Pillow Talk Page 17

  "He's the son of one of Grandfather's grandsons. And his father just passed away."

  "Like Daddy?" Teddy sounded very somber.

  Meg nodded.

  "Oh," Teddy said.

  A rustling noise sounded in the doorway. Meg glanced over to see Jem's nose poking through from the hallway. Where Jem went, Gus was not far behind. She thought of calling out and asking him to join them, but she sensed Gus needed his distance. He'd suffered many wounds and losses; when he was ready, he would join them.

  "Mommy?"

  "Yes, Samantha?"

  "My wish for my dreams is that you find us another daddy and that you never go away ever again."

  Meg smiled, but she knew sorrow showed on her face. "Let's go to bed, little ones," she said, and rose and led them to their rooms.

  Tucking herself under her covers, she wondered once again where Parker was, what he was doing, on what pillow he would lay his head that night. She sighed and tossed and turned.

  Then she heard the patter of feet and Samantha and Ellen, as she'd predicted, slipped into bed with her. What surprised her, though, was when she woke the next morning, she found Gus, his head pillowed on Jem's body, asleep on the rug on the floor near the foot of her bed.

  Locked in his office downtown the next day, Parker paced the floor, trying to absorb his shock.

  Jules had revoked his prior will after his divorce from CeCe, and hadn't signed the new one before he left for Vegas. Which meant he'd died intestate and his property passed to his wife and son.

  And he'd filed no prenuptial agreement with his lawyers.

  Perhaps Meg had a copy.

  Surely Jules hadn't married without ensuring that she signed one. After learning that the marriage had indeed been validly registered in Las Vegas, Parker had set about reassuring himself Jules had protected the Ponthier's business interests.

  But it looked as if he'd done exactly the opposite.

  Or put more bluntly, tried to line up his own.

  It wasn't like him not to insist on a prenuptial. He'd drafted it, then had his lawyers pore over it when he'd married Marianne and then CeCe. Maybe he'd taken a copy of that all-important document that prevented a widowed or divorced spouse from having any say over Ponthier family shares to Las Vegas with him.

  Without a prenuptial, Meg could outvote Parker.

  Damn his brother, Parker thought, then pushed the reaction guiltily from his mind. Their entire lives his brother had messed up and Parker had had to straighten things out.

  Even after death, that pattern continued.

  He crossed his office once more, pausing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the downtown business district. In the near distance he could see the Greater New Orleans bridge reaching like a silver arm across the Mississippi.

  Impossible to think that only yesterday Gus had fallen into those same muddy waters, waters that looked clear and peaceful from this distance, an image Parker knew was false.

  He'd stayed away from Ponthier Place last night and all day, lest he be tempted into any more foolish behavior should he chance across Meg dressed in that strangely appealing t-shirt. He'd returned to his comfortable home along Bayou St. John but instead of the peace he usually found there, he felt alone in a way he never had before.

  All day he'd worked at a furious pace, catching up on business as well as fielding the news from Jules's lawyers and checking with the investigator in Las Vegas.

  As he'd gone through the day, he kept thinking of Meg. She was no longer his sister-in-law; she was his uninvited and unwanted business partner.

  That thought made him groan. He couldn't work with the woman; he couldn't stand being in the same room with her. She made him feel like a randy eighteen-year-old at the same time she made him feel like a stuffy and predictable snob. How she managed to elicit such opposing reactions, he had no idea.

  He told himself he had to understand her in order to work with her. He told himself he had to spend more time with her to understand just what game she and Jules had been playing. He told himself his interest in her was based purely on protecting the Ponthier business position.

  Simply business.

  Seventeen

  By the time he'd parked his Porsche in the carriage house, covered it, and dashed through the rain towards the house, Parker had forced himself to admit he was more interested in Meg than business required. He also told himself that until he'd seen her prenuptial he shouldn't jump to conclusions on her standing within the Ponthier family corporation.

  Jules may have been a fool in many ways, but he'd been a lawyer who'd never yet let his heart run away with his pocketbook, not even in his disastrous first two marriages.

  Guilt nipped at him for thinking poorly of his brother, but somehow the level wasn't as high as it might have been. Death did not sainthood impose, Parker reasoned as he strode to the house.

  Lights glowed throughout the massive structure. For some reason, the house looked friendlier, more cheerful this evening than Parker remembered it looking in a long, long time.

  It was late, after nine o'clock. Parker decided to stop in the kitchen first and see what leftovers the cook might spare him. Slipping in through the back sunroom door, Parker heard music blasting from farther to the front. It certainly wasn't Teensy's Tchaikovsky or one of his grandfather's operas. He paused, and made out an old Rolling Stones song.

  Meg?

  His appetite for food forgotten, Parker headed toward the source of the music.

  The doors to the library stood open; the Stones blasted from the music system in his office. Surprised at the intrusion into what Parker considered both a personal and professional refuge within the house, Parker reserved judgment as he walked into the room.

  The Stones weren't the only invasion.

  Chairs had been moved around, lined up in front of his desk. Draped over the chairs were blankets and sheets. Beneath the sheets he saw movement, heard voices and giggles, and sure enough, beating against the side of one of the blankets was what had to be Jem's tail.

  Parker sat his briefcase on the floor.

  "Shh," he heard, "the sheik is coming!"

  "He's no sheik," a girl said, "I thought we were playing dancing school."

  "Are not." That was definitely Gus's voice.

  "Are too."

  "Why don't you two grow up?" Another boy's voice entered the fray. "We already did scissors, rock, and paper and now we're plating war."

  "Pow! You're dead and now I'm the sheik!'

  The blankets moved roughly. A chair upended and smacked the side of Parker's desk. He winced just as Jem yelped.

  "What's—" His words were cut off as a small child with curly brown hair crawled from beneath the edges of the blankets.

  She sat back and regarded Parker with large, dark eyes that looked oddly familiar. She said, "I'm not supposed to talk to you because I don't know you."

  "I see." Parker realized he must be intimidating to the little girl. He lowered himself to his knees and sat back. "Well, I wouldn't want you to do anything you're not supposed to do, but do you think you could tell me your name?"

  She shook her head vigorously. Her curls danced.

  The rough and tumble under the blankets came to an abrupt halt. Three sets of hands reached out and pulled the girl back under the blankets.

  Then after muffled discussion, Gus stuck his head out. "Uncle Parker, what's hanging?"

  Parker rose and turned down the volume on the Stones. "Maybe I should ask you that question?"

  Gus shrugged, only his head showing. Jem pushed his nose out near the floor and whined.

  "I take it you're having some friends over to play?" That would explain the well-lit house. Teensy must be entertaining the other children's parents, though it wasn't like her to include youngsters along with any invitation.

  "Sort of."

  "Did you have to play in my study?"

  "Ellen said you had the best stuff for making our tent."
/>   Parker nodded. "Ellen must be a very discriminating tent builder."

  "She's okay." He added, "For a girl."

  Parker wondered whose family had come to call. "Where does Ellen go to school?"

  "I don't think she does. Her mom teaches her, though."

  "Her mom must be pretty smart."

  Gus snorted. "She thinks so."

  Parker wondered if the antecedent for that pronoun was Ellen or the mother.

  "Just a minute." Gus disappeared under the covers.

  Parker listened to the whispered conference, hut couldn't make out the words. He loosened his tie, stripped off his jacket, and surveyed the mess of his retreat. Gus and his pals had enjoyed a picnic in front of the fire. A bowl of popcorn, several half empty glasses of milk, and a saliva-drenched dog bone lay atop yet another sheet. Well, at least they'd had the good manners to cover the Aubusson rug with a protective layer.

  Gus stuck his head back out. "You want to join us? We're playing sheik."

  "Sheik?"

  "You know, it's make-believe." Gus stared at him. "Didn't you ever play make-believe?"

  Parker stared back at his nephew. Certainly he'd never had the nerve to upend the furniture in Teensy's perfectly mannered household. He found it hard to believe Gus, schooled in as rigid a manner as Parker had been, had thought of such a thing and wondered again whose kids were hidden beneath that tent.

  Well, one way to find out was to join them.

  Don't be silly, Parker. You've got work to do. You can't go crawling around on the floor under a pretend bedouin tent.

  Gus whispered something over his shoulder and turned back to Parker, disappointment clear. "Ellen said you wouldn't do it."

  "Oh, Ellen did, did she?"

  Gus nodded. "She said dads never want to play make-believe. She said they're always too busy working."

  Parker unfastened his cuffs, tossed the gold links on top of his desk, and got down on his hands and knees. "What do girls know, anyway?" Gus opened the tent and Parker crawled inside.

  As he did, he remembered where he'd seen those huge, dark eyes before. But before he could ponder the coincidence, a beam of light from a flashlight blinded him.

  "Show the captive to the seat of truth," the girl commanded.

  Thankfully the flashlight bounced in another direction. Gus patted a cushion Parker recognized from the loveseat. Playing along, he moved on hands and knees over to the cushion, then sat on it crosslegged. The tent rose barely above the height of the two wing chairs that formed its main supports.

  Shadows danced from the bobbing flashlight. Parker made out a girl and a boy about Gus's size, Gus, the dark-eyed Orphan Annie who'd stuck her head out, and Jem, of course.

  The older of the two girls clapped her hands. She wore a towel over her head as did the other boy. Gus had one draped around his shoulders. "Give our guest some dates grown in our oasis," she commanded.

  The other boy formed a machine gun with his arms and hands. "Rat-a-tat-tat-tat! We're playing war and we don't feed the dead."

  The girl yanked on his towel. "It's no wonder you always get an F in cooperation. Gus, will you do it, please?"

  To Parker's amazement his nephew smiled and lifted a heavy silver tray Parker recognized as one of Teensy's treasured wine bottle coasters. It was empty but he carried it over to Parker solemnly. "Dates from our desert oasis," he said. Then under his breath, he added, "Come on, it's a game."

  Parker nodded. "Thank you to my gracious hosts," he said and pretended to select a date. He nibbled on air, licked his fingers, and said, “Most delicious."

  From the thankful smile Gus flashed, Parker figured he hadn't caused him to lose too much face. Emboldened, he said, "My princess sheik, what oasis are these from?"

  The girl "tasted" one of the dates. "Las Vegas. Where all the best things are from."

  Parker choked. He glanced from the older girl to the younger waif. Same eyes, same curly hair, same…

  The curtained doorway to the tent parted. Meg's head poked through. "Bedtime in five minutes."

  "But, Mom, we just captured our first prisoner," the boy said.

  "And we haven't played dancing school yet," Ellen said.

  "All right," she said, not glancing all the way into the tent. "Finish boiling your captive in hot oil. You can play dancing school tomorrow."

  "That's rather inhospitable treatment for a desert visitor," Parker said.

  Meg swiveled her head back into the tent. Parker! Sure enough, he sat crosslegged on a cushion. "Oh, my," she said, rocking back on her heels. "I didn't see you."

  "She probably thought we had an imaginary captive," Teddy supplied helpfully.

  On her hands and knees, her head sticking through the doorway of the tent, Meg said, "What are you doing in here?"

  "I was invited—er—captured."

  "You didn't have to play along."

  His eyes met hers. "I know," he said quietly, "but I wanted to."

  Samantha wiggled over. "We got you, too," she said. "Now you have to sit on the seat."

  "Great idea," Gus said. "Onto the seat of— what's it called, Ellen?"

  "Seat of truth," her daughter pronounced.

  Meg hesitated. She could round them up for bed, or she could let them have fun a little bit longer. But sitting next to Parker on that cushion, the same cushion if she was right, where she'd lain beneath him two nights ago was the last thing she wanted to do.

  "March, lady," Gus said, "or we will boil you in hot oil."

  She sighed. She deserved that one, having given them the idea. On her hands and knees she crawled over and took her place on the cushion beside Parker. She tried to arrange her legs so as not to graze his thigh, but within the tight quarters, she failed. Heat from the brush of his thigh against hers traveled up her leg, tanning the flame that had burned within her since their ill-fated tumble on the loveseat. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to extinguish the slow burning of desire he'd ignited within her.

  The cuffs of his shirt had been turned back, and his hands rested gracefully on his knees. Staring hard at those hands, she could feel him in her mind touching her the way he had the other night. She would have given herself to him then. Meg swallowed and trying not to think of what might have been, kept her eyes fastened on those hands.

  The sight of him playing with the children amazed and pleased her. Parker Ponthier was a man to be reckoned with. If she weren't careful, and given the chance, she'd yield to him again.

  Teddy grabbed Ellen and Gus by the shoulders. They held another conference punctuated by giggles.

  While they planned what to do next, Meg couldn't help but glance up at Parker. He was smiling softly. "So you like this make-believe?" he asked.

  "I usually play along."

  "Hmmm." His hands, which had been hugging his knees, drifted downward to the cushion. One just brushed the side of her leg as it settled innocently enough against the cushion. "If my imagination led me to believe that these three charming playmates of Gus belong to you, would it be leading me to guess the truth?"

  "Well, now that you mention it—"

  "Quiet!" Ellen waved the flashlight. "The desert sheik has reached her decision."

  "I still don't agree that you get to be the sheik," Gus said. "Girls can't be sheiks."

  "But I'm the oldest. And I'm a princess sheik."

  "By two minutes," Teddy said.

  "And three days," Gus added.

  "I said quiet."

  Meg tried to read Parker's expression but he sat there, inscrutable. Now that he knew she had three lively children, she'd not have to worry about another pass from him. Even if he did decide to forgive her deception, what man in his right mind would take on a household of masters of commotion? Yet here he was playing with them in their tent. Her heart filled with a hope she had no right to feel. As Ellen commanded quiet yet again from Gus and Jem, who'd started yelping, Meg also wondered, on a more pragmatic note, when her child had grown so bossy.

/>   "You two shall be married and banished on a desert honeymoon," the princess sheik pronounced, then ruined her dramatic effect with a long, pealing giggle.

  "Rather extreme sentence, isn't it?" Parker said, but in a mild voice.

  Jem yelped even louder.

  "You've got at least one dissenter," Meg pointed out.

  "What's a dissenter?" Gus asked.

  "Someone who disagrees with a decision," Ellen said.

  Meg caught an appreciative look in Parker's eye as he glanced at her.

  She wondered what she'd done to earn that look of approval. Well, approval or no approval, there'd be no mock wedding. "Time's up for tonight, kidlets," she said, moving off the cushion.

  "But we haven't carried out our sentence," Gus said.

  "There's always tomorrow."

  "Ah, saved by the clock," Parker said.

  Gus blocked the doorway. "If there's always tomorrow, does that mean we can play again tomorrow?"

  Meg hesitated, looking towards Parker, No doubt he'd stumbled across the crew on his way in search of peace and quiet in the library, peace and quiet so he could concentrate on whatever work he'd carried from the office. Would he voluntarily play again?

  "My fate is in your hands, oh sheik," he said. He looked at Gus when he spoke, but Meg could have sworn he brushed his hand against hers. But when she took a quick peek downwards, his hand rested on his knee as before.

  "Okay," Gus said, "but don't try to escape or I'll hunt you down on my desert camel."

  Parker managed to look suitably impressed by the threat. Meg suppressed a smile and said, "Say hello to Mr. Ponthier." Teddy, Ellen and Samantha introduced themselves, Samantha peeking shyly up at him. In response, he said, "Call me Parker, please," then winked at Meg.

  Meg didn't miss the wink or the friendly response, but she kept her voice businesslike. "Let's get this cleaned up for tonight. You can make another tent tomorrow. In another room." She headed for the tent's exit.

  "Oh, that won't be necessary," Parker said, crawling behind her. "I like the tent; it adds a nice touch."

  In her surprise, Meg stopped short. Parker bumped into her, and Ellen and Gus did the same. Ellen and Gus started a tickle fight and for one wild moment, Meg thought of doing the same with Parker. Then reason recaptured her mind. "Everybody out. Now."