Tainted

by Tess Thompson

  As the first light of dawn crept under the shades, Lance held Mary as she fell asleep. Her hair tickled his chest and she breathed in long, steady breaths. He stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite having made love to her three times in two hours. After the first time on the floor in the living room, he’d taken her upstairs to his bedroom. No sooner had they reached his room than she’d shoved him onto the bed and straddled him.

  He’d never been with a woman as wild. Frankly, he’d never been as wild. They’d both acted like savage animals. Would she regret it? What would it mean when she woke? Did they go back to being friends? Was she serious about the one-night thing?

  Was it just the booze? Had he set himself up for a full-fledged Exhibit G?

  Sex changed things for him. It was an intimate act that brought relationships to a deeper level. He would not be able to forget how she’d surrendered herself to him. Nor could he forget what it had felt like to surrender to her.

  He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he was alone in bed. Sitting up, he scanned the room. Mary was in the high-backed chair in the corner with her face buried in her drawn-up knees. Was she crying? He crossed over to her and perched on the arm of the chair and stroked her hair. “What’s the matter?”

  She looked up, her face wet with tears. “This is all my fault.”

  “I seem to remember being there too.”

  “I’ve ruined it now. We can’t be friends. Not after what we did.”

  “Is that all you want? To be friends?”

  “What else would I want?” she asked.

  “Something more? Dating maybe?”

  She swiped at her eyes and drew in a long, shaky breath. “I told you I’m not interested in a relationship. This whole thing was a mistake. I drank too much. Tequila makes me crazy, obviously.”

  His stomach churned. Why had he hoped she might feel for him the way he feels for her? The descent into reality hurt more when he allowed himself hope. I’m an idiot.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” she said. “This is not what you want. Not me.”

  “If you say so.” He couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. Exhibit G. Right in front of his face.

  “I can’t walk out of here thinking our friendship is ruined.”

  He looked at her, softening. If he cared about her, he would assure her that all was well. That was the only thing to do. This was a new addition to a long list of mistakes he’d made with women. “Our friendship isn’t ruined. We’ll just pretend like it never happened.”

  “Really? Can we?” Her expression brightened.

  “Of course. Don’t think twice about it.”

  She threw her arms around him and he held her for a moment. How could she walk away from a chance for love? It was all he wanted. But it didn’t matter. She’d been clear from the beginning. One night of passion, then back to friends. He released her from his embrace. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  Chapter Two

  Mary

  * * *

  AT HER DESK in the bookstore, Mary turned the page of the New York Times article on the latest celebrity scandal. The husband of a supermodel had been outed for his affair with the nanny. There was a picture of the nanny, triumphant, as she smiled leaving her apartment. Mary shook her head in disgust. Another man succumbs. Another woman weeps. The girl was not as attractive as the famous, rich supermodel. Men married to powerful women so often cheated with someone subservient: the nanny, the assistant, the personal trainer. Was it the man’s ego that needed to be fed? She shook away the image of her ex-husband and the neighborhood barista.

  She stuffed the paper into the trash bin. Here was just one more piece of evidence that she was right. To give your heart to a man was reckless and stupid. She would never do it again. Not even to Lance Mullen. Her stomach turned over at the thought of him. She glanced at her daily calendar. February fifteenth. Six weeks into the new year and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him since the night they’d spent in his bed. He’d lied to her. Things had changed between them. He avoided her. Their easy friendship was over, replaced by a stiff politeness. She suspected he regretted the sex as much as she did. He’d moved on like it meant nothing, which of course it hadn’t. Those were her terms, after all. He was dating someone from the city according to Violet. Mary had spotted him coming out of The Oar with a tall blond woman just last week. He’d clearly moved on and wasn’t interested in being close friends like they were before she so foolishly drank too much and slept with him.

  A harsh voice whispered in her ear.

  It was more than that and you know it. You tricked him.

  She missed him more than she thought possible. There was the other worry too. A big worry in the form of a missed period. She looked down at her handbag on the floor by her feet. A pregnancy test, still in its box, poked out of the side pocket. With her foot, she shoved her purse under her desk.

  If he knew what she’d done, how she’d lied to him, he would never forgive her.

  The old-fashioned bell over the front door rang, announcing a customer. Lance had insisted they keep the bell from the previous version of the town’s bookstore. An homage to the past, he’d said.

  Lance was everywhere in this shop. No matter where she looked, he was there.

  A young woman came in and headed for the fiction section. Mary let her wander for a few minutes before she approached. Often, customers enjoyed browsing without interference from the staff. Others, though, welcomed advice about which book might be perfect for them. The way this one hesitated, Mary figured her for the latter.

  “May I help you find something?” Mary asked. The young woman looked familiar. She had long raven hair and big eyes, and her curvaceous body was shown to great advantage in skintight jeans and a leather jacket.

  “Yes, I’m looking for a romance,” she said.

  “One of my favorite genres,” Mary said. “Historical or contemporary?”

  “Contemporary. Maybe a billionaire story. Or, a single dad and the nanny.”

  Nanny? A specific trope. As always, people’s tastes in books fascinated her.

  Nanny. That’s where she knew this woman. She’d been Kyle’s night nanny. Mel something. Violet hadn’t liked her. Mary led her over to the romance section. “I love the billionaire romances too—such a guilty pleasure to imagine ourselves lucky enough to have a billionaire fall in love with us.”

  Mel smiled and tossed her shiny hair over one shoulder. “Exactly. I haven’t had the best luck with romance lately, so I thought a good book might do the trick.”

  “I understand perfectly.” Mary picked out a few titles for her, along with several from the single dad trope. “You’ll enjoy this author. It’s steamy, though. Do you mind that?”

  “I have to get it somewhere,” Mel said.

  Mary nodded, embarrassed. A moment from the night she’d spent with Lance flashed in front of her eyes. If she’d just stuck with reading a romance instead of participating in the hottest night of her life, she might not have made such a mess of things. He might be at the store with her instead of avoiding her.

  “I’m also looking for a thriller or two,” Mel said. “Something intense.”

  Mary thought for a moment about what to recommend. Usually men asked for thrillers, not young women. She wandered over to the thriller section and picked out a few. “These will keep you up all night turning pages.”

  “Good. I can’t sleep lately anyway.”

  “You used to work for Kyle, isn’t that right?” Mary asked as she rang up Mel’s books.

  “That’s right. You know him?” Mel’s piercing gaze sent a shiver up the back of her spine.

  “Yes, I’m good friends with Violet.”

  A look of distaste traveled over the girl’s pretty features. “The other nanny.”

  “Now wife.” Mary watched her carefully, looking for clues. Why didn’t she like Violet?

  Mel’s eyes widened. “Wife? I
hadn’t heard.”

  “Yes. They eloped a few weeks ago.”

  “Eloped? But why?”

  “I’m not sure.” This was a lie, but Mary didn’t feel comfortable sharing Violet’s pregnancy with Mel. It wasn’t her news to share. Not that they’d tried to keep it secret. Kyle told everyone he saw that his wife was having a baby. Mary found it touching. Kyle was more than she could have wished for her first friend in Cliffside Bay. When they found out they were unexpectedly pregnant, Violet had wanted a ceremony before she started showing, but instead decided it was more practical to get married at city hall and have a wedding after she had her figure back.

  “When?” Mel asked.

  “Just after Christmas,” Mary said.

  Mel studied her hands, the muscles of her face contorting like she might cry.

  Mary busied herself with finding a bag for the books.

  The young woman wiped the corners of her eyes before looking up at her. “Do you ever wonder why life’s so hard?”

  “Yes, sometimes.” All the time. “But for the worst times, there are always books. They can get a person through a lot.” Except for the loss of a child. Not even the finest-told tale could alleviate that pain.

  “I don’t know if that’s true,” Mel said. “Sometimes books just point out all the things you don’t have.”

  “Or, we live inside them. Escape into the pages.” She patted the bag of books on the counter. “Start with these. If you enjoy them, come back and I’ll find more for you.”

  Mel picked up the stack of paperbacks and brought them to her chest like a shield. “Thanks. These will teach me a lot, I’m sure.”

  Mary watched her cross the store and slip out onto the sidewalk. Teach me a lot? What an odd thing to say. She didn’t have time to contemplate it further because another customer came in asking for a book about pregnancy. As she led them over to the non-fiction section, she couldn’t put aside her fear. She had to take the pregnancy test tonight. Denial was not bringing her menstrual period. It had been six weeks since the night with Lance. She hadn’t had a period in the new year. Which could only mean one thing.

  The next morning, Mary stumbled out onto the patio of her dad’s cottage. The sun had suddenly appeared after weeks of rain. Every tree and plant sparkled with rain water. She squinted into the sun, her eyes tired and dry from crying herself to sleep.

  She looked back to the wand in her hand. This was the fourth pregnancy test. When the first test had shown a positive result the night before, she’d bought three more, praying that she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew at the drugstore.

  Four tests didn’t lie. She gripped the railing, afraid she might faint.

  It was the kiss that had done it. An epic kiss. A kiss from the greatest love story ever written.

  No one penetrated the armor she’d made for herself. Those screws were tightened as far as they would go. Until Lance. Gorgeous, kind, special Lance. He’d loosened them with that kiss. Desire, not for any man, but for Lance, had seeped through the cracks and set her on fire.

  After the kiss and all the way down the steps and into Lance’s car, she’d chastised herself, knowing that her response had been in direct proportion to her loneliness. She hadn’t been touched by a man in six years. She liked it that way. No love equaled no chance of pain. It made sense, she reasoned, that a handsome man’s kiss would’ve aroused a lonely woman. Nothing to worry over.

  She had plenty of worries now.

  What was she going to do? She had no health insurance. This would be a high-risk pregnancy because of her stupid cervix. How would she pay for it?

  And then there was Lance. Sweet Lance. Not knowing how she’d tricked him, he would do the right thing and offer to pay for everything. That was Lance. How awkward it would make absolutely every single aspect of her life. His family hated her, for good reason. She’d been awful when her father had decided to marry Flora about five minutes after their reunion. But this? Deliberately getting pregnant? This was unforgiveable.

  Yes, she’d tricked the best guy in the entire universe into getting her pregnant.

  She wrung her hands and paced up and down the patio. There was no way around it. She had to go into town and see Doctor Jackson Waller. Everyone in this town seemed to be closer than the six degrees of separation—it was more like three degrees. Jackson was one of Lance’s best friends. They called themselves the Dogs, which honestly, made her roll her eyes. Grown men shouldn’t be as close as they all were. It was weird.

  You’re just jealous and you know it.

  I must tell Lance I’m pregnant. There was no way around that. However, she couldn’t tell him of her trickery. Her deliberate deception. He must never know.

  She could remember the exact moment she’d made the decision, despite the cloud of tequila that had fogged her brain and skewed her judgement. With her head in her hands, she replayed it in her mind.

  It had been during the third drink from the lemonade and tequila pitcher.

  She’d looked over at him, sprawled on the couch, his long legs and muscular torso displayed in those jeans that hugged his tight butt. His eyes had sparkled in the light from the fireplace. My God, he’s gorgeous. The man could be a movie star, she’d thought.

  She loved his mind too. Brilliant and quick. Still, even with all his gifts and talents and looks, he was the best person she’d ever known.

  Her thoughts tumbled to the earlier misery of the evening. Like photographs, she replayed the moments that had pierced her heart: Violet and Maggie pregnant, glowing with happiness. Pink-cheeked Dakota and Jubie chasing streamers. Mollie Blue laughing as she gazed up at Violet.

  Like then, she’d been filled with such jealousy, such rage. She wanted a baby. Why couldn’t she and Lance be like the rest of them? In love and pregnant?

  She’d known the answer, of course. He would never love her. No one could, but especially not pure-hearted Lance. Not the way she was now, cold and bitter. She’d had no illusions they could ever be a couple. God hated her too much to give her a man like Lance.

  But Lance could get her pregnant. God could give her a baby for the one He’d taken. Yes, this was the answer. She would seduce him tonight. Right now. He’d kissed her earlier. He’d wanted her. She hadn’t known that until then. He could give her a precious baby. He would never have to know. Then she would leave town, run away to raise him or her on her own. No one would ever have to know.

  Now, the deck seemed to sway under her shame. What had she done?

  When she’d woken in his arms the next morning and the humiliating light of day slipped into the room, she known she’d made a terrible mistake. Yes, she’d tricked him. But there was something worse. The truth was evident. She’d been in denial.

  She was in love with sweet, sexy Lance Mullen. How could she not be? The way he’d touched her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world had given her hope that he might feel the same way about her. No one could make love to her that way without genuine feelings. And holy God, the rough, tender, wild way he’d touched her had inflamed her, caused her to forget everything but the need for more. More Lance.

  He was her favorite person. They talked easily and deeply about every aspect of their lives. She could be herself with him and never fear judgement or shame. He made her laugh. He made her remember she was still a young woman. His quick intellect evoked her admiration.

  She could breathe when he was near.

  For years, every breath had cost her, pained her chest like an out of shape runner on a steep slope. Lance was oxygen. With him, the pain eased.

  And now she knew. The passion between them could burn down the world.

  Why then, was she unable to let herself be in a romantic relationship with him?

  The answer was simple. She couldn’t trust him. Even Lance. Especially Lance. Not after Chad’s betrayal. They were everywhere—lying spouses. Men who cheated on their successful, beautiful wives with the nanny or ran away with the best friend or deci
ded they needed a threesome with the buxom secretary and her twin sister. Okay, maybe not that last one, but the others happened every day. Chad had seemed like a decent man, like a man besotted when she made her way down the aisle on their wedding day. But as Meme fought for her life, he’d been in the arms of the barista who’d made his double tall mocha every day. Chad, with his mocha paunch and thinning hairline, had nailed a twenty-year-old coffee jerk that had a tattoo of the sun on her left shoulder. He’d said he hated tattoos. Another thing he’d lied about.

  And, there was the very real fact that Lance had slept with another man’s wife. There was a fissure in his goodness. A crevice that could be exploited, given the right set of circumstances.

  If that could happen, it was no leap to think that Lance would succumb over time. Would it be his assistant or the cute young grocery clerk or Zane’s adorable sister Sophie? One of them would pull him away from her. It was only a matter of time.

  And when that day came, she would die. She did not have the strength to survive that much pain. Not again. Not with the way she felt about Lance. His betrayal would be too much to bear. She could not risk it.

  So that awful morning, she’d run away, hoping that her ridiculous plan would not come to fruition. No baby, please God.

  She sobbed into her hands. What had gotten into her? A half a bottle of booze, that’s what. In that moment, drunk from tequila, the plan had seemed to make perfect sense. So, she’d lied to him about being on the pill. She was certainly not allergic to latex.

  She loathed herself. How could she do this to Lance who had been nothing but kind to her? How could she have done this to the man she loved more than life itself?

  Because I’m a bad person. No wonder God hates me.

  Mary’s stomach seemed to fall to the floor when Lance answered the door. She took a quick assessment. Damp hair, and he smelled of soap and his spicy aftershave. He’d recently showered. He’d shaved off his beard, which made him look younger but no less handsome. She ached to throw herself into his arms.