The Baby Bet: The Royal MacAllister Part 6

Then Brent slowly, very slowly, lowered his head and brushed his lips over Alice's. Once. Twice. Then returned to claim her mouth in a kiss they had waited an eternity to share.

Brent groaned deep in his chest.

A whimper of need caught in Trip's throat.

Brent broke the kiss and spoke close to Alice's lips, his body still inches away from hers.

"I missed you." His voice was rough with pa.s.sion. "I thought about you all day. It's corny, it's nuts, but it's true. I am so d.a.m.n glad you're here, Alice."

"This-" she drew a shuddering breath "-is where I want to be, Brent."

"Same wavelength. Perfect."

"I...I b.u.mped into our families in the lobby," Trip said. "They know I'm here. With you. I was embarra.s.sed, fl.u.s.tered, because it's so late at night, and I was obviously heading for your room and... But they all acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, and your mother suggested you have salmon for dinner."

Brent chuckled, and the rumbling, male sound caused a s.h.i.+ver to course through Trip.

"Salmon with dill sauce?" he said.

"Dill sauce," she said, nodding. "She said it was delicious and... If you don't take me in your arms right now I think my bones are going to dissolve from the heat, the incredible heat that's...oh!"

Trip's startled "Oh!" was followed by a gasp of surprise as Brent swept her up into his arms and carried her across the living room and into the bedroom beyond. He placed her on the bed, then followed her down, his mouth melting over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the heated kiss in total abandon.

When they separated only long enough to shed their clothes, Trip felt as though she was floating above herself, watching Trip remove what she'd chosen to wear, then be magically transformed into Alice. Alice, who could simply be.

Their joining held an edge of urgency, of need so powerful it consumed them beyond reason. It was earthy and rough, wild and real. It was ecstasy. And heat. Burning. It was wave after wave of sensual sensations that carried them over the top and flung them into glorious oblivion as each called out the name of the other, the only one who could go with them to that private and magnificent place.

And then they stilled, and savored and stored memories in chambers of hearts that began to return to normal tempos. They drifted down from where they had been to realize that where they now were was also theirs alone to embrace.

"You," Brent said, lying close to Alice, his lips resting lightly on her forehead, "have woven a spell over me, Alice."

"That's because I'm Alice in Wonderland," she said dreamily. "I followed the white rabbit into a world of magic."

"Tell the rabbit to get his own woman. You're mine."

Trip stiffened slightly, then relaxed again, refusing to allow anything to mar the sweet bliss of the moment.

"Yes, I'm yours," she said, then paused. "For now. For the time we have while you're here and..."

"Shh," Brent interrupted. "Don't go there."

"You're right. Shh."

A lovely, serene silence fell, and sleep began to creep over their senses. Then Brent's stomach rumbled, causing a bubble of laughter to escape from Trip's lips.

"You're hungry. Your mother told me that you turn into a grumpy bear if you're not fed regularly, or something like that."

"A grumpy bear?" Brent said, smiling. "What kind of a thing is that for a mother to say about her darling kid? However, the truth of the matter is...I need food. Want some salmon with dill sauce? I'll call room service and tell them it's an emergency rush order."

"Go for it."

Less than half an hour later, Trip and Brent were dressed, seated at the table by the windows and taking their first bites of flaky salmon.

"Delicious. Your mother is a wise woman, sir."

Brent nodded. "Yep, she is. Most of the time. She gets kind of freaky on the subject of my providing her with a slew of grandchildren, though. I told her not to hold her breath and she threatened to do exactly that and her death would be all my fault."

"You don't want to have children?" Trip said, c.o.c.king her head to one side.

Brent sighed. "At one point in my life I wanted the whole nine yards. A wife, kids, a home. But then..." He shook his head.

"Brent, does the 'but then' have something to do with why you didn't want to make this trip with your parents? You haven't...well, shared that with me, the reason you didn't wish to return to the States. We do sharing and caring, remember?"

Brent looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

"You're right, that's part of our program. So, yeah, okay. When I was in college I was in what I believed to be love with a woman who was getting a degree in psychiatry. I a.s.sumed, which was my first mistake, that we would marry and live on the Island of Wils.h.i.+re. I later realized we hadn't discussed that in any depth, that I had just taken that fact for granted.

"Brittany, that was her name, was a.s.suming a far different scenario. She thought that I understood she couldn't make a name for herself on a d.i.n.ky little island in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, dear."

"Brittany had it all figured out," Brent continued quietly. "I should return home long enough to train one of my men to take over the vineyards, then come back to California and get a job with one of the big outfits here. That last scene with Brittany is not a fond memory, believe me."

"I'm sorry, Brent. It's no wonder you didn't want to make this trip, return to a place that would bring back painful memories. But...well, I'm very glad you did."

"So am I," he said, producing a small smile. "But what happened with Brittany made me wary of getting into any kind of serious relations.h.i.+p again. She had an agenda, a plan, that didn't include my wants, my needs.

"For the last few years I haven't even dated because I found myself wondering if the woman might have a secret agenda, a dream to leave the Island of Wils.h.i.+re for the excitement of the world beyond it. What if I came to care for someone, only to discover...

"You know what Brittany told me, Alice? During that last ugly scene with her she said I was out of step with the times, that I'd expected her to put her career on the back burner. That I should go home to my fantasy island and find someone to wait on me hand and foot.

"She said I'd better make certain that the next woman in my life didn't have any hopes or dreams of her own. According to Brittany, I was so selfish and self-centered I couldn't deal with a woman needing more than just me to feel fulfilled.

"I've never forgotten those words she hurled at me. They leveled me like physical punches. Secret agendas. I made up my mind I'd never run the risk of going through something like that again. There you go. The great tale of woe."

"I'm...well, sad, that you had such a devastating experience. It obviously hurt you very much."

"On a much brighter note," Brent said, "my mother promised to bring me some of those dynamite Mickey Mouse ears when they all go trekking down the coast to Disneyland. Cool, huh?"

"Majorly way cool," Trip laughed. "Is that how the teenagers say that these days? Or is it awesomely majorly way cool? I'll ask Trevor and get back to you so you can refer to your new ears in the proper manner."

"Your a.s.sistance in the matter will be appreciated."

They burst into laughter, the joyous sound pus.h.i.+ng aside the shadows of the past with the suns.h.i.+ne of the present, but giving no s.p.a.ce to thoughts of the future.

They completed the meal with lively chatter that flowed easily from one topic to the next, then settled onto the sofa and began to watch an old movie on television. Trip curled up close to Brent, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her, absently stroking her arm as they yelled at various people who might be the villain and cheered on the hero.

"I am not spending the night here," Trip said during a commercial. "I mean, good grief, with my luck I'd find your family in the elevator in the morning when I left."

Brent chuckled, then kissed her on the forehead. "They'd probably just smile and ask you to join them for breakfast. They're...wait a second, I have to say this right...they're awesomely majorly way cool people."

"Well, I'm not," Trip laughed. "I'd die on the spot. Nope, I'll wait until this movie is over, even though I already know the butler did it, then I'm definitely going home."

"The butler did it?" Brent said, frowning. "No, he didn't. He's not the one who tried to kill the hero. The butler is an undercover agent for the FBI. The gardener did it."

"He did not," Trip said. "He was planting marigolds when the shot was fired. The butler is really the hero's long-lost sister, posing as a man, and she wants to ice the hero before he can marry the heroine so she can inherit the family fortune."

"Have you seen this movie?"

"No." Trip laughed. "Have you?"

"Nope. Okay, now this is getting interesting. I'll bet you five bucks that the gardener did it."

"Oh, easy money. You're on, Bardow. It was the butler in drag, or whatever."

"I don't accept credit cards, MacAllister," Brent said, with a hoot of laughter. "I want my five smackeroos in cold, hard cash."

They both moaned in dismay when it turned out that the cook did it. The hero's father, long since deceased, had jilted her in her youth and she was out for revenge, deciding the son would repent for the sins of the father.

"Boo, hiss!" Brent yelled.

"Who wrote this thing?" Trip said, dissolving in a fit of laughter. "No wonder they showed it late at night. No one would waste their leisure time in the early evening to watch it. I give it a thumbs-down."

"Ditto." Brent pressed the remote to turn off the television.

"I've got to go home," Trip said, not moving. "It's already tomorrow, and I have to get up so early."

"I wish you'd stay." Brent pulled her even closer to his side. "I want to wake up next to you."

"I..."

"Hey, it's okay," he said quickly. "I understand where you're coming from. I might add, however, that Maggie is spending the night in Devon's suite and my clan knows it. That's just a little bubblegum for your mind to chew on. Data."

"Maggie and Devon are engaged to be married," Trip said, wiggling out of Brent's embrace and getting to her feet. "Big difference there."

"I won't argue the point," Brent said, rising. "This time. But it's going to be a trade-off. Don't give me grief over the fact that I'm going with you in the taxi, will see you safely home, then I'll come back here."

"But-"

"It's not open for discussion, Alice," Brent said, then paused. "The cook did it. Man, talk about having a secret agenda." He wrapped his arms around her and nestled her to his body. "You will never know how glad I am that you don't have a secret agenda, Alice. That means more to me than I could even begin to tell you."

People in general, Trip thought, would probably view her as being terribly dishonest with Brent because she hadn't told him about her art, the scheduled showing, her hopes and dreams, her secret.

But what those who would pa.s.s censure on her actions wouldn't understand was that her agenda, to use Brent's word, wasn't something that would cause him to feel betrayed if he knew about it.

No, it wouldn't be like that at all, because if she and Brent were actually moving toward having a future together, her secret agenda would fit in perfectly with his lifestyle on the Island of Wils.h.i.+re, where he intended to live out his days. If she told Brent about her painting, he would be so happy as he realized she could be very contented on his peaceful, beautiful island.

Trip sighed.

There was no point in telling Brent about her painting, as they were not viewing what they were sharing as possibly being permanent.

Besides that she hadn't yet gathered enough courage to tell Brent, or her family, about her work. Every time she envisioned herself doing that, she was consumed with icy fear, a feeling of being so exposed, so vulnerable to opinions and att.i.tudes.... All those years of being alone still held her in an iron fist from which she was unable to break free.

a Uploaded by Coral a

Chapter Six.

For Trip, the following week seemed to fly by with a speed that made her head spin at times. She should, she knew, be thoroughly exhausted from the pace she was keeping, but she was, instead, bursting with energy that kept her moving at top speed.

Life, she decided at one point, was glorious. Working at the cafe was something she did by rote, then her afternoons were spent painting more pictures for the gallery showing...sometimes in her loft, other times in a nearby park...and her nights were focused on Brent.

She'd gotten her car back from the repair shop and taken the pictures she'd had stashed at Denny's to the gallery, where decisions were reached on the types of frames to be made for each. She had only three more pictures left to paint to complete the agreed-upon number for the showing of her work.

One week plus a day since the night she and Brent had eaten salmon with dill sauce in his hotel suite, they stood in line at a movie theater, waiting to inch their way forward to purchase tickets.

"Missed you today, per usual," Brent said, one arm encircling Alice's shoulders to keep her tucked close to his side. "I went to a museum this afternoon and kept seeing things I wanted to share with you, ask you what you thought, while knowing we'd be on the same wavelength. I toyed with the idea of calling and asking you to join me, but I know you need to sleep so you'll be ready to rock and roll with me in the evening."

"Mmm," Trip said.

She'd put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on a painting this afternoon, had not been napping as Brent a.s.sumed she'd been, she thought.

"Is something wrong, Alice?" Brent said, bringing Trip from her troubled thoughts.

"What? Oh, no, no," she said, smiling up at him. "I'm just a little tired. I'll relax during the movie and be fine."

"Didn't you get enough sleep this afternoon?" Brent said. "We can make an early night of it if you like so you can get the rest you need."

"Feed me popcorn during the movie," she said, "and I'll be as good as new."

"You've got it, my sweet," Brent said, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. "I'll buy you the biggest bucket of b.u.t.tered popcorn they make." He tipped his head to the side to see what was taking so long to get to the ticket window. "If we ever get into this place, that is. We're going to miss the start of the movie if they don't hustle up. Time is marching on."

Time is marching on, Trip mentally repeated. Time was the enemy. Time was going to run out and Brent would get on a plane and fly to the other side of the world, out of her life.

Yes, she'd see him again when she went to the island for the wedding, but she'd already told herself not to count on being able to spend many private hours with Brent there because of the festivities scheduled.

Dear heaven, the very thought of Brent leaving made her feel so hollow, so bleak and chilled to the core. She would reach across the bed in the darkness of night and he wouldn't be there. She'd sleep alone. She'd eat alone. She'd spend her days and nights alone.

And she would be so very, very lonely.

She felt such a sense of rightness when she was with Brent, of being complete, whole, of having found the masculine counterpart who fit so perfectly with the new awareness of her womanliness she now possessed. She cared so much for him that the thought of his leaving her made her feel cold and empty, and a breath away from bursting into tears.

Good grief, Trip thought, frowning. If someone could read her mind they might very well come to the conclusion that she was in love with Brent Bardow. But she wasn't. Dear heaven, no, of course she wasn't. Falling in love was beyond her grasp, was an emotion she wasn't capable of.