Firefly Glen: Winter Baby (Harlequin Signature Select) (19 page)

He shouldn't ever try to sleep during the day. It left him muddy headed. At first he didn't even have the sense to be alarmed.

“Why not?” He raised himself to a half-sitting position. “Is everything all right?'

She hesitated. And in that tiny silence, Parker's internal alarms finally began to go off. No. The answer was no. Everything was
not
all right.

“Sure,” she said, though her tone was a neon sign that announced she was lying. She was a terrible liar. “It's just that…”

Another pause.

“I've heard from Ed,” she said in a tense, unhappy voice. “He's here. He wants to see me. He wants to talk about the baby.”

“D
AMN IT
, G
RIFFIN
. Can't you be a little more convincing?” Emma broke off her kiss and scowled at the sinfully handsome man sitting next to her in the window seat of The Paper House. “Surely they wouldn't call you Playboy Cahill if you couldn't seduce a woman better than this.”

Griffin Cahill's elegant, tanned face looked wounded. “I'm not accustomed to
pretending
to seduce women, Emma. Apparently I'm not at my best unless my feelings are sincere.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hogwash. You haven't had a sincere interaction with a female in ten years. Just pretend I'm one of the bimbos you date every weekend.”

“The bimbos I date aren't
married
bimbos,” he pointed out reasonably. “And we aren't actively trying to get their husbands worked into a dangerous lather.” He glanced out the window. “Are you sure this is, at heart, a particularly intelligent plan? As I recall, your husband carries a weapon.”

Emma sighed. “What, you're afraid of a little gun?”

“Well, yes, Emma, as a matter of fact, I am. I
forgot to wear my bullet-proof codpiece this morning.”

She had to laugh. She
was
asking a lot, but Griffin, with his blond hair, blue eyes and shockingly white teeth, was the best-looking man in town. One of the richest, too. Harry had always secretly been a little jealous of him, all the way back to high school. Emma intended to exploit that as much as possible. This was war, and she needed every advantage she could get.

So it had to be Griffin.

“Look. He's not going to shoot you, damn it,” she said. “He might throw a punch or two, but—”

“Emma.” Griffin held up one long, graceful hand. “If we're going to do this, let's just do it. You said he'll be here at noon, so unless you want him to walk in on us arguing—”

“No. You're right.” Emma positioned herself to be thoroughly romanced. “Let's go.”

This time Griffin was significantly more effective. Emma's disappointment was almost intolerable, therefore, when the next person to open the door was not Harry, but Jocelyn Waitely.

At the sight of Emma Dunbar in Griffin Cahill's arms, the prissy woman looked shocked to her dyed-blond roots.

“Oh!” Apparently she was shocked speechless, which was a first for Jocelyn, Emma thought waspishly. “Oh, dear.”

Emma exhaled irritably. “We're closed, Jocelyn,” she said. “I forgot to turn the sign.”

Jocelyn's eyes had begun to glitter unpleasantly,
and Emma noticed that she didn't have to be asked twice to leave. She could hardly wait to get out and start spreading the dirty word.

Sighing, Griffin watched her go. “Not that I'm complaining, Emma, but how many takes do you expect our little scene to require?”

“One more. I promise. Just one more.” She hoped that was true. Maybe Jocelyn's appearance had been a blessing in disguise. If blessings
could
come disguised as witchy old bats with filthy minds.

But maybe, if for some reason Theo had forgotten to send Harry to The Paper House at noon as planned, Jocelyn would do it for her. She was probably making a beeline for the sheriff's office right now.

Five minutes later the door opened again. Griffin must have great ears, Emma thought, because he swept her into his arms just in the nick of time and began kissing her so passionately she thought her eyelashes would catch on fire.

Wow,
she thought. And then again, stupidly.
Wow.

From there, things began to happen quickly. The door slammed, someone cursed fiercely. And suddenly Griffin was thrown to the side. When Emma caught her balance, Harry was standing between them, his whole body tense and threatening.

“Get the hell off my wife, you bastard.” He whipped his furious face around to Emma. “What in hell do you think you're doing?”

“You know what I'm doing,” she said calmly. “I'm doing exactly what you told me to do.”

“The hell I did.”

Griffin was standing now, and he looked superbly in control, just smug enough to goad Harry into a real temper. Emma was glad she'd picked somebody smart, because her pre-scripted dialogue would only go so far. Sooner or later Griffin would have to improvise.

“Listen, Dunbar. Maybe you'd better not talk to your wife that way.”

Harry made fists. “And maybe you'd better not say one more goddamn thing about how I should handle my wife.” He jammed a forefinger into Griffin's expensive silk-and-cotton shirt. “
My
wife. Hear that?
My wife.
”

“Well, maybe you should start treating her like your wife, then. In my experience, and I've had plenty, well-tended wives don't go around looking for other men.”

Emma could have kissed him all over again. That was the perfect thing to say. Harry would never be able to endure having Griffin Cahill suspect he might be a lousy lover. It was pure locker-room mentality, but weren't all men boys at heart? Especially her foolish, darling Harry?

“Get out, Griffin,” Harry said between clenched teeth. “I need to talk to my wife. Alone.”

Griffin looked toward Emma. The man deserved an Oscar. Though she knew he could hardly wait to be tossed safely out of this ridiculous situation, he managed to look reluctant, tenderly protective.

“Emma? What do
you
say? Does he have the right to tell me to go?”

She thought for a minute. Then she turned slowly to face Harry, her hands on her hips. She had worn a new dress for the occasion, and she knew she looked great. Plus, her hair was probably all tumbled, and her lipstick smeared, so she probably looked pretty sexy, too. Harry had that look, as if it was driving him crazy to see her like this.

Thanks, Griffin,
she said silently, mentally blowing him a kiss. He was such a terrific kisser, it probably would be a mistake to ever try that again.

“I don't know. Do you have the right, Harry? A husband who loves his wife, who is
living with
his wife, has the right to tell her she can't kiss other men. A husband who is living at the Firefly Suites doesn't have any rights at all.”

She paused. “At least that's the way I see it. What do you think, Griffin?”

“Seems eminently logical to me,” Griffin said conversationally. “Though I might also say—”

“Shut up, Cahill.” Harry was looking at Emma with an expression she recognized. He might, just might, have begun to see through her charade, she thought. But maybe it didn't matter. He still knew he hadn't liked seeing her kiss Griffin. And he knew he wouldn't ever want to see it again. “I'm going to tell you one more time. Get out.”

Griffin, bless his chivalrous heart, still hesitated. “Emma?”

She smiled up at her husband. She was glad she had worn her prettiest slip, because she had a feeling this was going to be her lucky day.

“Go ahead, Griffin,” she said without taking her eyes from Harry. “And lock the door on the way out, would you, please? Harry and I don't want to be disturbed.”

 

I
T TOOK
S
ARAH
ten minutes to find a parking space. Though this was the last day of the festival, plenty of activities were still going on. The judges were handing ribbons to the winners of the ice sculpture contest, the broomball tournament was in full swing, and the polar bear dip for charity would begin in another hour or so. The town square was teeming with people, and the streets were clogged with traffic.

So, by the time she got out of the car and began walking the length of Main Street back to the Firefly Suites, she was already late. And she hadn't forgotten how Ed hated for anyone to be tardy. She felt a tightening in her chest. She was dreading this encounter more than she could ever have imagined.

“Sarah. Sarah, wait.” Out of the dense crowd, Parker appeared at her side. His breathing was slightly irregular, as if he'd been running to catch her. Maybe he had seen her from the sheriff's department windows, which overlooked the municipal parking lot.

“Come.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the secluded walkway between Theo's café and Griswold's Five and Dime next door. “I need to talk to you.”

She glanced at her watch. “Parker, I'm late.” Fifteen minutes late, in fact. Ed would be livid.

“I know.” Parker looked drawn, as if his sleepless
night had cost him. She wondered if she looked equally exhausted. “I called Winter House, but Ward said you'd already left. I wanted to tell you…” He shook his head. “Damn it, Sarah. Don't go.”

She frowned. “You know I can't—”

“Why should you meet him? What right does he have to come back now, asking to see you?” His mouth was tight and grim. “I don't want you to go.”

His frustration was so intense it was like a physical presence between them. She tried to smile, hoping she could defuse his tension by being relaxed, by acting as if this were not the end of the world.

“I have to,” she said as calmly as possible. “You know what right he has, Parker. He is the baby's father. I can't ignore that fact just because I don't like it. Or because you don't.”

“Yes, you can.” Parker's hand on her arm tightened. “He did.”

“I have to go,” she repeated numbly. “Try to understand. This is Ed's baby, too. I tried to run away from that fact, but I can't keep running forever. Reality has to be faced.”

“Then let me come with you. I'll explain it to him. I'll tell him that you and I…”

She shook her head. If Ed met Parker, he would be illogically jealous, no matter how little he wanted Sarah himself. He was like that, petty and insecure, and vindictive. No telling what he would do if he thought another man was sniffing at the crumbs he'd left behind.

“It's better if I go alone. Really.”

Parker backed away two steps, holding up his hands. “So what do you want me to do, Sarah? Be noble? Stand back politely while this bastard comes in and stomps all over our future? Last night we—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “We made love, and—”

“I know,” she broke in softly. “But the fact that you've become my lover does not make you the baby's father. You know that. He has rights, Parker. Legal rights. Moral rights. Biological rights. I can't wish them away so that you and I can make love happily ever after.”

He was silent. With a sinking heart, she watched the struggle in his face. Oh, how he hated this, as she had always known he would. He hated not being the first, the real, the only.

She realized then that he hadn't ever honestly faced the messy truths about her pregnancy. He had simply created a light, manageable scenario in which, because he loved her and loved the baby, he could step in cleanly and, by virtue of his higher moral ground, essentially
become
the baby's father.

Ed's reappearance was his wake-up call. This was the moment when Parker had to accept that his fairy tale could not survive even one strong blast of reality. That standing on high moral ground didn't, in the end, protect you from much of anything.

Even worse, this was the moment she had been dreading ever since she had first kissed him. The moment when he realized that loving her, loving a
woman who was about to bear another man's child, was simply too messy and painful and complicated.

It was simply too hard.

“Do you know what I really think, Sarah? I think you want this meeting with Ed.” Parker's tone was rough, suddenly, and his eyes had darkened until no blue remained. Sarah flinched, though with some part of her mind she understood that this was just his jealous misery scraping the smooth surfaces from the dialogue. “You
want
to see him.”

He didn't mean that. He didn't believe that.

“In a way, I guess I do,” she said carefully. “I want to face him, because he must be faced. That's all. I want to know what I'm up against as I try to piece together my new life.”

“He'll want you back. He'll want his child.” Parker shook his head, a deep line of anger slashing the skin between his brows. “What man wouldn't?”

She smiled at his innocence, at the profound goodness he possessed that made him believe such things. “This man didn't, Parker. His first reaction was to tell me to get rid of it.”

“But he's had time to think. Time to come to his senses. He'll want his child.” He wiped his hand over his eyes, as if he could wipe away his visions. “And you'll say yes, won't you, Sarah? For the baby's sake, if not your own. You'll say yes, and then the three of you will be the perfect little family.”

Oh, God. Parker, don't.

She felt her throat close up as she turned away from him.

“The perfect family is
your
fantasy, Parker. Not mine.”

 

T
HE MINUTE
S
ARAH SAW
E
D
, standing next to the bar, his body rigid with annoyance that she had dared to keep him waiting, everything about this terrible meeting suddenly became shockingly simple.

She didn't have to struggle with the moral dilemma of what to do if he had, as Parker feared, come to try to win her back. She didn't have to wrestle with her conscience, didn't have to weigh her own selfish desires against her deep commitment to provide the best possible life for her baby.

She didn't have to search her soul, trying to determine whether she was, by rejecting Ed, making her child pay the price for the mother's sins.

There was no struggle to find an answer, because there was no question.

She could never go back to Ed. And it wasn't because she had fallen in love with a more-rugged face, a sweeter nature, a sexier body. Even if she had never met Parker Tremaine, she could never have returned to the miserable, one-sided relationship she'd endured with Ed.