My Baby, Your Son. Anne Peters

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the letter, ignoring Jean’s visible disappointment with a flash of amusement that was quickly replaced by a rekindled feeling of unease. What the hell could a New York City lawyer want from a small-fry country veterinarian like himself?

      Whatever it was, Jared’s gut told him he wasn’t going to like it.

      He was not about to share his apprehensions with Jean Ivers, however. “How’s old Mouser handling that thyroid medication I prescribed?” he asked, directing a pointed glance at the huge tabby snoozing on a shelf by the back wall. “Any side effects?”

      “None I can tell.” Jean flipped through the rest of Jar- ed’s mail, clearly dissatisfied with his evasiveness but, as he immediately found out, not so easily put off.

      “We’ve got us a celebrity in town,” she said with a speculative glance from above her half-moon glasses. She handed him a couple more pieces of mail like a miser dol- ing out alms to the poor. “I’d say these are bills.”

      “Looks like.” Jared pocketed them, too.

      “April Bingham’s the celebrity,” Jean went on. “She gets mail from New York, too.”

      “S’that so?” No way was Jared going to give the old bag the satisfaction of appearing intrigued. “Well, it’s a big place.” He pushed away from the counter, one hand outstretched. “I’d best take the rest of my mail now.”

      Jean reluctantly handed it to him. “She got herself a letter from that same attorney.” she said. “Ain’t that pe- culiar?”

      Her words arrested Jared’s movement. A letter from the same attorney?

      “You two wouldn’t happen to be in business together or somethin’, would you?”

      “Come again?” Jared’s brows snapped together. What was the woman talking about?

      “Well, it coulda been,” she said defensively. “I mean, the two o’ you were pretty thick there, a while back,” she noted pointedly.

      “Good grief, Jean,” Jared snapped, mentally wishing all the gossips in the world to the moon. “We were kids then. And anyway, you’re thinking of Colleen. She and April—”

      “Oh, no, sonny boy! None o’ that.” Jean waggled a finger. “It wasn’t just your sister the gal was friends with, though I do recall them being like two peas in a pod. No, I’m thinking of that one summer in partic’lar. An’ I recall the entire town gettin’ such a charge out of watchin’ you and that Bingham girl spoonin’ and carrying on…”

      She sighed, an expression of indulgent reminiscence re- aligning the network of wrinkles on her face. “Ever’body thought the two of you were so cute.”

      Cute. Given what he and April had felt for each other at the time, Jared shuddered at the description.

      Jean sobered. “‘Course she never came back after that.”

       Tell me something I don’t know.

      “Until now.” Jean’s shrewd eyes narrowed on Jared who was grinding his back teeth in frustration.

      “Guess she had bigger fish to fry,” Jean commented while studying Jared with that speculative gleam he knew all too well, and detested. Times like this he wished he had stayed in Portland, that he hadn’t come back to Capstan after the accident, though he knew it had been the best solution all around.

      “Guess she did. So.” Jared slapped his palm on the counter. “Gotta go.”

      “Good morning, Mrs. Ivers.”

      Jared froze.

      “Speak o’ the devil,” Jean said sotto voce.

      Jared ignored that. He stood rigid with tension and grit- ted his teeth as, preceded by a subtle scent that brought on an immediate rush of memories, he sensed and smelled April Bingham’s approach. Her voice, more husky than he remembered, held a tentative note that hinted at uncertainty. It reminded him of how shy she used to be. How easily hurt and sensitive….

      Yeah, but not so sensitive she couldn’t dole out a whole lot of pain to a whole lot of people.

       Damn her to hell.

      Drawing up every ounce of self-control, Jared forced himself to calmly turn and face her. She stood about a foot away, looking sleek as an ocelot in something as mundane as jeans and a shirt. And for all her hesitant manner, she met and held his gaze with her head held high.

      “Hello, Jared,” she said.

       Chapter Two

      April was proud of the steadiness of her voice. Inside, she was aquiver with nerves. These past two days at Cliff House had been as much heaven as hell. Heaven was find- ing it as warmly familiar as a cozy old blanket. Hell, the fact that Marje was no longer there to make it home.

      Heaven had been the nostalgia, the memories of glorious summers that seemed so much more real and immediate here, now. Hell were those selfsame memories for they in- cluded—no, prominently featured, Jared O’Neal.

      Thinking of him had invariably started her agonizing once again about how to approach him about Tyler. Should she go with her feelings, those of outrage and hurt at his betrayal, and coldly demand an accounting? How could you not have let me know that our child is alive? And living with you? Should she corner him, pin him down? Insist he give her an answer, demand access to her child?

      Or should she go with the advice of her attorney, which was to keep past grievances out of it and negotiate?

      Her legal position, short of a messy lawsuit, was shaky. Her signature was on the document giving the child up for adoption. Jared O’Neal was the name she had declared as the child’s father on the birth certificate. He had every right to the boy, whereas she….

      “I have every right, too,” she had exclaimed. “I didn’t know….”

      “Which is why in this instance ignorance just might be an excuse under the law,” her attorney had mused. “If it should come to a suit But be warned, the cost in terms of publicity and emotional trauma will be high for all con- cerned.”

      By this morning, April had made up her mind to ap- proach Jared with an olive branch in hand. After all, he had always been a reasonable, a most compassionate, person.

      Now, however, confronted by the mask of ice that was Jared O’Neal’s face, and raked by a gaze that was clearly intended to freeze her out, April wanted nothing so much as to turn tail and run, to let her lawyer have at him.

      But through years of performing before an audience, pre- ceded by a lifetime of the strictest discipline, she had per- fected the ability to appear poised and serene in even the worst of circumstances.

      And so she managed to maintain a pleasant smile as the postmistress said, “We were just talkin’ about you, Miz Bingham. Weren’t we, Jared?”

      Jared’s СКАЧАТЬ