Lead Me On (24 page)

"A mutual agreement."

"Whatever you want to call it I'm not blind. I can see there's something pretty powerful going on between you two, and I just want to say, about time. You deserve a man who's crazy about you."

She sat there stunned. "There's nothing 'powerful' going on between us."

"Alli, how stupid do you think I am? Do you honestly think I don't know you two have been going at it like rabbits for the past week?"

Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "But that's just sex."

"That's not 'just sex.' Trust me. When it's just sex, you do it once or twice and move on. When two people become clothing challenged for days on end, there's a whole lot more going on than a mutual desire to get horizontal."

Her embarrassment grew as she remembered some of the times they hadn't even bothered with the horizontal part, or getting completely undressed. She concentrated on smoothing her dress over her knees. "Okay, I'll admit, we enjoy each other's company. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Adrian opened his mouth as if to argue, but apparently changed his mind. "I just wanted to say, whatever is going on between you two, knock yourselves out. You'll get no more grief from me. Not that you need my approval, but well, there you go."

"Thank you," she said, wondering why his approval bothered her more than his disapproval.

Scott returned to find that Bobby and Paige had arrived along with an older couple who were introduced to him as Chance's parents, Ellen and Norman Chancellor. The names gave his heart a bit of a lurch. He'd heard his mother, who'd grown up in Galveston, speak of Ellen Chancellor as an acquaintance. John had done business at Norman Chancellor's bank for years, although the relationship had clearly been severed over the Pearl Island foreclosure.

As he returned their greeting, he reminded himself the Chancellors had no reason to connect Scott Lawrence to John and Deirdre LeRoche, or DeeDee, as his mother's friends called her. Her maiden name had been Howard, so DeeDee wasn't so bad, but he'd always thought that paired with LeRoche it sounded like a stripper name. Not that he would ever tell his mother that, but how could she not think it herself?

Adrian took the bag of pastries from him, and somehow the two of them wound up working side by side in the kitchenette, filling cups with ice and pouring tea and juice for everyone.

Scott glanced over his shoulder at Allison, who sat in a chair away from the others, looking small and lost. "Is Alli all right?"

Adrian hesitated. "She's just worried about Rory."

"Is there some complication I don't know about?"

"With Rory, no. Although ... if you could stick by Alli, keep her distracted, I'd appreciate it."

The words startled Scott. Over the last week, Allison's brother had thawed a bit toward him, but to actually encourage him to spend time with his sister set a new precedent. "Sure. I'll do what I can."

"Thanks." With a friendly nod, Adrian took drinks over to Chance's parents. They were a handsome couple, with the polished manners of old money.

Norman Chancellor scowled at the cup. "I don't suppose you have anything stronger to put in this."

"Sorry." Adrian laughed. "I'm afraid iced tea and fruit juice are all we have."

Scott carried a cup to Allison and squatted down by her chair. "Any news on how she's doing?"

Allison blinked as if pulling herself out of her own thoughts. "Ellen went in a bit ago and said it was going really fast." Her gaze wandered toward the door. "I should probably go in, too. Sit with her."

He tipped his head, noting the lines of stress etched about her mouth. "You can do that later. How about you and I go for a walk to help pass the time?"

"No. I want to stay here. I need to be near my sister."

"All right." Glancing around, Scott saw a straight- backed chair against the wall and dragged it over to sit by Allison. "So, is this your first birthing to sit through?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"It's my second. Although, so far, it seems a whole lot more boring sitting out here than being in where all the action is going on. You want me to tell you about it? Minus the gory details?"

"You've been through this before?" Ellen Chancellor asked.

"With my niece," Scott said, and regaled the room with how his sister had called him in the middle of the night to say it was time and for him to come get her. He'd shown up in a rush, tires squealing, heart pumping, only to find her in the bathroom putting on makeup. She'd stopped to have a contraction, then proceeded to do her hair.

Before long, he had the room laughing at the story of Chloe's birth.

"Your sister sounds like my best friend Marcy Baxter, Paige's mother," Ellen said, giving Scott another mild start. He knew that name, too. Marcy and his mother had been girlhood friends. They'd drifted apart when Marcy married a brash land developer after college and DeeDee married the heir to the LeRoche business empire and moved to New Orleans.

Ellen smiled at Paige. "Marcy was just as bad when you were born, refusing to go to the hospital until your father opened the suitcase she'd repacked three times already, and stuffed in yet another nightgown she'd bought the day before."

As Ellen talked, Scott watched how her husband sat quietly beside her, nodding and smiling, a look of genuine affection in his eyes. Bobby stood behind Paige's chair, his hand on her shoulder, completely absorbed in the tale about his wife's birth. The scene struck Scott as oddly intimate, as if he were getting a glimpse into these people's private lives, seeing them as they truly were. They were nothing like what he'd always imagined couples and families to be.

He tried to picture the same scene with his family, and couldn't. For one thing, his sister had asked him not to call either of their parents until after it was over. Upon hearing the news, their mother had rushed to the hospital on a cloud of French perfume, complaining about the luncheon she was missing and criticizing Scott for not calling her sooner. She'd made some comment about babies looking like tiny old people, all toothless and bald, then swept out again claiming she was late for her manicure. At least she'd shown up. Their father had sent an extravagant but useless gift—most likely purchased by his personal assistant—and a note expressing his deep regret for not being able to come in person. John had always been good at sending notes to express his deep regret. In fact, Scott often thought that was where he'd inherited his talent for writing fiction.

No, Scott couldn't imagine this same scene with his family as the players. These people actually liked one another. It wasn't an act for the outside world. It was real, and warm, and without warning it exposed a huge gaping hole inside him he hadn't even known was there.

This was what was missing from his life. This was the void he'd tried to fill with his writing.

When he was lost in one of his stories, he didn't have to examine his real life too closely. Yet sitting in this room, witnessing family and friends interacting with warmth and caring, he realized how empty his own life had always been and still was.

A strangled cry of effort and pain came from the other room, followed by one of the midwives telling Rory to push.

Ellen's eyes widened and she glanced at her watch. "If they're already telling her to push, it won't be long now."

Scott glanced at Allison, and found her deathly pale. He reached over and took her hand as Rory cried out again. Adrian stood abruptly to pace. "How do women go through this?"

No one answered or spoke as the sounds from the other room grew louder over the next several minutes: Chance's encouraging voice, the commands of the mid-wives, and Rory's straining cries as she struggled to push the child from her body.

Allison rocked back and forth as Adrian continued to pace. The room hummed with the combined focus of everyone there as they waited with breaths held.

Suddenly, a cheer rose from the other room, followed by the thin, reedy cry of a baby. Tension rushed out of Scott, making him light-headed. He glanced around at the smiles and tears. Ellen hugged her husband, crying and laughing. Turning to Allison, he expected to see the same relief.

Instead, she stood abruptly, clutched a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, and rushed from the room.

"Alli!" Adrian shouted and ran after her. Shocked silence followed.

"Is she all right?" Ellen asked, wiping her cheeks.

"I don't know." Paige looked to Scott as if he should know the answer.

"I'll, um, go see." Scott stepped into the front room, but saw no sign of them, so he headed outside. Night had fallen, but the parking lot lights cast a soft, yellow glow over the area. He found them sitting on the curb at the end of the sidewalk, Allison with her face buried against her brother's neck, Adrian holding her tightly and rocking.

As he approached, he heard Adrian speaking against Allison's hair. "I'm so sorry. I should have known this would be too hard for you."

"I thought I could handle it."

Gravel crunched beneath Scott's boots and Adrian looked up, then nodded for Scott to join them.

When he sat, Allison lifted her head, then ducked it back down to hide her tears.

"You okay?" Scott asked when neither of them spoke.

"Yes. No." With a watery chuckle she swiped at her cheeks.

Not knowing what to say, Scott decided to let her brother handle it.

Adrian helped her dry her face. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"I can't ask you to do that." Alli sniffed. "I know you want to be with Rory and see the baby."

"Can you handle going back inside?" Adrian asked.

She shook her head and glanced at Scott, misery and embarrassment swimming in her eyes.

"I'll take you home," he offered.

She nodded, and took his hand so he could help her stand.

~ ~ ~

Scott didn't ask any questions on the way to the inn, and Allison was grateful. She felt too raw inside to speak. She just wanted to get home, climb into bed and escape into the oblivion of sleep.

When they reached the inn, he parked near the back door, so she wouldn't have to walk through the main hall and chance running into guests.

"Allison? Is that you?" Betsy McMillan called from the kitchen.

Scott squeezed her hand. "If you want to go straight downstairs, I'll talk to her."

The offer was tempting, but she shook her head. "No, she's too good a friend for me to do that." She stepped into the kitchen where Betsy and Chloe sat at the table playing cards and waiting for news.

"Hey, kid." Scott greeted his niece. "I thought you'd be in bed by now."

"No way." Chloe looked eagerly at Allison. "Well?"

Betsy's eyes also twinkled. "Is the baby here?"

"Yes." Allison swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. "She arrived just a few minutes ago."

"Oh, I'm sure she's beautiful." Betsy clasped her hands together. "So, give me the details. How much does she weigh? How long is she? And how's Rory doing?"

Unprepared, she looked to Scott for help.

"Rory's fine," Scott answered for her. "Unfortunately, Allison isn't feeling well, so we had to leave before the weighing and measuring part."

"I'm sorry, dear." Betsy stood and came forward. "Can I get you anything?"

"No." Alli rubbed her temple, refusing to break down again. "I just need to lie down."

"Well, you go on downstairs." Betsy made a shooing motion with her hands. "I'll lock up tight before I leave."

"Thank you, Betsy. We really appreciate your watching the inn for us."

"It's no problem at all. Now go on, off to bed."

"You, too," Scott told Chloe.

"Can't I wait until Adrian comes home?" Chloe begged. "He'll probably know more."

"Tomorrow is soon enough to get the details. Now come on upstairs." Scott cast Allison one last look, asking if she would be all right alone.

She nodded and watched him leave. After thanking Betsy again, she headed down the narrow stairs that led to the apartment. Sadie came to greet her, then whined when Allison barely acknowledged her.

The trembling started again as she crossed to her room. By the time she reached the narrow bed, she collapsed onto the coverlet, too exhausted to undress. Sadie jumped up beside her, whimpering in empathy. Allison buried her fingers in the dog's long fur, absently kneading as memories rolled through her like nausea.

When she heard the scrape of boots approach her open door, she lifted her head, expecting to see Adrian. Instead, Scott stood silhouetted in the faint light from the living room. With a groan, she dropped her head back to the pillow, willing him to go away. Instead, he came forward, closing the door behind him, leaving only the moonlight spilling through the window over her bed.