The Man She'll Marry

by Ann Roth

  Cinnamon swallowed. “Wh-what prize did she win?”

  Her expression posed a different question that had nothing to do with Abby and everything to do with Nick.

  She wanted him.

  The knowledge aroused him more than any fantasy. He was so focused on her eyes and mouth and so hot for her, he barely heard the question. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. Clearing it, he tried again. “Two weeks at an elite math camp this summer, tuition paid.”

  He’d saved enough for the required deposit on her room and board. The rest he’d earn if he had to work day and night, seven days a week.

  “How wonderful for her.” Her eyes darkened, and the need he saw there burned into his very soul.

  God, he wanted to kiss her. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’ll give her a good start toward getting into college.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, as if she’d heard his thoughts.

  She was impossible to resist. Giving in to his fierce hunger to touch her, he cupped her chin. Her skin was smooth and soft and warm, and beneath his palm her pulse jumped wildly.

  “You mean that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, but her yearning look told him otherwise.

  “See, I have this big problem,” he confessed, staring into her eyes. “I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want to be.”

  “I understand completely. That’s why I was cool a little while ago—trying to keep my distance.” She gave her head a slow shake. “We’re not right for each other.”

  “Yet here we are.” Stroking her jawline with his thumbs, he coaxed her face up.

  Her eyelids dropped a fraction, the thick, dark lashes seductively lowered.

  Blood pounded in his veins. “You don’t know how much I want to kiss you right now.”

  “I think I do.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “What should we do about that?”

  “The only thing we can do—get this over with so we can put it behind us and move on.”

  The keys dropped from her fingers.

  “You think that will work?” she asked, searching his gaze.

  “Whether it does or not, I’m going to kiss you.”

  CINNAMON KNEW SHE should stop Nick before it was too late, but she needed his kiss the way she needed air. Every nerve and muscle in her body primed and aching, she closed her eyes and offered her mouth. It seemed like forever before his lips at last touched hers, tentative and soft, a teasing brush of flesh against flesh. And again.

  She didn’t want teasing. She wanted passion. Now.

  “That’s no kiss,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Impatient and suddenly ravenous, she threaded her fingers through his thick black hair as she’d longed to do for days, and pulled him closer. Somehow her coat had come off, bringing them into more intimate contact. Standing on her toes, sore shin forgotten, she planted a fevered kiss on his lips.

  “Very nice,” he murmured hoarsely, “but not enough.”

  His arms wrapped around her and anchored her tight against his hard body. “Open your mouth.”

  She did. He slanted his head and slipped his tongue inside. This kiss was hotter than she’d ever imagined or experienced.

  She tasted coffee. And lost herself in a haze of sensation—the taut strength of Nick’s arms, the solid warmth of his body, the enticing scent of pine soap and man. Heart pounding, she breathed his breath and shared hers in turn. Moisture pooled between her legs, along with a deep, needy ache. She hooked the calf of her injured leg behind his knee and wriggled against the rigid flesh of his desire.

  A growl rumbled his chest. He slid his hand to her aching breast, cupped her and squeezed gently. Dear heaven, she was fast melting beyond the point of no return. With very little effort she would climax.

  The force of her need scared her. Nick was wrong for her. This was wrong!

  “Nick.” She unhooked her leg and pulled back. “We can’t do this.”

  Groaning he released her, his eyes fevered and his breathing ragged. He glanced at the bulge straining against his zipper and offered a humorless smile. “Looks as if this experiment failed.”

  Cinnamon stared at the proof of his desire. No amount of logic could erase her longing for release, both for herself and Nick. That terrified her. To keep from reaching out to him, she scooped up her coat and keys. “I…I have to go now.”

  She whirled away and hurried through the sliding door.

  EARLY TUESDAY AFTERNOON Fran ushered the mayor and the other three town council members into the small conference room inside the town hall building. In a bold-faced lie she’d told Cinnamon she was at yet another Valentine’s Day planning committee. Now, feeling sneaky but good about what she was about to propose, she closed the door firmly behind her and joined the others at the oval table.

  They stared expectantly at her, four fortysomething professionals who worked at demanding, full-time jobs while also setting the town budget and creating the policies that helped Cranberry run smoothly.

  “I appreciate your taking time from your jobs,” Fran said. “I know you’re wondering why I called this emergency conference when I’m not even on the council, so I’ll get right to the point.” She looked at each person in turn, noting their curious expressions. “The cranberry factory is about to go under and we have got to do something about that.”

  “That’s why we’re holding a town hall meeting tonight.” Mayor Eric Jannings, who owned Jannings Real Estate, folded his meaty hands on the table. Great furrows appeared in his fleshy forehead. “Why call a secret, emergency meeting now?”

  Anne Trueblood and her law partner, Pete Sperry, looked equally puzzled, and Chet Avery, principal of Cranberry Grade and High School, raised his rust-colored brows in question.

  “Because I think I know a way to save our factory.”

  All four council members leaned forward intently.

  “You all know my friend Cinnamon Smith is visiting from L.A.”

  Chet nodded. “Abby Mahoney mentioned that. She says Miss Smith is real nice, and that you and she gave her a gift certificate for winning the math bee.”

  “She prefers to be called Cinnamon, and she is wonderful,” Fran said. “At the moment she’s also an unemployed consultant. Her expertise just happens to be helping companies on the verge of bankruptcy. She’s saved dozens, some in worse shape than Tate’s. She toured the place and talked with some of the people who work there, so she knows what’s going on.” She paused, then delivered the idea that had broadsided her a few hours earlier. “I think we ought to recruit her to save it.”

  During the thoughtful silence that followed, the mayor rubbed his chin pensively. Chet pondered the matter while rubbing the space between his brows, Pete scribbled on the yellow pad he’d brought along and Anne frowned at the table while absently smoothing the chignon at her nape.

  “She probably charges an arm and a leg,” Anne said at last.

  The mayor nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. We don’t have the money.”

  “I know,” Fran said, aiming a look at the mayor. “That’s where you come in. You have clout, and Tate might listen to you. You could call him and convince him to hire her.”

  “I can ask,” Mayor Jannings said with a doubtful frown. “But Tate’s a tough nut.”

  “Hell, Eric, you’re the best salesman in town.

  You could sell a cranberry bog to a person looking for vacation property,” Pete enthused, a look of pure admiration on his overworked face. “Don’t ask the man, sell him.”

  After a thoughtful silence, the mayor straightened his shoulders, the movement causing his blue sports coat to strain across his bulky shoulders. He nodded. “Will do.”

  “Great,” Fran said. “Because Cinnamon will be at tonight’s meeting. If we could start off with the good news that Tate’s hired her, people will leave feeling hopeful.” Including Cinnamon, who’d seemed unusually glum and edgy last night and this morn
ing, no doubt over worry about her lack of job prospects.

  Anne nodded. “Heaven knows, we could all use a dose of optimism.”

  “Good plan,” Chet said approvingly. “But even great salespeople fail sometimes. What if Eric doesn’t convince Tate to hire her?”

  The mayor’s fingers tapped rapidly on the tabletop. “Then we’d better have plan B ready.” He glanced around the table. “Suggestions, anyone?”

  “Isn’t that why we called tonight’s meeting?” Anne asked. “For ideas on how to save the factory?”

  “We’re bound to get some worth pursuing,” Pete said. “Still, we should each come with one or two.”

  Fran shrugged. “Even if Tate doesn’t want to hire Cinnamon, we can ask her for advice.”

  “Let’s hope she has some,” the mayor said.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday night Cinnamon and Fran entered the town hall well in advance of the meeting, behind a throng of worried, chattering citizens.

  “There’s a huge crowd here,” she commented over the buzz of conversation vibrating through the spacious room. “Are you sure I should take up a seat?”

  Fran gave her a don’t-be-silly look. “Of course. I want you to see how our town works and meet the mayor and city council members. And on the selfish side, this is a way to spend time with you.”

  “You’ve convinced me,” Cinnamon said. Only six days left before she headed back to L.A. to do…who knew what. No job offers had come through, which was unsettling, to say the least. The familiar fear knotted her stomach, but she didn’t want to deal with that tonight. She forced a smile. “Thank you again for letting me visit.”

  Fran looked guilty. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m truly sorry I haven’t spent more time with you.”

  “And I’ve told you a dozen times, I’m fine by myself. At least over the last eight days we’ve seen each other more than in the past five years. Any time spent together is something to be thankful for.”

  Two men and a woman dressed in business suits waved and started forward. Fran waved back. “There are three of the town council members I’d like you to meet. Come on.”

  Cinnamon pushed through the sea of people, recognizing a number of familiar faces. Men and women greeted her with smiles. She exchanged hellos with Bill Patterson and Doc, who asked about her much-improved shin. She noticed Liz, who was busy with two somber-faced male companions and didn’t see her.

  “Look at Liz,” she commented to Fran. “A teenage boy on one arm and a man on the other. Neither one looks happy about that.”

  “Those are her son, Bret, and her brother, Andy.”

  Cinnamon’s jaw dropped, and Fran chuckled at her obvious surprise before she sobered. “Both work at the cranberry factory, so you can understand why they’re worried. Look, there are Joelle and Noelle.” Cinnamon and Fran waved.

  She greeted Rosy and Claire and Betsy, and met Betsy’s husband and adorable young son and daughter.

  So many friends. She almost felt as if she belonged here. At the thought, Cinnamon gave her head a mental shake. She was no small-town girl. She loved the energy that pulsed through big cities and all the amenities urban life offered. But amenities and hustle-bustle couldn’t compensate for the warmth of the people in Cranberry. I could never live here, she silently argued, puzzled that she would even entertain such thoughts. There are no job opportunities and no available men with the qualifications I want.

  Certainly not Nick. Hardly aware of her actions, she glanced around, searching for him and his family, but not finding them.

  Would she see him?

  After what happened yesterday she hoped not.

  Those kisses had ignited passions she still didn’t understand and had blown her plan to wall off her emotions straight to hell. The very memory of kissing Nick set her body humming, the familiar hunger stirring low in her belly.

  Oh, could he kiss. He was probably a fantastic lover, too. But she wasn’t going to find out about that. Lust after him or not, she couldn’t handle a quick fling.

  After those kisses, she’d stayed away from the Oceanside the rest of the day, spending time with Betsy, who miraculously hadn’t asked any probing questions. Then she’d driven aimlessly through the winding hills surrounding Cranberry, the dark sky and endless rain suiting her mood. Later she’d holed up in the town library, using their computer to search out information on various consulting firms.

  She’d returned to the Oceanside after five, when Nick was sure to be gone. Today he’d stayed away, claiming work elsewhere, which was a huge relief. Because the only safe thing to do was to avoid him.

  Yet even as she reminded herself, she craned her neck, searching for him. Catching herself, she frowned. If she were smart she’d change her plans and leave tomorrow.

  “Here they come,” Fran said, indicating the council members. “Let’s save seats for ourselves.” Indicating two folding chairs in the front row, center, she slipped out of her jacket. “Give me your coat.”

  As she tossed both wraps on seats, the council members reached them.

  “Great crowd, huh?” Fran said over the noise. “Cinnamon, meet Anne Trueblood and Pete Sperry, law partners, and our school principal, Chet Avery.”

  The three council members shook hands with Cinnamon and welcomed her.

  “You must be proud of Abby Mahoney,” she said to Chet.

  His face lit up and he nodded with enthusiasm. “She’s a talented student, indeed.”

  “The entire town is thrilled,” Anne said. “Fran probably told you about plans to salute Abby at next week’s Valentine’s Day dinner and dance. I hope you’ll be there.”

  Cinnamon thought again about the warm, open people she’d met, all of them welcoming her as if she belonged. She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, I’ll be gone by then.”

  “She leaves for L.A. next Monday,” Fran explained. “Unless…”

  Cinnamon didn’t miss the sly glances Fran and the council members exchanged. “Unless what?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, Anne smoothed the jacket of her navy wool suit and asked her own question. “Have you enjoyed your visit here?”

  “Very much. Cranberry is beautiful, and the people are friendly.” Especially Nick, who put a whole new spin on friendly.

  “Pleased to hear that.” Pete beamed as if she’d complimented his family. “We’d like to increase tourism, so spread that around, will you?”

  “Here comes Mayor Jannings.” Anne nodded at the portly, balding man striding toward them, his progress slowed by the people who greeted him. “He’ll want to meet you.”

  Cinnamon barely had time to wonder why before the introductions took place.

  “Any friend of Fran’s is a friend of mine,” the mayor said. “I’m only sorry my wife isn’t here. She’ll be along shortly, though, and I know she’ll be delighted to meet you.”

  It was almost as if they were wooing her. What for? Cinnamon eyed Fran suspiciously and earned an innocent smile.

  “Well,” Chet said, “we’d best head to the stage. Nice meeting you, Cinnamon, and again, welcome to Cranberry.”

  Pete, Anne and the mayor added similar comments. They drifted off, slowly making their way up the wooden steps to the podium and seats onstage.

  A tingle climbed Cinnamon’s spine and she sensed someone staring at her. Even before she glanced over her shoulder, she knew who it was.

  Nick.

  His forest-green flannel shirt flattered his dark complexion and brown eyes, but as his gaze locked on hers, her observations clouded. Catching her breath, she moved toward him.

  NICK GAVE A MENTAL GROAN. He hadn’t expected to see Cinnamon tonight—except in his imagination. Day and night she plagued his thoughts, keeping him miserably horny. No matter how often he told his brain he didn’t want her, his body didn’t give a penny nail’s damn.

  “Look—Fran and Cinnamon! Hi!” Abby raced toward them, deftly dodging people in her way.

  Sharon fo
llowed, but Nick hung back, fighting a losing battle to keep his distance as Cinnamon’s welcoming gaze pulled him toward her like an invisible string. Only when Abby prodded Cinnamon for attention did she switch her focus to his niece.

  Trudging forward, hands curled into fists at his sides, he did the same. Anything to distract his mind and help him keep his hands off the woman whose kisses still burned in him.

  Abby’s little face beamed. “I really like the bookstore gift certificate. Mom’s taking me there on Saturday. Thank you both so much.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Sharon gushed, still aglow over her child’s success despite the grave circumstances of the evening’s town meeting. “Abby loves to read, and so do I.”

  “That’s great,” Cinnamon said. “Books have always been a huge part of my life. I couldn’t live without them.”

  Nick didn’t read unless forced. More the reason to keep his distance from her. As Cinnamon, Abby, Fran and Sharon discussed favorite books and authors, he hovered behind his sister, shifting uncomfortably and hoping nobody asked him for his favorites.

  “Not only do you read a lot, but you’re top in the state in math!” Fran grinned. “I feel as if I know a real celebrity.”

  Abby covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

  “Hey, can we sit with you?” Sharon asked, gesturing toward the empty seats in the front row.

  Nick understood why those spaces were vacant. Most people hated to sit in the front, himself included. He would have preferred to lurk unnoticed in a corner in the back, with the crowd blocking Cinnamon from view. But with his sister and niece heading for the empty seats, he had no choice but to follow.

  Sharon and Fran flanked Abby, leaving two chairs for Nick and Cinnamon.

  “You and Cinnamon get to sit together,” Abby said with a wide grin.

  Cinnamon shot him a stricken look. He knew exactly how she felt. They were stuck side by side, which was pure torture. Wasn’t tonight bad enough without this? He rolled his eyes.

  Careful not to touch her—that would be dangerous—he sat down and offered her a stiff nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”