Eloise blinked. “Astronomy?”
“Yes, astronomy.”
“I wasn’t aware that you were interested in either astronomy or saving whales from extinction,” Eloise murmured. “So you’ve known him only two months and you decided to elope?”
“Yes.”
“Extraordinary. Forgive me, Allison, but this is difficult to take in. It’s not like you to be so impulsive. Now if it were Josie telling me this, well, that would be perfectly understandable. But you…you’re just not—” Eloise lifted one hand in a gesture of confusion.
“Romantic?” Allison offered, scrambling to come up with an explanation that Eloise would accept. She wasn’t ready to confess it was her pregnancy that had prompted the marriage. She needed to believe there were other compelling reasons, such as a growing bond between her and Jorge. Settling for a portion of the truth, she said, “He swept me off my feet, Eloise. I’ve never met anyone like him before. He’s…amazing.”
Eloise’s worried gaze softened as Allison spoke. “Forgive me for being so surprised, Allison. Of course he’s amazing and wonderful, otherwise you would never have married him.” The phone on her desk buzzed. “Excuse me just one second.” She lifted the receiver. “Yes? All right. Just a moment.” She covered the mouthpiece with one hand. “I’m sorry, Allison, I have to take this call. But we must celebrate your wonderful news.”
“We will.” Relieved to have escaped with relative ease, Allison slipped out of the office, leaving Eloise absorbed in her phone call, and returned to her desk.
For the next hour the staff of Manhattan Multiples popped into Allison’s office to voice their congratulations, their reactions much like Eloise’s—surprise, shock and delight. Despite their friendly interest, however, Allison sensed a definite under-current of disbelief when she repeated her story that she and Jorge were wildly in love and had a whirlwind affair that culminated in marriage. None of them voiced it, however, until Josie appeared in her doorway, paused to peer up and down the hall before closing the door with a snap, then marched across the room to plop into a chair.
“Okay, give,” she demanded, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her gaze fastened on Allison. “Tell me everything. And not that version you gave the rest of the office, I want the real scoop.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Allison replied, carefully slotting a graph chart into an employee’s file.
“I mean the true story about you and the gorgeous Assistant District Attorney. Where did you meet him?”
“At a fund-raiser to raise money for an organization committed to saving whales.” Allison had repeated the line so many times that she thought her voice was beginning to sound robotic.
“Are you sure?” Josie said suspiciously. “He didn’t arrest you for speeding or something, did he?”
Startled, Allison laughed out loud at the intrigued expression on Josie’s face. “No, he definitely did not. And even if I had a car to speed in, which I haven’t, I don’t think assistant district attorneys arrest people, Josie, they just prosecute them after the police arrest them.”
“Oh.” Josie frowned in thought, pursing her lips as she eyed Allison. “It seems very strange to me that you haven’t mentioned this guy, not even once, over the past couple of months. Leah saw him when he came to the office a week or so ago, and she says he’s gorgeous. How could you keep quiet for two whole months about being involved in a mad, passionate affair with a well-known, handsome hunk like Jorge Perez?”
“I’m a pretty quiet person,” Allison said wryly. “Haven’t you noticed?”
“Yes, but Jorge Perez isn’t. Which makes me wonder why news of you two dating wasn’t mentioned in the papers.”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad it wasn’t.” Allison didn’t have to fake her fervent response. She was having enough trouble coping with her relationship with Jorge in private; she definitely didn’t want gossip columnists speculating about them.
“That would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?” Josie’s quick concern was sincere. “Should I tell the rest of the staff not to mention your big news outside the office?”
“I’d appreciate it if you would, Josie,” Allison managed a smile. “I admit I hadn’t thought about that aspect of marrying someone as well-known as Jorge and frankly, I’m not sure I’m ready to handle questions from reporters.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll pass the word.” Josie glanced at her watch and rose from her chair with quick grace. “Yikes, I was supposed to have last year’s budget projections copied and on Eloise’s desk five minutes ago.” And with a quick goodbye, she whisked out of the office.
Allison felt as if she’d been hit by a whirlwind. Why hadn’t she considered that the press might be interested in Jorge’s marriage? He was a prominent member of the legal community and currently involved in several high-profile cases.
She hated dealing with reporters. They brought back memories of too many crowd scenes with her parents when she was a child. The confusion and fear she’d felt when surrounded by camera flashes and shouted questions, the chaos of the crowd as her parents and she were hustled from building to car, were all part of celebrity life that she’d grown to dislike intensely.
But Jorge isn’t part of a profession that courts the press, she reminded herself. His work generated interest among the media because of the human interest element, but he didn’t personally chase headlines. Their conversations about the ups and downs of being a career district attorney had reassured her on that point.
Determined not to worry about what, if any, interest the press might have in her marriage, Allison forced her attention back to the stack of work on her desk.
Later that evening after sharing a late, post-class dinner with Jorge and they were preparing for bed, Allison broached the subject.
“Jorge, someone at the office made a comment today that had me wondering—do you expect reporters to take an interest in our wedding?”
Already showered and in bed, the sheets pulled to his waist, Jorge put down the book he’d been reading while he waited for her. “Are you worried that they might?” he asked quietly.
“Not worried, exactly.” She slid open the closet doors, hung her suit inside and closed the doors, before crossing to the bed. He pulled back the blankets and she sat cross-legged on the bed, a faint frown veeing her brows while she squirted lotion into her palm and smoothed the fragrant cream over her hands. “I’m not really comfortable dealing with the media,” she confessed.
“Then I’ll handle any questions that come up.” He smoothed his hand over her bent knee, his fingers splaying over her thigh. “Anything else bothering you?”
She glanced sideways at him, her pulse already quickening at the touch of his hand and the sound of his roughened voice.
“No,” she murmured. “Nothing.”
“Good.” He tumbled her on to the pillows, his muscled body a warm, welcome weight.
At least this part of their marriage seemed to work, she thought hazily, before passion pulled her under.
Between the upcoming criminal trial that Jorge was involved in, Allison’s schedule at Manhattan Multiples, her night classes, and her pregnancy-induced weariness, the newly wedded couple found little spare time to work on their marriage. Sometimes Allison felt as if the only time she felt truly married to Jorge was when they were making love. During those moments she felt connected and sure of him. She was gradually growing accustomed to the novelty of sharing a bathroom, his aftershave mingling with the scent of her perfume, their towels hanging side by side on the bar.
Two weeks after their wedding, Jorge called to tell her that he had to work late at the office and didn’t know what time he’d be home. Allison ate dinner early and though it was barely 7:00 p.m., headed for the shower. A half hour later, her makeup scrubbed off, flannel pajama bottoms paired with a cropped T-shirt keeping her warm, she turned on CNN without the sound and settled on to the sofa to study.
She’d hardly com
pleted her notes on the first three pages of assigned reading for the following Monday night’s class when the doorbell rang. Wondering if Jorge had forgotten his key and had come home early, she shuffled the books, paper and pens off her lap and on to the sofa’s broad cushion and hurried to the door.
But it wasn’t Jorge she saw when she peered through the peephole in the door, it was an older, dark-haired woman. She glanced down at her pajamas, shrugged and slipped the locks free to open the door.
“Hello?” she inquired, curious at the swift, assessing glance the woman gave her.
“Hello. You must be Allison?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Jorge’s mother, Benita.”
Allison’s eyes widened. Stunned, she could only stare.
“May I come in?”
“Yes. Of course.” Galvanized, Allison immediately stepped back, opening the door wide. “Please do.”
The attractive older woman, silver glinting in her short black hair, stepped into the apartment and glanced past Allison into the living room. “Is Jorge home?”
“No. I’m sorry, he’s not. He had to work late at the office.” Allison closed the door and caught a glimpse of herself in the entry mirror. She nearly groaned aloud. The light-blue flannel pajama bottoms were patterned with penguins, her feet were bare, her hair ruffled from her absentminded habit of pushing her pencil through it, and she wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup. In contrast, Benita Perez was impeccably dressed in a wool herring-bone pantsuit with a white turtleneck beneath the neat jacket and stylish black boots. Small gold hoop earrings gleamed against her black hair, and the black bag slung over her shoulder matched the expensive leather of her boots.
“I returned home from a trip to visit my sister-in-law in Florida and learned from my niece, Rita, that Jorge was married while I was away.”
“Yes. Judge Maddock married us. It was quite sudden. I’m sure Jorge would have told you, but you were out of town and…” Allison’s voice trailed off uneasily under Benita’s shrewd gaze. “I’m sorry. We should have waited until you were home and could come to the ceremony. I didn’t think…my parents wouldn’t have cared and it didn’t occur to me that you might…” She stopped speaking, helpless to know how to explain an oversight that now seemed to be enormously rude and unforgivably unfeeling. “I don’t know how I could have been so inconsiderate,” she muttered, pushing her fingers through her hair in distraction.
Benita’s expression softened. “It wasn’t your fault, dear. Jorge should have called me.” Her eyes narrowed consideringly. “And since he didn’t, I can only assume that there’s something about this marriage that he didn’t want me to know.”
Horrified, Allison felt cold dread spread from her toes to her fingers.
“And now that I’ve seen you, I’m sure I know what that something is,” Benita smiled, the quirk of her lips delighted. “It was love at first sight, wasn’t it?”
“Umm…” Allison didn’t know what to say.
“I always told him that he’d meet the right woman and fall head over heels in love, just like his father and I did. And he always swore that he was much too practical to choose a wife in such an illogical way. I’m sure he’s putting off telling me because he’ll have to confess that he’s just like his romantic-minded parents.” Benita laughed and swept Allison into a warm hug. “Tell me all about how you and my son met.”
“Of course.” Allison managed to gather her wits. “Let’s make a pot of tea and I’ll tell you everything.” Thank goodness she’d already prepared a story to explain her wedding to her co-workers.
A half hour later, the two women sat in the living room, comfortably settled on the leather sofa, and sipped herbal tea.
“Do you have a lot of family in Florida?” Allison asked politely.
“My husband’s sister and two brothers have retired there.” Benita paused, contemplated her teacup for a moment, then glanced at Allison. “I don’t know if Jorge told you, but we lost his father when he was quite young.”
“Yes, I know. He told me about the shooting. It must have been terrible for a child his age to see, and how awful for you to lose your husband to such senseless violence.”
Benita nodded. “It was a horrible time in our lives. Losing his father had a huge impact on Jorge. He went from being a fun-loving little boy to a serious young man committed to preventing violence.” Her gaze warmed and she covered Allison’s hand with hers. “Jorge never talks about that day, not even to me.”
Allison didn’t know what to say. The magic of that night had seemed to erase all the normal barriers between them, making them confidants instead of strangers. She’d told Jorge about her inability to feel close to her parents, her fierce determination to use a law degree to make a difference in the world, and a dozen other things that she never discussed with anyone else. She hadn’t realized that he’d done the same. “Then, perhaps it’s good that he was able to talk to me about it,” she said finally, aware that Benita expected a response.
“I’m sure it is. I can’t tell you how happy I am that Jorge has found you,” Benita confided. “I must say that I never cared for Celeste and was relieved when she broke off the engagement.”
“Jorge was engaged to be married? Recently?” Allison’s heart clenched at the thought that Jorge had been engaged to someone else, loved someone else. But he doesn’t love me. The thought only made her chest ache more.
“Not recently, no. It was a couple of years ago,” Benita assured her. “To a young woman from a socially prominent family. I believe they met through her grandfather, who’s a judge on the appellate court. I’m sure she would have been an asset to his career, she certainly had all the right connections,” Benita said thoughtfully. “But I felt she was all wrong for him in all the ways that truly matter. She was very involved in a number of organizations and was forever dragging Jorge to one dinner and ballroom gala or another. Not that there’s anything wrong with being socially active,” she assured Allison. “But Celeste wanted Jorge to accompany her to social events nearly every night of the week. I doubt they ever spent a quiet night at home the entire time they dated. I know my son too well to believe that a life spent partying would have made him happy. I wasn’t surprised when the engagement was called off. I had the impression that Jorge’s heart wasn’t involved.” She smiled at Allison and abruptly changed the subject. “It’s lovely that you plan to become an attorney, too, what a great deal the two of you must have in common.”
More than you know, Allison thought, but she didn’t voice it. “Yes, we’re both intrigued by the practice of law. I think it’s good to have careers in common.”
“Absolutely. Have the two of you discussed children?” Benita immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, her dark eyes guilty. “Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I said that. I always swore that when Jorge married, I wouldn’t be an interfering mother-in-law. But all my sisters have grandchildren, and I must confess I was beginning to wonder if Jorge was ever going to get married and have babies.”
Benita looked so much like a child caught with her fingers in the cookie jar that Allison couldn’t take offense. Instead, she burst out laughing. “I’m sure it’s a perfectly natural thing to wonder about. And yes,” she added solemnly, “we have discussed children.”
“Oh, good,” Benita said fervently. Her eyes twinkled. “And I won’t ask you when, but just so you know—I’m ready to babysit anytime you need me!”
“Good to know,” Allison assured her, returning her warm smile.
“Since you’re an only child, like Jorge,” Benita commented, “I’m guessing that I’ll have to draw straws with your parents to decide who gets to babysit first.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Allison sipped her tea, her response as noncommittal as possible without revealing that she doubted her parents would be fascinated by her child. They were sure to send an expensive christening gift, but whether they’d be anxious to spend time with their grandchild was doubtful. Their lives were far
too busy.
“I must be going, I’ve kept you from studying long enough.” Benita leaned forward to return her teacup to the tray on the coffee table, collected her purse and rose.
Allison stood and walked with her to the door.
“I know Jorge will be so sorry that he missed your visit,” she said as she opened the door.
“Tell him that I’m sorry I missed him, as well, but it gave us a chance to get acquainted, which was lovely.” Benita smiled, her dark eyes so like Jorge’s. “I’m very glad that he’s found you, Allison. I was afraid that he’d chosen another heartless social butterfly like the ones he’s dated in the past, but it’s very clear that you aren’t like that at all.” She enclosed Allison in a quick hug and a drift of faint perfume. “Tell that son of mine to call me—and we’ll set a date for you and Jorge to come out to the house for dinner.”
“I’d like that.” Allison waved goodbye and closed the door, leaning against it and feeling a bit as if she’d been caught up in a whirlwind. Jorge’s mother was charming, and as intense and quick-witted as her son. In the short hour they’d spent together, Benita had managed to learn most of the basic details of Allison’s life, except the fact that she was already pregnant. Allison had the uneasy feeling that it would be a serious mistake to try to fool her for long as to the real reasons she and Jorge had married.
She returned to her studying and became so absorbed in the work that it wasn’t until she heard Jorge’s key in the lock that she glanced at the digital clock on the stereo and realized that it was after 11:00 p.m.
She turned to look over the back of the sofa and saw him pause in the entryway to shrug out of his coat and hang it in the closet.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” He walked into the living room and sat on the ottoman, facing her, a smile tilting his lips, his eyes warm as he searched her face. “What are you doing up so late? I thought you’d be sound asleep when I got home.”
Allison’s heart caught, and she couldn’t help returning his smile. “I lost track of time.”
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