“I don’t even have your phone number,” he said. “Or know your last name.”
She hid her wince. “Would you really call me?”
He nodded with less assurance than he probably meant to reveal before shrugging. “I’d like to have the option.”
Ginger swallowed her hurt.
“I don’t have a phone installed yet, and I’ll be getting a different cell number with the 816 area code. I came up this week with the movers to get the house settled and meet some of my coworkers.” He ran a hand over his face. “Y’all have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? We didn’t exactly exchange information.”
“You work in the R&D Department at Riley & Ross Electronics. You’re the new guy from Alabama.”
“Atlanta, actually, and how did you know?”
Ah. Being from the most cosmopolitan city in the South explained his lack of a heavy accent. “I asked about you.”
He nodded. “That would be safe.”
As though she’d thought of safety. It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. And this was turning out to be not so simple, either.
“But I’m still pretty much a stranger around these parts,” he added.
“Not to me.” Ginger closed her eyes even before his surprised grunt of laughter reached her ears. How embarrassing.
“I guess that’s true.”
She bent over the desk and scribbled her name and phone number. “If you decide to call.”
“It might be a while. I have to move more furniture in the next weeks, then get settled in.”
She forced a bright, fake smile. “After the New Year, then.”
“I’m serious, Ginger.”
Exactly the problem. She closed the door quietly behind her. Scott was a serious guy. The kind who’d want a relationship, which, if it worked out, should lead to marriage and a houseful of kids.
Which just wasn’t possible with her.
SCOTT ROSE TO USE THE BATHROOM, shaking his head. Maybe Ginger hadn’t had the same soul-shaking experience he’d had. To her it might have been just sex.
To him … Well, he couldn’t define it. He scratched his chest and picked up the notepad containing her number, wanting to put it somewhere secure. He frowned. She’d only written her first name and a phone number. Didn’t she trust him to know her full identity, even after sleeping together? Would he call the number and reach a pizza joint?
Would he even call the number to find out?
He ran a hand over his jaw as he glanced at the bed, feeling slightly sick at the warm, rumpled sheets with their scent of sex. He’d cheated on his wife. Not in actuality, considering the circumstances, but guilt churned in his gut anyway. He hadn’t so much as kissed anyone except Samantha since they’d met over six years before.
He’d enjoyed the time spent with Ginger and wanted to take her to bed again. Both feelings intensified his shame.
His hand crumpled the notepaper into a ball. The next weeks’ obligations made it impossible to call her anyway. First, he’d be in Georgia, packing up and trying to celebrate one last Christmas with the girls in the only home they knew. He wanted to make this year special, despite the confusion and grief and awkwardness of their changed circumstances. He’d do his best to make it seem normal, to continue the traditions he’d never paid much attention to. Samantha had always handled it, just as she had done everything where the girls were concerned.
Then he would bring his daughters to their new home with him here in Missouri. He’d just enrolled Shelby in second grade and Serena in the day care his boss’s mother owned. He’d endure their tears and tantrums, and Shelby declaring him “the worst father ever” for making her leave her friends in Powder Hill. His kid had a smart mouth for a seven-year-old, he thought with a smile. No doubt her teenage babysitter, whom the girls had spent too much time with during the past several months, had been a poor influence. But that would change now. Everything would change now.
God help them, every one!
“SO, WHO WAS HE?”
Ginger rolled her eyes at Lisa’s question, the smell of yeast making her stomach rumble. Her friend kneaded bread dough in her bakery kitchen, looking like a fifties mom in her patterned apron. She’d scraped her blond hair back into a ponytail that made her appear closer to seventeen than twenty-seven.
Lisa had made a success catering sweets and desserts for parties and special events. The kitchen she’d built in her basement declared it as a place of business: clean, efficient and utilitarian. Stainless steel appliances stood in sleek lines, but touches of Lisa’s personality showed in the bright yellow walls with stenciled cherry stems.
Ginger stood on the outside of the wraparound counter and watched Lisa move with unconscious grace and skill. The question didn’t surprise her; after leaving the party the night before, she owed her friend an explanation and reassurance. That didn’t mean Ginger had to like it. “What makes you think there was a ‘he’?”
“Joe told me.”
Of course he had. Ginger had expected no less. “It was the new guy in Dylan’s department. Scott.”
“I figured, since that’s who you’d set your sights on.” Lisa punched the dough with a strong fist. “And? What’s he like?”
“Really, Lisa. Comparing notes this early in your marriage? I doubt Joe would thank me for telling you.”
“Don’t be snotty.”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
Lisa peered at her. “Did you do more than kiss him?”
Ginger didn’t speak as memories flooded her: Scott’s strong, tanned hands caressing her body, his lips delighting every nerve ending, his careful tending to her needs before his and his gentle ways of loving.
Lisa stilled. “Ginger, I worry about you. It was no big deal when you took home guys you’ve known all your life. But this …”
“It’s my own business who I go home with.”
Lisa glared at her. “I’m your friend. I love you enough to make you mad at me. Even to lose your friendship if it’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m safe.”
“I’m not talking about safe sex, although I’m glad to hear you haven’t completely lost your mind.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ginger would be angrier if she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Especially since sleeping with Scott a few hours before. That had been a huge mistake, although she didn’t regret having earth-shattering sex. But the shattering of her peace of mind since then worried her. She didn’t want him to know about the guys she’d been with in the past year, trying to appease her loneliness. Being with someone occasionally had helped her get through Kyle’s leaving.
They had been married, happily she’d thought, for four years. Now she was alone. If hooking up with a nice, single guy once or twice a month alleviated her melancholy for a few hours, who did it hurt?
But being with Scott changed that. She cringed to think he’d find out she’d been what her mother would call “loose with her affections.” Not that she had. She’d kept a tight rein on her heart, or rather, the pieces of it she had left after Kyle rejected her.
Because she couldn’t have children.
Ginger tried to suppress the constant ache the thought produced. She couldn’t forget. Her infertility was as much