Broken Vows (Domestic Discipline Romance) (24 page)

Kevin gave a quick tap to the door and went inside closing the door quickly. There was a fierce wind blowing today and it was bitterly cold. He turned around with a smile to greet Mila and saw her with the baby. His eyes locked onto her breast with the nursing baby. Finally, his eyes rose to meet Mila's.

She blushed, made no comment on his watching, but covered herself with a nursing pad.

"Don't," Kevin said. "It is natural and beautiful."

"It is," Mila agreed as he came over, lifted the cloth, and watched for a minute, his eyes soft and fascinated. It was quite an intimate thing to do, but she was getting used to this man's easygoing ways.

"It's a miracle." He dropped a kiss on her lips, as he often did now when they were alone. He was gentle though, never pushing. "Is Jenny working in her studio?"

"Yes, she has a massive piece she is working on for the gallery. Julia said she has a client from a New York Gallery, who wants first dibs on all of Jenny's work."

"It sounds promising. I will go drag her away for a break. One of my cousins is an artist, and sometimes we have to drag her away from her work. Otherwise, she won't sleep or eat."

"I think both Josh and Jenny are that way," Mila laughed. "I am not an artsy kind of person. God knows, I couldn't make anything as beautiful as they do."

"I don't know about that," Kevin disagreed. "You made a beautiful baby. Little Kevin is about as perfect as it gets."

As he went out the door, Mila blinked her eyes and tried to hold back tears. That was probably the most beautiful and sincere compliment she had ever received. She smiled and looked over toward the closed door. Kevin Carter had a way about him for sure. She traced her finger over little Kevin's face thinking she had to agree with Big Kevin, her son was perfect. As she put the baby back into his carrier, she chided herself. She wanted to call her son
Davy
. Big Kevin and Little Kevin… she was beginning to call them so in her head too. Kevin referred to her son as Little Kevin so often she was doing it now. As kind and sweet as he was, Kevin Carter was also a stubborn infuriating man!

* * *

Jenny, Mila, and Kevin were enjoying a lively discussion on furniture as they passed a catalog around the table. Whenever Jenny or Mila pointed out anything even slightly avant-garde, Kevin shook his head claiming it would not fit the house. His taste in furniture ran to contemporary, which he argued fit the house. He was right more times than not.

When there was a knock on the door, Kevin answered it. It was Blake Parker holding a small bouquet of supermarket flowers.

"Carter," Blake said curtly.

"Parker," Kevin snarled, stepping out of the way.

Buddy appeared, stood in front of Adam's playpen, and growled.

"Mila, I heard you had your baby and I wanted to stop by to congratulate you," Blake said handing the flowers to her.

"Thank you," Mila said, accepting them.

Kevin cast a look of pure loathing at Blake before going over to the crib, lifting the baby, putting him on his shoulder, and patting him. He also bent down to rub Buddy on the head to calm him. "Little Kevin needs a diaper change," he announced.

"Little
Kevin
?" Blake asked.

"Yeah, named after the guy who was there when he was born," Kevin snapped.

"Oh yeah," Blake questioned looking from the man holding the baby to Mila. "Well, I just wanted to stop by. I also wanted to ask if Josh got around to buying the rifle he was talking about. With hunting season coming to a close, I will have more time and could teach him to shoot."

Jenny opened her mouth to answer, but Mila backed into her stepping on her foot. "No," Mila interrupted. "He doesn't like the idea of having a gun in the house with the kids."

Jenny frowned but went along with the lie. "Right, we discussed it and changed our minds."

"Okay, well, have him call me if he changes his mind again," Blake said. "I'll get going. Again, congratulations."

When the door shut behind him, Mila took her son from Kevin. "What was that all about?"

"I have the same question," Jenny said pointedly to her sister. "Why did you tell Blake we didn't buy a gun?"

"Because Kevin was standing behind him, shaking his head, and making faces," Mila answered turning to him. "What was it about?"

"I don't trust him," Kevin said. "Blake Parker is a bastard and a thief."

"How do you know?" Jenny demanded.

"I grew up with him in this town, went to school with him from elementary through high school," Kevin stated. "If you have something he wants, eventually it will disappear or be destroyed."

"Is this some schoolyard rivalry?"

"No, it is a man who walks around telling lies to such a degree, he is borderline psychotic," Kevin spat out. "He tells people he works for the Park Service when he doesn't. He claims he is a wildlife biologist, or a game warden, or a hunting guide, yet he has no claim to any of those professions either. His lies changes depending on whom he wants to impress. He is my cousin, Debra's, ex-husband. I have known him for years. He rarely works, yet he drives around in a new truck and flashes lots of cash. For all the cash he throws around with his good old buddies, he never seems to have enough income to pay child support. He was a worthless husband, and he is a worthless father, yet the courts say the bastard can see his kids because he has
rights
. What about Deb's
rights
to feed her kids with child support money he owes her?"

Jenny and Mila looked at each other.

"He had me fooled," Jenny admitted. "He lied to us."

"He told us he worked for the Park Service," Mila said. "Okay, if he is someone we don't want hanging around, why didn't you want him to know we can protect ourselves?"

"Because I didn't want him breaking in here to steal the rifle," Kevin said. "I told you things have a tendency to disappear when he knows about them. He is the primary reason I have a top-notch security system in my shop."

"If everyone knows, why hasn't he been stopped?" Jenny asked.

"Because no one has managed to catch him in the act. Whenever he is suspected, some lowlife friend of his gives him an alibi."

"Could Blake be behind the poaching?" Mila asked.

"I wouldn't put anything past him. Personally, I don't think he's smart enough to mastermind something like this. He is the kind of man who goes through life using people. If he spent as much time actually working instead of trying to lie and cheat his way through life, he could be a halfway decent person."

"We called him when Josh found the first elk," Jenny said. "We didn't know anyone else to call. He was the one who had us call the Game Warden, and he suggested Josh buy a rifle. Blake offered to teach him how to use it then. He was so helpful."

"I can't choose your friends, Jenny. I can only warn you about known troublemakers," Kevin said.

"This place is beginning to sound like the movie,
Deliverance
," Mila snapped.

"Don't blame the town," Kevin complained. "Every town and city has bottom feeders like Blake. He is not the only one, but he happens to be the one I know. He treated my cousin like crap and now she is raising three kids without support. He thinks it is more important to buy beer for his
good ole buddy
friends and play a big shot than to buy groceries for his children."

* * *

"I want to call Daddy!" Emmie whined.

"Honey, I tried," Mila said for probably the tenth time. "I left a message for your Daddy. I am sure he will call you as soon as he gets it."

Mila went back to chopping vegetables for a casserole. Adam let out a wail and she went to find out what he needed. A diaper change later, she was back washing her hands before continuing her meal prep.

"Gamma!" Emmie said handing Jenny's cell phone to her.

Mila winced. Emmie had found Jenny's prepaid phone she used for Denise. The child must have dialed number one. She knew it was the number on her mother's phone to reach her father. Even Emmie didn't want to talk to Denise Marsden, though. Mila lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" Dense was squawking into the phone.

"Hello, Mom," Mila said hesitantly.

"Jenny! You sound as if you have a sore throat," Denise exclaimed.

"I do," grinned Mila when she realized her mother had not recognized her voice.

"Well, at least you called," snapped Denise. "I need you to come home."

"Why?" Mila asked suspiciously.

"I am having surgery and I want you there with me," Denise demanded. "I don't think it is too much to ask for my daughter to be with me while I have surgery."

"What kind of surgery?" Mila asked, motioning to Jenny, who had come through the door, to be quiet.

"It doesn't matter what kind. I am going into the hospital and need you to be here for me," Denise demanded. "I will need a week or more of care after I come out of the hospital."

"Again, Mom, what kind of surgery is it?" Mila repeated.

Jenny tried to grab the phone, but her sister dodged her.

"It is a private matter," Denise whined. "I don't wish to speak of such things."

"You don't want to tell me what kind of operation you need, but you want me to come and play nursemaid for a week or more?" Mila questioned.

"I expect you to be here for me," Denise exclaimed.

"Well, it's not happening unless I know why. How serious is it? Is it your heart? No, it couldn't be your heart, you don't have one, you have an ATM stuck in your chest. Is it cancer?"

"How dare you speak to me like that? It is my business!"

"No, it becomes my business when you expect me to drop everything and run to you," Mila countered. She was enjoying verbally sparring with her mother under the guise of being her sister. "I have two small children and a husband. My priorities are my family."

"I am your family. You would leave me stranded in a hospital?" Denise screamed.

"If I don't get a valid reason why I should come, yes, I will," Mila said bluntly. "Now, you either tell me what is going on or give me your doctor's name so I can call him directly. In fact, I think that is the best idea. Call your doctor and give him permission to speak to me. I will call him directly."

"How can you treat me like this?" Denise demanded.

"Well, I believe it is a direct result of how you treated me my entire life," Mila answered watching her sister's eyes widen. "Now, I want the truth or I am disconnecting this call."

"I am having a rhytidectomy and need several weeks to recovery."

"Rhy-ti-dec-tomy," Mila said, slowly sounding out the word. "Exactly what is it?"

"Surgery!" her mother yelled over the phone.

"Facelift," Jenny whispered.

Mila shook her head and rolled her eyes, "Never mind, Mom, I Googled it. You are having a facelift. You want me to drop everything because you want a facelift. What is this, the third or fourth? The answer is no. If you want someone to play nurse, hire one. I am not neglecting my responsibilities to my family to play nurse to your vanity."

"As my daughter, it is your duty…."

"No," Mila said firmly. "You had a duty as a mother, but relinquished the care of your children to household help when it suited your purposes. My duty is to my husband and children, not to a selfish and vain woman. Are you not the same mother who went to the Bahamas while I was in the hospital having my appendix removed? You are sixty-three years old, how many facelifts can you have before looking like the
Cat woman
. I will talk to you again next week. Goodbye." She disconnected the call and handed the phone to her sister.

"Why did you call Mom?" Jenny asked.

"I didn't, Emmie did. She wants to talk to Josh. I had left several messages for him, but he must be in a meeting or maybe there is weather between him and us. Anyway, Emmie found this phone and brought it to me. The next thing I knew, Mom was on the line. She didn't recognize my voice from yours, so I told her I had a sore throat and pretended to be you."

"She will figure it out, that it was you on the phone and not me," Jenny said. "I didn’t have my appendix taken out. That was you."

Mila laughed. "Do you think she ever cared enough that she would remember?"

"I wish I could be that forceful with her," Jenny said.

"A couple years in the military will do it for you," Mila laughed. "However, I really can't see you in a military uniform."

"I wore a uniform once," Jenny said with a grin. "It was a little French maid number with a G-string, garter belt, and black net stockings. Josh was very fond of it."

Mila laughed. "I'll bet he was!"

Denise Marsden sat beside Maurice Clifford at the annual Waterbury Arts Council dinner. This was the third dinner where the hostess had paired her with the odious man. The women who organized these functions insisted on seating arrangements with equal ratios of men and women. They seated single women attendees with whatever men were available. Maurice talked of nothing except his businesses—used car dealerships. Since when did the Arts Council consider someone like him her social equal?

Denise was not a happy woman and saw no clear way out of her dilemma. She was alone and she did not like it. She had come to this awareness only recently. She was not a woman who cultivated women friends. The women she associated with were contemporaries, not friends. For the most part, they were her social equals and they only met at committee meetings and club functions. They were not the type of women one called to go shopping or to a spontaneous lunch.

With Jennifer out of the picture, Denise had no one. She had to admit she missed her daughter. She did not miss Jennifer's worthless husband or her interfering children, but she did miss her daughter. She realized she had handled the situation badly. She should have not have been so forthright and used more finesse. She may not like or approve of Jennifer's husband, but she should have looked further into his background before insulting him. Now, she knew his adopted parents and siblings were worth millions. She should have found some way to tap into that source.

Her accountant had called her into his office this morning to inform her there had been no growth in her funds. In fact, there were significant losses,
again
. Her quarterly annuities would be less in the upcoming year. She simply did not have sufficient money to maintain the standard of living to which she was accustomed. Her accountant suggested she cut expenses. Perhaps it was time to sell her house and move to a smaller home in a more reasonable neighborhood. Perhaps she did not need both a maid and a cook? Many women in her circumstances learned to cut back. The nerve of the man!

Everyone in Denise's life had disappointed her. Both her daughters, as well as her deceased husband, had failed her. Jennifer had married badly and entangled herself with an unsuitable man. Mila ran away from home rather than accept her responsibility to marry a man who would have raised their social status and provided a great deal of inherited family money.

When Maurice Clifford leaned in her direction to ask if she was available to attend the Country Club Golf Tournament Dinner, Denise shook her head and apologized telling him she had a previous engagement. No, she would not stoop so low as to date
him
. Unfortunately, now she could not attend the dinner unless she found an alternate escort.

She looked across the table into a wall mirror wondering how much longer she could go without another touch-up to her face. She was sixty-three but she knocked off nine years by claiming she bore her first child at twenty. She did not understand her daughters at all. Jennifer thought women should let themselves go and age naturally. The idea was absurd.

"Denise, so nice to see you again."

Denise looked up to see Adele Madison leaning over her. She despised the elegant woman for no other reason than she was wealthy, twenty years younger, and the queen bee within most of her clubs and organizations.

"It has been a while," Denise said with a smile. "I heard you were spending time in New York City."

"Yes, having two permanent residences is a hassle, but I float between them depending on where Mark needs to be at any given moment," Adele exclaimed. "You must be so proud of Jennifer. I was at Arlene Dewitt's Gallery Gala last week where she had three of Jennifer's textile pieces on display. I wanted one so badly, but they had all sold. Home Beautiful is featuring two of them in a layout next month. Arlene said she pleaded with her friend to allow her to display the pieces until the photo shoot. I told her I wanted to be her first call on the next piece she buys. Arlene wants to be Jennifer's exclusive dealer in the city. She is so elite and believes Jennifer is the next big rage. It must be so wonderful to have a gifted artist in your family. You must have tons of her artwork. You are so lucky, because if she does become the darling of art critics, her earlier works will become so much more valuable. If you want to part with any of her work, call me first."

"I won't be selling my daughter's artwork," Denise said with a smile and shake of her head. "It means too much to me."

"Lucky you," Adele said, and then lowered her voice so the other table occupants could not hear. "How are you dealing with the Pughs over at the Country Club? It is such a nasty business when people are involved in legal entanglements. I heard your son-in-law is suing them
again
. Maureen says DQ&H is forcing David to retire and bringing his company in under their corporate umbrella, instead of letting it operate independently. You really cannot blame them. He is costing them millions. Be careful. Maureen is an absolute peach, but David can be mean-spirited and vindictive."

"My son-in-law's actions have nothing to do with me."

Adele shrugged. "I'm was only warning you, my dear. Off I go, I have so many people to see before returning to the city."

Denise watched Adele Madison flit from one table to another, dispensing gossip and carrying tales along the way. She loved to gossip and would be gone the next week, not caring who she left dangling in her wake.

Denise had heard Josh won the legal suit he had filed against Pugh and Barkley, but it had not been him alone. An entire group of employees had sued and settled out of court. Jenny refused to discuss it with her.

Denise excused herself, claiming she was not feeling well and left. She drove home in her four-year-old car, which she could not afford to upgrade, and stood in her entryway looking around in dissatisfaction. This was not the life she was supposed to live. She was supposed to have Adele Madison's life of high society and luxury. She walked over to the mantle. With a single sweep of her hand, she knocked the photographs of her daughters to the floor.

She had not heard from Mila in eight years. Jennifer only called her once a week and refused to divulge her current phone number or address. Adele's words echoed through her mind. Jennifer's artwork was suddenly chic. Pugh and Barkley had settled out of court for
millions
! Her accountant refused to advance her funds from her next quarterly installment while her daughter lived in luxury, and she could not raise the paltry sum needed for a facelift.

Denise Marsden poured herself a drink, went into her husband's office, and began systematically searching his files.

* * *

Josh spent his first day with his new business partners brainstorming and working through various pros-and-cons lists. They envisioned the best- and worst-case scenarios pertaining to the Richfield Towers Project. They tried to talk themselves out of jumping in feet first, but they could not do it. They kept returning to one simple fact. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. After an entire day of brainstorming and trying to convince themselves not to do it, they threw in the towel. They gave it up and launched themselves into the idea that they actually could pull this off.

With a four-to-zero vote to go for it, they went to work. Bill and Matt ironed out the details and schedule needed to finish the incorporation of the company. Josh and Brice closeted themselves in an incomplete office with taped drywall and a concrete floor. They jury-rigged a table by setting an eight-foot piece of plywood across two sawhorses. Sitting on metal folding chairs, they assembled and connected laptops, scanners, and printers into a makeshift design studio. Taking copious notes, Josh and Brice began the tedious review process of picking Josh's design apart piece by piece. They checked his math and then reassembled the design from the ground up to verify it could be built.

It was well after midnight when Josh got back to his hotel room. He had set his watch alarm to make sure he did not forget to check in with Emmie and, of course, he had taken the time to talk to Jenny at the same time. Calling them, talking to them, made him miss them more. He warned his new partners again that he would not sacrifice his family for his career, and he meant it.

He looked at his half-eaten fast-food meal and glanced at the clock. It was late, but he missed her.

Jenny answered on the first ring. "Hi, why aren't you asleep?"

"I miss you and the kids," Josh said. "Tell me about your day?"

Jenny smiled. That would not have been a question of his in the recent past. She detailed her day and the children's day. He outlined his day to her.

"I miss you."

"What are you wearing?" Josh asked.

Jenny giggled. "Are we going to have phone sex?"

Josh smiled. "Why not, it's the closest I will be to you for the next few days. What are you wearing?"

Jenny looked at her cartooned sleep shirt, but instead imagined a little black piece of lingerie she had seen in a shop window in Vail. At the time, simply window-shopping there had almost embarrassed her, now she scooted down on the bed and described it to her husband in delicious detail. She might blush in public about such things, but she and Josh were on the same page when it came to sex. It was a private, 'anything goes' situation, as long as they both consented to it.

Josh reluctantly awoke the next morning to his alarm, exhausted. His dreams had affected his sleep and body. Jenny had put him in this state. They had never had phone sex before. Although he had known darn well Jenny was not wearing black crotchless panties and a bustier, his subconscious would not let go of the image while he slept. He probably would not be able to let go of it today either.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for a cold shower and more hot thoughts of his wife.

Jenny experienced the same problem, although she had a little easier time of it since her routine and children distracted her. She made it until mid-afternoon, and then she called Julia to find out if her yarn had come in. When she got an affirmation, she left the kids with Mila and with a shopping list in hand, drove to town. However, her first stop was not the grocery store or the craft shop, but a little shop tucked into a sidestreet called
Sinful Angel
.

She tried to control her blushes the entire time she was in the shop. She spent some of her newfound income from her artwork on tiny scraps of sexually alluring intimate wear. When Josh did come home, she would be ready for him.

* * *

Mila climbed the circular stairs in the main house to the second level of the library. She was on the second rung of the rolling ladder when someone lifted her off and set her back down on her feet.

"Jesus!" she exclaimed, jerking around and yanking out her ear buds. "Why don't you put on a 'Jason' mask and scare the crap out of me next time!

"Sorry," Kevin said. "You need to go back to the first level. I haven't inspected this section for structural integrity yet."

"I have a degree in engineering."

"Mechanical, not structural, and yeah, I know all about engineering degree overlap. It is not the point. What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Curiosity," Mila admitted. "I kept the kids for Jenny this morning, and now she is watching Davy. I needed an adult break and thought I would see what kinds of books are here."

He pulled out several volumes scanning their titles. "The same crap as on the first level. I think the decorator selected them. Someone went through library lists and ordered books by the collections to fill shelves. You know the kind, the
Best Literature of the 19th Century
and
The American Classics
. These are the kind of books teachers made you read."

Mila smiled. "I take it you are not into Austin, Bronte, or Dickinson?"

"Not since my last year in high school, thank God. I'm not much of a reader. Besides, I don't have a lot of extra time for it. I do listen to audio books, John Grisham, Tony Hillerman, Steven King and the like. It takes me a while, but when I'm driving from site to site, I'm listening. From what I have seen of these titles, they are more for show than actual reading."

"Our parents were like that," Mila said, "everything was for show. They would hire someone to tell them what to buy based on what was popular among their social peers. Our library was a lot like this one with books chosen for pretense rather than content. Should one of their friends or business associates actually notice the titles, they would naturally believe my parents had intelligent pursuits. However, I don't recall ever seeing either one of them open a book. My mother's secret vice was
True Stories of Sex and Crime
magazines she hid in her study, which in itself was a misnomer. My mother never studied anything except
Advanced Snobbery
." Mila surveyed the library from her vantage point. "It is an incredible room. You have to bring your father to see the progress you are making on the house."

"I will after it is completed," Kevin said. "Right now, it would hurt him to see how much damage was done to his craftsmanship. My Dad took a lot of pride in his work, and someone made a mess of it." He pointed to the steps, "Down, little lady!"

"Stop being so bossy," Mila complained.