Baby By Chance. M.J. Rodgers
and refused to back down when she believed she was right. The way she took such pride in her work. The way she took such loving care of her pet and her home.
David threw the pillow to the bottom of the bed, let out a frustrated breath, rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. No matter what he liked about her, pursuing Susan was simply not an option.
Time to take his brother, Jack, up on one of his double-date offers. Jack’s sojourn into show biz had left him rubbing shoulders, as well as more interesting body parts, with some of the most beautiful women on the TV screen. As David’s dad had so accurately pointed out to him a couple of days before, his body was telling him to get back in the game. With one of Jack’s women, a man didn’t have to worry about holding back.
Tomorrow morning David would concentrate on getting a lead on Todd. Thanks to Susan’s openness and honesty, he had some clues to follow.
Tomorrow night he’d let Jack introduce him to someone who wasn’t a client, who wasn’t still mourning her dead husband, and who wasn’t going to want to see his face over the breakfast table the next morning.
He might be ready to get back in the dating game, but the rules were definitely going to be different. This time around, he wasn’t going to look for emotional entanglements of any kind.
“COME ON, SUSAN,” Paul said, dragging her toward the roller coaster. “It’ll be fun!”
Susan looked up at the big, bright neon sign in front of them that said Death Ride. Nope, this didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun.
“Paul, a roller-coaster ride isn’t my idea of a good time. I have this inner-ear problem. I get car sick on a bumpy road.”
“Suz, you’ve got to come with me,” he coaxed. “This ride is the absolute best. A real adrenaline rush.”
She planted her feet. “My adrenaline is rushing at the right speed, thank you.”
“Is it?” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. “Maybe I’d better do a quick check.” He bent down to nuzzle her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
The next thing she knew, he had scooped her into his arms, planted her on the seat and hopped in beside her. The safety harness swooped down to lock them in place.
“That was pretty damn sneaky, Paul Carter,” she complained as she looked over at the satisfied grin on his face.
He laughed. “You’re a sucker for that neck-nuzzling trick.”
The loaded cars had begun to creep up the track toward the top. Susan’s stomach gave a nervous twitch. There was no getting out now. Not that she had a particular problem with this part. But she had seen roller coasters operate. She knew there was a downside.
A real downside. Their car reached the top. Within seconds they were barreling toward the earth at sixty miles per hour, taking hairpin turns that rattled her eye sockets and careening around neck-yanking loops that had Susan clutching the safety harness in pure terror. Her head was pounding, and her stomach was churning, ready to erupt.
But when she looked over at Paul, he was grinning, his face flushed, so happy and so full of life.
Susan awoke and instinctively reached for Paul. But her hand rested on a ball of fur. Then she remembered.
Paul was gone.
Why was this happening to her? She had faced the loss of the wonderful man she had married. She had allowed herself to feel the pain of his passing. She had accepted the need to get on with her life. She had gotten on with her life. Why was she having these vivid dreams of Paul?
SUSAN WAS AT HER light table carefully looking through the negatives of her morning shoot, when Barry Eckhouse interrupted her concentration.
“I picked up your prints from the darkroom while I was getting mine,” he said.
She sent him a look of gratitude as she took the prints from his outstretched hand. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for these. Thanks, Barry. I’ll hug you later.”
“That makes three hundred and seventy-two hugs you owe me.”
She knew Barry wasn’t really keeping score, nor did he expect to collect. They had been promising each other hugs for years.
He was a good-looking guy who wore the “I’m so bored I’m cool” expression that only he and the guys on the cover of GQ seemed able to pull off.
He was also one of her favorite people. Because of his strong urging and recommendation three months before, Greg had promoted Susan to one of the three coveted senior photographer slots. Barry had never said a word about having stood up for her, which was one of the things she liked most about him.
She took a moment to glance at the prints he’d handed to her. “I requested these two days ago. Why is the darkroom always so backed up?”
“Their turnover is worse than a Burger King,” he said. “They got another new trainee today. Can’t wait to see how long before this one disappears. Speaking of disappearing, have you seen Ellie? I stopped by her cubicle to deliver her prints, but she wasn’t there. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen her all day.”
“She’s probably in the coffee room making an espresso.”
“Which can only mean she’s broken up with her latest loser,” Barry said, shaking his head.
Susan concentrated on shifting through the prints, saying nothing.
“Relax, you didn’t give anything away. I know that Ellie always hogs the espresso machine for days after one of her lovers screws her over.”
She should have known Barry would figure that out. He was smart and observant. When she had first seen Barry looking at Ellie, she’d thought he had a thing for her friend. But however attractive Barry thought Ellie, he was always so negative when he spoke about her that Susan had given up hoping for a romance between them.
“Be nice to Ellie,” she told him. “She’s going through a rough time.”
“She’s always going through a rough time,” he said, the disgust thick in his voice, “because she always asks for it.”
“Of course, you’ve never made a mistake in the romance department,” she said with light sarcasm, knowing perfectly well just how bad a mistake he’d made in the selection of his ex-wife, who everyone at the office called “the psycho.”
Not that he wasn’t absolutely right about Ellie, of course. But Susan was loyal to a lovelorn friend.
“Not fair,” Barry protested. “I was barely twenty-five when the psycho did her number on me. Did I tell you she violated the restraining order her third ex-husband got on her?”
“That the one in Texas?”
“No, Florida. Her second husband filed the restraining order on her in Texas. Anyway, she picked the lock on her third husband’s house after he’d gone to work and spray painted everything black. She’s a genius at lock-picking. Her old man is still doing time for a decade of breaking-and-entering raps.”
“Now, remind me again what awful thing her third ex-husband did to deserve this?” Susan asked.
“He married her, against all my warnings, I might add, just like husband number two. Not that I totally blame them. The psycho’s got legs that go on forever and these big blue eyes and full lips—”
“So what you’re telling me,” she interrupted, not caring to hear any more about his ex-wife’s physical attributes, “is that a man doesn’t really care if a woman is psychotic as long as she’s sexy.”
He shrugged. “No one said we were the smarter sex. But I have learned from my mistake, unlike Ellie.”
Barry quickly looked around, then leaned closer. “You’re her best friend, Susan,” he whispered. “I know you can spot these