Accidental Father (11 page)

Or getting her back to Paris.

“We could leave Liam at the palace,” he said. “I know Sophie would insist on him staying with her. Sophie would have an entire staff of nannies and her daughter Savannah there to look after him.”

Julianne paled at the suggestion and shot him another slightly angry are-you-out-of-your-mind? look.

“I'm completely serious,” he responded as if she'd said the words out loud. “I think it would be
good for both of us to get away, to put things into perspective. He'd be safer at the palace than—”

“I know,” Julianne cut him off. “You keep saying that. But it wouldn't matter if the castle had a moat and drawbridge, I'm not leaving him. And while we're on the subject, I think you should know that this is one of the biggest problems I have about the thought of leaving Liam in St. Michel—not that I've seriously considered it or ever will…for the record. You don't think twice about leaving him behind when he's an inconvenience. That's exactly the kind of thing that Marissa said you would do.”

Hearing her name had the same effect as if a wave had splashed up over the side of the boat and doused him.

“Marissa said that to you?”

Julianne looked a little sheepish. “In so many words. Alex, I told you that in her will, her adoption instructions for Liam specifically stated that I was to have custody of Liam because you're irresponsible.”

Now, Julianne was making him mad.

“And I told you that she had no idea how I'd be with Liam because she never told me about him.”

Hearing his name, Liam whipped his head
around and stared wide-eyed at Alex. Alex wanted to kick himself for using such an abrupt tone and purposely softened his next words.

“It's not irresponsible to have some time to yourself, Julianne. Since Liam has been in your life, how many nights have you spent away from him?”

“None.” She said the word as if she deserved accolades.

“That's not healthy,” he quipped, tightening the sail lines.

“No, it's not healthy for Liam to be stuck away while you live footloose and fancy-free as if you hadn't a care in the world.”

“Footloose and fancy-free? What the—” His gaze slid to Liam as he stifled the oath. “What does that mean?”

She shook her head and gazed out at the horizon as if she wouldn't dignify his question with an answer.

“If you're insinuating that I'm taking the easy way out, you're wrong.”

She still wouldn't look at him.

“Now that he's in my life it's not easy for me to contemplate leaving his side for a single minute. But I know that's not healthy for either of us. Julianne, look at me.”

She didn't.

“Look at me,” he repeated. “I know from experience what it's like to lose someone you love. I understand that. I suspect that living with loss is something we have in common. We know it doesn't just happen to other people, right?”

Now, he'd gotten her attention, but her face was defiant.

“When I was ten, my mother was killed. My father, who was St. Michel's security minister, helped prosecute the head of a crime family and out of retribution…to get the last word, that family murdered my mother. In cold blood. She'd never done a damn thing to anyone and—” His voice broke on the last word and now it was his turn to look away from her.

She gave him a moment, and when he looked back at her, she said, “I'm sorry.” True sadness clouded her eyes.

“That's why I never wanted a family, but I have a son and I'll go to any length to protect him. Do you know how easy it would be to smother him with protection? To get so crazy that he doesn't have a normal life? That's why I'm forcing myself to leave him here and go to Paris. He'll be safe here and I'll be a better parent when I return in a few days. Fear of loss. You and I have that in common.”

She looked at him with huge, haunted blue eyes and whispered, “Why didn't you tell me this before, Alex? I had no idea. I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

He nodded his sad gratitude.

“I've never talked about that with anyone other than my brothers.”

 

Later, that night, as Alex lay in his bed, sleep escaped him despite the day spent sailing. Exercise in the open air was apparently no match for an unfinished conversation with Julianne. They hadn't revisited his suggestion that she accompany him when he returned to Paris.

But he didn't intend to go alone. They needed that time together. For what—other than putting an end to their stalemate over where Liam would live—he wasn't sure.

Even so, the question kept knocking around in the back of his brain, demanding attention in much the same way that Luc's suggestion kept rearing it's scary head, the idea that this might be as good a time as any for Alex to settle down.

He and Julianne and Liam would make a good family. There was no doubt about that. She and the baby were already in the middle of his messy life. There was no extracting them from that. Even
if Julianne decided to go back to the States alone, he'd still send security to watch over her, until he was satisfied she was safe.

That she wouldn't meet a similar ugly fate as…he turned over and punched his pillow into shape and replaced the horrible thought with visions of Julianne and Liam…the way they'd looked on the boat today.

There was no denying he was attracted to her. She moved him in a way that Marissa never had.

But even though there was something there with Julianne, he wasn't sure if he could ever love her—what was love anyway? He'd never felt any other kind than the type he had for his brothers…and Liam. A father's love for his son ran even deeper than brotherly love.

It was a different kind of love that was both immediate and unstoppable.

Maybe these feelings that were so hard to comprehend meant there was hope for him after all.

As he lay there plagued by the memory of how Julianne had felt in his arms, Alex grabbed his phone off the bedside table and sent her a text:
Actually the palace does have a moat and drawbridge. For the record.

“I
had a feeling I'd see you today,” Maya said to Julianne when she entered the store. “Where's your baby?”

“He's…” She considered her words for a moment. It probably wouldn't do to tell her she was staying at the palace. It would simply be too much to explain.

“He's with friends, at their place.”

This solo excursion was an experiment of sorts. Alex was working today and she'd decided to make a quick trip into town. Alone. Or as alone as she could be with the Men in Black following her.

The way Alex had opened up yesterday had
touched her. The way he'd shared with her a personal hurt and torment that no one besides his brothers knew about was moving. And he had a point—to a certain extent—about how being a “hovercraft” parent wasn't healthy for anyone.

Even though she'd been in St. Michel for only three days, after meeting Sophie, Luc and Henri, she knew they weren't going to do anything rash like kidnapping Liam. If they were going to do that, why would they have allowed her to come to St. Michel in the first place?

Still, she'd never left Liam with anyone other than Anita. So this was an exercise as much for her own growth as it was for Liam to get used to being without her—for short periods.

“Bon,”
said Maya. “Have a seat and we'll have some hot chocolate. I make the best in all of Europe.”

Maya gestured to an iron café table situated by the window. Julianne took a seat while Maya went behind the counter and began to brew the chocolate.

“So where is that handsome
amoureux
of yours?”

Julianne's stomach did a flip at the sudden mention of Alex.

“He's not exactly
my amoureux
, as you say.”

“But you would like for him to be.”

It wasn't a question, it was a bold statement that reached right down into Julianne's insides and gave a little twist.

“Well, no.” Julianne answered in a very pathetic way that made her sound like she didn't even know her own mind. Funny how sometimes when she was around Alex, she didn't.

It took a few moments for Maya to brew the chocolate, but by the time she sat down with Julianne to enjoy it they were already deep into conversation.

Twenty-nine-year-old Maya had no qualms about telling Julianne her life story: She was single, but looking; she'd inherited the chocolate shop from her mother because none of her four sisters was interested in the family business. “Perhaps because
Maman
named the shop after her eldest daughter?” Maya suggested with a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.

In addition to being the world's best chocolate maker, Maya claimed to have a sixth sense for matchmaking, which made Julianne squirm. Despite how Maya had a way about her that made her feel like an old friend and tempted Julianne to open up, Julianne held firm to talking general terms when it came to Alex and his family—no
specifics about Alex's job, other than it involved human rights and that he had family here and that's who they were staying with as they tried to sort out who would have primary custody of Liam.

“You both need to raise the boy,” Maya said, in that outspoken, matter-of-fact manner that Julianne had come to realize was her way. “You three are a family, I saw that right away when he opened the door and you stepped into my shop. There was a strong aura of love.”

Julianne blew out a breath of dissent. “I don't believe in auras and all that New Agey hogwash.”

She glanced at her watch and gasped. “Oh, my gosh, I can't believe how late it is. I have to go.”

“Wait, just one moment.” Maya jumped up from the table and scurried behind the chocolate cases. “I have something that I think will help you listen to your heart.”

Moments later, her new friend emerged with a small white box tied up with a red satin ribbon, identical to the one she'd given Julianne yesterday. Maya slipped it into a bag and handed it to Julianne.

“How much do I owe you?” Julianne asked.

Maya waved away her question.

“You must let me pay you.”

“You may pay me by playing your flute in my
shop someday. I think my customers would enjoy that immensely.”

It struck Julianne that the entire time she'd been there—both times, in fact—not a single customer had entered the shop.

She adjusted her grip on the bag, feeling guilty for accepting a gift of Maya's chocolate two days in a row—the only two occasions she'd been in her shop.

“I would be thrilled to play in your shop. Think about it and let me know when.”

Maya reached out and hugged Julianne. “I will see you soon. After you get back from Paris.”

As Julianne walked out the door, a chill washed over her. She hadn't mentioned a thing about going to Paris. She'd talked about having just come
from
Paris, and the possibility of returning home to the States.

But nothing about going to Paris.

Huh… She stopped and looked back at the shop. A gust of wind flirted with the hand-painted sign, making it swing lightly to and fro as if it were waving at her.

Julianne took the box out of the bag and opened it.

Once again, there were two hearts with deep red rose flecks embedded in the dark chocolate.

As she gazed at the two hearts in the box and savored the aroma of deep, rich cocoa, hints of rose and something else a bit more elusive, a portent that everything would be all right washed over her.

 

“I want you to come to Paris with me,” Alex insisted. “I feel guilty that I turned your first trip there into something it shouldn't have been. You should've gone to the top of the Eiffel Tower, not out to the iWITNESS offices.
Mon Dieu,
that place isn't very scenic.”

Julianne sat on the couch, gazing down at Liam, giving him a bottle. The boy's eyelids seemed to get heavier and heavier as Liam fought harder to keep his eyes open.

There was a space big enough for another person to occupy between them and Alex.

“Well, gosh, I wonder what I'd be doing right now if I
hadn't
gone out there to see you.”

Her voice was low and soothing, a sharp contrast to the take-that look she shot him across the sofa.

He smiled.

“You're funny. You really think you're funny, don't you? I'm asking you to come to Paris with me and you're being snide.”

He almost said,
Do you know how many women
would jump at the chance to go to Paris with me?
But he didn't. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter if there would ever be another woman in Paris. The only person he wanted to be there with was her.

She smiled and shrugged, wide-eyed and innocent as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

He laughed and then bit into the chocolate heart she'd brought him from Maya's shop. Visions of what happened the last time the two of them sat there without the protection of Liam between them kissed in his mind's eye.

“Okay, I'll go.” Her words yanked him back to the present.

“Okay, great.” His mouth was suddenly dry. “We'll leave tomorrow.”

 

Julianne found Paris's tiled rooftops and wide boulevards even more beautiful this time. Alex showed her his favorite spots—both the well-known spots and off-the-beaten-path haunts.

But her favorite place had to be the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“This is the best way to get an orientation of Paris,” he said. “You can see everything from up here.”

On one side, he pointed out the Trocadéro. Then
swept her to the other side to point out the Champs de Mars—the green expanse running between the Eiffel Tower and Ecole Militaire and finally, the gold-domed church at Les Invalides.

They spent the rest of the day exploring Montmartre and finally sharing dinner at Alex's favorite restaurant in the sixteenth arrondissement, which Julianne learned simply meant “neighborhood” in French.

It was a glorious day capped off by a heady evening of wine and a moonlit walk back to Alex's apartment, where, along the way, hands brushed and shoulders bumped as they sometimes edged a little too close, blurring the edges between where friends stopped being friends and lovers embarked on that journey of faith. It had been building all day when they finally arrived back at Alex's apartment.

The full moon was shining through the open curtains, and as Julianne stood at the window, Alex came up behind her and put his arms around her as he pointed out the top of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, the place they'd been shining like a promise of what was to come.

Maybe it was the wine, making her feel a little dizzy. But as he kissed her neck and slid his hands under her blouse, the feeling of his skin on hers
made her realize with perfect clarity that the only thing she was drunk on was Alex Lejardin.

Even so, bolstered by the liquid courage and so full of want and longing for him, she turned and pressed her palms against his chest, letting her hands linger there, savoring the feel of his firm muscles. Then she slid her hands up and over the expanse of his shoulders, working her way down his arms until her fingers stopped at his wrists behind her.

The movement pressed the most intimate parts of their bodies together, and she could feel his desire.

This was the point of no return. She knew that, as she gazed up at him, searching his face, his eyes, his lips, looking for answers to questions that were becoming increasingly less important by the second. Until finally they were snuffed out altogether as he pulled out of her grasp and enfolded her with his body. He ravished her mouth, bold and hungry—there was nothing tentative between them as there'd been a moment ago or that day in St. Michel when they'd tasted each other for the first time. It was as if every glance, every word, every brush of fingertips today had been leading to this moment.

Without taking his mouth off hers, he backed
her down the hall into a room—his bedroom, she guessed, and tugged her down onto the bed that suddenly appeared underneath her.

He tugged her blouse over her head, then pulled her bra down so that her breasts were naked in the moonlight. When he took a nipple into his mouth, need coursed through her hot and ready.

How long has it been?

She was surprised she didn't melt in his hands.
It was the feel of those hands—the touch of his rugged fingers on her smooth skin—that kept her cognizant, though just barely, and made her arch under him, demanding more.

As if they were suspended in time, the world seemed to fade away. Exploring her body with his mouth and hands, he kissed and teased and tormented her, taking her to the brink of places she hadn't visited in a long time.

Her fingers worked his zipper and tugged away his pants until all the barriers between them were gone.

Then he reached into a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a condom.

As he lowered himself on top of her, her legs parted, greedy for the feel of him, wanting every masculine inch of him to cover her, to weigh her down, to make her body thrum with the pleasure
of him. As if reading her mind, he thrust his hips forward and with one bold stroke he entered her.

She gasped from the sheer pleasure of feeling him inside her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Never been better,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His breathing rasped against her temple. He pulled out then thrust a little deeper.

Her body clung to him sliding, grabbing, pulsing and releasing over and over until the weight and force of waves of pleasure crashed inside her.

His breath was labored and hot against her cheek until he gave a final thrust and a long, anguished groan erupted in this throat. He collapsed on top of her, kissing her tenderly, possessively as she reveled in their spent pleasure, in the feel of how his broad back narrowed at the waist, at the sheer masculine width and breadth of him. Until he pulled back a little, his lips still brushing hers.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

She froze, sure that she'd heard him wrong, but petrified that she hadn't.

“What?” Her hands retreated from his back.

“Marry me,” he said again.

She pulled back reclaiming as much personal space as she could and studied him, wondering if
he was simply caught up in the moment or if he'd truly lost his mind. Or if he knew how she felt about him, because she was only just beginning to admit those feelings to herself.

He looked a little disoriented, obviously not having had the benefit of the gravity of the shock that had pulled her back down to earth.

“Why?” she asked.

She knew it wasn't romantic to ask
Why?
after having received a marriage proposal, but then again, she had the sickening feeling that this was not a
real
proposal—and if it was, it wasn't for the right reasons.

Alex blinked and propped himself up on his elbow gazing down at her. His eyes searched her face, as if trying to form exactly the right explanation.

“Because…” he started, but his gaze darted away. Julianne watched his expression change until he ended up looking more horrified than like a man in love who was so enraptured he'd proposed. “I think we'd make a good team.”

She suddenly felt very exposed lying there and pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

A good team? That was not a reason to get married. A good team. Really?

They were not choosing up sides for kickball.
This was for life, and the only reason you got married was because you loved someone.

Oh, this was wrong on so many levels, and for a moment she was paralyzed by the sobering magnitude of it.

Of course he didn't love her. Even though they'd just made love.

And he had a history with her sister about which he hadn't been very forthcoming.

All that Alex and she had between them was a couple of kisses and one night in Paris that was turning out to be a disaster.