Читать книгу Babies By The Busload - Raye Morgan - Страница 10

The entryway was almost a duplicate of the one for the condo where J.J. was staying, but the rest of the house looked very different. Where her place was starkly dramatic, with chrome and glass and dark polished wood, Jack’s was light and airy—and soft. The couches were overstuffed and the chairs were plump with pillows. The colors were pastels and the carpeting was as thick as winter fur. No angles—everything looked rounded at the edges.

It’s a cartoon house, she thought to herself as she entered. But the sound track’s all wrong.

The sound track, in fact, was very loud. Not only were the babies howling at the top of their lungs, but Jack was singing at the top of his. She caught sight of him as she rounded the corner into the family room, and what she saw left her gaping. This was hardly the picture of the debonair sophisticate she remembered.

One baby sat on a fluffy blue blanket on the floor, her face red from crying. Another, smaller child was lying on his back and screaming at the ceiling, his arms and legs whirling like propellers. And between them, in a padded rocking chair, sat Jack, a third baby propped against his shoulder, rocking furiously and singing for all he was worth.

The song was some country tune about wives who took their love to town. J.J. was knocked out, speechless. She would have figured him as an Edith Piaf fan, or maybe Billie Holiday—something genteel and just a bit jaded, but always classy. And here he was, singing with a twang.

He caught sight of her, but that didn’t stop him. In fact, she could have sworn he only got louder, rocking and patting the baby on his shoulder in time to the music, his blue eyes daring her to laugh at him.

She pulled her gaze away from that amazing sight and looked from one squalling baby to the other with growing horror, then noticed that Annie was looking up into her face as though she expected something that wasn’t happening.

“Annie,” she said, shrugging helplessly, “I don’t know much about babies. What should I do?”

“You pick ‘em up,” Annie told her wisely, shouting to be heard over the din. “Look.”

And she dipped down and scooped one baby, expertly swinging the child up against her shoulder. The move took a major effort, however, as the baby wasn’t much smaller than Annie herself, and she staggered under the weight. J.J. helped her to the couch, then turned and looked down at the last lonely weeper.

The baby was sitting on the floor, tears running down her fat little cheeks. She wore yellow pajamas and a pink bib with “Kristi” embroidered on it. J.J. gazed at her nervously and flexed her fingers, wondering exactly how she was going to do this.

Just swing her up, she told herself silently. It looks so easy.

She took a step toward the child and the baby stopped crying, staring at her, little round eyes huge and wary.

“Hi,” J.J. said cheerfully, holding out her hand the way she might approach a strange dog. “Hi, Kristi.”

Kristi stared up at her for a long, long moment, and then her face crumpled again, eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth wide and howling. Startled, J.J. pulled back and looked at Jack.

Mercifully, his song had come to an end and he was mainly humming now. He interrupted that long enough to call out, “He who hesitates is lost. Go for it.”

And suddenly she realized he was talking to her. She looked at the crying baby, and then back at Jack again, completely lost. “But I…”

“Oh, come on. She doesn’t bite.” He glanced over the top of his now quietly sobbing baby to ask Annie, “She hasn’t bitten anyone yet, has she?”

Annie shook her head firmly. “She only has one tooth,” she said sensibly.

Jack shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “There, you see? We’re loud, but we’re basically civilized around here. Go on. Pick her up.”

J.J. took a deep breath. Reaching down, she practically dosed her eyes as she took hold of the child, but a few seconds later, Kristi was in her arms and she held her awkwardly. Jack rose, carrying his little bundle gently and nodded toward the rocking chair.

“Go ahead and sit there,” he said. “They love it.” And he left the room.

J.J. hesitated, but there wasn’t much choice. Kristi was yelling too hard to do much else with. Sitting gingerly and shifting the baby, trying to position her up against her shoulder the way she’d seen the others do, she held her breath as she tried to settle the child, but the crying seemed to be increasing in intensity, and though the baby didn’t struggle, she was weeping as though the world had turned against her and her heart was about to break.

J.J. looked over at Annie, feeling definitely inadequate. Annie’s baby was quieting, snuggling against her and winding down to a whimper.

“Good boy, Baby Mack,” Annie said. “Good boy.” She gave him a pleased pat and looked up at J.J. “Kristi likes to cry,” she noted. “Daddy says she’s the champion crier in the family.”

Oh, great. They gave her the most difficult one right off the bat? She started patting and rocking and praying under her breath, but without much hope. Surely she was doomed to spend the night rocking with a baby howling in her ear. That just seemed to be the way things were going to fall.

But as she rocked, a strange thing began to happen. The little body that had felt so stiff and awkward began to relax. The round head stopped bobbing against her shoulder and pressed into the hollow of her neck. One little fist grabbed hold of the collar of her shirt. And the crying began to slow.

And another funny thing happened at the same time. When she’d first picked the baby up, she’d almost wrinkled her nose, sure the child would be sticky and smelly. And at first, the rejection she’d felt from the baby had made her think she was right. But now…well, now, with Kristi snuggling against her and only whimpering, and slowly falling asleep, a whole new sense of her came over J.J.

Now she was soft and sweet and delicious to hold, like nothing she’d ever held before.

Funny. Very funny.

Looking around the room, she noticed that Annie seemed to have taken the one they called Baby Mack off to bed. Jack came back into the room and she looked at him warily, but his smile was pleased, if quirky.

“Well, you did it—is it Miss Jensen?” he said, taking the baby from her and slinging her effortlessly against his shoulder with the practiced ease of a longtime daddy.

“J.J.,” she said, moving to the edge of her seat and watching him, impressed, if a bit confused. This scene hardly fit the picture she’d had of Jack all these years, and certainly seemed at odds with her more recent vision of him as a playboy.

“Ah yes, J.J.” Kristi had settled down immediately in those familiar arms, her eyelids heavy and falling over her bright blue eyes. She was worn-out from all that crying and ready to rest up for her next round. He patted her rhythmically and swayed to the beat, turning to smile at J.J. again.

“Well, you need some refreshment, I can see that.”

“That’s all right.” She jumped up like a startled deer, ready to make her escape. “I’ll just be going now.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get off that easily.”

He said it with such authority, she found herself sinking back into the chair again as though she’d been programmed into doing what he said, as though he were still the boss.

“You need a cup of tea,” he said cheerfully, starting toward the bedroom with his bundle. “And I’m brewing a pot right now. You just sit right there and relax. I’ll be back.” He dropped a kiss on his baby’s fuzzy head. “Come on, angel face,” he crooned to her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Sitting back, she watched him go, feeling torn. She thought of her bag of fast-food chicken sitting on the counter in her own condo drying up, and she thought of her early call for the morning show, but she had to admit there was something about this beautiful man that drew her in. She wanted to stay for a few minutes, just to see what made this guy tick.

Annie came out of the bedroom and gazed at her. “I have new shoes,” she told her seriously. “Black ones. I’m going to wear them to church on Sunday.”

“Lucky girl.” J.J. smiled at her, noting again how similar her facial structure was to her father’s. “I love new shoes.”

Annie nodded, and Jack came out, dropping to sit on the couch with a sigh of weary relief. “They’re all asleep, at least for now,” he said.

“Can I have juice?” Annie asked.

“Oh, sure, honey,” he said absently, “But say ‘may I?’“ he added as she left for the kitchen. Turning, he gave J.J. a warm, encompassing smile that made shivers start down her backbone, reminding her to keep her guard up. The man was too attractive for his own good—and for hers. She had to be careful not to fall under his spell.

“You’re a lifesaver, J.J.,” he said easily. “J.J.,” he repeated. “What are the initials for?”

“My name,” she replied shortly.

“Ah, it’s a secret.” He grinned as though that only made her more enchanting. “Can anybody guess?”

She raised an eyebrow. Why on earth did he deem it necessary to turn the old charm on her, of all people? “You can guess all you like,” she said, her tone almost defensive.

“A lady of mystery.” He looked at her speculatively as Annie came out of the kitchen with a plastic tumbler of juice in her hands.

“It isn’t Jennifer Jones, by any chance? Or are you too young to remember who she is?”

“I’ve seen a few old movies in my time. And no, it isn’t Jennifer Jones.”

“Julie Junie?” asked Annie, getting in on the act. “Janie Jamas?”

Jack threw his head back and laughed. “Never mind, pumpkin,” he told his serious little daughter. “J.J. wants to be called by those initials, and that is what we shall call her. It’s none of our business why she wants to keep her name a secret.”

J.J. opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. He was teasing her and she knew it. Enough. She wasn’t going to get sucked into his games.

“Well, you seem to have your hands full with all these children,” she noted, trying to change the subject.

He nodded. “That we do. It must seem a madhouse to you. But things will get back to normal around here soon enough.”

“If Marguerite comes back,” Annie muttered tragically.

There was an awkward pause, and then Jack filled it with a quick laugh.

“Marguerite,” he said scornfully. “Let her go, I say. We’ll find someone better than Marguerite.” He turned and looked with interest at J.J., as though he’d suddenly had a bright idea. “Can you cook?”

J.J. didn’t get a chance to answer. The telephone rang and Jack went to take the call while she stayed behind, fuming. Could she cook! What a question.

She began glancing at the door, wondering how she could get out without that long-promised cup of tea, when he returned to the room and said breezily, “The tea should be just about ready. I’ll get us some. You sit tight.” And he went on into the kitchen.

J.J. looked at Annie. Annie looked back. J.J. tried to think of something to say. What did one talk to a five-yearold about? Luckily Annie knew.

“I can dance,” she told her. “Wanna see?”

“Of course.” She smiled at the little girl. “I’d love to see.”

Rising from her chair, Annie twirled and twirled, her arms out, until she fell into a dizzy heap at J.J.’s feet. J.J. looked down at her, worried, but Jack called out, “Get up, pumpkin. You’re in the way of the tea party,” as he came into the room, hardly wasting a glance at his collapsed daughter, and Annie got up quickly enough, sitting in her chair to await her cup of tea.

Jack poured and passed the cups. Annie’s was mostly milk. J.J. took hers without sugar, so she was easy. But she watched this big man performing these housewifely chores and marveled. What had happened to him to make him so domestic? That certainly wasn’t the way she remembered him.

They chatted inconsequentially for a moment, sipping their tea, and J.J. had to admit it had a soothing effect. She had only been in the maelstrom for half an hour and she felt wrung out like an old dishrag. Jack and Annie had been in it all day. How did they manage?

Annie disappeared into the kitchen and Jack told J.J. about something cute Baby Mack had done earlier in the day, making her laugh, then about something funny Annie had said.

“How old is she?” J.J. asked, smiling.

“Five and a half,” he said with pride.

“She seems so…so wise, so articulate.”

“Oh yes.” His gaze seemed to darken. “Annie’s been through a lot. Her mother died soon after the triplets were born. And ever since, she’s had to do a lot more than any five-year-old should have to.” His voice grew husky. “She’s my gem.”

Unaccountably J.J. felt tears stinging her eyes, and she blinked them back in horror. Damn the man! He could play her like a fine violin. He seemed to know where every emotion was located and how to exploit it. She should go home.

“And what is it that you do, J.J.?” Jack asked, studying her, before she had a chance to excuse herself.

She hesitated. She didn’t really want to tell him the business she was involved in. She was afraid that might make him wary in some way. She had a feeling he didn’t want his old world to know where he was or what he was doing. She wasn’t sure why she felt that, but she did.

Something crashed in the kitchen and he rose quickly, automatically following the sounds of disaster as though it were something he did all the time. And she supposed it was. She’d never seen a more hands-on daddy in her life.

Sitting back, she gazed around the room. Toys and blankets were strewn on chairs and under tables, and stacks of clean diapers sat beside picture books and baby games. She didn’t think she’d ever been in a house so geared toward young people. Pictures dominated the decorating motif-pictures of Annie at various stages, pictures of the triplets.

She couldn’t find one of Jack, nor of any woman who might be the mother of this brood. Annie’s words came back to her—”My mother is in heaven.” You would think he would have pictures of her everywhere. She frowned. Come to think of it, you would think he would have a sadder look. Funny.

Suddenly another encounter she’d had with Jack came to mind, something she hadn’t thought about in years. There had once come a time when she’d gone in to see Jack Remington. A week or so after she’d been let go—terminated, released, fired, laid off, and all those other ugly words—she’d been in a state bordering on depression. She’d tried every other station in town with no luck, and she’d begun having paranoid thoughts that Jack might have blackbailed her. It looked as though her chances of being in the business, which had once looked so good, were fading away.

Gathering all her strength and all her courage, she’d made her way downtown and into the station, her speech of outrage and her request for mercy all nicely memorized and rehearsed, over and over again. She was ready to go to battle with the big man.

She’d bypassed the receptionist and headed straight for his office, surprised to find the door propped open and a small knot of people standing out in the hallway, watching what was going on inside. Lights had been set up, and someone with a video camera was calling out orders.

“What’s going on?” she asked someone at the scene.

“New promo for the news hour,” a secretary told her. “Jack is not enjoying this,” she added with a giggle.

And it seemed she was right. J.J. got closer and looked in. Jack’s face had a rebellious look.

“Just a few more, Jack,” Gloria Barker was saying. Executive producer of the evening news hour, she always had a slightly anxious look, as though she’d just seen the ratings and they were dropping. “This will only take another moment or so.”

The cameraman swung his camera around and announced in a voice loud enough to hear in nearby homes, “Since you’re the heartthrob of the station, we should get a shot of you mesmerizing a lady or two, don’t you think?”

Jack’s brow darkened and his full lower lip came out. “No, I don’t think. It’s not part of the job.”

Jack’s annoyance was plain on his face and J.J. sighed and fidgeted. This was not going to be a good time to approach him.

The cameraman said something else and Jack’s frown deepened. “What do you want, a seduction pose?” Jack looked incredulous. “I don’t think so.”

The cameraman spoke again. Though J.J. couldn’t make out his words, Jack’s answer was clear. He spun and demanded of Gloria Barker, “Is there anything in my contract that says I have to do this? If so, I want a renegotiation.”

“Jack. please.” She put a hand on his arm and looked up at him pleadingly. “Do this. Do it for me. It’s so important. You know the station’s in serious trouble. If we can’t bring up the ratings.”

He took a deep breath, obviously trying hard to keep his temper. His eyes seemed to glitter. “I’m a newsman, not a movie star.”

“I know that, but.Jack. I need you to do this. Just this once. Please?”

She looked up at him like an orphan in the snow, and he groaned, melting.

“All right, Gloria. For you.” He signaled the man with the photo equipment. “Fine. You want a seduction, you’ll have one. Get me a woman and let’s get this over with.”

“Yes!” the cameraman said, pumping his arm and turning to give the small crowd a quick survey.

“How about you? Would you like to be in the picture?”

J.J. turned to look behind her, wondering whom he was calling to.

“You,” he said, pointing at her. “Come on in here.”

“Me?” At first, his intention really didn’t penetrate. She was still wondering how she was going to get in to see Jack with all these people around, and how he was going to react after all this hassle, and suddenly she was being pushed and pulled into his office and someone was coming at her with a large powder puff and an eyebrow pencil. “What? Wait!”

“No time to wait. Come on.”

They tugged at her clothes and adjusted her makeup and presented her, ready to go, to Jack, who was brewing a very dark storm in his eyes.

“Are we ready?” he snapped. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Okay,” said the camera guy. “Let the wooing begin.”

Jack finally looked at her for the first time, and as she remembered it, he hesitated. He’d recognized her, but there was something else in his eyes, and whether or not it had anything to do with his having had her fired, she was never sure.

“You know.” he began. He looked down into her face and then he turned away as though there were something about her that disturbed him. But the others waved him back and he returned, shrugging.

Meanwhile, J.J. found it impossible to do anything but stand there with her mouth open, flabbergasted. How had this happened? She was about to be seduced on camera by Jack Remington. A few weeks before, this might have been the answer to a dream. But now. didn’t they understand? Didn’t anyone remember? The man had just had her fired last week!

“Take your places. Jack, put your hand on her shoulder and lean over her. good, that’s the way.”

She felt as though she were moving in a misty fantasy. It was completely unreal. His face hovered over hers, his lips almost touching her, but not quite. She held her breath, overwhelmed by his closeness, feeling faint, feeling a swoon coming on—and then she heard him swear under his breath and she realized he was gritting his teeth.

“Enough?” he called out, still holding her in that impossible position.

“No, wait a minute. We need a little more passion, Jack. And move to the left a little. The light wasn’t set up right. Try this.”

The crew went on and on, posing them in every imaginable combination. His anger was growing and it was beginning to show through. But she was moving in a dream, as though she couldn’t do anything else, as though she had no will of her own. She was involved, but somehow she was also a fly on the wall, watching this as if from afar. She was participant and observer, all at the same time, and for the moment, nothing seemed real.