Always My Baby. Martha Kennerson

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Always My Baby - Martha Kennerson The Kingsleys of Texas

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turned and met Alexander’s angry leer. She could almost see the fury radiating from his body. China stood, walked over to him and placed both hands on his chest. She stared up into his eyes and said, “No, it wasn’t a mistake. Last night was curiosity being explored. It was a magnificent experience that’s over and can’t happen again. We’re friends, remember?”

      Alexander dropped his arms, placed his left hand over hers and sighed. “Always.”

      “Good.” She pulled her hands free. “Now finish getting dressed and give me a ride home.”

      “You really don’t think we should even talk about last night?” His forehead puckered. “Maybe see where this thing could lead.”

      “No. One night doesn’t change the people we are...what we want. Our friendship works because we don’t try to push our individual needs and wants onto each other,” China reminded him.

      “That’s because for years our needs and wants have always been in sync.”

      China twisted her neck and raised her left eyebrow. “Almost all of our needs.”

      “You mean the kid thing.” Alexander placed his hands in his pants pockets.

      “Yes, the kid thing. I want them and I’m building my life around having them, and you’re indifferent on the subject. That alone prevents us from going any further than last night.” China placed her right hand on her hip. “You can wait until whenever to have children. Women aren’t so lucky. I know firsthand what it’s like to have an older parent and I won’t do that to my child...hopefully children.”

      China had been raised by a single mother in the military, and while she’d loved the travel and different adventures they got to experience, having an older mother with sensitive, fair Irish skin prone to wrinkles had made things uncomfortable for China growing up; people assumed that her mother was her grandmother. Her mother’s love of the sun hadn’t helped the situation, either. She’d died from an aggressive form of skin cancer before China’s twenty-first birthday.

      “You’re barely twenty-nine years old, China, and you sound like you’re on some deadline,” he declared, his apathy on the subject clear.

      I am. “I need someone who’s of the same mindset as me when it comes to having children, and I think I may have found someone.” China started gathering up her clothes.

      “Have you, now?”

      “I’m not discussing this with you right now, Alexander.” Between thoughts of her mother, China’s own desperate need to create a family and dealing with feelings that being with Alexander unleashed, the last thing China wanted was for Alexander to see her break down; his kind heart and big strong shoulders would be hard to resist. She was drowning in emotions and needed space to pull herself together. China disappeared into the bathroom.

      * * *

      Alexander watched China retreat to his private bathroom. “Dammit,” he said, as he pounded his right fist into his left hand. Even after a rambunctious night of lovemaking with China, Alexander’s body still craved her unlike any other woman he’d had. He wasn’t sure what this thing between them was, but he was determined to figure it out. He was not going to just give up. Alexander was moving toward the bathroom when he heard his office door open. He turned just in time to see his family’s matriarchs cross the threshold. Watching China walk away from him while his mother and aunt walked toward him as he stood in his office shirtless had Alexander wondering if the last couple of minutes had been a nightmare.

      Victoria Langston Kingsley and Elizabeth Langston Kingsley, Alexander’s mother and aunt, had inherited their father’s floundering corporation, and with the help of their husbands—brothers Alexander and Harrison Kingsley—the sisters turned their struggling company into one of the most successful privately held oil and natural gas companies in the country.

      “I told you he’d be here,” Victoria proudly declared, entering the office wearing a gray-and-white St. John suit with gray pumps. She wore a small amount of makeup and her hair was pulled back in a tight, conservative bun. Victoria was athletically built and looked nowhere near her fifty-plus years. She was carrying a white cardboard box with a large envelope on its top, placing it on the desk before Alexander could offer his assistance. “In a crisis, where else would he be?”

      “That you did, sister dear. Like mother, like son,” Elizabeth said, brushing a long, curly strand of hair behind her ear and looking just as young and fit as her sister.

      “Mother...Aunt Elizabeth, what are you doing here?” Alexander asked, briefly looking over his shoulder and grabbing his T-shirt as he moved into his office out of the lounge. He pulled the shirt over his head before kissing his mother on the cheek.

      “Well, good morning to you, too,” Victoria replied, tilting her head.

      Alexander placed his right hand over his heart. “My apologies. Good morning, ladies.”

      “Better!” Victoria said, her mouth set firm.

      “Good morning, nephew. You do realize that you have a striking home, right? Try staying in it more often,” his aunt advised before pulling Alexander into her arms for a hug.

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Alexander promised, stepping out of her arms. “Don’t you both look lovely this morning.”

      “I look lovely.” Victoria pointed to herself. “In that long, flower-print dress, with its giant matching hat that’s in the car, Liz looks like a painting.”

      “A Rembrandt,” Elizabeth snapped back before taking a seat at the conference table.

      “More like a Warhol,” Victoria countered.

      Alexander laughed. “What brings you two here on a Saturday morning?”

      “If you’d checked your messages you’d have seen I’ve been trying to reach you,” Victoria explained.

      Alexander retrieved his phone from his desk. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until I got back to you?”

      “Or at least until after our board meeting this morning,” Elizabeth added, checking her watch.

      “Board meeting?” Alexander’s eyes danced between his mother and aunt.

      “At the Children’s Museum,” Victoria clarified.

      “Yes, of course. You did mention that,” he said, nodding.

      “Son, you seem to forget anything I say that’s even remotely related to children. You automatically assume it would lead me to requesting grandchildren.”

      “That’s because it usually does,” Elizabeth said as she examined the nails on her outstretched hand. “Do you think this lime-green polish is too much?”

      “For you, no,” Victoria replied.

      Alexander stifled his laugh. “Where was I?” Victoria asked to no one in particular. “Oh, yes, grandchildren.”

      Alexander ran both hands down his face. “Not you, too.” Alexander was in no mood to deal with another one of his mother’s lectures on the importance of him having heirs, especially with China in the next room thinking

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