Covert Conception, by Delores Fossen
Natalie Sinclair was stunned to discover she'd been drugged -- and impregnated. Even more shocking was the identity of her baby's father: Rick Gravari, her sworn enemy. Now the only way to uncover the truth and reveal the mastermind behind their mysterious one night together was to join forces with the one man who was completely off-limits.
As the peril around them intensified, Natalie realized the dangerous men on their trail were nothing compared to the tender emotions provoked by her baby's father. But could she trust her once formidable foe's determination in his role as hard-nosed defender?
One year is an awfully long time. Enough to read an awfully large number of very bad novels, but the Chronicler had other things to write about. Excuses can take up another post, for the moment, she will again take up the metaphorical pen and tell you of the Loinfire Club's exploits reading this particular book...
Almost Jesus read out the blurbs for the possible books we could read and Pillywiggin mimed out the version for the hard of hearing. Whilst very amusing, this largely visual gag does not translate well to the writeup, so suffice to say it happened.
For various reasons, the conversation derailed to methods to sabotage the Baker's funeral. He has apparently promised his life's fortune to the one who best manages it and even with such meagre incentive, his friends were happy to oblige. The current favourites in terms of plan is to sneak into the funeral home and wrap the deceased in tin foil and rosemary. The Seamstress was then to show up at funeral in a bridal gown with a shotgun, demanding to be married to the deceased.
There are very many books. And there is consequently, much discussion. The news that the blog has come to the attention of Lucinda Betts, author of Moon Shadow and that she even left us a comment.
The Loinfire Club decided upon Irish Moonlight, mostly to inflict pain on the Pillywiggin (it, after all, being her homeland) but the unfortunate volume has apparently disappeared.
The Club was then torn between the Desert King's Pregnant Bride and Covert Conception.
Big L: "I haven't had one with a Desert King in it yet. I feel like I'm missing something."
In the name of Moon Shadow, one of our new members has stuck the label of "Brown Worm" onto one of the bottles. From this he gains the nickname of Ginger Worm and all is well.
Other additions to the Club are the Seamstress, the Frenchman and Boundless Rage (who would have been Impotent Rage but the Pedant is in a forgiving mood.)
Almost Jesus reads (and for some reason, chooses to begin with the author's biography):
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace.
The Chronicler: "Then you're thinking of a fictional family tree."
Almost Jesus: "Would any of the biologists in the room like to question that?"
(The Chronicler wonders if this is just a funny way of putting "has an ancestor who came from Scandinavia.")
Pillywiggin explains the concept of standard categories to the uninitiated. The Chronicler attempts to explain the origins of the game on the inimitable Mrs Giggles' romance novel review website (sadly no longer there).
Almost Jesus reads out the cast of characters, as appearing in the front of the book.
Natalie Sinclair – Someone drugged her and her nemesis, Rick Gravari, so they'd have sex. Now, pregnant with Rick's child, someone wants them both dead and Rick is her only hope. Can they overcome a bitter past and work together tos save their child?
Rick Gravari...
Almost Jesus: "That surname is unusually difficult to pronounce."
Big L: "It was clearly meant to be Ricky Gervais."
The Pillywiggin shudders in horror.
Dr Claude Benjamin – Creator of the Cyrene Project, a plan to produce genetically superior babies.
Ginger Worm: "Does that plot itself count by itself as a Medical Complication?"
Dr Isabella Henderson – She also worked on the Cyrene Project...
Big L: "She's a woman who's not the heroine. We don't care."
...but now vehemently objects to it.
Seamstress: "I assume that to create these babies they have to rape women"
The Baker: "Because if they consent, it taints the DNA."
Almost Jesus: "Because genetically superior people are frequently not attracted to each other. Inconsiderate beings."
Boundless Rage: "If you're working on some sort of genetics project, can't you build some sort of pheromone system into it?"
Troy Jackson – A product of the Cyrene Project, he holds a grudge against Rick and Natalie.
The Balance: "This is not just a genetically modified baby... it's a Cyrene Project genetically modified baby."
Brandon Steven – He has the answers that Rick and Natalie need...
Azrael: "And two first names!"
Almost Jesus expresses his frustration at such first-name abundant people since it throws his name recognition skills.
And then the book begins...
Chapter One.
San Antonio, Texas.
"You're Pregnant, Natalie."
Pillywiggin: "Direct and right to the core."
(Little did she know how incredibly repetitive the book will get after this point.)
Natalie Sinclair blinked, stared at her sister, Kitt and then waited because she was certain that Kitt was about to deliver the punch line of a silly joke....
..."I haven't had sex in over a year," Natalie admitted.
Pillywiggin: "Not a slut!"
Though her sister no doubt already knew that.
Big L: "Due to her many secret security cameras planted throughout the house."
Pulling in her breath, Natalie set her teacup aside, the delicate bone china rattling against the saucer. Some of the Irish blend splashed onto a pair of entwined hand-painted yellow roses.
Pillywiggin cringes: "What is Irish blend? An Irishman has chewed some tealeaves and spit it back out again?"
"Dr. Benjamin did the pregnancy test," Kit continued...
Big L: "What and then gave it to her sister?"
"He called when you were in the meeting with the antique broker and when I pressed him about what was wrong with you, he finally told me...
Almost Jesus: "In flagrant disregard of doctor patient confidentiality."
In fact nothing about Kitt's ultra-solemn expression changed.
Frenchman: "So, sort of like hyper-solemn?"
Azrael: "So solem you can't even see it."
Natalie shook her head. "The test is wrong."
Big L: "This scene has continued for too long."
Kitt did some head-shaking of her own. "The doctor used your blood and urine samples to repeat it. Not once. But twice. And he repeated it again at my request. All three times, the tests were positive. Based on the physical he gave you and those test results, Dr. Benjamin thinks you're about four weeks pregnant."
Pillywiggin: "I don't care. That's a medical complication, I need a drink."
The Pedant: "It's complicated medicine."
"You remember a couple of months ago I hade surveillance cameras installed throughout the house?"
"Of course, I remember. Some items were missing, and we thought someone on the staff might be stealing from us."
The Chronicler notes this piece of clunky exposition. Of course, I remember, sister, which is why I'm going to tell you about the thing that both you and I remember, just to remind anyone who happens to be listening in...
"I didn't have the cameras removed after the problem was resolved... After I finished my conversation with Dr. Benjamin, I went through the surveillance tapes for the past four weeks."
The Loinfire Club bursts out laughing. Especially given Big L's previous joke about Kitt spying on Natalie with surveillance cameras.
The Chronicler: "Why would you do that?"
Big L: "Well, she had too much time on her hands... and is an obsessive stalker."
Almost Jesus: "That must have been one very long meeting with the antique broker if Kitt can have all those tests done and go through four weeks worth of tapes during it."
"...I found something..."
Oh.
Almost Jesus: "You mean you were watching me all this time?!"
That nearly stopped Natalie's heart.
Pillywiggin: "Medical complication."
The Club drinks.
"Explain something," Natalie insisted.
Almost Jesus: "Well, the internal combustion engine..."
Kitt typed a code on the keyboard, and Natalie instantly recognized the video feed that appeared on the screen. Nearly a month earlier.
Almost Jesus: "But not quite a month, since you're only four weeks pregnant."
The night of her surprise twenty-ninth birthday party.
Almost Jesus: "Was she surprised that she was twenty nine?"
Pillywiggin: "Because it's secretly your 40th birthday!"
She'd arrived back in San Antonio from a week-long antique-buying trip in Ireland...
Pillywiggin twitches: "It's a shit place to buy antiques. I'm starting a new category: abuse of my homeland."
The Balance (referring to the book Irish Moonlight, which mysteriously had vanished): "So this was the second secret Irish option."
The doctor had done some lab tests and given her prescription meds... Only instead of bed, she'd discovered that her mother had assembled three dozen or so of her close and not-so-close friends for a surprise birthday celebration.
"Are you saying this is when the so-called pregnancy happened? ... because, trust me, I would have remembered something as monumental as having sex with one of the guests."
Almost Jesus: "Or with a passing tramp."
Seamstress: "She's not a slut because she remembers when she had sex."
...that some of the night was a complete blur. She blamed the big blur on the prescription meds. Of course, the fatigue from the business trip hadn't helped, either... She'd felt like a zombie throughout the entire party.
The Pedant: "Medical complication."
"Even with Kitt fast-forwarding the event..."
Big L: "Kit's already seen the good bits."
Rick Gravari.
Almost Jesus: "It's really difficult to say."
Big L: "Just call him Gervais."
Rick had a way of monopolizing space as well... wearing jeans and a white shirt, he appeared to be his usual self. Aloof. Surly.
The Frenchman: "Who wears jeans and white shirts to parties?"
Azrael: "Someone who's aloof and surly."
Her mother had no doubt invited him...
The Pedant: "I know what, I'll invite some twats to your party!"
...but he definitely fell into the unwanted guest category.
Ginger Worm: "There's a whole category of unwanted guests?"
Almost Jesus: "Over there, yet another unwanted guest."
Natalie dismissed her surly, jeans-wearing nemesis...
Big L: "Her surly, jeans-wearing nemesis may well have to go down as a quote."
As the guests idled by the front door, she managed to locate herself.
Big L: "Holy Crap! I found myself!"
She definitely wasn't in the throes of having wild sex.
The Pedant: "We're glad she's that observant."
"Something went wrong with the surveillance equipment at this point... I'm not sure what. But that's not the only camera we had in operation that night. The lighting isn't very good, but here's some footage taken from the hall outside your bedroom."
Pillywiggin: "And when that failed, we have hired a small boy to watch you."
The Pedant: "This is just a PowerPoint presentation she's pre-made."
The hall was indeed poorly lit. And empty.
Ginger Worm: "Plot twist! You were impregnated by an empty room!"
"There's no camera in your bedroom so this is all we have," Kitt explained.
Pillywiggin: "That's what she says now."
She latched onto her Texas A&M coffee mug...
The Pedant: "There's some kind of crockery porn moment..."
The Chronicler: "She is an antiques dealer..."
The Baker: "She's speculating, it'll be valuable by the time she's dead."
Seamstress: "I thought she was drinking tea a moment ago."
The Pedant: "No, it was the other one who was drinking tea."
...took a long drink of the heavily scented espresso, and that's when Natalie noticed that her sister's hand was trembling.
Big L: "Maybe you should stop drinking espresso."
The Baker: "It gives her extra time to watch the surveillance footage of her sister."
Natalie couldn't see the faces of the couple, and without audio, she couldn't tell who was approaching her bedroom door...
Almost Jesus: "What an oversight."
She had absolutely no recollection of being in the hallway that night though she was certainly aware it'd happened. After all, she had woken up in bed the following morning.
Almost Jesus: "That would be a good indication."
The Balance: "Dammit! I wanted to teleport!"
Still, hadn't she had a feeling that something was wrong?
Almost Jesus: "I remember all of my intimate feelings from four weeks ago."
There follows a debate about whether or not one would notice feeling different in the morning after a sexual encounter. That Natalie doesn't feel different at all results in speculation that perhaps there wasn't sex and, in fact, only a syringe was involved.
During the course of this conversation, it is revealed that Almost Jesus knows too much about the Pedant's sex life.
Natalie moved to the edge of her seat, closer to the monitor. And she studied every inch of the screen...
Pillywiggin: "Windows task bar... windows task bar... bottom of image..."
The person walking beside her had his arm looped around her waist... It was definitely a man.
Almost Jesus: "That would help to explain the pregnancy."
A whole turkey-baster problem is brought up again by the Balance.
When she reached the door, she staggered forward and her arm rammed into the wall.
Pillywiggin: "It's almost stop-motion..."
Sweet heaven, she acted drunk.
Almost Jesus: "Sweet heaven! She's acting drunk in her own birthday party."
But she knew for a fact that she'd consumed no alcohol that night.
The Pedant: "Well, I suppose she was on meds."
Big L: "But surprise party. Thrown by her mother."
Almost Jesus: "If I was shattered and attending a surprise party thrown by my mother which my nemesis gatecrashed... I'd definitely want a drink."
The only thing she'd had to drink was a glass of sparkling fruit juice that someone on the catering staff had gotten for her after she arrived home.
Seamstress: "It sounds like a plot point?"
Almost Jesus: "Sparkling fruit juice. Well known for hiding rohypnol."
Kitt froze the image. Not that Natalie needed a second look to know who he was.
Boundless Rage: "She's clearing been fapping to this if she's got this frame perfect."
The man taking her into her bedroom was the one person on earth she considered her enemy. Rick Gravari.
Almost Jesus: "A note for life. If there is only one person on life you hate, is it really that difficult to tell your mother not to invite him to your birthday party?"
Seamstress: "Well, clearly she's one of these experiments, genetically programmed to fuck this other guy. Part of the Arian supremacy program."
To be continued...
