Something rustled, and then settled. “Gemma? Is this you?” Monty asked.
Her bodywent ice-cold.
He sighed. “Would you knock it off? I know you call once in a while pretending to be a new patient. Give it up. We’re over and I want nothing to do with you.”
Yeah, that’s why he’d sicced a private detective on her a few months ago. At least that guy hadn’t discovered she had a child.
Monty chuckled, and the sound sent chills right to her toes, keeping her trapped in place. “I’m engaged to a wonderful woman—she’ll make a much better wife than you could’ve ever been. Go live your life without me. You lose, I win. Go to hell.”
She ended the call, her hands shaking, and dropped the phone to the table. It clattered and jumped before stopping. She stared at the device as if it could come to life and bite her.
“Mama?” Trudy asked, pausing in her coloring.
Gemma exhaled loudly. Oh. She grabbed the phone and pulled it under the table to tear it apart. “Oops,” she said, making her lips curve in a smile. “Mama is clumsy.” She pulled out the SIM card and set the parts to the side. All right. Monty was in Oregon, not here. Was he really engaged? Was she free? She drew her laptop from the bag and set it to the side on the table, facing her. A quick search of theSeaville Pressbrought up recent engagements.
There he was. Herheart leaped.
Dr. Monty Cameron and Ms. Jennifer Pottsam announce their engagement to be married on June 1.
Gemma sat back, her head reeling. Was it true? Monty appeared happy with his arm around the waist of a petite brunette, who looked as if she had blue eyes. She was smiling, leaning against his chest. In fact, she looked a little like Gemma.
Had Monty changed? Or had he just moved on toanother victim?
Gemma turned back to study him, seeing her daughter’s dimple and the shape of her eyes.
Slowly, she shut the laptop and turned to Trudy. Were they really safe?
For the first time since she’d fled the small Oregon town she let hope start to flicker inside her.
Trudy dropped the crayon and pushed the paper across the table. “Horsie.”
So much love burst through Gemma that she could barely breathe. “Trudy, it’s beautiful. And so are you.”
Trudy grinned. “Mama bootiful. Jet-ro bootiful, too.” She scrunched up her face. “Wish Jet-ro and Rot-co were here.”
“Me too,” Gemma said. She wasn’t ready to take that kind of chance, though.
Probably.
An older man with a cane returned from the restroom and paused by her table. “What a cutie,” he said, his voice hoarse, hisgaze on Trudy.
Gemma smiled. “Thank you.”
He nodded, smiling. “Looks like my granddaughter did when she was young.” He dug in his old man pants and drew out a postcard advertising a local craft show. “She designed this and I’m giving them to everyone. I’m so proud of her.” A dimple appeared in his left cheek and he moved on, hismovements slow.
Gemma looked down at the colorful note card. The old guy had a damn dimple. It was as if the universe was trying to tellher something.
Chapter Eighteen
Jethro sat in his parked truck, in his safe garage, and set his head back on the seat. No doubt the twins were still occupying his apartment, and he needed a few minutes to breathe. After the kiss the previous night, after tasting sweet Gemma’s mouth, the day had been torture for him. He’d spent time in his classes and his office, studiouslyavoiding her.
He couldfeelher in the building all day. Before this semester began he would’ve bet his entire savings—even his hidden accounts—on the fact that he’d never be interested in a cold-looking blonde. Without question, he would’velost that bet.
His dreams had been filled with her, but he’d turned her into a brunette by the ocean. Not only was he losing his mind, he was being a sodding ass about it. Herhair was fine.
It just reminded him too much of his mother’s perfect hairstyle.
He concentrated on relaxing his body, one muscle at a time. Then he closed his eyes and let the memory take him away. The last onehe had of her.
