he couldn’t quit thinking about marriage.
“I’m surprised you’re not plugged into the mother ship,” Jaya teased, obviously trying to deflect from her own pain and lighten the mood. “I’ve never seen you go so long without at least one electronic device in hand.”
“Haven’t you?” he asked, taking a less than subtle stab at testing their shared memory. He was still raw from her rejection and wanted to remind her there had been something really good between them once. He wanted to know if this attraction was still burning as brightly on her side as it was on his.
She stalled in swiping across her tablet. Her cheeks, tanned to semi-sweet chocolate by their hour in the pool, seemed to darken. Her tongue flicked along her bottom lip in a betrayal of discomfiture that otherwise remained hidden behind her impassive expression and lowered lashes.
One of the unique things about Jaya was her subtlety. Where other women threw themselves at his money and position, she’d always seemed unimpressed. Not repelled or disgusted, but not moved, either. From things she’d said, he’d deduced that her cousin’s husband had supported her to a degree, but she supported herself now and sent money to her family in India. She’d started at the bottom in Makricosta’s, changing bedding and scrubbing toilets. She knew what it was to make do on a limited income, but she’d never tried to flirt or use her body to lift her circumstances or gain financial favors.
When it came to her womanly wiles, she didn’t project any of her hidden depths of passion. Despite being pretty and keeping herself well-groomed, she made no effort to lure a man. Her sexuality was understated, not obvious at all.
He appreciated that about her, not because he was a man who thought women should hide their sexuality, but because he was a circumspect man all around. He admired anyone capable of controlling his or her basic, animal urges.
On the other hand, being one of the few people who knew firsthand her capacity for passion was an erotic secret that strained his control. Every time the word marriage whispered through his mind, the most masculine parts of him relived holding her. There’d been a couple of women since—he’d been convinced he’d never see her again and had almost been trying to inoculate himself against going after her. It hadn’t worked and seeing her again was inducing the opposite: he kept imagining a lifetime of stroking smooth, warm skin, licking dark nipples that only grew more taut and firm against his tongue, pushing naked into hot, tight depths so wet and welcoming he’d nearly died on the first thrust.
“I, um, just wondered if your sister gave you the day off so you could watch her son,” she finally said, not looking at him.
No outward acknowledgment of his leading comment. He’d pretend that wasn’t a sharp kick in the ego, even though they were long past pretending Bali hadn’t happened. Hell, he was holding the proof.
“The cruise was supposed to be a family reunion of sorts,” he explained. “Adara’s idea. All the siblings were together at my mother’s funeral, but it was hardly the time to catch up after not seeing Nic for twenty years. The cruise liner is a Makricosta hotel on a Vozaras ship so it would have been a working vacation, which is probably why Demitri was dragging his heels about showing up.”
“He’s quite the black sheep at times, isn’t he?”
“And yet our father liked him. Which is why he gets away with what he does, I suppose. No one ever told him he couldn’t.”
“He didn’t...I mean, your father never—?”
“Took a swing at him? No, I told you. Adara and I protected him. Kept him quiet when they were fighting, snuck food for him. Turned him into a spoiled brat, I suppose, but that’s better than what we went through.”
“You don’t resent him?”
“Why would I? He was a kid. It wasn’t his fault our father was a bastard.”
“No,” she agreed, eyes so liquid and dark he had to look away. “Only...”
Don’t say it, he thought, giving all his attention to where Zephyr was now using his belly as a trampoline. Being able to see that a grown man ought to have more control over his actions than a little boy didn’t make him empathetic. Being happy his brother hadn’t been knocked around didn’t make him paternal. It was common decency, that’s all.
She came into his periphery, but only to stroke a soft hand over her son’s head.
“He’s having fun. Would it be an imposition to leave him with you while I do a bit more work, just while the other two are sleeping?”
An imposition? He was truly pathetic if that’s how she thought he regarded holding a happy baby.
“It’s fine,” he said, disgusted with himself for giving off such an impression, but having a child was still a shock. And he was still so worried about damaging him he preferred to keep her close. If she wasn’t hovering, how would he know he was doing everything right?
She must have read something in his tone. She glanced toward her laptop with indecision.
“Go ahead,” he insisted, refusing to be frightened of a kid who couldn’t even stand up on his own. “From what I’ve overheard, this place is still transitioning from good to excellent. You’re doing a stellar job in pushing them gently, by the way. Obviously in your element. They’re lucky to have you.”
She checked and looked back at him. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course. I’m not surprised, either. Your knack with this kind of work was obvious to me the first time we met.”
She cleared her throat. “Thank you. You’re not just anyone. You know what it takes, what the pressures are. Your saying that means a lot.” She gave a tiny sniff and wiped under one eye as she scooped up her laptop and moved into the bedroom.
Women. He’d like to see a male manager get all soupy from a pat on the back.
Of course, he was just as bad, still basking in her praise that he was giving his son some enjoyment. The boy had spring-loaded legs, seemingly incapable of tiring.
His son.
His chest walls gave an internal shudder as he faced a grinning countenance that seemed both foreign yet familiar. All the babies were crawling their way under his skin, but Zephyr was different. With the other two, it was easier to let himself develop some affection. There wasn’t the same depth of responsibility. He imagined he’d be a fallback for the rest of their lives, attached by bonds that nature cast like a spell for exactly this circumstance: to keep little ones alive if their primary caregiver was absent, but he wouldn’t have to worry about Evie and Androu 24/7 the way he’d worry about Zephyr.
He took a moment to examine that nagging, anxious sensation. For all his concern that he’d crush this boy’s confidence, the what-ifs about his future were worse. What if he was wet and this neighbor lady didn’t notice? What if Quentin talked Jaya into taking the boy to some third-world country with exotic parasites and deadly spiders? What if something happened to Jaya?
The way Zephyr chewed a finger and thumb while staring deeply into his eyes—much the same disconcerting way his mother had, as if he trusted him implicitly—was a heart punch. It was as if the little guy was already relying on Theo to make sure all the what-ifs were mitigated. Who else would do it? Theo had a lot of faults, but shirking responsibility was not one of them.
His guts wobbled, like he’d taken a misstep on a high wire.
No, he didn’t shirk responsibility. If Jaya had said that to him last night, rather than trying to prod him into admitting an emotional connection to the boy, she might have had him.
But who would look after Zephyr if something happened to Jaya? He’d seen what babies were like when Mama wasn’t near. They were distressed. He wouldn’t want Zephyr to go through that. Hell, he didn’t want to go through missing Jaya again and he was a full-grown man.
Swearing under his breath, he tried to take back that thought,