by Sharon Swan
“I nearly keeled over when he did,” Amanda admitted.
Shelly smiled a small smile. “I can just imagine.”
“Of course,” Amanda added, “it’s not a marriage in the ordinary sense of the word.”
“I suppose not, since you both seem to have agreed it will be in name only.” Shelly hesitated a beat. “Still, that sort of relationship might not be so easy to maintain.”
Amanda frowned. “What do you mean?”
Her friend lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s a man. You’re a woman. Whatever arguments you’ve had in the past have had to be set aside. And you’ll be living together.”
“But sleeping separately,” Amanda pointed out.
“Plus there’s the sheer truth that he’s darn good-looking,” Shelly continued as though Amanda hadn’t spoken. “Now that you two have joined forces, who knows what it could lead to.”
“I’ll tell you what it won’t lead to, and that’s the two of us growing old together,” Amanda said with assurance.
It was Shelly’s turn to frown. “Why are you so certain of that?”
Amanda countered with a question of her own. “Do you honestly think that Dev Devlin is the type to ever really settle down—not just for a few months, or even a few years, but for a lifetime?”
Shelly mulled that over for a minute. “I wouldn’t have thought so,” she said at last. “I’d certainly have to agree that he seemed content living a bachelor’s life.”
“Yes, and he’ll probably be content to go back to it after the adoption is final and my sisters and brothers have a secure future.”
“Maybe,” Shelly conceded. “I suppose that remains to be seen.” Once again her smile broke through. “When do the kids get here?”
“It could be in as little as a week, the authorities said.” Amanda straightened in her seat. “And speaking of the authorities, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned yet that Louise Pearson is the social worker assigned to the case.”
Shelly’s smile took a wry slant, as though she had no trouble recalling how she’d found herself dealing with the same social worker months earlier. “It won’t be easy to put anything over on her.”
“I’ve already discovered that,” Amanda said in a rueful tone. “At the moment, Family Services thinks my marriage is a love match, so that has to be the official version as far as most people in Jester are concerned, too.”
Shelly nodded her agreement. “How do you plan to break the news about the children?”
“As simply and quietly as possible.”
“Not like your wedding announcement, hmm?” Shelly asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Amanda had to laugh. It was either that or groan. “Thank goodness no one got around to commenting on the lack of a honeymoon.”
“Uh-huh. They all probably got a good look at your ring, though.” Shelly leaned forward and studied the object in question. “It must have made quite an impression. Heaven knows, it’s impressing me.”
Amanda dropped her gaze to the beautiful diamond ring that, as it had more than once by now, seemed to wink back at her. “He didn’t have to buy me this.”
“But he did. And I’m assuming he picked it out.” At Amanda’s nod, Shelly said, “Your husband has good taste.”
Her husband. Amanda wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to hearing that. “He does,” she had to agree.
She also had to wonder what the man she’d married would have to deal with once the Heartbreaker Saloon opened its doors.
I’D HAVE EXPECTED hell to freeze over first.
My mouth fell halfway to my feet when I got the news.
Jumping Jehoshaphat, it can’t be true!
Those comments—just a sample of all he’d heard from the minute the first of a steady stream of customers had started showing up at noon—continued to echo in Dev’s mind as he walked home from the Heartbreaker early that evening. He could only be grateful that he’d planted those earlier seeds with his head bartender, who’d been the sole person to admit to not being flat-out amazed by recent events.
“I figured something was up,” Roy had said, nodding his head wisely. “The signs were there, if a man looked hard enough.”
That had produced several thoughtful expressions, as if some of the bar’s regular clientele were wondering what they’d missed. Dev chose to take it as a welcome indication that things just might start to settle down soon, enough anyway so that he’d no longer have to dodge nonstop questions about his marriage.
And at least being married had given him an excuse to get away for a few hours. “Told my wife I’d be home for dinner,” he’d announced before leaving. A roar of laughter had gone up at that news, followed by some suggestive comments as he’d shoved his way out through the bar’s swinging doors. His bride probably wouldn’t have appreciated them, but then, if she’d been around none of those remarks would have seen the light of day.
Dev was sure of that. As far as most folks in Jester were concerned, Amanda was still a real lady, even if her new husband had never laid claim to being a refined gentleman.
The appetizing aroma of something cooking greeted him as he let himself into the house. He doubted it came from a frozen tray popped into the microwave—his most tried-and-true method of producing a meal when he played chef. He left his hat and jacket in the entryway closet, then let his nose lead him down a long hallway toward the kitchen at the rear of the house.
His wife was there, standing at the brand-new, state-of-the-art, stainless-steel stove, where one of the shiny new skillets he’d bought at Main Street’s biggest store, The Mercantile, was sizzling away.
“Something smells good,” he said, leaning a shoulder against one side the arched doorway. Much to my surprise, he could have added. He and Amanda had agreed that, since most people would probably expect it of newlyweds, it would be smart to have dinner together as often as possible. But he hadn’t been prepared to find her cooking up a storm, even though she’d fixed a tasty breakfast for both of them.
He also hadn’t expected to see her wearing a casual top and khaki pants. That morning, she’d come downstairs dressed in one of her silky blouses paired with a slim skirt, every inch the take-charge business-woman. Now she looked…younger, he decided. Maybe even more approachable, somehow.
Still, he didn’t take that for a minute to mean she’d welcome another kiss. Not from him. Even as she turned and offered a small smile, he was sure on that score.
“What smells good is stir-fry,” she told him. “I bought some fresh vegetables at the Stop ’N’ Shop after I closed up the bookstore.”
“Never thought about those when I stocked the refrigerator last weekend,” he admitted.
Her smile widened just a bit. “I noticed.”
He straightened from the doorway and ambled into the room. Per instructions, the contractor had gone all out to fill it with broad counters, tall cabinets and top-of-the-line appliances, all lit by a string of high windows that overlooked the large yard.
“Do you plan on cooking dinner every night?” he asked.
She turned back to the skillet. “If you’ll handle the clean-up, I’ll take on the job most nights.”
“Deal.”
That won him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Sure you don’t want to think about it?”
“Uh-huh. Not unless you plan on cooking only vegetables.”
“I know how to cook lots of things,” she assured him.
“Barbecue?”
“Yes. But I think I’ll leave that to you and the huge grill I spied out on the rear deck.”
“Damn,” Dev muttered.
She flicked off the stove burner. “Thought you might get away without cooking entirely, did you?”
He heaved a gusty sigh. “A man has his dreams.”
“So,” Amanda told him with another small smile, “does a woman. In my case, while I like to cook, I can generally do without housecleaning.”
Dev aimed a glance around him. “No doubt
about the fact that this is a lot of house to clean. After dinner, I think we’d better talk about hiring some help. An outside service could probably do the bulk of the cleaning, but we’ve also got to have someone to look after the kids while we’re both at work.”
“I have to confess to hoping it won’t be necessary for me to stop working entirely,” she acknowledged. “Nonetheless, I’m prepared to do whatever I have to when it comes to the children, including closing the Ex-Libris.”
“Even if it’s going to hurt like hell,” he said, sure of his words. By now, he had a good handle on how much the place meant to her, and the upshot was that whatever thoughts he’d had about expanding his business at the cost of hers were fast disappearing. He’d never laid claim to being a sensitive man, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t sympathize with how she felt. Then, too, he could still pursue his idea of making some improvements to the Heartbreaker without the added space, and he supposed they’d come up with a way to make sure she could continue to run her own business, as well, although that might take some doing.
He heaved another sigh. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out to solve our problems on the home and work front.”
Her gaze met his. “Are you beginning to have second thoughts about this whole thing?”
“No,” he replied with total honesty. He’d made a commitment to keep four kids safe and he was sticking to it. “Now,” he continued, offering a wry smile of his own in a bid to lighten the mood, “do I have to just keep smelling dinner, or are you going to feed me?”
SHE FED HIM. They sat at a round, glassed-top table in the breakfast nook taking up one large corner of the kitchen. Despite the casualness of the setting, there was room enough to easily seat six, while the long pine table holding center stage under a sleek metal chandelier in the spacious dining room off the hall would accommodate twice that many.
But for all of the dining space available in the house, Amanda had failed to find either a tablecloth or so much as a single placement during an earlier search. She’d been forced to settle for two double sheets of paper towels to hold the heavy white stoneware plates and shiny silverware she’d retrieved from the kitchen cabinets.
Even being a millionaire, she thought with some amusement, hadn’t transformed the man seated across from her into the kind of person who considered proper table linens as much a part of the meal as the food being served. A person like her own mother, Amanda had to concede, remembering how she herself had been raised to value the small trimmings that added a personal touch to almost any setting.
What had her husband’s—yes, she had to start thinking of him that way—mother been like? Amanda couldn’t help but wonder. Along with most of the town’s longer-term residents, she knew his father had worked at the slaughterhouse in Pine Run, and that both his parents had died of exposure when they’d been stranded in their old pickup on a snowy road during a particularly potent winter storm a few years after Amanda had arrived in Jester. They’d left two sons behind, Dev and his older brother. While Dev had remained in Jester, his brother had long since departed.
“I’ve got to admit this is pretty tasty,” Dev remarked as he forked up another slice of the boneless chicken breast she’d mixed in with the vegetables.
“Thanks.” Amanda waited a second, then asked, “Was your mother a good cook?”
“Not especially,” he said after a beat. And that was all he said before lifting his water glass for a short swallow.
She toyed with a small spear of broccoli. “Do you ever hear from your brother?”
“No.” He offered a thin strip of chicken to the cat stretched out at his feet and received a grateful purr in return.
“How about your uncle?”
“Not since he hightailed it out of town after I bought the Heartbreaker from him.”
He went back to concentrating on his dinner, leaving Amanda to come to the swift conclusion that he had no desire to talk about his family. Knowing it was his choice, she dropped the subject, and silence reigned for several moments before she spoke again. “Shelly and Connor came back from their trip early. She stopped by the bookstore this morning, right along with what seemed like half the female population of Jester.”
“The Heartbreaker had more than its share of visitors, too,” Dev assured her. “The doors were barely open when they started showing up.”
“I can imagine.” Amanda set her fork down and reached for her iced tea, deciding it was only fair that she pass along some more news. “I think you should know that after the rest of the crowd left, I told Shelly the reason behind our getting married. She agreed to keep it to herself.”
“Which means she will,” he said with a confident nod. “I can’t deny she’s been a friend to both of us, even though she must have sometimes felt like she was between a rock and a hard place.”
The apt description of what Shelly had undoubtedly had to deal with on more than one occasion made Amanda laugh. “I suppose that’s true.”
Not for the world did she plan to so much as mention Shelly’s theory that Dev Devlin just might be too attractive for her good friend to live with on a day-today—or, more likely, night-to-night—basis and resist on a man-woman level. Well, Shelly was mistaken, Amanda told herself as she returned to her meal. But not about his being attractive, an inner voice contended. She ignored it and speared another piece of chicken.
“Since you had a freezer full of ice cream, I thought we’d have that for dessert,” she said when they’d both polished their plates clean—his after two heaping helpings.
“Ice cream always works. I’ll get rid of this stuff first.” True to the deal they’d made, he cleared off the table while she relaxed. Working with a smooth efficiency she had to admire, he was loading the large dishwasher when the front doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” she offered, rising.
“If it’s anyone with another stack of questions about our marriage,” he grumbled, “just tell them we’re too busy to satisfy their curiosity.”
Her lips curved. “After today, I’m almost ready to do that.”
“So do it,” he said as she started for the doorway to the hall. “And if that doesn’t put a lid on it, tell them dinner’s over and I was gearing up to make love to you on top of the kitchen table. That should have them leaving in a hurry.”
She came to a dead halt. “I think that’s going a bit far,” she replied after taking a moment to regroup. Then, without so much as a backward glance, she walked out of the kitchen, reminding herself that there was no reason for her pulse to take off on its own. He’d only been joking. He had to be joking. And the joke would be on her if she let it affect her.
Amanda opened the door and found herself being greeted by two beaming faces belonging to a couple who could have doubled for Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus—white hair, roly-poly bodies and all. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” they said in unison.
She recognized Ike and Mabel Murphy, although she’d never had much occasion to speak to them before, other than nodding a hello or sharing a comment about the weather when they’d bumped into each other in the shops everyone in town frequented.
“I didn’t realize you lived on Maple Street,” Amanda said.
“Actually, we live right next door,” Ike told her. “In the small blue house with the white trim.”
“And we thought it only fitting to bring you a little something,” Mabel added, “especially since I had my hair done at the Crowning Glory today and heard all the excitement about your wedding.” She extended a square baking plan covered with foil. “They’re brownies—fresh from the oven.”
“Thank you.” Amanda took the offering and stepped back. “Please come in. I know my…husband will want to thank you, too.” Satisfied that she’d gotten the word out with only a brief hesitation, she summoned a smile.
“Well, just for a minute,” Mabel said as she walked in. “We know you newlyweds must want to be alone.”
Choosing to ignore that brightly
issued remark, Amanda brought her visitors back to the kitchen, with Mabel oohing and aahing all the way. “You have an impressive house,” the older woman soon told both Devlins.
“Mighty fine,” Ike seconded as the two men shook hands.
“Appreciate your thinking so,” Dev said. At his invitation, the couple took a seat at the glass-topped table.
Ike stroked his bushy white beard. “We noticed you coming by to check on the progress as the place was being built.”
Dev hid a wry grin at that, because he’d done some noticing of his own. The frilly curtains in the house next door had parted more than once during his regular trips.
“Mabel brought us some homemade brownies,” Amanda told him, dropping a glance down at the pan she held.
He nodded and leaned a hip against the counter. “Guess we can have those for dessert with our ice cream.”
“Yes.” Amanda set the pan next to him and removed a layer of foil. Immediately the sweet scent of fresh baking filled the air. “Please feel free to join us,” she told the Murphys.
They traded glances before Ike asked, “Are you sure you two want company?”
Amanda looked at Dev. “Of course. We just finished dinner and were planning to discuss getting some household help. But that can wait, can’t it?”
No mention of his comment about making love on the table, Dev noted. Not that he expected one. The grin he’d held back broke through. “Whatever you say…sweetheart.”
Mabel sighed. “It’s so wonderful to see young love in bloom.”
After a second of sheer silence, Amanda wasted no time in saying, “I’ll get some plates.” She turned and started toward one of the cabinets. “Will you get the ice cream…dear?”
“Uh-huh.” Dev did as instructed, and in a matter of moments they pulled out padded chrome chairs and joined the older couple.
Dev scooped up a spoonful of warm chocolate brownie paired with a side of rapidly melting vanilla and moaned after the first swallow. It was either that or purr like Rufus, who’d abandoned a spot near the table for what the cat probably considered a cautious distance. “This is downright delicious,” he told Mabel.
