by Patricia Kay
Courtney made a face. “Ginger ale.”
Thinking her sister wasn’t having a beer because she had a fairly long drive back to Mercer Island where she and her husband had bought a new home the year before, P.J. said, “One beer should be okay. I mean, you’re going to eat before you get behind the wheel again.”
Courtney hesitated, her gaze sliding away briefly before returning to meet P.J.’s. “That’s not why I’m not drinking,” she finally said.
“Well, what then—?” P.J. stopped abruptly. She fought against feelings she’d thought she’d conquered long ago. Yet here they were again, still hurtful, still unworthy of her, especially considering how much she loved Courtney. “You’re pregnant again?” she asked softly.
Courtney nodded. “Three months.”
“Three months! And you’ve kept it a secret this long?” P.J. was proud of herself. She sounded just the way she wanted to sound—happy for Courtney and nothing else.
“I wanted to wait till I’d passed the first trimester.” Courtney’s eyes searched P.J.’s. P.J. knew Courtney was worried about how her news would affect P.J.
Reaching across the table, she took Courtney’s hand. “Are you happy about this?” Courtney and her husband already had three kids—a boy, ten, and two little girls, seven and four.
Courtney nodded. “I am. Brad…well, he wants another boy in the worst way.”
P.J. refrained from rolling her eyes or saying what she thought about Brad and his wants. In her opinion, her sister’s husband was a neanderthal. P.J. wouldn’t have put up with him for a minute, let alone the twelve years Courtney’d been married to him. For one thing, he didn’t believe in women holding jobs outside the home.
For another, he was constantly saying things like, “Honey, you wouldn’t understand that even if I did explain it,” when Courtney asked him about anything to do with his job. You’d think he was a rocket scientist, for God’s sake, when he was a lawyer.
Courtney was every bit as smart as he was, probably smarter, P.J. thought. Yet she seemed contented with Brad. His put-downs didn’t seem to bother her at all. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice them.
To each his own, P.J. thought. Better her than me.
“Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she said now. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Courtney sipped at her ginger ale and eyed her sister over the rim of her glass.
P.J. knew she wanted to say something. To prevent yet another conversation about P.J.’s situation, she hurriedly asked, “Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Not yet.”
“You mean, you’re telling me before you told them?”
“You’re my favorite sister, you know that.”
They smiled at each other, and P.J. forced herself to remember how lucky she was. She might not ever be able to have any children of her own, and she might have repudiated her family’s money and her status as an heiress, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her parents and siblings. And she absolutely adored her nieces and nephews—Courtney’s three and soon to be four, Jillian’s two, and Peter’s two.
P.J. told herself it didn’t matter if she couldn’t have kids, because she had no intention of getting married, anyway. She’d known long ago she wasn’t cut out for marriage. In fact, she couldn’t imagine subjugating herself to a man…any man. Just the idea of a man telling her what she could and couldn’t do set her teeth on edge.
And she certainly wasn’t cut out for homemaking. Hell, she couldn’t even boil water, let alone cook. And as far as cleaning went, forget that, too. One of her indulgences was a once-a-week maid service, and even if she had to give up food, she intended to keep that.
Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. She liked food too much, especially carbs. In fact, she’d never met a carb she didn’t like. That was the biggest reason she forced herself to run five miles every day. So she could keep eating all those fries and pasta and pizza and still keep her figure.
Yet, even as she told herself all of this, she knew she might have been willing to give the marriage thing a try if not for her probable inability to have children. Providing, of course, the right man should come along.
You can always adopt.
Maybe, she thought. But there again, it would take the right kind of man. And lately, she’d begun to think he didn’t exist.
Plenty of single women adopt.
P.J. had actually considered adoption. In fact, she’d given some serious consideration to adopting an older child—one of the ones considered hard to place since everyone seemed to want babies. And maybe one of these days she’d finally get around to doing something about it.
By now the waiter had brought P.J.’s beer and the sisters had placed their orders—P.J. a steak sandwich and fries, Courtney the house specialty of coconut-crusted shrimp salad.
“P.J., you eat entirely too much junk food,” Courtney said mildly as their waiter walked off.
“I know. That’s why I run.”
“Do you ever eat a salad?”
“Sure.”
“How often, once a month?”
P.J. grinned. “You know me too well.” After taking a swallow of her beer, she said, “So you’re due in…mid-February?”
Courtney nodded. “February fourteenth, to be exact.”
“At least it’s not Christmas day.” P.J.’s birthday was two days before Christmas and she’d always hated that. “Just don’t name him Valentino or something like that.”
Courtney snorted. “Like Brad would let me.”
To keep from saying something snide about Brad, P.J. said, “So what else is new?”
“Let’s see. Um, Melissa McKee is getting a divorce.”
“You’re not serious!”
“Melissa’s the one who told me.”
“That’s a shame. I thought she and Rod had a good marriage.”
“Hey, he’ll be eligible now…” Courtney’s eyes were speculative.
P.J. knew what she was thinking. “Forget that,” she said quickly. “He’s not my type. But he’ll have no shortage of women lining up to be the next Mrs. McKee, I’m sure of that.”
Rod was a very wealthy man as well as a good-looking one. P.J. wasn’t sure what he did. Something in commodities trading, she thought. He probably had no social conscience to speak of. Definitely not her type.
Thinking that, she couldn’t help remembering she’d said the same thing about Alex Noble just today, that he was not her type, either. Something in her expression must have alerted Courtney to the direction of her thoughts because her sister said, “Wait a minute. Are you dating someone?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“You had a strange look on your face.”
“Oh, I was just thinking about a new guy who started working for me today. Anna—you’ve heard me talk about her—said something about him and I told her he wasn’t my type, either.”
“Why’d she say something about him?”
P.J. shrugged. “He’s kind of a hunk. If you like that type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Oh, you know, tall, dark, handsome.” P.J. smiled in spite of herself.
“And you don’t like that type.” Courtney shook her head, laughing. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”
Just then the waiter came with their food, and the sisters fell silent until he was gone again.
Courtney began to cut up her salad. She speared a piece of shrimp and some lettuce leaves, but before putting them into her mouth, she said, “Maybe you should give this new guy at work a chance. Who knows? You might actually like him.”
“Who said he’s interested in me?” P.J. poured a mound of ketchup next to her fries and dipped one in.
Courtney gave her a look. “You’re a very pretty, very sexy woman. Of course he’ll be interested in you.” She forked another bite of salad into her mouth. Then she grinned. “That’s if you can keep your mouth shut.”
P.J. glared at
her sister. But she couldn’t hold the expression and was soon laughing. “Yeah, that can be a problem,” she admitted. She’d run more than one guy off by expressing her opinions, which were almost always diametrically opposed to theirs.
“So tell me more about this guy,” Courtney said when their laughter subsided.
“No point. I’m not interested in him. And even if I were, which I’m not, he works for me. I don’t date guys who work for me. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Courtney nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Conflict of interest or something.” She studied P.J. for a minute. “Are you sure it’s not the baby thing stopping you? Because if it is, lots of guys don’t want kids.”
P.J. sighed. “I know that.” She wanted to add that any guy who didn’t want kids was probably not the kind of guy she’d want to be with, anyway, but she didn’t. Courtney would just feel bad if she said something like that.
“Do you? Seems to me you throw up all kinds of excuses to keep men at a distance, and I can’t help thinking that’s the real reason.”
P.J. shrugged. “It’s not. But I can’t help thinking about it. I mean, what if I start dating someone and really like them and they like me? Then I tell them I can’t have kids? Is that fair?”
“Well, you can hardly tell them before you go out with them,” Courtney pointed out. She made a face. “It is a problem, isn’t it?”
P.J. nodded, then made a face. “Let’s change the subject, okay? I’m awfully tired of this one. Tell me what Jillian and Peter are up to. I haven’t talked to either one in weeks.”
“The phone works both ways, you know.”
P.J. started to laugh. “If my eyes had been closed, I would have sworn that was Mom talking.”
The expression on Courtney’s face was priceless. But then she joined P.J.’s laughter, and for the rest of evening, they kept their conversation lighthearted.
Alex had just finished his dinner—a really excellent omelette—and before settling in with the new T. Jefferson Parker book he’d bought, he decided to check his messages on his home phone. He didn’t really expect there to be anything important, but he’d better check, anyway.
The first two were invitations he wasn’t interested in accepting—he’d ask his secretary to send his regrets—the third was a hangup, and the fourth was from Georgie—short for Georgianna, the oldest of Cornelia’s four daughters.
The message started with, “Hey, Alex, where the heck are you? I called your office but the call was routed to Marti and she said you’re taking a leave of absence? Holy cow, has hell frozen over? I’ve hardly ever known you to leave your precious foundation for a vacation, let alone a leave of absence. Call me! I need to talk to you. Smooches.”
Alex chuckled. He loved Georgie. Too bad he felt toward her the way he felt toward Julie, because if not, she’d have made a perfect wife.
Punching in the code for her cell, he waited for her to pick up. Instead he got her voice mail. “This is Georgie. Leave a message and I’ll call you back soonest.”
At the beep, he said, “Hey, girl. It’s me, Alex. Call me if you get this message before eleven. After that I’ll be racking up Zs. Oh, and I’ve got a new cell.” He gave her the number, then said, “If you don’t get home early enough to call back tonight, wait till after four tomorrow, okay?” Not wanting to explain any further, he broke the connection.
Her call back came a little after ten.
“A leave of absence, a new cell, don’t call after eleven, don’t call during the day…what in the world is going on?” she said.
“And hello to you, too,” Alex said, grinning. He laid his book on the coffee table, then got up and stretched.
She laughed, the sound low and warm and contagious. “C’mon, quit stalling. Have you joined the CIA or something?”
“Nothing that drastic.”
“Well, where are you?”
So Alex explained. When he was finished, there was silence for a long moment. Then she said, “I cannot believe this. I especially can’t believe my mother went along with it. I mean, Alex, this is the craziest scheme I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe not that crazy.”
“What do you mean, not that crazy? This is the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth.” Her voice was indignant. “And giving you a time limit? It’s blackmail, that’s what it is.”
“Yes, I guess it is, but—”
“But nothing. I’m going to have a serious talk with Mother. I always knew she was blind as far as your father is concerned, but this is the limit.”
Alex couldn’t help grinning at Georgie’s anger on his behalf. She was nothing if not loyal. “Calm down, okay? I admit, I was ticked off at first, but I’m actually okay with it now.” An image of P.J. and the way she’d looked in the park earlier flashed through his mind. “I think it might work out well.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you’ve found somebody already?”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. But there are some possibilities.”
“So you’re saying you’re no longer free to meet me for lunch during the week?” Georgie worked for an ad agency in downtown Seattle, and they’d fallen into the habit of meeting for lunch at least once a week.
“No, afraid not.”
“How about dinner?”
“Dinner I can do.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“Where?”
She named a restaurant they’d frequented in the past. Luckily it was on the Portland side of Seattle, so Alex wouldn’t have as much traffic to contend with.
“It’ll have to be an early night, since I’ll have a long drive back,” he said.
“How early?”
“Seven?”
“That’s doable. I’ll see you then. Oh, and Alex?”
“Yes?”
“Despite what you said, I’m still going to give Mother a piece of my mind!”
Chapter Four
B y the end of his first week, Alex felt like an old pro at his job. He knew where the most popular products were located without having to look at his diagram, and even when he did have to look, it didn’t take him long to find what he needed, get it off the shelf, and fill the order. In fact, he worked almost as fast as Rick did.
“You’re doing a great job,” Rick said, clapping him on the back late Friday afternoon. They’d both been asked to stay until five because of a huge order that had come in right before their shift was about to end. “You filled as many orders as I did today.”
Alex smiled. “Thanks.”
Even P.J. gave him a compliment, saying, “You’ve caught on fast, Alex.”
It was absurd how pleased he was by their praise, especially P.J.’s. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. She didn’t seem to be watching him as much as she had those first few days.
He’d been watching her, though. He couldn’t seem to help it. And the more he watched her, the more intrigued he became, and the more he entertained the possibility of her as a potential wife.
She had just walked by the aisle where he was working when Rick approached from the other end. Alex hoped the younger man hadn’t seen him staring at P.J.
But Rick’s gaze was guileless. “Hey man, it’s quitting time.”
Alex looked at his watch. It was after five. The time had gone so fast that afternoon, he hadn’t realized how late it was.
“I wanted to tell you that we usually stop off at Jake’s for a couple of beers on Fridays,” Rick said. “Want to come?”
“Who’s we?”
“Just a bunch of us from the different departments. Mostly singles.”
Alex wondered if P.J. would be there. “Okay, sure. Sounds good. Uh, does the boss usually go, too?” He inclined his head in the direction of P.J.’s office.
“Sometimes. Not always. But even if she does show up, she’s pretty low-key when she’s there. She doesn’t act like the boss or anything.”
“That’s good,” Alex said for Rick’s benefit
.
“Some of the guys stay and eat,” Rick said as they walked out to the parking lot together. “Jake’s has great fried shrimp and onion rings, but me, I gotta get home. Maria’s mother is visiting and she said she’d babysit tonight if me and Maria want to catch a movie or something. Maria’s all excited.” He grinned. “Thing is, we don’t get out much.”
Alex had seen Jake’s Grill on his drive back and forth to work. Located on River Street, it was only about five minutes from the distribution center. Although it had been raining earlier in the day, the sun had broken through the clouds by the time he reached the five-year-old red Ford pickup truck he’d purchased to conform with his new status in life.
He grinned as he unlocked the driver’s-side door. He actually liked the truck. Hell, he might even keep it when this masquerade was over.
After getting in, he rolled down the window. He also liked fresh air. In his capacity as Managing Director of the Harrison Hunt Foundation, when he wasn’t sitting on his butt in the office, he spent a lot of time traveling to various facilities. That was the hardest part about his job at the distribution center—having to be indoors all day long.
The drive to Jake’s was short. When he got there, the parking lot was already half-full, even though it was early by most standards. He parked the pickup, locked it and strode toward the entrance.
The inside of Jake’s sported dark woods, dart boards on the far wall, and long tables rather than booths. Alex smiled at the player piano cranking out “The Entertainer” and the pretty waitresses in their short black skirts and white blouses. He saw there was also a juke box and some video games on the far wall.
Spying Rick at a long table near the bar, he walked over to join the HuntCom group. He’d met most of them already. A quick glance told him if P.J. was coming, she hadn’t made it yet.
“Hey, Alex,” Rick said. Sliding his chair over, he made room for Alex to join them. “You know everyone?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” said a striking blonde sitting on the other side of Rick. “I’m Carrie Wancheck. I work in payroll.”
“Alex Noble,” Alex said, leaning over to shake her hand. “I’ve seen you around.” He was almost certain she was one of the women who had checked him out during his first couple of days on the job.