Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance (10 page)

I pile my plate high with roasted potatoes, Caesar salad, roasted pork slices, and three pieces of garlic bread. As I dig in hungrily, I feel my mother's disapproving glance burning through the top of my head.

"So, Tessa, how are things with you and Paul and the baby?" Lyle asks, setting his fork down and taking a sip of water.

I am mid-bite and it takes an awkward length of time for me to finish chewing. Everyone is looking at me except for Jax, who is once again intently focused on a spot just above my right shoulder. Then he moves his eyes to my face and gives me a wink with a grin. His dimples pop into view. I’m speechless for a long while until I remember that Lyle has asked me a question. "Things are great. Well, things are fine. Paul's been working long hours. He was called in to stay at work late, that's why he's not here yet."

I think I see a look of displeasure on Jax’s face, but soon he’s reaching for more wine.

Lyle nods sagely. "Cassie mentioned that to me. I hope he's not working too hard. It's always good to get some time away from these things. Does he get to see Ryan a lot?"

I nod. That nod is a lie. "As much as he can," I say. Okay, that’s not a total lie, but more an obfuscation. I’ve been having a gnawing feeling that Paul doesn’t want to be at home, but there is no way I am going to say that in front of my mother. Right after the words leave my mouth, I swear Jax darts his eyes over to me. But when I try to meet his eye line, he is firmly focused on his plate.

"Oh, poor Paul," my mother tuts sympathetically. "And having to commute in all that awful weather you've been having. It must be terrible."

I feel a manic urge to speak what is on my mind, which is that it is also terrible to be housebound without any adults to talk to all day long; to have your boyfriend check the gas tank at night to make sure that you aren't driving too much and wasting money. Instead, I just nod again. "I've been staying busy with Ryan at home. I set up my easel again in the living room and was hoping to get back to painting." I think of last week when Ryan power-crawled over to the easel and nearly pulled it down on top of himself. I'd had to tuck it away again in the closet. But again I hold my words.

“You’re a painter?” Jax asks me with a serious look on his face. It’s been so long since someone has asked me about anything other than Ryan, I can’t come up with a response.

"Ah, yes, your doodles. Must be nice to have time for a hobby," my mother says icily. I feel my stomach turn over and my fork clatters noisily to my plate. My mother ignores the noise and continues onward. "I've just been so busy organizing the Junior League here. We're having our annual New Year's ball coming up and it's been absolute chaos!" My mother grabs her chest as if in memory of the pain of the last months of planning. I try to keep my eyes from rolling. "We're raising money for the children's hospital. Ten thousand a plate and people just keep flaking out on us." She sighs dramatically and taps her perfectly manicured nails on her wine glass. It's bizarre seeing my mother have her nails done so well. For decades, our kitchen smelled like instant-dry nail polish as she tried to save money by doing it herself. I realize that she is now staring expectantly at Jax. "Jax, darling, do you think you will be able to make it this year?"

I look over in shock and surprise. Surely my mother isn't suggesting Jax can afford a ten-thousand-dollar donation to a charity? Then I realize I have no idea what Jax does for work. Probably just tags along at one of Lyle's six companies, I think bitterly.

"That would be lovely, Cassie," Jax replies formally. "I think I might be able to help you with several seats, actually, if I call some of my friends. It would be my honor and pleasure."

My jaw opens and a piece of pork falls out of it onto my plate. I wipe my chin hastily and see with relief that my mother hasn't noticed. "Sorry, Jax, what is it that you do?" This question comes out more forward than I want, but this is the most food I’ve been allowed to eat in months and I feel like my brain is returning to me.

Jax grins. "I own a technology company. We contract with the Department of Defense."

"Jax would tell you what projects they work on, but then he'd have to kill all of us," Lyle says, winking at me.

"Is that actually true?" I wonder out loud.

"Mostly," Jax says. "I could probably get away with just tying you up and torturing you." His eyes twinkle and his dimples reemerge. I drop my fork again at the possible double meaning. I blush and feel a wetness between my legs. I cross them hastily as if anyone at the table can see that I'm not wearing any panties. I pull the cardigan more tightly around my chest to cover up my nipples.

"Well, that would be quite an adventure!" My mother says, oblivious to the tension that has risen in this moment.

Lyle chews quietly and stares at the scene in front of him. He lowers his wine glass and clears his throat. "Are you bringing anyone home for Christmas this year, Jax?"

The abruptness of the question makes me wonder if Lyle senses the tension between me and Jax. "Just my usual, happy self," Jax replies drily.

My mother chimes in. "A handsome man like you? You must be beating women away from your front door!"

Jax grimaces and takes a long, deep drink of wine.

"Whatever happened to that nice girl you were dating a few months ago. What was her name? Ashley...Amber...Andi? Huh, I can't remember," Lyle says, staring daggers at Jax.

Jax doesn't answer. "Does it really matter the name, Dad? We're not together anymore. It's really not a problem."

My mother rubs her hands together. "You know, I'm sure I could set you up with someone from the club! There are so many lovely young women all looking to be with a man like you."

Jax smiles at me and I blush.

Lyle speaks again. "I'm only saying that it would be nice to see you settled down. And maybe if you had a child, that would tame your wild ways."

Jax's fork clatters to his plate. "I don't want kids," he says through gritted teeth. "I don't know how many times I have to say that to you, Dad, for you to finally drop-"

Just then, Ryan's cry rings out from the baby monitor. I know that it is just a brief, one-time ejaculation of sound (he cries out every night around this time), but I see it as an opportunity to excuse myself. I have cleaned my plate rapidly during the last few awkward minutes, and I know that my mother won’t have bothered with dessert. She hates sweets as a general rule because she thinks they cause obesity. "Well, I hate to eat and run," I say in what I hope is a convincing voice, pushing my chair back and standing up with the baby monitor in my hand as excuse.

"Oh, nonsense, you must be exhausted anyway," Lyle says nicely, standing up.

Jax rises as well. "I'm afraid I'm going to turn in early as well. Can I help with the dishes?"

My mother shakes her head, horrified. "Oh, of course not! We have help for that."

I say my goodnight to the room and walk quickly up the stairs, hoping I can get into my bedroom before Jax catches up with me. I'm a mixture of embarrassed, humiliated, and guilty. Embarrassed that he’s seen me naked, humiliated that I didn't think to cover myself up more quickly, and guilty for wishing he’d crossed the room in three steps and had his way with me.

I am nearly to the top step when I hear Jax’s shoes coming up behind me. He must have been taking the steps two at a time. He alights on the landing at almost the same moment I do. I spin around and face him, the food in my body emboldening me. "Suddenly you're mister social?" I say scornfully.

Jax looks amused at my spunkiness. "I just wanted to apologize for walking in on you earlier. That room is usually the one I stay in when I come to visit. I wasn't expecting anyone to be in there."

I feel my cheeks burning. "Well, knock next time," I spit at him, turning away and walking over to the door of my room. I close it quickly behind me, turning the lock on the handle and feeling my heart race.

I can't help but want Jax to look at me again the way he had earlier. Hungry. Starving. Restless.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TESSA

The next morning, I go downstairs to find that my mother is reading the newspaper. Her cook is bustling around, shining the bottoms of the expensive-looking copper pots. "Good morning," I say to the cook, a rosy-cheeked, plump man in his sixties.

"Ms. Tessa," he says, smiling at me. "Can I make you some eggs?"

I beam, jiggling Ryan up and down in my arms. "Yes, please. Scrambled."

"Toast or strudel? I have a fresh apple one coming out of the oven in about five minutes."

"Well, I can't very well say no to that, can I?" I walk over to the table. My mother has not looked up once since I walked into the room.

She eyes me now, wearing the clothes that were folded and waiting for me up in my room when I returned last night. "Still in your airplane clothes, I see," she says with more than a hint of disdain.

"Mom, I had a little luggage mix-up and my wardrobe is a little limited right now. Plus, I figure we won’t be going anywhere for the week,” I say.

She folds the paper, sighing with irritation. "Fine." Then she turns her smile on for Ryan. "Now this is the grand baby I know and love. None of that crying nonsense from yesterday!" She reaches out and grabs his body. I am relieved to have his weight out of my arms. She bounces Ryan on her knee. He reaches out and tries to grab her steaming mug of coffee. I whip it out of his reach, nearly spilling it over the pristine, white tablecloth.

I pour myself my own coffee out of the French press that sits, silver and gleaming, in the middle of the table. "Plans today, Mother?"

She looks over at me. "Well, I do have a luncheon this afternoon that I was going to invite you to, but not if what you're wearing right now is any hint as to the rest of what you packed."

I feel relief cascade over my body. I obviously didn’t mean to pack this way, but if it saves me from going to a mind-numbing, ass-kissing society lunch with my mother then I consider my wardrobe a win. "Looks like I'm staying here, then," I say brightly, sipping my coffee. It’s the best tasting brew I've ever had in my life. Rich, full-bodied and somehow creamy even though I've added nothing to it. I suddenly see a rare opportunity to manipulate my mother in a way that benefits me. "Me and Ryan will just be here all day. He hates being away from me."

My mother is cooing at him when I say these words. She looks up hastily. "Nonsense! The reason I RSVP'd was specifically so I could show off my grandson. Can't you send along some extra formula or something?"

I feel a rare win coming for me. If I’d suggested for her to go on an outing with the baby solo, she would have balked. This way it seems like her idea. Manipulation for my own benefit. I have a hard time feeling guilty about it considering how she usually treats me. "Well, if you think he'll be okay, I can probably find something to do around here. And then I can be here when Paul arrives." Paul had texted me overnight saying that his flight would land at around two o'clock California time. I haven’t replied to him. I'm still seething.

My mother beams. "Well, it's settled then. I can get Ryan into one of the cashmere outfits I bought just for this occasion, you can fill up his diaper bag for me, and we can be off for our day of fun!" My mother looks positively gleeful. I know that Ryan will be the model baby she expects him to always be. He’s had a full, restful night of sleep.

The cook brings over a steaming plate of perfectly whipped scrambled eggs and a golden-brown, crackling slice of apple strudel. "Orange juice?" he asks.

"No, thanks, I'm good with coffee," I reply.

My mother stands up from the table. "I need to go get us both ready to leave then!" Ryan claps his hands and giggles. I pinch his leg lightly and blow him a kiss.

When they are gone, I dive headfirst into my breakfast. It is beyond delicious. "This is the best breakfast I've ever had in my life- uh," I suddenly realize I have no idea what the cook's name is.

"Richard," he says. "You can call me Richard."

"Richard, thank you. Dinner was also delicious last night. I haven't eaten that well in a really, really long time."

Richard smiles at me as he scrubs the cast-iron skillet. "A mother should always be well fed if I have any say in the matter. You're here for the next week, right? You won't go hungry; I can promise you that."

I finish up my plate and look over at Richard guiltily. "Is there any way I could possibly-" Before the words are out of my mouth, Richard produces a second plate of eggs and more strudel.

"I had a good feeling you'd want more," he says.

I stammer out a thank you. As I pick up my fork once more, Jax appears in the kitchen. "Morning, Richard," he says with a smile. "Tessa." He has a wry smile on his face that makes me want to punch him and jump his bones at the same time. "Eggs benedict and dry toast please," Jax says to Richard. Newspaper pages crinkle as he lifts up the financial section.

I chew as quietly as I can and stare out the bay corner window that wraps around the dining nook. A man of about twenty is using a net to skim debris out of the swimming pool. My body is aching to get out into the sunshine for a quiet, baby-free day. I don't have a swimsuit, but I really just want to lay down at the pool.

I steal a glance at Jax, who is buried in the article he’s reading. I open my mouth to say something but my phone buzzes in my sweatpants pocket. I put down my fork, swallowing the bite of eggs quickly. I glance at my phone. It's Paul. I told him not to call me until he was standing on California tarmac. He never listens. "What?" I hear myself snap. It isn't like me to do this. I blame the food again for making me stand up for myself.

There is a loud noise in the background as Paul struggles to make his voice heard. I can't make out a word of what he is saying.

"Sorry, honey, I can't hear you!" I yell into the phone. I shove my finger in my ear absurdly as if the gentle sound of turning newsprint pages and the quiet simmer of poaching eggs on my end is the problem. I feel Jax's eyes on me as I stand up and walk to the other side of the kitchen. The noise on the phone dies down as Paul shuts a door.