Working on a Full House

by Alyssa Kress

  "Oh, go ahead. Eat it," Kenny urged.

  "The salmon looks good," Isaac commented. "And has less saturated fat." He picked up a fork and stabbed into the poached salmon. But before bringing it to his mouth, he hummed, "Complete and utter screw-up." He raised his gaze to fix Kenny with the feared blue-eyed stare. "Is that what you think you are?"

  God, how did Isaac do that — know just what to ask? Grinning to hide a peculiar feeling inside, Kenny leaned back in his seat. "Hey, there are some definite advantages."

  Isaac lifted one thin gray eyebrow.

  "For example..." Kenny leaned forward, grabbing Isaac's abandoned, saturated fat bagel. Grinning at his friend, he took a big, delighted bite.

  Isaac just smiled. It was a terrible smile, as if Isaac wasn't distracted by Kenny's clowning, but could see what was really going on inside him.

  Damn, Kenny thought. What did Isaac think he could see? He was a screw-up, and proud of the distinction. Defiantly, he took another bite of bagel.

  So there.

  CHAPTER TEN

  By the time Valerie pulled her car into her driveway, three-and-a-half hours after getting married in Las Vegas, she was exhausted, and incredulous.

  She was married. Really and truly married...to Roy.

  Sitting in the car, Valerie stared through the windshield at the naked inner boards of the garage. Yesterday morning she'd sat in this same spot while working up the courage to drive out to Vegas and look for him. She'd played through dozens of scenarios in the span of time since she'd first seen those two pink lines. Roy had displayed a gamut of emotions in all of those scenarios, but never, not once had she imagined he'd embrace the idea of having a child.

  Never had she imagined he'd ask — no, demand — that they get married.

  Valerie released a slow, hissing breath. Who would have dreamed? Who could have dreamed? And that wedding...

  She shook her head, determined not to make too much of that planned, almost-formal wedding. It had been about the baby, that's all. Besides, Roy was now a hundred and fifty miles away. She wouldn't hear from him again until after his child was born.

  Valerie would be given every opportunity to put the man back where he belonged, on a shelf in her mind labeled "fantasy."

  Chuckling dryly, Valerie clicked open her car door. With her overnight case, she was trudging to the door between the garage and the kitchen when she heard the telephone ring.

  Cherise? Valerie hurried to unlock the door and shoulder her way through. If she could answer the phone, Cherise wouldn't know she'd left town this weekend.

  The phone rang again. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." Valerie dropped her overnight case and scrambled for the phone. Life would be so much simpler if she didn't have to explain her absence to Cherise.

  "Hello," she panted, breathless, after grabbing the phone off its wall-hung base. Hurriedly, she thought up a plausible itinerary for the previous part of the weekend.

  "Valerie." It was, indeed, Cherise's deep purr over the phone. "Finally, I managed to catch you."

  "Yeah, uh, sorry, Cherise. I was out all morning at the...farmer's market." One day she'd have to tell Cherise the truth, but not now.

  "Oh, good." Cherise sounded excited. "I'll bet you picked up some of those fantastic avocados. Want to bring them over and we'll make a Mexican salad?"

  "Uh..." Of course, Valerie had no avocados, nor was she ready to face Cherise. "I doubt you want me to come over tonight, Cher." Valerie's brain went into overdrive, trying to come up with a decent excuse. "I — I think I may be coming down with something."

  "Egads." Valerie's impromptu ruse managed to work like a charm. "You're sick?"

  "Well, it could be allergies..."

  "Nope." Cherise's decision was swift. "I'm not taking any chances. You know very well I've had more than my share of viruses this winter."

  "I believe you broke an office record."

  "Indeed. Well, you drink some chicken soup and, though I love you dearly, don't come anywhere near me tomorrow."

  Valerie smiled. "Your wish is my command."

  "And, hon — You're all right otherwise, correct?"

  Valerie's laughing smile froze. Was she all right? She'd gotten married that morning. "Ahem, I'm fine." She hoped her bright smile would somehow transmit over the phone connection.

  Cherise hesitated, then said, "Well, okay. See you tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow," Valerie agreed, and hung up. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned on the kitchen counter.

  Alone. She felt so alone again. It was too soon to talk about it with Cherise, yet Valerie badly needed someone to tell her: had she done the right thing in Las Vegas?

  If only there were someone to check with, someone to assure her she was making sane decisions.

  The phone was still in her hand when it rang again. Probably Cherise, with something she'd forgotten to say.

  Valerie took a moment to collect herself, then hit the on button. "Hello again."

  "Again?" queried a deep and regrettably familiar voice, one that vibrated much too pleasantly against Valerie's ear.

  "Oh." Valerie straightened abruptly. As if he could see her, she tugged her shirt down over the top of her slacks. "I'm sorry, I thought you were — Never mind. Roy. Uh..." She couldn't think of a thing. Not one single, solitary thing to say. He'd called her. Why?

  "You made good time." Roy filled the awkward silence. "I wasn't sure you'd be home yet, but I thought I'd take a chance."

  Valerie blinked, barely able to breathe. "Oh. Well, I'm home."

  "Good. I was a little...uneasy about having you make that long drive by yourself."

  "Um..." So he'd called to check on her, to make sure she'd got home safely. Valerie swallowed. That was...nice. Sure, it was just to check on the baby, but it was still nice. "Um, nothing to worry about. I've, uh, done it before."

  A low chuckle rumbled over her telephone connection. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you have. So I take it there was some traffic?"

  "Oh, not too much." Slowly, Valerie managed to relax her posture. "Too early in the day for the rush out of Vegas."

  "I suppose you were smart to leave when you did."

  "I — um, yeah, I guess so." Could she sound any stupider? Valerie took a deep breath and vowed to calm down. "So, you've found me. I arrived home safely." He'd done his duty. They could say goodbye.

  But Roy didn't say goodbye. Instead the silence stretched. A hundred thoughts flashed through Valerie's mind. He was waiting for her to say goodbye. Or he wanted to say something difficult. Or maybe he was regretting the wedding.

  "Hey," Roy said at last, his voice deep. "How are you feeling? Any better than this morning?"

  Better than this morning? Valerie felt a sweat break out. Did he have any idea how much she was second-guessing their marriage, herself?

  "The nausea," Roy explained.

  The nausea. Valerie stared blankly at the kitchen wall.

  "Because it says here... Hang on a minute while I open the book. It's called Beat Progesterone Poisoning. Hard core, huh? But it's got all these tips about how to ease morning sickness."

  Valerie continued to stare at the wall. He'd bought a book...about morning sickness? This was his concern?

  "Gimme a sec, let me find the page." Roy's voice turned lecturing. "Yeah, yeah, here. It says the single most important thing is to make sure your stomach doesn't get empty. Was your stomach empty this morning?"

  "Well, uh..." Valerie started to feel hunted.

  "Yes," Roy answered for her. "It's easy to get hypoglycemic when you're pregnant. You should never skip meals."

  "I didn't," Valerie said, feeling even more hunted, for she knew he was right. "I don't."

  "Good." He sounded satisfied. "Now they've included some recipes in here. They sound terribly bland — probably exactly what you'd like right now. God, I had no idea pregnant women had to put up with all this stuff."

  "Oh." Valerie's hunted sensation eased. A smile twitched her lips. "It's not that ba
d."

  "It's terrible. I certainly couldn't handle it. Although... Wait. This is in another book."

  "Another book? How many did you get?" The smile that was flirting with the edges of Valerie's mouth began to take root.

  "Look." Roy took on a defensive tone. "There was a whole section of the bookstore devoted to the subject. I was lucky to walk away with only five or six."

  "Five or six!"

  "Okay...eight. Now do you want to hear this or not?"

  Valerie was smiling widely now. Eight. He'd bought eight books about pregnancy. "Sure, I want to hear."

  "Okay, this book says that at six weeks the baby is about the size of a grain of rice. Can you believe it?"

  Smiling like an idiot, Valerie leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. "It seems impossibly small, doesn't it?"

  "That's the word, 'impossible.' Or maybe 'miracle' would be even better."

  Valerie's smile faltered and she closed her eyes. A wave of solace washed through her. He saw the baby as a miracle. There were no doubts or reservations in Roy's mind. Knowing that felt...awfully good.

  "I guess what I'm trying to say, " Roy went on, "is that it's all worth it. Easy for me to say, right, since I'm not experiencing the nausea or the fatigue or the dozen other unpleasant symptoms, but — well, you know what I mean."

  "Yeah." Valerie cleared her throat. "I think I know what you mean."

  "So. Ahem. You want me to email you a few of these recipes? You could at least take a look, see if any appeal."

  Valerie sensed that Roy had gone further than he felt comfortable with, but she was glad he had, glad he'd reminded her how thrilled he was about the baby. It made her feel better about the situation, herself.

  Less alone.

  "Sure," Valerie told him. "Why don't you send me a few recipes. Couldn't hurt."

  "Right. It couldn't hurt." Roy sounded relieved, though whether it was because they'd skirted the emotional territory or because she'd agreed to try a few recipes Valerie didn't know. "And listen — " he said.

  "Yes?"

  "I'll call you again."

  Valerie's mouth opened. Oh. That would be nice. But maybe...too nice. Quite by accident, Roy might lead her to believe this relationship was more than he'd ever intended. She did have that inappropriate crush tendency.

  On the other hand, maybe it would be a good idea to get to know her baby's father, in a nonbiblical sense.

  "O...kay," she said slowly.

  "Soon," Roy added.

  Valerie's stomach took a non-pregnancy-related tumble. "Um," she faltered. His tone — He sounded so...determined, almost...interested. At least, he sounded that way to some unfortunate, crazy part of her mind. Maybe phone conversations weren't such a good idea, after all.

  But it was too late to equivocate. Roy had already hung up.

  ~~~

  Something was fishy.

  With a frown, Cherise set her telephone on its stand atop her bedroom desk. Valerie was hiding something. Yup. Cherise would bet her father's medical license that Valerie had gone to Las Vegas over the weekend. She'd bet her mother's PhD that her friend had been to see her one-night stand again, Mr. Yummy.

  Cherise heaved a deep, heart-felt sigh and leaned back in her leather chair. Valerie was such...a romantic. So hopeful and impulsive. She probably thought whatever sordid thing was going on between her and this Las Vegas gambler was the real deal. Cherise picked up a Cross pen and tapped it on her leather blotter. Dear, sweet Valerie couldn't understand the use of discipline and self-control when handing out her heart. Look at the debacle with Peter. She'd let the crumb practically move in with her.

  Shaking her head, Cherise idly leaned forward to hit the space bar on her Mac. The screen lit with the email she'd been perusing before she'd tried to arrange dinner with Valerie.

  Dear Cherise,

  I know you said it wasn't working, but I'd really like to give it another shot. We had some good times together, didn't we? Remember the rose arbor? I would love to see you again, see if we can get it together.

  Please call.

  Doug

  Thinking of Doug, Cherise smiled. They had enjoyed some good times together, and the sex had been first-rate. But, come on. Cherise couldn't get serious about a minor league baseball player. His income stream had been weak, to put it mildly. Doug's idea of an investment was socking away a whole two grand every year in his IRA.

  Melting chocolate eyes and a come-get-me smile were hardly sufficient compensation for a complete lack of maturity.

  Pursing her lips, Cherise hit the reply button on her email program. It was time for her standard, foolproof brush-off.

  Doug,

  Of course I won't forget the rose arbor. How naughty you were! But things have changed since then. I'm attached now, engaged actually, to Dr. Buford, a surgical resident in the hospital where my father is based. My entire family is very excited and happy. I wish you the best, Doug, and will always remember you with warmth and fondness.

  Cherise

  Cherise sat back, read the message over, and then pressed send. She was confident her email would do the job of discouraging the sexy, but inappropriate, baseball player. He'd have a moment or two of pain, a few more of pique, and then move on to a more appropriate girlfriend.

  It was entirely irrelevant that there was no such person as Dr. Buford.

  Smiling, Cherise hit the sleep key and got up from her chair. She had no strong passions for Doug, thank goodness. Completely the opposite of Valerie, Cherise kept her love life, as all other compartments of her life, well-disciplined and free of clutter.

  Cherise swept over the immaculate white carpet, past the white-painted walls and into her gleaming, white-tiled kitchen. There, her smile slowly faded. Yes, she had her whole life neatly shelved, perfectly in order — and was going to have to eat alone tonight.

  Cherise's lips flattened as she opened the refrigerator and reached for some scallions. Oh, well. This was apparently the price one paid for owning a life that was completely in order, perfect in every way.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Explain to me again why we're doing this." Panting, Kenny stumped up the grassy hill next to Roy. The brilliance of the April sun promised another warm day in Las Vegas.

  Roy shifted his gaze from their destination, a sprawling ranch house at the top of the hill. Glancing toward Kenny, he said, "I have a wife and a baby on the way. Now I need a house."

  "I thought this was a marriage-in-name-only."

  "Mm." Roy's eyes hooded. "So far."

  "Oh." One of Kenny's eyebrows kicked up. "So that's how it is." He laughed. "You're bluffing her."

  Roy paced steadily up the hill. "I prefer to call it...slow playing."

  "Ah. Subtle distinction."

  "I'm waiting to see what comes up on the flop." Roy shrugged. "Then I'll decide whether to check or to raise."

  "Huh. Well, that's typically cryptic. Anyway, here we are." Kenny came to a stop at the foot of an imposing set of stairs leading up to an equally imposing front door. "How do we get in?"

  "The realtor gave me a key." When you had enough money to pay cash on any place you saw, it engendered a lot of trust and cooperation in real estate agents.

  Roy led the way up the stairs and opened the front door. He motioned Kenny to go through first.

  "Mm. Big," was Kenny's comment.

  It was, indeed, big, as if someone had taken a typical suburban ranch house and simply added ten feet in every direction. "Too big," Roy decided.

  "You said it, not me." Kenny took another look around the over-capacious front hall and turned back to Roy. "You think you're going to convince your wife to move to Las Vegas?"

  Roy snorted. He wasn't sure he'd be able to convince her to see him face-to-face again. But he was working on it. For three weeks now, since the wedding, he'd been calling her on the telephone. She'd been confused by the attention at first, even wary, but now — Ah, those telephone calls...

  "No, I doubt V
alerie will want to move here," Roy admitted to Kenny. "But there'll be times the family might want to stay in Las Vegas. I want a home available for us when we do."

  Kenny tilted his head. "'We,' hm?"

  Roy rolled his shoulders. "That's right. 'We.'" Somehow or other, it was going to be 'we.' Those phone conversations with Valerie had been good. Really good.

  They made Roy realize he wanted more. That is, the family needed more.

  "So exactly what's the deal here?" Kenny eyed Roy. "Does she know you're in love with her?"

  Roy gaped at him.

  "Well, does she?"

  "Don't be absurd." Though he'd already decided he hated the house, Roy stalked forward down the hall. "I'm not in love with anybody."

  Love. The word reminded him of that horrible morning when he'd woken up alone at the Paris Hotel. Just thinking about it made acid etch his stomach. He was determined not to repeat that morning, in any way, shape, or form.

  "No?" Kenny followed Roy down the hall and into an enormous kitchen. "You married her. Insisted on it, in fact. Now you say you want to live with her. It sounds like you're in love with her."

  Roy scowled and opened a cabinet door. "I'm not."

  "How about her?" Kenny followed Roy as he walked out of the kitchen and into a dining room of such awkward proportions it would not comfortably seat any number of people.

  "What about her?" Roy glanced around, and then stalked toward a door on the other side of the room.

  Kenny gave a long-suffering sigh and scrambled after him. "Does she love you?"

  Roy came to an abrupt halt inside the next, big room. What a question. Of course she didn't love him. She'd kind of proved that in February when she'd left him at the Paris Hotel.

  But — that didn't mean he didn't enjoy their phone conversations. He'd lie on his bed at Mandalay Bay, gazing at the ceiling while he simply enjoyed talking to a practical, funny, intelligent woman.