TWENTY-NINE

Cate hummed absently to herself as she turned the steering wheel, guiding the SUV through the open wrought-iron gates.  She automatically surveyed the driveway ahead of her, checking for icy patches.  The weather here was far less pleasant than the tropical climes she and Jon had enjoyed just two days ago.

Comfortable that the path was clear, she let the vehicle roll toward the house.  The SUV had only traversed half the distance to the garage, however, when Cate had to tap the brake.  A white van emerged from around the drive’s bend, presumably coming from the covered guest carport at the back of house.  Cate scanned the unfamiliar vehicle for an identifying logo, then noted the plate number.  Neither check revealed the van’s purpose or identity.

Cate peered curiously at the driver as the vehicle crept past her slowed SUV.  Her inspection was met with a smile and a little wave from the dark-haired woman.   After returning the gesture Cate’s gaze shifted to the rear-view mirror.  In the reflection she watched the van roll through the gates and turn onto River Road. 

“Wonder who that was?” Cate muttered thoughtfully.  She wasn’t expecting any deliveries.  Few people even knew she and Jon had returned from their holiday.

She continued to puzzle over the departed vehicle as she pulled the SUV into the garage, then gathered her parcels.  Cate’s lips curved into a smile as the contents of one brown market bag gave her an idea.

“Ah,” she murmured, nodding slightly at the colorful bunch of cut flowers that peeked from the top of her grocery sack.  Her heart warmed as she realized she may find a surprise waiting for her inside the house, a romantic gesture from her darling husband.

When she stepped through the door into the kitchen, Cate called out her greeting.  “Baby?  I’m home!” 

Her smile turned quizzical when she didn’t spy the expected bouquet of flowers on the massive kitchen island.  “Hmm,” she wondered, lifting her shopping bags to the countertop. 

Cate’s gaze swept over the big room, noting the absence of flora.  She shrugged.  Maybe Jon had carried the delivery to another room.

“Be right there!”  Jon’s distant voice floated into the kitchen.  Cate automatically glanced up at the ceiling, pinpointing his location as the second floor.  She smiled again.  She always enjoyed having flowers in the bedroom.

Cate removed the meager cellophane-wrapped bouquet from her market bag and set it aside before unloading the groceries.  She moved around the kitchen, unhurriedly putting away her purchases.  She was nearly finished when Jon finally swaggered into the kitchen, grinning broadly.

“There’s My Girl.”  He strolled over to Cate’s side, leaning to give her a brief welcome-home nuzzle.  “Where’d you go?  I thought you’d be back an hour ago.”

“Just to the market, the post office, and the pharmacy.  They were all busy, since everybody’s closing early tonight.”  Cate shrugged.  “Oh, and I stopped for a muffin and a cup of tea.  Guess that delayed me a little, too.” 

Jon nodded, peering into a small brown bag emblazoned with the pharmacy’s logo.  He grinned when he spied the expected contents.  “Got the supplies for our little New Year’s Eve celebration, I see?”  Reaching into the bag, he extracted a package of cheap blow-out noisemakers and a home pregnancy test.

Cate chuckled as Jon dropped the box back into the bag, but kept the noisemakers.  “Yes, I did.  Felt like I was on some kinda covert op, too.  I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see somebody aiming a camera at me.”

Jon chuckled, ripping open the plastic package.  “You’re all paranoid now.”  He raised one of the plastic-and paper novelties to his lips and blew.  A comical horn sounded as the paper tube unfurled. 

Cate rolled her eyes at her husband’s goofiness, then pulled a face.  “I swear, I musta wandered every aisle in the drugstore three times, waiting for the line at the cashier to thin out so I could pay and run.  That’s how I ended up with those things.”  She nodded at the noisemaker clenched in Jon’s grin.  “I grabbed ‘em to cover the box.”

“Oh, good thinking, SpyGirl!”  Jon nodded with his sarcastic tease, pulling the little horn from his mouth and dropping it on the counter beside its mates.  “Nobody would ever suspect you’re buying anything but last-minute party supplies at the Red Bank Pharmacy!”

Cate stuck out her tongue at her smartass husband, but couldn’t hide a smile.  “Yeah, well.   I ended up taking it to the prescription counter, way in the back.  I felt like I was scoring dope or something, not buying a stupid pregnancy test.”  Her cheeks colored a bit as she giggled at the memory.  “The lady looked at me like I was crazy.”

“Well, you are a little crazy.  But mission accomplished.”  Jon laughed softly.  He stepped over to Cate and circled her waist with an arm, pulling her to him. 

After another more thorough kiss, Jon slid his hand to playfully pat his wife on her derriere.  “And I don’t think you have to worry about the rags stalking us here.  Hell, they probably don’t even know we’re out here.  Betcha they’re staking out the apartment.”

“Fine by me.”  Cate’s reply held a note of bitterness.  “They can stay in the City.”  She turned to more fully face her husband, arching a brow.  “So, what was that white van doing here?”

She saw the telltale signs of deception in Jon’s involuntary response:  his pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and he pulled in a short, silent breath of surprise.  But when he spoke, his tone was nonchalant.

“What white van?”

Cate smirked.  “The one that was leaving when I was driving in.”

Jon shrugged.  “Dunno.  Maybe somebody at the studio.”

“It came around the house.  I presume from the carport.”  Cate stared at Jon, knowing he could tell from her expression that she wasn't buying his act.

“Oh, that.” The corner of Jon’s mouth twisted upward.  “Just a messenger, dropping off a package for me.  I didn’t know what he was driving.”

“Really?  He?” Again Cate’s brow arched.  “The driver was a woman.”

Jon fidgeted.  “She, I meant.”  He dropped his chin, giving Cate his best sexy smile.

Cate snorted at his attempt at distraction.  “What was in the package?”

“Dunno.  Something from Ken’s office.  I’ll look at it later.”

“Uh huh.”  Cate smirked expectantly at Jon, confident he would crumble any moment under her sly interrogation.  “That ‘package’ didn’t happen to come in a big vase, did it?” 

“No, Nancy Drew, it didn’t.”  Jon grinned in silent relief that Cate obviously hadn’t recognized the delivery van.  He wasn’t quite ready to reveal his evening surprise for his wife. 

“You sure?”  Cate gave Jon a long stare. 

“Cate, I swear.  I didn’t buy you flowers.”  Jon held up his hands in mock surrender, then pointed at the little bouquet resting on the island.  “Besides, you already got some.”

Cate’s smile faded a bit, replaced by a puzzled look.  “So, the delivery van…?”

“Baby, I told you.  It was a package for me.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie; the firm had delivered a package of sorts.   Jon just hoped Cate wouldn’t ask to see the fictitious parcel.

“Well… okay.”  Cate gave Jon another skeptical once-over, then picked up the simple bouquet.  She turned and retrieved a vase from a cupboard and moved over to the sink.

Jon watched her with an amused smile.  “Well, shit.  Now I guess I have to send you flowers, huh?”

“No.  Of course not.”  Cate half-filled the vase with water and set it on the counter.  The cellophane crackled as she unwrapped and separated the stems.  She dropped the bouquet into the vase, arranging the blooms loosely before moving the vase back to the island.

Cate gave Jon a playful sneer. “What fun would it be now?  It wouldn’t be a surprise at all.”

Jon chuckled softly.  “Sorry, Baby.  I’m all outta surprises, apparently.”

Cate smiled.  “It’s okay.  I kinda jumped to conclusions, anyway.”

“Seriously, Cate… if you want flowers…”

“Jon, I don’t want flowers!  I just thought…”

“Alright, Dammit.  I’m calling the florist.”  Jon reached for his waist, then patted at his pockets when he realized his iPhone wasn’t in its usual place since he was wearing sweatpants instead of jeans.

“Jon!” Cate laughed as she spoke, his name coming out as a soft warble.  She reached out to tug at his forearm, pausing his search.  “Baby… no flowers.  Really.”

“Well… okay.” Jon relented.  “Not today, anyway.  But I might sneak-attack you tomorrow… maybe with a big bouquet of pink roses?”  His tone gentled.  “In celebration?”  He nodded again toward the pharmacy bag, making his meaning clear.

Cate’s smile sweetened as she stepped close.  “Well… if we have something besides the New Year to celebrate tomorrow, I guess I won’t argue.”

Jon returned her expression, dropping his head to rub his nose playfully against hers.  “An extra-Happy New Year,” he agreed.  He pressed a smooch against her cheek, then tipped his head toward the remaining groceries on the counter.  “Want me to put those away?”

Cate shook her head.  “Nah, I’ve got it.”  She stepped back from Jon and turned to gather the small parcels.

“What all did you get?”

Cate gave him a little smile over her shoulder as she moved to the big refrigerator.  “Just a few things to nosh on tonight.  Some cheese, some berries.  And I thought I’d make my crab-stuffed mushrooms for you.  The ones with the gruyere and bacon?”

“Mmmmm…” Jon groaned happily.  “Sounds great.”

“How about we just put on an old movie or something, curl up on the sofa, and eat, drink, and be lazy?”  Cate giggled softly at the cozy vision.  “And a little before midnight we can put on our silly hats and glasses, make it a real party.”

“Sounds nice.  But I have a couple ideas of some stuff we can do, too.”

Cate turned back to face Jon, her smile fading a little.  “Did you… Did you change your mind?  Do you want to go out instead?”  She silently hoped that wasn’t the case.  But Jon had reminded her earlier that The Jukes were playing their customary New Year’s Eve show at the Basie…

“No!  No… I’m all for us staying in tonight,” Jon clarified hastily.  “I was just thinking maybe we’d do something a little more… personal.  Than watching a movie, I mean.”

Cate snorted softly.  “Baby, we have all night to celebrate that way.  We can do other stuff too, you know.”

Jon chortled at her automatic assumption.  “That’s not what I meant.  But yeah, I think we oughta ring in the New Year naked.” He grinned lecherously.  “But before that… I have some ideas.”

“Like what?”

Jon gave Cate a cryptic smirk.  “You’ll see.”  He took a step back from the island, turning toward the door.  “And now, I’m gonna go jump in the shower.  You wanna get dressed up for tonight, or keep it casual?”

“God, casual.  Of course.”  Cate gave Jon a quizzical look.  “Why, do you wanna dress up?”

“Nope.  I’m good with jeans if you are.”

“How about just jeans?”  Cate mimicked Jon’s lecherous grin of a moment before.

“Sure, Baby.  Whatever turns you on.”  Jon countered with his sexy growl as he flashed Cate a wink.  “Just make it worth my while.”  With that suggestive comment he turned and sauntered for the door.

Cate giggled as she watched him go, then sighed softly with relief.  She really didn’t feel like partying tonight.  Tonight she just needed to be with her husband, with no one else around.

She stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, considering what the New Year may bring.  Then she picked up the little pharmacy bag and followed Jon’s path.

*****

“Cate, are you keeping your eyes covered?”  Jon’s suspicious query rang out through the high-ceilinged living room, from some not-so-distant source.

“Yes!”  Cate answered for the third time in the last five minutes.  She growled with mild exasperation as she fidgeted on the plush sofa, keeping her seat as she had promised.   She was tempted to reach up and tug away the scarf that covered her eyes; it was obvious Jon wasn’t in the room.  Whatever surprise he was preparing for her wasn’t in here either.

She sighed, realizing maybe Jon’s surprise was some sort of grand reveal that he would perform in front of her current spot.  That would explain the blindfold.  Maybe he needed to bring something into the room.  With the thought Cate dropped her hands again to her lap, resisting the urge to uncover her eyes.

“Baby… what are you doing?”  Cate called out her question as she heard a distant door close.  “Come on!  The food’s gonna get cold!”

“Stay there!  I’m coming down!”

Cate chuckled softly as Jon’s reply confirmed his location.  A minute later she sensed his presence in the room, not having heard his sock-footed approach.

“Jon?”

“I’m here, Baby.” 

Cate smiled as she felt him behind her, leaning over the back of the sofa.  His hands tugged gently at the loose knot at the base of her skull.  The scarf over her eyes slackened, then slid away.  Cate blinked as she raised her blue eyes to focus on what was in front of her…

Nothing.

“Wha… Jon?”  Cate’s brow furrowed with confusion as she scanned the room, looking for something that wasn’t there earlier.  The furnishings were exactly as they had been.

Jon chuckled at her response, waiting for her to look back at him.  It happened almost immediately.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Who said there would be something here?”

“Nobody, but… Why did you blindfold me?  If you weren’t bringing something in here or taking me somewhere?”

“Because.”  Jon smirked.  “I like blindfolding you.  It’s sexy.”

“You mean… I didn’t have to be blindfolded?  You just wanted me to be?”

“Yup.”  Jon couldn’t hide a triumphant grin.

“You shit.”  Cate turned on her hip and swiped at Jon’s torso.  He jumped back, not quite evading her gentle smack.

“Aww, c’mon, Baby.  Admit it.  You like it too.”

Cate snorted softly, unable to stop her smirk.  “Well… sometimes.  But only when it’s worth it.”

“Okay.  I’ll make it up to you.”  Jon held out a hand, beckoning his wife to rise from her perch on the enormous plush divan.  “Come with me.”

Unable to resist Jon’s invitation, Cate stood before placing her hand delicately in Jon’s.  She giggled softly as she allowed him to lead her around the couch, then point her toward the front foyer.  She hesitated when Jon urged her toward the grand staircase.

“Baby, wait.  Let me go pop the mushrooms back in the oven to stay warm.”

“Already covered.”  Jon shook his head slightly with his rebuttal.  “And they’re delicious, by the way.”

“You already had some?”  Cate raised a brow at Jon’s compliment.  “Thanks for waiting for me!”

Jon snickered.  “Gotta keep my strength up, considering what you’re gonna be doing to me for the next few hours.”

“What?”

“Cate!  Shut up and follow me, and I’ll show you!”  Jon’s faux-exasperated command was delivered in a gentle half-laugh.  Her heart warming with his sweet smile, Cate obliged.  She giggled softly as she followed Jon to the stairs and climbed them at his side.

Automatically Cate turned to her left at the landing, presuming they were headed for the Master Suite.  A gentle tug on her hand stopped her.

“This way.” Jon tipped his head down the hall that traversed the upper floor of the mansion’s East wing.

Cate gave Jon a look of mild surprise.  “Uh… okay.”  She wasn’t sure why he wanted to take her in the direction of the second-floor office and additional bedrooms.

Jon just turned and pulled Cate along behind him.  He didn’t have to tow her far; just past the office to the second door on the left.  He stopped outside the heavy paneled door and turned to face his wife, giving her a smug grin.  His eyes twinkled bright azure as Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out an ornate iron skeleton key, tied with a soft pink satin bow.

Cate chuckled, taking the pretty bauble from Jon’s hand.  “What’s this?”

“A key.” 

“I see that, but…to the guest room?”  Cate’s brow furrowed with mild confusion.

Jon grinned.  “No, it’s not the key to this door, but… well, it’s kinda… symbolic, I guess.  Or that’s what Rachel said, anyway.”  He shrugged sheepishly. 

“Rachel?”  Cate tipped her head at the mention of the woman’s name.  “Who’s Rachel?”

“The woman you saw leaving earlier.  In the white van.”  Jon shrugged again, in apology.  “She was supposed to get out of here before you came back, but it took a little longer than we thought it would.”

“We?” Cate’s smile faltered at Jon’s use of the plural pronoun.  “What… what was she doing here, Jon?”  She felt a little flutter of nervousness in her stomach at her husband’s gentle yet potentially sinister admission.

“Open the door.  See for yourself.”

Cate swallowed hard, trying to ignore the little wave of dread at what she might find.  She reached for the knob.  It turned easily, with a muffled click.  The big door swung silently open at her gentle push.

“Oh!”  Cate’s eyes widened as she gasped her surprise.  “Oh, Jon!”

“Go on,” Jon prodded, smiling at her reaction.  He raised his hand to the small of her back, giving her a gentle nudge toward the threshold.

Cate automatically followed his guidance, drifting through the doorway and into the large, airy bedchamber.  Her lips remained parted as she looked wonderingly around the usually simple-but-luxurious guest bedroom.

The room was appointed in the same French style as the rest of the house, in shades of off-white, cream, and beige.  Against one wall stood a massive, hand-carved walnut bed, covered with a satin duvet and an assortment of detailed pillows.  On the opposite wall a wide, cream-painted antique wardrobe stood sentinel, dwarfed in the large room despite its size. 

A trio of tall, elegantly-draped windows dominated the room’s longest wall, revealing a stunning view of the river.   Little stars of light shone in the now-dark panes, reflections of the cut crystal beads and softly-glowing candle-bulbs of the room’s sparkling chandelier light fixture.

But now the normally elegant room glowed with another warmth.  Long, loosely-gathered swaths of delicate salmon-colored crepe cascaded alongside the windows, tucked over the elaborate window treatments.  Overhead, swags of sheer pale pink fabric swooped gently from their gathered attachment at the chandelier’s base, radiating outward from the ceiling’s center like filmy rays of soft light.

The giant bed, normally appointed with a few decorative pillows, was covered in cushions and plush shapes in a palette of soft pinks.  A pale rose cashmere blanket lay folded in a wide stripe across the foot of the ivory duvet, inviting a romantic cuddle under its fluffy softness.  At the bedside gauzy pink beaded-edged scarves covered the shades of the antique lamps that rested on low tables, warming their glow.

Positioned around the room on ornate weathered-gold easels were large boards featuring a collection of drawings, photographs, fabric swatches, and paint chips.  As Cate’s wondering gaze swept across the room she noted at least eight of the sample boards, all with different variations of the same soft theme.

For all the warm beauty of the made-over room, one stark feature arrested Cate’s attention, making her gape with awe.  Positioned in front of the middle window was an elegant oval dark-wood crib, adorned in a cascade of creamy hand-turned Irish lace and ivory satin.  The little bed looked as if it had been crafted specifically for this room, so perfectly it complemented the existing furnishings.

“Oh, Jon… How… What did you do?”  Cate murmured wonderingly as she tentatively stepped toward the crib.  Her hand raised as she drifted forward, then her palm settled on the sleek rail.  She drew in a soft breath as her fingers caressed the smooth slat.  It was as if the dark wood radiated warmth, bolstering her hopeful soul.

Jon watched her for a long moment, his heart squeezing at his wife’s tender smile.  “It wasn’t me,” he finally chuckled softly.  “Well, not really, anyway.  It was Rachel.  She put all this together.  It’s not exactly like she hoped, but this was short-notice and time was tight.”

“Rachel?”

“Rachel Baxter.  She owns Distinguished Design, over on Church Street.”  Jon smiled as he saw the silent A-HA!  in Cate’s gentle smirk. 

“But all this… How…?”  Cate turned to give her husband a long, searching look.  “Jon, there’s no way she had all this just laying around at her studio.  I mean… look at all this!”  She waved a hand around the room, indicating the showroom décor.  “The boards, the drapes, the accessories… This crib...”

Jon shrugged, responding to her observation with a self-satisfied grin.  “Yeah, well… I put her on retainer a couple months ago.  She’s the best, and she’s busy, and I knew we’d want her when it was time.  I didn’t want for you to have to wait when you were ready to do the baby’s room, so I sat down with her gave her some ideas to start playing with.  This is that she came up with for the preliminaries.”  Jon nodded toward the beautifully-appointed crib.  “Not a bad start, huh?”

“Not bad?  Jon, it’s beautiful.”  Cate’s breathless reply made him smile again. 

“Actually, that was my idea.”  Jon nodded at the crib, then strolled slowly over to his wife.  He slipped an arm around her waist and rested his other hand beside hers on the smooth wooden rail.    “I saw it when we were in Dublin last year.  I couldn’t remember what shop I saw it in, so I described it to Rachel and gave her a guess about what part of town it was in, and she tracked it down.”

“You… you got this?  From Ireland?”  Cate stared at her husband in affectionate wonder.  “Even… before…?” She didn’t have to finish her thought.

Jon nodded proudly.  “Uh huh.  I knew we’d need it eventually.”

“Oh… Oh, Jon…”  Cate swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat.  She smiled gratefully as her long lashes fluttered against the happy moisture in her sapphire eyes.

“Now, none of that,” Jon chided gently, pulling Cate closer and covering her hand with his.  He chuckled softly and turned his head to press a kiss against her temple.  “We’re supposed to be celebrating tonight, remember?”

“I’m just…”  Cate tipped her head against Jon’s shoulder as she smiled down at their hands on the dark wood rail.  “Oh, Baby.  You just continue to amaze me.”

“Good.  I was starting to worry I was losing my touch,” Jon teased gently.  He grinned at her soft giggle in response.  “So, what do you think of the rest of it?  You like it?”

Cate raised her head and half-turned to look over her shoulder.  Her gaze swept over the sweetly decorated room before returning to her husband’s handsome face.

“It’s gorgeous, Jon.  But…”  She shrugged sheepishly.  “Isn’t it a little… pink?”

Jon chuckled, nodding sagely.  “Ah.  You mean what if we have a boy?”

“Um.. no.  I mean... I’m not crazy about pink.”

Cate’s simple confession made Jon snort a gentle laugh.  He shook his head slowly, then pulled Cate into a full embrace.  He hadn't given in a second thought while helping Rachel set up the room, but Jon knew his wife was not partial to the feminine hue.  Cate never wore pink, except for the occasional small pink ribbon breast cancer awareness symbol.  He didn’t think she even owned anything pink.

“Okay, then.  We can change the color, to anything you want.  Blue, green, purple, black… I don’t care.  As long as you like it.”  He pulled back and gave Cate a warm smile.  “I told Rachel to leave some sample books.  Thought it might be a fun way for us to spend the evening, listening to the radio and picking out wallpaper.”

Cate chortled at his suggestion.  “Not exactly a traditional New Year’s Eve Party.”

“Well, I put a bottle of sparkling cider in the cooler, and we have hors d’ouvres, and Sirius is airing the Jukes show…”  Jon dropped a playful kiss onto the end of Cate’s nose.  “And I can’t think of any way I’d rather bring in the New Year than looking ahead to our future.  As a family.”

Cate’s eyes moistened again as she gazed up at her husband, his loving smile filling her heart with hope.  “And tomorrow…”

“We make it official.”  Jon grinned.  “But tonight, we dream.”

She nodded slowly, her smile mirroring his.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

“Alright.  I’m gonna go to the kitchen and fix us a tray.”  Jon dropped a quick kiss onto Cate’s forehead before releasing her from his embrace.  “You get the radio tuned up and drag those sample books out.”  He nodded toward the door.

Cate’s gaze followed his nod, spying a knee-high pile of heavy square catalogs stacked against the wall next to the bedroom door.  She giggled quietly.  “You’re serious about this, huh?  You’re really gonna sort through wallpaper samples with me?”

“Bet your sweet ass I am, Baby.  I’ll look at duckies and bunnies all night long.”

“Well, I think you’re safe from duckies and bunnies.” 

“Even better.”  Jon tilted his head, giving his wife a little smirk.  “Now get moving.  I’m starving, and we only have a couple hours until midnight.  I wanna be into our second bottle of fake bubbly and have you half-undressed by then.”

Her musical laughter in response to his half-tease made Jon’s heart smile.  He leaned forward for another sweet kiss, then turned and swaggered toward the door.  Jon paused for one more wink back at his wife before disappearing into the hallway, his mission underway.

With a happy sigh Cate stood still, slowly surveying the beautiful room once again.  She still could hardly believe Jon’s thoughtful foresight.  Her hand reached again to rest on the smooth curved rail of the beautiful oval crib.

For months she had been so focused on the physical task of getting pregnant that she had ignored or avoided the joyful ancillary projects, such as looking at baby clothes or thinking about nursery colors.  It was as if she couldn’t allow herself to believe that their fertility journey would bring them to a happy ending.  But all this time Jon had quietly planned ahead, faithful that she would find her way to share his confidence in their future.

With a gentle sigh and a contented smile Cate stepped back from the crib.  Following Jon’s instructions, she moved to the wall panel near the door and pushed a few buttons, tuning the whole-house sound system to Sirius radio. 

She lowered the volume to a pleasing background drone, then wandered over to the pile of sample books.  Having no idea where to start, she simply pulled the first heavy catalog from the stack and carried it over to the bed. 

The big book bounced against the mattress where she dropped it.  Cate climbed onto the enormous bed and settled herself comfortably on the thick duvet. 

With a contented smile she flipped open the book’s glossy cover.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Cate involuntarily cringed at the identification of Jon’s caller.  “Oh God.  She saw it, didn’t she?”

Jon shrugged grimly.  “Guess I’m about to find out, huh?”

“Jon, you can’t tell her…”

“I know.  Believe me, I’m not.”  He tapped the phone’s little screen before raising it to his ear.  “Hey, Mom.”

“Why Johnny!  I’m surprised I reached you!  I thought you might be out on the water or something.”  Carol’s delighted chirp in Jon’s ear made him flinch.  He knew she was sincerely happy to speak to him, but that her call was not simply a check-in.

“Nah, not today.  Cate and I are out shopping.”  Jon gave his wife a little smile as he said her name.

“Well that’s nice.  They have some lovely shops on the island.  Are you in Gustavia?”

“Yeah.  We’re just strolling around.  I’m trying to convince Cate to let me buy her something pretty.”  Jon rolled his eyes as he heard Carol’s soft cluck of concern.  She had never been good at hiding her motives. 

“And how is Cate?  Is she feeling well?”

“She feels great, Ma.  Kicked my ass in a five-mile run this morning.  Up the mountain.”  Jon’s nose wrinkled with his mischievous smirk at Cate.  “You wanna talk to her?”

Cate’s eyes widened at Jon’s suggestion.  “NO!” she hissed, shaking her head vigorously.  “Jon!”

“No, that’s okay, Dear.  I only have a minute, but tell her your father and I say hello.”

Jon took a sip from his almost-empty iced tea glass, swallowing noisily before continuing the conversation.  “So that’s why you called, in the middle of the afternoon?  Just to say hi?”  A note of smug accusation crept into his tone.

“Can’t a mother call her son just because she’s thinking about him?”

“Yeah, Ma, she can.  But that ain’t why you’re calling.”  Jon chuckled.  “I know you too well.”

“Johnny!  I was on my way back from lunch with the girls and I just thought I’d see how you’re enjoying your vacation.”  Carol’s rebuttal wasn’t persuasive.

Jon slumped against the booth’s high back, his butt scooting on the vinyl as he stretched out his legs.  He gave Cate a silent “here we go” look.  “Lunch with the Girls, huh?”

“Yes.  You know we always meet at the clubhouse on Wednesdays, for lunch and cards.”

“And did the Girls happen to ask about me?”

“Well, yes... Betty did mention she saw some nice photos of you and Cate on your vacation, when she was reading the news online.  You remember Betty, don’t you, Johnny?  She lives on the corner? Her husband is the retired airline pilot?”

Jon chortled softly.  His mother was trying hard to hide her alarm.  He wondered how she had reacted when her bridge partner had congratulated her on her rumored new grandchild-to-be.

“Sure.  Betty and Bob.   Nice folks.”  Jon answered smoothly and briefly, purposely evading the topic he knew Carol was trying desperately to broach.

Carol was silent for a moment, then spoke again, tentatively.  “Betty said you looked very relaxed and happy in the pictures she saw.  You were on the beach, dancing.  And Cate looked lovely.  Glowing.”

Jon couldn’t hide a snort of amusement at his mother’s leading comment.  He gave Cate another little eye-roll and reached up to drag a hand through his hair.  “Ma, it’s bullshit.”

“What?”  Carol’s faux-innocent query was so exaggerated it was laughable.

“Oh, come on, Ma.  You know what.  Stop playing games.”  Jon’s growl was gentle, but serious.  He was fast losing patience with her beating around the bush.

“Johnny, of course I don’t believe those trashy magazines.  I never have.  They’ve printed so many nasty things about you and Dorothea, especially when you were having your troubles…”

Jon bristled at Carol’s mention of the tabloids’ coverage of his divorce, though he held his tone in check.  “So, if you don’t believe ‘em, then why are you calling me now?”

“I told you.  Just to say hello.”

“And to hear it from the horses’ mouth, right?  That Cate’s not pregnant?”  Jon’s expression turned stormy.  “That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

“Johnny!  Why are you being so defensive?”  Carol’s reply was far from apologetic.  “I told Betty not to believe everything she reads.   After all, if you and Cate were having a baby, you’d have told your father and me.”

Jon sighed with exasperation.  “And have we told you that?  To start knitting booties again because there’s gonna be another grandkid?”

“No.  Of course not.”

“Well then, there’s your answer, Ma.”  Jon tipped his head back against the booth, rolling his eyes skyward.  He sighed again, then dropped his head to look at Cate.  She was sitting motionless, her lips nervously parted.  Her sapphire eyes glittered as she stared at him, silently begging him not to confess their secret. 

Jon’s heart twinged at the worry painting her beautiful features.  Sitting forward, he reached again for her hand.

“Ma, listen.”  Jon’s words were calm, his voice level.  “It’s just a sensational headline to sell magazines.  Or get website hits.  Whatever.”  He gave Cate a reassuring half-smile as he gently squeezed her hand.

“Well, thank goodness.  Like I told your father, it couldn’t possibly be true."  She laughed liltingly.  After all, Cate’s not a young woman anymore.” 

Carol’s relieved rush of words made Jon’s smile fade.  He ground his teeth together to prevent himself from revealing too much with an automatic retort.  As much as he wanted to admonish his mother for her backhanded slight of his wife, he would just be opening the door to further inquisition.

“Listen, Ma… I gotta go.  We’re going out to dinner with friends, so we’re headed back to the house to change.”

“Oh, okay.  I don’t want to hold you up.”  Carol’s breezy remark made Jon grit his teeth again.  Now that his mother had gotten the answer she obviously hoped for, she was willing to sign off.  “Have a lovely time, Dear.”

“I’ll tell my wife you said hello.”  Jon put extra emphasis on Cate’s title for his mother’s benefit.

“Oh, yes.  Please do.  We’ll see you both soon.”

“Yeah.”  Jon’s lip curled as he fought not to growl his reply.  “Give Dad my love.”

“I will.  I love you, Johnny.”

“You too.  Bye, Ma.”

With a weary sigh Jon brushed his thumb across the screen to end the call, then dropped the phone on the tabletop.  Again he pulled his hand through his hair before looking up at Cate.

“So, is she relieved?”  Cate’s voice was flat.

Jon’s lips pressed together in a firm line, knowing his wife could read the answer in his eyes.

“I’m not sure relieved is the word for her reaction,” he answered quietly, trying to soften the blow.  “I think she was just pissed off that we didn’t tell her personally.”

“What?  That we’re not pregnant?”  This time Cate couldn’t hide behind her sarcasm.  Her lip curled into a little sneer as she spat out the response.  “Well shit, Jon.  I guess I forgot to call her and tell her when I got my period last month.  I better put it on my calendar so I don’t forget again.” 

“Cate.”  Jon’s voice was quiet, sympathetic to the emotion behind her retort.  Though she said otherwise, Jon knew it bothered Cate that his mother had never fully accepted her role in his life.  “It’s none of her business.”

“Well, she thinks it is.  You’re almost fifty, but you’ll always be her Little Johnny-Boy.”  Cate sighed.  “And as far as she’s concerned, Dorothea is still the only woman for you.”

“You know, she didn’t like Dorothea much at first, either.  Especially when we got back together.”

Cate snorted.  “Well, I don’t forsee Carol warming up to me like she did to your first wife.”

Jon gave her a wry smile.  “Don’t be so sure.  Just wait until she’s bouncing another Grandbaby on her knee.”

Cate arched a brow.  “Oh, you mean the Grandbaby we hid from her?  That she had to find out about in the tabloids?”

Jon’s grin widened at her snarky retort.  Without realizing it, Cate had acknowledged with her comment his earlier argument, that perhaps the gossip column headline was accurate.

“She’ll get over it.”  Jon tugged Cate’s hand across the tabletop, then lifted it to his lips.  “Don’t let her get to you, Baby.  All that matters is us, how we feel about each other.”  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before pressing another kiss against her knuckles.

Cate sighed heavily, raising her free hand to tunnel her fingers through her thick chestnut tresses.  “I know, Jon.  But it gets old, her catty comments and fake friendliness.  I wish she’d just tell me straight-up that she doesn’t like me.  That I can deal with.  These stupid games drive me crazy.” 

Jon shrugged and let Cate pull her hand from his grasp, then he slouched back against the upholstered bench.  He echoed her sigh.  “She is who she is, Cate.  She drives me crazy too, sometimes.  Hell, most of the time, anymore.  But she’s my mother.  I owe her my life.  Literally.”

A pang of guilt rippled through Cate’s heart at Jon’s weary confession.  She didn’t want to make it harder for him, dealing with the rift between his mother and his wife.  He was already caught in the middle. 

“I know, Jon.  And I’m sorry.  It’s just… well, I guess it’s just everything, today.” Cate’s shoulders slumped with her apology.  “The pictures, the questions, the fucking herd of paps following us around…  I’m just hypersensitive right now, I guess.”

Jon smiled sympathetically.  “S’Okay.  You have nothing to apologize for.  You’re entitled to be a little short-fused today.”  He chuckled softly.  “And at the risk of you throwing that plate at my head… maybe you’re a little hormonal, too?”

His comment caught Cate off-guard.  She stared at him for a moment before a little smile crept to her lips.  Jon’s observation was actually quite practical, considering her recent therapy and the current status of her cycle.

“Well… maybe,” she agreed sheepishly.

“You know, I have a little experience with pregnant women.”  Jon winked, his smile broadening.  “The roller-coaster ride at the beginning is almost as wild as the one at the end.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

Jon grinned and reached for his pocket.  “We’ll know pretty soon, won’t we?  Once we get back home?”  He pulled out his wallet and slipped a few colorful notes from the fold, then dropped them on the table beside the remains of his lemon tart. 

“Whaddya say we get outta this place?  Go back to the villa, just chill out for a little while before we get dressed up for dinner?”

Cate nodded, a small sigh of relief escaping her.  “That sounds wonderful.  I’m sick of all this, all these eyes on us.”

Jon slid to the end of the bench and stood, then helped Cate from her seat.  He gave her a cheeky grin, unable to resist voicing the tune that flashed through his mind.

Pri-hi-vate Eyes

They’re watching you

They see your ev-ery move…

Cate rolled her eyes even as she giggled at Jon’s silly little croon.  “Hall and Oates?  Really?”

“Philly Soul at its finest, Baby.”  Jon’s hand settled on the small of Cate’s back as he guided her toward the café’s entrance.  He paused to slip his sunglasses over his eyes and waited as Cate did the same.  “You ready?”

Cate took a deep breath before nodding slowly and giving Jon a little smile.  Together they moved for the door.

*****

Cate sighed wearily she settled on the edge of the bed.  She gathered her skirt up to her knees, then reached down to slip her high heels off first one foot, then the other.  Cate let the elegant strappy sandals fall against the polished wood floor with a quiet clatter before releasing the silky azure knit from her clutch.  It slipped downward, its wispy hem tickling at her calves.

Her expression blank, Cate reached for the small beaded purse she had dropped on the bed before sitting.  Extracting her phone from the little bag, she turned the glowing screen to her gaze.  One quick tap of her manicured finger opened the bookmarked link.

Cate’s lips pursed with displeasure as she saw the list of titles had grown.  Her renewed Google search now yielded over two hundred news article results for the keywords “Bon Jovi” and “pregnant,” nearly half of them posted in the past two hours.

She growled softly as she perused the list, not the least bit amused by some of the more clever headlines.

Baby Jon Bon?

Bon to be Their Baby?

A Bon (Jovi) in the Oven?

Five at Fifty?  Is Jon Bon Jovi Adding to his Brood?

Bon Jovi is Just Older – But Not Shooting Blanks Yet!

Though she didn’t really want to know more, Cate stabbed her finger against the screen, randomly opening a link.  She cringed as she was greeted with a new photograph of her and Jon, one taken just hours ago during their ill-fated shopping excursion.  The photographer had managed to capture Cate’s hand brushing over her middle as her handbag dangled from the bend of her elbow.  The angle of the photo made it appear she was cradling her womb with one hand while her other was clasped affectionately in Jon’s as they strolled together down the sidewalk.

“Fuck,” Cate sighed wearily.  She reached up to sweep her hair back from her forehead, her fingers tunneling into her long tresses and pulling them back from her face.

“Hey.”  Jon’s gentle voice made Cate look up.  She saw him standing in the doorway to the master suite, unbuttoning his white cotton shirt.  “Whatcha doin’ there?”  Jon nodded at the glowing device in his wife’s hands.

Cate gave Jon a guilty half- smile.  “I know, I know… But I can’t help it.  It’s all so fucking frustrating.”

Slipping the last button free of its hole, Jon wandered over to where Cate sat morosely on the big bed.  The halves of his shirt slipped open as he moved, revealing his tanned chest and abdomen.  Cate’s eyes automatically settled on her husband’s bared torso, then slid upward to the cluster of charms nestled in his silver fur.  She shrugged sheepishly when he stopped in front of her.

“Lemme see that.”  Jon reached down to take the phone from her fingers.  With a little grunt he turned and lowered himself onto the bed’s edge beside Cate, then raised the screen for his inspection.  He gazed at it for a second before snorting a derisive half-laugh.

“Superman At Night – Age is Not Jon Bon Jovi’s Kryptonite,” he read aloud, a smirk twisting his lips.  “Well, at least they got that part right…”  Jon turned his head to see Cate’s reaction to his teasing boast.  His smile softened when she dropped her gaze to her lap, her head bowing as she sighed again.

“Baby… you know this is all gonna blow over in a day or two.”  Jon slipped his hand onto her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “Just try not to think about it.  And stop looking at all these bullshit stories.  You’re just gonna make yourself crazy.”

“I know.”  Cate’s reply was a guilty half-whisper.  “I know you’re right.  But I just can’t seem to let this one go.  It’s too… I don’t know.  Just…too personal, I guess.”  She looked sideways at Jon, her heart melting at his sympathetic gaze.

“Cate, you’ve dealt with the press before.  Hell, even long before we met, when you were investigating crimes.  You know how it is:  get the story, no matter what.  Every little detail gets you attention.  Scoop the other guys.” 

Jon tossed Cate’s phone aside, watching as the device bounced lightly on the bedcovering.  “Only unlike the real press that covers actual news, these fucking vultures get to pretty much make shit up and hope it sticks.  As long as they stay in the gray area and don’t actually say you’re pregnant, they can speculate all they like.  And there’s not a damned thing we – or our lawyers – can do about it.”

Cate raised her head and let it fall back as she sighed noisily, her mahogany mane sliding over her slumped shoulders and down her halter-bared back.  She stared at the ceiling, exasperated with herself.

“I know, Jon.  But I can’t just turn my mind off, stop thinking about this.”

Jon chortled softly at her frustrated growl.  He shifted closer to her on the bed, his hand sliding across Cate’s back and curving around her side.  “Well…” He dropped his face closer to hers, his lips brushing over her cheek before slipping to her ear.  “Why don’t you let me take your mind off of things?”

A tingle rippled down Cate’s spine at Jon’s suggestive purr in her ear and at his soft lips against her skin.  But despite the pleasurable stimulus, she felt a flash of annoyance.  It was just like him to think he could dissolve her anxiety with a sexy distraction.  Pulling her head upright, she shrugged, leaning away from him.

Jon paused, surprised at her rebuff.  He pulled back a bit and gave her a quizzical look.  “Cate… C’mon.  Forget about that bullshit.”  He smiled persuasively.  “It’s our last night here.  Let’s make it memorable in a good way.  Okay?”  He leaned toward her again, his lips seeking her neck.

Again Cate squirmed at his advance, this time raising a hand in a silent halt signal.  Again Jon pulled back, this time without an amused smirk.  He regarded her profile as Cate stared across the room, avoiding his eyes.

“Seriously, Baby?  You’re gonna let this ruin our evening?  You said earlier you could put this afternoon’s crap aside and have a good time tonight.”

“I know, Jon, but…”

He interrupted her sigh.  “But obviously you didn’t.  You were hardly present at dinner.  You kept sneaking off to ‘take a call’ or to use the powder room.  You kept checking the web, didn’t ya?”  His brow arched with his accusing tone.

Cate turned to look at him, a fiery spark in her gaze.  “Hey, I did have to take those calls.  It was Gus, and they were important.  There’s stuff happening with our case…”

“Come on, Cate.   Maybe the calls were real, but I saw you sneaking glances at your phone.  And no woman has to pee that many times in one evening.”

She blinked for a moment at Jon’s astute observation for before sighing again.  He wasn’t wrong… she had checked the web several times throughout their evening to see if their story was growing.  Each confirmation had left her more unhappy. 

“Oh, okay,” Cate admitted wearily, dropping her sapphire gaze again to her lap.  She picked at the filmy fabric of her skirt, watching it ripple over her thighs.  “Yes, I checked.  I couldn’t help myself.  This thing is like a fucking train wreck… I don’t wanna see it, but I can’t stop looking at it.”

Jon chortled softly at her defeated confession.  His hand slipped back to the small of her back and rubbed gently, comforting her.

“Yeah, I know.  Believe me, I’ve been there.  But Baby, you gotta stop.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Jon’s palm circling reassuringly against Cate’s back as he watched her expression.  Cate’s lips pursed as she considered her husband’s advice, and his physical overtures.  She wanted to agree with him, to be carefree and relaxed and romantic on their last vacation night.  But she just couldn’t muster the frame of mind.

“Baby… I’m sorry, but I’m just not… not in the mood.”  Cate turned her head to look at him, her mahogany tresses sliding over her shoulder to hang in a shimmering curtain beside her face.  “Will you be angry if I ask for a raincheck on the sex?”

Jon gave her a tender smile.  “Of course not.”  He curved his hand around her side again, giving her a gentle hug.  “I mean, it’s not like it’s our absolute last chance to make love before we leave this place.  We can always do it in the morning.”  He chuckled at his tease.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Cate’s less-than-enthusiastic sigh made Jon’s smirk fade.  His head tilted as he gave her a concerned look.  “Baby, what else?  What aren’t you telling me?”  The flash of sadness she saw in her blue eyes almost made him cringe.

“Nothing… Well, not really.”  Cate looked away again, down to her lap.  “It’s just… well…”  Again she brushed at her skirt as she tried to figure out how to phrase what she needed to confess.

Jon’s shoulders slumped with his sigh as he read her mind.  “It hasn’t been all that great lately, huh?  Our sex life?”  Though his words were stark his voice was gentle.  He could literally feel Cate’s relief at his observation, her posture slumping a bit against his loose embrace.

Cate shook her head slowly, a tiny wistful smile curving the corners of her mouth.  “No.  Not exactly.  I mean… it hasn’t been bad…”

“But it hasn’t been all fireworks and flamethrowers, either,” he pointed out. 

Jon smiled, encouraged by Cate’s husky chuckle at his analogy.  He hadn’t been the only one to notice their recent sexual encounters had lost some of their spark. 

Jon knew his and Cate's busy schedules and their fertility struggles had put a damper on their marital relations.  Contrary to his early assumptions, the increased frequency of their intercourse hadn't produced a corresponding bump in sexual satisfaction.  As much as he hated to admit it, Jon had found himself regarding sex as a chore on a couple of occasions.  Literally adding it to his daily schedule, to correspond with Cate’s ovulation, hadn’t helped. 

“No, it hasn’t.”  Cate glanced sideways at Jon and saw his affectionate gaze.  It encouraged her to face him.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to say anything, to make you feel like… well, you know.”

“S’Okay.  Maybe we need to talk about it, get it out in the open.”

“Yeah, maybe.”  They exchanged a long look before Jon slipped his arm from around Cate’s waist and took her hand.  He twined his fingers with hers, resting their clasped hands on her lap.  Cate smiled sheepishly as she looked down at their joined hands, her wedding band and engagement ring shining softly between the lace of their fingers.

“It’s just been hard, Jon.  For me.  I mean… it’s not that I don’t want to make love to you, I do.  But I just start thinking about sperm and eggs and fallopian tubes and hormone levels and mucous density and…”  Her lip curled as she grimaced lightly.  “Well, it’s hard to stay in the moment, you know?”

Jon chuckled as he matched her “eww”  face, his nose wrinkling above his gentle grin.  “I know, Baby.  I get it.  The biology ain’t exactly sexy.”

“How about you?  You said it hasn’t been great for you, either.”

“Well, it hasn’t been bad.”  Jon repeated Cate’s clarification.  “But yeah, lately it’s been… I don’t know.  Kinda… forced, I guess.  You know, with calendars and ovulation schedules and counting days and ‘Hey, drop everything and fuck me right NOW’.”

Cate’s brows lifted at Jon’s mildly sarcastic comment.  “I’ve never said that!”

“Not in those exact words, no.”

Cate frowned as she tried to recall an instance of sex-on-demand she had foisted upon Jon.  Her mouth curved into sheepish smile when her memory locked on their early-morning workout room encounter, several months ago.  “Oh.”  She was sure there were probably other similar situations.

“I’m not complaining, mind you.  I’m just saying that sometimes… Well, sometimes it feels like work, not play.”  Jon snorted wryly.  “I know I’m a workaholic, but… well, this ain’t quite the same.”

“I’m sorry, Baby.  I didn’t mean…”

“I know.”  Jon cut her off.  “You don’t have to apologize.  We both feel the pressure.”  He dropped his gaze to their joined hands as he gave hers a reassuring squeeze.  “But we still manage to get through it, somehow.”  He smirked.  “It all cums together in the end.  My boys get headed upstream, lookin’ for your girls.”

Cate fidgeted beside him, his teasing pun making her involuntarily squirm.  Her cheeks colored lightly as her mind flashed back over her increasingly-frequent dramatic performances.

Jon noticed.  “What?”

“Umm…”  Cate took a breath in preparation for her confession.  Jon was right; they needed to talk about this uncomfortable topic.  But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, either.

“Baby… what?”

Cate turned her face to Jon’s, her glowing sapphire gaze meeting his soulful indigo stare.  She gave him an apologetic smile as she half-mumbled her reply.

“I.. um… don’t always… get there.”  She watched as Jon’s expression morphed from concern to confusion, then to comprehension and surprise.

“What?  You mean you… you don’t cum?”  Jon’s blue eyes widened at her disclosure.  “But that’s not possible.  The way you… you moan and pant and… Fuck, Cate.  You scream like a banshee!”

Cate couldn’t stop a sympathetic  giggle at his exclamation.  Her cheeks flushed even more.  “Well… guess you’re not the only actor in this family.”  She shrugged sheepishly.  “You’ve seen When Harry Met Sally.”  She giggled again as she recalled the famous scene.

“But…”  Jon’s mouth hung open for a moment while he considered his wife’s confession.  “All the time?”

“No!  God, no!”  Cate hastily allayed his concern.  “No, Baby.  I don’t fake it all the time.  Just… sometimes.  Like if we’re in a hurry, or we have somewhere to go…”

“Well you sure as fuck didn’t fake it in the wine pantry.  That I know.”  Jon’s adamant declaration bolstered his ego.  But he still looked a little shell-shocked.

Cate’s blush deepened.  “No, I didn’t.  That was… well, that was the best we’ve been in awhile.”  Her voice gentled.  “Jon, I’m not saying you’re a bad lover.  ‘Cause God knows that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” 

She gave him another tender, apologetic smile.  "It’s not you… it’s me.  I just get so… so anxious.  You know, trying to time everything right, to be sure we have the best chance of getting pregnant.  And if that means I have to… well, help you along a little… by acting… then that’s what I do."

“So you pretend to have an orgasm so I’ll do it too.”  Jon gave Cate a pained smile.  “Baby, why don’t you just tell me if you need… more?”

Cate dropped her gaze, her modesty finally getting the better of her.   She mumbled her answer. “Because, Jonny.  I don’t need to cum.  What I need is… is you to cum.”

Jon’s expression softened at her embarrassment, but he couldn’t resist a gentle tease. “Ah.  So those times you were just using me for stud, huh?  A sperm donor?”

“Well… yeah.  I guess so.”  Cate shrugged.  “Sorry.  But that’s what’s most important right now.”

Jon’s heart twinged at the note of sadness in his wife’s soft voice.  He sighed and leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek.

“Baby, it’s okay.  I get it.  But I wish you woulda told me…”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad.  And it wasn’t you, Jon.  It was me.  Just me.”

“Nah.”  Jon pressed a kiss to Cate’s cheek.  “It’s not just you.  It’s us.  I shoulda paid more attention.  I get distracted sometimes too.”

Cate chortled softly.  “You mean you shouldn’t have been fooled by my amateur acting?  Considering you’re a real actor?”

Jon grinned.  “Oh, no.  I’m not letting you bait me into that trap.  Then you’ll be mad at me for insulting your acting skills.”

Cate smiled at his response, then sighed wearily.  “Look, Baby.  It is what it is.  Every marriage has its ups and downs, including in the bedroom.  I guess this is one of those downs.”

“So maybe we need to work on it, turn it into an ‘up’.”

“How?”  Cate gave Jon a suspicious sideways glance.  “You’re not suggesting some kinda therapy, are you?”

“FUCK no.”  Jon’s answer was vehement.  “That’s the last thing we need, some head-shrinker asking us about our parental issues or fear of intimacy or some other bullshit they make up to keep us coming to five-hundred-dollar-an-hour sessions.”

Cate chuckled softly.  “I didn’t think so.”

“No, I just mean maybe we should try a little harder.  In the bedroom department.  You know, make romance a priority, make it fun.”

“Like what? Play some kind of kinky little games?”  Cate’s comment was a full of wry sarcasm.  If she and Jon both viewed sex as a chore she couldn’t see how making it more work was going to help.

“Maybe.”  Jon grinned.  “You could dress up.  You know, in one of those sexy little French maid outfits or something?”

Cate gave him a skeptical look.  “Is that what you want me to do?”

Seeing she was serious, Jon backpedaled.  “Not if you don’t want to.  I was just throwing out an idea.  After all, it worked for me, dressing up for you.  Remember?”  He smirked, recalling the time he had donned some of his old, outrageous stage wardrobe to woo Cate into bed.  His efforts had been well-rewarded, even though they hadn’t quite made it to an actual bed.

“Yeah, I remember.”  Cate smiled in spite of herself, enjoying the memory.  “I don’t know… we’ll see.”  She snorted softly before making another sarcastic proposal.  “Any other suggestions?  A stripper pole in the bedroom, maybe?  Another trip to Vegas to visit Raven?”

Jon grinned at her cynical offerings.  “Well, last time you tried to use a pole you fell off and sprained your wrist, remember?  And as for Raven… I’m not sure my old heart could handle that again.”

He gave her cheek another nuzzle. “Baby, all I’m saying is maybe we just need to work a little harder at making time for us.  Stop making dates to visit doctors and labs and start making dates to spend the night in, with candles and a bottle of wine, regardless of what day of the month it is.”

Cate nodded slowly, then turned her head to brush her lips over Jon’s.  “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed.  “But when?  You’re gonna start shooting soon, my case is heating up…”

“We’ll figure it out.  But we have to make time for romance.  Just like we make time for everything else.”  Jon tugged their clasped hands closer to Cate’s stomach.  “And as for this… I just have a feeling, Baby.  It’s gonna happen soon, if it hasn’t already.  Then we won’t have to worry, to try so hard.”

“I hope you’re right.  God, Jonny, I hope so.”  Cate’s voice was weary, tinged with a mixture of sadness and relief.

“Trust me, Baby.”  Jon pressed a kiss against Cate’s cheek, then smiled.  “And as for that other thing… I’m gonna work damned hard to be sure you enjoy yourself.  Every time.”

Cate chuckled.  “There you go again, with that ‘work hard and you can do anything’ mantra.”

“Well, it’s true.”  Jon smirked.  “You’ll see.  I’ll make it happen.  Even if I have to install a damned ladder in every room of the house.”  He winked playfully at Cate with his reference to their wine-pantry tryst.  “You just sit back and enjoy the ride, Baby.”

“Well okay, then.”  Cate smiled and looked down again at their entwined hands.  “But not tonight, okay?”

“Okay.  But tonight I’m gonna hold on to you tighter than usual.  Okay?”

Cate nodded gratefully and tipped her head onto Jon’s shoulder.  “Promise?”

“Promise.”

*****

Jon lowered his newspaper and looked to his left.  Across the aisle Cate was curled into the wide butter-leather seat, gazing out the porthole.  Beyond the window fluffy white clouds floated in a bright blue sky.  

A pair of glossy magazines and a newspaper lay scattered on the table in front of her, ignored.  Jon could see a bold headline postulating "Baby Makes Three?" topping a familiar full-page photo on the front of the tabloid paper.  He growled softly, wishing Cate hadn't visited the small travel store at the terminal while their jet was readied. 

“Baby?  You okay?” 

Cate half-turned her head toward the sound of his voice and nodded.  “Fine.  Just thinking.”

“Wanna tell me?”

She shrugged.  “Not really.”

Jon bit back his impulse to pry.  “Okay.”  He glanced at the dial on his wrist.  “We should start our descent pretty soon.  Almost home.”

“Good.”

Sighing softly, Jon returned his attention to his paper.  Clearly Cate wanted to be left alone.  

She had seemed fine this morning when they packed up and departed to the villa, but once they boarded the jet she had turned quiet.  Jon knew her subconscious coping strategy was again in action; his wife would remain behind her invisible wall until she had analyzed and compartmentalized everything that was bothering her.  Once her thoughts were sorted she would let him in again.

Realizing he was no longer interested in the day’s news, Jon shook out the paper and folded it before dropping it onto the table.  He glanced again at Cate before picking up his iPad from its resting place on the vacant seat to his right.  He settled the tablet in front of him and began to tap at the screen, opening the right windows in succession.

The idea had come to him last night, as he lay awake in the big bed, his wife dozing fitfully in his arms.  After a brief discussion of their plans to depart St. Barth, Cate had insisted they make no plans for New Year’s Eve.  Jon agreed with her desire to celebrate quietly at home, but he wanted to make the evening meaningful.  In the morning rush to depart he hadn’t had the chance to send the necessary e-mail to his assistant, to facilitate his plans.

Bending his fingers to crack his knuckles, Jon hunched over the tablet and began to type.

From:  Bossman83@BJM.net

To:  Renee.Taylor@BJM.net

Subject:  Short-Notice Favor

 Renee –

Need a favor.  Cate and I are flying back today.  Can you get in touch with Rachel Baxter and ask her to send over the stuff I talked to her about last month?  She should know what I mean.  If not, call or text me.  Need it by Friday.

Hope you are having a nice winter break.  See you next week.  Thx for all you do for me.  Happy New Year.

JB

Jon tapped the send button, then slumped back against his seat with a satisfied smile.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Next fucking time we’re getting a villa at the bottom of the mountain.”  Jon groaned and flopped down on the chaise.  He let his arms fall limply over the sides of the chair as he sighed dramatically.

Cate giggled and rolled her eyes as she cracked the seal on her water bottle.  “Yeah, sure.  You love this place because it’s on top of the mountain.  The view is gorgeous.  And nobody bothers you here.”  She turned her gaze toward the stunning vista that spread before them, the deep aquamarine ocean shimmering in the morning sun.

“I don’t love it when you make me run up it.” Jon grumbled.  He groaned again as he stretched for his own water bottle, which had slipped from his hand and bounced on the concrete deck.

“I didn’t make you run up it.  I merely offered my opinion that I could jog up to the house faster than you could.”  Cate smirked and turned her head back to regard her sweaty, whiny husband.

Jon snorted. “ ‘Race Ya’ isn’t a statement of opinion.  It’s a fucking challenge.” 

“You could have said no.”

“And let you win?  No fucking way.  I ain’t no pussy.”  Jon pushed himself up on his elbow and took a long drink from his water bottle.

“Well, I almost beat you.”

“Almost.  You wouldn’t have even been close if it wasn’t for my bum knee.”

Cate chortled softly as she toed off her running shoes.  “Oh puh-lease.  You still using that old excuse?”  She lowered herself onto the end of Jon’s chair before stripping off her socks.  “Your knee has been fine since last summer.”  Cate swiped a forearm across her sweaty brow before taking another gulp from her water bottle.

Jon grinned and slid his leg over the chaise, bumping Cate’s buttock playfully with his shin.  “So, what do I get for winning the race?” he taunted smugly.

“I won’t bust your other kneecap.”  Cate swatted playfully at Jon’s leg.  “Unless you keep gloating.”

“But I won.  I get some kinda prize.”  Jon smirked dirtily.  “To the victor goes the blowjob, right?”

Cate tossed her head back as she laughed.  “Nice try.  And NO.  Not right now, anyway.”  She grunted softly as she pushed herself up from the chaise, her quadriceps already tightening from inactivity.  “I’m gonna get in the shower.  Be back in a few.”

“Maybe I’ll join you.  Soap up your back for you.  Or your front.”

“I think there might be room in there for two.”  Cate chuckled softly at her understatement.  There was probably room for ten people in the enormous shower in the villa’s master suite.

“Alright.  Go warm it up for me.  I’ll be there in a minute.  As soon as I can drag these creaky ol’ bones up off-a this chair.”

Cate chuckled softly to herself as she wandered under the lanai’s roof, into the house.  As she passed by the small breakfast table, she noticed the message light on Jon’s iPhone winking on and off.  She paused. 

“Hey Baby?” Cate called back over her shoulder as she continued into the spacious, open kitchen.  “You’ve got a message.”  She set her water bottle on the counter before opening the refrigerator and taking out a small cup of yogurt.

“I’ll get it in a minute.”  Jon sighed wearily, then eased himself upright.  He took a swig of water from his bottle before reaching down to slip off his running shoes and socks.  Letting them fall to the deck beside Cate’s, Jon stood and strolled around the chaise and over to the table. 

“Thought you were heading for the shower?” Jon gave Cate a quizzical grin as he watched her pop a spoonful of pink yogurt into her mouth.

“I’m hungry.  Decided to eat something first.”  Cate dipped her spoon into the plastic container again.

“Good idea.  You’re gonna need your strength.”  Jon winked at Cate and reached for his phone. 

“Probably one of the kids saying good morning,” he postulated, referring to the blinking green light.  “Or all of them.” 

Jon smiled gently as he swiped at the screen, expecting to see the usual goofy greeting from Jake and Romeo.  They loved to send him a joke every day he was away from them.  He loved to know he was in their thoughts early every morning, even though he was rarely there to wake them.

His grin broadened when he saw the expected e-mail among the dozen or so new communications highlighted on the little screen.  Jon tapped to open the message, then read the riddle aloud.

“What illness did everyone on the Starship Enterprise catch?”

Cate gave Jon a quizzical look.  “God, I have no idea.”

Jon chortled as he read the answer.  “Chicken Spocks!”  Cate’s giggle joined his, in appreciation of the morning dose of humor from “The Chuckleheads,” as Jon affectionately called his two youngest sons.

“That’s pretty funny,” Cate observed.  “Do they even know who Spock is?”

Jon shrugged.  “Probably not.  Well, Jakey might.  But it ain’t Star Wars, so who knows.”

“And it’s not Super Mario or animals, so Romey probably has no clue.”  Cate’s smile gentled at the mention of the littlest Bongiovi’s name.  Of all Jon’s children, she shared the closest bond with Romeo.

“Nah, I’m sure he just thought it sounded funny.  Well, and I guess a chicken is an animal.”

“Actually, it’s a bird, Jon.”  Cate corrected him. 

“Ha ha ha.  Smartass.”  Jon took a swipe at Cate’s backside, landing a light smack against her derriere.  He dropped his gaze again to the screen of his iPhone, doing a quick scan of his inbox.  He had received almost two dozen texts and e-mails in the hour-plus he and Cate had been out for their morning run.

“Hmm.  Dorothea.”  Jon’s mutter carried a note of surprise.  She didn’t often communicate with him while she was on holiday with her family, unless there was something going on with the kids.  He quickly tapped the screen to allay his mild concern.

Jon’s murmur of Dorothea’s name made Cate freeze.  She watched as his expression sobered, then turned to a frown as he read the message from his ex-wife.

“Baby?  What is it?  Are the kids okay?”  Cate felt her stomach tighten with anxiety at the thought of something happening to her stepchildren.  She set the yogurt container and spoon on the counter.

“Yeah, they’re fine.  Everybody’s fine.”  Jon continued to frown as he slid his thumb along the edge of his iPhone’s screen, obviously reading something.  “She would have called if it was something serious.”

“Oh.  Then…?” Cate left her question unfinished as she watched Jon’s brow furrow and his frown deepen.  “Jon, what is it?” she repeated apprehensively.  She moved around the counter to face him.

“Sonofabitch.”  Jon rumbled.  He sighed heavily and set his water bottle on the table before dragging a hand through his sweaty, messy hair.  “Fucking tabloid rags.”

A wave of dread squeezed Cate’s heart.  “What…?”  Her gaze dropped to the device in Jon’s hand as he turned the phone so she could see the image on its screen. 

Cate’s eyes widened as she recognized the woman in the photo, her long auburn hair cascading down her back and her sunkissed skin bared by a halter and low-slung sarong skirt.  She stood on a sandy beach next to a chair, smiling as a handsome, bare-torsoed man pressed his face to her belly.

It was her and Jon, just hours ago, enjoying their romantic evening on the beach.

“Jon… How?  Where did they get that?  I didn’t see any paparazzi last night, did you?”

“There are more.”  Jon tipped his phone toward Cate, inviting her to look.  She took the device from his hand and slid her finger over the screen.  Cate’s frown deepened as she scanned the dozen photos that showed her and Jon in various poses:  dancing, embracing, and sharing a kiss.

“Why did Dorothea send you this link?” she mused, half to herself.  While she wasn’t thrilled to see photographs of her and Jon’s private evening posted on the Internet, it was hardly the first time pictures like this had shown up.

“Linda saw it first.  Look at the headline.”  Jon’s voice was flat, his displeasure obvious.

Cate gave Jon an apprehensive glace as she swiped the touch-screen, sending the images sliding back to the header.  Her eyes widened at the banner and teaser topping the post.

JON BON BABY?

Jon Bon Jovi and wife Cate enjoy a private celebration on St. Barth,

where he can’t keep his hands – or lips – off her belly.

“Oh FUCK!”  Cate swore vehemently.  “Those… those.. PRICKS!”

Her venom elicited a tight-lipped smile from Jon, though he was as displeased as she with the speculative headline.  He had expected Cate to be shocked, but not so vocal.

“Well, at least you look good.”  He chuckled ruefully.  “They don’t always post the most flattering shots.”

“Jon! Who gives a fuck how I look?  The headline says ‘Jon Bon BABY’!”  Cate's voice now carried a note of panic.  “My God… now the world’s gonna think…”  She trailed off as again her gaze dropped to her hand.  She slashed at the little screen, scrolling rapidly through the photos.  Cate winced involuntarily at the shot of Jon happily nuzzling her middle.

“That’s why Dorothea e-mailed me.” Jon answered grimly.  “A heads-up.  This is more than happy vacation photos.”

“Shit,” Cate growled.  She thrusted her hand out toward Jon, no longer wanting to see the troubling article.  “What do we do now?”

Jon shrugged as he took back his phone from Cate’s grasp.  “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?”

“Cate, there’s nothing we can do.  The headline’s already out there.  We deny it, acknowledge it in any way, it becomes credible.  We ignore it, it goes away sooner rather than later.”

“But Jon!  They’re speculating that I’m pregnant!”  Cate felt her eyes mist with tears of frustration as her stomach tightened with fear.  “What if they find out about the doctors, the treatment…?”  She trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. 

Jon smiled, this time genuinely.  While he shared Cate’s worry about their medical privacy, he saw another angle.

“Well… maybe they’re right for once.”

His comment caught Cate off-guard.  Despite her constant attention to everything related to their fertility treatment and reproductive health, she hadn’t allowed herself to even consider that she could be with child at this very moment.

“Jon…” Her voice was softer, tentative.  “But…”

“I know.”  Jon read her mind.  “If you are, we don’t want to share it with the world.  Hell, we don’t want to share it with most of our friends or family.  At least not until it becomes obvious.”  He stepped closer to Cate, resting a gentle hand on her arm.  “So, like I said… we ignore it.  Pretend we know nothing about it.  Those pictures, that fucking headline… it doesn’t exist.”

Cate frowned, trying to detect the flaw in Jon’s logic.  “But Dorothea… she wouldn’t have sent that e-mail if she didn’t think… would she?”

Jon shrugged.  “Maybe, maybe not.  God knows she’s gone through her share of tabloid bullshit over the years.  She has pretty good radar.”  His palm rubbed over Cate’s arm in a reassuring caress.  “But then again… this is kinda personal for her, too.”

Cate’s lips parted in a soft sigh as she considered Jon’s comment.  Though they had informed Dorothea and Jon’s children of their familial intentions, Cate had seen the wistful strain in Dorothea’s smile.  She could imagine how it must feel to watch the man you loved for half your life get excited about starting a family with another woman.  And then to see the romantic pictures and Baby-Makes-Three speculation all over the gossip columns…

It must hurt.

Cate nodded slowly in agreement with her thoughts.  Maybe Jon was right:  Dorothea’s e-mail was less a warning than a personal reaction.  She took a deep breath. 

“So… We ignore it.”  She didn’t sound fully convinced.

“Cate, your picture has been in the rags before.”

“I know, but not like this.”  Cate sighed.  “This is different.  It’s not like photos of us walking down the street or dressed up for some event.  These are… personal.”

Jon echoed her sigh.  “I know, Baby.  But it’s done.”

Cate’s frown deepened as she gave Jon a long look.  It was evident from his expression that he wasn’t fully convinced, either.  But what other option did they have?

Suddenly needing to feel as well as hear his reassurance, Cate stepped forward and slipped her arms around Jon’s waist.  He welcomed her contact, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“Sometimes I really fucking hate your famousness,” Cate groused wearily.  She rested her cheek against the damp cotton covering Jon’s sweaty chest.  “We can’t even go away for a quiet holiday.”

Jon chuckled softly and dropped a kiss against the crown of her head.  “Me too, Baby.  But this shit comes with the territory.”  He gave her another comforting squeeze.  “We just can’t let it bother us.  People are gonna say and think what they want.”

“I know.”

Jon dropped a hand to pat Cate’s derriere.  “Well, I’m not gonna let this shit ruin my day.  Let’s go get cleaned up, grab a bite to eat, then go out and do some sightseeing or shopping or something.  I wanna play with my new lens.  Maybe I’ll take some shots of your belly.”

His gentle tease made Cate smile.  She raised her head to give him a mildly amused look. 

“That’s an awful big lens for close-ups of my tummy.”

“Well, I’ll need it when it’s a big tummy.”  Jon grinned and planted a kiss on the end of Cate’s nose. 

“Great. Thanks.”  Cate rolled her eyes with her sarcastic reply.

“Well, if you’ve got three or four in there…”

Cate slipped an arm from Jon’s waist and gently smacked his chest.  “Hey!  Don’t even joke about that!”

Jon gave Cate another little squeeze before releasing her from his arms.  “Alright, alright…”  He chortled softly.  “But c’mon.  We’ve wasted enough time on this bullshit.”  He waved his iPhone, indicating the unwelcome internet publicity.  “Go run that shower, and we’ll get back to enjoying ourselves.  We’re on vacation, remember?”

His grin made Cate’s heart squeeze.  Of course Jon was right.  They couldn’t let a stupid internet rumor and some photos ruin their holiday.  After all, if it weren’t for Dorothea’s alert they probably wouldn’t even be aware of them.

“Ten-four,” Cate replied, giving Jon her own little grin.  “Meet ya there in a minute?”

“Bet your sweet ass, Baby.”

With a soft chuckle and a quick kiss for her sweaty husband, Cate headed for the master bathroom.

*****

“YES!”  Jon’s face split into a triumphant grin as he spied the empty space at the end of the narrow street.  He impatiently pressed the center of the steering wheel, triggering an abrupt beep to urge the vehicle in front of him to move.

“Cate, wrap it up.  Found a spot.”  Jon glanced sideways at his wife, who was slouched in the passenger seat, her phone to her ear.  He saw her distracted nod before he turned his eyes forward again.

Again Jon punched the horn, giving the motorist blocking their path another, more urgent prod.  “Come on, you slow-ass…” Jon’s impatient growl was cut short when the car rolled forward and drifted to the side of the street, yielding to his demand.

“Ha!” Jon snorted as he turned the Jeep’s wheel to guide it through the narrow gap created by the other car’s movement.  His grin returned as he accelerated up the street, then stopped in front of the empty parking spot.  Jon draped his arm across the back of Cate’s seat as he half-turned to look over his shoulder.  He expertly guided the small vehicle into the space, in a perfect parallel park.

Turning the key to kill the engine, Jon looked again at Cate.  She was still on her call, her lips pursed lightly as she listened to the voice in her ear.

“Baby, c’mon.”  Jon’s hand closed over her tanned knee, giving it a gentle shake.  “Tell Gus you gotta go.”

Cate turned her head toward Jon, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement.  He couldn’t see her blue eyes behind her aviator shades, but he could tell from her expression that she was giving him a small glare of annoyance.

Sighing impatiently, Jon pulled his hand away and slumped back against his seat.  There was no point in nudging his wife again; it would just piss her off and likely cause her to prolong her call.  Jon tipped his head back against the headrest, automatically turning his gaze toward the rear-view mirror.

He watched idly as well-dressed men and women strolled along the sidewalk, enjoying the beautiful weather and window-shopping the upscale boutiques that lined the streets in this section of Gustavia.  It was evident from their appearance and the shopping bags they carried that few of the people on the street were locals; they were moneyed tourists enjoying an island holiday. 

Just like he was attempting to do with his wife.  If she ever stopped working.

Jon rolled his head against the headrest, turning his face toward her.  He couldn’t help giving Cate another nudge.  He didn’t want to sit here all day; he wanted to join the tourist promenade.

“Cate, for Christ’s sake…”

This time he was sure she gave him her version of the stink-eye.  Her lip curled as she turned her face toward him, making it clear she had heard him the first time.

“Fuck.”  Jon mumbled, rolling his head again until he faced away from Cate.  This time his gaze settled on the mirror mounted on the Jeep’s driver’s side.  He sighed heavily, again regarding the pedestrians on the walk behind them.

The glint of the sun off a small glass disc flashed in the mirror, capturing his attention.  Jon’s lips pursed thoughtfully as he watched a small group of people gather at the far end of the block, several of them carrying large, bulky items.  Recognizing what the pedestrians were carrying, Jon raised his head.  His frown deepened as he turned in his seat, craning his neck to look down the street.

“Oh, Goddamnit.” 

Jon’s quiet growl caught Cate’s attention.  Thinking it was for her, she held up a finger in a “one more minute” sign before turning her face away from Jon while she spoke quietly into her phone.

 Ignoring her gesture, Jon stared down the street, his eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses.  At the far end of the block a long black telephoto lens aimed back at him, its owner capturing his scowl.  Jon growled again with displeasure.   He wasn’t particularly bothered by the paparazzo taking his photograph just now; it was the small crowd forming around the man that concerned him.

Jon turned around when he saw three more cameras raise and point in his direction.  He slumped lower in his seat, muttering a curse.  He knew what was about to happen, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. 

“Yep.  Definitely.  Call the duty attorney and let him know, and check in with me later.  And tell Silvio I say hello.”  Cate turned her head back to look at Jon as she completed her call.  Her brow furrowed as she saw Jon’s clenched jaw.  “Yeah.  Good job, Gus.  Keep me posted.”

Her work done, Cate lowered her phone and tapped the screen.  She sighed heavily, thinking Jon’s stormy expression was meant for her.

“Jesus, Jon.  I can’t just hang up because you found a parking spot.”

Jon shook his head slightly.  “It’s fine,” he answered curtly, dismissing her half-apology.  “Listen, Baby… You’re not gonna like this, but…”  He paused, glancing again into the side mirror.  He swore again as he saw the small swarm of photographers was moving toward them.

“What?” Cate’s voice betrayed her apprehension as she read Jon’s reaction.

Jon turned his head to look at Cate.  “Paps spotted us.  They’re behind us, taking pictures.”  He sighed.  “They probably spotted me when we were on the street, stuck behind that fuckwad back there.”  Jon threw up a hand, waving it in indication of their earlier traffic delay.

“Oh, shit!”  Cate turned her head a bit more, not wanting to be obvious but wanting to see the photographers for herself.  She groaned when she spied the group.  “Jesus Christ… this place is crawling with celebrities.  Why can’t they go bother somebody else?”

Jon knew the answer to her question, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.  Cate was already rattled enough about their morning discovery of the tabloid headline.  He was sure the atypical behavior of the paparazzi behind them was in response to that speculative story. 

Normally Jon enjoyed a respectful relationship with the celebrity-stalkers on St. Barth; he allowed them to take their pictures and they gave him his space.  Now he and Cate were the biggest celebrities on the island, from the gossip column perspective.  There was little chance they were going to be able to distance themselves from the paparazzi.

It was clearly time for them to practice his sage advice from earlier.

“Baby, remember what I said this morning.  Just ignore them.”  Jon reached for Cate’s hand, giving it a squeeze to ensure he had her attention.  “Look, I don’t know what they’re gonna do, but whatever it is, just blow them off, okay?”

Cate’s lips parted in a soft gasp of surprise as her eyes widened behind her shades.  “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Cate.  You’ve been around me long enough to know these guys don’t keep their mouths shut.  Just don’t give ‘em a response, okay?  Just keep smiling and moving.”  He gave Cate an ironic, tight-lipped smile.  “Baby, you know how to read people.  Don’t give ‘em anything to read from your reaction.”

Cate slumped back against her seat, dropping her head against the headrest and looking skyward.  “Oh, Jesus.”  She sighed with frustration.  “Can’t we just go?”

Jon shook his head.  “Probably not a good idea.  Then it becomes ‘Jon Bon Jovi and his wife are suddenly camera-shy, trying to hide her pregnancy’.”  He snorted bitterly.  “Nope, it’s best just to face ‘em and pretend we know nothing.  Besides, we can’t let these fuckers chase us off.  If we wanna go shopping, we go shopping.”

Cate sighed again, then was silent for a moment.  “Well… okay.”  She turned her face back toward Jon’s.  “At least we’re wearing sunglasses so they can’t see our eyes.”  She gave him a weak smile.

Jon chuckled softly and gave Cate’s hand another squeeze.  “That’s my Girl.”

“Well, let’s not just sit here.”  Cate reached for her purse.  “C’mon.”

Jon nodded and released her hand, then climbed out of his seat.  Rounding the front of the vehicle, Jon chivalrously helped Cate from the Jeep before lacing his fingers between hers.  He gave her an encouraging little smile before together they stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Here we go,” Jon murmured softly.  Though they were still half a block away, he could hear the rapid clicking of the camera’s shutters. 

He looked directly at the paparazzi, his blue eyes narrowing behind the barrier of his sunglasses.  He saw that the group included four men with cameras, another man holding a bag and a notebook, and two women.  Jon tried not to frown as he noted the unusual cluster; unlike in Hollywood or New York, the paps in St. Barth usually worked solo or in pairs.

“Where do you want to go?” Cate asked, obviously trying to ignore the clutch of onlookers who were documenting their every move. 

“I dunno.  I kinda want to look for a new watch, though.”

Cate chuckled softly. “Like you need another one.  But okay.  There are lots of jewelers on this street.”  She tightened her clasp on Jon’s hand as they strolled closer to the photographers.

“You wanna look for any clothes?  Dresses or stuff...?”  Jon barely finished the thought before the first shout interrupted his query.

“Congratulations, Jon!  This will be your fifth, right?”

Though his immediate reaction was a surge of anger, Jon’s expression didn’t change.  He gave no hint of acknowledgement to the bait.

“Jon, you’re fifty! Way to go, Man!”

Cate swallowed a soft chuckle at the photographer’s second attempt.  She felt Jon’s fingers tighten around hers in a reassuring squeeze.

“How about we go in there?”  Jon pointed at an open shop door, several yards from where the paparazzi had now stopped and were gathered in an eager pack.  He knew they wouldn’t follow him and Cate into the boutique, which was one of his favorites.

“Sounds good,” Cate agreed readily.  Her voice was level and controlled, barely covering her discomfort with the situation.

“Smile, Baby,” Jon murmured softly, out of the side of his mouth.  “You’re gonna be in the papers.  May as well look happy.”

At Jon’s bidding, Cate turned on a fake half-smile.  Again she was grateful her dark glasses hid her eyes, which she was sure were sparking with irritation.

“Cate!  How are you feeling?”

Cate turned her head toward the question.  Though she knew from experience the paparazzi would talk directly to her, her response was automatic.

“Fine.”

“No morning sickness, then?”

Jon’s smile faded at the baiting inquiry.   He gave Cate’s hand a little tug, urging her to move more quickly.  She followed, slowing only as Jon paused beside the boutique’s door for her to enter ahead of him.  As she moved past, his hand settled on the small of her back.

“Cate!  You’re forty-three.  Was it hard for you to conceive?”

The voice was female, with a heavy British accent.  Jon felt Cate’s body stiffen under his hand as she paused, then continued across the threshold of the jeweler’s shop.  Unable to help himself, Jon shot a dirty glare back over his shoulder before following her into the boutique.

Ignoring the saleswoman’s greeting, Jon steered Cate to the back of the store, as far away from the door as possible.  They stopped in front of a case of elaborate necklaces, keeping their backs to the street.   Cate stood silent, staring down at the case but not seeing the stunning jewels inside.

“Baby… you okay?”  Jon could feel Cate trembling lightly under his hand.  He could tell the intrusive question had stung her.  He badly wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her, but he knew he couldn’t.  The cameras were still trained on them, through the shop’s plate glass windows.

Cate nodded slowly.  “I’m fine.”

“You sure?  You don’t sound…”

Cate turned her head to look at Jon, silencing his question.  She stared at him for a moment before giving him a tight smile.  “Okay, I’m not fine.  I’m pissed.  That bitch has some nerve.”

Jon let out a little chuckle, relieved at her reaction.  He would much rather see Cate angry at than hurt by the cruel query.  After all they had been through, there were a few chinks in her emotional armor.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  Sliding his arm from Cate’s back to curve around her side, Jon stepped closer.  He gave her an encouraging smile.  “Sorry.”

“Why?  It’s not your fault.”  Cate reached up to slide her sunglasses from her face, revealing her eyes.  Jon saw them swirling sapphire and indigo, roiling like a rough sea.

“I know.  But if I were Joe Schmoe you wouldn’t have to deal with that shit.”

“If you were Joe Schmoe we wouldn’t be here.”  Cate countered, her smile relaxing a bit as she dropped her gaze again to the beautiful jewelry under the glass case.  “It’s okay.  Like you said, I knew what I was getting into when I married you.”

“We can leave if you want.  Just go back to the Jeep, get the fuck out of here.”

Cate sighed softly.  “No. We’re here already.  And like you said, we just have to ignore this shit.  Besides…”  She reached to tap at the enormous dial on Jon’s wrist.  “I have to buy you a new watch, remember?  You can’t wear this old thing forever.”

Jon chuckled at her sarcastic tease about the Rolex he had bought in Europe last summer.  He leaned forward, his lips curving into a gentle smile.  “Lemme give those assholes something to sell.”

As Jon’s lips stroked gently over hers, Cate smiled.  She turned her body more fully toward Jon’s, reaching up to rest a hand on his bicep.  When they parted she gazed at him for a long moment before speaking.

“Okay, now let that nice lady sell you something.  We’ve completely ignored her.”  Cate’s chastisement was soft as she nodded slightly in the direction of the discrete saleswoman.

“Yes, Ma’am.”  Jon grinned and stole another kiss before stepping away and turning to raise a hand toward the woman.  “Miss?”

For the next half hour Jon and Cate remained in the jewelry shop, perusing the beautiful wares.  Jon lingered over his choice of a new watch, hoping the celebrity stalkers outside would tire of waiting for him and Cate to emerge.  They had no such luck, and were again confronted with a barrage of questions when they emerged from the shop.

Together Cate and Jon strolled the avenue, entering and exiting the tony boutiques while the paparazzi followed their every move.  Eventually the group got the hint that neither Jon nor Cate were going to be drawn into conversation, so their questions abated.  But the cameras never stopped clicking.

By the time they wandered into a small café an hour later, Cate’s cheeks hurt from the forced smile she kept plastered to her face.  She and Jon declined a table on the patio, forsaking the beautiful weather in favor of the relative privacy of a small booth at the back of the restaurant. 

Once their order of iced tea and lemon teacakes arrived, Jon and Cate finally let their guard down.  Both breathed a sigh of semi-relief that they were temporarily out of the stalkers’ range.  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Cate spoke.

“Maybe we should just go home, Jon.”

Jon arched a brow, though her quiet statement didn’t completely surprise him.  He chewed and swallowed his mouthful of tart before answering.

“Back to Jersey, you mean?”

“Yes.”  Cate took a sip of her iced tea. 

Jon set his fork on his plate and reached for Cate’s hand.  His fingers curved over hers on the tabletop and he squeezed gently.  “You sure?  I mean… I’ll do whatever you want, but you said yesterday you wanted to stay through New Year’s.”

“That was before all this happened.”  Cate tipped her head toward the café’s entrance, where she knew the photographers were probably still laying in wait for them.

Jon smiled gently.  “I know.  But Baby, don’t let those assholes ruin the rest of your vacation.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of the week hiding, or looking over my shoulder.”  Cate looked down at Jon’s hand over hers.  His wedding band shone in the soft natural light inside the café.

“We could just stay at the villa, or go to the private beach.  Just relax and lay around in the sun.”

Cate shook her head slightly.  “Yeah, but you know they’ll find out where we’re staying, if they don’t already know.  And it doesn’t matter.  This is a small island and they have big-ass telephoto lenses.”

“But we won’t have to hear them, listen to their fucking asshole questions.”

Cate chuckled softly at Jon’s coarse statement.  “No,” she agreed as she raised her gaze to meet his.  “But we’ll know they’re there.  Besides…”  She turned her hand under Jon’s, so their palms touched.  “How am I supposed to go buy a fucking pregnancy test at the pharmacy now?”  She gave him a wry half-smile.

Jon laughed softly, his heart warming at the note of gentle irony in her voice.  “Good point.”

“And anyway… I think I’d rather wait until we’re home for that.”  Cate sighed.  “This holiday has been nice, but… but I just don’t want to stay here anymore.”

Jon nodded, rubbing his hand against Cate’s.  “Okay, then.  Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.  If we didn’t have dinner with Ron and Anna tonight I’d say let’s go pack up right now.”

“We can go.  They’ll understand.”

Cate shook her head.  “No, Jon.  It’s too late to cancel now.  Besides, they’re good friends to you, and I know you enjoy spending time with them.”  She smiled again.  “We’ll go.  It will be a lovely evening.  We can leave tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

They shared another moment of quiet while each nibbled at their pastries.  Jon sighed softly, then gave Cate another wry smile.

“Well, this day has kinda gone to shit, huh?”

Cate giggled and nodded.  “Yeah, but it started out good, and it will have a nice ending.  If we can just forget the middle part, I’ll be okay with it.”

“In a couple days this will all blow over, Baby.  You’ll see.”  Jon chuckled.  “I’ll call Richie and tell him to take Denise out somewhere and get the rags all riled up over whether they’re back together again or not.  That’ll take the pressure off.”

Cate laughed softly, shaking her head at Jon’s suggestion.  “And he’d do that for you.”

“Yup.  ‘Cause that’s the kind of friend he is.  My Wingman.”  Jon grinned and took another slurp from his iced tea glass.  “In a few days nobody will remember anything about this bullshit headline.  Hell, the only people who believe these rags are old ladies and wackos, right?”

“I guess so.”  Cate grinned.  She gave Jon’s hand a little squeeze before tugging it out from under his and picking up her napkin.  As she raised the linen square to dab at her lips, she heard a sharp buzz.

Automatically Cate reached for her purse, assuming the electronic notification was for her.  Her motion was halted when Jon leaned sideways, reaching for his hip.

“It’s me,” he announced, pulling his iPhone from the pocket of his shorts.  He raised the device to the tabletop and peered down at the screen.  Jon frowned.

“Aw, SHIT.”

Cate’s brows lifted at his curse.  “Who is it?”

Jon groaned a long sigh before answering.

“It’s Mom.”