by Cora Seton
She’d put all her eggs in one basket. She’d told herself a child could be just as happy and well-nurtured with a father as with a mother. Surely Jeicho could see the logic in that—unless he wasn’t interested in being a father at all.
Avery had called a meeting to discuss the next round of guests who were coming to the manor—a large party of women celebrating their ten-year anniversary of graduating from med school.
“What are we going to do with a house full of doctors—in early October?” Nora asked.
“The usual things,” Avery said. “But I thought maybe we should do more with Base Camp this time. I have a feeling this group of women will like learning about the science and technology behind what the men are doing there.”
“Even though they’re coming for a Regency vacation?” Riley asked skeptically. She’d been quiet since returning home the day before. Savannah knew the doctor had run a battery of tests on her, and now she was waiting for results.
“We’ll give them plenty of Regency fun, too,” Avery assured her. “I’m already coordinating with Maud and James for a musical evening and a ball.”
“At least it’s in between weddings,” Win pointed out. “Jericho will be married on September 28,” she added with a wink at Savannah, “and whoever comes next won’t marry until November.”
The trill of a phone cut through the conversation and Win jumped, pulling it out of her apron pocket. “I’ve got to take this.” She stood up and crossed to the far side of the room before taking the call. Savannah wasn’t sorry for the interruption. The last thing she wanted to think about was weddings.
Riley must have understood that. “The weather is getting cooler, and we could have rain; we’d better think of more inside—” She cut off when Win raised her voice.
“No! No, I won’t! You’re the one who’s acting like a lunatic. People don’t control their grown children—this isn’t the nineteenth century.”
Avery raised an eyebrow. Savannah knew why; Win was wearing a nineteenth-century gown as she spoke.
“I will not come home. This is my life, Mom, whether or not you like it. You better believe I’ll marry him when I—” Win frowned. “You can’t be serious.” She listened again, then looked up to see everyone else staring at her. “I’m in the middle of a meeting. I’ll call you back later.”
She cut the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket, but it was a moment before Win rejoined them at the table. “Sorry, that was my mother. I swear she’s losing it. Who cares who I marry in this day and age? All of a sudden she’s got something to say about everything I do. There’s nothing wrong with Angus, if she would just meet him.”
“She doesn’t want you to marry him?” Avery asked.
“Doesn’t want me to marry him. Doesn’t want me to be on the show. Hates that I quit my job and broke off my engagement. Thinks it’s all your fault, by the way,” she said to Savannah. “According to her, your family is about as angry as mine is.”
Savannah bit her lip and prayed Win would stop talking. “They’re fine,” she assured everyone.
Win snorted. “That’s not what I heard. Mom said you were engaged, too, before you left town. That you ditched your fiancé. When were you going to let everyone know?”
“Engaged?” Avery echoed. “To who?”
“Charles Scott, one of the richest men in California,” Win told her. Savannah could have kicked her—wasn’t she aware of the camera crew silently filming everything? “He’s an angel investor. The kind of guy who makes or breaks start-ups. Savannah here could have been Silicon Valley royalty.” Win glared at Savannah. “My mother thinks you’re a bad influence.”
“I didn’t make you stay here,” Savannah said, stung. She and Win had been acquainted, but hadn’t been friends before Win had come for Savannah’s cousin’s wedding. Once she’d decided to stay they’d become closer.
“No, but your mother is over the moon that you’re doing something that promotes your family’s business. She keeps bragging to my mom about how much more air time you get than me. Of course, my mom doesn’t want me to get any air time at all.”
“How could you not tell us you’re engaged?” Nora asked.
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” Savannah said tartly. “Like none of the rest of you have kept secrets.”
They all had the grace to look ashamed of themselves. As well they might; it was clear that their friendships hadn’t been as solid as they’d thought. Every one of them had been holding back when they arrived at Westfield.
“Besides, this isn’t about me—this is about Win. What are you going to do?” Savannah went on.
“What can I do? If my parents don’t like Angus, then screw them.” But Win didn’t sound half as sure as her words made her out to be, and as the conversation awkwardly drifted back to their guests, Savannah noticed her gaze remained distant.
Savannah didn’t blame her; she was finding it hard to concentrate, too.
She dropped a hand to her belly under the table. Poor little sprite. Babies should be welcomed. She’d always felt that when she finally told Jericho about their child, his face would light up, and all her problems would be solved. It hurt her more than she could say to know that wouldn’t be the case. She couldn’t stand the thought of his anger. Or worse—disinterest.
She finally faced the question that had haunted her since Jericho declared he didn’t want kids.
Should she leave?
Savannah bit her lip. She didn’t want to; that was the heart of the matter. She didn’t want to have to give up on anything. She wanted her baby. Wanted her career. Wanted Jericho.
She wanted her friends, the bed and breakfast, even her work on the energy grid.
Was she being too selfish?
“What do you think, Savannah?” Riley asked.
“Uh—” Savannah didn’t even know what they’d been talking about. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”
“Should we take our guests on a hayride?”
“Uh…sure. Why not?” She glanced at Win, who was gazing out the kitchen window. Pulling herself together, Savannah added, “But let’s make sure we have refreshments waiting afterward to make the outing seem more elegant.”
Riley nodded. “That’s a great idea.”
With another glance at Win, Savannah gave her attention to the meeting. She wondered if there was more to that phone call than their friend was letting on.
Secrets, again.
How much longer could she keep hers?
Chapter Four
‡
“Kai! You in here?” Jericho hurried past Kai’s array of solar ovens outside, and ducked into the kitchen at the bunkhouse just before noon. “Hey, I need to rustle up a picnic for later on. Can you help me with that?” He barely noticed the film crew trailing him. This far into the experience of being on a reality television show, he was beginning to take the crews for granted.
“Taking Savannah out?” Kai asked, hard at work prepping lunch.
“That’s right. Got any ideas for grub?” He looked forward to the day when they’d have this whole kitchen running on solar power, along with the rest of the bunkhouse. They were getting really close.
“I’ll take care of it. Glad to see you’re getting a move on. I think I heard Boone say something about backup brides.” He grinned, but Jericho knew Boone was capable of putting out an ad for one.
“I’m working on it. What about you? Have you found a bride yet?”
“You know, I’ve found that life works best when you go with the flow instead of fighting it. I’ll meet her when the time is right.” Kai shrugged.
Jericho thought it must be nice to be that zen about your future. “Go with the flow, huh?”
“Things work out, you know?”
He hoped that was true. At the moment he wasn’t sure if things were going to work out between him and Savannah.
“Lunch is in five minutes,” Kai added.
“I’ll ge
t out of your way.” Jericho headed back outside, but stopped in the doorway when he spotted Savannah arriving with the rest of the women from the manor. She was kneading her left hand with her right as she walked, as if her fingers were sore.
Maybe they were after so much practice.
Jericho moved to intercept her, happy to see the camera crew hadn’t followed him outside. “Hey, come and sit a minute. Lunch isn’t ready yet.” Before she could protest, Jericho took her hand and brought her over to one of the logs they used as benches. He sat, and tugged her down beside him, keeping her hand in his.
“How did your practice go this morning?” He began to massage her hand and wrist, so slender and delicate compared to his.
“It was… it… it was…” Savannah’s shoulders relaxed as he kneaded her hand. “Wow, that feels good,” she said.
“I could tell you were sore.” Jericho kept going as Savannah’s expression grew distant. He’d hit on something with the massage, he realized. Something good. He’d make the most of it.
“My wrists ache when I play too long,” she admitted.
“Maybe you should take more breaks.” Too late he realized how that would sound to her. Savannah pulled her hand away.
“I can’t,” she said fiercely. “You have no idea how competitive this field is, do you? It’s not like the Navy, where they’ll take anyone.”
Jericho recoiled. Did she have any idea of the grueling process he’d gone through to qualify as a SEAL?
Maybe she did—because Savannah now looked distinctly sheepish.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just… stressed out.”
He picked up her other hand, and when she didn’t pull it away, he began to massage it. He chose his words carefully. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here for you. I understand why you’re stressed out.”
The look she gave him said he couldn’t possibly understand, but Jericho wasn’t going to let her push him away again.
“You’re working toward an enormous goal—one that means the world to you,” he went on. “Your family isn’t supportive. Your situation is tricky. You’ve got a lot of different demands on your time.” Was she growing misty eyed? Jericho rushed on. “I’ve got your back. I’ll do anything I can to help you be a concert pianist. Whatever you need, you tell me—got it? I’ll be there for you—What?” he asked when she shook her head.
“You’re saying all the right words, but you don’t mean them.” Savannah tried to tug away from him.
“I mean them.” He didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like all of this was far above his head and he was too thick to understand. He’d held positions of responsibility before, and he’d thought she understood that about him.
Instead, her disdain reminded him all too clearly of his family’s assessment of him.
“Not really.” But she let him continue to massage her, working his way up her wrist to her forearm. That was something, Jericho decided, and he didn’t stop as Savannah went on. “I can think of a dozen things I could ask you to help with that you wouldn’t like.”
“That’s not true. Savannah.” He hesitated only a moment. “I’m going to ask you to marry me soon. And when we’re husband and wife, there’s nothing you can ask that I’ll say no to.” He noticed some of the crew members exiting the bunkhouse and looking around for something else to film. Damn it; just when he’d gotten Savannah to talk to him. He hoped they’d keep their distance.
“That’s an awfully broad statement. And you’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”
“It’s not a statement. It’s a promise.” If he wasn’t mistaken, despite her words, she was giving in. Thinking about saying yes to him. Jericho leaned down and stole a kiss while he had the chance, his whole body coming alive at her touch. God he wanted her. Wanted to know he’d get to wake up beside this beautiful woman every day for the rest of his life.
Wanted to go to bed with her every night, too.
He braced himself for her to pull back like she always did these days, but this time Savannah stayed with the kiss, as if she was testing what it felt like to be close to him.
Couldn’t she remember?
He could—with vivid detail. He relived their encounter in the Russells’ bathroom on a daily basis. Several times a day if he was honest. As their kiss went on, he could call up exactly how it had been to press inside her for the first time. To feel her breasts heavy in his hands. To know he was driving her to the brink of ecstasy.
“Get a room,” Angus called out from the bunkhouse door in his thick Scottish accent.
Jericho jumped, pulled back an inch and met Savannah’s gaze. Her lips were parted and her breath coming fast.
And he was in no fit state for company. A quick glance told him the film crew was bearing down on them.
“I’m going to go get my lunch,” Savannah told him, beginning to rise.
All around them people were heading for the bunkhouse and coming out with plates stacked with food.
“Hold on,” he said, a little more roughly than he intended. He clamped a hand on her wrist to keep her in place.
“But—”
“Just give me a minute, would you?” Jericho said with a glance at the crew setting up to film.
Her brow furrowed, but when Savannah looked down and took in his condition, the corners of her mouth tugged up into a smile. Despite the awkward circumstances, Jericho’s spirits lifted; it had been far too long since he’d seen her do that.
“You’ve worked yourself into a state.”
She was enjoying this, wasn’t she? “I was remembering you in Maud and James’s bathroom,” he said honestly. “The image got the better of me.”
She leaned toward him. “Shh! You want the whole world to know?”
“The world wouldn’t blame me for not being able to get it out of my mind if they did. Come on, Savannah. Why won’t you let me touch you like that again?” He kept his voice too low for the microphones to pick up.
A delicate blush spread over her features, but she shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“I don’t know about wise. It’d sure be fun.”
She glanced up. “You think life is just about fun?”
“Honey, I was a SEAL for years. I know what life’s about. But I say take your fun where you can find it. There’s enough suffering in the world. Why not give each other some happiness when we can?” He leaned closer. “I’d like to make you happy. Why don’t you marry me and let me get to it?” Jericho realized this was no place for a proposal, though. Not with the cameras rolling. “Wait—don’t answer that yet. Just think about it. Okay?” He moved closer and kissed her harder this time. That would give Renata something to put in the next episode.
“Can I go get my lunch now?” Savannah asked when he pulled back a second time, her exasperation clear, although her eyes were shining.
“Not yet. Give me a minute.”
It shouldn’t gratify her this much to know that Jericho could get hard just thinking about their time together, but the SEAL was in a peck of trouble, and she couldn’t help feeling a little pride. She bent toward him, knowing the view of her cleavage could hardly help, and was rewarded when he groaned. She didn’t think the cameras would pick up the swell in his pants; not when they were both sitting down. It was clear from her vantage point, though.
“Savannah…” He didn’t go on, but she knew what he meant; she was driving him wild. Which was only fair, because he was doing the same to her—dangling marriage in front of her twenty-four hours after he’d declared he never wanted children. It was clear that he wanted her. She felt certain he loved her—and would never want to cause her pain. He kept talking about supporting her career. Did he think that was how to win her heart? Was all his bluster about not wanting kids real? Or—?
Savannah straightened. Was he merely saying what he thought she wanted to hear? She’d made it clear pursuing her dream was her first priority—so much s
o she’d jumped at the chance to stop working with him. No wonder he was acting like she’d said she didn’t want kids.
She glanced down again. Jericho was totally turned on. He wanted her. Cared about her. She cared about him, too. At this point in her pregnancy, she should have suffered from morning sickness. Why wasn’t she pale and prostrate on her bed?
Instead she had a healthy desire to be in her bed—with Jericho.
Could they slip away?
No. She squashed the impulse hard. Jericho was out of bounds. At least until they figured things out. He’d said he didn’t think she could be a good mom and pursue a career, too, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t fool around with him, let alone lead him on to think they had a future.
Unless…
He’d said he’d do anything for her. Couldn’t that possibly include changing his attitude about fatherhood? About taking on a strong role in their baby’s upbringing? Could his flippant remarks at the Halls’ place—and again this morning—be just that—thoughtless, off-the-cuff statements that really didn’t mean anything?
Savannah wanted to believe that—badly.
Especially since every fiber of her body was yearning toward the handsome man trying to hide his lust for her from the rest of their friends.
“What’s the square root of two hundred and fifty-two?” she asked him.
“I don’t know—”
“Figure it out.”
Jericho hesitated. “Fifteen point…something.”
“What’s thirty-five times twenty-nine?”
“A thousand and fifteen,” Jericho said after a few seconds.
Savannah kept grilling him until Jericho stood up.
“Okay, I got this under control. Saved by math,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Works every time.” She stifled a laugh, gratified she could find the humor in the situation. Despite the hurtful things he’d said, she loved this man. She thought he felt the same way. He was ready to propose to her, for heaven’s sake.
