Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) (76 page)

Nobody could answer that, not even himself.

He released the button and dialed his travel agent to book three airline tickets to Chicago.

“So Sharon Karik tracked Michael down at a Senate committee hearing with Senator Bradon and passed him a note. Joan wanted to see it, too, and of course she knows Paul and Bette through Michael, so she was really pleased, and she announced to the whole hearing that the state of Illinois just got a new constituent, and everybody applauded. Can you imagine? Baby Monroe’s not even a day old and she’s already been mentioned in the U.S. Senate!”

Leslie smiled. “Maybe someday she’ll be there as a senator herself.”

“Or as president! With Paul’s gift of gab and Bette’s organization and discipline there’ll be no stopping that child.”

“And we can brag that we’re responsible for her first taste of crab cakes—in utero.”

They laughed together.

“Did Grady tell you we’re all going next weekend to see the baby? I hope they have a name by then. It’s hard to keep calling her ‘the baby.’ Anyhow, he did tell you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not worrying about staying with the Monroes, are you? Aunt Nancy insisted you and April come, and she’ll skin both me and Grady if you don’t.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Leslie said absently.

“I don’t know if I’d call skinning me and Grady nice, exactly, but I get your drift.” Tris’s wry tone turned a little anxious. “You and April are coming, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we’re coming.”

“Good.” Leslie didn’t respond and she didn’t notice the silence had extended until Tris leaned across her desk and put a hand over hers. “Leslie, do you want to talk?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Talking only brought the wound to the surface.

Only reminded her that other people still found the kind of love to build a life on—Tris and Michael, Paul and Bette. Only showed her that couples building a life on love had babies—Paul and Bette now, Tris and Michael someday soon. She’d probably be Aunt Leslie to those babies. And he’d be Uncle Grady, but by then he’d be with Aunt Sweet Young Thing, and they’d be building a life, a family.

No, talking wouldn’t help.

“I’d like you all to meet Anne Elizabeth Monroe,” Paul announced from the doorway onto the porch. He had one arm around his wife, and his eyes on the baby daughter she held. “Anna, these are our friends.”

The bright blue eyes under a bit of reddish fluff acknowledged the formal introduction with a blink.

“The birth certificate says Anne, but Anna seems to fit her better,” explained Bette.

Everyone was busy oohing and aahing over the form wrapped in a delicate white blanket.

After arriving in Chicago in the afternoon, they’d settled in at the Monroes’, then drove down to Evanston for a tour of Paul and Bette’s house and newly landscaped yard. But this was Anne Elizabeth’s first appearance.

“Look at those eyes!”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She has Paul’s hair.”

“And Bette’s top lip,” Paul added with a significant look at his wife, which she returned warmly.

The phone rang, and Paul went to answer it. None of the rest of them budged from around the baby. James and Nancy Monroe, having been exercising their grandparently rights for the past ten days, were content to let the newcomers have front-row positions. Even April looked curiously at the tiny person.

“Bette, it’s Judi on the phone from Yellowstone,” Paul announced from the doorway. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, good. It seems like I’ve been napping every time Judi’s called,” she explained. She turned to Leslie, sitting next to her. “Will you hold Anna?”

Grady saw something flash across Leslie’s eyes, but her voice was perfectly calm. “Of course.”

With an emotion he couldn’t define, Grady watched her open her arms, and the baby settle there as if she understood their security. Restless, he moved to the far side of the porch; couldn’t have everybody crowding the baby.

“April, why don’t you come sit beside me,” Leslie invited.

Her expression mixing reluctance and fascination, April sat on the edge of the settee.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby this young,” said Tris. “Have you, April?”

“No.”

Leslie said something more to her in a low voice that Grady didn’t pick up, but he saw its effect as April relaxed enough to comment on Anna’s squirming. She even gauged the strength of those baby kicks against her hand, and smiled at the sensation.

From across the room he studied Leslie. A woman who could make a baby feel secure, who could make a troubled girl smile, who could make a man...feel loved.

Loved.

With this woman perhaps he could build the loving family he wanted, but hadn’t trusted himself to try for.

He’d always known he wasn’t much good at loving—genes or environment, what did it matter, the result was the same. But Leslie...Leslie was loving enough for both of them, loving enough to make up for his lack. Maybe even loving enough to teach him.

Watching Leslie hold the baby, he let himself dream for the first time of a future with her.

Grady, Tris and Michael took Leslie and April sightseeing Saturday with an agenda unlike any tour company’s. They drove past the schoolyard where Grady first met Paul over a bloody nose. They saw the harbor where the friends learned to sail. In Evanston, they visited Northwestern’s campus, where Grady and Paul had met up with Michael, and later Tris. They stopped for midday sustenance at a little place, which just happened to be across the street from Wrigley Field.

Once in the city, they saw more traditional sights—the Water Tower, the Wrigley Building, the Art Institute, Grant Park, Buckingham Fountain and Sears Tower. But even the thrilling view struck Leslie as anticlimactic after the emotional landmarks of the morning.

But Grady hadn’t taken them to the house he grew up in and still his parents’ official residence. She’d asked, and he’d shrugged it off.

Returning to the Monroes’ in Lake Forest, they found Paul, Bette and Anna already there for the evening’s cookout. When Anna grew sleepy, that was no problem, since her grandparents had designated one bedroom as hers, and it was nearly as well equipped as her nursery at home.

Paul and Bette didn’t stay very late, but the rest sat on the Monroes’ patio, talking while lightning bugs came and went. Leslie noticed that April seemed strangely content to stay with the grown-ups. But then maybe this was one of the few times she’d been included in the conversation naturally, rather than being ignored or spotlighted with questions.

Relaxed in a way she’d seldom seen him, Grady’s fondness for the Monroes showed clearly. It made his estrangement from his parents all the sadder to her.

When the evening broke up, Grady caught her in the hall around the corner from the room she was sharing with April for a kiss that a half hour later left her lying in bed feeling dissatisfied and worried. If stopping with a kiss made her feel this bad, how was it going to be when there were no kisses?

She had to get used to it, that’s all. Starting tomorrow, she would avoid being alone with Grady, avoid opportunities for the kisses and touches that made her want more. She would start getting used to not having him.

After Sunday brunch on the Monroes’ patio, her new resolve received its first test—and flunked.

“Leslie and I are going for a drive,” Grady announced, taking her hand and leading her toward the driveway. “We’ll meet you at Paul and Bette’s about two.”

“Wait a minute—”

“It’s all right. I promise we’ll be back in time for me to help move that furniture Paul and Bette need upstairs, and then we can all get to the Monroes’ before Mrs. M. tries to fix a meal that could satisfy the entire roster of the Chicago Bears,” he said, reassuring her about the wrong thing. “I have something I want to show you. Something I hope you’ll want to see.”

Her protest died right there. His family’s home, that’s where he was taking her. He’d thought about it since yesterday and decided...to go the opposite direction.

They were headed south, but Mrs. M. had definitely pointed to the north when she’d mentioned where Grady’s family lived.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He grinned.

“We’re not going to see where you grew up?”

Stupid question, Leslie. And the wrong question; she knew that even before his grin faded.

She didn’t have the heart to ask about their destination after that, so they drove in silence, past Evanston into the city. Short of downtown, though, he left Lake Shore Drive and made a couple turns before pulling into a driveway that dipped dramatically under a tall building and opened into a forest of parking spots. He pulled into one and stopped the car.

“I told you I had something to show you.”

The grin was trying to return, so she played to his humor. Anything to erase the bleakness her mention of his family home had spawned.

“An underground garage? Not too thrilling, Grady.”

“It’s what’s above the ground that’s thrilling. About eighteen floors above the ground, to be exact.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“My apartment. That’s what I brought you to see.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her. “More specifically, my bedroom.” And kissed her again. “More specifically still, my bed.” He ran the back of his fingers down her throat and just under the collar of her blouse. “Want to see my engravings?”

She laughed a little shakily. “You don’t really have engravings, do you?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to use that line. I’ve been saving it for the right woman.”

“I’m flattered.” Flattered and a little stunned by the heat in his eyes, which told a much stronger message than any words he said. “But I shouldn’t stay. I thought this was going to be a short trip.” She hurried on, avoiding the reminder of where she’d thought they were going. “I shouldn’t leave April on her own with the Monroes. It’s not fair to them—-”

“They love having her around.”

“Or to April.”

“They’ll look after her.”

“I know that, that’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“We already dragged her off on this trip, to see a lot of people she didn’t know, and then we go off and leave her. April hates getting shunted around like so much excess baggage."

He looked at her curiously. “She told you that?”

“No. But it stands to reason, doesn’t it? It’s what her mother does to her all the time. And I think it’s part of why she’s so wary of staying with me. She’s not sure if I want her around or if she’s been foisted off on me.”

“I can guarantee that Mrs. M. won’t treat April as if she’s been foisted off on her. Mrs. M. loves kids. And you know Tris and Michael will be nice to her.”

“I know, but—”

“We haven’t been alone in a long time, Leslie. Who knows when the next time might come. If you don’t want to make love...Well, I just want to be with you.”

It had been a long time, and the next time might never come. She had to tell him the truth, and she had to do it soon. Resolve be damned. She was human; she wanted this time with him. Perhaps this one last time.

“I want to be with you, too, Grady. And I want to make love with you. I want it very much.”

Grady held her hand for most of the drive back to Paul and Bette’s house. The first time the steering wheel required both of his hands, she’d started to pull hers away, but he’d snatched it back and pressed it against his thigh, where it remained until he could fold it in his hand again. After that she hadn’t tried to withdraw.

Maybe she’d needed the continued connection, too.

He wished he knew why he needed it so badly.

He thought about that as he helped Paul and Michael maneuver four cumbersome bookcases up two flights of stairs to the third-floor room being outfitted as a home office. The cases weren’t unbearably heavy, but avoiding banging up walls, railings or shelves took teamwork.

The women were indulging in teamwork, too—shopping. He’d watched Leslie go off with Tris, Bette and April to find Bette post-pregnancy clothes, and he’d wanted to call her back.

What was the matter with him?

Their lovemaking had been as hot, strong and satisfying as ever. Only he couldn’t shake this feeling that there’d been an undercurrent of sadness to it. He couldn’t pin it down to anything Leslie said or did, not even a look in her eyes. But it left him wanting to hold on to her hand as long as he could.

He wondered what she’d say if she knew how he felt about her hands. How he loved to watch them, especially on him. How their touch drove him crazier than the rub of skin against skin could possibly explain. How he imagined sometimes that they were strong enough and gentle enough to hold someone’s heart.

Laugh at him—no, she wouldn’t laugh at someone else’s emotion. Though she might raise that one brow of hers in slow-motion surprise. He wouldn’t mind that so much, because there’d also be understanding in her eyes.

Those hands of hers . . .

Why did he fear that if he let her hand go for a moment, the next time he reached for it, it would be gone?

“Where did they go?” Tris, the first one through the door, looked around the empty porch. “I heard Michael.”

Right behind her, Leslie gave the three partly empty beer bottles on the table a quick look. “Looks to me as if they’re celebrating a job well done.”

Bette joined them, surveying the scene. “Or commiserating on a disaster,” she said, glancing up as if she might be able to see through ceilings and floors to any disasters awaiting her upstairs.

“I considered that,” said Leslie, doggedly keeping the humor in her voice. It hadn’t been easy. Whatever progress she’d thought April had made over the past weeks seemed an illusion now, as the girl lapsed into limp indifference to everything around her. On top of that she’d caught both Tris and Bette eyeing her with concern. “But I think there’d be a few broken bodies strewn around in that case.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I could have sworn I heard Michael’s voice out here,” Tris insisted. “Though it was awfully soft.”