in her arms was stirring back to full wakefulness. She carried him upstairs and found a large bedroom with pale blue walls, decorated with sailboats and furnished with a dark cherry crib, dresser and changing table. The last time she’d been here, the room had just been finished. The stuffed animals that now filled the window seat that overlooked the ocean hadn’t been here. There’d been no baskets on the floor filled with stacking cups and electronic games. No well-worn books had filled the shelves.
Now the space looked lived-in. Loved.
Bella set Drew on the floor near the basket of toys and began unpacking his clothes. A fire truck with a siren held his attention for as long as it took Bella to fill one drawer. After that he crawled to the low bookcase and began pulling out one story after another. Seeing the mess he was making, Bella left the rest of the unpacking for later and joined him on the floor.
“What should we read first?” She scanned the books.
“He’s particularly fond of Belly Button Book,” Blake said from the doorway.
Bella located the story and turned to thank him for the suggestion, but the words faltered on her lips at the sight of him in khakis, a white polo shirt and navy blazer. The casual clothes reminded her of those days last summer when they’d sat on the back porch and he’d told her about his favorite places in the Virgin Islands and about how he’d first tried cinghiale—wild boar—in a small village in Tuscany. She’d been surprised to learn that they hunted wild boar in Italy and that it was a favorite dish in the region.
He’d opened her eyes to adventures she’d never imagined when she’d been growing up on a small farm in Iowa and her dreams had expanded to include traveling beyond the borders of the U.S.
“I should be back in time to put him to bed,” Blake told her.
“Don’t feel the need to rush back. We’ll be just fine.” She lifted the baby onto her lap and opened the book. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you,” Blake said.
It wasn’t until he was gone that Bella realized she’d been holding her breath. She released the air in a gusty sigh and kissed Drew on top of his head. “That daddy of yours sure ties me in knots,” she confided to the baby. “Did you see the way he kissed me this afternoon?”
Drew smacked the book with his hands and made impatient noises.
“Typical guy,” Bella teased. “When it comes to talking about feelings, you aren’t interested in hearing what a woman has to say.”
And without further delay, she began to read.
Blake cursed as he turned into the driveway of the house Jeanne and Peter had rented and spied three cars parked in front. His stepsister had lied to him. This wasn’t a quiet family dinner. It was a setup.
One of her numerous socialite friends from New York? An oil baron’s daughter from Texas? Hopefully she hadn’t fixed him up with the actress from Los Angeles she’d met the previous week. The possibilities were endless, considering Jeanne’s vast social connections and vivacious personality.
“Blake.” Jeanne flung open the door before he had a chance to ring the bell. “I’m so glad you could join us.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the living room.
Her over-the-top gaiety deepened Blake’s suspicions. She was trying too hard.
Peter met him in the living room doorway and handed him a cut-crystal tumbler with a three-finger shot of whiskey. “I told her this was a bad idea.”
Blake’s chest vibrated with a suppressed growl. “Jeanne, what’s going on?”
He loved his stepsister, but sometimes she didn’t know when to stop her well-meaning machinations. She liked the world organized to her specific standards. And most of the time she got her way.
“Look who was able to get away from New York to join us for the weekend.” Jeanne maneuvered him around Peter and into the contemporary monstrosity of a living room where Blake’s ex-wife stood, her expression a mask of delight, her eyes flaring defiance.
“Damn it, Jeanne,” he began, biting off the rest of the sentence when his stepsister gripped his hand hard.
“Don’t be mad. You two are my favorite people in the world.” Her husband made a disgusted sound behind her that she ignored. “I can’t have you refusing to be in the same room. There’s going to be harmony in this house when the baby comes.” Her lovely features wore the determined expression they all knew too well. “I mean it.”
Blake took a healthy swallow of his drink and relished the burn in his throat and chest. He concentrated on getting a handle on his annoyance before he spoke. “So, this isn’t a setup?” He thought he sounded cool and relaxed, but Peter winced, Jeanne’s eyes went wide and Vicky grew pale.
“Must you suspect everyone’s motives?”
“Not everyone’s,” he retorted smoothly, saluting his stepsister with the glass. “Just yours.”
Jeanne rolled her shoulders in an elegant shrug and nudged him toward Vicky. “Go be nice while I have Peter refresh your drink.”
Tension marred his ex-wife’s lovely features as he approached her. Stunning in a figure-hugging black dress that showed off a significant amount of cleavage, she’d obviously spent a great deal of time on her hair and makeup. If she was hoping he’d be moved that she’d gone to so much trouble for him, she was destined for disappointment.
“I don’t need to ask how you’ve been,” she murmured. “You look wonderful.”
“Fatherhood agrees with me.”
“I knew it would.”
The flow of conversation was interrupted when Peter handed him a tumbler of scotch. When they began again, Vicky changed the topic to recent gossip about their friends. She didn’t ask after Drew. Eight months ago this would have annoyed Blake. In the months since she’d left, he’d grudgingly accepted that he’d been too blinded by his desire to be a parent to realize his wife didn’t share his enthusiasm. In the week after they’d brought their son home from the hospital, Vicky hadn’t held the baby more than a half dozen times, each for less than ten minutes. Pity he hadn’t recognized her lack of maternal instinct earlier. It would have saved them both a great deal of heartache.
“I heard that your play closed,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear it didn’t work out.”
She shrugged. “There will be others.”
Blake spied telltale signs of anxiety in the lines bracketing her mouth. “I thought you were very good.”
“You saw it?”
“Of course. Don’t sound so surprised. You know I’ve always been your biggest fan.”
News of her affair had left him angry and raw for twenty-four hours. It had taken him that long to process the abrupt end of his five-year marriage and to remember that his energy was better spent caring for his son.
“But I thought...” She looked baffled.
“That I hated you?” He shook his head. “We wanted different things. You, a career. Me, a family. I didn’t appreciate the way you ended things, but I’ve been told that I can be a bit difficult to say no to.” He snagged her gaze and let his lips drift into a conciliatory curve.
“That’s so reasonable of you.” Her tone reflected doubt.
“I told you fatherhood agrees with me.”
“I guess it does.”
“Drew’s terrific. Stop by the house anytime if you’d like to see him.” He made the offer knowing she’d never do that.
“I