Chasing Perfect (21 page)

Julia sighed. “You don't have to answer that,” she said. “Not that we're not interested,” she added with a wink.

She turned to the salon. “She's new, remember. Everyone back off.”

“But I want to know,” another woman insisted. “I'm sixty-two. The odds of me finding out for myself are slim.”

Charity laughed. “He's everything you could imagine and more.”

The woman in curlers sighed. “I knew it,” she said dreamily.

“I saw him riding his bike the other day,” another client said. “What that man does for those bicycle shorts. It was the highlight of my day.” She glanced at Charity. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“You've been dating for a while now,” Julia said. “How's that working out?”

The questions weren't subtle, Charity thought, more amused than offended.

“He's a great guy. I like spending time with him.”

“Josh is one of the good ones. That first wife of his was a total bitch.”

“I remember her,” another client said with a sniff. “She came to town once. Walked around like she was afraid of getting dog poop on her shoes. She was beautiful, but what a bitch.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

Charity would have loved to ask questions about Angelique but wasn't sure how. After all, she was fairly confident that anything she said would be reported to the entire town, not to mention get back to Josh.

“You came from Henderson, didn't you?” Julia asked. “I thought I heard that.”

“Yes.”

“Leave anyone special behind?”

Charity met Julia's interested gaze in the mirror. “No.”

“I'm surprised. A pretty girl like you. There had to be someone.”

Not a topic Charity wanted to discuss. Not with this crowd. “Not really.”

“My first husband was a total loser,” Julia said. “He cheated, which I could live with, but then lied about it, which I couldn't. I chased him out of the house with a frying pan. He never came back. Good riddance.”

“All men cheat,” one of the customers said.

“Not all,” another protested. “Some don't.”

“Name one.”

“My Arnie. He's a good man.”

Julia leaned close to Charity. “And butt ugly. A sweetheart, but the lights would have to be off all the time.”

Charity did her best not to respond to any part of the conversation.

“Josh ever cheated?” someone asked.

“Not that I've heard. He was faithful to that wife of his, not that she deserved it. Stupid cow.”

Josh had claimed to be faithful and Charity had believed him. Which might make her a fool, but she was tired of trying to be sure. After her first two disastrous relationships, she hadn't been taking any chances with her third. She'd run a credit check and had a friend on the police force get her a DMV report. He'd been clean. Engaged to someone else living in Los Angeles, but clean.

Hurt but determined to learn from yet another mistake, Charity had accepted the job in Fool's Gold as a way to start over. Maybe having such a public
history was part of Josh's appeal, she thought. She didn't have to worry about any secrets. Everyone in town knew everything important about him.

She went under the hair dryer for about twenty minutes, then enjoyed a very lovely massage with her wash. When she got back into Julia's chair, the stylist turned her away from the mirror.

“I don't want you to see anything until I'm done.”

Charity felt a tiny knot of fear in her stomach. “I guess that means I'm going to have to trust you.”

“You'll be happy, I promise.”

“That's a big promise.”

One of the older ladies had finished. With her silver hair all neatly teased and sprayed, she slipped on her jacket, but instead of leaving, she walked over to Charity.

“I remember Josh when he first came here,” she said. “That mother of his was awful. He'd been in a bad fall and walked on crutches. He was about the most pitiful thing I'd ever seen. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to go a single block. How he struggled to get to school every day. That poor boy. His clothes were ragged and he was skinny as an alley cat. It about broke my heart. Then one day she was gone.”

Charity knew the general story of Josh's past, but she'd never heard it told with such clarity.

“None of us knew what to do,” another woman added. “We didn't want to send him to a state home, but there wasn't much choice. Then Denise Hendrix
offered to take him in. The rest of us contributed to the family, helping pay for Josh's medical expenses.”

The first woman nodded. “He needed surgery to repair how his legs had healed wrong, then physical therapy. That's why he started riding a bike. To strengthen his legs. Ethan rode, too.” She patted Charity's arm. “So Josh is special to us. Always has been. You've got yourself a good man there.”

“Thank you.”

The old woman started to leave, then paused. Her expression turned sly. “He proposed yet?”

Charity felt the color flooding her face. Anywhere but here, she thought grimly. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

“We're still dating. Getting to know each other.”

“I wouldn't be as concerned about him proposing. There's a bigger danger.”

Several of the women laughed. Charity didn't get it until one of them added, “Feeling any cravings, hon?”

“No. I'm good. But thanks for asking.”

“Leave her alone,” Julia said firmly. “All of you. You'll scare her off and we'll never see her again.”

The old woman waved and left. The conversation shifted to more comfortable topics. Julia got out a blow dryer. Once she turned it on, Charity couldn't hear anything that was being said—probably a good thing.

She promised herself she was never, ever getting her hair done in town, again. Or if she did anything,
she would go see Morgan. She doubted he would bother her with a lot of personal questions.

Asking about Josh was one thing, but hinting she might be pregnant was way too intrusive. And annoying, she thought. Just because everyone knew Josh didn't mean they had the right to butt into his personal life. There were rules in polite society. Expectations and—

“Here you go,” Julia said and turned the chair.

Charity was prepared to simply pay and run. She didn't want to deal with the teasing anymore. But when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she couldn't move. She could only stare.

Her once boring plain brown hair was now rich and shiny. There were hints of gold and a tiny whisper of red threaded through the strands. But even more amazing was the cut.

Julia had shortened her hair to just below her jaw, then blown it under in a perfect bob. Feathered bangs made her eyes seem huge. When she moved her head, her hair swayed, then fell perfectly into place. It was the best cut she'd ever received in her life.

“It's perfect,” she breathed. “I love it.”

“Good. Do you have a big round brush?”

Charity nodded her head, mostly to watch her hair move.

Julia demonstrated the way to get the shape right, explained what products worked best and how to use them. Charity listened carefully, then paid her bill and
left a large tip. The fact that everyone in the salon would talk about her after she was gone didn't bother her one bit. Not when her hair looked so good.

She walked back toward the hotel, catching her reflection every now and then and smiling as she saw her hair move. When she walked by Morgan's bookstore, the old man stuck his head out the open door.

“Lookin' good, pretty lady.”

She laughed. “Thank you.”

“Hope Josh knows he's a lucky man.”

“I'll tell him in case he doesn't.”

“You do that.”

Now, feeling fabulous, she could think about the conversation in the salon and tell herself no one meant anything bad by their meddling. Josh was important to them, and with her dating him, she was part of what was going on. Although things had gotten out of hand with the whole pregnancy topic. That wasn't a subject to kid about. Talk about a disaster. An unplanned pregnancy would…

Charity stopped in front of the hotel and stared at the beautiful old building. But instead of seeing the impressive architecture or the gleaming windows, she stared at the mental calendar in her head and tried to do the math. Exactly how many days had it been since her last period?

She hurried inside, calling distracted greetings when the staff welcomed her. When she reached the third floor, she ran to her room, raced inside and closed
the door behind her. Her date book was on the desk by the wall. She flipped back until she found the day with a little daisy by the date—her private notation of her period's arrival—then counted forward.

As the numbers mounted, so did her panic. She counted a second time and got the same number. She was two weeks late. Two weeks.

Her first thought was to rush to the nearest drugstore, buy a test and find out. Then she thought of all the people who would see her and how the information would be spread from one end of town to the other in a matter of minutes. Which meant what? That she had to drive to the next town?

She was halfway across the room, heading for her car keys, when she remembered the pregnancy test Josh had bought when Emily had insisted she was pregnant with his baby. He'd handed the kit to Charity who had brought it to her room and put it where?

It took two minutes of frantic drawer pulling to find it, another few seconds to get in the bathroom and pee, then three minutes of pacing until she could know one way or the other.

She stared at the two straight lines, then at the chart in the instructions.

She was pregnant.

C
HARITY STARED AT THE
stick for a long time, then carefully wrapped it in tissue and put it in her pocket. She would have to get rid of it somewhere other than her room. Because the maid would probably tell the entire town what it said.

After circling the room several times, Charity realized she couldn't stay here. Not with her mind swirling and her stomach flipping and flopping and her hands shaking. Maybe walking somewhere would help. She didn't have anywhere to go, but right now a destination seemed highly overrated.

Once she reached the street, she moved purposefully, which made her feel a little better. She started to go back to the office, but wasn't sure what she would do there. After turning down a couple of streets, she found herself in front of Marsha's house. Maybe this was the best place to start.

She walked up to the porch. The front door opened before she could knock.

“Look at your hair,” Marsha said, smiling at her. “I love it.”

Charity had nearly forgotten about her sassy new style. “Julia did it.”

“It suits you. The highlights are great. You look even more beautiful than you did before.”

“Thanks.” Charity walked in.

Marsha closed the door. “This is a nice surprise. I was just thinking about what I wanted for dinner. Would you like to join me? We can go out. I'm thinking Angelo's. I do love the bread.” She patted her hips. “Even though I shouldn't.”

Charity drew in a breath. “I'm pregnant.”

She hadn't meant to say that, exactly, but now that she had, there was no going back.

Marsha's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Pregnant?” she whispered.

“Apparently. I peed on a stick and everything.” She swallowed. “It's Josh, in case you were wondering. He's the only one I've…You know.” While she didn't have a lot of experience with having a grandmother, she was going to go out on a limb and assume Marsha didn't want any more details about her intimate relationships.

“I don't know how this happened,” Charity continued, giving in to her frustration. “Well, I know
how
it happened. I guess I don't know how I let it happen. Why now? I'm just settling in here. I'm finding my way and I really like it here. Being pregnant will change everything.”

She sucked in a breath. “And did it have to be Josh?
He's the poster child for self-absorption. I don't mean that to sound as harsh as it does, but you know what I mean. He's got his life, too. He's not interested in anything but getting back on the racing circuit. He's going to be that famous athlete again, which is great for him, but a baby? He's not going to be happy.”

She wondered if he would think she was like all the other women who did their best to trick him into supporting them. She thought about Emily showing up in his room and who knows how many others. Of course he would think the worst about her, she thought grimly. What other choice would he have? Talk about a disaster.

She opened her mouth to continue her rant, then noticed that Marsha was staring at her with a happy, almost blissful expression.

“You're having a baby,” the other woman said, then stepped close and hugged her.

The warm, supportive embrace melted away Charity's anxiety. Suddenly she could breathe easily.

“I guess I am,” Charity said, realizing that not keeping the baby wasn't an option. Ready or not, she was going to be a mom. “I'm having a baby. Me.”

Marsha drew back slightly. “I'm going to be a great-grandmother. That sounds impressive. And old.”

“Not old. Experienced.”

Marsha laughed. “I think experienced makes me sound like an aging hooker.” She took Charity's arm and led her into the living room. “Are you still in shock?”

“Yes, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. It's not real. I just found out five minutes ago.”

Marsha sat next to her and took her hand. “So you haven't told Josh?”

“No. I just found myself coming here.” A million thoughts tumbled through her brain. She tried to pick just one to focus on, but she couldn't. Talk about impossible.

“Are you staying?”

At first Charity didn't understand the question, then she was hugging Marsha again, feeling the other woman's fear over losing her family for the second time.

“I'm staying,” Charity told her firmly. “Being pregnant and single isn't how I wanted to be known around town, but if you can live with it, then I can, too.”

“Of course I can live with it. I'm delighted.”

Charity straightened, then leaned back against the sofa. She pressed a hand to her belly. “Pregnant. There's a conversation starter.” She glanced at Marsha. “Don't worry. I know I have to tell him. And considering where I live, I need to do it soon. This is not a good place to keep secrets.”

“Have the two of you talked about any kind of future together?” Marsha asked delicately.

“We don't plan much past the weekend. Josh is focused on the race and what that means to him. He wants to go back to his old life. I know that. I know
he misses the excitement of racing.” The thrill of being famous. “He's not going to like this.”

“He might surprise you. Josh has always wanted a family.”

“He strikes me as a ‘one day' kind of guy. The man who always says that he would like to settle down, one day.” She looked at Marsha. “I'm not hoping for a miracle. He's not going to fall to his knees and beg me to marry him.”

“Would you like him to?”

Charity looked away. She loved Josh—that was the easy part. But having a future with him? Not possible. “We want different things. We have different visions for our lives.”

“Marriage is all about compromise.”

“He wants to be in the limelight. I want normal, in every sense of the word. A really normal guy would be great.”

“But you're not pregnant with a really normal guy's baby. You're pregnant with Josh's.”

“A technicality,” Charity said with a smile. “But I do love him.”

Marsha patted her arm. “You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out. Josh will need a little time to get used to the fact that you're pregnant, but I think it's going to all work out. You'll see.”

Charity hoped she was right. “If he doesn't want to be a part of our lives, we'll be fine. I was raised by a single mom. I know the good and the bad of the situa
tion.” She took Marsha's hand in her own. “It's not like I'll be completely by myself.”

“No, you won't. You'll have me, no matter what.”

The words gave her comfort.

“And the town,” Marsha added.

Charity groaned. “I didn't think that part through. Everyone is going to go crazy when they find out I'm carrying Josh's baby. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Honestly?” Marsha asked. “Keep it a secret as long as possible.”

Charity laughed. “That's not very helpful.”

“It's the best I can do.”

 

T
WO NIGHTS LATER
, Charity sat on her bed as she and Josh watched a movie together. In the past forty-eight hours, she'd had dozens of opportunities to tell him she was pregnant and had chickened out each and every time.

She told herself she was looking for the perfect moment, which was a complete lie. She simply didn't want him to know. Once he knew, everything would change and she wasn't ready to lose him. Still, each day that went by created a problem. Withholding the information made her uncomfortable with herself. So she was going to have to suck it up and say the words.

The action on the television shifted. They were watching some kind of an international spy movie with the fate of the world resting on the shoulders of
a handsome leading man. Sort of like James Bond, but without the yummy accent. The leading lady was supposed to be Russian and the bad guy was from a nameless European country.

When the bad guy's girlfriend moved onto the screen, Josh pointed. “That's Angelique. She made this movie right before we split up. I visited her on the set a few times.”

He spoke casually, as if sharing an interesting fact that had no consequence. Which would be the case, for anyone else. Not so much for her.

Charity had known Josh had been married to Angelique. She had a vague memory of a beautiful brunette with large eyes and huge breasts. But that mental image wasn't anything like the very real, very beautiful woman she watched now.

Angelique wore little more than a short nightshirt. Her legs were endlessly long and perfect. Her breasts thrust toward the camera, her tight nipples clearly visible beneath the thin layer of silk.

There was something about her, some indefinable element that made her watchable and appealing. Charisma, Charity thought grimly. The same as Josh.

She'd never seen a picture of the two of them together, but she had a feeling they would look as if they completely belonged with each other. No one would question what either saw in the other. It made sense.

“You were married to her?” Her words came out as a question, even though she already knew the answer.

“I told you about her.”

Oh, sure. But there was a big difference between mentioning a former wife and admitting that one had been married to a goddess-like creature.

Not that she was going to say that to him. “She's very beautiful,” she murmured.

“I guess.” Josh stared at the screen, then shrugged. “The nose job didn't go well. She had to get a second surgery to fix it.”

Charity raised her eyebrows. “I'm not sure you should be telling me that.”

He turned to her, his hazel-green eyes dark with concern. “I know what you think when you look at her.”

“I doubt that.”

“I know what
I
think. It was a long time ago. I'm not sorry it's over.”

Wasn't he? After all, Angelique had left him. He wanted to get back into racing, to return to his former glory. How much of that was about showing his ex-wife exactly what she'd lost? Once he was on top again, it would be his turn to do the rejecting. Or maybe he planned to get back together with her and make perfect babies together. A completely irrational thought, she told herself. No doubt brought to life by worry and surging hormones.

“Don't go there,” he told her.

“Go where?”

“Wherever it is you are right now. I'm not interested in her. Been there, done that.”

“Bought the T-shirt?”

He grinned at her. “Uh-huh.”

She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. The perfect features, the easy smile, the giant ego and warm, caring heart. He was a good guy, and under other circumstances, she would be almost comfortable having fallen in love with him. Unfortunately, she was dealing with these circumstances.

“Charity?” he asked, looking concerned. “What's wrong?”

She drew in a breath, then coughed up the truth.

“I'm pregnant.”

 

J
OSH HAD BEEN PREPARED
to hear her say she thought she was coming down with something, or the sight of Angelique was intimidating or that she had decided she hated small-town living and wanted to move to L.A.

Instead there were two words and a faint buzzing sound in his head. He felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. He couldn't breathe, but that was the least of it. He couldn't think. Couldn't figure out what she'd meant.

She gazed at him expectantly, making him aware that he was supposed to say something in response.

Pregnant? Pregnant.

There was going to be a baby. His baby.

Josh rose from the bed and stared at Charity. A sense of urgency swept through him. He couldn't have
a kid now—he wasn't ready. He didn't have enough of his shit together. He would screw up everything.

Time, he told himself quickly. He had a few months to get ready. To figure it out and be the kind of dad a kid deserved.

Charity turned away. “I don't expect anything,” she said flatly. “You don't have to panic. I'm telling you as a courtesy, nothing more.”

He didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“I'm the one who's pregnant, not you. The baby is my responsibility.”

“Mine, too,” he said, still not able to grasp the significance of what was happening.

A child. They were going to bring a child into the world. The phrase “ready or not” had never been so significant.

“I'll figure this out,” he said, more to himself than her.

“You don't have to.”

“I'm a part of this,” he told her. “I'll be there for you and the baby.”

She didn't look as if she believed him. Knowing all she did about his past, how he'd failed, he knew why she had doubts.

“Just give me a little time,” he told her, as he backed toward the door. “You'll see.”

And then he was gone. Charity leaned back against the pillow and smoothed her hand over the
still warm place on the bed. What she would see was how quickly he left, she thought sadly. His reaction wasn't a surprise, but it was still very much a disappointment.

 

“O
H MY
G
OD
!” Pia stood in the doorway to her apartment and stared wide-eyed at Charity. “You look incredible. I love the cut and the color. You went to Julia, didn't you? No one does highlights like her. Don't tell Bella I said that. Wow. You're all fluffy and pretty.”

Charity smiled wanly at her friend. “I'm not feeling especially fluffy.”

“Then come in and we'll change that.”

Charity walked into the cheerful apartment. “I'm sorry for dropping in like this. I should have called. It's late.”

Pia shook her head. “Don't be silly. It's not like I have a date or anything.” She led the way into the living room, where the TV showed a frozen frame of a movie. Sandra Bullock stood by a mailbox next to a house made almost entirely of glass.