Nobodys Baby But Mine

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Nobodys Baby But Mine Page 21

by Susan Elizabelth Phillips


  “Strangest thing. I’d already crossed the city limits before it even occurred to me that this was where you lived. Can’t imagine how I forgot that.”

  “Yeah, I can’t imagine.”

  “Maybe you could show me some of the local sights.” Kevin turned toward the bartender. “Sam Adams for me. Get the Bomber here another of whatever he’s having.”

  Cal was drinking club soda, but he hoped Shelby kept her mouth shut about that.

  Kevin sat down without an invitation and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on your marriage. It sure surprised everybody. You and your new wife must have had a good laugh over the way I took her for a groupie that night she came to your hotel room.”

  “Oh, yeah, we laughed real hard about that.”

  “A physicist. I can’t get over it. She didn’t exactly look like your standard groupie that night, but she sure as hell didn’t look like a scientist, either.”

  “Just goes to show.”

  Shelby brought the drinks over herself and gave Kevin the eye. “I saw you play fourth quarter against the 49ers last year, Mr. Tucker. You looked real good.”

  “I’m Kevin to you, dollface. And thanks. The old man here taught me everything I know.”

  Cal bristled, but he could hardly punch Kevin out with Shelby watching. It took her forever to finish flirting with Pretty Boy, but she finally left them alone.

  “How ’bout cutting the bullshit, Tucker, and tell me why you’re really here.”

  “I already told you. Just a little vacation. Nothing more.”

  Cal swallowed his fury, knowing the more he pressed, the more satisfaction Tucker’d get out of it. Besides, he had a pretty good idea why Kevin had shown up in Salvation, and he didn’t like it one bit. The kid was playing a psych-out game. You can’t get away from me, Bonner. Not even during the off-season. I’m here, I’m young, and I’m in your face.

  Cal made his way to the kitchen at eight the next morning. He was in no mood for the nine o’clock meeting Ethan had scheduled with their local state representative so the three of them could discuss the teen drug program, and he wasn’t looking forward to the lunch he’d set up with his mother to try and talk some sense into her, but neither could be postponed. Maybe if he’d had more sleep he wouldn’t be so out of sorts.

  But he knew he couldn’t blame his foul mood on either lack of sleep or the stiffness in his joints. It was that sex viper he’d married who was responsible. If she didn’t have this compulsion for keeping her clothes on, he’d have slept like a baby last night.

  As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Jane sitting at the counter munching some kind of nutritious-looking bagel with honey squeezed on top. For a moment the homeyness of the scene made it hard for him to breathe. This wasn’t what he wanted! He didn’t want a house and a wife and a kid on the way, especially not with Kevin Tucker holed up five miles away. He wasn’t ready for this.

  He noticed that the Professor looked as neat as always. Her gold turtleneck was tucked into a pair of khaki slacks that were neither too tight nor too loose, and she’d pulled her hair back with a narrow, tortoise-colored clip-on headband. As usual, she hadn’t bothered with much more makeup than a swipe of lipstick. There wasn’t one thing sexy about her appearance, so why did she look so delectable to him?

  He grabbed a fresh box of Lucky Charms from the pantry, then collected a bowl and spoon. He slapped the milk carton down on the counter with more force than necessary and waited for her to rip into him about the way he’d run off last night. He knew it hadn’t exactly been gentlemanly, but she’d hurt his pride. Now he was going to have to pay the price, and the last thing he wanted to hear at eight in the morning was a screaming banshee.

  She raised both of her eyebrows over the tops of her glasses. “Are you still drinking 2 percent milk?”

  “Something wrong with that?” He ripped open the cereal box.

  “Two percent isn’t low-fat milk despite what millions of Americans think. For the sake of your arteries, you should really switch to skimmed, or at least 1 percent.”

  “And you should really mind your own damned business.” The Lucky Charms clattered into his bowl. “When I want your—” He broke off in mid-sentence, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Will you look at this?”

  “My goodness.”

  He stared incredulously into a mound of dry cereal. All the marshmallows were missing! He saw lots of beige-colored frosted oat cereal, but not a single marshmallow. No multicolored rainbows or green shamrocks, no blue moons or purple horseshoes, not a single yellow whatchamacallit. Not one solitary marshmallow.

  “Maybe someone tampered with the box,” she offered in that cool scientist’s voice.

  “Nobody could have tampered with it! It was sealed up tighter than a drum when I opened it. Something must have gone wrong at the factory.”

  He sprang up from his stool and headed back into the pantry for another box. This was all he needed to make a lousy morning worse. He emptied his old cereal in the trash, ripped open the new box, and poured it in the bowl, but all he saw was frosted oat cereal. No marshmallows.

  “I don’t believe this! I’m going to write the president of General Mills! Don’t they have any quality control?”

  “I’m sure it’s just a fluke.”

  “Doesn’t make any difference whether it’s a fluke or not. It shouldn’t have happened. When a person buys a box of Lucky Charms, he’s got expectations.”

  “Would you like me to fix you a nice wheat bran bagel with a little honey on it? And maybe a glass of skimmed milk to go along.”

  “I don’t want a bagel, and I sure as hell don’t want skimmed milk. I want my Lucky Charms!” He stalked into the pantry and pulled out the remaining three boxes. “I’ll guaran-damn-tee you one of these is going to have marshmallows in it.”

  But none of them did. He opened all three boxes, and there wasn’t a single marshmallow in any of them.

  By now the Professor had finished her bagel, and her green eyes were as cool as the missing marshmallow shamrocks. “Perhaps I could make you some oatmeal. Or Wheatena. I believe I have Wheatena.”

  He was furious. Wasn’t there anything in life he could count on these days? The Professor had him spinning mental cartwheels; Kevin Tucker had materialized out of nowhere; his mom had moved out on his dad; and now the marshmallows were missing from five boxes of his favorite breakfast cereal. “I don’t want anything!”

  She took a sip of milk and regarded him with perfect serenity. “It really isn’t healthy to start the day without a good breakfast.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  He wanted to whip her up off that stool, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her up to his bedroom so he could finish what he’d started last night. Instead, he yanked his keys from his pocket and stalked out to the garage.

  He wouldn’t just write the president of General Mills, he decided. He was going to sue the whole damned company! Everybody from the board of directors right down to the shipping clerks. By damn, he’d teach General Mills not to ship out inferior cereal. He jerked open the door of his Jeep, and that was when he saw them.

  Marshmallows. Hundreds of tiny marshmallows covering the seats. Red balloons, pink hearts, blue moons. They were scattered everywhere. Across the dashboard, on the front seat, and all over the backseat.

  A red veil descended over his eyes. He slammed the door shut and charged into the kitchen. He was going to kill her!

  She sat at the counter sipping a cup of tea. “Forget something?”

  “Yeah, I forgot something all right. I forgot to smack you silly!”

  She didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated. Damn it! No matter what he threatened, no matter how loud he yelled, she didn’t even cringe, probably because she knew he wouldn’t touch her. Now he had to satisfy himself by pumping up the volume. “You are going to pay for this!”

  H
e grabbed one of the Lucky Charm boxes and turned it over, spilling the cereal everywhere. He yanked open the sealed flap on the bottom, and sure enough, a neat slit in the inner bag had been carefully resealed with Scotch tape.

  He gritted his teeth. “Don’t you think this was just a little childish?”

  “It certainly was. And immensely satisfying.” She took a sip of tea.

  “If you were pissed off about the way I took off last night, why didn’t you just say so?”

  “I prefer docudrama.”

  “I can’t believe anybody could be so damned immature!”

  “I could have been a lot more immature—emptying the marshmallows in your underwear drawer, for example—but I believe revenge should be subtle.”

  “Subtle! You ruined five perfectly good boxes of Lucky Charms and spoiled my whole day in the process.”

  “What a pity.”

  “I ought to… I swear I’m…” Damned if he wasn’t carrying her upstairs right now and making love to her until she begged his forgiveness.

  “Don’t mess with me, Calvin. You’ll only get hurt.”

  Seriously. He was seriously going to kill her. He regarded her through narrowed eyes. “Maybe you’d better explain why you got upset enough to do this. It’s not like anything really important happened last night, is it? You yourself said it was—How did you put it? Oh, yeah. You said it was quite pleasant. Now to my way of thinking, pleasant doesn’t add up to important.” He regarded her closely. “But maybe it was more than pleasant for you. Maybe it was more important than you want to let on.”

  Was it his imagination or did something flicker in the depths of those melted shamrock eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your lack of courtesy I found offensive. It would merely have been good manners on your part to have stayed around instead of running off like a teenager hurrying to tell his buddies he’d scored.”

  “Manners? Is that what five boxes of mutilated Lucky Charms is all about?”

  “Yes.”

  Just one good shot. He was already late for his meeting, but he couldn’t leave until he got off one good shot. “You’re about the lowest breed of human being there is.”

  “What?”

  “Right up there with the Boston Strangler and the Son of Sam.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

  “Not hardly.” He shook his head and regarded her with disgust. “I married a damned cereal killer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  J ane smiled as she headed toward Heartache Mountain in her battered Escort late that afternoon. She’d spent nearly four hours last night sorting through all that cereal, but it had been worth it to see the expression on Cal’s face. One day soon he’d figure out that he couldn’t walk all over her. She hoped the marshmallow exercise would point him in the right direction.

  Why did he have to be so thoroughly intriguing? Of all the pitfalls she had imagined in this marriage, growing to care so much about him had not been one of them. As much as he irritated her, she loved the fact that her intelligence didn’t intimidate him, as it did so many others. She felt alive when she was with him: her blood pumping, her brain at full alert, all senses engaged. Until now, she’d only felt that way when she was engrossed in her work.

  Everything would have been so much easier if she could dismiss him as an egotistical, self-centered jock, but he was far more complex than that. Beneath that belligerent good ol’ boy exterior lay, not only a keen mind, but a highly developed sense of humor. In light of the marshmallow incident and the fact that he would soon find out about her car, she rather hoped it kicked in soon.

  She pulled up in front of Annie’s house and turned off the ignition. The Escort shuddered for several seconds before it finally shut down. As she’d hoped, Lynn’s car was nowhere in sight, so she was still at lunch with Cal, which gave Jane a chance to check on Annie.

  She climbed the front steps and let herself in without knocking, just as Annie had ordered her to do the last time she’d been here. You’re family now, missy, in case you forgot.

  “Annie?” She walked farther into the empty living room.

  To her dismay, Lynn Bonner poked her head through the kitchen door, then came slowly forward as she saw her daughter-in-law.

  Jane noted the pallor of Lynn’s complexion beneath her makeup and the dark smudges under her eyes. Plainly dressed in jeans and an old pink pocket T-shirt, she bore little resemblance to the well-groomed, stylish hostess who had presided so graciously at the dinner table five days earlier. She wanted to express her concern, but realized even that small gesture would do more harm than good. She wasn’t going to add to Lynn’s troubles, and that meant playing the bitch. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought you were having lunch with Cal.”

  “His morning meeting ran long, and he had to cancel.” Lynn set the dish towel she’d been holding over the back of the wing chair. “Did you stop by for any particular reason?”

  “I came to see Annie.”

  “She’s napping.”

  “Tell her I was here, then.”

  “What did you want to see her about?”

  Jane began to say she’d been concerned about Annie, but stopped herself just in time. “Cal told me I had to drive up today to check on her.” Did lies count with God when they were uttered with good intentions?

  “I see.” Lynn’s blue eyes grew frosty. “Well, I’m glad duty forced you to stop by because I want to talk to you. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

  The last thing she needed was a private chat with Cal’s mother. “I really can’t stay.”

  “This won’t take long. Have a seat.”

  “Maybe another time. I have a dozen really important things to do.”

  “Sit!”

  If Jane hadn’t been so anxious to get away, she would have been amused. Apparently Cal hadn’t received all his leadership abilities from his father, but then, she supposed any woman who had raised three strong-willed sons knew something about exercising her authority. “All right, but just for a few moments.” She took a place at the end of the couch.

  Lynn sat in Annie’s upholstered rocker. “I want to talk with you about Cal.”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about him behind his back.”

  “I’m his mother, and you’re his wife. If that doesn’t give us a right to talk about him, I don’t know what does. After all, we both care about him?”

  Jane heard the faint question mark at the end of that statement and understood that Lynn wanted her to confirm her feelings for Cal. Instead, she kept her face carefully expressionless. Cal was right. Lynn and Jim had endured enough grief without having to mourn the failure of his marriage. Let them celebrate, instead, the end of a disastrous alliance. Maybe it would give them something to share.

  Lynn’s posture grew more rigid, and Jane’s heart went out to her. She regretted the pain she was causing her now, but knew that, in the end, it was kinder this way. Her in-laws seemed destined for heartbreak, but at least she could make it as short-lived as possible.

  “In some ways Cal is like his father,” Lynn said. “They both have a lot of bluster, but they’re more easily hurt than people imagine.” A shadow crossed Lynn’s face.

  Maybe a simple concession on her part would somehow ease her mother-in-law’s mind enough to end this conversation. “Cal is a special person. I knew that the moment I met him.”

  She immediately realized her mistake because a spark of maternal hope ignited in her mother-in-law’s eyes, and she could see Lynn nurturing the possibility that the frosty, snobbish bride her eldest son had brought home wasn’t as bad as she appeared to be.

  Jane’s hands tightened in her lap. She hated causing this woman pain. There was something frail about Lynn, a sadness that lay just beneath that sophisticated veneer. No matter how bad Jane made herself look, she couldn’t hold out false hopes. In the end that would be more cruel than anything else.

  She forced her stiff lips into a thin
smile. “If anyone ever doubts that he’s special, all they have to do is ask him. He does have an ego.”

  Lynn’s chin shot up at the same time her fingers gripped the arm of the chair. “You don’t seem to like him very much.”

  “Of course I do, but no one’s perfect.” Jane felt as if she were suffocating. She had never been deliberately cruel in her life, and even though she knew she had to do this, it made her ill.

  “I can’t understand why you married him.”

  Jane had to get out of here before she fell apart, and she lurched to her feet. “He’s rich, intelligent, and he doesn’t interfere with my work. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “Yes.” She released her hold on the arm of the chair and stood. “Why in the hell did he marry you?”

  Jane knew she had to drive the final nail into the coffin of Lynn’s hopes. “That’s easy. I’m smart, I don’t interfere with his work, and I’m good in bed. Look, Lynn, don’t get yourself in a tangle over this. Neither Cal nor I have a big emotional investment in this marriage. We hope it works out, but if it doesn’t, we’ll both survive. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my computer. Tell Annie if she wants anything to call Cal.”

  “I want him to finish paintin’ my house.”

  Jane’s head snapped around, and she was dismayed to see Annie standing in the doorway that led to the back bedroom. How long had she been there, and how much had she overheard? Annie was unpredictable. She obviously hadn’t informed Lynn that Jane was pregnant, but what had she said? Beneath the wrinkles and blue eye makeup, the old woman regarded her with what could only be compassion.

  “I’ll tell him,” Jane said.

  “You do that.” Annie gave a short nod and walked into the kitchen.

  Jane hurried to her car, tears stinging her eyes. Damn Cal for making her come to Salvation! Damn him for forcing her into this marriage and believing it would be so easy to distance his parents!

  But as she jabbed the key into the ignition, she knew the fault didn’t lie with Cal. It was hers alone. She was to blame for everything, and the wrong she’d done had spread until it touched more people than she could ever have imagined.

 

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