by Lisa Jackson
“Besides,” he added bitterly, “she was up for a big promotion. If push came to shove, she’d rather live in L.A. without me than move to Colorado. So we separated. I moved. She stayed. We saw each other a couple of times a month and it was a sham. There was no reason to try to hold the marriage together.”
He kicked at the grass. “We agreed on a quick divorce. Three weeks after the divorce was final, Jennifer married her boss, a man twice her age who had grown children and didn’t want to start another family. The next time I saw her, she admitted that the baby she’d aborted wasn’t even mine.”
Chandra thought she might get sick. How could someone use this man—this wonderful man?
“Jennifer had been having an affair with her boss for years—which explained her meteoric rise in the firm of James, Ettinburg, Smith and McHenry,” he said, his voice still edged in anger. “And I was the dupe who believed that we still had a chance.” He snorted in self-disgust, and Chandra wished for the right words that would ease his pain, but there were none and she had to content herself with touching his arm.
“The irony of it all was that it didn’t matter. Sure, I would’ve wanted my own kid, but I would’ve brought up Jennifer’s baby as if it were my own. But it was too late.”
“And that’s when you gave up on love and marriage?” Chandra asked, her heart aching, her fingers still gripping his forearm.
He slanted a glance down at her. “I think a man who’s so involved with his work has no right to ask a woman to be a part of his life.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “Oh, you’re so wrong.” Moved by his agony, she threw her arms around him and kissed his lips. “You would make a wonderful husband and a terrific father!” Then, realizing what she’d said, she dropped her arms and swallowed hard.
“Why, Ms. Hill,” he drawled, his eyes sparkling, “is that a proposal?”
“I already told you, I’m not interested in getting married,” she said quickly, a flood of embarrassment washing crimson up her neck. How could she have done anything so rash? This entire evening had been an exhibition in throwing away her self-control. What was happening to her?
“But I should be ready to walk down the aisle again?” He laughed without a trace of mirth, and she realized that the two women in his life who should have loved him, his mother and his wife, had hurt him so badly, he might never trust another woman again.
“You know, Chandra,” he was saying, still discussing marriage, “there’s a saying that what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Or something like that.” He picked a stick from her hair, and she smoothed a wrinkle from his shirt, wondering what marriage to him would be like. Would there be long days of comfortable familiarity or passionate nights of lovemaking and unexplored emotions?
“What about you?” he asked suddenly, and her insides turned to jelly. “I bared my soul. Tell me about your ex-husband.”
Chandra wanted to tell him everything, but found the words difficult. “He was a doctor,” she finally said, and Dallas froze, his face instantly serious.
“Was he the reason you dropped out of medical school?”
“I, uh, really didn’t drop out,” she said, then at his look of amazement, shook her head. “I can’t talk about it, but Doug was and is a major reason that I decided to give up my practice.”
Dallas’s hand covered hers. “Whatever happened,” he said gently, and Chandra felt tears prick her eyes, “it was a mistake. Whatever he did, it was wrong.”
“You don’t know—”
“No, but my guess is that you’re a helluva doctor.”
She blushed, and blinked back tears. “Come on, O’Rourke,” she said, eyeing the darkening sky and sensing that they’d said enough for one evening. Someday she’d tell him everything, but not tonight. She didn’t want to ruin this night with more bitter memories. “We’d better go while it’s still light.”
They rode back to her house in relative silence. The forest seemed to close around them, and dusk sent long, purple shadows through the woods. Even Sam seemed to pick up on the mood, and he followed behind Brandy, keeping to the trail, never bounding off into the undergrowth.
By the time they returned to the house, the first stars winked in the sky. The temperature had dropped several degrees with the coming night. Together, Chandra and Dallas took care of the horses, removing the saddles, blankets and bridles, and brushing the animals down. Dallas forked hay into the manger while Chandra filled the water trough and measured out oats.
Max, grinding his ration of grain, nuzzled her chest. “Oh, you think you should get some special favors, do you?” she asked, chuckling, then found apples for each eager set of lips.
Once the horses were cared for, Dallas and Chandra walked across the yard to the house. The moon had risen and offered a silvery light to the shadowed hills.
Chandra asked Dallas in for coffee, and it felt natural to sit with him at the table, cradling cups, watching the steam rise. He was silent, brooding about something, and yet the silence was companionable. An unspoken question lingered between them—just how far would this relationship take them? Was this to be only a one-night stand? An affair? Or a lifetime together?
The coffee was nearly gone when Dallas scraped his chair back. “So where do we go from here?” he asked, his gaze roving through the small rooms and up the stairs to the loft, where her bed was visible through the slats of the railing.
“Do we have to make a plan?” She held her empty cup in a death grip and stared into the stain on the bottom of the earthenware as if she could read the future from the dregs of her coffee. But she knew that they couldn’t just let things lie as they were.
Yet, they hardly knew each other. One afternoon of making love hardly seemed enough of a basis to plan a future together.
“You told me once that you were in the market for a husband.”
“That was a joke—”
“Kind of a joke,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “You were half-serious.”
The air seemed to grow cooler yet. Chandra rubbed her arms. The conversation was making turns she hadn’t expected, turns she wasn’t certain she could deal with. But she had to be honest with him. “Well…actually I’m in the market for a father for J.D. If I adopt him, and I intend to, I’ll need a father figure for him, or so my attorney insists. So being a husband would probably be secondary,” she admitted, hating the awful truth, but knowing it had to be said.
“That could get messy.” He glanced out the window to the night beyond the glass before returning his gaze to her. “J.D.’s dad—whomever you choose—might not like me hanging around.”
So he wasn’t interested. Of course not. What had she expected? she silently chided herself. A proposal? “I suppose not.” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice and refused to back down. She gambled, wondering if she’d lost every last ounce of her sanity. “You told me that you wanted children. And J.D. does need a father—a father he can depend upon, a father to love him.” She rotated the cup in her hands and, gathering all her courage, looked Dallas steadily in the eyes. “This could be an opportunity of a lifetime—for both of you.”
“Are you propositioning me?” he asked, but there wasn’t a glimmer of humor in his eyes.
Why not? she thought, her palms beginning to sweat. “I—I think that getting married for the sake of the baby wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” she said. “People marry for much worse reasons. And it—it wouldn’t have to be forever. You said that if your wife’s baby hadn’t been yours, you still would have raised it as your own. Well, J.D. doesn’t even have a biological father.”
Dallas gazed at her face. “What that boy needs is two parents who love each other, two people who will provide a stable life for him.”
“No baby is assured of that,” she said boldly.
He rubbed his palms on his pants. He appeared more nervous than usual. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know if I can change, Chandra. I was sure that I’d never
marry again, never have children. Hell, until today, I was convinced that I should avoid you.”
“And now?” she asked breathlessly, her own hands sweaty around her empty cup.
“And now you’ve nearly convinced me to take the plunge. I’m on the verge of doing something we might regret for the rest of our lives.” He held her gaze for what seemed a lifetime, staring at her as if measuring her. “This is absolute madness.”
“I don’t think so.” Good God, was she actually saying this—trying to convince him to walk down the aisle with her? Why? Just for J.D., or did she feel a pang of guilt for making love with Dallas this afternoon? Or were there deeper reasons still, reasons she couldn’t yet confront? She studied the handsome lines of his face and knew in an instant that she wasn’t speaking from remorse. No, she liked Dr. O’Rourke and thought living with him wouldn’t be unpleasant. He evoked emotions within her she didn’t want to analyze, so she justified marrying him by telling herself it was all for the baby.
Dallas shoved his hands into his pockets, but he never stopped staring at her. “I don’t know if it would work—hell, I’m half-certain it won’t, but I’m willing to marry you—for the sake of the child, to help you win custody. Because I don’t think that kid could find a better mother.”
Time stood still. The clock by the front door was ticking loudly. Here was her chance. He was offering to marry her for J.D.’s sake. And hers. A thousand doubts, like dark moths, flitted through her mind. She ignored them. Touched, she swallowed back the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes. “You—you don’t have to be so noble.”
He snorted, and the muscles of his shoulders bunched. “Noble? I’ve never done a noble thing in my life.”
“But…this…” She shook her head, and he touched the tip of her chin, raising her face with one long, insistent finger.
“There’s a benefit for me, too, you know.”
She was afraid to ask, but a warning sensation swept through her, chilling her blood.
“I’ll be making love to you every night, and that’s worth something. In fact, it’s worth a lot.” He smiled then, softening the blow.
Nonetheless, all of her romantic fantasies turned to dust. He only wanted to sleep with her. Nothing more. And yet there were times when his gentleness nearly broke her heart.
“I just want you to understand,” he said softly, “that I’m not going to accept anything in name only. I won’t expect you to cook or clean or pamper me, but I’ll want you in my bed. And I’ll want to know the truth about your past and the baby.”
That seemed more than fair—if a little cold. Gathering her courage, Chandra lifted her chin and met his gaze with hers. If he had the right to bargain, so, she reasoned, did she. “Fair enough,” she agreed, her voice shaking. She couldn’t believe she was discussing marriage, for crying out loud. She’d sworn off men and marriage, and here she was bargaining.
Not exactly the silken thread from which romantic dreams were woven. “But, if you marry me, I’ll expect you to be faithful.”
His lips moved slightly, and he cocked a dubious eyebrow. “A tough request, Ms. Hill,” he mocked, “since I’ve been celibate for three years. It’ll be damned hard to give up all that womanizing. Nonetheless, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
With that, he took her hand and drew her to her feet. Rounding the table, he yanked her toward him, deftly swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, sealing their bargain with a kiss.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARRIAGE. THE WORD RATTLED around in Chandra’s brain until a headache threatened the back of her eyes. And to think how she’d practically gotten down on her knees and begged him to marry her! Good Lord, was she going out of her mind? The idea of marrying him for J.D.’s sake had seemed so right last night. Curled in his arms as she’d tried to sleep, she’d known she’d made the right decision. But this morning, with dawn streaking the hills and the soft call of a morning bird in the distance, she told herself she was crazy. She couldn’t marry Dallas. Not even for J.D. Or could she?
She hadn’t turned on any lights as she’d crept downstairs to stand at the window, steam from her coffee rolling across her face as she gazed at the sunrise, blazing magenta in the distance. Dallas was now awake and in the shower. A few minutes earlier, he’d leaned over the rail and playfully suggested that she might join him. She’d declined, telling him she had to feed the horses, but glancing up at him and catching a glimpse of his naked, well-muscled torso, corded shoulders, beard-darkened chin and blue eyes, she’d almost given in. “Your loss,” he’d said with a flash of white teeth, and she’d believed him.
But she had needed time to sort through everything in her mind. Yes, she wanted the baby. Desperately. But to marry a man who wasn’t in love with her? What kind of future would a loveless marriage bring? For herself? For J.D.? For Dallas?
Upstairs, the water was still running, but soon she’d have to face him again. And do what? Say last night was a big mistake? Surely he had misgivings—second thoughts?
She gulped her coffee and it burned the back of her throat. “Come on.” She whistled quietly to Sam, then, snagging her denim jacket from a peg by the door, set off across the yard. Her boots crunched in the gravel and made footprints on the frost. The air was clear with the sharp bite of autumn. A few dry leaves blew from the trees and danced across the drive.
She shoved open the barn door, and Max nickered eagerly. “Hungry?” she asked, snapping on the lights as the smell of horses, dung, leather and dry hay greeted her. “Stupid question, eh? When are you not famished?”
Max snorted. The horses were anxious, pawing or snorting, liquid brown eyes trained on her. “Breakfast’s coming,” she promised as Brandy shoved her velvet-soft muzzle over the stall. Cayenne eyed Chandra as well, and the other horses nickered softly. “Yeah, you guys all know I got myself into a lot of trouble yesterday, don’t you?”
She climbed the loft and kicked down a couple of bales, only to hear the barn door open. “Chandra?” Dallas asked, and the horses swung their attention toward the noise.
“Up here.” She hopped down and pulled out her knife, slashing the twine as Dallas grabbed a pitchfork and began scooping hay into the manger.
“I thought maybe you’d run out on me,” he said, his eyes dark in the barn. “I figured you might have come down with a case of cold feet.”
No reason to lie. “Second thoughts.”
Dallas threw another forkful into Max’s manger, and his shoulders moved effortlessly beneath his shirt. Chandra’s throat went dry at the thought of touching his arms and running her fingers along the ridge of his spine.
“You don’t have to go through with it, you know.”
“I just don’t want to make a mistake.” She found the grain barrel, scooped up oats with an old coffee can and began pouring the grain along the trough.
“It’s your decision, Chandra,” he said slowly.
“Doubts, Doctor?” she accused as she patted Cayenne’s head. The sorrel gelding tossed his mane and dug his nose into the grain.
Dallas lifted a shoulder. “It’s one thing to be spontaneous, but I’m not sure we really thought this out last night.” As Chandra walked past him toward the grain barrel again, he touched her lightly on the shoulder, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Believe it or not, I think we can make this work, but it is a little premature. So let’s take things a little slower—one step at a time. Then if either party changes his or her mind, no big deal. We’ll call the whole thing off.”
Relief surged through her, and it must have been evident in her face, because he laughed.
“You know, Ms. Hill, this was your idea. I’d be satisfied with a hot and heavy affair.”
Her cheeks burned hotly. “But that wouldn’t help J.D.”
A hint of a darker emotion flickered in his eyes, and his mouth tightened slightly. He dropped his hand and started shoving the rest of the hay into the manger. As he hung the pitchfork on the wall, he spotted
a mousetrap, tripped, without a victim. “You need a cat,” he observed.
“You have one?”
He shook his head. “Animals complicate life.”
“So how’re you going to deal with a wife and child?”
“And a dog and a small herd of horses,” he added, resetting the trap and placing a piece of grain on the trip. “That’s the hundred-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it? Too bad I don’t have any answer. What about you, Ms. Hill, how’re you going to deal with a husband and a child?”
“The child will be easy,” she predicted, his good mood infectious. She couldn’t help teasing him a little. “But that husband—he’s gonna be trouble. I can feel it in my bones.”
His grin widened slowly. “You’d better believe it.” Quick as a cat, he grabbed her and yanked her, squealing and laughing, into his arms. “Somehow, I think you’ll find a way,” he whispered, just before his lips crashed down on hers in a kiss that melted her knees.
When he finally lifted his head, he stared long into her eyes. “Yes,” he said, as if answering some questions in his own mind, “this is going to be interesting. Very interesting.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “We’d better get moving. I’ve got to be at the hospital by eight. And you’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Chandra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
* * *
“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?” Roy Arnette’s jaw dropped open. “What is this, some kind of joke?” Seated behind his desk, he’d been surprised by her visit, and was even more surprised when she’d told him her intentions.
“No joke, Roy,” she assured him, declining comment on the fact that Dallas, only three hours earlier, had given her an out, should she want one.