Sleeping With the Enemy

by Tracy Solheim

  “I—I’m sorry? Did you say ‘baby’?”

  Vincenzo shouted another string of obscenities in Italian. “You want the fermentation formula, you do right by that bambolina, Jay. Or else!”

  The line went dead. Jay looked up into Blake’s stunned face. “Holy shit,” his friend muttered.

  It took him nearly twenty hours to track Bridgett down. It turned out Janik was a popular name in Boston and he’d knocked on six doors before he found a relative who could point him to her parents’ home. She hadn’t been at home, but the housekeeper directed him to a coffee shop in Cambridge where she was “meeting a friend.” The waitress was placing the lunch plates on the table when Jay stormed through the door. The preppy guy she was sitting with looked up first, his face bewildered as Jay charged toward them.

  And then Bridgett’s eyes met his, nearly stopping Jay in his tracks. A look of anguished surprise was reflected in them. “Jay,” she said softly. She looked pale and drawn, but he refused to feel sorry for her.

  “Well, at least you still remember my name.”

  Her gray eyes narrowed then and her face looked as if he’d actually wounded her, damn it. He was the one who’d been wounded. She glanced over at her companion, who seemed to be considering what to do. Had she actually thrown him over for this spineless dick? The customers in the small restaurant were eyeing them and Bridgett threw down her napkin with a sigh. “I’ll be right back, Sean.”

  Jay glared at Sean the Douchbag, who didn’t even bother to stand up when Bridgett left the table. She led them outside and around the corner, away from the steady stream of students loitering on the sidewalk.

  She turned and studied him critically. “How are you?”

  To say Jay wasn’t at his best would be an understatement. He was running on fumes after traveling for more than forty-eight hours straight, not counting his brief stop in Chicago, where she’d taken him out at the knees with her Dear John letter. The thought of that damn piece of paper stoked the anger in his gut again. Jay didn’t have the patience to stand around and make small talk with the woman who’d just destroyed his heart. But he also didn’t want her to know just how much her breakup had affected him, so he struggled for civility in his tone. “The question is, how are you, Bridgett? More important, how’s the baby?” She could try to hide from him, but Jay would not be denied his child. Jay was the last in line of the McManus family and now that the labels were no longer his, this child was the only legacy left.

  Her face grew paler, if that was even possible, and she reached out to brace herself against the brick wall while her other hand gently cupped her abdomen. “I’m sorry, Jay, but there isn’t a baby anymore,” she whispered.

  Jay staggered for a moment, eventually supporting a shoulder against the same brick wall. A wave of nausea swept through him. How could she have done this? To him? To their child?

  His throat was tight but he managed to get some words out. “Was it easy to just erase the last few months like that?”

  Bridgett’s eyes glistened with tears and she had both arms wrapped around her middle now but her body still shook. “Wh-what?”

  Jay was staring at her through a red haze of anger. “Was it as easy to get rid of the baby as it was to get rid of me?” he demanded. “Hell, was it even mine?”

  She surprised him with the force with which her palm connected with his cheek. Tears were streaming down her face. “It was not ‘easy,’” she hissed. “But for the first time in the past few weeks, I’m actually grateful, God help me.”

  Sean had found his man card, apparently, because he was wrapping Bridgett in his arms, leading her back into the restaurant while Jay rocked back on his heels, his cheek, and his pride, still stinging.

  Nineteen

  Bridgett paused on the verandah outside Jay’s office. It was early evening and Josie had put out sangria and tapas by the pool. Charlie and her mother had kept to neutral corners most of the day, with Melanie wandering the vineyards while her daughter camped out beside the pool. Neither one was in sight now, though. Instead, Jay’s assistant, Linc, was pacing the office floor while SportsCenter droned on in the background.

  “More sexual harassment allegations have surfaced today regarding Baltimore Blaze owner Jay McManus, fueling rumors that NFL Commissioner Reggie Austin will sanction not only the Blaze but the team’s owner individually,” the sportscaster said. “You’ll remember that the Blaze are being sued by their cheerleaders, the Sparks, for alleged sexual harassment by Blaze players. While many of these cases are from McManus’s tenure as CEO of McManus Industries, some inside and outside the NFL are questioning the timing of these leaks of cases that were settled privately prior to McManus taking the helm of the Blaze.”

  “Yes!” Linc pumped a fist into the air. “Way to go, Mimi.”

  Bridgett wandered farther into the office to watch alongside Linc. He winked at her before they both turned their attention back to the screen. A lawyer who specialized in defamation cases was being interviewed by the sportscaster.

  “This seems to be a smear campaign against McManus personally,” the lawyer was saying. “It’s a desperate strategy on the part of the attorney representing the Sparks. The fact that Mr. McManus has been sued before for alleged sexual harassment doesn’t mean he’s guilty. These cases were settled and are sealed. It’s difficult to determine whether they were specious or not. And, it’s a stretch to say he’s created an environment where this type of activity is tolerated. Let’s remember here that only one of the Sparks cheerleaders has come forward as a plaintiff.”

  “And we’ve just learned here at ESPN that the plaintiff and the attorney representing the class are former sisters-in-law,” the sportscaster interjected.

  The lawyer nodded. “There’s a lot about this case that stinks and I think that before we all jump on the bandwagon of sanctioning an NFL team and its owner, we should wait to see how the facts play out.”

  “Hear, hear,” Linc cheered.

  “Seriously,” Bridgett said. “As much as I hate to admit it, that was a brilliant move on Mimi’s part to go directly to the sports media.”

  The topic moved on to a baseball player accused of taking performance-enhancing drugs and Linc lowered the volume on the television. “Do you think it’ll be as easy as just discrediting the source?” he asked.

  Bridgett shrugged. “It depends on who this person is and what their motivation is.” She eyed Linc hopefully, but if he knew who the blogger was, he wasn’t sharing.

  “Hopefully, that will all be taken care of today,” was all he said.

  Apparently, she’d have to be more direct. “Is there any news on that front?” Bridgett wandered over to examine another painting on the wall—this one a landscape of Christchurch, New Zealand—while trying to appear nonchalant. Her curiosity about the blogger’s identity and their relationship with Jay had been nagging at her all day. Not only that, but she worried about what Jay would have to do to get the blogger to stop. The Jay she’d once fallen in love with wasn’t capable of doing anything violent or nefarious. This Jay, the one whose body she knew intimately but whose heart and feelings were closed off from her, she wasn’t so sure about. And it made her very anxious. She wanted to believe in him again, and that desire was becoming very dangerous to her heart.

  “I’m sure it went as planned. The boss usually gets what he wants. He and Don are back in San Francisco. Don had some security issues to take care of at the hotel before the team arrives. These women’s groups are fired up and say they’re going to protest the game again this week.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Don wanted to make sure there won’t be any nonsense when the team arrives tonight. Mr. McManus went to his office in San Mateo to finish reviewing the shareholders’ quarterly report.”

  Bridgett felt more let down than relieved. For some reason, she’d hoped Jay would return to the vineyard right away and share
with her the outcome of his confrontation with the blogger. She mentally shook herself. The old Jay would have done that. The only thing this Jay wanted to share with her was his body. And his vineyard if she accepted the life he was offering. She’d be pampered and her body satisfied, but not her heart. Happiness would be superficial if she found any at all. Bridgett wanted more. This would be one time where Linc’s boss didn’t get what he wanted.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she glanced down at the screen. Gwen. The separation from Skip had made her sister very needy, but Bridgett could empathize with the heartbreak her sister was going through. Worse, she had a sneaking suspicion she’d be going through that kind of raw pain again very soon. Heaving a sigh, she answered the phone.

  “Do you think Skip knocked up a twenty-six-year-old because I stopped going to the gym?” Gwen asked. She’d been making outrageous statements like this all day. Their sister Ashley had already texted Bridgett in frustration and concern. It seemed that Gwen was getting more and more manic as the day went on.

  “No,” Bridgett said calmly. “I think Skip knocked up his nubile young assistant because he’s an ass and his common sense is that of a five-year-old.” She wandered back out of the office and along the path toward the tasting cellar. “You’re beautiful, Gwen. Stop playing this second-guessing game. I know it sounds cliché but it’s not you; it’s him.”

  Gwen released a sorrowful-sounding sigh on the other end of the phone. “I’m going to be forty in a few months, Bridgett. And I’m going to be alone.”

  “It’s not that bad. Besides, they say forty is the new thirty and all that. Plus, Skip is going to be forty-one and he’s going to have an infant.”

  Her sister perked up a little at that comment. “Trust me, that’s the only thing that has kept me smiling these past few days. Skip hated dealing with all that baby stuff.”

  Bridgett sat on one of the benches outside the wine cellar tasting room. She took in the view of the sun dipping over the foothills, the late day’s light bathing the vineyard in shades of deep yellow and orange. “See, there’s always a silver lining. You need to find a way to celebrate this next phase in life; not mourn your marriage. Plan something fun for your birthday. Go on a trip somewhere. Mom and Dad will watch the kids.”

  “A trip would be wonderful.” Gwen finally sounded enthused about something. “Where should we go?”

  It took a minute for the “we” in her sister’s sentence to sink in. A vacation with Gwen. Dear God. “Um.” Bridgett hedged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you think about it and come up with some ideas. Check with Ashley to see what she thinks. Maybe we can go somewhere where Tricia can meet us.” No way was she letting her other sisters get out of the trip.

  “I will! I’ll ask Shay if she wants to come along, too. You’re right, this will give me something to look forward to,” Gwen said. “Especially since you won’t be around to hang out with anymore.”

  Anymore? Bridgett and her oldest sister hadn’t ever “hung out” as far as she could remember. “What are you talking about?”

  Gwen snorted on the phone. “All these years you’ve been single and you wait until I need a wingman to finally snag a guy.”

  Bridgett rubbed at her temples. “Only guys have wingmen, Gwen. And I haven’t snagged anyone. I told you not to believe everything you read.”

  “Then what do they call a woman’s wingman? And please don’t tell me you’re not trying to snag a rich husband. At least if he cheated on you, you wouldn’t have to go work for Dad.”

  “I told you this three times already today—there’s no relationship between Jay and me, so no worries about cheating. And if Dad needs a lawyer, I’ll be happy to work with him.” Bridgett had tried to keep her voice from sounding terse and aggravated but her sister’s silence on the other end of the phone told her she hadn’t been successful. She sighed again. “Look, Gwen, it looks like this case will wrap up much more quickly than we anticipated. Either way, I’ll definitely be back on the East Coast Monday morning. Hopefully, in Boston. Why don’t we plan on dinner next week, okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” Gwen whispered. “I don’t mean to be so selfish. I wanted this thing to be real for you. I honestly did.”

  Bridgett swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Yeah, I know. But nothing has ever been real between me and Jay. Hang in there, Gwen, and I’ll see you next week.”

  She blew out a cleansing breath as she clicked the phone to off.

  “Well, at least you can admit to that.”

  Jay’s mother’s voice startled Bridgett into nearly dropping her phone. She looked behind her at the older woman standing in the doorway of the wine cellar. Dressed in designer jeans, a black turtleneck adorned with silver jewelry, and a long, flowing shawl-collared sweater, she glared at Bridgett with the same piercing blue eyes as her son. Whereas Jay’s looked at her with undisguised hunger most of the time, Melanie Davis’s looked at her with disgust.

  Jay had been wrong about his mother. She was definitely going to go “mama bear” all over Bridgett. It was a look she recognized from her own mom whenever someone had harmed her precious Brody.

  Bridgett steeled her spine for the worst. “Excuse me?”

  Melanie stalked toward her. “‘Nothing has ever been real between’ you and my son. Isn’t that what you just said?”

  Ten years as a trial attorney kept Bridgett quiet. Always let the opponent talk and you’ll glean something to use as rebuttal to their rambling. Stuart had taught her that.

  Jay’s mother stopped near the bench. “Was it real when you thought he was wealthy? You thought you could trap him by getting pregnant, perhaps? But then you found out he wasn’t inheriting Lloyd’s money, was that it?”

  Bridgett bristled at her words. Is that what Jay had thought? That she’d been after his money? Except he’d never told her about his family. Nothing more than first names. He’d been deliberately vague. The throbbing at her temples grew worse.

  “I’ll never understand how someone can just throw away a life.” His mother’s words were laced with disgust, making Bridgett’s stomach roll.

  After this weekend, she’d likely never see this woman again. Bridgett didn’t owe her an explanation. Her head told her to keep her mouth closed, but her heart was beating a mile a minute fueled by anger and despair. “You’re supposed to be a scientist,” she said quietly.

  Her words caught the older woman off guard. “What the heck kind of excuse is that?” she snapped.

  Bridgett stood stiffly. “It means don’t form a hypothesis without all the facts.” Tears were stinging the backs of her eyes and she wanted to get to the safety of her room as quickly as she could before they streamed down her face like they had that day so long ago. She’d cried for Jay and she’d cried for their unborn child. By the time the doctor had told her that her fallopian tube had ruptured and scarred her uterus, she’d had no more tears left to shed. But there was no sense dredging up that pain again just to set the record straight with Jay’s mother. The woman wasn’t prepared to hear how her son had deserted her, not the other way around. How he’d accused her of unthinkable things. What reason would she have to believe Bridgett?

  “Jay gave me all the facts years ago,” his mother said. “Your relationship was ‘real’ to him. He was crushed by your betrayal.”

  Bridgett tried to take a shaky step toward the house, but Jay’s mother’s glare held her in place.

  “It was the first time that I’d seen him cry since his father died. He cried his entire third year, disappointed every morning when he awoke and his father wasn’t there. And then, nineteen years later, he was crying over a child he’d never have. And a woman who didn’t love him enough to stand by him while he pursued his dream of building a winery in his father’s memory. He felt abandoned by a woman who only wanted his money.”

  Her words were like a knife to Bridgett’s belly
. She would have stood by Jay. His dream had become her dream. Clearly his mother was mixed up. It was Jay who didn’t want to share his life with Bridgett. Jay’s version of the events of that summer was dramatically different from the actual ones. How many lies had he told? And why?

  Forming a coherent sentence was painful as Bridgett’s throat ceased to work properly, but she refused to let this woman see her agony. Bridgett hadn’t let anyone see her suffer since that night in the Italian hospital. “It was a long time ago. We’ve moved on,” she managed to choke out.

  “Have you? Jay built a company from the ground up just so he could have the money to build this.” Jay’s mother spread her arms wide as she turned in circle. “It’s more beautiful than anything his father and I imagined. And yet, he doesn’t enjoy being here. Instead, he buys a football team on the other side of the country. A team your brother plays for.” She pointed an accusing finger at Bridgett. “He hasn’t gotten over you. And if you keep popping in and out of his life, he won’t. You said that you’re returning to Boston on Monday. I hope to God you’re not lying about that, too, because my son doesn’t need a woman like you in his life.”

  Jay made that perfectly clear when he abandoned me in Italy without so much as a word, Bridgett wanted to shout. But she didn’t. Jay’s mother’s rejection stung as much as her son’s had all those years ago and speech was now impossible. Instead, she tapped into what remained of her pride and forced her legs to carry her toward the house. She ignored the sound of Charlie calling her name as she climbed the stairs to the guest room. This time, she locked the door.

  • • •

  “What makes you think she’s going to stop?” Even with the speakerphone as a filter, Blake’s voice sounded a little testy.

  Jay watched from his office window as the sun set over the Santa Cruz Mountains. “Delaney has a keen sense of survival. She won’t want to jeopardize her financial security. Now that she knows I’m on to her and could out her with her Chinese friends, she’ll keep quiet.”