About That Night (13 page)

“Your life is a bona fide soap opera.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He turned, saw Ivy leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, her face pale, her eyes huge and rimmed red. “How are you feeling?”

“Dandy.” Her voice was rough.

“Here.” He offered her the ginger ale. “This might calm your stomach.”

“How am I to trust you didn’t poison it?”

“You have a very creative imagination.”

“Hey, you’re the one who could give
Dallas
—the TV show, not the city—and J. R. Ewing a run for their money. For all I know, you regularly poison women and hide their bodies in a bedroom closet.”

To appease her, he took a long drink. Held out the glass. She accepted it and took a tiny sip but that probably had more to do with her having just been sick and not her naturally suspicious nature.

“I want proof the baby is mine,” he said, crossing his arms, feeling like an idiot for not just saying that outright when she’d first claimed to be pregnant with his child. “We’ll have paternity testing done.”

She took another sip. Licked her lips. “It’s as if you don’t trust me.”

“It’s a reasonable request.”

“It certainly is. Reasonable. Rational. Completely understandable.” Another sip. “I would have happily agreed to it had you brought it up earlier. Unfortunately, that ship has long since sailed.”

She shoved the glass at him, giving him no choice but to take it.

“How am I to be sure the child you’re carrying is mine?”

With a shrug she walked past him, her heels clicking, the sound loud to his ears. “Thanks to the check you wrote me, that is no longer my problem.”

She opened the door. She was leaving. Walking out of his life, just like that.

Exactly what he’d wanted.

Reaching past her he slammed the door shut, and then stepped in front of her. “We’re not done.”

“When I’m done, I leave. And, believe me, buddy, I am done with you.” He didn’t move. She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t make me kick you in the shin.”

It wasn’t the threat of violence that had him moving aside, it was the exhaustion on her face. Knowing she’d just been ill.

“In other words,” he said, when she opened the door again, “you can’t prove you’re telling the truth.”

“You don’t get it. I came here because I thought it was the right thing to do. This pregnancy came as a shock to me, too, but I thought we could sit down, discuss our options and come up with some sort of plan on how to proceed. Together. Instead you treated me like dirt, accused me of being a lying, manipulative slut.” She shook her head, her hand gripping the doorknob as if it were a lifeline. “You didn’t have to be such an arrogant ass. You didn’t have to make me feel so cheap. So beneath you. None of it had to be this way,” she continued quietly. “It didn’t have to end this way. I hope you remember that long after I’m gone.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
T DIDN’T HAVE
to be this way.

C.J. paced the length of his apartment, Ivy’s words replaying in his head.

He felt caged in, like a wild animal recently caught, forced to hide his instincts to keep control. Usually keeping control was easy for him. Emotions were messy and had never helped anyone make a good decision. No, problems needed to be solved by using one’s head, by using logic and reason and looking at all the angles, by seeing the pros and cons of each decision.

Following your heart only led to suffering. Not that he’d followed his heart that night with Ivy, he thought with a sneer. That had all been his groin telling him what to do. He could admit that his arrogance hadn’t helped, either. He’d had the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen come to him, flirt with him, and he’d given in to his baser needs.

It wouldn’t happen again.

The edginess fled as he realized that he could handle this. He handled everything. His blood chilled and he was cool. Calm. Collected. Getting upset wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t get to the truth, and that was what he needed right now. The truth.

A knock sounded on his door and though he knew it wasn’t Ivy, his heart sped up anyway, almost as if he was looking forward to seeing her again, as if he wanted to see her again.

He yanked the door open. “Took you long enough,” he growled.

His brother Oakes raised his eyebrows. “I hadn’t realized I was being timed.” He came in, looking like the attorney he was, in a dark suit, his brown hair rumpled. “I left a very promising date to come over here because you said it was an emergency.” He helped himself to a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch. “Well? What’s up?”

C.J.’s mouth tightened. He didn’t know how to go about this. He’d called Oakes as soon as Ivy had left. Demanding his brother drop whatever he was doing and telling him to come over here was one thing, but actually letting him know what was going on? That seemed extreme.

At least it wasn’t Kane, who’d never let him hear the end of it.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” Oakes asked. “Want me to read your mind?”

C.J. sighed. Damn it, he’d have to tell him. Would have to admit what an idiot he’d been. “I need your help.”

Oakes froze in the act of lifting his beer to his mouth. Slowly lowered the bottle. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” C.J. could have sworn his brother was enjoying this somehow.

“Yeah, I did, but I’d love to hear it again.” Oakes grinned and stood. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you needed help before. Or that you were wrong, but that’s a miracle for another day.” He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Just wanted a memento of this momentous occasion,” Oakes said in his cheerful way. “Maybe you could repeat yourself? That way I can have a video of it to share?”

C.J.’s response to that was short and to the point.

Oakes put his phone back in his pocket. “I love my phone but not that much. And I don’t think I have that app, but I’ll look into it for those long, lonely winter nights. Now,” he continued. “What do you need help with?”

“I need you to find out information about someone.”

“I’m not a private detective,” Oakes reminded him. “Those years in law school and all that. I can give you a name—”

“You can find out just about anything you want about someone,” C.J. said, knowing Oakes could get information about people for his clients and the cases he worked on.

“So can you. All you have to do is place a few calls and—”

“I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“New business venture?” his brother asked.

“No, it’s...personal.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t do personal.”

C.J. bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Oakes lifted a shoulder, not the least put out by C.J.’s tone or hostile glare. “You haven’t dated since Dad got sick, and you focus on work. Everything all right?”

He wished he’d focused on work that night with Ivy. Leave it to Oakes, the best of them all, to worry about C.J.’s well-being. “I’m fine I just...”

Screwed up. Big-time.

Shit.

He sat on the edge of the chair, clasped his hands between his knees. “I met someone.”

“You want me to run a background check on the woman you’re dating? That seems a bit cold and paranoid. Even for you.”

“We’re not dating. We...spent the night together. The night of Kane’s engagement party.”

“Not that I don’t love being privy to the more personal aspects of your life,” Oakes said, “but I’m having a hard time following you. You slept with a woman in Shady Grove and...oh.” His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Oh, I get it.”

C.J. doubted that. “Got what?”

“She dumped you, but you’re hooked, and now you want to convince her to give you another chance.” He made a motion of a fishhook in his cheek. “Never thought I’d see it.”

“That’s not what happened.” He wasn’t hooked. But she had left him. He wouldn’t forget that. Twice she’d walked out on him. That was unacceptable. “We hadn’t spoken since that night, but she came here today.”

“She came to Houston?” Realization dawned and Oakes shook his head. “No.”

C.J. pressed his lips together. Nodded shortly. “She says she’s pregnant.”

Oakes went into lawyer mode, standing and pacing, and C.J. could almost see his brother’s agile mind working. “Any chance it’s true?”

“No.”

Oakes turned, gave C.J. a look he’d never seen from his younger brother before. “No? No chance at all? So you didn’t have sex with her?”

And this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. He hadn’t participated in locker-room talk, bragging about his exploits and conquests, since he was thirteen and had gotten to first base with a girl two years older who’d wanted him to take her to some country-club dance and buy her jewelry.

He’d found out later that she’d only liked him for his looks and for his father’s money.

“We had sex,” C.J. admitted through clenched teeth. “But we used protection.”

“Nothing but abstinence is one hundred percent,” Oakes said, as if convincing a jury of C.J.’s guilt. Repeating Ivy’s words. “You say you used protection. Was she on birth control, as well?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Oakes gave him a look that was filled with disbelief and disappointment. “Just a suggestion, but if you’re going to have one-night stands, you might want to make sure you’re both protected from something like this.”

C.J. felt like a big enough idiot already. He didn’t need to hear it from his little brother. “Are you going to check into her or not?”

He didn’t want to go to a stranger to handle this, but he would if he needed to.

“What do you want to know about her?” Oakes asked.

“Everything. Where she works. Where she lives. Who her friends are. Her history. Past lovers and relationships. Education. Family.”

“Guess you didn’t get around to discussing any of that, huh?” Oakes asked.

“Spare me the lecture. I’ve got enough on my mind.”

“What are you going to do about the baby?”

“I’m not sure the baby is mine. This could be some scheme to give her kid the Bartasavich last name and to get enough money to set herself up for life.”

But his instincts told him it wasn’t.

Oakes made a note. “I know a guy—”

“You—”

“No,” Oakes said. “I told you. I don’t do background checks, but I know a guy who does and who is very thorough. He’s discreet, too, so don’t worry about that. He can be completely trusted.”

“I don’t know,” C.J. said. This was personal, and he didn’t want his personal business spread around.

“Trust me,” Oakes said. “He’s the best.”

C.J. nodded. He did trust Oakes. “How long will it take?”

“Depends on how much you can give him to start with.”

“Not much,” he hated admitting. “Her name is Ivy Rutherford and she lives in Shady Grove. She grew up there,” he added, remembering her saying that she’d lived in the small town her entire life. “She works at the hotel where the engagement party was held.”

Oakes wrote that down. “Luckily, Shady Grove is small enough she should be easy enough to track down. Assuming, of course, that she’s still living there.”

C.J. had a feeling she was, that when she left Houston, she’d go back to that tiny town where his brother had decided to spend the rest of his life. “The security department here might have video surveillance of her coming and leaving the building if you need a picture to help identify her.”

“That should be enough for him to get a good start. I’d say he’ll have what you need within a week.”

Clint nodded. “Good.” That would give him enough time to tie up loose ends at the office.

Then he was tracking Ivy down.

* * *

F
UNNY HOW DOING
the right thing often came back to bite a person in the ass.

Lesson learned, Ivy thought late the next morning as she scraped her hair back, wrapped an elastic band around it. She’d be sure to avoid doing that again for the rest of her life.

She grabbed flour, sugar, baking powder and baking soda from the pantry at Bradford House and carried them into the kitchen. She never should have gone to Houston. Never should have told Clinton she was pregnant. Giving into her attraction to him that night had been reckless. Seeking him out to tell him she was carrying his child? That was just stupid.

Topping off her reckless, stupid behavior by throwing up in his extremely clean bathroom, well, that could only be described as humiliating. The one saving grace was that the woman who’d shown up while Ivy had been kneeling on that cold tile floor—her stomach empty, her eyes watering—hadn’t realized Ivy was even there.

She supposed she should be thankful for small favors, but she just didn’t have it in her at the moment.

How could she have been so foolish? Worse, why had Clinton’s crappy attitude bothered her so much? She didn’t need his approval. Certainly didn’t care what he thought about her.

She scooped flour into a measuring cup, leveled off the excess. It bothered her, she realized. She’d wanted him to show that softer side she’d seen when he’d been with his family at King’s Crossing. The humor and charm that was so attractive. That had made him seem approachable.

She’d wanted... God...she’d wanted him to show her just a bit of kindness.

Pathetic. Anyone who spends their lives relying on the kindness of others is looking to get kicked in the teeth. Again and again and again. She was smarter than that. She didn’t need kindness. Couldn’t count on it.

She counted on herself. Period.

She didn’t need Clinton Bartasavich Jr. in her life and neither did her child. They’d be just fine on their own.

“I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

Ivy glanced over her shoulder as Fay, her boss at the bed-and-breakfast, walked in from the dining room. “I changed my mind.”

There had been no reason to stick around Houston as she’d originally planned. So she’d canceled her hotel room and booked an earlier flight, getting into Pittsburgh at 3:00 a.m. That she still had to pay for the hotel room and had incurred over one hundred dollars in airline fees sucked. No doubt about it. Doing the right thing cost a person. In more ways than one.