The Beauty Series Bundle (72 page)

M
rs. Porcelli has
the week off so this morning, I’m eating a lovely country breakfast my wife has cooked for me—bacon, biscuits, and gravy made just the way Nanna taught her. My wife is quite the little cook but then again, she’s good at everything she does.

It’s funny how she never used to get out of bed before I left for work, but now she’s up with me every morning. I think it’s the pregnancy playing tricks on her, or maybe preparing her body for less sleep since she’s thirty-two weeks now. Only eight more to go—if she reaches her due date. Either way, she still crashes midafternoon, so her body is still getting the rest it needs.

I’m finishing my last bite when L’s phone rings—her mom’s ringtone. They’ve spoken very little since Laurelyn was in the hospital, and I don’t have a problem with that. Jolie Prescott rarely has anything positive to say.

She looks at the phone and I think she’s debating if she’ll answer. “I wonder what it will be this time.”

“You don’t have to answer it. I certainly wouldn’t think less of you.”

“I always worry something has happened to Nanna or Pops. They’re the only reason I answer most of the time.” She picks up her phone. “Hi, Mom.”

Laurelyn motions for me to leave my dishes as I gather and take them to the sink to rinse before placing them in the dishwasher. I know she doesn’t mind doing that for me, and maybe it even makes her feel more domestic when she does. I’ve often pondered how she feels about having Mrs. Porcelli here taking care of our home—if it’s an intrusion into her role as my wife or if she’s happy she’s freed up from household demands so she may devote her days to composing, rather than laundry.

I close the dishwasher door and see Laurelyn grab the kitchen counter for support. “When?”

I reach for her, afraid her legs will give beneath her, and assume the worst—that something has happened to one of her beloved grandparents. I steer her toward a barstool and she sits, placing her elbow on the counter and propping her head in her palm, pushing her hair away from her face. She leaves it there, her hand holding her head. “That’s all the information they’re releasing?”

She ends the call with her mum and looks at me, saying nothing. “What’s happened?”

“What have you done?”

I’m baffled as to what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Blake Phillips was found dead this morning—a gunshot to the chest.”

And she assumes I had something to do with it? “Are you asking me if I had Blake killed?”

“Yes.”

I can’t believe she thinks I’m capable of something like that. I’ve had lots of thoughts about it, and maybe even insinuated I’d like to, but I’d never be able to take someone’s life. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“One who loves his wife and would take care of the man who attacked her and got away with it. And one who asked me for a no questions asked.”

That’s what this is about. “I had some things I was working on where Blake was concerned, but I had no part in his death.”

“I want to know what you were doing.”

I guess the no questions asked is null and void now. “Jim went to Nashville when I found out the charges against Blake were being dropped. I was going out of my mind because he was going to get away with what he did to you, so I wanted to find another way to make him pay. If he didn’t do time for attacking you, I was going to ruin him any way possible.”

“What did Jim find?”

She’s going to be sick all over again when I tell her what we know. “You weren’t the only one Blake attacked. He raped a young woman last fall while you were dating. She was being represented by Blake and suddenly dropped off the grid, leaving the music industry. It seems there’s a pattern of that with his female clients so Jim took a closer look. He located a few of the women but none would talk—until Hannah Dody.”

She’s nodding. “I remember Hannah well. She was really young, something like nineteen, but quite good. Blake told me she left because she couldn’t cut it in the music industry, so she went home to Mommy and Daddy, his words verbatim.”

“She’s the only one who would talk to Jim. She admitted that Blake raped her.”

“You haven’t gone to Grayson Drake with this?”

No, but I’m wishing I had now. “No. Jim is still investigating the other leads.”

“Are they going to look at you for this?”

It’s a possibility after the way I acted when I spoke with the prosecutor. “I don’t know the circumstances of his death, so I have no idea.”

“Please tell me you didn’t make any threats when you spoke with Drake.”

I was frustrated and outraged when I spoke with the assistant prosecutor. I have very little memory of that conversation, with one exception. “I may have mentioned something about having money and connections.”

Laurelyn covers her eyes with her hand. “Oh God, you didn’t.”

I could’ve said much worse, and it’s a million wonders I didn’t. “I’d just been told Blake was going to walk, so I was pissed off. They can’t use that against me. I’ve been right here with you all this time and that’s easily proven.”

“But they could say you hired someone.”

She’s assuming the worst. “We have no idea what the circumstances are. They might already have a suspect in custody. Someone could’ve confessed. We don’t know.”

“You have to contact Grayson Drake and tell him what you know.”

That could be mistake. “I don’t know if that’s the best thing or not. I had a PI under my employment investigating a man who attacked my wife, and then he turns up dead. That doesn’t look great for me.”

“Withholding information doesn’t look great, either,” she argues.

Agreed. “I should contact my lawyer.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

My attorney, Rhett Clarence, is able to speak with me when I call—one of the privileges of being considered a VIP client. I explain everything from the beginning and he feels we have no choice but to notify the prosecutor’s office about the information Jim uncovered. But he insists on making the call himself.

Waiting to hear from Rhett is brutal. Hours pass and I realize for the first time that I could actually be suspected of hiring someone to kill Blake. I certainly had motive and I hired someone to investigate his life. They could say I was studying him and his routines to pull off the perfect crime.

L and I are sitting on the couch. She’s leaning against me, her head on my shoulder. “I wanted Blake to go to jail but I didn’t want him dead. I know what he was, but there are three little kids without a dad now. At least if he’d gone to jail, they’d still have him. Sort of.”

“You didn’t wish him dead because your heart is good and you want the best for those three innocent children. You’re compassionate, and it’s only one of the many things I love about you.” I, on the other hand, wished a thousand times over that I’d killed him in that hotel room that night.

My phone rings. I don’t hesitate in answering. “Hello.”

“Rhett here.”

“What did you find out?”

“They’re still working out the details of what happened but that young woman you told me about, Hannah Dody, committed suicide two days ago. She left a letter saying she couldn’t live with what Blake had done to her. They believe her father was overcome by fury and grief to the point that he was waiting for Blake in the parking garage of the recording studio. He shot him as he was getting into his car.”

My heart goes out to Hannah’s family. No one should ever have to experience an attack or its aftermath. And now this family has lost not only Hannah but her father as well. That could easily be me. Blake wasn’t able to finish his attempted rape of Laurelyn, but what would I have done had I not gotten there in time? I don’t have to answer my own question—I already know.

“Thank you, Rhett. You’ve put my mind at ease.”

I end the call and Laurelyn looks at me in anticipation. “What?”

“Hannah Dody killed herself two days ago and left a note naming Blake as the reason. Her father shot Blake because he was so distraught over his daughter’s suicide.”

“That poor family. I met Mr. Dody. He came to the studio with Hannah several times. He always called her his shining star and she’d get embarrassed and kid that she wasn’t going to let him come back. They were a close father and daughter, and I envied her for that.”

I pull L close and squeeze her. My girl is strong, but who knows how she would’ve coped if Blake had finished what he started with her. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.” I put my hand on her tummy. “Or Maggie James.” I haven’t even laid eyes on her yet and I already know I’d kill to protect her. “I hope Hannah’s father isn’t convicted for what he did.”

“I’d be surprised if he can afford a good attorney. I remember Hannah telling me money was tight. I let her borrow clothes more than one time because she didn’t have anything that didn’t come from a thrift store.”

Hannah’s father was out of his mind with grief. He deserves proper representation. “I want to help her father. He deserves a decent chance at defending himself.” L doesn’t say anything so I’m not sure what she thinks about that. “How do you feel about me paying his legal fees?”

“Very proud, McLachlan.”

T
hirty-six weeks
and I’m seeing Dr. Sommersby today for the removal of that stitch that’s been holding James Henry or Maggie James inside for eighteen weeks. One of two things will happen: I’ll either go into labor due to the manipulation of my cervix, which causes contractions, or I could do nothing and be pregnant a month from now. No one knows until it happens.

I’m sent to labor and delivery for the removal of the cerclage so I can be observed for labor afterward. I’m thrilled when Amy, Addison’s nurse, comes into my room. She stops once inside the door and looks at my face.

“Wait a minute. I recognize you. Have I taken care of you before?”

“I was admitted for a week several months ago, but you were never my nurse. You’re remembering me from when my friend had her baby a couple of months ago. Addison Kingston.”

“Yes! I remember Addison well.”

She’s a hard one to forget. “Probably because she showed her ass so bad.”

“She was fun to take care of. Her poor husband is the one who had to lie down on the couch with his legs up.”

“What happened to Zac?”

Oh, I forgot to tell Jack Henry about that. “He got a little woozy during the epidural. Said he can’t stand needles.” I shrug. “He says tattoo needles are different than medical needles so he totally wussed out. I had to take care of him because Amy was busy with Addison.”

He’s highly amused. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“The only thing on my mind was Donavon’s arrival.”

Amy passes me a gown. “Take everything off, ties go in the back, and I’ll return in a few to get you hooked up on the monitor.”

“That was kind of hot hearing another woman tell you to take everything off.”

Good grief. “Oh, give me a break.”

“I have—an eighteen-week break.” I slip my top over my head and then remove my bra.

He never needs to throw this break in my face after all I’ve done for him. “Hey, I’ve compensated in other areas for you. Not every pregnant wife would be so generous.”

“I’m so very thankful. You’ll never know how much I’ve enjoyed every single time you wrapped your pretty little mouth around my cock. Your hand jobs are an art form in themselves, especially with that little trick you do, but I’ve got to tell you that I’m beyond excited about getting inside you again.”

What he just said registers in my head. “Omigod. You don’t want me to go into labor after the cerclage removal because you want to go home and fuck.”

He’s all smiles. “No, babe. I want to go home and make love to you.”

Does he really think he can show me his dimples and talk about making love to get me on board with staying pregnant so he can get some? “Don’t give me that bullshit. Call it what you like but both equate to you getting what you want.”

“You don’t seem excited about it.”

He looks hurt but I don’t want him to be. I’m just really excited about getting our baby. “Don’t take it personally, but I’m way more excited about having this baby in my arms.”

“I’m ready for her too, but I’m not opposed to knowing my wife again, at least once before this little one decides to arrive. It’s been a really, really long time.”

He’s been so good throughout the whole pregnancy, never asking me for anything and cheerfully seeing to my every whim—driving into town in the dead of night for a cheeseburger and fries, massaging my lower back when it ached, shaving my legs for me, and painting my toenails when I was too embarrassed to show my swollen feet at the salon. He’s been beyond considerate of my feelings, even when I wasn’t on my best behavior because of pregnancy hormones. “Okay. If I don’t go into labor, then you can know your wife again tonight.”

He whispers, “Yes,” and does a fist pump. “No way I’m waiting until tonight and chancing you going into labor. If you don’t stay to have this baby, we’re going straight home to our bedroom. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

He’s being so silly. “Can you wait until we get home, or should we stop for a hotel room to be safe?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

Surely, he realizes I was joking. “I was kidding, horn dog.”

Amy returns and places two monitors on my abdomen, one for the baby’s heartbeat and the other to pick up contractions. I’ve heard the baby’s heartbeat many times but never for this long at once. I can’t stop being mesmerized by it. “What are you having?”

I expect Jack Henry to blurt out that it’s a girl but he doesn’t. “We don’t know. It’s a surprise.”

“I love when parents don’t find out. It’s so much fun. What do you think it is?”

“I think it’s a boy.” I look over at Jack Henry and he winks at me. “He thinks it’s a girl.”

Amy picks up the printout and looks for a moment. “I’m going girl based on the higher heart rate.”

I read that online. “Is that true? A girl has a faster heartbeat?”

“It’s an old wives’ tale—and obviously isn’t a hundred percent—but I can tell you that after working here for thirteen years, I think there’s some truth to it.”

Jack Henry is grinning, so sure of himself, as he has been since eighteen weeks when he saw the baby’s face for the first time. “She said it’s an old wives’ tale so calm down.”

“She also said she’s worked here thirteen years and believes there’s some truth to it,” he argues.

Dr. Sommersby comes into the room and interrupts our debate. “Are we ready to get this stitch out?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The bed is converted so my feet are placed in footrests and a speculum is inserted. “This part is just like when you get a Pap.” I try to relax, concentrating on my breathing, but I’m nervous. I researched cerclage removal before we came and most people said it hurt.

She’s moving the speculum around and it’s a lot of pressure. I tense when I shouldn’t. “Hang in there, Laurelyn. I know it’s uncomfortable but I’ll try to keep the discomfort to a minimum.”

I hear the sound of the scissors snip and I swear it feels like she nicked my cervix. I involuntarily jerk. “Sorry, Laurelyn. There’s a little bit of scar tissue grown over the suture so you’re going to feel a little tugging.”

A little tugging, my ass! A much more accurate description would be that I’ll feel like my cervix is connected to a four-wheel drive and will be yanked out through my vagina. I tense again, squeezing Jack Henry’s hand, and cry out because I can’t stop myself. “Ohh …” It’s not my good kind of ohh that Jack Henry evokes. It’s my damn, I’m hurting really bad ohh. Huge difference!

“The stitch is out so I’m going to check your cervix and see how much you’re dilated.” I feel the pressure of her fingers, which is minimally better than the speculum. “You’re between two and three centimeters so we’ll let you hang out here for a few hours and see if anything happens. I don’t want you to eat because if you go into labor, I’m not stopping you, even though you’re technically still considered preterm.”

I know all babies aren’t the same, but Donavon was a month early and he did great. I’m not worried.

The transformer birthing bed is converted back to normal and I get as comfortable as it will allow me to be. It’s not really a bed made for relaxation, though. “Need anything, love?”

“I can’t think of a thing.”

I’m observed for hours and I’m only having irregular contractions, so we’re awaiting the final verdict as Dr. Sommersby does another cervical exam. “Okay, it’s been three hours and there’s no change, Laurelyn. You’re still between two and three centimeters, so I think it’s fine for you to go home. But I want you to return for the usual things we’ve talked about—leaking, bleeding, contractions every five minutes or less for at least an hour.”

Jack Henry smirks and wags his brows at me. I might be mad if he wasn’t so damn cute doing it.

Dr. Sommersby leaves and I slip out of the patient gown so I can get back into my clothes. “You are loving this, aren’t you?”

He’s watching me shimmy back into my panties. “The degree to which my happiness has risen is absurd. You’d probably want to smack me if you truly knew.”

I put my arms through my bra straps and reach around to fasten it. “I’m pretty sure I want to smack you now.”

“You can if you’d like because there’s no way to steal my joy—unless you change your mind. You’re not, right?”

I consider jacking with him about it but he’s desperate. I’m not sure the poor boy could take it. “You can bone me like you own me.”

He does another juvenile fist pump in the air. “Fuck, yes! Get your clothes on so we can get to the house—fast—and take them off again.”

Well, at least he’s romantic about it.

W
e pull
into the garage and Jack Henry, as usual, comes around to open my door and help me out of the car. I step out and he pulls me into his arms for a sweet, delicious kiss. It begins slow and rhythmic but quickly turns rushed and heated. His mouth leaves mine and trails down my neck while his hands move beneath my shirt to my pink lace bra. He rubs his thumbs over my nipples and I feel them instantly harden beneath his touch.

I wasn’t sure I’d really feel like doing this after being placed in stirrups doing the spread-eagle with a pair of scissors stuck up my vajayjay, but Jack Henry has a way with me. I can never tell him no. Almost. I don’t have a problem with turning him down after he’s pissed me off.

He decides he’s done with kissing in the garage and takes me into the house through the kitchen. Mrs. Porcelli is there putting away dishes when she turns to see us. “Aww … no baby today. I’m sorry, Laurelyn. I know you were hoping it would happen.”

“It’s okay. The baby will come when he or she is ready.”

Jack Henry wastes no time in trying to shove Mrs. Porcelli out the door. “Laurelyn and I had a big lunch in town, so I think it’ll be fine if you want to take the rest of the day off. We can have sandwiches tonight or I’ll go into town for takeout.”

“I don’t mind staying to prepare dinner. I was planning to cook beef stroganoff.”

I’m afraid he’s going to toss her out on her keister, so I step in to persuade her. “We had a big lunch so a sandwich is fine for tonight. You can do the stroganoff tomorrow night.”

She looks like she’s considering it, but what she doesn’t realize is that Jack Henry isn’t giving her a choice. “I have a few things I need to take care of in town. I wouldn’t mind leaving a little early to save myself from spending Saturday doing them.”

“Perfect. I’m glad it’ll work out so you can enjoy your Saturday off.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” She goes to the cabinet to retrieve her purse. “Enjoy your day together.”

I blush at her words but wait until she’s gone to say anything. “She knows.”

“Knows what?” he asks.

As if he doesn’t have a clue what I mean. “What we’re up to.”

“So?”

“It’s a little embarrassing.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? You’re my wife and you’re pregnant so I’m pretty sure she knows we have sex.”

I know he’s right but I still feel awkward at times. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels weird having another person in our home privy to our personal lives. It never seems like we have complete privacy.” I try not to think of her washing our linens and seeing the evidence of our lovemaking on them.

“Do you want me to let her go?”

“Oh, no. I love having Mrs. Porcelli around. She frees me up to do the work I need to do.”

“She’s getting older and has a new grandchild she doesn’t see as much as she’d like. She might be interested in cutting her hours back. That would give us more time at home, just the two of us.” I point at my belly and he laughs as he cradles it with his hands. “Pardon me, Miss Maggie James. I meant to say the three of us.” I no longer say anything about him always calling the baby Maggie James. I gave up a while ago.

He takes my hands and pulls me out of the kitchen toward our bedroom. We’re almost through the door when he turns and cups my face, giving me another loving kiss. “I love you so very much.”

“I love you too.”

We move toward the bed, kissing en route, before we stop next to it. He peels my jacket from my shoulders and tosses it to the bench at the foot of our bed before pulling my shirt over my head. I’m wearing a pink lace bra, not what I consider sexy, but my breasts have gotten bigger the last couple of weeks so they’re really jacked. “These are fantastic.” He caresses each one before pulling my bra down and reaching into the cups to lift them out. He thumbs my nipples again, watching them harden before he takes one into his mouth. I glide my fingers through his hair as he sucks one and then the other.

When he’s finished, he bends at the knees and crouches down to remove my socks and boots. I unfasten my bra while he pulls my leggings and panties down my legs. I’m left standing completely naked before him. He steps back, looking me over from head to toe, and I suddenly feel self-conscious about my body like never before. I clasp my hands in front of my large belly because I’m afraid he’ll think I’m unattractive.

“Don’t cover yourself. I love looking at your pregnant body and the only thing I see is beauty when I look at you.” He comes to me and caresses my bump. “I may be one of those guys with a weird pregnancy fetish because this really turns me on.”

I unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he takes care of the cuffs. After he’s shirtless, I work on his pants as he kicks out of his shoes. Teamwork. That’s why we’re a perfect pair.

He pulls me close and my abdomen presses against his. The contact sends chills all over my body. My hair stands on end. I covet the feel of his warm skin against mine. He holds my hips as he lowers his lips to my shoulder and drags a slow kiss up toward my throat. “I want you ninety-nine different ways right now but tell me what’s going to be best for you.”

I don’t really know. My belly wasn’t huge the last time he was on top of me. If we had continued having sex throughout my pregnancy, I’m sure we would’ve adapted our positions as I grew. But we’re going from doing it while I had a near flat stomach to … this. “I don’t know except I can’t tolerate lying flat. It makes me lightheaded.” It’s been so long and I want this to be good for him. “I can get on my stomach—sort of. I mean, I can get on all fours.” I guess I should have just said rear entry—it’s the way he loves it best anyway.