Laura Altom - Inherited: One Baby!

“They’ll come back tomorrow.”

“What kind of business plan is that? You’ve got to seize the market. Be ready to close the deal on even the smallest sale.”

Heading for the front entrance, she said, “At the moment, Jake, the only thing I’m closing is the door. Last warning or you’ll be spending the night.”

In one of those grandiose moves only her ex would even think about pulling off, he braced his hands on the short counter and swung his legs over. Sure enough, he beat her to the door and now stood, arms crossed, blocking it.

“You haven’t grown an emotional inch, have you?”

“Oh, like you have? Hiding from whatever’s eating you by cutting it out of your life?”

“I’m not hiding. I’m going home to pack.”

“Packing for your trip to run off and hide.”

Tears welled at the backs of Candy’s eyes and she stubbornly forced them away. It had taken years to stop crying herself to sleep over this man. No way would she give him the satisfaction of crying over him now. Had he forgotten what he put her through? Had he forgotten what kind of pain she’d put aside just in trusting him enough to marry him?

He’d known what kind of rotten family she’d come from. He’d known, and yet he hadn’t cared. For if he had cared, he wouldn’t have pressured her for so much more than she would have ever been able to give.

“If we’re talking about running, Jake,” she said, taking a deep, calming breath, “I’m not the one who left the only home he’s ever known to whoop it up on Florida’s beaches.”

“We’re not talking about me, Candy, we’re talking about you, still avoiding your problems.”

“What problems?” she asked a little too shrilly. “Until you, the Official Playboy of the Entire Eastern Seaboard, showed up, life was looking good.”

“There you go, blaming your troubles on me.”

“Argh, I guess some things never change. Add the two of us mixing like oil and water to that list. I thought your showing up out of the blue for the reunion was some kind of sign. You know, that you had finally put the past behind you and we could at least act civilized toward each other. But I guess I was wrong.”

Fumbling through her purse for her keys, she was again fighting back tears, telling herself that it was saying farewell to her store that had her in such a dither. “You never understood me.” Understood what I gave up for you. “And who are you to lecture me about my faults, when there you are, day after day, throwing it all away.”

“Throwing what away?”

Your big chance, Jake. Your chance to be the one thing you could never be with me. The one thing I know you wanted above anything else—especially me. The chance to become a father. Keys in hand, Candy pressed her lips tight.

“Answer me.” Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a light squeeze. “What was that last comment supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Bull!” Jake released her along with a wall of pent-up air. His back to her, he raked his fingers through his hair. This whole scene was out of control. He’d intended this to be a clean-cut mission. In, propose, out. One, two, three. So where had he gone wrong?

Funny how that was the same question he’d faced the last time they’d fought.

If he knew what was good for him, he’d leave right now and take his chances with hiring a woman to play the role of his wife. Maybe he could even answer one of those mysterious ads in the backs of magazines that promised to create false IDs and personal histories in thirty days or less.

Yeah right, and maybe donkeys fly south for the winter.

Face it, bud, the only shot you’ve got at keeping Bonnie is standing right in front of you, staring you down as though she’d just as soon spit on you than look at you.

“Jake,” she said in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Why are you really here? And don’t give me that line about being in town for the reunion, because Page Watson told me six weeks ago that you wrote ‘Return to Sender’ on the outside of your invitation.”

Six weeks ago, Cal and Jenny had still been alive.

And Candy was right. Ordinarily, Jake wouldn’t have shown up at their class reunion for all the beer in St. Louis. Sure, he would’ve loved hanging out with the guys, but given the very good chance that he’d also run into Candy…thank you very much, but he’d have more fun in bankruptcy court.

That being the case, again, why not walk away? Hop the next flight for Palm Breeze and never look back?

Bonnie, that’s why.

Flashes of cute chubby cheeks, heart-melting toothless grins, silky-soft tufts of hair and the scent of freshly washed and lotioned baby tummy not only steeled his resolve, but took the decision out of his hands and put it squarely in the hands of fate.

Hardening his jaw, he said, “You’re right. The reunion was an excuse. I’m really here to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Marriage. Or to be more specific…our marriage. And the question of whether or not you’d be amenable to starting it back up?”

Jake couldn’t tell whether Candy had parted her ripe lips to speak or was caught in a gasp. Either way, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d meant to thaw her a little before popping the mother of all questions, but dammit, given his time crunch—not to mention her travel plans—there wasn’t a whole helluva lot else he could do.

“I-I…I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breathy, as if his suggestion had knocked the wind from her lungs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight and instead of fighting, we’ll talk—even better, say you’ll cook dinner for me.”

“B-but—”

“Great,” he said with a wide grin. “I’ll be at your place at seven.”

“What’s with the corn dogs?” Candy’s best friend and neighbor, Kelly Foster, asked at six forty-five that night.

“You think I should’ve made Jake a standing rib roast?”

From her perch on one of the tall stools lining the burgundy-tiled counter, Kelly made a face. “At least spaghetti and a salad would have been nice. I mean, come on, corn dogs? The guy asked you to marry him again, not scrub his toilets.”

“True,” Candy said, pulling open the oven door and sliding in the tray of dogs. “And, hey, at least this time around he’s loaded. He can afford a dozen housekeepers to do all the dirty work. Think they clean up broken hearts?”

For a brief second, she squeezed her eyes shut while forcing back tears. Sarcasm wasn’t like her, which proved that the sooner Jake returned to Florida, the better off her mood—not to mention, life—would be. “Sorry to be so testy,” Candy said. “It’s just that where Jake Peterson is concerned, one marriage was way more than enough.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “From your first bizarre date spent picnicking on the Lonesome High football field, you two were made for each other. Everyone knows it. Why do you think Jake never married again?”

“How should I know? We haven’t exactly stayed close. And for your information, our first date wasn’t bizarre, it was romantic.” Candy threw extra force into whacking a freezer-burned bag of French fries against the butcher-block cutting board.

“Eww,” Kelly said. “How old are those?”

“Judging by the ice pack’s density, I’d make a conservative guess that I bought them around the time I broke up with Chad. Remember that grease phase I went through?” Candy shuddered. “My skin breaks out just thinking about it. At least one good thing is coming out of this dinner.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m cleaning out the freezer.”

Grinning, Kelly shook her pretty blond head. “You’re hopeless. Back to the subject of Jake, what do you think he’s up to?”

“You mean, besides no good? Ba-bum ching.” While tapping the high hat on her imaginary drums, Candy flashed her friend a smile.

“You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Reaching into the fridge for mustard and ketchup, Candy said, “I wasn’t trying to.”

“You’re scared to death, aren’t you?”

“About what? This is just dinner. I do it every night of the week, every week of the year—except during our annual cruise, and then I do it two times a night. Ba-bum ching.” Using the ketchup bottle as a microphone, she said in a deep Elvis voice, “Thank you, thank you very much. You can catch my act nightly at the Lonesome Lounge.”

“This is bad. Very bad.” Leaning her right elbow on the counter, Kelly cupped her chin in her hand. Tapping her cheek with her index finger, she said, “I haven’t seen you this un-funny since the night you heard Jake was leaving for Florida.”

“What are you talking about?” Candy said, filling two glasses with iced tea. “We celebrated that night. Remember? I sprung for all of us girls to eat the Holiday Motel’s seafood buffet. It was a lot of fun.”

“Of course, how could I forget a thrill-a-minute evening of culinary delights like crab-flavored chicken wings—not to mention the fact that you must’ve told enough cornball jokes to keep Laffy Taffy in business for the next hundred years. Come on,” Kelly said with a sigh. “It’s me you’re talking to. You can tell me how you really feel.”

“How many times do I have to say this,” Candy said, putting the mustard and ketchup in the dishwasher. “I feel fine. I’m not the least bit upset about Jake being back in town.” One by one, she started to unload mugs from the top rack and slide them onto the brass hooks beneath the cabinets.

“Is it because you’re on such an emotional high that you’ve decided to unload the dishes before even washing them?”

Candy gazed at the assorted dribbles of coffee, tea, and cocoa pooling on the counter. “Crap.”

“What was that? Miss Sunshine isn’t actually a tad on edge is she?”

“No,” Candy all but growled.

“Good, then when you finish reloading all those dirty mugs, you might want to unload the ketchup and mustard.”

A squeal of pure panic escaped Candy’s lips. “Oh, God. I am a wreck, aren’t I? Kelly, you’ve got to stay through dinner. What am I going to do? Say? I can’t be alone with him. You know what just looking at Jake does to me. I mean, I despise him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still think he’s the hottest guy on the planet. I mean, you should’ve seen him at the store today, his hair all mussed and that disgustingly handsome chiseled jawline of his all freshly shaven and tanned. And his bod—don’t even get me started on what ten years have done for the man’s physique.” When Candy’s shoulders slumped, her best friend hopped off her stool to enfold her in a hug.

“Trust me,” Kelly said, “you’re going to be fine. You two were high school sweethearts. You’ve known each other forever. Maybe, just maybe,” she said, brushing away one of Candy’s tears, “he misses you, and that proposal was more real than you think.”

“Fat chance,” Candy said through one last sniffle. “Even if I wanted to get back together with him—which I don’t—you weren’t here the morning he came home to pick up the last of his stuff. I handed him the shoe box he kept my love letters in, but he told me to keep it, Kel. He told me he didn’t want a single thing in his new life to remind him of me. After that, he walked out. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Thanks,” Kelly said, using a paper towel to blot at her own tears. “Now you’ve got me all choked up, too—and I’m supposed to be the strong one.” She pulled Candy into a fierce hug.