Mother's Day Babies (Holiday Babies Series) (5 page)

Horrified by her cold
rationalization, he stared at her and then blew. “You can’t be serious?”

Her eyebrows arched.

Damn it, she was dead serious.
The woman had been out of touch with the real world and with a hot, throbbing
male, for way too long. He swallowed a curse, heaved a deep breath, and
plastered a bone-melting smile on his lips.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll
abide by your rules.” He remembered some of her words. “I need you too much to
risk losing your friendship, my dear Barbara.”

He’d show her how to forget her
Kentucky kitchen and how an expert womanizer could turn a simple touch or a
kiss on the cheek into a blazing fire.

Chapter Four

“I wish I brought my camera.” Barbara
filled her eyes and memory with the magnificence of the ballroom illuminated by
cathedral chandeliers. With Lou’s hand at her elbow, she proceeded on the
intricately decorated wood floor, her gaze flitting from the sixteenth century
wall tapestries bracketed by crystal sconces to the large glass doors framing a
view of the sparkling top of the Eiffel tower.

 The display of stunning beauties
with model figures molded in high couture dresses rooted her in place. With
their long hair curling on their shoulders or cascading down their backs,
female guests moved from group to group garnering admiring male gazes.

Good Lord, what was she doing
here? Barbara patted her short curls with anxious fingers. She’d never been shy
but the babble of witty chatter and high pitched laugher paralyzed her tongue
and brain.

His hand at her elbow, Lou bent
toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure it’s the right
place?”

“Absolutely. I recognized Diane
Salimor, Will O’Leary, Maria Romano, and many more TV personalities. Here’s our
KNR producer, Monte Damon.”

“Hi there, Lou.” The two men
shook hands and the newcomer sent her a curious look. “Where have you been
hiding this lovely lady?” Monte flashed a charming smile.

“Damon, meet Barbara Ramsey.
She’s Roxanne’s mother and a dear friend.”

“Her mother or her sister?” Monte’s
eyebrows lifted in disbelief and she burst out laughing.

“I’ve heard that before. Nice
meeting you, Monte.” Oh well TV personalities weren’t too different from the
normal people she knew in Lexington.

“So Lou is escorting you to our
party because your daughter is on duty somewhere at the moment,” Monte said,
drawing his own conclusion. “We’re like family here. I appreciate Roxanne’s
work a lot. Very ethical. Although in our profession, reporters often go
overboard with their stories.” His words were like music to Barbara’s ears.

Motherly pride filled her heart.
She never bragged about her kids, but boy did she love hearing flattering
comments about them—especially coming from VIPs.

“Thank you. I’m sure you hear a
lot of interesting stories here.”

“If you like interesting stories,
I can give you a sample, without going far.” The big producer winked at Lou and
burst out laughing. “Come my dear. Take a tour with me and I’ll regale you with
funny gossip.”

“Damon!” Lou’s call held a
warning, but his colleague ignored him and tugged at her hand. She swirled her
head and gave Lou a helpless shrug.

His scowl followed them, but Monte
stopped by the next group and introduced her to two TV actresses.

“Lynn Reynolds?” Barbara smiled
to her ears. “Oh my God, your show is my favorite soap opera.” Lou was now
chatting with two men and a woman. Barbara wouldn’t worry about him. Meeting
with Lynn Reynolds from
Loves in Our Lives
was definitely an unexpected
bonus of her trip to Paris. “So what’s going to happen to Sharina? I hope she
won’t be convicted for killing the bastard who abused her.”

The lovely actress chuckled. “I’m
delighted you enjoy our show, but I haven’t seen the end of the script yet.”

“What do you think should happen
to her?” Monte asked curiously. “The next script is not finalized and we’re
open for suggestions.”

Oh dear, she had a chance to
influence the outcome of her favorite TV show.
Wait till her girls hear
about this.
“Sharina is a victim, not a criminal. The real villain is
Robert who’s been abusing her for years. She should be absolved and helped.
Maybe she should join a support group, get some therapy to cope with life.
Maybe she’ll fall in love with the psychologist in charge of the group.”

“Maybe she’ll offer him coffee
and cookies,” Lou suggested from behind her.

Tingles crawled along her spine.
She hadn’t realized he’d approached them.

“Excellent suggestions.” Monte
rubbed his hands.

“I like it,” Lynn said. “I don’t
want my Sharina persona to end in jail.”

“Hmm,” Lou muttered in her ear.
“You’d give your full support to a criminal because she suffered at the hands
of a man. I better watch my back, sweetheart, in case I unconsciously upset
you.” His boyish expression was so endearing, she wanted to wrap her arms
around his neck.

“Don’t be silly.” She smacked his
arm and caught Monte’s sarcastic glance.

Waiters passed with champagne
flutes and other drinks at the right moment for her to calm her thirst and her
racing pulse.

Lou ushered her to another group
and introduced her to his colleagues, some with prestigious names she
recognized having seen them on the news channels.

A smashing reporter shot her a
few questions about her first day in Paris. “If you don’t mind I’ll use your
impressions in my next article.”

You bet she didn’t mind. “No problem
at all.” The young man texted a few words on his smart phone.

“He’s so cute,” Barbara whispered
to Lou. “I wish Tiffany was here.”

Lou chuckled. “Matchmaking for
your daughter?”

“All the time, although it never
worked.”

“But you never tried your matchmaking
skills for yourself? Damon hasn’t stopped watching you. I have to warn you he’s
separated, but his divorce is not even finalized.”

“What on Earth is the matter with
you?” She glared at him. Could he be jealous?

No way. Not him, the man reputed
to have enjoyed so many lovers. She cast a dubious glance around her. How many
of these gorgeous women had graced his bed?

Oh bummer, she wouldn’t let silly
suspicions spoil her fun.

After an hour, the guests were
invited to the next room where they served themselves at a lavish buffet.
Always at her side, Lou guided her to a table and soon Monte Damon, Diane
Salimor, Will O’Leary and two other guests joined them.

Anchorpersons definitely knew how
to talk and entertain guests. Barbara didn’t stop laughing at the jokes and
gossip their companions exchanged.

After the party, Lou walked her to
her room. “I had a blast. Thank you for inviting me.”

****

Lou was glad she had a good time,
and she’d certainly mesmerized the males present with her radiant smile, witty
remarks, and bubbling laughter. For a change, he’d been quieter than usual.
Annoyance and relief had warred inside him as he watched her navigate her way
between celebrities, all experts at flattering beautiful women.

“I’m glad you enjoyed our party.”

She didn’t invite him in, but he
collected his kiss, held her for a brief instant against him, and let her go
with a sigh. He shook his head and headed to his room and his shower.

It was only 7:30 am when his
phone rang and jolted him out of sweet dreams where Barbara starred, sexy and vivacious.
He scowled. Who would call at this ungodly hour? He’d talked to his staff not
long ago. Preparing a sharp reprimand for Monica and her inappropriate
selfishness, he grabbed his phone and squinted at the digital display. It
wasn’t his phone ringing, but the room one. He jumped out of bed and answered.
“Lou Roland.”

“Hi Lou. It’s Barbara. I hope I’m
not waking you.”

His eyes rounded. Barbara calling
so early? “Not at all. I was on my way to the shower. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, but I need
you.”
She needed him at 7:30 am?

A smile stretched his lips. Maybe
she’d had trouble sleeping. Just like him. Part of his night had been spent
tossing around, moving out of bed for one more drink, turning on and off the
TV, and barking last minute orders to the unfortunate reporter who’d called him
with an emergency question. If Barbara hadn’t been sleeping because she’d
missed him, he could certainly help. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He rushed to the shower—a hot one
this time— and dashed out to dry his invigorated body. A quick shave nipped a
sliver of skin off his throat. He dabbed the drop of blood and got dressed in
the first pair of pants that he reached in the closet and a V-neck polo easy to
remove.

A minute later, his hair still
dripping, he knocked on her door.

“Coming.” Her sweet voice sent
his pulse into double-time.

She opened the door and he almost
fell backward at the sight of Barbara with one baby girl in her left arm and
another hung on her right hip.

“But you said you needed me...”

“Of course, I need you. Elias is
sick. The Diabs were afraid the babies may catch his cold. Greg had to get them
back last night while Roxanne was on duty at some dinner where
you
sent
her. Poor Roxanne she was exhausted and brought them to me at one am to have a
few good hours of sleep.”

“Ah.” Leaning against the door,
Lou had trouble hearing her over the babies’ crying as he digested all this
information. Not that he cared, but the obvious conclusion was that Barbara had
no intention of getting back into bed. And if she did, it would be with two
nine-month old girls. Not with him.

“Lou, you really have your
reporters working too hard. We have to help.”

So now it was
his
fault
that Barbara was stuck with two screaming bundles. He glared at the reddish
faces but didn’t dare protest.

How did she expect him to help?
He didn’t know the abc of babies and families. And their screaming would soon
wake up the elite patrons of the George V Hotel. Stroking his forehead to
forestall a humongous headache, Lou groaned.

“Can’t you make them quiet down?”

“I will in a minute. They need
their bottles.”

“Bottles?” He repeated with a
haggard look.

“Lou, am I talking Chinese or
what? I have to warm their bottles of milk. I don’t have a microwave or a
bottle warmer so I’ll do it under the faucet hot water.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

“Sit down in this chair next to
the bar.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need a
drink this early in the morning.”

“Who’s talking about a drink?
Lou, sit, please.”

Did the woman realize she used
the same words he used to order his bulldog into obedience?

“Lou are you going to help me or
not?” Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“Yes, of course.”

Barbara with two crying bundles
was not the Barbara he’d known so far. He sat in the chair to appease her. And
was immediately smacked with two wriggling babies.

“Don’t drop them. Try to calm
them down. We don’t want to wake the building.”

“No kidding.”

“Cutie pies, smile at Uncle Lou,”
Barbara urged from the bathroom.

“Cutie pies, please stop crying,”
Lou begged. “I’ll give you a big check to buy many dolls. Please, please,...
shut up.” He groaned between gritted teeth. They didn’t care less about his
words. He shoved a hand in his pocket and extricated his keys. He jangled them
in front of the babies. They instantly stopped crying. One giggled and the
other followed suit.

“Lou, what’s going on? They’re
too quiet.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t killed
them.”
Yet
, he added to himself. He settled the girls snuggly against
him and kept shaking the keys. Two pairs of chubby hands tried to reach them. He
moved the keys higher and laughed at their antics and grimaces. “Hey, but
you’re really cute.”

He bounced them on his knees and
was rewarded with peals of laughter.

“Wow, you’re so good with babies.”
A bottle of milk in each hand, Barbara smiled her approval.

Him, good with babies? What a
joke. “Do you realize it’s the first time in my life I’ve held babies?”

“You’re a natural, then. Can you
give them their milk?” She shoved a nipple in one tiny mouth. “Keep your arm wrapped
around Lucia and hold her bottle. Great,” she added as he obeyed without
comments.
Just like his bulldog. Sit, hold, give.
“Now give me your
keys.” Yes, just like his dog. He gave her the keys, and received a bottle.

“Open your mouth, little girl.”
Julia latched on her bottle with the same eagerness he gulped his Scotch.

“Bless you, Lou. My head was
about to burst from their screams.”

“Really? I hadn’t even noticed
the noise.” They both burst out laughing.

“If this is your first time, I
have to take a picture.” She opened her handbag and fetched her camera.
“Smile.” He obliged and gave her a tender smile. “How I wish I could be with
you in this picture.”

“Me too.” Actually he’d rather
have her on his lap and the babies deep asleep.

He had a feeling their
tête-à-tête visit to Paris was soon to be history.

In fact a few hours later, they
strolled along the
Champs-Elysées,
each of them pushing a stroller
.
Lou
sent a quick prayer to his maker that no reporter would take a lunch break on
the famous avenue. The last thing he wanted was his picture pushing a stroller on
the news.

Her Paris Tour guide in hand,
Barbara elaborated about the various shops, cafés, cinema
,
and even the
clipped horse-chestnut trees. At the
Arc de Triomphe
, she insisted on
reading about every one of Napoleon’s victories and gasped with shock at the
sight of a little boy peeing against the famous arch.