A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) (7 page)

He was in the sporting goods store, looking at athletic shoes, when his plans went awry. An unfamiliar male voice came over his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re Tru Jelinek.”

Tru tensed. He put down the shoes and, plastering on a polite smile, turned slowly to face the speaker.

A balding guy in an Ice Cats away sweater grinned at him and stuck out a meaty hand.

Tru shook his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“I’m Don. This is Dirk.” He pointed at his buddy, whose blue Islanders sweater strained over his beer belly.

“Thought you’d be on the golf course,” Dirk sneered.

Tru didn’t point out that the Islanders may have made the play-offs, but they’d been knocked out in the first round by Toronto. It wasn’t worth the aggravation. “Not really a golfer. I like more action to my sport.”

“Yeah.” Don shot a glare at his pal. “So, Tru, watcha think of the latest rumors about you being traded out west?”

* * *

T
HE
SINGLE
PINK
line confirmed what Jenny had known since yesterday.

“Damn it.” Half-whispered words caught on a broken sob.

Jenny had allowed herself a few moments of hope as she’d waited for the pregnancy test, even though she’d known deep inside there was no way she’d get a positive result. The IVF nurse had said there was a tiny chance that Jenny could be pregnant, despite the bleeding, so she should take the test, to be sure.

Pain stabbed at Jenny’s heart. And in her womb. An aching tightness gripped her throat. The hollow feeling within her was real.

The test isn’t perfect. Maybe it’s wrong.

Logic drowned out her desperate inner voice.
No mistake.

Tears welled as reality stamped out the spark of hope. There was no baby.

Her body had let her down; one more betrayal in her life. She should have known better than to expect anything else. How many more times did she have to be shown for the message to sink in? Good things only happened to good people. To people who deserved them.

Stop!

That was
his
thinking. Douglas Boult’s ranting had no power over her now. His ornate casket was six feet under in the Blessed Peace Cemetery. He couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.

Still, Jenny couldn’t silence the lingering doubt. Had she done something wrong? Questions whirled in her head as she revisited the days since the embryo had been implanted, trying to analyze every action, every movement. Desperately seeking an answer while hoping not to find one.

Finally, she drew in a shuddering breath then rose slowly, her muscles aching with suppressed grief. She had to let the IVF nurse know the result.

Jenny dialed Sally’s number and the nurse answered her call after one ring.

Anguish rose, threatening to overwhelm Jenny. Her words were little more than a whimper. “I... It...”

“I’m sorry,” Sally’s sympathetic tone soothed.

Relief that she didn’t have to say the words eased some of the tension in Jenny’s body. “Was it my fault?”

“Of course not.” The nurse’s tone brooked no argument.

“But I...”

“Stop.” Sally’s voice softened. “We don’t know why you miscarried, but it wasn’t anything you did. Unless you went bull-riding or bungee-jumping.”

Even in her misery, Jenny’s lips twitched. “No.”

“No drinking, smoking, drugs or partying?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’m afraid this is just one of those things.”

“What do I do now?” Jenny’s voice broke.

“Give yourself time to grieve. To heal. When you’re ready, we’ll talk options.”

There were no options.

Jenny cleared the lump from her throat. “I can’t afford any more attempts.”

“You’re still young. Things could change, giving you another opportunity. You could meet Mr. Right and try again.”

“There’s no such thing as Mr. Right.” Once, she’d thought Tru was Mr. Right. But he’d shown himself to be Mr. Totally Wrong.

“You don’t know that,” Sally chided.

Sadly, she did. But the nurse couldn’t understand, not without knowing the whole story. So she moved on and thanked Sally for her help.

For a long time after Jenny hung up, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hugging her pillow, thinking about the past and what she’d lost. Eventually, her mind shifted toward the present and how she would deal with the problems facing her.

One thing was for sure, Lizzie came first. Always. From the minute Jenny had turned eighteen and they’d left their uncle’s house, she’d tried to give Lizzie a good life. The sacrifices she’d made had been worth it; her sister was bright, well-adjusted and happy.

Jenny would do everything to ensure her sister stayed that way.

Which meant she couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for herself. She had to make money. To do that she had to find a job. Maybe several jobs. As nervous as she was about putting herself out there, she had no choice.

Forcing herself to move before the anguish lingering within took over, Jenny rose stiffly and walked to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her unruly hair, grimacing at her too-pale reflection.

Back in the bedroom, she took off her sweatpants and T-shirt, replacing them with black jeans, a crisp striped blouse and her favorite spiked heel sandals. Like donning armor, the layers encased her vulnerable self within its protection, enabling her to face the world.

Jenny was applying lipstick when the phone rang. At first she didn’t answer. The wrong words, the wrong tone and her fragile control would shatter. When it rang a second time, she checked the caller ID.

Why was Maggie so keen to get hold of her?

Drawing on every ounce of reserve strength, Jenny answered.

“You sound odd.” Worry tinged her friend’s words. “Is everything all right?”

Jenny injected a bright note into her voice. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. What’s up?”

“I have good news. How would you like to be a godmother?”

“A what?” The lipstick dropped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.

Maggie giggled. “A godmother.”

Her brain took several seconds to make the connection. “You...you’re pregnant?”

Pain seared through her.

“I’m due in November.” Maggie bubbled with excitement. “I can’t believe it. Jake and I have been trying for so long, I’d almost given up.”

As Maggie chatted away about ultrasounds and due dates, Jenny tried to pull herself together. To stop the wrenching in her stomach.

She was happy for Maggie. And she’d tell her...in a minute...when she had the strength. “Congratulations. Jake must be thrilled.”

“He says it’s like winning the Cup all over again.”

“With him scoring the winning goal.” Jenny’s laugh was watery, but genuine.

Each moment the call continued was agony, yet she couldn’t spoil her friend’s happiness by cutting her short. Jenny had no idea what she said, but somehow she managed to keep up her end of the conversation.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take a moment more, Maggie released her.

Jenny had barely hung up when her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.

Grief washed over her in waves. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to mute the sobs that escaped. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth.

But she couldn’t hold back anymore. Mewling cries, wrenched from deep within, echoed around the empty room.

Darkness had fallen by the time the storm inside Jenny began to calm. Her throat was hoarse, her lips parched, her eyes scratchy. Her muscles ached.

But her heart was numb, at last.

I have to get out of here.

Where could she go? She looked a mess. Hell, she
was
a mess. She needed a place where she could sit alone. She couldn’t face bumping into someone she knew.

Memories of an old stomping ground surfaced.

Jenny hadn’t been to the Exeter Diner in a long time. A hole-in-the-wall, with dim lighting, where the regulars kept to themselves. She’d escaped there as a teenager when she couldn’t handle being in Douglas’s house. Then later she’d hung out there with Tru.

How many times had she driven past over the years? She’d never stopped because the place held too many memories. Of Tru’s friendship turning to something more special. More precious. Of their first tentative kisses in those shadowed booths. Of whispered secrets and stolen moments.

Of that final night when he’d promised to keep her safe, then destroyed her safety. The night he’d wrecked their friendship and killed their blossoming love.

Yet, as much as she shied away from the memories the Exeter Diner evoked, she was drawn to its siren call. To its familiarity and to the peace she could find by sheltering in the cocoon of those high-sided bench seats.

What did she have to lose? Tru wouldn’t be there. Nor anyone else she knew.

Jenny got to her feet and hurried back into the bathroom. She washed her face again, then grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

* * *

A
COLD
BEER
, a rare burger with all the trimmings and not a hockey fan in sight.

Exactly what Tru needed. The tension that had tightened his shoulders since that damn encounter with Don and Dirk in the sporting goods store finally began to ease. He leaned back against the padded leather seat in the dark booth and took a long drink from the bottle the gum-snapping waitress had just served him.

He’d nearly forgotten about this diner, back in the old neighborhood; he hadn’t been here in years. When he’d stormed out of the Plaza, he hadn’t wanted to go home, but also hadn’t wanted to risk going anywhere fans would recognize him—that had ruled out most of the sports bars in the area. He’d considered going round to Jake’s, but his friend had taken Maggie out for dinner. And going to his mom’s had been out of the question—Tru wasn’t ready to face Ike or his mom, not with that letter burning a hole in his conscience.

Then he’d remembered this place. Quiet, great food and nobody would bother him.

“Jack. Rocks. Easy on the rocks.” The familiar husky voice almost made him choke.

Desire slid through his veins like flames licking at dry wood. Anger, frustration and guilt soon mingled with the desire, as they had since he was sixteen.

What the hell was Jenny doing here?

Just like old times,
his mind whispered. Except Jenny wouldn’t be rushing toward him, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. She wouldn’t be sliding into the booth, into his arms, her lips raised for his kiss. There would be no entwined fingers as they shared a milk shake.

The diner had been “their place.” They’d found it one evening, after hockey practice, and had begun to hang out there regularly. When their friendship had turned to something more, it had become their private haven. He’d only realized how much of a sanctuary this had been for Jenny when he’d discovered the truth about her uncle.

The
click-click
of high heels on the wooden floor came closer. Tru shifted into the shadows of the high-sided booth as Jenny took a seat across the room.

“Why don’t I get you some food to go with that drink?” The waitress’s gentle question belied her hard, brassy look.

He couldn’t make out Jenny’s response.

When the older woman moved away, he got his first good look at Jenny’s face.

The change since he last saw her shocked him. Her pale skin was almost translucent. There were dark smudges under her eyes. What could be wrong?

It couldn’t be her boss; the nurse had told Tru there was no change when he’d last called.

For some reason, his mom’s comment about pregnancy vitamins, the day of Harry’s stroke, popped into Tru’s head. At the time, it had raised painful questions he hadn’t wanted to know the answer to, so he’d deliberately scrubbed it from his mind.

Could Jenny be pregnant? A knife twisted in his gut.

He watched her drain the bourbon and knew the answer was no. Jenny wouldn’t drink if she was carrying a baby.

“Here you go.” The waitress placed a plate topped with a burger, fries and onion rings in front of Jenny. “Eat up.”

“Thanks.” Jenny’s smile was wooden.

As soon as she was alone, the smile faded and her shoulders slumped.

Tru was partway out of his seat before he stopped himself.
What are you thinking?
Slowly, he sat down again.

Think you can help?
His inner voice laughed, a mocking, pitying sound.
Haven’t you
helped
her enough?

All he’d wanted was to save the girl he loved. Instead, he’d screwed up badly and made things worse. Dangerously worse.

No matter how many times he replayed the events, he couldn’t find any way he’d have figured out that the man Jenny had refused to name had been the pastor everyone had adored and trusted.

Eat and get out of here.
Tru turned back to his burger, but his gaze kept straying across the room. Half of him wanted her to look up and spot him. The other half was scared she would.

He’d barely taken a bite of his burger when he caught a movement at the edge of his vision. Jenny’s fork clattered to the table. She pushed her plate away and cradled her head in her hands.

Before Tru could question his actions, he was standing by her side—with no idea what to say.

“You’re a long way from home.” Were those gruffly spoken words the best he could do?

Jenny’s back stiffened, but she didn’t look up.

Where was her usual snappy comeback? Her lack of reaction worried him. Whatever was wrong, was bad. He had to do something to spark a response. “Didn’t think this was your neighborhood anymore.”

She lifted her head, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“Look around. No hockey players.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. At least, no
good
hockey players.”

Ouch.
Still, fire had finally flashed in her blue eyes.

He slid into the booth, opposite her.

“Go away, Truman. I’m eating.”

“Uh-huh. And what was that you were doing when I came over? Praying?” He winced inwardly. He’d wanted a reaction, not to hurt her.