“Why would you want to do this?”
Greg actually had several answers to her baffled question, every one of which he’d mulled over and discarded, then analyzed and argued all over again. But he didn’t want to tell her that he felt sorry for her. Or that her quiet sensuality was driving him crazy and that he wanted her in his bed. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad or scare her off.
“Because I figured we could help each other out,” he replied, giving her the more logical reasons he’d come up with. “You’ve got to admit you could use a break, Jenny. If you do this, you won’t have to work so hard, your reputation wouldn’t be trashed and you can stop worrying.”
He rubbed the side of his nose. Not all of his reasons were altruistic.
“I’ve also been thinking about your offer, and about what you said. About my father’s estate,” he clarified, because he’d been wrestling with that, too. “Maybe you’re right. If I can focus on selling off everything to use it for something positive, I’d be more inclined to deal with it. I figured if you would do what you offered to do and go through those papers for me, you could help me figure out where the money should go.”
Jenny felt some of the tension slowly leak from her shoulders.
“Are you still interested in doing that for me?” he asked.
Of course she was, she wanted to say. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a confused rush of air.
“I know,” he said, rubbing the side of his nose again. “It’s a lot to think about. It just seems like a good way to help each other out.”
Looking as if he didn’t want to crowd her, or maybe feeling crowded himself thinking about the documents in his bottom drawer, he reached past to open her car door. “You don’t have to answer me now,” he said. “Just take a few days and think about it. Okay?”
Just think about it, Greg had said.
All day Friday as they worked more or less side by side and for the rest of the weekend, Jenny thought of little else. Only when she was working and distracted by the need to answer phones and questions and take orders for blood tests, X-rays and blue-plate specials was Greg’s offer not at the forefront of her mind.
His offer was most definitely there when she returned to her house after finishing the lunch shift Sunday afternoon.
It was a little after four o’clock by the time she changed into jeans and a pullover sweater and picked up her to-do list from the counter. After staring at it for nearly a minute, she carefully set it back down.
If she accepted Greg’s offer she wouldn’t have to do anything else on that list. At least, not now.
His offer. That was how she’d been thinking of what he had suggested, for it certainly wasn’t a proposal in the traditional sense. It was more of an arrangement, she supposed. One that would benefit her far more than him. But the fact that he wanted her help with his father’s estate, that he trusted her with something so intensely personal and painful to him, had eased the awful feeling that she’d overstepped the bounds of their relationship.
What he had offered also left her vacillating between numb disbelief and the heady prospect of reprieve.
In a little more than six months, she would give birth to the life growing inside her, the child who would depend on her for absolutely everything. She had gone from weeks of living each day doggedly looking only toward the future, to accepting that she would now never be able to escape parts of her past. She lived each day dreading the gossip to come, and worried constantly about how she would care for a child in a house she couldn’t afford to heat even if she did get a furnace and new tank. Without storm windows to help insulate the drafty old place, the cost of heating fuel would go through the roof, right along with the heat.
It seemed as if there was always one more expense or problem out there waiting to bite her. Afraid to wonder what that next thing might be, she picked up a roll of duct tape and headed for the crack in the living room window, hoping distraction would help shake the feeling of helplessness that grew inside her like weeds after a spring rain.
That feeling was usually most noticeable in bed at night when there was nothing to divert her thoughts. It tended to come when she was trying to not think about how she’d gotten where she was and the awful emptiness inside her because of it. She felt hollow, as if part of her simply no longer existed. Part of her no longer did, she supposed. The enthusiasm and energy that had once driven her were long gone. But the sense of helplessness bothered her more.
With a quick rip, she tore off a piece of duct tape and knelt by the crack. She had never been one of those weak, dependent women who always seemed in need of being rescued. She’d known what she’d wanted, gone after it and even though her marvelous plans had blown up in her face, she had never felt as if she couldn’t somehow scrape her life back together by herself.
But it wasn’t a matter of just taking care of herself anymore. She had a child to consider. As for putting things back together, she wasn’t doing such a hot job on that score with much of anything.
She’d carefully touched one end of the tape to the crack. She’d just as carefully pressed halfway along the diagonal fissure when the bottom half cracked farther up and simply…fell out.
Slowly sinking back on her heels, she stared at the gap in the window pane.
It was a hole. That was all. Not even a minor blip on the crisis scale, but something about having the glass do the very thing she’d been trying to prevent only compounded the disheartened sensations living in her chest. She hated the powerlessness she felt. Hated the awful void. She hated trying to do everything alone. But Greg was offering her a way to not have to do everything on her own. And even though what he offered was only temporary, and even though he was only offering as a friend, she desperately needed the lifeline he’d thrown her.
Her first priority was her child. Her reputation and her pride aside, what she needed more than anything was to take care of her health while the baby was growing and have a decent place to take it after it was born. If that meant marrying and ultimately moving on to Brayborough with him, then that’s what she needed to do.
There was no relief in her decision. Not yet. It was too soon to feel any sense of ease, too soon to let herself believe that she no longer had to worry. As she moved outside to clean up the chunk of glass that had shattered on the porch boards and tape cardboard over the hole, her only thoughts were of where Greg would be at five o’clock on a gorgeous fall afternoon.
She needed to know he hadn’t changed his mind.
If she’d had a phone, she could have called him. But she didn’t, so it was either drive to his house or wait until morning.
Ten minutes later, worried more by the second that the Fates were only toying with her and that Greg had come to his senses, she hurried to her woodpile to get the wood she needed for heat that evening. She wouldn’t go out to get any once it was dark. The back porch light didn’t work making it too hard to see. Once she had the wood, then she’d go find him.
She had just filled her bucket with kindling and reached for a split log when the familiar rumble of an engine joined the rustle of the breeze in the leaves. Because certain parts for Greg’s damaged SUV were on back order, he still drove Charlie’s truck. She’d come to know the sound of the vehicle as well her own heartbeat.
From fifty feet away she watched the truck pull up to the house and saw Greg step from the cab. He had barely started toward her porch when he stopped. As if he’d felt her presence, he glanced to where she stood beneath the canopy of trees.
The nerves in her stomach jumped as he walked toward her, leaves crunching beneath his boots. The faded jeans and crew-neck sweater he wore did incredible things for his lean, athletic build, but it was his expression she noticed most as he drew closer. He looked as guarded as she felt.
Setting the log she’d picked up back on the pile, she offered a quiet, “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” Greg swept his glance over her face as she brushed
off her hands. Behind her quiet smile she still looked troubled. He’d hoped that what he’d proposed would have eased some of that. “I thought you might come by after you got off work. It’s hard to talk at the office.”
“I was just coming to see you. After I got the wood in,” she explained as her glance fell to his chest. “I thought…I mean, it’s always possible that you got to thinking about what you said, and maybe now that you’ve had chance to think about it yourself, you’ve…well…”
She shook her head as she cut herself off. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and started over. “I just needed to know if your offer is still open.”
He heard the faintest hint of hope in her voice, but whatever hope she felt, she held most of it back. All that really showed was her anxiety. It clouded her eyes, robbed her of the optimistic spirit that had once been so evident.
Wanting that anxiety to go away, not trusting why it tore at him to see it there, he reached toward her.
“Of course it is,” he said, touching his knuckles to her jaw. “I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you were worried about.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Still afraid to believe him, her head moved almost imperceptibly toward his touch.
“Well, I haven’t. And I won’t,” he assured her, feeling that motion against his knuckles. She tried to be strong. She was strong, but at that moment she seemed to need the comfort of that small contact as much as she needed his reassurance. “This will work for both of us, Jenny.”
Hope still didn’t want to break free. She drew an unsteady breath, gave him a faltering smile. “It sounds like it should. And I really want it to…”
“But?” he asked when her voice trailed off.
Jenny’s eyes held his. He looked so certain. So sure. “I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
“No. No,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly stinging. Loath to let him see tears, embarrassed that they were there, her glance fell to his chest.
“What then?”
Blinking to clear the moisture welling along her lashes, she touched her fingers to the heavy cotton covering his heart. His arms looked so strong, his chest so solid. From the moment she’d met him, she’d been drawn by his strength. She would give anything just to be surrounded by it.
She felt the steady beat of his heart. Realizing what she was doing, realizing what she so desperately wanted just then, she ducked her head lower and drew back her hand.
“I’m afraid to believe it’ll be this easy, I guess.”
His hand cupped the side of her face a moment before he tipped up her chin.
The tears were gone. She’d blinked them back. But he knew they’d been there by the brightness that remained. He’d seen enough people’s tears to float a small armada. He’d seen tears of fear, pain and hurt. Tears of frustration and anger. Tears of sadness and joy. There were times when he thought he’d become immune to them, and in many ways he had. It was the struggle that could get him, though. The honest attempt to control whatever might cause them. He respected that. He’d just never felt the way he did seeing Jenny fight for that restraint.
She had a multitude of reasons to simply let go, yet he’d never once seen her cry. That he had nearly made her do what she so valiantly avoided, squeezed hard at his heart.
“Hey,” he murmured, slipping his hands over her shoulders.
He’d never seen her look so badly in need of being held. Not caring to consider how much he wanted her in his arms, telling himself he was thinking only of her, he drew her toward him.
“You have nothing to be afraid of. Nothing,” he promised, when personal promises weren’t something he made to a woman.
It never occurred to him to question what he said. Something eased inside him as she slowly sagged against his body, seeking his solace, making him think of how small and fragile she felt. The bones of her back seemed as delicate as a child’s beneath his larger hands, and when he felt her sigh at the comfort he offered, he was aware of nothing so much as his need to protect her.
That need might have felt dangerous, too, had he not just breathed in the scent of her hair. With her hands fisted against his chest, his hand at the back of her head, he became aware of the heat slowly rising in his blood.
Her thighs skimmed his as she drew closer. Her stomach brushed lightly against his zipper.
“So,” he said, because he needed to think of something other than the feel of her slender body against his. “We’re going to do this?”
Jenny’s forehead rubbed against his sweater as she gave a small nod.
“Please,” she asked, though all she really cared about at the moment was that she was finally where she wanted to be.
She had suspected how it would feel to be in his arms. She’d longed to be there, more often than she could even recall. But she’d had no idea how safe it would feel to be held by him. It was as if nothing more could happen to her there. She was protected, sheltered and she wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where she was for as long as he would let her.
She desperately craved the security he was offering. However temporarily. She just didn’t trust the strength of the need she felt for him just then. Nor did she want him to know that that soul-deep need was there.
It took every ounce of fortitude she had to keep herself from seeking more of his hard body. The desire to lean on him, to simply cave in and let him take over completely was almost as strong as the sharp pull she felt low in her stomach when she eased back and met his eyes.
With his eyes locked on hers, she was suddenly aware of his body in far different ways. Awareness seemed to burn into her everywhere they touched. As his glance fell to her mouth, she felt her body quicken, her breathing become more shallow.
She wasn’t at all prepared to deal with the sensual pull she felt toward him. He was offering her comfort. Nothing more.
Caution filled her as she eased back.
Greg eased away, too, letting her go before she could pull away herself. The incredible feel of her was not something he should be thinking about. He shouldn’t be considering how beautifully her soft curves would fit beneath him. He shouldn’t been thinking, either, about how tempted he was to pull her back.
“It really will be all right,” he said, thinking it might be wise for them both to focus on practicalities. “There’s plenty of room in the house, so it’s not as if we’ll always be bumping into each other.”
He offered the assurance for himself as much as for her. Winter nights could be long, and while he would appreciate her company, a little distance would be a good thing. “We just need to decide if we want to get married this week or next. The sooner we do it, the easier it will be for people to assume the baby is mine if someone does start to suspect you’re pregnant.”
He had a point. He also had a way of keeping her slightly unsettled. The thought of how close they would have been for such a possibility to exist did strange things to her already sensitized nerves. He was a man with an unrelenting need to serve his purpose, yet he could be incredibly sensitive. He would be an amazing lover.
The unbidden thought had her heart jerking hard as her glance shied from his. “I’ll leave that up to you. I’m sure you’ll need time to have a prenuptial agreement drawn up.” She needed to be as practical as he was being. And just as straightforward. As grateful as she was to him for all he had done, for all he was doing, she needed him to understand she expected nothing from him but temporary use of his shelter and his name. They would be married. Though they hadn’t openly discussed the details, each knew the marriage would end. Considering that he would certainly want to keep his property and earnings to himself—especially considering that he’d inherited an apparently not-so-small fortune—a formal agreement would definitely be in order.
From the way he’d hesitated, it seemed he’d thought of everything about their arrangement but that.
“I’ll have Larry e-mail me something,” he told her, stac
king logs in his arm to carry inside for her. “In the meantime, I’ll see what we need to do to get a license, and you can decide when to give notice at the diner.”
Picking up her bucket of kindling, she followed him inside. “I can’t totally quit on Dora.” The woman had given her back her old job without question. She owed her. “The next six weeks are the busiest time of year for her. Especially on weekends.”
“Then help her until she can replace you.”
She planned to do just that. She also knew that Dora had received calls from a couple of high-school girls in the area looking for temporary work. Once the weather turned and the visitors left, Dora and the Bagley sisters could easily handle the diner on their own.
“You’re welcome to sleep at the house tonight if you want,” he said, eyeing her bed on the way in. “Amos is tied up next Tuesday, so he and I are playing checkers tonight instead. I won’t be home until nine, but I’ll give you my key.”
Jenny gave him a sideways glance. They were no more playing checkers than she was flying to Mars. Tonight would be another reading lesson. Everyone in town would know that.
“Bertie and her friends will have enough to talk about when we show up married,” she replied. If she stayed at his house now, her car would be seen and rumors of an affair would start flying. “I’d really rather not get them started until then. If I stay here until we’re official, they won’t have much to criticize.”
“Then, tell you what,” he said, leaving the logs by the old woodstove. Pulling out his keys, he headed back to the front door with another glance to the comforter and blankets on the floor. “Forget about next week. We’ll do it this Friday. Since the office closes early on Friday, anyway, see if you can get someone to cover for you at the diner and we can go to St. Johnsbury then.”
Chapter Nine
Jenny had always thought she would be married in a white gown, a veil with yards of tulle and carrying flowers in every imaginable shade of bright. She’d thought her older and only sister would be her attendant, that the cake would be multi-tiered and that there would be friends and family everywhere. She’d imagined every detail carefully planned and nothing left to chance.
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