Winston took a deep breath in an effort to slow his racing heart. He tried again.
“Are you telling me that you’re…you’re…” He couldn’t say it. It might not be true, and if it wasn’t, he would be too disappointed.
“You’re…you’re what?” Sharon continued to tease, enjoying every second of this moment.
“Pregnant!” he blurted, keeping his emotions in check until the confirmation.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, leaping into his arms with so much enthusiasm that she sent them both toppling onto the bed. “I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby!”
Their kisses and laughter intermingled with their tears as they rolled across the huge bed wrapped in each other’s arms. Eagerly, Winston sat up and pulled his wife with him. His mind was racing with a million questions.
“How did it happen? When did it happen? Are you sure? It’s so soon.”
Sharon was giddy with excitement. Pulling away, she sat cross-legged in front of him. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She swiped at them as she spoke. “Well, I assume that it happened the normal way, Mr. Duncan. Like what we’ve been doing most of the morning might have played some small part.”
“All right, Mrs. Smart Aleck.” He ruffled her hair playfully. Sharon giggled.
“As for when it happened, it had to be on our honeymoon, maybe that night on the cruise before we decided to get married.”
They smiled at each other as the night they first made love flashed through their memories. It had been spontaneous, wild, filled with desire and a thirst for each other that seemed unquenchable.
“But I wore protection,” Winston recalled, knowing that they had made love so often that first evening that he couldn’t really recall. “And I wore it on our honeymoon, too.” He couldn’t verify that either.
Sharon raised a brow, knowing that neither of them could testify in court to either statement, and there was no doubt that there had been sporadic interludes since their marriage. It had been on her visit to the doctor to get a prescription for birth control that she had been informed that it was too late.
“Of course we haven’t discussed when we would get pregnant,” Winston admitted, knowing that the possibility had been in the back of his mind that it could happen. “To tell the truth, I didn’t want you to tell me that you might not be ready for kids.”
“I told you that I wanted them,” Sharon interrupted, not wanting to be reminded that this pregnancy was unplanned. “And you said that you wanted another child.”
She knew that she sounded defensive and she was. This was her dream come true—to have a wonderful, loving husband like Winston and a baby who would be the manifestation of their love. The thought that anything might spoil this moment was unacceptable. She had gone through too much to get to this point. It was a miracle that the philandering Richard hadn’t infected her with some disease that could have left her unable to bear children. She had thanked God for that, and in gratitude, she had promised herself that she would remain celibate until her lifetime partner came along. She had kept that promise, and he was here. The timing of this pregnancy wasn’t an issue, and she would not allow something so trivial to spoil her joy.
Winston settled next to his wife, sensing her growing anxiety. He curled an arm around her. “Sweetheart, I don’t care how, when or why this baby was conceived. I’m so happy I can hardly find words to tell you—”
Before he could finish, Sharon threw herself into his arms and planted kisses frantically on his face.
“I love you! I love you! I love you!” she squealed.
Winston laughed heartily and squeezed her tightly. “My baby is having a baby.” His words were said as tenderly as his kiss on her brow. “I’m calling my folks tonight and telling them.”
Sharon’s tears flowed anew. “And also tell them that this family is going to live happily ever after.”
Her words washed over him like a cleansing spring rain as he straddled his wife and led her back into the valley of sweet oblivion. Happily ever after. At last.
Chapter 9
Nedra woke up with a smile on her face. Stretching luxuriously, she enjoyed the way her body readily released its kinks without protest. She had been loved thoroughly by the most magnificent man on earth, and she felt wonderful! Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she was surprised to see that it was nearly noon. She had slept the entire morning away and felt no guilt about it. She had learned over the years that the kids wouldn’t starve or kill each other if she and Sin took a little time out to enjoy themselves—and they had enjoyed themselves. Missing the warmth of her husband’s body wrapped around her own, Nedra turned in the bed curious as to where her Hercules might be. She felt his side of the bed. It was cold, indicating that he had risen some time ago.
Sliding out of the bed, she used her feet to search for her slippers, didn’t find them, and then remembered that last night’s passion didn’t call for such amenities. Abandoning the search, she padded barefoot and naked across the room., looking for Sin. She saw him perched on the sofa in the sitting room reading a letter. He was so absorbed in what he was doing that she decided not to disturb him because it wouldn’t take much to re-ignite the fire from their night of passion. Instead, she chose to go straight into the bathroom for a shower.
A short while later she emerged from her dressing room to find Sin still sitting on the sofa in his robe. He was as still as a statue.
“Hey, babe. Good morning.” Her voice was sultry with memories of their fervent lovemaking.
He didn’t answer but sat staring at the paper in his hand. She moved farther into the room
“I said, good morning, Hon.”
This time she got his attention, but the expression on his face was alarming. She hastened toward him.
“What’s wrong?”
Silently, he handed her the letter he had been reading. Nedra was hesitant. It was plain that whatever was in it wasn’t good news. Her eyes darted from her husband to the letter and back again. He wouldn’t look at her. Her alarm increased.
“What’s going on?” She turned her attention back to the letter as she took it out of his hand. Her eyes scanned its contents, and then she looked up at Sin. He was watching her intently for a reaction. She had none. She was numb. Unable to believe what she was reading, she read it again. The words hadn’t changed.
Nedra’s voice was strained. “This has to be a mistake.”
“It’s got to be.” That’s what Sin had been telling himself repeatedly. This couldn’t be happening.
Nedra sank down beside him on the sofa, the letter dangling from her fingers as if it were a venomous snake. They sat side by side in silence for what seemed like hours. The sounds of the early afternoon drifted into the room through the open patio doordistant call of sea gulls, the brush of the ocean tide against the sandy shore. It all seemed amplified against the silence in the room. Yet, it was the clamor of their children as they went about the day that brought them out of their stupor.
Sin took his wife’s hand. It was cold. “There’s no way that this is going to happen.” He emphasized each word.
“That’s for sure.” Nedra squeezed his hand in agreement. Anger tinged her words. “Not one of our children will be leaving this house!”
* * *
“According to this, the proof is indisputable.” Sash Adams-Plaine looked up at the desperate couple and announced sadly. “Royce Jamison is the child’s father.”
“I’m the child’s father!” Sin stormed, leaping up from his seat so suddenly that he startled the other three people in the room. They consisted of Nedra, Sash and her husband, Brandon. They watched helplessly as he stalked the Plaines’ living room like a caged lion.
Sash was an attorney who specialized in family law. The couple had sought her expertise and advice as the shock of what could happen began to sink in.
“Sinclair.” Nedra’s tone was measured as she addressed the fear that had enveloped them both only a fe
w short hours ago. “Sit down, please. Getting angry is not solving anything. We’ve got to keep our heads if we’re going to address this rationally.” Her entreaty fell on deaf ears as he kept pacing.
They had called Sash at home and made arrangements to see her before heading down to eat lunch with the younger children. Mrs. Lucia was normally off on weekends and was gone by the time they went downstairs. Luckily, Colin had not arrived home from his overnight stay with a friend. Convincing the younger children that everything was normal was much easier than it would have been with their eldest son. The boy’s senses were as acute as they had been when he was surviving on the streets.
Sin fixed lunch for the family, and somehow he and Nedra had managed to engage in the usual table banter. Trevor and Gillian didn’t seem to notice any difference in their demeanors. Colin returned home after lunch, and they drafted him to baby-sit while they went to visit the Plaines.
The picture that Sash painted for them was as optimistic as she could make it, but—
“The bottom line is that DNA proves that Jamison is the child’s father,” Sash repeated, running a manicured hand through her shoulder length dreads. Her empathy for the couple was evident. “According to this letter, he didn’t know that the child existed until recently. Now he wants to exert his parental rights as the child’s biological…” She glanced at Sin. “As the biological parent.”
“But who is this Royce Jamison anyway?” Nedra protested. “And how did he find out that he has a child?”
As soon as the words were out of his wife’s mouth, Sin flashed back to several weeks ago to the suspicious man in the short-sleeved shirt with the camera. He shot a look at Nedra who read his mind immediately.
“The man who was at the airport…the one who was following you that day!”
“What man?” Brandon Plaine looked from Nedra to her husband.
“He was a private investigator,” Sin explained. “I should have known that, but I slept through that one.”
Nedra patted his hand. “There was no way you could know.”
“She’s right,” Brandon agreed. “As for Royce Jamison, I don’t know that much about him, but his father is a different story. Samuel Jamison is involved in some of the biggest land development projects in this state, probably in this country. The family is filthy rich—old money—and very low key. The old man is semi-retired and practically a recluse. ”
Sin frowned. “If that’s true, then why would someone from a family like that claim a child by a black, drug addict? That’s something that old money covers up, not claims.”
Brandon nodded. “You’ve got that right, and that’s the piece to this puzzle that I don’t understand.” He and his wife exchanged a look. She cocked a brow and grinned.
“So I take it that the founder and CEO of Plaine Deal Media Incorporated is going to use his considerable influence to do some background checking for our friends.”
“No doubt.” Brandon winked at his wife. Like the Reasoners, they hadn’t been married that long and still carried on as if they were on their honeymoon. “I wasn’t a crack reporter for nothing.”
“And you’re still a crackerjack to me, baby,” she teased, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Well, we appreciate anything that you can find out.” Nedra’s voice reflected her anxiety. “I can’t believe that he wants full custody!”
Sin went to sit beside Nedra. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “People in hell want ice water, but they’re disappointed, and he will be, too.” There was no compromise in his voice. “We’re going to fight this, baby, with everything we have. He’ll never take our child away from us.”
Chapter 10
After leaving the Plaine house, a solemn Sin and Nedra headed home. They were getting out of their car when Sharon and Carla pulled up behind them in the Reasoners’ driveway. Chattering happily, Carla was the first to greet them.
“Surprise! I know the last thing you two expected was to see me today, childless and husbandless—if there is such a word. We thought we’d pop down and drag you guys to dinner.”
Sharon chirped in. “Don’t blame her for coming uninvited. It was my idea. I’ve just got to tell you guys my good news. We did call first, but Colin said that you two were…”
Her words gradually faded as she became aware of the grim looks on the couple’s faces. “What’s wrong?”
“You two look like you’ve been hit by a sledgehammer,” Carla quipped
Nedra leaned against the car and gave a bitter chuckle. “We have.”
Sin massaged her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right, baby. You’ve got to perk up. We can’t go in the house like this.”
Sharon frowned. “Look you guys, you’re scaring me. What in the world is going on?”
Carla looked alarmed. “Did somebody die?”
Sharon gasped, remembering the call she received about her father a few months ago. It had changed her world. “Nothing’s wrong with Marva is it?” She held her breath until Nedra shook her head in the negative regarding her mother’s well-being.
“Let’s go inside,” Sin directed as he took Nedra’s hand and headed for the house. “We’ll tell you then.”
The women followed him, with Nedra dragging behind listlessly. Sin squeezed her hand. “Baby, you’ve got to look as though nothing has happened. Remember the kids.”
Nedra nodded and straightened her shoulders. He was right. She did have to remember the children—their children—and nobody was going to change that.
* * *
Royce Jamison pulled his sports car into his parking place at the dock of the marina and gingerly hopped out. Grabbing a bag from the back seat, he flung it over his shoulder and headed toward his boat. He could hardly wait to get out to sea where he could enjoy some peace of mind. His father’s insistence on forcing fatherhood on him was taking its toll. If he had to hear about that kid one more day, he’d lose it.
Leaping onto the boat, he clamored down below where he dropped his bag and headed straight to the bar. Pouring a scotch, he closed his eyes and savored the feel of it sliding easily down his throat.
His father hated for him to drink, which was the reason that he took so much pleasure in doing so. The old man had accused him of having a drinking problem and said that he needed to “straighten up” if he wanted to get the kid, as if he really cared. The old man had gone crazy, pursuing this farce. If his mother were alive, she would have stopped this insanity dead in its tracks.
Royce flopped down on the bunk on which he had slept off more than one binge. The old man had paid plenty to see that there was no record of his improprieties while inebriated. Too bad he didn’t know about them all. He smiled devilishly at the memories. The knowledge would kill him for sure and solve all of Royce’s problems.
The old man was dying, but not fast enough for him. This idea of his getting to know some whore’s kid was the demented ravings of a deteriorating mind. Why the old man’s lawyers didn’t put a stop to this madness he would never understand. Royce took another drink.
When his father came to him about this kid, he denied his existence and for the first time in his life he thought that he had been telling the truth. Doctors had informed him a long time ago that his sperm count was low and he would never father children. Besides, he always wore protection to avoid disease. Well, almost always.
He was certain that his father had taken great pleasure in presenting him with the evidence that he had fathered a child. The day that he sprang the news, the old man had called him and demanded that he “present” himself at the homestead. He knew by his tone that he was in trouble for something. He started to ignore him, but knowing that his father’s time on earth was short—thank goodness—greed propelled him to obey, and he made his appearance. When he arrived, he got the surprise of his life.
It seemed that the son of some old lady had found a journal that had named Royce as the father of some prostitute’s child. The lady had been the pro’s landl
ady and had confiscated the woman’s belongings when she died of an overdose. That had been five years ago, and when the man’s mother died, the son had discovered the journal among her belongings. When he read the Jamison name, he knew that he had struck gold.
It had taken some time to convince Samuel Jamison’s attorneys that the information in the journal might be valid, but when the DNA evidence confirmed it, Royce’s world had been tilted. The landlady’s son had walked away with a fortune in hush money, and the old man became obsessed with gaining custody of his only grandchild.
Royce gave an angry sigh. All he got out of the deal was hell! He had never met the extortionist, but if he ever did, death would be too good for him. He would strangle him with his bare hands.
Lowering the glass, Royce sat up slowly as a thought filtered through his mind. It was simply an embryo at first, the inkling of a possibility. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had such thoughts before.
Death had fascinated him since childhood. He had killed a bird once and watched enthralled as it took its last breath. When he was twelve and his mother died, he had stood at her casket staring down at her body for hours, marveling at the stillness of her form. Death made her appear peaceful, so much different than the screaming drunk that he had known. Two years later, his eighteen-year-old sister, Madeline, had followed her mother in death. She had died of an overdose of sleeping pills. It had been painless. No one but him knew that he had given them to her, and then hid away as she lay on her bed waiting for the end. She had slipped away peacefully, muttering what sounded like a prayer. He had never been sure. He had gotten bored with his deathwatch, went to the bed to check on her, and she hadn’t moved, although there was still the hint of a pulse. He had left the house in time to go sailing with some friends. He never saw her again. By the time he got back home around midnight, her body had been removed.
Sinful Intentions Page 9
