by Jeanne Allan
“Maybe they had the crazy idea I might want to choose my own husband. If I was thinking about getting married.”
Sam shook his head. “You’re too emotional. Once I decide on our man, that’s where my other area of expertise comes into play I’m a man, so I know what other men want. I know how to identify selling points, how to position sellers in the market, and I know about packaging. I’ll structure the deal to meet our winning candidate’s particular wants and needs.”
“Packaging? Structure the deal?” Addy asked tightly.
“Make marriage to you irresistible to him. Negotiate. Find out what he wants. Men have different likes and dislikes when it comes to women. Is he a ponytail and jeans kind of guy or does he prefer sleek up-on-your-head hairdos and slinky evening gowns? Is he looking for a mother for his kids, or a woman to entertain his clients, or someone hot to share his bed? The ladies applauded the brilliance of my idea.” He didn’t bother with false modesty. “I’m now an official member of the team.”
Speechless, Addy squeezed her eyes shut and contemplated hysterics. Screaming at the top of her lungs and drumming her heels against the metal storage shelves held enormous appeal.
“Head still pretty bad?”
She sucked in a little air and opened her eyes. The eyes hovering so close to her exhibited sincere and deep sympathy. Another award-winning acting performance. “Let me make something plain to you.” She spit out the chilly words. “In exchange for living in your grandmother’s house, I cook for her, shop for her, run errands for her, and generally help with tasks she finds difficult. My duties do not include entertaining her grandson.” Pushing him aside, Addy marched over to the door and opened it. “Furthermore, when and if I decide to get married, my husband will be selected by me, not by committee to fill a key—” She snarled the last word “—position, and I won’t be packaging myself by dressing up like Little Bo Peep or Lady Godiva!”
Sam looked beyond her. “Lines from my mother’s latest play.”
Addy whirled. The play group session had finished, and a large number of fascinated mothers and children populated the recreation room. Addy’s angry words reverberated from the walls.
Sam chortled as he climbed into the car. “If you could have seen your face.”
Addy jammed her key into the ignition.
“Sam, how come Addy yelled at you?” Emilie asked from the backseat. “Was you bad?”
“No, I wasn’t bad. I was brilliant. Don’t stare at me when you’re driving, Adeline. Watch the road.”
Addy jerked the car back into the proper lane.
“Addy don’t like people calling her Adeline.”
“Is that true, Adeline?” He laughed. “Guess you’re right, Emilie. She doesn’t even hear me when I call her Adeline.”
“I’m Adeline, too. Emilie Adeline.”
“You look like an Emilie Adeline,” Sam said.
“Addy says I look like Momma. Momma is in Heaven with angels,” Emilie said matter-of-factly.
After a long minute, Sam cleared his throat. “I’m starving. What’s for lunch?”
“My arrangements with Hannah do not include fixing your lunch,” Addy said coldly.
He fixed his own lunch. And lunch for everyone else. Tuna salad sandwiches on whole wheat bread with orange slices and carrot sticks on the side. When Emilie took one bite of her sandwich and turned up her nose, Sam turned lunch into a lesson on fueling the human body machine, ghoulishly and graphically describing the heart squirting blood into little tunnels called arteries. Riveted, Emilie absentmindedly ate every bite.
“Sorry about the mustard. Hope it washes out of Emilie’s clothes.” Sam wiped mustard from the table, chair and floor. “Emilie’s hand-eye coordination isn’t up to squirting mustard into straws. Is this mess why you sulked at lunch?”
“I did not sulk. I had no interest in joining a conversation about stomachs beating up food.”
“Still have a headache? Emilie and Grandmother went down for naps.” He handed her a dirty glass. “Why don’t you?”
“Why don’t you,” Addy responded, spacing her words distinctly, “get out of my life? I don’t want your advice. I don’t want your help. I don’t want to know about little blood cells running through my body doing cleaning chores or fighting battles. I don’t want to know about selling points or packaging. I don’t want any kind of alliance with you, strategic or otherwise. What I want is for you to go away and leave us alone.”
A kindly fate granted Addy her wish for almost two hours. Knowing Sam’s absence was too good to last, Addy wasn’t surprised when he walked into the kitchen later that afternoon.
He sniffed the air. “What smells like melting plastic?”
“It’s tough to poison someone with a sensitive nose like yours. I should have fixed almond pudding with ascorbic acid.”
“Ascorbic acid is vitamin C. I think you mean cyanide, a poison associated with a bitter almond scent. I hope that smell doesn’t have anything to do with dinner.”
“If you object to my cooking or a little smell in the kitchen, go away.” The oven timer dinged, and grabbing pot holders, Addy removed a shallow cardboard box from the oven. Wires draped over the box’s rim held patterned beads of various sizes, shapes and colors. Carefully avoiding touching the hot beads, she set the box and its contents on a rack.
Sam scrutinized the beads. “Wild colors.”
Addy switched off the stove, picked up the box of beads and headed up to her rooms. “My customers like wild colors,” she said with an edge to her voice.
“My customers like honest, objective, worthwhile advice.” Following her to her sitting room, he set his black leather briefcase on the floor and cleared space on the table for a small gray case which opened to reveal a laptop computer. “Let’s get down to business.” He sat on a fancifully painted chair.
“We have no business.” Finding a husband wasn’t business. It was the rest of her life. “Just because Hannah and the others sanctioned your idiotic scheme, you needn’t think I’ll allow you to treat me like some kind of germ you’re experimenting with.”
Sam leaned back. “Join the modern world, Adeline.”
“Scientists always think progress is better than history. They aren’t always right.”
“Don’t sneer at science.” He pointed to the beads cooling on the table. “Where would you be if PVC hadn’t been developed and artists hadn’t pushed the envelope on its applications?” Without waiting for an answer, he deftly moved his fingers over the keyboard. “I’ve already entered some information. Belle’s candidate is next. John Christain, assistant manager of Woodpine Lodge, the hotel Belle sold to the big chain. Age, thirty. A quick-rising wonderboy, highly thought of by the chain’s home office.” He pulled manila folders from the briefcase on the floor and piled them beside his computer. Extracting one file, he handed it to Addy. “Here’s a snapshot. Belle say he’s a dreamboat, but we don’t care about good looks.”
Addy set the folder down unopened. Even for Emilie, she didn’t know if she could carry out this crazy scheme. Marriage to her had always meant love and commitment.
A long white envelope on the table caught her eye. Another letter. Phrases seemed to leap from within the closed envelope. They were imprinted on her brain. “Like to meet with the child’s adoptive parents. . .discuss some issues. . .interest in the child’s welfare. . .” The innocuous letter shrieked of potential disaster.
Addy took a deep breath and repeated what was quickly becoming her mantra. Partners in arranged marriages could find happiness. When she found the right man, she’d do her best to make the marriage a successful one.
First she had to get rid of Sam Dawson. Addy Johnson was not a blip on his computer screen. “You haven’t collected all your data. If I was looking for a husband, you’d have to consider my needs and wants, too.”
Sam nodded, his hands poised about the computer. “That’s reasonable. Go ahead, name them.”
Addy leaned her el
bows on the table, propped her chin on her hands, and stared at the opposite wall, her mind inventing. “He’d have to like purple. And be rich. I’m tired of shopping at thrift stores.” She ignored the narrow-eyed look Sam gave her. “Drive a red sport car, and have a large house, so I can keep all my things for Emilie for when she grows up.”
Absently Addy reached for a pair of thin rubber gloves and pulled them on. “Be dependable. I want to know he’ll always be there for Emilie and me. He won’t take off and never return.”
She kneaded a hunk of black polymer clay. “Have a huge family. The kind you see on television with sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles who like each other and have big, fun, family reunions. They’ll love and cherish Emilie and never make her feel like an outsider. She won’t wear hand-me-down clothes unless she wants to, and everyone will care if she receives straight A’s, and want to see her star in high school plays and rejoice when she wins an art contest...” Her voice trailed off. “You’re not putting this down.”
Sam studied her across the table. “Grandmother said your parents were killed in a car accident when you were a kid.”
“Not really a kid. I was thirteen.” She pointed to the keyboard. “He’ll have to promise no interference with how I raise Emilie. And he’ll have to understand Emilie will always come first with me. I may have let...” Addy swallowed. “I won’t ever let Emilie down. He’d have to accept that.”
“Whom did you let down?”
“No one. Next, he’d—”
“Grandmother told me your sister committed suicide. You don’t blame yourself for that, do you?”
“She was an adult. If she chose to decide she had no one worth living for, that could hardly be my fault.” Addy pounded her fist on a mound of clay. “Lorie was eleven when we lost our parents, and I watched out for her and stood up for her until the day I left for college. It was only two years. I didn’t abandon her.” Addy ripped the ball of clay into small hunks. “I expected her to join me after she graduated from high school. It wasn’t my idea she run away to Hollywood.” Hearing her voice rising, Addy took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we’re talking about that. You hate living in the past.” She smiled brightly. “That should be enough data to keep you busy. Just look for a man who likes purple and is rich.”
After a moment Sam asked, “Do you want children?”
“Emilie would love having brothers and sisters.” Removing her rubber gloves, Addy added black eyebrows to a clay face.
“Good sex,” he said in a measured voice as he typed. “Or would you prefer great sex with passion?”
Addy felt red color sting her cheeks. “Highly overrated.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Lorie claimed great sex as the rationale for losing her head over a married man, having and abandoning his baby, and running back to sleep with him. Delete passion. I don’t want kisses that force a person to engage in amoral behavior.”
Sam closed his computer with a snap. “I don’t think I would have liked your sister.”
“Lorie was beautiful, bright, talented, funny, and clever.” Addy studied her black fingers. “Her smile acted as a magnet on every male in the vicinity.” Addy’s voice softened. “I’m angry with her behavior, but I loved her very much. For years it was the two of us against the world, and then she was gone.” Addy swallowed hard over the painful lump in her throat. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get over missing her.”
Sam pushed back his chair and came around the table. “I’ll bet you tried to give your sister everything you thought she needed. The same way you try to give Emilie what she needs.” He removed the clay from Addy’s hands, setting it on the table. “I think it’s time someone gave you what you need.”
Addy thought about resisting as his hands on her shoulders pulled her to her feet. “I don’t need anything.”
“Yes, you do, Adeline. You need kissing.”
That was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, Addy thought, clutching at Sam’s upper arms with hands which tingled from kneading clay. She didn’t need kissing. She needed to be held and comforted. She needed... Humiliation surged hotly through her veins. She flung her hands from his shoulders. “I told you before. I don’t want or need your charity.”
Blue eyes hardened. “What you need is to knock that self-pitying chip off your shoulder.”
“You’re the one who asked me about my sister.” Sam Dawson tricked her into saying things she’d never said to another living soul, and then accused her of self-pity. “If missing someone who’s died is feeling sorry for myself, then I feel sorry for myself. Obviously if everyone you know dropped dead tomorrow, it would have no impact on your life whatsoever.”
“I’m not talking about a little healthy grief. Everyone needs to grieve. Even an irritating, stubbornly independent aunt who’s constantly ranting and raving that she needs nothing.” Reaching for Addy’s single braid, he wrapped it around his fist, tilting her head back until she met his eyes. “Afraid it’s a sign of weakness if you admit to needing anything?”
“Charity comes at too high a price.” Addy squarely met his gaze. “I can’t afford to gamble that I might like it, might become dependent on it. What happens when charity stops? Emilie didn’t have the best start in life. To survive, she’ll have to be strong. I’m the only one she has to teach her strength.”
Sam shook his head. “You’ve given Emilie the best kind of start in life. You love her.” He slid his hands around Addy’s neck, his thumbs resting in front of her ears. “You’re strong enough that graciously accepting a little charity isn’t going to weaken you. Not that it matters in this particular instance, because a kiss is not an act of charity, Adeline Johnson.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve always found one scientific demonstration is worth pages of text.” He lowered his head:
Addy’s mouth opened under his gentle, determined urging. Fingers splayed on her head curved gently against her scalp as Sam pulled her close. For a moment Addy forgot to breathe, then, remembering, she inhaled an intoxicating masculine scent overlaid with the flowery plastic odor of her clay.
One kiss wasn’t enough. Her fingers dug into his arms. She needed more of his firm lips slanting, opening over hers. Hesitantly she curled her tongue around his, and shook with the heat her action unleashed deep within her. Pressing closer to his solid body, she felt his pounding heart. Or her heart.
Sam’s firm, unyielding thighs, hips, chest imprinted themselves on her body. As the soft one, the yielding one, she melted into him, losing all sense of where she ended and he began. He was home and family, security, safety.
Except be wasn’t. He was the man who wanted her to marry someone else. Addy pulled away from his kiss, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. She had to say something light and amusing. Anything to let him know his kiss meant nothing to her. No easy words came to her rescue.
Sam stirred. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe a kiss is an act of charity.” His arms tightened as Addy stiffened. “No, don’t go critical on me. I meant you’re a very giving, generous person.” His hands rested lightly on Addy’s shoulders as he gazed contemplatively down at her. “Under other circumstances I’d be interested in exploring the depths of your generosity, Adeline Johnson, but you’re living in my grandmother’s home, raising a child, and looking for a husband.” A tinge of regret flashed across his face before he smiled crookedly. “Great sex with passion isn’t highly overrated, and I’m certain a woman who paints her walls purple would refuse to settle for anything less, but I’m afraid your husband is the one who’ll have to convince you of that. You’re a woman who needs commitment, not a two-week stand.” He brushed a stray hair from her face. “I hope you appreciate how much I’m going to hate myself tonight for being honorable.”
Addy pushed away from his loose embrace. “I’m supposed to thank you for being honorable when you spout the most disgustingly arrogant and patronizing drivel I’ve ever heard? Did it ever occur to
your little pea-size brain I don’t have the slightest interest in playing bedroom games with you? I let you kiss me because you’re like water torture. Constant, unremitting drip, drip, drip. If you want to call letting you have your own way so I could get rid of you, generosity, go ahead.” She moved to sit on the sofa before her shaky muscles failed her. “But remember, I’m the one who wanted you to run back to Boston, and I’m the one who wanted you to mind your own business. And before you bring it up, if I was ever so stupid as to think marrying an arrogant, conceited egotist like you was a good idea, which I wasn’t, I’d have long ago changed my mind. If I were getting married, I’d marry anyone but you.”
“Good.” Sam swept the folders from the table into his briefcase and retrieved his computer from the table. “While I might be tempted to sleep with you, I have every intention of marrying you off to some poor slob who doesn’t place a high priority on honesty in his wife.”
“Are you calling me dishonest?”
“Lying is dishonest. You enjoyed that kiss, and you didn’t kiss me to get rid of me.”
“You’re the one who claimed I needed you to point out what men want. Maybe now you’ll admit I already know, and you’ll leave me alone.”
“Adeline, the only thing your kiss told me is you have less experience than the average teenage boy.”
The tinge of pity in his voice infuriated Addy. “That’s not true. All right,” she added quickly at the look on his face, “I admit I’m out of practice. It’s been a few years since I bedded the football team, two fraternities and the marching band.” Her raised chin challenged him to call her a liar.
His mouth barely curved at the corners. “Belle said to tell you John Christain will pick you up tomorrow night to escort you to an outdoor jazz concert. I assume an accomplished woman of the world such as yourself will know enough to wear something other than the tight, wildly provocative dress you wore when you went out with Carlson. A sweater and slacks would do. If you have to wear pearls, try little earrings, instead of that pearl rope of Grandmother’s calling attention to your breasts.”
