Breathing Room

farmhouse. So you have time alone every evening to talk without any interruptions.”

Ren backed into the hallway, but not before he saw Tracy give Harry a longing glance. “I guess,” he heard her say. “But you have no idea how hard this is. Don’t you think-”

“No, I don’t.” Isabel’s voice trailed after him. “Sex has allowed the two of you to mask your problems. It’s easier to get it on than talk it out.”

He winced. “Get it on.” Why did she have to put it that way? Less than two weeks ago she’d talked about sex being sacred, but she’d loosened up a lot since then. Not that he was complaining. He loved her responsiveness. He loved the way she enjoyed him, enjoyed them. At the same time, though, something about her attitude was beginning to stick in his craw.

He was being unreasonable, and he knew it. Maybe he had a guilty conscience. Not telling her about the change in the Night Kill script bothered him, and the fact that he felt guilty about it bothered him even more. Isabel had nothing to do with his career, nothing to do with him beyond the next few weeks. She was the one who’d spelled out the terms, and she’d been right, as usual. This was only about sex.

When it came right down to it, they were using each other. He was using her for companionship, for entertainment. He was using her to help him deal with Tracy and to work through his guilt over Karli. And, God knew, he was using her for sex, but that didn’t qualify as a sin in the Book of Isabel.

Damn it, he didn’t want to hurt her, not when he already had more sins on his soul than she could imagine-the drugs, the women he’d treated so callously, all the debris of his early years that still left a slimy trail behind him wherever he went. Sometimes when she gazed at him with those innocent eyes, he wanted to remind her that he didn’t know how to play the good guy, but he never said a word, because he was a selfish son of a bitch and he didn’t want her to walk away. Not yet. Not until he’d gotten what he needed and was ready to let her go.

One thing was certain: As soon as she found out about the new script and Kaspar Street’s twisted desire for little girls, she’d be on her way out the door, and right before she got there, Ren had a feeling all four of those Cornerstones were going to be dropped on his head.

After dinner Tracy told the kids that she and Harry would be back in time for breakfast and that Marta would take care of them if they needed anything during the night. Ren spent the rest of the evening feeling resentful. He wanted Isabel in a bedroom that didn’t have half a dozen people lurking outside the door. Instead, she’d excused herself and gone off to make notes on her book.

He headed for his office and tried to work on a character study of Street, but he couldn’t concentrate. He lifted some weights and played with Jeremy’s GameBoy for a while. Then he took a walk that didn’t do a damn thing to work off his sexual frustration. Finally he gave up and went to bed, only to end up punching his pillow and cursing the senior Briggses, who were curled up in the farmhouse bedroom where he and Isabel should be.

Eventually he drifted off, but he hadn’t been asleep for long before something warm cuddled next to him. It was about time. He loved to touch Isabel’s bare skin while she slept. He smiled and drew her close- But something was very wrong. His eyes flew open, and he sat upright with a yelp.

Brittany’s face puckered. “You yelled. Why’d you yell?” She lay curled on top of the covers, naked as a jaybird.

“You cannot sleep here!” he croaked.

“I heard a noise. I’m scared.”

Not half as terrified as he was. He started to jump out of bed, then remembered she wasn’t the only one naked. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his waist.

“You’re too wiggly,” she protested. “I’m sleepy.”

“Where’s your nightgown? Never mind.” He tucked the sheet around her so tightly she looked like a mummy, then picked her up.

“You’re squishing me! Where we goin’?”

“To see the good fairy.” He tripped over his blanket and almost dropped her. “Shit.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said. And if you repeat it, your tongue’ll fall out.” Somehow he managed to maneuver her through the door, down the hall, and into Tracy’s former bedroom without losing his blanket, but he made so much noise Isabel woke up.

“What…?”

“She’s scared, she’s naked, and she’s all yours.” He dropped Brittany next to her.

“Who’s that?” Steffie popped up from Isabel’s other side. “Brit’ny?”

“I want Daddy!” Brittany wailed.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” Isabel looked warm and tousle-haired. He’d never known a woman like her, one who was so unconscious of her sexual allure, although most men didn’t seem to be as aware of it as he was. Vittorio’s brother, the oily Dr. Andrea, saw it, though. He hadn’t fooled Ren one bit today when he’d shown up with that phony excuse about telling Isabel that they’d rounded up the metal detectors. Punk.

Her nightgown dropped low on one shoulder, revealing the rounded top of a breast that should, at that exact moment, have been in his hand. She nodded toward his blanket. “Nice skirt.”

He mustered his dignity. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

As he headed back to his room, he reminded himself that he’d come to Italy to get away from everything. Instead, he was throwing a frigging house party and adding another black mark to his soul.

Right before dawn it got worse. He pried open his eyelids and saw a foot stuck in his mouth. Not his.

A tiny toenail dug into his bottom lip. He winced and tried to move, only to have the other foot punch him in the chin. Then he felt the damp spot by his hip. And how could life get any better than this?

Diaper Boy cuddled closer. So much for Marta’s taking over during the night. Ren weighed his options. Waking the kid meant a hassle, something Ren had no intention of dealing with at-he checked the clock-four in the morning. Resigned, he moved to dryer territory and willed himself back to sleep.

A few hours later he got a poke in the chest. “Want my daddy!”

The light filtering through his eyelids told him it was morning, but just barely. Where the hell was Marta? “Go back to sleep,” he mumbled.

“Want my mommy now!”

Ren gave in to the inevitable, opened his eyes, and finally understood the reason parents went through this. Diaper Boy looked cute as hell. His dark curls stuck up all over the place, and his cheeks were rosy from sleep. A quick check of the mattress showed no new wet spots. Which meant…

Ren jumped out of bed, whipped on a pair of shorts, and grabbed him. Connor gave a startled yowl. Ren hauled him like a potato sack to the bathroom.

“Want Jer’my!”

“No more BS, kid.” He gingerly pulled off the diaper, stared at it for a moment, then threw open the shutters and tossed it out the window. “Belly-up-to-the-bar time.” He pointed down at the toilet. “That’s the bar.”

Connor thrust his lower lip and scowled, looking exactly like his mother during most of her marriage to Ren. “Potty bad.”

“Tell somebody who cares.”

Connor screwed up his face. “I want my mommy!”

He flipped up the toilet seat. “Do your business, and then we’ll talk.”

Connor stared at him.

Ren offered his most heartless sneer.

Connor walked backward to the tub and climbed in.

Ren crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Connor poked the faucet.

Ren scratched his chest.

Connor picked up the soap.

Ren inspected his fingernails. “You might as well cut out the BS, tough guy, because I’ve got all day.”

Connor gazed at the soap for a moment, then set it down and started to pee in the tub.

“No way.” Ren grabbed him under the arms and stood him in front of the toilet. “Right here. Right now.”

Connor craned his neck to look up at him.

“You heard me. Are you a man or a girl?”