by Nancy Martin
“But—”
“Take my car,” Mick handed over the keys to the Escalade. “The baby seat’s already hooked up for him.”
Libby accepted the keys. “All right, but think about it, will you, Nora? The childbirth orgasm is supposed to be the greatest pleasure a woman can experience. Why don’t I pick up some wine to loosen you up? Or I could stop for ice cream on my way.” Libby regained her fervor. “I’ll be back in no time!”
“Bring some for me,” the nurse said. “Ice cream, that is.”
With her mission clear, Libby was gone in a flurry of red hair and dangerous curves.
“Bullet dodged,” Mick said.
Nora smiled weakly at the nurse. “My sister can get carried away sometimes.”
Undaunted, the nurse checked the IV in Nora’s hand. “I thought we’d seen it all on this unit, but that’s a first. The security guard will stop her from coming back here. He’s a temp, so he might screw up once, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t let her through a second time.”
“She’s never stopped for long,” Mick predicted. “We’ll see her again before the night’s over. Let’s just hope her batteries run low.”
The nurse laughed and headed for the door. On her way out, she dimmed the lights a little.
The lower lights somehow made the room calmer. With another smile for him, Nora said, “For the moment, we should enjoy the peace and quiet. But I have big news. Bigger than Libby’s orgasm.”
He laughed and bent to tie the balloons to the arm of a nearby chair. “Bigger than having our baby tonight? With or without a vibrator?”
“Well.” She had the sparkle in her eyes that always made his heart turn over. “I heard from the Pendergasts. They’re not closing down the Intelligencer after all. Not completely, anyway.”
The news was a surprise, all right. Despite hoping Nora would choose to be a stay-at-home mother for a while, he mustered enthusiasm. “Hey, that’s great. After your maternity leave, you can—”
“It’s a relief, that’s for sure. I can keep my health insurance.” She lifted her hand to indicate the IV and all the equipment attached to her. “I can’t imagine how much this would cost without the coverage I have now. I don’t know what kind of job I’ll be doing, but at least we won’t be penniless.”
“Hey, we’re not penniless.”
“I know Gas n Grub is doing fine, but I want to pull my weight going forward.”
He kissed her forehead. Partly to give himself time to absorb what she was saying. “I thought you planned to work part time when your maternity leave is up. Or you could quit altogether. That couple down the road, the ones who said they’d come and babysit a few hours a week? We could let them down easy.” Mick wasn’t convinced the young neighbors were the best choice to help with kids. They were a couple of idealistic hippies, hardly old enough to be out on their own.
“I’m still thinking. The Parkers are very sweet, but what they really want is fulltime work. I really thought it would be best if I were around the house a little during the daytime. But part of being a mother is being a role model for our daughter, right? I’d like to keep my career going if possible.”
He didn’t answer. At that moment, a phone went off. He reached into his pocket. “Yours or mine?”
“It can’t be my phone,” Nora said.
But it was. Because she couldn’t get out of bed, Mick fished her cell phone from the side of her handbag but not in time. The call went to voicemail just as he put it into Nora’s hand.
She frowned at the screen’s ID. Without thinking, she said, “Why is he calling?”
“Who?
Quickly she hit the button and the screen went dark. “Nobody important.”
“I know that look on your face.”
She tried to wipe her expression clean. “It’s nothing.”
“Nora.”
She turned and set the phone on the bedside table. “It was Gus. I have no idea why he—”
“Gus Hardwicke? For crissake, what’s he calling you for?”
“Don’t get upset. I haven’t communicated a word with him except to send him a get well note.”
“I hope the rat bastard never recovers.”
“Michael,” she said patiently, “the fall he took was plenty of punishment for trying to marry me. He may never fully overcome his injuries, so surely we can be kind about—”
“Is he still in Australia?”
“I presume so.”
“So why is he calling you?”
“I haven’t a clue. Probably something about the newspaper, though. I know he’s still communicates with the Pendergasts.” Her face had tightened. “Shall I call him back? Now?”
“No,” he grumbled. “Bet he’d like nothing better than to worm his way back into your life.”
“He was never in my life.”
“The hell he wasn’t.”
Nora refused to get angry. “Michael, he was my boss, and he helped me get better at my job. I learned from him. Okay, he was an intrusive, exploitive boss who deserved to lose his job over the things that happened—but you must know deep down there was never anything to worry about where he was concerned.”
“So why’s he calling now? It’s like you’ve got a bunch of old boyfriends coming out of the woodwork these days.”
“Are you referring to Jaimie Scaithe? Good heavens, he’s ancient history.”
“So why did he call you a couple of weeks ago?”
“I told you. To let me know his mother was ill. I went to see her. She’s one of my favorite people. I can’t help that her son is a jerk.” Nora would have said more, but she winced. “Oh, here comes another one. Can we put this ridiculous discussion on hold? I’d rather go through labor than talk about other men.”
He rubbed her shoulders. The night was going to be long enough without dredging up old arguments.
4.
Emma took the stairwell again, but the suspicious trio she had seen earlier were gone from the landing. Until she reached the bottom floor, and suddenly there was the guy she hadn’t recognized earlier. He was leaning against the wall by the exit door, listening to his cell phone. She heard him mutter a response, but he didn’t look at her as she went by.
Mick’s thug and the nurse had disappeared. So maybe she had worried for nothing.
Emma let herself through the door where a security guard waited. He didn’t acknowledge her, so she went across the lobby, heading for the parking lot. As she hit the night air, her cell phone went off, so she grabbed it.
The Caller ID was clear. Hart Jones.
Obviously, he wasn’t giving up. Emma hit the button and answered.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “Calling me all the way from Brussels?”
“Hey, Em.” His voice was easy, as if they had just spoken an hour ago, not months. “Did you miss me?”
“Not much,” she replied. Just every day.
“Aw, don’t break my heart. I’ve been thinking of you for weeks.”
Have you thought about our kid, she almost asked. But that wasn’t playing fair. They had an unspoken agreement that Noah was a forbidden topic.
Instead, she said, “How’s your wife?”
“She’s still in Brussels.”
“And you’re not?”
“Nope. I’m here in Philly. And wondering if I can see you.”
A bad moment ticked by while Emma tried to unscramble her brain. “Tonight?”
“The sooner the better. Now, if you can.”
They had never made plans more than an hour in advance. It had been part of the excitement. Emma got into her truck, phone still to her ear. She hadn’t expected this, and she needed time to think. Trouble was, her heartbeat was already galloping, dammit, and that made her mad. How come she couldn’t think straight at the mere sound of his voice? She wanted to forget Hart. He was married and not likely to divorce Penny—not for Emma or any other wo
man. Not when Penny’s money made their life secure. And while the addiction to pain pills still ruled her life. He might care less about his kid, but where Penny was concerned he was kinda noble, if being true to his marriage could include a little meaningless hanky panky on the side. He wouldn’t leave Penny while she was still hooked.
When Emma didn’t answer him with a wise crack, he started talking to give her time to think. He said, “You’ve probably got a date, right? Well, I’m only in town for a few days. I thought, you know, we could get a drink, if you’re free. Have a few laughs. Where are you?”
She could have told him she was at the hospital, that Nora was having her baby. That Noah was around somewhere, but that was just going to open a can of worms. She wanted to say no, to tell him to buzz off, go back to his wife. She should get on with her life, and it didn’t include him.
But Emma heard herself say, “Meet me at O’Meara’s. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
No further discussion needed, he said, “I’ll be there.”
Knowing she ought to think through her actions, she took her time getting to the bar where they had often met. It was halfway between her place and his—a convenient rendezvous point, a spot where they had sometimes started an evening that stretched into a couple of days. The Ramada was just around the corner, and nearby was a restaurant that delivered.
After Jake died, she had gone looking for good times. Fueled by booze and the occasional pop of a stimulant, Hart and Emma had some wild nights together. They’d shared the same mindset—good times, no strings. Great sex, a lot of laughs. It was good medicine for her after Jake’s death. Or so she thought.
Maybe another woman would have again longed to find what she’d had with Jake—a relationship based on something more elemental than lust. With Jake, she’d had everything she wanted. Sex and laughs and fun, but conversation and plans for the future and more. Real intimacy. And love.
It seemed unlikely that she could have any of that with Hart. But sometimes she saw flashes of possibility. Mostly, though, Hart was a good time. At least, she tried to think of him in only those terms.
When she arrived at O’Meara’s, Hart was pacing outside on the sidewalk. When she slid into a parking space at the edge of the lot, he hustled straight over. She thought he was going to get into the passenger seat, but he came around to her door.
She got out of the truck, pocketing her keys and wishing she could catch her breath. “Hey.”
Hart looked as good as ever—a shorter haircut emphasized the sharp cut of his cheekbones and therefore the directness of his blue-eyed gaze. His mouth still had the smirky little twist on one side. He wore a polo shirt and jeans—a stockbroker’s leisure wear. Living in Europe hadn’t changed him.
He came in close and pecked her on the cheek. “Hey, yourself.”
It was a stupid thing to do, but she pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth. He felt hot and familiar, and she knew he liked it when she kicked things off. Hart made a laughing noise in his throat and let her meld her body to his. It took only a second’s hesitation before he slid one arm around her and tucked his hand down into the back pocket of her jeans to cup her butt. His other hand dove into her hair to hold her hard into the kiss. He backed her against the side of the truck, and they clung to each other, fitting their bodies together until every muscle melded. His tongue tasted deliciously of bourbon.
She almost unbuckled his belt then and there. But her hands found his chest, and after a steamy length of time, she pushed gently and he eased back.
“Hell,” he said, still smiling nose to nose. “Same hot Emma. God, you feel good. You look great.”
“You look the same. Not bad.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.” He tried kissing her again, murmuring against her mouth. “And making me hot.”
“You’re always hot.” She could feel his erection as he pressed against her.
“Yeah, I am.” He rubbed himself on her belly. “Should we go inside? Have some drinks to warm up? Or you just want to get a couple of six packs and— ”
“And what? Go to the Ramada and make like crazy sex monkeys?”
“You read my mind.”
Even though she hadn’t had liquor for weeks, she said, “Let’s go get drinks. Maybe talk.”
“Have some laughs. Sure.” He walked her across the parking lot, his arm draped around her shoulders, nuzzling her ear. “What’s going on with you these days? The usual?”
She could tell him about her latest job, riding show jumpers for a trainer in New Hope, about the new horse that had been entrusted to her and was already jumping for the moon. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear about now. It was after sex that they talked. He followed her inside with a hand on each of her hips, guiding her to their favorite booth, a banquette where they could sit thigh-to-thigh. He ordered doubles and a dish of spicy nuts. While they waited for the drinks, he put his hand between her legs and rubbed through her breeches, not talking but watching her face as his strokes fell into the rhythm he knew she liked. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned back and loosened her thighs, getting warm. Maybe it was muscle memory taking over.
Drinks arrived and Hart slowly took his hand away. With a smile for having made her happy, he slugged from his glass. “I had to come home for a funeral, but I’m heading back on Sunday.”
“Whose funeral?” Emma hadn’t expected that. “Your dad?”
“No, Dad’s still kicking. I’m going to see him tomorrow afternoon at the nursing home. We’ll see if he recognizes me anymore. The funeral is for a friend of mine. Guy I knew back in college. Jaimie Scaithe. You remember him?”
Another shock to Emma’s system. “Jaimie Scaithe is dead?”
“Yes, very sudden. He fell down the steps at his house yesterday. Broke his neck and died instantly. I got the first flight back. Crazy, right?”
“No kidding.” Emma’s mind churned. “He dated my sister Nora a couple of years ago. Maybe two dates, not much.”
“Oh, right. I remember that now, after her husband died.” Hart popped some nuts and crunched them. “Jaimie was Todd Vanderbine’s friend. Funny how she dated Jaimie, considering.”
Considering Jaimie had encouraged Todd’s drug addiction, yes. Emma toyed with her glass, but didn’t drink. “Nora doesn’t talk about it.”
“Jaimie might have gone over to the dark side, but he was a nice guy. Great handball player. He hooked me up a few times.”
Yes, Jaimie made his living selling drugs to his friends. He’d been mixed up in Todd’s death somehow, too, more than just supplying his coke. Emma was pretty sure of that. Nora didn’t say a word, though. But she had been very firm about telling Jaimie to go away. Then Nora met Mick, and Jaimie didn’t come around again.
A thought clicked in Emma’s mind. “He broke his neck, huh?”
“Well, he was covered in bruises—probably from the fall, they say. But his
broken neck was the cause of death.”
“Or maybe somebody beat him up and threw him down the stairs.”
Hart laughed shortly. “Who would do a thing like that?”
Emma shrugged. “In Scaithe’s line of work, you never know what might happen.”
Hart sneaked his hand into her crotch again. In her ear, he murmured, “I want to see you naked.”
She brushed his hand away. “Hart, I can’t stay. Not tonight.”
Maybe he didn’t hear. He leaned in to kiss her neck, hand roving up her body to her breast, which was already tingling. “Tell me another joke.”
“I’m not joking. Nora’s having her baby tonight. I have to get back.”
Through her shirt, his fingers found her nipple. “You’re not serious.”
She pushed him away, firmly this time. “Yeah, I am.”
Hart sat back, his face showing surprise, but also disappointment. Maybe a touch of frustration, too. “Why do you have to be there?”
�
�I just do.”
His frown came down. “Not right away, though? I mean, I’m only here until—”
“Until Sunday, yeah, I know. I heard you before.” For the first time, Emma wasn’t liking the idea that she’d come running as soon as Hart expressed his wish to go to bed with her. She said, “How’s Penny?”
“Jeez, Em, what kind of mood are you in? You’re making me work for it. Do we have to talk about Penny, too?”
“I’m expressing an interest in your life, Hart, not just the condition of your dick.”
He grunted. “We’re having sex again, if that’s what you mean.”
“Goody for you. What else?”
“It’s not great sex, just routine. She goes to sleep afterwards, and I always start thinking about you.” Putting his elbows on the table, he said, “Penny’s okay. Brussels has been good for her. She likes it there.”
“And the pills?”
“She’s off them at the moment.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, it is.” He sent her a glance, not liking the truth telling. “She found us a new apartment, loved doing all the decorating. Now she’s traveling a little—taking the train to Paris to meet a friend sometimes. So she’s good—better than I thought. To be honest, I’m surprised now that she’s away from her family, she … well, she doesn’t seem to need the pills as much.”
“It works that way sometimes. How’s your job?”
“What is this?” he grinned. “Are we having a conversation? Sober?”
“It doesn’t hurt. Are you still an up-and-comer with the firm?”
“I’m doing great, yes. Up for another promotion.”
“In Brussels?” She knew the basics of his career trajectory. He talked about it some—currency and stock transactions and international monetary this and that, but it hadn’t interested her much. But his big obsession was his work. She’d known that from the get-go.
He said, “Or China, yes.”
“China!” Could he get any farther away?
He didn’t hear the dismay in her tone and merely shrugged. “It’s another good opportunity for me.”
