Same Time, Next Year Read online

  “And Jamie agreed to all this?”

  “She wanted a child.”

  “So they asked you to draw up a contract or something?”

  “Yes, but I have to tell you I had my reservations.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “They have two children now.”

  “Well, this so-called marriage of convenience certainly worked out,” Summer told him.

  “It sure did.”

  While she was looking around the table for anything left to eat, she noticed that James was studying her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “A thousand times better.” She smiled and lowered her voice so he alone could hear. “If what you’re really asking is if I’m well enough to make love, the answer is yes.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “Shall we hurry home, James?”

  “By all means.”

  He paid the tab and they were gone. “You’re sure?” he asked as he unlocked the car door and helped her inside.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, Summer smiled up at her husband. “Am I sure? James, it’s been months since we last made love. I’m so hot for you I could burst into flames.”

  James literally ran around the front of the car. He sped the entire way home, and Summer considered it fortunate that they weren’t stopped by a traffic cop.

  “Torture…every night for the last week,” James mumbled as he pulled into the driveway. “I couldn’t trust myself to even touch you.”

  “I know.”

  Her time in Seattle hadn’t started out well. The first morning, she’d woken and run straight for the bathroom. James helped her off the floor when she’d finished. He’d cradled her in his arms and told her how much he loved her for having their baby.

  Her first few dinners hadn’t stayed down, either. But each day after her arrival, the nausea and episodes of vomiting had become less and less frequent. Now, one week later, she was almost herself again.

  He left the car and came around to her side. When he opened the door, she stepped out and into his embrace—and kissed him.

  James groaned and swung her into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Carrying you over the threshold,” he announced. “You’ve been cheated out of just about everything else when it comes to this marriage.”

  “I haven’t been cheated.”

  “You should’ve had the big church wedding and—”

  “Are we going to argue about that again? Really, James, I’d rather we just made love.”

  He had a problem getting the door unlocked while holding her, but he managed. The minute they were inside, he started kissing her, doing wonderful, erotic things that excited her to the point of desperation.

  Summer kicked off her shoes.

  James kissed her and unsnapped the button to her skirt. The zipper slid down. All the while he was silently urging her toward the stairs.

  Her jacket went next, followed by her shirt.

  She made it to the staircase and held out her hand. James didn’t need any more encouragement than that. They raced to the bedroom together.

  Summer fell on the bed, laughing. “Oh, James, promise you’ll always love me this much.”

  “I promise.” He tried to remove his shirt without taking off his tie, with hilarious results. Arms clutching her stomach, Summer doubled over, laughing even harder. It was out of pure kindness that she climbed off the bed and loosened the tie enough to slip it over his head. Otherwise, she was afraid her normally calm, patient husband would have strangled himself.

  “You think this is funny, do you?”

  “I think you’re the most wonderful man alive. Will you always want me this much?”

  “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” And he proceeded to prove it….

  * * *

  James was half-asleep when he heard the doorbell chime. He would have ignored it, but on the off chance it was someone important, he decided to look outside and see if he recognized the car.

  Big mistake.

  Ralph Southworth was at his door.

  James grabbed his pants, threw on his shirt and kissed Summer on the cheek. Then he hurried down the stairs, taking a second to button his shirt before he opened the door. “Hello, Ralph,” he said, standing, shoes and socks in hand.

  Ralph frowned. “What the hell have you been—never mind, I already know.”

  “Summer’s here.”

  “So I gather.”

  “Give her a few minutes, and she’ll be down so you can meet her,” James told him. He sat in a chair and put on his shoes and socks. “What can I do for you?”

  “A number of things, but mainly I’d…” He hesitated as Summer made her way down the stairs. Her hair was mussed, her eyes soft and glowing.

  “Ralph, this is my wife, Summer,” James said proudly, joining her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Hello, Summer,” Ralph said stiffly.

  “Hello, Ralph.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “Last week. Would you two like some coffee? I’ll make a pot. James, take your friend into the den, why don’t you, and I’ll bring everything in there.”

  James didn’t want his wife waiting on him, but something about the way she spoke told him this wasn’t the time to argue. That was when he saw her skirt draped on a chair, and her jacket on the floor.

  “This way, Ralph,” he said, ushering the other man into the den.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw Summer delicately scoop up various items of clothing, then hurry into the kitchen.

  “Something amuses you?”

  James cleared his throat. “Not really.”

  “First of all, James, I have to question your judgment. When you told me you married a showgirl—”

  “Summer’s an actress.”

  Ralph ignored that. “As I was saying, your judgment appears to be questionable.”

  This was a serious accusation, considering that James was running for a position on the superior court.

  Ralph’s lips were pinched. “It worries me that you’d marry some woman you barely know on the spur of the moment.”

  “Love sometimes happens like that.”

  “Perhaps,” Ralph muttered. “Personally I wouldn’t know, but James, how much younger is she?”

  “Not as much as you think. Nine years.”

  “She’s unsuitable!”

  “For whom? You? Listen, Ralph, I asked you to manage my campaign, not run my life. I married Summer, and she’s going to have my child.”

  “The girl’s pregnant, as well?”

  “Yes, the baby’s due September twenty-third.”

  Ralph’s lips went white with disapproval. “Could she have chosen a more inconvenient date?”

  “I don’t think it really matters.”

  “That’s the primary!”

  “I’m well aware of it.”

  “Good grief, James.” Ralph shook his head. “This won’t do. It just won’t. Once people learn what you’ve done, they’ll assume you were obligated to marry the girl. The last thing we need now is to have your morals questioned.”

  “Ralph, you’re overreacting.”

  “I can’t believe you brought her here, after everything I said.”

  James gritted his teeth. “She’s my wife.”

  Ralph paced back and forth for a moment or two. “I don’t feel I have any choice,” he said with finality.

  “Choice about what?”

  “I’m resigning as your manager.”

  Summer appeared just then, carrying a tray. “Coffee, anyone?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Summer settled easily into life with James. She adored her husband and treasured each moment that they were together.

  Her days quickly began to follow a routine of sorts. She rose early and, because she was feeling better, resumed her regular workout, which included a two-mile run first thing in the morning.

  James insisted o
n running with her, although he made it clear he didn’t like traipsing through dark streets at dawn’s early light. But he wasn’t comfortable with her running alone, so he joined her, protesting every step of the way.

  James was naturally athletic, and Summer didn’t think anyone was more surprised than he was by how enjoyable he started to find it. After their run, they showered together. Thankfully James’s hot-water tank was larger than the meager one back in her Orange County apartment.

  This was both good and bad. The negative was when James, a stickler for punctuality, got to court late two mornings in a row.

  “You shower first,” he told her after their Monday-morning run.

  “Not together?” she asked, disappointed.

  “I can’t be late this morning.”

  “We’ll behave,” she promised.

  James snickered. “I can’t behave with you, Summer. You tempt me too much.”

  “All right, but you shower first, and I’ll get us breakfast.”

  Ten minutes later, he walked into the kitchen, where Summer was pouring two glasses of orange juice. He wore his dark business suit and carried his briefcase, ready for his workday.

  “What are your plans?” he asked, downing the juice as he stood by the table. He sat down to eat his bagel and cream cheese and picked up the paper.

  “I’m going to send Julie a long e-mail. Then I thought I’d stop in at the library and volunteer to read during storytime.”

  “Good idea,” he said, scanning the paper.

  Summer knew reading the paper was part of his morning ritual, which he didn’t have as much time for since her arrival. She drank the last of her juice and kissed his cheek.

  “I’m going upstairs for my shower,” she told him.

  “All right. Have a good day.”

  “I will. Oh, what time will you be home tonight?” she asked.

  “Six or so,” he mumbled absently and turned the front page.

  Summer hesitated. His schedule had changed. Rarely did he get home before eight the first week after she’d moved in. It seemed that every night there was someone to meet, some campaign supporter to talk to, some plan to outline—all to do with the September primary, even though it was still months away.

  In the past week James had come directly home from the courthouse. Not that she was complaining, but she couldn’t help wondering.

  “What about your campaign?” she asked.

  “Everything’s under control,” was all he said.

  Summer wondered.

  All at once James looked up, startled, as if he’d just remembered something. “What day’s your ultrasound?”

  “Thursday of next week. Don’t look so worried. You don’t need to be there.”

  “I want to be there,” he stated emphatically. “Our baby’s first picture. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, I’m curious to find out if we’re going to have a son or daughter.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she said. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I won’t,” he said, chuckling. He reached out to stroke her abdomen. “I can’t believe how much I love this little one, and he isn’t even born yet.”

  “He?” she asked, hands on her hips in mock offense.

  “A daughter would suit me just fine. Actually Dad’s hoping for a granddaughter. It’s been a long time since there’s been a little girl in the family.”

  Summer pressed her hand over her husband’s. She’d never been this happy. It frightened her sometimes. Experience had taught her that happiness almost always came with a price.

  * * *

  Walter joined them for dinner Wednesday evening. From the moment she’d met him, Summer had liked her father-in-law.

  “Did you know Summer could cook this well when you married her?” Walter asked when they’d finished eating.

  She’d found a recipe for a chicken casserole on the Internet and served it with homemade dinner rolls and fresh asparagus, with a fresh fruit salad made of seedless grapes and strawberries. For dessert she picked up a lemon torte at the local bakery.

  “Summer’s full of surprises,” James told his father. His eyes briefly met hers.

  “What he’s trying to say is no one knew how fertile I was, either.”

  “That’s the best surprise yet,” Walter said. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin in a blatant effort to hide a smile.

  “It certainly is,” James put in.

  Walter studied her. “How are you feeling these days?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “What’s the doctor have to say?”

  “That I’m in excellent health. The baby’s growing by leaps and bounds. I haven’t felt him move yet, but—”

  “Him?” James and Walter chimed in simultaneously.

  “Or her,” she retorted, smiling. She stood and started to clear the table.

  “Let me do that,” James insisted.

  “I’m not helpless, you know,” Walter added.

  Both men leapt from their chairs.

  “Go have your coffee,” Summer told them. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to deal with the dishes.”

  Walter shrugged, then looked at his son. “There are a few things I need to discuss with James,” he said.

  “Then off with you.” She shooed them out of the kitchen.

  James poured two cups of coffee and took them into the living room. He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “You’re sure?”

  “James, honestly! Go talk to your father.”

  Although she didn’t know Walter well, she sensed that something was on his mind. Throughout the meal she’d noticed the way he watched his son. James was acting odd, too.

  Walter wanted to discuss the campaign, but every time he’d introduced the subject, James expertly changed it. He did it cleverly, but Walter had noticed, and after a while Summer had, too.

  She ran tap water to rinse off the dinner plates before putting them in the dishwasher, and when she turned off the faucet she heard the end of James’s comment.

  “…Summer doesn’t know.”

  She hesitated. Apparently the two men didn’t realize how well their voices carried. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it did seem only fair to listen, since she was the topic of conversation.

  “What do you plan to do about it?” his father asked.

  It took James a long time to answer. “I haven’t decided.”

  “Have you tried reasoning with him?”

  “No,” James answered bitterly. “The man said he has doubts about my judgment. He’s insulted me, insulted my wife. I don’t need Southworth if he’s got an attitude like that.”

  “But you will need a campaign manager.”

  “Yes,” James admitted reluctantly.

  So that was what this was about. Summer leaned against the kitchen counter and closed her eyes. Ralph had resigned, and from the evidence she’d seen, James had, too. Resigned himself to losing, even before the election. It didn’t sound like him.

  “What’s the problem?” Walter asked as if reading Summer’s mind.

  James lowered his voice substantially, and Summer had to strain to hear him. “He disapproves of Summer.”

  “What?” Walter had no such compunction about keeping quiet. “The man’s crazy!”

  “I’ve made a series of mistakes,” James said.

  “Mistakes?”

  “With Summer.”

  The world collapsed, like a house falling in on itself. Summer struggled toward a chair and literally fell into it.

  “I should never have married her the way I did,” James elaborated. “I cheated her out of the wedding she deserved. I don’t know if her mother’s forgiven me yet. The last I heard, her family’s planning a reception in November. By then the baby will be here and, well, it seems a little after the fact.”

  “You can’t blame Summer for that.”

  “I don’t,” James remarked tartly. “I blame myself. In retrospect I realize I was afraid of
losing her. So I insisted on the marriage before she could change her mind.”

  “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with Ralph,” Walter muttered.

  “Ralph thinks Summer’s too young for me.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “He also seems to think I’ve done myself harm by not letting everyone know immediately that I was married. Bringing Summer here to live with me now, pregnant, and saying we’ve been married all along, is apparently too convenient to believe.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You and I know that, but there’s already speculation.”

  “So? People will always talk. Let them. But you’ve got to do something about getting this campaign organized. There are worse things you could be accused of than marrying in secret or getting Summer pregnant before your wedding day. As far as I’m concerned, Southworth’s looking for excuses.”

  “I refuse to subject Summer to that kind of speculation,” James said stubbornly.

  “Have you talked this over with her?”

  “Not yet…”

  “You haven’t?”

  “I know, I know.” The defeatist attitude was back in James’s voice. “I’ve put it off longer than I should have.”

  After that, Summer didn’t hear much more of the conversation between father and son. Their marriage had hurt her husband; it might have robbed him of his dreams, cheated him out of his goals.

  The phone rang long before she had time to gather her thoughts. “I’ll get it,” she called out to James, and reached for the extension in the kitchen. Her hand trembled as she lifted the receiver.

  “Hello,” she said, her voice weak.

  “Hello,” came the soft feminine reply. “You don’t know me. My name’s Christy Manning Franklin.”

  “Christy…Manning?” Summer said, stunned. She hadn’t recovered from one shock before she was hit with another. “Just a moment. I’ll get James.”

  “No, please. It’s you I want to talk to.”

  “Me?”