the Madison airport had made perfectly clear that Jenna was all wrong for Wisconsin, not that her fishnet stockings, feathered sweater and miniskirt were that strange. Nor did she think she’d packed anything much more conservative. Nevertheless, she was tired of people staring at her as if she were wearing a Halloween costume. “This place could sure use some action,” she muttered, glancing around the dark, tree-lined street. With Halloween upcoming, maybe she’d dress as a bank robber and target the Spencer family’s bank.
Meantime, every horse, wire fence and mile on the odometer of the Cadillac reminded her of why she’d fled Bear Creek, North Carolina, for the Fashion Institute of New York the second she turned eighteen. Her hands tightened on the wheel as she thought of North Carolina and her parents, not that she exactly wanted to dwell on Nancy and Ralph, who were so close they’d scarcely ever seemed to notice their daughter existed. It was probably why Jenna had so foolishly pursued Seth, willing to take the crumbs he called affection.
“Face it, Jenna, it’s your cross to bear.” She glanced at the faded paperback cover of Women Who Love Too Much, which was beside her on the seat. She’d brought it to reread on the plane. When it came to attracting unavailable men, she was like the magnet inside an MRI.
Or she had been.
But now she was loved. Cherished. Cared for in the exact way she deserved. Her throat tightening, she thought of the Soho art gallery owned by her friend, Sue Ellis, who was Gretchen’s mom, and then she thought of the gallery’s co-owner, Dom Milano.
Even now, she could barely believe Dom had proposed. Buoyed up by the passion he’d expressed, Jenna felt her heart ache. She’d met the two gallery owners only a week after moving to New York, and over the past sixteen years, they’d become her substitute family. It was why Jenna had agreed, at the eleventh hour, to watch Gretchen while Sue went on an impromptu art buying trip to Paris.
Fortunately, Gretchen had handled the airplane like a pro. Jenna had felt antsy about bringing the baby to Tyler, but Dom had his hands full with running the gallery right now, and he insisted Jenna talk to Seth before she responded to the marriage proposal.
Jenna simply couldn’t wait. She was going to marry Dom as soon as she returned to New York. He was such a sweetheart. He’d said he wouldn’t start their physical relationship—not so much as a kiss, he’d vowed—until she went to Tyler, until he knew she would definitely be his. She smiled weakly. Who would have known Dom could be so romantic? In all the years of their friendship, she never would have guessed.
And he was so sexy. Tall and slender, he was Italian-born and raised on Mott Street in Little Italy. He had straight black hair, devastating dark eyes, and after sixteen years of knowing him, Jenna knew she’d never find a better man. He was so accommodating, too, guessing Jenna’s needs before she even knew she had them. What she’d shared with Seth, she assured herself, was nothing more than overrated chemistry.
She frowned. Since Sue’s divorce, Jenna had felt so sure Dom was falling for Sue, though. He’d doted on Gretchen, too. Mistakenly, Jenna had assumed that the time Dom spent with Jenna wasn’t significant, especially since they usually went over strategies for strengthening her relationship with Seth. After Seth left for Tyler, Dom had overheard her speaking on the phone with an obstetrician, and he’d proposed.
He’d been so eloquent, too. He said he wanted her, loved her. He offered her everything she secretly wanted—marriage and a name for the baby. But Dom had one condition: that she come to Tyler and tell Seth about the pregnancy, just to ensure there wouldn’t be trouble later. Which, of course, there wouldn’t be. Seth couldn’t care less.
Blowing out a shaky breath, she murmured, “How did I manage to get lost in a town this small? Where’s the boarding house?” Her eyes traced the street, the frame houses reminding her that she wasn’t going to a four-star hotel. No USA Today and room service. “Ah,” she suddenly said, “that must be it. The address is right.”
Fortunately, there was plenty of room to park. Jenna hadn’t driven for years. She’d never been behind the wheel of a car this large, either, but it had been the least expensive at the rent-a-wreck. Getting out, she slammed the door, then lifted Gretchen from the back seat, deciding to check in before retrieving their suitcases from the car. “Hey, sweetie,” she murmured again, planting a kiss on Gretchen’s cheek and grinning down as the toddler’s short stubby legs wrapped around her waist.
Gretchen blinked, curling sleepily on Jenna’s shoulder as they headed for the door. Frowning, Jenna suddenly wished she hadn’t agreed to do work for Molly Blake. “You’re so spineless,” she whispered aloud, her breath fogging the chilly air. A month or so ago, Seth had given her Molly’s number, saying Molly was thinking of opening a bed-and-breakfast and might want to hire a freelance artist to do some promotion. Seth, of course, assumed Jenna would do the work via mail from New York.
And she should have. That way she could talk to Seth, just as she’d promised Dom, then leave immediately. Still, without having a reason other than her and Seth Spencer’s baby, she simply couldn’t bring herself to come to Tyler.
Anxiously twisting the ring on her finger again, she winced, hoping Sue and Dom found the note in the gallery saying she’d borrowed it. Dom said they’d shop for a ring as soon as she returned; meantime, she’d decided to give Seth the message loud and clear that she was getting married. Seth didn’t have to know this was a cubic zircon, not a real diamond.
“Hello,” she called, shifting Gretchen as she unzipped her black leather coat, opened the door of the boarding house and stepped inside, relieved to find the place clean and bright, bustling with early evening activity. “You must be Johnny Kelsey.”
“Sure am.” The man was in his sixties, had dark hair shot through with gray, and Jenna was relieved to see he was the first resident of Wisconsin who didn’t seem the least perturbed by fishnets and leather. “That must be Gretchen,” he continued. “We got a crib set up for her. Over there, that’s Patrick and Pam,” he said, nodding toward his son and his son’s wife.
Jenna nodded. “Ah,” she returned, smiling. “Molly mentioned you.” Molly had also said Pam Kelsey was an Olympic track medallist before being diagnosed with MS. Apparently, her health was good now, and the couple had adopted a son, Jeremy, now four. Before Jenna could continue, Johnny said, “And this fine young lady is Caroline Benning. She’s working at our best eatery in town, Marge’s Diner, so I’m sure you’ll meet again. Her room’s just down the hallway from yours.”
“Hi,” Jenna said, her eyes settling on the other woman. She was young, in her early twenties and all-American-pretty, tall and willowy with bright green eyes and light brown, highlighted hair. She’d been coming from the back of the house, carrying a quilt which she’d probably shaken out. When Gretchen leaned in, reaching for the bright fabric, Caroline stepped back, almost protectively.
“Now, don’t get so grabby, Gretchen,” Jenna said with a soft laugh, curling her hand gently over Gretchen’s chubby fingers and distracting her. “Lovely quilt work,” she added, her eyes taking in the handiwork. Before she could further study the design, Johnny Kelsey captured her attention again. “No baggage, Ms. Robinson?”
Baggage? She had plenty, of course, but Johnny wasn’t really inquiring about her relationship with Seth Spencer. She laughed again. “Do I look like a woman who travels without suitcases?”
He looked her over as if contemplating everything from her blue fingernail polish, to the decorative collar stenciled around her neck in henna, to her studded earlobes and clothes, then he chuckled. “Somehow I bet you’ve got more than one.”
“Please call
