Anything for Her Marriage. Karen TempletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
God, she was tired….
Okay, girl—listen up: One cup of coffee and one night of hot sex do not a relationship make, got it? Except that one night of sex put the dribs and drabs of her previous experiences to shame. Maybe Rod wasn’t burned into her soul or anything romantic and profound like that, but he sure was burned into her body. Yowsa—she twirled her string of garnet beads around one finger—a week with the man would probably hold her for the next forty years.
Again, she stared at the paperwork in front of her, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging at it, as if trying to let more air into her brain. He’d done her a kindness, she told herself. Man had more baggage than an airline.
Her stomach growled, as if she needed reminding. What was with this, anyway? She’d been hungrier than a bear all this week—
“Oooh, don’t we look serious this morning.”
Nancy looked up, forced the muscles between her brows to relax, then waved Guy into her office while she filled in three more lines in the contract. Elizabeth’s husband plopped himself in the gray upholstered chair in front of her desk, munching onion rings from a cardboard container.
She glanced up, chuckled. Salivated at the onion rings. “Mmm…nice tie.”
Brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the clear winter light pouring from the shadeless window behind her, thanks to a truckers’ strike that had delayed delivery of the miniblinds for Millennium Realty’s new offices. Guy plucked the tie, festooned with Mickey Mouses, off his plaid-shirted chest, and grinned. “Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” He let it drop, held out the onion rings. “Kids gave it to me. Want one?”
She started. Oh. An onion ring. Not a kid. She gratefully accepted, then flipped the page, fighting a slight wave of dizziness. “Didn’t figure Elizabeth had. So,” she said as she munched, “what’s up?”
Her peripheral vision caught the nervous shift in the chair before he laced his hands over his stomach, almost immediately lifting one to scratch behind a gold-studded ear. He wore his hair shorter than when Nancy had first met him, longish in back but neatly layered on top and front. On Guy, it worked. “Actually, I—we—need a favor. See, Elizabeth’s been a little cranky lately—”
“Our Elizabeth?” Nancy said in mock amazement, sparing him a smile as she wrote. “Cranky?”
“Well, that’s the kindest word I can think of at the moment. In any case, I got tickets to the Detroit Symphony concert tonight, aaand…” his face scrunched up into a please-don’t-hit-me grimace “I wondered if you could sit?”
Nancy leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her velour tunic. “It’s Saturday, Guy. What if I had plans?”
His face fell. “Do you?”
She sighed. “I wish. Yeah, I suppose I can sit tonight—”
“And I’ve made reservations to spend the night someplace fancy, expensive and childless,” he added in a rush.
Look at that face, wouldja? No wonder he had Elizabeth eating out of his hand. “Anybody ever tell you you’re devious?”
“Most of my clients, actually, but let’s not go there.”
She laughed. “Fine. I can spend the night, no problem. But I assume I was second choice?” Elizabeth’s mother was besotted with her new step-grandchildren, ready to baby-sit at a moment’s notice.
Guy got up, peered out the office door, then came back, leaning over Nancy’s desk. “Maureen backed out on us,” he whispered. “Hugh asked her to go away for the weekend.”
Nancy’s brows shot up. “Really?” For several months, Nancy’s widowed mother had been dating Hugh Farentino, the developer of the planned community that had been primarily responsible for the agency’s sudden boom in business. “You think things are getting serious, then?”
“Let’s just say Elizabeth and I are taking bets on whether we have a baby or a wedding first.”
Nancy fixed a smile to her face, refusing to let this good news get to her. It really did seem at times as if she was the only woman in the world destined to remain single.
“Hey, baby!” Cora Jenkins swept into the office, her bright purple cape in full sail, plunked a white bag reeking of something gloriously greasy on Nancy’s desk, then turned to Guy. “There you are,” she said to Guy. “The Reinharts are here, honey. Said you were supposed to show them houses this afternoon. Whoa, Nancy—you okay?”
She’d stood to walk to her file, found herself clutching the open drawer to keep from losing her balance. The dizziness passed in a second, but she looked up to find two pairs of eyes trained on her like bird dogs.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” She straightened up, brushed a curl off her cheek.
Guy tossed the empty onion-ring container in her garbage can. “There’s that nasty flu going around,” he said to whoever was listening as he made his way to the door. “All three kids had it last week. My mom even came down to help out, otherwise Elizabeth might have gotten it, too.”
Nancy smiled at the love in Guy’s voice. She didn’t know all the details of why his first marriage had failed, but Elizabeth had confided that Guy sometimes still had to fend off vestiges of guilt about his wife’s walking out on him and their three children when the youngest was barely six months old.
His first wife had been one clueless woman, that was for sure.
“It’s not the flu,” she reassured him, her gaze lighting on the bag on her desk. “Oh, Cora—please, please, please tell me some of that’s for me!”
“It’s all for you, baby,” Cora said as Guy left.
“Oh, bless you!” Nancy tore into the bag. “How’d you know I wasn’t going to get lunch today?”
“You still weren’t back from your morning appointment when I left, and I know you’ve got that one o’clock. Lucky guess.”
Groaning in sweet anticipation, Nancy attacked the turkey club before she’d even gotten the wrapping completely off. “I don’t know ’ut’s wrong wi’ me,” she forced out around the bite, then swallowed. “I used to be able to skip lunch all the time without any problem.”
“Which probably accounts for why you weigh less than a good-size chicken.”
Nancy swatted at her, crammed a French fry into her mouth. “It’s weird, though—the past few days, I’ve been eating constantly.”
A big grin split Cora’s face. “And at the rate you’re going, that’s going to be gone before the grease has had a chance to set on the fries. Lord, I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone eat like that.” A laugh thundered from her chest. “Save when Elizabeth got pregnant and didn’t know it for two weeks. Oh, there’s the phone—”
Nancy never saw Cora leave.
Dizziness. Exhaustion. Ravenousness. Oh, no no no no no…
Oh, hell.
The sandwich abandoned, she frantically pawed backward through her calendar, only to realize—duh!—it didn’t go past January 1. But surely it wasn’t that late, she thought as she lugged her shoulder bag up onto her desk, hauled out her checkbook and the handy-dandy calendar inside it. Okay, okay…God, they could probably hear her heartbeat in Toronto. There it was. December 17, which made her due on the…she counted forward…fourteenth.
Which was five days ago.
But…but…she’d used a diaphragm. And the stuff. That should have been fine, right? It had always been fine before….
Barely two minutes later, she burst into her house, racing to the bathroom without even removing her down coat. Her heart thudded against her chest as she yanked open the vanity drawer, rummaged through the contents. She found the spermicide first, flipped it