by Raina Lynn
For once, Vicki took the hint and changed the subject. “Are you still job hunting?”
Jill turned around a little too quickly. “Yeah, did you hear of anything?”
The other woman frowned at the too-desperate reaction. “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t like the idea of you leaving the paper.”
“Mason pays us as much as he can, but someday I’d like to buy a house. You know, build a future.” And, she added to herself, I can’t hide this pregnancy much longer.
“So you’ve said.” Vicki gave her a shrewd look.
“Somehow, I think the real reason just walked into his office.”
Tears seemed particularly close to the surface today. Stupid hormones, she thought. “What job did you hear about?”
“Casey’s Home and Office Furniture is looking for a full charge bookkeeper. They’re pretty desperate, from what my neighbor said. He’s their warehouse manager.”
“Great!” Relief flooded from every pore. “I’ll check it out at lunch.” Looking at her watch, she got up. “That is, if I don’t get fired first for sluffing off.”
As she cleared the doorway from the break room, Vicki added, “Jill, the only time you do your one-woman island impersonation is when you’re in over your head and scared to death. It always comes crashing down around your ears. I think I’ll come over this weekend and twist your arm till you start talking.”
Jill shuddered. She opened her mouth to lie and say she had plans, but changed her mind. God knew, she’d been there for Vicki and Wilson during that horrible year when they’d come half a breath from divorce. She needed to talk, needed reassurance that she’d made the right decision in keeping her pregnancy from Mason—at least until she had a new job and wouldn’t be around him day after agonizing day. It would ease the pressure and keep her co-workers’ noses out of a hot piece of gossip that would do neither Jill nor Mason any good. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Vicki.”
“I’m trying to be.”
She swallowed hard. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. How about we go out for late breakfast?”
Vicki’s victory sigh didn’t escape Jill’s notice. “Whatever it is, girlfriend,” she said quietly, “we’ll get through it together.”
Choked up past speech, Jill nodded, then headed down the hall.
The door to Mason’s office stood open, and she caught sight of him at his cluttered desk, poring through mail he hadn’t gotten to the day before. No matter how painful or stupid, she couldn’t seem to resist the chance to watch him when he wasn’t looking. She liked to pick out little details about him that she might have missed before, or get reacquainted with familiar ones. Like the way he tapped his pen in an uneven rhythm when wrestling with a particularly vexing problem. Or the way he raked his fingers through his hair when at wit’s end.
This morning, as usual, classical music drifted from an ancient stereo on top of a battered file cabinet. How anyone could listen to that depressing stuff boggled Jill’s mind, especially at this hour of the day. Give her a snappy Brooks and Dunn tune any day—real music to get the blood moving.
Their eyes met, and remorse flashed across his face, perhaps not as pronounced as usual, but she saw it nonetheless. She’d have thought after four months he’d have forgiven himself and moved on. But Mason—being Mason—hadn’t done either.
Those realities were almost beside the point. The misery had become unbearable, and a nagging voice whined continually that he’d had a right to know about the baby long before this. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. One day soon. I promise. But not today. I know how you’ll react. I’m just not strong enough to tell you ‘no’ when I’m this emotional.
Taking one more look at his cherished, exhausted face, she stormed into his office and rummaged through a desk drawer.
“Jill, what are you up to now?” He shoved his chair back out of her way, his lips pursed together in exasperated incredulity.
She dragged out his cordless razor and dropped it on his blotter. “Shave, Bradshaw. You look like a scrounge. Not good for the paper’s image.”
That coaxed a tenderly amused smile from him. His smiles shredded her, but anything beat seeing the regret.
His expression turned gently probing, and he set his coffee mug down. “Jill, are you all right? Lately, you seem so...I don’t know...distracted.”
She snorted in what she hoped sounded like disgust. “Talk to Vicki. She compared me to a dead battery. When you two decide what my problem is, let me know.” Then she gave him a fierce smile. “Just remember, though, I get ten minutes of rebuttal time.”
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” The whisper softness of his concern nearly proved her undoing.
“Positive.” The lump in her throat doubled in size, and she nearly gagged. “I’m just rallying the courage to attack the morgue. Yesterday, Helen needed some research she’d done for a story a couple of years ago, but couldn’t find it. Piecing everything back together cost her all afternoon. I promised I’d reorganize that disaster zone as soon as I finished the expense accounts this morning. I’m not looking forward to it.”
She turned and walked away, tossing over her shoulder, “Rather than shaving, Bradshaw, go home and get reacquainted with the inside of your eyelids. It’ll be good for you.” Jill couldn’t quite hear his laughing refusal as she headed down the hall. Then again, she didn’t really want to.
After lunch and the interview at the furniture store, Jill typed up her letter of resignation. The Caseys had been euphoric over her resume. How soon could she start? Did she really have to give her current employer two weeks notice? Being welcomed with open arms did a world of good for her battered emotions, but her heart belonged to the Journal. The staff were her friends. How could she say goodbye?
Knowing she had no other choice, she carried the letter to Mason’s office. He wasn’t there. She laid the paper on his blotter and went looking. No luck. Depressed, she trudged into the break room for another godawful fruit juice.
A minute later, Mason’s horrified voice sounded from behind her. “What is this?”
She cringed, then turned around. He stood in the doorway, her letter of resignation crumpled in one hand.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled. “I’d hoped to tell you in person, but I couldn’t find you. You shouldn’t have any problem finding a replacement for me.”
“You’re leaving? Why? This is because of what happened between us four months ago, isn’t it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The Journal has a very loyal bunch of readers, and subscriptions are coming up. But I need more money than you can pay me. I’m tired of living in a one-bedroom apartment.” Truthfully, she could afford much better, but the complex where she lived had nice neighbors, an indoor pool and a terrific gym. Unfortunately, it was adults only, and she needed to start looking for someplace baby-friendly.
“Jill, I need you.”
Inside, she grieved at the entreaty on his face and at his words, even though she knew the context of both was strictly professional.
“Thanks, but it’s time to go.”
“I’m not kidding. You run everything around here but the presses. How much of an increase do you need? I’ll look at the books. Maybe I can tighten the belt.”
Sad laughter filtered up through the torment. “Bradshaw, I’m your bookkeeper, remember? There’s nothing there to cut.” Jill detested crying, but the pregnancy had made her disgustingly weepy. Tears welled up, and she blinked them back.
“There’s more to this than money, Jill. What’s wrong?”
Swallowing hard, she did what she’d been wanting to do for months—she stood on her toes, stroked his satin-soft hair and kissed his cheek.
He sagged, but he didn’t pull away. “I knew it. We had the beginnings of a good friendship before that night.”
Time to tell him part of the truth at least. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, Mason. It just happened, and I can’t turn it off any more than you c
an forget what Karen did to you.”
Most of the color in his face drained away, leaving him deathly gray.
Jill sucked in a breath. “Vicki and I go to lunch every Wednesday, so you and I will still see each other from time to time.” Boy, will we ever! Once I have my finances and living arrangements settled, we’ll talk. Then we’ll fight. I’m not sure how I’ll stop you from dragging me to the altar, but at least you won’t be in my face every day, and we won’t provide an unending source of gossip for an entire newspaper staff.
He raked his hand through his hair in that characteristic gesture of frustration and half turned away. “You have no idea how much I wish that night had never happened.”
Gallows humor took over. “That bad, huh?”
His skin flushed an angry dark crimson, and he spun back around. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”
“True,” she whispered. Not for the first time, she toyed with the idea of never telling him about the baby at all. Wouldn’t a clean break be so much easier? But her sense of fair play rebelled loudly at the notion. No, she’d tell him. In her own time. “But I’m still leaving on the fifteenth.”
The abrupt pounding on the front door caused Jill to jump even though she had been expecting it. When she didn’t immediately answer, Vicki’s muffled voice came through the wood.
“I hope you’re not hiding in there, girl, because I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’d better not,” Jill hollered back, “because I need all the friends I can get.” As she opened the door, Vicki muttered something disagreeable and swept inside.
Dropping her purse on the couch, she gave Jill a warm hug. “Okay. I want the truth now. All of it,” she growled, clearly miffed but never loosening her hold. “No frills. No stalls. And you’d better include the ‘bigger than a bread box’ part. I don’t believe for one minute you’re leaving the paper because of money. Now what exactly happened between you and Mason?”
Jill held tight. “Do you remember the night things got ‘complicated’ between me and him?”
“Hard not to.”
“I’m pregnant.”
A frozen silence descended, then Vicki stepped back to look at Jill’s stomach. “Pregnant?”
She nodded. “Isn’t life fun?” She’d intended to deliver the comment with her usual flippant air, but her voice cracked.
Vicki stared at her in horror. Jill stretched her bulky sweater across the slight bulge at her abdomen.
“Girlfriend, you really pulled one over on me,” she said, dropping onto the couch beside her purse. “Seeing your cheeks filling out pleased me so much that I never noticed your tummy.”
“You weren’t supposed to.” Tears gathered again. “This whole pregnancy business really stinks.” Jill pulled back and swiped at the embarrassing moisture.
“Does Mason know?” Then she answered her own question. “Of course not. He’d be a raving maniac right now if he did. Instead, he calmly asked me to plan your farewell party.”
“Calmly?”
“Sort of.” Vicki shook her head as if to clear it. “Why haven’t you told him he’s going to be a father?”
Jill sagged into a chair across from her. “He doesn’t love me. I can’t go through that again.”
Vicki scratched her brow with a manicured fingertip. “Back up and pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Remember what I went through with Donald?”
“What does that slug have to do with Mason?”
“I thought the scars had healed. I even flirted a little on that cruise last summer. It was really nice. No threat of anything permanent. Just some lighthearted fun. Then I came home and got hit in the face with Mr. Perfect himself.” She took a shuddering breath. “Vicki, I fell like the proverbial ton of bricks.”
“So? What’s the problem?”
“He doesn’t want me.”
Vicki’s face scrunched up in bafflement. “Girlfriend, from your condition, I’d say he wanted you at least once.”
“A temporary aberration, believe me.” Jill gently stroked her tummy. “If I tell him about the baby, he’ll go through all the right motions. We’ll have a quick wedding, and I’ll be right back in the same horror show that tore me apart before.”
Vicki sighed thoughtfully. “Donald was emotionally abusive and cold. Mason would never treat you that way.”
“Not on purpose, but in his own way, he’d be worse. I know him, Vicki. He wears honor like a second layer of skin. He’ll hound me until hell freezes to marry him. Think about it. As much as you love Wilson, how would you cope if he was still torn up over an ex-wife and married you only because it was the decent thing to do? Wilson’s like Mason. Honor demands a specific course of action. He’d even make love to you if you wanted him to, not because he cared.”
Vicki mulled that over, then grimaced. “I’d probably go a little crazy.”
“That’s why I found another job. I can’t have him camped in my back pocket day after day until I say ‘I do.’ Once the baby’s born, the illusion that marriage is the only answer won’t be so larger than life. Then, we can approach our parental responsibilities in calmer, more sane frames of mind.”
“There are worse things, girl,” she said softly. “Single parenthood is rough.”
“Not as rough as another crummy marriage.”
Vicki shook her head hard enough to make the beads in her hair click together. “I understand what you’re saying, but keeping this from Mason isn’t right.”
Jill leaned back and closed her eyes. “I will tell him in my own time.”
“Are you absolutely sure marriage to him would be so hopeless?” From her tone, it was clear Vicki was grasping at straws and knew it.
“Vicki, I’ve never loved any man as much as I love Mason Bradshaw. Being his unwanted, unloved wife would kill me.”
“But what if you accidentally run into him somewhere? He’ll find out before you’re ready.”
Shaking her head, Jill took a long breath. “Stafford is small, but not that small. I won’t have any trouble avoiding places he’s likely to be. And as uncomfortable as he is around me, he’ll be doing the same.”
“To Jill Mathesin, Bookkeeper Extraordinaire.”
Jill closed her eyes at Mason’s toast. He’d deliberately used the words she’d used to describe herself the day they’d met. His presence seemed to penetrate muscle and bone, and Jill fought back a shudder at the thought of how badly she would miss him.
Cheers and applause swelled in the banquet room he’d reserved at a modestly priced restaurant. She’d have preferred to have the farewell luncheon in the break room, but people called the tiny room The Closet for a good reason. They’d have had to eat in shifts! So this two hours was brutally cut from her last precious day at the Stafford Review-Journal.
Mason towered over everyone else at the tables, and when he looked down at her seated beside him, he didn’t quite succeed in hiding the remorse in his eyes. “I wish circumstances were different,” he continued, “and she didn’t feel the need to leave us.”
Jill’s eyes snapped open. Talking on two levels really was hitting below the belt.
“Even so, I hope she finds everything she’s looking for. She deserves it.”
More applause and murmured agreements met his words.
“Speech! Speech!” The last came from one of the reporters.
Jill forced a smile. “You’re the one with the words, Bobby, not me.”
Mason sat down and gave her a challenging look. Not even the first time she’d discovered Donald cheating on her had she hurt this badly. She wondered how much of the misery would go away after she gave birth and her body chemistry returned to normal, and how much she’d be stuck with until she worked Mason out of her system. Provided she ever could.
“Come on, Jill,” he encouraged.
Reluctantly, she rose to her feet, but she couldn’t begin to know what she said after that. Apparently, it went over well,
if the scattered “ohs” and “ahs” meant anything.
Shortly after she sat down, the waiters served lunch. The steak came medium rare, exactly the way she liked it. But with Mason’s eyes on her the whole meal, she could hardly choke down a bite. Frankly, he looked as bad as she felt, even though he managed to eat. Maybe food consumption in pressure situations was a guy thing.
“You didn’t drive me away, Bradshaw,” she said back at the paper as she cleaned out her desk.
“Looks like it to me.” He eased out his breath in a long sigh. “Jill, I—”
Her head shot up. “If you apologize one more time for sleeping with me, I swear I’ll string you up by your shoelaces. Is that clear?” She waved her finger at him.
A shadowed smile flickered across his face and faded away. “I’m going to miss you.”
If he’d kicked her in the stomach, it couldn’t have hurt worse. She zipped her bag shut, gave him a brave smile and tried one more time. “We could always take in that dinner and a movie. I won’t even be here for the office romance complications to be a factor.”
Typical of Mason, his reaction was controlled and discreet, and if she hadn’t been watching closely, she probably wouldn’t have seen how every line of his lean body tensed. But she did see it, and it tore her up. So much for last minute miracles.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She glared at him, and he held up a placating hand.
“Jill, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth.”
He took her by the shoulders. His warm touch eased the chill that had crept in unnoticed. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“For what it’s worth, what we shared that night meant—”
If she couldn’t bear looking at him, hearing whatever he intended to say was really asking too much, and she rested her fingertips over his mouth to silence him. His lips were warm and firm and every bit as sensual as she remembered. The fire ignited as her body remembered his touch and burned with want. Pulling back, she picked up her bag.
“Like I said, Bradshaw.” Her voice rasped with emotion. “It’s been fun.”
