C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (23 page)

The headlines were typical for a tabloid: over-sized bold print meant to be read across three checkout lines. An awards ceremony shot of Abby and C served as the background for the front page. Six, she counted quickly, six
paparazzi
shots of C with six different women were overlaid. His hair was pulled back or hanging loose, his eyes covered by sunglasses or not, his body encased in skin-tight leather in all but one, and that a frontal shot of a rather skimpy male version of a thong. “Charming likenesses,” she muttered as her eyes settled on the words and she found herself reading them aloud. “Eddie C Leaves Seven at Altar.” She raised her eyebrows. “Seven?”

“Not true. T didn’t bring it in for that. That’s just typical for this birdcage fodder.” He licked his lips. “Read on, Jemma. Next line. That’s why he’s here.” His voice was soft, pleading as if for understanding.

Warily, she lowered her eyes back to the tabloid. There, below the screamer headlines, in smaller print but no less eye-catching: “Does number eight know?” followed by a page number. Jemma’s heart raced as she flipped toward the inevitable. There, on page five, sandwiched between a miracle diet and an article about the last remaining heir to an East European throne, was a picture of herself.

“It’s my real estate license picture.” She crumpled the paper and leaned over it, touching her head to her knees, as if to keep from fainting. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Damn, boy, what have you done?” She heard Norm’s boots clomp over to her chair, felt the paper be dragged out from her hands. The pages rustled as Norm read them. “Your mama’s gonna have a fit.”

“Norm…”

He continued. “And I don’t blame her.” Jemma didn’t either. She heard the paper be refolded, cast onto the desk. He leaned down to where his lips were close to her ears. “As to what I said about your attire, you forget it. You’re in enough trouble dressing like you do.” His heavy footsteps retreated to the door. “C’mon, Carolyn, let’s go get those burgers.” The hinges of the office door squeaked. “Where do you think we’re likely to encounter the juiciest talk on this?”

Jemma groaned as the door shut.

C knelt beside her. “Jemma, look at me.”

“No.” She turned her head away from him.

“Hiding’s not how you handle these people.” He stood up and pulled on her shoulders, made her sit upright.

“Well, it doesn’t look like there’s a hole deep enough to avoid them. How did they even know about me?”

He turned toward T. “You haven’t been talking out of turn, have you?”

“I resent that.” He settled into the chair on the other side of the desk. “Of all people,
I
know how to keep my mouth shut.” He crossed his legs and picked at the hem of his khakis. “They probably sent a runner out from Dallas. A couple of questions at the local watering hole, you know how it works. No secret you’re here with me. No secret Jemma’s shown you around. And, from what I hear, no secret you’re appearing at the homecoming dance to squire the court about.” He smiled at the two of them. “I hate to sound callous about this, Jemma, but if you’re even considering a relationship with our boy here, this is part of his life.”

“Well, it’s not part of mine. I don’t want these people in my life.” She reached for a tissue from the credenza behind the desk. “What precisely does that article say?” She blew her nose.

C moved behind her chair, rested his hands on her shoulders and began a gentle massage. She couldn’t believe how she welcomed his touch as she listened to T’s synopsis.

“Basically, it’s a review of the various semi-serious loves of Edward Charles, starting with
amore numero uno
and continuing through the wife and onto Abs. Only relationships that lasted longer than a few months or they’d have had to devote an entire issue to the subject.” He paused. “That’s just the way it is, I’m sad to say, Jemma. There are dates and much speculation as to how each ladylove might have affected the album or tour we were doing. Then there’s how quickly Eddie C recovered from one to move onto the next. You don’t really show up until the last two paragraphs, where the author takes a mega-jump of faith and crowns you the next and last. If it’s any consolation, the article doesn’t say where you are. Just that you are.”

Jemma studied her hands as they twisted the tissue in her lap. “How, how extensive a job of research are they going to do on me?”

C stopped his massage and came around in front of her, cupped her face and raised it to his. “What in the name of God do you have to be worried about?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t relax his caress. “My life’s nobody’s business.”

“Do you—do you—want me to go away?”

Jemma put her hands over his, felt the strength in his fingers, the control he exerted to keep his temper in check. Eddie C was a powerful man, both in temperament and body. Just beneath the surface of outward calm was a pacing tiger. The controller had asked the question, but the animal moved in his eyes.

“’Cause I will,” he continued. “I’ll leave you alone, Jemma. I never thought about the media jumping on this so soon. I guess I thought we’d be somewhat protected here, and then after it was settled, I’d warn you and we’d face it together. I mean, look at T. After the initial hoopla, they’ve left him alone.” He set his jaw. “Say the word and I’m gone.”

T rescued her from having to make an immediate response. “And speaking of me and alone in the same sentence, I think I’ll take off now.” T rose. “Shall I leave the paper?”

“Yeah.” Hesitantly, C released her and straightened up, faced his brother. “I probably need to analyze every word, call our favorite lawyer if I find any discrepancies of fact.” He laughed darkly. “Like I know where he is.”

“The man has a nose for news. Crap like this ought to bring ol’ Fletch home if nothing else does.”

“Fletch?” Jemma asked.

They turned to her and C answered. “The consummate manager, Levi Fletcher. Our guardian and guide. Our lawyer and father confessor who disappeared to find himself in Israel at the end of the summer. Why do you ask?” He reached over and wiped an errant tear that skimmed down her cheek.

“I, ah, I had a man call earlier today, a Levi Fletcher.” Real estate was safe ground, not like love and tabloids. Jemma gently pushed C out of the way and pulled out the keyboard. She tapped through screens to find her appointment book. “There.” T circled around the desk and the three of them studied the monitor. “Tomorrow, nine AM, Levi Fletcher. To see property. I thought I’d show him the Brady place.”

“Well, if this isn’t a fine mess.” T turned and balanced on the edge of the desk. “An unexpected visit from dad.”

“I don’t know how much more excitement I can take.” C leaned on the desk, his muscular forearms taking the strain of his body’s weight. “I don’t suppose we could hide in the bathroom tomorrow and watch?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in the direction of the facilities that ran from outer office to inner.

“Hard as this is to believe, I don’t care. Between now and then, Charles, I have to confront my mother and the other good people of this town and still be able to salvage enough reputation to be able to teach fourth graders in Sunday school.”

“Sorry, babe, I know this is hard.” He ducked his head and stared off into space. “One battle at a time, huh?”

“Yes.” She leaned her head back against the office chair.

“Again, my cue to leave.” T levered himself off the desk and strode to the door. His hand was on the knob when he turned back to them. “One thing, if I might ask, C. Jemma.” He set his lips in a straight line. “I love my wife to the point of self-sacrifice. I would do anything for her.” He stopped to let his words sink in, although he merely stated the obvious. “But,” now he licked his lips, “I would really like to keep Fletch’s arrival a secret. Being able to bring him home to Lyla and seeing her face as she sees him…” He sighed. “I don’t think it could get much better than that.”

C chuckled. “You have my word.” He raised an eyebrow toward her. “Jemma?”

She laughed lightly. “Sure, Sam. How else could I repay your kindness for bringing that rag in here rather than me showing up at home and having Mother toss it to me at the dinner table?”

“I knew I could count on you.” T saluted them and left.

C squatted in front of her and took her hands. “You didn’t answer my question. Do I leave? Does this make up your mind for you about having a relationship with me? I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to pursue this as the final chapter in my love life.” He changed his grip on her hands, clasped them even more tightly. “Tell me now, Jemma. I have to know. Hard as it is for me to say this four-letter f-word, it’s the only
fair
thing to do. Fair for either of us.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She closed her eyes. “Let go my hands, Charles.” She tugged gently and he released her.

He let his hands dangle between his knees. “I’m sorry I’ve caused you such grief. You certainly don’t deserve it.” He stood. “I can be out of town by midafternoon. You tell ’em whatever you wish about me. I’ll never deny a word of it.” He picked up the tabloid and slapped it in an irregular rhythm against his thigh as he walked toward the door.

Jemma watched him go. “Charles?” Her voice halted him. “Charles, you presumed I was sending you away.”

He spun on his heel. “You aren’t?”

“I should.” She used the arms of the chair to lift herself out of it. She was weary and bone-tired and, she realized with a start, hungrier than she’d been in a while. He didn’t move, just watched her approach. “I lay awake last night and thought about you. Me. You and me.” She stood in front of him, slowly lifted her hands and rested them on his shirtfront. He was warm and his breathing was shallow as he dropped the paper to the floor and hesitantly circled her waist with his hands. “I decided that my life was pretty damn dull. And safe.” She raised her eyes to his. “At the age of thirty-seven, I might be old enough to try something besides dull and safe, even if I might find out on Sunday that it’s not what I want.” She licked her lips. “Granted, I hadn’t counted on the tabloids.” She raised her chin and hoped she looked as determined as she wanted to sound. “But since you got me into this, I see no reason for you to go away and leave me to face it all on my own.”

“Responsibility is my new middle name.”

“Besides, you gave me a rain check for a kiss and I don’t think you should leave town owing anybody anything.”

“Lady, you’re tough.” He wormed his hands down to where they molded her hips and brought her to rest against himself. “So is this the kiss you want or the kiss you need?”
“I’m way past want or need.” She laced her fingers around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. “Kiss me, Charles,” she whispered. “I desire.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Y
es, ma’am.” C let her take the lead. He was quite willing to go wherever she wanted to with this first real kiss, this first occasion where he wasn’t the one determining the pressure, the intensity, the duration. Hell, if she wanted to lead him under her desk and then on top of her…

He made himself stop that line of thought. As she opened her mouth and gently stroked his inner lip with her tongue, he felt a new flame start to lick inside him. Deep desire. Desire that didn’t want to be standing up and holding this woman, this ‘frigid bitch’ from two weeks ago who was melting as the kiss continued to deepen. He lifted her in his arms and began walking to the nearest chair.

“No, C.” Jemma was out of breath as she broke the kiss.

“We’re just going to sit down. Hell, Jem, I can’t stand up and do this properly and you don’t seem to have a couch in here—”

“You don’t understand, not this ch—”

She didn’t finish the sentence. The old leather chair, once again consigned to the far wall, collapsed under their combined weight. C went backwards, bumping his head on the paneling, while Jemma flipped and sprawled across his lap and shoulders.

“What’s all that racket?” The office door banged open and Norm and Carolyn peered in. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a good explanation for this, young lady!” Norm’s face reddened. “As for you, you little—”

“Save it, Norm.” Jemma hoisted herself to a sitting position and helped C balance against the wall. He was rubbing his head.

“I’ll get some ice. Again.” Carolyn sighed and left.

“Brought you two some hamburgers.” Norm continued into the office and put two sacks on the desk. “Like you’re hungry or anything.”

“Norm, good grief! Give it a rest!”

C watched Jemma stand up and swish at her skirts, the same motion she’d used at the Brady place when she’d gotten up from the fireplace. Then he’d noticed the play of fabric as it swirled at her ankles. This time, he watched the rise and fall against her hips. She crossed her forearms and extended two hands to him. “C’mon.”

“Told you you needed more office furniture. In order to be successful, you need to project an image of success. That’s what all those magazines say.”

“Norm, I’m going to fire you from associate friend status, if you don’t shut up!”

C gave her his hands, watched as she balanced herself and levered him up. She was strong with good muscle control. His big head might hurt, but his little one was responding.

She led him as he limped over to her desk chair. Just as he settled into it, Carolyn appeared with a baggie of ice. She grabbed a hand-towel from the lavatory, wrapped it up and handed it over.

“They said next time I need ice, they’re charging.”

“Thanks, Carolyn.” He grimaced as Jemma applied the ice to the back of his head. Her fingers easily found the bump.

“I guess I’m going to have to have my office declared a high-risk area.”

“Very funny.” He closed his eyes on her smirk and sandwiched the ice bag between the swelling and the chair back. “I’ll probably be okay in an hour or two. Just go on about your business. Never mind me.”

“Good. I’m going to eat.” He heard the paper sacks open and the tantalizing smell of onions and French fries escaped.

“I could probably manage to eat.” He tried for a suitably piteous tone. “If someone fed me.”