Inherited: One Baby!

The total package—meaning kids.

He knew what kind of mother she’d had. The whole town knew the sad cliché of poor little Candy Jacobs’s mother running off—never to be seen again—with a traveling carpet company rep she’d met at the interior design shop where she worked.

Even before that, though, Valerie Jacobs could hardly have been nominated for mother of the year. She didn’t bake cookies, read bedtime stories or attend school plays. She never cooed over scribbled drawings or A-plus spelling tests, and she certainly never braided her daughter’s hair or shopped hand in hand for the perfect Easter dress. Not that any of that would have even mattered to Candy had she provided the one thing every child craved above all else—love.

No, the worst thing about Valerie Jacobs was that she’d been devoid of feelings for anyone but herself—oh, and of course, for her lovers.

Candy’s dad had tried making up for her mother’s shortcomings with occasional pats on the head and hugs, but he was always busy at work, trying to keep her mother in the finery that only occasionally made her smile.

Years after the fact, Candy had learned that the man her mom had finally run off with hadn’t even been her first affair.

When her father died of a heart attack three days after Valerie’s abandonment, no one had been surprised. They’d just amended the gossip to include the fact that “that Jacobs woman” had quite literally broken her husband’s heart.

When Candy’s grandfather had taken her in, life had been a little sweeter. But the little girl who eventually grew up never forgot the kind of emptiness that lurked inside. After all, half of her blood was Valerie’s, which meant she was destined by DNA to be just as wretched a wife and mom. The only question was when the time bomb ticking inside her would finally go off.

Jake had known all about Candy’s mother. What he hadn’t known—because she’d never told him—was that Candy had no intention of repeating her mother’s mistakes. When Jake began pressuring her to have kids, Candy realized she had already made one disastrous error in ever daring to dream she’d make a good wife. Hurting herself and Jake had been one thing. But her most sacred vow, no matter what, she wouldn’t break. And that was to never, ever become a mother herself. No child deserved the lonely life she’d once led.

Jake softly stroked her hair, so softly that had Candy been a cat, she would have flopped onto her back and purred. Problem was, she wasn’t a cat. She was a flesh-and-blood woman who needed to get on with life.

Life without Jake.

Jake stiffened when Candy pulled away.

After sniffling, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all emotional on you. What I meant to say is that if you’d like a pizza, since I’m tonight’s hostess, I’ll buy.”

“Sure,” he said, tucking his hands into his jean’s pockets, warming them because after releasing her, bone-chilling loneliness licked the tips of his fingers. “That sounds good—only I’m paying.”

“Okay,” she said with a wooden nod. “I’ll go call.”

Alone in the comfortable kitchen with its yellow-gingham curtains, hanging copper pots and glowing oak cabinets, Jake felt lost. Out of his comfort zone. His world was modern and sleek. Filled with man stuff. Chrome and leather and women who didn’t even know a kitchen came with their mansions. He’d come here to ask Candy a simple question. What had gone wrong?

In spite of Candy’s confession that, at least in her mind, her reasons for divorcing him had been entirely altruistic, that didn’t mean their main dispute had changed.

He still wanted kids, she didn’t. Period. Not just end of story, end of their story.

If he were smart, he’d walk away.

But he wasn’t smart, he was in love—not with Candy—but Bonnie. And if that made him a fool for love, then so be it.

Gazing around the kitchen, taking in the handmade rag rug hugging the brick floor, the candid photos gracing buttercream-yellow walls, the beams of warm twilight shafting through the paned bay window to kiss the ladder-backed chairs at a round oak table, he realized with a lonely ache that this was the kind of home he’d grown up in.

This was the kind of home he wanted for Bonnie.

Oh, sure, he could have Palm Breeze’s hottest designer turn his house into a carbon copy of Candy’s, but what he couldn’t pay someone to reproduce was the everyday simplicity. The deep-down sweetness.

The scent of painstakingly rubbed lemon oil that did battle with burnt corn dogs and won. The happy gurgle of a fish tank bubbling in the far corner. And from outside the screened windows, faint stirrings of leaves in the trees. Waves lapping at the lakeshore. Kids playing Freeze Tag somewhere down the street.

After all that Jake had achieved, the fortune he’d amassed, this kitchen was the one thing that, in as long as he could remember, felt familiar. Like home. It irked him that just being back in this room, no matter how much in appearances it’d changed, inside, he felt the same way he had walking out for the last time. Like an empty, aimless shell of a man.

Dammit, but he resented Candy for going on with her life and this house without him.

This had been his house as much as hers. His dream as much as hers. And now, seeing how capably she’d managed without him, he felt like an intruder. A failure. And that scared him, for the only thing he’d ever in his whole life failed at was his relationship with her.

How ironic was it that his future with Bonnie depended on his past with his ex-wife?

Just like his dad, he’d always planned on returning home after a long day’s work not to an empty house, but to a home bursting with laughter and life. Kids, dogs, cats, hamsters—Once upon a time Jake had wanted it all, with Candy beside him, hugging him, kissing him, making love to him late into the night until they had to stop because one of their kids was banging on the bedroom door.

“Mommy? Daddy? Can I come in? I had a bad dream.”

Candy would giggle, pulling her simple cotton nightie over her head, past full breasts, slim abdomen and hips. Jake would hop out of bed and yank on his boxers before opening the door to scoop his sleepy rug rat into his arms. For the sake of his daydream he’d call the kid Mark, and he would smell a little sweaty and of cedar shavings—not unlike his pet hamster.

In his mind’s eye, Jake watched himself lug Mark to their bed where he’d wriggle—footie pajamas and all—smack-dab into the middle before promptly falling asleep, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. And then, in milky moonlight, Candy would reach out to him, her husband and best friend, grasp his hand and give it a light squeeze. Without either of them saying a word, Jake would know his every wish had quietly come true.

Back to reality, Jake swallowed hard.

What happened, Candy? What happened between us to make love not be enough?

“Pizza should be here in about forty minutes.”

He looked up.

Even doing something as simple as crossing the room, Candy had such grace. A long time ago she was everything he’d ever wanted and more. That long, silky hair, those even longer legs. When they made love, she’d had this way of wrapping those legs around him, urging him deeper, urging their souls closer, that had nearly made him weep with the sheer joy of being her man.

Now…

Whoa. Now, he just wanted out. Time to regroup.

The woman and her cozy kitchen were dangerous. “Forty minutes, huh? Whew, that’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” At the waist of her simple floral dress, she fumbled with her hands. “Uh, want to watch a movie or something while we wait?”

“No, Candy, I think what we should do is talk.”

Chapter Three

Minutes later, in the living room, Candy took the sofa while her ex choose an overstuffed tapestried wing chair.

Personally, she’d had enough talking, but seeing as how Jake probably wouldn’t leave without spilling whatever was on his mind, she figured she might as well let him get it out of his system. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s hear it. What in the world made you re-propose this afternoon at the shop?”

“Jeez, where do I start?” He cleared his throat, worked the opening of his forest-green golf shirt—the one she was trying not to notice did such heavenly things with his annoyingly direct gaze. “I’ve gotten into a bit of a jam, and need your help—no, I’m desperate for your help.” A strangled laugh passed his lips. “I would offer to pay you, but—”

“I get the picture. Go on.”

“So anyway, I had these great friends, Cal and Jenny. And they had a great baby. Her name is Bonnie and you should see her blue eyes sparkle. I was at the hospital the day she was born—saw her just an hour out of the womb. Jenny told Cal all babies have blue eyes, but he told her, ‘Nonsense, this beautiful kid of ours is destined to have the most striking pair of bonny blue peepers in the whole wide world.’ And so they named her Bonnie Blue, just like Rhett and Scarlett’s daughter—only I’ll be damned if I ever let her near a horse.”

Candy leaned forward, spellbound by the change in Jake’s expression. His eyes glowed with love for this child who wasn’t even his. If there’d ever been a doubt in her mind that she hadn’t done the right thing in giving him a divorce, it was gone now. Jake was destined to be a dad. Just like she was destined to never be a mom.

“In fact, I’m thinking of banning her from all moving things. Trikes, bikes, and especially cars—not to mention the wild teens who drive them.”

“Jake,” she said, a sickening suspicion forming in her stomach. “Why are you talking about this baby as if she’s yours?”

He swallowed hard, and it was then she saw tears shimmer in his deep brown eyes. “Because she is mine, Candy. Cal and Jenny—they died.”

“Oh, no.” She flung her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Not thinking, just doing, she went to him, wrapping him in a hug. “How? They must have been so young.”

“Drunk driver,” he said when she sat on the coffee table in front of him. “It was bad. A couple of kids out cruising on a Friday night hit them head-on. Cops said the driver must’ve downed at least ten beers for his blood alcohol to be so—”

He paused to swallow, catch his breath, and she reached for his hand. “Go on. It’s okay.”

Nodding, he said, “Sorry. It’s been a month, but it’s still hard.”

“I can imagine. These people were your friends.”

“Yeah. They were the best. When my dad died, and then my mom, they were the ones who helped me through.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your mom’s funeral.” She squeezed his hand. “But with Grandpa in the hospital last spring and everything.”

“It’s okay. I understood. I wish the guys down at the store would’ve told me he was sick. I’m sure he needed you.”

I wanted you to need me, too.

Had she? Lord, what was happening? All of her carefully constructed emotional dams felt dotted with holes.

“Anyway,” he said after expelling a deep breath. “In the emergency room, right after Jenny died, Cal asked me to take Bonnie. All they had for family was each other and their friends, so Cal asked me to raise their daughter like she was my own. And, of course, I agreed, never thinking it would actually come to that. But then Cal died, too. So…I did as he asked. And I’ve been caring for Bonnie ever since.”

“Of course.”

“And everything was going great. I was really getting the hang of the whole diaper thing and feeding. Bonnie’s a good baby. At first, she cried a lot, but she seems to be getting better. She’s known me her whole life, so I guess I’m making an all right substitute dad.”

“I know you, Jake. I’m sure you’re making an awesome dad.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Problem is,” he said, scratching his head, “Bonnie’s great-aunt—a bitter old woman named Elizabeth Mannford—doesn’t think so.”

“Why?”

He gave her the short version of Mrs. Starling’s speech. “So there you have it. My only hope of keeping Bonnie with the only family she knows is by getting hitched. And not just to anyone, Candy…but to you.”

“Wow.” Head spinning, Candy abruptly stood and put her hand to her forehead. “So that proposal of yours was the real deal? You truly do want to get married?”

He nodded. “But only until the adoption is legal. I’m figuring it’ll take a year tops. In fact, after you make a brief appearance at Mrs. Starling’s office, where we can dazzle her with our marriage license, rings and smiles—not to mention the old photo albums of how much fun we had back when we first got married—you’ll probably be off the hook.”

Candy, nibbling her pinkie fingernail, began to pace. Fireplace to breakfront. Breakfront to fireplace. “You know my family history, Jake. I vowed a long time ago to never be a mom. Do you know what you’re asking?”

She paused just long enough to see him nod.

Fireplace to breakfront. “I mean, if I say no, that pretty much makes me the most heartless soul alive. Yet if I say yes, all my promises to myself…my plans…You don’t know what it’s been like for me since losing Grandpa. This is a small town. I’m surrounded by people who love me, yet I feel lost, like there’s something missing inside of me I haven’t been able to find. This trip, it means everything to me, Jake. It’s about reclaiming my soul.”

“So why can’t you reschedule?”

“It’s not that easy. The tour’s being led by a top writer from National Geographic. I applied for the honor of being in her party almost a year ago. All the documentation on the sale of Candy Kisses has been finalized. I mean, my life is like the space shuttle, ready to blast off.”

His expression dark, Jake stood. “So your answer is no. That’s all you had to say. I understand.”

“No. I mean, no, wait. That isn’t my answer. I just need time to think. You showing up, throwing me this curve ball, it’s all too much.”

“I’m sorry, Candy. If I could, I’d give you all the time in the world. Jeez, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d just as soon tie the knot again as I would leap off a cliff.”

“Thanks. Glad to know how much you enjoy my company.”

“You know what I mean. It’s not like getting married was my idea. Anyway, bottom line, I can give you a week, but that’s it. If I’m not back in Florida by then, who knows what this Elizabeth Mannford may do. I wouldn’t put it past her to charge me with kidnapping.”

“Okay, then,” Candy said, fingering long strands of her hair. “A week it is. I’ll give you my answer Saturday night at the reunion.”

FROM WHERE SHE SAT cross-legged on Candy’s sofa, Kelly snagged a piece of sausage-and-mushroom pizza, brought it to her lips and groaned. “Five delicious pounds in the smell alone.”

Candy summoned a weak smile. “Thanks for coming over. Jake left so suddenly, I was at a loss as to what to do next.”

“Candy,” Kelly said, slapping her friend lightly on the back. “You called the right person, because faced with an entire pizza, believe me, I know just what to do.”

“Not about the pizza,” Candy said. “About Jake. I feel so torn. Like I have to help him, but at the same time, like there’s no way I can help him. It took me such a long time to get over him, how can I possibly go through the whole thing again?”

“It’s not as if he wants to get married for real.”

“I know, but his plan sounds like a pretty dangerous emotional game.”

“So don’t play it.” Kelly sipped at a cola.

“But if I don’t, I’ll feel like a schmuck.”

“So do it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Candy said, shooting her friend a dirty look. “You’re a ton of help.”

“Look, the guy gave you a week to think it over, why do you have to decide in the next thirty minutes?”

Candy swigged her own cola. “Because that’s who I am. I’m legendary in the shop’s kitchen for being quick on my feet in times of crisis. I mean, any time we run out of unsweetened chocolate, who else but me is going to know you can substitute unsweetened cocoa powder plus butter? And did you know one and a quarter cups granulated sugar plus a quarter cup of any liquid also works? And that if you run out of cake flour, then—”

“News flash,” Kelly said through trailing mozzarella. “We’re not in your boring old shop kitchen. This is real life, Candy. And guess what?”

“What?”

“Sometimes it sucks.”

“Gee, Kel, that’s sweet. Have you ever considered a second career writing greeting cards?”

“I’M COMING, I’m coming.” At six o’clock Tuesday morning, eyes barely open, Candy felt her way down the stairs and to the front door.

Whoever stood outside rang the doorbell again.

She growled before asking, “Who is it?”

“Me.”

Jake. Oh, now that woke her right up. She flew her hands to her face, hair, thin white tank T-shirt and cat print pajama bottoms. “Go away!”

“Why?”

“I’m not dressed.”

She swore she heard him chuckle. “Come on, Candy, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

It had been on the tip of her tongue to reply with a sassy, “Yeah, but you haven’t seen mine,” when her conscience chose to remind just how much of her he had seen.

The last time they’d made love—not long before she’d asked him for a divorce—had been right there in the living room, on the couch she told Jake she’d taken to the dump. Good thing she’d had the foresight to move Goldilocks into the boathouse, or he might have gotten the wrong idea—like she held a soft spot for the wretched thing. And God forbid he actually think she’d enjoyed all those nights with him spent rolling around on that couch.

Her cheeks burned.

Okay, so maybe I enjoyed just a few of those nights.

And that last night…Oh, that last night had been steamy in every possible way….

Rain had been falling in driving sheets. That summer, Lonesome had been going through a drought, and the air that night was ripe—smelling of parched earth taking a good, long drink. Since they hadn’t been able to afford air-conditioning, the humidity had had them glowing with sweat. They’d been watching TV, but about nine-thirty they’d turned it off, planning to take a quick shower before hitting the sack. With only the one lamp on and the occasional strobe of lightning, the living room had been nearly dark.

“Come here,” Jake had said from the sofa.

“Why? I thought we were going to bed.”

He’d shaken his head, wielded that slow, sexy grin that melted her like butter. “Come here, gorgeous.”

She remarked that her heart had pounded just looking at her handsome husband, stretched out on the couch wearing only black boxers and his hard-earned muscles. Her mouth had gone so dry. Other parts of her—lower parts—had dampened with need.

“Peel off your shirt.”

“Here?”

“No, in the kitchen.” He’d shot her another slow grin. “Damn straight, here. I want to see my merchandise….”

The doorbell ding-donged three times.

“Come on, Candy! I brought breakfast and the groceries are getting heavy!”

Pulse pounding, palms sweating, Candy licked her lips. Opening the door, she averted her gaze, scared to death Jake could tell just by looking at her exactly what she’d been thinking.

“Morning, gorgeous. Mmm, it sure smells better in here than it did last night with all those corn dogs flaming. Miss me?” He kissed her on the forehead before strolling in. Even worse, it wasn’t groceries he carried, but the most adorable pink-cheeked, blue-eyed baby she’d ever seen.

Her heart lurched.

“Bonnie,” he said, turning the infant away from his chest and toward her. “Meet Candy. Hopefully, she’ll agree to be your temporary mom.” To Candy he said, “Wanna hold her?”

“Uh, no thanks.” Arms crossed, she shook her head—just in case there was something about her verbal message he hadn’t understood. Even from a good two feet away, she detected distinctly disturbing baby scents. Baby lotion, baby shampoo, baby powder—even Bonnie’s ruffled pink dress sported the annoyingly pleasant scent of laundry detergent. From a safe distance—say, ten feet—all of those smells were nice enough, but up close and personal? No. Couldn’t happen.

Except for that one time you’ve never told anyone about.

Yes, but I’ve already established the fact that an incident like that will never happen again!

Candy knew better. Babies were toxic to her system, and if she wasn’t careful, she might end up suffering some kind of meltdown. Frowning, she said, “Have you ever heard of picking up a phone?”

He grinned. “I couldn’t remember the number.”

“Lonesome does have phone books.”

“Yeah, but lucky for me, it also has rental cars, so I figured, what the hey? I might as well drive over.”

“Sure. Why not.”

“Great. I’m glad you’re happy to see us. Here,” he said, thrusting out the baby. “Take her while I carry in the grub.”

“Jake, I—” Too late, the infant was already in her arms.

“Abba, blabba—goo!” The tiny creature giggled.

Wow. Oh, wow.

To relieve tension, Candy would have ordinarily twirled a couple hundred hanks of hair, but seeing how at the moment her hands were kind of full, all she could do was stare at the wide open, porcelain-blue gaze staring at her.

“So,” she said. “You’re Bonnie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Bzzzzz.” A few bubbles escaped lips so perfectly round and sweet, they resembled a big, fat cherry plopped into the midst of Bonnie’s whipped-cream-smooth complexion.

The child gave a few sharp kicks before, with a juicy sigh, snuggling against Candy’s breasts.

Over her years spent working in a candy store, Candy had been coerced into holding her share of babies, but somehow, knowing this was Jake’s baby—even if by horrible tragedy as opposed to her being of his flesh and blood—made the experience different.

Better, in a terrifying way.

“Jake!” she hollered out the door. “Hurry!”

“What’s the problem?” he called, just the top of his heartstoppingly handsome mug visible above the paper sacks with Gregg’s Grocery emblazoned across the side.

Candy peered at the angel resting her cheek on her left breast. Problem? Gee, where do I start? “Uh, well, I think—”

“How cute. I think that means she likes you.”

“Yes, well…”

“You two hang out while I cook.”

“But I really…”

He’d shut the front door and headed for the kitchen.

“…don’t think this is going to work.” On her own again with Bonnie, Candy made a beeline for the kitchen. “Come on, Jake, you know about me and babies. Unless someone practically forces me to hold an infant down at the store, I always steer clear. My friends don’t even let me baby-sit.”

“Have you ever offered?” he asked, unloading bacon, eggs, cheese and…chili?

“Well…” Bonnie wriggled, repositioning herself so that tufts of her fluffy blond hair tickled Candy’s chin. A second later the baby’s mini hair bow slid to the floor. Candy knelt to pick it up, then, as efficiently as possible while working one-handed, she brushed the pink scrap against her flannel PJ bottoms. Wouldn’t do for Bonnie to get dust in her hair. Bow neatly back in place, Candy said, “I don’t suppose I ever volunteered, but then, everybody knows I’m no good with babies. I mean, besides my indestructible goldfish, I don’t even have any pets.”

“We had that kitten.”

“Dabney?” Heart aching from the memory of the tiny kitten, and the brief joy it had brought into their lives, Candy gave Bonnie a slight squeeze. “If I ever had another cat, I’d make her an inside cat. That way nothing could happen to it.”

She looked up to see Jake frown.

“What? You think a lawn service truck is going to come barreling through the living room?”

“No, it’s just that if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past month, it’s that nothing’s permanent. I mean, we can think it is, but jeez, when I remember how one minute Cal and Jenny were with me at a late dinner meeting, and the next…”

Cupping her palm to the curve of Bonnie’s head, Candy pressed her lips to impossibly sweet-smelling hair. Poor little thing.