Ornate moldings, carved mantels, intricate wrought-iron railings, beveled glass doors with crystal knobs and fancy brass hinges; finials, spindles, bannisters, and jewel-toned stained glass windows—the variety and quality of goods were a feast for the eyes.
“So this is what you call your Used Building Supplies’ business?” She stared around, wide-eyed. “Good grief, Edmund, it’s like walking into a museum!”
“As I told your mother, it’s just one of four outlets,” he said offhandedly. “I have another shop on the North Shore much like this, and two warehouses for storing bigger items, but here is where my father started out and where I spend most of my working day. There’s a loft upstairs that’s been converted into office space, with a central computer station to track our inventory and keep us up to speed on what’s coming onto the market. When I first took over the business, I did most of my buying on-site, which kept me pretty much limited to the immediate area. But now with Internet access, I can bid on items anywhere in the world.”
“What can I say? I’m…stunned.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I didn’t bring you here to impress you, just to let you see for yourself that meeting expenses isn’t going to be problem. I might not be as filthy rich as the Armstrongs, but I’m not exactly hurting for cash, either.”
“I don’t care how much money you have, Edmund. That’s not why I’m marrying you.”
“I know,” he said, dazzling her with another one of those smiles that almost reduced her limbs to water. “That’s why I don’t mind telling you how much I’m worth. Come and meet some of my staff. They’re just about wetting themselves wondering who you are.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“That you’re my pet Chihuahua, of course!” He grazed his knuckles up her jaw, and smoothed a strand of hair off her cheek. “You’re my fiancée, Jenna, and in another week, you’ll be my wife. What do you think I’m going to tell them?”
“Aren’t they going to be…well…surprised?”
“Probably. But they’ll handle it a whole lot better than Mother Sinclair did.”
In fact, the two men and one woman in charge of sales took the news completely in stride, probably because Edmund relayed it so casually that it never occurred to them that there might be something strangely sudden about the whole affair.
“I’d say that went pretty smoothly, wouldn’t you?” he teased her, when they were back in the car. “No one had a stroke or threw a fit. I’d even go so far as to say they were quite delighted to meet you.”
True enough. But as the weekend grew closer, the big question for Jenna was, would Molly feel the same way? Or would she resent the new woman in her father’s life? And if she did, what would Edmund’s reaction be? Would he have second thoughts about the marriage?
“Go prepared,” Irene advised her. “Four-year-olds are easy to bribe! Buy a bunch of little treats that you can dole out one at a time.”
“Children aren’t that easily fooled.”
“And you’re not some wicked witch swooping in on your broomstick! Come on, Jenna, you’re no novice at handling small children. Quit worrying about making a good impression and just treat her the way you would any of the kids we look after here.”
“You might be right.”
“I’m always right! Now let’s talk about what you’re going to wear at the wedding.”
“Nothing special,” she said. “You and one other witness are the only people who’ll be there.”
“So? You don’t dress to please a crowd, my dear, you dress to knock the socks off your bridegroom!”
But even a shopping spree and what Irene described as a two-woman wedding shower and bridal lunch couldn’t stop Jenna from vacillating between hope and despair over the coming weekend.
She barely slept on Thursday night. It seemed prophetic when, after nearly three weeks of ideal weather, Friday dawned gray and gloomy, with rain dripping off the trees and the North Shore mountains swathed in mist. By the time Edmund picked her up after work that afternoon, her niggling doubts had ballooned into outright foreboding about what the next two days held in store.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE GOT to the day-care center just after five. Jenna and another woman stood chatting in the shelter of the front porch, and keeping their eyes on a couple of kids about Molly’s age who were having a blast splashing around in puddles on the fenced playground at the side of the building.
Jenna looked a bit wan, he thought. More tired and drawn than a woman in her condition should be. A weekend away would do her good.
“Hi,” she said, a tight, nervous little smile flickering over her mouth as he approached. “Can you believe this weather? Oh, this is Irene, by the way. She’s my partner here.”
Irene weighed about forty pounds more than Jenna, was two inches shorter, and had the kind of placid, capable look associated with people who didn’t get easily bent out of shape over insignificant trifles. “Nice to meet you, Edmund,” she said pleasantly. “Take this woman away and make her get some rest. She’s pushing herself too hard.”
“Irene’s obviously very fond of you,” he remarked, after he’d stowed the luggage and they were on their way.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Jenna said. “We go back a long way. We’ve been friends since we both wound up in the same grade nine Home Ec. class.”
He tried drawing her out further, asking what had made them decide on the idea of setting up a place where working mothers could leave their preschoolers, why they’d chosen that particular location, and how many children were registered. But her brief answers made it clear she wasn’t interested in talking, not about her work or anything else.
That was fine by him. What with the weather, the weekend traffic heading out of the city and clogging the freeway, and the usual quota of insane drivers with a death wish cutting in and out the lanes to gain a three-foot advantage over the guy in front of them, he was better off concentrating on the road.
But when they’d passed Chilliwack and were headed for Hope with most of the commuter congestion left behind, and she did nothing but worry the ring on her finger, he decided the silent treatment had gone on long enough. If he’d done something to tick her off, he’d just as soon she aired it and have done with. “You feeling okay, sweet pea?” he asked warily.
From the corner of his eye he caught her barely perceptible shrug. “Fine.”
Stonewalled on that front, he tried another approach. “It takes a good five or six hours to get to Osoyoos and I usually stop for dinner midway, but if you want to eat earlier, just say the word.”
“I’m not hungry. Whatever you want is fine with me.”
He might have believed her if she hadn’t followed up by shifting in her seat as if she wanted to get as far away from him as possible, and staring out the side window.
Ho-hum! A man didn’t need a degree in psychology to figure out that something was definitely up. “Okay, out with it,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”
Silence again, lasting nearly a minute. And only the back of her head facing him, so he couldn’t read her expression. Finally, she said, “Have you told your ex-wife about me?”
“Not yet. We aren’t usually in touch between visits, unless something comes up with Molly.”
“So she has no idea that you’re planning to remarry?”
“None.”
“How do you think she’ll take the news?”
“In her stride.” He flicked a curious glance at her, but she was still looking out of the side window. “Is that what’s got you strung tight as a bow? You think she’s going to be upset?”
Slowly, she turned to look at him, her eyes so big and solemn they practically filled her face. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
She’d flung her raincoat in the back seat and was wearing a short red skirt that left an inch of bare thigh showing. He took one hand off the wheel and reached across the console to stroke her knee.
&nbs
p; Big mistake! Her skin was cool and smooth as cream, tempting him to explore a little further. His thoughts leaped ahead to the coming night—and other parts, less connected to his brain, just leaped!
“Honey,” he said, reluctantly removing his hand before he wound up driving off the road, “if you’re laboring under the impression that there’s still a lingering attraction between Adrienne and me, put your mind at rest. We don’t hate each other, we try to get along for Molly’s sake, and we’ll always share a connection because of her, but believe me, that’s as far as it goes. We’ve both moved on. She and Bud have been happily married for over a year. Until recently I was just as happily unattached. But now I’m with you.”
“Have you ever shown up before with…someone else?”
“Someone else?” He grinned. “You mean a woman, Jenna?”
Her cheeks turned all pink. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
“Why not? Better to ask than sit and stew about it. And we’ve already established we’ve got a lot of history to catch up on. So here’s another item for you to file away—I’ve never shared my weekend visitation rights with another woman because there hasn’t been one who mattered enough that I was willing to take time away from Molly.” He reached for her again, but this time did the smart thing and clasped her hand. “Until you.”
“What if Adrienne doesn’t approve of me?”
“Well, first of all, there’s no reason for her not to approve of you. And second, who gives a rap anyway? You’re marrying me, not moving in with her.”
“I guess….” Her sigh turned into a yawn which she tried unsuccessfully to smother. “I’m probably borrowing trouble where it doesn’t exist.”
“People tend to do that when they’re overtired.” He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “You look bushed. Why don’t you lower the back of your seat and take a nap before we stop for dinner?”
She must have been more worn-out than even he’d suspected, because she followed his suggestion without another murmur and had drifted off within minutes. He slipped his favorite Louis Armstrong CD into the player, turned the volume down low, and settled himself more comfortably behind the wheel.
The Hope Princeton Highway snaked ahead, wild and deserted. Daylight had died early, shut out by the lowering clouds. Mist swirled in the headlights. The windshield wipers slapped furiously at the rain streaming across the glass. Not a good evening to be driving anywhere, let alone along a stretch of highway as treacherous as this. Chances were, though, conditions would improve dramatically further east.
He glanced down as Jenna stirred and sighed softly in her sleep. Gloom blurred her features so that only the delicate line of her eyebrows and the little fan shape of her eyelashes were discernible. Her skirt had ridden up another inch to reveal a sliver of pale slip. Did she like pretty underwear—silks and satins and stuff like that? Jewelry, perfume, chocolate?
Wrenching his attention back to the road, he blew out a breath. They were getting married within the week, and he didn’t even know her birthday, let alone what kind of gifts to buy for her. But he knew that she had a tiny mole next to her navel, and that her skin had flushed like a rose when he’d brought her to orgasm, the only night they’d spent together.
And he knew that he wanted to do the same thing again. Very soon, and very badly.
She was in a much happier frame of mind when she woke up, and dinner lasted longer than he’d intended. But by the time they started on the last lap of the journey, he knew her birthday was in April, that she was two years older than her brother Glen, and that Amber, the baby of the family, was a recent high school graduate with aspirations to be a model.
They left the rain behind just west of Princeton and reached Osoyoos shortly before midnight. The sky was clear and the air filled with the dry desert smell of sagebrush as they cruised down the main street of town.
He’d booked adjoining rooms at a private hotel on the lakefront, a mile or so south of town. He gave her a few minutes to unpack her bag, then tapped on the connecting door. “You feel like going for a stroll along the beach before turning in, Jenna?”
“At this hour?” she said, poking her head out. “I’d have thought you’d be ready for bed.”
Oh, he was ready, all right, more than she could begin to guess! “I need to unwind first. All that driving—” Not to mention thinking about making love to you again! “—leaves me pretty wound up, especially with the weather being so lousy earlier on.”
“Then I’d love to,” she said. “I could use a bit of exercise myself. I must’ve slept for a good two hours in the car. Give me a minute to change my shoes.”
He waited for her on their shared veranda which had steps leading directly down to the beach. “How’s your room?” he asked, when she joined him.
“Lovely. Very pretty. There’s even a thermos of hot chocolate in the sitting area.”
“They’re famous for taking good care of their guests,” he said, holding her hand to help her down the last steep step to the sand and hoping she wouldn’t notice that he didn’t let go again. “It’s one of the reasons I stay here and because they know I’ll have Molly with me, they always leave a basket of goodies for her. She gets a real kick out of the place.”
“She stays with you overnight then, when you’re here?”
“Well, sure! I see little enough of her as it is, without missing out on rubber ducks in the bathtub and bedtime stories.”
He’d no sooner spoken than he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. At the mention of Molly’s name, Jenna had pulled her hand away and closed herself off in the same silence she’d worn when they’d first left Vancouver. In no time at all, she was working away at her engagement ring until it was spinning like a Ferris wheel on her finger.
Finally, she slowed her steps, toed at the sand, and stared out across the lake. “I can’t help worrying about Molly. What if—?”
He cut her off before she had a chance to get properly started. “Don’t!” he said, sliding his arms around her waist and holding her tight. “Tomorrow, we’ll worry about the what-ifs, but tonight I want to concentrate on us.”
She stood stiff as a board in his arms.
“Honey,” he said, softening his tone, “we can’t make this marriage work if you keep letting other people come between us.”
“But our getting married is all about other people!”
“It’s also about us. We’re the linchpins in this arrangement, Jenna, and if we don’t…gel as a couple, we might as well call off the whole thing now, because we won’t be doing our baby or Molly any favor by getting married.”
She was shrinking in his hold, averting her face as if she was afraid of him. And small wonder, with him mouthing off about the possibility of their not sticking together. Where the hell was his brain?
Right down south of his waist, where it had been for hours!
He drew in a deep breath. “I’m not looking for a way out,” he said emphatically, “but you’ve said yourself, more than once, that we hardly know each other.”
“We don’t,” she whispered.
He stroked his hands up her spine and prayed what he was trying to say would come out sounding right. “Then can we please start doing something about that?”
She lifted her face to his. In the faint light from the stars, he could see the question in her eyes. “How?”
Oh, brother! If she couldn’t already tell, he ought to see a doctor! “I remember a night when you asked me to make love to you.”
“And I remember that you thought it was a bad idea.”
He tilted her chin and said unsteadily, “I was wrong.”
“Are you saying you want to…have sex with me again?”
“No. I’m asking you to spend the night with me. I’m asking you to let me hold you. And if it turns out that you…want me as much as you’ve got to know I want you, then I’m asking you to let me make love to you. And this time, I will still be there in the morning.”
“I don’t know,” she said, starlight glimmering in her eyes. “I’m not sure that…physical intimacy is the answer.”
“It’s a place to start.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, traced the curve of her ear. “It worked for us before, when neither of us had any expectations of the other. Why can’t it work again now?”
“I’m scared,” she whispered unsteadily.
“You don’t have to be. You can trust me.”
“I thought I could trust Mark, too, and I knew him a lot better than I know you.”
“Stop harking back to what happened with Armstrong,” he said roughly, hating the self-doubt on her face and in her voice. “Don’t let him keep coming back to bite you like this. He’s irrelevant to us and to our relationship.”
“It’s not him, it’s me. I’m afraid to trust my own judgment. I’m worried that we’re rushing things too much.” She bit her lip fretfully. “I don’t want to make another mistake, Edmund.”
“We are not a mistake,” he said vehemently.
For perhaps five seconds she stared at him, different emotions playing over her features. Then the resistance flowed out of her like water seeping out of a sieve. Slowly, she leaned against him, into him, so that her hips melded with his, and her breasts flattened against his chest, and her thighs nestled snugly against his.
He thought he’d explode.
She let her arms creep around his neck. She lifted her mouth to his. She kissed him. Not with the savage hunger that was tearing him apart, but with a simplicity—an innocence, almost—that he found deeply and dangerously moving.
It was all he could do to control the trembling that threatened him. The hunger changed, deepened. He wanted her still. But he also wanted something more yet, for the life of him, he daren’t put a name to it.
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