When I Fall

by Tamara Morgan

  How was it fair to keep procreating? Lily and Evan, his two-year-old half sister and half brother, were being raised by their nanny, just as he had been. All his dad was doing was creating another generation of children to ignore.

  Jake could feel Becca’s scrutiny on his profile but didn’t turn to acknowledge it, afraid she was going to rise to her sister’s defense. But she threw him off-kilter when she asked, “So how did he propose to your mom?”

  He tapped the brakes in alarm, his arm automatically shooting over to keep Becca from lurching out of her seat. This, despite the fact that they were going all of fifteen miles an hour through traffic. This, despite the fact that she had her seatbelt on. The forward momentum that propelled her against his forearm was so subtle it barely counted, but he registered the soft, warm press of her body just the same.

  “Oh, wow. Is it that bad?”

  “No.” He managed to get control of the car again, despite the irritated honk of several horns behind him. “I actually don’t know how he proposed. I always assumed he wrote up a contract and presented it to her over dinner one night. That sums up what I remember of their relationship pretty well. I can’t recall ever seeing them kiss, let alone smile at each other. Sometimes, when I see him with Sere—” He stopped, suddenly aware of who he was talking to.

  “Hey.” She pressed a hand on his thigh. “It’s okay to resent her in front of me. I can’t imagine how I’d react if my mom brought home a thirty-four-year-old piece of ass to be my new daddy.”

  “I can.” Jake grimaced. “You’d either fly at his head in a rage or try to seduce him. My money’s split between the two.”

  “Aw, you always say the most flattering things. Did you ever have sex with Serena?”

  “What? No. Of course not.” Even though she was much closer to his own age than his father’s—and even though it wasn’t all that far-fetched of an idea for him to make the attempt to seduce his stepmother—the thought had never crossed his mind. From the moment Serena had appeared in his father’s life, hanging from his arm at some hotel gala, Jake had felt a wary apprehension where she was concerned. “I’m insulted you’d even ask. I do have some standards.”

  Becca didn’t seem the least bit offended at his mistreatment of her sister’s name. “Well, I’m sorry she upset your life so much. And I’m even sorrier you don’t know the story of your parents’ proposal. I bet it’s more romantic than you think.” She nodded firmly, as if her misguided beliefs were all that was required to transform supposition into fact. “Every marriage deserves a good proposal story. Even the contractual ones.”

  Jake slammed on the brakes—this time intentionally, and this time with his arm out and ready to catch her. By this point in their journey, they were midway over the Whitestone Bridge, its suspension lines set against the clear blue sky, making it appear as though they were on the inside of a photograph. At the last minute, he turned the wheel using a move Ryan had taught him, bringing the car to a stop perpendicular to traffic, both lanes blocked. They’d been moving slowly enough that no one rammed into them, but the rancorous honking of several cars squawked up through the air, signaling their discontent.

  “Holy Mother. What just happened?” One of Becca’s hands clutched the top of the passenger side door; the other held tightly to Jake’s arm. “Did the car break down?”

  “No.”

  He rose from his seat and moved around to her side of the car. Since she seemed unable to get out on her own, he reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt, allowing the vinyl to slide smoothly over her lap. Then he promptly lifted her up and sat her on the car’s trunk, wedged next to the still-pyramidal heap of their suitcases. She weighed practically nothing, her limbs feather-light as they moved through his. She was flustered but smiling, looking at the growing line of traffic with a laugh on her lips.

  “Hey, asshole! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A taxi driver got out of his car and waved a heavy, menacing arm. “This ain’t your personal driveway.”

  “Fuck off,” Jake called back. “I’m proposing to my lady. Show some respect.”

  The cabbie started cursing again, adding to the backdrop of cars whizzing by on the opposite side of the bridge and the painful call of seagulls in the distance. Jake didn’t let the cacophony deter him. Hitching his pant leg, he dropped to his knee on the roadway, feeling several small pebbles poking painfully through his slacks. Although he didn’t have anything in his hands, he made a pretense of pulling a box out of his pocket and holding it aloft.

  “Rebecca Clare,” he called, his voice overloud to cover the increasingly loud honking, “you and I have known each other for three and a half years, during which time we’ve shared a dozen family dinners, nineteen terrible nights of sleep, several relations of a carnal sort, exercise with a man who should be running a large militia, and many conversations I don’t care to repeat. I think you might be the least rational woman of my acquaintance. Also, you’re terrible at painting and you’re a slob. You really need to start hanging up your clothes when you’re done with them. Would you do me the very great honor of pretending to be my wife?”

  She pulled her sunglasses down from her eyes, allowing him a glimpse of the dancing green irises hiding behind them. Her smile was wide and girlish, and when she jumped down from the car to wrap her arms around his neck, her skirt got caught on the edge, giving the irate cabbie a generous flash of her buttocks.

  At least it shut him up.

  “Of course I will,” she said, her mouth brushing his ear. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed him all the way to the ground, landing so that she straddled him, her skirt pushed up to the tops of her thighs. He lay there, prostrate, in the middle of the Whitestone Bridge, pinned beneath a woman he could lift with one flick of his wrist.

  She pressed a kiss on his mouth, wet and warm, more playful than serious, though his body didn’t bother distinguishing the two.

  “You’re a snobby control freak with prettier hair than me, and I’m not happy to discover just how tightfisted you can be with the orgasms, but of all my nephews, you’re by far my favorite. Nothing on earth would make me happier than to pretend to want to marry you.”

  He grinned and rolled out from underneath her, being sure to clasp her around one wrist and hoist her up alongside him. With an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, he raised his other fist in the air and shouted, “She said yes!”

  A handful of people clapped, a wolf whistle sounded in the distance, and the cabbie offered to drive their car off the side of the bridge in anticipation of the upcoming nuptials. Since he seemed capable—and eager—to make that dream come true, Jake hurried Becca back into the car and pulled into his lane.

  “There. We’ll have to fudge the dates a little, but how’s that for a proposal story?” He ignored the rapid beat of his pulse as he looked sideways at her. It was the adrenaline of stopping traffic on one of New York’s most popular bridges, the ebbing danger of a taxi driver eager to make good on his threat to help them swim with the fishes. Nothing more. “Good enough?”

  “It was almost perfect.”

  “What? Almost? I thought it was flawless.” When she didn’t say anything, Jake reached over and gripped the back of her neck, holding tight enough to feel her pulse leap underneath his thumb. “You’re tough to please, you know that? I promise to get it right next time.”

  Fortunately for them both, they hit an open patch of road before he could say more. Jake floored it and forced himself to focus on not getting them killed instead of dwelling on the next time he’d propose to anyone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I think that might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Serena held her napkin clutched to her chest. “No one has ever stopped traffic for me before.”

  “And no one is likely to unless you’re in need of medical attention,” Mr. Montgomer
y said, though he did it fondly, reaching across the table to pat her hand. The entire family was dining al fresco on the back terrace of the Manor, seated around an enormous farmhouse-style table decorated with the colors and bounty of fall. “As romantic as I’m sure Jake’s proposal was, I don’t believe in inconveniencing others on a whim.”

  Although they were dining fairly late, there was enough light provided by the overhead twinkle lights for Becca to make out Jake’s jaw firming, his eyes growing cold. It was amazing how walking through the front door of his ancestral home had changed him. Gone was the boyish joy of a too-fast ride in his sports car. Nowhere in sight was the playful, taunting man who’d proposed in the middle of the Whitestone Bridge.

  He’d stiffened to lamppost-levels of inflexibility, didn’t even blink without first running it through some internal checklist. This was the Jake the rest of the world knew, the gorgeous statue of a man who was able to control the beat of his heart and regulate his temperature, the one who didn’t let anything touch him.

  The one who refused to touch anything in return.

  “What I find hard to believe is that he actually got down on one knee in the middle of the road.” A wide-smiled, sunny woman who’d been introduced to her as both Jake’s cousin and the family nanny winked at Becca from the other side of the table. “All that dirt and motor oil. That’s how you know it must be true love.”

  Becca had liked Amy almost instantly. Of all the family, she was the only one who treated Jake with the kind of casual affection Becca herself favored. Amy’d been waiting for them at the door and practically tackled him in the drive. It had been hard to tell if her hug had been driven more by happiness at seeing him or outrage that he got engaged without telling her first.

  Becca suspected it was the second one. Mostly because every time she looked up, Amy was watching her as if she was a figment of her imagination, and glancing away for even a second would make Becca disappear back into her subconscious.

  “Did you cry?” Amy asked as she speared the asparagus on her plate with a fork. “I did.”

  “Oh, congratulations!” Becca said. “I didn’t know you were engaged too.”

  She knew Amy was in a serious relationship with Ryan, the chauffeur who’d dropped the car off in New York, but Jake hadn’t mentioned another wedding in the family. Maybe they could pretend they wanted to wait for that one first, buy themselves some time to untangle all this.

  “Oh, no—not me. I cried when I heard Jake was getting married. I was with Evan and Lily at the time. They kept bringing me all their favorite toys to try and cheer me up. The poor things thought I was becoming unhinged.”

  Serena’s eyes opened in alarm, but she didn’t say anything—a testament to her sister’s good manners. Their mother had sent all four of them to boarding school, but while Serena, Alice and Winnie had enjoyed the experience of equestrian classes and strictly enforced curfews, Becca had been kicked out. Twice.

  “I hope they were tears of joy.” Jake spoke to Amy, but it was clear he was addressing the whole table. They were all there—his father at the head, looking like Santa Claus in a wrinkled beige suit, Serena her usual svelte self, Monty, Amy, Becca...the only person missing was Jake’s younger sister, Jenna, who Becca understood was overseeing a new hotel’s construction in Greece. “It was happiness that moved you, right?”

  He was practically daring someone to contradict him, but no one took up the challenge.

  “Of course it was happiness.” Amy cast him a curious glance. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I didn’t cry, but I did knock him to the ground in my excitement,” Becca said, intervening with a laugh. “Which probably wasn’t smart, because traffic was still moving in the opposite direction and we almost got run over by a taxi.”

  “She’s exaggerating,” Jake said when Serena’s hand flew to her mouth. “If the taxi driver was going to maim anyone, it was me.”

  “Not the safest place for a proposal,” Monty said dryly.

  “I’m glad everyone has an opinion on the subject, but let me close it by saying I’d never put Becca in any real danger. It’s my job to take care of her, and I can promise you all it’s a job I take very seriously.”

  At the head of the table, Mr. Montgomery cleared his throat. At the other end, Amy sniffled.

  “Ignore me,” she said, waving her fork. “Carry on being adorable. I don’t want to get in the way.”

  Mr. Montgomery spoke up. “Speaking of in the way, Moira should be joining us in a few weeks. She wants to be here to help plan the engagement party.”

  Oh, dear God. No one had mentioned taking things that far. “Is that absolutely necessary?” Becca asked.

  Serena laughed behind her hand, discreet to a fault. “Do you mean the party, or Mom’s involvement in it? Neither one is avoidable. She’s already started the guest list.”

  Becca turned to Jake. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not marrying you.”

  He didn’t even blink. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are.”

  “Nope. You’re hideous and get far too emotional over things. It’ll never work out between us.”

  “It’s too late. Weren’t you listening? Your mom has already started the guest list. Now be quiet and eat your vegetables.”

  She grabbed her wineglass and took a deep drink of that instead. “Keep it up, Cuddle Cakes, and I’m going to run away with the pool boy instead.”

  Monty stopped in the act of bringing his fork to his mouth. “We don’t have a pool boy.”

  Becca made the mistake of meeting Jake’s eyes over the top of her glass. His sudden burst of amusement lit him from within, melting away all those layers of ice and stone, leaving nothing but a man so achingly human and approachable it made her want to cry. Cry and hit something and maybe grab her wrist and tap until the urge stopped.

  She should never have allowed him to bring her here. The stately house where her sister had found so much happiness might feel like a safe harbor for now, but how would they all feel when she and Jake ended things between them?

  “We don’t have a pool boy,” Jake echoed, a smile lifting his lips and stopping her heart. His voice fell into a low, sexual rumble that she felt clamp in her inner thighs. “I guess you’ll have to rely on me instead.”

  Amy sighed and sniffled again. Since now was hardly the time to tell Jake that it had been a mistake coming here and she wanted to go back to the city, Becca forced herself to pretend that this was exactly how she’d intended things to work out. Her mother would have been proud.

  “How are the twins?” she asked her sister, inserting a bright tone as she changed the subject. “I brought presents to give them after dinner. Lily’s old enough for play makeup, right?” When she saw Serena’s pinched maternal face settling into place, she added, “It’s hypo-allergenic and washable—made specifically for kids, I swear. I found it at Barneys.”

  “Oh.” She relaxed. “That might be okay. Amy?”

  “I’m sure it’ll be great,” she said diplomatically. They fell into talk of children—not Becca’s most well-versed subject, but she knew how important Evan and Lily were to her sister, so she said all the right things and nodded as if she understood the importance of fine motor skills development at thirty months.

  “I imagine you and Becca will be wanting privacy as you settle in,” Mr. Montgomery said to Jake a few minutes later. He spoke in a conversational tone that made it easy for Becca to overhear. “We’ll try not to intrude too much upon your time.”

  “Monty implied you had a schedule for us.”

  “Schedule is a rather strong word. Think of it more as a loosely organized lineup of events.” He hesitated, as if afraid to push too hard so early in the visit. “I promise to keep your obligations to a minimum. More than anything, we’re just happy to have you here.”

  Be
cca expected Jake to grow stiff again, but he merely toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “Thanks. I’m happy to be here.”

  Everyone at the table stopped their conversation at once. It wasn’t polite to stare, slack-jawed and incredulous, but that was what they all did anyway. It was difficult to tell which one of them was the most surprised, but if someone forced Becca to pick at gunpoint, she’d say it was Mr. Montgomery.

  Jake looked around at each one of them, stopping only when he reached Becca, an amused quirk to his brow. “Was it something I said?”

  She released a squeak that was more exasperation than laughter. He was doing it again, playing with checkmates, only moving when he was capable of shaking the whole earth.

  Dinner came to an unceremonious end. Although it was meant to be an informal meal, no one got up until Mr. Montgomery stood, pushing back from his chair and dropping a kiss on Serena’s forehead. The gesture was sweet and light, causing a strange pang in the region of Becca’s heart. It didn’t even look as if he was aware of his actions, as though affection for his wife was such an ingrained part of him it required no forethought.

  Jake was the next to rise from the table. To his credit, he didn’t try to emulate his father’s unconscious display of affection. He turned to her instead with a slightly frowning, “You’ll be all right?”

  “Spending time with my niece and nephew? I think I can manage. I’m not great with kids, but there will be another adult there to protect them.”

  His frown didn’t lift, and she realized with a start that he hadn’t been offering support. He was asking for it. This man, who ran marathons in the dark and stopped traffic for fun, was scared to be alone with his family.