Silhouette - Dynasties -The Elliotts 05 - Mr and Mistress Page 6

  This was terrible. Horrible. Pure torture. How could Cullen ask her to marry him one minute, then turn around and treat her this shabbily the next?

  Meeting his parents. My God, what was he thinking?

  When he popped his head in the bedroom door, she had the sudden urge to lob something at his head. Unfortunately, the only objects within reach were a drawer full of lacy undergarments. And he would probably like it if she tossed one of those at his face.

  “You about ready?” he asked.

  She glanced down at herself, standing in the middle of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pink bra and panties.

  “Do I look ready?” she snapped, then felt immediately contrite. It wasn’t his fault she was a nervous wreck. Although it was his fault she had to meet his parents.

  The pregnant mistress being brought home to meet Mom and Dad. It was enough to cause heart palpitations.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she turned away quickly before he noticed. She wanted to believe she was simply overly emotional because of the pregnancy, but knew it was more than that.

  She was thoroughly terrified about what the next few hours would bring. Fires, floods, pestilence…The list went on and on in her head.

  “Hey.”

  His soft low voice reached her from behind her left ear, and his hands sliding over her shoulders and down the length of her arms. Goosebumps broke out along the bare flesh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She gave a short bark of laugher. What wasn’t wrong?

  “I don’t want to do this,” she told him truthfully. “Your parents are going to hate me. They’ll blame me for corrupting you, and accuse me of trying to trap you by getting pregnant, and I don’t know what to wear to my own persecution.” Her tirade ended on a high note, panic seeping into the words.

  Cullen chuckled, rubbing her upper arms comfortingly. “Sweetheart, you’re worrying for nothing. My folks are dying to meet you, and they are not going to treat you badly. I wouldn’t allow it, even if they tried.”

  His reassurances were helping. Not putting an end to her fears altogether, but lightening the pressure around her lungs and diaphragm.

  “Now, far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear, but as much as I’m personally enjoying your outfit, you might want to put on a few more clothes before Mom and Dad get here.”

  She gave a small squeak when she realized she was still in her underwear, jerking away from him and racing to the closet.

  Of course, not a single thing she’d brought with her seemed appropriate for meeting her lover’s parents. At the moment, she doubted a nun’s habit would have looked demure enough.

  “I can’t believe I let you pack for me,” she ranted, her stress level rising once again. “All you brought is sexy lingerie. I can’t meet your mother and father in sexy lingerie. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking you look hot no matter what you’re wearing.”

  He crossed the room, moving in front of her to sort through the closet’s offerings. “Here, this isn’t sexy lingerie.”

  She studied the skirt and top he was holding. It wasn’t exactly demure, but it wasn’t awful. A seashell pink skirt with a flounce at the bottom that would almost reach her knees, and a floral blouse with a plunging V-neckline and loose ruffled material at the shoulders in place of sleeves.

  The front was a little low, but maybe she could pull it closed with a safety pin. And the pink, wine and brown floral pattern would go a long way toward camouflaging her expanding middle.

  “All right,” she said, taking a deep breath as she reached for the hanger.

  “It even matches your bra and panties,” Cullen announced proudly. “See, I’m not so bad at packing for you, after all.”

  Making a noncommittal sound at the back of her throat, she struggled into the skirt, fitting it around the bulk of her belly and straightening the seams. Then she pulled the top over her head and hurried to the bathroom to check her reflection in the mirror.

  She didn’t look like a Mensa member, but she didn’t look like the stereotypical ex-showgirl either. It would do.

  Thankfully, she’d talked Cullen through the packing of her shoes and accessories, so she had chocolate-brown mules for her feet and gold hoops for her ears.

  The doorbell rang just as she was arranging the earrings next to the diamond studs she rarely removed from her second holes. She jumped at the noise and began to panic all over again.

  “That will be them,” Cullen said, stepping into the bathroom with her.

  He smiled encouragingly and pressed his lips to her cheek. “You look great. Take a deep breath and relax, then come down when you’re ready, okay?”

  She swallowed hard, taking that deep breath he had suggested. The chime sounded again as his footsteps moved out of the room and down the stairs.

  Her stomach rolled as if she were riding the Tilt-A-Whirl at the state fair, but she forced her fingers to put the finishing touches on her loose hair and stroke on one last coat of lipstick.

  She could do this, she told herself. All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other and make her way downstairs…straight into the lion’s den.

  Despite his claims that Misty had nothing to worry about, Cullen had to admit he, too, was nervous about this meeting.

  Soon after discovering that Misty was pregnant, he’d phoned both of his parents from the hospital to let them know they were going to be grandparents. Since Daniel and Amanda Elliott had divorced long ago, it had taken two separate calls and two separate confessions about his four-year-long affair with Misty.

  His father had gotten himself into a similar situation at the age of eighteen and had been forced to marry his mother by his old-fashioned, overbearing father—Cullen’s grandfather, Patrick Elliott. So in many ways, Cullen had expected a lecture.

  He should have been more careful; he never should have gotten involved with a showgirl to begin with; she was likely nothing more than a manipulative gold-digger…. But since the horse was out of the barn, so to speak, it was time for Cullen to step up and do the responsible thing.

  He’d expected to hear all of that and more from his father. Instead, Daniel had been sympathetic and understanding of the situation his son found himself in. He’d offered only one piece of advice: Do what you feel is right.

  His father hadn’t spoken the words, but his meaning was clear: He didn’t want Cullen making the same mistakes he had, letting himself be forced or guilted into marriage simply because a child was involved.

  Cullen got the feeling that if he married Misty, his father would be accepting of his decision. And if he decided to be a long-distance father, that would be okay, too.

  The call to his mother had been very different in tone, but essentially the same. Amanda Elliott may have been a high-priced Manhattan attorney, but her voice had grown thick and waterlogged the minute she heard she was going to be a grandmother. She’d begged him to bring Misty to New York as soon as she was feeling well enough. Or, if that wasn’t convenient, Amanda herself would fly to Las Vegas so they could meet.

  The topic of marriage had never come up. Either because his mother expected him to do the right thing, or because it simply didn’t matter to her. Only the impending grandchild mattered.

  Then last night, after he and Misty had arrived at his town house, he’d phoned them each again while Misty was unpacking her things and invited them over to meet their future daughter-in-law. He hadn’t said anything about his proposal or the fact that Misty had turned him down—twice.

  After taking the steps two at a time, he crossed the small foyer to the front door and yanked it open before the bell could peal again. The sound was beginning to grate on his nerves, and he could only imagine the effect it was having on Misty.

  His mother and father stood on the other side of the ornately carved door. It wasn’t very often that he saw them together, and he was struck once again by what a handsome couple they made.

  He’d come to ter
ms with their divorce years ago, but the little boy in him still wished they could have made things work. That he and Bryan hadn’t had to go through the emotional upheaval of their split.

  He didn’t want that for his child. If Misty ever agreed to marry him, he would move heaven and earth to make sure they stayed together.

  “Hey, Mom. Dad.” He stepped back and waved them inside.

  “Oh, Cullen,” his mother cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “I’m so happy for you.”

  When she let go, he noticed the hint of moisture in her brown eyes. “I know all of this came as a surprise, but you’re going to make a wonderful father.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Covering her heart with her hand, she went on as though he hadn’t even spoken. “And I’ll finally get to be a grandmother.”

  Cullen turned to face his father. “Dad.”

  Daniel Elliott put his hand out to shake, then pulled Cullen close and patted his back in a supportive, fatherly gesture.

  For a minute, Cullen thought he might tear up himself, but cleared his throat and was relieved when the sensation passed.

  “So where is this young woman we’re supposed to meet? The one who’s carrying our grandchild.” There was no censure in his tone, only curiosity.

  “She’s upstairs. She had a bit of trouble deciding what to wear.”

  “I know the feeling,” his mother replied with a smile.

  “Look,” he told them, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “Misty is really nervous about meeting the two of you, so try not to make her any more uncomfortable than she already is. No nosy questions or inappropriate comments about her former choice of profession, okay?”

  A flash of hurt crossed his mother’s face, and he felt immediately contrite.

  “We wouldn’t dream of it, dear.”

  He released a pent-up breath, rubbing his damp palms on the legs of his chinos. “I know. I just…I don’t want her getting stressed out and landing in the hospital again.”

  His dad clapped him on the back and shot him a teasing grin. “Stop worrying, son. Your mother and I will be on our best behavior.”

  While they waited for Misty to make an appearance, Amanda said, “Did you hear about your cousin Scarlet and John Harlan?”

  Cullen’s brows knit. “No, what about them?”

  “They’re engaged to be married,” Daniel supplied.

  “Isn’t that wonderful?” Amanda asked.

  “Yeah.” That certainly explained their odd behavior at Une Nuit the last time he’d seen them, Cullen thought. “I’ll have to be sure to give them both a call to congratulate them.” Not to mention give his friend a rough time for keeping him in the dark.

  Before Cullen could say more, he heard a sound at the top of the stairs and spun around to see Misty standing on the second-story landing. She looked beautiful and his heart swelled with pride.

  This was the woman he planned to marry. The mother of his child. The only woman he’d ever intentionally introduced to his parents.

  And even though he was slightly anxious about how this morning’s gathering would go, he wasn’t uneasy about Misty or embarrassed by her in any way.

  He hoped his family wouldn’t be, either.

  “Misty, sweetheart. Come on down here and meet my parents.”

  Her heart was racing, her palms sweating and for a second, dizziness washed over her so that she had to clutch the mahogany railing even tighter in her already white fingers.

  It didn’t help that Cullen had called her sweetheart. She couldn’t remember him uttering the endearment in the four years they’d been sleeping together, and now he was using it in front of his mother and father.

  As she moved slowly down the steps, she took in the couple standing beside Cullen.

  Only about an inch shorter than his son, Daniel Elliott was dressed in a dapper dark blue suit, the jacket left unbuttoned for a more casual look. His jet black hair and blue eyes were so much like Cullen’s, it was obvious they were related, though it was hard to believe Daniel was old enough to be Cullen’s father. She knew he had to be in his late forties, but he could easily have passed for five or ten years younger.

  Amanda Elliott had dark brown hair that fell to her chin, and equally brown eyes. She was a few inches shorter than both her ex-husband and son, with a curvaceous figure tucked into her stylish red skirt and matching jacket.

  At the moment, all three Elliotts were standing at the base of the stairs, watching her descent with what appeared to be a mixture of eagerness and trepidation.

  She didn’t blame them. If it weren’t for Cullen flashing her that encouraging smile, she’d have run back upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom long before now.

  As soon as she came within reach, Cullen took her hand and pulled her close to his side. She went willingly, needing both his physical and emotional support. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers and slipped his other arm around her waist, so that his palm rested on the curve of her pregnant belly.

  “Mom, Dad,” he said proudly, “this is MistyVale.”

  A beat of complete, taut silence passed, and then his mother threw up her arms and gave Misty an enthusiastic hug. “Welcome to the family,” she singsonged. “And, oh, look at you!”

  Leaning back, she curved both hands over Misty’s protruding stomach, circling the firm, round mass. Misty stiffened, surprised by the woman’s forwardness. But then she relaxed, reminding herself that this was Cullen’s mother…her child’s grandmother.

  “Misty.” Cullen’s father reached around his exwife’s exuberant form to shake her hand. “Like Amanda said, welcome to the family.”

  Her chest swelled at their kindness, and for a minute, she felt like an Elliott. Like Cullen’s true fiancée rather than his pregnant mistress.

  She cleared her throat, praying her vocal chords would work. “Thank you, but I’m not really family. I’m just—”

  Daniel cut her off before she had a chance to grope for the appropriate description. “You’re carrying my son’s child, the next generation of Elliotts. That makes you family.”

  Tears burned her eyes and her lungs refused to take in air. She turned her gaze to Cullen, squeezing his hand in a death grip, desperate to be rescued before she collapsed into a grateful, sobbing mess in front of his parents.

  “Why don’t we go into the kitchen,” he said, flexing his fingers around hers reassuringly. “Misty and I haven’t had breakfast yet. You’re welcome to join us, or I can get you a cup of coffee while we talk.”

  Seven

  W hile they chatted, Cullen made omelets. Misty told him she wasn’t hungry—in truth, she still felt too nervous to eat—but he insisted. She was eating for two now, he took great joy in pointing out, and then he proceeded to fill her beaten egg mixture with every possible fresh vegetable.

  She had to admit, it was delicious. The first few bites had been forced to keep from hurting his feelings, but now she realized just how famished she’d actually been, and ate with relish.

  Having already eaten before their arrival, Daniel and Amanda passed on the offer of breakfast, settling for cups of coffee instead.

  Misty knew they were divorced, and from what Cullen had told her about the split, she understood things hadn’t always been amicable. But no one would know it by the way they were acting this morning.

  Daniel had pulled out Amanda’s stool for her before taking a seat at the counter beside her. And when Cullen had handed them mugs of steaming black coffee, Daniel had automatically flavored his ex-wife’s with cream and sugar.

  And Amanda had let him. She’d acted as though such behavior was completely normal.

  Hmm. Misty wouldn’t say anything to Cullen in case she was wrong, but it looked to her like a few sparks might be flaring to life again between them.

  “It’s not that I’m not delighted for you,” Cullen’s father said in a reserved tone, “but you know how your grandfather is. He’s sure to have some
thing to say about this, and it probably won’t be nice.”

  Misty chewed carefully, watching the three Elliotts exchange knowing glances.

  “Well, you know how I feel about that,” Amanda replied, fingers wrapped tightly around her ceramic cup. “I’d tell the old coot to go to hell. How you live your life is nobody’s business but your own. My own life certainly would have turned out a lot differently if Patrick Elliott hadn’t been such an overbearing tyrant.”

  Though the words were caustic, Amanda’s voice held no hostility. She seemed to be merely stating facts and telling her son not to let his grandfather’s opinion influence his actions in any way.

  Misty didn’t know what to think. She’d been expecting Cullen’s parents to treat her with derision, but they hadn’t. And now they were telling her that his grandfather likely would. It was enough to send Cullen’s light-as-air omelet sinking like a stone in her stomach.

  “I can’t help what Granddad thinks,” Cullen told his parents, his mouth turned down in a hint of a frown. “If I get the chance, I’ll drive out to the Tides and talk with him. Maybe he’ll handle the situation better if he hears it directly from me.”

  Daniel nodded solemnly. Amanda sipped at her coffee and refrained from comment.

  Setting her fork down, Misty pushed her plate away and folded her hands in her lap, appetite suddenly gone. The entire scene made her uncomfortable. They were discussing her as if she wasn’t even in the room.

  She understood that her unexpected pregnancy impacted the entire Elliott family, but didn’t want to be a bone of contention between anyone. Especially if it meant that Cullen’s relationship with his father or grandfather would be negatively affected…or Daniel’s relationship with his father.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she told Cullen. “I don’t want to cause trouble with anyone in your family. I can just as easily go back to Henderson and—”

  “No.” His response was sharp and fast. “You’re staying here. And you’re not causing trouble…you’re having my baby. Granddad can accept that or not. The choice is his, but it doesn’t affect us.”