C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (36 page)

Jemma pinched her lips together and blinked, gave her head a quick nod, ticked off her response on her fingers. “Of course, there’s a nurse. Carolyn will do wonderfully with Lake Country.” She paused. “Three. How well I know.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“A
re you sure you’re not getting seasick?” C sat up straighter in Norm’s creaky wooden porch swing and rearranged Jemma as she leaned against him. His right foot marked their rhythm on the porch, while she sat on top of his other leg and stretched out the length of the swing. The quilt she’d brought from her bed covered them in the chill north-side-of-the-house early morning air. She reached to retuck it where he’d disturbed its folds.

“I’m fine. Just hold me.” She nuzzled her head deeper into his chest.

“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me.”

“Well, if you hadn’t kept me up all night…”

“I seem to recall you were a willing participant.” He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to where her lips were just slightly parted. She waited for his kiss, but instead he drew back. “Now just where is this spot of ground you want to build on?”

“Tease.”

“You weren’t—”

“I know, I know, I wasn’t complaining last night.” She pecked a kiss on his neck. “There’s a small rise overlooking a pond on the west side of the property. I think it would make a grand spot for a house.”

“Vacation house.”

“Whatever. House. Our house.”

“And what about this one?”

“I’d like to take the doorknobs and the gingerbread on the front porch. Make more to match. I have to have porches all the way around.”

“And a swing on each corner?”

“Just big enough for two.”

“Damn, woman, you are excitin’ me all over again.” He leaned in for a kiss.

She jerked her head away. “Oh, no, you don’t. You are not taking me away from my day. I’ve got to be in before ten.”

“Work? It’s Saturday. Who works on Saturday?”
“Realtors work on Saturday. One of our biggest days. Besides, Carolyn is showing property this morning and I have to be in the office to answer the phone.”

“But—”

“No buts, Charles.” She swung her legs to the porch and tightened the quilt around herself. “I’m showering first.” Dragging a train of double-wedding-ring, she started toward the kitchen door.

“And what am I supposed to do with myself this morning?”

“Maybe clean house. Not that Norm has standards, but I think yours are lower. He’s supposed to call for you to come fetch him, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How can I forget?”

He followed in her wake but stopped in the kitchen to refill his coffee cup. As he gathered the leavings of their cereal breakfast, a smile snaked across his features. He’d been so content these last few days, surely nothing could cause this feeling to go away.
Nothing
. There was nothing the two of them couldn’t face down together.

He just knew it.

***

Jemma flicked through the office appointment calendar on Carolyn’s desk. Next week she had a closing, Carolyn had two, they were each scheduled for repeat showings of properties three out of four afternoons. She tapped the pages with the tip of her pen. When could they sit down and start work on Carolyn’s buying the business?

She bit her lip and paused. Her eyes swept over the front room, touched on the door to her office. Of course, it wasn’t just her decision to sell. Technically, Lake Country Realty was in her name and her father’s, although Jessie held his power of attorney. But since JT’s stroke, Jemma’d had total control. Would her mother object to Carolyn purchasing? In all likelihood, no. Jessie’d always liked Carolyn; JT had brought her into the business the month after Jemma had started work. If it was sell to Carolyn or close the doors without any revenue…well, where was the dotted line for Jessie to sign?

Could she have imagined a month ago that she’d ever consider selling Lake Country? Sell the family business? Of course not—under no circumstances! But circumstances had a way of changing. Surely, she knew that.

Of course, all this assumed Carolyn wanted to buy. Jemma toyed with the edges of the calendar.

The blinds on the front door clanked as the door was opened. Jemma glanced at the wall clock. It was too early for C. But an early C would have been a welcome relief compared to who entered.

“Abby.”

Jemma’s heart started sinking. The appearance of this woman was not a good sign. There was really only one thing she could possibly want, and he was at Norm’s.

“Jemma Lovelace, I presume?” Abby stood on the opposite side of Carolyn’s desk. Her shoulder bag fell in a straight line past her hips, rather than bulging around like Jemma’s did. Her make-up was studio perfect, and her linen slacks and silk blouse were the perfect counterpoint to the cashmere sweater casually knotted around her shoulders. Next to Abby, Jemma, who’d felt her stock in herself rising with each of C’s ministrations, felt below dowdy.

She tried to recover quickly. “Yes, I’m Jemma Lovelace. What are you doing here?”
Well, Jemma, just blurt out whatever you feel like saying!
She felt herself blush. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”

“Quite all right. I’m sure that’s what you would have meant, no matter the words.” She dropped her shoulder bag on the desktop. Her French-nails tapped and she looked right at Jemma. “We need to talk.”

“Do you want me to round up Charles?”
Please, please, let him come in the door now!
Jemma felt trapped and to give herself space, rose and moved around to the side of the desk. “Would you like to sit on the sofa?”

Abby gave a disdainful glance in the piece’s direction. “I’ll stand, thank you. This won’t take long. Then you can tell me where C is. For the moment, this is between us.”

Jemma licked her lips. This boded no good, no good whatsoever. If Abby had trailed Marty and Jake or someone like them behind her, Jemma would have felt better about this, could have mounted a defense. But this, whatever it was, had all the signs of a one-on-one ambush.

“Then start.”

Abby indicated the vacated desk chair as she settled one hip on the desk edge. “Perhaps you should sit back down.”

Jemma didn’t even question her. If the information was bad enough that Jemma should sit, then perhaps she should.

Abby took a deep breath and studied the window behind Jemma before lowering her eyes to meet hers. “We’ll just cut right to the chase.” Jemma nodded. “I’m pregnant and C’s the daddy.”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

She repeated the words more slowly. “I’m pregnant and C’s the daddy.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Jemma’s eyes fell on the monthly calendar printed at the top of the weekly calendar pages, then she gave a cursory look at Abby’s midsection. She certainly didn’t look pregnant. Which was even worse: she’d just found out. Those home tests were so deadly accurate so early. But, then, wouldn’t that be best—to settle this before C and she had to officially back out of their official announcement? She looked at Abby again. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t suppose I need you to say anything. This is strictly FYI. When I find C you’ll already know what is going on.”

“First strike. So he can’t color the truth for me.”
“I guess you could look at it that way.”

“So, you want him to—”

“Well, he was willing to marry me two weeks ago. I don’t see that anything should have changed.”

“You want marriage.”

“I want a name for my child.”

Been there, done that.
Jemma smiled to herself, shook her head, pressed her lips together to keep from laughing or crying. She didn’t know which. What an irony! To spend her adult life feeling guilty and ashamed and afraid because she’d had a baby at the wrong time and by the wrong man, only to have the right time and the right man taken away from her by another woman’s baby.

Those damn fortune cookies—all fun and no responsibility.

“Jemma?”

She drew her attention back to Abby. “Yes?”

“Could you find C for me? It would probably be better if I went to him rather than him coming here.”

“Probably.” She alternated her glance between the phone and the clock. Had Abby walked into the office less than ten minutes ago? How come it felt like a lifetime had passed? Just as she reached for the receiver, the phone buzzed.

“Lake Country.”

“Got any swamp land you can sell me?” C’s voice was sultry.

“I can probably conjure some up.”
Like the sinkhole of information that’s across the desk from me.
“You still at Norm’s?” She glanced in Abby’s direction. She’d crossed her arms and Jemma could hear the small staccato as she tapped her foot.

“Old man hasn’t called yet. And of course there’s no way to call him. So I may not be in for lunch. This is a Norm-power trip and I’ll make him pay.”

“He probably has the opposite in mind.”

“Something wrong? You sound so—so dull. I polished you better than that!” He laughed and it dissolved into a throaty innuendo.

“I’m fine.” Jemma took a deep breath. “So you’ll call first when Norm calls, before you start in? Don’t want our paths to cross.”

“It’s a deal. You just come right on out here and I’ll polish you again.”

“’Bye.” Jemma hung up and pinched her lips together. “I’ll draw you a map.” She pulled a piece of paper from Carolyn’s printer tray.

“You’ve got nerves of steel, I’ll give you that. Why didn’t you tell him I was here?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps he needs the same element of surprise that I had.” She marked X’s for Abby’s beginning and destination. “I left the gate unlocked, although you’ll have to get out and push it open. I’m sure you have a cell phone on you. This is the number here.” She handed her the paper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

C heard the purr of a car engine and propped the broom handle behind the back door.
The little minx! It hadn’t been fifteen minutes!
He debated rushing into the bedroom and lying lasciviously across the quilt but decided on an ambush from behind the door instead. When the vehicle stopped out front, he furrowed his eyebrows and went to the living room.

Abby.
What in hell—? No wonder Jemma had sounded so strange. Abs had been there with her. Whatever news she’d imparted had taken Jemma’s exuberant morning attitude and sent it straight to hell. At least there was no Marty and Jake, although she was known to work with them when it suited everyone’s purposes. He opened the front door and stood framed behind the screen door. He could only describe Abby’s demeanor as she approached him as all-business. What had gone wrong with his life now?

“Abby.” He swung the screen open for her. “Slumming?”

“Hiding your surprise or did that country girl call you after I was gone from that frumpy little realty office?”

“If you think that was frumpy, you’re in for a real eye-opener here.” He clicked the door closed behind them, set his jaw in a determined line. While Jemma probably would have described herself as a ‘country girl’, he resented Abby’s tone and particularly her use of the term.

The shabbiness of Norm’s living quarters brought a momentary pause to Abby’s advance. She turned back to him. “My God, C. Are you camping out?”

“Surely you remember Norm Hudson from the fracas you initiated with T last fall? This is his place.” His slow smile didn’t add warmth to his features. “Jemma didn’t warn you either?”

“Is it safe to sit?” Abby looked from worn sofa to worn armchair and back again.

“Maybe the kitchen would be better.” He led the way, pulled out a chair for her at the narrow end of the table.

She sat and crossed her legs. “Is the water fit to drink?”
“No.” He stood by the sink with his hands in his jeans’ pocket. “But we do have bottled.”

“And exactly how might I go about getting one of those?”

“You might try smiling.” He reached into the refrigerator and withdrew two bottles. “Does Mademoiselle need a glass or can you swig with the rest of us?”

“Just let me have the damn bottle. If you’ve been doing the dishes, there’s no telling what I might catch.” She twisted the top and took a deep drink.

“Out with it, Abby.” C took the chair opposite her and twirled the water bottle between his fingers.

“Want it straight?”

“I like everything straight.”

“I’m two months pregnant.” She paused. “Daddy.”

C felt the air leave his lungs. Abby’s triumphant smile didn’t extend past her lips. Her eyes were very cold and very blue.

“You’re what?”

“Pregnant. With child. We’re having a baby.”

“I don’t think so, Abby.”

“Oh, think again, C.”

“We’ve been on-again-off-again so many times in the last six months that you’ve just forgotten all your bed partners.”

“Hard as this is to believe, C, I’m not quite as amoral as you are. I’ve had only one bed partner in three months.” She moved her hands as if presenting an award. “You!”

“We always used protection.”

“Correction.” She leaned onto the table. “The party out in Malibu? The limo ride home? The ‘oh, Abby, I’m so sorry, I don’t have one, but I’m safe’? Ring a bell, big guy?”

“Was this the same ride where you told me you were safe, too?”

“I meant I was germ-free.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I meant I was sterile.”

“I—” Abby stopped whatever she was going to say and stared at him. “What?”

“What part of ‘that can’t be my baby’ do you not understand?”

“What sort of handy-dandy excuse is this?”

He leaned on the table toward her. “I can’t father children.”

“That is bull, C. I’ve never heard that.”

“Well, one does not advertise
that
.”

“And why do you think you are? Or aren’t?”

C licked his lips. “Had the mumps. They went down on me.”

“Honest to Pete, C. Nobody has the mumps any more. We got vaccinated as children.”

“Maybe you did, Abby love. But T and me, our parents weren’t quite as protective as yours. We were neglected. Mother forged the records for school—if they ever asked—and we went on. Until we got the mumps. If you think we were taken to a doctor immediately, you really are a victim of your upbringing.” He sat back in the chair. “I’m sterile.”