Secret Baby Scandal(23)

Even if the boy's presence made it a challenge to get time with her alone.

"Where should we sit?" she asked as they boarded the empty plane.

The Gulfstream had been designed for business more than pleasure, but  there were a few different seat configurations to choose from.  Jean-Pierre pointed to seats in the back.

"It will be most private back here." He escorted her to two seats  positioned side by side. "There's a privacy screen that's meant for  sleeping, but I can lower that for you, too."

Lucinda passed César back to him before taking another chair on the  opposite side of the plane and withdrawing a book from her bag.                       
       
           



       

Peering down at his son's wriggling form, his tiny mouth seeking food  as his head turned this way and that, Jean-Pierre experienced a rush of  protectiveness so fierce it damn near floored him.

"I'm ready," he heard Tatiana say behind him, reminding him he had a  role to play, too. "I don't want the baby to have to wait much longer.  And we should be taking off soon."

Would he be able to continue playing football at the level he  maintained now? Somehow he didn't think his focus would ever be the same  again. Traveling across the country with Tatiana and César in tow  wouldn't allow him to spend the same amount of time on his game  preparation, which some sportswriters suggested was actually his  strongest asset as an athlete. His mental game. What Henri had always  managed through God-given talent and instinct, Jean-Pierre manufactured  through sheer will and study.

"Jean-Pierre?" Tatiana called to him. "I can take him."

Turning to see her with her simple sundress already sliding off one  creamy shoulder, his thoughts shifted from his son to the boy's mother  so fast he felt dizzy.

She'd brought a soft purple cashmere sweater to rest on her shoulders.  The line of pearl buttons followed her curves in a way that made his  mouth go dry.

Lowering himself to sit beside her, he tugged down the privacy screen  beside his seat, shrouding them in relative intimacy. His eyes never  left her body-so beautiful, but so much more than that-as she reached to  take César and cradle him to her breast.

Speechless at the sight of her, Jean-Pierre couldn't wait to get to  Texas so they could be alone. To lay claim to her as his in a way he  hadn't been able to the only time they'd shared a bed. Being with her  now would be so much different than it had been ten months ago.

"We're sharing a room on the island," he announced in the hands-down worse segue of his life.

Of course, if she could have followed his thoughts, it would have made perfect sense.

"I understand." She brushed a dark curl away from her face, revealing  an earring with a simple diamond stud in her ear. "I know the ranch is  not a hotel. I'm just glad to have a place to stay."

The fact that she hadn't protested the arrangement encouraged him.  Since their blowup the first night at Gervais's, they both seemed to  tread a bit more cautiously. And, perhaps, respectfully. They had too  much at stake to risk alienating one another.

"Lucinda will share a room with César next door, but you might speak  with her about the importance of remaining within her quarters as much  as possible for security purposes." He worried about what a leak to the  press might do at this stage of their relationship. "We have weathered  enough media scrutiny and conjecture for one week."

Outside the plane, he could hear the others arriving and more luggage  being stowed beneath the passenger cabin. As the first of their party  boarded, he could hear the nanny explaining to someone-Fiona, he  thought-that Tatiana was feeding César.

That would save him from having to greet his family for now. He'd far  rather watch Tatiana nurse his son. He leaned closer to brush her hair  from her shoulder, out of the way of César's clutching hand. The boy  seemed to meet his gaze over the high curve of Tatiana's breast.  Jean-Pierre gave the baby one of his fingers to grip instead.

The action had been instinctual, sure. But as soon as he did it, he  realized how the movement put his palm mere inches from Tatiana's other  breast. Still tucked safely in her dress, the soft curve called to him  anyhow. This close to her, he caught the scent of her fragrance,  something clean and lemony that made him hunger to find its source.

Behind an ear? Along the slender column of her neck?

"Jean-Pierre?" she whispered suddenly, her voice containing an  unexpected hint of urgency while his family found seats scattered around  the luxury jet.

"What is it? Do you need anything?" Had she forgotten some necessity  back at the house? Even now the door was closing to the passenger cabin,  the pilot warning them to strap in for the flight.

"No. It's not-" She bit her lip, her green gaze sliding higher to meet  his. He could see the heat there. The hunger. "You shouldn't look at me  like that in public places."                       
       
           



       

Understanding dawned. And with it came a need so strong he debated  carrying her off the plane and finding the nearest hotel room. He might  have done it, too, if not for César.

In fact he had done something just like that nearly a year ago when they'd created their child.

"The flight is blessedly short. And we have a good excuse for  retreating directly to our suite since we have an infant to care for."  And then another thought occurred to him. "Although we need to wait  until you see a physician-"

"I did. Yesterday morning before we worked on the wine-bottle labels.  That's why I was late to Gervais's house." She lowered her window shade  as the plane began to taxi toward the short runway.

"You saw a local doctor?" He pried his finger from the baby's grip,  regretting not being there with her for that visit. She must have gone  out while he'd been recovering from the midnight workout at the  Hurricanes' training facility. "Is everything...okay?"

The barest hint of a smile teased her lips. "I'm cleared to resume normal activity, if that's what you mean."

He sure as hell couldn't miss what she implied.

Heat scorched its way up his spine as the plane fired faster. His pulse  kicked up speed, too, not just because of the green light she'd  received from an obstetrician, but also from the green light he spied in  her eyes.

For him.

"I care about more than that, Tatiana." He cradled her cheek in his  hand as the aircraft lifted off. "I am so grateful you are healthy and  that you did a beautiful thing in delivering our son. But I'd be lying  if I said I wasn't extremely interested in touching you. Everywhere."

Her slow swallow intrigued him. She cleared her throat and then asked, "How long did you say the flight lasts?"

* * *

The flight went as quickly as Jean-Pierre had said it would. But the  pilot couldn't land on the island so they needed to ferry over from  Galveston. Or, rather, the pilot could have landed on the Reynauds'  private island off the Texas gulf coast, but Gervais hadn't wanted to  draw that kind of attention to the wedding destination since the  family's every movement was being scrutinized. Bodyguards traveled with  them now. Decoy limos had left the family compound at intervals all day  to confuse the members of the media who'd set up camp outside the gates  to the houses on Lake Pontchartrain.

A Reynaud wedding garnered attention. A Reynaud wedding to a royal made for a media circus.

So the trip to the island was purposely a bit longer than necessary to  throw story seekers off their scent, which was a good thing for César's  sake as well as protecting the wedding secret. The private ferry ride  from Galveston to the island went smoothly enough. As they reached the  dock on the western side of the land mass, Tatiana wished it was  daylight so she could appreciate the lay of the land.

She hugged the rail of the boat while the others began debarking.  Lucinda held César, who was fast asleep. But Tatiana didn't feel even  the smallest bit tired after her electrifying conversation with the man  standing next to her. Her body still hummed with anticipation from just a  few simple words.

He'd said he wanted to touch her. Everywhere.

His eyes had communicated his desires far more explicitly, however. And  all the pent-up hunger she felt coursed through her tenfold.

If they salvaged nothing else from their relationship, they would have César. And they would have tonight.

"Ready?" Jean-Pierre asked, extending a hand. The lights from the dock  behind him cast his features in shadow, but made him appear all the  larger.

If any paparazzi surprised them, she thought she would be able to hide behind his broad shoulders easily.