Expectations

“Sure.” Carefully setting the stained-glass cove on her table, he turned away. “Gram wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready.”

“Great.” She kept her smile casual, as though Adam hadn’t just reached inside her and cradled her heart in the palm of his hand. “You go on in. I’ll be right there.”

DURING DINNER Adam received a call from his secretary. Though Pop frowned when he got up from the table to accept the receiver from Gram, he ignored his grandfather’s disapproval. He’d promised them he wouldn’t make any calls, and he hadn’t. But he was a big boy now, and if Cheryl needed him, he wasn’t about to turn her down. Though Pop hated the thought of him living and working anywhere other than Mendocino, he had a life in San Francisco and a practice to run.

“Cheryl? What are you doing still at the office? It’s past seven on a Friday night.”

“Adam, I’m so glad I got hold of you! Why haven’t you been checking your voice mail?”

He could hear her popping her gum as she talked, and pictured her leaning on her desk with both elbows, her glasses and her short blond hair falling forward as she stared at the phone. “What’s the emergency? I’ve only been gone one day.”

“That’s all it takes with Mr. Whitehead.”

Recognizing the name of one of his biggest and most difficult clients, Adam took the cordless phone into the living room where he could talk without interrupting the meal. “So what’s new?”

“He’s frantic, that’s what. The DA has subpoenaed his files, and he’s convinced we have to do something to block it right away.”

“Monsoto’s going to get the records because they’re evidence. I’ve already explained all this. There’s no legal way to stop him.”

“I don’t think Whitehead cares about legal. I tried to tell him that, too, but he started swearing and demanded I put him through to Mike.”

“There’s nothing Mike can do.”

“Except make your life miserable. He still owns more of this practice than anyone else and he wants this guy mollified.”

“What does he want me to do? Destroy evidence? Because short of doing that, there’s no way to stop Monsoto, at least no honest way.”

Cheryl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Honest isn’t in Mike’s vocabulary, you know that. And I get the impression he’s tired of it being in yours. He’s been giving all the questionable stuff to Roger, who’s more than willing to do whatever it takes. Money is God to that guy.”

The loyalty in his secretary’s voice felt good, but not good enough to offset Adam’s anger. “Roger’s going to have to learn his own lessons. Whether Mike makes him a partner or not, I won’t risk my reputation for an ambitious developer who’s bribed half the city council.”

“Don’t you mean allegedly bribed?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

“Then maybe you should turn him over to Mike or Roger.”

“I’ve tried. They want my clean-cut mug to be the one in front of the jury. And I don’t have any problem with that, as long as they let me do things my way.”

“Uh-oh…”

“What?” Already feeling the old tension mounting, Adam stretched his neck. Mike was getting greedy in his old age and was starting to make him uncomfortable. The question was, how far would he go? And how far would he push Adam?

“Mike wants to talk to you.”

The words had scarcely left Cheryl’s lips when Adam heard Mike’s gruff voice.

“Where the hell are you, Adam? We’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“I’m out of town. Cheryl says we’ve got trouble with Whitehead.”

“Those records will put him behind bars.” Mike paused to blow his nose. “We’ve got to come up with a way to keep the district attorney from getting his hands on them.”

“You mean a legal way, don’t you, Mike?”

Mike cursed. “Adam, you gotta get with the real world, buddy. No one plays fair anymore. You insist on that, you’ll lose every time.”

“My record is pretty good so far.”

“Things are changing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mike grunted. “It means we gotta be flexible. I should fire that secretary of yours for trying to start trouble between us. Look, this is a competitive business. You don’t need me to tell you what’ll happen if you fall from the top. It takes money to live the way we’re accustomed to living.”

“What’s going on, Mike? My stand on this should come as no surprise. I’ve told you before that I’m not willing to bend the rules.”

“Dammit, do you picture yourself wearing a suit of armor and riding a white horse? Everybody’s entitled to a defense. Who are you to say where that responsibility begins and ends?”

Adam sighed and rubbed his temple. “Last check, I was your partner. Listen, we’ve been over this before. I’m no saint, Mike, but I don’t break the law. I’ll give Whitehead the best honest defense there is. You can’t ask me for more than that.”

Angry frustrated silence.

“Mike?”

“Don’t worry about Whitehead, Adam. Roger will take care of it.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the line went dead. He didn’t want the case, but he hated letting Mike make him feel like a schoolboy who couldn’t handle a tough assignment. Things were changing. Mike had been his mentor for years. Only now, the more closely Adam looked at the firm’s senior partner, the less he liked what he saw.

“Is something wrong, dear?” his grandmother called from the dining room.

Adam propped his elbows on his knees and tapped his forehead with the phone. He needed to get back to work. He was losing his edge. The political machinations of the sixteen lawyers who worked at the firm had always provided an exciting challenge for him. He hadn’t minded Roger and others like him, struggling to climb the power ladder, stepping on anyone in their way. Adam had eagerly pitted his wits against theirs and had come out as one of Mike’s three junior partners. But he was getting tired of the grind. Now office politics seemed just another distraction, an irritant.

“It’s nothing,” he replied at last, shoving himself to his feet. Jenna was still in the dining room, drawing him back. When she was around, the last thing he wanted to think about was San Francisco or his career.

“Are we ready for ice cream yet?”

AFTER DINNER, Jenna made Ryan do some reading at the table while Mrs. Durham helped her with the dishes; Adam went to pick up a video. Dinner had been delicious, but she hadn’t been able to eat more than a few bites. The roast beef, carrots and potatoes with gravy she’d swallowed churned in her stomach as a bout of nausea visited her early tonight.

“Mom, what’s this word?”

Jenna took a deep breath and looked down at the book her son held out to her. She helped him sound out familiarity, read the word in context, then kissed his cheek.

“You like Adam, don’t you?” she asked.

“He’s cool. I can see why Dad would hang out with him when they were kids. Adam says they used to go bodysurfing in the ocean all the time.”

All the time before she and Adam got together. After that there was nothing but enmity between the two young men.

“I’m sure you’ll do plenty of that yourself in a few years,” she said.

“So we’re going to stay in one place for a while?”

Jenna mussed his hair. “I’ve told you we’re going to be here until I’m old and gray. What, do you want me to sign a blood oath?” She gave him a reassuring smile. Her son had experienced enough emotional distress in his eight years. She wouldn’t uproot him again. Dennis had moved them five times in the past twenty-four months. Each time he lost his job he dragged them to another Oregon city to “start over.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“It’s no sacrifice, love. I like it here, too.”

Adam returned with the video, and Jenna lost her son to his innate charm, which was surpassed only by the promise of an ice-cream sundae.

“Mom? Do you want one?” Ryan asked, helping Adam dish it out.

The thought of more food, of any kind, was almost enough to send Jenna running for the bathroom. “No, thanks. I ate too much at dinner.”

Adam glanced up and caught her eye, giving her a searching look, but she dried her hands on the towel, hung it under the cupboard and excused herself.

“I’ll spend another hour or so in my studio, then I’ll go to bed early,” she said.

Ryan’s face registered disappointment. “You’re not watching the movie with us?”

“Not tonight, honey.”

“Mom, are you all right? Are you sick or something?”

Jenna shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You go and get some rest, Jenna dear,” Mrs. Durham said, carrying a dish of ice cream to her husband, who was already sitting in front of the television. “And don’t worry about getting up early. We have no reservations for tomorrow night. I’ve given Pamela the day off, and Mr. Robertson will be coming in later than usual, just in time to start dinner. I was hoping Adam would take us all for a drive along the highway. It’s been months since I’ve been anywhere fun. Would you like to come along?”

Jenna declined politely. Highway 1 followed the coast and made her carsick even when she wasn’t feeling nauseated to begin with. “It will be nice for you to get out. I’ll look after the place while you’re away. Sorry to miss out on the movie tonight,” she added, and hurried upstairs to get her sweater before going to her studio through the back door. She needed to escape her son’s hero worship of her old boyfriend—and from that same man’s unsettling presence.

A ROILING STOMACH woke Jenna long after everyone else had gone to bed. She darted across the hall, stopping only long enough to lock the door behind her, and bent over the toilet just in time.

Damn. She had to be pregnant. What other reason could there be for this regular sickness?

Remembering the incident at the grocery store earlier, she groaned and smacked her forehead with her palm. She’d been tempted to invent another excuse to get away later in the day, but she feared Adam would guess what she was doing. So she’d made herself wait. He would leave in a day or two, probably on Sunday, and she’d be free to do what she wanted. Certainly she could wait that long.

The shrill ring of the telephone broke the silence, and Jenna stiffened. Dennis! It had to be him. Only he would call so late.

She got to her feet and tried to launch herself from the bathroom before he could wake the whole house, but the ringing stopped before she unlocked the door. She waited, wondering if he’d call back, but heard nothing more. Slumping down to sit on the floor, she stared miserably at the yellow-and-blue-flowered wallpaper with its contrasting border until she felt strong enough to stand again.

Was she safe to leave the bathroom and go back to bed now?

She thought so.

Using the lip of the counter to help her rise, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, taking the time to rub some peach-scented lotion on her arms and legs. Then, switching off the light, she opened the door and headed to her room.

A male voice at her elbow startled her. She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt herself being pulled against a solid chest. “Shh, you’ll wake Gram and Pop. It’s only me.”

“Adam, what are you doing up?” she whispered as soon as he released her.

With a hand on her arm, he propelled Jenna into her room. “Are you the only one with a night-owl permit? Shut the door and turn on the light.”

Confused, Jenna closed the door behind her and did as he asked, belatedly realizing her near nakedness. Crossing her arms in front of the spaghetti-strap tank top that did little to conceal her breasts, she glared at him. “You nearly scared me to death!”

He grinned. “Since I’m not wearing any athletic protection, that could have been very dangerous.”

Jenna’s eyes glided over him. He wasn’t wearing much of anything. A thatch of dark hair covered his broad chest and narrowed down to his navel, disappearing beneath the pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”

He lifted something for her to see. “Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of stalker. I was just trying to give you this. I didn’t think you’d want the whole house to know.”

Jenna’s eyes dropped to the square object he held in one hand. She blinked. It was the First Choice Pregnancy Test she’d tried to buy at the grocery store.

CHAPTER FIVE

COULDN’T ANYTHING go right? Jenna stared at the box for several seconds before working up the nerve to accept it with a simple thank you. She tried to smile, to ease the awkwardness of the moment, but she didn’t have it in her and could only hope she didn’t look as miserable as she felt.

“Dennis?” he asked.

Jenna almost nodded before she pictured Adam counting back the months—and wondering why the hell she’d slept with her ex after their divorce was final. Rape by someone she’d lived with for years wasn’t an easy thing to explain, and she had no intention of trying. She was enough of a pity case already.

“No,” she said. “I met the guy not long after Dennis and I split up. It was…just a one-night stand. It didn’t mean anything.”

Adam’s brows drew close. “You had unprotected sex with a stranger?”

Jenna raised her chin. “I didn’t exactly plan it, all right? It’s not like I carry something in my purse, hoping to get lucky. Are you saying you’ve never done anything like that?”

“No, I haven’t.” His steadfast gaze was difficult to meet, making Jenna wonder if the truth wouldn’t have been less painful, after all.

“Besides, even if I took a different woman to bed every night, it wouldn’t be the same,” he added.

“Oh, yeah? Interesting you think so.” Jenna heard her voice rise and carefully lowered it so she wouldn’t wake Ryan, grateful for the anger that surged through her body, because it replaced humiliation and embarrassment. “Maybe you’ll enlighten me. I’ve always wanted to hear the rationale behind the old double standard.”

“I don’t have an eight-year-old son to explain this to, and I don’t have a deranged ex who’s going to go ballistic as soon as he learns.”

“No, you don’t have either of those because your precious practice and your own personal success are more important.” She forgot about trying to cover herself and clenched her hands at her sides. “Your responsible-parent act is convincing, but the truth is, you can’t even imagine what it’s like to look at the child you helped create and know that regardless of all the other shit that happens in your life, you’ve done one thing right. Because you’re too scared to love that much.” She tossed the pregnancy test on her dresser and flounced into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “Now, if you’ll go, I need to get some sleep.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, and Jenna was afraid he’d make a rejoinder. She prayed he’d leave her in peace. Her strength was ebbing, and the nausea, the worry and her lack of sleep combined to make her feel like an emotional wreck.

To avoid letting him see the tears swimming in her eyes, she rolled over and presented him with her back. He had the life he wanted. What difference did her problems make to him?

“Damn,” he swore, and stalked out.

TOO ANGRY TO SLEEP, Adam prowled around his room for the next thirty minutes. Part of him wanted to wring Jenna’s neck for getting herself into such a tough situation; another part wanted to race back to San Francisco and avoid the whole mess.

In any event, he couldn’t help feeling he owed her something. Jenna would never have married Dennis if he hadn’t broken his promise and left her behind. But she could only blame herself for this pregnancy. She might not be as sophisticated as those women who routinely protected themselves against pregnancy and STDS, but she was old enough to understand the consequences of her actions. She had one kid already, for hell’s sake!

A soft knock at the door stopped Adam in his tracks. Knowing it was probably Jenna, he moved as far away from the entrance as he could before calling, “Come in.”

She’d been crying. He could tell the minute he laid eyes on her, and he felt the ice around his heart melt a little, despite his best efforts to keep the temperature down. Fortunately the stab of jealousy he’d felt when he first suspected Jenna might be pregnant returned, keeping his voice gruff. “What is it?” he asked.

She cleared her throat. “I…I wanted to make sure I could trust you to keep what you know a secret. Just for now.”

“About the baby?” With one arm, Adam braced himself against the wall and stared out the window at the landscape lights in the garden below. “Are we sure there is a baby?”

“I’m afraid so.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “I need a few days to decide what to do.”

Evidently she’d already taken the test he’d bought her, and the results had shaken her. Her voice was soft and sounded nearly as frightened as her enormous eyes looked. Adam could understand why. He felt shell-shocked himself, and the baby wasn’t even his. “How far along are you?”

“About three months.” She fiddled with the belt of her white terry robe, then sighed. “Listen, I have Ryan to think about and, well, I regret saying what I did about the, um, baby’s father. It would only confuse Ryan to think Dennis wasn’t—”

“I won’t say anything, to anyone.” Adam cut her off, hating the thought of a total stranger getting past barriers Jenna would never let him cross again. He remembered the stained-glass window he’d seen in her studio and wondered, for the first time, if he was wrong about it being “their” stretch of beach. Just because their years together still meant something to him didn’t mean Jenna held them with the same sacred regard. It was egotistical of him to even think so.

She smiled a little, and he felt another tug at his heart. What would it have been like to marry Jenna and to watch her grow big with his child? To have a son like Ryan?

“I guess you’ll be heading back to San Francisco soon,” she said.

“Yeah. I’ve got to get back. Some things have happened since I’ve been gone…”

“Sure, it’s hard to get away when you’ve got so much going on.” She spoke quickly and started toward the door, obviously expecting him to take her words at face value, but he couldn’t ignore the undercurrent. She knew he was running away from her again. He hadn’t been able to fulfill his promise to her fifteen years ago. And he hadn’t gotten any better at making commitments since.

“Dammit, Jenna,” he said, catching her by the arm. “What do you expect me to do? Walk away from my practice?”

“What do I expect?” She frowned. “I don’t expect anything. I couldn’t hold you here once, I wouldn’t try again. Any demands you feel are simply your imagination. Or maybe they’re reflections of your grandparents’ hopes, not mine.”

“Liar.” He could feel her shaking under his hand, a natural reaction after learning about the baby, he supposed, but he wanted to believe that part of her still responded to him.

She released a bitter laugh. “God, Adam, what do you want from me? If you want to hear me say it nearly destroyed me when you left the last time, I will. But if you think I’ll give any man the chance to hurt me like that again, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“Didn’t Dennis hurt you, Jen?”

“The truth?” Defiance flashed in her eyes. “In some ways,” she admitted. “Fat lips hurt. Broken bones hurt. Worrying about Ryan because of Dennis and me hurt. Living in fear hurt. But Dennis could never really reach me. Not in here.” She tapped her chest with the knuckles of one fist. “This is locked up tight, and the key was lost a long time ago. A divorce is a huge wakeup call, Adam. We’re not kids anymore. Every decision I make affects my son, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t take another emotional risk, at least not now, and not with you. Ryan needs me to be strong and consistent. So that means you’re safe. Get it? I don’t want anything from you, and to be completely honest, I wish you’d do us all a big favor and go back to San Francisco. That’s where you want to be. That’s where you belong. So go, okay?”

The phone on the nightstand jangled. As Jenna jerked away to answer it, a shadow of apprehension entered her eyes. Dennis again, Adam thought. This time of night, it had to be him. And Jenna knew it.

Instinctively he skirted past her to grab the receiver. “All right, Dennis,” he barked into the phone, “you want to threaten somebody, try threatening me. I won’t stand still for your harassing Jenna anymore, do you understand?”

“Well, if it isn’t my old buddy.” A harsh chuckle sounded on the line, then the soft pop a bottle makes when it loses its seal. “I thought so,” Dennis said, his words barely recognizable amidst the slurred syllables.

“Jenna might think my brain’s pickled, but I’m not stupid. I knew what was happening all along. As soon as you snapped your fingers, she packed up and left me to run right back to you, eh?”

Adam didn’t like the sound of Dennis’s crazed voice. Neither did he like the accusation that he’d been responsible for the divorce. “I didn’t even know you two weren’t together until I came home last night, but you’ve had too much to drink to believe that. So believe what you want. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You guys are divorced. You got that, Dennis? That means you leave Jenna alone.”

Again the grating laugh. “You getting all you want, friend? Because she was sure a stingy bitch with me.”

Adam clenched his teeth. “Just leave Jenna alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I won’t bother calling the cops. It’ll be just you and me, and a lesson learned the hard way.”

“That sounds like something I won’t want to miss. Maybe we should sell tickets. Jenna would love that, wouldn’t she? To have us fighting over her again? It’ll be just like old times.” And the line went dead.

Jenna stood staring at Adam, her face chalky white, her hands over her mouth.

“If he calls or bothers you again, Jen, I need you to tell me—”

“No! Thanks for the infusion of testosterone, Adam, but it won’t help me protect Ryan or your folks when Dennis comes here, raving drunk, and you’re in San Francisco. Don’t you understand? Dennis lived in your shadow our whole married life. Nothing could bring him here quicker than to think we’re together. So next time don’t do me any favors.”

She slipped from the room and into the hall, and Adam resisted the urge to go after her; instead, he rammed a hand through his hair. Jenna had had one hell of a night, and because of his own scrambled emotions, he hadn’t done much to make things better. But it was high time someone stopped Dennis from harassing his ex-wife. Jenna thought Adam’s involvement might cause Dennis to do something rash, but Dennis was already a ticking bomb, ready to go off. And most women didn’t understand something boys learned at a very young age: the only way to stop a bully was to beat him at his own game.

“ADAM! ADAM, wake up!”

With a groan Adam rolled over and squinted bleary-eyed at a blond head—Ryan’s. “Hey, squirt,” he mumbled. “What you doing up so early?”

“It’s not early, Adam. It’s almost seven o’clock. Grandma Durham sent me to tell you we’re ready to go.”

“Go?” After the almost sleepless night he’d spent, Adam felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. He rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets, but any hope of going back to sleep ended when Ryan’s small fist knocked gently on his head.

“Hello? Is anybody home?”

Chuckling, Adam scrubbed the sleep from his face. “All right, wise guy,” he said, “the lights are going on, but slowly. We’re traveling up the coast. Am I right?”

“Yep! Grandma Durham packed us some snacks to eat in the car. Her blond brownies, which I hate—” he grimaced, then brightened “—but there’s chocolate-chip cookies, too, and fudge, almond roca, deviled eggs, Jell-O jigglers—”

“Whoa, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“You gonna take as long to get ready as my mom?” the boy asked.