“I wouldn’t be opposed to something cold if you had it.” Matt’s mouth curved in something that was almost—not quite, but almost—a smile, and Jessie’s eyes shifted almost compulsively to his, and she suddenly found the words just pouring out of her.
“I’m so sorry, Matt. I don’t know what I was thinking last night.” Without thinking, she reached out, and her breath caught on something that was nearly a sob when he took her hands in his. “I just… I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’ve thought about it but didn’t know how to go about actually doing something about it, and then you came home and you kissed me, and Lurene said you were sexy and she was right, only I hadn’t thought of you that way until then.”
She was half-aware of Matt drawing her out of the entryway and into the sunny welcome of the kitchen. Now that she’d started, the tangled explanation just kept pouring out.
“In a way, it started with Pammie Sue Jenkins. I saw her at the market a few days before you came home. She was wearing a really ugly maternity dress, and she was so smug about it, and I know it’s stupid but it made me realize how much I wanted one myself.”
“You want an ugly maternity dress?” Matt asked, taking advantage of the momentary pause when she drew a breath. He opened cupboards until he found glasses and took a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator, moving with the easy familiarity of an old friend, and Jessie felt the tension recede a little more. He would hardly be pouring her a glass of iced tea, remembering that she liked one spoonful of sugar and no lemon, if he’d come to tell her that their friendship was over.
“Not the dress,” she said, smiling a little. “A baby. It made me realize just how much I wanted a baby.” She sighed and looked down at the table, tracing her finger over the oak grain. “I’ve always wanted children, and talking to Pammie Sue that day, it just made me realize that I might never have any. She’s my age, and she’s really annoying, but she has two and a half children already, and a twerpy little husband, and she’s so…so smug about it.”
“About the two and a half kids or the twerpy husband?” Matt set her glass in front of her and moved back to lean his hips against the counter, one leg bent at the knee, his foot braced on the curved brass handle of a drawer.
“Both, I guess.” Jessie took a quick sip of tea without tasting it. “Pammie Sue’s an expert at being smug.”
“Everyone’s gotta have a talent,” Matt said.
“I suppose.” It was only now, with the relief slowly seeping through her, that Jessie realized just how scared she’d been. But it was going to be all right. Matt wouldn’t be here like this if he hated her. Drawing a shallow breath, she lifted her eyes to his, her smile still a little uncertain. “I’m really sorry, Matt. I never should have asked you to…what I asked you. I hadn’t thought about how you’d feel afterward if we… about a—” She broke off, feeling her skin heat, knowing he couldn’t fail to see the warm flush in her cheeks. “It was a crazy idea, and I’m sorry I tried to drag you into it.”
Matt didn’t respond immediately. He’d been awake until almost dawn, chewing over his brother’s advice to think about what he wanted. It was quite a shock to discover that he wanted Jessie Sinclair. The knowledge was unexpected, unwanted. His own life was still in pieces. Maybe he’d made the right choice in coming back here, and maybe he was starting to pull it all back together, but he still had a ways to go. The last thing he needed was to start a new relationship with a woman. With Jessie, for God’s sake. With Jessie, who was almost certainly in love with another man, and not just any other man but Reilly, his best friend. It was like something out of a frigging soap opera, he thought with a flash of black humor.
Gabe had asked him to think about what he wanted, and, as he lay there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, the one thought that had been crystal clear was that he wanted Jessie. There was nothing else.
Just Jessie.
He couldn’t put a label on the wanting—maybe he wasn’t ready to do so—but he wanted her in his life. In his bed, God help him. He wanted to bury his hands in her honey-colored hair. He wanted to feel those mile-long legs wrapped around his waist. He wanted to run his hands and his mouth over every inch of her until she sobbed his name. And the thought of her belly swelling with his child was enough to bring him to iron-hard arousal in an instant.
He wanted to sit with her in the warmth of a summer evening, listening to the crickets sing in the darkness. He wanted to walk with her through the winter rain, see her laugh as she danced through the puddles. He wanted to sleep next to her at night and wake up with her in the morning. The wanting was so powerful, so total, that it was as if it had always been there inside him, just waiting for him to acknowledge it.
Maybe it was love. Maybe it was lust. Maybe it was just his own desperate need to reclaim his life, to feel whole again. Maybe he was using her, but, if he was, he could at least give something back. She’d asked him for a child. It would be the sweetest gift he’d ever given.
“Jessie?” He waited until she looked at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. His mouth quirked in a half smile. “If you want a baby, I’ll do my best to give you one.”
She stared at him, her eyes widening endlessly, her mouth dropping open ever so slightly. Shock rolled over her, through her, leaving her mind a perfect blank for the space of several seconds. He really was an incredibly attractive man, she thought, her mind stuttering to life with safe irrelevancies. The sunlight pouring through the window at his back pulled blue highlights from the thick darkness of his hair, like a raven’s wing. His eyes were pure sapphire, framed by ridiculously thick black lashes, and they were looking at her now, waiting for her to say something, to respond to what he’d just said, what he couldn’t possibly have said.
“What?” The single word came out on a squeak.
“You heard me.” His smile widened a little, but his eyes were watchful. Shadowed. “I’ll give you a baby, Jessie, if I can.”
“You… I… Oh God.” Her mouth was suddenly bone dry, and she seized her glass, ice cubes rattling against the sides as she gulped the tea. She should be feeling relief. Excitement. He was offering her her dream. What did she say now?
“Thank you.” It was hopelessly inadequate, but there were no other words.
“Don’t thank me yet, Jessie. There’s a condition.”
“Of course.” She drew a deep breath and felt the expected excitement quiver inside her. A baby. She was going to have a child. Matt’s child. “We can set up whatever kind of visitation rights you want. I’d never try to keep you from—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “I don’t want visitation rights, Jessie.”
“Okay.” Her smile was uncertain. He looked so serious. So very male. “What is it, then?”
“I want you to marry me.”
Chapter Seven
“M-marry you?” Jessie’s voice disappeared on a squeak. He was kidding. He had to be. This was some sort of payback for last night. But he didn’t look like he was kidding. His eyes were still, watchful, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. Oh my God, he was serious. Breathing suddenly seemed to require a conscious effort. Her laughter held a shaky edge of hysteria. “And I thought I was crazy.”
“It’s not crazy. A little…unconventional, maybe, but not crazy.” Matt straightened away from the counter with an abrupt movement that belied his cool outward image. “It’s a sensible arrangement.”
“Arrangement?” Jessie laughed again and shook her head. “You’re talking marriage, Matt. That’s not an arrangement. It’s a lifetime commitment.”
“So is having a baby, and you’re willing to take that on.”
“But I’ve given that a lot of thought.”
“So think about this.” He moved restlessly across the small space between the counter and the stove and then back again before turning to face her, his eyes bright, determined. “I’m almost forty years old, Jessie, and the closest I’ve come to a serious relationship is living with a
woman for six months ten years ago. I was out of the country for four of those months, and when I got back, she told me she couldn’t maintain a relationship all by herself and moved out with my blessing.”
Feet braced apart, thumbs hooked in his front pockets, he seemed almost to vibrate with energy, with demand. She’d never seen Matt like this. But then, he’d never asked her to marry him before.
“You’re almost thirty,” he continued. “and there’s no one serious in your life. You told me last night that you wanted the whole dream—a home, a family, the white picket fence and two cars in the garage. Marry me and you get the two cars right off the bat. We can work on the family while we negotiate on the picket fence.”
“Matt, I don’t know.” She wanted to stand up and move away, get some distance from the energy that seemed to be coming off him in waves, but she wasn’t at all sure her knees would hold her, so she stayed where she was, her head spinning.
“I know, Jessie.” Moving with quick grace, he spun a chair away from the table and sat down on it, so close that his knees nearly brushed her leg, so close that she could see the silvery flecks of color in his blue eyes and feel the heat that radiated from his body. He smelled of soap and some indefinable, warm male scent that made something tighten low in her abdomen. The impact was overwhelming, and she fought the urge to close her eyes against it, or maybe it was the urge to throw herself against his chest and agree to anything he said.
Lust, she thought desperately. Shocking as it was to discover that she lusted after Matt, it was a perfectly understandable reaction. He was practically a walking wet dream, and maybe the only real surprise was that it had taken her so long to notice it. But lust wasn’t reason enough to marry someone.
“Think about it, Jessie.” He leaned closer, and she swallowed convulsively. “We’re friends. We like each other. We know each other. That’s not a bad start for a marriage. We could build something worthwhile together. We could build a family together. A couple of kids, maybe.”
It was hard to think with him so close. Had he always radiated such blatant sexuality and she’d just been too blind to see it?
“What about your work?” she asked, grabbing on to sanity with both hands. “You spend most of your time out of the country.”
“I’m not going back,” he said, and he felt some hidden knot of tension ease at this admission of a decision he hadn’t even realized he’d already made. He said it again. “I’m not going back. I’m quitting. That’s not what I want to do anymore. You’d be taking on an unemployed husband, Jessie.” He grinned, feeling suddenly almost carefree. “There are other things I can do. Other jobs. I’ve got quite a bit of money saved, since I haven’t been around to spend much of what I’ve earned. There’s a publisher who’s been after me to do a book of my photos. Maybe I’ll take them up on it.” He laughed. “Marry me, Jess, and I’ll do the photographs for your grandfather’s book.”
She couldn’t keep up with his quick change of mood. She couldn’t keep up with any of this. “I can’t marry you just to get a photographer for Grandad’s book.”
His expression sobered. “Then marry me to have a baby, Jess.” Leaning forward, he cupped his hands around her face. She thought it might be possible to drown in the blue of his eyes. “Marry me for this.”
His mouth took hers softly, teasing and tasting, his teeth nipping her lower lip with playful sensuality before his tongue slid inside to fence with hers. Jessie’s hands came up, her fingers wrapping around his wrists, clinging to him as the familiar kitchen dipped and swayed around her.
It had been this way the first time he’d kissed her. She’d tried not to think about it, beyond the acknowledgment that making a baby with Matt might not be difficult at all. She’d told herself that the shivering, sliding feeling that ran down her spine was her imagination or the result of too much to drink. But she couldn’t blame this melting sensation on the glass of wine she’d had with dinner last night.
Matt changed the angle of the kiss, deepening it, shifting one hand to cup the back of her head, holding her still for the hot, sweet hunger of his mouth on hers. He wanted to loosen the braid that held her hair so that he could bury his fingers in soft curls. He wanted to pull her out of the chair and into his arms, wanted to feel the weight of her body against his. He wanted her. Just her. Now and tomorrow. For always.
Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back from her, his body clenching with hunger when her mouth clung to his. His breathing shaken, he waited until she opened her eyes, feeling a wave of pure, male satisfaction at the dazed look in their depths. He wasn’t the only one who wanted.
“Marry me, Jessie,” he said huskily. “Marry me and make a baby with me. Make a family with me.”
She blinked at him, struggling to pull her thoughts together. This was a major decision, not one to be made lightly or in haste. Or in lust. God, wasn’t that an incredible thought—that she was lusting after Matt? But that wasn’t the important thing right now. There were things to think about, things to discuss. If she could just remember what they were.
“You really want this, don’t you?” she whispered finally.
“I really want this.” His hands shifted and caught hers, his thumbs stroking over the centers of her palms. “We can make this work, Jessie. I’m sure of it.”
At the moment Jessie wasn’t sure of anything, not even her own name. She looked away from him, trying to think clearly. It wasn’t enough that she was suddenly aware that Matt’s eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen, or that her bones melted when he kissed her, or even that he was offering to make her most fondly held dreams come true. This was a life-altering decision, and it was important that she approach it coolly, make a decision based on calm logic, unaffected by the rapid thud of her own pulse or the searing blue of his eyes.
Matt leaned forward and kissed her softly, his mouth slightly open as it brushed hers, his breath warm against her lips. “Say yes, Jessie. Say you’ll marry me.”
“Yes,” she said, the word slipping out on a sigh that wasn’t—couldn’t be—surrender. “I’ll marry you.”
Matt’s sudden smile made her feel as if she’d been bathed in pure sunshine. She smiled helplessly in return, even as she wondered whether she’d just lost her mind.
It was amazing how little time it took to completely rearrange a life. Two lives. By the time Matt left Jessie’s house, the wedding date had been set and they’d agreed that he would be moving in with her. Her grandfather had left her the house, which sat on over half an acre, most of which was devoted to his extensive rose gardens. The house itself was two stories, medium-size and of no particular architectural style, but it held the indefinable charm that seems to permeate the walls when a house had been well loved for many years. There was even a small basement area—unusual for California—that Jessie had suggested would make a nice darkroom. If he could bring himself to pick up his cameras again.
It was a good house for a small family. His family. God.
Stopped at a red light, Matt leaned his forehead against the wheel for a moment and wondered if maybe getting shot in the shoulder could cause brain damage. It would go a long way toward explaining the fact that he was running—not walking, but running, for God’s sake—straight into matrimony and fatherhood. A family. What the hell did he know about families? His mother had spent most of her life looking at the world through a vodka haze. His father had favored whiskey and dealt with life’s frustrations by beating his sons.
Oh, yeah, he was a perfect candidate for marriage and fatherhood.
Jessie felt as if she’d been swept up in a whirlwind, tumbled head over heels a few times and then set back down with her world in a new order. After Matt left, she wandered out the back door and into the rose garden. The midday sun poured down out of a cloudless, pale blue sky. Dry heat pressed on her from every side, soothing as it warmed.
The garden was laid out in a formal pattern, divided into four quarters around an open area in the center that held a gna
rled and twisted Australian tea tree that her grandfather had nurtured as if it were another child. There was a bench beneath the tree and a fountain that splashed water into a shallow tile pool.
The roses were not at their best this late in the summer, though there were still plenty of blooms nestled among a myriad of greens. Jessie cupped her hands around a blossom the color of ripe apricots and bent to inhale the rich fragrance. It smelled of cloves and rose, a spicy, almost masculine scent that was a surprising contrast to the soft, feminine color.
Every plant was meticulously labeled, but she didn’t bother to look for the name. Her grandfather had known the names of each and every one by heart. He could have told her whether it was a centifolia or an alba or an eglantine, reeled off the parentage and most likely come up with some interesting historical tidbit about this particular variety.
Jessie closed her eyes against a sudden upwelling of grief. She would have given a great deal to be able to talk to her grandfather about the sudden turn her life had taken. Leland Sinclair had been a quiet man who liked to consider his words before he spoke. He’d been able to say more with fewer words than anyone else she’d ever known. Despite the two-generation gap between them, she’d always respected his advice, the more so because he offered it so rarely.
What would he think of her marrying Matt? She rubbed her fingers absently over a silky petal and tried to imagine her grandfather’s reaction to the news that she was marrying, not quite for love, not quite for convenience, but for a sort of hybrid of the two, with friendship and a startling physical heat thrown into the mix. He’d liked Matt. He’d liked Reilly, too, but he’d had more of a connection with Matt.
She flashed suddenly on the year she’d turned eleven. She’d gotten the measles, and the embarrassment of coming down with such a humiliatingly childish disease had caused her at least as much misery as the illness itself. Matt and Reilly had been home from college for the summer, both of them working for McKinnon Construction, and they’d both come to visit her.
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