She moved closer until they were nose to nose. Or rather, nose to chest; she used the lapels of his jacket to pull herself up on her tippy-toes. They were close enough for him to catch a whiff of Passage d’Enfer and for her to smell the gin on his breath. Her lips were so close to his he could feel their heat against his own. Every instinct told him to wrap his hands around that tiny little waist and crush her mouth against his.
She was making it too easy …
Or was she? Glimmering in those big brown eyes was coy feminine calculation he recognized in women who wanted either expensive jewelry or revenge.
The heat of her skin was driving him insane. He swallowed as his erection throbbed impatiently against her belly. Sabrina molded her body to his and swayed with him pliantly as she closed her eyes and exhaled a soft, shuddery sigh.
“Thanks for the offer,” she finally said in a husky voice, dragging her hands seductively down his lapels before releasing them. “But I think I’ll pass.”
She released him abruptly and took a couple of steps back, giving him a full view of her skimpy outfit. Her mouth parted slightly. Gage’s heart pounded as she distractedly traced the edge of her black bra where it met the swell of an ivory breast. Then with a little toss of her head, she turned on her heels. He watched her sashay down the hall, the tassels of her robe ties swinging. She threw him a smoldering look over her shoulder before disappearing into her bedroom. The sound of the door clicking shut ushered in a sudden wave of sobriety.
So Maid March knows how to work it after all. Gage tore off his jacket, feeling frustrated and irascible, like the perpetually horny, self-doubting teenager he had once been. The teenager who hadn’t always scored with hot girls like Sabrina. Girls who had made him worry that he hadn’t been man enough to take them on.
The air in the room felt heavy and oppressive. He went over to the thermostat to turn down the heat, only to find that it had been turned off entirely. He stared lustfully at the closed door to Sabrina’s room. She’d proved her point. Unfortunately, proving it left him with a dull, unsated feeling in his loins that he could take care of with either a cold shower or a warm palm.
Maybe he should rethink his descriptors after all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sabrina sipped her latte and enjoyed an hour or two of peace before the phones went crazy. The Capitol was slow to pick up momentum after a long holiday weekend. But once it did, it went from zero to full speed ahead.
Moira and Carlton wouldn’t be in until noon, leaving Sabrina the only person to man the front desk. She sorted through pile of paper that had accumulated, pausing when she came to a Tide Brothers Construction brochure. The front cover depicted a stylish etching of a solar-paneled condominium complex so vast it could have had its own zip code and phone prefix. She couldn’t imagine Cadence Corners replaced by such a mammoth hive. Couldn’t fathom the quaint craftsman-style homes and mom ’n’ pops replaced by quarter-mile blocks glutted with towering blond stucco. Or the sound of laughter coming from the dog parks and community gardens drowned out by automatic parking gates. And yet these were the people to whom Theo wanted her to toss a bone.
The biggest bone of all.
She crumpled up the brochure and lobbed it into the recycling bin, now officially in a bad mood. It didn’t help that she and Gage were once again on the outs. She had anticipated a lot of awkwardness between them after her strategically planned tease on Thanksgiving night.
Instead, what had happened the next morning had been downright strange. She had shambled out of her bedroom just in time to see him coming out of his own room carrying a duffel bag. She had mumbled a good morning. But instead of returning her greeting, he’d simply given her a wary glance and left without saying a word. He left the front door open just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the airport shuttle waiting in the drive.
The rest of the weekend had been blessedly quiet.
Unnervingly quiet.
The phone rang. Sabrina reached for it automatically.
“Representative Ward’s Office,” she said crossly.
“Sabrina March, pl — Sabrina, is that you?” Molly sounded nonplussed. “Wait. What happened to Violetta?”
“Long story that cannot be told short,” Sabrina sighed. “What’s up?”
“I’m at Ella’s. Meet me for lunch?”
“I’m a slave to the desk, Molls,” Sabrina told her. “Is there any way you could meet me at the Capitol Grill instead?”
“It has to be Ella’s,” Molly persisted. “Nola’s made chili blanc and fresh sourdough bread today. Please?”
Sabrina relented. She waited until Carlton got in before she grabbed her messenger bag and headed to the parking garage. She knew that Molly wouldn’t have insisted on meeting at Ella’s just for her mother’s blue plate special.
Ella’s had always been sacred turf, the place where the best friends shared their childhood secrets and, as they grew older, news of bigger milestone events. Sabrina had told Molly about getting hired on by the Hon. Rep. Theo Ward at Ella’s on a blisteringly cold January afternoon while the two women sipped hot cocoa. Molly had announced her engagement to Sebastian on a sunny spring morning while they sat on the back porch and ate plum hazelnut tarts.
Molly had something important to tell her.
Something that couldn’t wait …
As soon as Sabrina opened the café door, she was pleasantly assaulted by the smoky smell of slow-roasted chicken and Hatch peppers. She could hear Nola’s voice coming from the kitchen as she gave directions to the café’s support staff. Ella’s was always packed at lunchtime, and today was no exception; all of the indoor tables were filled with Corners locals, mostly mothers of school-aged children who convened to catch up with each other.
To save precious time, Sabrina ordered a Caesar salad and iced herbal tea at the counter. Then she located Molly, who had snagged a spot on the back porch. Sabrina wound her way through a maze of small wooden tables crowded with ladies who lunched. She loved the smell of hot coffee paired with warm food and the feeling of the sunlight streaming through the mesh screen. Today, the sun tempered the effects of a cool wind blowing in from the north.
Molly was in the process of polishing off a bowl of Nola’s chicken chili. A very large bowl of it at that.
“Sorry I started without you, but I was totally famished.” Molly pressed a napkin to her lips with an apologetic look. “I know you get busy you get after Thanksgiving, but you’ve been working yourself into the ground, Brini.”
Busy was an understatement. Sabrina pulled up a seat and briefly told Molly about the problems at the office that led her to be short-staffed. By the time Sabrina finished with her update, a waitress brought her salad to the table.
“So. I have some exciting news,” Molly hedged mysteriously.
“I figured there was a reason you insisted on meeting at Ella’s,” Sabrina said with a smile.
“It’s phenomenal, Brini. As in, really big,” Molly went on. “I wanted you to be the one of the first to know.”
“How big?”
“Let’s just say that aside from getting married, this is the biggest day of my life.” Molly tipped her hand by blushing.
“Oh, get out of town!” Sabrina gushed. “No!”
“Yes.” Molly nodded, giggling.
“You won the international quilting contest? Oh, Molls, good job!”
Molly’s smile dulled slightly. “No, I didn’t win the contest. This is much bigger than some silly quilt. Although right now it’s far smaller than a breadbox. It won’t always be, of course. But, right now it’s … well, it’s really small.”
Sabrina looked at her friend askance. Molly tended to dance around issues, that much was true. But Sabrina had no clue what the hell she could possibly be talking about.
“Oh, c’mon,” Molly coached with more pep. “I thought if anyone would figure it out, it would be you.”
“Molly, we are talking about the size of objects relati
ve to breadboxes, many of which are smaller. Did you pick a winning lottery ticket?”
“No, you goose. I’m pregnant!” Molly bounced in her seat and grinned.
“Excuse me, what?” Sabrina’s fork dropped into her salad bowl when her hand went limp. She wasn’t sure she’d heard Molly correctly.
“Pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. With child. I’m going to have a baby.”
“But how? When?” Sabrina heard the words coming out of her mouth, but she didn’t feel them. Her lips had gone numb, as had the rest of her.
Numb with shock.
“We both know how. As I recall, we both got the talk about the birds and the bees when we were ten,” Molly teased. “Le conception occurred when we were in Paris. Just think. One day I can tell my son or daughter that he or she was a honeymoon child.”
Sabrina quickly did the math. “So you’re not far along.”
“Less than a month. I took a home pregnancy test on Thanksgiving. But just to be sure, I went into see my doctor this morning. Brini, I’m going to be a mother.” The dreamy tone in Molly’s voice suggested she’d reached the point where practicalities ceased to exist.
“Peachy,” Sabrina said flatly. She picked up the fork, but her appetite had suddenly fled. Pretend to be happy. Pretend, for Molly’s sake. But she couldn’t.
Conning her best friend like this wasn’t in her repertoire.
Molly had to be out of her ever-loving mind, Sabrina decided. Then it dawned on her. Cybil Cole. Molly Parker, social underling, was a daughter-in-law Cybil could have molded in her image with the Cole surname attached — but the Molly who suffered from intermittent multiple sclerosis was not. During a water skiing trip to Lake Travis, Sabrina overheard Cybil tell Sebastian it was a shame he’d probably be the last of his line, those words laced with faux motherly concern and thinly veiled contempt.
Sabrina could have detached the ski rope with a smile once Cybil’s turn came around.
“Please tell me that you didn’t let your dreadful mother-in-law push her own agenda,” Sabrina groaned.
“Hello! How long have we known each other, Brini?” Molly asked. “You know I’d never do anything just to please Cybil.”
“Then why, Molly? Tell me why you’d do such an irresponsible thing,” Sabrina pleaded.
“You know, I spent all morning imagining this moment,” Molly said, subdued. “You and me, the best friends — practically sisters. I give you the biggest news of my life. Then you jump up and hug me. You say, ‘Screw Cybil! I call dibs on hosting the baby shower!’ All I get is ‘peachy’? I feel like you’re disappointed that I got pregnant.”
“I am,” Sabrina said. “I think it’s a terrible idea. Do I have to remind you exactly why?”
Molly gave her an exasperated look. “Please, Brini. I have multiple sclerosis, not cancer. I should be able to have a child if I want one.”
Sabrina stabbed a crouton with her fork viciously. “Adopt one, then. Adopt two. Adopt twenty.”
“Sebastian and I already looked into it. No domestic agency would let us adopt, given my medical history.”
“Geez, Molls, then maybe there’s your first clue, huh?” Sabrina felt terrible as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d always known that Molly was destined to be a mother. How could she not be? Molly was kind, gentle and patient. Molly loved kids. All kids. Unconditionally.
“There are other options,” Sabrina quieted her tone after seeing Molly’s stricken face. “There’s surrogacy.”
“We couldn’t afford a surrogate without Shuck and Cybil pitching in,” Molly explained. “Besides, surrogacy is still a legal quagmire. Sebastian and I don’t want to put ourselves through what could potentially end up in heartbreak.”
“You and Sebastian could be foster parents.” Sabrina threw her last pitch out desperately. “Molly, there are thousands of children in Texas who deserve a good home. If you really wanted to have a child—”
“—You just don’t get it,” Molly interrupted with a stubborn look. “I want the experience of giving birth to my own baby.”
Sabrina struggled to contain her concern, which at that moment felt more like irritation.
“I want a lot of things too, Molly,” she snapped. “I want to write drugstore thrillers for a living. I want four-day workweeks and an antiperspirant that really lasts for twelve hours. Hell, I still want a pony. But we don’t always get what we want.”
Molly looked hurt. “Stop talking to be as though I’m a child.”
“I will when you stop acting like one,” Sabrina said brusquely. “Have you and Sebastian thought this through? What if you do get sick — really sick — this time? Who’s going to take care of this child? Do you feel comfortable leaving your son or daughter in Cybil’s hands? You’ll have to, because your erudite husband won’t be able to handle it.”
The hurt on Molly’s face was replaced by a mutinous look. “You don’t give Sebastian nearly enough credit. And you’re also missing the point. I’m already pregnant, Sabrina. It’s a done deal. You can either be happy for me or you can’t. Looks like you’ve already decided.”
“I’ve decided nothing,” Sabrina said. “How many obstetricians have you seen who told you getting pregnant is a lousy idea? Four? Or is it five now? You keep asking the same question. Each time, you get the same answer. Having this child places your health at risk.”
“Don’t you think having a baby is worth that risk?”
Sabrina forced herself to remain silent. Risk. It was a staple word in Molly’s vocabulary. Sabrina thought of the bad boys. The competitive sports Molly heroically attempted in high school — volleyball, swimming, track — just to flip the bird at her disability. There were countless things Molly did with reckless abandon that could have plotted her on a short course to danger, but none of them compared to this.
“I’m needed at the office,” Sabrina said curtly. “I’ll take care of the tab at the counter.”
“Brini, we can’t fight at Grandma Ella’s.” Molly looked at her with urgent dismay. “Anyplace else, but not here.”
“We’re not fighting,” Sabrina told her. There was nothing left to say. Molly would always be reckless. Would always try to push her physical limitations beyond their limits. If Sebastian knew this — and Sabrina was certain that he did — he had to have an even better excuse. She rose and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“Like you said, it’s a done deal.” Sabrina kept her voice cool and even. “I can’t pick up the slack when the bottom falls out this time. I won’t.”
**
I’m pregnant.
Molly’s announcement seemed to run on a mental loop synchronized to the belt of the treadmill. Sabrina punched up the speed control and ran faster, but it didn’t help.
She shook the sweat out of her hair. It couldn’t really be true. Maybe Molly was mistaken. Maybe her doctor was. No. There was no mistaking the glow. All expecting mothers had it. Molly had it.
Molly’s pregnant …
The only thing Sabrina wanted by the end of her workout was peace and silence at home with her takeout biryani. But when she pulled her Audi into the garage, Gage was on his side in the process of sticking a post into a huge wood lathe that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a professional furniture maker’s shop.
The garage had taken on all of the features of a side industry. Raw materials were stacked neatly in one corner. A vast assortment of hand tools with sharp blades was meticulously organized on a rack over the lathe. It was his personal man space, she reminded herself. But tonight the bulky equipment and the smell of heated wood only made her feel more irascible. She looked at the accumulation of pine shavings under Gage’s feet. He said nothing as she got out of the car and simply gave her a brief sidelong, sullen glance.
“You’re back,” was the only thing she could think to say. “Where’d you go?”
“I made a brief trip out of state.” His voice was cool. “I took a cab directly to the station af
ter I flew in this morning. Why do you ask? Did you miss me?”
“Desperately,” she said without enthusiasm. He wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt in need of a good bleaching, and his hair was so long he could have pulled it back in a ponytail. That he looked so sexy without exerting any effort at all annoyed her even more.
“I just got back from Molly and Sebastian’s house,” he went on. Here we go, Sabrina thought with resignation. “Apparently, the drama that transpired over lunch has Molly walled up in the bedroom with a big bowl of microwave popcorn and a box of Kleenex.”
“So you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Molly’s going to have a baby.”
Why did it sting just as much to hear it from Gage’s lips? “Molly’s irrational,” Sabrina said. “I can’t speak for your friend, Sebastian. Can you?”
“Look, they’re two dumb kids in love.” Gage hoisted one of the poles onto the lathe. “Correction: two really big kids who should have known better. But because they’re in love, they gave themselves latitude to do something extremely rash.”
“‘Rash’ is drunk-texting ex-lovers and uploading nude pictures to the Internet.” Sabrina’s voice rose. “Molly getting pregnant goes far beyond that pale. And please don’t tell me we’re actually on the same side.”
“The hell if we aren’t.” Gage stopped what he was doing to look at her sharply. “If my wife had multiple sclerosis like Molly, I’d take a vow of chastity before I got her knocked up, intentionally or otherwise. And you, Sabrina, are one of the most logical creatures on two heels. You’ve probably done your own risk-benefit analysis and know that having mommy in a wheelchair — or worse, mommy not being around at all — isn’t fair to anyone, especially a kid. But I’m not Sebastian, and you’re not Molly. Neither one of us said, ‘Hey, rock on!’ when we heard the news. But there is a kinder way to express concern.”
“So how did you do it?” Sabrina asked.
“I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, sat Sebastian down on the porch and let him talk about the ‘what ifs.’ You, on the other hand, broke Molly’s heart today.”
Something About You (Just Me & You) Page 19