Pillow Talk (19 page)

"Rather extreme
sentence, isn't it?" Parker sa
id, but in a mild voice.

Je
m yelped even louder.

"You've got at least one dissenter," Meg pointed out.

"What's a dissenter?" Gus asked.

"Someone who disagrees with a decision,"
Ell
en said.

Meg caught an appreciative look in Parker's eye as he glanced at her.

She wondered what she'd done to earn that look of approval. Well, approval or no approval, there'd be no mock wedding. "Time's up for tonight, kidlets," she said, moving off the cushion.

"But we haven't carried out our sentence," Gus said.

"There's always tomorrow."

"Ah, saved by the clock," Parker said.

Gus blocked the doorway. "If there's always tomorrow, does that mean we can play again tomorrow?"

Meg hesitated, looking towards Parker, No doubt he'd stumbled across the crew on his way in search of peace and quiet in the library, peace and quiet so he could concentrate on whatever work he'd carried from the office. Would he voluntarily play again?

"My fate is in your hands, oh sheik," he said. He looked at Gus when he spoke, but Meg could have sworn he brushed his hand against hers. But when she took a quick peek downwards, his hand rested on his knee as before.

"Okay," Gus said, "but don't try to escape or I'll hunt you down on my desert camel."

Parker managed to look suitably impressed by the threat. Meg suppressed a smile and said, "Say hello to Mr. Ponthier." Teddy, Ellen and Samantha introduced themselves, Samantha peeking shyly up at him. In response, he said,
"
C
all me Parker, please," then winked at Meg.

Meg didn't miss the wink or the friendly response, but she kept her voice businesslike. "Let's get this cleaned up for tonight. You can make another tent tomorrow. In another room." She headed for the tent's exit.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Parker said, crawling behind her. "I like the tent; it adds a nice touch."

I
n her surprise, Meg stopped short. Parker
b
umped into her, and Ellen and Gus did the same. Ellen and
Gus started a tickle fight and f
or one wild
moment, Meg thought of doing th
e same with Parker. Then reason recaptured her mind. "Everybody out. Now."

P
arker picked up his pace when Meg's voice took on that firm, no-nonsense tone. He moved along with the kids as they followed her out of
th
e tent, collected the picnic remains, and
t
rooped to t
he kitchen where Meg directed t
hem in cleaning up their mess.

Nibbling on some of the leftover popcorn,
Pa
rker forgot about his earlier hunger. Now
t
he only thing he wanted to do was watch Meg
in
action. But after she put the kids to bed, he wanted some answers.

Truthfully, he wanted some action. He'd wanted her earlier and he wanted her still. When she'd settled beside him in the tent, just
th
e subtle brush of her leg against his heated him beyond bearing, it was all he could do to concentrate on the game playing.

The game he wanted to play had nothing to do with children. Meg's offspring, to be sure, were an unexpected complication, but nothing he couldn't handle. For Meg, he could manage a lot.

He hadn't even known she'd had children. She'd mentioned another deceased husband. The children must be from that marriage. He couldn't believe otherwise. Despite her hasty nuptials with Jules, she didn't seem the type of woman to bear children out of wedlock. That all three of the kids had the same father he had to believe; their coloring mimicked hers, but the family resemblance was strong in ways that didn't match Meg's looks. For instance, all the kids were tall, even the youngest, and Meg barely topped Parker's chest.

Parker's musings were interrupted by Gus, noisily balking at being required to wash his milk glass. "The maid does that," he said, indignant.

"Did the maid drink out of it?" Meg asked without emphasizing the question too strongly. She was busy guiding Teddy away from the cookie jar.

"That's a stupid question," Gus said.

"And that's a stupid answer," Meg responded. "Now, rinse your glass, then put it in the dishwasher."

Parker waited for the refrain he expected to hear: Ponthiers don't do dishes. But instead, Gus joined the others at the sink.

Would miracles never cease? Parker tried to
ca
tch Meg's eye but she was having none of
tha
t. He pulled a glass from a cupboard,
cr
ossed to one of the two refrigerators, and poured himself a glass of milk. Unbidden, the image of Meg clutching her mug of warm milk
to
her breasts filled his mind. He sucked in a breath and chugged down the milk.

Maybe she'd notice him if he washed his glass, too. Parker joined the kids at the sink, but they'd all finished. Gus looked at him as if lie wasn't quite sure what to make of his uncle rinsing his glass. Parker gave him an encouraging smile.

Meg said, "Okay, everybody upstairs, brush your teeth, and I'll meet you in my room."

Gus hung back. Jem, caught between loyalty
to
his savior and the other kids' racing out the door, dashed out, then returned to lick Gus's hand.

Meg walked ov
er to him. "You, too, Gus," sh
e said softly.

"
I
still don't hold with that sissy stuff."

"That's okay, but you can listen if you'd like."

G
us shrugged. He'd pulled his pocketknife
fro
m the deep trousers of his baggy shorts. Snapping it open, he said, "What if I made a dream wish. Would it work for me?"

Meg seemed to consider her answer. As she did, Parker admitted to himself he wanted to wish for Meg i
n his life—and that he was will
ing to make that dream come true. He nodded at his nephew jus
t as Meg said, "Let's try it."

Gus bobbed his head, then loped out th
e
door, Jem tagging behind.

"Whatever you just did," Parker said, "was smart. And wise."

"Really?" She looked at him, as cool as the proverbial cucumber. "I do find it's never wise to make promises to a child one isn't sure will be kept."

Parker regarded her. Wow, but she was mad at him. Had he been that insufferable the other night? Or was she just being prickly to keep him from asking her where the kids had materialized from?

Before he could ask any of his questions, she sashayed from the room.

He took his time following her. First he dropped by the Great Parlor. To his surprise, he found Grandfather still up, sitting beside a fire playing chess with a woman Parker had never seen before. A huge gray cat, most definitely a stranger to Ponthier Place, was curled on Grandfather's lap.

When Parker stuck his head in, Grandfather rumbled, "Come in and meet Mrs. Fenniston but don't disturb my concentration. The woman's hell on wheels with her rooks."

Parker looked with interest at the dainty silver-haired woman seated opposite his grandfather. He'd never heard such a compliment from the old man. For years his grand
fath
er had told
him he couldn't wield a pawn pr
operly, let alone a bishop or a rook.

He
nodded. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Par
ker
Ponthier.”

The woman smiled. "Mrs. Fenniston. Delighted to meet you. I'm making my first visit
to
your city and your grandfather is making me feel so at home.”

Parker wasn't
sure what to say in response to
that. Being browbeaten over a chess game w
a
sn't Parker's idea of seeing his beloved city.
B
ut now that he thought about it, Meg had
sc
arcely seen any of the city he called home.
He
'd have to remedy that. Maybe that would
s
often her up. Not that he was trying to soften her up, he corrected himself. But if he had to conduct business with the woman, he should get to know her better.

"Did you meet the children?” Mrs. Fenniston asked, one fingertip stroking the white bishop.

Grandfather glared at the board. Parker fig
ured
he either disliked the subject of the little hooligans or Mrs. Fenniston had just figured
out
how to best him on the chessboard.

Parker nodded.

"They are exceptional,” she said. "And sweet Meg has d
one such a marvelous job with t
hem. And under
such difficult circumstances."

"Her husband,” Parker asked, unable to con
t
rol h
is curiosity. "When did he…
"

"Pass on?” Mrs. Fenniston whisked her
bishop diagonally across the board. "Check,", she said.

The look on his grandfather's face was priceless.

"More than a year ago. And such troubles she's faced with never a whimper." Mrs. Fenniston sighed. "It's made me happy to be able to help her. Especially since my dear husband's been gone more than a year now."

"A year, is it?" Grandfather shot the question out.

Parker smiled. He'd learned what he wanted to know. Apparently so had his grandfather. "I'll let you two finish your game," he said. "Nice to meet you."

Mrs. Fenniston smiled at Parker. "There, Mr. Ponthier, look what I've done to your queen," she was saying, as Parker backed from the room.

The door to Meg's room stood ajar, almost as if she knew he wouldn't be able to resist sharing their bedtime pillow talk.

Which Parker found himself powerless to do, even though he remained in the hall, just outside, listening. And as he listened, he remembered how good he'd felt sitting beside her on Gus's bed as she explained pillow talk to him. He'd wanted to kiss her then and he wanted to kiss her now.

He heard the gentle thump of Jem's tail against the floor. Farther away, but quite distinguishable,
he made out the voices of Meg a
nd the children.

"What are your dream wishes, Samantha?"

He could picture her smoothing the little girl's mass of curls as she asked the question.

"A dress-up Barbie and a new daddy," she said.

There was no immediate response, then Parker heard Meg say, "We'll see what we can do about the Barbie. How about we start with making a new outfit for the one you brought with you?"

"Okay," murmured a sleepy-sounding Samantha.

Parker had to hand it to Meg. She'd neatly sidestepped the second request.

"And you, Teddy?"

"Tomorrow we get to play war."

"Hah," Ellen said. "Boys are so stupid."

"Hey, speak for yourself," Gus piped up.

"Shh," Meg said. "This is pillow talk. It's okay to ask for what you want, because knowing what you want in life is the first step to achieving it."

"You're sure smart," Ellen said.

"Thank you, sweetie. Gus, do you want to share?"

A long silence followed. Parker held his breath, wond
ering whether his nephew would j
oin in. Hell, he wanted to join in. He wanted
to
curl up on the bed beside Meg and her children and wrap his arms around her loving
body and whisper just what he wished he could have.

But he, Parker Ponthier, was a grownup.

Pillow talk was for kids.

"Nah," Gus said at last. "Fairy tales are just as bogus as Santa Claus. And most mothers."

Parker sucked in a sharp breath, his heart breaking for Gus. Marianne was such a bitch. It was just like her to dally in Switzerland when Gus was home suffering. He leaned forward, wondering what in the world Meg would say to Gus's comment.

Before Meg spoke, he heard the younger girl say in a sleepy voice, "You can share our Mom. She's not bogus."

"That's very sweet, Samantha," Meg said. "Teddy? Ellen?"

"As long as we get to play war tomorrow."

"That makes you sort of my brother," the older girl said. "Which is okay as long as you do what I say."

Parker thought he heard Meg sigh.

"Forget that!" Gus said.

"Yeah," Teddy said. "But now at least it's two against two for awhile."

A round of high-fiving took place, punctuated by Jem's high-pitched yelps.

A few minutes later, Meg appeared in the doorway, an arm around Teddy. Gus hung to the side, but he looked much less withdrawn than he had the past few days. Meg saw Parker and glanced at him, confusion on her face.