Authors: Gail McFarland
It took four calls to track him down and the steel in her backbone to back him down, but Rissa finally got Sawyer to talk to her, and the first thing he did was take the alcoholic’s refuge in lies. He lied about the charges, making them all figments of the arresting officer’s imagination, reducing them to minor joke status—until she told him that she was looking at them on her computer. He refused to come to the office or to meet her anywhere else. When she threatened to burn his contract, he confessed to being previously arrested under a false name and she was tempted to really burn the contract.
Instead, she stood up from the desk and hardened her voice. Pacing the length of her office, she broke the realities down for him, speaking of rappers in the wrong company caught with guns and drugs in drugstore parking lots, and big-balling football and basketball players dealing with false names and faked realities and learning that they were not above the law. “And you can keep on until it’s your turn to be caught, or you can fix this now. Marcus, I promise you that having a former agent and a lost NFL contract won’t do you a bit of good while you’re sitting in prison braiding somebody’s hair.”
When he swore, she verbally spanked him and told him what she expected and what he was going to have to do to keep her services and the contract she’d secured for him. He growled at her and she snarled back, reminding him of the morals clause in his contract and what it would cost him to violate it. The Falcons had a one-year exclusive and a first choice option that they were not obligated to pick up. “And if they don’t at least make an offer at the end of this year, you’re going to be marked for extinction.
“The rest of the world is not as stupid as you want to think they are, and they’re not as forgiving as you want to hope they are. Are you willing to blow this shot at a dream for a few drinks, a little crack, and a police record? You get picked up like this again, Marcus, get prosecuted, you’ll be looking at federal time and you’ll need a better lawyer than me to pull your butt out of the fire.” She paused and hoped she had him thinking.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow and dull, stirring her suspicions. She closed her eyes and hoped against hope that she was wrong—though she knew in her heart that she wasn’t. Walking back to her computer, she listened to his ramblings as she did a more complete search and found what she knew she would: four small alcohol and drug stops—one with a minor female in the vehicle. Two of the stops, including the one with the girl, had resulted in ticketed warnings.
Eyes on the screen, miscreant mumbling in her ear about how the whole world was out to get him, Rissa shook her head and hoped it wasn’t too late. He admitted to using the name Marc Sayler, and sticking to the lie even when the arresting officers seemed to recognize him. His celebrity status had kept him safe, so far, but what would happen when he got picked up after a bad game or after he made a bad play? She tapped more keys. The fines had been paid without his having to show up in court.
That’s how he’d stayed off the media radar.
Her next call would be to Dench.
But in the meantime…“There’s someone I want you to talk to, Marcus. Her name is Chris Gordon. She’s a counselor and I think she’ll do you some good.” She listened to his protests and excuses, and then said, “I’m going to make this simple for both of us, Marcus. See her and I’m still your agent. See her, and I’ll tell Dench that you’re trying to do the right thing. Don’t see her, and I’ll shut my mouth tighter than a drum and you’re on your own.”
She smiled, liking the technique. He called her a “buzz saw in a skirt”, but he agreed. She gave him the contact number for Chris, then made him repeat it. Sullen and more than a little shaken, Sawyer promised to make the call.
“You make her your very next call, and have her let me know when your appointment is. Oh, and when you keep it, I want to know that, too.”
His brooding, “Yes, ma’am,” gave her hope. She made a quick note in the file before she dialed Dench.
“Hey, hot stuff, how’s it going?”
“I just love how you always see me for who I really am,” she purred into the phone.
“Sexy is as sexy does, I always say.”
“Did you wear shorts today? The ones I like?”
“Life is good when dirty girls grow up to be dirty women,” Dench said, his voice dropping to pick up the raw edge that always thrilled her.
“I’d better tell you what I called for before I forget.” She crossed her legs and cleared her throat as she eased her hips forward on her chair. “One of your new players has got some stuff going on, and without trying to violate his confidence, I can tell you that reporters are sniffing around for information. It won’t take them long to ferret it out, either. I found it on the first try, maybe because he’s a local boy.”
Suddenly serious, Dench moved his hand across the phone, muffling his words. “I’m on it,” he said. “Random testing starts in an hour. Just a thought, but maybe I should start with last names beginning with the letter ‘S’.”
“Good start.”
“Oh, and before you go,” his voice changed for her, “do you suppose that the dirty girl will be waiting when I get home?”
“Probably not,” Rissa’s leg pumped a time or two, “but I know a dirty woman who can’t wait to see you. I did tell you that the therapist said that I should have lots of sex, didn’t I?” She laughed with him.
Hanging up the phone, Rissa liked how she felt—braver and more able somehow. For the first time since losing the baby and returning to work, she felt capable and ready to handle it.
Maybe therapy isn’t such a bad idea. I certainly thought enough of my session to recommend it.
Then she remembered.
I told Dench that the therapist said I should have lots of sex, but it wasn’t Chris, it was Joyce who said it. And I forgot to tell him that I talked to her, that I said I would consider the options.
Moving her fingers over the files still remaining on her desk, she debated working, then looked at her watch and figured that now was as good a time as any to try reaching Marlea.
Marlea must have been standing over the phone. She picked up on the first ring and groaned when she heard Rissa’s voice. “Where are you going to try to make me go now? Wherever it is, I can’t go. I have too much to do at school, the 10K is coming up and I told AJ I would pick up his shoes. Besides that, Nia and Jabari have swimming lessons this afternoon…do you have a suit in your gym bag? Maybe you should come.”
“Please, with my hair growing out, there’s no way I’m climbing in a pool.”
“Chicken?”
“Completely. Do you know what my head would look like after playtime in a pool with your two little heathens?”
“Thanks, Rissa,” Marlea suddenly pouted. “Are you telling me that I look bad?”
“Girl, no.” Rissa sucked at her teeth. “I would never do that.”
“Yes, you would.”
Gritting her teeth, Rissa managed not to scream. “Actually, I just wanted to talk…for a minute.”
“I’ve got about forty minutes.” Rissa heard the chair scrape as Marlea pulled it away from her desk. Sitting, her tone relaxed. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I got a call from Joyce Ashton this morning.” Rissa ran her fingernail over the edges of the folders on her desk. “Dench called her and she was following up.”
“Why did Dench call your doctor? Is something going on with you?”
Rissa ignored the question and her nail traced the edge of the folders again. “She wanted me to consider alternatives. I told her I would and I will, no matter how unnatural or unreasonable they seem.” She heard Marlea’s breath catch in her throat.
“Are you just using me as a sounding board, or are you serious?”
“I’m serious. Right now, I’m considering everything, even
in vitro
and maybe a surrogate.”
“Why do you think it would be unnatural to have an
in vitro
procedure with me as your surrogate?”
“I never mentioned your name.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Rissa made a gagging sound, then cleared her throat. “I didn’t say that you would be the surrogate, if that was the way to go.”
“Whatever. It would be me, and that’s that.” Marlea suddenly sounded excited. “So you and Dench decided? You’re going to do it?”
“No, I’m still a long way from making that kind of a decision. I have no idea what Dench would say.”
“Yes, you do. You already know he’ll say you can adopt, or you can take me up on my offer.”
“I’m still trying to think this through, and I already told you that the old-fashioned method is my preference.” Rissa cleared her throat again. “Doesn’t the whole thing strike you as trifling with nature? Playing God? Mixing up some kind of Frankenstein baby in a petri dish?”
“Don’t be silly, the Frankenstein monster was full grown—made out of man parts. And who would know how your baby was conceived if you didn’t tell them? Oh, what was I thinking, you’d probably tell them.”
“Have you talked this over with AJ?”
“Not yet, but you can’t keep on like this, Rissa.”
“That’s pretty much what Joyce said. And I said I would think about it, but promise you’ll talk to AJ.”
“I will, but this is the right thing to do—for you and for Dench.”
Rissa’s nail rifled the folders again. “You just want to stake a claim on my happily ever after.”
“And what’s wrong with happily ever after?”
* * *
There is absolutely nothing wrong with happily ever after
, Marlea thought as she touched the wall panel that bathed her bedroom in soft light. If she had been counting, that would have only made the fiftieth time she’d had the thought since talking with Rissa.
Sometimes happily ever after needs a little help, but all in all, happily ever after is a good thing and I ought to know.
It still made her smile to think of her own fairy tale. Who could have known that a woman who had run all her life would have run into her own handsome Prince Charming in something so ordinary as a 10K footrace? Who could have guessed that, even when the dragon at the door was a doctor who cast a dream-stealing spell over the heroine, she would still find a way to run into the arms of her hero? And that the hero would turn his back on a wicked witch capable of stealing his will with unimaginable skills, to claim happily ever after.
“Hey, Silk.” The perfect hero, still wet from the shower, a towel wrapped at his waist, AJ walked into the room and his wife fell in love all over again. She watched as the sweet milk chocolate of his skin flowed complete and beautiful, capturing bronze tones as he passed into the light. Muscle, bold and breathtaking, sculpted by a lifetime of athletics, showed in artistic detail along the eye-pleasing length of his elegantly articulated body, and her knees grew soft. Then he smiled at her.
“Thank you for fairy tales,” Marlea murmured, wondering if the time was right.
Her eyes on him made him watch her. Then her tongue traced her lower lip, taunting him. “What are you thinking?”
An easy glance at his towel told her what he hoped she was thinking. “Babies,” she said.
“Another baby? Three?” He grinned. “Why not? It’s not like we aren’t great parents. Another baby might be fun.”
“You mean making one might be fun?” He was too close and she couldn’t resist, not even if she wanted to—and she didn’t want to. Marlea pulled at the towel knotted at his waist and it came away in her hand. Holding the towel aloft, she stepped back. “Oh, my goodness, look what I found.” Her lusty interest evident, she danced back a step, but only one when he reached for her. Naked, his palpable and growing need unmistakable, he reached for her again.
“Ooh, I give up.” Marlea let the towel drop to their feet, her eyes never leaving his when she stepped into his embrace and feigned innocence. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Give me a minute, I’ll think of something.”
His mouth found the dusky column of her throat and claimed the sweetness he found there. Fast hands, large enough to snatch a speeding ball from the air, were gentle as he stole the clothes from her body and claimed her. In his arms, kissing and touching, Marlea felt a fleeting whisper of guilt, but the heat of his hands on her skin brushed it away.
Holding her hips, softly kissing her stomach, slowly working his way down to the groove between her thighs, they shared deep and hungry breath. Moving inward, delicately revealing her, accepting her welcome, he felt her quiver. Rocked by the oceans he stirred within her, she called his name and he clung to the silken bands of her flesh.
In AJ’s arms, pressed beneath the weight of his body, knowing that he was as necessary and as integral as air, Marlea had one thought as she surrendered to all that they shared:
I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Chapter 11
Martha Baldwin was used to the vibe they shared. Goodness knew she’d been around long enough to watch them build their communal bond and to watch them with their children. Not that they were perfect. In fact, some days she wondered why God had trusted them with each other. But other days, it made no sense in the world to wonder if there had ever been anyone else for either of them.
This was one of those days, she noted. Marlea was moving through the kitchen with efficient grace, like a model mommy. But today, Mommy had a bit of an edge. Not one for robes and slippers at breakfast, today was an exception. Her usually sleek hair looked more than a little worse for wear, twisted up from the nape of her neck and clipped high on her head, and every time her eyes touched AJ, the color in her mocha-toned skin went high.
And AJ wasn’t much better, though he’d pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Talking with his son, his voice low and specific, he was a daddy a little boy would always love. He hadn’t shaved yet and his eyes were heavy lidded. Daddy definitely looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
Luring Nia to the table, using her sippy cup as bait, Marlea smiled at AJ and the housekeeper read the subtext.
It must have been a good night, because they both look like they would fall in bed together in a heartbeat.
Martha stirred her eggs and kept her thoughts to herself.
Sliding the eggs onto the warm, waiting plate, she handed them off to Marlea.
So nice to see how far they’ve come to be together like this. To
have and enjoy their children and each other. But it wasn’t always like this.
No, sir!
There was a time when it looked like this little domestic scene didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell. Martha strolled over to the counter and selected a rosy apple from the sterling bowl and found a paring knife in the drawer by her hip.
Yes, child, there was a time…
Martha tucked in her plump bottom lip and held it between her teeth.
It was magic for both of them, almost like catching lightning in a jar, the way they found each other.
Twisting the knife, Martha scooped out the apple’s core, and thought about the man and woman across from her.
She just about ran him off before she understood what he felt for her, but he stuck and stayed, and here they are.
Slicing the apple, Martha slipped a sweet crunchy slice between her lips and considered while she chewed.
Those two were made to be mated, I figure. Rissa and Dench, too, because if the good Lord ever made a woman for any man, then He surely made Rissa for Dench—and vice versa.
Martha managed to keep her eyes on her apple, but she was fully aware of Marlea and AJ talking, teasing, playing, and engaging their children, even as they connected with each other. Intimate as lover’s foreplay, they shared food, newspapers, and coffee and made it look easy and natural in the process.
Feeling every bit the voyeur, Martha Baldwin finished her apple and moved to rinse the plate she’d used. Standing at the granite sink, her back to them, she heard Jabari’s quick laughter. “Mommy kissed Daddy!”
“You think that’s something? Watch Daddy kiss Mommy.”
Nia clapped her hands and laughed, too, imitating her adored brother.
Martha let her eyes drift into the courtyard beyond the kitchen window and smiled.
Sounds like a little privacy might be in order.
Leaving the dishes, Martha moved smoothly to the table and scooped Nia from her booster seat.
Settled on the housekeeper’s hip, Nia smiled. “Store?” she wanted to know. When the housekeeper nodded, the little girl’s face lit up and she swiped her hands over her face. “Me, too?
“As soon as I take care of that potty face,” Martha teased.
“ ’Kay.” Any store was Nia’s favorite place to be—even if it meant additional face washing. “Come on, ’Bari.” She was even willing to share the adventure with her brother.
“Bye, Dad.” Jabari climbed down from his chair and grinned up at his mother. When Marlea closed one eye in a slow wink, his grin widened and he slowly squeezed both eyes tight then opened them wide. “I love you, too.”
Bending to hug him was easy; standing and releasing him was a good bit more difficult, but Marlea managed and waved when he ran off.
“I wonder if he’ll always do that two-eyed wink for you?” AJ opened his arms, then closed them again when Marlea dropped into his lap.
“I hope so,” she said.
“You say that now, but when he’s thirty-five and his wife is giving you the evil eye…”
“I’ll still love it.” Turning slightly, Marlea linked her fingers with AJ’s and they sat together, listening to the sounds of their home.
“Life is more than a little different with kids, huh?”
“But it’s a good different, and I wouldn’t trade anything for them. I wish…”
“What do you wish, Silk?”
“A baby.” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his and smiled. “For Rissa and Dench.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t mind being pregnant again.”
His fingers, warm and strong, squeezed hers gently. “Another baby is not a bad idea. You look good pregnant.”
“Are you sure?” She tilted her head, and he reached out to touch the strands of hair that slipped free to caress her cheek. “You wouldn’t mind me carrying another child?”
“I can’t think of a single reason to mind.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, but…” She slipped her slender hand to his cheek and touched him the way he touched her. “AJ, I don’t think you understand. I promised Rissa that I would talk to you. If I carried another baby, it would be…”
“What has Rissa got to do with us and a baby?”
“A baby?” Before Marlea could answer, Jabari launched himself into the kitchen. “For us?” Climbing onto the chair next to his father, he looked seriously from one parent to the other. “If we have a baby, could it just not be another sister, okay? They’re icky, nothing but trouble.”
Laughing, AJ locked his arms around Marlea and laid his face against hers. “Well, son, sisters can be fun, after you get used to them.”
Jabari made a face. “How long does that take? We’ve had Nia for a long time and look at her!”
“If you think Nia is bad, you should take a look at your Aunt Rissa, and she’s been around a whole lot longer.”
“That’s mean.” Marlea stood, leaning down to kiss both of them. “Sisters are special, and you should both be glad to have them. Daddy loves Aunt Rissa a lot because she’s his sister and he will always love her, just like you’re going to love Nia for the rest of your life.”
“That’s a long, long, long time.” Jabari frowned and raised his eyebrows. “Nia is a girl. Girls are…you know.”
Marlea raised her brows and made the face back at her son. “I know, icky.”
Nodding, Jabari repeated the word. “Icky.”
“Hear that?” AJ laughed. “He learned that in preschool.”
Marlea traced a finger over her son’s face, tenderly touching his brow, his nose, and his lips, making him smile. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see what he learns in kindergarten.”
“Come on, little boy,” Mrs. Baldwin called from the door. “If you want to go to the market with me, let’s go.” Climbing down, the little boy ran for the door, then remembered his mother and father. Running back, he planted sloppy kisses on both of them and cupped his fingers at his mother’s ear. “Becept you, Mommy,” he whispered. “You’re not icky.”
“I know.” When she smiled and winked, he squeezed his eyes closed for her. Opening his eyes, he matched his mother’s smile, then turned and ran, clattering down the hall behind the housekeeper.
“Doing that two-eyed wink thing,” AJ chuckled.
“That’s our firstborn, and it’s sweet,” Marlea sighed, pushing her fingers back into AJ’s hand and holding them there. “That’s what I want for Rissa and Dench. I want us to help them.”
Reaching, AJ pulled her back into his lap and buried his face against her neck, inhaling her scent and absorbing the heat of her.
“I’m serious, AJ. I really want to help.”
“Yeah,” he murmured against the beat of her pulse.
But how?
“AJ, I suggested using a surrogate mother to carry a baby for Rissa and Dench.”
He felt her draw breath and hold it tight.
Where is this going?
“You think that’s a good idea?”
Still tense, Marlea released the breath and drew another. “For them, yes. Rissa wants a baby. She wants a child that shares her blood and Dench’s, and she can’t carry it. She needs an alternative, AJ, and she’s even trying to work through it in therapy.”
AJ felt the quick and dirty thrill of anticipated dread run beneath his skin and tried to dismiss it. He held Marlea tighter. “Still can’t believe she went back.”
“But she did. She went again yesterday, just like she promised that she would, and over time, the therapy will help. Now, at least, she’s thinking about a surrogate, if she and Dench don’t…can’t…”
AJ’s dread gave up on subtlety and stomped through his soul wearing combat boots. The sudden ache he felt fully qualified as gut wrenching, and only intensified when Marlea stiffened in his arms.
“She wants to try again, but if they can’t, then…I…”
And he understood the words she wasn’t able to come right out and say. AJ’s hand went to her cheek, cupping, holding, pleading. “No, Silk. I don’t even want to hear this.”
“Surrogates are not easy to find, and there are so many stories of women doing it for the money and taking families through all kinds of hell. Making it easier for them would be the right thing to do,” she said softly. “AJ, honey, it’s an offer that has to be made.”
That voice, that tone, this depth of her—I wanted this part of her,
he thought, hating the idea that she would even consider sharing herself like this.
If she was fooling around with some man, at least I would know what I was up against, I could fight back. But not this…not even for Rissa and Dench.
Marlea pushed her brows high and sighed. “Nothing is certain yet. She hasn’t even talked to Dench about it, but if it comes to that…” Her trusting brown eyes took a chance and found his. “I promised Rissa I would talk to you. It’s just giving them a chance, AJ.”
Dread, full-blown, slithered into fear. “Is this what you were leading up to last night? Asking me about another baby? Marlea, this is crazy. We’ve got two small children to raise. Did you ever stop to think of how this might affect them?”
“No, I…”
“Don’t you think that maybe you should? How do you expect me to explain something like this?”
“Why do you think you would have to do the explaining?” Confusion followed the sweep of anger in her gaze, but resolution was locked in the set of her mouth. “This is not about you, AJ. And it’s bigger than just our little family. We would all be in this together, and the kids would be fine.”
“How can you say that?”
“Say what?” Marlea swiped at the drops of perspiration she felt lining her upper lip. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Rissa and Dench live fairly public lives, and so do we. How is it going to sound when the kids hear it? When my mother hears it? Jabari will be going to kindergarten soon—kids talk, they repeat things. How about when some kid walks up and says something like, ‘Your mommy is your cousin’s mommy, so is their daddy your uncle? Are your cousins your sister and brother?’ Our kids deserve better than that kind of confusion. It’s wrong.”
Deliberately moving his hands, Marlea freed herself from AJ’s embrace and stood looking down at him. “I don’t know where this is coming from, AJ, but this craziness you’re coming up with is wrong and ridiculous. If I did become Rissa’s surrogate, would you try to make me wear a scarlet letter, too?”
“Will it still be wrong and ridiculous when our kids are joining my crazy sister for family therapy? Think we’ll get a special group rate?” AJ followed her lead, standing to maximize the height difference. He couldn’t stop the fear from morphing into anger. “This is none of our damned business.”
“Well, I’m making it our business, and don’t you call her crazy.” Marlea balled her fists and narrowed her eyes at him. How did this man who inspired such love and passion in her manage to be this infuriating? “Don’t you dare call Rissa crazy. She’s hurt, vulnerable, and scared, but nowhere near crazy, and you know it. Maybe you could dredge up a little empathy if you had been the one carrying the child she lost.”
“So now it takes a uterus to have common sense?” AJ threw his hands up and huffed. “Tell you one thing, wife of mine, if I had a uterus, I would keep it to myself. I wouldn’t be out there trying to share it.”
“Maybe that’s why you didn’t get one,” Marlea muttered. Turning to the table, she refolded the newspaper and began to clear the dishes—anything to end the torture of talking to her husband.
“Look,” he said, swallowing his anger. “Look, let’s just be reasonable.”
“Now you’re going to dictate reason?” Marlea’s eyes cut him into thin slices. “Whatever.”
AJ tried again. “Even if her eggs are viable and could be implanted in you, how could you carry a baby in your body for nine months and then give it away, just set it free, like a puppy or something, even for Rissa and Dench? Marlea, this is not a good idea, and I don’t want you to do it.”
Her fingers fumbled her daughter’s pink sippy cup, splashing juice on the table. “Or what? Are you going to try to forbid me?”
“Do I have to?”
“Selfish,” Marlea whispered. “This is not even a real question yet. I only brought it up because I promised I would, and that’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard of from you or any other human being.”
Turning from her, AJ threw up both hands and started from the room.
“AJ.” Her voice was sharp and her head held high when he turned. “You are my husband, and I love you dearly. God knows I love you to a point of utter stupidity and I would probably follow you to the end of the earth for almost anything else, but you are not the boss of me.”
Knowing that it was more than his long stride distancing him from her, he almost turned back. Then he heard her say, “When and if the time comes to make a decision, I’m going to be on Rissa’s side.”