Unwrapped (7 page)

Patrick relaxed and smiled. “I've mellowed a little since then. When did you get in town, Jonesy?” He looked at the number Gabby had given him, with the Denver area code. “And whose number is this?”

“Mike Morrison's guesthouse. You remember Mike? The geeky guy who hung out in the computer lab?”

“Yeah. I ran into him a couple years ago. He's made some major money with an Internet company.”

“
Major
is an understatement. He's rolling in it.”

“And I heard you weren't doing so bad yourself. Sounds like your sports bar idea took off. How many do you have in California?”

“Just three, but I've got big plans for a lot more. Which is exactly why I'm here in Denver. I just talked Mike into investing in my company. With his financial backing, I plan to build a Sports Fanatic in every major city in the United States. But I'll need a builder I can trust. Someone who won't let me down. You think you can handle it, Paddy?”

Patrick was a little taken back. Usually you did a bid for big projects like this. He was amazed that Jonesy was giving him the job without getting a price first. “That's great, Jonesy. And I certainly appreciate you giving M&M the business. How many locations and what kind of time frame are we talking about?”

“We're starting with ten—the first right here in Denver. And we want them completed in the next two years.”

Patrick's excitement died a quick death. “Ten in two years?” His mind scrolled through the other jobs they had to finish. There was no way they could get it done—especially with the crews they had. They could hire more crews, but whom would they get to spearhead the jobs? Before he could come up with one name, Jonesy spoke.

“And of course, you're the only one I'd want as the project executive.”

Patrick released his breath. “I don't know if that will work. I have projects I need to finish here.”

There was a long pause. “Then quit and start your own business,” Jonesy said. “You can work exclusively for us—or get other jobs. It doesn't make any difference to me as long as you spearhead my sports bars. You're still single, right? No kids?”

Still in a bit of a daze, he shook his head before realizing Jonesy couldn't see him. “No. I'm not married. And I don't have any kids.”

“Good. Since I'll expect you to be on site in each city, it's best if you don't have a family. Not to mention how much fun it will be when I come to check on the progress. It will be like college all over again.” Jonesy laughed. “Except with more girls and money.”

Patrick's brain finally kicked in. “I don't know, Jonesy. I can't just leave M&M.”

“Why not? I'm sure your family won't care if one brother leaves the nest. Not that you have to leave Denver. Your company can be headquartered anywhere you like as long as you're willing to travel.” He pulled away from the phone. “Hold on, Mike, I'll be right there! Listen, Paddy, I've got to go. I'm taking Mike to a strip club tonight. I mean, the guy is loaded and I don't think he's ever had sex. Hey, you want to come?”

Patrick grabbed the first excuse he could think of. “Thanks, but I can't. I promised my Aunt Wheezie I'd stop by.”

“That old bird still alive? Wow, you McPhersons are some tough Scots. Which is exactly why I want you on my team. Think about it, buddy, and I'll call you next week.”

After he hung up, Patrick felt a little like he had after getting tackled by a brute of a linebacker while playing high school football. Quit M&M? As much as he fought with his father and disagreed with his brothers, he had never even considered the possibility. Ever since he could remember, M&M had been part of his life. But maybe Jonesy was right. Maybe it was time to leave the nest. To experience the excitement of building a company from the ground up without having his father breathing down his neck.

Suddenly Patrick realized the amazing opportunity Jonesy had just handed him. An opportunity that only a fool would pass up. And Patrick had never been a fool.

Lifting his bottle of ale, he toasted the blow-up doll sitting next to him.

“Why not, Miss Featherbee? There's not a damned thing holding us back.”

D
o you think you could be any more conspicuous, Geri?”

Gerald looked down at his skinny jeans and navy peacoat. “What's the problem with what I've got on?”

Jac shook her head. “Nothing if you're hanging out at a designer coffeehouse.”

He looked around the diner. “We are in a coffeehouse.”

“No.” Jac slid her sunglasses down on her nose and glared at him over the top. “We're in a greasy-spoon diner filled with very heterosexual, blue-collar men.”

His eyes followed a muscular construction worker on his way past the table. “Mmm, and don't I know it. All this testosterone is making me light-headed.”

“Well, get a grip.” She pushed the glasses back up. “I'm light-headed enough for both of us. At least take off the pink scarf.”

Gerald retied the hot-pink scarf around his neck in some elaborate knot that Jac couldn't have duplicated if her life depended on it. “No, my outfit would be boring without it. And contrary to what you think, I did dress down for this little reconnoitering escapade. I could've worn my plaid fur-lined hoodie, which would still be a lot less conspicuous than your Liza Minnelli wig and Paris Hilton sunglasses.”

Since he had a valid point, Jac only stuck her tongue out at him and adjusted the wig she'd bought at Party City before leaving for Denver, Colorado. “It's Cleopatra, not Liza.”

“What it is is a waste of time. Especially when you went back to your natural hair color.” Gerald took a sip of coffee, and then shivered with disgust. “But even if you were still blond, he probably couldn't pick you out of a lineup. Not unless you were naked and offering up your neck.”

“Very funny.” Her gaze wandered out the window to the large building that was going up across the street. “You won't be laughing when he sinks his fangs into you.”

“If he wants to sink his fangs into me, then you wouldn't be in the condition you're in.” He took another packet of artificial sweetener out of the ceramic holder and shook it. “Besides, I thought we concluded that your sperm donor isn't a vampire?”

“You and Bailey concluded that,” she said. “I haven't concluded anything yet. Not until I see him out in the sunlight with my very own eyes.”

“Which is exactly why I let you drag me across the country. You need to see the truth for yourself so you'll stop having all those nightmares about vampires. It's not good for the baby.”

It wasn't so good for Jac either. Probably because most of her vampire dreams weren't as scary as they were erotic. Contrary to what Gerald believed, she didn't wake up moaning in fear. She woke up moaning in frustration that the only man available was gay.

The waitress came to take their order, and before Jac could order the pecan caramel cinnamon roll, Gerald cut in.

“She'll have oatmeal, wheat toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit. And I'll just have coffee.”

Jac might've said something if Gerald hadn't just been following Bailey's list of dos and don'ts. A list her sister had put together after Jac decided to keep the baby. The dos included prenatal vitamins, plenty of fruits and vegetables, and exercise. The don'ts included hair dyeing, because of the harsh chemical fumes, and eating too many sweets. And since Bailey had made up the list, regardless of the fact that she wasn't happy with Jac's decision, Jac kept her mouth shut and handed the waitress back the menu.

Jac didn't know what had made her decide to keep the baby. It might've been the movie
Baby Boom
, which had come on Turner Classic Movies the night the pregnancy test came back positive. Or it could've been Gerald's infectious excitement about adding a baby to their odd family. Or maybe it had nothing to do with movies or Gerald. Maybe it just had to do with Jac wanting to prove to herself that she wasn't her mother. That rather than ignoring a mistake, she could love her little girl and nurture her.

Not that she knew the gender of the baby. Jac just wanted it to be a girl. A girl whom she would name Lulu Bay after her granny and Bailey. Jac would dress Lulu in designer outfits with cute little shoes and hats and take her for walks in Central Park in one of those jogging strollers that fashionable mothers used. She would show her off to all her friends and—

“Ooo, Jac,” Gerald whispered breathlessly, cutting into her baby fantasy. “There's your lover now. And he looks like my kind of a guy.”

She pulled herself from her daydream and looked out the window in time to see an old hearse drive past. It had been painted hot pink, and flowered curtains swung in the back windows. “Real cute, Geri. You should be a stand-up comedian.”

“Not in this lifetime. I couldn't take the hecklers. But I'm thinking about starting a new reality show.
Gay Spy on Your Straight Guy
.” His brown eyes twinkled as he poured the sweetener into his coffee. “Especially now that my event planning business has breathed its last breath.”

“I'm sorry,” Jac said. “I shouldn't have talked you into letting me do the catering for your last event.”

He shrugged. “They were a bunch of snobs if they didn't like your Granny Lou's pigs in a blanket and macaroni cups. So how did you find out where Patrick was working?”

Jac took a bite of the bland oatmeal the waitress had delivered and coveted the pecan caramel cinnamon roll even more. “I didn't exactly. When I called M&M Construction, I told the receptionist that my boss was looking for a contractor to build a new shopping mall and wanted a list of jobs M&M was working on. There were only four in the city. I thought we'd start with the biggest and work our way down.”

Gerald pressed his hands together and looked up at the ceiling, which was hung with tinsel and shiny red Christmas ornaments. “Please God, let there be a Starbucks close to the next one.”

It turned out that they didn't need to go to another construction site. Not more than fifteen minutes later, a truck pulled up across the street. At first glance it was no different from all the other trucks parked around the building site—white, big, and muddy. Then she noticed the
M&M Construction
stenciled in bold red letters across the driver's side door. Her stomach tightened as the door opened and a scuffed work boot appeared. A muscular body in faded jeans, a flannel shirt, and down vest followed.

“Well, hello, sweet thang,” Gerald cooed. “Now that's my kind of a construction worker. Thor in work boots.”

Gerald was right. With his broad shoulders and the morning sun gleaming off his long golden hair, the man did resemble a Norse god. A Norse god who had rocked Jac's world on Halloween night.

“That's him,” she whispered.

“You've got to be kiddin' me.” Gerald leaned so close to the window that his nose almost touched the glass. “That's him? Jac, that's no vampire. That's one hundred percent hot-blooded man.”

Jac watched as Patrick leaned over the bed of his truck. His jeans had a rip in one pocket, and his shirt molded itself to the muscles of his arms as he pulled a hard hat and small cooler from the bed. He walked around the front of the truck, and a breeze caught his hair, brushing the blond strands back from the hard angles of his face. His head turned in her direction, and she ducked behind the snow scene that was painted on the window. When she peeked back around, Patrick had put on his hard hat and was disappearing through the small opening in the fences that surrounded the skeleton frame of the building.

“All right then.” Gerald buttoned up his jacket. “Let's go back to the hotel, order room service, and take a nap. Then this afternoon we'll go to the art museum and do some Christmas shopping at the 16th Street Mall. What are you getting Bailey? I was thinking about getting her a new cell phone. The antiquated one she uses doesn't even have text messaging. I swear the woman is a worse miser than my mother.”

“I want to talk with him.”

Gerald glanced up from rearranging his scarf. “What?”

“I want to talk with him,” Jac repeated. “I want to make sure.”

He leaned over the table and took her hands. “Jac, I played along with your little story about vampires because it was amusing—and because it pissed off Bailey so much. But it isn't funny anymore. That man is not a vampire.” He waved his hand through the air. “Because vampires do not exist. Whatever you saw was an illusion brought on by the accident and the fact that it was Halloween night.”

When Jac didn't say anything, he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, let's go talk to him. I think you need to tell him about the baby anyway. A man should know he fathered a child, even if he wants nothing to do with it.” He scooted out of the booth.

She followed him. “I'm not going to tell him who I am.”

“So what are you going to tell him?” He smiled at the cashier as he handed her his credit card. “‘Hi, I'm a weird pregnant woman who likes to dress up in bad wigs and go around to construction sites and check out men's teeth'?”

“You can tell a lot about a man from his teeth.” The cashier nodded her head at Jac. “I dated a guy once who had the whitest teeth you've ever seen. I should've known he was hiding a lot of dirty secrets behind those pearly whites.”

Jac nodded in agreement. “Mine had big sharp fangs—”

“Thank you.” Gerald quickly signed the receipt and pulled Jac out the door. “Geez, Jac. Would you please monitor what comes out of your mouth? I'd rather not end up in the psychiatric ward.”

“He had sharp fangs, Gerald. Not the kid kind, but real ones.” She hooked her arm through his as they walked toward the rental car. “What about if we tell him that we're a married couple looking for someone to build our house?”

Gerald rolled his eyes. “And we saw his truck out in front and thought—we need a house built and here's a construction company. What a co-winkie-dink. Try again, Jac. Thor didn't look like the type to fall for stupid lies.”

“It's not a stupid lie.” Jac buttoned her coat and wished she had Gerald's pink scarf. For being so sunny, it was extremely cold. “Besides, it's not the lie, but the execution. And I'm world class at executing.”

“You think you're world class.” He stopped at the rental car that was parked next to the curb and pulled the key from his pocket.

“It worked on Bailey. She thinks we're catering a Christmas party in Rochester.” She walked past the car and headed for the corner, thankful when Gerald caught up with her.

“I mean it, Jac. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“It will only take a second”—she pulled him down the street—“and then we'll go sightseeing and Christmas shopping.”

They stopped at the corner, right next to a group of street people who huddled against a building. A bent coffee can had been placed on the concrete in front of them with a sign that simply read,
Hungry
. Having gone hungry a time or two in her life, Jac couldn't help digging through her purse for money. She had barely finished dropping a ten-dollar bill into the can when a man separated himself from the group. A man in a tattered red coat and a bright green stocking cap. Long white hair spilled from the ribbing of the hat and fell well past his shoulders, perfectly matching the snowy beard that obscured most of his face.

“Santa.” The word popped out of her mouth, bringing a blush to her cheeks and a twinkle to the man's eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice kind and calming. He nodded at the coffee can. “And thank you. You have a kind heart, Jacqueline.”

For a brief second, she was surprised that he knew her name. Then she realized that he must've overheard Gerald. Her eyes narrowed. Although Gerald always called her Jac. Before she could figure it out, the light changed, and Gerald pulled her across the street. She didn't realize that Santa followed until she smelled the distinct scent of peppermint and glanced around to see where it was coming from.

Santa stepped up on the curb. “I forgot to ask you. What do you want for Christmas this year?”

“How about some sanity?” Gerald butted in.

Jac swatted at his arm. “Don't listen to him, Santa. He's more or less a Scrooge. I would like…” She started to say “money,” but then quickly changed it to something that sounded less greedy. Something she wanted more than just money. “A happily ever after.” Not just for her, but for Bailey, Gerald, and Lulu.

The little old man's whiskers lifted in a smile. “I think I can arrange that.” He winked before he walked off down the street.

“You shouldn't throw your money away on old winos, Jac,” Gerald said as they headed in the opposite direction. “Especially now that you won't be inheriting your aunt's fortune.”

“Who says I'm not inheriting my aunt's fortune? Renie's dad has his lawyers looking over the contract as we speak. Since Bailey refuses to fly, I decided to have the wedding in New York City. Maybe in Central Park with one of those horse-drawn carriages. Those have always reminded me of fairy tales.”

“In the winter in Central Park, your fairy-tale wedding would be Disney's
Frozen
. And does Renie's father know about the baby?”

“No, and he doesn't need to know.” She searched for the small opening between the chain link fences that she'd seen Patrick go through. “It's a business deal. Nothing else. And didn't you hear Santa—I'm getting my happily ever after.”

Gerald only grunted.

It wasn't as windy inside the steel structure as it was outside. But it was louder and colder. There were whining drills, screeching saws, and ringing metal. Jac clung to Gerald's arm as they wove their way through the equipment and men. She knew she was being crazy, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Man or mythical creature, she had come to Denver to exorcise Patrick from her mind once and for all. And she wasn't leaving until she'd done it.