Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  “Pie,” she said, taking a forkful. “The food is the best thing about pregnancy. I spent the first trimester puking my guts up, so now I can relax and enjoy.”

  “There’s the hormone glow, too,” Delaney reminded her. “Your skin looks fabulous. And your hair. You look happy. Are you?”

  “I think so,” Kelly allowed. “When I’m eating pie.”

  In the aftermath of the class, sudden curiosity hit. Delaney put her elbows on the table. “What’s it like?” she asked. “It seems like we’ve hardly had a chance to talk since you’ve been pregnant. How does it feel?”

  “Strange. Wonderful. Spooky. Sometimes it feels like I’ve got an alien inside me. I mean, it’s another human being, moving on its own. And it’s magical and exciting and all of that, but it’s also…”

  “What?”

  “Bizarre,” she admitted.

  Delaney fought to keep a straight face. “I can see how that might be.”

  “And I get in a roomful of pregnant women like that and I look around and they’re all so happy.”

  “But you’re happy, too.” Delaney looked closer. “Aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I am, and I know Kev is. It’s just that…” Kelly flattened a bit of piecrust with the tines of her fork. “I worry, you know?”

  “About what?”

  “Everything.” She traced the cherry filling into swirls. “Labor, delivery. I mean, somehow that big old baby inside of me is going to have to get out through this awfully small opening.”

  “Bad design,” Delaney commented.

  “You’re telling me. And I can read and listen to people all I want, it’s like getting your wisdom teeth pulled—you don’t know anything except that it’s going to hurt.”

  Delaney squeezed her hand. “Oh, honey, it’s going to be okay. You’ve got a really great doctor and you’re healthy and you were hyperventilating like a champ in there. Besides, you’ll have all of us right beside you cheering you on.” She considered. “And if it does hurt a lot, you’ll have really great drugs.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. I don’t care what Lamaze Action Doll says, screw the panting and deep breaths. You start hurting, girlfriend, we’ll get you whatever you want.” Delaney grinned.

  “And when it’s over you get champagne.”

  “I guess.” She smiled wanly.

  Delaney studied her. “That isn’t it, though, is it?”

  “No.” Kelly’s chin wobbled. “There’s…so much. I worry about whether I can do it all. Whether I’m going to wind up losing myself. Whether it will change things between Kev and me. And being a parent, it’s terrifying. Forget about the advice, until you’re there, you just don’t know how you’ll do.”

  “Are you worried about Kev? Hey, he’s going to be a great dad. He’ll be right there with you the whole way.”

  Tears shimmered in Kelly’s eyes. “It’s not Kev I’m worried about,” she whispered. “What about me? What if I don’t love her?”

  “Sure you’ll love her. Or him. It’s your baby.”

  “But you read about them, these women who just don’t bond with their kids.” Kelly blinked and the tears spilled over. “It happens. What if there’s something wrong with me that I can’t love her the way I’m supposed to?”

  Delaney folded her into her arms. “Oh, honey, it’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Oh, yes I do. And the reason I know is that you’re asking the question. If you were that type of person, you wouldn’t be.”

  “Swear?”

  “Swear,” Delaney said, and held her while she cried it out.

  Finally, Kelly gulped. “I’m sorry. It’s all these hormones, they screw everything up. And I can’t tell Kev because he’s got enough to worry about.”

  “Kev’s exactly who you should talk to about it, and he’ll tell you the same thing I am—you’re going to be a natural at it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Kelly said, wiping her eyes.

  Delaney leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know what I think? I think you’re going to have a beautiful baby. And they’re going to hand her to you when she comes out and you’re going to look into her eyes. And you are just going to be in love.” She gave Kelly a strong hug. “That’s what I think.”

  14

  CLONING WAS THE ONLY answer, Dom thought as he hunched over his desk, rubbing his eyes to take away the blurriness. He’d find the scientists who’d cloned the sheep and get them to do the same for him. Then there’d be two of him to do the job.

  And he’d still be a week behind.

  Eric appeared in his doorway. “Wheels Up says we can come inspect the place next week, if we want.”

  “We could stop in St. Louis on our way from Dallas to Detroit.” Dom clicked some keys to bring up their schedule. “Looks like there’s a window Tuesday afternoon. Instead of going direct to Detroit, we can stop in at Wheels Up, then fly again later that night.” He made a note to himself. “I’ll have Anne arrange it.”

  “Cool.” Eric made his way over to the client chair and sat.

  “Any word on the IPO front?”

  “Dunno. We should probably check in with John and see how the offering’s going.” Automatically, Dom reached in his pocket for his BlackBerry, only to find it empty. He made a noise of irritation.

  Eric studied him. “What’s up?”

  “I left my BlackBerry somewhere,” he said. At Delaney’s to be exact. He remembered now, pulling it out the night before to check messages after they’d come back from dinner. Somehow, he’d gotten sidetracked by an avid mouth and a pair of very persuasive hands. And the BlackBerry was probably still on Delaney’s coffee table where he’d set it aside.

  “Get it together, dude,” Dom muttered to himself.

  Eric gave him an interested look. “Something wrong?”

  “Not a thing. I’ve got Lurie’s office on speed dial. They can get me to his cell number if I need.” Dom punched the buttons, hit speaker phone and listened to the ringing.

  He had to stop spacing out on things, that was all there was to it. Granted, he was operating on too little sleep and too much time out of the office but still, he couldn’t keep letting things slip. Right now, it was small stuff, but if he didn’t watch out, who knew?

  Part of the problem was that all the travel was grinding him down. When he was home, he was shuttling between his house and Delaney’s, to the point that his life was completely disjointed. Half the time when he woke up, he didn’t know what time zone he was in, let alone what bed.

  Of course, when Delaney was in it, it didn’t bother him so much.

  But that was part of the problem.

  As distractions went, she was world-class. He had work to do, more than enough to fill his days, yet when he got around her, it somehow stopped mattering. Suddenly it seemed just fine to take the evening off, to skip writing that e-mail or reviewing those financials. Or to set down his BlackBerry and then forget it altogether.

  Eric gave a quiet cough.

  “Wellspring Capital, John Lurie’s office,” a woman’s voice repeated.

  “Ah…”

  “Hi, Nina,” Eric broke in, “this is Eric Novak and Dom Gordon from G.A.C.”

  “Hi, handsome. What state are you in this time?”

  Dom stared at Eric. “Handsome?” he mouthed.

  Eric gave a modest shrug. “Home, right now.”

  “John won’t like hearing that,” she said. “He wants you out winning friends and influencing people.”

  “Oh, I’m a hell of an influ—”

  “We’re working on it, Nina,” Dom cut in.

  She laughed. “Just a minute, I’ll connect you.”

  There was a pause on the line and Lurie came on. John Lurie, head of the underwriters’ syndicate, the people responsible for selling the stock in G.A.C.’s IPO—and assuming the financial loss if they didn’t. “Hey, guys,” Lurie’s voice boomed through the speaker phone. �
��Just heard from Bourke Investments. Elliot Sanborn’s very hot on you two. He had a lot of questions, but he’s promised to come in for one million five.”

  Dom formed a gun with his hand, aimed it at Eric and mimed dropping the hammer.

  “I guess you guys smiled pretty out there when you met with them,” Lurie continued.

  “We’ve been smiling pretty so much we’re wearing the enamel off our teeth,” Dom said.

  “Getting to you, huh? Don’t feel bad. Everybody always says the road show is the toughest thing they’ve ever done. Although, if you’d done the whole thing straight through without a day off, you’d be done by now.”

  “If we’d done the whole thing straight through, we’d be in the nuthouse by now,” Dom observed.

  “Some of us would say you’re already—” Eric began but stopped, grinning, when Dom glowered at him.

  “Don’t worry,” Lurie went on. “We’re doing okay as it is.”

  “Okay?” Dom repeated. “What’s okay?”

  “Understand these are just pledges. We can’t actually sell anything until the SEC gives us the word, but so far, about sixty percent of the stock is spoken for. Assuming everything goes smoothly.”

  “We’re nothing if not smooth,” Eric said.

  Dom put up a hand to silence him. “How does that compare to the general rule?”

  “Like I said, okay. Not great. You need to make a hard push next week out in the Midwest, Chicago, especially. The numbers are rolling in from the people who’ve seen you. We just need to get you in front of a few more of them. I’m going to have Nina add a few meetings to next week,” Lurie added briskly, “maybe have you hit Manhattan again the week after.”

  Dom resisted the urge to groan. “If there are people we need to get in front of, then let’s do it.”

  Eric did groan, this time shooting himself.

  “Glad you’re on board.” In the background, the thumping bass line from Pink Floyd’s Money sounded. “Sorry, guys, that’s my cell phone. Got to get that,” Lurie said. “Stay in touch. Let me know how Chicago and Dallas go next week. Nina will call you.”

  “You’ve got it,” Dom said and hung up.

  “Gee, Manhattan,” Eric said. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “We need to sell the stock.”

  “No, John and his syndicate need to sell the stock,” Eric corrected. “We only need to market it.”

  “Exactly. And if John says go back to NewYork, we go back.”

  “In that case,” Eric said, rising, “I’m packing.”

  Dom massaged the bridge of his nose and turned to stare out the window. Another trip. Another week away from the office. Another week away from Delaney. Time with her was precious and splendid. He wouldn’t trade a moment of it.

  The thing was, he didn’t have a moment.

  Even at the best of times, the IPO process was grueling. Now, there were simply too many demands on him. Now, he felt pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

  Except when he saw her. Then, none of that seemed very important. Somehow, all the stress eased around her. Somehow, laughter became what mattered, laughter and the feel of her in his arms.

  There was a tap at his door. He faced forward to see his assistant. “A messenger dropped this off for you,” she said, laying a manila envelope on his desk.

  He reached for it, only to find it heavier than he’d anticipated. Frowning, he slit it open with his letter opener. He wasn’t expecting anything that he knew of. He slipped his hand inside and pulled out his BlackBerry.

  And on it was a yellow sticky note with a bright crimson lip print.

  SUNDAY HAD ALWAYS BEEN her favorite day. Sure, she could sleep in on Saturday mornings, too, and there was Saturday night to look forward to, but something about Sundays always struck a chord with her. Saturdays might be about errands; Sundays were play. Saturdays generally had events; Sundays were hers alone.

  Although the hers alone part had lost some of its charm of late, Delaney realized as she sat on her couch with her feet up on her coffee table, painting her toenails. Somehow in the past couple of weeks she’d fallen into the habit of spending the days with Dom. This time, he’d had to work, instead, trying to get ahead before heading back out on the road. She couldn’t really blame him, she supposed.

  So she found herself drifting at loose ends, searching for things to do. And refusing to admit she had one ear cocked for the phone. It made her impatient. This hadn’t happened before he’d come along. Always before, she’d been quite happy to make her own plans, or even to be on her own. Not that she wasn’t more than capable of entertaining herself now. But happy?

  It wasn’t the same thing.

  She rose to pace the room. It made her more than a little irritable. If she were smart, she’d think about breaking things off, before this feeling of being at loose ends became something bigger. But she was having too much fun, dang it. Breaking up with Dom would be like going on a diet, denying herself things she craved because she thought it was good for her.

  She could consider Dom an experiment, she decided. She’d ride with the involvement a while longer, let herself get tired of him. Eventually, she’d get tired of him. She always got tired of them.

  Didn’t she?

  Right?

  In the distance, a dog barked. There was the rushing metal noise of someone raising up their garage door in the alley. And then she heard it, a low, almost subsonic rumbling, like a passing freight train. It had her looking up and listening, then walking to the window. And then she saw it.

  The GTO.

  It stopped before her house, idling with that throbbing growl. Idling, with Dom behind the wheel.

  And her mood was forgotten. Laughing, she ran outside. “Well, aren’t you a picture,” she exclaimed, leaning in the driver’s window to kiss him. He wore jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking like some hotrodder from a past decade.

  “Got to dress for the car,” he said. “Get in, I’ll take you for a ride.”

  “Let me get my shoes.”

  She ran back inside the house, completely unable to stop the grin that spread across her face. She was like a schoolgirl with a crush and suddenly, she just didn’t care.

  She slid into the passenger seat. He leaned over to kiss her thoroughly and sat back. “You ready?”

  “And willing,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll remember that.” And he pulled away.

  “So when did you get it done?” she asked, smoothing a hand over the upholstery and looking around. “I thought you were working on the suspension.”

  “I was. And then I realized I own a garage.”

  “Several of them, as a matter of fact.” She kept a straight face.

  He turned onto Pico. “I’ve been trying to do the whole restoration myself, but then it occurred to me that after two years what I really wanted to do was drive the damned thing. So I took it to G.A.C. and told them to finish it.”

  “Fun over diligence. I’m so proud of you, pumpkin.” She patted his leg.

  “Pumpkin?” He accelerated up the freeway on-ramp.

  “A term of affection.” She felt the sudden jolt of excitement as the car sped up. “So where are we going?”

  Dom merged into traffic. “Around. I figured we’d take her out, go on a little shakedown cruise.” He gave Delaney a sidelong glance and floored it.

  The acceleration dizzied her. The engine roared, she felt the punch of power and soon they were flying along in the fast lane, the pickets in the divider whipping past. Dom’s hands were strong and competent on the wheel, his eyes intent. It took her back to high school, when a fast car, loud music and the windows down constituted the ultimate thrill.

  Gradually, he throttled back until the rushing quieted enough to let them hear each other.

  “Now you tell me, is this a car or is this a car?” she demanded, doing her best to sound like Stan.

  “Finest p
iece of Detroit rolling metal ever made,” Dom added. “The ultimate muscle car.”

  Euphoric, she laughed and dangled her hand out the window. “I feel like we should go cruise for another street-rodder and race for pink slips.”

  “No way am I taking a chance on losing this baby,” he said.

  “Although rumor has it GTOs were clocked as fast as 112.”

  “Miles per hour? Wow.”

  They flashed past a carload of high-school boys who honked and whooped.

  “Hey, the teen gang’s lusting after your car.”

  Dom grinned. “My car? How do you know they’re not lusting after my navigatrix?”

  “Navigatrix?” Delaney preened. “Ooh, I like that. Kind of hard to navigate when I don’t know where I’m going, though.”

  He laid a hand on her thigh. “Trust me. I know the way.”

  The miles whipped by and the terrain changed. She saw the landmark tower of Knott’s Berry Farm, then the white peak of the Matterhorn at Disneyland. And then she knew.

  “We’re going home!”

  He slanted a look at her. “Seems appropriate, doesn’t it?”

  He pulled off the freeway onto Orange County streets that were familiar to her as the lines on her palm. There was something about it that was almost genetically encoded in her. She could live somewhere else for decades and would still never feel this level of bone-deep recognition for it. This was home, whether or not her family lived here any longer. It was hers.

  “I think I know every single square inch of north county. We used to drive around on Friday nights in high school, trying to find streets we’d never seen before,” she remembered as they rolled past what had once been Stan’s Garage, now converted to a G.A.C.

  “Have any luck?”

  “Not really. Bits and pieces.” They turned a corner and drove by the junior high school, the red, white and blue of Delaney’s memory now freshly repainted in earth tones. As they passed the grammar school, she felt the melancholy. Silly, really. It wasn’t as if she lived a continent away. She could come here anytime; she just never did. “You know, I couldn’t tell you the last time I was here.”

  “It’s only an hour away.”