“I can go shopping with you this week,” Jamie says.
“Great. For what?”
“Beats the hell out of me. But I figure if we combine the shopping with a few stops for wine along the way, sooner or later, something will seem like an amazing gift.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t say no. It may not be the best plan for finding Damien’s gift, but the afternoon will definitely be entertaining.
“You’re throwing him a kickass party. Just leave it at that.” Syl’s been listening from a table in the shade, where she’s been sitting with Jeffery, who’s attacking a cup of yogurt with gusto. “I promise you Damien won’t feel slighted.”
“Fine.” I concede the question—at least for the time being. But I’m still pondering another conundrum. Right now, I’ve kept the entire idea for a party from Damien, and that’s a pretty big secret. But the second I tell him that we’re going to head to Santa Barbara next Friday, he’s going to assume it has to do with his birthday.
Even if he doesn’t expect a party in our suite, he’s still going to know that the trip is for him. And that means that even if I do take him out for a supposed birthday dinner, he’s got his birthday on his mind, and some part of him—some tiny, minuscule part of him—isn’t going to be as surprised by the party as I want him to be.
“So I don’t know what to do,” I add, after explaining all of that to my friends.
“He’s going to love it no matter what,” Syl says. “Because you’re the one throwing the party.”
“I know,” I say. “And I know I’m being way too persnickety. I just really want it to be special.” I get off my chaise and go to the rail, then look down at the lawn where Damien is pushing five-year-old Ronnie on the swings. I can hear her squeals of laughter mixed with, “Higher, Uncle Damie! Higher!” and can’t help but smile.
Sylvia comes up to me carrying Jeffery, who had his first birthday just a few months ago. “He looks good down there. When are you guys going to have one of your own?”
“Someday,” I say, taking Jeffery from her in a not-so-subtle attempt to keep the conversation off the state of my uterus. “In the meantime, I’m just going to be the best aunt ever. Aren’t I, little man?” I ask as I lift him up and make silly faces. “Aren’t I the best aunt in the whole, wide world?”
Beside me, Syl laughs. At the same time, Cass says, “Why don’t you just pull a double-blind?”
I turn to her, so grateful that she’s firmly changed the subject I could kiss her.
“What’s that?” I ask, as I go to sit in the shade with the baby.
“It’s simple. You just set up a dummy event.”
“Like taking him out for dinner,” I say. “But he’ll still know that it’s a birthday dinner.”
Cass shakes her head. “No, no. You have to back off from birthday shenanigans completely.”
I glance over at Jamie, who’s sitting next to me, but she just shrugs, obviously as clueless as I am.
“Okay, listen.” Cass stands up, obviously getting into her spiel. “Your whole problem is that you don’t want him to have a clue as to why you’re going to Santa Barbara, right?”
“Right,” I acknowledge.
“So tell him you’re going. And have the reason be something completely unrelated to his birthday.”
I nod slowly, letting the idea play out in my mind. “That’s actually kind of brilliant.”
“It really is,” Jamie agrees.
“So I just have to get all the guests there, keep everyone quiet, don’t let Damien have a clue, and then actually surprise him.”
“Pretty much,” Cass agrees.
“It’s so deviously simple. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”
“I’m all about the devious,” Cass says, pretending to buff her nails.
“Double-blind.” I let the words roll softly off my tongue as I look around the patio at my friends. Then I grin and raise my mimosa in a toast. “Ladies, I think we have a plan.”
“Well, yeah,” Siobhan says. “But you still need to come up with the reason.”
Chapter Four
I’m still trying to craft a fake reason for a trip to Santa Barbara when Damien calls for Edward to drive all of us home. We’re not drunk, but the mimosas and Bloody Marys definitely flowed, and it seems the prudent thing to do.
While we wait for him to arrive with the limo, Damien and I help put the kids down. First Jeffery, who listens with big eyes while Damien reads Goodnight, Moon, and then Ronnie, who insists on reading a Dr. Seuss book to me.
When she’s quiet in bed with Bun-bun, I pad out into the hall to join Damien, Sylvia, and Jackson.
“You’ve got a knack,” Sylvia says, with a hint of a tease in her voice.
“And a great deal,” I point out. “As a card carrying member of the Favorite Aunt Society, I don’t have to discipline, I get to spoil them rotten with toys, and I can fill them up on junk food with impunity. What’s not to love?”
Sylvia laughs, and
I glance at Damien. He’s smiling, but there’s also a wistful look on his face that makes my heart squeeze a little. He sees me watching him, and reaches for my hand.
I take it, lacing my fingers with his.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”
What I hear is, “I love you.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”
By the time we all get our things gathered, Edward’s waiting in front of the house. He drops off Cass and Siobhan in Venice Beach first, then heads to Studio City to drop Jamie and Ryan.
“Be good,” Jamie trills as they get out of the limo. “Of course, we don’t intend to be.” She waggles her brows and laughs as Edward shuts the door.
“You heard the lady,” Damien says, pulling me close to him.
I lay down on the seat with my head in his lap. “You know me. I’m a big fan of alone time in limousines. But it’s a short ride to the Tower—and right now, I’m very, very comfortable.”
I open my eyes to study his face, looking down at me with a definite spark. I laugh. “A day in the sun with kids. I’m exhausted. Aren’t you exhausted?”
His smile blooms slowly—and very sensually. “Just how exhausted are you?”
A warm current wafts through me. “I could be revived,” I admit. “If I was made a good offer.”
“So we’re negotiating. Excellent. I’m sure I have something you want.” His hand closes gently over my breast, and I arch up, gasping from the impact of a sudden, hard flash of desire.
“Damien.”
His brow rises infinitesimally. “See? I’m confident we’ll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
His thumb grazes my lower lip, and I close my eyes, drawing it in, reveling in the sound of pleasure he makes low in his throat and the erection I feel growing where the back of my head is in his lap.
“I could just roll over,” I say, doing exactly that, so that my ear is on his thigh and I’m facing the button on his jeans.
I lift my hand and press lightly over the length of his erection straining against the denim right in front of me. “Think how much faster the rest of the drive would be.”