Chapter 4
He had every intention of coming home and settling down to work. The manuscript had proven to be a hit. It had not just been his opinion. Zach Tremaine had been dazzled when he read it and had immediately assigned someone to write the script.
He had also had the pleasure of informing one shocked school teacher that she was now a full-fledged author, that a renowned producer was interested in turning her book into a movie.
What he had not told her, at least not yet, was Dennis Armstrong, famous record producer would be commissioned to do the theme song.
And just like that, the publishing house was getting written up.
He was proud of his accomplishment or had been until tonight.
Taking the bottle of scotch with him, he sat in front of the fire, gazing at the hypnotic flames.
She had stirred up some disturbing memories.
He had always thought of her as "little Abigail" because of how petite she was.
He always remembered that night, mostly because he had had no business being with her.
He had taken her innocence and went on his merry way.
Or so it would seem. No one except him knew that he had wanted to spend the entire night with her. He had made love three times and was going for the fourth, when he stopped. Emotions had been intense and heavy.
He had hastened her out of the apartment before he did something foolish, like asking her to stay, like drowning in her beautiful eyes, like asking to see her again.
Tilting the bottle to his mouth, he swallowed, wincing as the burn started inside his throat and moved down to his chest.
Her words hammered at him. He supposed he deserved it. He hadn't responded to her calls and had deleted her number from his phone. She looked great, he thought grimly.
Was she engaged? He hadn't seen a ring, and he had noticed everything about her. The flawless caramel complexion, the magnificent eyes chilled over first with contempt and then icy disdain. Those lips, the pouty bottom one that he had spent an excessive amount of time bruising.
The curves of her body. It had been what? Five years and he could still recall the taste and scent of her.
Laughing grimly, he swallowed more scotch. Deciding enough was enough, he rose a little unsteadily and firmly put the bottle away. He might just look her up at that bookstore. He needed to talk business anyway and he might be able to charm her into putting her dislike of him away.
With that in mind, he turned into his office.
*****
"Where's my baby girl?"
"Hanging out with her grandparents. They took her to the children's museum. Thanks." Abby accepted the glass of wine.
Wriggling her sock-covered toes, she tucked her feet under her and aimed a look at her friend. "You left a little early last night."
"Jetlagged. Still." Jillian flipped back her long tail of hair over her left shoulder and sat sprawled on the opposite mismatched sofa.
They were in her apartment. The scent of pine sol and potpourri lingered in the air.
She had assigned a cleaning service to do a deep cleaning as soon as she returned and everything was sparkling.
That would soon change, she thought with a grimace as she looked around the shiny center table and dust-free mantle.
"And I was pissed off with your brother.
That man managed to get under my skin within ten minutes of me arriving at the bloody function.
" She lifted the glass to her lips and took a swallow.
"I want to murder him. I had several cheerful thoughts of the different ways to accomplish it.
He brought a date. God! I just managed not to tear the bitch in two. "
Her eyes clouded. "How can he be so stupid? And who the hell is the bitch?"
Abigail wisely let her vent and waited until she was through. "Someone from his office."
"A lawyer." Her disgust was palpable. "How long has he been seeing her?"
"As far as I know, he hasn't. I've never met her before."
Jillian huffed out a breath. "So, nothing serious. Good. I would hate to go against my code as a healer and do some damage. But I have a plan."
"You do?"
"Yep. No more dancing around and pretending that I'm all right with just being friends.
I intend to take matters into my own hands.
I'm going to seduce him, either that, or I'm springing for a dog.
A nice, adorable poodle or a Labrador, with chocolate fur and kind eyes.
One who will not chew on my shoes and piss on my very clean floor. "
Abby hid her smile behind the glass. "And who will take care of this dog when you have to be at the hospital?"
She aimed hopeful green eyes on her friend.
"Hell to the no."
"You have no idea what I was going to say."
"I'm psychic."
"Zoe is longing to have a dog."
"Zoe is a little person and does not get a vote. None of us are ever really at home and I will not get a poor dog and leave it to be handled by the household staff. I already told her that. Anyway, we both know you're not getting a dog."
"I haven't had sex in six months." Jillian moaned, refilling their glasses. "No, make that eight."
"You had sex just before you left." Abby reminded her.
"That was angry sex when I discovered your brother was seeing that judge. Whatever happened to her?"
"She started getting clingy."
"The bitch. I wanted to kill her."
"Instead you had sex with handsy Joe."
"Make that 'lousy in bed Joe.'" She flopped back on the cushions and closed her eyes in mortification. "I was desperate."
"No one should be that desperate."
Popping one eye open, Jillian eyed her. "How about you?"
"A year." Abby sipped wine and grinned as her friend stared at her in shock.
"Okay, you win. Why?"
Abby shrugged. "I'm a single mother who happens to run a very demanding business. And most men are intimidated by the fact that I'm those two things. The last one told me that I was cold and passionless. I told him to go screw himself and that was that."
Jillian eyed her for a minute before taking another sip. "I'm planning on ending my dry spell, what about you?"
"No plans. I'm fine."
"Are you? Honey, I saw the way you were with Kincaid Tyrell."
"Don't." Abby warned.
"I happen to be your best friend, and I'm allowed to be blunt and the voice of reason. The man is back in town, and it's bound to come out sooner or later that he's Zoe's daddy."
"He's not." Jerking her shoulders at the look on her friend's face, she took a swallow of the wine. "He was just a sperm donor."
"Who has no idea that he has a daughter. Things like that are bound to come out."
"Hopefully not now. Zoe's my daughter and that's the way it's going to stay."
"Have you figured out what to tell her when she starts asking?"
"She already did."
"And?"
"I told her he was not around and that me, you, her grandparents, great grams and uncle are all the family she needs."
"She accepted that?"
"Yes, she did. She's happy and fulfilled and has so much attention that she's not lacking."
"Yet, she has a whole other family on her father's side.
You cut him down to size last night. Usually in my estimation, a man comes back fighting after that.
Especially one who's not used to being cut down to size in public.
One who's accustomed to having women worship at his feet. What did he want?"
"To have coffee." Her friend's words hammered inside her head like a death knell.
"Coffee?" Jillian lifted a dark red brow.
"And to apologize for, you know, dumping me right after having sex with me three times that night."
Her friend threw her a quizzical look. "You never did discuss the details."
She fussed with her glass. "Nothing to discuss. He was an asshole, and I prefer to leave it at that."
"How was the sex? You never said."
"That's because I was stupid enough to think I'd fallen for a very pretty face and a magnificent body."
"He does have that." Jillian mused. "But the sex..."
"You really need to get laid." Abby pointed out dryly.
"I told you." She pointed to herself. "Starving here, but plans. Anyway. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, how was the gorgeous man in bed? I know he had a reputation..."
"Has a reputation and I don't want to talk about Kincaid Tyrell." For some reason, she was getting angry again. "He's dead to me."
Jillian took a sip of wine and carefully cradled her glass. "I hate to point out the obvious, honey."
"When has that ever stopped you?" Abby grumbled.
"You're right. The obvious being that the man's DNA is inside Zoe. You're going to be dealing with that for the rest of your life. Besides, he was your first."
Springing up from the sofa, she started pacing. "So? I've had others after him."
"Just as good?"
She whirled around, eyes flashing.
"That answers my question."
"He's dead to me."
"If you say so."
"Oh just shut the hell up and pour me some more wine."
"All I'm saying..."
"One more word about the subject and I won't tell you how to get through to my brother. Just one word."
"Bitch." Jillian muttered wryly as she poured wine. "Okay, consider the subject shelved."
They both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the tension between them gradually dissolving as the wine worked its magic.
Abby twirled the stem of her glass, staring into the dark red liquid as if it held all the answers she needed but dared not ask for.
Eventually, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she let out a soft sigh, acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, some wounds needed time, and a little humor, to heal.
*****
Adelaide Elizabeth Blake was the undisputed matriarch of the family.
She was eighty-five and had a well-preserved face and the body of a woman twenty years younger.
She had been married three times. Her first husband, Cecil, had been the love of her life and had given her a son, her only child, one she adored.