A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel

by Carol Burnside

  Or a week. She needed to think. But when everything else was factored in, it didn’t change the heart of this whole scenario. This was about Lorelei and what was best for her. After the story Sam had told, Rosie didn’t doubt Jasmine had some issues and needed parenting classes, at the very least. Sam loved his daughter deeply and made her a priority in his life. He was protective and gentle with her, too. That, Rosie had seen for herself.

  Right now, Lorelei was better off with her daddy.

  “This guy, Bill. Your lawyer. You trust his judgment?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve known him a long time. He wouldn’t suggest this on a whim.”

  She nodded. If it were anyone else but Sam in this scenario, she’d swallow her pride, talk to her dad about helping her secure a business loan and be done with it. No way she’d consider tying herself to a loveless marriage and a child. Not even temporarily.

  A child. Barely more than a baby.

  Rosie squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. This was crazy. She was crazy to consider it, and the potential for hurt was enormous.

  The image of Jasmine handing Lorelei off to be cared for by some flunky, or worse, a succession of them flitted across her mind. What would that do to the already shy, somewhat fearful child? And Sam would suffer, worrying about her the whole time she was in Jasmine’s custody.

  “For how long?” Rosie asked, startled that the words came from her lips.

  “Since middle school. We—”

  “No,” she interrupted, realizing he thought she’d asked about his relationship with the lawyer.

  “How long . . .” Her throat tightened, and she cleared it before beginning again. “You said temporary. How long would we need to stay married?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure. Until the custody case is settled. Maybe a year? I’m sorry. It’s asking a lot from you personally.”

  “You’re offering a lot of money,” she said, trying to maintain the casual tone Sam had adopted. Her voice sounded strange. Wooden. Like it belonged to someone else. “And like you said, it’s a good deal for my business.”

  “So you’ll consider it?” Sam leaned forward, his gaze intense. “For your business?”

  She opened her mouth to say she’d do it for Lorelei, but caught herself in time. Keep it impersonal. Remember? “With the guarantee of a large business loan wiped away in a year? If you’re serious about the terms, then I won’t find a better offer.”

  Rosie took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

  Sam’s mouth opened and closed. It seemed she’d rendered him temporarily speechless.

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No. No! This is . . . great.” His dazed expression belied his words. “Bill will be ecstatic that I’ve found a suitable wife so quickly.”

  Well, isn’t that lovely? Suitable. Every bride’s dream compliment. Rosie forced her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile and wished her alter ego would hush.

  “Do you have any questions about . . .anything? We should, ah, probably make plans.”

  Wedding plans? Jeezus Pete. The decision had barely been made. She wasn’t ready.

  “Is there a rush?”

  “I suppose we could take a few days to consider our options.”

  “Can’t we have a quick and simple civil ceremony, sign some papers quietly and be done with it?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I’d prefer that. Only . . .”

  “Only what?”

  Sam shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll have Bill send the prenuptial agreement, including the loan terms. That way, when this is all over, we’ll both be protected.”

  Protected from what? Each other?

  Rosie nodded as if his statement made perfect sense, although nothing sounded the least bit sensible all of a sudden. Who in their right mind agreed to marry and made plans for an easy divorce all in the same breath? She stood, the urge to flee surging through her system. “Fine. I’ll have my lawyer look them over as soon as they’re ready.”

  “Very sensible,” Sam said, relief evident in his tone. “Next hurdle. How should we go about informing your family? Do you want to tell them, or would you rather handle it together?”

  Her family?

  Right. It wasn’t like they could go off and marry in secret. This needed to look legitimate to a judge. Of course they’d have to know. Soon everyone would know.

  She groaned and plopped back onto the chaise with a lead-filled stomach. “I . . . oh, Lord. They’ll have a million questions. Maybe we better do that together.”

  Wuss.

  Shut. Up.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d gone quiet. “Sam?”

  “They’ll hate me for this, won’t they?”

  “They won’t be happy about it. Don’t misunderstand. They like you and all, it’s just that this whole thing is a little . . . out there.”

  “You do realize we can’t tell them the truth? The fewer people who know, the better off we are in court.”

  “But—”

  “I know. I know. Believe me. I don’t like lying to people I care about and respect either, but we don’t have a choice.”

  She had to digest that for a minute. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. The more people who know, the more likely something will leak and expose our plan.”

  “They won’t like being duped. None of them.”

  She suspected he was thinking about her brothers and whether their friendship would withstand the deception. “I’ll make them understand, when it becomes necessary. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re overjoyed at the announcement now. But later . . .”

  “Even so, to everyone—except our lawyers—this has to look real.”

  “Real? As in, love, marriage and a baby carriage real? Um, hel-lo. You’ve barely moved back. We haven’t seen each other in years, but now we’re suddenly in love? You think we can get folks to swallow that hook, line and sinker?”

  “Like a big mouth bass gobbling a worm. I’m a writer, remember? People like nothing better than a romance. So we’ll give them one.”

  “Okay, Mr. Big-Shot Writer, spin me a tale of romance.” Rosie leaned back and crossed her arms under her breasts. After his earlier remarks about not believing in love, this she had to hear.

  “All right. Give me a minute.” He got to his feet and paced, his brow furrowed with concentration. Then he slowly clapped his hands together. “I’ve got it. The best thing to do is stick as close to actual facts and events as possible. That way, there’s less chance of us getting tripped up.”

  Rosie faked an exaggerated yawn to show him what she thought of that idea.

  “Don’t go all skeptical on me yet. We talked by phone and exchanged e-mails over the last four months, right? So we build on that. A few e-mails turned into dozens flying back and forth. At first we reminisced, then we caught up on each other’s lives and started talking almost every evening. This time it was different. Our friendship took on a new dimension. When we saw each other again—”

  “Sam.” Rosie interrupted his fantasy story before he got to the real-life part about them staring at each other in her shop. What had that been all about? “That’s not very original. The e-mails, the meet? That’s a variation of my favorite movie, You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.”

  “Exactly!” He said in a smug, ah-ha voice. “It’s life imitating art.”

  Except that it wasn’t. They weren’t. Not at all.

  “With a little convincing, they’ll believe it, because they’ve seen it happen on the big screen.”

  “And we’re going to accomplish this how?” Rosie was suspicious, having long ago learned not to rise too quickly to the bait when her brothers suggested something risky.

  “Relax. I’m not suggesting we scandalize the blue-haired ladies of Sweetwater Springs by French kissing in public.” Sam looked affronted. “I’m just saying a little hand-holding here, an arm around you there, maybe take in a family movie and voilá!—we’re a couple
.”

  Rosie experienced a little thrill at his last words. She’d been dating casually for so long, being part of a couple—even a pretend one—would be a nice change. With Sam playing her love interest, the problem would be remembering it was all for show.

  The PDA didn’t sound too over the top, but it involved more than casual touching. What if she liked it too much?

  * * *

  Sam watched the play of emotions across Rosie’s face. At the moment, she looked ready to bolt. A distraction was needed and quick.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung over to sit facing her on the edge of her chaise. She flinched as he braced himself on either side of her shoulders and leaned in.

  “Whoa.” Rosie slapped a hand to his chest, her gaze darting to where their outer thighs touched. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “I don’t . . . are you . . . you’re not . . . ” Her eyes widened, her gaze dropping to her hand, where he was sure she could feel the accelerated bump of his heart.

  “Practice,” he explained. “This has to look natural when we’re in public.”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip before dragging her teeth across it. He’d seen her perform that nervous habit and every time it got to him. Damn. Much more of this and he’d lose his focus.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Her breath puffed forth with an ego-bruising relief hard to ignore. She lifted her right hand off his chest and turned it palm up. Sam flipped it over and threaded their fingers together, noting how fair and delicate hers looked next to his. He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her eyes, darkened to a deep aquamarine, regarded him steadily.

  “Are you okay with this?” he asked, to break the tension.

  One shoulder jerked and her lashes lowered. “It’s just hand-holding.”

  “Good. Ready for the next step? Let’s go for a hug.”

  Rosie tugged her hand free and eased forward. Though she slid her arms around him in a loose embrace and rested her cheek on his shoulder, she was about as relaxed as a taut rubber band.

  He tightened his hold, urging her closer, closing his eyes against a sudden stab of desire as her breasts smashed softly against his chest.

  “Not bad,” he said, trying to keep his breathing even. “It has to look like it’s second nature when we hug or kiss, or we’ll never fool anybody.”

  Rosie straightened, breaking his hold and stared. His hands dropped to her waist and her lips parted. “You didn’t say anything about kissing. Do we have to kiss in public?”

  Have to? Now that deserved a little payback. Sam hid his bruised ego behind a smile and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and neck. Her skin felt like warm velvet. “I’m your fiancé now. We’ll be expected to kiss occasionally.”

  “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  He tilted her chin a smidge with his thumb, caressing her jawline. Her tongue darted across her bottom lip again, and he bit back a groan. Damn. Payback for her. Torture for him.

  Need rose in him, sharp enough that his position became damn uncomfortable. He stopped caring about why they were doing this and concentrated on her lips, so close, begging him to taste them.

  “We don’t have to, um, practice everything tonigh—”

  He covered her mouth with his, making her point moot. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Sam eased back, trembling with the effort it took to keep himself in check. He changed the angle and closed the gap, needing to taste her, unable to resist flicking the tip of his tongue across her mouth.

  Rosie’s lips parted in surprise, and he deepened the kiss, taking it from a gentle experiment to a thorough claiming. The tension left her body and she melted against him like a lone pat of butter on a stack of fresh hotcakes. The sensation set off alarms, and he stilled. What was he doing, kissing her like there was no tomorrow? Rosie wasn’t his to claim. Sam eased away from the kiss, though he didn’t want it to end.

  She swayed toward him before her eyes flew open. He only caught a glimpse of blue before she turned away, breathing harder than normal.

  Yeah. He knew the feeling. Kissing Rosie had surpassed anything he’d imagined it to be. He’d been celibate too long if kissing a friend did this to him.

  He cast about for something witty to break the awkward silence, but came up empty. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash what had happened. He cleared his throat and stood. “That’ll do for tonight.”

  “Right.” Her voice sounded flat, forced. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

  She’d given him the perfect segue to break the awkwardness and he took it, pushing for a jovial tone. “I see how this works. A couple of kisses and now you think I’m easy.” He forced a grin that felt all wrong. “But will you still respect me in the morning?”

  “Augh!” Rosie shoved at his shoulder as she left. She nearly succeeded in unbalancing him since he was none too steady on his feet. “Goodnight, Sam.”

  A really long, torturous night was more like it.

  * * *

  Rosie waited for the door to close behind her. When it clicked shut, her composure dissolved. She touched trembling fingertips to her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, reliving the moment Sam had deepened the kiss. The flash of heat had surprised her and had nothing to do with mere friendship.

  She’d thought needing an infusion of cash into her business was a big deal. But this was huge. All their talk of marriage and wedding plans, hand-holding and kissing had resurrected hopes and dreams she’d thought destroyed. Dead.

  From his ever present humor, he obviously hadn’t experienced the same level of attraction to her, if any.

  Sam had made it clear this was a temporary, strictly business agreement. He didn’t want anything from her except a wifely performance good enough to fool a judge.

  How could she possibly keep her attraction hidden for a whole year?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After a night of troubled sleep, the best solution Rosie could think of was avoidance. Whenever she and Sam weren’t in the public eye, she’d simply avoid him.

  She’d figure out a way to make it work. After all, he had his work and she had hers. They needn’t spend every waking hour together.

  As she backed the van from her garage, a masculine voice called “Hey, Rosie!” She braked and looked for its source.

  Sam approached her vehicle. He was dressed for a run, in shorts and a tank that had seen better days. Lorelei rode along in front of him, buckled into a three-wheeled stroller.

  Rosie lowered her window, deciding designers wasted their time with the business casual look. Rugged tatters were infinitely more appealing.

  “Good morning.” Sam stopped alongside the van and leaned a tanned forearm on her window frame. He smelled deliciously clean with a trace of shaving cream. “Are we still on for brunch?”

  Rosie tried hard not to let her gaze stray from his face. She would not stare at the sprinkling of chest hair peeking over his tank. Glance, maybe—to commit to memory—but no staring. Concentrating on his face didn’t help either. One look in those serious eyes rimmed with long dark lashes and her lower abdomen ached in the best way possible.

  “We need to be seen together a lot,” he reminded her.

  Right. Except then she couldn’t avoid him.

  She tried to concentrate on his words. “I have a couple errands to run, but we could meet back here in about an hour.”

  “Great. I’m sure the power bar I had for breakfast will be long gone by then.” He turned to leave, then pivoted back. “I called Bill earlier. He’ll overnight the prenup in the morning. If you can manage a couple hours free during the week, we could run by the courthouse, apply for the license and have everything ready for a quick ceremony after we tell your folks.”

  “I’ll check my schedule and let you know when I can work it in.”

  “All right. See you later.” Sam leaned in the window and
gave her cheek a quick kiss. “There’s an elderly couple walking this way. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” he whispered with a wink before retreating.

  Rosie stared at the spot where his face had disappeared, her cheek hot where his lips had brushed skin. She inhaled his lingering scent before checking her rearview mirror and accelerating. Nothing happened. She blinked twice while staring at the gearshift before realizing she’d shifted the van into park. Sheesh! The man should be arrested for looking so . . . distracting this early in the morning.

  Here she was getting more gaga over his fine, testosterone-filled self by the minute, and he was merely concerned with getting the show on the road.

  Why couldn’t she look at their agreement the same way?

  Until she’d sequestered herself in the dark confines of her bedroom last night, she hadn’t realized how much the thought of a quick civil ceremony bothered her. Fake marriage or not, a hundred guests or two witnesses, she’d always seen herself in a long, white dress and veil at her wedding. And she was getting married—sort of.

  She gripped the steering wheel, rested her forehead on her hands and sighed. It was silly to feel cheated. But this wedding might be her only personal experience with one. The fallout from her relationship with Dean had left her feeling like she was . . . less. Damaged goods. Not quite whole. Until Sam’s odd proposal, she’d kept buried what few romantic notions remained.

  Stop it, Rosie scolded herself. She’d made her decision and she’d stick with it. Sam needed her. Lorelei needed her.

  It would have to be enough.

  She could still avoid Sam whenever possible. She might be stuck parading around town with him this morning, but the rest of the day would be hers alone.

  * * *

  Man, it was hot.

  Sam jogged through the park on the wide sidewalk, guiding Lorelei’s stroller in front of him. The dazzling sun shone through towering pines, sweet gums and the occasional red oak, creating a dappled pattern under his feet.

  He’d felt twitchy, like his skin was too tight, ever since he’d “practice” kissed Rosie last night. Unfortunately, the sensation couldn’t be attributed to the heat, no matter how much he wished it was that simple.