Must Like Kids. Jackie Braun
interference, they would have wound up homeless and penniless, and Alec would have been forced to drop out of his Ivy League school before receiving his degree.
Granddad was gone now, but before he’d died he’d made sure to put the money he left in a trust, one that Alec administered. As such, his parents had to come to him for everything. Neither party was particularly happy about it.
Indeed, that was why Alec had arrived late to his appointment with Julia. Just prior to leaving his office, his mother had phoned him in a panic. Even though they were only a week into June, she and Alec’s father needed more money. They’d used up their generous monthly stipend to purchase airline tickets—first class, of course—and book a two-week stay with friends at an exclusive resort on a small, private island in the Caribbean. They didn’t leave for another week and now they had nothing left to buy groceries. Nor did they have any spending money for their trip.
He’d put down his foot. Or he’d tried to. Finally, to get his crying mother off the phone, Alec had agreed to transfer an additional seven grand into his parents’ bank account. He’d held firm on the amount, even when she’d insisted they needed at least ten thousand.
“Be reasonable, Alec. How can your father and I have a proper vacation with so little to spend?” she’d demanded.
“Order a glass of wine with dinner instead of a magnum of champagne,” he’d suggested. “And don’t buy a round of drinks for the entire nightclub.”
“You’re such a stick in the mud, Alec. All you do is work. You don’t know how to have fun,” Brooke had sighed before relenting and hanging up.
His parents would have their vacation, and he would have a little peace and quiet—a reprieve of sorts until the next phone call reporting a crisis. And there would be another one, Alec knew. They came as regularly as gusts of wind in Chicago.
Thinking of the conversation now, he assured Julia, “I know how to enjoy myself away from the office.”
“Yes. That came through in the article,” Julia replied dryly. “Your ex-girlfriend mentioned that the pair of you enjoyed first-class travel, fine dining, golf.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” He might not take vacations as often as his parents or for as long as they did, but when he took one, he enjoyed himself.
The corners of her mouth turned down in consideration. Julia had nice lips. Soft. Full. They were one of her most inviting facial features...even when she was frowning at him. “On the surface, not a thing. Except that her children weren’t involved.”
His voice rose and, despite his best efforts, his tone turned defensive. “Laurel didn’t want them involved. That was her call. It was her decision.”
At nine and eleven, Laurel’s two daughters were miniature versions of their mother, and as such, extremely high-maintenance, which was why Laurel preferred to leave them to their nanny.
“Did you ever try to change her mind?”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“To me? No. To the public, it would, yes.”
He exhaled in frustration now. “Look, I’ve never claimed to be a family man. I’m a businessman. A damned good one, in fact, which is why Best For Baby brought me on board. The company needed a qualified executive. My personal life shouldn’t be an issue.”
“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t opened your mouth and made it one,” Julia shot back without missing a beat. “Which brings us back to square one, Alec.”
He cursed and returned to his seat. He hated that she was right. As he scrubbed a hand down his face, Julia was saying, “You can’t change what you said. It’s on the record and will be winging around cyberspace indefinitely. What we can change is your image going forward.”
“I know.” His hand fell away, but it curled into a fist at his side, mirroring the position of the left one.
“Good.” She continued to drive home the point. Her tone became instructional, perhaps to offset the censure inherent in her words. “To the baby-product-buying public, you are the epitome of a playboy. You have the position and enough power and wealth to subsidize a very adult lifestyle. It doesn’t hurt that you grew up in privilege.”
He snorted at that. Sometimes privilege was just another word for lonely.
She was saying, “Golf, fine dining, first-class travel at all-inclusive resorts not known for their child-friendly amenities—these are very adult activities. As such, they aren’t going to help us convince the broader public that you understand family life or its particular needs.”
“So you’re going to have me be seen out and about in public, kissing babies. Got it.” He sighed and made his hands unclench.
“That’s not exactly the attitude I’m hoping you’ll project.”
“I’ll work on it,” he grumbled.
She made a humming noise. Then her gaze narrowed. “How about a test run this evening?”
He frowned. “I’m not following you.”
“What do you have on your schedule for six o’clock?”
He did a mental check of his calendar. “A meeting with the head of the accounting department at five to go over some expense report irregularities. I don’t know if it will be concluded by then.”
“Really? A meeting after regular business hours? You can’t be a very popular boss.” She shook her head, forestalling his reply. “Can you reschedule it?”
“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Why?”
Those full lips bloomed into a smile that managed to be sexy despite the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Have you ever been to a T-ball game?”
* * *
What was she thinking, inviting Alec to join her at the game?
Julia asked herself the question a dozen times as she maneuvered through traffic after picking up her children from St. Augustine’s after-school program. Her goal was that Danielle and Colin never had to spend more than two hours there on any given day. Except during the summer. In another week, the school year would wrap up, and her children would be spending three days a week there, with the other two at their grandparents’ just outside the city.
Guilt nipped, as it always did, even though it couldn’t be helped. She was a working mother, the sole breadwinner. The after-school program wasn’t a bad one. The kids went on field trips to places such as Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History, Navy Pier and the John C. Shedd Aquarium. But before they were born, Julia had pictured their lives differently. She’d planned to be a stay-at-home mom. For a brief time she had been. Then Scott had gotten sick and plans had changed.
“What’s for dinner?” Colin asked from the backseat as she brought the car to a stop at a light.
“Turkey grinders from Howard’s Deli,” Julia replied, deciding not to add that they would be on whole wheat buns with slices of tomato and green peppers and shredded lettuce to at least make them a somewhat balanced meal.
In the rearview mirror, she watched his face scrunch up. “Can’t it be cheeseburgers? Please, please, please!”
Danielle sighed, and in a superior tone, said, “He only wants the toy that comes with the children’s meal.”
She was nine, going on nineteen. It scared Julia sometimes, how serious and mature her daughter could be.
“You’ve got that line between your eyebrows, Mommy,” Colin observed. “Does that mean you’re thinking about it?”
To ward off further argument, Julia said, “Maybe.”
A snort sounded from the backseat. “When parents say they’re thinking about something or use the word maybe, it means no,” Danielle said.