By Ann Evans
She desires to have this child alone
Jenna Rawlins is a straitlaced type of lady. As destiny could have it, the single evening she is going a bit loopy and permits herself to be seduced, she turns into pregnant. It's undesirable timing, when you consider that she's attempting to declare her independence from her overprotective relatives, yet she's certain and made up our minds to have this baby--alone. in the end, she's effectively elevating boys via herself after kicking out her good-for-nothing husband. one other child she will deal with. one other man--forget it.
But he won't allow her
Mark Bishop has came upon Jenna's situation and desires to be a part of his child's existence. yet Jenna doesn't think the proven bachelor is as much as the problem. So she exams him--making him spend time together with her boys, exhibiting him what it's prefer to be a guardian. the matter is, he loves this existence that's been thrown at him--the boys, the kid at the way...and Jenna.
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Extra info for After That Night
I realized that I hadn't given her a chance to talk. ' I inquired. 'Nothing socially uplifting. I'm with Binnendale's. ' Who doesn't know that golden chain of stores? That forty-carat lodestone for Conspicuous Consumers? Anyway, this tidbit clarified a lot. Miss Nash was obviously perfect for that flashy enterprise: so blond, so firm, so fully stacked, her Bryn Mawr elocution so mellifluous she probably could sell a handbag to a crocodile. 'I don't do that much selling,' she replied as I continued with my awkward questioning.
I asked, immensely curious to know what kind of guy could snare this kind of girl. ' she said. And sounded — so I thought — a trifle sad. Curiously, I felt relieved that somewhere underneath her cool exterior Miss Marcie Nash had something that she couldn't talk about. Maybe even memories of hurt. That made her seem more human and her pedestal less lofty. Still, I didn't know what next to say. Marcie did. ' My watch informed me that it was indeed ten forty-five. But still I thought that saying it right then meant I had turned her off.
Of course the New York club guys would go by me like a shot. And all the high school studs could dust me off. But even when I jogged I did my share of passing: senior citizens, fat ladies and most children under twelve. Now I was flagging and my vision slightly blurred. Sweat got in my eyes and all I vaguely could perceive of those I passed was shape and size and color of their plumage. Hence I can't accurately say just who was running to and fro. Until the incident I now relate. , quite expensive) and the pace respectable.
After That Night by Ann Evans