by Loree Lough
“It…it was a joke,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I never intended for you to take me seriously.”
Connor had a feeling that if it hadn’t been so dark, he’d have witnessed a deep blush coloring her cheeks. In the time he’d known her, he’d learned that she found it difficult to stretch the truth even a bit. “That’s too bad,” he said. “I was really lookin’ forward to telling all my pals down at the law library that the prettiest woman this side of the Mississippi proposed to me while—”
“Whom do you know west of the Mississippi?”
Laughing, he said, “I didn’t take you seriously.” But he hadn’t thought of much else since, he admitted silently. It made sense. Perfect sense. They had a lot in common, for one thing. She was a terrific mother, for another. They both wanted what was best for Liam. Granted they didn’t know each other well, but…
He’d been telling himself the idea only seemed so appealing because he didn’t have the stomach to fight her. Here, now, gazing into her sparkling brown eyes, he admitted the truth: He didn’t want to fight her…because he loved her.
He couldn’t name the precise moment in time when he’d first realized it. That day in his office, when she’d breezed past him, trying like crazy to hide the limp? When he’d called her from New York, and she’d asked all those caring, wifely questions about his well-being? In the diner, when he’d watched her orchestrate the cleanup of the miniflood with calm finesse? Climbing her stairs, when he’d noticed the paintings of her dream house?
What about the horrible accident she’d survived…and everything that had been a consequence of it? And the way she’d defended him to her mother, saying he had a right to see Liam anytime he wanted to because he was family.
And her reaction to his kiss…
She’d seemed so tentative at first, so shy and uncertain. He loved the pluck and spirit that had moved her beyond her fear; it was the same drive and determination that had helped her survive an ordeal that might have crushed other women.
He loved the open-armed attitude that had allowed her to welcome an abandoned baby into her heart, into her life, as if he were her own. Loved her levelheaded matter-of-factness, her mind for business, her old-fashioned work ethic…
To put it simply, Connor loved everything about her, from her curly brown hair to her size-five feet. Pride prevented him from admitting it, though, because what if she didn’t feel the same way about him? He believed there were just two things he couldn’t survive at this point in his life: losing Liam, and losing Jaina.
He could only hope that in time—provided he could convince her to agree to his plan—she’d grow to love him, too.
It wasn’t completely implausible, was it? Because throughout history, marriages of convenience had prevented wars, secured fortunes, saved businesses, ended family feuds.
If Jaina could admit she liked him now, there was reason to hope that someday she’d love him, too.
Wasn’t there?
He looked at her, and his heart lurched with hopeful possibilities. It was certainly worth a try. Besides, he added, marrying her would certainly solve a whole slew of problems.
Connor slipped his hand behind her head, fingers playing in the soft waves at the nape of her neck. He didn’t know how long he’d been staring into her eyes, lost in his moment of whimsy. He only knew that he wanted this beautiful, bighearted little woman. Wanted her to be Liam’s mother. And if the doctors were mistaken—and he’d move heaven and earth if only he could prove them wrong—he wanted her to be the mother to his children, their children. But even if the medical professionals were correct, and Jaina could never have babies of her own, he still wanted to face all the joys and trials of life beside her, forever.
He smiled and, leaning forward, placed a light kiss upon her forehead. She’d closed her eyes as he drew near, and Connor backed away slightly to study her face.
He took note of thick, dark lashes, finely arched brows, the gentle slope of her nose. The fireworks’ showy hues illuminated her lovely features, accented the soft, feminine roundness of her cheeks and the delicate point of her chin with shimmering, sparkling light that glowed scarlet to emerald to gold. It was as though the state fair’s Strong Man had clutched his chest, tightening and twisting. Oh, how he wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go.
Her lashes fluttered like miniature wings, sending his heart into a pulsing, pounding rhythm that echoed in his ears. He had snickered at the age-old cliché, borrowed and repeated too many times to count by men for whom poetry seemed like a foreign language, but when at last she opened her eyes and he gazed into the depths of those dazzling spheres, Connor understood for the first time what it meant to feel like a drowning man, caught in the powerful vortex of a whirlpool.
“We’re missing the finale,” he heard her whisper.
Finale? What did he care about eye-popping, eardrum-splitting thunderflashes? The real rockets were exploding in his heart.
Connor watched her profile, resplendent in the rich, radiant color reflected from the sky. Moments later, he, too, looked toward the heavens, pretending to be engrossed in the percussive display until Liam stirred between them.
The baby sat up and knuckled his eyes. Unfazed by the noise above him, he crawled into Jaina’s lap and pointed at the booming bouquets above. Her smile, in response to his delight, was tender and sweet, her voice, in reply to his excited squeals, laughingly lively. She wrapped her arms around him, took his tiny hand and pointed it at the sky. If Connor didn’t know better, he would have assumed they’d been together since the baby’s birth.
That’s where he belonged, Connor told himself.
And if he could find a way, that’s where the little boy would stay.
Jaina woke to the trilling of the phone and mumbled a groggy “Hullo” into the mouthpiece.
“Hey. It’s Skip. How ya doin’?”
“Fine,” she said around a yawn. “And you?”
“Look. I won’t beat around the bush. I called to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you yesterday. Forgive me?”
One hand covering her eyes, Jaina shook her head. “Yeah, I guess so.” She stretched, thinking of their argument. Had he called to pick up where he’d left off? Jaina hoped not. She didn’t like confrontation, though Skip seemed to handle it fine. But then, she supposed, he was a counselor and trained to handle difficult emotional discussions.
“So,” she asked now, stifling another yawn, “where’d you go after you left the diner yesterday?”
“Home.” He cleared his throat. “I had some thinking to do.”
Jaina chuckled. “Uh-oh. That’s not a good sign. I’ll bet you have a wicked headache this morning.”
“I forgot how mean you can be first thing in the morning.”
“If you don’t tell me why you’re calling at this hour…”
“Hey, be nice. I was up all night, thinking up ways to help you.”
“Help me?” She stretched. “Help me what?”
“I kinda hoped you’d invite me over. You know, to discuss it in person.”
She sat up, pressed her fingertips against her forehead and glanced at the clock. “It isn’t even five yet.” Furrowing her brow, she added, “I thought you liked to sleep till noon on the weekends.”
“I’m too excited to sleep. I want to run this idea by you, see if it cuts the mustard.”
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to shower and dress, feed Liam his breakfast. I suppose you could meet me in the diner in, say, forty-five minutes.” She narrowed one eye to ask, “You sure it’s not too early? Because I’d hate for you to fall asleep behind the wheel and—”
“Trust me,” he insisted, “I’m wide awake.”
She’d known him long enough to recognize excitement in his voice when she heard it. “Give me a hint. Did you get a raise? A promotion? Find the girl of your dreams?”
There was a considerable pause before he said, “I’ll tell you this
. It’s about you.”
Jaina laughed. “Me? What could I possibly have to do with—”
“Nothing. Everything. I mean…” He exhaled an exasperated sigh.
“You want me to have your favorite breakfast ready when you get here?”
“Are you kiddin’? I haven’t had French toast in ages. I’ll be there in half an hour!” An hour later, Jaina was helping her father unload the morning’s delivery of milk when Skip blasted through the diner’s back door. He grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” he said, panting as if he’d run a marathon.
“Skip,” she scolded gently, “I’m right in the middle of—”
“This is important, Jaina.” He glanced at the rest of the staff and lowered his voice. “I need to talk to you in private.” He gave her arm another tug. “It won’t take long. I promise.”
Her father gave Skip a quick once-over. “What’s got you so riled up this morning, son? I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited since…” His forehead furrowed slightly. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this excited.”
Jaina wriggled free of Skip’s grasp. “I hate to be a party pooper,” she said, tapping her watch, “but we open in less than an hour.” She looked at Skip. “You’ve known this bunch of nuts for years. They’re family. You can say anything in front of them.” She went back to unloading the truck. A touch of impatience rang in her voice when she said, “Skip, would you please just spit it out?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“What opportunity?”
“Me!”
“You?” Jaina frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“How long have we known one another?”
She shrugged. “We met in the third grade. If you don’t count all the times Mom and Dad and I were transferred back and forth before we settled down here, I’d say twenty years.”
“How’d you put up with him that long?” Eliot wanted to know.
“Sometimes it wasn’t easy.”
“In all the time we’ve known one another,” Skip asked, “have we ever had a fight?”
They hadn’t fought, Jaina admitted, because she’d chosen to overlook his bad behavior. “How ’bout the one we had on the Fourth of July?”
“I don’t mean little stuff like that,” he interrupted, waving her comment away. “I mean serious disagreements.”
She gave the question a moment’s thought. She hadn’t considered his attitude toward Connor, toward her keeping Liam, “little stuff.” Far from it.
But it seemed he’d taken her silence to mean they’d had no serious disagreements. “Of course not. I’m the most even-tempered man you know.” Skip began counting on his fingers. “We both like baseball, hate sour pickles, and neither one of us misses the six o’clock news unless there’s a national emergency.”
Things she had in common with thousands of total strangers, she reflected. “So what’s your point?”
“Well, you’re not gettin’ any younger—” he glanced at the baby “—and the ki…I mean Liam here is in a dandy fix.”
Oh, no, she thought, her hard-beating heart rattling her rib cage, I know where this is going. Clasping her hands beneath her chin, Jaina closed her eyes. Dear Lord, she prayed, let this be a dream, and when I open my eyes, the alarm will be buzzing….
Of course he hadn’t been serious. How could he possibly have been serious? For as long as she’d known him, Skip had been a tease. Maybe this was one of his practical jokes. Jaina hoped so, because if it wasn’t…
She’d always tried to be a good friend to Skip, and he’d always been there for her, too. But marriage? To a man she didn’t love? That wouldn’t be fair to her or to Skip. Out of the question! Yes, she’d been accused of a crime, had served time for it, but Jaina believed that even she deserved a better life than that!
Connor couldn’t believe his ears. He stopped dead in his tracks just outside the diner’s open back door, unconsciously clenching his hands into tight fists, his molars grinding like unoiled gears. Why, that little twerp is gonna ask Jaina to marry him!
Even before taking his self-imposed vow to keep a safe distance from women, he’d never had reason to be jealous. Not even when his lady friends played the age-old game of passing off another man as Connor’s competition. Each time they tried that tactic, it had failed miserably, and they’d stormed off in a huff when he failed to react to his so-called challenger as they’d hoped he would.
Well, he was jealous now!
He’d never been a violent man, and Jaina’s old pal had never done anything to him. So why did he feel an overwhelming urge to punch Skip in the jaw?
Connor had stopped by the diner this morning to propose. He’d been up all night, thinking about how much sense it made. Despite the way she’d laughed off the idea. Perhaps he could convince her that marrying him was the best solution for everyone concerned.
Now he understood why Skip had stomped out of the diner yesterday. He must have interrupted his proposal. If he’d known he had a rival, he might have posed the question sooner. But he couldn’t very well second-guess a man he’d never met before, now could he? And besides, Jaina had made a point of telling him that she and Skip had been buddies since childhood.
Well, he didn’t like her buddy. Not one bit. He didn’t like the way Skip looked at Jaina and he certainly didn’t like Skip thinking she might even marry him.
Would Jaina say yes to Skip? he wondered as his heart hammered. Why was it so quiet in there?
“So anyway,” Skip continued as if in response to Connor’s thought, “I decided that I have what you need—and you’re not so bad-lookin’ yourself—and since we have so much in common, we could make a go of this marriage thing.”
Connor was clenching his jaw so tightly that his teeth ached. As Skip’s question reverberated in his head, his fists ached for the same reason. As did every other muscle in his body.
He thought the long, silent pause might kill him. “Why doesn’t she answer?” he whispered through his teeth, then offered up a quick and fervent prayer. Please, God, let her say no.
If he took half a step to the right, he discovered, he could see their reflections in the door’s square, chicken-wired windowpane. He watched Jaina clasp her hands beneath her chin. “Oh, Skip,” she said, sounding incredulous.
After a moment, he saw Skip put his hands on Jaina’s shoulders. “So when do you want to do it?”
Jaina turned her head, and Connor could have sworn she had seen his reflection in the window, for it seemed that she was looking directly into his eyes. It was an eerie, uneasy feeling that set his heart to pounding again. He held his breath.
After another agonizingly long moment, she turned back to Skip. “Well, the paperwork has to be filed first….”
“Paperwork? For the justice of the peace, you mean?”
“To have you committed. You must be crazy if you think I’d marry you!”
Way to go, Jaina! Connor silently rooted.
“Well, seemed like a good idea in the middle of the night,” Skip mumbled.
Connor had been up all night, too, imagining the rest of his life with Jaina. But did she consider him nothing more than a buddy, as well? Not that he had a problem with that—friendship was one of the most important components of a successful marriage, he believed—but he wanted more, much more, than just being her friend….
His secretary read three, four romance novels a week, and a year or so ago, Connor had picked one up. He’d selected a page at random, thinking he was in for a good chuckle, at least when he reached the parts where the passionate clichés began. But he hadn’t so much as cracked a smile as he began to read.
Does she realize what she’s doing? he wondered. Did she understand that her friendly greeting had done more than invite him inside? Was she aware that, as she plumped sofa cushions and poured hot tea to warm him, make him feel cozy and comfortable, she had succeeded? Or had it simply been an accident of fate, some c
urious coincidence, that her glittering eyes and lovely smile told him he’d always be welcome, wanted, accepted here, despite his unhappy past?
Connor had turned the page, uncomfortable with the fact that he had identified so closely with the story’s hero. Perhaps a different passage would inspire the hearty laugh he’d expected.
It was more, so much more than his lips pressed to hers. It seemed they’d become one living, breathing being, united in heart and mind and soul by a thing as innocent as a kiss. She knew, as she stood in the protective circle of his embrace, that near him was where she wanted to spend the rest of her days. Because she also knew, as his hard-pounding heart thrummed against her, that he was a man capable of living and loving to the fullest…to the end.
He wanted to make Jaina feel like that, wanted to be the one who put stars in her eyes, caused her heart to beat hard and fast, and made her ache with yearning when he was out of sight.
“Let me know when you come to your senses,” Skip said, heading for the door. “But then, I won’t hold my breath…all things considered.”
And if Jaina will marry me, I’ll be shouting from the rooftops, Connor thought.
“But you haven’t had your French toast,” Rita pointed out.
“I guess I’m not hungry after all,” Skip replied in a disappointed tone. “Thanks anyway, Rita.”
Connor recognized the defeated tone in Skip’s voice and even felt a bit of sympathy for the guy. Missing out on marrying Jaina was truly a loss. But rather than offer his condolences, Connor knew he’d better beat it.
He took one more longing look at Jaina’s reflection in the window of the diner’s back door. Even the wavy glass couldn’t mar her sweet beauty. Quietly, he walked the block and a half to the parking lot where he’d left his car. In an hour or so, he’d return, broach the subject of marriage again.
And again and again, until she said, “Yes.”
Besides she’d been the first one to bring up the subject, he reminded himself. She’d claimed it had been a joke, that she’d been teasing. But what was that lesson he’d learned in Psych 101? “There’s a bit of truth in every joke.”
