A Love So Strong Page 6

  Jase had intercepted Tommy. I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s not ready to learn about those kinds of things.

  Molly held Jill’s gaze. "She’s Logan’s baby."

  "She? You know you’re having a girl?"

  "Yeah. I had a blood test at fifteen weeks."

  And she’d cried when she’d found out Jase McKay was going to have a daughter.

  The doorbell chimed, the normally soft sound like a gunshot in the quiet apartment. Jill stiffened.

  "It’s okay. I knew he’d come sometime. He won’t let this go until we have it out privately."

  Jill and Molly rose. Saying a silent prayer for help, Molly crossed the room and opened the door. Her heart twisted in her chest when she saw him standing in the archway. His face was as ravaged as the day he’d told her they were through. "Hello, Jay."

  "Mol." He swallowed hard, his throat working convulsively. "Can I come in?"

  "Yes."

  His shoulders were slumped as he entered the apartment. He didn’t sit, just stuck his hands in his pockets and watched her. Her sister glared at him.

  "Jilly? You need to leave."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes." She kissed Jill’s cheek and ushered her out the door. When she turned around, Jase was staring at her.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  Looking away, she nodded. "I’m having some tea. It calms my stomach."

  "Have you been sick?"

  "No, not too bad. Tension makes me queasy."

  He said, "I’m sorry if I’ve made you tense."

  "Are you?"

  "Of course."

  She crossed to the couch, dropped down on the stuffed cushions and folded her shaky legs under her. Lifting her cup, she warmed her hands on the outside. "Then let all this go."

  He knelt down in front of her. Again, his nearness poleaxed her. His shoulders were so big and solid, his chest inviting her to cuddle. In a gesture that made her eyes sting, he reached out, cradled her stomach—where his daughter slept. "I can’t let this go. You know that."

  "Logan Kane is the father of this child."

  "You wouldn’t sleep with somebody else so soon." His tender gaze locked with hers. Gently, he pressed his hand into her. "I haven’t been with anybody, either, since you and I were together."

  She didn’t want to know this. "Maybe you haven’t been with someone else because you weren’t hurting so much that you didn’t care if you died."

  His eyes turned bleak. "I was hurting that much."

  She never expected this. And his confession made her angry. She pushed his hand away, unbalancing him. Rising abruptly, she stalked to the other side of the room and rounded on him. "Don’t tell me that, don’t you dare tell me that. You broke my heart."

  He stood. "I broke my own, too."

  "I don’t want to hear this."

  "I came back. Did your new boyfriend tell you that?"

  Molly, you need to know something, now that you’re better. McKay came back. He said he wasn’t sure about what he’d done. You were so sick I sent him away.

  You did the right thing, Logan. He doesn’t love me enough, and that’s all that matters.

  "Yes, of course he told me. It doesn’t matter."

  "Molly, there’s a baby to consider now. We have to try again. Do better this time accepting each other’s differences."

  "No."

  "I’m begging you."

  "No."

  His hands fisted at his sides. "And what if I don’t accept this?"

  "I’m afraid you don’t have any choice."

  "Don’t I?" More in control, he covered the distance between them. So she backed up until she hit the wall. His forehead met hers, and he curled his hand at the back of her neck. Without her mind’s consent, she leaned into him. "I don’t want to hurt you again, sweetheart. But I won’t let you do this." Pulling back, he kissed her hair. "I made the biggest mistake of my life by walking away from you. I’m not going to do it again."

  With that he was gone.

  oOo

  Jase’s words haunted Molly for days afterward. She worried constantly about what he’d do. While she was helping a customer, Nora Whitman, the former proprietor of Serenity House, who often frequented Natural Options, she found out.

  "Try this lotion, Nora. It’s supposed to work miracles."

  "I will." Nora took the cream. "Thanks."

  A man entered the store and approached the counter. "Margaret Kimball?"

  "Yes?"

  He handed her an envelope. "This is a legal summons. Sign here, please, for authentication of receipt."

  By rote, she scrawled her signature and he left.

  Molly ripped open the letter. She read the three lines quickly. And wavered on her feet. "Oh my God."

  Nora grasped her arm. "Molly, dear, are you all right?"

  All right? She was never going to be all right again.

  oOo

  "What do you mean she’s gone?" Jase had entered Jill’s office three days after he’d gotten a judge friend of his to issue a paternity-test order, only to be told Molly had left town.

  Jill bridled. "My sister’s left Hyde Point." She held up a paper. "Now, by ignoring this order, she’s broken the law, thanks to you."

  His heartbeat speeded up. "Where is she?"

  "I don’t know. She didn’t tell me, so I won’t be an accessory." Jill straightened. Her face was pale, and she looked thin and fragile. Riley was going to kill him for causing Jill grief. "Why the hell did you do this?"

  He raked a hand through his hair, feeling his stomach clamp into knots. "Look, I tried three times to talk to her again after that night in her apartment. She refused to even see me." In truth, he’d second-guessed his decision to get the order but he was petrified of losing her. And every day, he felt more and more like the insensitive lawyer husband from Barefoot in the Park. "So I decided to force her hand." Actually, he’d gone to Thomas for advice. Said he had a client who wanted proof of paternity from his estranged wife and asked what would be the best way to get it.

  "You are an absolute jerk, you know that?" She tossed the paper on the floor. "God, I’m so worried about her."

  "I’m sorry, Jill. This isn’t good for your baby."

  Tears clouded Jill’s eyes. "Or Molly’s baby. She’s running around alone somewhere pregnant with no one to take care of her."

  The thought gutted him. "Maybe she’s with Kane. I went to see him, but he’s out of town." Though he hated that Molly would turn to another man, he’d rather that than she was alone.

  I’ve been alone all my life, Jay.

  You had Jill.

  Jill had her own demons to fight. Besides I left home when I was seventeen because I couldn’t be what my parents wanted me to be.

  It hadn’t hit him until later that was exactly what he’d done to her.

  "Logan went out of town the night of our party. No, Molly’s alone."

  "What’s going on in here?" Riley appeared at the door. He took one look at his wife and said, "Oh, God, Jilly, are you…" He strode over to her. "Honey, is it the baby?"

  Burrowing into him, she shook her head. "Molly’s gone." She explained the situation to him.

  Riley turned to Jase. "Shit, Jase, what were you thinking?"

  "I want her back. She won’t talk to me, let alone discuss the baby."

  "This is a hell of a way to accomplish that goal." He cuddled Jill close. "Come on. I’m taking you home."

  Before Jase could apologize to his friend, the Sullivans left. He picked up the papers Jill let drop and sank onto her couch. He read the order. Hell, he could see why she’d run. Damn, he’d made another bad decision.

  Despondent, he sat on the chair in front of her desk. His father’s litany ran through his head.

  Never show weakness.

  Never let anyone in. When they turn on you, they’ll have ammunition.

  You’re only worth what reputation is worth.

  Overcome by what had stilted him in
the first place, he jumped when a secretary knocked on Jill’s door. "Hey, Jase, is Jill here?"

  "No. Jill wasn’t feeling well." Because of me. "Riley took her home."

  "Oh dear. Is she all right?"

  "Yeah, mostly tired."

  She held up a FedEx letter. "This came for her, stamped urgent."

  He held out his hand. “I’ll take it over to them." It was the least he could do.

  When Pam left, he idly looked down. For some reason, he checked the return address. Holy shit.

  Well, at least he knew where Molly was.

  oOo

  Paris was cool on this mid-September morning. Jase had flown all night, landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport at seven a.m., and gotten a cab. Amidst the honking and blaring of early-morning traffic, he’d been deposited at 16, rue Poulbot in the Montmartre section of the city by a taxi driver who didn’t speak English. Jase had no idea how much he’d paid for the ride.

  He stared up at the narrow stone building, on the cobbled side street three blocks from Sacré-Coeur, where Jill had stayed with the elderly shopkeepers when she’d fled here after her separation from Riley. Molly had come to this place because of Jill.

  Jill, the note inside the FedEx envelope read. Don’t panic. I’m safe in Paris, boarding with the lovely old couple you lived with. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but I was trying to protect you. I can’t stay in Hyde Point. I’ve been in touch with Logan, and he’ll take care of the business when he gets back in town. I’ll call soon. Don’t worry, I’m fine.

  God, Jase had driven Molly halfway around the world. What the hell was wrong with him?

  You know your problem, Jay?

  I know what it is, Molly. I’m too uptight. I’m working on that.

  You never live in the moment.

  He’d bristled. You want me to act like the guy in the end of that movie, don’t you? Where he has an epiphany and takes his shoes off and walks barefoot in central park to show her he’s changed.

  I want you to be a little more spontaneous.

  Well, this trip sure as hell was spontaneous. He’d talked to Nathan Hyde, the senior partner of the firm, and said it was an emergency and he needed to go out of town immediately. He’d been vague with the Stevens, asking them to take Tommy. The hardest thing had been leaving his son.

  "Where you going, Daddy?"

  "I have business in Paris."

  "Can I come?"

  "No, but I’ll bring you back a surprise."

  He was hoping that surprise would be Molly. Tommy really liked her and still asked about her often.

  Squaring his shoulders, Jase opened a street-level door and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The hallway was clean, and the wood banister carried the scent of furniture polish. Two apartments faced each other. He knocked on 2A. No answer. He checked his watch. Eight. She might still be sleeping. Pregnant women got tired. And he hadn’t been there to tuck her into bed, to fix her tea, to rub her back when it hurt. Could he ever make up for all this? He damned himself for not being more of what she needed.

  He knocked again. And again. Finally, the door squeaked ajar. At least she had a safety chain on it. "Oh, my God."

  "Molly." He could barely see her through the crack. "Hi, sweetheart."

  "Wh…" She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

  Her voice was scratchy, as though she were well acquainted with Marlboros.

  "I came to see you." He rapped lightly on the wood. "Let me in, love."

  Leaning her head against the door, she whispered, "I can’t do this. Not now."

  What did that mean? The door creaked open a slice more, and he got a better look at her. Her face was flushed and sweaty, her dark eyes glazed. Fear struck him like lightning. Please, God, don’t let her have come to Paris for an abortion.

  "Mol, let me in."

  She coughed.

  "Please, you’re sick, aren’t you?"

  "Yes." She must have been weak as hell because she unlatched the door and literally fell into his arms. He held on to her for a minute, then lifted her into a carry. Kicking his bag inside, he closed the door and crossed to the couch. He lay her down on it and felt her face. It was warm. "Molly, sweetheart, what happened?

  "I caught some bug."

  He let out a relieved breath that his child was safe. "Have you seen a doctor?"

  She licked her lips. They were parched and cracked. Picking up a glass of water, he held it to her mouth. She sipped, than sank back on the pillow. "Yes. The shopkeepers Jill knew took me to their doctor. He says there’s a bug going around. I probably have it."

  "Did he give you any medicine?"

  "No, it’s viral and has to run its course."

  "What about something for the fever?"

  She gripped his arm. "He told me to take some ibuprofen, but I can’t, Jay. It could hurt the baby."

  "Molly, you can’t let a fever go unchecked."

  "It’s not that high." It wasn’t, only a hundred and one when he took it, but she had to be hurting.

  "You should take something."

  "No."

  Of course she wouldn’t. The woman wouldn’t even eat red meat. She’d be vigilant about this kid. Since he knew in his heart it was his, he wanted her to be. But she was clearly suffering.

  "How long has this gone on?"

  "I’ve been sick since yesterday."

  "All right. We’ll give it today. If the fever doesn’t break, I’m force-feeding you Tylenol."

  It didn’t break by seven p.m. Jase was beside himself. He’d been bathing her with tepid water to lower her temperature, giving her liquids, which she miraculously kept down, but the fever hadn’t broken. He came into the bedroom with the medicine. "You’ve got to take this, Mol. Now."

  Her eyes still cloudy, her hair damp around her face, she tried to lie. "I feel better."

  "No, love, you don’t. Besides, I checked the Internet on my cell phone. Aspirin or some other analgesic won’t hurt a fetus."

  "No drugs."

  "Mol. I won’t take no for an answer. Your health is at stake."

  She grasped his hand surprisingly hard. "The health of your baby is at stake."

  "You’re not thinking clear—" He stopped. "My baby?"

  She sank back into the pillow. "Please, Jay, you can’t want me to risk your daughter’s welfare."

  Stunned, he gripped her hand. "My daughter?"

  "Uh-huh. I had the blood test."

  He laid his forehead against hers. "Oh, Molly."

  "Please, hold off on the medicine just a bit longer."

  "Okay." Drawing back, he stood. His legs were wobbly. "I’ll get more water to bathe you." He kissed her head. "But only a few more hours."

  Like a man in a trance, he made his way to the tiny bathroom, dropped down on the toilet seat, trying to gain control. He was going to have a daughter. His first thought was that he’d curb his need for order, for respectability and reputation. Oh, God. Why hadn’t he seen that before?

  He stayed there a minute, then stood. Fine. Now he knew for sure. Now he needed to plan for how he was going to make everything all right.

  One thing was for certain. No way on earth was he letting Molly or his daughter go.

  oOo

  Jase sidled up to Molly on the top level of the Arc de Triomphe, a roof-like setting with iron spindles around the perimeter. The structure had been commissioned by Napoleon as a monument to France’s war veterans. Hers and Jase’s own private battle had been declared a truce.

  He’d nursed her through the flu—sans fever medicine—helped her bathe, cooked her vegetarian food and slept on the couch for two nights. Once she’d recovered, he’d begged her to let him spend more time with her. No discussions, no decisions, just time for them both to heal and relax before any more of the war followed. Molly simply couldn’t resist.

  "Here, let me show you." He pointed out over the sprawling metropolis. Since he’d studied international law in Paris at one point in his
college career, he was well acquainted with the city. "Those are the six areas of the city. See how the streets are divided." They looked like the spokes of a bike, encircling the famous landmark.

  She couldn’t help but lean back into him. As a soft wind lifted her hair, he secured the fall jacket he’d bought her at a French department store more closely around her. She smiled. "It’s breathtaking up here."

  He nuzzled her neck from behind. His mouth on her was familiar. Exciting. "Hmm. You’re breathtaking."

  "Paris is really going to your head."

  "You’re going to my head. Like you always did."

  Tugging her around, he pulled her close again. She burrowed into him. The leather blazer he’d purchased on a side street near the Sorbonne was buttery smooth against her cheek. With his dark hair and dramatic blue eyes, he looked good in the sports coat and the black T-shirt and pants he wore beneath. No doubt about it, Jase McKay was cover-model attractive in what she called his Paris clothes.

  Her cheek on his chest, she could feel his heart beat steadily under her ear. "Tired?"

  "No." She inhaled him. He wore a different cologne, one he’d gotten here. It was woodsy. "Where are we going next?"

  "The Musée d’Orsay." He grabbed her hand and held on tight as he went ahead of her down the narrow stone circular staircase they’d had to climb to get up here. Their feet clattered on the steps. The structure reminded her of a medieval castle. Outside, he hailed a cab, and they arrived at 62, rue de Lille in minutes.

  Molly gasped when she entered the cavernous, modern structure. The gallery’s first-floor entry was filled with arches and glass and exhibits. She perused the brochure and noted the impressionist collection the place housed.

  "Jay, you don’t like this era of art."

  "But you do."

  "All right. Only if we can go to the Louvre next." Though she’d never been to Paris before, Molly had read that museum housed mostly classical artifacts.

  "You’re on, love."

  And so they oohed and aahed over Degas’s The Dance Class and Van Gogh’s Bedroom at Arles. Then they took a cab to the Louvre, a stunning structure with a huge glass pyramid as its entrance, to see the Mona Lisa and the Venus di Milo.

  By the time they got back to the apartment, she was dragging. When he tucked her into bed for a nap, she grabbed his hand and held it close to her heart.