Tapping on his keyboard, Kirk pulled up his email. Distracted by Michelle's unexpected absence today, he'd ignored his email most of the morning. By now he probably had a backup that would stretch clear to Albuquerque. Seventy-two emails. And not a single foreign solicitor among them. Things were looking up.
Departmental reports could be filed. Office supplies, delete. Carbon copy from janitorial services, delete. Thirty emails later, he'd either deleted, answered, or moved the cluttering correspondence. Email thirty-one he hit pay dirt. We are pleased to inform you your proposal for our upcoming project has been accepted....
"Yes!" Kirk punched the air, then scanned the remainder of the email for pertinent information. Corporate housing would be provided. A car. Driver. Translator. Everything as expected. In two months he would be on his way to Cairo.
He did it. An international project. Soon, he'd be playing with the big boys.
His glance danced over to his office door. His mind turned to the woman who hadn't shown up for work today. "Cairo.”
***
So much to think about. In the short ride up the elevator, Michelle's to-do list had grown exponentially. What to tell Lloyd Kirkland McEntire Jr. was at the top.
"I didn't think you were ever going to come in." Pam swooped in behind her, whispering in her ear. "McEntire has been prowling like a caged lion. What did you do?"
Michelle froze in place. He couldn't possibly have figured out the same thing she did this morning. Could he? Nah. So what if she threw up on a policeman's shoes yesterday. Before leaving to change uniforms, the officer had reassured them she wasn't the first person, nor would she be the last, to do so.
She moved toward her desk. "I can't imagine what he's so anxious about.”
"In that case, I think you should know something." Pam leaned a hip on Michelle's desk while she put away her purse.
"If it's not good news, I don't want to know.”
The redhead dressed in neon green today, glanced around the office, then leaned in closer. "No one likes bad news, but it's your job, honey.”
Damn. "Let me sit. Okay, what?"
"Your area is being absorbed by the national ad department. McEntire got the memo Saturday."
Her stomach rolled, and Michelle prayed Pam's shoes wouldn't be her next victim.
"Only this morning," Pam continued, "Harmon called to tell me that McEntire shot a new set of numbers to the board, and you are the sole survivor.”
"Sole survivor?"
"You'll be staying on to oversee the transition. Our hatchet man bought you at least a couple more months of employment."
"He did?" Was that the price of a guilty conscience? "What about Jolee?"
Pam shook her head.
"But she has ten years seniority on me?"
Pam shrugged.
Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have stayed in bed this morning.
"Crap," Pam muttered beside her.
Do I really want to know? "Now what?”
"Rat Bastard is getting off the elevator and headed this way. He looks ready to breathe fire."
"Great." Now would be a really good time for the world to stop so she could get off.
Completely ignoring Pam, Steven stormed up to Michelle. "Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
"Then we need to talk.”
"Not now. I'm not feeling well.”
"I know. Beth called me.”
No surprise there. "I also have a job to do. And my desk is no place to have this conversation.”
"Then take a break. This is important.”
Pam was right. Michelle had never seen Steven look quite so...determined.
"I told you"—she grabbed a file—"now is not a good time."
Steven folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the desk beside Pam. "Then we'll talk while you work, but I can't just walk away without making sure you're all right. I still care about you. Is whoever going to be here for you?"
Now he's worried about her being left alone? "News flash. I'm not your responsibility anymore. Go home to your wife.”
Like a skinny person sandwiched between two fat people on a bus, Pam's head turned left than right, sizing up the people on either side of her.
The elevator dinged in the distance and all three heads turned.
Michelle let out a groan. Just what she needed at this circus—Beth. If the woman broke out in tears again, Michelle was climbing under the desk.
Beth nodded a smile at Pam, and shot daggers at Steven, before turning back to Michelle. "I tried calling, but your phone is off."
Rummaging through her purse, Michelle found the phone. "Darn it."
"I brought you a few things." On a mission, Beth opened the cloth bag hanging from her elbow and began removing items. "I guessed you gave up your lunch hour to go to the doctor, so I brought you something to eat.”
Like the children in Mary Poppins, Pam, Steven, and Michelle watched Beth pull one thing after another from her bag.
She set a drink down in front of Michelle. "It's a vanilla milkshake. You need calcium.”
A plastic sandwich container followed. "Tuna. It's wonderful brain food.”
"She already has a brain." Pam looked at Beth as though the woman had announced she was from Mars.
"Not her brain." Beth sighed. "The baby's.”
Pam's mouth dropped open. Her gaze flew to Michelle's still flat tummy, then darted over to Beth, finally landing on Steven. Who at least had the good sense to inch away at the vile glare.
"I know what you're thinking," Beth told Pam. "I was crushed when I heard the news. Even though Steven and I had only slept together that one time, and by accident—"
"You had sex by accident?" This time Pam stared at Beth as though she really was from Mars. Beside her, Steven merely groaned.
"Long story." Beth waved off the question. "My point is, it hurt to think he'd told me they hadn't slept together for months only to have her turn up pregnant, too." Beth spun around to face Michelle. "And then I realized no matter what I had thought you must be feeling, the awful hurt I felt this morning was how you must be feeling. So, I decided on the spot that our babies are the most important thing. We've gotten through everything else since kindergarten, and we can get through this.”
Beth leaned back with a satisfied smile.
She was nuts. That was the only explanation. Or maybe if Michelle closed her eyes really tightly and opened them, she would find herself in bed waiting for the alarm, and all of this would have been some absurd dream.
When she opened her eyes, the dream people were still here. Staring at her.
Grin in place, Beth leaned forward. "It will almost be like having twins. Except they'll have one father and two mothers.”
Steven shoved away from the desk, waving his arms at his wife. "Will you please listen to me. I am not the father.”
Pam dropped her jaw to speak just as Kirk stepped up beside Steven, his gaze shifting from person to person.
Michelle folded onto the desk, buried her face in her arms, and mumbled, "Just shoot me now.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
What in the hell? Hoping to find Michelle back at her desk, Kirk hadn't expected to find a party. Especially with Mr. Rat Bastard. "What's going on here?"
Lifting her head high enough to peek up at him, Michelle mumbled, "They're all crazy. Ignore them." Then dropped her head down again.
"Well," Pam started, "Beth just announced—"
"With all due respect," Steven interrupted, "this is a private matter. And none of your business.”
"This is his office." The petite brunette, who he now understood to be Beth, waved a thumb at him over her shoulder. "If Michelle needs a sick day, it will affect her job.”
Ignoring the asshole with an attitude, Kirk nudged his way closer to Michelle. "You're sick?"
"No," she muttered, rising up in her seat. "And I have a lot of work to do, so if everyone would please just go away.”
> Like a pistol at the start of a race, that was all anyone needed to prattle on at the same time. Startled by the sudden outburst of voices, Kirk scrambled to make sense of the situation.
Hands on her hips, Pam growled, "How could you?" at the same time Beth, kept repeating, "Lower your voices, you'll upset her." And the Rat Bastard insisted he "didn't do it." Whatever it was.
From there things went downhill fast. All the words and voices tumbled together. Kirk managed to establish Pam was pissed, Beth was worried, the asshole claimed innocence, and Michelle, who needed protein, looked ready to heave.
Fingers to his lips, he blew a sharp whistle. "Time out!”
Already having drawn more attention to the overzealous gathering than was prudent in a place of business, he lowered his voice. "Someone had better tell me exactly what is going on before I call security and have everyone escorted out.”
Pam actually had the nerve to shoot him a dirty look before draping an arm around Michelle and quietly asking, "Is it true, honey? Did the Rat Bastard get you pregnant?”
Kirk almost swallowed his tongue. Everyone else just stared in anticipation.
"No." She reached for a pen. "Now will you all go away?"
"No?" Beth asked, clearly confused.
Pam on the other hand looked relieved, but the self-serving asshole just looked smug.
"Pinkie swear." Michelle lifted her hand, holding out her little finger.
Beth linked her pinkie with Michelle's. "But if not Steven, then who?”
And that was the last piece of the puzzle Kirk needed. "You are pregnant."
"Look." Steven went from smug to guard dog in a blink. "This really isn't any of your business. If you would just give us all a few minutes—"
"The hell it's not." He turned from Steven to Michelle. What little color she had in her face had now completely bled away, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Are you going to be sick?”
Eyes wide with fright, she barely gave a nod. Those same eyes darted about in search of the wastebasket. Beth's arm shot out of nowhere and shoved a couple crackers at Michelle. Her already ashen face turned a soupy shade of green.
Catapulted by the need to save her, Kirk scooped her into his arms and hurried down the short hall, backed into the restroom, and deposited Michelle in a stall. While she puked what sounded like all the contents of her stomach, he grabbed some paper towels and soaked them in cool water.
When he heard blessed silence, he sat beside her and the toilet, and gathering her close, wiped her mouth with a dry towel, then ran the cool one across her forehead. "Feeling any better?”
Michelle nodded into his shoulder.
The two sat quietly for several minutes until Michelle began to giggle.
"I think I'm missing the humor in this."
Her chest rumbled with laughter. "Really? We are on the floor, snuggling around a toilet bowl, in the ladies’ room. And you don't see the humor?”
He laughed with her, holding his fingers up in a pinch. "Okay, perhaps a little. How long have you known?"
"Somewhere between puking my brains out this morning and looking for mouthwash, I made the critical connection with nausea and pregnant. My doctor had a cancellation and squeezed me in. That's where I ran into Beth.”
"Which would explain the show outside."
Michelle nodded.
"It seems a lot happened to both of us this morning.”
"Oh." She lifted her gaze to his. "Are you pregnant, too?"
He laughed again. "Not that I know of. But I got the Cairo contract.”
"Really?" Her face brightened, as she pushed herself up. "That's wonderful.”
He pulled her back into the fold of his arms. "I'm expected to finish up here in time to report in two months. Three on the outside."
"I know how badly you wanted this. Corrie will be thrilled. She's looking forward to living vicariously through you.”
He raked not-so-steady fingers through her hair. "Something else happened to me."
"You are an overachiever. Isn't getting pregnant and moving to Cairo enough for one day?"
"Dave informed me I bought a bill of goods.”
Palm on his chest, she shoved away to face him. "Bill of goods?"
Nodding, he answered very slowly, "Lock, stock, and little sister.”
He saw the exact moment recognition dawned, then he spotted the flicker of indignation in her eyes. Before she could protest, he silenced her with the gentle touch of his finger to her lips.
How could he make her understand she made everything in him come to life? With her, logic and reason were replaced by desire and longing. Dreams of Kokomo, Montserrat, and Cairo gave way to picket fences, dogs named Rover, and babies.
"I'm not going to Cairo," he whispered against her temple. She sucked in his fingertip, and an arrow of sheer pleasure shot straight to his groin. "Definitely, not, going, to, Cairo.”
Tilting her head to meet his gaze, she reached up and rubbed the back of her fingers along his face. "You have to go. It's what you've worked so hard for.”
"I've worked hard for what mattered to me. But life is different now. My dreams—"
"You can't let my having a baby stop—"
He held his finger to her lips again. "My dreams have changed, Micki. Before I found myself in the middle of the three-ring circus out there, I had already realized I don't want to have a place to pick up my mail and check phone messages anymore. I want a home. With you. I love you.”
Lips parted to speak, Michelle snapped her mouth closed. Her eyes studied his with a laserlike intensity. He prayed she could see the truth in his eyes. He didn't need the thrill of living, he needed her.
Finally, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "I love you, too. But you have to go.”
"Ah, excuse me." Pam's voice filtered through from the doorway.
"Ignore her," Michelle muttered. "Maybe she'll go away.”
"We're in the bathroom." He reminded her. "The ladies’ bathroom.”
"Oh, yeah." She bent her head, resting her forehead against his.
"I'm just checking if Michelle is all....oh." Pam missed a step by the stall door. "I, uh, guess everything is...uh...okay then." Backing away, her pace quickened. "I'll just tell everyone that they can go home now.”
"We'd better get back to work." Michelle made no effort to move.
He kissed the tip of her nose. "Someone might need the ladies’ room,”
"Yeah. We need to tell Corrie you're going to Cairo."
"Staying." He tightened his hold on her.
"Going." She kissed his chin, nibbling her way to the sensitive spot behind his ear.
"Staying." Fingers eager to explore, danced up her sides.
"Going."
"Uh, excuse me. It's me again." They could hear the laughter in Pam's voice. "We really do need the ladies’ room back.”
EPILOGUE
"Seniority isn't the point. If the old regime doesn't like it, they are welcome to tender their resignations, but the changes are to be implemented exactly as we designed." Cell phone to his ear, Kirk walked across the room to his desk and laptop. "Kinks in the new systems are to be expected.”
According to the computer clock, it was already after midnight in Cairo. Whoever said "When the cat's away, the mice will play" had never met Jeffrey Pierce. Kirk's new international projects manager had seamlessly stepped into Kirk's shoes in every aspect of the deal.
It had always been Kirk's plan to expand from a one-man consultant to a fully staffed firm. Landing the Cairo job made moving his plans up a few years all the easier.
"Listen, Jeff. All of this can wait till morning Go home, get some shut-eye."
"Are you planning on joining us in this millennium?" Dave popped his head in through the patio doors.
Slipping his phone in his pocket, Kirk smiled. "All done. Did you burn the burgers without me?"
"Moi?" Palm on his heart, Dave feigned insult. "The backyard barbecue king?"
"Oh, th
at's right." He snapped his fingers and followed Dave outside. "You have a house now. With a backyard.”
Deb sidled up to her husband, wound an arm through his, and kissed his cheek. "Isn't it wonderful being neighbors?"
"Works for me!" Bags of chips in one hand and a bottle of ketchup in the other, Michelle stepped onto the patio. When they had finally agreed that, if he hired on help, Kirk could take the job of a lifetime and still spend most of his time in the States with Michelle, they spent the next month organizing a wedding and arguing where to base the new company.
Kirk had offered to stay in Bluffview for Michelle, but too much had happened. She and Beth would probably exchange Christmas and birthday cards for the next twenty years or so, and laugh and joke at their twenty-fifth high school reunion, but even though Michelle understood she and Steven never should have been engaged in the first place, staying in Bluffview just felt...wrong. And boring.
Corrie came from the kitchen with more condiments in hand. "Are the burgers done? I'm starved.”
"You're always starved." Kirk mussed her hair the way he might a small child and laughed when Corrie shot him her standard grown-ups-are-such-dorks eye roll.
"I have to take advantage of decent food while I can get it.”
Michelle grabbed a paper plate and reached for the pickles. "You're living at Stanford, not Siberia. It's a twenty-minute drive to come home and raid the refrigerator.”
"Details." Corrie waved an arm and grabbed a bun. "I want cheese on mine."
The minute Corrie had shown Michelle her list of colleges, Michelle had spotted Stanford as first choice and knew keeping Kirk's home base near San Francisco was the right thing to do. Beige and boring Bluffview wasn't all wrong just because of Steven and Beth. She wanted blue skies, pink houses, ocean breezes, and every once in a while, to feel free as a bird.
Back at the grill, Kirk scooped up a burger with cheese and flipped it onto Corrie's plate.
Pam and Angie promised to come visit soon, but it was Dave's wife, Debbie, who had made the transition easy. From the day they had met, she and Michelle had laughed and talked like two schoolgirls. When Michelle and Kirk's neighbor mentioned they'd be putting their house on the market, Dave and Debbie snapped it up before the sign made it into the yard.
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