Signed, Sealed, Delivered (18 page)

It wasn’t until she was drowsy and snuggled up next to him that their baby crept into her thoughts. Sobering reality stole her state of lethargic satiety.

We’re having a baby.

That was the last thing in the world they needed in their mess of a relationship. Connor was an addict, and stress fueled an addiction. She wasn’t ready to tell him, not for a few more weeks when she was past the first trimester. Then together they could find a way to deal with the situation.

But would he resent her for not telling him sooner?

“Good morning!”

Connor’s head snapped up at Max Schumm’s greeting. When Connor scowled, Max must have noticed, because his grin grew in response.

“So this is the fastest-growing real estate firm in five counties?” Max’s gaze moved around the office, disdain plain in his words. “A garage.” His eyes found Connor’s. “You’re really running your business from a garage.”

Since it had been a statement rather than a question, Connor saw no need to confirm the obvious. Although he wanted to grab the back of Max’s jacket and give him the bum’s rush right out the door, he couldn’t. He and Juliana sold a lot of Kelley-Wilson houses to Max’s clients, and a few of their clients bought his homes. While they beat Max hands down in listing homes for sale, Max still held an edge on representing buyers.

For now.

“What can I do for you, Max?” Proud that he’d kept his tone civil, Connor waited to find out how quickly he could be rid of the pest.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Max leaned a hip against the half wall between the client area and the desks. “Why, Connor, I’d think you’d be happy to see me.”

The last time Connor had a conversation with Max about anything except listings, the man had made him a job offer, then he’d been thoroughly offended when Connor passed. That had been months ago; surely Max wasn’t here to repeat the proposition.

“If you’re bringing me another offer,” Connor said, “I’m thrilled to see you.”

“Sorry. No offer this time. No, I came to let you know I had a rather enlightening conversation with a friend of yours from Indianapolis.”

The hair on the back of Connor’s neck stood on end. “Oh, really? And who exactly was that?”

“Belinda Stephens. She sends her best, by the way.”

I’ll just bet she does.

Belinda had been one of Connor’s friends with benefits back when he’d been more than a little out of control. Since she seemed to enjoy blowing large sums of her rich daddy’s cash at casinos, she’d been a great companion. Hours of gambling accompanied by far too many cocktails had usually ended back at her place with a drunken romp in bed. Although he normally didn’t drink much, Belinda had a way of keeping the cocktails coming until he lost track.

Another of her numerous machinations.

In his typical fashion, he’d never spent the night. In fact, Juliana was the first lover he felt comfortable sleeping next to the whole night through. Sleeping made him… vulnerable. Better a cab ride home than to wake up next to Belinda or another just like her. Evidently his heart—and his body—had recognized Juliana as his soul mate.

When he’d finally gotten a grip on his life, Belinda hadn’t been happy. She enjoyed her decadent lifestyle and couldn’t understand why Connor wanted to clean up his act, probably because her well would never run dry.

His had. Bone dry.

“Ah, the lovely Belinda. Don’t tell me she’s thinking of moving to Cloverleaf. I’ll never believe it.”

“Actually, she wanted me to investigate a lake property in Paulson County—something she could put a nice houseboat on for weekends. The more we chatted, the more I realized just how… close the two of you are.”

“Were.”

“Pardon?”

“
Were
close, Max. I haven’t seen Belinda in over a year.”

His smile was downright reptilian. “It might have been a while since you two talked, but you obviously knew each other very well. I believe you even sold her father his estate in Carmel.” Max gave a low whistle. “Bet the commission on that set up a nice IRA for you to spend when you’re old and gray. Selling a mansion to Jeff Stephens? Quite a coup.”

That commission was in the coffers of several casino corporations. And Jeff Stephens might be a bigwig in the pharmaceutical industry, but he was also a genuine asshole.

Since he had a good idea what was coming, Connor flipped his hand to get Max to spill his poison. Thank God he’d already confessed his problem to Juliana, because it was crystal clear Max was going to use it against him—against
them
—now.

“Let’s just say I feel a fiduciary responsibility to my clients to inform them of some of the… um… less-than-savory aspects of how you conduct business.”

“I’ve never conducted business with anything but honesty.”

“Her father believes otherwise. When I called him, he told me a rather interesting story about inflated closing costs, most of which he believes you slipped into your own pocket.”

Although that was total bullshit, he wasn’t about to defend himself to Max. “He’s a liar. So if you’re done bashing my character, why don’t you leave?”

“Is the gorgeous Ms. Kelley around?” Max asked. “I’d like to have a word with her.”

“She’s at a closing—one of three she’s got scheduled today.” Three of Max’s former clients who’d jumped ship. No wonder Max was after blood. “You’re probably not going to be able to reach her until after five.”

Max pushed away from the wall. “Well, then I’ll just have to see if I can catch her between meetings.”

“Leave her a voice mail. I’m sure she’ll call you right back.”
When hell freezes over.

The door had barely shut behind the annoying Mr. Schumm when Connor reached for his lifeline. She answered on the second ring. “Tracy! Thank God I got you!”

“Connor, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

* * *

Juliana didn’t have to ask to know something wasn’t right.

Connor and Tracy were huddled up at his desk, so wrapped up in their conversation that neither acknowledged her arrival.

The first thing Juliana feared was that he’d bought a lottery ticket… that he’d had some kind of relapse. When he finally looked up and his gaze captured hers, she feared he was about to tell her something much worse.

“Hi.” Tracy popped up from her seat, took Connor’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Call me if I can help.”

“I will.”

“I mean it. Day or night.”

“I know, Trace. Thanks.”

Brushing past Juliana, Tracy lightly touched her arm. “You, too, Jules. I’m here for both of you.”

“Thanks” was all Juliana could say.

She had not a clue what disaster had happened while she’d been out closing three houses and picking up sizeable commission checks for the firm.

When the door closed, Juliana flipped their old-fashioned window sign to
CLOSED
, pulled the shade, and threw the lock. Then she turned and leaned back against the door. “What’s wrong?”

His bitter laugh made her stomach pitch. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning.”

“Max Schumm has gone on the offensive.”

Hearing that name always gave her a rash. “What are you talking about?”

“He knows.”

Two words. Amazing how two simple words could strike such utter terror into her heart.

She had no doubt what it was that Max knew. What she wasn’t so certain of was how he’d use Connor’s past against him and against Kelley-Wilson Realty.

“How in the hell could he know?” she asked.

He patted the client chair next to his desk.

Juliana strode to the office area, dropped her tablet and briefcase on her desk, and settled onto the chair. “How did he find out, Connor?”

“He made some calls to some of my… connections in Indianapolis. Managed to dig up one of my old, um, girlfriends.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “God, I hate that word. Makes me sound like I’m sixteen.”

“Max Schumm is getting ugly and you want to talk about semantics?”

“Word choice is everything.”

Her temper, already on a crumbling ledge, flared. “How about lovers? Fuck buddies? What the hell does it matter! Tell me what Max said!”

“Easy, Red.”

She growled low in her throat, tired of him making an issue of her short temper. Ever since Connor had opened up to her a few weeks ago, Juliana felt as though the Sword of Damocles hung over her life. Her emotions were strung too damn tight, making her stomach a continuous flurry of queasiness and her head constantly ache.

Didn’t help that Mallory, Dani, and Beth had all been back in the swing of school for weeks. Without her. Juliana seldom got to see them, and since she was often showing houses in the evening hours, she rarely even talked to them. Connor had Tracy as his support system. Juliana’s had all but disappeared.

Did her students ask about her? Did the faculty toss her name around in their typical flurry of gossip? Did anyone at Douglas High School even miss her?

A wave of nausea wasn’t a surprise, but she tried to hide her distress from Connor. She would have to tell him. Soon. But she had another issue to deal with for now.

“What did your old lovers say?” she asked when she was no longer afraid she’d upchuck on his lap.

“It was
one
, Juliana. One rich bitch who I let lead me around by my dick because she’d give me loads of money to waste at the casino. How’s that for honesty?”

She winced. “Brutal.”

“See why I was concerned about semantics?” He ran his hand over his face. “Her name’s Belinda Stephens—as in Stephens Pharmaceuticals. Max evidently had a nice chat with her about my past. Her dad’s a penny-pinching old miser. After I helped him close his mansion and—”

“Mansion? As in a real mansion or one of those houses we call mansions ’cause they have more than five bedrooms?”

“A
mansion
, mansion. Anyway, Jeff decided my three-percent commission was too high for his taste, even though I negotiated a sales price low enough to save him twice my commission. He also didn’t understand some of those nickel-and-dime things that get thrown into closings and argued over paying for some things until the closing was threatened and he almost lost the place. Then he walked in on Belinda and me in a rather compromising situation and—”

She closed her eyes against the image of Connor with another woman. “And there went your reputation.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I did enough on my own to ruin my reputation. Not too many people like to see their Realtor at a casino. Jeff Stephens badmouthing me only added to my downfall. Look, I’m sorry. This is
my
baggage, not
yours
. You shouldn’t have to worry about Max Schumm or Belinda Stephens.”

“It’s
our
baggage now, Connor. That’s all there is to it. We’ll just have to handle any fire they spark and do our best to stomp it out.”

She rose, but he grabbed her hand. “I really am sorry, sweetheart.”

This time, she was the one to heave a resigned sigh. “I know you are.”

He kissed her knuckles. “I love you.”

Since her ex had probably told Juliana he loved her fewer than a dozen times, she should’ve savored each time Connor said those three words. Yet she didn’t. Perhaps they’d mean more if he didn’t toss them around only when he was trying to soothe her temper—as though
I love you
was a way to keep her from being irritated with him.

This time, they weren’t the right salve for her wound. But she spit back a monotone response. “Love you, too.”

Then she went back to her own desk and got down to work. Someone had to fix this mess.

Juliana smiled when a familiar ringtone, the theme from
Friends
, sounded from her cell. She touched the screen. “What’s up, Mal?”

It was a nice surprise to get a call from Mallory, especially one in the middle of the day. It was next to impossible to talk with a teacher during school hours.

The last time they’d seen each other, Juliana had shared more of what she’d learned about Connor’s addiction, something she still kept from the other Ladies Who Lunch. She needed her best friend’s support and guidance, but telling Danielle and Bethany seemed out of bounds—as though she’d be betraying him.

Mallory helped ease some of Juliana’s fears and concerns with logic and encouragement. That, and Connor had begun to talk about it openly whenever they were alone, acknowledging that he needed her support to keep his nose clean.

“Hi, Jules,” Mallory said, her tone somber.

Then the repercussions rattled Juliana.

Midday calls from a teacher were
never
good news.

Her stomach dropped, leaving her close to heaving. “This isn’t a friendly call, is it?”

“Afraid not,” Mallory replied. “Ben just sent me a text about some sign he saw.”

“A sign?”

“Actually, more like a billboard. He texted me a picture.”

“Why not text it to me?”

“He doesn’t have your number.”

“What do you mean? He’s texted me before.”

Mallory chuckled. “Not since he dropped his old phone into a lake when he was fishing with Amber. He’s still tracking down numbers to put into his new cell.” She quickly sobered. “Look, Jules, this isn’t good. I’m going to send it to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line went dead.

A couple of moments later, her phone signaled a text message.

The photo was of a billboard not far from the “Welcome to Cloverleaf” sign on the north side of town, the one most people coming from Chicago passed as they traveled south. Max Schumm smiled down from on high, arms casually crossed over his chest as he leaned a hip against one of his yard signs. That image was enough to make Juliana nauseated.

But the words?

Don’t gamble with your home and your future. Max Schumm—Cloverleaf’s honest Realtor.

“Son of a bitch.”

Her first instinct was to call a lawyer. Surely what he was doing amounted to slander.

Or did it?

He hadn’t exactly named Connor or said he was a compulsive gambler. But the rumors were swirling in a fury throughout the town. She and Connor were still getting clients, including all the Barrett Foods employees, but their listings of homes for sale had dropped enough to make them both a bit alarmed.

Max’s smear campaign was working.

Goddamn him.

The office phone rang.

“Kelley-Wilson Realty. Juliana Kelley speaking.”

“Um… hi. Um… this is Sarah Whitaker.”

“Oh yes. How are you today, Sarah? I was just about to call you. I’ve got those houses lined up for you to see tonight.”

“Yeah, about that.” The woman’s voice quavered as her husband’s muffled voice echoed in the background.

Juliana couldn’t make out his words, but his angry tone came through loud and clear.

“We’re gonna have to cancel,” Sarah said.

“That’s fine.” Grabbing her calendar, Juliana looked through tomorrow’s appointments. “How about same time tomorrow? I’m free Thursday, too. We could meet then.”

“Yeah, um…” Sarah barely got the hesitant hum out before her husband’s voice boomed in Juliana’s ear.

“We’re cutting you loose,” Peter Whitaker bellowed, his voice loud enough Juliana had to ease the receiver farther away. “Not about to buy a house from a guy who’s gonna take my earnest money and escrow to the closest casino.”

She swallowed a gasp at the atrocious statement. “I can assure you, Peter, that Connor and I would
never
consider—”

Peter snorted. “I know all about Connor Wilson.”

“What exactly do you think you know?”

“He’s always gambling with other people’s money.”

“And who exactly told you that ridiculous story?”

“Heard it from Mona Clinton.”

Figures.

Mona was one of the biggest gossips in Illinois. She wasn’t happy unless she was setting some inferno raging. No one knew how or why she chose targets, she just did. Her cruelty had almost gotten a teacher at the high school fired because she’d passed around a rumor that she saw the man hugging a female student at a local park.

A two-week suspension was followed by the teachers, students, and parents rallying around him when it was discovered the girl had been considering suicide and the teacher had stopped her. He got his job back, but since his reputation was in tatters, he’d resigned the next year and moved away.

Now she’d set her sights on destroying Connor.

Why?

Who the hell knew? It was simply Mona being Mona.

That bitch.

What was Juliana supposed to say to the Whitakers and all their other clients? That Connor used to be a gambler? Would it be better to deny the accusations? To lie?

No. She’d never been a liar, and she wasn’t about to start the bad habit now.

“Look, Peter, I don’t know what Mona told you, but Connor and I are nothing but honest in our business dealings. We’ve closed close to a million dollars in sales just since—”

“You’re telling me Mona’s lying? Connor never gambled with his clients’ money?”

She heaved a sigh. “My partner has never—I repeat
never
—risked a client’s money. He—”

“But he gambles?”

She was getting sick and tired of being interrupted, especially by someone so intent on continuing his irrational rant. “As I said, my partner has
never
—”

“I knew it! We’re done with you two.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. We had some nice houses to—”

“So does Schumm.”

“Good day, Mr. Whitaker.” She slammed the phone aside hard enough it bounced.

By the time she’d fielded three more phone calls from concerned clients, Juliana was ready to throw her coffee cup at the wall.

Then Connor came strolling in, whistling.

He lightly kicked the door shut behind him. “Hi, beautiful.” The smile on his lips fell to a frown when his eyes caught hers. “Uh-oh. What happened?”

As a couple, and as partners, the two of them were totally in sync. For the first time, she wished that weren’t true.

“Max is spreading his poison.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She clicked to the image and tossed the phone to him, hoping the piece of technological wonder hit the floor and split into a bunch of useless parts.

He caught it midair, then fiddled with the touch screen. His eyes widened before narrowing to angry slits. “Son of a bitch.”

If the world wasn’t crumbling around her, she would’ve smiled at their identical reactions. “The Whitakers canceled.”

“Did you reschedule?”

“They said they’re going to Max’s firm.”

“Why?”

“They heard you had a gambling problem. After the Whitakers, three more customers called. I talked them all into staying with us by promising I’d personally handle any transactions involving their money.”

The words felt like acid on her tongue. Connor hadn’t done anything wrong. The only dipshit thing on his tally board was losing his own money. Clients shouldn’t be thinking of him as if he were a crook.

Instead of getting mad, he hung his head. “It’s just going to get worse, isn’t it?”

The dejection in his voice made her heart hurt. He was so damned good at selling houses, and he stayed away from his addiction. Why should he be punished for mistakes of the past?

The unfairness of the whole situation made her want to scream.

Juliana got to her feet and hurried to him.

He held out his palm and turned away. “Don’t.”

She sidled around until she faced him. Then she squeezed his chin to get him to look at her. “We’re in this together.”

“You should bail on me, too. This isn’t gonna get any better. Hell, it’s bound to get a lot worse.”

“Then we’ll deal with it as it happens. One disaster at a time. Okay?” Her gaze searched his.

He tried to bow his head again.

It killed her to see him looking so defeated. There was more at stake than he knew, so she did what she’d always done with students who acted like they were ready to throw in the towel.

She pushed.

“I’m not letting you off the hook that easy, mister. This business is my life now.” She swallowed hard before speaking what was in her heart. “
You’re
my life now. Okay?”

“Juliana…”

“
Okay?
” she demanded.

Although his lips thinned into a sad line, he gave her a curt nod.

“I mean it. This is Kelley-Wilson Realty, not Connor Wilson Realty. There are two partners.
Two.
We’re in this together.”

“I love you.”

Why did his tone remind her of a naughty child who didn’t want his mom to be mad at him?

“Love you, too. Now, let’s get down to work.”

* * *

The afternoon went by in a blur. By the time Connor flicked the lock and flipped the sign to
CLOSED
, he wanted something he hadn’t craved in a long time.

A drink.

Badly.

Juliana pushed her chair under her desk and turned off her monitor. “I’m beat.” A yawn slipped out that she didn’t bother to cover with her hand.

Connor yawned, too, probably in response to hers, because he wasn’t physically tired.

But mentally?

Mentally he’d just gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

He needed to hold her, so he crossed to her desk and took her into his arms. “Lie to me. Tell me things will get better.”

“Things will get better. And it’s not a lie.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”

“Want me to make you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“We missed dinner.” His stomach was already growling in protest. “I could run out and grab some subs or some pizza.”

“Ugh. No.” Pushing back, she turned off the lights while he held open the door leading to the kitchen. “My stomach’s a mess.”

“That’s happened a lot lately.”

That very morning, she’d been chewing Tums instead of Cheerios. He wanted to burst right out and ask if she was pregnant, but a woman as blunt as Juliana would’ve told him if she so much as suspected she was. They were both so open about everything, about every aspect of their lives.

He’d thought about it—about a baby. The timing would be ridiculously inconvenient, but picturing a little girl with hair the same color as her mother’s touched one of the soft places in his heart. Knowing Juliana, he could picture her showing houses with the baby sleeping in a sling, cradled against her breasts.

I’m an idiot.

Daydreams like that could never come true. Not now. Not when Max Schumm was on the attack.

Kelley-Wilson Realty wasn’t going to survive this storm. And if their business partnership ended, he wasn’t sure their personal relationship would survive.

So much of Juliana—money, heart, mind, and soul—was vested in the firm. If they went belly-up, she’d be devastated.

God, he wanted to drink himself stupid. He wanted to let his brain shut down and to mindlessly watch wheels spinning on a slot machine. Just spin. No thinking. No worrying.

Just numb.

The urge stole his breath. In all the time since he’d walked away from casinos, he’d never experienced such an overwhelming need to vanish into that world again. There was something comforting about plopping coins into a slot and punching a button. Over and over and over.

Until the world disappeared.

Connor instinctively reached for his cell, ready to call Tracy. She’d serve as a slap across the face and get his head back on straight.

Instead, he let his hand drop to his side. Tracy couldn’t help him anymore. It wasn’t fair. He should be leaning on Juliana instead. Poor Tracy had borne that burden long enough.

On the other hand, it wasn’t fair to Juliana, either.

The time had come to man up.

He could handle this impulse—and their problems with Max—alone. They were, after all, his own making.

Juliana yawned again. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s only nine. Figured we’d pop in a movie or head out for a bite to eat.” Anything to keep him from giving in to the stress and the itch to head toward the closest casino.

“Not up to it.” She glanced longingly down the hallway. “I’m only good for washing my face, brushing my teeth, and collapsing.”

It took all his strength not to blurt out how much he needed her to keep him from thinking about gambling. Her eyes were shadowed by dark circles, and he could see how hard she was struggling to stay awake.

“Go,” he said. He pulled her to him, gave her a gentle hug, and then turned her toward their room. “Go to bed. I’m going out to get a sandwich. Then I’ll watch a little TV.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Thanks, honey.”

Honey.
That was the first time she’d ever used an endearment.

“Love you, Red.”

He couldn’t make out her reply as she yawned and tried to talk at the same time. With a weary smile, she headed down the hallway.

Connor grabbed his car keys and stood by the front door, waging a war in his mind. He should just drive to McDonald’s, get a Big Mac, and come right home. There had to be something distracting to watch in all those satellite channels they paid for that neither of them ever had the time to watch. If things were going to slow down because of Max, that would be at the top of his list of things to cut to save money.

Max.
The mere thought of the man made Connor’s blood pressure skyrocket.

Sliding his wallet out of his pocket, he checked to see how much cash he had on him. Three twenties. That was all.

Surely a guy couldn’t get in too much trouble gambling if he only had sixty bucks.

And the diversion would help him deal with all the stress without involving Juliana.

He made himself a promise as he left.