Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  Jack was still convinced if he could just figure out what Elise’s problem with marriage was, he could… Oh, hell, he really was full of himself, wasn’t he? Even if he thought he’d figured out Elise’s “issues”—even assuming any existed—they were, by definition, her issues. Only she could come to terms with them. He shook his head in self-disgust.

  “What?” Elise demanded.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just reflecting on what an ass I am.”

  He expected her to make a snide remark, but she didn’t. He hoped she’d disagree with him, but she didn’t do that either. They drove in almost-companionable silence for another ten miles, then the traffic sped up and Jack needed to concentrate on the road.

  When they got to Eagles Mere, Jack barely had a chance to introduce Elise to his cousin Hugh O’Hara and his wife, Debbie, before they were split up immediately by his family. Jack found himself sequestered with the men, which meant Elise had been pulled into some room filled with women fussing over food or flowers.

  Hugh poured him a Scotch without even asking if he wanted it. “You look like you need this.”

  “Too true.” Jack took the glass. “Thanks.”

  Rand hailed Jack from the music room. “Come meet my dad and my best man.”

  Rand’s dad, Alan Jennings, was a trim sixty, with salt-and-pepper hair and a healthy tan. They exchanged pleasantries about the wedding, Eagles Mere, and the weather before Jennings rejoined his son.

  Phil Gaffney, the best man, looked like he just walked in from strolling on a beach. Turned out, he was an affable bankruptcy lawyer in the process of moving from San Francisco to Wilmington, Delaware. A city, he pointed out, where the bankruptcy court had twice as many judges as the district court.

  “And a commensurate number of bankruptcy lawyers,” Jack said.

  Phil laughed, and Jack had the weird feeling he’d just made a friend. How odd. They couldn’t be more different. Phil had that surfer-boy-made-good casual look, with shaggy blond-tipped hair and a healthy tan. He was quick with a joke and relaxed, while Jack felt stolid and humorless. Ordinarily, Phil’s type made him feel like the kid left in the library while everyone else attended a party. Only here, Jack sensed they had just traded secret handshakes, forging a friendship on the spot.

  Jack and Phil joined the other men, already comfortably seated in the living room. In a lull in the conversation, Jack asked them—well, except for Phil, who said he was blissfully single—how they’d proposed marriage to their wives.

  Bill, normally the last in any group to speak up, started. “That’s easy. I took Stacy to our favorite beach on the Jersey shore. But I’d only checked Philadelphia’s weather. When we got to the parking lot in Ocean City, it was starting to spit rain. Hardly romantic. We sat for a while, then I figured I had nothing to lose. I pulled out the ring box—which was empty because I knew better than to guess what sort of ring she’d like—and flipped it open just as if there was something in there.”

  Bill chuckled, rubbing his scalp lightly. “Well, it took a while to convince her that no one had stolen the ring. But once I got that tiny matter settled, I proposed and she said yes.”

  “Hugh?” Jack prompted. Jack had attended Hugh and Debbie’s wedding but his recollections were lost in the tangle of law school memories.

  “I don’t entirely remember,” Hugh admitted. “We’d been living together for a long time before we got married. I think it was a casual follow-up to our discussion about having kids. I thought Debbie would care about getting married more than I did, but in the end, I really wanted her and the kids to have my name. I got a bit caveman about it, as I recall. She’ll remember the details,” he concluded sheepishly. “Sorry, Jack. I’d make a bad witness.”

  “No need to apologize.” Jack turned to Rand’s father. “Alan?”

  Jennings said, “In order to understand how I proposed, you need to understand the background of how I got to know my wife.” He relaxed in his chair, a born storyteller.

  “Dee’s parents were Old Hollywood. Gary Griffith had been a very junior executive at Twentieth Century Fox when Cleopatra nearly bankrupted the studio. Gary arranged for financing to keep the studio from going under, a nifty trick that got him noticed pretty quickly. Anyway, when I was just starting out as a lowly production assistant on M*A*S*H, Gary was a big deal at Fox. I got invited to a garden party at the Griffiths’ Bel Air estate, and Dee was there. I fell for her in a big way, but Gary liked to intimidate pipsqueaks like me. Definitely the kind of guy who could have me fired with a phone call—I don’t know, maybe all he’d have had to do was lift an eyebrow. He seemed to have enough flunkies orbiting around him.

  “Anyway, there was Dee, and she had her own satellites, men who all looked richer, more powerful and frankly taller than me. I needed to think of a way to get her to notice me without calling so much attention to myself that Gary would get pissed off with me.”

  Alan swirled his Scotch. “I did my research. Dee volunteered at a local homeless shelter. So I did some finagling and got some of the cast members from M*A*S*H to come down to the shelter to work the lunch line. It was perfect—TV Guide had a photographer there, the cast had a great time, and I’d like to think life was a bit brighter for the guys living in the shelter, at least for one day.”

  “Wait, I’m confused. I thought that’s how you met Mom, not how you proposed,” Rand said.

  Alan pressed his lips together and shook his head. Then he shrugged and said, “Yeah, well, it was both. I waited until the lunch service was over and things were shutting down. Then I got down on one knee, pulled out a box that did have a ring in it, thank you very much, and proposed.”

  “But, Dad, you barely knew her.” Rand seemed aghast at the idea.

  “My thinking was that I couldn’t lose. Even if she turned me down, she’d have noticed me. And if she said yes, we’d have a long engagement to get to know each other.”

  “Maybe that’s the mistake I made,” Jack muttered.

  “Aha!” Phil cried. “I suspected something of the sort. I gather you got shot down, Jack?”

  Rand was still staring at his dad. “Wait—I have to know. What did Mom say?”

  “She said yes.”

  “You’re kidding me. She said yes, she would marry you based on a publicity stunt at a homeless shelter?” Rand’s mouth gaped—he looked like he didn’t know whether to be outraged at his father’s chutzpah, or impressed.

  “It was a long engagement, son. And believe me, your grandfather grilled me unmercifully every single time I showed up at their house. He made sure nothing about our engagement was as easy as the proposal.”

  Rand nodded. “Yup, that’s Grandpa. I’m sorry he can’t be here.”

  “Don’t worry—he sent his favorite cameraman to make the wedding video,” Alan said.

  “Don’t remind me,” Rand muttered. “I know we’ll be grateful to have the result, but what a lot of palaver. As far as I know, they’re still there setting up lights and camera angles.”

  “Hollywood meets the Endless Mountains,” Hugh said. “It’ll be the talk of Eagles Mere for years to come.”

  Phil opened his mouth, probably to grill Jack about his botched efforts with Elise. Jack couldn’t stop himself tensing slightly.

  “Okay, so how did you propose to Libby?” Alan asked his son.

  Jack exhaled. He’d dodged a bullet there. He caught Phil’s mocking smile. Jack nodded—he knew Phil had guessed what had happened. Hopefully, it would be their little secret.

  Rand seemed only too happy to talk about his roller coaster ride with Libby. “Two proposals, really. I had messed up when she was on the show, so I flew to Philly as soon as the show wrapped. Saturday evening, so I figured she’d be home, probably studying. I just couldn’t face her, though. So I had the cabby take me to the bar where I’d first met her.”

  He lifted his chin at Jack. “You were there, sir, and helped a little with the confusions that had arisen between us. Then we went b
ack to her place and I basically asked if I could move in.” At the good-natured laughter, Rand smiled sheepishly. “I was a bit more romantic than that.”

  “Yeah, because it sounds like you’re a moocher,” Phil teased.

  Rand ignored him. “That got us living together. We’d talked about marriage a few times, but she was swamped with the moot court competition and finding a job, so I didn’t want to pressure her. After she got her job offer and her team won moot court, she was a lot more relaxed. That’s when I sprung it on her.”

  “A bear trap?” Bill teased his future son-in-law.

  “Nope. I’d made a movie with the camera Dad gave me. A montage of man-on-the-street comments about love and marriage. I even got one of Libby’s professors to participate.”

  “I’d like to see it.” Alan Jennings’s voice held both paternal pride and a certain professional interest.

  “I have the DVD here—maybe after supper, if Libby says it’s okay, we can play it.”

  The idea that he’d need his fiancée’s permission earned Rand hoots of laughter from the older men in the room. “Yup, you’re ready to be married,” Hugh said. “When you need to check with your better half, you might as well have a ring through your nose—I mean, on your finger.”

  As if on cue, the women filed in to announce that it was time for dinner.

  Jack hung back until Elise joined him. “Having fun?” he asked her.

  She tucked her hand into his arm. “Of course. Women love weddings.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. “It seems funny to be here when the house is jam-packed, though. I miss how it was in June—you know, unstructured and anything goes.”

  “We had fun.” Jack felt hollow. Why didn’t she want this, too—the camaraderie and sense of family? She could belong here, have a permanent place with the O’Haras, Pembrokes, and now the Jennings.

  “How about you menfolk? Did you find something to talk about?”

  No way was Jack admitting he’d gotten them to tell stories of proposing marriage. Elise would think he’d set her up. Knowing her, she’d steal the Lexus and drive herself home wearing a nightgown and not much else.

  “Sports, mostly,” he lied.

  Over Elise’s head, Phil Gaffney was looking at him with something suspiciously like sympathy. Damn him.

  Jack’s silence was driving Elise batty.

  “Wasn’t that movie the cutest way of proposing marriage you’ve ever seen?” she asked as she brushed her hair. “Rand’s talented. At least, it seems like it to me. His dad appeared pleased with—what did he call them? Oh, right—the production values. And they think lawyers have jargon!”

  Jack was watching her solemnly but not talking. Unnerving to have that relentless stare directed at her every minute they were together, but he had to relax soon. He’d been okay before this trip. It was just the family thing. He was the youngest of the cousins and now even the next generation was pairing off.

  Elise understood how that could piss Jack off. She knew he wanted to introduce her as his fiancée. She even understood how she’d put him in a bind because she’d needed more time. She felt guilty because during the past few weeks, she hadn’t thought about the future. She’d focused on work and being with Jack. Being together—and ensuring they were too busy with sex to talk about marriage.

  Still, this silent treatment was pissing her off. It was rude. They shouldn’t have to talk about marriage—not at Libby and Rand’s wedding. Elise should have a few weeks before he got to mention the future again. The sex with him was too good. She didn’t want to get all serious now. A couple more weeks.

  “Come.” He patted the mattress where he’d thrown back the covers. Elise stood by the side of the bed, annoyed. She’d spent a fortune on a shell-pink silk nightgown just for this weekend, and Jack had barely looked at it.

  “What?” He sounded exasperated with her hesitation.

  “Nothing.” She got in on her side, not looking at him.

  She couldn’t tease him about the nightgown because he’d interpret it as her complaining, and she wasn’t. Not exactly. She just wanted things to go back to the way they had been at the beginning, when he’d noticed that her panties did incredible things for her ass. Before he’d fallen in love with her—or maybe it was after he thought he’d fallen in love with her, but before he thought he had a basis for demanding she commit to a future with him.

  He curved his arms around her but didn’t say anything. She nestled her head on his shoulder, a spot that had become so familiar it seemed odd during the week to fall asleep alone.

  She had the option to sleep with him every night. She got that. She just didn’t see how she could say yes. Something bad would happen, disaster would loom on the horizon, she’d get hit with a destruction and heartache that she couldn’t name but felt compelled to prevent.

  All the same, Jack had proposed. Those words couldn’t be unsaid. Like she’d been taught in Trial Advocacy, even if the judge instructs the jury to disregard what they just heard, they couldn’t forget they heard it. No way to unring this particular wedding bell.

  She sighed.

  “What?” His voice held only concern now.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?” she blurted out. So much for getting another few weeks.

  She could feel him tense underneath her cheek. “What isn’t going to work?”

  “Us. This. I—I can’t move forward and you can’t go back. And I don’t think there’s any middle ground.”

  “Elise, we love each other. There has to be a way.”

  “Between us, we have impressive problem-solving skills, Jack. If we can’t figure out a way…” she trailed off.

  “We’re here for the wedding. Everything is unfamiliar in this setting. Let’s get through the weekend before we make any hasty decisions.”

  He was using her words precisely. Elise wondered if they sounded any more convincing when he uttered them than they did to her.

  She listened to his heart beating and felt his arm around her back. His hand was stroking her lightly, sliding the silk of the nightgown against her skin. His tenderness made her ache with emotions she didn’t understand and couldn’t sort out. She stiffened, afraid Jack would sense her discomfort.

  Which was absurd, of course. They’d been extraordinarily intimate in the past four months, so why should her feelings stay private?

  The idea of Jack’s knowing how upset she was made her panic. She needed to keep her dignity. She needed to be able to leave the relationship with the same sense of herself that she’d had at the beginning. No man robbed her of her self-respect. Jack McIntyre, as special and dear as he was to her, was not going to take her sense of self.

  Elise put her hand around his chest and hugged him. She did love him. Loving him wasn’t the answer, that’s all.

  She pulled in a long shuddering breath and relaxed slowly as she let it out. He stroked her hair. It seemed both odd and comfortable to be in bed with Blackjack McIntyre and not be thinking about sex.

  She fell asleep still puzzling why that might be.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On Friday, Elise woke feeling much less stressed. The mood in the house was lighthearted, especially for those with no wedding-related chores to do. It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too humid. Everyone agreed they were crossing fingers the weather would hold.

  After lunch Rand and the twins played Frisbee tag on the lawn with Hugh and Debbie’s children. Hugh’s sister Annette arrived with her teenagers, who instantly joined the younger kids. It must have looked like this twenty-five years earlier, Elise thought, with Jack being the youngest of the cousins. She could see how easily he had been left out of the older ones’ games.

  Thinking of Jack, Elise glanced around to see him and Phil huddled together on the terrace, presumably talking about the law. Amusing to see how quickly Phil and Jack had glommed on to each other. Kindred spirits in some odd way.

  Annette joined her, holding out a drippy glass of ice
d tea.

  “Thanks,” Elise said.

  “I’m Hugh’s sister.” Not the warmest greeting.

  “Jack’s shared his stories about your childhood up here.” Elise eyed Annette over the rim of the iced tea. In her mid-forties, Annette was still quite beautiful. She was also the first one from the O’Hara side of the family to share the “Black Irish” coloring with Jack. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Compared to Elise’s messy bob—she owned hairspray, she just forgot to use it—Annette’s hair was implausibly neat, despite the breeze off the lake.

  “Jack’s very special,” Annette said in a clipped voice. She leaned against the balustrade and faced Elise. “I know you’ve charmed him, and that’s lovely, but if you break his heart I’ll personally find you and hurt you.”

  Elise could feel her litigator smile taking over—slightly toothy, superficially sincere, even disarming. A smile to keep one’s colleagues close and competitors closer. Then she saw Jack jump up for an errant Frisbee, and at the look on his face—happy to be playing with his family—her prickly lawyer shell melted away.

  She looked at Annette. “You know how we met, right? I care for Jack deeply, and I want his happiness more than you can know. But his happiness isn’t entirely under my control. It’s a negotiation, as it has been from the beginning.”

  Annette’s jaw set as she looked out over the lake. Finally she nodded. “Just know that he’s not alone in the world.”

  She waited a second, then walked away, calling out to her kids.

  Elise considered going up to Jack’s room to hide. Before she could sneak away, Stacy wandered over to take Annette’s place. She nodded at the kids cavorting on the lawn with Jack. “You’re not playing?”

  “Hopeless klutz,” Elise confessed. “I don’t think you need the rehearsal disrupted with a trip to the emergency room.”

  Stacy smiled. “What did Annette want?”

  “Jack’s happiness. As though I have it and refuse to cough it up.”

  Stacy nodded. “He’s everyone’s little brother, which is why we’re so immensely proud of him professionally and protective of him personally.” She put a hand on Elise’s shoulder. “Don’t let Annette make things weird. We know you’ve been great for Jack.”