Sixteen

Bridgett had just drifted off to sleep when the mattress dipped slightly and Jay crawled into bed beside her. She hadn’t for one second believed he wouldn’t follow her to the guest room next to his suite, but she hated that he seemed to be calling all the shots. Jay wanted a sexual relationship, free of any emotional entanglements. Bridgett worried that—even with his abrupt betrayal all those years ago—her heart might still be susceptible to him. Even worse, she hated that the rest of her body seemed to be all in with Jay’s “sex only” proposal.

She feigned sleep as his body cocooned around hers, the heat of his naked skin warming her through her flimsy nightgown. The rasp of his late-day stubble brushed against her bare shoulder and Bridgett couldn’t hold back her tremor of arousal any longer. Jay instantly wrapped an arm around her midsection, pulling her in closer.

When his lips found the delicate skin beneath her ear, she let out a contented sigh. “Do your best, but I’m still not going to tell you who the baby’s father is.”

Bridgett felt his smile against her skin. “As much as I’d like to accept that challenge, I’ve decided to let you keep Charlie’s secret.”

Startled by his statement, Bridgett rolled over onto her back. “You don’t care who it is?”

Jay rolled on top of her, the hardness of his body causing her breath to catch at the back of her throat. “I do care,” he growled next to her ear. “I want to know who the little shit is. But she had some cockamamie reason for telling you instead of me. So I have to honor that. Besides, you’ve only known Charlie for a day. I’ve known her her whole life and I’m very familiar with her tactics. She’ll tell me eventually.”

Bridgett doubted that his little sister would confess to Jay, but she didn’t bother telling him so, not while she was so thoroughly enjoying what his lips were doing to her earlobe. She trailed her fingers along the knots in his spine. “Your assistant isn’t going to barge in with another emergency?”

“Not if he wants to live to see the game on Sunday.” His lips toyed with the corner of her mouth, making Bridgett grow restless. “Besides, Don unraveled the whole case.”

She reached between them and shoved at his chest. “He did what?”

Jay pushed up to a plank position. His nostrils flared slightly when he caught a glimpse of her breast, which had escaped the confines of her nightgown. Bridgett yanked the garment back into place. “How?” she demanded.

“It seems his theory about Alesha Warren convincing her sister-in-law to file the suit was one hundred percent correct. Jennifer made a full confession.”

Bridgett gasped in surprise and Jay covered her mouth with his, delivering a searing kiss that had her hot and wet in an instant. His hips rocked against hers while his tongue plundered her mouth, but Bridgett’s brain wasn’t ready to shut down yet. “Wait,” she breathed, pulling her mouth free. “If Alesha Warren went to so much trouble to set this up, she’s not going to give up that easily. What about her threats to divulge the content of the lawsuits against you? Or—or your other secrets?” she whispered.

Jay leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “I’m one step ahead of you. Alesha doesn’t have the secrets. The blogger does.”

“You know this how?”

“Because I know who the person behind the blog is.”

Bridgett’s pulse beat erratically as her brain demanded more oxygen so she could keep up with the conversation. “How long? How long have you known?”

Jay’s face grew serious. “I’ve had a gut instinct about it for a couple of days, but Don just confirmed my suspicions.”

“Tell me who it is,” she demanded.

His only response was to arch an eyebrow at her.

“Ugh!” Bridgett slapped at his chest in frustration. “Of course you won’t tell me. Not unless I tell you who fathered Charlie’s baby.”

Jay sank back into her, his body pinning hers to the mattress as he reached for both of her hands and drew them over her head. His beard scraped her neck while his tongue traced the shell of her ear. “In this case I think it’s best if we both keep our secrets to ourselves.”

An ominous feeling settled in Bridgett’s stomach. “Why?” she asked. “What are you planning on doing? As your lawyer, I have to tell you to turn her over to the authorities.”

His lips nipped at her collarbone. “And what are they going to charge her with? Cyberbullying?”

She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. “How about blackmail or extortion?”

Jay’s mouth drifted lower on her chest. “No. That will just add more publicity, which is what the blogger wants. It’s easier if I take care of things myself.”

“You’re not planning on confronting this person, are you?” Bridgett squirmed beneath him. “I thought we discussed this earlier today?”

He heaved a sigh and lifted his face to gaze at her. Passion blazed in his beautiful blue eyes, but Bridgett saw something else in them, too: foreboding. “I’m going to do what I should have done years ago: Deal with the problem once and for all.”

Bridgett studied his determined face, finding no clue as to his intentions. “Jay—”

Jay bumped her forehead with his own. “Forget about it, Bridgett. Nothing I do will be as bad as what you’re imagining in that pretty head of yours. But I’ll have it all taken care of by this time tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Bridgett felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. She was grateful their indiscretions in Italy wouldn’t be all over the Internet. But her chest felt heavy with the decision she was going to be forced to make. As much as her body wanted to continue with this relationship, Bridgett knew she needed to get out before she got hurt again. And given the feelings about Jay that had been reemerging this past week, she would get hurt. She wouldn’t take him up on his proposal. She just couldn’t.

“I should get back to Boston, then,” she whispered.

Jay swore as he rolled off her and flopped over onto his back. “No. You gave your word.”

She pulled the sheet over her body, which had quickly grown cool without the warmth of his skin.

“I said I’d stay through the game on Sunday, but there’s no reason for me to be here as your lawyer if—”

“You’re not here as my lawyer and you damn well know it.”

Bridgett bristled at the truth in his words. Sure, Jay had manipulated it so that she was on the case and even so she’d be staying at his home. But she could have said no last night. And she should have locked her door tonight. Yet, she hadn’t. The trouble was she was still dancing like a puppet on that fine line between loving and hating this man, and her body was pulling all the strings. No matter which side of the line she ended up on, the potential existed that her heart would be devastated. She tried telling herself that the Jay she’d fallen in love with that summer didn’t exist. Perhaps he never really had. Bridgett had simply been blinded by a passion so intense and overwhelming, it still burned between them today.

But she wasn’t ready to go yet. Bridgett didn’t have the strength to leave this place, so similar to the vineyard that they’d both dreamed of. She told herself that her desire to stay had nothing to do with the man lying in bed next to her. It was more that she wanted to be that naïve young girl again, the one who believed in love and happily ever after. Here, at Jay’s perfect vineyard, she could still feel the ghost of that girl she used to be.

Jay linked his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his lips. “You’re off the clock, Bridgett. This isn’t business. We’re two people enjoying one another for mutual pleasure.” He gently kissed her knuckles. “It’s good with us. Really good. We can make this work.”

He was lying, of course. They couldn’t make a purely sexual relationship work. But he wasn’t lying about the sex being good. Really good. She’d leave the vineyard on Sunday as planned, but until then, she’d store up as many memories as she could; enough to last her a lifetime. Bridgett rolled over and straddled Jay.

His mouth turned up in a cocky smile as he slid his fingers beneath her nightgown. “Let the negotiations begin.”

Bridgett yanked her gown over her head, watching Jay’s chest compress as he sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of her naked body. “No negotiating, Jay. I’m here until Sunday and that’s all.”

He wrapped his fingers around her hips and rocked his own hips against her core. “You won’t be able to live without this,” he said arrogantly.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “You’d be surprised what I’ve learned to live without.”

•   •   •

A profound loneliness seemed to envelop Bridgett after Jay left. She’d done her best to be upbeat and positive during the long drive to the Verona airport—he’d just lost his stepfather after all—but still, she felt a deep sense of loss of her own. The summer had been idyllic, spent exploring the Italian countryside and each other. She’d come to Italy to find her future path and she’d found her soul mate; she was sure of it. They’d spent long lazy hours discussing his plans to establish a vineyard and her desire to be an advocate for those less fortunate. She’d told him about her crazy, close-knit family and he’d told her everything about his adorable little sister, Charlie. He didn’t seem that close to his mother and stepfather, but Bridgett knew some families were like that. It made her appreciate her own love-hate relationship with her siblings and parents.

The fact that neither one had declared their love wasn’t important, she told herself. They’d shown each other in many ways. Still, she couldn’t help the troubled feeling that began that night she’d left him at the airport, the one that felt like she’d never see Jay again.

The DiSantises had a personal computer in the winery office and Bridgett would wait for the intermittent dial-up access for hours sometimes to send an e-mail to Jay. She knew he was busy with the funeral and his family. But she wanted to be there for him in case he needed her; to send him words of encouragement. Initially, he responded to her e-mails, writing her two or three a day. But as the days slipped into a week, his e-mails became more infrequent, making Bridgett uneasy.

The uneasy feeling turned into queasiness soon after that. Her period was overdue and now Jay’s concern about the broken condom began to niggle at her, too. Still, she didn’t mention the potential for pregnancy in an e-mail. She needed to deliver that news by telephone. She tried the cell phone number he’d given her, but without international service, she couldn’t get through. Her only option was to leave a message on the answering machine at the house he shared with his two roommates. Hopefully one of them would relay the message to Jay that it was urgent that she speak with him.

Bridgett didn’t dare test herself at the clinic where she worked. Instead she drove Jay’s pickup into one of the other surrounding towns and bought three pregnancy tests. All three gave her the news that would change her life forever. She left another message for Jay, trying not to sound too desperate.

A day went by without an e-mail or a phone call. And then another. And another. Bridgett couldn’t imagine what had happened to Jay. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen him and a week since she’d heard from him. Then she began to imagine the worst: that he’d died in an accident and no one had bothered to tell her. Her queasiness turned into genuine sickness and she couldn’t get out of bed. Mrs. DiSantis insisted that she be seen by a doctor, who confirmed with a blood test what she already knew.

The DiSantis family was put in precarious position, being devout Catholics and having an unwed, pregnant American woman in their house. The nuns Bridgett was working for weren’t too pleased, either. It was agreed that Bridgett would return home as soon as she was able. While the idea of facing her parents was unnerving, she was glad to be returning to the U.S. so she could track down information about Jay.

Not wanting to give up, she tried Jay’s home phone in Chicago one last time. Bridgett nearly passed out when a woman answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Bridgett’s voice was shaking and the words were difficult to get out. “Yes, hello. I’ve been trying to reach Jay McManus for several days now. Is he . . . is he okay?”

“Jay? I assume so, but the Cubs are losing, so I doubt he’s enjoying being back at Wrigley Field as much as he’d like,” the woman said with a laugh. “Of course, they’ve got beer and a tribe of beautiful women in their box so I’m sure he’s not too disappointed.”

Jay was alive. And in Chicago. And not returning her calls. The dull ache in Bridgett’s lower abdomen that had been bothering her all day squeezed a little harder, making her slide down into a chair. “He’s there? In Chicago?”

“Um, yes,” the woman said. “Oh, gosh, you must be the girl who keeps calling and leaving messages.”

Bridgett sucked in a breath. “Yes. It’s urgent that I speak with him. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Hard to tell. You know Jay. He could be out partying for days at a time. You know how those rich boys like to misbehave.”

Apparently, Bridgett didn’t know Jay that well because the Jay she knew didn’t seem like much of a partier. And what did the woman mean, rich boys? Jay was a humble graduate student. Her side squeezed again. She desperately wanted to speak with Jay. Her Jay.

“Look, sweetie,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “You sound like you might be a little hung up on Jay. Believe me, it happens all the time. He’s constantly leaving a broken heart or two behind when he travels. Then he leaves it to me to deal with their tear-jerking phone calls.” She laughed again.

“I’m not—” Bridgett’s head was spinning and she was having trouble making sense of her own words, much less the woman on the other end of the phone. “Look, I just need to get a message to him, please. Can you do that for me?”

The woman sighed. “Sure.”

“Tell him Bridgett called. Tell him I’m pregnant.”

If the woman on the other end of the line said anything at all, Bridgett didn’t hear it. All she could make out was the roaring in her ears before everything went black.

When she awoke twenty-four hours later, Bridgett was no longer pregnant. She left Italy as soon as she was released from the hospital and returned to Boston cold, empty, and brokenhearted. In the week since she’d left him that message, Jay had never once tried to contact her.