And Then Came You

by Maureen Child

  “How do you stand the noise?” Cynthia asked with a careful shake of her head.

  “You get used to it,” Sam said, keeping her steps small, since Cynthia was tottering across the rocky ground on sky-high heels.

  A few minutes later, they were out on the wide front lawn where the wind danced through the trees and ruffled Cynthia’s perfectly cut hair before dropping it back into place.

  Sam felt like the ugly stepsister in Cinderella’s fairy tale. Cynthia’s soft pink linen suit was spotless, and her matching bag and shoes screamed money and good taste. Alongside the blonde, Sam looked like a “before” picture in a magazine article about extreme makeovers. Torn jeans, paint-spattered T-shirt, and a ratty ponytail tucked through a baseball cap with a battered bill. All she really needed was a bright red letter A sewn to her chest and the picture would be complete.

  Guilt, fresh and new, pumped through her and forced her to smile when she wanted to scream. “If you’re looking for Jeff, he went back to the city this morning.” Right after he climbed out of my bed.

  “I know. He called me.” Cynthia walked a little farther so that she could stand beneath one of the tall shade trees marching in formation around the perimeter of Grace’s lawn. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I thought the two of us should have a chat—with Jeff out of the way.”

  Great. “Okay.”

  Cynthia smiled again and Sam couldn’t help thinking that she’d be great in a toothpaste commercial.

  “This is difficult for all of us,” the blonde began. “Knowing what to do, how to act.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Sam said. She hadn’t known last night, either. Not until Jeff had touched her, then she’d been certain of what to do. Although this morning, things were a little fuzzy again.

  “I know what you’re feeling.”

  Sam’s gaze snapped up to hers. “You do?”

  “Of course.” Cynthia reached out and laid one hand on Sam’s arm briefly. When she pulled her hand back, she rubbed her fingers, just in case she’d picked up some stray dirt. “This situation is difficult, at best. I understand how you feel about Emma. I love her, too. But I think as adults, we have to decide what’s in her best interests.”

  Irritation bristled inside Sam, but she fought it down. Temper wouldn’t do any good, and besides, Cynthia was right. They should be thinking about Emma. Still, it stung to have someone else—anyone else—tell her what was best for her daughter. “I agree. And I think Jeff does, too.”

  “Of course he does. He’s a wonderful father.” Cynthia’s teeth worried her bottom lip gently as if she were weighing her next words. “Samantha,” she said finally, “I think, as women, we need to be honest with each other.”

  “Okay . . .” Guilt again. Sharp. Hot. Uncomfortable. It exploded inside Sam and made her shoulder blades twitch.

  “Jeff and I are building a structured, safe environment for Emma. Until a couple of weeks ago, she was happy. Secure.” Cynthia smiled again, softly, kindly. “She needs stability in her life, Samantha. And I believe I was giving her that. Until . . .”

  Sam swallowed hard. “Until me.”

  “Frankly? Yes.” Tucking her pink clutch bag beneath her left arm, Cynthia folded her hands at her waist. “Your . . . reluctance to let go of the past is making all of this more difficult than it has to be.”

  Was it? She turned and looked back over her shoulder to where she knew Emma was, playing with her aunts and her grandfather and the goats. Was Sam really making all of this worse? Harder on Emma?

  “I’m sure you have some residual feelings for Jeff. He’s a wonderful man, why wouldn’t you?”

  Residual. That put her neatly in her place, didn’t it?

  “Jeff’s heritage, his business, his world, is in San Francisco. Yours is . . .” She waved a hand and looked worriedly at another goat as it wandered across the lawn. “Here.”

  True again. What had she been thinking? That Jeff would resign from his job, his career, and move to Chandler? Or could she really see herself giving up her life and becoming a corporate wife in San Francisco? God, no.

  Sam breathed deeply and blew out the air on a sigh. Everything Cynthia said was absolutely true. Oh, she knew Emma was happy now. But she’d been happy before, too. And there was no doubt at all that Sam had thrown a monkey wrench into her daughter’s life, messing things up until no one knew which side was up anymore.

  She didn’t want Emma to be unhappy. Torn between her father and mother. Hell, she didn’t want Jeff to be unhappy either, if it came down to it.

  But what about last night? What was that all about if he was thinking of her as an awkward intrusion from his past? Had last night been a courtesy fling? A fond farewell? A sort of “bon voyage” present to Sam?

  Temper spurted to life inside her and began throttling all of the doubts and insecurities. Had Jeff just been looking for a way to get Sam out of his system? Or had it been more devious than that? Was he trying to soften her up so she’d sign the damn papers and get soft on the custody thing? Had he really hopped from Cynthia’s bed to hers and then back again?

  Was he really the weasel-dog Mike had always called him?

  Dammit.

  Thoughts, fears, suspicions, crashed noisily inside her mind, caroming off each other like scattered billiard balls on a pool table. Then Cynthia started talking again and Sam told herself to pay attention.

  “Don’t you see? You’re a part of his past, Samantha, not his future.” The woman’s voice was a velvet-covered fist pounding at the foundations of everything she’d been feeling lately. “I know this is hard. Jeff and I have talked at great length about the awkwardness of the situation.”

  “Awkward?” He hadn’t seemed awkward last night, she reminded herself, even as Cynthia’s words chipped away at what was left of those fantasy castles she’d indulged in so briefly. Had she really been kidding herself? Had she really allowed herself to fall for him . . . again?

  The blonde put one delicate hand to her abdomen and inhaled sharply.

  “Are you okay?” Sam stepped forward instinctively, not sure if the other woman needed help or—

  “Fine, thank you.” Then taking another deep breath, Cynthia confided, “The morning sickness hasn’t passed completely, that’s all. I’m sure you remember how awful it was and—”

  Morning sickness?

  Sam’s brain reeled and her heart took a direct hit. Oh God. Cynthia was pregnant?

  She swayed on her feet, feeling the world tip and shake around her. Her stomach twisted and turned and she had to swallow hard to bite back the nausea roiling within. Cynthia was pregnant?

  “You didn’t know.”

  “No.” Didn’t know. Never considered it. Didn’t know what to do about it. Pain splintered through Sam’s body until it felt as though hundreds of thousands of tiny needles were jabbing at her and she wondered how she was able to stand under the assault.

  “This is terrible,” Cynthia muttered and looked around frantically, as if to reassure herself that no one was close enough to overhear. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I never should have—” She paused in her misery and gave Sam a halfhearted smile. “I thought Jeff would have told you by now, but I should have known he wouldn’t.” Her hand stayed atop her abdomen as if protecting the child within from hearing anything it shouldn’t. “We wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell Emma, and—”

  Cynthia’s voice was a buzzing in Sam’s ears. She knew the woman was talking, but she couldn’t quite make out all the words over the hammering of her own heart. Pregnant. Jeff and Cynthia were going to have a child. Together.

  She swayed again, then locked her knees to keep herself upright. Oh God. Images of the night before flashed in her brain and she resolutely wiped them out only to see them rise up vividly, over and over.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you with all of this, you must believe me.” Cynthia took a hesitant step forward and looked deeply into Sam’s
eyes. “I know how hard this situation must be for you, really I do.”

  “I don’t think you can,” Sam said, and wondered if her voice sounded as distant to Cynthia as it did to her.

  The blonde nodded slowly. “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But as one mother to another,” she confided, “I felt as though I had to tell you what Jeff’s been too much of a gentleman to say.” She paused, then continued. “He wants to put all of this behind him so the three of us—” she paused to smile again, “four now—can go on with our lives.”

  “Of course.” How could there be more pain? she thought. How could it keep coming? Keep piling up inside her head, her heart?

  “He feels very bad about his mother’s machinations—and he doesn’t want to hurt you again. But Sam.” She paused and gently finished, “He’s moved on. And he wants that for his daughter—his children—as well.”

  Children. Sam’s stomach spun wildly. All she could think was that Jeff really had been bouncing between her bed and Cynthia’s. How could he? How could he have made love to her, made her remember all the warmth and passion they’d once known—when all the time he knew Cynthia was pregnant with his child?

  What had he been thinking?

  What had he been planning?

  Was he now going to walk away from Cynthia and this child as he had from Sam and Emma? Was he expecting to be able to keep Sam on the side for fun and games while he lived his life with Polly Perfection? Was he just using Sam before moving on?

  Rage bubbled inside Sam, swamping the misery and nearly choking her.

  Cynthia checked the slim gold watch on her left wrist and clucked her tongue. “I really have to be going. I’m meeting Jeff in the city for a late lunch.” Conspiratorially, she leaned in close and added, “I’m hoping my tummy will have settled by then, since I’m absolutely ravenous. Eating for two does have its advantages, doesn’t it? We get to eat just anything we like.”

  “Yeah.” Sam choked the word out. “Sure.”

  The blonde shook her hair back from her face and smiled. “After lunch of course, we’ve got more meetings with the wedding planner and—then I’m going to have to see the dressmaker and get her to let the waist out just a tiny bit. Honestly, if the wedding wasn’t coming so quickly now, I don’t think I’d be able to keep my little ‘surprise’ from anyone—” She caught herself mid-sentence. “I’m sure you don’t care about the last-minute details of our wedding.”

  “No,” Sam said tightly, silently congratulating herself on her restraint. “I really don’t.”

  Cynthia smiled again and Sam wanted to belt her one. But she didn’t. Not only because she couldn’t very well hit a pregnant woman, but because in reality, it wasn’t the blonde screwing with her. It was Jeff. Again.

  “There. I have upset you,” Cynthia said sadly.

  Sam shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Not at all. Ripping off a blindfold isn’t always pretty. But you can see a lot clearer without one.”

  “Exactly,” Cynthia cooed and risked patting Sam’s forearm. “I’m so glad we understand each other.”

  “Oh, we’re crystal clear,” Sam said, and knew, without a doubt, that Cynthia had done this purposely. The woman had known Sam didn’t have a clue about the baby—and she’d made sure Sam took the full hit. Couldn’t really blame her, though, Sam thought. She was fighting for what was hers.

  It was Jeff Hendricks Sam was going to ream the first chance she got.

  “Good,” Cynthia was saying. “I’m delighted that we have this resolved.”

  “Oh, it’s resolved. Trust me. And I hope you and Jeff are very happy together,” Sam said, forcing each word out of her mouth as though she were spitting out something foul. “I think you’re made for each other.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Cynthia’s smile was a little hesitant this time, but not one to pass up a victory, she accepted Sam’s surrender. “Well then, I’d better be going. Don’t want to be late. Jeff worries so.”

  “I’m sure.” She stood in the shade of the old trees and watched as Cynthia slid into her silver Mercedes coupe. She held her breath while the blonde fired up the expensive engine and blew it out as she finally pulled away from the curb and drove off down the narrow, tree-lined road.

  So Jeff was worried about Cynthia, was he? Well, why wouldn’t he be? She was pregnant. With his child, dammit.

  A sick emptiness opened up inside Sam. And the only way to fill it was with anger. She let it pour through her, until her nerves danced and her hands shook. Worried about Cynthia? Well, Jeff had better spare some concern for Sam.

  Things were about to get real bumpy.

  “Why don’t we just go into the city and break his legs?”

  “Tempting, Mike,” Sam said, shaking her head. “But no.”

  “Why the hell not?” Mike stormed around the interior of the second kitchen, instinctively stepping over the scattered debris. “He so deserves it.”

  “He deserves a hell of a lot more,” Jo muttered, keeping her gaze fixed on Sam. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

  Sam cringed. “Sleeping wasn’t a big part of the night’s festivities, but yeah.”

  “God, you’re an idiot.”

  “Thanks, Mike. I love you, too.”

  “Shut up, Mike.” Jo reached out and hugged Sam tightly, briefly, then let her go again. “You still love him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking a lobotomy will take care of that.” God, Mike was right. She was an idiot. Ever since Cynthia left, Sam had been mentally kicking herself. She’d done it again. Let herself be sucked into Jeff’s orbit only to get splattered.

  Sure, he’d agreed to a tentative custody agreement. He’d needed Sam on his side. He had a wedding, for God’s sake, in three weeks. Not to mention, she thought with another mental kick, another child on the way—a fact she hadn’t told her sisters about. After all, there was only so much humiliation she was willing to share.

  Jeff had needed Sam to settle things between them. And the only way for him to get her signature on divorce papers had been to convince her that he’d be fair about the custody settlement. So what’d he do? Sign a paper agreeing to be fair—not an actual declaration of what that “fair” was going to be, mind you—and then bed her, so she’d stop thinking and just go with the heady rush of hormones. A little “understanding,” a little sex, and poof, Sam was putty in his hands.

  Oh, he was good.

  He was very good.

  And she’d been taken for another ride.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” She slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead. “My God, if you could have heard Cynthia talking . . . how she and Jeff discussed me and just how awkward it was dealing with a woman who couldn’t let go.” And how pregnant she is and how they want their little family together and settled, without Jeff’s “ex” hanging around to muddle everything up.

  Adrenaline pumped through Sam’s system until she couldn’t stand still. She had to move or explode.

  Stomping around the room, she ignored both of her sisters and kept up a steady stream of invective, aimed at the one person who’d let her down the most.

  Her own damn self.

  “I let myself get carried away.” She shook her head, remembering Cynthia’s pale, smooth hand pressed to her still flat—but pregnant—abdomen. Then she remembered Jeff and his touch, his kiss, his . . . “I let myself forget that we’re from two different worlds.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Mike said, then jumped out of the way as Sam stormed past, shaking her index finger at her.

  “Hard? This isn’t nearly hard enough. I should be kicked every minute for a solid hour. I should be strapped down in a health food store and force-fed carrot juice. I should be—” She stopped, threw her hands wide. “I can’t even think of anything bad enough.”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said softly. “The carrot juice was pretty grim.”

  “Nothing’s th
at grim,” Jo said, then walked over to Sam. “Stop kicking yourself and go kick him. If he set you up, then you have to let him know you know.”

  “Huh?”

  Jo smiled. “Go see the little prick. Tell him all about your chat with Cynthia. Tell him that you’ll sign his divorce papers because you don’t want him anywhere near you anymore. Then tell him you want joint custody or nothing.”

  “I should.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Sam nodded at Mike but Jo was still talking.

  “He’ll agree, Sam. He has to. He’ll know that you’re on to him and that the Marconis will make his life un-livable if he screws with you again.”

  “Good point.” Okay, the pulsing, throbbing fury was easing up a little. Sam pulled in a deep breath. She could do this. She could look Jeff dead in the eye and tell him what she thought of his tactics. What she thought of his simpering fiancée and how she hoped he’d be miserable for the rest of his life. And she could tell him just what she thought of a man who left a pregnant fiancée home alone while he jumped into bed with his wife.

  The bastard.

  “Want us to go with you?” Mike asked.

  “No. Thanks, but no.” Sam shook her head and lifted her chin defiantly. Some of the things she had to say to Jeff couldn’t be said with an audience. Even an audience of sisters who loved her. “This is something I need to do on my own.”

  “Then get out there and kick some Hendricks ass.” Jo held out one hand. Mike laid hers atop Jo’s. Sam reached out and laid her hand atop her sisters’.

  And for a moment, they stood linked, blood to blood, and Sam knew she’d never really be alone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jeff had it all planned out.

  Finally, and at last, he’d worked out what was important in his life and he was going to do whatever he had to do to get it. That one night with Sam had solidified everything inside him. He’d found his place in the world.

  Beside Sam.

  Guilt still crouched within when he thought about Cynthia. But breaking their engagement was the only decent thing to do. He wasn’t looking forward to hurting Cynthia, but eventually she’d understand that this was the only solution. He couldn’t marry someone else when he was still in love with his wife. He smiled to himself and thought about trying to hunt down the lazy county clerk who’d never bothered to file the divorce papers. Damned if he didn’t want to buy the man a drink.