A Bride for Jackson Powers (Desire, 1273)

by Dixie Browning

“It’s been a busy day, hasn’t it, sugar-britches,” Hetty murmured. “I have an idea you’ll be spending a lot more time out here.”

  Screened in, it would make an ideal place for Sunny’s playpen in a few months. Jax could work on his papers in that big room with all the windows. On weekends, he could work on his boat, while Rosie or someone like her brought Sunny out here on the back porch or maybe even down to the waterfront to watch the boats go by.

  “Wake up, time to go.”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” Hetty mumbled drowsily. She had wedged herself in a corner with both knees propped up so that Sunny, asleep on her lap, couldn’t take a tumble.

  And besides, she really hadn’t been asleep, she’d only been dreaming….

  At first glance the boat was ugly. Hetty tried and failed to come up with an appropriate comment that wouldn’t hurt Jax’s feelings, because she knew how much he loved the old tub.

  Her friend Billy’s bass boat was purple with flecks of glitter embedded in the paint. The outboard was almost as big as the boat.

  The Lizzie-Linda was propped up on a platform of criss-crossed timbers, her naked underside exposed for all the world to see. If there was a lick of paint on her anywhere, it didn’t show.

  “It’s…interesting,” was the best she could come up with.

  “It’s not an it, it’s a she. Check out those lines. They don’t build ’em like that anymore. Once I finish with the hull repairs, she’ll be sound as a dollar. Wait’ll you see her all painted up, with a new set of sails.”

  “Mercy, I can’t imagine.” She couldn’t, not really, but she didn’t have to imagine the excitement she saw in Jax’s lean face. His eyes, usually guarded, fairly glowed with excitement.

  She thought about something she’d heard once, about boys and their toys. This was no toy for Jax. It was a link to his roots, to his seagoing great-great-grandfather, whether or not he wanted to admit it.

  They had dinner on the way home. The place wasn’t fashionable, but Hetty felt comfortable, as it was one of those places where you knew just from looking at the outside that country-fried steak would be somewhere on the menu.

  Jax ordered crab cakes. Hetty ordered the country-fried steak with green beans and sweet potatoes, dug out a teething biscuit for Sunny and fed her bits of the mashed vegetables.

  They talked about the house. Jax wanted her opinion, and she gave it freely. The good and the bad.

  “It’s a wonderful old house. Lots of storage room, and believe me, you can never have enough of that. The yard has all kinds of possibilities. There’s no way of knowing about the insulation, and with that high ceiling, heating it might be a problem. As for the roof, at least on the south side, it’s going to need replacing pretty soon, judging from the way the shingles are curled. The basement smells like mildew, which means it probably floods when it rains hard.”

  Jax stared at her. “I thought you said you were no expert.”

  “I’m not. I’ve only lived in two houses in my entire life, but they were both old and ailing, and in both houses I was responsible for any maintenance that got done. I learned to recognize what could wait and what couldn’t be put off another year. Basements can wait if they have to. Roofs can’t. You’ll end up with rotting eaves and falling ceilings.”

  He smiled distractedly at the waitress when she topped off his coffee. Looking thoughtful, he stirred in twice the usual dose of sugar, leaving Hetty to wonder what he was thinking. The furrows between his eyebrows deepened. She hoped she hadn’t added to his problems with her remarks about the house.

  Still wondering, she let her gaze stray to his hair. It was growing shaggy, yet oddly enough it suited him. She thought about a biography she’d once read in the long, lonely years when reading had been her only form of recreation. George Patton, a famous general in World War II, had been a fascinating mixture of poet, philosopher and soldier.

  She was beginning to think Jax was all of those and more.

  It was after nine when they got back to the apartment. Sunny had fussed for a while and then fallen asleep. Hetty whispered, “It’s been a lovely day, Jax. I’d better get her ready for bed and warm up a bottle of water in case she needs a little encouragement to go back to sleep.” She’d meant for him to leave.

  Instead, he came inside and insisted on helping her. “You go get her ready while I warm up the bottle. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Jax, I’m really tired.”

  “I won’t stay long, but I’d like your opinion on a few more things. Schools, day care—that sort of thing.”

  She thought those could probably wait a few years, but didn’t say so. If the truth were known, there was nothing she would like better than to settle the baby, then curl up on that lumpy old sofa bed and talk about anything and everything…or nothing at all.

  Jax recognized the signals she was sending out. He was good at reading body language, picking up hidden clues. He knew when an opponent was weakening, when to push, when to let nature take its course.

  He made coffee while the bottle was warming, then tested the temperature on his wrist the way he’d seen Hetty do. If it had been up to him, he’d probably have run warm water out of the tap, but Hetty bought gallon jugs of the stuff and warmed it in a kettle. He trusted her judgment.

  She tiptoed back into the kitchen. “I doubt if she’ll need it, she settled right down after I changed her. Is that coffee I smell? Oh, good.”

  He smiled, trying not to gloat over the easy victory. He was determined to stay, possibly even all night. Turning away, he took out a carton of half-and-half and a wedge of cheese, which was about all there was in the tiny refrigerator. His momentary sense of triumph gave way to concern. “Look, we’re going to have to do better than this. If you insist on cooking, you’re going to need a real kitchen.”

  “Jax—”

  “You can’t even keep enough milk on hand in this thing.”

  “I don’t drink it, and Sunny’s formula comes in cans.”

  “You know what I mean. This place is—”

  “Temporary,” she said, and there was a familiar, implacable note in her voice. He’d heard it before, when she’d refused to come with him to Virginia.

  He’d heard it again when she refused to accept a salary.

  “Hetty, listen to me.”

  “No, you listen to me, Jax. I sat in on your interviews, and I’m satisfied with at least one of the candidates. Which means you won’t need me much longer. I went with you to look at houses, and if you want my advice, you’ll buy the one nearest your boat. It’s not perfect, but you obviously love it. It suits you.” He tried to interrupt, but she lifted her hand, palm out. “No, let me finish.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the cluttered, three-foot section of counter. “I’m listening.”

  It threw her off for a few seconds. Gamely, she picked up and went on to tell him that first of all, she had family depending on her. Secondly, she needed to find a job before all the Help Wanted signs disappeared.

  “Because it’s cyclical, you know. I read this book by a famous economist, and he said—”

  “Hetty.”

  “He said that no matter who tried to take credit for the economy, there were only a few things that could actually influ—”

  “Hetty.”

  “What?” she wailed. “I’m trying to explain why we both need to get on with our futures and stop wasting time with these…these stopgap measures.”

  “You read too much. You also talk too much when you’re trying to hide something.”

  Her jaw fell, revealing the tiny chip in one of her incisors where she claimed to have tripped playing hopscotch. The second time she’d mentioned it she’d claimed to have had a bicycle accident.

  He wondered how it had really happened….

  Ten

  Jax chose his words carefully. “Your priorities are family and a job. That’s understandable.”

  “Of course it is, that’s why—”
<
br />   Ignoring her interruption, he baited his hook. “My priority is Sunny. She needs continuity. A real mother, not just a series of baby-sitters. So far, there’s been damned little stability in her life. This book I’ve been reading, about raising kids, says stability in the early years is important.”

  This time she didn’t interrupt. Her expression grew guarded, her body language clearly defensive, but he could tell she was curious, interested in the bait he was dangling.

  He jiggled the line. “Can we agree on that much?”

  “Yes—well, of course. Being uprooted at such an early age can’t be good for any child, but according to her résumé, Mrs. Clark stayed on at her last position for fourteen years, remember? She didn’t leave until the youngest child went off to boarding school, which means she’s steady and reliable.”

  “It also means she’s set in her ways. A baby needs someone who’s flexible.”

  “I thought you said a baby needed stability.”

  “There’s such a thing as flexible stability.” At the mocking lift of her brows, he said, “What, you don’t agree?”

  “I suppose…well, all right, then what about Rosie? She’s not set in her ways, and she’s certainly young enough to—”

  “To find herself a man and get married.”

  Hetty planted her fists on her hips. “You’re determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you? You asked for my opinion? I’ll give it to you. Not one darned thing in this life is guaranteed. You just have to do the best you can and hope it all works out in the end. There’s your flexible stability!”

  “See? I knew you’d understand.”

  If he’d wanted to get under her skin—and he had—that did the trick. Silver-gray eyes flashed fire. Spots of color burned high on her cheeks. “Listen to me, Jackson Powers, if you’re going to be any sort of a father at all to that poor child in there, you’re the one who’s going to have to learn to be more flexible!”

  “So teach me.”

  “So what?”

  “Teach me to be flexible. Women are famous for being flexible, aren’t they?”

  Still militantly defensive, she allowed that some were, some weren’t. Then, as if she’d suddenly grown too tired to stand guard any longer, she said, “Look, I know you have cause to be insecure, but—”

  It was his turn to be indignant. “Insecure! What the devil gives you the idea I’m insecure?”

  “Don’t shout, you’ll wake the baby. There, you see what I mean? Men always react that way when a woman gets too close to the truth. They get mad and start yelling and throwing things, or they—” She broke off and bit her lower lip.

  “I thought your sainted husband was a paragon of all virtues.” Cheap shot. It was a good thing he wasn’t likely to face her in a lawsuit, because the woman could rock his boat quicker than anyone he’d ever known.

  “He was,” she said quietly. “My father wasn’t. My stepson-in-law isn’t.”

  Jax did a quick burn, thinking of how she must have gotten that chipped tooth, and God knows what else. If it was the stepson-in-law, he’d bury the jerk before he’d allow her anywhere near him again. “Hetty, your father’s dead. Any man related by a string of modifiers can hardly be called family. Isn’t it about time to cut your losses and start over? You might even try exercising some of that flexibility you accused me of lacking.”

  She took a deep, shaky breath, avoiding his eyes. Jax, a sense of triumph beginning to glow inside him like banked coals, cautioned himself against celebrating too soon. One lesson he’d learned early in life was that a man who played by the rules—a man who firmly believed in the rule of law—could be sucker-punched by someone who didn’t know the first thing about how the game was played.

  Come on, give in, sweetheart. You’re teetering on the brink and you know it.

  “I’m sorry about your family, Hetty. For what it’s worth, mine didn’t work out, either. We have that in common. It’s not going to happen to Sunny, though, not as long as I have anything to say about it. My daughter’s going to have it all.”

  “All right.”

  “A home, a dog, maybe even a cat. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny—someone of her own to show up for parents’ day at school. Someone to spoil her, to take care of her when she picks up a bug at school and comes home throwing up and feeling lousy. Someone to—”

  “All right.”

  “Someone to—” He did a slow double take. “What?”

  “I said, all right,” Hetty repeated patiently. “I will. You’ve talked me into it.”

  “You will?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?”

  He barely refrained from grabbing her, whirling her around and shouting whoopee, or something equally applicable.

  Still guarded, she said, “Do you want it in writing? Lawyers are big on contracts, so write one up and I’ll sign it. But not,” she stressed, “until I’ve read all the fine print.”

  Jax felt the starch drain out of his backbone. Braced for a flat-out refusal, he’d had his first defensive volley all ready to fire. “Well, hey—that’s great,” he said, trying to keep from grinning too broadly.

  He held out his arms.

  She took a step back.

  “Doesn’t it even rate a kiss?”

  Warily, she shook her head. “We need to get the rules spelled out and agreed to on both sides. No kissing. This is going to be strictly a business arrangement. Whatever happened in the past is—well, it’s not going to happen again.”

  He narrowed a suspicious look at her. “What do you mean, it’s not going to happen again? Hetty, be reasonable. It’s too late to change the rules now. As my wife, you’re going to be sleeping in my bed for the rest of your—”

  “As your what?”

  “My wife. What the devil did you think I was talking about?”

  “Well…your employee. Instead of Rosie or Mrs. Clark. For flexible security—you know. For Sunny?”

  Closing his eyes, Jax prayed briefly and inexpertly for patience. He had an idea he was going to need all he could lay his hands on for the next few decades. “Honey, I just asked you to marry me. You agreed. And let me remind you that a verbal contract can be as binding as a written one under the right circumstances.”

  Her jaw fell. He stared at the chipped tooth, clenched his fists and swore a silent oath that nothing would ever hurt her again, as long as it was within his power to prevent it.

  Hetty felt behind her for a chair. Slowly she sat, her gaze never leaving his. “You did? I mean, it is?”

  “I did, you did, and it is.” This time there was no concealing his feelings. Triumph, tenderness, a welling of optimism he couldn’t remember ever feeling before, at least not in a personal context.

  “For Sunny’s sake?”

  “For Sunny’s sake,” he told her, knowing that wasn’t the whole reason. He suspected it was no longer even a major part of it, but explanations could wait. “Look, it’s a natural.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers. “We get along well, we both care about Sunny’s welfare, you don’t have any real obligations, and Sunny and I have a definite need.”

  She thought about it. He watched the process, seeing the doubts arise, seeing her deal with them in order. If it was within his power, he would have slain all her dragons for her, but that was going to take time.

  “It’s going to work, you’ll see,” was the best he could do for the moment. She had a past to come to terms with, just as he did. Strange thing, though. His own no longer seemed relevant. Maybe he’d outgrown it.

  Or maybe his future had finally overtaken the past.

  The sofa bed creaked. It was lumpy, its coarse plaid upholstery ugly as homemade sin, but neither of them noticed. It could’ve been eiderdown covered in silk brocade for all the difference it made. Once Hetty had accepted the idea that no matter how convenient it happened to be, theirs was definitely not going to be the proverbial marriage of convenience, she’d laid down her arms without further prote
st.

  What followed had been inevitable, considering the overwhelming attraction that had been growing between them ever since he’d first turned to meet a pair of guileless silver-gray eyes.

  “We’ve got to get you out of this place,” Jax muttered, having bumped his head twice on the arms of the too-short sofa.

  “Call Mrs. Houser and ask her how soon you can close on the house.”

  “You want that one? The Bell’s Mill Road place?”

  “Don’t you?” Momentarily sated from having made love, Hetty toyed with the tuft of hair surrounding his nipple. The small brown bud tightened, and she smiled with a growing sense of power. He might not love her, but he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to believe.

  “It’s probably the most practical choice,” he conceded.

  “Sunny needs a yard to play in.”

  “And you need a garden to dig in. I saw you eyeing that overgrown weed patch in the back.”

  “You need to be closer to your boat.”

  “Our boat,” he corrected, covering her hand with his and moving it lower on his body. “In case you don’t realize it, you’re dealing with high explosives, woman.”

  “Is that a warning?”

  “Call it a promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” she purred, rejoicing in the sexual banter that was so new to her. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that she loved him. Hadn’t been in a long time. If he couldn’t love her in return, then she would settle for his trust, his respect and his affection. In time it might even suffice.

  He nuzzled her throat. “Mmm, you smell good,” he growled.

  “Soap and shampoo.”

  “And warm, sexy woman.”

  It was all the aphrodisiac they needed. Jax said, “We might as well take advantage of the opportunity while Sunny’s asleep.”

  So they did.

  And as Sunny slept through the night, there was ample opportunity to explore what for Hetty was a brand-new world. A world of sweet, mindless passion.

  To his amazement, it was the same for Jax. He even said as much. “Honey, you know—well, you’ve probably guessed that you’re not the, uh, the first woman in my life.”