Secret Baby Scandal(17)

"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.