The Bravos: Family Ties. Christine Rimmer
suspect. You’re funding my preschool and here I am in your bed.”
“It’s no one’s business,” he said. “No one’s business but ours. And I’m not going to sneak around if that’s what you’re asking for.”
She realized she wasn’t. Not really. “I just want you to understand. This isn’t … casual for me.”
He tipped her chin up to him. “And you assume that it is for me?”
“I assume nothing.” It wasn’t true. She had made assumptions. And she probably shouldn’t have. She tried a different tack. “Let me put it this way. For as long as it lasts between us …”
She felt his lips in her hair, the warmth of his breath as he kissed the crown of her head. “Say it,” he whispered.
“I want faithfulness from you. I want for there to be no other women, only me.” He was quiet. But he did run a finger up the side of her arm, causing warm little shivers to bloom beneath her skin. She tipped her head back so she could see his face. “Well?”
His eyes burned into hers. “Do I get the same from you?”
“You do.” She told him the truth. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been faithful to you since the day that I met you.” Something flared in his eyes. Triumph? Possessiveness? She wasn’t sure. She added, “I spent several weeks denying it, trying to keep from admitting to myself that the only man I wanted touching me was you. But I’ve … faced up to it now.”
“Brave of you.”
“I think so.”
“And will you stay faithful to me—for as long as we’re together?”
Piece-of-cake question. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Fair enough, then. It’s a deal.”
And he kissed her, gently at first and then more deeply.
The world centered down to his hands on her flesh, his knowing mouth and his wicked tongue. She could much too easily grow accustomed to spending her nights in Fletcher’s bed.
The next morning Ashlyn behaved as Fletcher had predicted.
Her face lit up when Cleo entered the kitchen. “Cleo! You came to my house. I’m so glad.”
They shared a leisurely breakfast, the three of them. Ashlyn chattered away about how much she liked her school, about her friends, about the story she was “writing.”
“It’s called The Happy Ladybug. It’s mostly pictures. I have a very large vocabulary.” She pronounced the big word with obvious pride. “I mean, for a five-year-old, but I can’t spell all those words yet.”
As Mrs. Dolby began clearing off, Fletcher put his hand over Cleo’s. She reveled in the warmth of his touch. Then he said, “Okay. Time for a confession.”
“Should I be worried?”
“The truth is, I’ve got to work for a few hours.”
She frowned. “Now?”
He looked so charmingly guilty. “Here’s the truth. I was afraid if I told you earlier, you’d leave.”
Ashlyn piped right up. “But you can’t leave, Cleo. You have to see my book. The happy ladybug is hiding from a big, fat robin. She’s very scared. We have to figure out how to save her. And as soon as she’s safe from danger, then we can play some games.”
Fletcher’s lean hand tightened over hers. “Please stay. I won’t be too long….”
So Cleo and Ashlyn retired to the family room, where Ashlyn brought out her work in progress and they discussed ways the ladybug might keep from being the robin’s lunch.
Then they got down on the floor to play Concentration. Ashlyn was amazingly adept at the game. If she turned over a card, she remembered it.
“My uncle Cade taught me,” she explained. “Uncle Cade is married to Aunt Jane.”
“That’s right. I remember.”
“He’s a gambler, Uncle Cade is. That’s his job. You would like Uncle Cade, Cleo. He’s almost as handsome as Daddy. And whenever I see him, he picks me up and swings me high in the air and he calls me Princess. He says that I can remember cards because it runs in the family.”
There were only ten cards left on the floor when Cleo’s purse started playing the William Tell Overture. She took out her cell phone and saw that the caller was Celia.
“Just checking on you,” her new friend said. “I had to make sure that Fletcher is treating you right.”
Cleo grinned and pitched her voice low enough that Ashlyn, still on the floor with the cards, wouldn’t hear. “You are dying to know what happened—in detail.”
“Bust-ed. Listen, can you talk?”
Ashlyn glanced up then.
Cleo met those wide, watchful eyes. “Well, as a matter of fact, Ashlyn was just beating the pants off me at Concentration.”
“You’re at Fletcher’s.”
“I am.”
“And he has to work.”
“How did you know?”
“I’m married to his brother. Come on over, both you and Ashlyn. It’s just me and the kids—until noon, when Aaron has sworn to join us for a little quality family time.”
“But Fletcher said he’d be finished in an hour or so.”
“Cleo, it doesn’t matter what he said. Take it from a woman with a Bravo man of her own. He won’t be finished until noon. And if he is, Mrs. Dolby can tell him where to find you.”
* * *
At Celia’s, J.J. was napping. Ashlyn trotted right off to Davey’s room. Cleo and Celia took seats on a sofa in the living room.
“You know,” said Celia once Cleo had brought her up to date on the Fletcher situation, “he has had a few girlfriends in the past couple of years….”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?”
“Let me finish. He’s had girlfriends—but until you, none of them have gotten anywhere near Ashlyn.”
“So you think maybe he’s looking for a new nanny?”
Celia leaned closer. Winter sunlight from the wall of windows behind them brought out the gold highlights in her red hair. “I’m serious. This is a major step for him. You’re the only one he’s allowed near his little girl. And look how near. He leaves you alone with her. That’s a very big thing, believe me. He’s so … protective of her. He works like a demon, but that child is the center of his life.”
Cleo bit her lip and nodded. “I know that. I do. And … well, I have to admit I’m beginning to feel a little hopeful about the two of us. The past couple of days have been like a dream come true….”
Celia knew there was more. “But?”
Again Cleo kept it low. “Last night I asked him about his ex-wife. He was reluctant to talk about her—more than reluctant. It was like a curtain going down. Maybe it’s too early for me to be asking him such hard questions.”
Celia brushed her shoulder with a light hand. “I can tell you this—it’s not just you. That I know of, he rarely talks about her to anyone.”
“You mean, at least I’m not alone?”
Celia looked sheepish. “Yeah. And I can tell you what I know….”
“Oh, please. Yes.”
“Well …” Celia kicked off her flats, tucked her legs to the side and braced an elbow