Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance (11 page)

"Hey, babe," Paul says. "How is...California?"

Alarms go off in my head. Paul has never, ever in our ten-year, on again, off again relationship called me 'babe.' "Um, fine," I reply. "My mother is being my mother, but she's taking Ryan to a luncheon for most of the day, so I'm just here finishing up breakfast."

"Alone?" he asks.

"Um, no, Jax is here. And Richard," I add. I glance behind me and see that Jax has been staring at my back. He doesn’t look away when I catch him doing it.

"Sorry you're trapped in the house with that asshole," Paul says to me. "And who the hell is Richard?"

"The cook," I reply. Paul doesn't respond for so long that I have to ask him if he is still there.

"Yeah, I'm here," he replies. "Um, listen Tessa, I have some bad news. I'm not going to be able to make it out to your parents' place."

At that moment I experience, simultaneously, two incredibly different emotions. One is anger and one is an inexplicable feeling of relief. Both are replaced at once by suspicion and intense confusion. "And why not?"

Paul pauses again. I suddenly realize the noise from earlier is loud music in the background of wherever he is. "Work," he replies simply. "They need some of us to stay over the holiday weekend and work."

I've always said that the best part of being a woman over the age of twenty is that I know when I'm being lied to. Normally I wouldn't confront Paul, but somehow having Jax eavesdropping is emboldening me. "Work, huh?"

I hear the music get louder; the squeak of a door comes over the phone. A woman's voice calls out. "Paul, come on! You're missing it!" Then she laughs. I hear the crinkling noise of soft fabric over the mouthpiece. He does a terrible job covering up the mouthpiece. "I'm on the phone with Tessa!" he hisses.

My heart is pounding and my vision is blurring. "PAUL!" I yell into the phone. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

That gets his attention. "I'm - we're - out with work. It's a work lunch."

I look at the kitchen clock. "Work lunch? It's 10 AM your time. Who the fuck is that you were talking to?" Tears are stinging my eyes and I can feel the hot burn of Jax's gaze through my back. I hate causing a scene, but here I am doing just that in front of two near-strangers. One of whom I have imagined naked more times that I want to admit. One of whom I’ve seen naked, in real life.

"I - Tessa, listen, when you get back, we have some things we need to talk about -"

I interrupt him. "When I get back? When I get back? You mean when I come home with our son?" My body is shaking, and my full stomach is emboldening me. "You know what, Paul? Fuck off." I hang up the phone.

I stand facing the wall of the kitchen, hearing the scraping of metal utensils against a plate, Richard's heavy footsteps, and then the dull thud of china being placed upon the tablecloth. Jax's breakfast is served. I keep waiting for more tears to sting at my eyes, but they never come. I turn around and walk back to the table, sitting down and placing my cloth napkin back over my lap. The newspaper is closed on the table and Jax is chewing his breakfast slowly. "Everything okay?" he asks, not looking at me.

I take a deep breath. "Paul isn't going to be able to make it out this week after all," I reply as evenly as I can. "Work commitment." I keep hearing that woman's voice in my head. I try to identify it. It sort of sounds like his assistant, but not really. I'm probably being paranoid. No. I know that isn't true. But what proof do I have other than that phone call and Paul's general behavior?

"Mm," Jax mumbles. "Too bad." I see something like contempt flash across his face.

I set my fork down. "I'm sorry, do you have something to say?"

Jax holds up his hands in defense. "No, of course not." I go back to eating, angrily spearing a piece of egg onto my fork and shoving it into my mouth. Jax speaks anyway. "It's just that-well. I'm not really surprised that he isn't coming."

I nearly choke. I swallow some of my now-lukewarm coffee to clear my throat. "Is there something else you'd care to share with the class?" I ask him.

He opens his mouth to speak but my mother has returned, Ryan in tow. We both look over at her. "Ta-dah!" she announces. I gape. She and Ryan are wearing coordinating outfits. She has on a cashmere twinset of a pale baby blue with a khaki pencil skirt. My baby is wearing a miniature version of that same sweater with khaki pants and brown, lace-up shoes. He would look like an old man were it not for the matching cashmere bonnet that is tied under his chin. "So, what do you think?" she asks, twirling around. Ryan looks confused but not unhappy.

"It's...great," I reply. "You look great, Mother. Both of you."

I can tell that Jax is attempting to hold back a smile. "Cassie, you are simply radiant. Those harpies at the club won't know what hit them when you two show up."

My mother positively and predictably glows at this compliment. Flattery will get a person everywhere when it comes to my mother. "Well, we need to hit the road."

"Wait, you need the diaper bag and his food," I say.

My mother holds up her hand to stop me from standing. "I had Susan gather everything up. Don't worry, we’ll be fine."

I shrug. "Well, have fun. You have my cell number if anything goes wrong?"

My mother waves away my concerns. "I raised you just fine, Tessa, don't be silly. Enjoy your day and we will enjoy ours." She taps Ryan's nose with her pointer finger and he laughs. I stand up and kiss him on the head, a white-hot knife of guilt slicing through me as I remember that his father won't be coming after all. "You have fun, Tubbs," I say to him, using the nickname I’d invented to describe his delicious rolls.

My mother turns to face Jax. "Won't you come with me and the baby and leave Tessa here to whatever she plans on doing today? Assuming you change first, of course." My mother's eyes flick disapprovingly toward Jax’s tattoos.

For some reason, I feel my stomach swoop in disappointment at this proposition. I hastily look over at Jax, his dark hair piled on top of his head and his muscles bulging out through his grey t-shirt.

"I have work to do, Cassie," he says, his words sending a jolt of excitement through me once again.

My mother looks crushed. "Really? Over the holiday and everything?" she asks him.

He nods solemnly. "An entrepreneur's work is never done."

She nods back and pinches his cheek in a motherly way. "Like father like son."

Something like disgust fills Jax’s face. He clearly doesn’t like being compared to his father.

My mother doesn't notice. "Don't work too hard. You two have some fun. There are movies in the den if you want to watch something festive! Oh, and Lyle is gone all day today. Something about the office..." She marches out of the kitchen mid-sentence, waving her hand at both of us.

"More like the golf course," Jax says under his breath. Then he looks back at me incisively. "Are you waiting to tell your mother that Paul's not coming until tonight when Lyle can be a buffer?"

I am taken aback at this display of insight. "That's exactly right. She'll find a way to blame me for him not coming, just watch." I stand there awkwardly for a moment. I don’t mean to be this honest.

Jax wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands up, stepping so close to me I can smell his cologne. “If she says anything, I’ve got your back. Sis.”

He thanks Richard for breakfast and walks out of the kitchen. I try not to stare at his muscular ass as he walks away. I fail miserably.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JAX

I march into the office wing of the house, pulling out the keys in my pocket and unlocking the library door. I've been waiting all morning for Cassie to finally leave so I can sneak in here. I step inside and inhale the scent of books and dust. It's dark in the large room, and I march across the parquet floor toward the long, heavy curtains that fall to the floor. I open them wide and sunlight streams into the room. I cough; the fabric has been holding onto dust. I make a mental note to talk with Susan, the head of staff here, to make sure someone is coming in here regularly to clean. I'm sure they can at least do a cursory dusting when Cassie is gone.

I open the other two sets of curtains and turn around, satisfied that overall the room looks pretty great. I pull off the canvas covering my favorite leather armchair. The room comes back to life. I sit down in the seat and reach under the chair. There's a wooden drawer that is built into the bottom of it; I pull out another key and unlock the drawer. My sketchbook and charcoal pencils are still in there, stashed exactly where I left them. I sit for a moment, tracing my fingers across the rough fabric cover, enjoying the scratching sound as the fabric catches the callouses on my hands.

I stare up at the ceiling at the brass chandelier and then close my eyes, trying to calm myself.

The look on Tessa's face when she'd come back from her little phone call had enraged me. I clench my fists at the memory. I want to fucking punch the shit out of Paul. I'd gleaned enough from Tessa's reaction to know that he wasn’t going to make it out here before I'd even asked her. I have a good feeling I know what he’s doing instead of coming out here. I spend another moment mulling over my options and then reach into my pocket to make a phone call. It's one I've kept myself from making for months.

It rings twice. "Yeah?" says the voice at the other end of the line.

"Shawn, it's me. I need you to do the thing, okay?"

There's barely a moment of pause before he replies. "Consider it done. I'll be back with you before the end of the day."

I hang up the phone.

What have I just done?

I pull headphones out of my pocket and jam them into my ears, scrolling through the music on my iPhone until I find the loudest, angriest playlist on there. I crank it up to full volume, ignoring my phone's warning that I'm going to lose my hearing in five minutes or whatever the fuck it’s saying to me.

I open my sketchbook and flick through the drawings, finally landing on a clean page. My fingers are flying before I even tell them what to do. Within a few minutes, I realize what I'm drawing.

Who I'm drawing.

I keep going, my fingers flying across the paper.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TESSA

After the phone call with Paul I find myself wanting to get in the pool. It's ridiculous. I haven't been swimming since I was a teenager. The only problem, of course, is that I didn't pack a swimsuit. I creep out of my bedroom quietly, as if afraid that my mother is still at home. I'm guessing she has an enormous closet full of clothes she's probably never worn. I know that the odds of anything in there fitting me are slim to none. But if I can improvise something...after all, Lyle is gone. My mother isn't home. It's just me and the staff. Jax is holed up somewhere working. Whatever indecency I present won't matter too much.

I wind my way through corridor after corridor to make it to my mother's room. I've only been in here once, right before the wedding when she traumatized the hair and makeup people she'd hired. After a few minutes, I think that I might be lost, but then I recognize the enormous painting of a French pastoral scene and take a hard left. There are two hand-carved wooden doors in front of me. This is it.

I knock softly just in case. No one answers. I push the doors open and am standing in the master suite. The staff has already been in to tidy up. The bed looks like the linen has been freshly pressed and applied to the mattress. Lyle must have dozens of people here keeping up with the house.

I walk into the master bathroom, white marble glinting at me. The tub is so large in here it could function as a small swimming pool. I know my mother well enough to know that she refuses to get into it. She thinks pools and bathtubs are dirty. She will barely dip her toes into the ocean. I walk through the room and find my mother's closet, which is the size of my living room back in Indiana. It looks like a clothing store.

I run my hands across the racks of soft clothing, much of it still with the tags on it. I'm guessing that Lyle insisted on taking her shopping, even though most of these clothes looked like garments my mother wouldn't ever be caught dead in.

I wander over to the drawers and run my hands across the brass-framed paper labels. They have images on them. I kneel down and look at each one; there are emblems of underwear, bras, socks, sweaters, and finally, swimsuits. I open the drawer. It's filled to the brim with bikinis. I gape but see that every single one still has the tags attached, the little clear plastic strings poking every which way out of the many-hued fabrics.

It's like Lyle wanted my mother's new life ready-made: a box of pretty gilding to make her look exactly like he wanted her to look. The swimsuits are neatly folded and arranged by color. There is a bikini in every single shade of the rainbow. I hold up a triangle top and see that it's far too big for my mother's chest.

Suddenly, I feel a little sick. My mom's lack of wrinkles since the wedding - she'd obviously been indulging in some California-style ‘doctor's’ appointments. But...did Lyle want her to get breast implants? I gag a little at the thought and consider just folding up the bikini and putting it away. Then I remember how inviting the pool looks. It's either this or swimming in my sweatpants.

I pull out a white bikini, feeling daring. I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the closet and pull the triangle over my chest. It's still not my size but it's close enough. The bottoms are far too small. I look over and see that the label on the drawer to the right has what looks like the outline of a handkerchief. I open the drawer and realize it's filled with sarongs. Perfect. I pull out a white gauzy piece and smile.

Ten minutes later, I put my clothes back in my room and wander down the stairs. I leave my t-shirt on for now. The bikini top leaves about an inch of side boob sticking out. I don’t want to scare any of the staff on my way to the poolside.

I realize that it would be nice to have a book to read while I sunbathe a little. I'm not entirely sure where the library is or even if there is a library here, but with my mother and Lyle gone this is as good a time as any to do some unsupervised snooping around the house. It is exactly the kind of thing that I would have wanted to do as a kid. Besides, it might take my mind off of Paul, and I desperately need that.