Brown-Eyed Girl by Lisa Kleypas
Call me or the camera gets it.
“Happen to know anything about this?” he asked.
“I might.” As I stared into his dark eyes, I saw to my relief that he wasn’t angry. In fact, I got the impression that he was considerably entertained.
“This was an inside job,” Joe said. “Jack has a key to my place, but he knows better. So it had to be Ella who helped you.”
“I admit nothing.” I opened the door fully. “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?”
Joe was about to reply, but his gaze had flickered to the valley of my cleavage and my half-exposed breasts, and then he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Wine?” I prompted.
Joe blinked and forced his gaze back up to my face. He had to clear his throat before replying. “Please.”
Coco trotted back to the sofa as Joe and I went to the kitchen.
“You were expecting company?” Joe asked, seeing the extra wineglass waiting beside the open bottle.
“One never knows.”
“One knows the chances are pretty high when a three-thousand-dollar Nikon is missing.”
“It’s safe.” I poured some chilled pinot grigio and gave it to him.
Joe took a swallow, the crystal stem of the wineglass glimmering in his strong fingers.
Being with him again, having him within arm’s reach, filled me with an emotion bordering on exhilaration. For me, happiness was as elusive and fragile as one of those balloons Eli had once brought Sofia. At the moment, however, it seemed to have been woven all through me, stitched deep in my bones and muscles, enriching my blood.
“I hope I’m not making you late for your event,” I said.
“It was canceled.”
“When?”
A smile touched his lips. “About a minute and a half ago.” He set aside his wine, then took off his jacket and draped it over the backrest of a bar stool. Next the shirt cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled up twice, revealing forearms dusted with dark hair. Excited flutters awakened in my stomach as he proceeded to remove his tie.
After unfastening his top shirt button, Joe picked up his wineglass and gave me a level glance. “I haven’t called because I’ve been trying to give you space.”
I tried to sound injured. “There’s a difference between giving someone space and ignoring them.”
“Honey, I’m not ignoring you, I’m trying not to act like a stalker.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me after we went out the other day?”
The creases at the outer corners of his eyes deepened. “Because I knew that if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. You may have noticed that I have trouble putting on the brakes with you.” He stood and took hold of the sides of my chair, effectively caging me. “Now that you’ve taken my camera hostage… what kind of ransom are we talking about?”
I had to work up my nerve before replying. “I think we should negotiate upstairs. In my bedroom.”
Joe contemplated me for a long moment before shaking his head. “Avery… when it happens, I’m going to want things that are hard for you to give. It’ll be different from the first time. And I can’t take the chance that you’re not ready.”
I rested my hands on his forearms, taut with corded strength. “I’ve missed you,” I said. “I missed talking to you at night and hearing about your day, and telling you about mine. I’ve even been dreaming about you. Since you’re already occupying some of my head space, we might as well sleep together.”
Joe was very still, his gaze locked on my reddening face. By now he knew how difficult it was for me to admit how I felt.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I continued, “but I know that I trust you. And I know that I want to wake up with a man in my bed tomorrow morning. Specifically you. So if you —”
Before I could finish, Joe leaned forward and kissed me. My fingers tightened on his arms in a bid for balance. I took an extra breath, another, my lungs striving amid a storm of heartbeats. The kiss turned stronger, more voracious, his mouth opening mine. Without breaking the kiss, he pulled me from the chair and pinned me against the counter, as if I needed to be held in place, restrained, and the hint of male aggression was wildly exciting.
“Joe,” I panted when his mouth slid to my throat, “I… I have a big bed upstairs, covered with… Italian linens and a hand-quilted silk cover… and feather and down pillows…”
Joe drew his head back to look at me, a dance of laughter in his eyes. “You don’t have to sell me on the bed, honey.”
He paused at the sound of a phone emanating from his discarded jacket. “Sorry,” he said, reaching for the garment. “I only get this ringtone when it’s family.” He began to hunt through the pockets.
“Of course.”
He pulled out the phone and looked at his text messages. “Christ,” he said, his expression changing.
Something bad had happened.
“Haven’s in the hospital,” he said. “I have to go.”
“I’m coming too,” I said instantly.
Joe shook his head. “You don’t have to —”
“Wait two minutes,” I said, already running to the stairs. “I’ll put on a shirt and some jeans. Don’t leave without me.”
Seventeen
I
t occurred to me on the way to the hospital that I might have been too pushy, insisting on accompanying Joe. Whatever was wrong with Haven, it was a family matter, and they might not appreciate having an outsider there. On the other hand, I wanted to help in any way possible. And more important, I wanted to be there for Joe. Having gained some understanding of how much the Travises meant to one another, I knew it would devastate him if anything happened to his sister.
“What does the text say about Haven’s condition?” I asked.
Wordlessly Joe handed the phone to me.
“Preeclampsia,” I said, reading the message from Ella.
“I’ve never heard of it before.”
“I have, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.” In a couple of minutes, I’d found a page on preeclampsia. “It’s a hypertensive disease. High blood pressure, severe water retention, and toxic buildup in the kidneys and liver.”
“How serious is it?”
I hesitated. “It can get really serious.”
His hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Life-threatening?”
“Garner is a world-class hospital. I’m sure Haven will be fine.” The phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. “It’s Ella. Do you want to —”
“Talk to her while I drive.”
I answered the call. “Ella? Hi, it’s Avery.”
Ella’s voice was quiet, but I could hear the stress threaded through her subdued tone. “We’re in the waiting room at the neonatal ICU. Are you and Joe headed over?”
“Yes, we’re almost there. What’s happening?”
“This morning Haven woke up with a headache and nausea, but Jesus, that’s routine for her. She couldn’t keep anything down, and she went back to bed. When she woke up this afternoon, she was starting to have problems breathing. Hardy brought her to the hospital and they checked her vitals and did some tests. Her blood pressure is through the roof, and her protein levels are triple what they should be, and she’s acting confused, which scared the shit out of Hardy. The good news is, the baby’s heartbeat is normal.”
“How many weeks before the baby is full term?”
“Four, I think. But she’ll probably be fine, even being born this early.”
“Wait. Are you saying Haven’s in labor?”
“They’re going to do a C-section. Okay, gotta go – Liberty and Gage are just walking in, and they’ll want an update.” The call ended.
“They’re doing a C-section,” I told Joe.
He swore softly.
I looked back at the Web page on the phone. “Preeclampsia is usually resolved within forty-eight hours after the baby’s delivered,” I said. “They’ll give Haven medicine for the hypertension.
Joe nodded, looking far from reassured.
The waiting room of the NICU was furnished with clusters of blue upholstered chairs and small tables and a sofa. Harsh overhead lighting imparted a lunar whiteness to the atmosphere. The assembled members of the immediate Travis family were understandably tense and subdued as they welcomed Joe and me. Jack, however, summoned a hint of his usual humor. “Hi, Avery,” he said, giving me a brief hug, adding in feigned surprise, “You’re still hanging out with Joe?”
“I insisted on coming with him,” I said. “I hope I’m not barging in, but I thought —”
“Not at all,” Liberty interrupted, her green eyes warm.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Gage added. His gaze traveled from my face to Joe’s. “No news about Haven yet.”
“How’s Hardy doing?” Joe asked.
“He’s been solid so far,” Jack replied. “But if she goes downhill any further… he won’t take it well.”
“None of us will,” Joe said, and the group fell silent.
We rearranged a few chairs and settled in the waiting room. Joe and I sat on the sofa. “You sure you want to stay?” Joe asked me sotto voce. “I can have you sent home in the hospital’s private car. This won’t be over any time soon.”
“Do you want me to leave? Is it better for the family if there are no outsiders here? Just be blunt, because I —”
“You’re not an outsider. But you don’t have to suffer in a hospital waiting room just because I’m here.”
“I’m not suffering. And I want to stay, as long as it’s okay with you.” I curled my legs beneath me and leaned into his side.
“I want you here.” He cuddled me closer.
“What did you mean, the hospital’s private car?” I asked. “Is that a new service?”
“Not exactly. The hospital has what they call a VIP program for benefactors. The family made some donations in the past, and Dad left them a bequest in his will. So now if any of us comes to the hospital, we’re supposed to wait in a VIP room, which is stuck in some distant wing of the hospital, with people hovering over you every minute. We’ve all agreed to avoid the VIP treatment whenever possible.” He paused. “But I’d break the rules if you wanted a ride home in a town car.”
“If you’re not going to be a VIP,” I told him, “don’t try to turn me into one.”
Joe smiled and pressed his lips to my temple. “Someday,” he murmured, “I’m going to take you out for a nice, normal date. No drama. We’ll go have dinner at a restaurant like civilized people.”
After several long, quiet minutes, Jack said he was going to get some coffee and asked if anyone wanted some. The group shook their heads. He left and returned soon with a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming liquid.
Ella frowned in worry. “Jack, it’s not good to drink hot liquid out of those kinds of cups – the chemicals leach into the coffee.”
Jack looked sardonic. “I’ve drunk hot coffee out of Styrofoam for most of my life.”
“That explains it,” Joe said.
Although Jack sent him a warning glance, there was a betraying twitch at the corner of his mouth as he took his seat beside Ella. He offered her a pack of plastic-wrapped cookies.
“You got that from a vending machine, didn’t you?” Ella asked suspiciously.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Jack said.
“What’s wrong with vending machines?” I asked.
“The food is junk,” Ella replied, “and the machines themselves are deadly. They kill more people per year than sharks.”
“How could a vending machine kill someone?” Liberty asked.
“Fall over and crush them,” Ella said earnestly. “It happens.”
“There’s no vending machine in existence that could take out a Travis,” Jack informed her. “We’re too hardheaded.”
“I’ll vouch for that,” Ella said. Surreptitiously she took a cookie from the open packet and began to nibble on it.
I smiled and rested my head on Joe’s shoulder. His hand began to sift through the loose locks of my hair.
Abruptly, the soothing motion of his hand stopped, a new tension entering his body. Lifting my head, I followed the direction of Joe’s gaze.
Hardy had entered the waiting room, not seeming to recognize or notice anyone. His face was haggard and skull white, his eyes electric blue. He went blindly to the farthest corner and sat, his broad shoulders hunched as if he were trying to recover from a mule kick to the chest.
“Hardy —” someone said quietly.
He flinched and gave a little shake of his head.
A doctor had come to the doorway. Gage went to him, and they conferred for a couple of minutes.
Gage’s expression was unreadable as he returned. The group leaned in to catch every word as he spoke quietly. “There’s a complication with preeclampsia called HELLP syndrome. Basically the red blood cells are rupturing. Haven is heading toward liver failure and a possible stroke.” He paused and swallowed hard, his gaze meeting Liberty’s. “Delivering the baby is the first step,” he continued in an even tone. “After that they’ll give her steroids and plasma, and likely a blood transfusion. We’ll probably get some news in about an hour. For now, we hunker down and wait.”
“Shit,” Joe said softly. He glanced at the far corner of the room, where Hardy leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs, his head down. “Someone should sit with him. Should I —”
“I will, if you don’t mind,” Gage murmured.
“Go right ahead.”
Gage stood and went to the solitary figure in the corner.
I was surprised by Gage’s desire to sit with Hardy, recalling some of what Joe had once told me, that there was no love lost between the two men. Joe had been somewhat vague about the details, but he’d indicated that Hardy had caused some kind of trouble for Gage and Liberty. It seemed there was history between Hardy and Liberty – they had known each other growing up and had even been childhood sweethearts for a time.
“How did Hardy end up marrying Haven?” I had asked.
“Not exactly sure how or when it started,” Joe had said. “But once Hardy and Haven took up with each other, it was like trying to stop a runaway train. And eventually we all realized that Hardy loved her, which is all that matters. Still… Gage and Hardy generally keep their distance from each other, unless there’s an occasion when the entire family gets together.”
I stole a discreet glance at the corner of the room, where Gage sat beside Hardy and gave him a rough brotherly pat on the back. Hardy didn’t even appear to notice. He was trapped in some private hell, where no one could reach him. In a couple of minutes, however, Hardy’s shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh. Gage asked him something, and he shook his head in response.
For the next hour, Gage stayed beside Hardy, murmuring from time to time but mostly offering silent companionship. No one else approached, understanding that Hardy’s emotions were too raw, that one person’s proximity was all he could handle.
Why that person should be Gage, however, was difficult to understand.
I gave Joe a questioning glance. Leaning close, he murmured, “Haven’s always been a favorite of Gage’s. Hardy knows if anything happens, Gage would be nearly as torn up about it as he would. And besides… they’re family.”
A young nurse entered the waiting room. “Mr. Cates?” He rose to his feet, his face contorted with a raw anguish that I doubted she or anyone else would ever forget. She hurried over to him with her phone. “I have a picture of your daughter,” she said. “I took it before they put her in the incubator. She’s a perfect four pounds. Seventeen inches long.”
The Travises all gathered around the phone with exclamations of excitement and relief.
Hardy took a glance at the image and said hoarsely, “My wife…”
??
“I want to see her,” Hardy said brusquely.
Before the disconcerted nurse could reply, Gage intervened. “Hardy, I’ll talk to the doctor while you’re with Haven.”