by Summer Devon
Toph was sick of the bunch of them. He stood up and pulled his jacket off the back of the chair. He shoved his arms into the sleeves and headed for the door.
“Toph is tired of being talked about in the third person. He is saying good night,” Toph said, and slammed out of Mickey’s apartment.
Micky, Jet, Jack and Delgado stared at the door in silence.
“About the Carmody woman,” Jack said at last. “The pictures in the papers don’t make her look like much. Is she cute, Mickey? Does she look anything like Bea?”
“Nothing like,” said Mickey. He ate some more sushi popcorn. “She doesn’t have a scrap of Bea’s refiiiinement.” He drawled the word. “Can’t hold a torch to Bea’s beauty, neither. Bea is way classier, another league of altogether. Carmody’s kind of a cute and friendly babe. Nice smile.”
“Nice smile,” Jack said at last. “Once, right after Bea left me, I got semi-plastered with Toph. Only time I’ve seen him drunk. And he said he wanted a woman with a nice smile. My guess is she’s what’s bugging Toph.”
“It’s gotta be her,” Jet said.
Mickey thought for a moment. He ate the last of the popcorn then nodded. “Yup. Probably is.”
Toph didn’t worry about anyone spotting his car at Janey’s house because he still drove a rental. So he pulled up the driveway.
To hell with the overprotective Mickey who told him to stay out of the picture during his brief moment as a media darling. The national press had lost interest when he refused to do any early morning interviews, and the local press had given up too. They’d hied off to New Haven for some kind of scandal involving professors.
He would finally find out why Janey hadn’t called. And he’d get to touch her properly. He’d thought about this often enough. If she didn’t tell him to get lost, they would spend the night, exploring each other, taking their time to learn… Oops, no. Maybe not. He had forgotten about Rachel.
Okay, they would just talk.
Bill Blair had a new fence around his property. And the garage apartment had a new, stronger door with a peep hole. Good. Mickey’s idea, no doubt. The man was paranoid but effective.
The door opened before he knocked.
“Toph.” Her smile lit into him as if she’d touched him. “How nice to see you.”
His breath hitched at the sight of her. Then he noticed her face was as pale as she’d been in the hospital.
She’d lost at least ten pounds and her usually rosy cheeks had turned white and gaunt. She wore a red flannel bathrobe over flannel pajamas decorated with cats dancing cheek-to-cheek with dogs.
“Janey, are you all right?”
She laughed. “Everyone else who sees me goes on and on about how great I look now that I lost some weight, and you ask in a shocked way if I’m all right. Yes, I’m fine. Would you like to come in?”
The relief of seeing her rumpled sweet self and that welcoming smile proved to be too much.
“God yes. Thank you.” He took two strides to Janey, gathered her into his arms, and pressed his mouth against hers in a proper kiss.
“Oh. My,” she said breathlessly, and took a step back. She goggled at him, a surprised smile on her face.
With his forefinger, he brushed a lock of fluffy blonde hair from her cheek. “Janey. I’ve missed you. Every time I take a shower I think about you.”
“Oh?” The smile vanished and her brow furrowed.
“You know. The bathtub.”
The confused frown on her face deepened. She almost looked frightened. Damn. Was she going to pretend it was a bad experience? Slightly comical—yes, he’d understand that reaction. Okay, even hysterically funny. But bad? He remembered her words at the time. She had thanked him. He was absolutely sure of that.
She pulled her robe tight around her throat. “Um, Toph. I’m afraid I don’t know. That is, I don’t know what you mean.”
He frowned at her. “You are kidding me, right?”
Her eyes widened. “I-I think something happened that I’ve forgotten about. I had a concussion when I hit my head and they say some short-term memories—” She waved a hand. “Poof.”
He groaned and shoved his hand through his hair. “May I sit down?” he asked.
“Of course.” Her confused look vanished and the full lips curved into an almost shy smile. “I really am glad to see you. Come on and take a seat. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Wine?”
“A glass of wine. Definitely.”
“It’s the cheap stuff. It’s white and a brand that was on sale but if—”
“It’ll be perfect,” he said firmly. He crossed the room and sank down onto the grey sagging couch. He stretched out his legs, glanced down at the charcoal grey trousers and well-polished black shoes he wore, and wished he’d changed out of his suit before he barged over to her house. Toph wasn’t sure what Miss Manners would say, but it seemed to him that the situation called for casual clothing.
Holy shit. Janey didn’t know what they’d done together.
What would she say if he told her? He couldn’t guess her response. Surprising that he did not know Janey Carmody well enough to guess. She might be angry, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. If he told her? He had to. No question.
From the tiny kitchen area she called, “Would you like some Duck à l’Orange or squid ink pasta with puttanesca sauce?”
Despite his tension, he chuckled. “Where’d you come up with that amazing selection?”
“My friends are foodies, remember? If someone has an emergency, they help out by bringing by food.”
“I’ve heard of that but it’s usually neighbors with stuff like tuna casserole.”
“I think I have some of that too. Margaret stopped by with it.”
“No thanks.”
He listened to the squeak of the fridge door.
No time like the present. He took a deep breath. “So. What did the doctor say about you regaining your memory?”
From the kitchen came the clink of glasses and glug of wine. “Nothing much. I lost some time before and after bashing my head. A lot of it is coming back. Mostly I’m relieved I wasn’t more badly hurt.”
She walked back into the room, looking slightly neater. She’d retied her bathrobe and clipped her hair back up. “I mean, it’s just short-term loss, so I didn’t lose any important memories, like my whole childhood or anything.”
He couldn’t help the snort of laughter.
She frowned as she handed him his glass of wine and slowly sat down in a lumpy brown chair across from him.
She studied him, and took a sip of her wine. “Or so I thought until you showed up. I can tell I forgot something I should not have. Go on, Toph. Tell me what happened.”
He took a deep breath. “What was the last thing you remember?”
She smiled and blushed. God, she was cute when she turned pink. He wished he could touch her face with his mouth to see if her skin grew warmer. He absently tapped his lip with his finger as he waited for her answer.
She murmured, “Kissing you.”
“In the bathroom?”
“No. Lying on the bedroom floor.”
“Eventually we ended up handcuffed in the bathroom. And we ended up, ah, doing more than kissing.”
Her eyes widened. “Uh oh. What on earth do you mean?”
He told her.
Her expression transforming from curious to appalled and embarrassed would have been fun to watch—if it weren’t so depressing. Perhaps the most astonishing sex he’d ever experienced and his partner had no memory of it.
At least she didn’t grow angry. Instead she refused to believe him.
“No way,” she said firmly. “I mean, I definitely remember that I wanted to, um, be with you. But what about Zack? You did say he was in the next room? And anyway, I wouldn’t do that these days—sleep with someone I’d just met. I’m not like that anymore. No.”
“No?” he said softly.
Janey gaped at him for a few seconds.
Screwing a man she barely knew wasn’t like the reformed Janey Carmody. But then nothing about that day was like any Janey Carmody she’d ever known.
She remembered something new as she pondered their imprisonment in room 210. Zack pushed them into the bathroom and threatened her. And she recalled the voice of a strange woman laughing in the bedroom.
When she opened her eyes again, Toph was watching her, his dark intent gaze fixed on her face. And she knew he hadn’t lied to her. Oh, what an event to have forgotten.
“Damnation,” she murmured. “Well. Did I…uh. Did I enjoy it?”
“We both did.” He sounded bemused. “We had a very good, albeit brief, time. You even asked me if we could do it again sometime. Without the handcuffs and not in a bathtub.”
She grinned and felt the hot blush creep into her face. “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
The grin turned into a snicker and she began to laugh.
“Whose idea was it, anyway?” she gasped as she laughed.
He grinned at her. “A mutual decision. We didn’t talk that much.”
Her laughter ended abruptly, as if turned off by a switch. Her eyes grew round. Her mouth formed an O of shock. Or fear. “Oh my good gosh. Toph.”
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
Her voice shook as she asked, “Did we use protection?”
“Ah. No. We didn’t.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I figured, six years for you meant you had to be okay. And I know I’m healthy.”
“No, but Toph. The date. God. I didn’t understand. Oh my god. I mean, it didn’t occur to me. No big deal, I thought, stress. But my period. Oh. Oh.”
His face went blank. “How late are you?”
“Almost a week.”
His first reaction was absurd and calm. “You should not be drinking that wine then.”
His simple words pushed her over the edge.
She burst into tears.
Chapter Eleven
Janey’s announcement left Toph feeling shocked, dazed and slightly dizzy. He also felt like pulling her up and dancing her around the room. He’d burst into song but he’d probably scare Janey. He couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.
Of course. This was a fine answer. He adored Cynthia, his one baby, and had always wanted more. A little Janey Junior would be fine. Thirty-five was not too old to be a new father. And the delicious grown-up Janey Carmody would be all his without having to go through the fearful nonsense and worry of dating. Uncertainty, the hallmark of any courtship, bugged the hell out of Toph.
Ah. But perhaps she didn’t consider courtship nonsense.
“Janey?” He put down his wineglass, walked over to her and squatted next to her chair. Her pale, sweet eyes, huge with tears, reminded him of the moment after Zack’s bullet had grazed her. Damn. The pain couldn’t be blamed on Zack this time. “Janey? It’ll be okay. Really.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. But…Toph, I’m sorry.”
He hauled her off the chair and into his arms. Still on his haunches, he rocked back on his heels to balance her weight.
He begged, “Stop crying, please. Don’t be sorry.”
She let him hold her and make comforting noises into her cinnamon-scented hair. Under the circumstances, he felt a twinge of guilt for noticing and enjoying the details, especially when she gulped, still half crying, “This is awful,” into his chest. He didn’t feel guilty enough to let go of her, however.
“No. You don’t understand. If I’m pregnant, I don’t think I can get an abortion.”
“No, no, of course not.”
She took a deep sniff. He fished out his handkerchief and handed it to her. She blew her nose, started to give the handkerchief back then changed her mind.
“Oops. I’ll wash it first.” She turned the folded piece of white linen over and over in her hands. “Do you know that you are the only man I know who carries one of these?”
“A throwback,” he agreed. He dropped down to the floor and pulled her against him.
She rested between his outstretched legs and tilted her head up to give him a watery smile.
“Thanks for being pleasant about this. It’s just that when you said that about the wine, I suddenly realized it was probably true. And at that moment, when I understood that I-I am probably pregnant. Well, I think I want to have this baby. If there is one.”
“That’s good,” he said.
She rubbed her eyes. “I remember at the hospital one of the nurses asking me if Zack had attacked me and telling me I had been sexually active. I was out of it, and I thought she was asking me. I bet she was telling me. Anyway, I was amused by what she said next. She said they hadn’t given me any medication that might harm a fetus.”
“That’s good,” he said again.
“And, Toph, it won’t be a problem for you. I promise, I won’t bug you for child support. In fact, I know you want to avoid public notice, so I’ll say something like it was an anonymous donor.”
“No. That’s bad,” he said.
In the circle of his arms, she grew still. “What do you mean?”
“If there is a baby, I want to be his or her father, Janey. And I don’t just mean child support.”
She twisted around and scooted backward on her bottom, out from his arms. He didn’t like the empty, cooling space where she’d been and wanted her warm body cuddled against him again.
She pressed her lips tight. “But you have a family. I mean what about Cynthia? What about Bea and all the rest of them? Mickey?”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “They’ll be fine.”
“Oh. My. So you’d want to be a father again? Well, there’s one more thing I would not have guessed about you.” She looked at him, her usually expressive eyes shuttered. “Oh my good gosh. Life will never be the same. Even if there is no baby. It’s all changed.”
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her little body was supple. Lithe and rounded. He remembered the feel of her and an astounding, harsh stab of desire sliced through him.
She rested her forehead on her knees and said, “Even before now, I mean before I found out about what we had, ah, done in the bathtub, nothing has been the same. I keep waiting for everything to go back to normal and it won’t. And not because I got shot or because of that asinine Zack.”
“What’s changed then?”
“Me. I don’t know why. I’m restless.”
“Post-traumatic stress?
“Maybe. No. I don’t think so.”
“Okay, maybe you’re antsy because you know it’s time to settle down. You’re going to have to, you know. If there’s a baby coming.”
She looked up at him, something, perhaps fear or anger, glazing her blue eyes. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
Time to bury any sign of nerves. He took in a silent breath of air and let it out slowly.
There.
Done.
Usually it was that simple to calm himself. “I can help you figure out a plan. In fact, I volunteer my services in more than helping you start a business. I’ve been thinking it’s time for a change in my personal life too. Maybe we can help each other. How about we get married?”
She met his eyes, a twitchy smile on her face, obviously waiting for him to laugh so she could join in.
He smiled back and said, “I’m perfectly serious about this. Janey Carmody. Will you marry me?”
Janey felt her jaw drop. Her mouth really did fall open. “Christopher Dunham, you are a crazy man. Add up all the hours we’ve spent together and we’ve known each other less than a day. And most of that time was under really bizarre circumstances.”
He still smiled at her but it wasn’t his easy grin. This was his smooth, dangerous smile with entirely too
much confidence in it. “You said you like punks. Isn’t a punk anyone who takes risks? Makes stupendous life-changing decisions every day or so? Okay, I’m a punk. A hooligan. I’m your type of man. Marry me.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “Listen. You can’t make important decisions like this. God. All this crap happens to you and you just let it run your life?”
“When life hands you lemons,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Toph. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know if you vote Republican or Socialist.”
“Independent. Occasionally borderline liberal, but don’t tell anyone around here.”
“No, I mean all sorts of things about you. Anything.”
“I have a lot of money.”
She gave a weak laugh. “I’ve heard. How much?”
Toph was startled to realize he had no idea what he was worth these days. He let Jet deal with that. A big change from the old days when he pored over those figures, getting his jollies from seeing them rise. When had he stopped giving a damn? Probably about the time he knew Cynthia wasn’t going to be part of his daily life anymore. About the time Bea packed up and left their old house, the one he cared about.
He’d been drifting for years.
This was perfect, better than lemonade. He grinned at her. “More than enough money. What else do you need to know? How about, I have a slight reaction to pollen, but no life-threatening allergies. Type A positive blood, I think. No serious illnesses. I never wore braces. My most embarrassing secret—other than a recent incident in a bath tub—when I was young, I admired ‘New Kids on the Block’. Second most embarrassing secret, I actually thought I could be an Olympic swimmer and, third, I used to root for the New York Yankees.”
He ticked off the traits on the fingers of one hand. “In middle school, I once cheated on a test. I didn’t get caught but I failed the test anyway. In college I was a bio major, most definitely not a business major. The first woman I ever fell in love with was named Betty, a psychology major, but I lost track of her when she dropped out after she failed an exam.”
Janey started laughing too hard to hear the rest of his list. When she calmed down, she noticed Toph squinting at her speculatively.