About Last Night...

by Michele Dunaway

  “Perhaps. But I can’t tell him now. Not now. It’ll take all my strength just to quit working for him.”

  “I understand,” Grandpa Joe said. “And luckily for all involved, you’re coming to work here. We have an excellent on-site child-care center, excellent health benefits, and your job will allow you to work flexible hours. We were named one of Working Mother’s top companies to work for, you know.”

  “I know,” Lindy said.

  “So that’s all taken care of. You’ll be fine, and I’m here if you need me. I know you told Shane that employees weren’t family, but since you’re carrying my great-grandchild, I think it’s close enough.”

  “Thank you,” Lindy said.

  “Anytime,” Grandpa Joe said. “Now, if I’m correct, here come Shane and Andrew.”

  Within moments the two men walked back through the double mahogany doors. Shane looked worried when he saw the two of them seated close together.

  “You haven’t been trying to steal her away again, have you?” Shane asked.

  “Now why would I do that?” Grandpa Joe replied. He rose and gave Lindy a knowing look. “You both take care.”

  “We will,” Lindy replied as she followed Shane from the office.

  “So did he?” Shane asked as they took the elevator back to the lobby.

  “Did he what?”

  “Try to steal you away?”

  “He doesn’t have to,” Lindy admitted. Shane had given her the opening she needed and she paused as they stepped out into the atrium. “I told him a month ago that I was accepting his job offer.”

  “You’re joking,” Shane said. He turned to fully face her, his confusion evident. “I gave you a raise, which you took.”

  Lindy twisted her hands together. “And I gave you a month, as promised. But tomorrow I am putting in my two weeks notice.”

  “You can’t do this. Lindy, I need you!”

  People were turning to look at them, so Shane ushered Lindy toward the doors. “We’ll talk about this in the car,” he said.

  But during the car ride home, an awkward silence fell over them. When they reached the driveway of the pool house, he parked the car, killed the engine and turned to her. “So you’re going.”

  “Yes,” Lindy said. She avoided his gaze by looking out the front windshield. “Shane, I have to go. It’s been a great three years but I need more. I need to use all of my talents and skills. I need to use my degree. It’s time that each of us moves on.”

  Shane drummed his fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel of his Corvette. “How much will it take for you to stay?”

  “You can’t buy me this time,” Lindy replied. She turned to him, her eyes pleading with him to understand. The inside of the car suddenly felt stifling as his face remained impassive.

  “Please understand that I have to go, Shane. Two weeks from now—that is, if you want me to stay the two weeks—I’m going to work for Jacobsen. Even though I don’t have an MBA, I do have a business degree. I’ve even been accepted into the Jacobsen Stars program.”

  “Congratulations,” Shane said flatly, the look on his face indicating he really didn’t mean it. “And if I know you, you’ve got everything ready so that if you walk out of here tomorrow, any temp could walk right in and pick right up.”

  “Yes,” Lindy replied. “I can call the agency and have them arrange for some candidate interviews. I know you found me at your broker’s office, but there are several very reputable employment agencies that will help you find my permanent replacement.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Shane said. He turned his body so that he faced her. “I tell you what, how about we just split the difference. Work next week and I’ll give you the following week off with pay. Sort of a vacation for having to put up with me these past three years.”

  Lindy sighed. She hated that he felt wounded. “It hasn’t been a chore.”

  Shane gave her a curt nod and opened the car door. “It’s late. Why don’t you go home? In fact, let’s take tomorrow off. After all, Monday’s Memorial Day, so let’s just make it a four-day weekend. I’ll just see you Tuesday.”

  He came around and opened Lindy’s car door. Fire flared between their fingertips as he assisted her out of the car.

  “Tuesday,” Shane repeated. And then he was gone, disappearing into the pool house. Lindy jumped slightly as the parked Corvette beeped and its lights flashed. Shane had obviously set the car alarm from inside the pool house.

  Lindy stared at the car, and then at the pool-house door. St. Louis was on daylight savings time, meaning that the days had grown longer. For that reason, she couldn’t tell if Shane had turned on any lights.

  She rummaged for her car keys, inserted them into her Grand Prix, and drove the rest of the way home in tears.

  “I DIDN’T EXPECT you to still be here.”

  Grandpa Joe looked up as Andrew Sanders stepped into Grandpa Joe’s executive office. “I had some things to finish.”

  “Yes, but it’s almost six-thirty. I thought Henrietta banned you from working any more late nights.”

  “She’s playing bridge tonight so she won’t know,” Grandpa Joe said. “Besides, I’ve been thinking.”

  Andrew grinned. “Uh-oh. That’s dangerous. Profitable, but usually very dangerous. So what’s got you so worked up this time?”

  “Lindy’s pregnant with Shane’s baby.”

  Andrew sat in the wing-back leather chair located across from Grandpa Joe’s huge mahogany desk. “I won’t even say ‘you’re kidding’ because I can see that you’re not. I didn’t know they were seeing each other.”

  Grandpa Joe stroked his beard, a habit when he was problem-solving. “That’s the whole problem. They aren’t. He mixed pain pills and alcohol at his birthday party, and when he kissed her…Well, you know all about the birds and bees. It’s obvious to everyone but him that she loves him. So at the party she had a few drinks herself and things happened.”

  “At his birthday party?”

  “I just said that.”

  “I just wanted to be clear. After all, they’ve worked together for three years.”

  “Nothing ever happened until that night,” Grandpa Joe confirmed.

  Andrew shook his head as he comprehended it all. “So what do you plan on doing about it?”

  “I don’t know.” Grandpa Joe whirled in his big leather chair and looked east down Market Street toward the Mississippi riverfront. The position of the sun caused the steel of the western face of the Gateway Arch to shimmer. Usually the sight inspired him, but this time inspiration deserted him. For once he wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

  Andrew’s voice cut through Grandpa Joe’s contemplations. “You don’t have any objections to Lindy, do you?”

  Grandpa Joe whirled back to face his son-in-law. It never ceased to amaze Grandpa Joe that he was closer to his daughter’s husband than to Blake, his own son. “I have no objections at all. I adore Lindy. She’s perfect for him. She fits him. I have no objection to welcoming her as a permanent member of this family. But she doesn’t want him if he doesn’t love her. And you know Shane. He wouldn’t know love if it bit him right in the rear end.”

  Andrew nodded. “True.”

  “Even worse, that boy’s as stubborn as a Missouri mule, which means that I’m going to have to be very underhanded here. She told me I couldn’t tell him, so I’m going to split hairs here. He has to know, but technically I’m not going to be the one to tell him. Well, not directly.”

  Andrew waved his hands in a stop motion. “Don’t look at me. I’m not going to tell him.”

  “No, you’re safe. This situation is so delicate that it must not be able to be traced back to me or to you. It has to be handled with the ultimate finesse.” Grandpa Joe paused as his idea took shape. “I’ve got it. We need Marvin Judson. He’s the only one we can trust.”

  Andrew made a face. “Ew. You really want to bring Marvin in on this? Marvin’s slime.”

  Grandpa Joe
nodded and his Santa-Claus-like beard bobbed. “Yes. I want Marvin. He owes me a small favor, and despite his sleazeball reputation, I happen to know he can be discreet.” Grandpa Joe saw Andrew’s look. “Well, at least about his sources. He’s going to have to be, for all our sakes.”

  Andrew made himself comfortable by settling deeper into the chair. “You know that Blake and Sara aren’t going to like this.”

  Grandpa Joe leaned forward and grabbed a pen. He made a notation on a memo pad. “I know they won’t like it. I don’t like it, either. I don’t want to handle it this way. It’s not going to be pleasant. That’s why no one but us can know. Yes, we need Marvin. He’s the best man for the job. And I promise you, the ends will justify the means. It has to be done. If there was any other way…” Grandpa Joe paused. “There isn’t, is there?”

  “When?”

  “Tuesday. We’ll give them the holiday weekend. That’s only fair, don’t you think? Some calm before the storm?”

  Andrew shook his head slightly. “You never cease to amaze me. I bet this one’s going to cost.”

  Grandpa Joe smiled slightly and spun to look at the Arch again. His voice held sadness. “It always does, Andrew. It always does.”

  Chapter Four

  HOT GOSSIP: Wayward Playboy knocks up PA By Marvin Judson

  People in the News Editor; St. Louis edition, National Tattler

  Shane Jacobsen, wayward and prodigal son of world-famous evangelical minister Blake Jacobsen and his wife, Sara, has committed the ultimate sin. It seems the youngest son of the dynamic ministry duo has succeeded in getting his PA, Melinda Brinks, pregnant, reliable sources confirmed yesterday. Shane Jacobsen is also the grandson of Joe Jacobsen, CEO of Jacobsen Enterprises. Brinks is due in January.

  Spokesmen for Blake Jacobsen Ministries have refused to comment on the situation, and neither Shane Jacobsen nor Brinks could be reached for comment.

  In other St. Louis personality news, local broadcaster Larry—

  THE INSISTENT RINGING woke Shane from the deep sleep he’d been in. He rolled over and slammed his fist on the snooze button, only to discover that it wasn’t the clock that had dragged him out of his fabulous dream.

  Wait! Shane attempted to kiss Julia Roberts one last time but she was slipping away, fading into the sharp morning sunlight now filtering through the white mini-blinds. The clock blinked 7:07. He lunged for the telephone that was still creating an infernal racket on the bedside table.

  “Hello?”

  “Shane Jacobsen! How could you? I don’t believe what you’ve done!”

  Uh-oh. He knew that voice and that tone. “Hello, Mom.”

  His mind suddenly perfectly clear, Shane sat up in bed, the sheet slipping down to reveal his bare chest. He cocked the receiver against his ear and reached for a pair of boxers. It was always best to be somewhat dressed when dealing with his mother, even if she was literally half a world away in Australia. He grunted a few times as he pulled the shorts on, using only one hand.

  “Shane? What’s that noise? Are you even awake yet?” His mother’s voice was shrill. “Don’t you ever get up?”

  “It’s only seven here,” Shane countered, but from her “Uh” sound he knew his mother would have none of it. He noticed a sinking feeling in his gut. Whatever he’d done, it was huge. She never exhaled like that.

  “So, young man, what do you have to say for yourself this time?”

  How many times in his twenty-five years had he heard those words? Shane blinked, and with his free hand he tried to straighten out his bed-head hairstyle. Hopeless. He sighed and scratched a spot of early-morning beard growth. No use in putting off the inevitable lecture. “Why don’t you tell me what it is, Mother.”

  “What it is! You can’t seriously be joking in a situation like this! What it is! Shane, you’re in every gossip rag over here and quite a few over there, from what I understand. Didn’t we teach you anything? While we certainly don’t condone your lifestyle and actually abhor it, it is after all your choice when it comes to the way you want to live your life. But you could at least be discreet! You have a responsibility to your family and right now your father is the laughingstock of the evangelical community. What did you do? Don’t even attempt to wiggle your way out of this one. Do you really hate us this much?”

  Shane slumped slightly, his brow furrowing as he racked his brain for some answer, some recent sin he’d committed to smear the family name again. His mind remained blank, just like after his birthday party. Surely this didn’t have anything to do with his birthday party. That had been almost six weeks ago.

  He heard his mother speaking to someone in the background. “What, Elise? You’re kidding. Yes, we’ll have to make a statement. Yes, we need damage control.”

  Sara came back onto the line, guns blazing. “I don’t have time for this game, Shane. In no uncertain terms, you will marry the girl.”

  Marry? What? Shane sat up straighter. His mother had his full attention now. “What do you mean marry the girl?”

  His mother’s voice was deliberately cool. “Shane, this may be the twenty-first century, but in our family we honor our obligations. If you get someone pregnant, you marry them.”

  “Wait a minute here. I did not get anyone pregnant. I haven’t had sex in—”

  His mother cut him off. “Oh shut up, Shane. For once grow up. You did too have sex. With your PA of all people. And she’s pregnant. Your grandfather even confirmed it when Blake called him a few minutes ago.”

  Oh, my God. Shane sat back against the headboard with a thump. Lindy sick. Bethany’s words— “unless she’s pregnant.” Lindy’s refusal to be friends.

  But they’d made love when? Shane fisted the sheet and, suddenly, his memory—which to that moment had been so black—shone through with a bright white light. Only this light was attached to a train, and the locomotive slammed into him as the memory of his birthday fully returned.

  He could see her now, underneath him, her face beautiful as he drove himself into her again and again. The phone fell from his hand as he remembered her passionate kisses, her mouth sweet like the finest honey. His fingers touched the place on his neck where the mark had been, and he could again hear her kittenish cries as he filled her and brought her to rapture’s edge. The night had been magical, and the full impact of it hit him as the memory of their lovemaking returned.

  He felt his face flush red. He’d made love to Lindy all right. More than once. His body strained uncomfortably as he remembered the bliss of it all. He shifted, forcing his arousal to cease. No wonder she’d been so distant and cold the day after his birthday.

  He’d made endless love to her, and the next morning forgotten all about it.

  “Shane! Shane!” His mother’s insistent cries brought Shane back, away from that night, and he scrambled for the phone. “Shane!”

  He put the receiver back to his ear. “Yes.”

  “I’ve been asking you what you plan to do.”

  He gave her the only answer he had. “I don’t know.”

  “You two haven’t talked?” Sara’s voice conveyed her disbelief.

  Up until this moment, I didn’t realize we’d been together. Shane stretched his leg, popping his knee. While that pain felt better, he had other, serious problems that couldn’t be fixed so easily. No, if Lindy was pregnant, and it was all over the press that world-famous evangelical minister Blake Jacobsen was about to have a grandchild out of wedlock, then it was probably not a good idea to tell his mother he didn’t even remember the blessed event.

  “Look, Mom, Lindy has not yet informed me of her condition.” Of course, now that the press had the story, he had no doubt she would be spilling the beans the moment she walked in the door. He’d make sure of it. Shane hated surprises, and this was the worst kind.

  Sara didn’t like that answer. “What do you mean she hasn’t told you yet?”

  “She hasn’t told me,” Shane repeated stubbornly.

  “Well, you’re going to t
alk to her today. And marry her. What?” His mother’s voice faded off, and Shane knew she was listening to her assistant. “You’re kidding. Shane, CNN has just picked up this story. Only thirty seconds’ worth on the air, according to Elise, but still enough to damage everything your father has worked for. I hate to use the word famous, Shane, but that’s what he is. He’s a minister leading people to Christ and Christian values, and your actions are the furthest thing from!”

  “Judge not the prodigal son,” Shane quipped.

  “This isn’t funny, Shane. People in other countries take these things very seriously. You must do the right thing. The whole world will be watching. Say you’ve had a secret engagement for the past year. She’s your PA. Everyone will believe it.”

  Shane frowned. He wasn’t marrying anyone any more than he was planning on working for Jacobsen. Perhaps this was all some big cosmic joke of Grandpa Joe’s. Shane reached for the remote, flipped on CNN, and discovered he must have timed it correctly, for there at the bottom of Headline News, running in the ticker tape, was the notice that he’d knocked up his PA. Even Grandpa Joe wouldn’t publicly embarrass his son just to play a joke on Shane.

  But marry Lindy, even if she was pregnant? Shane turned off the television and fisted the covers. He didn’t need his mother to give him the reasons for marriage. He and Lindy got along. They’d obviously had phenomenal sex. They’d been best friends for three years. They’d made a baby. But marry her? He didn’t have those kinds of long-term lovey-dovey romantic feelings for her and he doubted that she did for him, either. Did a baby make a marriage? And would she even say yes?

  “Shane, you have a responsibility here,” his mother suddenly snapped, her impatience with his silence obvious. “You listen to me, son. You made a child. You are no longer important. The baby is. You must marry Lindy and provide my grandchild with a stable home!”

  “I don’t even know if Lindy would marry me,” Shane said.