Читать книгу Stand-In Mom - Megan Kelly, Megan Kelly - Страница 8

Ginger came awake slowly, aware of a soft prickle against her face and a crick in her neck. What had she slept on?

Realization hit and she stilled. Scott. Her eyes fluttered open. Definitely a chest under her head and curly male hair tickling her nose.

She gave an inaudible groan. She hadn’t meant to actually sleep with him. Sex, sure, that was no problem, but she never spent the night. That led to entanglements. She must have slept like the dead not to have woken up by now. Being in his arms felt natural. A bad sign.

The slender opening in the drapes showed a black sky, but in late December that could mean midnight or nearly dawn. Light from the desk lamp she’d turned on the night before illuminated Scott’s face, serene in slumber.

His arm lay under her head but didn’t encircle her. Although snuggled against him, she could probably steal out of bed without his notice. Testing the theory, she inched her behind backward, then stealthily slid one foot toward the edge, watching his face for a reaction. His eyelids remained closed and his body still. She hated to wrench away from his warmth and considered waking him for a little good morning sex instead.

But the debate lasted only for a moment. She had to get away. Just wanting to stay longer warned her he’d breached her defenses already. He was too nice and his loneliness too touching. A guy like him—fun and kind and attentive—threatened her peace of mind.

Ginger lifted her head from his arm, freezing at a noise from him. Assured he slept on, she slid off the bed and grabbed her belongings from the floor. The bathroom provided a safe haven as she yanked on her clothes. She washed her face, grimacing at the remnants of cosmetics she left on the washcloth. Remembering why she’d gone to bed in her makeup, she smiled. Scott was a heck of a guy, seduction-wise. She scraped wet fingers through her curls, fluffing up or patting down as needed to alleviate her bed-head.

She had to skedaddle before he woke. Never had a morning-after felt so sordid, especially when the night before had been so lovely. Although they were strangers, having sex with him had been powerful and moving. Now it felt as though she’d done something to run from. She couldn’t face him.

So, of course, he woke when she opened the bathroom door. The disoriented expression on his face made him look rumpled and cuddly and dangerously adorable.

“What—?” He cleared his throat. “Where are y’all going?”

“Home.” She kept to the shadows of the room. His accent came thicker in his half-awake state. Why’d he have to be even cuter now? She was supposed to be leaving, firmly walking out the door without a backward glance. Had-a-great-time-thanks-see-you-around, not oh-my-stars-I-want-you-again.

“I’ll drive y’all home. Hold on a minute.” He threw off the covers, revealing his long tanned body as he sat upright.

Seeing him naked while she wore her cocktail dress from the night before emphasized the wrongness of the situation. “No, I’m fine.”

“Oh, do y’all have a car here?”

Ginger shook her head. “I can take a taxi.”

And won’t that cause talk if I’m seen. She glanced at the clock. One forty-five. The Riley & Ross party crowd should all be gone by now. She hoped.

He studied her a moment longer than her composure could take. She glanced around for her purse, spotting it on the desk by the still-lit lamp. Lunging, she grabbed it and turned her back to the harsh light. She felt naked and exposed—and not in a good way.

“Thanks for last night,” she said. “I had a lovely time.”

His eyebrows rose. “And that’s it?”

She lifted her lips in a smile. “What did you need to hear?”

Ginger cringed at her harsh phrasing, especially when he floundered, lost for words. But her statement clarified the interaction between them. They’d had great sex. Really great sex. The end.

“I don’t even have your phone number,” he said. “Or know your last name.”

She hid her wince. “Would you really call me?”

He nodded with less assurance than he probably meant to reveal before shrugging. “I’d like to have the option.”

Ginger swallowed her hurt.

“I don’t have a phone installed yet, and I’ll be getting a different cell number with the 816 area code. I came up this week with the movers to get the house settled and meet some of my coworkers.” He ran a hand over his face. “Y’all have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? We didn’t exactly exchange information.”

“You work in the R&D Department at Riley & Ross Electronics. You’re the new guy from Alabama.”

“Atlanta, actually, and how did you know?”

Ah. Being from the most cosmopolitan city in the South explained his lack of a heavy accent. “I asked about you.”

He nodded. “That would be safe.”

As though she’d thought of safety. It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. And this was turning out to be not so simple, either.

“But I’m still pretty much a stranger around these parts,” he added.

“Not to me.” Ginger closed her eyes even before his surprised grunt of laughter reached her ears. How embarrassing.

“I guess that’s true.”

She bent over the desk and scribbled her name and phone number. “If you decide to call.”

“It might be a while. I have to move more furniture in the next weeks, then get settled in.”

She forced a bright, fake smile. “After the New Year, then.”

“I’m serious, Ginger.”

Exactly the problem. She closed the door quietly behind her. Scott was a serious guy. The kind who’d want a relationship, which, if it worked out, should lead to marriage and a houseful of kids.

Which just wasn’t possible with her.

SCOTT ROSE TO USE THE BATHROOM, shaking his head. Maybe Ginger hadn’t had the same soul-shaking experience he’d had. To her it might have been just sex.

To him … Well, he couldn’t define it. He scratched his chest and picked up the notepad containing her number, wanting to put it somewhere secure. He frowned. She’d only written her first name and a phone number. Didn’t she trust him to know her full identity, even after sleeping together? Would he call the number and reach a pizza joint?

Would he even call the number to find out?

He ran a hand over his jaw as he glanced at the bed, feeling slightly sick at the warm, rumpled sheets with their scent of sex. He’d cheated on his wife. Not in actuality, considering the circumstances, but guilt churned in his gut anyway. He hadn’t so much as kissed anyone except Samantha since they’d met over six years before.

He’d enjoyed the time spent with Ginger and wanted to take her to bed again. Both feelings intensified his shame.

His hand crumpled the notepaper into a ball. The next weeks’ obligations made it impossible to call her anyway. First, he’d be in Georgia, packing up and trying to celebrate one last Christmas with the girls in the only home they knew. He wanted to make this year special, despite the confusion and grief and awkwardness of their changed circumstances. He’d do his best to make it seem normal, to continue the traditions he’d never paid much attention to. Samantha had always handled it, just as she had done everything where the girls were concerned.

Then he would bring his daughters to their new home with him here in Missouri. He’d just enrolled Shelby in second grade and Serena in the day care his boss’s mother owned. He’d endure their tears and tantrums, and Shelby declaring him “the worst father ever” for making her leave her friends in Powder Hill. His kid had a smart mouth for a seven-year-old, he thought with a smile. No doubt her teenage babysitter, whom the girls had spent too much time with during the past several months, had been a poor influence. But that would change now. Everything would change now.

God help them, every one!

“SO, WHO WAS HE?”

Ginger rolled her eyes at Lisa’s question, the smell of yeast making her stomach rumble. Her friend kneaded bread dough in her bakery kitchen, looking like a fifties mom in her patterned apron. She’d scraped her blond hair back into a ponytail that made her appear closer to seventeen than twenty-seven.

Lisa had made a success catering sweets and desserts for parties and special events. The kitchen she’d built in her basement declared it as a place of business: clean, efficient and utilitarian. Stainless steel appliances stood in sleek lines, but touches of Lisa’s personality showed in the bright yellow walls with stenciled cherry stems.

Ginger stood on the outside of the wraparound counter and watched Lisa move with unconscious grace and skill. The question didn’t surprise her; after leaving the party the night before, she owed her friend an explanation and reassurance. That didn’t mean Ginger had to like it. “What makes you think there was a ‘he’?”

“Joe told me.”

Of course he had. Ginger had expected no less. “It was the new guy in Dylan’s department. Scott.”

“I figured, since that’s who you’d set your sights on.” Lisa punched the dough with a strong fist. “And? What’s he like?”

“Really, Lisa. Comparing notes this early in your marriage? I doubt Joe would thank me for telling you.”

“Don’t be snotty.”

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

Lisa peered at her. “Did you do more than kiss him?”

Ginger didn’t speak as memories flooded her: Scott’s strong, tanned hands caressing her body, his lips delighting every nerve ending, his careful tending to her needs before his and his gentle ways of loving.

Lisa stilled. “Ginger, I worry about you. It was no big deal when you took home guys you’ve known all your life. But this …”

“It’s my own business who I go home with.”

Lisa glared at her. “I’m your friend. I love you enough to make you mad at me. Even to lose your friendship if it’ll keep you safe.”

“I’m safe.”

“I’m not talking about safe sex, although I’m glad to hear you haven’t completely lost your mind.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ginger would be angrier if she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Especially since sleeping with Scott a few hours before. That had been a huge mistake, although she didn’t regret having earth-shattering sex. But the shattering of her peace of mind since then worried her. She didn’t want him to know about the guys she’d been with in the past year, trying to appease her loneliness. Being with someone occasionally had helped her get through Kyle’s leaving.

They had been married, happily she’d thought, for four years. Now she was alone. If hooking up with a nice, single guy once or twice a month alleviated her melancholy for a few hours, who did it hurt?

But being with Scott changed that. She cringed to think he’d find out she’d been what her mother would call “loose with her affections.” Not that she had. She’d kept a tight rein on her heart, or rather, the pieces of it she had left after Kyle rejected her.

Because she couldn’t have children.

Ginger tried to suppress the constant ache the thought produced. She couldn’t forget. Her infertility was as much a part of her as her arm. Sometimes when she was with a man, she could shove the reminder from the forefront of her mind. The guys she spent time with didn’t care. They desired her, laughed with her and appreciated her as a woman.

She scowled at Lisa. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “My first husband left me, in case you’d forgotten. For a younger babe he’d been sleeping with since she turned legal.”

“But you have Joe now.”

Her face softened. “Yes, I got extremely lucky.”

“And you’ve got Abby and Bobby and can have more kids.”

Lisa’s wide gaze darted to Ginger’s at the mention of another baby.

“Don’t wait,” Ginger said, watching her friend read her expression. It never failed—at the mention of babies, Lisa walked on eggshells around her. “I know Joe loves Abby and Bobby, but he’ll want his own children.”

“He’s not like that. He’s a great father already.”

Ginger nodded. “But men like their own genes passed on. That’s why Kyle wouldn’t even talk about adopting.”

The instant she mentioned the word, Ginger realized her mistake. Lisa would ask.

“Have you heard anything from the adoption agency?”

Ginger looked away. She knew she’d have to tell Lisa eventually, but saying it out loud would make it more real.

“Oh, no,” Lisa said, obviously reading her face. “What happened?”

“I got turned down for a home visit.”

“When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Before the party.” She could almost hear Lisa’s thought process: So that’s why you went looking for comfort with Scott.

“That’s so unfair,” Lisa said instead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ginger shrugged. “It’s the holidays. Why should we both be depressed?”

“You weren’t seriously thinking of keeping this to yourself for two weeks, I hope.” She rounded the counter and hugged Ginger. “I’m so sorry. It’s just not right.”

“I know that and you know that.” Her yearning for a child was even stronger now than when she and Kyle had gone to the fertility clinic to discuss options. “The adoption agency is concerned about me providing for a baby. The money, a sitter, the whole shebang.”

Lisa’s face creased into a frown. “Can they do that? I mean, I’m a mom and I have to worry about money and sitters.”

“I don’t know what they’re allowed to do and how much of the flak I’m getting is just this woman disliking me for some reason. When you give birth, you don’t have to jump through hoops to earn the right to be a mother.” She gulped a breath. “I don’t want to rock the boat, just in case she’s playing by the book. It’s better I lie low and cooperate.”

“Help is available,” Lisa said. “Dylan’s mom would make a spot for your baby at the day care she owns. The baby would be safe and cared for during the day.”

“I don’t like the idea of sending a newborn to day care, even one as reputable as the Wee Care.” But she’d have to. She couldn’t afford to quit her job or take a couple years’ leave of absence, which would be the same as quitting. She couldn’t expect the school district to hold her job. Her current financial situation would only allow her to stay home during the summers.

“The adoption agency is very concerned about backup. What happens when I have a meeting at school or something comes up? You know how I’m always being assigned to some committee.” She blew out a breath. “The witch at the agency was all over me about my lack of support. I don’t have any family here now that Mom moved. Obviously no husband. From the drilling I endured, you’d think single people never adopt kids. Why am I different?”

Ginger studied her hands before she spoke the words that plagued her. “Do you think she can sense I’d be a bad mother?”

“That’s ridiculous. You’ll be fantastic. You shouldn’t stand for that kind of treatment. You need to talk to someone else at that agency. Or go somewhere else.” Lisa frowned. “There are other adoption agencies in Kansas City, right?”

Ginger nodded. “I might try that. Ms. Booker seems dead-set against me for some reason.”

“As for help on a moment’s notice—when you’re not bringing the baby to Aunt Lisa, that is—Dylan’s brother has eight kids and a list of babysitters when you need someone reliable.” Lisa’s gaze flew to hers. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned Adam and Anne’s family.”

“I’m happy for them.” Other people having kids didn’t bother her, even them having eight children. Seeing pregnant women sometimes made her tear up, and envy ate acidy holes in her stomach, but she didn’t begrudge anyone the kind of happiness she longed for. “It’s not as though I think they got my share of kids.”

When Ginger met her, Anne Ross had been near to bursting with child number eight, a beautiful girl they’d named Penelope. Dylan, the proud uncle, had brought a picture to Lisa and Joe’s when Ginger had been at the same picnic. He didn’t know of her condition, and she’d begged Lisa and Joe to keep it between them.

It was bad enough Ginger’s own husband had found her defective. She didn’t need the whole town gossiping about it.

Just imagining the pity she’d receive made her blanch.

“So, this Scott guy,” Lisa started, “what’s he really like?”

“Are you asking as the wife of his boss or as my nosy, pushy friend?”

Lisa chuckled and washed her hands at the sink. “Both.” “He’s extremely nice. Well-mannered and polite.” “Uh-huh. That was for the boss’s wife. Now spill.” Ginger grinned. “He’s incredible in bed. Very giving, if you know what I mean. Strong, hot body, tanned all over, except for his swimsuit lines.” She closed her eyes as she recalled tracing those borders and what lay between.

Lisa giggled. “Wait. Maybe I shouldn’t hear this. I’ll probably have to see him at some function, and I won’t be able to block out this image.”

“Sweetie, you don’t know what you’re missing.” But Ginger was relieved not to have to think about Scott and how amazing the sex had been. Because remembering made it feel like more than sex, and it wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

“When do you plan to see him again?”

Ginger swallowed and tried to keep her expression calm. “What’s the point? You can’t improve on perfection.”

“But if being with him was perfect, why not have seconds?”

Ginger lifted her lips in an artificial smile, hoping Lisa couldn’t tell she’d clenched her teeth. Her friend insisted not every man would care about Ginger’s barrenness, and most men would be open to adopting if that were their only option to build a family.

Ginger didn’t believe it. She’d had a man, one who’d already committed his life to her. That man, with love in his heart, had found her lacking. What chance did she have making a stranger want her once she told him?

“Perfect,” she said, “is an illusion. The more you try to repeat it, the more you notice flaws.”

She couldn’t risk seeing Scott because she wanted to so badly. He’d gotten to her, touched her in secret places that had nothing to do with sex. When he’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, he’d meant by pulling her hair removing her barrette. But Ginger sensed he could seriously break her heart. And she just couldn’t risk that happening again.

THE NEW YEAR TURNED AND SCOTT still hadn’t called Ginger. He fingered the hotel notepaper in his pocket while he waited to meet his daughter’s second-grade teacher. The principal reminded him more of a used car salesman than an educator, and he’d already snagged Scott to serve on a committee. Scott knew his daughter wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office, though.

Shelby was a good kid, saving her smart-aleck remarks for him. Testing him, his mother-in-law assured Scott. Apparently, Shelby had been angelic when she and Serena stayed with their grandparents while he’d been here getting the house ready. Shelby could test him all she wanted; he’d always be there for her. Even without a psychology degree, he knew Shelby feared he’d leave her and her sister. Acting out and pushing the boundaries made her a normal kid, considering all she and Serena had endured.

How could he put them through anything as traumatic as seeing him with another woman?

He’d carried the paper with Ginger’s phone number every day, worried he’d lose it. The crinkle and stiffness in his pocket the first days reminded him of their time together. But he’d been in Georgia then, retrieving his daughters from their grandparents’ house and enduring everyone’s tears. Now the paper had worn smooth, and its weight in his pocket wasn’t so much physical as mental. Guilt sometimes made him consider throwing away Ginger’s number, but he hadn’t. Nor had he called. He couldn’t bring himself to do either thing.

The office door opened and he rose, turning to meet the new teacher, who stumbled to a halt, hand on the doorknob, eyes wide and apricot hair secured in a ponytail.

His breath caught in his chest as his heart thudded. Hell of a way to find out his lover’s last name.