Secret Baby Spencer. Jule Mcbride
He’d said he wouldn’t start their physical relationship—not so much as a kiss, he’d vowed—until she went to Tyler, until he knew she would definitely be his. She smiled weakly. Who would have known Dom could be so romantic? In all the years of their friendship, she never would have guessed.
And he was so sexy. Tall and slender, he was Italian-born and raised on Mott Street in Little Italy. He had straight black hair, devastating dark eyes, and after sixteen years of knowing him, Jenna knew she’d never find a better man. He was so accommodating, too, guessing Jenna’s needs before she even knew she had them. What she’d shared with Seth, she assured herself, was nothing more than overrated chemistry.
She frowned. Since Sue’s divorce, Jenna had felt so sure Dom was falling for Sue, though. He’d doted on Gretchen, too. Mistakenly, Jenna had assumed that the time Dom spent with Jenna wasn’t significant, especially since they usually went over strategies for strengthening her relationship with Seth. After Seth left for Tyler, Dom had overheard her speaking on the phone with an obstetrician, and he’d proposed.
He’d been so eloquent, too. He said he wanted her, loved her. He offered her everything she secretly wanted—marriage and a name for the baby. But Dom had one condition: that she come to Tyler and tell Seth about the pregnancy, just to ensure there wouldn’t be trouble later. Which, of course, there wouldn’t be. Seth couldn’t care less.
Blowing out a shaky breath, she murmured, “How did I manage to get lost in a town this small? Where’s the boarding house?” Her eyes traced the street, the frame houses reminding her that she wasn’t going to a four-star hotel. No USA Today and room service. “Ah,” she suddenly said, “that must be it. The address is right.”
Fortunately, there was plenty of room to park. Jenna hadn’t driven for years. She’d never been behind the wheel of a car this large, either, but it had been the least expensive at the rent-a-wreck. Getting out, she slammed the door, then lifted Gretchen from the back seat, deciding to check in before retrieving their suitcases from the car. “Hey, sweetie,” she murmured again, planting a kiss on Gretchen’s cheek and grinning down as the toddler’s short stubby legs wrapped around her waist.
Gretchen blinked, curling sleepily on Jenna’s shoulder as they headed for the door. Frowning, Jenna suddenly wished she hadn’t agreed to do work for Molly Blake. “You’re so spineless,” she whispered aloud, her breath fogging the chilly air. A month or so ago, Seth had given her Molly’s number, saying Molly was thinking of opening a bed-and-breakfast and might want to hire a freelance artist to do some promotion. Seth, of course, assumed Jenna would do the work via mail from New York.
And she should have. That way she could talk to Seth, just as she’d promised Dom, then leave immediately. Still, without having a reason other than her and Seth Spencer’s baby, she simply couldn’t bring herself to come to Tyler.
Anxiously twisting the ring on her finger again, she winced, hoping Sue and Dom found the note in the gallery saying she’d borrowed it. Dom said they’d shop for a ring as soon as she returned; meantime, she’d decided to give Seth the message loud and clear that she was getting married. Seth didn’t have to know this was a cubic zircon, not a real diamond.
“Hello,” she called, shifting Gretchen as she unzipped her black leather coat, opened the door of the boarding house and stepped inside, relieved to find the place clean and bright, bustling with early evening activity. “You must be Johnny Kelsey.”
“Sure am.” The man was in his sixties, had dark hair shot through with gray, and Jenna was relieved to see he was the first resident of Wisconsin who didn’t seem the least perturbed by fishnets and leather. “That must be Gretchen,” he continued. “We got a crib set up for her. Over there, that’s Patrick and Pam,” he said, nodding toward his son and his son’s wife.
Jenna nodded. “Ah,” she returned, smiling. “Molly mentioned you.” Molly had also said Pam Kelsey was an Olympic track medallist before being diagnosed with MS. Apparently, her health was good now, and the couple had adopted a son, Jeremy, now four. Before Jenna could continue, Johnny said, “And this fine young lady is Caroline Benning. She’s working at our best eatery in town, Marge’s Diner, so I’m sure you’ll meet again. Her room’s just down the hallway from yours.”
“Hi,” Jenna said, her eyes settling on the other woman. She was young, in her early twenties and all-American-pretty, tall and willowy with bright green eyes and light brown, highlighted hair. She’d been coming from the back of the house, carrying a quilt which she’d probably shaken out. When Gretchen leaned in, reaching for the bright fabric, Caroline stepped back, almost protectively.
“Now, don’t get so grabby, Gretchen,” Jenna said with a soft laugh, curling her hand gently over Gretchen’s chubby fingers and distracting her. “Lovely quilt work,” she added, her eyes taking in the handiwork. Before she could further study the design, Johnny Kelsey captured her attention again. “No baggage, Ms. Robinson?”
Baggage? She had plenty, of course, but Johnny wasn’t really inquiring about her relationship with Seth Spencer. She laughed again. “Do I look like a woman who travels without suitcases?”
He looked her over as if contemplating everything from her blue fingernail polish, to the decorative collar stenciled around her neck in henna, to her studded earlobes and clothes, then he chuckled. “Somehow I bet you’ve got more than one.”
“Please call me Jenna,” she corrected with a smile. “The things are in the car.” Pausing, she grinned down at Gretchen who was asleep on her shoulder. “I figure I’d better put this sleepy little rascal down first, though.”
And then Jenna would tell Seth Spencer she was pregnant.
Chapter Two
“Jenna couldn’t have stirred up Tyler, Wisconsin any more than this if she morphed into an Osterizer blender,” Seth murmured the next morning, staring through the open door of his private office toward the windows in the lobby. Deciding against shrugging into the muted brown suit jacket that matched his slacks, he ignored the hammering of his heart as she parallel parked in front of the bank. Or, more accurately, tried to parallel park.
Nervously, he knotted an olive tie that was neatly tucked under the collar of a white shirt he’d pressed himself. Six weeks hadn’t been enough time to adjust to not having Chinese laundries where he could drop off his shirts, but watching Jenna, he suddenly wished he’d done a better job of ironing his rumpled sleeves and cuffs. He looked the last way he wanted to—like a man desperately in need of a woman’s care.
Despite his apprehension—or, more accurately, hope about what Jenna was doing in Tyler—Seth smiled, taking in her seventh attempt to wedge the noisy, dented gold tank between Nora Gates Forrester’s new Miata roadster and Marge Phelps’s red Dodge truck. Jenna, who hadn’t yet realized she had a good six feet to spare, was now drawing a crowd on the sidewalk. “If more people show up, maybe I’ll sell popcorn and peanuts,” mused Seth. “Maybe even funnel cakes.”
Not that Jenna looked particularly pleased about having an audience. Knowing her, the Smashing Pumpkins or Nirvana were blasting from the radio, anyway, so she wouldn’t hear anybody coaching. Because of the way she was hunched over the wheel, turning it with all her might, Seth figured the Cadillac lacked power steering. As she painstakingly angled between the other two cars, she craned her head toward the child who was strapped in back, then whirled toward the windshield again.
Even from here, she looked so gorgeous that Seth’s breath caught. His heart clutched, too, not that his impenetrable features would allow anyone to guess it. He knew right then that Jenna Robinson wasn’t leaving his office until they made love on the smooth, polished mahogany surface of his desk. If the truth be told, he’d been fantasizing about that for weeks. A plan formed as he swept the work papers into a drawer. The second she came through the door, he’d kiss her senseless, pull her against his chest and hold her as if he’d never let go. Gently, he’d lift her, carry her to the desk and…
The more he thought about