"We need to stop," she said. "I have to phone the hospital."
"Use mine," said Spencer. He handed her a small cell phone in a leather case.
Her heart dropped. She was probably the only adult in captivity who didn't have a cell phone. She slipped it out of the case and stared at it. What on earth was she supposed to do now?
He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. She was glad it was too dark in the car for him to see her blush. Good going, Dr. Wyatt. You can deliver twins but you can't dial the hospital.
"Just flip it open, press the Power button, dial your number, then hit Send. The phones are all different."
He knew she was stuck and he offered her a lifeline without making her ask for one. If she hadn't already loved him, that would have been enough to make her tumble. They fell silent in the front seat while she talked with the hospital.
"False alarm," she said, handing the phone back to Spencer. She wondered if they could hear the relief in her voice. She felt like throwing back her head and shouting hooray to the world. "They forgot I'm not on duty tonight."
Molly half turned in her seat. "I'm so glad," she said. "You're way too glamorous to deliver babies tonight."
Jessy found herself grinning like a fool. "I am," she agreed, feeling positively giddy. "If they think I'm turning in this dress for scrubs tonight, they don't know Jo Ellen's baby girl."
"Jo Ellen," said Molly. "Is that your mother?"
"None other," said Jessy. "Jo Ellen Grady Wyatt. If it wasn't for her, I'd still be back in Mississippi."
They started peppering her with questions, first Molly, then Spencer, and before she knew it she was telling them all about Jo Ellen and her daddy, Jim, about barefoot summers and hardscrabble winters, about how one woman's dreams can change a young girl's life.
She didn't talk about the baby, though, and she prayed Molly wouldn't bring her up. She danced around it and held her breath until. Molly said something about college and leaving home that let Jessy know she was safe. The last thing she wanted to do was think about her baby. She'd waited all her life for her Cinderella moment and she wasn't going to let anything ruin it.
#
It felt so natural to Molly, sitting next to Spencer while they drove to the hotel, She felt as if she'd been sitting next to him for years. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought she was sitting next to Robert. There was no sexual tingle, no jolt of sensual awareness. This time last year, that lack wouldn't have bothered her. She probably wouldn't even have noticed. She felt comfortable, relaxed, and vaguely bored. That last one embarrassed her. lie was witty and quite entertaining, and, judging from the sound of her laughter, Jessy was anything but bored.
It struck Molly that maybe there was something to what Rafe had said. Jessy seemed more vibrant than Molly had ever seen her before, almost flirtatious if you got down to it. Molly had attributed the change of attitude to the wonders of a new dress and hairstyle, but there could be more to it than that Spencer had been duly complimentary, but Molly hadn't sensed anything out of the ordinary about his interest in Jessy. She'd been wrong once tonight. Maybe she was wrong again.
A line of cars curved around the driveway that led up to the hotel entrance. Valets galloped past at breakneck speed, claiming as many cars as they could for their own. A freckle-faced red-haired girl opened the driver's door for Spencer then raced around to the passenger side to help Molly before Spencer had the chance to round the hood. She didn't notice Jessy sitting quietly in the backseat. Molly was about to say something when Spencer extended his hand to Jessy. She swung her slender legs from the car and climbed out.
Jessy had a certain grace to her that Molly had never noticed before, and she cast a sharp eye at Spencer to see if he'd missed it. His expression was blandly appreciative, but then again it always was—no matter how he really felt about the person. It was part of his upbringing and part of his training as a lawyer. Robert had been the same way. He'd actually smiled pleasantly when he told her he was leaving. She wished she'd had the guts to slap that smile off his face, but all she'd wanted was to crawl into his arms and stay there forever. Now she couldn't quite remember why.
Spencer escorted the two of them into the lobby, where they were directed to the Yankee Ballroom. He kept a proprietary hand under Molly's left elbow and one under Jessy's right. A knot of anxiety suddenly formed in Molly's throat, and it was all she could do to keep from bolting for the door. What if Robert was there? She knew the odds were slim that he and the beauteous Diana/Dianne/Diandra/whatever-her-name-was would make the trek from the canyons of Manhattan to central New Jersey for the charity dinner, but stranger things had happened. If there was one thing Molly had learned since the day Robert said he was leaving, it was that anything was possible.
"Molly Chamberlain!" Celeste Colwin, whose flashing brown eyes missed nothing, met them at the door. "Dick and I have been hoping you wouldn't disappoint us." Celeste had chaired the committee that put together the charity event. She also was the biggest gossip in. town.
"Good to see you, Celeste," Molly said. "I'm sure you know Spencer Mackenzie. I'd like you to meet Dr. Jessy Wyatt. She's an OB-GYN at the Med Center."
They all exchanged pleasantries. This would have been her life if Robert hadn't left her: day after day, month after month, year after interminable year of small talk, social chitchat, soul-numbing boredom. She would have found herself lunching with the likes of Celeste, trading tidbits about other people's lives, withholding as much of her own as she could.
They engaged in a few moments of empty conversation while Celeste tried to pretend she wasn't calculating Molly's state of mind by the state of her wardrobe and grooming. Take a good look, Celeste. The abandoned wife, her lawyer, and her boarder. You may never see our like again.
She wondered why she'd ever thought coming here was such a brilliant idea. This wasn't her life any longer. She wasn't part of this world and never would be. She was a pregnant wife who would soon be a single mother with limited prospects. Not exactly the kind of woman who hobnobbed with the Princeton elite.
She glanced toward Jessy. The woman was aglow with excitement. She looked positively radiant as they stood in the doorway to the ballroom. Molly's heart went out to her. She didn't want to say or do anything to dim Jessy's excitement. Few dreams in life held up to the light of day. Jessy might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Maybe Molly could sneak away after the appetizer, call for a cab to take her home. Maybe she'd bump into a nice couple who was heading back to Princeton Manor and she could hitch a ride with them. All she wanted was to be home in her favorite nightgown, snuggled up in her own bed with a cup of tea and a good book.
"I wouldn't have figured him for the charity dinner type." Spencer's voice penetrated her thoughts.
She turned to him. "Who isn't the charity dinner type?"
He pointed toward a table in the corner. "Your handyman."
A buzzing started inside her head. Not in a million years. It was impossible. Couldn't happen. She couldn't bring the image of Rafe Garrick, stripped to the waist and glistening in the sunshine, into line with this starched and pressed crowd. That would defy the order of the universe. She would step out of her old life, and there'd be no turning back.
Chapter Eleven
Rafe stood up and walked toward her, and Molly's old life scattered like birds before a storm. He was the only thing she saw, his voice was the only one she heard.
"You're late," he said to her, with a nod toward Jessy and Spencer. "I thought you'd changed your mind."
He wore a dinner jacket instead of his usual denim work shirt. His shiny black hair was neatly combed. But it didn't fool her. She'd have been surprised if it fooled anyone. He radiated danger. Pure shimmering sexual danger. He was every mother's nightmare, the erotic dream come to life.
Her dream.
"Don't be silly," she said, all light and breezy and insincere. "I've been looking forward to this for weeks."
"She has," said Spencer. "Th
at's all she's talked about"
Rafe turned away from them and said something to Jessy that turned the woman's cheeks, bright red. She hadn't considered Jessy in that light before. Both Rafe and Jessy were unattached. They could walk out that door and head straight for a motel on Route 1, and it wouldn't be anybody's business but their own.
She linked her arm through Spencer's. "They're playing my song," she said, even though she hadn't the foggiest notion what song it was. "Care to dance?"
#
"He never shuts up," Rafe said to Jessy as they watched Molly and Spencer out on the dance floor. "Look at him. That mouth is always moving."
"He's a wonderful conversationalist," Jessy said, without taking her eyes off the lawyer. "You should be half as good."
"He's a talker," Rafe said, glowering as the lawyer danced Molly in the general vicinity of the patio. "I don't trust talkers."
"Wearing your heart on your sleeve tonight, are you?" Jessy's Mississippi drawl softened the sting of her words.
"Look who's talking. I know what you're thinking, but you're not in his league, kid. Not even in your pretty new clothes."
Jessy turned to him, her brown eyes wide with hurt. "You're not number one on her dance card either, in case you haven't noticed."
"You're right," he said, leaning back in his seat until he was balanced on the two rear legs of the chair. "We've got that much in common."
Molly's laughter drifted toward them over the music and conversation.
"I hate that sound," Jessy said.
"I'm not crazy about it myself."
"Back home, a gentleman would have asked me to dance by now."
"Yeah," said Rafe. "The lawyer's got a lot to learn."
"I'm not talking about Spencer," she said. "I'm talking about you."
"You don't want to dance with me."
"That's right," she said, "and you don't want to dance with me." She inclined her head in the general direction of Molly. and Spencer. "But we both want to dance with them."
Why hadn't he thought of that? He stood up and held out his hand to Jessy. "Come on, Doc. Let's give them a run for their money."
He and Jessy must have looked like father and daughter out there on the floor. They were comically mismatched in size and dancing ability.
"This isn't a waltz," Jessy said to him.
"It isn't?"
"It's a fox trot. Didn't you know that?"
"No," he said. "Where did you learn so much about dancing?"
"My mama, Jo Ellen, teaches ballroom on Tuesday nights at the senior center."
"So what now?" he asked. "Should we bump into them?"
Jessy sighed loudly. "Do I have to spell everything out? We'll just dance up to them and casually suggest changing partners."
"What if they say no?"
"They won't say no. They're too polite for that."
Maybe that snake Mackenzie was too polite to say no, but Molly wasn't. He'd seen flashes of her temper on more than one occasion. She wouldn't hesitate to leave him standing there in the middle of the dance floor. "You've got it all planned, haven't you?" The little doctor was more complicated than he'd figured.
"I'm goal-oriented," she said as he steered them across the dance floor. It was clear Spencer was her goal.
She reminded him a bit of Karen toward the end of their marriage. Karen had had that same single-minded quality, and it had paid off for her. She'd managed to catch her man. Too bad the man she caught wasn't her husband. He'd never regretted letting Karen go without a fight, but lately he found himself wishing he'd fought for his daughter.
The sense of loss would grab him by the throat when he least expected it. He'd be working on Molly's deck and happen to catch sight of her profiled in the window, her graceful hands resting on her round belly. He'd find himself wishing those were his hands on her belly, his child growing within her body, their future she dreamed about. He could ease her loneliness. He knew how.
He knew she could ease his pain.
They danced alongside Molly and the lawyer, and Jessy sprang into action.
#
Spencer was charming and personable and a wonderful dancer. He held her close but not too close. That wasn't her choice. She wanted to be held close, pressed up against his body. She wanted Spencer to kiss the side of her throat, to nuzzle her ear, to make her forget Rafe even existed. She leaned closer to him, and the baby chose that second to kick hard against her belly. He pulled away, looking startled.
"Don't worry," she said, "The baby's not a black belt yet."
"You're sure?" He laughed, but she caught a note of uncertainty in the sound.
"Positive." She leaned closer to him again, and 'although he didn't pull away, she could feel his discomfort, which made her feel lonelier than she ever had when she was alone.
This is who I am, Spencer, she thought as he guided her around the floor. Like it .or not, the baby is part of me.
He guided her around the floor with skill and flair. Lush music, romantic atmosphere, a handsome partner, a child growing inside her womb—Molly had everything she could possibly want, and it wasn't close to enough. There was a deep, yearning emptiness inside her heart that not even the baby could fill. Maybe nothing ever could.
"You haven't said a word," Spencer remarked as they danced closer to the patio doors at, the far end of the dance floor.
"I'm enjoying the music," she said, then caught herself. "And the conversation, of course." Light and bright. Glib and facile. As insubstantial as cotton candy. Silence would resonate more deeply than this.
"Is it the handyman?" Spencer asked. "I'm as surprised as you are that he showed up."
"Of course it's not Rafe," she said. Amazing, Molly. You lie like that, and your nose didn't grow a millimeter longer. Somebody up there mist like you. "He's welcome to be here with us. I did give him the ticket, didn't I?"
"You were hard-pressed to do anything else, given the situation. Four people in the room, four tickets in your hand. Most men would have realized you were being polite and refused."
"He did refuse." She heard the snappish note in her voice and did nothing to soften it. "I wouldn't let him give back the ticket."
If that surprised Spencer, he didn't let on. "Fine," he said, "but that didn't mean he had to show up."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Spencer, will you stop going on and on about this? From what I can see, he's Jessy's problem now, so why don't we just shut up and dance?"
She didn't want to think about Rafe. She especially didn't want to think about him dancing with Jessy. Jessy looked doll-like in his arms, fragile and lovely. Molly looked anything but fragile these days. She was too ripely pregnant, all hips and breasts and hungers. The sight of them dancing together caused her physical pain.
"Fancy meeting the two of you here." Jessy sounded almost giddy with delight as the two couples danced next to each other.
"Small world," Spencer said, looking down at Jessy. "You'd think we shared a dinner table or something."
The remark didn't warrant Jessy's gales of laughter. Jessy made another remark that didn't register on Molly.
It was spoken too low for her to understand anything more than the slightly flirtatious tone of the words. Spencer said something back. Jessy laughed again and, a second later, Spencer and Jessy danced off together, leaving Molly and Rafe standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking at each other. As always, his expression was unknowable. It made her angry. She didn't want unknowable. She wanted passion and warmth and tenderness and everything else the human heart had to offer. Unknowable wasn't on the list.
The urge to turn and run was almost overwhelming.
"Looks like they served dinner," Molly said. "Maybe we should--"
"Later."
He didn't ask. He pulled her into his arms, and she didn't resist. She could have but she didn't. There was a moment when the decision was hers, when she could have pulled away and he would have let her go, but she let that moment pass.
&
nbsp; "Relax," he said as they started to sway to the music. "I won't hurt you."
You might, she thought. If she gave him that power over her, he might even break her heart.
She angled her body so that there was space between them. She didn't want to give him the chance to pull back the way Spencer had. She wasn't sure she could handle a second rejection. Especially not from Rafe.
He moved forward slightly. She drew back. He increased the pressure of his hand against her back, just enough to urge her closer to his body. To her surprise, her eyes filled with tears, and she looked down, desperate to regain control of herself and the situation. But it was too late for that.
"You don't want to dance with me," he said, looking down at her.
"I don't know what I want," she said honestly. She only knew what she didn't want. She didn't want him to turn away from her.
"I'm a lousy dancer," he said, "but I do better if I can feel my partner."
She moved closer on a sigh. Her belly pressed against his intimately, and he grinned. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She shook her head. The baby shifted position then kicked hard. Rafe's eyes widened comically.
"The baby kicked me," he said.
Her breath caught as she realized he hadn't moved away from her. Their bodies were still locked in a dancers' embrace.
"I know," she said cautiously. "Imagine how it feels from the inside."
He chuckled. The sound warmed her heart. "What does it feel like from the inside?"
She thought about it for a moment. "Normal," she said. "Isn't that strange? Another person is kicking me from the inside, and it feels utterly natural."
The baby launched a series of jabs that made both of them laugh.
"Boy or girl?" Rafe asked.
"I don't know. The angle was wrong on the sonogram."
"What are you hoping for?"
"A girl," she said, "I've always wanted a daughter."
Once Around Page 13