Blame It on Paradise (18 page)

“South Pacific.”

“You’re awful far from home.”
umass
set his gym bag at Lina’s feet and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “What brings you to Boston?”

“Business,” Lina told him.

umass
cast a short glance at Jack. “I see.”

“Lina!” Jack’s voice carried, bringing the game on the court to a complete halt.

“Jack?” she responded evenly.

“I can’t imagine what kind of business a beautiful woman like you could be in,”
umass
said as though Jack had never interrupted.

“Well—” Lina started.

Jack quietly cut her off. “When you’re ready to go home, I’ll be waiting in the car. Unless you’d rather get a lift from your new friend here.”

Lina watched him leave. His deliberate, measured steps betrayed the fact that he was fuming, and Lina thought it wise to extinguish the heat before it burst into full flame. “I really did enjoy meeting you,” she said to
umass
. “Perhaps we’ll see you play again.”

“Doubt it,” Lina caught as she hurried after Jack.

“What’s the matter with you?” she snapped, catching his arm. “I was just talking to that man, nothing more!”

Jack opened the passenger door, practically shoved her in, got behind the wheel, and whirled on her. “I won’t take a beating for you!”

Aghast, Lina’s mouth hung open. Jack had started the car and dangerously pulled into traffic before Lina could work out words. “Have you gone insane?”

Jack struggled to remain calm. “You can’t just go to some park in Roxbury at night and flirt with a gang of homeboys without expecting to get your ass handed to you. This isn’t Darwin, Lina. We don’t party on the beach singing ‘We Are the World.’ ”

“By my recollection, there was no singing involved the last time we were on a beach together.” She had to hold onto the door to keep from hitting the dashboard when Jack stopped too abruptly to accommodate the driver making a left turn in front of him. “Those basketball players were nice, and I wasn’t flirting.” Jack wildly changed lanes, bouncing Lina against the door. “If you wish to kill me, according to your own logic you should have just left me there in the park.”

“This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?” Jack spat.

“I’m not finding any of this funny at the moment,” Lina said, bracing herself by clutching her seatbelt with one hand and her elbow rest with the other. “I’d appreciate an explanation as to why you’re so upset with me.”

“Did you not see what just happened?” Jack finally turned to her. “R.J. was not happy about us being there together.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Yes, well it could have become our problem if he’d decided to grab a few of his teammates and express his disapproval another way.”

“But he didn’t,” Lina soothed.

“We got lucky.”

They rode in silence, back the way they had come. The litter on the sidewalk gradually disappeared, the rundown brownstones became spiffy showcase-worthy homes. Liquor stores and corner convenience marts became gourmet sandwich shops and antique stores. High-rise condos gave way to high-rise office buildings, and as Jack steered the car onto the onramp for I-95 North, Lina broke the silence between them. “Are things really so bad here between black and white people that those men might have fought with you, because of me?”

Jack shifted into fifth and then set his hand on Lina’s thigh. He gave it a warm squeeze. “Men fight with each other for all kinds of stupid reasons. Same as you probably got stupid looks from the people at the Shamrock, I got stupid looks at that playground.”

“R.J. was angry with me, not you. I suppose he thinks I’m betraying my own race by being with you. Never mind that I have just as much French and English in me as African and Aborigine. It’s so different on Darwin,” she sighed, covering his hand with hers.

“Is it?”

“Most Darwin natives are mixed with something else. It’s hard to hate another race when you’ve got some of it in your own blood. Our bigotry is generally imported. It comes with some of the people who’ve settled there from elsewhere.”

“Boston has a long history of racial conflict, Lina. It’s gotten a lot better, but there are a lot of old scars that haven’t completely healed.”

“Perhaps it’s time people worked harder to learn from that history and build a more harmonious future,” Lina suggested.

“Easier said than done. Bostonians are stubborn.”

“You’re changing your history, Jack. Just by being with me. You could have changed it even more if you’d played ball with those men.”

“It’s not my job to integrate a Roxbury basketball court.”

“Perhaps it should be. Perhaps it would have made you, R.J. and
umass
see that you have much more in common than you realize.”

“Like what?” Jack chuckled.

“The love of a game. And a definite attraction to at least one black woman.”

* * *

Two days after a corned beef and cabbage dinner with Jack’s mother, Lina got a phone call from her other mother. “Where are you, kiddo?” Levora asked from her side of the world. “You sound like you’re in a cave.”

“I’m in Madrid.” Lina’s right hand sweated around the cell phone clutched at her ear. “I’m in the bathroom of my hotel suite.”

“Have you had your big ministry meeting yet?”

“No, I stayed in Massachusetts for an extra day, and…well…I haven’t been feeling top of the line lately. I stopped at a pharmacy for a few things before I checked into the hotel, and then I spent an hour rescheduling my meetings for tomorrow.”

“Are you getting enough sleep and eating well? You’ve taken on so much. You should probably think about taking a multivitamin.”

Lina moved sideways along the lengthy bathroom counter, straightening the assembly of small, pastel cardboard boxes lined up along the edge. “Actually, I think I may have to start taking a more specialized kind of vitamin.”

Levora’s concern radiated across the miles and through the phone. “Do you need to see a doctor, sweetie?”

Lina moved back down the line, peering at the plastic sticks, bars, domes, paddles and cups she’d rested upon their respective boxes. She’d thought that her schedule had left her feeling lethargic and overwrought. But after a bout of violent nausea that had nothing to do with her smooth flight to Spain, Lina had forced herself to consider a specific truth. She’d gone to a pharmacy before she’d even checked into her hotel, and her purchases were now glaring evidence of what she had suspected for a couple of weeks. Plus signs, wiggly lines and pink ovals danced before her eyes as she absently responded to Levora’s question. “Yes, I think will have to see a doctor…” Her voice trailed off when she raised the last stick and peered at the word slowly materializing in the miniscule text box:
embarazada
.

Pregnant
, she translated in her head, swallowing hard.

“You sound funny, babe,” Levora said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Levora?” she squeaked. “I have to call you back…”

* * *

Three weeks and thousands of miles after her surprise in Madrid, Lina returned to Massachusetts and Jack’s embrace. She called him from Logan Airport and he insisted on picking her up, greeting her at the baggage claim with three dozen white roses, champagne and the sort of kisses one typically did not share in public.

Once they were back in Nahant, she made a fuss over the roses, traded the champagne for Orange-Mango Nantucket Nectar, and allowed the kisses to develop into a proper reception under the soft covers of Jack’s big bed. Cutting him off when he began to fill her in on Kiri’s goings-on at Coyle-Wexler, she listened with interest as he told her of his non-business related pursuits during her jaunt overseas.

“I gave my dad a few names and numbers of attorneys who’ve had good results mediating strike resolutions,” Jack said. “They work pro bono, so it wouldn’t cost the dockworkers’ union a thing to consult with them. I don’t know if he passed them on to his labor board, but he seemed to appreciate the gesture.”

“Were you genuinely trying to help your brothers and father get back to work?”

He raised himself on one elbow and stared into her eyes. “Of course.”

“Then what you did was more than a gesture. It was an act of love.” She laced her fingers at his nape and gently urged him back on top of her.

His hands played in her hair as he studied her face. “Funny you should mention acts of love. We’re going to have a baby.”

Lina’s heart flew into her throat.

“Beth is eight weeks along,” he explained. “She finally told everyone last week. She was scared to say anything because Harry’s still not working. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry so happy. Andy’s really excited too, about being an uncle, and my parents are ‘over the moon’ about it. Their words, not mine.”

“How is Beth feeling?” Lina anxiously chewed a corner of her lip. “Perhaps you should introduce her to yoga. It’s quite a good way for women to keep fit during pregnancy. Is she on a folic acid supplement?”

“Hell if I know,” he chuckled. “You sure know a lot about prenatal health issues.”

She carefully phrased her next question. “How do
you
feel about the pregnancy?”

He thought for a moment. “It made me think of you. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

Three weeks was such a short time, but it had felt like months. Being at Coyle-Wexler from sunrise to well past sunset had not been enough to distract him from Lina’s absence. The first two nights had been the worst, missing her so much he’d fallen asleep in a jumble of blankets on the deck in her favorite spot. The next several nights were almost as bad because he’d returned to his bed only to be tormented by the sweet, citrusy scent she’d left on his pillows. The next week he’d been steamrolled by the suggestive note she’d written on the menu of one of his favorite take-out places. Her handwriting, with its wide loops and elegant slants, was almost as provocative as her words, and Jack had spent a good part of the night standing in an icy shower.

The cold showers clarified a lot more than Jack wanted to see, specifically that her body wasn’t all that he missed about her.

There was also the way she looked in his shirts and sweaters, and the tastiness of her pout when he lowered the god-awful pop music she liked to listen to while she soaked in the bathtub. She had also taken to joining him for his yoga routines at daybreak. He’d enjoyed the solitude of his exercise, but now he treasured Lina’s company and loved teaching her how to position her body. She never failed to impress him with her flexibility and strength. And imagination. And her single-minded dedication to making him call in sick, to spend the day with her in bed.

Which they had. But only once.

As her return to Nahant had drawn closer, Jack also had begun to long for the moments they’d spent sitting on the deck, knotted together beneath a blanket watching the tides tumble onto shore. She was back, for now, and he already dreaded the moment when she would have to leave again.

Her gaze never wavering from his, Lina drank in the sight of him. Something had changed in her absence, something within him that she now saw in his eyes. He’d never shown any inhibitions when it came to sharing his body, but his eyes had been another matter entirely. Maybe her harsh words at his parents’ house had done it, but the veil had lifted and Jack’s emotions were before her as beautiful and bare as the rest of him. He had brought up the subject of babies, and now was as good a time as any to tell him her news.

But her voice had no strength in it when she said, “I’d like to bend your ear for a moment, Jack.”

“Can it wait until after this?” He took her mouth in a kiss that made her eyelids drift shut and her heart flutter.

“Well…” she managed on a sigh.

“Let me just finish this…” He shifted on top of her, one of his hands moving between them. He caught her answering gasp in a kiss and continued to touch her until her back arched and she begged for something other than his ear.

Later, long after Lina had fallen asleep with her body nestled into his, Jack thought about his brother and the baby growing in Beth. He stroked a hand over Lina’s abdomen and recalled how concave her belly had been when they’d first met. She was still firm and toned, but her abdomen had lost a bit of its flatness. Attributing it to the rich foods she’d consumed abroad over the past three weeks, Jack cradled her abdomen in one hand and closed his eyes. And in that twilight space between wakefulness and dreams, terror mingled with joy as Jack imagined himself in Harrison’s shoes, with a child of his own tucked under the heart of the woman in his arms.

CHAPTER 14

Jack hummed softly to himself as he stood in the Coyle-Wexler Print Center—the vaingloriously named copier and office supply room—waiting for two hundred copies to finish running. Ordinarily, he’d have had his secretary handle the mundane task of copying a document, but since this letter wasn’t Coyle-Wexler related, Jack thought it best to handle his non-company endeavor himself. His father and brothers wouldn’t accept money from him, but Jack was surprised at how much more satisfaction he got out of spending his legal expertise on them. His family’s gratitude and Lina’s pride in his efforts had started to make him finally see why so many big-name Boston barristers did so much pro bono work.

Lost in his thoughts or hypnotized by the piercing light from the copier, Jack didn’t notice that someone else had joined him in the room until she spoke.

“Adrian,” he said abruptly in an attempt to cover his initial startled reaction. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Since when do you run your own copies?” she asked with a sly smile. “I was under the impression that your secretary lived to tend to your every need.”

“This one’s not specific to Coyle-Wexler,” Jack confessed. “It’s a letter to the members of my father’s dockworkers’ union. They’re on strike and they’ve hit a roadblock in negotiations and…” A flush of embarrassment warmed Jack’s face. “I’ve been trying to help.”

“A dockworkers’ union has you on retainer?” Adrian eyed him shrewdly. “How can they afford you?”

“Because I’m doing it as a favor.”

A genuine smile lit up Adrian’s face, giving her cocoa complexion a warm, rosy glow. She wore a red wool suit that was perfect for the office without hiding her great figure. She ran a hand through her short black hair before resting her fist on her hip. “This is an interesting new side to you, Jack,” she observed. “I have to say, I approve.”

He gave her a noncommittal shrug as he collected his copies.

“I approve of Ms. Marchand, too,” Adrian added. “She’s a fascinating woman. Gorgeous, too. She reminds me of Naomi Campbell, without the assault charges.”

Jack smirked. “Don’t be fooled by that smile of hers. She’s plenty aggressive when she needs to be.”

“You like that in a woman?” Adrian teased. “I didn’t know that.”

Jack’s finger went to his collar, which suddenly felt a bit too tight. Early in his Coyle-Wexler career, he and Adrian Allen had enjoyed a brief flirtation that might have grown into something more serious if Jack had had the guts to actually follow through on any of their tentatively planned dates. Too concerned with what Reginald Wexler and Gardner Coyle would have thought of an office romance, particularly one with an African-American woman, Jack had buried himself in work and allowed the friendship to wither from neglect. “Hey, um, how’s…uh…” He searched for the right name, and tried to picture a fancy wedding invitation he’d received years ago. “Daniel?” Jack finally blurted to mask his discomfort.

“It’s Dennis,” Adrian answered, lining her document up on the copier table. “He’s fine. We celebrated our five-year anniversary last month.”

“Five years already?” Jack whistled. “He’s a podiatrist, isn’t he?”

Adrian punched in the number of copies she wanted. “Pediatrician.”

0-for-2 so far, Jackie boy,
he chastised himself. “And how’s your baby? You had a little girl, right? Janet?”

Adrian shook her head, her twinkling eyes revealing her amusement at Jack’s struggle.

“Jessica?”

“Fourth strike,” Adrian laughed. “Try again. You’ll get it. There aren’t that many names that start with ‘J.’ ”

Jack thought a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Jennifer!”

“It’s Joseph, and he’s almost a year old now. But he liked the baby doll your secretary sent him under your name.” Adrian chuckled as she lowered the copier cover and pushed
start
.

“Look, Adrian, I’m sorry,” Jack conceded. “I should have read the birth announcement more carefully, and—”

“It’s okay, Jack,” she assured him. “Playing with dolls at this age will teach him to be compassionate and loving. When he has children of his own, he’ll—”

“It’s not just that,” he tried to explain. “I’m sorry about all of it. You’re one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met, yet that wasn’t enough to make me get over my stupid notions about who I should get involved with back when we were…well…”

“Were what?” she asked softly.

“The new kids at Coyle-Wexler,” he said with a weak smile. “Stuck in the trenches together.”

She narrowed her eyes a bit. “The trenches?”

Jack dumbly scratched the side of his head, wondering how his average-sized mouth could accommodate so much of his foot. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“The trenches are great, Jack,” Adrian said. “You know, it’s funny. We started here within two weeks of each other. We’ve both got Ivy League parchments and we both work hard, yet you’re in a corner office with your own administrative assistant, and I’m still ‘in the trenches.’ ”

“I don’t know what to say, Adrian. Do you want me to apologize for my advancement?”

“Of course not, Jack, you worked hard for it. I just think you and the rest of the corner office folk might well remember that those of us ‘in the trenches’ are no less devoted to our careers or Coyle-Wexler than they are. I’ll get my corner office one day, but I’m not in as big a hurry for it as you were, Jack. I met a wonderful man and fell in love. Then we had a baby, and I learned the true definition of love.” Adrian spent a silent moment wistfully smiling. “My family is so important to me. I know it’s blasphemy for me to say so here, but Dennis and Joseph mean more to me than my job. Even though my devotion to them might have slowed my advancement here, I wouldn’t change a thing about my history here, Jack.” She gave him a pointed look that Jack couldn’t possibly misinterpret. “There’s not one single thing I would want to do over differently.”

A little stung, Jack said, “I wish I could say the same thing. I haven’t felt as sure of myself as I usually do ever since I came back from the South Pacific.”

“You’ve been a different man since Jaslyn Marchand came to town,” Adrian grinned. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Pretty much everyone from the parking garage attendants to Reginald Wexler. I think she’s good for you, Jack.”

“Define ‘good,’ ” he said wryly.

“There are a lot of ladies around here who see green every time they see her. There’s a broken heart in every other cubicle in the secretarial pool, now that you’re off the market.”

“Present company included?” his ego asked jokingly.

Adrian responded with a dry laugh. “Let’s get one thing straight, DeVoy. Back in our day, I didn’t expect us to fall head over ass in love and go flying up a rainbow. I’ve always respected you as a co-worker, and have always considered you something of a friend. At the very least, I knew that you were someone I could rely on when it came to business. You arrived at C-W determined to make a name and a career for yourself. I knew early on that nothing would get in the way of that. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but I expected nothing from you, Jack.”

“And that’s exactly what I gave you, huh?”

“I didn’t say that. I don’t mean it that way. You’re a good man. I’ve known that all along.” She nodded toward the letters clutched in his hand. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to realize it, too. For what it’s worth, you’re one of the few people around here I truly respect. That’s as good as friendship, if you ask me.”

“Then I’ll take it, and gladly.”

“I’m really happy with my life,” Adrian said as she gathered the copies she’d made. “I hope you are, too.”

“I am,” he readily acknowledged. “More than I thought possible.”

“Good.” She patted his shoulder as they left the room. “Make sure you invite Mr. Wexler to the wedding. I think it would be good for him.” With a playful wink, she turned down the corridor and disappeared around a corner.

* * *

Jack stood in front of the ridiculously massive desk Coyle-Wexler central supply had provided for Lina. With his feet wide apart and his hands on his hips, he looked as though he were digging in his heels for a take-no-prisoners face-off with the grizzled general of a rebel army.

Kiri was on guard outside Lina’s office, so anyone passing by with the hope of peeping through the glass walls ended up being unceremoniously instructed to go about their business.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Jack threatened inside the office. “Did you bring coconut-lime muffins back with you or not?”

Lina sat facing the door. Beyond Jack and the walls of her office, she spied Edison Burke, who carried an open folder as he slowly walked by. His eyes were on her office rather than the documents in his hand. Maintaining her serious expression, she glanced up at Jack, determined to put on a five-star performance for Burke. “Mr. DeVoy,” she said briskly, “of the many duties I had to fulfill during my recent trek to Darwin, acquiring your favorite muffins remained at the bottom of my list of priorities. However, I did manage to procure one dozen muffins that I believe meet the specifications you designated during my two-hour phone call to you from Madrid.”

“I can’t help but wonder, Ms. Marchand, why you failed to mention said muffins yesterday, upon your return.” He threw his hands up in mock frustration, purely for the benefit of the snoops passing the office. “Was it your intention to deliberately deprive me of the one souvenir I expressly requested?”

Lina slammed her palms on her desktop, shot to her feet, and with a fierce whip of her hair, she kept her voice low and seductive as she said, “Quite frankly, muffins were the last thing on my mind when I saw you in the airport yesterday.” She looked past him, narrowing her eyes at Burke. His thin eyebrows rose in alarm, and he quickly scurried out of sight. Lina returned her silvery gaze to Jack. “If I’d known that you only loved me for my muffins, I might’ve just stayed in Darwin.”

“The muffins don’t have a damn thing to do with why I love—”

Shocked out of their little charade by his unwitting admission, Jack stumbled back a step. Lina’s mouth worked but Jack’s inadvertent confession left her too stunned to speak. Mercifully, before the sudden awkwardness between them became too uncomfortable, Kiri interrupted them via intercom.

“Mr. Coyle-Wexler Representative?” crackled Kiri’s sarcastic voice. “Reginald Wexler wishes to see you in his office. Immediately.”

“I’d better go.” Jack backed toward the door. “It’s…uh…I’m not sure what Mr. Wexler wants, but…we can talk more about what happened here…what I said…You know, never mind. Just forget—”

“Jack,” Lina said quietly.

“That just slipped out,” he hastily explained, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t…I didn’t…” He exhaled sharply and slapped a hand over his face.

“Jack,” she said a bit louder.

“Look.” He tossed up a hand in supplication. “Let’s just forget I said anything. This isn’t the time and it’s certainly not the place, so—”

“Jack!” Standing at her desk, Lina cut him off, her small fists propped at her waist, her eyes fixed on his. “I love you, too.”

His fingers suddenly gone numb, Jack opened the door, walked through it, and closed it quietly behind him.
I almost made it,
he chuckled to himself as he started for Reginald’s office.

* * *

Burke was already in Reginald’s office. Jack assumed that he was fresh from his latest spy mission on Lina, and he discovered how right he was the moment he stepped up to Reginald’s desk.

“This might seem very sordid, Jack, but you’ll have to believe that I had a perfectly good reason for it.” Leaning back in his chair, Reginald raised an arm and directed Jack’s attention to an array of photographs displayed at the end of his desk.

Jack’s mouth went dry and the tips of his ears burned as he stared at a series of glossy eight by ten photographs. The first depicted him and Lina on his deck, snuggling under a blanket, at sunset on Nahant. The second showed the two of them leaving his parents’ house on Harrison’s birthday and the third was a shot of them embracing at an arrival gate at Logan, crushing a huge bouquet of white roses between them.

“I have to say, the one with the roses is my favorite.” A scowl deepened the creases in Reginald’s forehead. “How long has this been going on?”

The muscles in Jack’s jaw hardened. “Why don’t you tell me, Reginald?”

The old man looked to Burke, who eagerly responded. “Well, as far as I can tell, your relationship with Ms. Marchand began quite soon after she first arrived in Boston. We were flagged once she checked out of the Harborfront Regency. It took about a week or so, but we tracked her to Nahant. Imagine our surprise, Jackson, when we discovered that her forwarding address was
your
address.”

Jack grabbed the shoulder of Burke’s jacket and hauled him to his feet. “You sneaking, spying son-of-a—!”

“Jackson, calm down,” Reginald said. “Burke was acting on my orders.”

Jack’s hands opened and Burke slithered back into his seat, scooting it well out of Jack’s reach. “You had me under surveillance?” he fired at Reginald.

Reginald remained eerily calm. “I had Ms. Marchand under surveillance. I had no idea that would include you, so I think I deserve an explanation.”

“Of course you do, sir,” Burke tossed in with a snooty toss of his head. “Although I wonder if you can believe anything this man says, given his duplicity.”

Jack screwed his face up in a look of utter disbelief. “Get the hell out of here, Burke, before I toss you out.”

Burke almost tripped over the arm of his chair in his haste to get as far from Jack as possible. “You heard him, sir! He threatened me with bodily harm!”

Reginald impatiently rolled his eyes and reached for the Cuban-made humidor on his desk. “Get out, Burke, before I let Jackson toss you out.”

His lower lip pursed in a petulant pout, Burke snapped shut his folder and skittered to the door. Jack half expected him to mutter “Well, I never!” before slamming the door behind him.

Reginald opened one of the sliding top drawers concealed in the cherry wood humidor and withdrew a cutting tool accented with 24K gold. He offered one of his precious Partagas Salomon cigars to Jack, who passed on it, before taking one himself. “I hate that kid, Jack, I really do,” he said as he dragged the long cigar under his nose. “He’s fussy, like a little girl.”