The Misconception (19 page)

Which was precisely why she should concentrate on holding food down and getting enough rest rather than wasting any more time thinking about Jax. Especially because she was glad — very glad; no, make that intensely, exceedingly glad — that he’d reverted from expectant father back to sperm supplier.

As such, he didn’t warrant another thought. No matter how deep seated her evolutionary desire to hold onto a man who could protect and provide for her.

She’d been standing at the window for five minutes, but only now did her mind process what her eyes, with their newly fitted contact lenses, were seeing. Parked in front of her row of townhouses was a white moving truck with an open trailer hitch, from which spilled extremely large, broad-shouldered men toting heavy, wood-intensive furniture.

It could only mean one thing. A man was moving into the vacant townhouse next to hers. Because she was sure the for-sale sign had been up just last week, that was more than a little odd. Unless her previous neighbor had decided to rent instead of sell, there hadn’t been much time to finalize a deal.

The phone rang just as two movers hoisted an overstuffed cinnamon-colored sofa from the truck, and Marietta crossed the room to answer it. “Hello.”

“Tracy?”

“No, it’s Marietta.”

“Of course. I’d forgotten how much alike you two sound.” The man’s voice was familiar, but Marietta couldn’t quite place it. “Is Tracy there?”

“No, she’s not,” Marietta said slowly, her stomach clenching as a suspicion of the caller’s identity gripped her. But she had to be mistaken. It couldn’t be who she thought it was. “Can I take a message?”

“Sure. Just tell her Ryan called and the gang from the Black Eyed Peas concert is still meeting at Paddy’s Pub tomorrow night at nine.”

“Ryan.” Marietta ground out the name, hardly able to believe her suspicion had proved correct. “Ryan Caminetti.”

“Last I checked, that was still my name.” A click sounded on the other end of the line, signaling an incoming call. “Listen, Marietta, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting an important call. Nice talking to you.”

The phone line went dead, and Marietta stared at the receiver in dismay before she put it back on the cradle. Her sister’s no-good husband had some nerve calling here, acting as though he were still on good terms with Tracy. Remembering what he said, alarms chimed in her head. He hadn’t issued an invitation, but confirmed one that had already been extended. And what did the reference to the concert mean? Did it mean Tracy had been meeting with Ryan?

Marietta heard the rattle of a car’s engine through the open window and hurried to the window, watching as her sister’s battered cherry-red Honda pulled up to the curb behind the moving truck and a low-slung black sports car she didn’t recognize.

Tracy got out of the car, smiled widely and dashed across the lawn to where one of the behemoth moving men stood with his back to Marietta’s townhouse. Then she anchored a hand on his shoulder, stood on tiptoe to reach his cheek and kissed it.

Marietta staggered backward in shock. Cavorting with her no-good ex-husband. Kissing strange moving men. What had gotten into her sister?

She dashed down the stairs, wondering which subject to tackle first. Ryan. Definitely Ryan. Smooching a stranger wasn’t her sister’s brightest move, but it paled in comparison to re-establishing contact with Ryan of little faithfulness. Besides, she could understand the buss to the behemoth. From the back, the man had a magnificent build rivaled only by the physique of the man she swore she wouldn’t think about anymore.

She flung open the door before Tracy could open it herself. Her sister’s smile seemed even sunnier than usual, probably because she was wearing canary-yellow leggings and a matching overshirt decorated with brightly colored geometrical shapes.

“Hey, Mari, you’ll never guess who—”

“You just had a phone call,” Marietta interrupted. “From Ryan. He said something about you meeting him tonight at Paddy’s Pub.”

Her sister’s smile disappeared. “Don’t look at me that way, Mari. I should have mentioned he might call, but it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? We’re talking about Ryan Caminetti here.”

“Who’s Ryan Caminetti?”

The rich, sexy voice came from behind Tracy, shocking Marietta into silence. Her eyes slid past her sister and zinged upward to the man’s symmetrically proportioned features before it came to rest on his incredibly soft lips. Jax. The behemoth Tracy had been kissing wasn’t a moving man at all. It was her baby’s sperm supplier.

How could she have missed him when she’d thrown open the door? How, for the second time in a matter of weeks, had she allowed herself to be stunned by his appearing act?

“Ryan Caminetti is my husband,” Tracy answered, moving into the house. “We’re separated.”

“So what’s shocking about him calling you?” Jax asked as he trailed after Tracy. “Hey, Marietta.”

Not one of her muscles had moved since he’d invaded her sanctuary, not even the ones controlling her mouth, which she feared was hanging open in shock. She forced her jaw to close, but it just dropped open again when she took in his appearance.

Instead of the impeccably tailored suits in which he looked oh-so-fine, he was wearing well-fitting khaki pants and a chocolate-colored polo shirt that hugged his eye-popping pectoral muscles and the spectacular broadness of his shoulders. The color also brought out his melting brown eyes and the wind-tousled disarray of his chocolate-colored hair.

The part of her still programmed to react like her evolutionary foremothers longed to take a bite of him. Or, better still, to cover herself in chocolate.

Fortunately, the modern-day portion of her brain switched on before she could do something incredibly stupid, like lick him. Jax showing up unannounced at her townhouse was bad news. Very bad news.

“What are you doing here?” Marietta demanded.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Jax said. “How’s the nausea? Getting any better? I heard it helps to eat complex carbohydrates like buckwheat groats. You ever try buckwheat groats?”

Marietta didn’t answer. Her stomach, which still wasn’t over the horror of ingesting bean curds, was trembling. Never mind that she’d never heard of a buckwheat groat. The sound of it alone was scary enough.

“No?” Jax continued. “I’ll pick up some for you next time I go to the grocery store.”

He gave her a good-natured grin before following her sister down a hallway leading to the kitchen. Marietta’s taste buds immediately rebelled. Considering his dreadful culinary taste, she shouldn’t let him anywhere near her kitchen. Who knew what ideas he’d get while he was in there.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” She trailed after him, feeling the situation spiral out of control like a top teetering close to the edge of a table. What was he doing here in the first place?

“Tracy’s getting me something cold to drink,” Jax said.

“Wait just a minute.” With an act of supreme will, Marietta pulled back from the edge and stopped the top from spinning. She lifted her chin and put her poise back in place. “You can’t just come into my home and invade my kitchen.”

Since they’d already entered the kitchen, his very presence mocked her words. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, calling attention to his well-developed pecs. She clenched her teeth against the oh-so-predictable surge of attraction he unleashed.

“Sure I can,” he said. “Tracy invited me.”

Marietta swung her gaze to her sister, thankful she had an excuse to look at something other than Jax’s chest. “Tracy? Is that true? Did you invite him?”

Tracy took a glass out of the cupboard and placed it next to the pitcher she’d already removed from the refrigerator. “Of course I invited him. He’s the father of your baby.”

“There’s more to being a father than supplying sperm,” Marietta snapped.

“Which is why I’m here,” Jax interjected, as though that explained anything. Before she could demand more answers, he turned to her sister. “So are you meeting your husband tonight, Tracy?”

Her sister’s hand jerked, and the iced tea she was pouring missed the cup and spilled over the counter. Marietta’s jaw clenched. If the mere mention of the man rattled her sister like that, being in his presence could cause her irreparable harm. Ryan had already broken Tracy’s heart once.

“Ryan’s not Tracy’s husband anymore,” Marietta said as she retrieved a miniature sponge from behind the sink. Tracy took it from her and mopped up the spill.

“Actually, yes, he still is my husband.” Tracy’s head was down, as though she were concentrating hard on sopping up the iced tea from the counter, but her voice didn’t have any oomph behind it. “Our divorce isn’t final yet.”

“But it will be soon if you stay away from him, Tracy,” Marietta said. “You have to remember how he hurt you. You can’t give him a chance to do it again.”

She was tangentially aware of Jax coming deeper into the kitchen and filling his glass the rest of the way with iced tea. He took a swallow of the cool liquid. “Don’t you think that’s Tracy’s decision to make?” he asked.

Marietta took a moment to glare at him, but it was Tracy’s pinched, unhappy face that demanded her attention. Her sister could be on the verge of making a huge, hurtful mistake. She’d deal with Jax later.

“Ryan said something about a Black Eyed Peas concert,” Marietta said gently. The last thing she wanted was to put her sister on the defensive, but she needed the facts if she were going to help her. “Did you go to a concert with him?”

“Not with him.” Tracy hugged herself, looking miserable. “He gave me a ticket, and I went. We didn’t even sit together.”

Marietta let out a breath. This was worse than she first thought. Tracy wasn’t on the verge of letting Ryan back into her life. She’d already done it. If only Tracy had been more practical from the start, instead of imagining what she felt for Ryan was everlasting love. “I don’t think—”

“I love the Black Eyed Peas,” Jax interrupted, figuring it was time he changed the subject. Marietta clearly didn’t understand that Tracy’s feelings about Ryan Caminetti were something she needed to work out on her own. “In fact, I love music. But, wouldn’t you know it, I can’t sing at all. By the way, do you know how you can tell if someone’s musical?”

Both women looked at him blankly, but he didn’t let that bother him. This was a stressful time in both of their lives. They needed levity. Fortunately, he was excellent at providing that.

“By the chords in their neck.” Neither of them smiled, but continued to stare at him with empty looks. “Get it? Musical chords? Cords of muscle? It’s a play on words.”

In normal circumstance, the punch line was funny enough to crack up anybody within hearing range and make them forget what they’d been talking about. These apparently weren’t normal circumstances. Marietta turned from him to Tracy, continuing where she’d left off.

“I don’t think you should go anywhere near Ryan, Tracy,” she said. “You know what a slick talker he is. Why, he could talk a turtle into crawling out of its shell.”

“Ryan’s not trying to talk me into anything,” Tracy said.

Marietta started to respond, but Jax interrupted. Tracy had been nothing but kind to him since they’d met, even recommending the name of a Realtor after answering one of his repeated calls to Marietta. He owed her.

“Sounds to me like this is between Tracy and her husband, Marietta,” Jax said. “It really isn’t any of your business.”

“None of my business? I’m her sister. I love her. It’s none of your business.” Color flooded Marietta’s face. “You shouldn’t even be here. I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to see you again, so what are you doing here?”

Her arrogant assumption that she could brush off the father of her child as though he were a piece of lint irked him. So much so that he was going to enjoy dropping the verbal bomb he held. “I’d call it getting to know my neighbors better.”

“What are you talking about? We’re not your neighbors,” Marietta said at the same time that a crash, followed by a muffled curse, sounded outside her front door.

Jax winced. “I sure hope that wasn’t my stereo system. You how much I like music. Of course, it’d be worse for the moving man if that was one of my barbells.”

Horror bloomed in Marietta’s eyes, but Jax hardened himself against it. Considering she was carrying his baby, she’d have to get over that. Babies, even unborn ones, thrived on tranquility, not horror.