Her Necessary Husband

Jenna had to laugh. “Me, too, as well you know.”

But that was long ago, and the upcoming event wasn’t precisely the normal kind of first date. It wouldn’t be a casual get-to-know-you occasion. Or only on the surface, perhaps. Underneath, far more serious matters were in the balance, ones that would demand answers before too long.

With Myra Hastings leaving in a matter of weeks, Ross Hayward had no choice but to make some arrangements. He would either be hiring another housekeeper—which wouldn’t be her, Jenna knew. Or he’d be taking a wife—which might be her.

In fact, he seemed more than willing to consider her for the latter position. The woman she’d become realized it was so, even if the girl who would always remain a part of her still couldn’t quite believe it.

HE WAS RUSTY at this dating business.

Ross couldn’t help but acknowledge that truth as he pulled out a chair for Jenna at one of the quieter eating spots in Harmony. He’d been out of college for only months the last time he’d ventured on a date as a single man. Not long afterward, he’d become a husband, and then years later, a widower with little desire to ask any female out.

Nevertheless, despite his lengthy break from the dating scene, the Mountain Meadows Café had seemed like a good bet for tonight. Not as starchy as the dining room at the Founders Club, where he continued to maintain a membership yet seldom visited these days. And not as casual as the diner where he’d chosen to conduct a job interview with the woman seated across from him, her deep burgundy evening suit providing a colorful contrast to both his own charcoal-brown suit and the pale tablecloth.

“This is nice,” she said, glancing around. Her small ruby earrings sparkled in the flickering glow of the single candle resting in the center of the table.

Again she wore her hair caught back in a thick coil at the nape of her neck. And again he wondered how it would look flowing like a dark waterfall down her back.

He also had to wonder if he would ever find out. If he would ever get the chance the run his hands through those gleaming strands. If…

Ross took in a breath and reined in his wandering thoughts. “The view is one of the best around,” he told his companion.

“It has to be.” Jenna studied a picture-postcard scene through the wall of clear windows beside her. Even in the growing darkness, enough light remained to make out the tall pines dotting the side of a low mountain.

“Would you like a cocktail or some wine to start things off?” he asked.

She opted for white wine, and he ordered a bottle of Chardonnay when the young waiter approached. He’d decided to join her despite the fact that a premium brand of Scotch on the rocks was his usual drink, one a long line of Hayward men had favored. Even his father, he thought, hadn’t broken with tradition there.

Silence fell between them on the waiter’s departure, as if neither knew exactly what to say next, until Ross picked up his menu and offered some comments on meals he’d enjoyed at the Mountain Meadows in the past.

“I don’t think you can go wrong with any of the fish selections,” he said. “The last time I was here, I had the grilled salmon and certainly didn’t regret it.”

“As it happens, I like fish.” Jenna studied her menu. “Even tuna fish is a hit with me. I used to have to fight a cat I once had for it. I swear Bingo had a sixth sense that brought him running every time I opened a can, no matter how quietly.”

“Was that when you lived in Nevada?”

Jenna looked up and hesitated for a brief moment. “Yes. What made you think that might be the case?”

He lifted one shoulder in an offhand shrug. “Bingo, cards, gambling. They seem to fit.”

“I suppose so.” She closed her menu. “I’m going to take your recommendation and try the salmon.”

He decided on the pan-fried trout and again searched for a subject of conversation once the wine appeared and their orders were taken. He could have asked Jenna more about her days in Nevada—would have, if he hadn’t noted how she’d put a subtle yet swift end to the earlier conversational turn.

A sign that she’d rather not discuss that particular time in her life? Could be, he concluded, mindful of the fact that there were times in his own life he had no wish to discuss, either.

He finally settled on food as a safe bet. “What do you like to cook?”

“Pasta is one of my favorites.” Jenna sipped her wine. “Goodness knows, I ate enough of it when I was a kid. My mother makes the best red sauce ever. I learned from watching her, so I’m pretty good at it myself.” She paused. “Can you cook?”

“Not really. Then again, my mother never had a great deal of interest in that area, either.”

She met his gaze. “I assume you had a housekeeper to take care of kitchen duties when you were growing up.”

“Uh-huh. We had several over the years, as a matter of fact.” But none of them ever looked like you, Ross added to himself.

“And after you got married?”

He ran a long finger down the smooth stem of his glass. “Cynthia preferred to run her own household,” he said. And then it was his turn to change the subject, because his former marriage was one of the things he’d just as soon not discuss. “How do you like the wine?”

Whether conscious of it or not, Jenna returned his earlier favor by readily going along with the switch in topics. “It’s excellent.” She glanced down at her clear goblet and the golden liquid it held. “Very smooth.”

As the evening continued, Ross couldn’t help but wish he were half as smooth when it came to wining and dining a woman. But all in all, it wasn’t going too badly, he decided when they’d done justice to two good meals and lingered over after-dinner coffee. Thankfully they’d found one subject that seemed to suit them both when it came to maintaining a steady flow of conversation, and that was Harmony itself.

It almost—but not quite—kept his thoughts from drifting to something he’d been asking himself in the back of his mind since halfway through dinner.

When they arrived back at the house where Jenna was staying, should he kiss her good-night?

Ross cleared his throat. “I’ll never forget when we had the record snowfall,” he said in another bid to silence the nagging question for which he had no firm answer. “I must have been around twelve, and I remember standing chest-high in one of the drifts.”

Jenna sipped her coffee. “That was the year it was nearly over my head in spots.”

“And did you build the biggest snowman you could, as I did?”

“Mmm-hmm. My sisters and I made fast work of it, too, since snow seldom lasted for long here. We tied a bright red scarf around his neck, as I recall, and thought he looked very dashing—until he started to lean to one side and promptly fell over. Then we consoled ourselves with a snowball fight.”

“I recall a few of those myself,” he told her. “Being an only child, I relied on my friends and a cousin around my age to provide a satisfying battle. We usually wound up half burying each other in the stuff.”

Jenna laughed, and found that it felt good. Somehow the thought of very young Ross Hayward covered from tip to toe with snow put her more at ease. It wasn’t like her to let her nerves rule, which they mostly had since he’d arrived on the O’Brien doorstep to pick her up. She usually had a much better hold on them.

Certainly her escort had done nothing to foil her efforts in that respect, either. This might not be quite the normal version of a first date, but so far he’d made no reference to the startling suggestion he’d come up with days earlier. She could only be thankful that he hadn’t brought it up again, because at this point she was still a long way from sure how she would respond if he actually wound up proposing.

At the moment it was far easier to put herself to the task of being a genial companion. With that in mind she kept up her end of a casual conversation, which remained centered on the past as they talked about the grammar school they’d attended and the first-grade teacher who’d taught several generations of the city’s residents.

“I haven’t seen Miss Hester since I got back,” Jenna said. “I wonder if she’d remember me.”

“My guess is she would,” Ross replied. “Although she’s over eighty now, she’s still as sharp as a tack. I think she really runs half the town, although no one will admit it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I could never get away with anything with her,” Jenna confessed.

He leaned back in his chair. “Neither could I, despite the fact that we’re related, at least through marriage.”

Now Jenna was surprised. “You are?”

“Yes. My grandfather married Hester Goodbody’s sister.”

Harmony was indeed, she thought, a small community. “I do know that your grandfather was mayor at one time.”

“That’s right. And,” he added, “there’s a possibility that I’ll be running for that office, too, provided our current mayor decides not to run for reelection.”

“Would you really want to do that?” she had to ask, again surprised. He’d seemed content with his business career.

“My grandfather would have wanted it,” he told her.

But that wasn’t the question she’d asked, Jenna noted.

She also noticed the lack of any mention of his father. And maybe that wasn’t quite so surprising. She’d heard about the events that had taken place during the time she’d been away. As far as her friend Peggy knew, the distinguished-looking man Jenna had little trouble recalling hadn’t set foot in Harmony since he’d abruptly walked out on his wife in favor of, as rumor had it, a far different lifestyle in California. As to the woman he’d left behind, she had immediately filed for divorce and had refused to discuss the subject in public right up to her death.

It wasn’t long before Ross paid the check and took a last sip of his coffee. “Ready to go?”

Jenna nodded and gave herself a mental pat on the back. She’d relaxed and had even managed to enjoy herself.

As he had before, Ross steered them both through the cheerful maze of small, candle-lit tables with a light grasp on her elbow. And as before, Jenna felt the barest grip of his long fingers right down to her toes. So much for relaxation, she reflected as sheer awareness had her shoulders tensing once more.

Sudden thoughts of how the evening might end surfaced as they left the restaurant and walked across the parking lot to her escort’s late-model blue sedan. If this were an ordinary first date, Jenna knew that something she hadn’t considered until now could well be taken as a fitting way to wind things up.

A kiss—a brief kiss—was almost customary.

Then again, even if this were an ordinary date, could the prospect of locking lips, even briefly, with Ross Hayward ever be judged an everyday average event? Not hardly, she acknowledged to herself. Not by you.

But then, he might not even be considering a kiss.

HE WAS GOING FOR IT. Or he was if he got the chance. If she didn’t slip away from him and head inside the minute they arrived at their destination, Ross thought as they started down a short walkway where a child’s tricycle was parked on one side of the path.

“Nice night,” he said, keeping his voice low as he glanced up at a black sky sprinkled with stars.

“Yes,” was her soft reply.

“Cool but pleasant.”

“Yes,” she said one more time as they reached a plain oak door lit by a small overhead lamp. She looked up at him and held out her right hand. “Well, thank you again for din—”

“I’d like to kiss you.” The blunt words were out before he even considered the tone of them. But he wouldn’t call them back if he could have. If he hadn’t said something, he’d probably be looking at that door closing behind her in a matter of moments.

When she just stared at him, brown eyes gleaming in the darkness, he cleared his throat. “Given the situation, I think we should find out what it would be like.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, it seems logical.” Right, and physical attraction has nothing to do with it, a more candid part of him mocked. He ignored it. “That way, we’ll have a better basis to, ah, make our decision.”

She studied him for a silent second. “So you haven’t reconsidered? You’re still thinking about marriage?”

“I am,” he assured her. “And I’m still of the opinion that, if we decide to go through with it, it would have benefits for both of us. But right now, I’d just like to kiss you. May I?”

She released a short breath. “Okay.”

The word was scarcely out when he lifted one hand to cup her chin. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, taking in her subtle floral scent and reminding himself that this was only a kiss. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—lead to greater intimacy. Whether there would even be an opportunity for any real body-to-body, skin-to-skin intimacy between them remained to be seen.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the moment. And he did exactly that as he deepened the kiss just slightly, just enough to discover that he’d like to take it deeper still, much deeper. Instead he made himself settle for a gentle exploration of a mouth far softer than his own. As he lingered, his blood heated despite the cool breeze, and in a matter of seconds he had to work at keeping an invisible fist tight on his control, denying feet ready to take a last step to get even closer and hands that wanted to wander. All of him, in fact, wanted many things, none of which he could have.

Which he would never have, not with Jenna, unless he became her lover. No, unless he became her husband.

He needed, he reminded himself, a wife.

At last he forced himself to lift his head and to drop the hand still cupped around a silky-smooth chin. Inhaling a rough surge of air, he took a brief step back to let his senses clear. It was hard to believe that a kiss, even an undeniably potent one, had been enough to have him making up his mind about something that would change the course of his life. But it had.

“I know you’re probably not ready to hear this,” he said with a huskiness he couldn’t hide, “but I’m prepared to suggest that we take this…all the way.”

Again Jenna stared up at him, her own breathing far from even. “All the way?” she repeated carefully.

“To the altar.”

There, it was out. And he found he had no regrets. He’d made his choice, although the woman still pinned under his gaze needed some time to make hers. That was plain enough by the way her eyes had gone wide with what might have been shock.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he told her. “I’ll call you in a day or two so we can make plans for another date and talk about it more.”

Jenna merely nodded once in reply. As she let herself into the house, her escort turned and left with a final wave. Moments later she was inside, leaning against the door she’d closed behind her.

She could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers. Still taste the pure, tangy maleness of his questing tongue. Still smell the light, woodsy scent of his cologne. Still…Heavens, she was still tingling all over.

Peggy poked her head out of the doorway to the family room. “Good grief, what happened to you?”

“What?” Jenna blinked.

“That was my question, friend.” Peggy walked down the narrow hall. “What in the world happened? You look like you’ve been knocked for a loop.”

Jenna took a steadying breath. “I’m…fine.”

“Sure, and I’m a rock star.” Peggy crossed her arms over the front of her T-shirt. “Is Ross Hayward responsible for that stunned expression on your face?”

“I suppose so,” Jenna had to concede.

“What did the man do?”

“He, uh, kissed me.” Right before he floored me by proposing on our first date.

But she was keeping that last fact to herself for now, Jenna decided. He really had asked her to marry him, hadn’t he? Yes, although he hadn’t actually done it in the most traditional of manners, his meaning had been clear.

“And that’s the effect his chiseled lips have on the female half of the population?” Peggy’s brows climbed. “I’m impressed.” She paused to take another survey of her friend. “If he’s looking anywhere near as staggered as you are, wedding bells could be in your immediate future.”

Jenna pushed away from the door and was grateful to find that her knees were no longer in danger of folding. “Only if I agree to go along with it,” she managed to counter.

Peggy shook her head over that statement. “I think you’re a goner, Jen. If he can have you looking like that with no more than a kiss, how can you turn him down?”

Choosing to duck a question she knew she’d have to face far sooner than she expected, Jenna only shrugged in reply. “I’m heading off to bed,” she said as the need to be alone grew.

“All right, see you in the morning.” Peggy stepped aside. “After that stunning experience, you’ll probably have some terrific dreams,” she added with a sly smile.

But that prediction proved to be wrong, and later that night Jenna was wishing she actually could dream—about anything—as she stared up at the ceiling in the small guest bedroom. At least it would mean she had finally fallen asleep. It seemed that as hard as she tried to shut it down, her mind remained on full alert and filled with questions.

What she had to do to win any prospect of peace was to try to come to some conclusions, she decided at last.

So, did she really want a husband? she asked herself. She had to admit that she’d always expected when she was growing up to have one at some point. Her parents’ happy marriage had been a wonderful example.

But did she want that husband to be Ross Hayward, former Golden Boy and possible future mayor?

Well, as the man himself had pointed out days earlier, their marriage would provide her with financial security. Which wasn’t a matter she could take lightly, Jenna knew, after growing up in a household where money was usually scarce.

And, as he also hadn’t hesitated to mention, it would give her children. Another thing she couldn’t take lightly, because she’d spoken no more than the truth when she’d told him that she wanted children.

The problem was that she had learned something tonight. Something that had been made plain to her even before Ross, who was obviously a man of action, had rendered her speechless once again by staring down at her with frank directness and suggesting that they take it all the way…to the altar.

Up until hours ago she had privately skirted the issue of an intimate relationship with Ross and how it might affect her. Now she knew that what he could make her feel as a woman was far more powerful than any teenage crush. Even if they became husband and wife, it wouldn’t be easy for her to allow it to become a real marriage in every sense, not when it could lead to her coming to care too much for him. Because if that happened and he wasn’t able to return her feelings as time passed, her heart would be on the line—as it already had been in another relationship, with far from happy results.

So what did she do now?

You take a chance, an inner voice told her, because you can’t turn him down, not when there’s at least hope that it could someday become a genuinely caring marriage on both sides.

Jenna sighed the softest of sighs, somehow, deep at the core of her, recognizing that silent statement as the simple truth. She could toss and turn for still more hours on end, even continue to rack her brain for days, but it all came down to one undeniable fact.

Both the starry-eyed girl she’d once been who had viewed an all-too-attractive Hayward male from a distance, and the levelheaded woman she’d become who had just experienced the impact of his closeness, simply couldn’t say no. Not to him.

So the next move was hers, she knew, and there was no point in waiting for the man in her thoughts to call. Instead she would place a call herself. And then she would say words that would change her life forever.

As impossible as it would have seemed only a short time ago, Jenna Lorenzo was going to marry Ross Hayward.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.