Take My Dare (Stark International Trilogy 4)

She nods as if considering my answer.

"Do I make you tired, too? Is that why we came back?"

"Oh, no, sweetie. You don't make me tired. But I have to take care of myself for your little brother or sister. That's why your daddy wanted us to come back. To make sure I'm well and the baby's well."

"Am I well?"

"You're perfect."

I expect a smile, but instead I get a frown.

"Ronnie? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Her eyes dart to my belly. "Will you love it more?"

The question turns me cold. I know what it's like not to feel loved. To feel like the extraneous child. "No." I push the word out with all the force I can manage. "Absolutely not. I love you, Veronica, and I will always love you. Just like I'll always love the baby."

"But it's in your tummy. I wasn't ever in your tummy. So you have to love it more."

I force myself not to blink, because I cannot cry in front of her. "Sweetie, no. No, that's not the way it works. I'm your mommy, and it doesn't matter that you weren't in my tummy. You're in my heart," I say, putting her hand over my chest. "You're in my heart, and I love you."

For a moment, she just sits there. Then she nods and snuggles close. I put my arm around her and exhale, wishing that Jackson were here to help me. To tell me that I did okay. That Ronnie's okay.

Is she okay?

After all, I know better than anyone how much fear and doubt a child can hide under the surface.

But what I don't know is how to make it all go away.

Chapter Five

++

"Morning, sweetheart." As Sylvia sat up in bed, Jackson came in and put the tray over her. Toast and scrambled eggs since that seemed like an easy meal for breakfast in bed. Along with orange juice in a flute, which Sylvia liked to call a pregnant woman's mimosa.

"Morning? It's almost eleven. I can't believe you let me sleep so long."

"You were tossing and turning. I figured you could use a few extra hours." Honestly, he was surprised she got any sleep at all. She looked beautiful pregnant, but he knew she was getting damned uncomfortable.

"So just extra rest? This isn't part of a master plan to over-pamper me?"

"Is there such a thing?"

She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm starting to think so. And you need to stop worrying. I've felt fine since Sunday evening on the island. It's Tuesday morning now. I've done nothing but eat and bask and relax for thirty-six hours. You're spoiling me rotten."

She was right, of course. But the truth was he enjoyed pampering her. "You have a problem with that?"

"Absolutely not." She finished her orange juice, then held out the glass. "More please."

He laughed, then left to get the carton. "Anything else, madam?" he asked when he returned and refilled her glass.

"I could use a kiss."

"Funny. So could I."

He put the orange juice on the side table, then bent over to brush his lips over his wife's. He'd intended a chaste kiss, but her lips parted, so soft and tempting that he had to taste her. And when she reached up and thrust her fingers in his hair and pulled him down, he felt himself grow hard. "I should cancel my conference call," he said when they broke the kiss, both breathing hard.

She shook her head. "For that project in DC? The hell you will." She took his hand, twining her fingers through his.

"What if you need me?"

"One, your office is attached to the house, so it's not like I'd have to go far to find you. And two, I'm fine, remember? Now you're just making excuses for sex."

"Trust me. I don't need any excuses for sex."

She laughed. "Good point. In that case, you can come right back and find me after the call."

"With incentive like that, it'll be a very short call."

"Good. It should be. After all, you're Jackson Steele. What else do they possibly need to know before they hire you?"

"I like the way you think. So what are you going to do while I'm off impressing the Washington elite?"

"I think I'll set Ronnie up on one side of the kitchen table with her Play-Doh and me at the other and try to plow through all the emails that have built up over the last few days. I have a lot to take care of before I go on maternity leave." She bit her lower lip. "We're so close, Jackson. Can you believe it?"

Honestly, he could barely get his head around the thought. Soon there'd be a baby in the house. Their baby. "No," he said as he rubbed her stomach, imagining his son or daughter. "I really can't." He drew in a breath, then took her hand and held tight. "Two kids and a wife I adore. I don't know how the hell I got so lucky, but I know one thing. I wouldn't trade a single moment. Not for anything."

"I'm hungry, Mommy."

"What?" I'm preoccupied with a chain of emails between the city and my team about the placement of a sewer line on a Stark property outside of Palm Springs. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't hear you."

"I'm hungry," she repeats as I look into her wide eyes from over the screen of my laptop.

"Okay, just give me two more minutes and I'll get you something."

"Hungry now."

"Veronica Steele, you just ate a whole bowl of strawberries less than half an hour ago. You can wait until I finish this." I keep my voice level and reasonable despite the fact that my head is throbbing from staring at crisis-filled emails for the last hour.

Her lower lip protrudes in a full-on pout that, even despite my headache, is pretty darn cute. Naturally, it takes all my effort to remain stern.

I turn back to my email, then hear the scrape of the chair as she gets down, goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. She's behind me now, but I hear her step into the pantry, too, and assume we're out of napkins and she's gone in to get some.

When she returns to the table, I realize that I'm wrong. She has her water in one hand and a Chips Ahoy cookie in the other.

"Ronnie . . ."

"Hungry. I said I was."

"And I said I'd get you something to eat in two minutes. You can wait two minutes."

The lip pokes out again, and this time it's not so cute.

"I bet you won't make the baby wait."

My shoulders sag. "Oh, sweetie, come here."

She hesitates, then shuffles her feet forward. She's not paying enough attention though, and she runs into the table, and her water glass goes flying. And, dammit, I'm too ungainly to do anything about it. I can only awkwardly shove back from the table as water spills right on my computer keyboard.

"Ronnie!" I shout, not meaning to raise my voice, but I'm surprised and irritated and--I realize with some dismay--covered in spilled water along with my computer.

I look over and see the tears welling in her eyes and feel like an absolute bitch from hell. A bitch who certainly doesn't deserve to be a mom. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. You just startled me. I didn't mean to yell."

"I knew you liked the baby in your tummy better than me."

Her words slash through me, and I hear myself saying no, no, as I reach for her. But she's gone, even her short legs too swift for me these days. The back door slams, and I lean over my destroyed laptop just long enough to mentally award myself the Worst Mother of the Year award.

Then I head toward the backyard, too.

I half consider getting Jackson, but I know this call is important, and they must be making progress since he's been on the phone for so long. Besides, this one is on me. I stroke my belly. "I can do this, can't I, sport?"

As if in response, the baby gives a gentle kick, as I hurry outside after Ronnie.

She's not hard to find. The yard is large, but only by Los Angeles standards. She's on the swing set that Jackson intends to replace with the massive playscape he's designing. One that can grow with the kids, even turning into a workout station when they're older.

I settle into the swing beside her, feeling more than a little precarious. But with my feet on the ground, I figure I'm okay. For a minute or two we just sit there saying nothing. Finally, I speak, but I look straight ahead, not at the little girl on a swing beside me. "Do you know I love Daddy?"

"Uh-huh."

"But I yell at him sometimes." I think back to some of the knock-down drag out fights I've had with Jackson. And then I smile when I think about making up.