Just Destiny Read online

  He was proud of Jenny’s amazing, selfless love for her child. Why couldn’t she share this with Gabe? He should know something this intimate and profound about his wife. Steve looked sideways at her and held her gaze. “You can’t. Tell him the truth. He’ll understand.”

  “That I’ve been promiscuous and lived a lie for the past thirteen years?” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I maybe could have told him before we got married, but now it’s too late. He has no patience for immoral teenagers. He came home from the clinic one night really angry about this sixteen-year-old patient who aborted her baby because she was sick with gonorrhea. It was her third pregnancy by three different guys. Gabe was so angry at her—on the dead baby’s behalf. He reported her to social services and wished it was legal to sterilize girls like her.” She paused. “He would not understand.”

  “Your situation’s a little different, Jen. Tell him. He’ll understand. He loves you.”

  Indecision, frustration, and fear flashed across her face. She dropped her head as if shamed. “He won’t understand. He’ll think I tricked him. He’ll be angry and feel betrayed.”

  “Betrayed? Isn’t that a little strong?”

  “He’d hate me for not telling him sooner.”

  “Gabe could never hate you. Tell him.”

  “I can’t. He’ll be disappointed beyond belief. I can’t take that chance. Besides, it doesn’t just involve me, it involves my whole family.” She looked at him, pleading for understanding.

  “You told me.”

  “Only so you’d understand why this is so important. I thought you’d be able to help me find a way to convince Gabe to have a baby.”

  Steve froze. His sympathy evaporated in that wounding instant. Jenny told him so he’d help her, not because she’d been compelled to share something that personal. His gut burned with jealous angst. He wanted to tell her that if Gabe didn’t want to have a baby with her, she should leave him, and Steve would do his damndest to get her pregnant—and love every minute of it.

  You can’t give her a child, his conscience reminded.

  For her I’d find a way; he rebutted the annoying, persistent voice.

  But she didn’t want his child, she wanted her husband’s. She loved Gabe, not him. Maybe marriage to Annie and her children was what it would take to loosen Jenny’s grip on his heart. Maybe then he could stop hating himself and be happy again.

  Or not. A dog barked loudly in the stillness of the night. Steve shifted in his chair. Now his best friend was dead and he hated himself even more. With Gabe gone everything was different between him and Jenny. Steve didn’t know how to act around her anymore, so he sat back and continued the older brother/best friend role and redoubled his effort to transfer his affections to Annie. Between him and Jenny nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.

  And his relationship with Annie wasn’t going as planned either. He wasn’t being a good friend to Jenny nor did it seem he was succeeding at being a good fiancé. Both women deserved better. He’d always prided himself on being an honest, upfront guy, yet the uncomfortable aching in his stomach told him he wasn’t being honest with either woman—or himself. Shit.

  Chapter 15

  Jenny read the Oprah magazine from cover to cover, hoping for inspiration. She tossed the magazine to the side of the bathmat and rose from the bubble bath. Facing the mirror, she examined her small breasts and flat tummy, then arched her back, thrust her hips forward and pushed her stomach out. She smiled and caressed her belly. Pretty soon she’d have real boobs and their baby would swell her stomach in a perfectly round ball.

  She sighed and snagged a fluffy towel from the hook. First things first. She had to win her court case and before that, she needed to retain an attorney and survive Christmas. One day at a time—like a step program for addicts. Baby steps. She smiled. How apropos.

  Her first big step on the way to recovery was going to Steve’s Christmas party tonight. She’d push all thoughts of babies to the background, be supportive of her friend, and prove she could be okay in public again.

  She’d smile and be confident and charming and send all kinds of good vibes out into the cosmos. Maybe it’d come back to her or maybe it’d just make her feel good to focus on something other than her loss. Either way she won, and that was progress.

  Jenny dried herself and threw on Gabe’s maroon robe as she padded to her closet. She searched the racks, pulling out a midnight blue velvet strapless dress—too sexy. She wasn’t dressing up for her husband. Her hand lit on an elegant gray suit she’d worn to her first interview—too staid. She reached for her favorite black leather pants. Too casual? Then Jenny found a simple scarlet dress. Red stood for power or romance and the classic lines hinted at curves and hugged her breasts before plunging sensually in the front—in this case, it shouted romantic feminine power. Hmm.

  Exasperated, Jenny grabbed the clothes and marched out of her closet. She threw them across her bed, fanning them out in a colorful array. Crossing her arm over her chest, she picked up the phone. Steve would know what would be most appropriate.

  “Come on, Jenny.” Her thumb stabbed the ‘off’ button. “You’re not some pitiful woman who needs someone to pick out her clothes.” She sank onto the bed and stared at her choices. “It’s Christmas and you’re going to a party. What do you feel like wearing?”

  * * *

  Steve pulled into Jenny’s driveway at six forty-five. As he pushed the gear into park, Jenny rushed out the front door. She trotted through the cold night and met him as he rounded the car. He stretched around her to open the car door just as Jenny reached out. Their hands bumped and she pulled hers back.

  Flashing him a quick smile and a murmured “Thanks,” she slipped past him, gracefully swinging into the mustang. The light, sweet scent of her perfume tickled his nose and toyed with his mind. Sexy. Fresh. Steve shook his head to clear his senses. Hustling around the car, he got in his side and turned up the heat.

  “On time. I’m impressed.”

  “You should be. Don’t ever expect it to happen again,” she joked, though they both knew Jenny loathed being late.

  “What’s that?” He nodded to the hexagonal box sporting an elaborate pink satin bow resting in her lap.

  “A gift for you to give your hosts.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d think of it. If you already have something, we can leave it in the car, or maybe you’d rather not—”

  “What’d we get them?”

  “A pound of Elan’s Candies by Maralyn. You can’t go wrong with candy.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I knew you’d come in handy.”

  Her lips twitched and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “Anything to help.”

  They made chitchat for a little while, then drove the last ten minutes to his boss’s summer house in silence, with Steve trying not to look at Jenny. He wondered what she was wearing under that thick winter coat. With her hair curled and piled on top of her head and diamond earrings in her ears, Jenny’d clearly gone to some effort with her appearance.

  Until that moment, he hadn’t known what to expect. He hadn’t seen her out of sweats and grubby clothes since Gabe died—he would hardly have been surprised if she hadn’t gotten dressed up. Steve flattered himself that she’d gone to the effort to please him, though his conscience denied it. They drove up a long driveway, and Steve relinquished his car to the valet. With a hand at Jenny’s back, he guided her up several steps and through the front door.

  A black-and-white uniformed maid smiled politely. “May I take your coat, ma’am?”

  Steve took the box of chocolates Jenny handed him, helped her out of her coat, and then handed it to the waiting maid before pocketing the claim ticket. Turning back to Jenny, he froze. She wore a black and gold, gauzy, shimmery top that crisscrossed her breasts, leaving a tantalizing V opening. A delicate heart-shaped diamond cluster nestled just above her breasts.

  Black clingy pants hugged her slim figure an
d dropped to strappy high-heeled sandals. Recent weight loss and skillfully applied makeup accentuated her cheekbones and made her skin appear flawless. Her light blue eyes seemed huge in her small face. A very slight dusting of glitter in her hair gave her a fairytale, enchanted aura. The whole package whispered classy elegance. She took his breath away.

  He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face toward the chandelier light. “You’re wearing makeup.”

  A flush colored her cheeks better than any blush could. Jenny slapped his hand away and laughed. “Shut up.”

  “Wow.”

  “Close your mouth, Grant. I can look presentable when I need to.”

  He raised an appreciative eyebrow. “That’s more than presentable, Jenny. You look fantastic.”

  She fidgeted with her beaded purse, then glanced at him from beneath long black lashes. “You’re looking pretty dapper yourself tonight. A tux?”

  The tux was a remnant from his celebrity days. Steve backed up, unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it aside so she could admire his scarlet cummerbund. He posed first from his right and then from his left. Crossing his legs, he executed a Michael Jackson style spin, and arched an eyebrow over a cocky, playful grin. “Glad you approve.”

  Jenny laughed at his clowning. Her husky chuckle warmed his heart. It was great to hear her laugh again. This was going to be a fun night.

  “And you must be Annie.” A lady in her mid-fifties stood behind Jenny, holding out her jeweled hand. Her husband stood at her back. “It’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Patricia Corbridge—Daniel’s wife.”

  Steve swore under his breath. It’d never occurred to him that people might think Jenny was his fiancée, but before he could correct his boss’s wife, Jenny smiled graciously and shook her hand. “Hi. Jenny Harrison—sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just standing in for Annie tonight.”

  Steve hastily buttoned his jacket and introduced Jenny to his boss, Daniel Corbridge. “Jenny’s a friend. Annie’s son got sick and she had to stay home with him.”

  Jenny glanced at him out of the corner of her eye at the white lie but luckily didn’t contradict him. Steve couldn’t take a chance that Mrs. Corbridge might feel slighted that his fiancée decided to forego her party for Bunko night. Some of the partners’ wives were easily offended, and Patricia Corbridge took her husband’s social engagements very seriously.

  “Nothing serious, I hope,” Daniel said.

  “Just a fever. I’m sure he’ll be fine in a few days.”

  Mrs. Corbridge stared at him, her polite smile never reaching her shrewd eyes—she wasn’t buying it. Steve resisted the urge to loosen his necktie and squirm.

  “Jenny Harrison…” Patricia turned to her husband. “Why do I know that name?”

  “Ms. Harrison is coordinating the firm’s gift to that inner city clinic.”

  “The Donnatelli Clinic,” Jenny supplied.

  “Oh yes, it sounds like a fun project. What exactly are you going to do?”

  “Well, we’d hoped to buy some books and a few toys to keep the children occupied in the waiting room. Since it’s a free clinic, it’s packed—as you can imagine—so the wait is often quite lengthy.”

  Patricia turned to her husband. “And how much is the firm donating?”

  “We hadn’t set an amount yet. What would you suggest?”

  “Well, toys are nice, but easily broken and taken home. A television might work well—perhaps the clinic could run some informational/educational tapes occasionally, and a fish tank built into an open space, like at the dentist’s office, is always entertaining to children. And of course a fresh paint job with a nice cheery color, and maybe some subscriptions to Ranger Ricks and Highlights?” She put a hand on Jenny’s arm and leaned in. “Those were always favorites with our children.” She pursed her lips, considering. “I’d say ten thousand should do.”

  Ten thousand dollars? Jenny briefly lowered her gaze to hide her popping eyes before turning to Patricia’s husband in polite inquiry.

  He smiled and inclined his head. “I think we can manage that. We’ll get you a check made out to the clinic on Monday.”

  “Thank you. That’s very generous.”

  Daniel rocked back on his heels. “We do what we can for the community.”

  “And it’s a tax deduction and creates goodwill,” Patricia added dryly.

  “There is that,” he acknowledged with a chuckle.

  “Well, it’s not ten thousand dollars, but…” Steve handed Patricia the box of candy. “Jenny thought you might enjoy this.”

  She turned and smiled at Jenny. “Candies by Maralyn. I love the toffee. Thank you.”

  Jenny waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just a little something. It’s kind of you to open up your home this way. It must have been a lot of work.” Jenny said with a bright smile as she made a show of looking around. “Your house is absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Corbridge.”

  The older woman beamed. “Why thank you, dear. It’s no trouble, really. I love to entertain. And please, call me Patricia.”

  “You certainly do it well. Look at the fresh greenery and all the candles, and the stunning tree.” She sighed in wonder. “It must have taken you weeks to put all that up.”

  Steve very much doubted that Patricia had contributed more than a directing finger and a hefty check toward the elaborate decorations Jenny gushed over, but her appreciation seemed to please his boss’s wife.

  Patricia blushed. “Oh, I didn’t do all this myself. I had help. I’m so glad you like it.”

  Daniel turned to him. “Tough break on the hazing case—that was yours, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Daniel clasped him on the shoulder. “Well, you know the old saying: you’re not a real litigator until you’ve lost a million.”

  Steve nodded, though he hated the sentiment. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  “When’re you filing on the university and the fraternity?”

  He cleared his throat, acutely aware of Jenny’s rapt gaze. “The client’s health is unpredictable at the moment. I thought I’d wait until after the holidays.”

  “Don’t wait too long.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “And I trust you’re going to bill the client this time.”

  Steve resisted the urge to glance at Jenny. “The firm didn’t lose out.”

  “I know, son. But the firm does a certain amount of pro bono cases and the rest…” He shrugged. “Have to find other representation.”

  “He couldn’t afford it.”

  “Can he afford it any better now?”

  He thought about lying to his boss. What should he care where the money came from as long as the firm got paid. He shook his head. “No, sir.”

  The older man gave him a steady look through rheumy eyes. “Then this’ll be your pro bono case for the year. You cannot pay for all the losses. You do your best for the client and then move on.” His raised eyebrows generated a wealth of wrinkles on his forehead. “Understand?”

  Again he nodded. Steve hoped Patricia’s chatter had kept Jenny busy so she hadn’t overheard his boss’s little lesson.

  Daniel raised his voice and slapped him lightly on the back. “What a shame to ruin a perfect record. You were batting a thousand.”

  Steve nodded. Were these guys always going to talk to him like he was still a jock?

  “Do you play pool?”

  “A bit.”

  “We’ll have to play a little eight ball later on my Christmas present.” He squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “While visiting her sister in North Carolina, Patricia got me a Vitalie Limited Edition—only one hundred made.” He puffed out his chest. “The Patriot. She’s a real beaut.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “Daniel, why don’t you be a darling and get me and Jennifer drinks,” Patricia said.

  Jenny’s lips locked in a stiff smile as she stared at Steve, trying to silently convey a meaningful message that, for the life of him, he cou
ldn’t decipher.

  Daniel nudged Steve. “That’s our cue—the ladies want to talk. White wine?” At his wife’s nod, he turned to Jenny. “Jennifer, what can we get you?”

  Jenny tore her annoyed gaze from Steve’s and smiled at Daniel. “It’s just Jenny. Nothing as elegant as Jennifer, I’m afraid—unless my mother’s annoyed with me. Beer, please.”

  “Be right back,” Steve said. He hated to abandon Jenny, but didn’t see any way around it.

  When the men left, Patricia linked her arm through Jenny’s and walked her toward the living room where people gathered around the fireplace. A woman broke away from a group and moved toward them.

  “I saw Steve going to the bar with Daniel.” She gave Jenny a sideways look. “So is this the fiancée?” she asked in a stage whisper.

  “This is Jenny Harrison—a friend of Steve’s. Jenny, meet Vivian Foster—an attorney at the firm.”

  Jenny chuckled at Vivian’s crestfallen face. “Sorry—not the fiancée.”

  “But there really is a fiancée?” she asked, clearly not wanting there to be.

  “There really is.” Jenny silently commiserated with the other woman.

  “Well that’s sad.”

  “It is.”

  Vivian’s eyes narrowed suspiciously on Jenny. “Just friends? Steve hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you arrived.”

  She’d been watching them? That was a little disconcerting. “He worries about me. My husband died recently.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vivian said.

  “Condolences,” Patricia said.

  “Thank you.” She could tell they were dying for details about Gabe’s death, but Jenny didn’t feel like satisfying their curiosity. “Gabe and Steve have been friends for years. Since Gabe died, Steve doesn’t seem to notice that I can take care of myself, but truth be told,” she lowered her voice, confiding, “his bossiness is getting a little old.”