Part 15 (1/2)
”What?” He realized he'd shouted when she jumped in her chair.
She stood abruptly and picked up her plate and dropped it in the sink. ”Forget I said anything.”
”Fat chance of that,” he muttered. ”Get yourself another plate. You need to eat more than that little bird portion you took.” She opened her mouth to protest and he added, ”For the baby's sake.”
She grimaced, but opened the cupboard and got out another plate and served herself another portion of sloppy joes. He wheeled his chair around to pull out her chair for her so she could sit down, then pushed it closer to the table.
”Thank you,” she murmured.
”Eat.”
He kept his thoughts to himself while she ate, afraid that if he upset her again she wouldn't finish the rest of her food, and he'd be responsible for her kid not getting fed. When she'd swallowed the last bite, he said, ”Don't you think the father's ent.i.tled to know?”
”He wouldn't care,” she said.
”How do you know?”
When she looked at him he saw there were tears in her eyes. ”Hey. None of that,” he said.
She swiped at her eyes and reached for a paper napkin to blow her nose.
”That's better,” he said. ”Want to tell me about it?”
She set the napkin aside and threaded her fingers together on the table. ”I shouldn't,” she said. ”I mean, you're my boss.”
”There's no rule that says we can't also be friends,” Sam said. ”Especially since we're going to be housemates.”
”I suppose,” she said.
He wanted her to confide in him. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to help her. He wanted her to see him as a whole person. h.e.l.l. He wanted her to see him as a man who could protect her and care for her and solve her problems. And love her.
Talk about asking for the moon.
”Tell you what,” he said. ”I'll make us both a cup of coffee while you talk.”
She started to rise. ”I can make-”
He put a hand on her arm. ”Sit there and relax. I can handle it.”
The entire kitchen had been remodeled to make everything accessible to him from his wheelchair. As he measured the coffee into the coffeemaker he said, ”I'm listening.”
”I'm not sure where to start.”
”Would I be likely to know this fellow?” Sam asked.
When she didn't speak he turned his head in her direction and raised a brow. ”Would I?”
She nodded jerkily.
”Well, well, well. Are you going to tell me who it is?”
She shook her head. ”No. Because who he is doesn't matter.”
”He fathered your child. It matters.”
She shook her head again. ”He was drunk. I seduced him.”
”Aw, s.h.i.+-Shucks, girl,” he said, cutting out the profanity. ”Why did you do a fool thing like that?”
She turned eyes on him that sparked with anger. ”I wasn't exactly sober myself.” She hesitated, then explained, ”We attended the same party. He was more interested in another woman, but when she wouldn't have him... I took advantage of the situation.”
”I see.” He didn't, really. What man wouldn't jump at the chance to have Emma Coburn in his bed? He poured each of them a cup of coffee, then brought hers to the table before returning for his own. ”Milk and sugar?” he asked.
”Both,” she replied.
When he turned back toward the counter she jumped up and said, ”I'll get them.”
He fought back the urge to snap at her and said calmly, ”You don't need to wait on me, Emma. I'm crippled, but I'm capable of doing most things a man on two legs can do.”
”I'm sorry,” she said.
He was enchanted by the two roses that grew on her cheeks. ”No problem. a.s.sume I can handle it myself unless I ask for your help.”
”All right,” she said as she set the sugar and milk on the table. ”Mind if I ask a question?”
”Go ahead.”
”Is it true Jackson Blackthorne is divorcing his wife to marry your mother?”
Sam felt a chill run through him. He met Emma's gaze with narrowed eyes and said, ”He may be divorcing his wife. But he won't be wedding my mother. Even if I have to shoot him down in cold blood to stop him.”
Chapter 9.
EVE BLACKTHORNE HAD PLANNED HER DEATH very carefully, so Jackson Blackthorne would be blamed for it. Tomorrow would be her last day on earth. Tomorrow morning the helicopter she was piloting would crash and she would die.
For a full week after Jackson had moved in with Lauren Creed, Eve had let herself hope that he would realize the folly of his ways and return home to her. After all, if he insisted on divorce, he would have nothing left. Nothing. She'd made it clear she would take everything he'd held near and dear, everything his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had fought to hold on to for generations.
As the days pa.s.sed and he refused even to speak with her on the phone, it had become increasingly clear that Jackson didn't give a d.a.m.n anymore about her or their marriage or their life together. He wanted that Creed b.i.t.c.h no matter what he had to give up to have her.
Eve had spent another distressing week going through the stages of grief at the death of her marriage, from denial to anger to bargaining to sorrow. She simply hadn't been able to accept the loss of the man she'd loved body and soul since the moment she'd laid eyes on him. And if she couldn't have him, she was going to make d.a.m.ned sure no other woman would.
She'd been lying in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, feeling the humiliation of losing Jackson to that woman, when an idea for the perfect revenge had been born in her head. The plan she'd concocted required her own death, but that was a small price to pay for the anguish she knew Lauren Creed would suffer the rest of her life.
The difficult part had been figuring out how best to kill herself and make certain that Jackson was the most obvious-the only-suspect for her murder. It had taken a great deal of thought, a great deal of research, a great deal of planning. And a little help from someone with something to gain from her death.
Eve had gone through the stages of grief again, this time mourning not the loss of Jackson, but her own ultimate death. Over the past few days, she'd finally reached the plane of acceptance. She was ready and willing to die.