by Sharon Swan
He loosened his tie. “The truth is, I wasn’t sure what went with what, so I just ordered everything to match.”
The admission came with such a rueful slant of his mouth that it made her laugh out loud for the first time in what seemed like far too long. “I think you did a good job.”
His eyebrows winged up. “A compliment from the woman who looked about ready to strangle me on a few occasions? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I believe in giving credit where credit is due,” she said before reminding herself that it might not be wise to be too agreeable. Yes, for everyone’s sake, she wanted to further a friendlier relationship, but…She crossed her arms under her breasts. “But I’m still no pushover…Mr. Macho.”
He narrowed his gaze just slightly, just enough to tell her that the hardly complimentary nickname she hadn’t used since a truce had been silently declared could still produce a response. “I’ll do my best to remember that…Ms. Prim.”
MS. PRIM. Dev clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at a bedroom ceiling painted gleaming white, thinking he’d be a lot better off if he could still consider the woman sleeping under his roof for the first time to be one prim and proper female. Trouble was, he knew more about her now, including a preference for novels with covers leaving little doubt as to their sexy subject matter. Not to mention his recent discovery that, for a small person, she packed a wallop when it came to kissing, more than enough to qualify her as experienced.
“Cripes, how’s a man suppose to just ignore the whole thing?” he grumbled to himself.
In reply, he got a low growl from the cat curled up at the foot of the bed.
“If that was a warning to watch my step before I go off the deep end,” he told his companion, muttering into the murky darkness all around him, “you could damn well be right.”
Dev frowned as it occurred to him that he just might have an easier time keeping his thoughts from wandering to places they had no business going if Amanda Bradley—no, Amanda Devlin—hadn’t looked as though she fit his new home like a glove when he’d been showing her around. But, for some reason, she had. It was almost as if, as he’d done his best to lead Family Services to believe, he’d built the place with her in mind.
Which was flat-out ridiculous, he knew.
For all that he’d paid top dollar for the house and everything in it, it was nowhere near as fancy as her bookstore. Or as cozy as the small house she owned, for that matter. Only a blind man would contend otherwise. Whatever tall tales he’d told to a sharp-eyed social worker earlier that day, the simple truth was that he’d built and furnished his place to suit him. Period. It had to be a fluke that Amanda had looked right at home in it.
And maybe she wouldn’t tomorrow. Maybe when they faced each other over the breakfast table, he’d find out that it was only his imagination working overtime. Maybe all he needed was a good night’s rest to have him discovering that he’d been all wet.
Dev punched up a pillow and turned over on his side. As he closed his eyes, a cool breeze drifted in from the window he’d left open a crack, reminding him that he had to get some drapes up so he wouldn’t have to keep turning out the lights before getting undressed. Right now, if he stripped down to the bare skin he preferred to spend his nights in without remembering that little detail, he risked shocking the new neighbors he was out to impress with his respectability.
The problem was, he had no clue as to what kind of drapes to buy. He supposed he’d just have to pick out something or other and hope for the best.
“Or,” he said, his eyes flashing open as another, and unmistakably pleasing, thought hit, “I could just leave it to someone else.”
Below him, the cat shifted and offered another low growl, but Dev scarcely heard it as he began to mull over at least one benefit that might well come his way as the result of the day’s events. A big benefit, as far as he was concerned, because he wouldn’t have to deal with picking out colors and fabrics and God knows what. Not anymore.
He had a wife who could decorate the rest of the place. With any luck at all, he’d only have to pay the bills and tell her that whatever she thought was up to snuff was okay with him. He wouldn’t have to make any more of the kind of decisions that drove him crazy—provided she agreed to go along with it.
Dev smiled to himself, thinking that if he played his cards right, she probably would. If he eased around to asking her to do it, instead of confronting her with the project head-on, that could be his ticket to success, and then he’d be able to watch his house get whatever it still needed to put it in topnotch shape without doing it himself. Which, he figured, just might be every style-challenged male’s idea of heaven.
“It’s definitely worth a shot,” he muttered under his breath.
But first they had to get through the uproar that seemed bound to hit tomorrow. Jaws may have already stopped dropping, thanks to the brief phone call Amanda had made late that afternoon to break the news of the wedding to Irene Caldwell, but a storm of tongue-wagging might not be far behind.
Whatever was headed their way, the newlyweds had to be ready to form a united front and convince Jester’s sure-to-be-skeptical residents that their marriage was the real, genuine thing. And then they had to keep them believing it until there was no chance that Amanda’s sisters and brothers could be taken away from her.
Starting tomorrow, Dev knew, he and Amanda would have to put on quite a show.
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe it.”
Amanda wasn’t sure who had issued that statement. It could have been any of the women crowded into the sitting area at the rear of the bookstore. Not that it mattered, she thought. The Ex-Libris had been open for less than an hour, and it seemed as if she’d already heard endless variations on the same theme.
I never would have so much as imagined it.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard about it.
Goodness gracious, it can’t be true!
So far, she’d done her best to assure her visitors that her marriage was indeed a reality. And, so far, most were still shaking their heads in wonder. She was gearing up to give it another try when a new arrival appeared on the scene. The last time she’d seen Shelly O’Rourke, the nicely curved woman with chin-length hair in a rich shade of dark brown had been happily looking forward to accompanying her husband on a trip to San Francisco, and to becoming a new mother in several months’ time.
Now, Shelly didn’t look so much happy as…flabbergasted.
“I didn’t expect you back for a couple more days,” Amanda said.
“Connor’s conscience began to nag him about being away from the clinic for too long, so we headed home early. And what I didn’t expect,” Shelly added, “was to walk into The Brimming Cup this morning and find out that my good friend had stunned my employees, not to mention everyone else buzzing like a swarm of bees in the coffee shop, by getting married.”
“And to Dev Devlin,” Wyla Thorpe tacked on with a soft snort. Her mouth, shaded a bright red to match her short hair, turned down at the corners in the typically sour expression she’d done little to hide for months. Wyla had decided against contributing any more to the weekly lottery just days before the other regular players had come into a small fortune, and the string-bean-thin woman in her forties who favored wearing tight polyester to apparently make herself look even thinner seldom hesitated to display her displeasure at losing out.
“Yes, the man Amanda picked is what really makes it so unbelievable,” another of the women said, and a round of hastily murmured agreements followed.
“I thought so, too,” Irene Caldwell admitted from her spot on one of the twin love seats. “At least I did when she called me yesterday to break the news. But last night something occurred to me that changed my way of thinking.”
That statement won everyone’s attention in a hurry, including Amanda’s. She leaned one hip against a small mahogany cabinet that held the delicate china
cups and saucers she used to serve complimentary tea to her customers and gazed down at Irene, wondering what the older woman could possibly have in mind.
Fortunately she didn’t have to wait more than a moment before Regina Larson, the mayor’s middle-aged wife, jumped into the conversation. Standing near the doorway to a small rear bathroom, she dipped her dyed-blond head to fix Irene with a puzzled frown. “What in the world are you talking about? Amanda and Dev Devlin have been at odds for who knows how long.”
“Yes,” Irene agreed as a slow smile bloomed on her face. “But that was before he saved her.”
Amanda blinked. Whatever she might have anticipated, it wasn’t that.
“Saved her?” Shelly repeated from where she stood steps beyond the last in a row of tall bookshelves, looking as mystified as many of the others in the store.
“You’ve been away,” Irene told her, “so you probably haven’t heard that Dev Devlin came to Amanda’s rescue when she was almost assaulted right on the bookstore’s doorstep one evening by that awful drifter, Guy Feldon.”
“No, I hadn’t heard.” Shelly wasted no time in redirecting her gaze to Amanda. Her hazel eyes hadn’t lost that baffled look, but she said nothing more.
Instead, it was Regina who spoke again as she assumed a thoughtful expression. “Now that you mention it, Irene, I do remember someone telling me about how the two men had actually come to blows.”
Several other heads nodded, as though more of the group were recalling the incident, as well.
Irene’s smile grew. “In a way, he became her knight in shining armor that evening, and I believe it may well have been the beginning of a transformation in their relationship.” She glanced up at the woman who, at least as far as Irene was plainly concerned, had been a damsel in distress until a romantic rescue had been achieved. “Am I right?” she asked brightly.
“I suppose you could say so,” Amanda replied after a moment, realizing it was the truth—or partly, anyway. That evening, she and the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner had gone beyond the shaky truce they’d formed and started talking, which in turn had led to an undeniable change in their relationship. Not a wildly romantic one, true. But a change, nonetheless.
“Sounds a little fanciful to me,” Wyla said. She crossed her arms over her narrow chest and leaned back in her seat on one of the plump leather chairs.
No one was impolite enough to point out that someone twice divorced, and the last time after a nasty court battle that had left her with one of the most prosperous farms in the area, might not be the best judge of how happy endings could be achieved.
“Why don’t I make some tea?” Amanda suggested, deciding a bid to switch subjects was in order. “Gwen should be here soon with her pastries.”
Just then, as if right on cue, the front door opened and Gwendolyn Tanner carried in a large plastic container filled with the baked goods she regularly delivered. Like Shelly, Gwen continued to run a business—in Gwen’s case, the only boarding house in town—even though, in both instances, money was no longer a driving concern, thanks to their lottery win. Rather than pay Gwen for the baking she continued to do for the love of it, Amanda made a regular donation to one of Gwen’s favorite charities, and that had come to suit them both.
“Hello, everyone,” Gwen said as the group parted so she could set her burden on the low, cloth-covered table that stood between the love seats. Raising a hand to smooth back a stray strand of auburn hair confined in a neat, upswept style, Gwen looked at Amanda and offered her particular brand of a wide yet almost shyly sweet smile. “Why am I not surprised to find a crowd here?” she asked, straightening the bottom edge of the heavy, loosely fitted yellow sweater she wore with cotton slacks.
Before her win, Gwen had been as slender as a reed. During the past couple of months, however, it hadn’t escaped Amanda’s notice that the enthusiastic baker had been putting on some weight, and more than a few pounds. She’d begun to wonder if anyone else was growing as curious about that fact as she was. Still, since it was hardly any of her business, she’d kept that curiosity to herself.
“They’re probably a hungry crowd,” Amanda replied as lightly as she could. And even if they weren’t, she thought to herself, she was going to feed them. At least as long as their mouths were full, they wouldn’t be asking any more questions about her marriage. With that goal in mind, she pulled out a silver tray she kept behind the cabinet holding tea supplies.
“I’ll put the pastries out for you,” Irene offered, sitting forward to take the tray.
“Thanks.” Although far from hungry herself, having fixed a large breakfast for the first time in as long as she could remember, Amanda ran her tongue over her lips. “As usual, those pastries look delicious, Gwen,” she said as Irene began her task with a golden creation topped by a sprinkling of powdered sugar.
“Being a newlywed must work up an appetite,” someone in the back of the group offered with dry humor.
Amanda ignored that remark, and the few titters that followed. Despite the fact that she could have done without both, her more practical side told her it was better to have people making pointed comments about her wedding night rather than the hasty ceremony itself. They had no way of knowing that she’d slept alone only to wake up surprisingly refreshed after a final string of restless nights as a single woman. It was as if she’d been able to relax at last.
Not, she had to admit, that there’d been anything very relaxing about sharing breakfast with her new groom. But even then, as he’d all but wolfed down the cheese omelet she’d offered to fix while he made coffee, her nerves had mostly taken the whole thing in stride—a major accomplishment, since the coffee he’d produced was strong enough to have her eyelids standing at attention after one sip.
Her nerves might have done even better if he hadn’t looked far too good wearing just a T-shirt and jeans.
“Well,” Gwen said, regaining Amanda’s attention, “although I have to confess to probably being as stunned as everyone else, I’d like to offer my congratulations.”
Amanda couldn’t hold back a smile. “Thank you,” she said, her tone as sincere as Gwen’s had been. She’d always felt that this woman was one of the nicest people in Jester, and that, as far as Amanda was concerned, had just been confirmed. “How about staying for some tea and maybe a pastry?”
Gwen shook her head. “No, I really have to be going.”
“Goodness knows,” Wyla murmured just loud enough to be heard, “she doesn’t need any more calories.”
Gwen flushed as the store turned starkly silent.
She obviously hadn’t been the only one to notice, Amanda thought. And now Gwen’s feelings had been trounced on. “I don’t see that what a person does or doesn’t eat is anyone’s concern but theirs,” she said.
“Right on,” Shelly seconded, her voice firm.
Suddenly Gwen threw up an exasperated hand. “Oh, what’s the use. It’s pretty plain that most of you have been speculating about me. Well, you know what? I have been putting on weight, and it’s not because I’m stuffing myself.” She paused and aimed her gaze around the group. “It’s because I’m pregnant.”
More silence, even starker than before, followed hard on the heels of that announcement. Amanda was all but certain of the single thought foremost on everyone’s mind. Shy, quiet Gwen who didn’t even seem to date much was pregnant?
Irene made a sound of distress. It was no secret that she was as fond as a grandmother might be of someone she’d gotten close to while living at the boarding house. “Gwen, dear—” she began, only to halt in midword as Gwen shook her head.
“There’s probably another thing most of you have just started to wonder about, so I might as well get this all said at once.” Again Gwen paused. “I’m not only pregnant…I don’t know who the father is.” And with those ringing words, she turned on a dime and marched out of the store.
Now the group wasn’t only stunned but clearly shocked.
“I have to go
to her,” Irene said, rising. She was the first out the door, but it wasn’t long before the newest sensation had Amanda’s marriage coming in a distant second as other members of the group left in rapid succession. In a matter of moments, only Amanda and Shelly remained.
“I don’t think I can take any more news bulletins today,” Shelly said as she sank into one of the newly vacant chairs.
Following her example, Amanda sat on the nearest love seat. “Let’s hope the rest of the morning goes better for both of us.”
Shelly folded her arms across the front of her quilted pink jacket. “I’ll go along with that—provided it doesn’t mean you’re hoping I’ll just accept Irene’s explanation for your quick trip down the aisle with Dev Devlin.” She looked her friend straight in the eye. “Now, do you want to give me the real scoop on that, or do I have to try to pry it out of you?”
Amanda told herself she should have known better than to think for even one second that Shelly would just let it drop. And that being the case, she knew she had two choices. She could simply refuse to discuss the whole thing, or she could take Shelly into her confidence. Either way, their longtime friendship would survive. Amanda was sure of that. But she couldn’t deny that she was tempted to confide in another woman, and none was as close to her as this one.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll come clean. Just be prepared for some more surprises.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Shelly took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“It all started when I received a phone call from a lawyer in Pine Run.” With that, Amanda began to explain the events leading up to her marriage, holding nothing back except the circumstances surrounding her father’s death; she remained determined to keep those details private. As she approached the end of her story, she also left out the fact that her new groom had kissed his bride witless seconds after the ceremony was over. She wasn’t letting anyone know how much that kiss had affected her, not even Shelly. And especially not him.
“You weren’t kidding about more surprises,” Shelly said when Amanda finished. “Four newly discovered half siblings would have been enough. But then Dev offering to marry you so you could gain custody really tops it off.”
