Finding Perfect (21 page)

Montana stared at her. “You expect me to do all that?”

Pia flashed her clipboard. “That's not even all of page one.”

“Jeez, I wouldn't want your job,” Montana grumbled. “Mom, if you see Nevada, tell her to come help me.”

“Of course, dear.”

Montana left.

“Impressive,” Denise told Pia. “You're resting
and
getting your work done.”

“I'm an expert multitasker.”

Denise stared after her daughter. “Montana seems excited about her new job.”

“She does. I admire her—she gives her all to whatever she does.”

“I know she's worried about finding the right kind of work. Not that she won't but that it's taking too long. I keep telling her that everyone finds his or her own path in his or her own time, but she won't listen. One of the thrills of being a mother.” Denise smiled. “Wait until your little ones are teenagers.”

“At this point I simply want them to be bigger than a rice grain.”

“That will happen, too.”

The sound of a large truck caused them both to turn. Denise shaded her eyes with her hand, then turned to Pia.

“That's interesting. Were you expecting elephants?”

 

R
AOUL WALKED WITH
P
ETER
through the crowded park. Fool's Gold was holding yet another of its many festivals. Knowing Pia was going to be working, he'd arranged to take Peter for the afternoon. The Folios didn't seem to mind him spending time with the kid, which was good. While the couple seemed pleasant enough, Raoul was still concerned about their caretaking abilities.

He and Peter had already checked on Pia, who was being confined to a lawn chair until the top of the hour. She swore she wasn't the least bit tired and that she'd never had so many assistants or done so little work at any festival.

“Want to get ice cream?” he asked, pointing to a stand.

“Sure!”

Peter led the way. They both got two scoops, then went over to a bench.

“This is so cool,” Peter said between licks. “I like how there are different festivals at different times of the year. It's really fun. My parents used to bring me all the time.”

“You grew up in Fool's Gold?”

“Sort of. My dad worked at one of the wineries and we lived out of town. But I went to school here.” His smile faded. “After they died, I was in a group home for a while. I didn't like that. It was really hard because the other kids made fun of me when I cried.”

Raoul felt his pain. “It's okay to feel stuff and be sad.”

“Boys don't cry.”

“Plenty of boys cry.” Raoul hesitated, knowing there was a fine line between saying what was healthy and the reality of being tortured by peers. “Losing your parents is a big deal.”

“I know.” Peter licked his cone. “I still miss them.”

“That's good. You loved them. You're supposed to miss people you love.”

“Mrs. Dawson says they're watching me from heaven, but I don't know if that's true.”

“Every time you remember them, you know how much they loved you. That's what's important.”

Peter took a few more licks, then held up his cast. “I get this off in a couple of weeks. The doctor says I'm healing really fast.”

The advantage of youth, Raoul thought, remembering feeling like roadkill the morning after his last few games. There was nothing like being trampled by a few three-hundred-pound guys to make a man feel humble.

“Wait until you see your arm,” Raoul told him. “It's going to look weird from being in the cast.”

“Cool! I wish I could see it now.” He raised his arm and turned it back and forth, as if trying to see inside the cast. Then he turned to Raoul. “You know there's a school carnival next week, right? We're gonna have games and stuff. It won't be as big as this, but it will still be fun.”

While the boy went on about the different events at the school, Raoul was aware of three women standing on the path a few feet away. He'd never seen them before,
so he guessed they were tourists, in town for the festival, or possibly the influx of men. They were in their midthirties, talking to each other and pointing at him. The tall brunette raised her camera and took a picture.

When they realized he'd noticed them, the smaller blonde waved and walked over.

“You're Raoul Moreno, aren't you?” she said, her voice high and excited. “I recognized you right away. Oh my God! I can't believe it. You are just as good-looking in person. This is really exciting. We came here when we heard about all the men. There was an auction and everything. Too bad you weren't in it. You would have gotten a lot of money.”

Her friends joined her.

Raoul tossed his ice cream and rose. Normally this sort of thing didn't bother him, but it had been months since anyone had approached him as a fan. Living in Fool's Gold where everyone treated him normally had spoiled him for the real world. Right now he wanted to spend the day with Peter—not deal with three women who probably weren't going to be satisfied with a picture.

“Is that your son?” the taller blonde asked.

“He doesn't have children,” the brunette said scornfully. “Are you in one of those charity programs? Is he disadvantaged? Look at his poor broken arm.”

Raoul stepped between the women and Peter. “That's enough. Take your pictures and then move on.”

The petite blonde stepped closer. “This is a free country. We don't have to do anything. We can spend the whole day just following you around.”

“I don't think so.”

The firm words came from behind him. He turned
and saw Bella Gionni walking up. With her were Denise Hendrix and a few women he didn't recognize. They looked serious.

“Morning, ladies,” Denise said pleasantly. “How can we help you?”

“You can't,” the brunette said. “This is a private conversation.”

“You can say anything in front of us.” Bella moved between him and Peter. She put her hand on the boy's shoulder, then slipped her arm around his. “We're close.”

Her friends took up places around him and Peter.

The younger women looked at each other and frowned.

“What's going on?” the taller blonde asked.

“You're welcome to say hello to Raoul and even take his picture, but that's as far as it goes. You don't follow him or disturb him in any way. Nor do you get to talk to Peter.” She smiled at the boy. “Girls,” she said in a mock whisper.

He was wide-eyed, more interested than scared. “I know,” he whispered back.

Raoul was as startled by the rescue as by the potential stalkers. While he appreciated the concern, his pride didn't welcome the idea of being protected by a half dozen women in their forties and fifties.

Not that he was willing to take them on either. Ego be damned—for now he was keeping his mouth shut.

The three women turned their attention to him. “Are you serious? You're going to let them tell us what to do?”

He gave them his best grin. The one he wore in all his publicity pictures. “Absolutely.”

“This town is stupid,” the petite blonde said. “We should leave. I don't know why we thought we could have a good time here.”

“Us, either,” Bella told her. “Drive safe, ladies.”

The brunette flipped her off.

Bella only smiled. “Looks like you need a manicure, missy. Chipped polish is so cheap. Just like you.”

The three stomped off.

Raoul watched them go, then looked at his posse. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Bella told him. “I'm sure you could have dealt with them yourself, but why waste time on trash?”

“If I was ten years older,” he began.

Bella patted his shoulder. “Sorry, but no. If you were ten years older, I'd wear you out and then you'd die of a heart attack. So let's not go there.”

Denise moved up to him and kissed his cheek. “Admit it. You're secretly humiliated.”

“Some.”

“Then our work here is complete.” She glanced at Peter. “Do you mind if I borrow this handsome young man? There are bumper cars set up across the park and I do love a good bumper car. My kids are all too old. I'll return him right after that.”

“Sure. If it's okay with you, Peter.”

“Sure.”

Peter took Denise's outstretched hand and went off, still licking his ice cream. Raoul thanked the other women, then waited until they'd left before making his way to where Pia held court from her lawn chair.

“Talk to the peanut guy,” she was saying. “He always packs up early. Like he's going to beat the traffic. Tell
him if he does that this time, he's not coming back. Remind him I can get fifty peanut vendors to replace him with just a phone call.”

She smiled at Raoul. “Hi. Where's Peter?”

“Riding bumper cars with Denise.” He sank down on the grass next to her chair. “I was just rescued by middle-aged women.”

“What are you talking about?”

He told her about the women who had stopped by and how Bella, Denise and their friends had taken care of the situation.

“That's sweet,” she said, amusement dancing in her eyes. “The big bad football player rescued by older women.”

He winced. “This isn't good. I'm capable of taking care of myself. But I just stood there and let them do all the talking.”

“Did you think they would allow it to happen any other way? You're one of us now. We take care of our own. It's just like the food everyone brought over after I lost the baby.”

“It's nothing like that.”

“Don't freak. It's adorable.”

He wasn't amused. “You can't tell my friends.”

“What will you give me if I don't?”

“Anything.”

She laughed.

He enjoyed the sound, and looking at her. She was lovely, with her large eyes and laughing mouth. Her tumbling curls bright in the sun. She was the perfect combination of attitude and kindness.

It wasn't just her, he thought, glancing around at the crowd enjoying the Fall Festival. It was the town. He'd
lived in a lot of different places and while he'd always enjoyed the cities, he'd never felt connected to the community. Not like here. A few people recognized him, but the most they wanted was an autograph.

While he wasn't happy that he'd been rescued by a bunch of women, he knew the significance went beyond their gender and age. It was that they'd seen the problem and acted. They'd stepped in—as if he were their responsibility. He'd moved to Fool's Gold to find a place to settle, and what he'd found instead was home.

N
ORMALLY, AFTER A DAYLONG EVENT,
like the Fall Festival, Pia would be exhausted. But as she'd spent exactly half her day just sitting, she felt rested and ready to party at the town's dinner-dance. Well, in a very quiet, protect-the-babies kind of way.

She finished applying mascara and leaned back to check her makeup in the mirror. She'd taken Dr. Galloway's advice about stairs and taken the two flights to come back to her place to get ready. All her clothes were here, along with her serious makeup. Raoul was going to pick her up and take her to the dance, then back to his place.

She fluffed her hair, then tightened her robe around her waist. The big question was what to wear.

Sometime in the last day or so, she'd gotten a case of serious bloat. Her pants were tight and no matter how much lemon water she drank, she couldn't get her belly to go down. There were a couple of dresses she knew wouldn't fit. But she had one that had an empire waist. The style was forgiving and—

She stopped in the doorway to her bedroom. Her mind replayed her last thoughts, then she started to laugh. She wasn't bloated, she realized. She was pregnant. Talk about an idiot.

She touched her stomach. “I'm hoping you two
weren't thinking your mom would be a rocket scientist, because that's simply not going to happen. Pregnant. You'd think I would have grasped that by now.”

She crossed to the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door, then opened her robe. When she turned sideways, she saw the rounding she'd thought was too much water.

“How are you two doing?” she asked, lightly touching her stomach. “Everything okay? I'm fine. Still sad, but recovering. It's going to be okay. I want you to know that. I'm going to take really good care of you both. I promise.”

There wasn't an answer, which was probably good. Voices from inside her body would scare the crap out of her. But she felt a sense of peace—a knowing. The rightness of what she'd done settled on her. She was having Crystal's babies. More important, these were also
her
babies. They might not have her DNA, but they were growing inside of her. She was nurturing them with every beat of her heart. When they were born, she would be their mother in every sense of the word.

“It's going to be great,” she whispered.

She went into her closet and pulled out the black dress. The bodice was lightweight velvet, with a deep vee. The skirt began just under her breasts. That fabric was lighter, more flowy, ending just above her knee.

She'd already rubbed a shimmering body lotion on her bare legs. Now she hung the robe on a hook and reached for the dress. After slipping it on, she secured the side zipper. She stepped in front of the mirror to see if it worked.

“Oh my.”

While she'd had breasts since she was about thirteen,
they'd never looked like this, she thought, staring at the cleavage filling the vee of the dress.

“At least now I know what I'd look like if I got implants.”

Fortunately the dress had a short jacket. She pulled that on and saw it hid virtually nothing. Raoul was simply going to have to endure.

She'd chosen a medium-heel black sandal. She'd barely slipped them on when she heard a knock at the front door.

“Come in,” she called as she walked to the living room.

The door opened and Raoul stepped inside.

She'd never seen him in a suit before. The dark, tailored fabric fit him perfectly, skimming over impossibly broad shoulders. He was elegant and handsome and hers.

The latter admission was as difficult to believe as the pregnancy had been. Were they really going to get married?

His gaze swept over her, starting at her shoes and working his way up. When he reached her chest, she saw him tense. He crossed the room in two strides, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with a passion that had her trembling in her heels.

His mouth moved against her, claiming, enticing, promising. Heat poured through her.

Without thinking, she grabbed his hands and lowered them to her chest. He pushed aside her jacket and cupped her eagerly, finding her already tight nipples and rubbing them.

Fire shot through her. She was wet and ready in seconds. She shrugged out of her jacket and fumbled with
her zipper. He undid it for her, then pushed down her dress to her waist. Then her bra was gone and his mouth was on her breasts.

The feel of his lips and tongue, the stroking and sucking, nearly brought her to the brink. Her breath came in sharp pants. Need threatened to drown her. She hung on to him to keep standing.

He moved one hand between her legs, slipping under her panties and finding her center with one sure stroke. He rubbed that place hard, as if aware how close she already was. Around and around, his mouth still on her breasts, her hands on his shoulders, her legs shaking so hard she wasn't sure she could stay standing.

She came without warning. One second she was riding the wave, the next she was shivering and convulsing, rubbing herself against his fingers, gasping out his name. The contractions faded and the world righted itself.

She straightened, as did he. They stared at each other. Then his mouth curved in a very satisfied male smile.

“You look good,” he said. “Did I get a chance to mention that?”

She was still dealing with aftershock. Where had that orgasm come from? Fifteen minutes ago—five minutes ago—she would have sworn she wouldn't have a single sexual thought ever again. Or at least not until after the babies were born.

She paused to take stock of her body. Except for the lingering sense of well-being, she felt fine.

She smiled at him. “You didn't.”

His gaze lowered to her bare breasts. “Those are new.”

“You like?”

“The other ones are great, but these will be fun, too.”

She stepped out of her shoes. “Your turn.”

He hesitated. “We probably shouldn't.”

She could see his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. “Dr. Galloway said it was fine. That the babies can't see anything.”

She reached for his belt. “How about we get you almost all the way there and you finish inside me? Everybody wins.”

Wanting and concern battled. “I don't want to put you or them in danger.”

“Me, either.”

She unzipped his pants and withdrew him. He was hard and thick and when she ran her hand down the length of him, his breath hissed between clenched teeth.

He moved closer and kissed her. She gripped him in her hand, moving up and down in a steady rhythm. As they kissed deeply, she moved faster. He touched her breasts, using his fingers to lightly toy with her nipples. Arousal began again inside of her. She felt the need building.

“Raoul,” she breathed.

He must have heard the desperation in her voice because he dropped one hand to her thigh, then moved it between her legs and found her center.

The sure touch pushed her closer. She felt him tense.

She quickly pushed down her panties. He pulled them the rest of the way off and drew her to the sofa.

“Now,” she said and guided him inside of her.

He thrust in slowly, carefully. She felt the restraint
in his hard muscles. She grabbed his hips to pull him in. He withdrew and she whimpered. Another thrust. He slipped a hand between them and found that magical spot again. It only took a second for her to feel the shuddering beginning again, deep inside.

She breathed his name and lost herself in her release. He pushed in again and shuddered.

They clung to each other, breathing hard.

When she could speak, she asked, “Was that okay?”

He kissed her lightly. “It was great. There's something to be said for going slow. How do you feel?”

She knew he wasn't asking about her afterglow. “Good. Really good.” There was no way to explain it to him, but she had a sense of certainty. A knowledge that everything was going to be all right from now on.

She glanced at the kitchen clock and gasped. “We're going to be late. We have to hurry.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He stepped back and was dressed in a matter of seconds. It took Pia a little longer, but they were out the door in less than five minutes.

At the bottom of the stairs, he pulled her close and kissed her again. She let herself feel the warmth of his embrace, the safety she found in his arms and knew that somewhere along the way, she'd gone and fallen in love with him.

 

T
HE DINNER-DANCE WAS HELD
at the convention center. Tables had been set up in the center, with the dance floor up by the stage. A local DJ would provide the music during dinner before the live band arrived at eight. Dancing went on until midnight. There was a cash bar,
plenty of tacky decorations and balloons floating on the ceiling.

“Impressive,” Raoul said as they walked in.

She laughed. “You're mocking our efforts.”

“I would never do that. It's charming.”

“Small-town America at its best.”

They wove their way through the crowd, stopping to talk to people they knew. Pia was aware of all the unfamiliar men in the crowd. It was odd to have so many male strangers around. During festivals, most of their visitors were families.

Dakota greeted them.

“You look beautiful,” she told Pia. “Positively glowing.”

Pia did her best not to blush. She had a feeling that any glow came from making love with Raoul rather than the pregnancy, but there was no need for anyone to know.

Raoul must have been thinking the same thing because his hand tightened on hers.

“Thanks,” Pia said. “You look great, too.”

Dakota turned, showing off her blue dress. “I'm dateless, so I'm only here for the dinner. Then I'm heading home to my small, spinster life.”

Raoul looked around the room. “There are plenty of single guys. Go find one.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not this week. I'm not in the mood. Nevada and Montana are coming over and we're having a chick-flick marathon. They're both staying the night.” She raised her eyebrows. “Besides, compared with you, they're just not that interesting.”

“Oh, please.” Raoul didn't look the least bit impressed.

Pia laughed. “If I see anyone special, I'll send him your way.”

“Please don't.”

They parted and continued to their table. Pia spotted a tall, thin man talking to Mayor Marsha. He was gesturing wildly, talking quickly, although it was impossible to catch any part of the conversation over the other talking in the room.

“Let's go see what that's about,” she said, pointing.

They walked between tables and reached Marsha just as the man moved off. The mayor gave Pia and Raoul hugs, then sighed.

“I'm getting too old for this job,” she said. “Do you recognize that man?” She pointed at the guy she'd been talking to.

“No,” Pia said.

Raoul shook his head.

“I didn't recognize him, either,” Marsha said. “Which insulted him deeply. Apparently he's some Hollywood-producer type.”

“As in movies?” Pia asked.

“As in reality television. According to him, we're hot right now.”

“Lucky us,” Pia muttered.

“That's what I said. He wants to do a show about the bachelors coming to Fool's Gold. He's going to get me the details in the next day or so.”

A reality show? “Is that something we want in town?” Pia asked.

“No, but I'm not sure how to keep him out. If he's not blocking traffic or otherwise getting in the way of everyday life, there's not much I can do. California has very supportive laws when it comes to filming.”

“Want me to beat him up for you?” Raoul offered.

Marsha smiled. “Aren't you sweet? Let me think about it. At this point I'm more inclined to have a glass of wine and not deal with any of this until tomorrow.” She smiled at them. “You two have a good time.”

“We will,” Raoul said.

“A reality show,” Pia said as they found their table and sat down. “That's kind of icky.”

“It should bring in revenue.”

“And weird people.” She leaned against him. “Like Marsha said, a worry for tomorrow.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

“About three times, but it never gets old.”

“You're stunning.”

“Thank you. You're pretty hunky yourself.”

 

A
FTER DINNER, THE DANCING
began. Pia excused herself to use the restroom. Along with her puffy tummy came the need to pee forty-seven times a day. Charity joined her along the way.

“How's it going?” her friend asked.

“Good. I feel much better.”

“Nice to hear.”

Pia turned to her. “I wasn't ready before, but I think I am now. Want to try the shopping thing again?”

Charity smiled. “I'd love to. I still have to make that all-important baby-wipe-heater decision. We can have an intense conversation about it over hot chocolate and cookies to gain our strength, then face the maternity clothes and baby store, ready to conquer.”

“It's a date.”

They reached the restroom, only to find the usual line.

“I knew we needed more women's restrooms when we remodeled,” Pia grumbled. “But did Ethan listen?”

“Complain to Liz,” Charity told her. “She'll punish him.”

An older woman walked out of the restroom, then stopped by Pia. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“Fine.”

“I was so sorry to hear about your loss. I miscarried two before having my Betsy. She was a blessing. I know it's sad but you have to trust that happier days are ahead.”

“Thank you,” Pia said.

The woman in front of them turned around. “I lost a baby, too. At four months. It was horrible, but you go on. It's hard, but moving forward helps with the healing.”