Secret Son, Convenient Wife Page 7

  Tate blasted his heated blood with cold water until it turned to ice.

  By the time he dressed, he was ready for anything—until he went into the other suite, drawn by the sound of running water. He stopped dead in the doorway, watching as Gemma leaned forward and squirted bubble bath while swirling the water with her other hand. She’d kicked off her shoes.

  The vision of her very nice rear view made him want to walk lazy fingers over her. Lord, he remembered how well the cheeks of her bottom fit his hands as he’d pulled her naked body against him. Those cheeks were a little more lusciously rounded than before, but she’d had a baby since he’d last known her, touched her…

  He coughed, more for himself than to alert her to his presence. Otherwise he could easily stand here all evening appreciating that view.

  She looked over her shoulder. “You’re back.” She put the bottle of bubble bath on the sink, then straightened, a flush on her cheeks.

  “And ready for bath time,” he said as a joke, only it came out husky.

  Her gaze slid down his chest, then back up again.

  Their eyes met.

  She pushed past him, heading to the playpen. “I’ll get Nathan ready.”

  It wouldn’t have taken much to pull her to him. Nor would it have taken much to put her against the door and kiss every inch of that creamy skin. Only, he didn’t. He followed her, watching her dart a nervous look over her shoulder as she picked Nathan up. For a couple of seconds, the sexual stimulation of pursuing Gemma called to something inside him.

  With effort he put the feeling aside. “He likes a bath, does he?”

  Relief that was no doubt due to the change of subject crossed her face as she began undressing the baby. “He loves it. He cries whenever I take him out.”

  She looked away and placed a special cap on Nathan to protect his ears before swinging him toward Tate, a determined angle to her chin. “Here we go. One little boy.” She went back into the bathroom. “I’ll just check the water’s still the right temperature.”

  Tate followed her, his eyes drawn once more to her slim figure leaning over the tub.

  “Just right,” she said, straightening.

  Hell, yeah.

  “Your clothes might get wet.”

  “No problem.”

  A frisson of awareness entered her eyes. It was for the best that Nathan squirmed and insisted on his full attention right then. He eased his son into the warm, sudsy water and got down on his knees on the fluffy bathmat, fully aware of Gemma moving out of touching distance.

  But his son wouldn’t be ignored. Tate was soon engrossed in games with Nathan. “This really is fun,” he mused, half to himself.

  “You sound surprised.”

  He looked up. “I didn’t know it could be like this,” he admitted, startled to feel his chest squeeze tight with emotion. He quickly looked back down at the water, not wanting her to see just how much this was affecting him.

  “It’s awesome, isn’t it?” she said softly, as if she knew exactly what he was feeling.

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, but he didn’t look up. “Awesome.”

  More playtime followed, and as much as he was enjoying it, he was beginning to realize how tiring an infant could be. It must have been hard for Gemma to juggle a job as well as look after a baby all by herself. In spite of his animosity toward her, he had to admit to a growing admiration for her.

  “That water will be getting cool now,” she said eventually, unfolding a towel.

  Tate felt the coolness of the water and nodded. Then he reached for the plug.

  “Don’t!”

  His hand stopped. “What’s the matter?”

  “The sound of the water going down the hole frightens him.”

  He couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “That’s cute.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you heard him screaming his lungs out,” she teased, holding up the towel.

  Tate picked up Nathan from the bath, and she engulfed the child in the fluffy material and then handed him back. “You can finish off the job, while I tidy up in here.”

  “I’m not sure who’s getting the better deal here,” he drawled, trying not to show his lack of confidence in his parenting abilities. Her eyes said she was enjoying this.

  “You have to learn to dress him sometime.”

  He looked down at his son then back up at her. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to do it for me.”

  She gave a tinkling laugh, and the sound did crazy things to his pulse. “Not on your life.”

  His eyes locked on her mouth…

  And her smile froze…

  She twisted toward the bath. “I’d better clean up in here.”

  He paused before moving toward the bedroom. “I’ll shut the door so he won’t hear you emptying the bath.”

  “Thanks.”

  He closed the door behind him on the way out, took a breath to let his pulse settle, then looked down at his son. “Okay, sport. Let’s get you sorted.”

  And no more thinking about that smile of Gemma’s, he told himself, as he carried Nathan to the changing table. He gave the baby a squeaky toy, continuing to talk to him in case he could hear the bath water going down the drain.

  He was still standing at the changing table when he saw the bathroom door open. He looked up at Gemma with relief and conceded defeat. “I need your help.”

  She came toward them. “With what?”

  “Please show me how to put on a diaper. I can’t seem to get it right.”

  Her lips twitched with the amusement of an all-knowing mother. “For a start, that’s the wrong way.”

  “It is?”

  “And you’ve worn the adhesive off the tabs.”

  “I was trying to get it right.”

  She ruefully shook her head. “Move aside.” In one quick motion, she’d grabbed another diaper from the pack, did a few things with it, lifted Nathan’s bottom, removed the old and put the new one under him. “See. This is how—”

  Tate was concentrating when something arced in the air and splashed across his chest. “What the—”

  Gemma blinked, then giggled.

  He looked down at his shirt. It had been damp a moment ago but was now wet. She giggled even louder as she pulled up the front flap of the diaper and covered their son’s private parts.

  All at once Tate saw the humor, too. “I guess that’s what happens when you have a boy.”

  She held the diaper in place with one hand as her giggle turned to laughter. “Oh, my God…” more laughter, “you should see…” laugh, “the look on your…face.”

  He had to chuckle. “Stop laughing, Gemma.”

  “I ca-can’t.”

  His laughter increased, and all at once they were both laughing together. Really laughing. It seemed so long since they’d shared something this funny.

  Then, “I’ve always thought you had a lovely laugh,” he murmured, unable to stop himself.

  Her amusement stilled, and she moistened her top lip with her tongue. “You did?”

  His gaze dropped to the tip of that pink tongue. “I’ve told you that before, surely?”

  Her eyes flickered. “No, I would have remembered.”

  Suddenly there was something more between them than their love for their son. “Would you?”

  “Yes.”

  Several heartbeats ticked by. He knew his head was lowering toward her. He couldn’t stop himself.

  Then Nathan squeaked his toy and they both jumped. Gemma hastily turned back to their son, who she was still holding on the changing table with one hand. Tate blew out an unsteady breath.

  They’d been getting too intimate. He stepped back. “I’ll go change my shirt.”

  She flicked him a look. “I’ll put Nathan to bed, then I’ll check on the dinner.”

  “Fine.” By that time he fully intended to be detached again.

  Yet, as he went back to his room, he tried to analyze what was happening between him and Gemma
. He didn’t want to like her, but she kept slipping under his guard. His only excuse was that sharing a bond over their son was getting to him, causing the awareness between him and Gemma to build.

  Neither of them wanted this…

  Both of them wanted this…

  Five

  Gemma dreamed that Tate was saying she had a lovely laugh, and—oh, God—he was about to kiss her…willingly…

  Then she opened her eyes and deep disappointment ripped through her. He wasn’t about to kiss her at all. It was morning. She was in bed. And Tate wasn’t with her.

  And it was his fault she’d been dreaming about him all night. He had been about to kiss her last night after they’d bathed Nathan. He had been tempted, in spite of his earlier assertions that he wasn’t.

  Of course, once they’d gone downstairs he’d made it quite clear he wouldn’t let her get so close again. They’d eaten their casserole then he’d gone to the study while she’d watched a movie. Alone. The home movie theater wasn’t the largest of rooms, but it had felt empty. She wondered if he would keep to his promise of taking them for a drive today.

  Right then, she heard Nathan’s chuckle from next door. She threw back the blankets and hopped out of bed, slipping on her robe as she hurried to the connecting door. She found Tate on the floor playing peek-a-boo with Nathan, who was in his playpen. Her son looked incredibly adorable standing up, holding on to the rails in his pajamas.

  And Tate looked so relaxed and carefree.

  The old Tate.

  Then he looked at her and the wary new Tate slipped back into place. “Did we wake you?”

  “Yes, but it was time for me to get out of bed anyway.” She wanted to step into the room to give her son a morning kiss but was conscious of the word bed and Tate’s gaze on her silky robe. She remained where she stood.

  “You were sleeping very peacefully,” he said, his eyes lifting back to her face.

  So he’d checked on her. The image unnerved her. “I was tired.”

  He scowled. “Are you okay?”

  His concern took her by surprise, and warmed her. “Better for a good night’s sleep.” And that was something she wouldn’t have had if he’d been sharing her bed.

  As if he read her thoughts, the words suddenly transported them to last evening—and their almost-kiss right here in this room…right there beside the changing table. Stop!

  She grabbed for something to break the silence. “Er…I should change Nathan’s diaper.”

  “Done.”

  She couldn’t have made a joke about that if her life had depended on it. Breaking eye contact, she mentally scrambled to pull herself together. “If you could mind him a little longer, I’ll shower then take him down for breakfast.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll take him downstairs with me.” Tate got to his feet, all business now. “By the way, Peggy and Clive are back.”

  “They are?” The other couple must have left the city before dawn to get here.

  He swung Nathan up in his arms. “We’ll be in the sunroom. Take your time.” He crossed to the other door and left her standing in the connecting doorway.

  After he left, she took a ragged breath, then she hurried to the shower. It was better that Clive and Peggy had returned. Having others in the house could diffuse the growing tension between her and Tate. If it got out of control again, that is. Not that she expected it would. Tate wouldn’t let that happen. He’d been clear about that.

  Yet she had to wonder what the older couple would make of their separate bedrooms. Before the wedding, that might not have been a concern. After the wedding, it would be clear that she and Tate were having problems.

  Not that it was anyone’s business but their own.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gemma walked into the sunroom. Nathan sat in his high chair, next to Tate, and the two of them looked so right together that she wanted to rush forward and be part of their family unit. She restrained herself as she kissed her darling son’s head, then sat down beside them.

  “You’ve done well,” she told Tate, referring to the finger of toast Nathan chewed on.

  “I can’t take credit for that. It was Peggy’s idea.”

  Just then Peggy came into the sunroom with a pot of coffee, and they chatted for a short time before she left. Gemma poured herself some cereal and crunched on that while keeping an eye on Nathan, and while trying not to keep an eye on Tate.

  “He’s a slow eater today, isn’t he?” Tate said, after a couple of minutes.

  All at once Gemma realized Tate was restless. She gave him a knowing look. “You’re waiting to show him the sandbox, aren’t you?”

  His eyes filled with wry amusement. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes,” she teased. He chuckled, and the low sound softened the tension between them.

  Thankfully, Nathan threw his remaining finger of toast on the floor right then. By the time she’d picked it up and discarded it, she hoped she could blame her flushed cheeks on having to bend down to the floor.

  Tate got to his feet. “I’d say he’s finished eating, don’t you think?”

  She needn’t have worried about explaining her flushed cheeks. Tate evidently had other priorities. “Just let me take him upstairs and change him out of his pajamas first.”

  Tate nodded. “I’ll be outside. Don’t be too long.” He sauntered out toward the patio area.

  Men!

  Her heart actually felt lighter as she changed Nathan into jeans and a T-shirt. Their son may have been the reason for their marriage, but he was proving to be a great leveler, too.

  Once back downstairs, Gemma found not only Tate outside at the sandbox, but Clive and Peggy, as well. Tate saw her coming and immediately took his son. The males joined right in with enthusiasm. Soon both men were kneeling on the grass outside the shell-shaped sandbox, not seeming to mind about their trousers, while Nathan sat in the middle of the sand, trying to grab the dump truck that Tate was showing him how to use.

  Then Clive said something and Tate laughed. He was totally relishing being a father, Gemma mused, admitting she was seeing a new side to Tate. He treated Clive as a personal friend rather than an employee. He treated Peggy more like a mother figure. Gemma hadn’t seen him with other people during their month together, but she’d assumed he would keep his distance because of who he was and especially with the hired help, but that wasn’t the case.

  “You should join them,” Peggy encouraged.

  Gemma looked down at her casual slacks and top that would have cost more than her weekly wage. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  “Neither are they,” Peggy pointed out with be musement.

  Gemma smiled. “They’re having too much fun playing at being boys. I’ll just watch for now.”

  Peggy nodded. “Well, I think I’ll leave them to it. I must clean up the breakfast dishes.”

  As Gemma watched Tate be so caring and tender with his son, she suddenly felt herself blinking back tears. It must be the strain of the past two weeks, she decided, and turned to go inside.

  By the time she entered the kitchen where Peggy was busy cleaning, she was fine. She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Can I pour you a cup, too, Peggy?”

  The older woman looked up from stacking the dishwasher. “No, thanks, Gemm…I mean, Mrs. Chandler.”

  Gemma only now realized the housekeeper hadn’t addressed her by name since the wedding yesterday. “Gemma will do nicely, Peggy. Otherwise I may not know who you’re talking to.”

  “But you’re Mrs. Chandler now,” Peggy said, not looking as if she would be swayed.

  “And I was Miss Watkins these past ten days and you didn’t have a problem calling me Gemma then.” She had insisted right from the start, and while Peggy had been a little reluctant at first, she’d agreed to use Gemma’s first name in private.

  “I know, but that was then and this is now.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Peggy,” she teased.

  “It does to me. Mr.
Chandler is Mr. Chandler, and you’re Mrs. Chandler.”

  Gemma laughingly held up a hand. “You’re making my head spin.”

  Peggy wrinkled her nose. “It does seem silly, but please, allow me this.”

  Gemma remembered how the other woman had mentioned Tate telling them to call him by his first name but they had refused, not because they didn’t like him but because they were old-fashioned.

  “Okay, I give in.” Gemma paused deliberately. “For now.”

  The housekeeper clucked her tongue with mild exasperation as she continued clearing up. “How are you feeling now that the wedding’s over?”

  “Relieved,” Gemma quipped, then hoped she didn’t sound like she was all about getting married to a rich man. “I mean, relieved that the day is finally over. It was quite nerve-racking.”

  Peggy nodded, her eyes understanding. “Getting married is more wearing on the nerves than not. My eldest daughter was a complete wreck. She even fainted at the altar.”

  “Who fainted at the altar?” Tate said, coming into the kitchen with Nathan on his hip.

  “That would be Sonya,” Clive joked, following him. “Our eldest daughter. She’s a bit of a drama queen.”

  “Clive,” Peggy admonished, easing into a smile. “He’s right, though. She is a drama queen.”

  “That girl is never going to change. She’s thirty now and still doing it.” Clive shook his head as he walked over to the refrigerator. “What’s that old saying about a leopard not changing its spots?”

  As if he couldn’t help himself, Tate’s eyes shot to Gemma. He looked away again as fast, but she didn’t need three guesses to know he was thinking about her supposed kiss with his best friend.

  “And you love her anyway,” Peggy pointed out to her husband.

  Clive grinned. “Of course.”

  Peggy returned the smile, then turned her attention to Nathan. “Heavens, what did you two do to that young fellow? He looks like he’s been sandblasted.”

  Tate finally focused on the housekeeper. “He kept trying to eat the sand, so we’ve brought him in to show him the new activity center.”