Partners In Parenthood

by Raina Lynn

  “Journalists are such suspicious creatures.”

  “It tends to be justified.” He flipped on the light and stared at her, his expression probing. “What are you up to?”

  “Want to play another game?”

  “You mean like the one we did that night?” he gasped, horrified.

  She giggled. This had proved very promising. “Sure. This time the subject is our childhood.”

  “No.” He turned the light out again and presented her with his back.

  “Come on, Bradshaw. You’re not getting away with this.”

  Jill flipped on her light. Mason groaned.

  “I’m not spotting you any points this time because I think we’re about even. Only our parents’ bank accounts were different.”

  “What happened to wanting space?”

  “Oooh, good. Attacking is always an effective defense ploy.”

  “Out with it, Jill.”

  “I think you were right the night you said our marriage had too many walls and barriers and space and whatever.”

  “Is this a long-winded way of saying you’ve changed your mind about making love?”

  “Sort of.”

  He tensed.

  “For a woman, no communication and no closeness equals no relationship. No relationship equals lonely sex. So here’s the point where you and I start our marriage. You like me, right?”

  The wariness in his expression as he rolled over made her want to smile, but she didn’t dare. He didn’t understand where she was headed, and until he did, he apparently planned to keep his guard up as high as it would go.

  “Well, do you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Good. I like you, too. I also love you.”

  “Jill, I—”

  She clamped her hand over his mouth. “That love is without strings, Mason. I’m not asking you to love me back. Stop laying guilt on yourself because you don’t share that feeling. I love you for the man you are. You’re gentle, honest, kind and a fantastic lover.”

  He pulled her hand away. “You make me sound like a regular Prince Charming.”

  She shrugged. “Is that bad?”

  His cheeks pinkened. Men didn’t blush often. It struck her as kind of cute.

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “I told you. No strings. We’re together at least until Claire is grown. That’s a long time. I will love you for the rest of my life, whether you ever love me in return or not. We like each other, Bradshaw. We have developed a great deal in common. Enough, I think, to be happy even if your feelings never change.”

  “Do you have any idea the pressure you’re putting on me?”

  “Absolutely none. You’re doing that to yourself. You’re so afraid your emotions will lead you off a cliff again that you’re trying to live by intellect alone. The head without the heart is only half alive.”

  “You’re not in any position to throw rocks, Jill.”

  Having him turn the tables on her was no more than she expected or deserved. “Yeah, I know. But I’m reforming.” She laid her hand along his cheek. To her surprise, he covered it with his own. “Just don’t keep me at arm’s length, Bradshaw, and we’ll be okay.”

  Rather than wait for him to answer, she turned out the light and made herself at home in his arms. He held her stiffly, but he didn’t push her away.

  “Want to talk about our childhoods now?”

  “No.” She heard the frown in his voice. “Jill, I don’t understand you,” he said softly.

  “Sure you do.” She planted a kiss on his chest. “I’m just scaring you to death. Just like I used to.” She kissed him again. This time on the mouth. “Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”

  Jill fell asleep long before the tension eased from Mason’s body.

  Chapter 13

  For two days, Mason brooded about what she’d said. They hadn’t made love again, although he knew beyond a doubt she’d be receptive. In a single conversation she’d stripped away all the protective walls between them. Mason felt as if a thousand prying eyes scrutinized him for shortcomings. Jill could see his inability to give freely of himself or to be as casual as other people. When he’d brought that up the day before, she had brushed everything aside.

  “Bradshaw, you do give of yourself. You’re just not gushy about it—except where Claire’s concerned. And so what if you’re more comfortable in a suit than jeans and a T-shirt?” Then she’d smiled at him. “You should like who you are. It’s pretty special, and you’re very good at it.” She’d planted a noisy kiss on his mouth. “I love you.” Then she turned and left him gaping after her.

  Truthfully, he did like himself. He just hadn’t been in any close relationships in which the other person accepted him that way. Jill smiled every time she saw him. If he didn’t return the smile, the sadness he used to see didn’t fill her eyes anymore. She had become a woman at peace with herself.

  The next morning, Mason stood in the doorway of his office and watched her work. He remembered his first concerns about her when he bought the paper. He’d thought of her as the bookkeeper who’d pass judgment on his ability to keep the paper afloat. After over a year, he couldn’t imagine anyone else in that capacity. Even before he’d learned that she carried Claire, Jill had become more partner than employee. Without conscious design, she’d also become friend and lover.

  Today, she sat with her back to the door, unsnarling one of the endless budget problems. Claire happily played on her tummy in her mini-crib, chewing on a stuffed puppy. A mellow Travis Tritt ballad about foolish pride spilled from his old stereo on the file cabinet.

  For the last two nights, he had searched for a trace of the distance that had existed between them, tried to find evidence that she might be hurting in any way. He honestly didn’t see a thing. She had become a part of him now, always would be. But were they any closer to a true marriage? To love?

  He stepped into the room. Without a backward glance, Jill reached up and changed radio stations to the classical one he preferred. Now that he thought about it, she’d done that a number of times in the past, and he hadn’t really noticed.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

  She gave him a puzzled frown over her shoulder, and he realized something else.

  “I kind of like Tritt’s music,” he confessed. “Some of it, anyway. The less rowdy stuff.”

  The surprise underscored with amused disbelief on her face made him pull back. Then he remembered. Jill loves me uncoraditionally. And it’s okay.

  “Bradshaw, since when do you like my music?”

  “I don’t know. When did you start humming along to the classical station—not an easy feat, I might add.”

  Soft pink stained her cheeks. “When did you catch me doing that?”

  “Last night while you cooked dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  Helen peeked around the corner. “Jill, I hate to bother you, but the vending machine is jammed again and you’re the one with the magic touch. Do you mind?”

  “Course not. I know my niche in the scheme of life.” She stood, planted a kiss on Mason’s lips, then followed a laughing Helen toward the break room. “Nobody clobbers inanimate objects like I can.”

  Alone, Mason felt himself smile. Jill had such an easy camaraderie with everyone. She wasn’t invincible—particularly pregnant, scared and feeling trapped—but in her element she shone like the finest diamond. And she was his wife. That reality didn’t throw all his defenses into high alert like it once had. He tapped his pen on his desk, trying to decide what to do next.

  “Hi, Mason. No one was out front, so I decided to look for you myself.”

  His gaze snapped to the open door. Now his defenses came alive. Karen stood there, wearing full war paint and a blue suit with a blouse beneath too translucent to be anything other than what it was—bait.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled, coming to his feet.

  She turned up the volume on her smi
le, and flipped her hair behind her shoulders. “I’ve been waiting for your call for weeks, hoping you’d explain that restraining order nonsense. That really hurt, you know.” She took a step closer and glanced at Claire. “The baby’s been born. Honor is satisfied. When are we going to sit down and discuss this situation like rational adults?”

  Mason feared that if he showed any of the rage that boiled through him, he might physically throw her out onto the street. Getting arrested for assault wouldn’t improve his mood.

  Jill smacked the side of the machine a fourth time and shook her head. “Well, that’s what one gets for being cocky.”

  “Come on, girlfriend,” Vicki said over Helen’s shoulder. “One more try. I have faith in you.”

  “Fine, but if it doesn’t work, we’re calling the vendor.”

  “Agreed.”

  Jill lined up her hand, then hit the panel again. The chocolate bar dropped into the tray. Helen and Vicki clapped in exaggerated approval, and Jill headed back to her office.

  As she rounded the corner, her heart slammed into her throat and seemed to stop beating. Mason and Karen stood less than an arm’s length apart. Karen looked to be the picture of confidence. Mason’s face lacked any expression at all. Jill felt as if she’d intruded on an intimate conversation. Fear of getting hurt reared its head, but she squelched it. This was her first test of the absolute trust she’d committed to, and she didn’t dare fail.

  “Can anyone join the party?” she asked, forcing a smile.

  Karen’s eyes rounded. “You work here with him?”

  “We own the paper together,” Mason snarled, moving to Jill’s side and slipping an arm around her.

  Oh, so he’s not as calm as he looks. His tone pleased her almost as much as did his holding her close.

  “Karen was just telling me how she thought the restraining order threat was nonsense.”

  “Oh?” Jill ached to add her own two cents’ worth, but Mason didn’t seem to need any help.

  “Would you like to call the paper’s attorney and begin proceedings? Or shall I?”

  Never before had Jill heard such ice in Mason’s voice. Then she realized the extent of his anger. From the tension radiating from him, she half expected him to explode. “I’d be happy to.”

  Karen cocked her head in shock. “You’re serious?”

  “I was serious the night I went to your house,” he growled. “You’re just too vain to accept the truth. I plan on living the rest of my life without ever looking at your lying, deceitful face again. The restraining order will be a good start.”

  He motioned to Jill, and she left his side to hunt through his directory. After she’d located the number, she glanced up for confirmation. He nodded; Jill dialed.

  The confident set to Karen’s expression shattered. “I moved to this backwater pit for you, Mason.”

  “You moved here for your own vanity, and you know it. Now, you have thirty seconds to leave the premises.”

  Jill was acutely aware of the other woman’s gaze as Jill made the appointment for the next morning. After she hung up, she faced her rival. “You can’t have someone just because you want him.”

  The words held truth for Jill, too, but she knew she stood far closer to winning Mason’s heart than Karen ever would again. The lost look in Karen’s eyes struck her as that of a woman who saw reality for the first time and didn’t know what to do with it.

  “I see,” she said faintly.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you do or not,” Mason snapped. “We’re taking out the restraining order, regardless. You’ve caused my wife enough pain and me enough aggravation.” He checked his watch. “You’re out of time—again.”

  With each word, Karen lost a little more color in her cheeks. She nodded, but Jill doubted she saw anything but her own defeat.

  “I think I’ll move back to L.A.” Then with a ghost of her old defiance, she added, “I have people there who care about me.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jill retorted, stepping back to Mason’s side.

  Pointedly, he wrapped an arm around her again. Karen stared at the sight a moment, then turned and left. Mason stepped out into the hallway, watching until she’d crossed through the reception area. Jill heard the front door open and close. Only then did the anger leach from his body.

  “Now it’s over,” he said, relief claiming his face.

  “Is it?”

  He frowned.

  “I look like her.” She didn’t intend to sound so bleak.

  Vicki appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. “Who in the world was that!”

  Mason’s gaze flicked to her then back to Jill. “Just a cheap copy of someone special, someone who I used to think looks more like Jill than she does.”

  Vicki frowned. “You’re going to explain all that later, right?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good, because this sounds like another story that’s bigger than a bread box, and I need serious details.” With that, she left.

  “Did you mean what you said?” Jill asked him when they were alone again. “Do you really see Karen as a cheap copy? Of me?” She swallowed hard.

  Mason took her hands, drew her close and brushed a lingering kiss on her cheek. The sheer tenderness of it made it more erotic than some of their bedroom adventures.

  “Jill, she’s nothing. When I look at you, I only see you. Always will. At first, the resemblance was very noticeable, and that was very hard.”

  “I can imagine,” she said drily.

  He ignored it. “That’s over. I don’t even think about it anymore. You and I have been through so much. We’re building a life together. We have Claire.”

  The conviction in his eyes and in his voice made the truth self-evident. Even if Karen had another trick up her sleeve, she couldn’t hurt them. His ex-wife and his life with her were dead to him.

  His brows lowered. “You don’t believe me?”

  He sounded so worried that it offered a measure of comfort. “It’s not you, Mason. It’s me. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll think about it from time to time anyway.”

  A pained shadow darkened his eyes. “If the doubts start eating at you, would you talk to me about—”

  She covered his lips with the tip of a finger, stopping him from saying more. “You have a good heart, Mason Bradshaw. Did you know that?”

  His eyes twinkled, and he kissed her finger. “Come on, Mrs. Bradshaw. We’ve got a paper to run.

  As they returned to the business of making a living, a silence descended between them, but it lacked the strain of before. Contentment was so new to Mason that he had a hard time accepting that it could possibly be real. He couldn’t imagine his life without Jill. Putting his arm around her in front of Karen had been to make a point, but it felt so right. Yet.... “Jill, if Vicki can babysit tonight, would you go dancing with me?”

  Her dark eyes bored into him, looking for truth. “Because you want to go out with me, or because you’re a dinosaur who believes in hearth and home?”

  “Both.” He absolutely had to know if the walls had permanently vanished or if this was a temporary aberration that would disappear the moment he trusted it.

  “Then you’re on.”

  Jill couldn’t decide if she was more puzzled or suspicious. Mason had asked her to wear her best dress. Until recently, her collection of militantly casual clothing offered nothing along those lines. Now it offered two—the gown she’d worn for the symphony and her wedding dress. Fortunately, neither looked like maternity wear when worn with a belt. She chose the black satin.

  “You’re not going to tell me what you’re up to?”

  He merely shook his head and helped her into the car. They headed onto the interstate, and her curiosity got the better of her. “I know. We’re driving to the courthouse to see if our marriage license disintegrated.”

  “Very funny,” he muttered, never taking his eyes from the road. “Besides, the courthouse is in the other direction.”


  “Minor detail, Bradshaw.”

  He glanced at her. “You’re nervous.”

  She felt color stain her cheeks. “Why would you think that?”

  “You’re hiding behind your glib tongue again.”

  Jill settled back in the seat, feeling exposed. It didn’t really bother her, though. Someone had to trust first, and she had elected herself. Whatever Mason intended, he had their best interests in mind. “Dinosaurs are like that.”

  “What?” he asked, frowning at her in confusion.

  “Nothing.”

  He pulled into the parking lot of a calculatedly rustic-looking building. A simple marquee above the door proclaimed it Howard’s.

  “Mason, this is the most expensive restaurant in Stafford!”

  “I think our budget will forgive us this once.”

  “I’m serious, Bradshaw.”

  He opened her car door and reached for her hand. “So am I.”

  Stunned, she let him lead her inside.

  The maitre d’ smiled graciously. “Good evening. The name of your party, sir?”

  “Bradshaw,” Mason answered.

  The man’s smile widened. “This way, please.” He motioned them to follow and turned on his heel.

  In the subdued lighting, Jill took in the rich decor. The linen-covered mahogany tables were adorned with fresh flowers and lead crystal, the chairs upholstered in brushed leather. She could have sworn she heard her checkbook cry.

  As the maitre d’ seated them, he said, “Giancarlo will be your waiter tonight if that meets with your approval?” He arched a questioning glance at Mason, who nodded. “Very good, sir.”

  The moment he left, Jill leaned to Mason, convinced their finances had just gone into shocked convulsions. “The paper may actually be making a profit now, but the prices in this place—”

  He quelled her with a steady look. “Having trouble trusting me?”

  That hit rather close to the mark. “Aren’t I entitled to backslide occasionally?”

  His lips twitched. He saw right through her, knew how badly she hated unknowns, but it apparently didn’t matter to him in the face of whatever he’d planned for tonight.