The Watson Brothers (14 page)

They also berated her on her friends, namely Anabel. That made Gil wince. Anabel had read the diary, so she knew how disparaging Shelly’s parents had been. Unfortunately, many of their remarks were on a level with his own personal thoughts. Only now, he knew he was wrong. Anabel might appear free-spirited with her earrings and tattoos and laid-back manner, but she’d still managed to take care of his daughter all on her own.

Worst of all, Shelly’s parents hated it that she’d “shamed them” by having Nicole without benefit of marriage.

Guilt got a stranglehold on him when he read her next scrawled words:
They’ll definitely approve of Gil for a son-in-law
. She’d obviously been counting on him to come back to her and profess his love.

But Gil hadn’t asked Shelly to marry him. Instead, he’d broken off any romantic ties, and so, just as Anabel claimed, Shelly’s parents had pressured her to give Nicole away. Given what he’d just read in her diary, they’d continued to press her right up until the day she’d died.

They were Nicole’s grandparents, but they hadn’t wanted her, had never warmed to her. Not once.

Why the hell did they want her now?

Gil closed the journal, unable to read any more. He already knew how his family would react to Nicole—they’d love her as much as he did. She’d be welcomed with open arms and assured of unwavering support. She’d be doted on, cherished, and protected.

It enraged Gil to think of what Shelly had gone through, and at the same time, he was awed at the steps Anabel had taken to make things right for Nicole. Shelly hadn’t known how to be a mother, but Anabel had never let Nicole feel slighted in any way. His daughter had been well loved and cared for—by Anabel.

Gil stood to pace for a few minutes, chewing over complications and procedures, deciding on a course of action. The grandparents would have to be dealt with, and that meant he’d need to cancel all his appointments tomorrow. He wouldn’t take the chance of leaving Anabel in case they arrived unannounced. She’d handled enough on her own already.

Once he’d made up his mind, Gil felt urgent need to put his plans in action. He called Alice’s answering machine at work and left her instructions to clear the next couple of days for him. She’d rearrange his schedule the moment she arrived in the office.

Next, Gil called his lawyer, Ted Thorton, at home. He wanted all the legalities out of the way. He gave Ted Shelly’s name and last address so he could look up her parents and inform them that Gil was claiming permanent custody of his daughter. He then requested that changes be made to all of his investments, as well as his will. He wanted Nicole noted as his beneficiary in every regard. Ted promised to get right on it, and once he had the papers in order, he’d meet with Gil to get the necessary signatures.

One decision led to another, until he could no longer put Anabel from his mind. She had a stake in everything, whether he wanted her to or not. Throughout the day, he’d watched her with Nicole and now he accepted the truth—he couldn’t separate them.

Anabel would accompany him to meet the lawyer, Gil decided, so that she knew his plans. He would put her mind to rest on that score, at least. She, as well as his daughter, would be taken care of.

At that moment, Anabel stepped into the room. Her wet shirt still clung to her breasts, her light brown hair was still mussed, and she looked beyond wary. She put her hand on top of Nicole’s head. “You busy?”

“Not at all.” Gil slipped the diary into a drawer and slid it shut. “I was just contemplating fate.” He gave her a smile he hoped would ease her.

It didn’t. “I usually read Nicki a story before bed, but since I still need to shower, I thought maybe you’d do the honors.”

Nicole held up a thick book with both hands. “I want dis one.”

Gil strolled forward and stood staring down at this tiny person whose life would have been so different if he’d only known about her. It wouldn’t, he realized, have necessarily been better. Not with Anabel Truman guarding her like a mother hen.

Nicki’s freshly washed hair had dried into tight ringlets around her cherubic face. Her nightgown was a soft, pale yellow and dragged the floor, almost hiding her itty-bitty toes. She was a happy, carefree, and well-loved child, and he owed Anabel more than he could ever repay her.

“I’d be honored,” Gil told them both with grave formality, and then, as naturally as if he’d been doing it forever, he scooped up his daughter and held her against his chest. Again, with a naturalness that surprised him, he slid his other arm around Anabel’s waist. For only a moment, he appreciated her slenderness, her softness, before steering them all toward the hall. “Take your time. Soak in the tub if you want. We’ll be fine.”

Anabel shook her head. “No, not this first night. I want to make sure she’s settled.”

Gil knew it would do no good to argue with her. “I’m sure you know best.”

She gave him a disbelieving, wide-eyed look.

They stepped into the spare bedroom. The blankets on the bed had been turned down and temporary rails, attached by sliding fold-out poles beneath the mattress, lined each side. Anabel intended to sleep with Nicole tonight, but Gil considered that a very temporary situation. How he’d remedy it, he didn’t yet know.

On impulse, he kissed Anabel’s forehead and left her open-mouthed and speechless at the bathroom door, then pretended to drop Nicole in the bed. She squealed and laughed, and Gil knew this was a routine—with mother and daughter—that he could quickly grow accustomed to.

Anabel stood there a moment longer, until Gil had pulled a chair over to the bed, then she turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Gil heard the shower start, but he refused to picture her stripping, or wet, or soapy….

“Daddy, read.”

“Right.” Shaking his head to clear it, Gil took the book and flipped through the pages, looking for a story.

Nicole scampered to the end of the bed, slid out, and came around to crawl up on Gil’s lap. She poked him in the throat with a pointy elbow and stepped on his testicles twice before settling herself. Gil grunted, dodged a third stomp, but didn’t chastise her. He let out a sigh of relief when she quit squirming. “Comfy now?”

She nodded, pushed on his chest, and said, “Mommy’s softer.”

He’d just bet she was. And then because he couldn’t help himself, he asked, “Anyone ever read to you besides your mommy?” Like any other men that Anabel might have dated.

“No. Jus’ Mommy.” She carefully turned pages in the big book until she reached a particular story. The book had a lot of pictures and Nicole focused on one. “Dis is the mommy bear. Dis is the daddy bear. And dis is the brudder bear.”

Gil gave her a squeezing hug. “Very good.”

“Now you read.” She curled into his shoulder, closed her eyes on an enormous yawn, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“All right, sweetheart. I’ll read.” And he did. Unlike the children’s books Gil remembered, this one was more detailed. Before long, he found himself engrossed in the story.

He was still reading some fifteen minutes later when he felt Anabel’s presence. He glanced up to find her in the bathroom doorway, a crooked smile on her face and fat tears in her green eyes.

He started to speak, but she put a finger to her mouth. “The rat is out for the night,” she whispered.

Startled, Gil glanced down, and sure enough, Nicole was boneless against him, her head dropped back on his arm, her wet thumb now against his chest.

Gil made a wry face. “I guess this means I don’t get to see how the story ends?”

Anabel sauntered away from the bathroom. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” She lifted Nicole from his lap. As she bent close, Gil could smell the lotion on her dewy skin, the shampoo scent in her still damp hair. She wore another T-shirt, this one of soft cotton and long enough to hang to midthigh.

She laid Nicole in the bed on her side and pulled the sheet up to her waist. Her hand lingered, smoothing Nicole’s hair, stroking her small shoulder. The love that Anabel felt for Nicole was almost painful to witness.

Gil couldn’t recall ever seeing a baby put to bed, and he noted how small Nicole looked among the bedclothes. “Should she be in a crib?”

“No, not anymore.” Her smile was teasing. “Your daughter is like a monkey—she likes to climb. Something closer to the ground is safer.” Anabel switched on a night-light, then turned out the brighter lamp.

Shadows filled the room, leaving no more than a soft glow to see by. Gil still stood there, unable to pull himself away. He hadn’t seen Shelly grow big with the pregnancy, hadn’t felt his daughter kick or watch her be born. Despite all that, he felt such an unbreakable bond to this child of his, he knew he’d die for her if necessary.

Anabel touched his shoulder. “I know how you feel, Gil, because I feel the same.”

Startled, he stared at her. Could she read his mind?

“She’s pretty incredible, isn’t she?” Anabel’s smile wobbled the tiniest bit. “Even when she’s being a hellion, yelling because she’s too tired or she doesn’t get her way, I just marvel at what a miracle she is and thank God that I have her, that she
can
yell and that she feels safe and…”

The rest of her words got choked off. Anabel shook her head in embarrassment and slipped out of the room.

Yes, she knew how he felt. Gil bent to place a barely there kiss on Nicole’s head, then went to find her mother. They had some issues to resolve, and no time seemed better than the present.

Anabel stood in the formal dining room, her arms wrapped around herself, staring out the patio doors. Gil’s yard was immaculately kept, displayed by decorative lighting. It was a big yard for one person. Perfect for a swing set or playhouse—things she’d always wanted for Nicole but couldn’t give her.

She knew the second that Gil stepped up behind her.

He was far too close, his warmth touching her back, when he said, “I left the door open a little.”

Anabel nodded. Somehow, she’d known he would.

“She’ll sleep through the night?”

“I hope. Usually yes. She’s a sound sleeper. But here…I don’t know.”
Great way to give a straight answer, Anabel
, she grumbled to herself. She hated showing her nervousness and anticipation.

Gil’s hands settled easily on her shoulders, making her catch her breath. “Will it frighten her,” he asked very near her ear, “to wake up in a strange place?”

Anabel turned to face him. Earlier, he’d lost his tie and opened several buttons on his shirt, but he hadn’t changed. He seemed very comfortable in the professional suit, whereas she smothered in anything dressier than jeans. “I won’t let her be afraid. Ever.”

The right side of his mouth curled up in a crooked smile, while his gaze moved over her face, lingering on her lips. “You’re ferociously protective of her, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t get a single word out, not with him looking at her like that. She shrugged.

Cupping her face, Gil smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks and across her bottom lip. She knew what was about to happen and her heart hammered in her chest.

“About that trial run,” Gil murmured.

Anabel started to say “Yes,” but his mouth covered hers, warm and firm. Oh God, he tasted good. Better than good, and if he thought she could be cavalier about this, he was sadly mistaken.

She clutched at him, relishing the feel of firm muscles in his shoulders, the heat of him. She pressed closer, aligning her body with his, trying to absorb him. She opened her mouth and accepted his tongue and groaned with the pleasure of it.

Two big steps and Gil had her pressed to the patio doors, on her tiptoes, his mouth eating at hers. She tried to get the rest of his buttons undone so she could touch his bare flesh, but her hands felt clumsy and she heard one button ping against the doors.

Breathing hard, his body taut, Gil lifted his head. “Come on.” He took her hand and practically raced her to his bedroom. The second they stepped inside he closed the door, quietly clicked the lock, and reached for her again.

“Wait.” Anabel flattened both hands against his chest. She’d dreamed of this moment for three long years. “Just…wait.”

Gil stared at her, breathing hard, his impatience palpable.

Slowly, Anabel backed him into the door. She took her time now, carefully sliding each button from its hole, tugging his fine shirt out of his slacks, stripping his chest bare. Gil closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the door. Anabel heard him swallow, heard the racing of his breath.

She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. His chest was incredible, lightly covered in dark hair, hard and wide, rippling with lean muscles. She stroked the crisp hair, learning the feel of him, then found his nipples.

His breath caught, but she ignored it, toying with him a moment, then leaning forward to taste him with her tongue.

“Jesus.” His muscles knotted tight.

But she didn’t stop there. She dropped to her knees and went to work on his shoes.

“Anabel.” His shaking hand touched the top of her head, his fingers threading into her damp hair.

“This is my fantasy, Gil. Let me have it.”