stopped him short, sympathy threatening to unravel her tenuous control. “I can handle Max’s medical needs. I have insurance through the school. And you won’t need your specialists to covertly check his age.” Yes, she couldn’t help but be suspicious of his offer. “His birth date is public record. He was born eight months after you and Kevin flew out. Max is four months old.”
“So you were in your first trimester when he was killed. Did you not know about the baby when Kevin died?”
She swallowed hard. That, she couldn’t deny. She’d lied through omission. “I knew.”
“Why didn’t you tell him before he died?”
How dare he stand there so handsome, self righteous and alive? She let her grief find an outlet in anger. “You two may have been friends, but my reasons are really none of your business.”
His jaw flexed and he scrubbed a hand over his close-shorn hair. “You’re right. They’re not.”
His nod of agreement deflated her anger. How could she explain when all of her reasons sounded silly to her own ears now? She’d been scared, and confused, delaying until it had been too late to tell Kevin. If he’d known, would he have been more careful? There was no way to answer that. She would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her life.
She tugged Hank’s jacket from the chair and thrust it toward him. “You checked on me. Consider the friendship obligations complete. You should just go. It’s late and you’ve got to be exhausted from your trip back. And honestly, I’ve had a long day with no time to eat.”
A day full of stress on top of the exhaustion of feeding Max every two hours through the night.
She pushed the leather jacket against his chest. “It has been nice seeing you again. Good night.”
He cupped a hand over hers. “I’m here to check on you, like I promised Kevin. And apparently my coming by was a good thing. Kevin would have provided for his child. He would want him to live in more than a one-room apartment.”
Her head snapped back at the insult. “Back to the money again? I don’t recall you being this rude before.”
“And I don’t remember you being this defensive.”
Toe to toe, she stood him down. “I may not have the Renshaw portfolio and political connections, but I work hard to provide for my son, and I happen to think I’m doing a damn fine job.”
Her anger and frustration pumped adrenaline through her, her nerves tingling with a hyper-awareness of Hank until she realized… He still had his hand on top of hers. Skin to skin, his warmth seeped into the icy fear that had chilled her for so long she worried nothing would chase it away. Her exhausted body crackled with memories and heated with something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Desire.
An answering flame heated in Hank’s eyes a second before his expression went neutral. “Did you mean what you said about being hungry? Let me order us some dinner to make up for being rude.”
“Dinner? With you?” She hadn’t shared a meal with him since two days before he’d left for his deployment.
Since the night she’d kissed Hank Renshaw.
Two
Hank saw the memory of that one kiss reflected in Gabrielle’s eyes. One moment of weakness that dogged him with guilt to this day.
She’d driven up to his base in Bossier City to say goodbye to Kevin before their deployment. The three of them had planned to go out to lunch together. But at the last minute, she had an argument with Kevin and he stood her up. Hank had bought her burgers and listened while she poured her heart out. He’d held strong until she started crying, then he’d hugged her and…
Damn it. He still didn’t know who’d kissed whom first, but he blamed himself. Honor dictated he owed Kevin better this time.
Furrows trenched deeper into Gabrielle’s forehead. “You plan to order dinner, in the middle of Mardi Gras?”
“Or we can leave and eat somewhere else. There’s got to be a back entrance to this building.” He kept talking to keep her from booting him out on his butt. “We can pack up the kid and go someplace quiet. It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep with all that Mardi Gras racket.”
“This area’s rarely quiet. He’s used to it.”
“Then, I’ll order something in.” He tossed his jacket back over the chair.
“Which brings us back to my original question. Who’s going to deliver here? Now?”
He didn’t bother answering the obvious.
She sighed. “Renshaw influence.”
Influence? An understatement. But making use of it now was a rare perk in the weight of being a Renshaw.
“I guess even I would deliver a meal in this mayhem if someone paid me enough.” She held up both hands fast. “But you’re leaving.”
He pulled out his iPhone as if she hadn’t spoken. “What do you want to eat? Come on. I’ve been overseas eating crappy mess hall food and M.R.E.s for a year. Pick something fast and don’t bother saying no. You’re hungry. I’m hungry. Why argue?”
Hugging herself, she stared back at him, indecision shifting through her eyes. She was stubborn and determined, but then so was he. So he stood and waited her out.
Finally, she nodded, seeming to relax that steely spine at least a little. “Something simple, not spicy.”
“No spices? In New Orleans.”
She laughed and the sweet sound of it sliced right through him as it had before. He’d deluded himself into thinking his memory had exaggerated his reaction to her. And yet here he stood, totally hooked in by the sound of her laughter. Whatever she wanted, he would make it happen. He thumbed the number for a local French restaurant his stepmother frequented and rattled off his order from the five-star establishment. His dad’s new wife brought hefty political weight to the family. And politicians needed privacy.
Order complete, he thumbed the phone off. “Done. They’ll be downstairs in a half hour.”
She placed her hands over his jacket on the chair, her fingers curling into the leather. “Thank you, this really is thoughtful.”
“So I’m forgiven for my question about Max’s father?” The answer was important. Too much so. Jazz music, cheers and air horns blared from below, filling the heavy silence.
“Forgiven.” She nodded tightly, her fingers digging deeper into the coat. “You’re a good man. I know that. You’re just stubborn and a little pushy.”
“I’m a lot pushy.” The only way to forge his own path in a strong-willed family full of overachievers. “But you’re hungry and tired, so let me take charge for a while.”
“Look that good do I?” She rolled her eyes as she walked past him and dropped into an overstuffed chair.
Curled
