Infamous (12 page)

She had cleaned up her act, but she had never gotten around to cleaning up her image. Until now, there had been no reason. Everyone wanted to read books by party-girl Jessica Sinclair. What would her fans do if they found out she was usually in bed by midnight?

The last of the pins came out. She was in her gown and robe. Her makeup had already been removed. She stared at herself in the mirror. Morgan was already pulling back the blankets and climbing into bed. She was not a coward. She was going to have to join him.

Bad-girl Jessica had deserted her. She wasn’t up for games or confrontation tonight. She certainly wasn’t up to playing the grateful trophy wife. All the power play and games had been designed to get under Morgan’s skin, to burrow in close to his heart. Right now, they seemed pointless and silly.

She reached for the clasp on the bracelet. No. She let her hand fall. She would wear it to bed. Let Morgan see it on her wrist. She made her way into the bedroom and slipped out of the robe. Turning out the bedside lamp, she curled on her side away from him. She wasn’t for sale, no matter what he thought.

For what seemed like a long time they lay apart, separated by the wide expanse of the king-sized bed. Then she felt the mattress shift and his arm snaked around her, spooning her into his body. One big hand came up to stroke her head. Despite herself, she began to relax against him. The warmth of his hand against her temple seemed to leech some of the tension away and she drifted to sleep in his arms.

• • •

Jessica looked up when she heard the enthusiastic barking. It was Sandy’s nightly “welcome home, Morgan” ritual. Crap, it was already after six. She rubbed her eyes. Apparently writing half-truths and innuendo worked best when she was an emotional wreck.
Shit in, shit out.

The words had poured onto the screen today and she had lost track of time. She wasn’t sure where the book was going, either. She had veered way off the outline. Janet, her alter ego, had barely made an appearance.

Poor Morgan, no June Cleaver waiting with supper. Why had she told Mrs. Henson she would take over meal preparation? It would have to be something prepackaged from the freezer or delivery. Kinsey wouldn’t mind, but Morgan would make noises about fat content and additives.

She ran a hand through her hair, pulling out the elastic band and dropping it onto the desktop. Not likely she could use her feminine wiles to lure him into overlooking her wifely deficiencies today. No makeup, a soft vintage T-shirt that had seen better days, and, she sniffed an underarm, she
had
showered this morning, right? The heavy diamond bracelet slid along her arm. She hadn’t taken if off since Morgan put it there Saturday night. It was some kind of statement, she just wasn’t sure of what.

The phone was ringing as she made her way into the kitchen. Morgan plucked it from the base and gave the caller ID a narrow-eyed look. After a terse greeting he thrust it at her without a word. His dark eyes raked over her, silently disapproving of the new and scruffy Jessica.

“Hullo, luv,” the amused voice rolled out of the receiver.

Jessica sighed. A pulse began to throb at one temple. She did not want to deal with Mason right now. She turned away from Morgan, shrugging the phone onto her shoulder as she opened the freezer and rooted through the contents. Luckily, Mason was perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation with no help from her. She listened with half an ear until the conversation turned to the fundraiser he had been hounding her to attend for the past few days.

“We’ve already discussed this.”

“Well, I know, sweetie, but — ”

Irritated, she cut him off, “Mason, Morgan just got home and I’m making supper, we’ll have to talk about this later.” With a determined click, she disconnected the call.

She turned around to put the phone back on the base and almost bumped into Morgan. He was standing at the counter, rifling through a stack of mail she had left on the island.

“Why is Knight calling you?”

“We talk almost every day. When he’s not working, Mason’s pathologically incapable of being alone with himself. If he’s not with someone, he calls everyone on his contact list until he finds someone who won’t hang up on him.”

She slanted him a look. “Don’t give him your cell number.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said without turning around.

“Only a little.”

“Where’s his wife?”

She hesitated, then told a small part of the truth. “I think they’re having a few problems.”

Morgan continued to sort mail, half turned away from her. “So what was he on about this time?”

She frowned at his back. Why was he pursuing this?

“There’s a fundraiser Friday he wants me to go to.”

“I see.”

See what?
She plopped two frozen cartons on the island. “Enchiladas or meatloaf?”

Morgan tapped the meatloaf and then turned to face her.

“What did you say?”

“About what?”

“The fundraiser thing Friday night.”

His gaze bored into hers, and he seemed to loom over her. She took a step back. Were they talking about the same thing? Morgan couldn’t be interested in attending the fundraiser on Friday. Not for a charity he had already made a substantial donation to. Unless … her heart skipped … he wasn’t really interested in Susan? He had admired her Saturday night and made a ridiculously large pledge to her charity … and she had just told him Susan wasn’t happy in her marriage. Was he looking for an excuse to see her again?

She snatched the enchiladas off the island and crammed them back into the freezer. “We can go if you want.”
Over her dead body
. “But it’s going to last half the night.”

“We …the two of
us
?”

He wasn’t going without her!

“I would have to get a new outfit.”

“Jessica,” he sounded impatient. “What did you tell Mason?”

She ripped the cellophane off the meatloaf carton. “Kinsey’s got her belt test in Karate on Saturday morning.”

“Jessica … .” He closed his eyes. “Just. Answer. The. Question.”

“I thought it would be a good idea for us to all stay home, carb load, maybe cook pasta or something,” she said in a rush.

She risked a glance back at Morgan to gauge his reaction. He was leaning against the island and looked … surprised? Did he think she had forgotten the belt test? At least he wasn’t looming.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re right.
We’ll
stay home with Kinsey Friday night.”

• • •

Morgan’s thumb pounded rapid-fire against the button on the game controller. Next to him on the sofa, Kinsey eeeped. He heard her fingers beating the same rapid tattoo. He probably shouldn’t allow Kinsey to play such a violent game, but since Jessica had bought it, it had been Kinsey’s favorite activity in the evening either before or after supper.

Jessica had pooh-poohed the whole violence argument. This was the most popular game in Kinsey’s age group. Kinsey, Jessica assured him, was a bright kid. She was not going to confuse the halls of her very exclusive prep school with the zombie-infested halls in the game.

He had given in. Parenting groups were split on the issue after all, and the game
was
a bestseller.

“Dad, watch out — zombie dog at one o’clock!” Kinsey’s avatar unloaded her flamethrower into the door ahead and to his right.

“Good shooting, pumpkin.”

Anyway, killing zombies suited his mood right now. Killing zombies made
sense
. It was more than he could say about other portions of his life at the moment.

He checked the map display in the corner of the screen. They were right on track for clearing out this area and progressing to the next level of the game. Each level had a clear goal. All you had to do was complete the objectives and the game progressed.

“We still have one room to clear out on this level,” he reminded Kinsey. “Want me to go in first?”

Morgan liked clear objectives and organized plans. He was successful at what he did because he followed a logical strategy. For each client, he evaluated the business plan and market position, audited the books, and ran a complete background check on the principals and management structure. At the end, he either had a plan for bringing the company to profitability, or he would recommend the owners liquidate.

“Uh, uh.” Kinsey was already moving her character forward. “I want to do this one.”

He sighed and tried to tamp down on his protective instincts. If the game followed its usual pattern, the last room on the level would be the worst. Kinsey was stepping into a nest of zombies. It was just a game, he reminded himself.

Jessica, he had discovered, was nowhere near as predictable as the game. He reviewed the past few weeks in his head trying to fit events into a logical cause and effect sequence. No matter how many times he tried, it just didn’t work. Jessica was a whole maze of zombie infested rooms with no map and no exit strategy to the next level.

Tonight was a case in point. She was obviously regretting her reunion with him. Since seeing Knight Saturday, they hadn’t made love. She looked pale and tired when he came home at night. Knight’s marriage was in trouble and he called her every day. All the logic was adding up to one conclusion: the fundraiser was the perfect excuse for her to sneak off with Knight to offer a little understanding and consolation. Instead, she wanted to stay in and make pasta. What was he missing?

On screen, Kinsey launched a grenade into the final room and opened fire with the flamethrower. Morgan darted behind her, moving for cover behind a crate and arming his rocket launcher. Chaos erupted on the giant plasma screen.

“Cover me, Dad, I’m going for the big guy,” Kinsey screamed.

He smothered a curse. He was out of rockets. Grimly, he switched to his chainsaw and waded into the horde of zombies descending on Kinsey. His health was flashing in the red zone, but maybe she could still get the kill.

Ten seconds later, Kinsey whooped and pumped her controller into the air as the master zombie exploded into flaming debris. “We did it, Dad!” She shot across the sofa to give him an exuberant high-five then did a little victory dance. “I killed the zombie.” Shake, shake, shake. “I killed the zombie.”

He grinned at her. “All right, killer, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

“Aww, Dad, can’t we just check out the next level.”

“We agreed only one hour a night.”

Kinsey pouted a little and then capitulated. “Okay, I’m going to call Rachel and see what level she’s on. I bet we’re ahead of her now and she’s been playing longer.” She bounced out of the room.

Morgan began stowing the controllers back into the entertainment center and prepared to switch on the nightly news. Glancing up, he saw Jessica standing in the doorway.

“Good game?” she asked.

“My daughter the zombie killer — it wasn’t the career plan I had in mind, but I guess it works for now.”

“Admit it. You were enjoying yourself, too.”

“I guess.”

She was still hovering in the doorway.

“I was just going to turn on the news, want to join me?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to wrap up a few things in my office, some e-mails and stuff.”

Well, that was that. She was probably e-mailing Knight. Any reason she had for staying home Friday was centered on Kinsey. Spending time alone with him was still not high on the priority list. He had allowed himself some vague optimism that he had misread the situation with Knight. Now he didn’t know what to think.

On T.V., the talking head was re-capping a speech by the governor. Morgan tuned her out. Every problem had a solution. Systematically he reviewed the facts. Knight was no good for Jessica — he just encouraged her wild streak. He and Kinsey were good for her — Jessica was safe out here with them. Given time, he knew he could make her happy. Jessica was here with him, not with Knight — a good start. Now, how to keep her satisfied and not pining for Knight? He began to list his assets … .

• • •

By Saturday morning, Jessica’s natural ebullience had re-asserted herself. Okay, so Morgan hurt her feelings. She doubted he even understood why. She was expecting too much, too soon. Being in touch with his feeling was not his strong suit. Fixing people’s financial problems was. He had given her an exquisite piece of jewelry that would only appreciate in value. He had offered to rebalance her portfolio and manage her bills. Maybe there was hope.

She wasn’t going to worry about Susan, either. Morgan wasn’t the type to cheat once he had made a commitment. All she had to do was keep him committed to her.
Stay out of trouble
, she reminded herself,
take good care of Kinsey
, and for goodness sake,
don’t be so sensitive — he won’t understand it.

She checked the memory in her camera and retrieved the backup battery from the charger on the wall.
If it’s not in frame, it doesn’t exist
. John Malkovich’s line from
Shadow of the Vampire
had been stuck in her head lately. She thought of the dozens of family pictures scattered around the house featuring Morgan and Kinsey and Sandy and
not
her.

Starting today, she was going to be right there “in frame” with Morgan and Kinsey. She was writing herself into this family.

Dropping both the camera and the battery into her bag, she hurried out to the garage where Kinsey and Morgan were already waiting in the car.

“Nervous?” Jessica flashed a grin in toward Kinsey in the backseat as she slid in next to Morgan.

“A little,” Kinsey admitted.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jessica assured her. “Plus, you look like a total badass in your gi. Awesome cool.”

Kinsey smiled a little, but her face was still almost as white as the gi.

“What if I can’t break the board?”

“You
can
break the board.” Morgan sounded utterly confident. “You’ve been training for months. Sensei Joe wouldn’t ask you to take the test if you weren’t ready.”

“I know.” Kinsey’s voice sounded a little stronger. “But we have to do the test in front of Master Kim. What if I mess up? I’ll embarrass Sensei Joe.”