“I’LL CALL YOU tomorrow,” Jenna said, hoping she could keep that promise.
The real-estate agent, a friend of Vic’s named Kathy Bigelow, nodded as she gathered up the last of her paperwork from the kitchen table. “I’m sorry nothing we looked at this morning pleased you. I was sure one of them would.”
“I was hoping it would be easy, too. But I’ll know the right place when I see it.”
Kathy tilted her head at Jenna, looked hesitant for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I hope you won’t mind me saying this, but…are you sure you really want to buy a house?”
That was the last thing Jenna expected the woman to say. “Absolutely. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know the difference between serious buyers and Lucy Lookers. I also think I know what my customers want. But you seemed so ambivalent about everything we looked at today. Am I misreading you completely, or is it possible—”
“They were lovely houses,” Jenna said quickly. “It’s just…”
She trailed off, unsettled by the agent’s comments. She’d been about to say that none of the houses pleased her, but would that have been a lie? Was she finding fault with perfectly good homes because she didn’t really want to move out of her father’s house? Because of fear? Surely she’d beaten that monster to a pulp by now.
She wanted her own place. She needed her own place. And so did the boys. No. She wouldn’t let herself be filled with doubts anymore. The decision to move was a good one.
Kathy looked uncomfortable with the silence. Jenna gave her arm a friendly squeeze and rushed into speech, trying to put her at ease. “This is probably going to sound silly and dramatic, but the truth is, as lovely as those houses we looked at today were, none of them spoke to me. They didn’t feel like home. Whatever I choose, the boys and I are going to have to live in it a long time, so it has to be the right place. It doesn’t have to be fancy. But it has to feel right. And when it does, I’ll know it.” Jenna smiled at Kathy, hoping she didn’t write her off as a nutcase. “I hope that makes sense to you.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Kathy replied, nodding.
They talked for another minute or so, then Jenna led the woman to the front door. Kathy was just about to leave when she turned back in the doorway. “You know, there’s a great Victorian a few miles from here that’s been on the market for a while. It needs work, but since your family’s in the construction business, they may be able to give you the help you’d need.”
Jenna grimaced. “I’d like to keep my father and brothers out of this if at all possible.”
She caught Kathy’s surprised expression. A single mother on the verge of buying a new house? Who wouldn’t be delighted to have a couple of strong men to pitch in? And especially men who knew one end of a hammer from the other.
“They mean well, but they have a tendency to try to take over,” Jenna explained.
“I see,” Kathy said with a smile. “I only mention it because I think it’s the kind of place you’re looking for—plenty of trees, an established neighborhood, lots of charm. Because it needs a facelift and the owners are eager to realize some quick cash, the price is in your range.”
“Then I suppose I should look at it.”
“Tell you what. The owners had to relocate to San Francisco for work, so the place is empty. Why don’t I drop off the key, and you can take a look at it in private. See if it sends out the right vibes.”
“Thanks for understanding. That sounds like a good idea.”
“Great!” With a wave of one manicured hand, Kathy left.
Jenna leaned against the closed door for a moment. She’d been fighting nausea throughout the appointment. Still, she was glad she’d insisted Kathy come to the house this morning when both boys were in school and her father was at his monthly veterans’ meeting. This was the first step toward what was bound to create additional tension in the family, but she was not going to back down.
The past few days since she’d told her father and brothers about the baby had been difficult. Had she hoped they’d get behind her one hundred percent? Fat chance. The men in her family were determined to show her that they were behind her two hundred percent.
They treated her as though she were made of spun glass. Her father watched her constantly, always ready to jump in and grab a heavy platter or reach for something she had to stretch for.
The family construction company was knocking down a used bookstore, and yesterday her brother Trent had brought home two boxes of maternity books he’d salvaged. Help for a new mother, he’d told her. Very thoughtful. Unfortunately Eisenhower had been in office when these moms were pregnant, and things had changed a bit since then.
Even Christopher, the brother she felt closest to, was driving her nuts. Last night he’d called her from the middle of a crime scene to tell her he’d met a well-known local obstetrician who would be happy to squeeze her into his office schedule. Without asking, Christopher had made an appointment for her. Considering her brother’s job, Jenna didn’t even want to guess how he’d met the man.
She supposed an outsider might have found their concern sweet and wonderfully supportive. It was. But it was also overwhelming, smothering and downright insulting to her intelligence. She suspected that, as her pregnancy developed, it would only get worse. She still had to get through tonight, when she’d sit the boys down and tell them. She couldn’t imagine how they would take the news.
Jenna realized rather abruptly that the doorbell was ringing. She was still leaning on the door, and she turned, swinging the door wide. “Did you forget something?” she asked.
Mark Bishop stood on the porch, looking just as handsome as she remembered him. He gave her a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t forget a thing,” he said. “Did you?”
His gray eyes traveled over her from head to toe. Nothing in her clothing—a simple blouse and jeans—revealed her pregnancy; it was much too soon. But she felt self-conscious all the same.
“Mark,” she began, and discovered that her nerve endings were registering swift alarm. Whatever reason he’d come, it wasn’t a social call. Not after the unpleasantness of that last phone conversation. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I’m sure you are. May I come in?”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
He tilted his head, and some trick of the sunlight suddenly made his features seem sharper than she remembered. “I think it is.”
“We don’t have anything to discuss.”
“Does that mean you weren’t planning to tell me about the baby?”
The base of her spine prickled. Her heart went into overdrive. So he knew. She stood there a moment, suspended. It didn’t matter how he’d found out. All that mattered now was what he was going to do about it.
She stepped aside so he could enter, then turned and went quietly into the kitchen. She heard the front door close and his footsteps as he followed her.
Desperate for some stall tactic, she reached for the coffeepot on the stove. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Or iced tea?”
How ridiculous it seemed, offering the conventional sustenance at such an unconventional and awkward moment. He didn’t sit down, but leaned against the counter, a dark, presence she couldn’t bear to face.
“No. I had my fill of coffee in the airport this morning. While I was mulling over all the different ways I could ask you.”
She looked at him then. He stood closer than she liked, no more than five feet away, watching her. His hands were slightly behind him, his fingers curled around the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip. He wore black slacks and an emerald-colored polo shirt, which covered a chest that she remembered was matted with dark, curling hair. In spite of his casual dress the overall effect was one of understated elegance.
Many times during the past few weeks she’d wondered how she would feel if she ever saw him again. She wasn’t prepared for the urge to simply go to him and lay her cheek against the place where his collarbones met, where she knew his pulse could pound like a thousand drums.
But he hadn’t come here for that. He hadn’t come here for anything but the truth. And in spite of the fact that she was beating down panic, she owed him that. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m pregnant.”
His gaze held hers for a moment. Then, in a surprisingly gentle voice, he said, “That wasn’t the question I was struggling with.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes,” she said again. “It’s yours.”
“I’m glad to see you’re going to skip any retreat into moral outrage,” he said in a voice that had a thin border of amusement.
“I know we used protection, but it’s never foolproof, I suppose.”
He tilted his head, frowning a little. “Foolproof. Is that what you think we were? Fools?”
“Foolish, maybe. I think we were two people who needed something that night. I’m not going to pretend I regretted a moment of it, so it’s not necessary for you to pretend it meant anything special.”
His frown deepened. “You think you know what I feel? All right. Want to tell me how I feel about discovering that you’re pregnant with my child?”
It took her less than five seconds to come up with the answer. “Shocked.”
“I think that’s a reasonable response.”
“Angry.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps at first.”
“Hoping that I’ll decide to…” She felt her cheeks redden and ducked her head. “That I’ll get…”
He moved closer to her suddenly, taking her chin in one hand so that she was forced to meet his eyes, and she felt something unknown and frightening zip through her veins. His lips carried the ghost of a smile. “I realize that we spent only a few hours together,” he said softly. “But I know you’ll keep this baby.”
She nodded.
“What else?” he asked, and his hand fell away from her face.
She moistened her lips. Might as well tell it all. “I think you’re wishing you could make this situation just disappear as if it never existed.”
His eyes, bright as diamonds, held hers in an unwavering scrutiny. Then he moved away from the counter without answering her. She watched him pace restlessly around the kitchen. He stopped at the refrigerator, where magnets and drawings and school photos made a ridiculously sentimental art gallery. Fingering a small photo of her sons, he looked back over his shoulder at her.
“Peter and J.D.?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied in surprise. She didn’t remember telling him their names.
“They’re the ones who called to tell me you were pregnant.”
“What? That’s impossible.”
He told her about the telephone call the boys had made yesterday.
“I don’t understand,” Jenna said, shaking her head. “I’ve never mentioned you to them.”
“You didn’t have to. You evidently have some file you keep on eligible men?” His mouth quirked wryly. “Something connected with the magazine, I hope, and not your personal hit list.”
The file folder from work! It still lay on her bedside table. Remembering the conversation she’d had with Petey about it, everything started to make sense. “I brought the file home because I’m interviewing Rusty Delacruz from the list. He’s opening a new resort in the Bahamas.”
“I can’t tell you if your sons spoke to him or not. I do know that unfortunately I wasn’t the first one they tried to market you to.”
Mark supplied more of the details. At first she was horrified, then embarrassed, amused and finally worried. Obviously her sons were confused and anxious about the future. She shouldn’t have waited to tell them about the baby.
“Don’t be too hard on them,” Mark advised her. “As plans go, it was rather inventive, and you shouldn’t stifle creativity.” He crossed his arms and his face turned serious again. “The point is, they called. You didn’t. Why not? When were you going to get around to it?”
“I wasn’t,” she admitted.
“You were never going to tell me? You were just going to have the baby alone?”
“I’m not alone. I have a very supportive family.”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it,” he said. He pointed a finger at her stomach. “That’s my child you’re carrying. So I guess the question comes down to, what are we going to do now?”
Jenna lifted her chin. She could feel the tension in the room escalating. “We’re not going to do anything. I’m going to have this baby in the spring. I’ll be a good mother—it really is one of the things I excel at, in spite of what you may think. You don’t need to worry about anything. I won’t make demands of you. I don’t expect you to have any involvement at all.”
His eyebrows rose in obvious displeasure. “Nice little speech. Only one problem. Suppose I say no?”
“You can’t say no.”
“Sorry, I think I can,” he said with a thin smile. “No.”
The sickening sensation of her life plunging downward weakened her knees. She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered herself into it. “What does that mean exactly?” she asked when she could catch her breath.
“It means I don’t intend to be relegated to the position of sperm donor. I can’t go back to Orlando and just pretend this baby doesn’t exist.”
“Yes, you can. He’ll be fine.”
She saw his eyes narrow. “You know it’s a boy?”
“No. It’s too soon. I guess I’ve just been surrounded by so many men all my life that I assumed it’s a boy.”
His stance relaxed a little. Maybe he realized this whole situation wasn’t any easier for her than it was for him. Whatever the reason, he sat down in one of the chairs. Her fingers were knotted tensely on the table, and he placed one hand over them. After a sticky moment of silence, she lifted her lashes to find him looking at her curiously, sympathy behind the dark steel of his eyes.
“What are you so afraid of, Jenna?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that there’s no reason for you to feel that you owe me anything. I’m not asking for financial support.” Remembering that last, bitter conversation, she added, “And if you’re worried the news will get out, that your reputation will suffer—”
“Don’t,” he said, squeezing her hands. Without releasing her, he leaned back slightly, as though trying to see her better. His mouth produced a pained twist. “I’d give anything to take back what I said that day. It was so different from what I intended.” He gave a little huff of laughter. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who leaves me tongue-tied.”
It would have been nice to explore just what he meant, but for the sake of the baby, she had to make sure he understood her intentions. “Please don’t make this difficult,” she said, pulling her hands out from under his. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Why? Because you think I can’t handle it?”
“Because you don’t want to. I have you on record, remember? When I interviewed you, it couldn’t have been clearer that kids were the last thing you wanted. I may be a lousy journalist, but that came through loud and clear.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I won’t deny that children were not in the picture I envisioned with Shelby. That doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.”
“Or that you can’t change it back.”
She watched his uneasiness suddenly spike with irritation. His expression became cold, pinched. “I have certain rights to be involved with this baby. Morally, ethically…legally I have rights that make a pretty powerful argument.”
She felt the blood leave her face. “You’d fight me in court?”
He shook his head, as if he already regretted his words. “It doesn’t have to come to that. Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Why are you?” she shot back. “Admit it. This isn’t what you want. When you came here, weren’t you hoping to find out that I wasn’t pregnant? And before I told you the baby was yours, weren’t you praying, even just a little bit, that it was somebody else’s? Anybody’s problem but yours?”
His chair scraped noisily as he slid it back and rose. He stalked away from the table, as though he needed to put distance between them. “What’s done is done,” he said. “Neither one of us has the luxury of changing things. But we can come to an arrangement that’s agreeable to both of us. Visitation. Joint custody…”
“For how long?” she asked. “This baby will have a very loving home with me and with my family. But he also needs stability. Right now you’re interested. Maybe you even feel the need to salve your conscience by taking an active role. But what happens when you lose interest?” She breathed an exasperated sigh, tired of trying to make him see reason. “You can’t flit in and out of this child’s life whenever you feel like it,” she said at last. “It’s not fair to the baby and it’s not fair to me.”
The distance of the table separated them. Spreading his hands and planting them on the wood surface he leaned forward to meet her eye to eye. “Then let’s make it fair to both of you. Let’s get married.”
Taken aback, Jenna looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. He couldn’t be serious. One night’s indiscretion couldn’t lead to a lifetime commitment for either of them.
“Please don’t make jokes about this,” she finally said on a soft breath.
“Your divorce—it’s final, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then legally there’s no reason we can’t. We get married. Give this baby both a mother and a father. A father who doesn’t come and go out of his life. Together I think we could make a good team.”
She shook her head. “It’s a preposterous idea.”
“Why?”
Her hand flew out to encompass the kitchen. “Look around you, Mark. This house is a perfect example of the way middle-class America lives. A Leave-It-to-Beaver lifestyle in the ’burbs isn’t the kind of life you’re used to. Or one that you’d want.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Personally I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having the kind of luxuries money can buy. I don’t think being a capitalist should count against me. What’s your objection to money?”
As a working mother, she couldn’t possibly be opposed to having more income. And Mark would certainly be able to provide it. But she also knew people who weren’t one bit happier because they had money. Some of them were downright miserable.
“Money isn’t an answer for everything,” she told him. “It changes people.”
“It doesn’t have to. Just consider what I can offer you and this child, Jenna. The best education. Security. The freedom to have the kind of life you’ve probably only dreamed of.”
Her irritation flared. “I have a great life right now. I have family and roots and happiness that can’t be bought, not even by you.”
He tilted a smile her way. “I don’t doubt that. But what’s wrong with expanding your horizons a bit? You want to raise this kid in a commune, I might have to retract my offer. But surely some middle ground can be reached, don’t you think?”
Frustrated, she stood and began pacing the kitchen. “Do you know how many years are involved in raising a child? When the novelty of being a dad wears off and all you’re left with is dirty diapers and runny noses and a dozen other problems that can drive any sane person up a wall, what are you going to do then?”
He crossed his arms and lifted one shoulder. “Hell if I know. But I figure you’ll have a pretty good idea how to deal with almost anything. I’m a fast study. Give me a chance, and I may surprise you.”
Her jaw compressed. “Will you please be serious?”
“What makes you think I’m not serious? I don’t go around offering marriage to just anyone.”
“Just to women you feel obligated toward,” she said. “Ones who happen to have gotten…knocked up.”
He stared hard at her, and she sensed she’d angered him. When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh. “You think that’s how I see you? The little idiot who let herself get caught? Or maybe a sly manipulator looking for a rich husband? I was there that night, Jenna. In spite of everything, I knew what I was doing and so did you. It didn’t have anything to do with tricks or stupidity. It had everything to do with two people who wanted to connect in the most basic way. If you hadn’t run off the way you did, if I hadn’t blown it the next day with that stupid phone conversation, do you honestly think we wouldn’t have been inventing new ways to—”
She raised one hand to halt his words, her cheeks flooding with color. “Stop! Having great sex and falling in love are two different things.”
Again the silence became uncomfortable. He met her intense and blatant scrutiny, but she had no idea what he was really thinking. Finally he said in a tight, quiet voice, “Who said anything about falling in love? ‘’
She felt the need to lick her lips. “You’re not in love with me.”
“I’ve never believed in that sort of romantic foolishness,” he conceded. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you. Or this baby.”
She moved away, full of wounded pride and shaky dignity. “I can’t marry someone I don’t love or someone who doesn’t love me. Who’d want a marriage like that?”
He cleared his throat, as though trying to make sure he sounded reasonable. “There are a lot of marriages that have been based on less. We could still make a good home for this child. We could find a way to make it work.”
“I can’t do it. Not just for me or the baby, but for Petey and J.D. I have to think about them, as well. They’re just getting used to their father not being around. What would happen if I married you, made you part of their lives? They’d start to depend on you, to think of you as a real stepfather. Then in a few years, when you meet someone else, or get tired of all the tiresome things that go along with parenting, what then? You just walk out of their lives? I can’t let that happen. Not again.”
Clearly clamping down on impatience, he said, “Whatever your ex-husband was like, I’m not that man, Jenna. I don’t take my responsibilities lightly. I don’t run when the going gets tough.”
“You can’t make that kind of promise.”
“If you’d just think about it, this baby needs a father—”
“Please don’t say that,” she cut in sharply, giving him a steely look. “You sound like Dad and my brothers. But I can tell you from personal experience that sometimes a father isn’t an asset. There were times when…”
She broke off, unwilling to discuss or explain her ex-husband’s relationship with Petey and J.D. Her nerves were quivering with tension, and she put her hands to her cheeks, wondering if her face looked as stiff as it felt.
“Jenna, listen to me—”
Her hands slapped into her lap in a quick, annoyed movement. “I’m so tired of men trying to tell me what’s good for me. I’ll tell you what I don’t need. Another man trying to make all my decisions when I’m perfectly capable of making them myself.”
“Then make the decision.”
“I have. No.”
Abruptly he turned away for a moment. Exhaling a deep breath, he swung back to face her. “All right,” he said calmly. “Let’s come at this another way. Your big-gest objections to marrying me are that you don’t love me and you suspect I won’t be there for you in the future. I suppose that’s understandable, considering you don’t really know me. Is that a fair statement?”
“I…yes.”
“Then consider this. I’ll stay in town a few weeks. As it happens, the Atlanta office can use some one-on-one time with me right now. While I’m here, we get to know each other better. We go out to dinner. To a movie. Maybe take your kids on a few outings so they get comfortable with me. I’d like to meet the fellows who were so determined to get their mom a husband.”
“You’re suggesting that we date.”
“Exactly. And we pretend that there’s no baby calling the shots here. Just two people who’ve discovered a mutual attraction. I have no idea what the protocol is for this kind of situation, but it can’t hurt for us to get to know each other better, can it?”
“As people, instead of lovers,” she said cautiously, trying the idea on for size.
He smiled as he approached her. When no more than a few inches separated them, he said, “I’d be lying if I said future sexual encounters between us weren’t a very appealing possibility. We both know there was a spark, and I’m not averse to fanning it.”
Something in her face must have told him she didn’t think that was a good idea. “If you’re not comfortable with that, I’m prepared to wait,” he said. He stroked one finger across the pink-tinged softness of her cheek. “Until you are.”
She tilted her head away from his touch. “It won’t work. What happened in New York was an unexpected, lovely accident. But that doesn’t mean we can build a future out of it. Not one that will last.”
“Isn’t it worth exploring?” He captured one of her hands. She took a sharp breath, then a sharper one as he laid her hand and his against the flatness of her stomach. “There’s only one guarantee in this whole situation, Jenna.” He pressed slightly. “You’re going to have my baby. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s reason enough to try.”
She felt herself trembling, remembering all those lovely hours they’d shared between tangled sheets. This was insanity. She knew her objections must sound profoundly cynical, but couldn’t he see how foolish this idea was?
Her gaze leaped to his. “And if I won’t agree to this?”
His face was fixed like steel. “Then as much as I would regret it, I’ll go home and determine what options I have legally.”
SITTING IN THE BATHTUB, J.D. was annihilating plastic Cyberlons by smacking them with the tip of his space cannon. Jenna watched one after the other plop into the sudsy water, sent to a watery grave with all the accompanying battle sounds and expressions of victory that any successful intergalactic cop would employ.
Petey, who was enduring getting his head towel-dried, rolled his eyes at her. He considered J.D.’s never-ending battle with Cyberlons annoyingly passé. His own bath toy, a battleship with a Spiderman action figure inexplicably tied to it, was clutched in his hand.
Seated next to the tub, Jenna stopped rubbing Petey’s head long enough to scoop up the floating soap and deposit it closer to her son’s body. “J.D., stop fooling around and finish up.”
Her back ached. She realized that, even though she’d taken the day off from work, she was exhausted. Bath time with the boys was always a challenge; she’d never seen two kids who could stall and goof around the way these two could. But she felt frazzled and edgy tonight, as well. Was it just the demands the baby was making on her body? Or was it Mark’s visit this morning?
Petey pulled his head away from the towel to find her eyes. “You mad about something, Mom?”
She’d been toweling pretty vigorously. She brought her movements down a notch. Smiling at him, she decided that now was as good a time as any to address today’s events with her sons. “Any reason I should be?”
J.D. just shrugged. Petey shook his head. “I can’t think of any.”
She tugged her oldest son closer with the ends of the towel so she could give him a narrow-eyed look. “Not even the fact that you’ve been calling total strangers in a search to find me a husband?”
J.D. dropped his space cannon, sending water out of the tub. “It was all Petey’s idea! I didn’t want to do it.”
Petey swung toward the tub angrily. “Squealer!” He turned back to his mother. He had the same soft brown eyes as his father, and they seemed even more so now when they were filled with guilt. “We were only trying to help,” he said.
Both boys began to argue with each other, throwing incoherent explanations her way whenever they felt the need. She took Petey by the arms and looked sternly at J.D. “Both of you, stop!” she commanded. “It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. You shouldn’t have done it.”
They were immediately contrite. Petey dropped his head, and J.D. began lightly tapping one of the Cyberlons with the tip of his cannon. Mark’s version of yesterday’s telephone call had been embarrassing enough to hear. She could only imagine what the other men they’d called must think, but considering where she stood now with Mark, it hardly seemed important. Still, the boys needed to be scolded for such outrageous behavior. And threatened with dire consequences if they ever did something like that again.
She lectured them until she sensed they’d stopped listening. Then she said, “I haven’t decided yet what your punishment should be.” She helped Petey slip into his pajama bottoms. “Maybe no video games for a year.”
“A year!” J.D. exclaimed from the tub. “We can’t go a whole year. Especially since it wasn’t even my idea.”
“Loser,” Petey muttered.
“I suppose I could put you both on bread and water for a month. That would certainly make mealtime easier on me.”
J.D. gasped in horror, but Petey looked at her sharply, realizing she wasn’t quite as angry as he’d feared.
She snapped her fingers, as though coming to a sudden decision. “Suppose I make you help Grampa clean out the garage this weekend?”
That really amounted to no punishment at all. The kids knew that her father cleaned out the garage almost every weekend. Or tried to. He invariably got tired and ended up in front of the television watching a game or got sidetracked by all the memorabilia he came across that had been sitting in boxes marked in her mother’s neat handwriting.
J.D. looked confused. “That’s nothing—”
“Whatever you say, Mom,” Petey cut in quickly with a comically censoring glare at his brother.
“Then it’s settled,” Jenna said. She pointed her finger at Petey. “And I don’t expect either of you to do something like that ever again. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” both boys promised.
She slipped Petey’s pajama top over his head. When she could see his face again, she asked, “How did you two find out about the baby?”
J.D. was the one to confess. “We listened on the stairs while you talked to Grampa and Uncle Christopher and Uncle Trent. You can hear everything from there. Sometimes—”
“It was an accident,” Petey piped in, shooting a warning glance in his brother’s direction. “We hardly ever hear anything. We always go right to sleep.”
“Sure,” Jenna said. “Perfect little angels.”
Petey looked relieved.
“I know I should have told you both about the baby sooner. How do you feel about having another brother? Or maybe a sister?”
Petey shrugged. “I guess it’s okay.”
“I’d rather have a dog,” J.D. said absently. He’d gone back to slaying Cyberlons.
“Are you happy about the baby?” Petey asked.
“Well, I have to admit, I was surprised at first. But having you two is such a wonderful adventure that I’m excited about having another child.” She looked back and forth between them. “You boys know, don’t you, that this doesn’t change the way I feel about you? I won’t love this baby any more than I love you.”
J.D. frowned up at her. “Can it be a boy so we can play Alien Invasion?”
“Girls can be pretty tough enemies of Cyberlons, too. Remember Queen Persefa in Alien Advance?”
He considered that a moment, then gave her the gap-toothed smile that always made her heart go bump. “Yeah, I guess a girl can shoot.”
Petey was too quiet, his head down. His fingers plucked at the twine he’d wrapped around his Spiderman on the battleship. Jenna waited, knowing her son well enough to sense a question was forthcoming.
“Is Daddy ever gonna come back?” he asked at last.
Even J.D. went still to hear the answer to that one. After Jack had left, she’d talked to the boys briefly about the changes they’d have to go through. She’d never believed in long-range deception, and she’d thought they took it pretty well. But evidently, not as well as she’d hoped. Particularly Petey, who had been much closer to his father than J.D.
She pulled Petey to her side so she could see both the boys without turning her head. “No, honey,” she said. “Daddy isn’t coming home.”
“Do you want him to come back?” Petey asked.
“No,” she told him honestly. “Because I don’t think either of us would be happy if that happened. Someday I’d like him to come back to see you and J.D. But until he does, I think we need to stick together as a family.”
Petey’s downcast eyes raised to hers. “Do you want another husband?”
She didn’t want to answer that and decided to settle on something indefinite. “Maybe someday.”
“Grampa says you raising this baby alone is gonna be harder than pounding nails in a snowbank.”
She agreed it would be difficult, but as usual, that lack of faith coming from her father made her hackles rise. “That sounds like your grandfather. You all have talked this out, I take it?”
“No,” said Petey.
“We heard him talking on the phone to Uncle Christopher,” J.D. volunteered.
Petey opened his mouth to protest but Jenna silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I know. Just by accident.”
“It was!”
“I think I need to have a talk with everyone about respecting other people’s privacy,” she muttered. For the boys’ sake, she smiled. “You know, your grandfather still thinks of me as a little girl. But I’m much more capable than anyone gives me credit for around here.” She nudged Petey and dropped her hand into the tub to tousle J.D.’s hair. “I’m doing all right by the two of you, aren’t I?”
“I think you’re great, Mom,” J.D. piped up. “That’s what we tried to tell those guys we called.” He looked momentarily flustered. “I mean, those guys Petey called.”
Petey gave his brother an evil look, and Jenna had to laugh. “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t hear those conversations.”
With Petey almost ready for bed, J.D. hopped out of the tub so Jenna could dry him off. His body was soft and pink from the heat of the water. Toweling him quickly, she watched Petey struggle to put toothpaste on his toothbrush.
“You know,” she began, “Mark Bishop came to see me today.”
“Who?” J.D. said with a frown.
Petey whirled around, his eyes alight with interest. “Orlando, you moron. The theme parks.” To Jenna he said, “I knew it! He wanted to meet you. Did you like him?”
She shrugged. “He was nice enough. We’re probably going to see each other a few times. Just to see how we get along.”
She and Mark had decided that for now, no one was to know he was the father of her child. It was possible that someone, probably Lauren, would make the connection once Jenna told her how far along she was.
She hoped her family wouldn’t put it together. After all, during their discussion that night at dinner, when she’d first told them about going to New York for the interview, she couldn’t recall even mentioning his name.
And if Mark truly intended to hold her to the idea of dating to see if they were compatible, she supposed it didn’t matter just how he’d popped up in her life. It was too much to expect her sons to keep their telephone call a secret, but if she was questioned about it, she’d simply refuse to elaborate. How many women wanted to discuss being put up on the marriage block by their own children?
She tried to imagine Mark interacting with the men in her family. They could be brutally protective of her. Embarrassingly intrusive. How would he react to the McNab version of the Inquisition?
Even more than that, how was she going to manage having Mark in her life? She must have been crazy to agree to his plan. She could think of a dozen reasons it wouldn’t work. She resented his threat that she might have a legal battle on her hands. But how was she going to keep him from exploiting the fact that, every time he got near her, her senses skyrocketed? Damn good-looking men and the foolish way they made women act and feel!
Petey had finished brushing his teeth. He turned toward her. “You should invite him to Aunt Penny’s party. He could meet the whole family and see what we’re like.”
Aunt Penelope, her father’s oldest sister, was turning eighty the day after tomorrow. Her daughters had decided that a reunion of every McNab in the country was just the thing to mark the occasion. They’d planned a covered-dish barbecue, complete with hired entertainment, at a local park. McNabs, being firm believers in family, would be turning out in droves. It was bound to be a crowded, exhausting and long day.
She had to hide a smile at the thought of Mark joining them. He’d been an only child, no doubt sheltered and the full focus of his parents’ attention. She could imagine the kinds of parties he’d gone to as a kid—sedate, tidy little affairs that began with engraved invitations. There probably hadn’t been a piñata within a hundred miles of a Bishop-family function.
He thought he was prepared for family life, but how would he manage surrounded by noisy kids and spilled punch and rubbery hot dogs? She’d bet that being subjected to a mega McNab-family gathering would send him running to the airport. Maybe it was an opportunity too good to miss.
She flicked her oldest son on the nose and grinned at him. “You know, Petey, inviting him to Aunt Penny’s party is a pretty good idea.”