Ten

      It had only been three days since he’d gotten home from the loss in St. Louis. He needed time to think of his next strategy. And not just for the Hurricanes. With Erika, too.

      Which was exactly why he’d pulled on his running shorts and shirt. Laced up his shoes and hit the pavement, footsteps keeping him steady.

      Focused.

      Sweat curled off his upper lip, the taste of salt heavy in his mouth. The humid Louisiana twilight hummed with the songs of the summer bugs and birds.

      This always set his mind right. The sound of foot to pavement. Inhale. Exhale. The feel of sweat on his back.

      He’d been quite the runner growing up. Always could best his brothers in distance and speed. Especially Jean-Pierre, his youngest brother.

      Jean-Pierre had to work harder than all his older brothers to keep up with them as they ran. Running had been something of a Reynaud rite of passage. Or so Gervais had made it out to be. He’d always pushed his brothers for a run. It was an escape from the yelling and fighting that went on at their home. Whether the family was at the ranch in Texas, on the expansive property on Lake Pontchartrain or on the other side of the globe, there was always room to run, and Gervais had made use of those secured lands to give them all some breathing space from the parental drama.

      Slowing his pace, he stopped to tighten his shoelace. Looking at the sparkling water of the lake, he realized it had been too long since he talked to Jean-Pierre. Months.

      Gervais knew he needed to call him...but things hadn’t been the same since Jean-Pierre left Louisiana Tech to play for the Gladiators in New York. Sure, Jean-Pierre maintained a presence on the family compound, sharing upkeep of one of the homes where he stayed when he flew into town. But how often had that been over the past few years? Even in the off-season, Jean-Pierre tended to stick close to New York and his teammates on the Gladiators. When he did show up in New Orleans, it was to take his offensive line out on his boat or for a raucous party that was more for friends than family.

      How Jean-Pierre managed to stay away from this quirky, lively city was beyond Gervais. When they were younger, the family had spent a lot of time in Texas. Which, make no mistake, Gervais loved, but there was a charm to New Orleans, a quality that left the place rarified.

      He wanted to share those things with Erika. The cultural scene was unbeatable, and the food. Well, he’d yet to take her to his favorite dessert and dancing place. He pictured taking her out for another night on the Big Easy with him. She’d love it if she’d give him a chance to show her.

      And though they’d fallen into a pattern over the past few days, he felt as distant as ever and all because she wouldn’t commit even though they had children on the way. Sure, they made love nightly now. And he relished the way her body writhed beneath his touch. But it wasn’t enough. He bit his tongue about the future and she didn’t say anything about leaving.

      Or staying.

      And he wanted her to stay. Starting to run again, he picked up the intensity. Ran harder, faster.

      He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want a repeat of London. Before he’d even woken up, she’d packed her things and let herself out of the hotel suite. Though it had been only one weekend, he had fallen for her. Now they’d spent days together.

      Rather blissful days. Mind wandering, he thought to the last night in St. Louis when they’d explored the rooftop garden that was attached to their hotel suite. There’d been a slight chill in the air, but things between them had been on fire. In his memory, he traced the curves on her body.

      Though she might be pumping the brakes on the future, he was getting to know her. To see past her no-nonsense facade to the woman who was a little sarcastic, kindhearted and generous.

      The thought of her just leaving again like in London...it made his gut sink.

      Rounding the last corner on his run, he didn’t hold back. He sprinted all out, as if that would allow him to hold on to Erika.

      This was damn awful timing, too. He knew he needed to focus on his career. To turn the Hurricanes into a financial dynasty to back the championship team Dempsey assured them they had in place. And this thing with Erika—whatever it might be—was not helping him. Sure, he’d nabbed that sponsor in Chicago. But every day he spent with her was a day that he wasn’t securing another sponsor that would make the Hurricanes invincible as a business and not just a team. They’d been teetering on the brink of folding when he’d purchased them, and he’d reinvigorated every facet since then, but his work was far from done to keep them in the black.

      But damn. He could not. No. He would not just let her leave as she had before. This wasn’t just about the fact they were having a family, or that they were amazing together in bed.

      Quickening his pace, he saw the Reynaud compound come into sight. The light was on in Erika’s bedroom.

      His grandfather had taught him a few things when he was a kid. Two of the most important: build your dream and family is everything. Two simple statements. And he wanted Erika to be a part of that. To create the kind of home that his own kids would never want to run from.

      * * *

      Sitting cross-legged on a cushioned chair in the massive dining room, Erika absently spread raspberry jam on her puffy biscuit. Try as she might, she couldn’t force her mind to be present. To be in the moment.

      Instead, her thoughts drifted back to Gervais and last night. He’d knocked on her door after his run. She’d opened the door, let him in. And he’d showered her in determined, passion-filled kisses. There was an urgency, a sincerity in their lovemaking last night. A new dimension to sex she had never thought possible.

      Last night had made it even harder for her to be objective about their situation. She wanted Gervais. But she also wanted what was best for them both. Balancing that need seemed almost impossible.

      A motion in the corner of her eye brought her back to the present. She found Gervais’s grandfather filling his plate at the buffet with pork grillades and grits, a buttered biscuit on the side.

      Gracious, she could barely wait for the morning to wane so the queasy feeling would subside and she could indulge in more of the amazing food of this region. Everything tasted so good, or perhaps that was her pregnancy hormones on overload. Regardless, she was hungry but didn’t dare try more for a couple more hours yet.

      She looked back at Gervais’s grandfather, keeping her eyes off the plate of food. Leon hadn’t gone with them to St. Louis, but Gervais had explained how travel anywhere other than from his homes in New Orleans and Texas left the old man disoriented.

      He took his place at the head of the table, just to the left of her, and poured himself a cup of thick black coffee from the silver carafe. “So you’re carrying my first great-grandchild—” He tapped his temple near his gray hair. “Grandchildren. You’re having twins. I remember that. Some days my memory’s not so good, but that’s sticking in my brain and making me happy. A legacy. And if you won’t find it disrespectful of me to say so, I believe it’s going to be a brilliant, good-looking legacy.” He toasted her with his china coffee cup.

      “Thank you, sir. No disrespect taken at all. That’s a delightful thing to say, especially the smart part.” She gave him a wink as she picked at her biscuit. Praise of her intelligence was important. Erika had worked hard to be more than a pretty princess. Wanted her worth and merit to be attached to her mind’s tenacity. To realize her dreams of setting up a nurse-practitioner practice of her own someday, one with an entire section devoted to homeopathic medicines and mood-leveling aromatherapy.

      “That’s important.” He sipped more of his coffee before digging into his breakfast. “We have a large family empire to pass along, and I want it to go into good hands.