Her neighbor was a little rough around the edges, maybe a little too honest and direct, but she was one heck of a friend. Besides school and a job, she was a good mom to Kevin and Eric. Daisy’s mother watched the boys during the daytime now that school was out, but it wasn’t an ideal situation. The boys, seven and eight, were a handful. A teenage girl from the neighborhood filled in on the nights Daisy worked; Lesley occasionally helped out, as well.
“How does this dress look?” Lesley asked, ignoring Daisy’s question. She twirled to give Daisy a look at the simple blue-and-white-patterned dress. The skirt flared out at the knees as she spun around.
“New?” Daisy asked, helping herself to a few seedless red grapes from the fruit bowl on the table. She held one delicately between manicured nails and popped it into her mouth.
“Relatively new,” Lesley said, glancing away. “I’ve got a date.”
“A real date?”
“Yes, I met him this afternoon. I was mugged and Chase—that’s his name—caught the thief for me.”
“In other words, Chase chased him.”
“Exactly.” She smiled at Daisy’s small joke.
“You sure you can trust this guy?”
Lesley took a moment to analyze what she knew about Chase Goodman. Her impression was of strength, eyes that smiled, a gentle, fun-loving spirit. He was six-four, possibly taller, his chest was wide and his shoulders were broad. Despite his size, he ran with efficiency and speed. Her overall impression of Chase was of total, unequivocal masculinity. The type of man who worked hard, lived hard and loved hard.
Her cheeks flushed with color at the thought of Chase in bed.…
“I can trust him,” Lesley answered. It was herself she needed to question. If she was still in love with Tony, she shouldn’t be attracted to Chase, but she was. She barely knew the man, yet she felt completely safe with him, completely at ease. She must, otherwise she wouldn’t have blurted out the humiliating details of her broken engagement. She’d never done that with anyone else.
“I’m meeting Chase at the Seattle aquarium at six,” Lesley elaborated.
“Hmm. Sounds like he might be hero material,” Daisy said, reaching for another cluster of grapes after she stood. “I’ve got to get dinner on for the boys. Let me know how everything goes, will you? I’ll be up late studying, so if the light’s on, let yourself in.”
“I will,” Lesley promised.
“Have fun,” Daisy said on her way out the door.
That was something Lesley intended to do.
At 6:10, Lesley was standing outside the waterfront aquarium waiting. She checked her watch every fifteen seconds until she saw Chase coming toward her, walking down the hill, his steps hurried. When he saw her, he raised his hand and waved.
Relief flooded through Lesley. The restless sensation in the pit of her stomach subsided and her doubts fled.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, after dashing across the busy intersection. “I had a problem finding a place to park.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lesley said, and it didn’t now that he was here. Now that he was grinning at her in a way she found irresistible.
He smiled down at her and said in a low, caressing voice, “You look nice.”
“Thank you. You do, too.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“A little. How about you?” Pedestrian traffic was heavy and by tacit agreement, they moved to a small fountain and sat on a park bench. She didn’t explain that her appetite had been practically nonexistent ever since she’d lost Tony.
“Some, but I’ve never been to the waterfront before,” Chase said. “Would you mind if we played tourist for a while?”
“I’d like it. Every year I make a point of bringing my class down here. They love the aquarium and the fact that some of the world’s largest octopuses live in Elliott Bay. The kids are fascinated by them.”
They stood and Chase reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. It felt oddly comfortable to be linked to him. They began to walk, their progress slowed by the crowds.
“Other than the aquarium, my kids’ favorite stop is Pier 54,” she said.
“What’s on Pier 54?”
“A long row of tourist shops. Or in other words, one of the world’s largest collections of junk and tacky souvenirs.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“To third-graders it’s heaven. Imagine what their parents think when the children come home carrying a plastic shrunken head with Seattle stamped across it. I shouldn’t be so flippant—it’s not all like that. There’s some interesting Northwest Indian and Eskimo art on display, if you want to walk there.”
“Sure. Isn’t that the ferry terminal?” he asked, pointing toward a large structure beyond the souvenir shops.
“Yes. The Washington State Ferries terminal. Did you know we have the largest ferry system in the world? If you’re looking for a little peace and some beautiful scenery, hop on a ferry. For a while after Tony told me about April, I used to come down here and take the Wins low ferry over to Bainbridge Island. There’s something about being on the water that soothed me.”
“Would you take a ferry with me sometime?” Chase asked.
“I’d like that very much,” she replied. His hand squeezed hers and she congratulated herself on how even she managed to keep her voice. Countless times over the past few months she’d ridden the ferry, sat with a cup of coffee or stood on the deck. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about being on the water that she found so peaceful, but it helped more than anything else.
They walked along the pier and in and out of several of the tourist shops, chatting as they went. It’d been a long time since Lesley had laughed so easily or so often and it felt wonderful.
As they strolled past the ferry terminal, Lesley asked, “Have you been to Pioneer Square? There’s a fabulous restaurant close by if Italian food interests you.”
“Great!”
“I’ll tell you all about Pioneer Square while we eat, then,” Lesley said, leading the way. The restaurant was busy, but they were seated after a ten-minute wait.
No sooner were they handed menus than a basket of warm bread appeared, along with a relish tray, overflowing with fresh vegetables and a variety of black and green olives.
“Pioneer Square is actually the oldest part of Seattle,” Lesley explained, somewhat conscious of sounding like a teacher in front of her class—or maybe a tour guide. “It was originally an Indian village, and later a rowdy frontier settlement and gold rush town.”
“What’s all the business about mail-order brides?” Chase asked while dipping a thick slice of the bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
“You heard about that?”
“I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for a TV documentary I saw. I only caught the end of it, though.”
“The brides are a historical fact. Back in the 1860s, Seattle had a severe shortage of women. To solve the problem, a well-intentioned gentleman by the name of Asa Mercer traveled East and recruited a number of New England women to come to Seattle. These weren’t ladies of the night, either, but enterprising souls who were well-educated, cultured and refined. The ideal type of woman to settle the wild frontier.”
“What would Asa Mercer have said to induce these women to give up the comforts of civilization? How’d he get them to agree to travel to the Wild West?” Chase asked, setting aside his bread and focusing his full attention on her.
“It might surprise you to know he didn’t have the least bit of difficulty convincing these women. First, there was a real shortage of marriageable men due to the Civil War. Many of these women were facing spinsterhood. Asa Mercer’s proposition might well have been their only chance of finding a husband.”
“I see.”
Lesley didn’t understand his frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he was quick to assure her. “Go on, tell me what happened.”
“The first women landed at the waterfron
t on May 16, 1864. I remember the day because May 16 is my birthday. Seattle was a riproaring town and I imagine these women must’ve wondered what they were letting themselves in for. But it didn’t take them long to settle in and bring touches of civilization to Seattle. They did such a good job that two years later a second group of brides was imported.”
“They all got married, then?”
“All but one,” Lesley told him. “Lizzie Ordway. Eventually she became the superintendent of public schools and a women’s activist. It was because of her and other women like her that Washington State granted women the right to vote a full ten years ahead of the constitutional amendment.”
“Now you’re the one who’s frowning,” Chase commented.
“I was just thinking that… I don’t know,” she said, feeling foolish.
“What were you thinking?” Chase asked gently.
She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to voice the fears that gnawed at her. That she was afraid she’d end up like Lizzie, unmarried and alone. These few details were all Lesley knew about the woman’s life. She wondered if Lizzie had found fulfillment in the women’s suffrage movement. If she’d found contentment as a spinster, when her friends had married one by one until she was the only one left. The only one who hadn’t been able to find a husband.
“Lesley?” Chase prompted.
“It’s nothing,” Lesley said, forcing herself to smile.
The waiter came just then, to Lesley’s relief, and they ordered. Their dinner was wonderful, but she’d expected nothing less from this restaurant.
Afterward, they caught the streetcar and returned to the waterfront. On the short ride, Lesley regaled Chase with the history of the vintage streetcars, which had been brought from Australia.
“This is Tasmanian mahogany?” Chase repeated.
“And white ash.”
“I’m impressed by how well you know Seattle’s history,” Chase said when they climbed off the streetcar.
“I’m a teacher, remember?”
Chase grinned and it was a sexy, make-your-knees-weak sort of smile. “I was just wondering why they didn’t have anyone as beautiful as you when I was in school. I only ever seemed to have stereotypical old-maid teachers.”
Lesley laughed, although his words struck close to home. Too close for comfort.
“How about taking that ferry ride?” Chase suggested next.
“Sure.” Lesley was game as long as it meant their evening wouldn’t end. She didn’t want it to be over so soon, especially since she’d done most of the talking. There were a number of questions she wanted to ask Chase about Alaska. Normally Lesley didn’t dominate a conversation this way, but Chase had seemed genuinely interested.
As luck would have it, the Winslow Ferry was docked and they walked right on. While Lesley found them a table, Chase ordered two lattes.
He slid into the seat across from her and handed her the paper cup. Lesley carefully pried open the lid.
“I’ve been doing all the talking,” she said, leaning back. “What can you tell me about Alaska?”
“Plenty,” he murmured. “Did you know Alaska has the westernmost and easternmost spots in the country?”
“No,” Lesley admitted, squinting while she tried to figure out how that was possible. She guessed it had to do with the sweep of islands that stretched nearly to the Asian coastline.
“We’ve got incredible mountains, too. Seventeen of the twenty highest mountains in the entire United States are in Alaska.”
“I love mountains. When we’re finished with our drinks, let’s stand out on the deck. I want to show you the Olympics. They’re so beautiful with their jagged peaks, especially at this time of night, just before the sun sets.”
A short while later they went onto the windswept deck and walked over to the railing. The sun touched the snowcapped peaks, and a pale pink sky, filled with splashes of gold, spilled across the skyline.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Lesley said, holding on to the railing. The scent of the water was fresh and stimulating. The wind blew wildly around her, disarranging her hair. She tried several times to anchor it behind her ears, but the force of the wind was too strong.
Chase stood behind her in an effort to block the gusts. He slipped his arms around her shoulders and rested his jaw against the top of her head.
Lesley felt warm and protected in the shelter of his arms. There was a feeling of exquisite peace about being in this place with this man, on this day. This stranger had helped her more in the few hours they’d been together than all the wisdom and counsel her family and friends had issued in months.
“Let him go,” Chase whispered close to her ear.
A thousand times Lesley had tried to do exactly that. More often than she cared to count, more often than she wanted to remember. It wasn’t only her day-to-day life that was interwoven with Tony’s, but her future, as well. Everything had been centered on their lives together. She couldn’t walk into her home and not be confronted by memories of their five-year courtship.
The bookcases in her living room had been purchased with Tony. They’d picked out the sofa and love seat together, and a hundred other things, as well. Even her wardrobe had been bought with him in mind. The dress she was wearing this evening had been purchased to wear to a special dinner she and Tony had shared.
“I want to go back in now,” she said stiffly, and wondered if Chase could hear her or if he’d chosen to ignore her request. “It’s getting chilly.”
He released her with obvious reluctance, and in other circumstances his hesitation would have thrilled her. But not now, not when it felt as if her heart were melting inside her and she was fighting back a fresh stab of pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said when they returned to their seats.
“Don’t be,” Chase said gently. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
Lesley struggled for the words to explain, but she could find none. Some days her grief was like a room filled with musty shadows and darker corners. Other days it was like a long, winding path full of ruts. The worst part of traveling this road was that she’d been so alone, so lost and afraid.
The ferry docked at Winslow and they walked off and waited in the terminal before boarding again. Neither seemed in the mood to talk, but it was a peaceful kind of silence. Lesley felt no compulsion to fill it with mindless conversation and apparently neither did Chase.
By the time they arrived back at the Seattle waterfront, the sun had set. Chase held her hand as they took the walkway down to street level, his mind in turmoil. He should never have asked Lesley to let go of the man she loved. It had been a mistake to pressure her, one he had no intention of repeating.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her down the pier. The crowds remained thick, the traffic along the sidewalk heavy even at this time of night. The scents of fried fish and the sea mingled.
“Down there,” he said, pointing to a length of deserted pier.
It was a testament to her trust that she didn’t seem at all nervous. “There’s nothing down there.”
“I know. I’m going to kiss you, Lesley, and I prefer to do it without half of Seattle watching me.”
“Aren’t you taking a lot for granted?” she asked, more amused than offended.
“Perhaps.” But that didn’t stop him.
Not giving her the opportunity to argue, he brought her with him and paused only when he was assured of their privacy. Without another word, he turned her toward him. He took her hands and guided her arms upward and around his neck. He felt a moment of hesitation, but it was quickly gone.
He circled her waist with his arms and pulled her to him. At the feel of her body next to his, Chase sighed, marveling when Lesley did, too. Hers was a little sigh. One that said she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing.
He smelled her faint flowery scent. It was a sensual moment, their bodies pressed against each other. It was a spiritual moment, as well, as though they were two
lost souls reaching toward each other.
For long minutes, they simply held each other. Chase had never been with a woman like this. It wasn’t desire that prompted him to take her into his arms, but something far stronger. Something he couldn’t put words to or identify on a conscious level.
He longed to protect Lesley, shield her from more pain, and at the same time he was looking to her to end his loneliness.
Chase waged a debate on what to do next—kiss her as he’d claimed he would or hold her against him, comfort her and then release her.
He couldn’t not kiss her. Not when she felt so good in his arms.
Slowly he lowered his head, giving her ample opportunity to turn away from him. His heart felt as if it would burst wide open when she closed her eyes and brought her mouth to his.
Chase wanted this kiss, wanted it more intensely than he could remember wanting anything. That scared him and he brushed his lips briefly over hers. It was a light kiss, the kind of kiss a woman gives a man when she’s teasing him. The kind a man gives a woman when he’s trying to avoid kissing her.
Or when he’s afraid he wants her too much.
He should’ve known it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy either of them. Lesley blinked uncertainly and he tried again, this time nibbling at her slightly parted lips.
This wasn’t enough, either. If anything, it created a need for more. Much more.
The third time he kissed her, he opened his mouth and as the kiss deepened, Chase realized he’d made another mistake. The hollow feeling in his stomach returned—the feeling that fate was about to knock him for a loop.
Sensation after sensation rippled through him and his sigh was replaced with a groan. Not a groan of need or desire, but of awakening. He felt both excited and terrified. Strangely certain and yet confused.
Lesley groaned, too, and tightened her hold on him. She’d felt it, too. She must have.
Bride Wanted Page 3
