They didn't speak much, but the way he stroked his hand up and down her spine made her feel cherished even if he would never say such a thing. Here, in this bed, there was a connection they'd never been able to form anywhere else.
For now, she didn't want to jinx it. Didn't want to wake up and find that they were back to being at odds again. So with her head tucked against Jean-Pierre's chest, she closed her eyes and wished the night didn't have to end.
Eleven
Two days later, Tatiana was as nervous as a bride and it wasn't even her wedding.
The Mitras royal family had arrived at the Tides Ranch the day before, to much fanfare since even the employees of the Reynaud family-who'd seen plenty of celebrities come and go at their elite homes all over the world-were not immune to the draw of royalty. Despite confidentiality agreements and strict rules governing their conduct, everyone from ranch hands to caterers had cell phones out to record the procession of platinum-haired princesses and their elegant parents.
A king and queen.
Tatiana had watched from her suite's private balcony the day before. Curled in Jean-Pierre's lap while César snoozed in a bassinet nearby, she'd been tempted to snap some photos herself.
She had refrained then, but she'd given in to the impulse to capture a few candids the morning of the wedding while she assisted with last-minute preparations. She'd been helping Jean-Pierre's cousin Kimberly thread bright red hibiscus flowers into a graceful willow arch that would frame the bride and groom during their vows when she'd noticed one of the island's luxury buses rumbling past with wedding guests newly flown in. Unlike the Reynauds, these newest arrivals had landed directly on the island's runway since Gervais and Erika had decided they didn't need the same kind of privacy safeguards this close to the event.
It was too late now. No paparazzi photographer would have the resources to follow the Reynaud private planes before the ceremony began.
"I can't imagine marrying royalty," Kimberly remarked as she dragged over another bucket of hibiscus blooms.
Tatiana had noticed in their short stay that the woman was a hands-on manager of the property, as comfortable greeting guests and riding horses as she was feeding the goats that provided natural weed control on the self-sustaining eco-island. Tatiana admired her commitment to this being an environmentally friendly ranch, right down to the solar-powered cell-phone tower.
"Really?" She stepped back and took a photo of their handiwork to see how it looked on camera. "I always think of the Reynauds as a sort of American royalty, between the wealth, the global connections and the fame."
Kimberly laughed while Tatiana studied her photos and made adjustments.
"Seriously?" The other woman shook her head, peering over Tatiana's shoulder to see how the arch looked on the screen. "I guess the Texas Reynauds are less famous because we don't play football. And since I spend most of my time negotiating with stubborn goats as opposed to negotiating big business deals, I guess I don't see myself as more than a rancher's daughter." Squinting at the thumbnail images on Tatiana's phone, Kimberly pointed to one. "Can I see the rest of your pictures? Some of those Hurricane players are so cute."
"Sure." She passed the device to Jean-Pierre's cousin and straightened a few of the chairs set up for the outdoor ceremony. "But you are far too modest, Kimberly. Anyone can see you make an incredible contribution to the family's cruise ship business by having the Tides as a featured stop on the itineraries. You keep the tourist dollars coming, plus you have an opportunity to educate a huge number of people on the advantages of eco-farming. That must be fulfilling."
"My father doesn't see it that way." Kimberly lowered herself to one of the folding chairs decorated with a length of ice-blue tulle. "He doesn't care about the dollars that funnel into the cruise ship business. He just sees the Tides as a sorry excuse for a ranch compared to the five-thousand-acre spread he oversees."
Tatiana rolled her eyes sympathetically. "That I can empathize with. My father is more interested in my contribution to my law firm's billable hours than my happiness." With a pang, she realized how little he'd said to her about the birth of her son. And while she realized it had been a shock to him at the time, she would have appreciated a call or a note since then.
One that wasn't focused on her plans to keep César hidden from the media for a little while longer.
"Tatiana?" Kimberly seemed to be enlarging one of the images as she stared at it. "Can you take a look at this?"
"Sure." She sat down on the closest chair. Already dressed for the wedding, she rearranged her skirts around her. Her lemon-colored princess-cut gown was strapless and highlighted with tiny yellow sequins in a subtle sunburst pattern. It looked as if a sun glowed from the area of her waist. "Did you find a cute player you want to dance with?"
"I thought I recognized this woman, actually." She pointed to a figure under one of the rookie Hurricane players' arms. "Not all of the guests' names were on my list since many of the wedding attendees were bringing a plus-one that might not be a wife."
Her gaze settled on the person in question. A female a bit blurred from having the photo stretched as large as possible. But Tatiana had captured her as she exited the limo and strode toward the Tides' main building. She must have missed seeing the woman at the time of the photo, her eye focusing on someone or something else in the excitement of the new arrivals.
Yet she recognized her former client very well. Blair Jones was the woman she'd helped sue Marcus Caruthers for sexual harassment. And now, here was Blair, attending a Reynaud wedding with another football player when the Reynaud brothers had every reason to resent and dislike her. Worry and suspicion joined forces, making Tatiana fear what her presence meant.
"Blair Jones." Tatiana confirmed the woman's identity aloud. "You probably recognized her from her sexual harassment case against-"
"Marcus." Kimberly frowned, touching the edge of the phone lightly. "I had a crush on him when I was a teen. I got his autograph his rookie year when his team came to town to play the Mustangs. I never believed for a second he was guilty."
Tatiana wondered if she knew about her connection to Blair, but decided to leave well enough alone for now. She wanted to confront Blair before the ceremony and find out what the woman's intentions were. Her lawyer instincts told her she wasn't going to like the answer.
"You're not the only one," Tatiana remarked lightly, tucking her phone into her sequined yellow purse. "Would you excuse me while I go find Jean-Pierre before the wedding starts?"
Striding up the long aisle of carpet that had been rolled out on the sand, Tatiana did plan to seek out Jean-Pierre. She needed to warn him that Blair had somehow wrangled her way into the private family event. But first, she would try to find the woman herself, because every inch of her feminine intuition screamed that something was amiss. She didn't want her son-or her tentative relationship with Jean-Pierre-to be caught in the cross fire of whatever scandal was stirring around that woman.
* * *
"I've brought you a little something, boys." Leon Reynaud stood on the threshold of the Tides Ranch library that Gervais had opted to use as a gathering place for his groomsmen.
Jean-Pierre bounced a tennis ball on a huge piece of cypress wood fashioned into a desk at the back corner of the room. He'd been distracted with thoughts of Tatiana all morning, thinking about what Dempsey had said to him back in New Orleans.
So why is Gervais beating you to the altar?
It bothered Jean-Pierre that he hadn't managed to change that state of affairs. That he'd had a son born out of wedlock while Gervais was moving heaven and earth to ensure he put a ring on Erika's finger before his twins arrived. Now, with their vows just minutes away, he knew there would be no trip to any clerk's office with Tatiana before then. With that heavy weight of failure on his shoulders, he was only too glad to quit bouncing the tennis ball to see what Leon had to say.
"You're looking mighty sharp, Gramps," he called over his brothers' heads.
Dempsey and Gervais were taking turns remarking on how badly Henri's bow-tie-tying skills sucked, which was more a game of who could come up with better insults than anything, since Henri wore Tom Ford as well as anyone in the room. In matching silk tuxes, the Reynaud men cleaned up quite nicely.