The Baby Truce (19 page)

She'd been right on the money with her analysis of him. And the same scenario was playing out with the baby. He wanted to be part of his kid's life, but he was
afraid to be. Hell, he was afraid to become attached to a freaking dog…but he had, by lying to himself for a month.

As he'd lied to himself for years.

So here he was—across an ocean, with as much distance as possible between him and Reggie. And his kid.

He wasn't loving it.

Lowell being Lowell, hadn't laid out his offer yet. Tom had over a week left in the country, and he hoped that he wasn't going to be hearing the terms at the last possible minute. He wanted time to negotiate during the first days of his stay.

As if he had any power to negotiate. But he'd give it a shot. Lowell would think less of him if he didn't.

Guests were coming over that evening, people Tom hadn't seen in more than a decade. Simone was cooking and Lowell was off buying booze in copious quantities, leaving Tom with a couple hours to kill before the indulgences began.

He settled in the small courtyard with his laptop, paid a bill, checked his email. An automatic alert that his name had cropped up on the internet was waiting for him. He clicked it and followed the link, wondering what kind of trouble he'd gotten himself into now.

Oh, shit.

For a moment he simply stared at the photo of Reggie looking up at him in the Reno park after the catering competition, the pink arrow pointing at her belly. Then he slapped his computer shut and leaned his head back against the stone fence that surrounded the courtyard,
staring up at the cerulean-blue sky, the muscles in his jaw working as he ground his teeth together.

If those bastards started bothering Reggie…

Logic told him that wouldn't happen. He knew how fast these things blew over. He wasn't that newsworthy anymore, not having thrown a public tantrum in over a month. But, still, if those bastards started hounding Reggie…

He got to his feet and reached for his phone. Stopped.

He'd pretty much excused himself from her life. If Reggie had a serious problem, she would have contacted him. By email if not by phone. Wouldn't she have?

At this point Tom didn't know, but he was overwhelmed by the need to make sure she was all right. The urge to be there and protect her.

Would this feeling fade in time?

Did he want this feeling to fade in time?

The wonderful smell of roasting duck hit him as he went in and up the stairs to his room. He sat on the narrow bed and dialed Reggie's number. She took her sweet time answering the phone and then, when she did, her voice cooled several degrees when she realized it was him.

“Tom…what a surprise.”

“I, uh, called about the article.”

“The girlfriend?”

The fact that she responded so quickly made his gut tighten. He knew the hell of being hounded, but he'd always rather enjoyed the battle. Reggie…she wasn't that way. “That one. Have people been bothering you?”

“No.” He waited for her to elaborate and she didn't, so he tossed out another question.

“How are you feeling? Is everything all right?”

“Everything's fine. How are you?”

I'm going crazy with this stilted conversation.
“So far, so good.”

“Well,” she said coolly, “let me know how it all works out. Anything else?” She sounded as if she was talking to a client. No—she would have been warmer to a client.

Oh, yeah. He'd burned a bridge here. But wasn't that what he'd been trying to do?

“If you do start getting harassed—”

“I don't see that happening, Tom. I'm in a meeting and have to go.”

“Reggie—”

“What, Tom?” Her voice softened a little, giving Tom a glimmer of hope, but no answer to her question. What, indeed? What could he say to her over the phone while she was in a meeting? The truth. “You were right about a lot of stuff.”

There was a very healthy silence, and then Reggie said quietly, “I guess the question now is what are you going to do about that?”

He didn't answer immediately, because he didn't yet know.

“We'll talk when you get back. Goodbye, Tom. I really have to go.”

R
EGGIE WAS WORKING ALONE IN
the kitchen when her cell phone rang. Wiping her hands on a towel, she walked into the office. She hoped it wasn't Eden with some emergency at the reception buffet she and Patty were serving that afternoon.

It wasn't.

“Hi, Reggie.” Tom sounded nervous—as well he should, since he hadn't called her as promised when he'd gotten back from France. Over a week had passed since his scheduled return to Reno, and not one word.

“Where are you?” she asked.
Why haven't you called? What gut-wrenching news are you about to impart?

Okay, maybe she hadn't been exactly warm and encouraging when he'd called during the client meeting, but that was no excuse for him not to keep his promise.

“Actually…I'm sitting in the parking lot.”

“You're what?”

She went into the reception area and peered out the window. Sure enough, there was a nondescript midsize car with a rental plate in the small lot. Tom stood beside it, phone to his ear.

“I wanted to talk to you alone and I didn't want to just burst in unannounced.”

Ah, yes. That unannounced part. That lack of communication part.

She was starting to feel a slow burn. He was supposed to call when he got back in the country and he hadn't. “Where have you been?”

“Do you have a couple minutes?”

Reggie looked around the kitchen for an out, feeling contrary. Nothing.

“Maybe.”

“Can you come here? I have something to show you.”

Reggie frowned. “Fine.”

She took off her apron and laid it over the counter, smoothed her dress over the baby bump, then let herself out the front door, locking it after her. Tom was already halfway across the lot. When he was within a couple feet of her, he stopped. “Are you doing okay?”

“Uh…yes.” He looked tired. Careworn. She probably looked the same to him. Sleep had not come easily lately.

“No reporters?” he asked.

Reggie crossed her hands over her stomach, a protective move that was now instinctive. “None to speak of. I had a couple calls from local papers and refused comment.”

“Good.” He gestured with his head toward the street. “I have something to show you.”

“You mentioned that.” They started walking toward the car. To Reggie's surprise they walked past it to the sidewalk.

“Only a couple blocks,” Tom said. They turned at the next street and went two more blocks to a tiny, rundown brick bungalow sitting next to a weed-choked lot.

“Why are we here?” she asked, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I bought this house, Reggie.”

“You're crazy,” she said automatically, the words tripping off her tongue of their own accord.

“I guess, because I'm pretty much sinking every cent I have into the renovation.”

“Renovation?”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his and going up to the battered door. He pulled a key out of his pocket.

He couldn't have closed the deal this quickly. “How'd you get a key?”

She was truly afraid to speculate.

“I was nice to the real estate lady,” he said with a smile that didn't ease any of the tension in his face. “The paperwork on the sale is still pending, but—” he held up the key “—for once I tried sugar instead of vinegar. If it hadn't worked,” he said as he inserted the key in the old-fashioned lock, “I would have gone for the vinegar.”

“No doubt.” Reggie somehow kept herself from recoiling as they walked into the dilapidated, damp-smelling living room. “I hope you didn't pay much.”

“I bought the lot next door, too, so I have some change sunk into it.” He pushed the door shut. The rattling sound echoed through the empty house.

The empty wreck of a house.

The walls had holes, the ceiling was stained, the woodwork seriously marred. The flooring was worn through to the subfloor in places, and impacted with grime.

“
Why
did you buy this place?” Reggie asked.

“It's a commitment.”

She tilted her head, her lips parting slightly. “How so? Are you going to live here?” With small furry creatures that no doubt lived here, too. Craziness.

Tom shook his head. “I'm going to work here. This,” he said, “will be the main dining area once we knock out that back wall. I think we can get ten tables in here.” He walked her into the next room. “The banquet area for private parties. Everything else will be kitchen, prep and storage facilities.”

“You don't have to do this,” Reggie said abruptly. “You can probably stop the sale.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I don't understand.”

“You put me through hell, Tom. And now you buy what may one day be a restaurant, and everything is supposed to be all right? You left me. Told me it wouldn't work.”

“You always knew I was leaving. You
told
me I was leaving a couple hundred times. I'm trying to come back!”

She stepped forward and poked a finger against his chest. Why couldn't he see what he'd done to her with days of silence? “Communication, Tom. If you do something like this, you communicate about it. You don't just spring it on a person. I've been lying awake at night, wondering if you were ever going to get your head together, and you're merrily carrying on without me.”

It was just too much to process. She needed distance. Space.

She marched out of the house, down the creaky steps onto the cracked sidewalk. It was going to take a boatload of money to bring this place up to standards. She
was halfway to the street when he called her name. She stopped abruptly, closed her eyes, then turned back to him. “What?” she asked. Tom stood on the porch of the dilapidated house, looking very much like the captain of a sinking ship.

“Don't leave me.”

Reggie's mouth opened, then closed again as she swallowed.

“I know I left you, but…give me a chance,” he said. “We're running out of time, Reggie. We need to settle things before the baby comes.”

She pressed a hand to the side of her head, then let it drop loosely to her side. “Yes. We need to settle things, but I
don't
want you pretending to change if you can't. I don't want you to try to be something you're not. Like you said before, it just won't work.” And she'd be here picking up the pieces.

“But…” he descended the steps then and walked toward her “…would you mind if I worked hard to become something that I
want
to be?”

For a moment she stared up at him, took in the weary lines around his dark eyes, the grim set of his mouth.

“You want this,” Reggie stated flatly. “How many times have you told me you couldn't run a restaurant? That you lacked the people skills.”

“Damn it, Reggie. Yes. I want this. I can learn people skills.” He took a breath, then reached out to take her by the shoulders, making that contact she hadn't realized she wanted so much. “I've been telling myself over and over that I can't run a restaurant. And I finally realized that I'm afraid to run a restaurant…because I'll have to
learn a lot of new skills. Take advice from others. Basically stop being pigheaded.”

Reggie nodded, because she wasn't touching that one.

“I have no track record. In relationships or, honestly, in my profession. I'm good.” He smiled slightly. “No, I'm great, but I have no history of longevity and I've made some big mistakes. Because of those two things, I can't get financial backers, so I sank everything I have into this place. It's mine alone. No one to answer to. If I fail, then it's all me.”

“Why this place?” she had to ask.

“The price. It has room for parking,” he said. “It's close to you. And even though it's an eyesore, the foundation is strong. Everything else can be fixed.”

“How do you know that? About the foundation?”

“Frank and Bernie.”

Reggie stepped back. “They knew you were here before I did? They already toured this place?” Once again, she was ready to turn and walk…or was she just scared, too?

“I live next door to them, Reggie. I had to get my dog…and I needed their help. I wanted to come to you with a plan.”

“They're your renovators,” she guessed.

Tom nodded. “I'm going to work with them, too. Sweat equity. I'm not starting this place until I've helped rebuild it. Just like I want to rebuild with you.”

Reggie started walking then. Everything he'd said made sense. He'd actually come up with a plan. He was trying to stay.

Tom caught up with her, matched her pace, but she didn't slow down, didn't look at him. Instead she focused straight ahead, but saw nothing.

Okay. Maybe it made some sense for him to present this solution fait accompli. That way she'd know he was serious. That he was honestly trying to put down roots.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was here,” Tom said. “I tried to think of the best way to do this.” She gave a curt nod, but continued to march back the way they'd come. Back to her kitchen. To her safe life where she never had to take any chances or risk getting her heart broken. And she realized she was behaving exactly like she'd accused Tom of behaving.

She stopped suddenly, turning to Tom, who also stopped, a wary expression on his face as he tried to gauge what her next move might be.

“You think we can?” she asked in a low voice.

“Rebuild?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Reggie. Always have. I think
our
foundation is strong.” He smiled. “If it wasn't, we wouldn't be making each other so miserable.”

She couldn't help smiling back. “Good analogy, Tom.”

He reached down to tip her chin up. “I'm a chef, not an analogizer. You get my drift, right?”

“I got it.”

“What do you think?”

Reggie took a deep breath. What did she think? That Tom was trying damned hard to do the right thing, to face down his demons.

“Reggie?” he said softly when she didn't answer.

She met his eyes, saw nothing but sincerity and perhaps humility there. And she felt herself go mushy. Tom was trying. She had to meet him halfway, believe in
him. “Renovations take time. I'm not going to hurry this one, even if we're running out of time.”

“No hurrying,” he said. “On the renovations, that is.”

“We can't screw up again.” To make her point, she reached out and took his hand, placed it on the baby. Tom shifted so that he had a hand on either side of her small belly. Seconds later the baby twitched and he raised a startled gaze to hers. “It moved.”

“Showing definite signs of impatience.”

He bent his head lower to kiss her lips, his hands still on her belly. It felt…right.

“We communicate,” she said, kissing him back.

“I won't withhold anything.”

“If you feel a knee-jerk urge to flee, tell me.”

“Done.” He took her into his arms, looked her straight in the eye and said, “I'm scared, Reg. I won't lie. But I want to succeed in this. I want to succeed with you.”

She leaned back to take his face in her hands, looking him square in the eye. “Then I promise you that you will succeed, because I'm going to be with you, every step of the way.”

She dropped her hands and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She relished the feel of his long hard body against her own, the baby between them.

“I love you, Reggie,” he murmured against her hair as his arms closed around her.

She smiled into his shirt. “And that is why you're going to succeed in this, Chef Gerard.”