Everyday, Average Jones. Suzanne Brockmann

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СКАЧАТЬ There were only two messages, but one of them was a long one. She sat down as the tape took forever to rewind.

      …it’s something of a miracle that you managed to get pregnant in the first place…something of a miracle…

      She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, remembering the look in Harlan Jones’s eyes as she’d met him at the door to her hotel room.

      Cleaned up and wearing a naval dress uniform, he’d looked like a stranger. His shoulders were broader than she remembered. He seemed taller and harder and thoroughly, impossibly, devastatingly handsome.

      She’d felt geeky and plain, dressed in too conservative clothes from the American shop in the hotel. And at the same time, she felt underdressed. The store had had nothing in her bra size except for something in that old-fashioned, cross-your-heart, body-armor style her grandmother used to wear, so she’d opted to go without. Suddenly, the silky fabric of the dress felt much too thin.

      At least her hair was blond again, but she’d cut it much too short in her attempt to disguise herself. It would take weeks before she looked like anything other than a punk-rock time traveler from the early 1980s.

      “I ordered room service,” she’d told him shyly. “I hope you don’t mind if we stay in….”

      It was the boldest thing she’d ever done. But Jones’s smile and the rush of heat in his eyes left no room for doubt. She’d done the right thing.

      He’d locked the door behind him and pulled her into his arms and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her….

      “Hi, Melody, this is Mrs. Beatrice from the Appleton Public Library,” said the cheery voice on the tape, interrupting Melody’s thoughts. “The book you requested is here. We’ve got quite a waiting list for this one, so if you aren’t interested any longer, please give me a call! Hope you’re feeling better, dear. I heard the heat’s due to break in a day or two. I know when I was carrying Tommy, my eldest boy, I simply could not handle any temperature higher than seventy-two. Tom Senior actually went out and bought an air conditioner for me! You might want to think about something like that. If you want, I could send both Toms over to help you girls install it. Call me! Bye now!”

      Girls. Sheesh.

      That’s my girl.

      With determination, Melody pushed that thought out of her head.

      The machine beeped, and a different voice, a male voice with the slightest of drawls, began to talk.

      “Yeah, hi, I hope this is the right number. I’m looking for Melody Evans…?”

      Melody sat forward. Dear God, it couldn’t be, could it? But she knew exactly who it was. This was one voice she was never going to forget. Ever. Not until the day she died.

      “This is Lieutenant Harlan Jones, and Mel, if you’re listening, I, uh, I’ve been thinking about you. I’m going to be stationed here on the East Coast, in Virginia, for a couple of months, and um…well, it’s not that far from Boston. I mean, it’s closer than California and it’s a whole hell of a lot closer than the Middle East and…”

      On the tape, he cleared his throat. Melody realized she was sitting on the edge of her seat, eager for his every word.

      “I know you said what you said before you got on the plane for Boston back in March, but…” He laughed, then swore softly, and she could almost see him rolling his eyes. “Hell, as long as I’m groveling, I might as well be honest about it. Bottom line, honey—I think about you all the time, all the time, and I want to see you again. Please call me back.” He left a number, repeating it twice, and then hung up.

      The answering machine beeped and then was silent.

      “Oh. My. God.”

      Melody looked up to see Brittany standing in the doorway.

      “Is this guy trying to win some kind of title as Mr. Romantic, or what?” her sister continued. “He is totally to die for, Mel. That cute little cowboy accent—where’s he from anyway?”

      “Texas,” Melody said faintly. Lieutenant. He’d called himself Lieutenant Harlan Jones. He’d gotten a promotion, been awarded a higher rank.

      “That’s right. Texas. You told me that.” Britt sat down across from her. “Mel, he wants to see you again. This is so great!”

      “This is not so great!” Melody countered. “I can’t see him—are you kidding? God, Britt, he’ll take one look at me and…”

      Brittany was looking at her as if she’d just confessed to murdering the neighbors and burying them in their basement. “Oh, Melody, you didn’t—”

      “He’ll know,” Melody finished more softly.

      “You didn’t tell him you’re pregnant?”

      Mel shook her head. “No.”

      “You didn’t tell him you’re having his baby—that he’s fathered your child?”

      “What was I supposed to do? Write him a postcard? And where was I supposed to send it? Until he called, I didn’t even know where he was!” Until he called, she didn’t even know if he was still alive. But he was. He was still alive….

      “Melody, that was a very, very, very bad thing to do,” Brittany said as if she were five years old again and had broken their mother’s favorite lamp by playing ball in the house. “A man has a right to know he’s knocked up his girlfriend!”

      “I’m not his girlfriend. I never was his girlfriend.”

      “Sweetie, you’re having this man’s baby. You may not have been his girlfriend, but you weren’t exactly strangers!”

      Melody closed her eyes. No, they were anything but strangers. They’d spent three days in that hotel room in that Middle Eastern city whose name she couldn’t pronounce, and another three days in Paris. In the course of those six amazing days, they’d made love more times than she could count—including once in the miniature bathroom on board the commercial flight that had taken them north to France.

      That was her doing. She’d wanted him so badly, she couldn’t bear to wait until they touched down and took a taxi to their hotel. The plane was nearly empty—she’d thought no one would notice if they weren’t in their seats for just a little while.

      So she’d lured Jones to the back of the plane and pulled him into the tiny bathroom with her.

      After three days, she had learned enough of his secrets to drive him wild with just a touch. And Jones—he could light her on fire with no more than a single look. It wasn’t long before the temperature in that little room skyrocketed out of control.

      But Jones didn’t have a condom. He’d packed his supply in his luggage. And she didn’t have one, either….

      Making love that way was not the smartest thing either of them had ever done.

      Brittany went to the answering machine and rewound the message, playing it again and writing down the phone number he left. “What does he mean by ‘I know you said what you said before you got on the plane for Boston….’? СКАЧАТЬ