311 Pelican Court

He frowned as if he didn’t understand the question. For that matter, Maryellen wasn’t sure she understood it, either. She loved her daughter. Loved Katie so much that just the sight of her made Maryellen’s heart stop beating for a second or two. That was the love Jon had revealed so perfectly on film.



“I thought you didn’t take photographs of people,” she said. “Other than Katie, of course.” But she couldn’t help remembering the picture in his bedroom….



“Only you.” Jon kissed Katie on the forehead. “If it bothers you, I won’t again.”



That wasn’t what she wanted, but then Maryellen no longer knew what was right or wrong as far as Jon was concerned. He made everything so much more complicated.



“I…love this picture, Jon. I really love it.”



“Then it’s yours.”



To make matters worse, tears filled her eyes and she turned away as they ran down her cheeks.



“Maryellen?”



“What?”



“Why are you crying?”



“I don’t know, but it’s all your fault.” Her words, rash and illogical, escaped on a sob.



Jon stood and placed Katie in her bassinet. He paced back and forth a couple of times, then sat down next to Maryellen. She refused to face him as she tried to stem these ridiculous tears. Baby blues or not, she hated being out of control.



He touched her shoulder, so lightly she almost didn’t feel it. “Can you tell me why you’re crying?” he whispered.



“No,” she murmured.



Slowly he ran his hand down the length of her arm.



“Why do you have to be so wonderful?” she sobbed.



His hand paused. “Would you rather I was unreasonable and short-tempered?”



“I’ve treated you terribly. I hid the fact that I was pregnant, tried to keep you out of our baby’s life and all…all you’ve been is patient and wonderful. I could hate you for it.”



“Hate me?” He turned her shoulders so she was forced to face him.



“I don’t, though. I thought I would, but I don’t.”



He stroked the sides of her neck in a leisurely, hypnotic massage. Maryellen half closed her eyes and swayed toward him. Jon wove his fingers deep into her long hair and brought her mouth within a fraction of his own.



“After the way I’ve treated you, you should detest me,” she told him.



“I don’t, Maryellen,” he whispered, and his breath mingled with hers.



She parted her lips, anticipating his kiss. The tip of his tongue, moist and warm, outlined her mouth, and Maryellen moaned at the pure sensuality of it. Her lips parted further and Jon brushed his mouth against hers. His fingers tightened in her thick hair as he continued the kiss.



Maryellen tasted the salt of her tears and realized that she was weeping even as he kissed her. She heard him whisper, but couldn’t make out the words. Whatever he was saying didn’t seem nearly as important as what he was doing and what he was making her feel.



With her arms wrapped around him, she pressed against his hard, muscular strength. They were both panting, their shoulders heaving with the intensity of their desire.



A discordant sound made its way into her clouded mind. She groaned, not knowing where this lovemaking would take them, unwilling to stop. His hands cupped her breasts, and sensation bolted through her. With his mouth against hers, he unfastened her blouse and bra, and she felt his hands tremble as he eased his thumb over her swollen nipple. This latest invasion made her whimper as she tilted back her head.



The cry came again and Maryellen’s eyes flew open. “Katie,” she whispered. “It’s Katie.”



Jon drew back. They momentarily leaned against each other, trying to regain their equilibrium.



“You—I almost forgot the baby,” she said.



Jon laughed softly. “What baby? Oh, you mean our baby.”



“The very one.”



Maryellen stood up to check on Katie, who was fussing in earnest now. She punched the air with her arms and feet and screamed as though the world were ending. Maryellen supposed that for a baby, feeding time was about that important.



As discreetly as possible, Maryellen fastened her bra and blouse. It occurred to her that this was a bit silly, since she’d be unfastening them again in a minute. “Do you think we’ve warped her mind forever?” she asked, hoping to make light of what had happened between them.



“I can’t speak for Katie, but I know what you’ve done to me.”



“Are you…uncomfortable?” she asked, not knowing how to phrase the question any more delicately. Even when her intentions were good, she managed to hurt him—to reject him, either physically or emotionally. She assumed there’d been painful rejections in his past; all the signs were there. Her own life was colored with anguish he knew nothing about, distress that was impossible to share.



“I’ve been uncomfortable, as you put it, since the first night we kissed.”



She remembered that kiss. Halloween night a year ago. He’d walked her to her car after a party during which she’d introduced him to a friend. Her plan had been to foist him off on someone else in a pitiful attempt to get him out of her mind. That scheme had failed miserably, just like every other one she’d plotted in their bewildering relationship.



“I have to feed Katie,” she told him. Her feet felt unsteady as she reached for her daughter and positioned the infant in the crook of her arm. She sat down in her rocker, unfastened shirt and bra, and gave the baby her breast. Katie’s tiny mouth latched eagerly onto her nipple.



“I take it this is my cue to leave,” Jon said.



She nodded, unable to meet his gaze.



Jon stood only a few feet away. “I’ll leave the photos with you.”



“Thank you,” she whispered. She found it hard to believe that only moments earlier they’d practically been rolling around on the floor, kissing and groping with abandon. She was embarrassed, somehow, by the juxtaposition of maternal and sexual feelings.



“Keep the pictures you like for Katie’s baby book and I’ll get the rest on Sunday.”



“Thank you…I appreciate it.” He’d be back then, of course, to collect Katie. Her hold tightened around their daughter.



“I’ll see you Sunday.”



“Katie and I will be here.” She kept her eyes lowered.



She heard him walk over to the door. He opened it. “Maryellen?”



She glanced up and saw that his mouth was twitching with a barely suppressed smile. “You can hate me anytime you want.”



Zach Cox looked down at his watch. It was one of his nights with Allison and Eddie, and he needed to leave the office precisely at five. Frustrated, he closed a file and set it aside. He’d have to finish calculating the employment taxes for the Tulips and Things craft store tomorrow morning. Just as he was about to leave, Janice Lamond appeared in his doorway.



“Mr. Cox,” she said in a low voice. “I was wondering if you had a moment to review the Jackson quarterly tax statement with me?” Her look implored him.



It seemed she routinely required his help at closing time. Most nights Zach didn’t have a problem checking her figures, but on the evenings he spent with the kids, he simply didn’t have the extra minutes to spare.



“Can it wait until morning?” he asked as he stood.



Janice wore a short skirt. It rose up mid-thigh and exposed long, shapely legs. The skirt was too short and too tight. He’d never really noticed the way Janice dressed until recently. He glanced outside his office and realized the other women employed by the accounting firm were far more conservative in their clothing.



“Of course it can wait,” she assured him. “I forgot you’re with your children tonight.”



He nodded and reached for his briefcase.



“How is that arrangement working?” Janice moved all the way inside his office.



“About as well as can be expected.” Actually it was about as inconvenient as could be imagined. Half the time he didn’t know where he was sleeping—the apartment or the house. A week ago he’d arrived with clothes but no underwear. He now left a spare set in the trunk of his car. He didn’t feel inclined to tell Janice any of this, however.



As he prepared to leave the office, he placed several business magazines he hadn’t had time to read inside the leather case. Rosie had given him the briefcase for Christmas three years earlier and he’d used it every day since. He rarely had time for reading anymore. No time for golf, either, or jogging or any of the activities he’d once enjoyed.



“I won’t keep you, then,” Janice said with obvious reluctance.



“See you in the morning,” he said, and snapped his briefcase shut. “I can look at those figures then.”



“Figures?” she repeated. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot.”



He removed his suit jacket from the small closet and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Janice continued to linger. “Was there anything else?” he asked.



“Do you sometimes get lonely?” She fluttered her lashes and for some reason they reminded Zach of spiders.



“Lonely?” he asked.



“I mean, I did, after my divorce. It was such a hard time emotionally and I wanted you to know that I understand those feelings. If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m a good listener.”



“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zach had no intention of combining business with pleasure. He’d made the mistake of letting the lines blur earlier. It had started out innocently—she’d joined him for lunch one day when Rosie had to cancel at the last moment. Later, when he realized how unreasonable Rosie had become, he’d asked Janice to help him look for an apartment. He’d hoped to shake up his wife, get her to recognize what she was doing. His attempt had failed, to say the least. Rosie had taken his leaving seriously and seemed more than happy to have him out of the house. Janice had found him an apartment, all right, and the lines had blurred even further when he’d accepted a housewarming gift from her and taken her and her son to lunch.



Janice hesitated. “I was thinking we could have dinner one night. My treat.”



Dinner? Her treat? No way. “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think it’s a good idea that we be seen together outside the office.” He wasn’t handing Rosie any ammunition or giving her one more excuse to toss accusations in his face. Unfortunately, living the way they did, moving in and out of the house, made confronting each other inevitable. Zach wasn’t happy about it and he suspected Rosie wasn’t, either.



“Maybe some other time,” Janice said, sounding hopeful.



“Maybe,” Zach agreed, but it wasn’t going to happen.



Rosie had claimed months earlier that Janice and Zach were having an affair. She was being ridiculous and had refused to believe him when he said they weren’t. Now he was beginning to wonder if Janice had been chasing after him. He hated the thought that he’d been played for a fool. If that was the case, then it was Rosie’s doing. She was the one so ready to leap to conclusions, so eager to find fault with him—so willing to abandon him to Janice’s attentions. Rosie had acted like a jealous shrew when she had no reason. It irritated him whenever he thought about it. Not that he was blaming Janice for their divorce. His marriage had been ailing for a long time before his assistant appeared on the scene.