Mandi grabbed a towel and mopped up the brown liquid running from the table onto the red vinyl booth. Thankfully the people at the table had already left, so no one got doused from her clumsiness. She rarely spilled drinks or anything else, but tonight she couldn’t concentrate on what she was doing.
Her thoughts were on her friend, and the pamphlet Dr. Bensen had shared along with the ad in the magazine. She’d hoped to have a few minutes to herself over lunch, but with Brittney’s story of her weekend, that didn’t happen. And she didn’t dare get on the internet at work, not to look up something like that. It would have to wait until she got home, but time was moving in slow motion. One couple lingered at a table, but the other tables were empty. She’d wiped the counter so many times, it was spotless and then some.
When Lane came through the door at nine o’clock, Mandi sucked in her breath. She hadn’t been sure whether to expect him or not. She gave him a quick wave, but didn’t stop clearing tables, giving herself a minute to collect her thoughts. He settled into a booth, and she could feel his eyes on her. She wondered if he’d be able to tell she had other things on her mind. And what was on his mind, she mused. Surely he didn’t think she’d stay at his place on a weeknight.
He smiled when she approached his table. “Hey. How you doing?” he asked, his voice warm and low.
Mandi brushed a hair back from her face. “Good.”
“Can you take a break?”
She shook her head. “Already did. I’m the only one here now. Do you want something to drink?”
Lane looked at his watch. “Guess I let time get away from me. You got any fresh decaf?”
“Not sure it’s fresh, but if you’re not in a big hurry, I’ll make some.”
Lane leaned back and stretched his arm across the booth. “Not in a hurry at all.”
Mandi hesitated a beat, marveling that the man always seemed so laid-back, as if the world was at his fingertips. So different from everyone else around there. It’d be good for him to spend a little time in Northtown. When his eyebrows hitched up slightly, she tapped a hand on the table. “Be right back.”
She stopped at the other table, then started the coffee. When the machine finished belching, Mandi filled a mug and headed to Lane’s table, glad that she didn’t really have time to sit and talk. If he starting asking questions, she’d probably blurt out the whole surrogate idea. And she didn’t want to do that yet. Not until she had the facts. She wondered, though – what would a man think about the proposition?
“Here you go,” she said.
Lane looked up at her. “What are you doing after work?”
She couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful expression on his face. With a quick glance at the counter, she dropped into the booth opposite him. “Lane, I gotta go home after work. I don’t go out on weeknights. My other job starts at eight in the morning, and I–”
He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m going to hang out here and do some reading, then I think I’ll make it an early night.” A lazy smile spread across his face. “I didn’t get much sleep over the weekend.”
Mandi’s face warmed, and Lane chuckled.
“No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. Sleep was the last thing on my mind.”
“Evidently,” she said, humor in her voice. She stood and turned toward the counter. “I’ll bring more coffee in a bit.” She didn’t mind him being there. It would probably make the time pass faster, but it could also be awkward – especially if last weekend ended up being the extent of their fling. Or whatever it was.
Before he left, Lane stopped at the register. “Hey, have a good night. I’ll talk to you later.”
She took in his shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and his rumpled hair, and her thoughts immediately went to snuggling up beside him, how warm and secure she’d felt next to him. And she knew it wouldn’t take much for him to change her mind. Good thing he didn’t know it. Determined not to let on, Mandi shoved her hands in her pockets. “Sure. Goodnight.” She watched him walk out the door, reminding herself it was the right decision, but not a hundred-percent convinced.
**
Anxious to get home, Mandi cleaned and closed up in record time. Carl, however, seemed in no hurry at all. She tapped her fingernails on the surface of the counter, while he whistled inside the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, she decided to check in with Brit. She could have company for the night, after all.
“Everything okay there?” she asked when Brittney picked up.
“Yeah. No problems. My brother’s staying tonight. That was a good idea. And Holly’s here, too. Don’t worry.”
Relief swept through Mandi. Good. Maybe that was the end of that. “All right, get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waited another minute, then poked her head through the doorway to the kitchen. “You about ready?”
Carl grinned at her. “Sure am. You got someone waiting on you?”
Mandi leaned against the doorframe. Jeez, did everyone at Jimmy’s already suspect she had something going on with Lane? She crossed her arms. “No. As a matter of fact, I have some research to do.”
“Research? Sounds intense. Well, you best get to it, then.” He snapped off the lights and nudged her out the door.
Five minutes later, she changed into an oversized T-shirt, then opened her laptop. It took only seconds to get a whole list of potential websites. She hadn’t expected there to be so many. She read several homepages, then went back to the sites that were the most appealing and began reading in more detail.
Mandi stared at the warning again. “Because of strong emotional feelings and ethical opinions surrounding surrogacy, we recommend that the parties involved limit discussion of the agreement and confide in only a small circle of close family and friends.” The site noted that a few “extreme” cases had resulted in harm to a surrogate mother and unborn child.
Holy crap. She hadn’t thought of that. The agency was probably right to be cautious. Good thing she hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone. Not that there were many people she’d confide in, anyway. Still, it might’ve been nice to bounce the idea around with Brit or someone. Instead, she’d have to rely on Dr. Bensen to be her guide and confidante . . . if she took it any further. This was obviously going to need a lot of research.
She moved to the next page, reading until her head spun with medical and legal terms. By one o’clock she couldn’t concentrate anymore. She closed her laptop, but she couldn’t shut out the photos of the happy couples and their new babies she’d seen on the numerous websites. Every one of those babies was born because someone had done an amazing thing for a couple who couldn’t conceive. A special group of women, one website called the surrogates. Kind and generous. She played the words over in her mind. There were so many reasons to do it. Were there any reasons not to?
**
Lane stepped into the shower and let the hot water pummel him. Maybe it’d clear his head. Thoughts of a quirky girl named Mandi had kept him from falling asleep, and now here they were again as if he’d been awake all night long. He couldn’t explain his fixation with her. But he wanted to know more. Wanted to figure her out, put the pieces of the puzzle together. She was such a mystery.
Her reception last night at Jimmy’s had been more reserved than he’d expected. Still, he understood that was work, and he fell into the personal category. Or at least the “other” category. He chuckled to himself. He couldn’t recall ever being the object of a woman’s interest for sex only. That was different. And she wasn’t timid. She seemed to enjoy touching him as much as she enjoyed being touched. He couldn’t say that about all the women he’d dated. Hell, Shelby had been so hesitant in bed, he’d never been sure she even liked sex.
Stepping out of the shower, he forced himself to switch gears. Thirty minutes later, he picked up his keys – time to meet with Mr. Robert Boyd, owner of The Meadows trailer park.
Lane jogged up the few steps to the generic red brick building and found the office for Boyd Enterprises on the second floor. He’d done some research, and knew the guy had other property and businesses in addition to The Meadows. If he were betting, he’d say the trailer park fell way low on Boyd’s list of priorities.
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with sunken eyes, greeted him. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll see if Mr. Boyd is ready for you,” she said.
Lane nodded, and stepped back, but didn’t sit down. After a moment, the door opened, and the woman ushered him down the hallway. A large man with thinning hair and dressed in a basic gray business suit that puckered at the shoulders stood and extended an oversized hand to Lane.
They talked for several minutes before the man finally heaved a sigh and leaned forward, scowling. “Look, bottom line is, that place is for sale at the right price. I’m not putting one more dime into it. The only way I make any money from it at all is because I don’t put a lot of cash into it. Every time I do something over there, it’s just a waste.”
“How’s that?” Lane asked.
“Aw, Jesus Christ,” Boyd exploded, slapping his hand on the desk in front of him. “I plant trees and grass, and they get trampled. I put in play equipment for the rug rats, and the older kids tear it up. Last year, I put a fancy key-card lock system on the laundry room to make the ladies safer, and I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t ripped off in less than a week.”
Based on what he’d seen, none of that surprised Lane. People had no respect for the place. “Have you ever had a cleanup day? You know, bring in a dumpster and encourage people to clean up around their site? Or offer paint and tools? Anything like that?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You trying to save that place, boy? I thought you wanted to redevelop. Start over. Get a factory or something in there.”
His question sent a jolt through Lane. Was he trying to save it? Hell, no. But he remembered Mandi’s words. You can’t take away all the cheap housing . . . where are those people supposed to go? He hedged. “Well, if it were cleaned up a little, it might be more attractive to a potential buyer.”
Boyd shook his head. “Nobody wants to buy it to run a trailer park. There’s no money in it. Nah. I’m lookin’ for a better deal than that. I’m willing to work out a plan with you boys. But I’m not selling it dirt-cheap so that someone else can make money off of it. I can tell you that for sure.”
Lane got the picture. The man smelled money – or at least an opportunity. And that meant he could consider the land fair game for new development. If things got rolling, The Meadows would be on the chopping block in a heartbeat. It’s what he’d hoped to hear, but he left Boyd’s office feeling somewhat unsettled. Wasn’t hard to figure out the source of the ambivalence.
Lane thought about giving her a call, but checked the impulse. She’d made it pretty clear that weeknights were off limits. If he wanted to see her, he could hang out at the diner. But would that distract her? Annoy her? He really had no idea. Nor did he know if she went home and went straight to bed after work or whether she stayed up for a while to decompress.
He ran a hand over his jaw. Probably best to give her some space, and lie low until the weekend. But disappearing for the rest of the week didn’t seem right somehow. He settled on a quick text message just to say hello.
**
“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Brittney asked on Wednesday, standing outside Mandi’s cubicle. “You’ve been awfully quiet this week.”
That’s because Mandi hadn’t been able to tell her friend about either of the things on her mind.
“Just busy,” she said.
“Well, let’s go out this weekend,” Brit said. “Got any plans for Friday?”
Mandi’s heart thumped. No. She didn’t. But would she? Lane hadn’t said anything specifically, but did he expect her to be available? Would he want to spend another weekend with her? She stalled a moment, then decided she owed her friend a night. Brit’s last weekend had been such a bust, she deserved some fun. If Lane called, they could always get together on Saturday.
Mandi would be happy getting plastered at her place and watching a movie then crashing, but Brittney preferred the crowds and noise of the night scene. They made her forget the loneliness and monotony of her regular routine, at least for a while.
“No plans,” Mandi said, finally. “Where should we go? Downtown?” If they did, she’d have to be the designated driver, for sure. At least the busy bars made it easy to get lost in the crowd.
“Yeah. I don’t want to go anywhere I might see Derek, and I don’t think he’d venture downtown. Too nice for him,” she sneered.
“Has he stopped calling?”
Brittney looked away, but not before Mandi saw the quick irritation flare on her face.
She stood up. “Brit, tell me. Is he still bothering you?”
Brittney’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He took some pictures.”
Mandi groaned. This kept getting better and better. Brit wasn’t stupid, so why did she let this stuff happen? Mandi knew the answer, of course. Men told her things she wanted to hear. And she wanted to be wanted.
“He doesn’t call, but he’s been sending the pictures to me on my phone.”
“That’s it,” Mandi said through clenched teeth. “You’ve got to go to the police.”
Brittney shook her head as she chewed her lower lip. “I can’t. It would make him mad, and that would make things worse.”
“Did you call your cell service and have his number blocked?”
Brit’s eyes widened. “Can I do that?”
“Hell, yes. Do it now. If it takes a while, give me a couple of your jobs, and I’ll do them.”
“Okay.” Brit tossed her hair back and gave a shaky smile. “Okay, let’s get rid of this jerk, then we’ll have some fun on Friday. God, I can’t wait.”
Mandi went back to her stack of jobs, but kept one ear on the conversation taking place next door. While she listened, her own cell chirped from the drawer telling her she had a text message. Her pulse quickened. Not many people had her cell phone number. She recognized Lane’s number before she opened the message. “Just checking in. Hope you’re having a good week.”
Mandi’s face warmed. He just happened to be thinking about her in the middle of the morning? What to make of that? Well, don’t get carried away, she chided herself. Why wouldn’t he? Guys had sex on their minds an awful lot. Probably twenty-four seven. Still, she noted her body’s automatic reaction, and called herself a fool for it. She shoved the phone back in her purse and locked the drawer. A response could wait.