Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(51)

Never one to miss out on a good party, Chloe started hopping around the room. “Yay, yay, yay!”

Just as suddenly as the euphoria hit, Grace’s face twisted. She snatched the baby close, hugging him tight as her eyes swam with tears.

Suddenly Khalil was right beside her, his expression sharp. What is it?

Grace said, Petra and Niko aren’t here to see him.

Khalil’s gaze darkened with sympathy. He put an arm around her and drew both her and the baby close. Grace turned her face into his wide shoulder. She told herself she hid her face because she didn’t want to disturb the children, but she might have leaned on his straight, strong figure a little bit.

Khalil’s arm tightened on her. He distracted Max by talking to him while Grace pulled herself together.

Clearly ready for the next good thing that involved her, Chloe started shouting as she ran around the room. “It’s story time! It’s story time!”

Grace straightened and pulled away from Khalil’s hold. After one searching glance, Khalil let her go. He smoothly took Max away from her. “Get your books,” he said to Chloe.

She stopped running laps. “Would you help me read as a horsie?”

“No,” Khalil said.

“A doggie or a cat?”

“No,” he said again.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why not,” she said, turning truculent.

Uh-oh, thought Grace as she wiped her eyes. Chloe and Khalil assessed each other like two gunfighters in a Western movie. Grace could almost see the dirt street they stood on, with the white steeple of a church in the background. The classic theme music from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly whistled in her head. She could have sworn a tumbleweed blew by. There was going to be a shootout at the O.K. Corral, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

But Khalil proved to be more than a match for their contest of wills. He turned away from Chloe with a casual shrug. He said, “It is quite all right if you’re not interested in me helping you to read this evening. I can always read to Max.”

Outrage dropped Chloe’s mouth open. The tiny gunslinger drew her gun and started firing. “No! That’s not fair! He’s just a baby!”

“Suit yourself,” said Khalil calmly. He sat in the armchair and settled Max on one side of his lap. He raised his eyebrows at Chloe. “Are you bringing your books or not?”

Chloe clenched her fists. She appeared to be conducting a mighty internal battle that lasted all of three seconds under the cool challenge in Khalil’s gaze. Then she broke down and ran for her books.

It was perfect, thought Grace. He took Chloe out with one, well-timed shot.

Laughter threatened to take Grace over as she watched Chloe fold herself into the other side of Khalil’s lap. Khalil made no further comment. He merely chose a book from the pile, opened it to the first page and began to read.

Grace wandered into her office/bedroom and sat at her desk. Her amusement faded.

Shocked arousal. Surprise and euphoria. A surge of grief and then laughter, and all of that occurred within—she checked the time on her computer—a fifteen-minute span of time. No wonder she felt punch-drunk.

She had found a few job postings throughout the week that she ought to apply for. Clicking on the electronic folder that contained her employment documents, she opened a draft of a cover letter, but trying to concentrate on the details proved to be a waste of time. In the end, she sat quietly in the shadowed room, hands in her lap as she looked out at the evening twilight and listened to Khalil’s perfect voice as he read to the children.

Then he fell silent. He said to her telepathically, The children are asleep.

Okay. Thank you. She stirred.

Do not trouble yourself, he told her. I am capable of putting them in their beds.

The springs in the armchair squeaked, then his footsteps sounded as he carried the children to their room.

She should move or do something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of what she should do.

She could feel when Khalil’s attention turned her way. This time he did not enter the room as a formless presence. He walked down the hall toward her. She listened to his footsteps as he approached. There, he rounded the corner to the living room. Now he stepped into the office. He was just fifteen feet away, then ten. Then five. She pushed her bangs off her forehead. Her fingers were shaking.

His presence enveloped her even as he turned her office chair so that she faced him. He glanced over her shoulder at the cover letter document open on her computer screen. He paused and frowned. His gaze darted to the stack of red-inked bills at one corner of the desk. She felt the impulse to squirm and squashed it. She had already told him times were hard, and she was not ashamed of or embarrassed by anything on her desk.

He knelt on one knee in front of her, which brought them face-to-face again. Leaning one elbow on the arm of her chair, he braced his other hand on the edge of the desk and looked deeply into her eyes. His ivory features were somber, those crystalline eyes grave.

“I would very much regret,” he said quietly, “if somehow I managed to make your day harder again today.”

Surprise took her over. Did he think he was somehow responsible for how close she came to tears earlier? She smiled at him. “You didn’t make my day harder today, Khalil,” she said. “You made my day better. It was really wonderful to see Max take his first steps today. It was even sweeter to see how excited he was to see you. Both Max and Chloe enjoy your visits so much. I just wish—I wish Petra and Niko…” Her throat stopped up. She made an inadequate gesture with one hand.