Initially, of course, he had thought he could handle that arrangement. In fact, he had been determined to take charge of the situation and turn it to his advantage, the same way he did every other tricky situation he came across in the business world. And then move on.
Now he couldn’t do that. Staying angry with Susannah would be a waste of time and energy, and he did not waste either. Hence, he would have to forgive her. They would have to work together to handle the boys. Maybe he would never be able to love or trust her again in the no-holds-barred way he once had, but eventually they would become close again, on some level. And when that happened, Trace thought…“You really think we can live together in the same house, night and day, and not eventually end up in bed together?”
“Why not? It worked before,” she said tartly, reminding Trace of all the dinners and evenings together he had missed by working so hard. “Besides, it always comes back to the same thing,” Susannah continued with a sort of resigned affability. “We have our four boys to think about. An example to set. What kind of example would we be setting if we embark on a licentious affair right under their noses?”
“It wouldn’t be an affair,” Trace told her. “We’d be married.”
“Not where it counts, not in our hearts.” Silence fell between them. Susannah went to sit on the steps of the hunting lodge. She clasped her hands together and, leaning forward, locked them around her knees. “Look, I am the first to admit I made a mistake,” she told Trace passionately. “But how was I to know back then that you would ever even want to be a father, never mind an apparently very good one?”
Glad she was so willing to work things out, even if it was only out of a need to assuage her deep-seated guilt, Trace went over and sat beside her. Like her, he was in no rush to revisit the inside of the home where they had spent the early tumultuous days of their ill-fated marriage. “How do you know what kind of father I am?” he asked curiously.
Susannah gave him a smile of pure maternal bliss. “I just met your boys, remember?” she said softly. “They were happy, well-cared for. The love and respect and admiration they felt for you was obvious just by the way they looked at you and spoke to you.”
Trace turned toward her slightly. Their thighs bumped in the process. Determined to keep his mind on the truce they were working out, instead of how soft she felt or how good she smelled, he forced himself to forget how sexy she looked with her windswept hair, soft bare mouth and dark sable eyes.
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You could tell all that in one five-minute exchange?”
“I’m a parent,” she said firmly. “I know what I see.”
“For the record, you seem like a very good mother, too,” Trace admitted grudgingly.
“Thank you.”
“That being the case, once we work out the minor problems in combining our two households into one, we’d make a good team.”
A GOOD TEAM?
There he went, making business deals again with the aplomb of a master, Susannah fumed, taking exception to his annoyingly matter-of-fact attitude. And that’s all this was, she thought sadly, a business deal. He found a problem, turned it into a challenge to be conquered and then arrived at a way to come out on top. It was the summons to excel that mattered to him, and nothing else. Not her. Maybe not even Scott, though she doubted he realized that, yet.
Unable to sit still a moment longer, she vaulted to her feet. Deciding to look around a bit, she slid her hands into the pockets of her denim skirt and took the path that wound its way around to the back of the lodge, Trace following her languorously.
“A good marriage is impossible without true love, Trace,” she told him as she ducked a hanging vine. She had learned that the hard way. Without it, people were just roommates, or friends, not husband and wife, not as husband and wife should be.
“Then call it a marriage on the outside and think of it as a most practical arrangement on the inside,” Trace suggested.
Still stinging from his practical-to-a-fault attitude, Susannah stepped past several rosebushes badly in need of pruning and moved onto the flagstone patio. She thought about the time she and Trace had dragged out a pile of blankets and made love there, under the stars. It had been one of the few nights he had made it home before midnight.
She sighed, her spirits plummeting once again, as she headed off the raised patio, and down the path to the old-fashioned wishing well. “It doesn’t matter what we call it, or how we think of it, my boys will never buy our suddenly deciding to get and stay married, no matter what the terms of Max’s will. My sons know me better than that. They know I’d never just get married for convenience. And if my boys doubt it, yours soon will, too,” she predicted sagely.
Trace watched as she cranked up the bucket, tested the cool water with her fingertips, dumped it out, then sent it back down again. “Then we’ll have to give them a reason they can accept besides the will,” he said.
Her eyebrows arching, she gave him a questioning look. “That reason being?” she said as she brought up the bucket again, brimming with fresh water.
“Chemistry, pure and simple,” he said, watching as Susannah lifted the dipper to her lips and drank until her thirst was quenched.
Having had her fill of the pure springwater, she handed him the dipper. “Dream on.”
He took a long thirsty drink. “You’re the one who’s dreaming if you think that chemistry like ours ever fades or goes away.”
Susannah turned her back on him again. She would not let herself be seduced by the memory of the night on the patio all those years ago, or the few days of happiness they’d had together on their honeymoon, before he settled into his work.
“Well, it does,” she said quietly.
Trace sent the bucket down to the bottom of the well. “Not in our case, it hasn’t.” He moved to stand beside her, so they were both looking at the sun as it descended in the western sky.
“What does that have to do with our getting married?” Susannah started back, around the rest of the lodge. Even if they didn’t go inside, she was determined to finish exploring the perimeter.
Trace caught her around the waist and drew her against him. “We’ll prove to all four of our boys that the chemistry we once felt still exists between us, and that it’s strong enough to make us fall madly in love with each other again.”
Susannah blew out a disgruntled laugh as she brushed the windswept hair from her face with the tips of her fingers. She could only imagine how he planned to do that. Already her heart was pounding and she had a peculiar weakness in her knees. She felt flustered, even as she was seduced by the warmth and strength and smell of him. “They’ll never buy that, Trace,” she murmured, hoping like heck she was putting on a rousing good show of indifference. Her eyes lifted to his as she dared him to try to prove otherwise. “I don’t even buy it.”
He threaded his hands in her hair and tilted her face to his with movements that were both slow and excruciatingly sensual. His glance roved her lips, watching as they parted in an O of surprise. “Then I’ll just have to convince you, won’t I?” he murmured.
One touch of his lips to hers and she was half out of her mind with wanting him. Swept up in memories, in a longing so deep and fierce it was a physical ache. With a murmur of surprise that the passion did still exist after all this time, Susannah found herself moving unconsciously closer in his embrace. And as their bodies melded together, and his hands swept down her back then up to her breasts, leaving ribbons of fire in their wake, she found herself surrendering, just a tiny bit
Enough to open her lips to the insistent pressure of his. Enough to want to taste and touch and kiss him back, as deeply and passionately and possessively as he was kissing her.
She wanted him. She wanted him more than she ever had in her life. But she did not want to be kissed just to prove a point. She did not want him making love to her as a means to an end—in this case, their son.
Knowing that if she didn’t end the fiery embrace soon, she would
n’t end it at all, she tore her mouth from the compelling pressure of his, and wrenched herself out of his arms. She took another deep, oxygen-starved breath to steady herself. “You’re out of line, Trace.”
“Am I, Susannah?” Trace gave her a level look that let her know, for all his outward acceptance and businesslike affability, and despite his efforts to put her deception quickly behind them, deep inside, where it really counted, he was still steaming at her for robbing him of his firstborn child, and would be for some time. “Then we’re even,” he said quietly, letting her know in a glance that through the marriage of convenience, he really intended to make her pay for what she’d done. “And it still doesn’t change a thing.”
HE SHOULDN’T HAVE kissed her that way. Trace knew it, now that the kiss had come to an abrupt halt, and he had known it before the kiss even started. And maybe he had kissed her out of a need for revenge, or to punish her. But he had been unable to resist showing her, in the most potent, devastating way possible, exactly what she had robbed them of when she’d run out on him like that. Taking not just their son, but all they could have—would have—shared if only they’d stayed married. If only she had stayed to work things out
“You’re not going to give up, are you?” she said.
Trace shrugged and figured he might as well be honest. After all, she wasn’t the only one who had been hurt. “Let’s just say I found out today how wrong I was to let you walk out on our commitment to each other seventeen years ago. So, no, I am not going to let you go again, not without a fight, not considering what is at stake.”
Susannah drew a deep breath as he waited for her reply.
Could it work? Was she crazy to even be considering such a proposition?
She had no home: the last quake in Northridge had seen to that. She did not have sufficient insurance money to enable her to rebuild. Nor, considering the trauma of the recent fires, floods, riot and quakes, did she want to go back to Los Angeles. Montana was the only other home she had ever had. She had left because of Trace. It was ironic that Trace was the reason she would ultimately come back to her native state. And yet, it was oddly fitting, too.
Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m even listening to you,” she confessed.
“Because you have no choice. Because you know I’m right. It’s painfully obvious that Scott needs an enhanced sense of security right now. A mother and a father both could give him that. And Nate, Jason and Mickey could benefit from having two parents again, too.” He paused for a moment, then said, “We were friends once. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, considering everything that has happened, but if we really work at it, if we view this as a challenge we can’t walk away from, we could be friends again.”
Susannah was silent as she headed back toward his Jeep. She had enough of their trip down memory lane. Besides, it was suppertime, and the boys would be wondering what had happened to them.
“What are you thinking?” Trace asked as he opened the passenger door for her.
That it would be nice to finally get rid of this mantle of guilt and remorse and fear I have been carrying all these years. She had done that in finally owning up to the truth with him.
Knowing this had to be said, if they were ever going to be friends again, never mind companionable husband and wife, Susannah delayed stepping into the Jeep. She regarded him honestly. “I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did.”
“But not sorry I know?”
How could she be, when it felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders? “Maybe it’s better this way,” she said after a moment, leaning back against the side of the Jeep. “Maybe we need to start dealing with the truth, while still going the whole nine yards to protect our kids from being hurt.”
Trace’s hand clenched around the top of the open Jeep door. “God knows it was what Max wanted.” His glance roved her upturned face as his voice dropped another rueful notch. “He never stopped thinking you were the only woman for me, and vice versa.”
Funny, Susannah thought, she had felt the same way for what seemed forever. She’d thought she was fooling herself, building up the romance of the past and the sheer physical passion she and Trace had shared into some hopelessly romantic fantasy of what could have been.
The sensational reality of his kiss had swiftly disabused her of that idea. If anything, her memories were on the tame side, when compared to the sizzling reality of being held in his arms. No one had ever been able to make her feel the way he did, so completely caught up in the physical side of love, and that was still true. As yearning swept through her yet again, she sighed softly.
Would it be so bad sharing quarters with him once more? Finding a way to be friends, to forgive each other, to make love not war? To jointly finish raising their son and the rest of their children and then move on with their lives, and in the process give all four boys both a mother and a father and a warm, loving home. In another ten years, even eight-year-old Mickey would be off to college. Susannah knew how fast time went. It had been seventeen years ago, she had married Trace, sixteen years and nine months since she had left him, and yet in many ways, it seemed like yesterday.
It wouldn’t be like when they were first married, when she was alone all day, in that hunting lodge deep in the woods, waiting for her husband to come home to her. These days, she would have all four boys to keep her busy, and her work. The series of cookbooks would take years to write. And besides, if Trace still worked the long hours he had, he would hardly ever be home.
“Well, what’s it going to be?” Trace said.
Susannah hesitated. She wanted to do what was right and fair. She also wanted to come through this with her heart intact. “You promise me you’ll do everything in your power to make this work, if I agree?”
Trace nodded. “For the boys, yes.”
Not for us, Susannah thought, a little startled by the sharpness of the disappointment that swept through her. But still, she bolstered her sagging spirits with an inner resoluteness that more than matched his, Trace’s newfound attitude of cooperation was a start. She had expected him to be furious with her much longer.
“All right,” she said finally, hoping like heck she was not making a mistake. “Because I owe you, because I truly want to make this up to you, we’ll go into this with every intention of making it work in every way, not just for a couple of days or weeks, but long-term. But that is all I can promise you at this point, Trace. Good intentions. And my willingness to take it one day, one hour, one moment at a time.” She paused, studying his face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking about her stipulations. His expression was impassive. “Well, what do you think? Will this do?”
Trace shrugged and offered a satisfied half smile that lit up his deep blue eyes. “It’ll have to, won’t it?”
TEN MINUTES LATER, they were back at the lake and headed up the driveway. “When we tell the boys what’s going on, let me do the talking,” Trace told her in a low, intimate tone.
Susannah rolled her eyes, letting him know this was not the start she’d had in mind. “I know how much you enjoy being in charge of your own destiny and being the CEO of your own company, but you do not have to take charge of everything, Trace,” Susannah told him dryly.
He quirked a dissenting eyebrow. “In my house, I do.”
This they were going to have to work on, the sooner the better, Susannah thought passionately. “It will soon be our house, and in our house, we will both have an equal say,” Susannah said mildly. She gave him a look that let him know right off the bat that she did not plan to negotiate on that, no matter how much he protested.
Trace sighed. And as she had hoped, eventually, gave in. “Agreed—reluctantly. For the sake of the kids.”
“Whatever,” Susannah retorted, just glad she had made one tiny inroad with him. Where Trace was concerned, it was going to be an uphill battle all the way.
Trace parked directly in front of the house. To Susannah’s chagrin, t
he scene was quite different from when Trace’s boys had been there alone. Then, in the late-afternoon sunshine, all had been peaceful and serene. Now, at sunset, with her boys on the premises, music was blaring from the open windows at rockconcert decibels, which was par for the course. But as for the rest…“That’s strange,” Susannah murmured, perplexed.
“What?”
“The front door is wide open. It’s almost dark. Yet I don’t see any lights on.” Susannah shot an anxious look at Trace. She couldn’t imagine the boys sitting around listening to music at top volume with the lights off. In fact, she couldn’t imagine the boys sitting, period. “You don’t think something has happened, do you?”
Abruptly, Trace looked a little worried, too. “There’s one way to find out.” He cut the engine on the Jeep and stepped out.
Susannah got out, too, and they headed toward the house. Trace stopped and frowned at the garden hose lying on the ground. It had been left turned on and, as they stood over it, water poured out of it in a steady stream. Seeing that, the hair on the back of Susannah’s neck stood on end. Her heart pounding, she pointed at the hose. “Is this usual?” she asked anxiously.
“Not around here.” Trace went to shut off the hose. “Your place?”
She slanted him a worried glance. “No. Never.” Her boys knew better than to waste water.
Before she could say so, however, the air reverberated loudly with the sound of metal clanging against metal. The sounds of something heavy falling. Footsteps thudding across concrete. Everything seemed to be happening at once, and everything seemed to be coming from the rear of the ranch house.
“Wait here.” Trace said firmly. He headed around back.
“But-”
As take-charge as ever, he put out a hand, emphatically signaling her not to follow him.
Susannah was content to let him explore the back alone. But she wasn’t about to leave the boys in danger, when the front of the house still needed exploring. Holding her shoulder bag in one fist, like the potential lethal weapon it was, she started stealthily toward the front door.
The Maverick Marriage Page 5
