One Bride Delivered

by Jeanne Allan

  He’d never told Thomas about Janie.

  Because he knew how Thomas would react.

  Thomas would have disapproved of David dating a maid. Thomas had nothing against service people. The most exclusive hotel lived or died, not on its glamour or decor, but according to its level of service. Thomas had the utmost respect for those who cleaned the bathrooms, did the dishes, and made the beds. He’d learned that respect from his Grandmother Steele.

  Until Cheyenne told him, Thomas had not known his grandmother been a maid. He didn’t question why she’d never told him. He knew. She thought he’d be ashamed of her.

  “How come you’re looking so funny at yourself, Uncle Thomas? Like you don’t like you.”

  “Sometimes I don’t like me.”

  “I like you,” Davy said quickly. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  Thomas had no trouble figuring out where that came from. “I assume Cheyenne told you I was.”

  Davy slapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not supposed to tell,” he mumbled. Removing his hand, he added, “She said it just slipped out. Like it slipped out of my mouth. Why did she say it?”

  “Why, why, why,” Thomas said in mock annoyance. “Why do you ask so many questions?” A knock sounded at the door. “Go answer the door. I think our breakfast has arrived.”

  Davy dropped his razor in the sink and dashed out of the bathroom ignoring the lather remaining on his face. Thomas absently wiped clean the sink. He’d been honest with Cheyenne about his inability to love, so she thought he was stupid. His only stupidity was expecting her to understand.

  He’d be better off being honest with himself. He missed his brother. Not because of some maudlin emotion. Because of ego. Thomas had grown accustomed to David looking at him with eyes filled with hero worship.

  Janie had stolen that from Thomas and Thomas resented it. And her.

  He carefully folded his and Davy’s towels and hung them up. A habit carefully cultivated and enforced by his Grandmother Steele who’d been death on anyone who left a mess for the maids to clean up.

  Leaning over the sink, Thomas braced himself on the cold marble and avoided looking in the mirror. He wouldn’t like what he saw. A man from whom his grandmother and brother hid the truth. For fear of his reaction.

  He’d let them down. More proof he couldn’t love. Or be loved.

  When you loved someone, you trusted him. His grandmother and his brother hadn’t trusted him.

  They were right not to.

  Cheyenne was wrong. He was not the person to raise Davy. He’d turn him into another Thomas Steele.

  He shook his head. This questioning the past, the indulgent self-analysis, was all Cheyenne’s fault. Her and her babble about love. The high altitude didn’t help. The air was too thin for him. He needed more oxygen. More auto exhaust. And city din. The rigid structure of skyscrapers and the hustle of people busy minding their own business.

  He’d let the craziness of Aspen get to him. The freewheeling, freethinking, free loving.

  Love was never free. Love came with a price. He wasn’t willing to pay that price.

  Even if he could.

  A few more days and he’d return to where he belonged.

  He wouldn’t miss Aspen. He wouldn’t miss Cheyenne. He wouldn’t miss Davy.

  He may as well be brutally honest with himself. If Davy had grown on him, it was only in Davy’s role as David’s successor. Someone to look up to Thomas as David had. Hero worship.

  Davy was big on hero worship. Cheyenne, Allie, Greeley, Mary Lassiter. Thomas’d had a surfeit of Lassiters and a surfeit of Davy quoting them as if they were some kind of gods. And Worth. Worth was the worst. Telling Davy it was okay if Thomas and Davy didn’t like to hug. What business of Worth Lassiter’s was it? If Thomas felt like hugging, he’d hug.

  Davy hadn’t returned. He must have started breakfast without his uncle. Thomas snapped off the bathroom light, passed through his bedroom and stopped short in the doorway to the living room. “Mother.”

  “Come over here and kiss me hello. I’m too exhausted to move. It’s ridiculous we don’t have a company jet. A person would think we were poor.”

  “I’m sorry you’re tired. You shouldn’t have come,” Thomas said, dutifully presenting his cheek.

  Davy pushed his spoon back and forth through his oatmeal. He shot a betrayed look at Thomas.

  “You’re as bad as your father. I always overdo, but I was brought up to do my duty. I can’t let poor health stop me.”

  His mother was healthier than any horse he knew. “What duty brings you to Aspen?”

  “You and Davy. I could tell in New York you were annoyed I wasn’t well enough to take him off your hands.”

  “I wasn’t annoyed. As you can see, he’s fine.”

  His mother waved a dismissive hand. “It’s too much trouble for you to move, but I’m sure there’s an available room.”

  “I’ll move. You can stay here.”

  “Whatever you want. I hate to be a bother. You know me. I can manage anywhere.”

  Thomas ignored the fiction. “How’d you get here so early in the morning?”

  His mother accepted a cup of coffee. “There was a horrible wait last night in Denver between planes. Your father would have had a fit if I’d sat in the airport that long, so I called up Kitty Singleton and she made me spend the night with her She insisted I charter a plane this morning. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She made a face. “Kitty’s not much of a cook. I probably ought to eat something, but I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast.”

  “Eat my breakfast. I’ll eat downstairs in the café.”

  “I really should have a bite, and then rest awhile.”

  “You do that. I’ll take Davy with me. We won’t need to disturb you again.”

  In the elevator Davy looked at his shoes and made no attempt to beat Thomas to the lobby button.

  “Something wrong with your oatmeal this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Want to eat a second breakfast with me?”

  The question met with a shrug.

  “Want to tell me what’s the matter?”

  Another shrug.

  Thomas felt ridiculously inadequate He’d thought he and Davy were past the days of poor communication, but Davy had clearly shut him out. Thomas had no idea how to restore the lines of communication.

  “She’s gonna be mad,” Davy muttered to the floor.

  “Who’s going to be mad?”

  “Cheyenne. We was just going to a dumb ghost town and to see some dumb marble you can’t even play with, so it don’t matter to me. Tomorrow we was gonna ride with Allie’s group, but I probably wouldn’t get to ride Slots, some dumb kid would, and Slots is dumb anyway, so I don’t care, but she’ll think I don’t wanna go with her.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  “Don’t matter.”

  “I thought you and Cheyenne were having a good time.”

  “It was okay.”

  “You mad at her?”

  “No.”

  “Mad at me?”

  Davy shook his head without looking up.

  “Did Grandmother say something to upset you?”

  “How come you told her to come?” The words came in a rush. “She’ll spoil everything. She said after I had a nap we’ll go shopping. I hate shopping and only babies take naps.”

  Thomas almost laughed out loud. Focused on handling his mother, he hadn’t considered Davy’s viewpoint. He dropped a hand on Davy’s shoulder as they stepped from the elevator. “I didn’t know your grandmother was coming, and her arrival won’t change anything. I’ll explain you have plans. Grandmother will see someone she knows, and she’ll be too busy to worry about us.”

  Davy looked up hopefully. “I can go with Cheyenne?”

  Thomas kept his face solemn. “I hate to force you to go to a stupid ghost town.”

  Davy grinned from ear to ear.
“I don’t mind. Honest.”

  In the café, they ordered breakfast again. Davy kicked at a table leg and gave his uncle uncertain looks.

  “Now what?” Thomas asked.

  “You won’t tell Cheyenne, will you? What I said about Slots being dumb.”

  “No, I won’t tell Cheyenne.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Thomas stood. He couldn’t figure out how she lit up a room simply by walking into it. A quick greeting here, a cheery word there, and waiters and guests alike smiled in her wake. The clouds disappeared from Davy’s eyes and he sat up straight, his whole body practically bubbling with happiness. No wonder Davy had called her “the happy tour lady.” She wore a nondescript blue shirt, ordinary jeans and hiking shoes A dark pink scarf tied her hair at the base of her head in a mass of curls. Nothing about the sunglasses propped on her baseball cap or her muddy blue eyes or the wide-mouthed smile or the face shining with good health indicated she was anything special.

  Thomas’s body tightened. He wanted that light in her eyes, that exuberance, that interest directed at him. Incredibly, he was jealous of his seven-year-old nephew. He had to get out of Aspen. Get free of her.

  “Hey, guys, you gone deaf? Was the question that hard?”

  He couldn’t remember what she’d asked. Not that he kiss her again. He knew that. He should have taken her to bed. That was his problem. That and being an idiot. Weren’t you supposed to feed a fever? She was a fever in his blood. Inexplicably so. It wasn’t as if she had experience. Her kiss told him that. Hell, he didn’t know why he wanted her. He just did.

  “I guess I have to tell her, Uncle Thomas. It was my fault.”

  Davy’s voice pulled Thomas from unprofitable thoughts. “Tell her what?”

  “What I said. I’m sorry, Cheyenne. I didn’t mean to tell Uncle Thomas you said he was stupid.”

  Davy gave Thomas a conspiratorial look which Thomas had no trouble interpreting. His nephew had gone with what he felt was the lesser of two evils. Thomas wouldn’t give him away.

  Cheyenne laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Davy. I shouldn’t have said it to you, is what I meant. I don’t mind in the least saying it to your uncle.”

  Thomas let that one go. He wouldn’t mind making her take back her words, but the middle of Café Sullivan wasn’t the place. He’d show her stupid. He’d kiss her stupid. Kiss her until those smiling lips smiled a smile of an entirely different nature. One of satisfaction. Lazy satisfaction. She’d look good wearing nothing but a smile of lazy satisfaction.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. Damned woman. Thought she could read his mind. “I can’t argue with you. I am stupid.”

  Her brows knit suspiciously, then smoothed. “You want me to ask. I won’t. Ready to go, Davy?”

  “He has to brush his teeth first. Run ask Mr. McCall where you can brush. Tell him you can’t disturb your grandmother.” As Davy ran off, Thomas said, “The hotel keeps new toothbrushes on hand in case a guest forgets his.” He didn’t know why he bothered to explain to Cheyenne. “Sit and have some coffee while you’re waiting. Then I can sit and finish my breakfast.”

  She dropped on a chair. “Your mother is here?”

  Thomas resumed his seat. “Showed up unexpectedly this morning. As I told Davy, our deal stands.”

  “Your mother might have other ideas.”

  “She’ll be relieved to have Davy out of her hair.”

  “A family trait.”

  Thomas slowly replaced his coffee cup in its saucer. He didn’t know why the obvious solution to his problems hadn’t occurred to him before. He quickly analyzed the solution from all angles. Neat, tidy, no loose ends, no downside. The solution to everyone’s problem. “As you say,” he slowly agreed, his mind on how to lay the proposal before her, “a family trait.”

  “She’s your mother, Thomas, so I shouldn’t say this...”

  “But you will.”

  “You have to admit, she’s not exactly the perfect grandmother.”

  “As your mother would be.”

  “I don’t know about perfect, but she’ll be great.” Cheyenne made a face. “She goes on and on about how she’s ready. All she has to do is get us to cooperate and give her grandkids.”

  “You could be first.” Thomas looked directly into her face. “Marry me and Davy could be her grandson.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HER mouth hung open, but Cheyenne couldn’t seem to close it. With difficulty, she pulled herself together. “You should be more careful. What if I’d thought you were serious?”

  “I am serious. I’m proposing you and I get married.”

  He didn’t look as if he’d come down with a terminal case of insanity. He didn’t look crazy in love, either. “Why?” She didn’t know if she was asking why he was asking or why he wanted to marry her or why she should marry him.

  “Davy had the answer from the beginning. I need a wife so he can have a mother.”

  “That’s why you’re asking me to marry you?” She knew the police chief. Once she explained, he’d completely agree she’d had no choice but to carve Thomas up with a grapefruit spoon.

  “Think of it as a business merger. By combining our assets, we’ll both come out ahead.”

  After she carved him up, she’d scatter the pieces from the Copper Queen gondola. He’d make great fertilizer for the wildflowers. “What,” she asked in an admirably calm voice, “assets of mine are you interested in?”

  He actually had the nerve to leer at her before answering. “Besides the obvious, you’ll make Davy a good mother. Living with his grandparents isn’t fair to him or them. They’ve raised one family, and Davy needs younger parents. I run a business. I don’t have time to care for him on my own.”

  “But I could?” He didn’t need any more rope to hang himself, but his inane logic fascinated her in a sick, perverse kind of way.

  “You know how to handle kids. You like Davy and he likes you. You’ll provide him with a mother, and your family will give him added support and stability.”

  “I assume Davy and I would live here in Aspen.”

  “I’d bow to your wishes on that detail. You’ll probably want homes in more than one location.”

  Cheyenne leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her linked hands. “Let me get this straight. Basically, you’d be hiring me on a full-time, permanent basis to take care of Davy. Until when? He goes off to college? Gets married? What happens when you decide he’s of an age where he no longer requires my services? A civilized divorce?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “Good questions. I hadn’t considered that far ahead. We’ll write up a contract which covers all the eventualities. Not the usual prenuptial,” he hastened to add. “I know you won’t try to cash in on the marriage. I’m thinking in terms of a benefits package. Health care, retirement plan, pension, that sort of thing.”

  “I see.” He actually believed she was considering his asinine proposal. “Am I to understand that this so-called benefits package is the asset you’re offering me?”

  “One of them.”

  Cheyenne looked at the coffee the waiter set before her. The stylized floral carpet would not be improved by brown liquid dripping off Thomas Steele’s thick head. “What other assets are you offering me?”

  “A generous allowance. A home or homes. Suites in any of the Steele hotels. Here, New York City, New Orleans, San Francisco, San Antonio, Charleston, the San Juan Islands. We’re negotiating on St. Bart’s in the Caribbean, in Victoria, Canada and plans are in the works to expand to Nantucket or the Outer Banks. Naturally your family would be welcome at any Steele hotel any time there’s room.”

  Her anger faded at his answer. Is that all Thomas thought he had to offer a woman? “Were you contemplating a merger of me and the Steele hotels or you and me?”

  “I am the Steele hotels.”

  Not a hint of boasting tinted the matter-of-fact statement. Cheyenne wanted to weep at how Thomas perceived himself. Or howl w
ith laughter at the idiocies he spouted. “A woman sleeps in a hotel, Thomas. Not with one. I want to know exactly what role you’d be playing in this merger. CEO? Boss? Or husband and father? Did you plan to marry me and go your merry way, thinking of me only when it came time to sign my allowance check? Let’s call it my salary. You wouldn’t even have to sign the check personally. We could continue as we do now. I could fax you Davy’s schedule and you could fax back acceptance or objections. We wouldn’t ever have to meet.”

  “I’m not hiring you to baby-sit. I want you for my wife.”

  “Maybe you ought to spell out exactly what my duties as your wife would entail.”

  “This isn’t about duty.”

  “All right. Function. Expectations. What would you expect from me?”

  “You know, the usual.” For the first time, a hint of discomfort crept into his manner.

  “The usual. Ironing your shirts? Fixing meat loaf?”

  “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

  “You’re being deliberately vague. You want me to take care of your nephew and you expect ‘the usual.’ Would you sign a contract which used such ambiguous terms?”

  “All right,” he ground out, “I would expect to sleep with you.”

  “In the same hotel? In the same room? In the same bed? Sleep how?”

  “You know damned good and well I mean I want to have sex with you. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean by that.”

  “Suppose I said I’d take care of Davy, but I don’t want to have sex with you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You won’t.”

  “Will that be in the contract, too?”

  “Does it need to be?”

  “How often? Once a day, a week, a month? Do I fly to where you are or do you fly to where I am?”

  Thomas leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re not interested,” he said flatly. “Why don’t you say it outright instead of playing games?”

  “Is that how it’s done m the world of big business?”

  “Being straightforward saves time.”

  “If you say time is money, I’ll fall down on the carpet and throw a screaming fit.”