Unnatural Calamities (18 page)

Janey resisted the urge to throw her tortilla at him. It was a fair question, after all.

“Toph’s.”

He stared at her, a wicked grin on his face. “Come on, Carmody. I’m buying lunch. I punted an important meeting to see you. Spill some details. How did you two manage it?”

Blushing, she told him an abridged version of the bathtub experience. He gave a hoot of laughter so loud everyone in the restaurant ogled them.

Mickey gulped down his glass of Evian water then frowned at her. “So you’re knocked up by a guy you say doesn’t love you. What the hell difference does that make? Do you love him?”

The question hit her in the solar plexus. Was she infatuated with the man? Could that be a problem?

Mickey stood and tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table. He reached out and ruffled her hair as if she were a golden retriever. “Gotta go. Don’t seem to me you got a lot of options, Carmody. And before you ask, nope, I ain’t gonna marry you. Sorry. So you gotta take him. You’re probably the type that thinks being a parent means you come in second? Baby’s gotta be first?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I think,” she said at last. “What about you? What do you think?”

“Same load of crap. That’s why I’ll never have babies. I like being number one.”

After Mickey stalked out, Lindy came over to the table to visit. She picked up the hundred dollar bill and waved it before tucking it into her wide apron that had “Da Boss” printed in gold letters across the front.

“See why I remember him? The guy loves to spend money. Plus he’s majorly cute when he’s not being indignant. Sometimes even then.”

She plunked herself down on Mickey’s chair and picked up one of the chips he hadn’t eaten and dipped it into the hot black bean dip.

She smiled as she crunched. “I did a good job on the chips today. And it’s a great dip, isn’t it?”

“My recipe?”

Lindy beamed. “Of course. Including the touch of chocolate.”

Janey sat back and stroked the fake fur of the couch. She watched her friend work her way through the chips and then the rest of her tortilla.

“Lind, I know you don’t do catering or weddings, but will you make an exception in my case?”

Her friend’s eyes grew huge.

“You’re getting married? God. Who to? I didn’t even know you were dating.” She put a hand over her mouth. “Not to Mickey.”

“No. A guy named Christopher.”

Lindy squealed and jumped up. “The multimillionaire gorgeous guy. The one on TV. The one you were kidnapped with! Of course! How perfect.”

Her happy squeals at last made the patron at the next table look up from his plate of enchiladas and scowl.

Lindy climbed onto a rickety chair and, clutching the back of it, announced that due to management’s favorite chef’s glad tidings of her upcoming nuptials, everyone in the restaurant was to be treated to one drink by the house. She suggested that they pick today’s special, a watermelon margarita.

Lindy brought Janey a glass of champagne, which she pretended to sip. She didn’t think she could handle her friend’s joy about the other happy little event.

After Lindy went bustling back to the kitchen, Janey leaned back on the couch and stared up at the abstract mobile slowly spinning over the table. Okay, now she’d committed herself to a wedding supper. She supposed she ought to finally tell the groom the marriage would take place.

Chapter Fifteen

When Janey took walks in West Farmbrook—on the edge of the road, since few streets were graced with sidewalks—she enjoyed scrutinizing the houses, picking out which ones she’d accept as a gift from a fairy godmother.

She’d say no thanks to more than half of them. But despite the fact she didn’t adore a bunch of the big houses, none of them truly offended her.

That was before she’d gone to Toph’s quiet cul-de-sac and seen his house.

She hated it. Squat but huge, ostentatious and just plain awkward, Toph’s house was dreadful. It didn’t even deserve to be called ugly. How could a structure so pretentious be so boring? Obviously money was no object to the builders—they might at least have constructed something with a little personality.

Redeeming features
, she reminded herself.
Look for them. Say something nice.

“I love the way the slate is laid out in this walkway,” she said at last. She scanned the facade of the house again, hunting for something, anything, positive to say.

“I like the roof shingles. They’re a good color.”

Toph’s amused voice broke through her frantic thoughts. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I don’t much like it. But I wanted to be near Cynthia, I wanted a pool and I wanted a couple of extra rooms. This was the only thing on the market available that week.”

Figures he’d want the deal over and done in a week. Maybe Toph suffered from some form of attention deficit disorder. How long before he got bored with her? Maybe it would be before they got married.

He turned off the house’s alarm and they entered the huge front hall. At least the place let in some decent sunlight, unlike her apartment.

The phone in the foyer blinked that it had eighty-five messages. “Damn, I forgot to switch it to Nina,” Toph grumbled.

“Nina?”

“My assistant. I hate the phone and she can answer most of the questions anyway.”

The messages mostly began with “You don’t know me, Mr. Dunham, but I got your name from…”

“Time to change my home number again,” he said as he hit delete over and over. “It’s unlisted, but I get careless with it.”

“But what about the people who have hunted down your number and worked up the nerve to call you?” Janey felt indignant on their behalf.

He shrugged. “They’ll call again. Or they’ll call the number of the office. I don’t want people to use my home number for business.”

“They’re all business?”

“Yup. Most of them anyway. And most of them are completely lunatic.”

“Where’s your personal life?”

He shrugged again. She wished she hadn’t asked.

The house’s decor was as warm and welcoming as a dentist office’s sterile, anonymous waiting room. A dentist who’d had too many years exposure to the squeal of the drill and wanted to take it out on his patients.

“Who did your, ah, interior decorating?”

“Jeno. She’s actually a designer who specializes in offices. I figured I’d see if she was any good and let her do the foyer.”

“I suppose she’s okay if you want to live in a waiting room.”

“I don’t think so. I felt bad because I ended up not backing her business. So I paid her to do the whole house since I don’t particularly care. She did everything except Cynthia’s room.”

Cynthia’s room was the only one in the house she liked. Though perhaps “like” was the wrong word. Appreciated, because it was the only room with any sense of personality or life.

Obviously Cynthia was given free rein and lots of paint. A huge red slogan “GIRLZ RULE” had been painted across one wall. Strange mashed potatoes drifted on the ceiling across a blue plate. Oh. Clouds in a sky.

In the middle of the mishmash of posters and stuffed animals was an enormous round bed.

“Interesting choice for a bed,” Janey squeaked. “Austin Powers influence?”

“I didn’t like the thing, but she said it made her feel like a slice of pizza. I don’t think she’s seen the Austin Powers movies. Bea is a pretty strict mother.”

“You’re the indulgent one?”

“You bet.”

“Parents without custody. Sheesh. A round bed.”

“I moved to West Farmbrook so we could manage joint custody. And for your information, Cynthia’s got a water bed at Bea’s house.”

Jeno the designer must have been eight feet tall because in the kitchen, the cabinets and counters were all too tall and wide. Janey spotted a gorgeous industrial-strength mixer and rushed to examine it. Even though she was almost five foot four, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the appliance at the back of the counter. Toph leaned against the kitchen island, a smile on his face, and watched her explore.

She saw no evidence that anyone used the sub-zero fridge or the professional stove. But, except for the fact that the place was designed for a giant, the kitchen was not half bad. Janey could get used to spreading out in a place that large.

“This is a great place to cook,” she said, delighted to at last find something nice to say. “And that’ll matter because, um, I think I want to start my business much smaller.”

He examined her with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“The baby.”

His scowled deepened. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?”

She cleared her throat. “And, well, you’re another reason, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we’re married, I’m not going to take your money for my business.”

“What the heck do you mean?” He sounded flabbergasted. “Why?”

She shrugged and wandered to examine the dishwasher. Its metal interior was so shiny, she wondered if someone polished it. “Just makes me uncomfortable. I hate the thought that I’d get money from you. I mean along with all the rest. The insurance and stuff.”

He gaped at her as if she’d just announced she wanted to strip nude and prance through the fire hall’s Sunday night chicken supper.

She touched the tip of his high-bridged nose. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to gawk at me as if I’m the first person who ever said no thanks to a loan.”

“It wouldn’t be a loan if we’re married.”

“See, that sort of bugs me even more.”

“And come to think of it, yes, you would be the first person to actually say no to money,” he added as he tagged along behind her out of the kitchen.

She wandered through the personality-free family room into a wide open semi-sun room. “What does Bea think of this place?” she asked at last.

“She hates it. But she would hate any house. She probably still thinks I should move back in with her.”

“What?” Janey’s distress about the horrible house was replaced by another, worse horror.

“Bea likes to have access to me and Jack twenty-four hours a day. She does not consider the fact that she left us for other people to mean we should not be waiting for her return.” He sounded amused. Even a little doting.

She didn’t try to hide the panic in her voice. “No.”

“I agree. No.”

She continued her prowl around the house, grateful he did not ask her if she liked it.

“What do you think about this place?” she asked at last.

He looked around the semi-sun room, the only one Janey considered pleasant and that was because of its view. The wide windows overlooked the woods behind the house.

“I hadn’t thought about it much,” he said at last. “It’s bigger than I need. And it’s not very pretty. But I don’t need pretty.”

“What do you need?” she asked. “Tell me.”

He thought for a while. “I don’t actually need anything. But I care about people more than houses, if that’s what you mean.”

“Jeez, Toph I don’t know what I mean. Except maybe, where’s the passion? Where’s the beauty?”

He grinned at her and she watched a now familiar glow come to the even heavier lidded eyes. The glow instantly made her heart race at the same time it warmed her center. He took a step toward her. His hands wrapped around her waist. The man was large enough to make her feel like she had a trim waist, bless him.

“Why, lookie here. I found some passion. And beauty.” He bent to kiss her.

Within minutes they were rolling around on the dull oatmeal-colored carpeting. At least the rug was soft against her naked, squirming back.

Afterward, as she lay in his arms, Janey stared into the planes of his face, the lovely dramatic eyebrows. He had a point about passion and beauty. With those features to stare at, she really didn’t need much else to decorate her life. But still…she had to say it.

“Toph, I don’t.” She took a deep breath. He watched, waited. “Toph, I can’t… I really…” She let out the breath.

“Hate the house?” He finally finished her sentence for her. “Fine. Go buy another one. I want a pool, I want to be near Cynthia and I want a couple of extra rooms. You decide on the rest.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe money again?” She tried that idea on for size. Not entirely. More like power. He would be indulging her by letting her buy a house, but he held the power. If he got bored, or something else happened along, she might be dumped at the curb. She wasn’t sure she could trust a man to plan for a future if he didn’t even flinch when fate rolled him flat. She waved a vague hand. “Hey, it’s probably something in me. Pride, stupidity—I don’t know. But I got it in spades, Toph. And I can’t ignore it.”

He groaned softly, not an impatient sound in the least. She even thought it might be passionate. And he pressed his mouth over hers, probably to distract her, but she decided it was too marvelous and tender a kiss to protest. She got lost in the kiss for a long while, but once she found her way back out she continued.

“Maybe this living together after marriage thing isn’t such a big deal. Maybe we could work on something else. Some kind of arrangement. I stay in my apartment. You stay here. Something like that.”

He grew very still. She could sense a shift in his face though he did not stop gazing down at her. His eyes narrowed and grew darker.

“No,” he said at last. Light, soft, but final. She waited to feel her usual intimidation by the power of the man, but no, instead she felt an interesting burst of energy in her heart.

Aha. The next battle had begun.
Let’s see how you win this one, buddy
, she thought. And she found she was grinning. In part because she liked a good confrontation about something real rather than the strange nonsense she had shifting around inside her. And also, she had to admit, she secretly liked the idea that Toph appeared to want to live with her. That made her want to smirk. Living with another adult at this point should have been a suffocating thought—and the idea of living in this house, horrifying. But still. Her smile grew broader.

He looked back at her, an inscrutable, tiny smile on his mouth. Nope. He didn’t scare her just now. He wasn’t so ruthless.