“That’s exactly why I didn’t call you. It scares me. What if I get to know you and decide you’re just not the kind of man I want involved with my children?”
He smiled and lifted one eyebrow. “Really? And what if I get to know you and decide you’re not the kind of woman I want raising mine?” The surprise was evident in her eyes, as was a little fear. “Just because I’m not carrying them and birthing them doesn’t mean they’re any less mine.”
“Oh God,” she moaned.
He stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her carefully against him, holding her sweetly, tenderly, lightly caressing her back until she seemed to calm and lean against him. He pulled back and looked down into her frightened eyes. “I just want you to remember one thing,” he said softly. Then he lowered his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. Then he pulled back, smiling into her eyes. He kissed her again, again gently. And then he came down on her lips in a more serious kiss, moving over her mouth carefully, sensually, until her arms slowly and reluctantly encircled him, her eyelids dropping closed. He stayed on her lips until she kissed back, letting him open her lips. He tilted his head for a better angle, enjoying her response. Not knowing when he’d get a chance like this again, he stayed with that kiss for a long time, tasting her mouth, being tasted by her. When he released her mouth, he smiled. “Ah,” he whispered. “You do remember.” And he kissed her again.
He released her grudgingly. “That’s a good place to start. Nothing to fear, everything to gain. Now, I’m going to get out of your hair so you can unpack.”
Seventeen
The Valenzuela baby, Ness, was almost six weeks old when Luke called and asked if he might stop by with Art. Art was very excited; he got himself all cleaned up, put on freshly laundered clothes, his new heavy jacket and wiggled in the truck all the way there. “Settle down a little,” Luke said with a laugh. “You know Mike and Brie. It’s just a baby.”
“I won’t touch it,” he said by way of a promise.
“If you want to touch the baby, you have to ask politely. And if the answer is no, it’s no.”
“Okay,” he said.
“And we should be kind of quiet around the baby,” he said. And Art nodded.
Luke invited Art to carry the brightly wrapped gift, all pink bows and gewgaws with a pair of crochet booties tied into the bow. When Mike opened the door, Art pushed it at him proudly. “Thanks,” Mike said with a laugh. “Would you like to come in?”
“Okay,” Art said. “I’ll be quiet. Can I touch it? The baby?”
Mike held the door open. “My wife handles all special requests. But she’s very generous. Let me get her.”
Mike dropped the gift on the coffee table and disappeared into the house. A few seconds later he was following Brie into the living room. She held the wrapped baby against her shoulder. She grinned at Art and said, “It’s so nice to see you, Art. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been very good.”
Brie lowered the baby. “Well, Art, meet Ness. And Ness, this is Art.”
“Oh,” he said a little breathlessly. “Oh.”
“She’s sleeping. When she’s awake she has a very big cry.”
“Very big,” Mike affirmed. “When she’s fifteen, she’s going to kill me with it. It’s already one of those girl-screams. Terrifying.”
“Art, if you’d like, you can hold her.”
Art got a stricken look on his face for a second. Then he wiped his hands on his trousers and put them out, palms up.
“No.” Brie laughed. “Not like that. Come over to the rocker, take your jacket off and sit down. Get comfortable. I want you to hold her like this,” she said, demonstrating cradling the baby in her arms. Art very quickly positioned himself in the rocker and got his arms ready. Brie placed the baby in his arms and said, “Now, don’t squeeze her—she’s very fragile. And hold her just like this.”
He stared down at the baby for a second in awe, in wonder, and then he lifted his eyes to Brie’s and broke into a huge smile. “She doesn’t feel like anything!” he said softly.
“I know. It takes some getting used to.” She sat down right beside Art, just in case he needed her.
“Can I get you something to drink, Luke?” Mike asked. “And Art, when you’re done holding the baby?”