Honorable Intentions (The Landis Brothers #5)(19)
Author: Catherine Mann

She’d read enough articles about the Renshaw and Landis families to recognize the small group. It didn’t take gossip magazines to keep up with them. Hank’s military general dad stood with his second wife, Ginger. A younger couple hovered behind them. While Ginger’s four sons resembled each other, Gabrielle was almost certain this was the youngest, the architect who did renovations on historic homes—and also happened to be married to a woman with royal roots to her family tree. His wife jostled a toddler on her hip, a little girl around a year old.

What must they all think?

She didn’t have to ask. She knew exactly what any reasonable person would assume based on the way things looked. Hank stood barefoot, particularly sexy in nothing more than a pair of jeans riding low on his hips. And she really wished that she’d put on something more than just a robe and that she was anywhere other than on the sofa nursing her son.

If she pulled Max away, she risked exposing herself to the already stunned quartet. Plus he would scream himself purple if she cut his meal short.

Were they judging her? Wondering if she was taking advantage of Hank? She wondered the same thing herself. She searched their eyes and only found curiosity.

A lot of it.

She looked to Hank for help just as he stepped toward his family.

“As you can see, we weren’t expecting company. How about we step across the hall and give Gabrielle some privacy with her son? Introductions can wait until then.”

He ushered them out into the hall, pulling the doors closed behind him.

Voices seeped through, lots of voices, rising with curiosity as they all must be bombarding him with questions. If only she could make out the words. Her son continued to blissfully nurse, unaware of the world turned upside down.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Gabrielle tensed. Leonie slid through, keeping the room shielded from the rest of the house.

“Cavalry to the rescue, sweetie. I have clothes for you.” She held up her hands with—thank God—something to wear. “I’m ready to take the little guy if you’re about done.” Leonie sat beside her, a clothing stack perched on her knees.

Max seemed to be slowing, and Gabrielle would just live with feeling lopsided rather than taking more time to swap him to the other breast. “You’ll just need to burp him.”

“Will do.” Leonie took the baby and patted him on the back. “Can you believe we’re actually under the same roof as a former secretary of state? And royalty?”

“Believe it or not, they’re here, all right.” Gabrielle just wished they’d called first. Her plans for giving Hank space went out the window.

Shielded by the robe, she stepped into her underwear and jeans, then shrugged on her bra and long white poet’s shirt. She shoved her feet into sandals. Dressed, thank goodness.

Maybe she would still be able to make it to her room to freshen up further. She cracked open the double doors to peek out.

No luck.

Across the hall in the dining room, Hank stood with his surprise guests. All eyes homed in on her. Leonie tucked by and took Max up the stairs, which pulled the attention off Gabrielle momentarily.

Holding her head high, Gabrielle rolled back her shoulders. Hank slid into place beside her and palmed her waist. He ducked his head and whispered, “I haven’t told them anything. I wanted to wait for you to weigh in, although nobody’s going to believe us if we say we’re not together.”

He kissed her cheek and straightened. She didn’t even bother protesting. They were sleeping together and denying it would make a bigger deal out of the situation.

“Ginger, Dad,” Hank said, “this is Gabrielle.”

Hank Renshaw, Sr., nodded silently, a graying, older version of his son, and just as reticent. He didn’t need the uniform to look like a general. Even in khakis and a golfing sweater, he carried an air of military authority. She resisted the urge to fidget or salute.

Ginger Landis Renshaw stepped into the silence and extended her hand with a smile that seemed authentic. “Our apologies for showing up unannounced. We really should have called.”

Her shoulder-length gray-blond hair was so perfectly styled, Gabrielle resisted the urge to smooth her hand over her own messy mop. She recalled from news reports that the woman was nearing sixty, but she carried the years well. Wearing a pale pink lightweight sweater set with pearls—and blue jeans—Ginger Landis wasn’t at all what Gabrielle had expected. Thank goodness, because the woman in front of her appeared a lot less intimidating.

Gabrielle had seen her often enough on the news—always poised and intelligent, sometimes steely and determined. Today, a softer side showed as she looked at her stepson then over to Gabrielle.

“I’m Ginger. Nice to meet you, Gabrielle. Although I don’t know exactly who I’m meeting since Hank isn’t sharing anything beyond your name.”

His eyes met hers. He really had left it to her to say what she wanted. She smiled her thanks.

“A pleasure to meet you, too, ma’am. Obviously, I’m a close friend of your stepson’s.” Taking the older woman’s hand, Gabrielle smiled sheepishly and appreciated the light squeeze of encouragement. “He’s been helping me with my son since my fiancé passed away.”

There. Now she’d left it up to him to share what he wanted with his family about who her fiancé was and what had happened overseas. She knew how Hank valued his privacy.

The collective sigh of relief that went through the foursome drew her attention back.

Ginger pressed a hand to her pearls. “So the baby isn’t Hank’s.”

Oh, my God, they’d thought…?

Of course they had, and they must have been hurt by the thought that Hank would have had a child without telling them. He had to have known what they were thinking. Yet, he’d let them just hang there wondering while she got dressed? That took needing privacy to a whole new level.

Hank gestured to the younger couple. “This is my youngest stepbrother, Jonah. His wife, Eloisa. And their little girl named Ginger.” He shot a look at Jonah. “Suck up.”

Jonah pointed to his wife. “Her idea about naming our daughter after Mom. I’m putty in Eloisa’s hands. Actually, I’m putty in her and our daughter’s hands.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “You’ll remember Jonah since he’s the one I spoke to about renting this house.”

He shot his stepbrother a quick look, just short of an outright glare.

Jonah pointed to his wife again. “She pried it out of me.” He hooked an arm around her waist. “I’m helpless when it comes to her. Remember?”

Ginger placed a hand on her stepson’s arm. “We’re sorry to burst in on you this way, but Architectural Digest is doing a photo shoot of this place to feature Jonah’s restoration. It’s a great boon for his business.”

Hank mumbled to Jonah. “You didn’t mention that, either.”

“Didn’t have time,” Jonah said out of the corner of his mouth. “Mom arranged it yesterday so she would have an excuse to come here. And besides, you weren’t picking up your phone. That’s what you get for ignoring your family.”

The general chuckled softly.

Gabrielle was still stuck on the words photo shoot. “They’ll be photographing the house?”

“And our family.” Ginger smiled proudly. “Beyond being great publicity for Jonah’s work, it’s a lovely chance for me to show off my relatives without worrying about the paparazzi falling out of trees in the middle of a picnic just to get a picture for some cheap gossip rag.”

Leonie better clean out her stash of reading material if she wanted to win Ginger’s approval.

The general continued, “We’ve found if we periodically stage pictures on our own terms, the public gets bored enough to leave us alone for a while.”

Ginger hooked an arm through Gabrielle’s. “So, you’ll join us for the photos? Friends are always welcome.”

“I’m not sure what to say.” The whole meeting was overwhelming.

“No need to make up your mind yet. I’m just glad to meet you.” She squeezed Gabrielle’s arm. “You’ll have plenty of time to think it over while we unpack. Gentlemen, would you please unload the luggage from the car?”

Panic lit a bonfire in Gabrielle’s stomach. She looked fast at Hank. Frustration mixed with resignation in his eyes.

His family was staying here.

* * *

“So you’re okay with us staying here?” his father asked him.

Hank hefted suitcases from the back of the hybrid Mercedes SUV. “Yeah, General, sure.”

“Son…”

His father had been a part of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, handling explosive world dynamics without breaking a sweat. But he still got cranky when his kids called him General. “Yeah, Dad?”

“That’s better.” The general nodded, walking alongside him, loaded down with luggage for such a short stay. Although half of it looked as if it belonged to Jonah and Eloisa’s baby. A second car was parked behind Hank and Ginger’s, a nondescript black sedan with two men in suits in the front—protective detail. His dad and Ginger kept at least one bodyguard at all times when away from home and undoubtedly extra security came from the royal side of the family.

No more making out on the lanai.

His father’s strides matched his own. “Is the boy yours?”

Hank stopped short at the base of the steps. Was his dad calling him a liar? Wind rustled the hanging ferns and oak tree branches while he squelched his rising anger. “You heard Gabrielle say he isn’t.”

“Was she covering for you?” His father’s eyes went into deep search mode, just as he’d done when single parenting his three teens.

Hank bit back the urge to just leave. It had chapped his hide, being questioned at sixteen, but it really burned now thinking his dad questioned his honor. “No one ‘covers’ for me, especially not Gabrielle. If Max was mine, you would have heard about it.”

“You’re not known for being chatty with the rest of the family,” his father said dryly.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But having a child is not something I would hide. Even if I decided to wait to tell you, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let Gabrielle stand there alone, stating the kid is someone else’s.”

The doubt in his dad’s eyes faded. “Of course. I should have known. You’re an honorable man.”

“Thanks for that much.” He started up the back porch steps.

“You’re also a private man, and that makes this a tough family for you to be a part of.”

“Do ya’ think?”

A laugh rumbled from his dad’s barrel chest and yeah, it felt good to join in. The past week and a half had been beyond stressful. Good in a lot of ways—like hearing from the doctor that Max would be okay, and being with Gabrielle. But there was still enough baggage in their pasts to rival even the piles coming out of the back of that SUV.

His father stayed between him and the door. “So if the baby isn’t yours, who’s the dead fiancé she mentioned? I assume he’d be the father.”