in mock horror. “Why do you say that?”
“We’re driving a Volvo and talking about shopping at Pottery Barn.”
“First of all, Volvos have an excellent safety rating and they’re more attractive than a minivan. Secondly, Pottery Barn’s furniture happens to be both functional and aesthetically pleasing. I’d like to take you to one of their stores so you can see for yourself.”
“As long as we get Thai food first.”
Now it was Gabriel’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine. But we’re ordering takeout and taking it to the park for a picnic. And I’m having Indian food, instead. If I see another plate of pad Thai, I’m going to lose it.”
Julia burst into peals of laughter.
Late that night, Gabriel retired to the master bedroom after a long evening spent putting together a wish list for the nursery. Some of the items he was going to place on a gift registry, since his sisters (Kelly and Rachel), Diane, Cecilia, and Katherine had all demanded that he and Julia register for baby gifts.
Gabriel had no idea parents did such a thing and found himself intrigued by the concept.
(He was distressed to learn that the Pottery Barn Kids gift registry did not extend to children’s books in Italian or Yiddish.)
As he walked past the bed toward the bathroom, he noticed that Julia’s feet were peeking out from under the duvet. The rest of her body was covered.
He smiled and reached over to pull the duvet over her feet.
Chapter Seventy-nine
May 2012
Sacramento, California
Natalie Lundy went about her daily life with a spring in her step. Simon and April had had a very public breakup, he’d been disowned by his family, and Senator Talbot’s campaign was in shambles.
In short, she had no reason to jeopardize her new job by telling compromising tales to the tabloids. Someone had done the work for her—probably a jealous ex-lover of Simon’s or a political opponent of his father’s.
Natalie was blissfully unaware of Simon’s plans for revenge. Or the fact that he’d abandoned those plans when April elected not to press charges against him. Natalie heard rumors that he was trying to win April back, but public opinion was such that she thought that outcome was more than unlikely.
Certainly, Natalie and Simon had no idea of Jack Mitchell’s involvement, which meant that he slept well at night, secure in the knowledge that he’d done what he needed to do in order to protect his pregnant niece.
Chapter Eighty
July 2012
Boston, Massachusetts
I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Julia hesitated outside the Agent Provocateur boutique on Newbury Street.
“Why not?” Gabriel gripped her hand.
“This isn’t a maternity store. They won’t have anything that fits me.” Her cheeks colored.
“I’ve already spoken with Patricia. She knows we’re coming.” He smiled down at his pregnant wife. “In fact, I made a few requests.”
Julia recognized the name of the boutique’s manager, as they’d met once before. Gabriel was not the sort of man who was embarrassed by women’s underthings. In fact, he preferred to choose them himself, at least for special occasions.
This was a special occasion. As her pregnancy progressed, Julia was uncomfortable sleeping naked. Since none of her sexy lingerie fit her anymore, she’d taken to wearing yoga pants and T-shirts to bed. For Gabriel, this was not a welcome change.
So of course, he did something about it.
Patricia greeted them warmly and ushered them to a private dressing room in which she’d placed a rack of nightgowns, underwear, and robes.
“Call me if you need anything.” She gestured to the house telephone that was placed on a table nearby before closing the door behind her.
Julia fingered the transparent black chiffon of a babydoll nightgown as Gabriel watched her, the way a cat watches a mouse.
“I don’t think I can do this.” She glanced at the large trifold mirror balefully.
“It’s just us. Look, Patricia provided us with drinks.” He placed a few ice cubes in a glass and poured some ginger ale over them.
She took the drink gratefully. “This is not a good day for me. I feel like a cow.”
“You are not a cow,” Gabriel clipped. “You’re pregnant. And beautiful.”
She avoided his eyes. “I can’t stand in front of that mirror. I’ll look like a bus—from three different directions.”
“Nonsense.” He took the drink out of her hand, placing it on the low table nearby. “Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“I said take off your clothes.”
She backed away from him. “I can’t.”
“Trust me,” he whispered, stepping closer.
She looked up at him. His blue eyes were warm, but he looked very determined.
“Are you trying