Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish

by Marta Perry

  You could stop being so appealing. No, that wasn’t what he meant. He’d mention the cookies, but eating one himself had undercut that argument.

  “Listening to people’s life stories. You didn’t need to spend the last fifteen minutes hearing about Elton’s gallbladder, did you?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “It wasn’t the most scintillating conversation I’ve ever had. But maybe Elton needed to talk.”

  “Then let him get a friend. Or a dog.” He shoved out of his chair, too restless to sit still any longer. “And another thing—that bell.”

  She sent a startled glance toward the door. “What about the bell?”

  “It makes this sound like a candy shop instead of a newspaper office.” Two steps took him to the counter. He leaned against it, looking down into blue eyes that held a spark of amusement instead of the anger he half expected.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you were back in the copy room and nearly missed a paying customer because you didn’t hear her.”

  “That would only happen if you were alone. You have a partner now, remember?”

  Her wide eyes narrowed. “I’m finding it impossible to forget.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” He realized he was leaning toward her, just as he’d seen Elton do, and he stiffened. He wasn’t going to get drawn in by a pair of big blue eyes and a vulnerable mouth. “I think with a little effort, we can bring the Gazette into the twenty-first century.”

  She got up suddenly, the movement bringing her even closer. He caught a whiff of some light, flowery scent, and for a moment he was in a meadow instead of an office.

  “Fine. You stay here and bring the paper into the twenty-first century by taking the bell off the door. I have a story to cover.”

  “Story? What story?”

  She slung the strap of the camera bag over her shoulder. “Elton mentioned that Minnie Walters is celebrating her hundredth birthday today. That’s worth a picture, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not a step toward world peace.” She probably wanted him to admit that her conversation with Elton had been worthwhile, and he wasn’t about to do that.

  “No, and we’re not the New York Times. Our readers want to know when their neighbor hits the century mark.” She turned toward the door, then swung back, holding out the camera. “Of course if you’d like to do it…”

  “No, thanks.” Clearly it would take more than one conversation to win this battle with Sarah. “You go ahead. I’m sure you’ll get more out of Minnie than I would.”

  Her smile flashed, and it was like a burst of sunshine on a chilly day. “I don’t know about that. She might be thrilled to have a man come calling.”

  “Not this man,” he said firmly. “In our division of responsibilities, little old ladies who hit their hundredth birthdays are definitely your department.”

  Sarah’s laughter mingled with the tinkle of the bell as she went out the door.

  Well. The office seemed oddly empty without her. He wasn’t sure who’d won that round, but at least she’d agreed he could remove the bell.

  Fifteen minutes later he’d taken down the bell and begun leafing through a file of story ideas. The door from Sarah’s apartment swung open, and her children surged through. The teenage baby-sitter he’d met earlier followed them, carrying the baby on her hip.

  “Tammy has to go,” Andi announced importantly. “Where’s our mommy?”

  “Go where?” He turned to the teenager, hoping he didn’t sound panic-stricken. “Their mother had to go out. They can’t stay here.”

  “I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Caldwell.” She dumped the baby unceremoniously into his unwilling arms. “But my mama called, and she needs me to go home ‘cause she has to work late.”

  “But the kids…”

  She was already at the door. “They’ll be fine ‘til Miz Reed gets back. Just watch out for the baby—she’s teething.”

  Watch out for the baby? She made the kid sound like a ticking bomb. “I can’t. You’ll have to stay.”

  He was talking to a closed door. He’d been left alone with Sarah’s kids.

  This was definitely not the way he’d planned to run this office. He looked at the tot in his arms, and she stared back at him, round blue eyes full of innocence.

  He sat, balancing her on his knee, and turned to the other three. They looked a bit more doubtful about the situation than the baby did.

  What on earth did he know about watching kids? How could Sarah let him get stuck like this?

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. He’d interviewed the leaders of angry mobs, questioned arrogant tyrants. He could surely talk to little kids. Just treat them as if they were responsible adults, and they’d respond that way. “Your mother will be back soon. Maybe you can amuse yourselves until she gets back.”

  “What can we do?” Andi asked.

  “I want to play with the computer,” Ethan said.

  Jeffrey’s face clouded up, and he looked as if tears were imminent. “I want Mommy.”

  Matt glanced at the baby, to discover that she was chewing on the strap of his wristwatch. When he tried to disengage her teeth, she started to wail.

  Sarah, where are you?

  Sarah hurried down the street toward the office, the camera bag bouncing against her hip. She’d been longer than she’d intended, but the elderly woman had been so thrilled with the whole idea of being in the paper that Sarah hadn’t had the heart to cut the interview short. Besides, Minnie’s tales of Caldwell Island in the early years of the century, before there’d even been a bridge to the mainland, were just what the Caldwell Cove Gazette readers loved.

  Matt probably wouldn’t agree. His determined face formed in her mind’s eye, dark eyes serious, chiseled mouth firm. Her pulse gave an erratic little flutter. Maybe she needed another lecture to herself.

  Matt clearly intended to keep their relationship businesslike. She must, too. He’d stay detached; she’d stay detached. She’d wait him out, and before long he’d grow tired of Caldwell Cove and the Gazette and take his disturbing self right out of her life.

  She pushed the office door open. The first thing she noticed was that the bell was missing. The second was her children, busy enveloping Matt’s desk in a sheet of newsprint.

  “What—what’s going on here?”

  Matt straightened. He held Amy in one arm, and she was chewing on a plastic tape dispenser. “What does it look like? We’re building a fort.”

  She was almost afraid to ask why. “But where’s Tammy?”

  “Gone. Something about her mother having to work late.” His look was accusing. Clearly he thought she should have anticipated that and made other arrangements. Well, he was right. She should have.

  Matt shifted Amy to his other arm, and the side of the fort he’d been holding collapsed, leading to a muffled shriek from Andi.

  “You have to hold it.” Andi peeked out from under the desk. “Or I can’t stick the tape on right.”

  “Never mind that.” Sarah hustled to the desk, hauling children out from beneath it. “You shouldn’t be in here bothering Mr. Caldwell.”

  “We weren’t bothering him,” Andi protested.

  “He was watching us,” Ethan said.

  Watching them. Their first day of working together and already she owed him a major apology.

  “He doesn’t need to watch you now. I’m home.” She headed the three of them toward the door. “Andi, you take your brothers to the kitchen and get their snack. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

  “But, Mommy…”

  “No buts.” She marched them to the door. “Go on, now.”

  When they’d gone, she turned to apologize, only to realize that Matt still held the baby.

  “I’m sorry.” She scooped Amy into her arms, sure her cheeks must be fiery. “This shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know how to apologize.”

  Relieved of the baby, he brushed his sleeves back into place. “We seem to have
survived,” he said dryly. “But I hope this isn’t going to become a habit.”

  “Of course not.” Apparently he couldn’t accept her apology without lecturing.

  “You need adequate child care if you’re going to run the paper.”

  She suppressed the urge to tell him she’d been running the paper and her family quite nicely without advice from him. “I have adequate child care. I just should have talked to Tammy about what to do if she had to leave.”

  She plopped Amy into the play yard, removing the tape dispenser and substituting a squeaky toy before the baby could cry at being deprived of it.

  “Bait and switch,” Matt said.

  She blinked. “What?”

  He nodded toward the toy Amy had just stuffed into her mouth, and she grinned at him around it. “I tried to take the tape dispenser away, but she wouldn’t give it up. You did a nice move substituting that toy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Come to think of it, that’s what you did with me.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She was probably blushing again.

  “I think you know perfectly well.” He frowned, the momentary ease between them gone.

  She recognized the reason for the frown. Matt had a passion for truth. She’d only known him for a couple of days, but she’d already seen glimpses of that quality. Here was a man who didn’t recognize the polite little fictions most people accepted just to get through the day.

  Well, she did. Sometimes perfect truth was unnecessary, even hurtful, whether Matt realized it or not. “When did I pull a bait-and-switch on you?”

  “When you gave in on the bell to distract me from other things.”

  Other things, like cutting down on the time she spent talking to people. She took a breath, trying to phrase her concern in a way he’d understand. Trying not to sound annoyed.

  “Maybe that’s true. If it is, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to change the way I relate to people. And I’m not sure I’m ready to try.”

  She expected him to take up that challenge. Instead, he studied her for a long moment. His determined gaze almost seemed to touch her skin.

  “Fair enough,” he said, surprising her. “We can fight about it if we have to. Just don’t try to manipulate me, even if you think it’s for my own good.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Nothing but honesty?”

  “Nothing but.”

  For some reason she thought of Peter, with his smiling charm, telling people what they wanted to hear. Matt Caldwell would certainly never be guilty of that. He was far more likely to tell you bluntly the last thing you wanted to hear.

  She put the thought away for later consideration. “All right. I promise I won’t try to manipulate you, even if you need it. Satisfied?”

  The slightest hint of a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “For the moment.”

  He retreated to his desk, and she sank down in her chair. Her heart pounded as if she’d been running a race. Maybe she had. If so, she’d probably lost.

  The image brought Saint Paul’s words to mind. “Casting aside all that hinders me, I run the race that is set before me.” That passage never failed to spark her determination.

  I know the race I have to run, Father. I have to love and protect and provide for the children You’ve given me. Please show me the way through any obstacles caused by this partnership with Matt.

  Slowly her heartbeat returned to normal. She could do this. No matter how difficult, she’d find a way to make this partnership work, because her children’s future depended upon it.

  For the next hour she and Matt worked in the same room, the quiet only disrupted by the two trips she made back to the apartment to solve disputes among the children. Amy fell asleep in her play yard. Slowly Sarah began to relax. This wasn’t so bad, was it?

  “Hey, Sarah. You’re looking lovely today. What happened to your bell?”

  Jason Sanders stood gazing at the doorframe, as if searching for the missing bell.

  “We decided to take it down.” She carefully avoided looking at Matt, although surely he wouldn’t object to her chatting with Sanders. The man owned the only real-estate agency on the island, and he was a big advertiser. “What can I do for you?”

  “I really just stopped in to welcome Matt back home.” He advanced on Matt, hand outstretched. “It’s great to have the famous correspondent back among us.”

  Matt stood, facing him, and she thought she’d never seen two men so opposite. Jason was the original glad-hander: quick with a smile, a handshake, a compliment. It was only after she’d known him for a while that she’d realized how facile that smile was, how trite the compliment. He seemed to have a stock of them that he rotated routinely.

  As for Matt—nothing facile or charming about him, that was for sure. She studied him while the men exchanged small talk. He was always guarded, but he seemed even more so with Sanders. He stood stiffly, fists planted on his desk, expression shielded.

  What did Matt have against Sanders? When the man finally waved his way back out the door, spreading a few more compliments along the way, she suspected she was about to find out.

  Matt swung toward her, his stare inimical. “What was he doing here?”

  “You heard him. He came to welcome you home.”

  He snorted. “The day Jason Sanders welcomes me anywhere is the day it snows in July.”

  “I take it you don’t like him.” That appeared to be putting it mildly. “But it must be years since you’ve had anything to do with him.”

  “Sanders was always a bully. I don’t suppose his nature has changed all that much, even though he’s got a better facade now.”

  She blinked. He’d put his finger on exactly what bothered her most about Sanders—the sense that underneath his charming manner lurked someone who always got what he wanted, no matter what it did to others.

  “He’s a big advertiser,” she pointed out.

  Matt closed the gap that separated them, planted his fists on her desk and leaned toward her. “Is that all that counts?”

  Her pulse jumped. He was too close—so close she could count the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, almost feel the pulse that beat at his temple, almost touch the corded muscles of his forearms.

  “N-no. Of course not.” She took a steadying breath and tried to pretend he was someone else—old Elton Hastings, for example.

  “Well, then, why do we have to put up with him?”

  Pretending Matt was a bald seventy-year-old didn’t seem to be working.

  “We put up with him because our job is producing a newspaper,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “It’s not our job to pass judgment on our readers or our advertisers. Not unless we’re running a tabloid instead of a newspaper.”

  She saw that hit home.

  “Are you saying I’m letting my personal feelings get in the way of my professionalism?” His reluctant smile was even more disturbing than his glare had been.

  Speaking of personal feelings, her own seemed to be running amok. “You told me to tell you the truth.”

  He winced. “Touché. That’ll teach me.” He squeezed her shoulder, his hand firm and warm. “Thanks, partner.”

  The warmth from his hand traveled all the way to her throat, trapping her voice. She swallowed. “Anytime.”

  Anytime now would be the time to get over this, she lectured herself. Like now, for instance.

  Unfortunately, she suspected it would take more than a lecture to neutralize the effect Matt Caldwell had on her.

  Chapter Five

  He didn’t have any excuse for being at Sarah’s apartment a few nights later. Matt paused outside the back entrance to the newspaper building, the one that led to Sarah’s home, not the office. What exactly was he doing here?

  He shifted the folder he was carrying. Of course he had a reason to be here—a business reason. He’d compiled a list of suggestions he wanted to talk to Sarah about, and the endless interruptions during the day made that impossible. It had nothin
g whatsoever to do with wanting to see her again.

  Repeating that to himself, he knocked on the door. He frowned, then knocked again. Noises from inside assured him someone was home.

  He glimpsed movement through the small pane at the top of the door, and finally the door swung open. Sarah stood there, her sky-blue shirt speckled with darker spots of water. Her brown hair, also damp, curled wildly around her face.

  Amy, wrapped in a towel, was equally wet. At the sight of him, she babbled something incomprehensible and lunged for him.

  Sarah caught her in midlunge with the ease of long practice. “No, Amy, no. He doesn’t want to hold you. You’re as wet and slippery as a dolphin.”

  “And as pretty.” Relax, he told himself. Relax. He smiled at the baby, getting an enchanting grin in return. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve come at a bad time.”

  Sarah blew a soft brown curl out of her face. “I’ve never figured out how getting a baby clean can make Mommy such a mess. But, no, it’s not any worse than any other time. What can I do for you?” Her tone made it clear office hours were over.

  “Sorry,” he repeated, feeling irrationally annoyed that he was getting off on the wrong foot with her. Again. “I thought we might be able to talk about some ideas I have for the Gazette. I forgot you’d be busy with the children. I can come back later.”

  “It’s bedtime,” she pointed out, probably thinking any idiot would know that. “But if you care to wait, we can talk once I get the children settled.”

  He suspected only courtesy had compelled that offer, but decided he’d take it at face value. It might be the only way he’d achieve his objective.

  “That’s fine.” He stepped into the small living room. “I’ll wait.”

  He thought Sarah suppressed a sigh as she closed the door. She nodded toward the sofa.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Before he could sit down, she’d whisked out of sight, trailing the pink bath towel.

  Matt turned toward the sofa. Three pairs of blue eyes surveyed him. Andi was curled up in a shabby armchair with a book. The two boys had blocks and toy cars spread across the carpet. They all looked at him.