Designer Genes (18 page)

“I slept with
a married woman.” He shook his head. “You told me you were divorced.”

“I am,
practically.” Buffy didn’t recall exactly what she’d said, but that seemed an
accurate response. “It’s almost final, and Roger was living with another
woman.”

“Decent men
don’t carry on with married women. Not in this town, they don’t.” Carter’s
strained tone rang with disapproval of his own conduct. And, by implication,
hers, too.

“Decent
married men don’t carry on with lingerie models or pay for their boob jobs,
either!” Her nerves already rubbed raw, Buffy was in no mood to take criticism
lying down or in any other position. “Excuse me if I don’t subscribe to your
small-town provincialism.”

“Is that what
you think I am? A hick from the sticks?” Carter ran a hand through his thick
hair, as if doing so might stimulate his brain. “I’ve always had a weakness for
fast-living women like you, and I knew it was a mistake, but I... This is my
own fault, I guess.”

His attraction to her
was a weakness? And what did he mean by “women like you”? “I’m doing you a
favor by leaving, then.” To her embarrassment, Buffy felt her lower lip quiver.

“You can’t
believe I’ll give up my daughter,” Carter said. “You’re the one who brought her
here so I could fall in love with her. Besides, I know my responsibilities,
even if your.. .husband doesn’t.”

She had to
acknowledge a certain justice to his remarks. Besides, no matter how annoyed
she was at Carter, Buffy would never deny Allie a chance to know her real
father. “Once I get this mess in L.A. straightened out, we’ll arrange for
visitation. But first I have to keep her out of Roger’s hands.”

Buffy had no
idea what he’d do if some stupid court gave him custody, but she didn’t intend
to find out. Even if she eventually won her daughter back, being separated from
Allie for even a day would be intolerable.

The reminder
of their common enemy apparently doused Carter’s anger. He took a deep breath
and asked, “Does this Boyce individual have a plan?”

Buffy
continued folding clothes into her suitcase. “He mentioned a course of action.
I’ll fly back today and meet with him tomorrow to discover what it is.”

“How does a
woman with no money propose to pay for a plane ticket?” Carter asked.

She’d already
calculated that. “I plan on using Roger’s frequent flyer miles. He forgets
about them and they pile up.”

“And how are
you planning to pay for a hotel?”

She might as
well admit the rest of the story. “My lawyer says Roger insists that we stay
with him.”

“Absolutely
not!” He glared as if she’d suggested—well, in his mind, she probably
had
suggested she planned to sleep with her almost-ex, which wasn’t the case at
all.

“Carter, I’m
broke, and it’s a big house.” Before he could insist on paying, she added,
“Boyce thinks it’s a good idea. For one thing, I might be able to sniff out
some information about where the money is hidden.”

“Does Roger
want to reconcile?” he asked tautly.

“Hardly!” Once
Roger lost interest in a woman, he’d already mentally moved on. Thanks to the
lawyer, Buffy understood his twisted reasons for wanting her to stay with him.
“Boyce believes he’s trying to make a point with the judge, that he cares
enough to spend time with his daughter.”

“Which is a
good reason to refuse.”

“He’d turn it
against me.” She understood her husband’s mind. “He’ll tell the court I’m
maliciously withholding access to Allie. He just wants her as a bargaining chip
to make us drop the whole missing money angle, but he’s so vindictive, he might
go through with it.”

Carter didn’t
say any more. After a moment, he went to get dressed.

Buffy rushed
around, packing and making reservations. She used the last of Roger’s frequent
flyer miles to book a flight out of Austin.

It was a
four-hour drive to the airport. Gruffly Carter offered to drive her, and she
accepted.

Buffy wished
there were some way to recapture the warmth they’d shared last night. But it
was gone, probably forever.

She’d received
the answer to her question about whether Carter returned her feelings.
Physically there was no doubt about his response. He’d made it clear, though,
that marriage to her fell under the category of “doing anything” for his
daughter.

After
providing a rushed explanation to Mazeppa, Buffy called Finella and arranged
for her to take over the dress operation. The other woman expressed sympathy
and a sincere hope that Buffy would return.

But why should
she? A broken-down car that she was going to have to sell anyway wasn’t much of
a reason to come back. And if she did, it could only be temporary, until she
figured out how to earn a living close enough for Carter to see his daughter,
but far enough away that she wouldn’t face daily reminders of how little she
meant to him.

A rushed
wedding for their daughter’s sake,
but who cares about that?
Her heart
banged painfully against her ribs at the memory of his words.

Carter had
called her a fast-living woman. He was right, she conceded, straightening her
spine. She did miss the fast pace of L.A., the glitz and the billboard dreams
she’d grown up with. Maybe she belonged there.

In any case,
Carter didn’t argue or plead with her to return. He just threw on jeans and a
shirt, put on a baseball cap bearing the name of a farm equipment company, and
brought the tow truck around.

Allie seemed
to sense something amiss. She fussed while he was installing her in the car
seat, but a few murmured words from her father eased her anxiety. Had they
bonded that quickly?

Buffy stared
out the window as they drove out of the garage and passed the school. She
wondered if it would ever get rebuilt, and, if so, how they’d raise the money.

A few blocks
later, they passed the Nowhere Junction Hospital, where she’d watched Willie
Grimes give birth to May Zeppa the night before last. It was too bad Allie, who
was twiddling her fingers happily in the car seat, would never get to play with
the new arrival.

On Main
Street, they drove between modest stores with now-familiar names. What would be
on special this week at Gigi’s Grocery Store, and what kind of recipe would
Finella devise with it? Would Horace Popsworthy be elected mayor, or was there
really going to be a write-in campaign for Quade? She would have to call City
Hall after the election and find out.

The route to
Austin ran by the Nowhere Nearer to Thee 0 Lord Church. Cars and pickups filled
the small parking lot, and the swelling sound of a hymn drifted through Buffy’s
window.

“That’s where
I ought to be,” Carter said. “Next week I’ll take Mazeppa.”

Next week
I’ll be far away
, she thought sadly.

Although she’d expected
to be keyed up, Buffy fell asleep on the drive. She awoke once, when they
pulled over so she could feed the complaining baby. Carter went outside and
checked the air pressure on his tires for as long as it took. Then he got back
in, and she and Allie both fell asleep again.

When they
reached Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, she supposed it would be easier
to say goodbye to Carter here in the tow truck, but Buffy couldn’t handle the
baby, the car seat and their luggage by herself. “Would you mind helping us
in?”

The tall man
frowned. “You don’t have a high opinion of men, do you?”

“What do you
mean?” She noted that Allie was wide awake now, staring at her father’s face.

“Did you think
I would put you on the curb and say, ‘So long, fend for yourself now’?” he
asked. “Of course I’ll help you in.”

His remark
startled Buffy. It hadn’t occurred to her to expect kindness from a man. Hope
for it, yes. Appreciate it, certainly. But take it for granted? She doubted she
ever would.

At the
upper-level curbside valet area, Carter turned the keys over to an attendant.
“We have something called Family Friendly Valet Parking. Very reasonably
priced,” he explained, and began hauling stuff from the truck while she
unstrapped the baby.

There was an
extra piece of luggage, Buffy noticed. Had he transferred Allie’s gear into
that unfamiliar duffle bag? Well, if the airline charged extra for it, she’d
pay with her earnings from the dress sales.

On the other
end of the flight, she hoped she’d be able to contact her lawyer, who lived
close to the airport. They could talk strategy while he drove her to Roger’s
house, if he was willing.

Inside the
terminal, Carter easily negotiated the confusion of skycaps and passengers.
They were approaching the queue at the airline counter when a shaggy young man
tried to jump the line in front of them. He took one look at Carter’s scowl,
however, and stepped aside.

Buffy could
have handled him. But life was much easier with a man to protect her.

Good heavens,
what was she thinking? Next she’d start lacing on a corset and dropping a hoop
skirt into place.

The closer
they came to the counter, the more she hated to leave. Buffy had never minded
being on her own before. She could take care of herself and Allie, too.

But she
couldn’t hold onto her purse and hoist the baby into the air as Carter was
doing, and it wouldn’t have occurred to her to blow on Allie’s tummy like that
and make her laugh.

You’re an
idiot, Buffy Arden. Stop wanting things you can’t have.

They reached
the counter. She had a nervous moment when she feared Roger had somehow managed
to cancel the frequent flyer miles, but then the agent handed over tickets for
her and Allie.

“Got an extra
seat?” Carter asked.

The clerk
checked her computer. “Yes, sir.”

“Put it on
this.” He handed her a credit card. “I’m going, too.”

“Why?” Buffy
blurted.

“Because
fathers aren’t optional,” he said.

Buffy stared
at Carter. “When did you make that decision?”

“About thirty
seconds ago.” He showed the agent his driver’s license. “If there’s a custody
battle, I owe it to Allie to make sure the judge knows she has a real father.”

She was
pleased. Confused, too. “You didn’t bring any luggage.” Then she remembered,
“Except that little duffle bag.”

He glanced
wryly down at his jeans. “We country yokels don’t own more than one change of
clothing, anyway.”

His teasing
didn’t bother her, even if Roger’s snobby friends might look at him funny.
Their values were screwed up, and she’d be happy to tell them so.

Besides,
plenty of people in L.A. wore jeans. Maybe no one would notice the cowboy
boots. There was, however, one detail she could easily correct.

Standing on
tiptoe, she snatched off Carter’s baseball cap and plopped it onto his head
backward. “There,” she said. “Now you’ll fit right in.”

*

You must have
the brains of an armadillo and the judgment of a cow on locoweed,
 
Carter scolded himself as they waded through
the noisy, shifting crowds at Los Angeles International.

From the
moment Buffy first appeared in Nowhere Junction, he’d been aware he might do
something crushingly stupid. Like, say, fall in love with her. And follow her
to the big city, where he’d stand out like a cactus in a rose garden.

So what had he
done? All of the above. Not only that, but he’d had sex with a married woman.
Steamy, head-banging, stand-the-truck-on-its-rear-bumper sex.

A married
woman.
Carter had sinned ten ways to Sunday, and any minute some kind of
fiery rash ought to overtake him. The only thing overtaking him in reality,
however, were a couple of teenagers trotting along the moving walkway instead
of tolerating its snail pace.

They didn’t
even say “excuse me” as they brushed by. Nobody else seemed to mind.

Carter shifted
Allie to his other arm, and tried to sort out his feelings about Buffy. She
sure did look cute, with her hair fluffed out above her red velour top.

He had to
admit that his decision to accompany her and Allie stemmed in part from an
instinct to protect them. And to stake his claim, although he wasn’t sure that
he had one.

Why had she
made love to him? Was it possible she did want to be his wife? Since honor
prevented him from mentioning the subject of marriage until she was legally
unentangled, he would have to wait to find out.

In the claim
area, Carter found Buffy’s suitcase and the baby’s bag, and waited while she
used a pay phone to try to call Boyce Fringo. From her expression, he could
tell she wasn’t having any luck.

He supposed he
ought to break down and buy a cell phone. He’d have done that if he’d had any
clue that he might land in unfamiliar territory with a woman whose husband had
cut off her connection.

“Darn it!” she
said, hanging up. “He’s not answering. It
is
Sunday. Let’s hope he calls
back.”

He didn’t. Fifteen
minutes later, they decided to make alternate plans. “We could check into a
hotel.” Carter assumed that a place like L.A. had rooms available on short
notice.

“I refuse to
let you waste your money.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she weighed their options.
“We can catch a shuttle to Roger’s house for considerably less than the cost of
a hotel room.”

“We?” Carter
asked. “I don’t recall him inviting me.”

Her chin
lifted. He knew that fighting expression, and was grateful that it was aimed at
her almost-ex-husband rather than him. “I don’t see why I can’t bring a guest.
Wait! Better idea. If anyone asks, you’re Allie’s nanny.”

“I’m her
what?”

She was
already scooting away. A nanny, huh? Well, why not? Carter could be a good
sport for a day or so.