About That Night (22 page)

She wanted to curl her fingers, wanted to hold on to the feel of his lips against her skin. She wiped her palm down the side of her shorts. Licked her lips. “You might regret this,” she told him as he walked away. “I might still dislike you.”

He smiled at her over his shoulder, a confident smile that did nothing for her nerves or her equilibrium. “Or you might just find out you like me, after all.”

That was what she was afraid of.

CHAPTER TWELVE

C
.
J
. HELPED
I
VY
out of his rental car. He wasn’t thrilled she’d picked his brother’s bar as the scene for their dinner date, but he didn’t want to argue. Not when he’d gotten her to agree to dinner in the first place.

A major feat, that. One he wasn’t about to ruin by picking a fight.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her husky voice washing over him as she took his hand and straightened.

“You look amazing,” he told her.

She grinned. “So you mentioned when you picked me up.”

“That dress warrants a repeat.”

It was light purple and strapless, the material hugging every curve, showcasing the slight bump of her belly, the hem ending way above her knees. The dress, her smoky eye makeup and glossed lips, her loose hair—they all deserved a dozen compliments. Even pregnant, she was a goddess. Maybe more so, now that she was with child; there was an ethereal quality about her. One of fertility and sex and female power.

With a hand at her lower back, he led her to O’Riley’s door. The parking lot was full—not bad for a Thursday night—and when they stepped inside, he wondered if he’d made a mistake in assuming they didn’t need a reservation. The tables he could see were all filled, the air carrying the unmistakable aroma of tangy tomato sauce.

Did one even make reservations at a bar?

“Good thing you know the owner,” Ivy murmured so innocently he was sure she was being a smart-ass.

“I’ll find Kane. See about getting us a table.”

He hated leaving her there. For one thing, a short, thirty-something man was already making his way toward her. Not that he worried she couldn’t handle herself. He knew firsthand how well she could put a man in his place.

No, the real reason he didn’t want to leave her side, even for a second, was because he was scared she’d take off.

Spotting the top of Kane’s head at the far end of the bar, he made his way through a surprisingly thick crowd of people. “I need a table,” he told his brother. “For two.”

“Do you have a reservation?” Kane asked, exchanging a bottle of beer for cash.

“We’re in a bar.”

“A bar that serves lunch and dinner six days a week.” Kane stepped away to take another order. When he came back he sent C.J. a smug grin. “Tonight’s pasta night.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Kane shrugged a shoulder, poured tequila into a blender. “Means you’ll be waiting a good hour for a table.”

C.J. pushed away from the bar and stormed back over to Ivy. Ignoring the guy trying to chat her up, he leaned close to her ear so she could hear him over the music, the noise. “Let’s go into Pittsburgh.”

“I like it here,” she said. “Why else would I pick it?”

He knew damned well the reason she picked O’Riley’s was because Kane owned it. Because it was completely different from the type of place C.J. wanted to take her. Someplace pricey and classy and as far away from any member of his family as possible.

“Besides,” she added, “I’m craving pasta.”

And she laid her hand on her stomach.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who can test people,” he said. She inclined her head in agreement, not looking the least bit guilty about using her pregnancy to get him to stay. To get him to beg his brother to find them a table.

To see how far he’d go to make her happy.

Shit.

He whirled around, narrowly missing running into a guy carrying three drinks. “Sorry,” C.J. muttered.

He could insist on going somewhere else, he thought as he marched toward Kane, but that might give her the excuse she’d been looking for to cancel the whole night.

“Is there any way you can get us seated sooner?” he asked Kane when he reached the bar.

Kane, drawing a draft beer, didn’t even glance at him. “An hour.”

C.J. leaned forward, hating what he was about to do. He hated asking anyone for a favor, especially his brother. Especially this brother. “Come on, Kane. Help me out here.”

Kane followed his gaze to where Ivy stood, now surrounded by three men, all vying for her attention. Kane smirked. “It’ll cost you.”

He hadn’t expected anything else. C.J. pulled a couple hundred-dollar bills from his wallet. Laid them on the glossy bar.

Kane flicked them away with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve got plenty of those. No, Junior, you can’t buy this. What it’s going to cost you is a favor.”

C.J. didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of favor?”

“The kind I decide. When I’m ready. Deal?”

“Deal,” he ground out.

Kane stopped a middle-aged waitress, said something to her C.J. couldn’t make out. After a moment, Kane turned back to him. “Looks like you’re in luck. A table for two just opened up. Gloria will seat you.”

C.J. raised his hand, caught Ivy’s attention. When she joined him, they followed the waitress to a table in the back corner of what C.J. guessed was the dining room. He held out Ivy’s chair, then sat across from her, and they gave the waitress their drink orders.

“Did I pass?” he asked when they were alone again.

She didn’t even bother pretending not to know what he was talking about. “With flying colors.” She winked at him before picking up her menu.

That wink and the accompanying smile almost made whatever hell Kane would put him through worth it.

After they ordered their meals, they made small talk while they waited, discussing current events instead of anything personal. Ivy had a quick mind and strong opinions. He enjoyed debating a few points with her, and while they may not have entirely agreed about politics and certain social policies, he could see her point. And he thought she saw his.

When their salads were delivered, he switched topics to Shady Grove. The people of this town where she’d lived her entire life, where his brother had made his home, had found his future wife.

“Not much to tell,” she said, sipping her water. “There are pros and cons of living here—like anywhere else, I assume. It’s small enough that everyone knows each other—”

“Is that in the plus or minus column?” he asked, shaking pepper over his salad.

“Well, now, that depends on who you ask.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m asking you. I didn’t think it was a difficult question,” he said when she remained silent.

“Not difficult. More like...complicated.” She stabbed a piece of lettuce, waved her fork. “It’s...nice,” she finally said, “knowing your neighbors. Especially, I would imagine, once I have the baby. I’ll know his or her teachers, the parents of his or her friends. And they’ll know me.” Her mouth twisted. She shrugged as if trying to rid herself of an unwanted thought. “It’s safe, too, for raising a kid. Pittsburgh’s close enough that if you want city living, you can get to it easily.”

“So you like living here.”

She tipped her head. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I don’t dislike it. It’s just...it’s what I’m used to. This town, these people...they’re the only things I’ve ever known.”

“You never went away to college?”

“Never wanted to. But I am looking into taking culinary courses at The Art Institute of Pittsburgh.” She glanced down at her stomach. “At least, I was. I guess that’ll have to be put on hold for a while.”

“Does that disappoint you?” he asked, setting his empty salad plate aside. “Having to wait?”

“I’ve waited this long. What’s another year or two?”

She took things in stride, he’d give her that. This pregnancy, soon becoming a mother. They were life-changing events—more so for her than for him, and she was handling it as if it was no big deal.

It made him realize what an ass he’d been. Made him want to do better. Be better. Because his gut was now telling him that he didn’t need the proof they were waiting for—that this baby was, indeed, his.

And there was one very important question he had to know the answer to.

“Do you resent the baby?” he asked. “For messing up your plans?”

* * *

I
VY WASN’T SURE,
but there seemed to be more to Clinton’s question than mere curiosity. Almost as if he was asking if she resented
him
.

“It’s not the baby’s fault,” she said, pushing aside a cherry tomato with her fork to get to an errant garbanzo bean. “So no, I don’t resent him. Or her.”

She refused to treat her child the way her mother had treated her. Refused to blame an innocent baby for her mistakes. The choices she made.

The waitress came back. “So sorry things are a bit slow tonight,” she said as she cleared their plates. “We’re short-staffed.”

“It’s no problem,” Ivy assured her. Lord knew she’d put up with her fair share of miserable customers blaming her for problems in the kitchen or front of house—she’d heard complaints about everything from the food to dirty dishes to bad lighting. “We’re in no hurry.”

The waitress sent her an appreciative smile. “Thanks. I’ll check on your meals.”

“I hadn’t realized O’Riley’s did this much business,” Clinton said.

“Me, neither. Though I’d heard the food was really good.”

His gaze narrowed slightly. “I thought you’d been here before.”

Oops. Busted. She fought to hide a grin. “I never said that. I said I liked it here.”

And she did. It wasn’t as classy as King’s Crossing, but it had a welcoming feel. She imagined that it shifted into a neighborhood bar as the night went on, but for now it was packed with families and couples and groups at the tables, a few twenty-somethings and an older gentleman at the bar.

“So you did pick this place to make me miserable,” he said, but he didn’t look angry. More like impressed that she’d tricked him so neatly.

She stirred the ice in her glass with her straw. “
Miserable
is such a strong word. Let’s just say I wanted to see how you and your brother interacted. I’ve always thought you could tell a lot about someone by how they behave around their family.”

“And will I get a chance to put this theory into practice with you?”

“Afraid not. Only child, remember?”

“What about your mother?”

She took her time choosing a roll from the basket between them. Broke it in half and buttered it. “She passed away two years ago,” she said, careful to keep any and all inflection from her tone.

He reached out. Covered her free hand with his. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”

She always hated when people gave her their condolences over Melba’s death. It wasn’t that she was heartless. It was just that she didn’t grieve her mother the way a daughter should.

Then again, Melba hadn’t been the type of mother she should have been, either.

Ivy figured they were even.

She cleared her throat. Pulled away from his touch. “You and Kane look so much alike. I take it he’s your full brother?”

Clinton studied her, and she wondered if he was going to let her get away with this blatant attempt at changing the subject. She’d witnessed firsthand how stubborn the man could be, but he merely took a roll for himself and leaned back in his chair. “Kane and I have the same mother and father, yes. But I consider all my brothers my full brothers.”

She hid a smile. See? He was already revealing himself to her. She was glad he didn’t differentiate between his brothers, that he accepted them without the tag of
half
. “Somehow I just can’t imagine your mother raising someone like Kane.”

“Our nanny did the bulk of the dirty work. Mom and Dad would show up for the occasional school recital or athletic event.”

“Sounds lonely.”

He shrugged. “Kane and I had each other. And when Dad married Rosalyn—my brother Oakes’s mother—it was better. She was a real hands-on mom, always inviting us to stay at their house, baking cookies, playing games with us.” He grinned. “The complete opposite of my mother. Which is probably part of the reason Mom hates her to this day. Then again, I suppose I’d hate the person my spouse cheated on me with and then left me for.”

“That does seem like a good reason.”

The waitress returned with their meals. Stuffed manicotti for Ivy and linguine with clam sauce for Clinton.

Ivy shook parmesan cheese over her pasta. “But things didn’t work out between your father and Rosalyn, either?”

“They would have except Rosalyn wouldn’t overlook Dad’s infidelities. Especially when he got Oakes’s barely legal-age nanny pregnant.”

Ivy blinked. “I was right. Your life really is like the TV show
Dallas
.”

He snorted. Twirled pasta onto his fork. “Not mine, but Dad lived the lifestyle for as long as he could. He told me once that Rosalyn was the only woman who kicked him to the curb. Every other time, the divorce was his decision. I think out of all his wives, she’s the only one he regrets losing.”

“Hard to feel sorry for a serial cheater.”

“True. Maybe he got what he deserved, having the woman he wanted and maybe even loved be the one who refused to have anything to do with him.”

“I take it the nanny gave birth to brother number four?” Ivy asked.

Clinton took a bite, wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Zach. He’s a Marine, stationed in Iraq, the last I’ve heard. We’re not...close.”

“That must be hard on you.”

He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s obvious your family is very important to you.” She sipped her water. “Just as it was obvious both at the engagement party and at your apartment that it’s important for you to take care of them. I overheard your conversation with your current stepmother,” she admitted.

“Only current until the divorce goes through. She decided it was smarter to take what she was promised in her prenup than to fight for more.”

Guess the blonde was smarter than she looked. “Is it a burden?” Ivy asked, having no point of reference for needy family members. Unable to imagine what it would be like to have a large family, to have so many people wanting your time and attention, taking your focus so often. “People relying on you that much?”