looked more fit for the gridiron than cocktail hour. They were an absurdly good-looking family with their tall, athletic builds, dark hair and dark eyes. Their mother had passed along their coloring while their father had donated his size and strength. Would César look like them as he grew up?
Tatiana was only too glad to fade into the background for the moment, but she could feel the keen eye of her hostess and the other women even before Gervais separated himself from the men.
"Tatiana." His nod was reserved as he extended a hand. He had always been the most refined of the brothers, aware of his role as head of the family even as a teen. Tonight, he was dressed like a man worthy of a princess, his flawless silk suit custom-tailored to fit his wide shoulders. "It's good to see you again."
"Is that any way to greet my biggest fan?" Henri elbowed past Dempsey and Gervais, his slim-cut jacket a smooth fit over a dark T-shirt. He pulled her in for a hug. "Welcome back to Cajun country, darlin', and thank you kindly for single-handedly increasing my odds of winning next week's Hurricanes versus Gladiators matchup, according to the latest Vegas line."
Henri cut a glance at his brother, clearly angling to aggravate Jean-Pierre. Before he could respond, however, Dempsey pulled Henri away and stood beside her, his gray jacket as crisp as the gray linen shirt beneath it. His white-and-gray-striped tie was pinned into place with a silver football tac.