Another Love, page 11
“Meet our little boy,” he told her, tears running down his cheeks. “Thank you.” Gently he brushed away tears that stained her flushed cheeks, wishing he could have shared her pain. Wanting to give her more than empty words. Acting before he could change his mind, Blake bent and kissed her gently on lips parched from her ordeal.
Blake was awestruck. Seeing this woman he had never lain with giving birth to his child was the most intimate yet innocent experience of his life. It was sweet, yet erotic beyond anything he could recall.
As if it were his perfect right to do so, he brushed aside the loose, worn cotton of her hospital gown to bare one full, firm breast. Carefully, he laid his newborn son down and guided her rose-tipped nipple to his avid little mouth. As he watched, his long-dormant sexuality emerged, and his cock began hardening beneath the baggy scrubs.
He could have been there for seconds, or it could have been hours when Greg stood and told the nurses they could take Erin into the recovery room. He watched as they rolled her and their baby separately away before following followed Greg out another door.
“Thanks, my friend,” he said when they finally sat down in the lounge with cups of what had to be the strongest coffee he’d ever tasted.
“My pleasure. What’s his name?”
Blake shrugged. “You mean you can’t guess?”
Greg chuckled. “The Fifth? What I meant is, what are you and Erin going to call him?”
“Erin can decide if he’s going to be James, Jimmy, JB, Blake, or some other nickname. After all, she went through hell, getting him here.”
“Not really. She had a fairly easy labor and delivery.” Greg refilled his cup from the urn on a small, crowded counter. “You didn’t have the chance to look at those videos I brought by, did you?”
“Hardly. What happens next?”
“Erin will be in recovery until the epidural wears off. She’s probably taking a well-deserved nap. Meanwhile, John Kaplan will be coming sometime within the next few hours to give The Fifth a thorough exam— that is, unless you have another doc you’d rather use. I called John because he’s Timmy’s pediatrician.”
“He knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”
Greg shrugged. “Clinically, he’s one of the best. I’ve always thought his bedside manner with parents and colleagues left a good deal to be desired, but from all I hear, his little patients love him.”
“Then he’s fine with me. The baby’s all right, isn’t he?”
“The little slugger looks healthy as a horse to me. He’s damn near as big, too. Nine pounds, three ounces—biggest baby I’ve delivered for a long time.”
Blake grinned. Then he thought of the ordeal Erin had just gone through to deliver his lusty, bouncing baby boy. “How is Erin?”
“Fine. She’ll be tired and sore for a few days. I could probably send her home tomorrow, but I’d rather keep her here for two or three days. Hell, you can afford the extra assurance that she and The Fifth are okay.”
Blake grinned, now fully reassured no problems lurked on the horizon. Suddenly he remembered the meeting he and Greg had earlier, before Erin had gone into labor.
“I seem to recall you’re in the market for a house.” He voiced a thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind. “There’s a place down the road from me that’s just gone on the market.”
Greg laughed out loud. “Really? What bank do you suggest I rob to pay for an estate in the most expensive damn area of Dallas?”
“It’s not an estate, just a small house and pool on less than an acre. From what I hear, the Campbell’s heirs are anxious to unload it.”
“How small?”
“Four or five thousand square feet, I guess. It used to be a guest house for the Trayne estate. During a recession back when I was a kid, they got in a bind and sold off this place and several other small parcels of land.”
“Hmmm. Suitable for my little princess and cozy enough that I just might be able to swing buying it, you think?” Greg asked thoughtfully.
“It’s a possibility.”
“Maybe I’ll make an appointment and take Sandy over to see it tomorrow. Oh, my God. Sandy. I promised I’d call her the minute we got out of the delivery room.” As if he’d been shot from a cannon, Greg bolted up and grabbed the phone on the counter.
Blake got up and headed for the door. “I’m going to stop by the nursery and look at my son again. Then I’ve got to get home and let Timmy know he has a baby brother. Will I see you tomorrow?”
Greg nodded and waved as Blake hurried out of the lounge.
* * * * *
Blake seemed to have glued himself by her side while she and baby Jamie were at the hospital, and Erin had thought he was just trying to make the world think theirs was a normal marriage. Now that she was home, he showed no inclination to re-establish their relationship as polite strangers. In fact, Blake was even more attentive now that he wasn’t hindered by nurses and doctors who dictated the amount of time he could spend with his baby.
He hadn’t stinted on the time he spent with Timmy, either. Instead, he’d gone out of his way today to make her son feel he was just as important as the new baby in the house. Maybe Glenna had been right when she’d said that with time Blake would set aside his mourning and want to build a real family with the boys, and her.
Off and on, Erin found herself searching for signs of Glenna. She felt the ghost’s presence, but wherever the ghost was, she apparently wasn’t ready to show herself. As she was about to nod off to sleep, Blake strode into her bedroom, their squalling son cradled securely against his bare, muscular chest.
“He’s hungry.” A sappy smile lit his face while he watched her prop herself up with several pillows and adjust her nightgown.
“Here, I’ll take him.” When Blake brushed his callused fingers against her bare breast, Erin tingled clear down to her toes. How would those big, strong hands feel if he touched her with passion? Would he be gentle…forceful…suddenly she wanted to know. She’d most likely never know, but the way he’d looked at her a few times today, and in the delivery room, made her wonder. Chastising herself for fantasizing about how it would feel to have him make love to her, she forced her attention to her nursing baby. Her sudden burst of purely feminine fancy must have resulted from hormones that apparently kicked into high gear after Jamie’s birth.
She hoped Glenna’s ghost hadn’t picked this particular time to pop into this dimension and read her mind—almost as much as she hoped Blake didn’t share his dead wife’s penchant for discerning her thoughts.
“May I stay?”
Blake’s question forced Erin to meet his intense, indigo gaze. “Of course.” It surprised her that he asked, because while she was in the hospital, he’d shown no reticence at watching her nurse Jamie. Here in the home he’d shared with Glenna, she supposed he might feel more deeply the boundaries he’d defined for their marriage.
One thing Erin knew: Blake adored Jamie as much as she did. His love showed in awed expressions and in the endearing way he wanted to take part in every aspect of the baby’s care. When he lifted the sleeping baby out of her arms and gently admonished her to get a good night’s rest, she lay back, content to let him have time alone with the baby they had made together, yet separately.
Chapter Eleven
Glenna’s Ghost
I knew you’d love him.
For the longest time Glenna hovered out of sight, watching Blake stand by the crib, staring with adoration at his sleeping baby. It was all she could do to keep from joining him there, sharing the moment she’d waited so many years for.
Finally, he bent over and gave Jamie one last tender pat on his upthrust little backside before leaving. Instantly Glenna materialized in the spot where Blake had been standing, and she, too, stared down into the antique crib with wonder and awe.
My God, how long have I been standing here, staring at this child?
Glenna reached out and stroked the baby’s velvety-soft, dark head as he slumbered undisturbed. “My baby. My sweet, precious angel Jamie. I’m glad they decided to call you that now, but I bet you’ll be JB by the time you get to school.” Her fingers drifted down to trace Jamie’s plump, ruddy cheek.
She choked back an almost human urge to weep. “You’d have been mine. And I’d have called you JB from the start.” Glenna soaked up every detail, from his fine, dark hair and long eyelashes to the determined way he clenched his tiny fists—so like his daddy in so many ways. Gently, she eased back the yellow and dark blue blanket that didn’t quite go with the things she’d planned to use in JB’s room.
It pleased Glenna that Jamie was robust, nicely filled out, and already stretching his blue sleeper. He’d be a big man, like Blake.
“You’re your daddy’s baby. And hers. There’s nothing of me in you, my angel.”
Glenna felt like screaming with the unfairness of it all. This baby, the one she had wanted and waited for years to get, wasn’t hers at all. He was Blake’s—and Erin’s. She’d never hold him, never dry his baby tears, never beam with pride when he hit his first home run or won a prize at school. She was gone. Dead. It wasn’t fair. Erin had Timmy. Now she had Jamie, too. And soon she’d have Blake loving her.
This baby was not and never would be hers. Even the nursery that she’d planned in her mind, down to an aqua padded rocker and the whimsical porcelain clowns she’d picked out but never had the chance to buy before she died, contained nothing of her.
Dispassionately, she took in pale yellow walls, antique oak furniture, and accents of indigo and royal blue. Erin must have fixed up the room with Blake’s favorite colors in mind. A fierce wave of jealousy swept over her, but she struck down that uncharitable but human reaction and focused her attention again on Blake’s son.
He belonged to Blake all right. Jamie was the son she hadn’t been able to give him. Memories of the babies she’d lost flooded her mind as she watched Jamie’s eyelids flutter and his little fists unclench and tighten again around a section of blanket.
The last one would have been sitting up by now, exploring her small world with eager enthusiasm. Would she have been big and dark-haired like you, or little and blond like me? Oh, Jamie, I wanted her and the others so, so much. I wanted you, too. Would you have filled the empty spaces they left in my heart?
Jamie stirred again, as if he had heard her thoughts. As he uncurled his fingers, Glenna wished she were alive, so she could feel him curl a trusting, curious hand around her own finger.
Being a ghost had its downside. She wished, just once, she could become flesh and blood again so she could feel the joy of loving and being loved. But that wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t come back, and she couldn’t have the joy of raising Blake’s baby as her own. But, being a ghost, she could do her best to see that Jamie had two parents who loved each other. Allowing herself one last look, Glenna willed herself to fade away so she could guide Blake, through Erin, back into the light.
Chapter Twelve
Blake kicked off his tennis shoes and sat on the bed to strip down. He’d have to get the hang of positioning a towel or something over his shoulder while he held his son, although he didn’t mind that Jamie had burped all over the collar of his shirt.
Loving the little guy as he did, Blake knew he’d have adored the babies he and Glenna had lost, but somehow they’d never seemed as real to him as the living, breathing baby across the hall. Yeah, he’d hurt every time Glenna had miscarried—but that pain had focused on grief for her loss more than for his own. The lost babies hadn’t seemed real. Hadn’t seemed as much a part of him as Timmy.
This afternoon, he’d been thrilled when Erin’s son had called him Daddy for the first time. And damned if he didn’t feel like a father, not only to Jamie but to the little boy whose life had begun with the passion of another man.
Blake also felt horny. For the past three days his cock had stayed half hard most of the time, and the constant state of unrelieved arousal was driving him nuts. He couldn’t will away the hard-on, and that annoyed the hell out of him, too. Determined to work off his frustration, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the pool.
Not once in the nearly five months Glenna had been gone had Blake felt the slightest twinge of desire, until three nights ago, when he’d first watched his newborn son nuzzle up to Erin’s ripe, full breasts. It happened then, and every time he punished himself by watching Jamie nurse. Hell, he was even getting hard now, just thinking about how creamy smooth they’d feel and taste and…
“Come off it, Blake. You’ve never been a breast man, anyhow,” he muttered. “Not to mention, most folks would tell you you’re a certifiable sex maniac to be lusting after a woman who gave birth three days ago.” Unfortunately, his cock didn’t listen. Shedding the towel, he dived cleanly into the tepid water, determined to force his inconveniently restored libido into submission.
Twenty laps later, he hauled himself out of the water. Cursing the heat of the night and the fever inside him that wouldn’t subside, he strode back into the house.
In the sterile confines of the study he’d turned into a monk-like cell, Blake lay in the dark. The soft sheets brushed his naked body, made his balls tighten.
Shit. Grasping the base of his cock in his fist, he started to jerk off. The unthinking, mechanical action reminded him how he’d sat in Greg’s office and collected that sperm sample. And that made him think of Erin again. He visualized her full, inviting breasts that nourished his son…her long legs and caring smiles and…
Blake tried to picture Glenna but couldn’t see her beloved face. When he concentrated on recalling the Playboy centerfolds, who’d helped him come that day in Greg’s office, nothing happened. Nothing took his mind off the woman across the hall. Damn it, she was his wife.
Fuck it. He tightened his fist, increased the pressure, milked his flesh until it hurt. He refused to concentrate on anything but getting off. He wasn’t fantasizing about fucking Erin. He wasn’t. Maybe if he kept repeating it in his head he’d start believing it. If he didn’t, he’d lose his mind. He’d never manage to squelch the inappropriate, ill-timed yearnings for the woman who had brought him to this state.
He wasn’t fantasizing about tasting the milk that nourished his son, or imagining it was her slim hand instead of his own taking care of the hard-on that didn’t want to cooperate and come.
The hell he wasn’t. Knowing he’d regret it later with renewed guilt and feelings of disloyalty, he imagined being on her, in her, sinking into her hot, moist sheath. His balls tightened and his cock throbbed against his fist. His mouth watered, needy to taste her milk…her honey.
Finally he felt it coming, the orgasm he wished he were giving her. When the musky, heated essence of him spurted onto his own naked flesh, he saw Erin. Not Glenna. Moments later, when he stepped under the warm, pulsing jets of water in the shower, he tried hard to wash away the persistent wanting along with the guilt that wouldn’t go away.
He’d always taken pride in his ability to analyze and evaluate the feelings of others accurately and incisively. Why, he wondered, was he now suddenly unsure about his own agenda? And why was he acting so out of character?
He’d vowed never to open this drawer, yet here he was, rifling through it and cradling the photo he’d swept off the desk at his office the day after the funeral. Glenna. This had been his favorite picture of her, taken about six years ago when they’d just learned she was pregnant the second time.
Glenna was dead, damn it. And it was her own fault. “You had to have a child, even if it killed you, and by God it did. It wasn’t enough that you had me, was it? My loving you wasn’t enough to fill that need—that obsession—inside you. You left me alone. Damn you, you should have stayed home. You didn’t need to buy out Neiman’s for a baby that wasn’t even close to being born.”
But Jamie was here now. And Blake loved him.
He’d wanted a child as much as any man would. But he’d wanted Glenna more. Suddenly he wondered if that had been the truth. Had he somehow made Glenna believe he had to have a child of his own to experience the sort of elation he’d felt when Greg handed him his newborn son?
Blake searched the still, smiling face in the picture, then replaced it in the drawer and turned the key. Glenna had been his safe anchor, his emotional harbor. Now she was gone, and he was adrift. He loved Glenna. He’d always grieve for her. Yet he exulted in the knowledge that he had a healthy, beautiful son across the hall.
Fuck it, he lusted after his son’s mother, too. That made him feel guilty as hell.
How did Greg do it? Blake lay in bed and pictured his friend’s uncomplicated, joyful relationship with Sandy—a relationship that seemed unaffected by the love Greg once must have felt for two other women who’d shared his name and life.
* * * * *
“I think we’ll like living here,” Greg said, stretching his bare legs out and ogling Sandy, who looked like a water nymph against the backdrop of flowing water and natural stone that dominated the smallish backyard. “I hope Shana will like her room.”
“I’m sure she will.”
Sandy’s tone reminded him his daughter’s choice of a pricey, avant-garde-style bedroom set still rubbed her the wrong way, but Greg didn’t quite know what to do about it. “I’m sure Shana will settle down once Kay gets married and she comes here to live with us.”
“Live with us?” Sandy sounded horrified.
“Just for a few months, sweetheart. While Kay and her fish take a prolonged honeymoon. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a twelve-year-old.”
Sandy sank onto a patio chair, one of the set that was the first furniture purchase they had made together for their new home. “Shana doesn’t like me. I’d hoped we could get to know each other…more gradually.”
