Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'

“How long did you say you’ve been married?” Nash asked, cutting off a piece of his steak.

“Thirty-seven years,” her father told him.

“And it’s been smooth sailing all that time?”

Savannah wanted to pound her fist on the table and insist that this cross-examination was unnecessary.

Marcus laughed. “Smooth sailing? Oh, hardly. Joyce and I’ve had our ups and downs over the years like most couples. If there’s anything special about our marriage, it’s been our commitment to each other.”

Savannah cleared her throat, wanting to gloat. Once more Nash ignored her.

“You’ve never once entertained the idea of divorce?” he asked.

This question was unfair! She hadn’t had the opportunity to challenge his clients about their divorces, not that she would’ve wanted to. Every case had saddened and depressed her.

“As soon as a couple introduces the subject of divorce, there isn’t the same willingness to concentrate on communication and problem-solving. People aren’t nearly as flexible,” Marcus said. “Because there’s always that out, that possibility.”

Joyce nodded. “If there was any one key to the success of our marriage, it’s been that we’ve refused to consider divorce an option. That’s not to say I haven’t fantasized about it a time or two.”

“We’re only human,” her father agreed with a nod. “I’ll admit I’ve entertained the notion a time or two myself—even if I didn’t do anything about it.”

No! It wasn’t true. Savannah didn’t believe it. “But you were never serious,” she felt obliged to say.

Marcus looked at her and offered her a sympathetic smile, as if he knew about their wager. “Your mother and I love each other, and neither of us could say we’re sorry we stuck it out through the hard times, but yes, sweetheart, there were a few occasions when I didn’t know if our marriage would survive.”

Savannah dared not look at Nash. Her parents’ timing was incredible. If they were going to be brutally honest, why did it have to be now? In all the years Savannah was growing up she’d never once heard the word divorce. In her eyes their marriage was solid, always had been and always would be.

“Of course, we never stopped talking,” her mother was saying. “No matter how angry we might be with each other.”

Soon after, Joyce brought out dessert—a coconut cake—and coffee.

“So, what do you think of our little girl?” Marcus asked, when he’d finished his dinner. He placed his hands on his stomach and studied Nash.

“Dad, please! You’re embarrassing me.”

“Why?”

“My guess is Savannah would prefer we didn’t give her friend the third degree, dear,” Joyce said mildly.

Savannah felt like kissing her mother’s cheek. She stood, eager to disentangle herself from this conversation. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mom,” she said as if suggesting a trip to the mall.

Nash’s mood had improved considerably after meeting Savannah’s parents. Obviously, things weren’t going the way she’d planned. Twice now, during dinner, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She’d expected them to paint a rosy picture of their idyllic lives together, one that would convince him of the error of his own views.

The project had backfired in her face. Rarely had he seen anyone look more shocked than when her parents said that divorce was something they’d each contemplated at one point or another in their marriage.

The men cleared the picnic table and the two women shooed them out of the kitchen. Nash was grateful, since he had several questions he wanted to ask Marcus about Savannah.

They wandered back outside. Nash was helping Marcus gather up his fishing gear when Savannah’s father spoke.

“I didn’t mean to pry earlier,” he said casually, carrying his fishing rod and box of flies into the garage. A motor home was parked alongside the building. Although it was an older model, it looked as good as new.

“You don’t need to worry about offending me,” Nash assured him.

“I wasn’t worried about you. Savannah gave me ‘the look’ while we were eating. I don’t know how much experience you have with women, young man, but take my advice. When you see ‘the look,’ shut up. No matter what you’re discussing, if you value your life, don’t say another word.”

Nash chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Savannah’s got the same expression as her mother. If you continue dating her, you’ll recognize it soon enough.” He paused. “You are going to continue seeing my daughter, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t object?”

“Heavens, no. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of my little girl?”

Nash didn’t mince words. “She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

Marcus nodded and leaned his prize fishing rod against the wall. “She gets that from her mother, too.” He turned around to face Nash, hands on his hips. “Does her limp bother you?” he asked point-blank.

“Yes and no.” Nash wouldn’t insult her father with a halftruth. “It bothers me because she’s so conscious of it herself.”

Marcus’s chest swelled as he exhaled. “That she is.”

“How’d it happen?” Curiosity got the better of him, although he’d prefer to hear the explanation from Savannah.

Her father walked to the back of the garage where a youngster’s mangled bicycle was stored. “It sounds simple to say she was hit by a car. This is what was left of her bike. I’ve kept it all these years as a reminder of how far she’s come.”

“Oh, no…” Nash breathed when he viewed the mangled frame and guessed the full extent of the damage done to the child riding it. “How’d she ever survive?”

“I’m not being facetious when I say sheer nerve. Anyone with less fortitude would have willed death. She was in the hospital for months, and that was only the beginning. The doctors initially told us she’d never walk again, and for the first year we believed it.

“Even now she still has pain. Some days are worse than others. Climate seems to affect it somewhat. And her limp is more pronounced when she’s tired.” Marcus replaced the bicycle and turned back to Nash. “It isn’t every man who recognizes Savannah’s strength. You haven’t asked for my advice, so forgive me for offering it.”

“Please.”

“My daughter’s a special woman, but she’s prickly when it comes to men and relationships. Somehow, she’s got it in her head that no man will ever want her.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is true, simply because Savannah believes it is,” Marcus corrected. “It’ll take a rare man to overpower her defenses. I’m not saying you’re that man. I’m not even saying you should try.”

“You seemed to think otherwise earlier. Wasn’t it you who assumed I was going to marry your daughter?”

“I said that to get a rise out of Savannah, and it worked.” Marcus rubbed his jaw, eyes twinkling with delight.

“We’ve only just met.” Nash felt he had to present some explanation, although he wasn’t sure why.

“I know.” He slapped Nash affectionately on the back and together they left the garage. When they returned to the house, the dinner dishes had been washed and put away.

Savannah’s mother had filled several containers with leftovers and packed them in an insulated bag. She gave Savannah detailed instructions on how to warm up the leftover steak and vegetables. Attempting brain surgery sounded simpler. As it happened, Nash caught a glimpse of Marcus from the corner of his eye and nearly burst out laughing. The older man was slowly shaking his head.

“I like the coyote, Mom,” Savannah said, as Nash took the food for her. She ran one hand over the stylized animal. “Are you and Dad going to Arizona this winter?”

Nash felt static electricity hit the airwaves.

“We haven’t decided, but I doubt we will this year,” Joyce answered.

“Why not?” Savannah asked. This was obviously an old argument. “You love it there. More and more of your friends are becoming snowbirds. It doesn’t make sense for you to spend your winters here in the cold and damp when you can be with your friends, soaking up the sunshine.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve got a long time to make that decision,” Marcus reminded her. “It’s barely summer.”

She hugged them both goodbye, then slung her purse over her shoulder, obviously giving up on the argument with her parents.

“What was that all about?” Nash asked once they were in his car.

It was unusual to see Savannah look vulnerable, but she did now. He wasn’t any expert on women. His sister was evidence of that, and so was every other female he’d ever had contact with, for that matter. It looked as though gutsy Savannah was about to burst into tears.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice so low it was almost nonexistent. Her head was turned away from him and she was staring out the side window.

“Tell me,” he insisted as he reached the freeway’s on ramp. He increased the car’s speed.

Savannah clasped her hands together. “They won’t leave because of me. They seem to think I need a babysitter, that it’s their duty to watch over me.”

“Are you sure you’re not being overly sensitive?”

“I’m sure. Mom and Dad love to travel, and now that Dad’s retired they should be doing much more of it.”

“They have the motor home.”

“They seldom use it. Day trips, a drive to the ocean once or twice a year, and that’s about it. Dad would love to explore the East Coast in the autumn, but I doubt he ever will.”

“Why not?”

“They’re afraid something will happen to me.”

“It sounds like they’re being overprotective.”

“They are!” Savannah cried. “But I can’t force them to go, and they won’t listen to me.”

He sensed that there was more to this story. “What’s the real reason, Savannah?” He made his words as coaxing as he could, not wanting to pressure her into telling him something she’d later regret.

“They blame themselves for the accident,” she whispered. “They were leaving for a weekend trip that day and I was to stay with a babysitter. I’d wanted to go with them and when they said I couldn’t, I got upset. In order to appease me, Dad said I could ride my bicycle. Up until that time he’d always gone with me.”

Nash chanced a look at her and saw that her eyes were closed and her body was rigid with tension.

“And so they punish themselves,” she continued in halting tones, “thinking if they sacrifice their lives for me, it’ll absolve them from their guilt. Instead it increases mine.”

“Yours?”

“Do you mind if we don’t discuss this anymore?” she asked, sounding physically tired and emotionally beaten.

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Savannah’s sigh of defeat.

“When would you like me to start cooking your dinners?” she asked as they neared her shop.

“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “Just like that, without so much as an argument? You must be more tired than I realized.”

His comments produced a sad smile.

“So you’re willing to admit marriage is a thing of the past and has no part in this day and age?”

“Never!” She rallied a bit at that.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Are you ready to admit love can last a lifetime when it’s nourished and respected?” she asked.

Nash frowned, his thoughts confused. “I’ll grant there are exceptions to every rule and your parents are clearly that. Unfortunately, the love they share doesn’t exist between most married couples.

“It’d be easy to tell you I like my macaroni and cheese extra cheesy,” he went on to say, “but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind in the morning and demand a rematch.”

Savannah smiled and pressed the side of her head against the car window.

“You’re exhausted, and if I accepted your defeat, you’d never forgive me.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“A draw.” He pulled into the alley behind the shop, where Savannah had parked her car. “Let’s call it square. I proved what I wanted to prove and you did the same. There’s no need to go back to the beginning and start over, because neither of us is going to make any progress with the other. We’re both too strongminded for that.”

“We should have recognized it sooner,” Savannah said, eyes closed.

She was so attractive, so…delectable, Nash had to force himself to look away.

“It’s very gentlemanly of you not to accept my defeat.”

“Not really.”

Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head so she could meet his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I’m about to incur your wrath.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

He smiled. It’d been so long since he’d looked forward to anything this much. “Because, my dear wedding coordinator, I’m about to kiss you.”

Four

“You’re…you’re going to kiss me?” Savannah had been exhausted seconds earlier, but Nash’s words were a shot of adrenaline that bolted her upright.

“I most certainly am,” he said, parking his car behind hers in the dark alley. “Don’t look so scared. The fact is, you might even enjoy this.”

That was what terrified Savannah most. If ever there was a man whose touch she yearned for, it was Nash. If ever there was a man she longed to be held by, it was Nash.

He bent his head toward hers and what resistance she’d managed to amass died a sudden death as he pressed his chin to her temple and simply held her against him. If he’d been rough or demanding or anything but gentle, she might’ve had a chance at resisting him. She might’ve had the desire to resist him. But she didn’t. A sigh rumbled through her and with heedless curiosity she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips grazing his jaw. Her touch seemed to go through him like an electrical shock because he groaned and, as she tilted back her head, his mouth sought hers.

At the blast of unexpected sensation, Savannah buckled against him and whimpered, all the while clinging to him. The kiss continued, gaining in intensity and fervor until Savannah felt certain her heart would pound straight through her chest.

Savannah closed her eyes, deep in a world of sensual pleasure.

“Savannah.” Her name was a groan. His breathing, heavy and hard, came in bursts as he struggled to regain control. Savannah was struggling, too. She finally opened her eyes. Her fingers were in his hair; she sighed and relaxed her hold.

Nash raised his head and took her face between his hands, his eyes delving into hers. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

An apology. She should’ve expected it, should’ve been prepared for it. But she wasn’t.

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond so she gave him a weak smile, and lowered her gaze, not wanting him to guess how strong her reaction had been.

He leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled softly. “You’re a surprise a minute.”

“What do you mean?”

He dropped a glancing kiss on the side of her face. “I wouldn’t have believed you’d be so passionate. The way you kissed me…”

“In other words, you didn’t expect someone like me to experience sensual pleasure?” she demanded righteously. “It might shock you to know I’m still a woman.”

“What?” Nash said. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” she said, frantically searching for her purse and the bag of leftovers her mother had insisted she take home with her.

“Stop,” he said. “Don’t use insults to ruin something that was beautiful and spontaneous.”

“I wasn’t the one—”

She wasn’t allowed to finish. Taking her by the arms, he hauled her toward him until his mouth was on hers. Her resistance disappeared in the powerful persuasion of his kisses.

He exhaled sharply when he finished. “Your leg has nothing to do with this. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“Why were you so surprised, then?” she asked, struggling to keep her indignation alive. It was almost impossible when she was in his arms.

His answer took a long time. “I don’t know.”

“That’s what I thought.” She broke away and held her purse against her like a shield. “We’ve agreed to disagree on the issue of love and marriage, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” he said without emotion.

“Then I don’t see any reason for us to continue our debate. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Davenport. Goodbye.” Having said that, she jerked open the car door and nearly toppled backward. She caught herself in the nick of time before she could tumble headfirst into the alley.

“Savannah, for heaven’s sake, will you—”

“Please, just leave me alone,” she said, furious with herself for making such a dramatic exit and with him for reasons as yet unclear.

Because he made her feel, she guessed sometime later, when she was home and safe. He made her feel as if she was whole and without flaws. As if she was an attractive, desirable woman. Savannah blamed Nash for pretending she could be something she wasn’t and the anger simmered in her blood long after she’d readied for bed.

Neatly folding her quilt at the foot of her bed, Savannah stood, seething, taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.

In the morning, after she’d downed her first cup of coffee, Savannah felt better. She was determined to put the incident and the man out of her mind. There was no reason for them to see each other again, no reason for them to continue with this farce. Not that Nash would want to see her, especially after the idiotic way she’d behaved, scrambling out of his car as if escaping a murderer.

As was so often the case of late, Savannah was wrong. Nash was waiting on the sidewalk in front of her shop, carrying a white bag, when she arrived for work.

“Another peace offering?” she asked, when she unlocked the front door and opened it for him.

“Something like that.” He handed her a latte, then walked across the showroom and sat on the corner of her desk, dangling one leg, as though he had every right to make himself comfortable in her place of business.

Savannah hadn’t recovered from seeing him again so soon; she wasn’t prepared for another confrontation. “What can I do for you?” she asked stiffly, setting the latte aside. She sat down and leaned back in the swivel chair, hoping she looked relaxed, knowing she didn’t.

“I’ve come to answer your question,” he said, leg swinging as he pried loose the lid on his cup. He was so blasé about everything, as if the intensity of their kisses was a common thing for him. As if she was one in a long line of conquests. “You wanted to know what was different last night and I’m here to tell you.”

This was the last thing Savannah expected. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Is this going to take long? I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be out of here before your client arrives.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms, trying to hold on to her patience. Their kisses embarrassed her now. She was determined to push the whole incident out of her mind and forget him. It’d been crazy to make a wager with him. Fun, true, but sheer folly nonetheless. The best she could do was forget she’d ever met the man. Nash, however, seemed unwilling to let that happen.

“Well?” she pressed when he didn’t immediately speak.

“A woman doesn’t generally go to my head the way you did,” he said. “When I make love to a woman I’m the one in control.”

“We weren’t making love,” she said heatedly, heat flushing her cheeks with instant color. Her fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arms as she fought to keep the embarrassment to herself.

“What do you call it, then?”

“Kissing.”

“Yes, but it would’ve developed into something a whole lot more complicated if we hadn’t been in my car. The last time I made love in the backseat of a car, I was—”

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have no interest in hearing about your sexual exploits,” she interjected.

“Fine,” he snapped.

“Besides, we were nowhere near making love.”

Nash’s responding snort sent ripples of outrage through Savannah. “You overestimate your appeal, Mr. Davenport.”

He laughed outright this time. “Somehow or other, I thought you’d say as much. I was hoping you’d be a bit more honest, but then, I’ve found truth an unusual trait in most women.”

The bell above her door chimed just then, and her appointment strolled into the shop. Savannah was so grateful to have this uncomfortable conversation interrupted, she almost hugged her client.

“I’d love to continue this debate,” she lied, “but as you can see, I have a customer.”

“Perhaps another time,” Nash suggested.

She hesitated. “Perhaps.”

He snickered disdainfully as he stood and sipped from the take-out cup. “As I said, women seem to have a hard time dealing with the truth.”

Savannah pretended not to hear him as she walked toward her customer, a welcoming smile on her face. “Good morning, Melinda. I’m so glad to see you.”

Nash said nothing as he sauntered past her and out the door. Not until he was out of sight did Savannah relax her guard. He claimed she went to his head. What he didn’t know was that his effect on her was startlingly similar. Then again, perhaps he did know.…

The woman irritated him. No, Nash decided as he hit the sidewalk, his stride clipped and fast, she more than irritated him. Savannah Charles incensed him. He didn’t understand this oppressive need he felt to talk to her, to explain, to hear her thoughts. He’d awakened wishing things hadn’t ended so abruptly between them, wishing he’d known what to say to convince her of his sincerity. Morning had felt like a second chance.

In retrospect, he suspected he was looking for help himself in working through the powerful emotions that had evolved during their embrace. Instead, Savannah claimed he’d miscalculated her reaction. The heck he had.

He should’ve realized she was as confused as he was about their explosive response to each other.

Nash arrived at his office half an hour later than usual. As he walked past his assistant’s desk, she handed him several telephone messages. He was due in court in twenty minutes, and wouldn’t have time to return any calls until early afternoon. Shuffling through the slips, he stopped at the third one.

Susan.

His sister had called him, apparently on her cell. Without further thought he set his briefcase aside and reached for the phone, punching out the number listed.

“Susan, it’s Nash,” he said when she answered. If he hadn’t been so eager to talk to her, he might have mulled over the reason for her call. Something must have happened; otherwise she wouldn’t have swallowed her pride to contact him.

“Hello, Nash.”

He waited a moment in vain for her to continue. “You called me?”

“Yes,” she said abruptly. “I wanted to apologize for hanging up on you the other day. It was rude and unnecessary. Kurt and I had a…discussion about it and he said I owed you an apology.”

“Kurt’s got a good head on his shoulders,” he said, thinking his sister would laugh and the tension between them would ease. It didn’t.

“I thought about what he had to say and Kurt’s right. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Nash admitted. “I shouldn’t have checked up on you behind your back.” If she could be so generous with her forgiveness, then so could he. After all, Susan was his little sister. He had her best interests at heart, although she wouldn’t fully appreciate his concern until later in life, when she was responsible for children of her own. He wasn’t Susan’s father, but he was her closest relative. Although she was twenty-four, he felt she still needed his guidance and direction.

“I was thinking we might have lunch together some afternoon,” she ventured, and the quaver in her voice revealed how uneasy she was making the suggestion.

Nash had missed their lunches together. “Sounds like a great idea to me. How about Thursday?”

“Same place as always?”

There was a Mexican restaurant that was their favorite, on a steep side street not far from the King County courthouse. They’d made a point of meeting there for lunch at least once a month for the past several years. The waitresses knew them well enough to greet them by name.