The Bachelor Takes a Wife

by Jackie Merritt

  Eric’s numeric code gnawed at him, but at the moment, questions about Andrea took precedence. Had he really loved her in college and been too beset with ambition to assign importance to anything else? Well, of course he’d loved her. He’d loved her for as long as he’d known her, since they were children. But had he also loved her in that special way a man loves the woman with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life?

  Frowning at the fire, Keith raised his snifter for another taste of cognac.

  Then there was another question: Were his feelings for Andrea the underlying reason his marriage had failed? Candace had always told him his mind was somewhere else. He had attributed her complaints to his work ethic, which truly had driven him back then. It was one of the ironies of his life, he felt, because these days one would be hard-pressed to locate that same quality of ambition within Keith Owens in any way, shape or form, all because of money. He’d become so wealthy from his computer software company that striving to increase that wealth seemed almost obscene. He rarely showed up at his business anymore; he had the best talent available in every key position, and he honestly didn’t know if it was good or bad but he couldn’t doubt that his former burning ambition had waned almost to the point of indifference. He’d changed, obviously, changed a lot, and if he and Candace were married now they might have made it to old age together.

  That was neither here nor there, though. Candace was long gone—she was the person who had rejoiced in this huge mansion and the one who’d spent a fortune and the first year of their marriage decorating it—and Keith never really missed her. She’d had some good points, of course; he couldn’t hate her for demanding a divorce and an enormous property settlement from a husband who’d given her anything money could buy but precious little time and consideration. She’d grown weary of it all, as he had, and finally there’d been nothing between them but anger, reproach and bickering.

  And all the while, without trying, without ever going out of his way for information, he’d kept track of Andrea. Running into her on the street or in a shop had disturbed him in ways he hadn’t let himself explore, for she’d never been anything but cold and distant. Her marriage had set him back a pace, though and then later on, the death of Jerry O’Rourke had been a major shock. He’d sent a huge flower arrangement to the funeral home and a sympathy card to Andrea’s house, on which he’d personally written, “I’m so very sorry. Please let me know if I can do anything to help you through this.”

  He’d received a formal thank-you card for the flowers and nothing else; she had never acknowledged his sympathy and offer of help in any way.

  Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, still gazing at the fire, Keith again sipped his brandy. He could not regret his behavior during his college years. He’d been young, overflowing with exciting plans, absolutely unstoppable physically—running on very little sleep and barely noticing it—and living on a natural high so incredible that remembering it brought tears to his eyes.

  He didn’t live on that plane of youthful exuberance now and he was able to spot the flaws that had totally eluded him at the time. For one thing, it was entirely possible that he’d let his soul mate, his mirror image in many ways, the one woman in all the world born perfect for him, as he was for her, get away.

  Recalling their college relationship, the laughs, the gang of friends they’d happily shared and finally their private times, their kisses and petting sessions, was depressing for Keith, because they’d been in complete harmony on every issue but one. Andrea would not permit sex between them. She had kissed him, told him she loved him, let him caress her and touched him intimately. But when things got to that fever pitch, she stopped everything. He’d begged, debated with her even, ridiculed her righteous attitude and nothing had worked. She had been determined to be a virgin on her wedding night and she probably had been.

  Only, he hadn’t been the lucky groom.

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Keith turned his thoughts to his present courtship. Was it working at all? Was he making Andrea remember their good times, as he couldn’t help doing?

  She was incredible with those kids in her class, he mused, picturing her gentle way of speaking to them, the warm and wonderful smiles she bestowed upon them. In the past, hadn’t she talked about kids quite a lot? Yes, he was sure of it. Andrea had wanted a big family; he could recall her saying those very words many times. She’d been an only child, same as him, and she had mourned her lack of siblings while growing up. Keith couldn’t visualize her changing her mind on something that had been so consistently momentous to her, so why hadn’t she had the family she’d so passionately dreamed of producing?

  He, on the other hand, had never yearned for kids and neither had Candace. They’d been like-minded on that subject, if no other. He had spent precious little time in the company of kids of any age. Certainly he’d never classified noisy small people as either cute or smart. Those youngsters in Andrea’s class were unquestionably adorable—he’d never even come close to an observation of that sort before, and yes, it was surprising. It was also obvious that Andrea loved each and every one of the tots in her class, so again, why hadn’t she had kids of her own?

  Keith finally had to admit that furtively keeping track of Andrea for eighteen years had never given him the kind of personal information he would like to have about her now. For instance, had she truly loved Jerry O’Rourke?

  “Damn!” Keith exclaimed in sudden and startling frustration. Rising from his chair, he went to the fireplace and turned off the gas. Then he took his brandy glass to the kitchen and set it on the counter. Gabriella, his housekeeper who came in every weekday morning, would rinse the glass and put it in the dishwasher. It honestly never occurred to him to do that simple chore himself. She kept the house sparkling clean and also did some cooking. There were always casseroles, soups or stews in the refrigerator or freezer that he could warm up should he decide to eat at home, which was happening more and more of late. Keith had been raised with housekeepers, cooks, gardeners, et cetera, and he’d hired Gabriella to run his household as soon as he’d had a household to run. Candace had liked her, so Gabriella had been around a long time.

  Keith climbed the spectacular circular stairway in the massive foyer of his home to the second floor and went to the large elegant master suite and ultimately to bed. Lying in the dark with his hands behind his head, he came to a decision. He couldn’t let Andrea’s objections stop him. Not yet, at any rate. She was still ticked over their breakup, which seemed utterly ridiculous after so long a time, but women were funny about things that men barely noticed.

  So, he’d give her as much time and as many opportunities as she needed to come around to his way of thinking. It would happen, he was positive. She was too intelligent to carry a silly grudge to the grave.

  Smiling in self-satisfaction over his decision, Keith turned on his side, got comfortable in his oversize bed and closed his eyes.

  Andrea sighed when Keith walked into her classroom yet again. Had he completely lost his former pride, which she recalled as stiff-necked and a seemingly indestructible part of him? She pondered the past and present in genuine and most definitely unamused amazement. Could she have made her disapproval of his ridiculous behavior any clearer yesterday? If someone had made it so plain that she wasn’t wanted, she certainly would not have returned the very next day.

  Keith touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead in an informal salute and smiled at her. Andrea tensed defensively, and she did not smile back. Actually, she longed to throw the storybook in her hand at him as he made his way to the back of the room and that tiny chair. What in heaven’s name was she going to do about this? It was all up to her, for she could not complain about it to anyone. Keith was a well-known, highly respected person in Royal, and the only thing complaining would do was to spread the news that he was hot on her trail.

  The children, she noticed then, had grown tired of staring at Keith and were beginning to squirm. She had been gettin
g ready to read to them, thus the book in her hand, and inspiration suddenly struck.

  “Children,” she said calmly. “How would you like Mr. Owens to read to you today?”

  “Yay!” they shouted, creating a din of high-pitched childish voices that could have jangled adult nerves within moments if Andrea had not quieted her tiny students.

  Keith knew he’d been had. In fact, there was something about this sneaky tactic of Andrea’s that smacked of polite warfare. It was if she’d thrown down a gauntlet, or fired the first shot. Oddly, what Keith perceived as a declaration of war didn’t anger him in the least. Rather, it exhilarated him, awakened youthful energy that obviously—and happily—was still a part of him but that must have been in slumber mode.

  With one eyebrow cocked and a devilish light gleaming in his dark eyes, he strolled to the front of the room. Andrea held out the book and he took it from her fingers. Before he even looked at it, he said, too quietly for the children to hear, “I accept your challenge.”

  “My what?” Confusion beset Andrea.

  “You always did look good enough to eat…make that kiss…when you blushed. Now, let’s take a look at this book.”

  Andrea wanted to wind up and sock him a good one. He aggravated her normal composure and stirred her anger much as a tornado shatters any earthly thing on which it descends.

  “It was written for preschoolers, so I’m sure you’ll be able to understand it,” she said icily.

  “Hmm,” Keith murmured while perusing the cover art. “Yes,” he added in a serious vein, “I probably will. Well, shall we get started?”

  “Sit over there,” Andrea told him, indicating the chair she always used when reading to the class. While Keith complied, she sat behind her desk. He began reading and the children stared wide-eyed at him.

  Keith came to the phrase, “And the chicken said ‘cluck, cluck, cluck,’” and each tiny child listening so spellbound shouted, “Cluck, cluck, cluck!” Startled, Keith looked over to Andrea for help, but she appeared to be writing something and was completely unaware of his quandary.

  He figured it out for himself, though, when the pig in the story said, “Oink, oink, oink,” and the children shouted the “oinks” as he read them. These little ones know this story by heart! From that moment on Keith began enjoying himself. He oinked and whinnied and clucked and mooed, and when the kids giggled because he sounded so funny, he laughed with them.

  Andrea kept her pen in her hand, but she was watching Keith and the kids very closely. She’d never seen him with small children before, but the Keith she’d known in college would not have had one second of fun reading to them. He especially would not have done or said anything to make anyone—even small children—laugh at him!

  She felt something shriveling within herself; it was her years-long resentment of Keith and it quickly diminished to a barely recognizable mass. You’re getting mushy and soft just because he’s having fun with the kids, and they like him? Don’t be a fool, Andrea. He’s still the same man who broke your heart in college.

  From out of nowhere came a painful, unfamiliar urge to weep. Not to sob or bawl but to quietly weep for things that might have been. The feeling unnerved her. Her life had been good. Her life was good. She’d married a wonderful man, and Jerry would always hold a special place in her heart. She had good health, this job she loved, great friends and enough financial security to live comfortably for the rest of her days. And still she felt like weeping because a man who had no right at all to intrude on her safe, secure little world was making her tiny students laugh and clap their hands.

  Andrea held back the tears, but her whole system felt jagged and torn as she wondered what really made Keith Owens tick these days. Was she being too hard on him? What if all he wanted was a renewal of the wonderful friendship they had enjoyed from childhood to college? Goodness, true friendship was something to cherish, and wasn’t it also a rarity? Could she honestly say that her current friends were more valuable, more precious than Keith had been for such a very long time?

  You ninny! If all he wants is friendship he would not have kissed you in the limousine! Don’t kid yourself about what he wants. You know full well what’s on his lecherous mind! You didn’t sleep with him in college, and he’s determined to move you from the “Got Away” to the “Nailed Her” columns of his journal of sexual conquests.

  Andrea jumped when Keith touched her shoulder and said, “All done, Teach. Here’s your book.” He grinned at her. “Where were you, off in fantasy land?”

  “Yes,” she said dryly. “It was definitely a fantasy.” Rising, she left her desk and walked closer to the children. “It’s time for recess. Everyone stand, please, and walk with me. Remember that we always leave quietly.”

  Keith followed them out and for the first time really observed Andrea and her class on the playground. She was so great with those kids, he thought, and it was obvious to him that they adored her. She never raised her voice to get them to do something, or to stop them from doing something. They obeyed her without whining, dragging their feet or questioning her request. She would be—Keith’s breath caught over the thought—an incredible mother.

  He left when the class went back inside the building, but waited in his car in the parking lot. Andrea saw him the second she came through the front door and she stopped on the stoop to assess the situation. Actually she only had two choices: continue their ridiculous squabbling, for which she blamed herself, for Keith had not said one insulting or demeaning thing to her while she had lambasted him at every opportunity, or be nice to him. After all, pleasantness toward a man certainly did not have to include anything sexual, and she was many years away from awkwardness around the opposite sex. Actually, it was Keith’s misfortune to have suddenly developed silly ideas about her, not hers. She could handle Keith, she thought with a squaring of her shoulders, and he would eventually get the message that she wished he would return to the past and stay there.

  Andrea walked directly to her car, but she didn’t pretend that Keith wasn’t there. Instead, she looked his way and said clearly, “You did a marvelous job with that story. The children enjoyed your rendition very much.”

  Pleased as punch with her compliment, Keith got out of his car and walked over to her. “Do you want to hear something funny? I enjoyed it, too. Andrea, I’m beginning to see why you were so set on becoming a teacher.”

  It was a sore subject for Andrea, because she would never forget how cruelly he had accused her of wasting her talents, her education and certainly her future by teaching instead of going into the computer software business with him. He couldn’t have forgotten that awful night, any more than she did. But she’d decided on the school’s stoop to be nice, and so she smiled and nodded and acted as though he hadn’t just slammed her with a painful reminder of the past.

  “Well, I really must be going,” she said cordially. “I have a thousand things to do today.” She got into her car.

  Before she could close herself in, though, Keith took hold of the door and bent from the waist to peer into the car at her.

  “Andrea, would you have dinner with me sometime?” he asked softly.

  “Uh…dinner?” Damn it, she’d given an inch and now he wanted a mile! “Keith, really…I…I rarely go out.”

  “You’re not known for being a run-around,” he replied with an amused grin, “but I’ve seen you eating out with friends with my own eyes.”

  “Well, of course…on occasion,” she said rather sharply. “But…I can’t…I just can’t…go out…with you.”

  Keith narrowed his eyes. He’d been thrilled with what she’d given him today, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t let his disappointment show, though. “All right, maybe some other time,” he said congenially, and stepped away from her car.

  Keith didn’t have to follow closely behind her because he knew the way to her house, and he could tell from the route she was driving that home was where she was going.

  Andrea couldn’
t get rid of the tremor in the pit of her stomach. No matter how she treated Keith—disdainfully or pleasantly—he stayed one step ahead of her. She raised her garage door with her remote and drove in, relieved to be home and…and safe from Keith’s magnetism.

  “Nooo,” she moaned. Keith’s magnetism? What was wrong with her?

  In the next instant she realized Keith’s car was precisely behind hers! He’d followed her home. She stared in the rearview mirror as though she’d lost the mobility to do anything but sit right where she was.

  Keith got out, quietly shut the door of his car and walked into her garage. Using the button on the wall, he dropped the garage door, and Andrea’s pulse went wild. They were so alone, so completely isolated from everyone else in Royal. She wasn’t sure she could keep him at arm’s length any longer. In spite of old hurts, his infectious grin, his good looks and now his sweetness with the little darlings in her class were working some sort of magic on her.

  Keith opened the door of her car and she didn’t move a muscle, just sat there rigidly and stared straight ahead through the windshield.

  “Andy?” he said quietly.

  She still wouldn’t look at him. “This is too much, Keith. Why are you here, invading my home, my space?”

  “Please don’t put it that way.” But, of course, she’d only said the truth. He was invading her space and he suddenly wasn’t so sure of himself. “I never seem to do anything right with you,” he said with a deep frown between his eyes.

  The pathos in his voice caused Andrea to finally look at him. “Why do you want to? I…don’t understand you,” she said in a shaky, husky voice.

  “I don’t understand you, either, but I want to. Andrea, would you and I becoming friends again be so terrible?”

  “Friendship isn’t the only thing on your mind.”

  “That’s true, but I’m willing to start there.” He let a few moments of silence go by, then quietly asked, “Could I see the inside of your house? You couldn’t begin to know how many times I’ve driven past this pretty house and wondered what you were doing.”