Susan Mallery: Sweet Trouble

Jesse had debated lying, simply saying that Matt was dead. But five years ago, when she’d left Seattle, she’d vowed to live her life differently. No more lies. No more screwing up. She’d worked hard to grow up, to make a life she was proud of, to raise a son on her own, to be honest, no matter what.

Which meant telling Gabe the truth. That Matt didn’t know about him, but maybe it was time to change that.

She didn’t allow herself to think about meeting Matt. She couldn’t. Not and keep breathing. So for now, there was only her son smiling at her and the love she felt for him. The rest would take care of itself. At least she hoped it would.

Because it wasn’t just Matt she had to face. There was Claire, the older sister she’d never really known, and Nicole, the older sister who probably still hated her guts. Talk about a homecoming.

But she would deal with that tomorrow. Tonight there was the promise of spaghetti, then a rousing evening of cartoons and quality time with the best part of her life.

“Are you ready?” she asked as she grabbed her purse, then held out her arms to pick up Gabe.

He jumped into her embrace-loving and trusting-as if she would never hurt him, never let him down. Because she never would-no matter what. At least she’d gotten that part right.

JESSE CHECKED THE address on the piece of paper, then glanced at the portable nav system Bill had let her borrow. They matched.

“Someone’s been moving on up,” she murmured, taking in the long driveway that led to a house on the lake in the very chichi part of Kirkland.

There was a security gate for the property, but it was open. She was grateful she didn’t have to explain her presence to whatever staff might be at the house. Not that she could imagine Matt with staff. They would get on his nerves. At least they would have five years ago. No doubt he’d changed. The man she remembered would never have lived in a massive, sprawling estate with a bronze sculpture on the lawn.

She raised her eyebrows at the confounding piece of modern art, then drove past it. She parked near the wide double doors, behind a BMW convertible. As she climbed out, she tried not to think about how shabby her ten-year-old Subaru looked in comparison. Still, her car was dependable and the all-wheel drive meant safer driving in the Spokane snow.

She patted the dashboard in a silent apology for noticing how pretty the BMW looked gleaming in the sunlight, then grabbed her purse and climbed out. Before heading up the stairs to the front door of the huge house, she checked to make sure her most recent pictures of Gabe were in the front pocket of her purse. She had a feeling that seeing Matt was going to make her nervous. She didn’t want to have to search for the photos.

The front door seemed to soar to the sky. She would guess it was maybe fifteen or twenty feet high and solid wood. Visigoths would have trouble breaking into this house. She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her body, reminded herself to keep breathing no matter what, then pressed the bell.

Somewhere deep in the house, a chime sounded. Jesse waited, knowing it could take a while for someone to walk the length of the house. She counted to ten, then twenty. Was she supposed to ring the bell again? It was nine-thirty on a Saturday morning. She’d hoped Matt would be home. Of course, there were a thousand places he could be. The gym, the office, maybe at a friend’s house. Make that a girl friend. She doubted he was at the grocery store because he was-

The front door opened. Jesse braced herself to see Matt again, only to find herself staring at a tall, slender redhead wearing a very short, sexy nightie and apparently nothing else.

The woman was in her early twenties and beyond beautiful. Her eyes were large, dark green and framed with incredible lashes. Her skin was the color of cream, her breasts pointed at the ceiling and her wide mouth formed a perfect pout.

“Ma-att,” she whined, drawing his name out to two syllables. “It’s one thing for you to keep telling me we’re not exclusive. I accept that. I don’t like it, but I accept it. But to have one of them show up here on my date? That’s just wrong.”

Jesse hadn’t thought the moment through. If she had, she would have realized that a woman answering the door was entirely possible. It had been five years-of course Matt would have moved on. Probably several times.

“I’m not a date,” she said quickly, wishing she’d taken more time with her appearance that morning. All she’d done was shower, slap on moisturizer and mascara, then let her long, straight hair air-dry. She’d been more focused on getting Gabe ready.

The redhead frowned. “Ma-att!”

The door opened wider and Jesse instinctively took a step back. Not that a couple of feet of distance was going to lessen the impact of seeing him again.

He was as tall as she remembered, but he’d filled out. An open, short-sleeved shirt hung over worn jeans. She could see his muscled chest and the dark hair there.

Her gaze rose to his face, to the eyes that were so like his son’s. Recognition tugged in her belly, making her realize that, despite the time apart, she still missed him. Probably because with Gabe around she could never forget him.

Matt had always had potential-in the past five years he’d grown into it. He exuded power and confidence. He was the kind of man who made women wonder who he was and how they could be with him.

“Jesse.”

He spoke her name calmly, as if he wasn’t surprised to see her, as if they’d just run into each other last week.

“Hello, Matt.”

The redhead put her hands on her hips. “Go away. Shoo.”

Shoo? Jesse held in a smile. Was that the best the other woman could do?

“Wait for me in the kitchen, Electra,” Matt said, never taking his gaze from Jesse. “This won’t take long.”

“I’m not leaving. Who is she, Matt?”

Electra? Her name was Electra? Did she have a golden lasso and a flying horse?

“Wait for me in the kitchen,” he repeated, his tone stern.

The redhead stomped off. Matt waited until she’d disappeared before stepping back.

“Come in,” he said.

Jesse walked into the house.

She had a brief impression of space, lots of wood and incredible views of the lake and the skyline of Seattle in the distance. Then she turned to Matt and drew in a breath.

“Sorry to drop by without any notice. I’ve been trying to call.”

“Have you?”

His gaze was as dark as she remembered, but much more unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking. Was he upset? Annoyed? Or was she just someone he used to know, someone who was keeping him from his morning coffee?

Seeing him was unsettling-an odd combination of familiar and strange. The last time they’d been in the same room, he’d been so angry, so hurt. He’d lashed out to destroy her and he’d succeeded.

“You didn’t get my messages?” she asked, sure that he had.

“What do you want, Jesse? It’s been a long time. Why now?”

So much for idle chitchat, she thought, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous. Couldn’t they have started with something easier, like, “How are you?”

There were a thousand things she could say, a thousand excuses or explanations. None of them seemed to matter.

She opened her purse, pulled out the pictures, then handed them to him.

“Five years ago I told you I was pregnant and that you were the father. You didn’t believe me, even when I said a DNA test would prove the truth. He’s four now and he keeps asking about you. He wants to get to know you. I’m hoping enough time has passed that you want that, too.”

She wanted to keep talking, explaining, defending herself. Instead she forced herself to press her lips together and stay silent.