Marriage of Inconvenience

by Debbie Macomber

  Rich made it worth the wait.

  His mouth slid possessively over hers, coaxing open her lips. His own were warm and moist, gentle and teasing, giving and demanding.

  Jamie was overwhelmed by the variety of sensations he evoked. She felt light-headed and giddy. Appreciated and adored. It seemed that her entire world had been inadvertently turned upside down and she was groping to find her balance.

  She shouldn’t feel this way, she told herself. She shouldn’t be feeling any of these sensations. Rich didn’t love her—not like this. Nothing like this. One kiss, and he made her feel as though she’d never been kissed before, as though she’d never experienced love before.

  Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe this was all in her imagination, her mind creating a warm romantic fantasy in order to appease her conscience. Maybe this was a subconscious effort to wipe out the ambivalence she’d felt during the ceremony.

  The sound of Rich’s older brother clearing his throat brought Jamie back to reality. Rich—her husband—reluctantly let her go and just as reluctantly turned his attention to Judge Webster. The two men exchanged handshakes.

  “Thank you so much for being my witness,” Jamie said to Judge Webster’s secretary. She never did catch the woman’s name.

  “I was pleased to do it,” the secretary told her. She stepped forward and gave Jamie an impulsive hug. “The judge marries a number of couples every year, but I have a good feeling about you and your young man. I think you two are going to be just fine.”

  Jamie didn’t know what to say. She felt like the biggest phony who’d ever lived. It was happening already—the very thing she’d tried to warn Rich about. The feeling of connection. She’d sensed it during the ceremony and even more so with his kiss. But their marriage wasn’t supposed to be about any kind of spiritual or emotional connection. It was supposed to be a convenience, a legal shortcut to giving Jamie what she wanted—a child.

  They were making a mockery of everything marriage was meant to be. Jamie had never felt more like crying in her life.

  She’d tried to convince herself they were doing the right thing. Rich was so confident, so certain, and she believed him because…because she’d always believed him.

  But if they were doing what was right, why was her stomach in knots? Why did she feel as though she was going to burst into tears? And why, oh why, had Rich kissed her the way a husband kisses his wife—the most cherished wife in the world?

  “Congratulations,” Jason said, moving toward her.

  She tried to smile, but her mouth started quivering and tears fell from the corners of her eyes, running down the sides of her face.

  “Jamie?” Jason asked, giving her a hug. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  Jamie didn’t know how Jason managed it, but within minutes they were out of Judge Webster’s chambers and Rich was at her side, his arm around her middle.

  “All right,” he said gently, guiding her down the hall, “why the tears?”

  Jamie rubbed her hand across her cheeks, suspecting she’d smeared mascara over her face in the process. She’d dressed so carefully in her new pale pink suit. Like a romantic fool, she’d had her hair styled and nails manicured—and for what? So she could stand before God and man and say vows they’d never be able to keep.

  “You honestly want to know what’s wrong?” she wailed, snapping open her purse and rummaging around for a tissue. She found one, tucked her handbag under her arm and noisily blew her nose. “You mean you haven’t guessed?”

  “No.”

  “I … I feel dreadful.”

  “Why?” Rich looked completely bewildered.

  “Because I just lied.”

  “Lied?”

  “So did you!”

  “Me?” He sounded even more confused.

  “How can you justify what we did? We stood before Judge Webster and said vows. Vows! Vows are serious. We made promises to each other, promises neither one of us intends to keep.”

  “I can’t speak for you, but I certainly intend to honor my vows.”

  “Oh, right,” Jamie muttered sarcastically, rubbing her hand beneath her nose. “You’re going to love me in…in sickness and health and everything else you said.”

  “Yes.” Rich didn’t so much as blink.

  “How…can you?”

  “True, this might not be a traditional marriage. Nevertheless, it is a marriage. And like I said, I fully intend to honor every promise I made for the full duration of the marriage.”

  “You do?” she asked on the tail end of a sniffle.

  “You mean you don’t?”

  “I … I suppose so. It’s just that I hadn’t thought about it like that. I do love you, you know…as a friend.”

  As Rich walked her toward the elevator, his hands were clasped behind his back and his head was bent. Ever diplomatic, Jason remained a few steps behind them. “The problem,” Rich said, “is that we’ve each put years of effort into finding the perfect mate. We’ve spent years looking for that special person—someone we’d be willing to commit the rest of our lives to—but neither of us found what we were looking for. So when we stood before Judge Webster…” He hesitated as though he’d lost his train of thought.

  “What we were pledging…the seriousness of our decision hit us hard,” Jamie finished for him.

  “Exactly,” Rich agreed, nodding.

  “Then you felt it, too?” She stopped walking and turned to face him, her heart in her throat. Rich had experienced the same reaction she had while they were repeating their vows. He, too, had felt the solemnness of it all.

  “I did…very much,” he whispered. “A wedding ceremony is a sobering affair. If you didn’t understand it before, I want to make it clear now. I’m committed to you, Jamie. That commitment will be the same for the baby once he’s born.”

  “Or she,” Jamie murmured, gnawing on her lower lip. Rich had said as much before, only she hadn’t understood it. He planned to provide financial support for their child and emotional support for her. He’d also insisted they marry so the child would bear his name. But she hadn’t thought of that as a commitment until he’d put it in those terms. A sense of contentment stole through her.

  They continued walking side by side, toward the elevator, which was at the far end of the corridor. Rich matched his stride to hers. He was several inches taller than Jamie, and every once in a while, his shoulder would brush against her. His touch felt intimate and special. Jamie was sure he didn’t intend or expect her to feel anything at his touch, but she did. She couldn’t help herself.

  “It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?” she asked when they stopped to wait for the elevator.

  “Not if our parents find out, it won’t be,” Jason answered for Rich.

  “They won’t anytime soon unless you tell them.” There was a clear warning in Rich’s words.

  “Hey,” Jason said, raising his right hand. “I’ve already promised not to say a word—to anyone. Mom and Dad would have to torture it out of me.”

  Rich chuckled and slowly shook his head. “All Mom would need to do is offer you homemade bread fresh from the oven.”

  “Maybe so. But be aware that the fur’s gonna fly once she learns she missed out on another one of her kids’ weddings.”

  “She’ll adjust,” Rich said, looping his arm over Jamie’s shoulder.

  * * *

  “Are you as full as I am?” Rich asked, leaning back against the upholstered circular booth. His hands rested on his flat stomach and he breathed in deeply.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.”

  Rich had made reservations for their wedding dinner at the restaurant on top of the world-famous Space Needle. He’d planned every aspect of their wedding-day celebration, from the matinee tickets he’d purchased for a musical at the Fifth Avenue Theater, to a special dinner.

  “What did Jason mean when he said you kidnapped him?” she asked. Not that it really mattered, she thought, basking in t
he pleasures of the most memorable day of her life.

  Rich reached for the wine bottle and replenished both their glasses. “To be honest, I did kidnap him. Why…is another story. I’m not sure myself, especially when I knew he’d try to talk me out of this.”

  “He did try, didn’t he?” That went without saying.

  “Not at first.” Rich arched a brow as though he was still a bit surprised by that. “He actually seemed excited—until he heard the full details.”

  Jamie groaned. “You told him…everything?”

  “He’s my brother.” Rich picked up his wineglass and sipped. “When I first told him about you and me, he was thrilled. He said he’s always admired you and felt I couldn’t have made a better choice.”

  “He said that?” Jamie couldn’t help feeling a little incredulous. She barely knew Rich’s older brother. Oh, they’d met on several occasions, but the longest conversation they’d ever had was at Christy’s engagement party, and that couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. Jason had been miserable in a suit and tie, and kept edging his finger along the inside of his collar. Actually, Jamie had spent more time that night talking to Jason than she had to Rich. Her now-husband had escorted some blonde to the elegant affair, and the woman had stayed glued to his side all evening.

  A surge of irritation flashed through her. She’d never been keen on Rich’s choice of girlfriends. She swore he could spot a bimbo a mile away.

  He attracted them—and he attracted her.

  That was a brand-new perception, a brand-new awareness.

  Until he’d kissed her in the judge’s office, Jamie had never thought of Rich in a physical way. He’d always been attractive, too handsome for his own good. But what she’d experienced earlier that afternoon had nothing to do with his looks. Instead, it had a whole lot to do with sensuality.

  Rich made her feel vulnerable. Exposed. Powerless. And yet…powerful, too. Everything, all the emotion, all the sensations, had come rushing toward her at once.

  Afterward, he’d been so concerned. So understanding. Allaying her fears, answering her doubts. He’d dried her tears and made her laugh. He’d turned this into the most special day of her life.

  What he’d said about how they’d each searched for someone to love was true. Jamie had wanted to be married for so many years. She’d hungered for that special relationship and all that went with it, only to be disappointed time after time.

  Their dinner check arrived, and while Rich dealt with that, Jamie finished her wine. As she raised the glass to her lips, her gaze fell on the diamond ring on her left hand. It was a simple design, a small diamond set in the center of an antique gold rose. When Rich had first mentioned it, she hadn’t felt right about wearing it, but the fit was perfect, and now that it was on her finger she wished she didn’t have to take it off.

  “I suppose I should drive you home.”

  Jamie’s heart soared at the reluctance she heard in his voice. She wasn’t any more eager for this day to end than he was.

  “I suppose,” she said with an equal lack of enthusiasm.

  “You have to work tomorrow?”

  Jamie nodded. “You?”

  He nodded, too.

  They stood, and Rich helped her on with her coat. His hands lingered on her shoulders, and he drew her back against him and breathed in deeply. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Jamie twisted around, and the restaurant noises that surrounded them—the laughter and conversation, the clinking of silverware on china—seemed to fade away.

  “For marrying me,” he whispered. “For agreeing to bear my child.”

  * * *

  Jamie pulled the straight skirt over her hips and clipped it to the hanger. She hung it in her closet along with the jacket, then wandered into the kitchen as the teakettle whistled.

  Sitting at the table in her full-length slip, she propped her nylon-covered feet on the opposite chair and cradled the mug of hot tea in both hands.

  “I’m married,” she said aloud, testing the words.

  They came back sounding hollow, as hollow as she felt. She hadn’t wanted Rich to leave—not so soon. It was barely ten. But when she’d offered him an excuse to stay, he’d turned her down.

  So this was her wedding night. In her dreams she’d created a magical fantasy of champagne and romance. See-through nighties and wild, abandoned passion. If this was a traditional marriage, she’d have all that. Instead, she’d chosen something else. Something far less.

  She should be happy. Excited. In love.

  She was all those things—in a manner of speaking. Then why, she asked herself, did the aching loneliness weigh so heavily on her heart?

  * * *

  Rich bent the thick goose-down pillow in half and bunched it beneath his head. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock radio and sighed. Nearly one. The alarm was set for five-thirty and he had yet to fall asleep.

  It wasn’t every day a man got married, he reminded himself. It wasn’t every man who spent his wedding night alone, either.

  Rich had dropped Jamie off at her condo, and although she’d suggested he come in for coffee, he’d refused. He didn’t even know why he’d turned her down. Coffee had sounded good.

  “Be honest,” Rich said aloud. It wasn’t the coffee that had enticed him, it was Jamie. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. But she was lovely. It seemed impossible to him that he’d missed it all these years. Was he blind?

  He’d had beautiful. Pamela was beauty-queen gorgeous—and so empty inside, so lacking in values and morals, that he had to wonder what had attracted him in the first place. She’d appealed to his vanity, no doubt.

  Rich rolled onto his back, tucked his hands beneath his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. It hadn’t felt right to leave Jamie. With real disappointment, he’d turned around and walked to his parked car. He’d paused halfway down the steps, resisting the urge to rush back and tell her he’d changed his mind, he’d take that coffee, after all.

  Instead he’d returned to an apartment that had never seemed emptier and a bed that had never felt so cold.

  * * *

  The phone on Rich’s desk rang, and he automatically reached for it. “Engineering.” He didn’t take his eyes from the drawings he was reviewing.

  “Hi,” came the soft feminine reply.

  Rich straightened. “Jamie? You’re back from the doctor’s already?” He checked his watch and was surprised to discover it was nearly four.

  “I just got back.”

  “And?” He couldn’t keep the eagerness out of his voice. They’d already had one appointment to see Dr. Fullerton. Rich had gone in with Jamie for the initial visit. They’d sat next to each other in Dr. Fullerton’s private office and held hands while the gynecologist explained the procedure in detail.

  “And,” Jamie said quietly, confidently, “we’re going to try for this month.”

  “This month,” Rich repeated. “In case you didn’t know, I’ve always been fond of March. March is one of my favorite months.”

  “Don’t get too excited. It…it might not take, it generally doesn’t with the first try.”

  “April, then. April’s a good month. Another one of my all-time favorites.”

  “It could easily be three or four months,” Jamie said with a laugh.

  “June, July, August. Who can argue with summer?” Rich found himself smiling, too. He was calculating what month the baby would be due if Jamie got pregnant in March.

  “December,” she said, apparently interpreting his silence. “How would you feel about a December baby?”

  “Jubilant. How about you?”

  “It could be January or February.” She sounded hesitant, as though she was afraid to put too much stock in everything going so smoothly.

  “It’ll happen when it happens.”

  “That was profound!” she said. “The doctor gave me a chart. Every morning, I’m supposed to take my temperature. It’ll be slightly elevated when
I ovulate. As soon as that happens, I’m to contact his office.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Rich, that really isn’t necessary. It’s very sweet of you, but—”

  “I thought you knew better than to argue with me.”

  “I should,” she said with mock exasperation. “We’ve been married nearly a month and I don’t think I’ve won a single argument.”

  “No wonder married life agrees with me.” He kept his voice low, wanting to be sure no one in the vicinity could overhear him. Only Jason knew he was married and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. “Call me in the morning,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “I want to keep my own chart.”

  * * *

  The following morning, Rich was in the shower when his phone rang. He turned off the faucet, grabbed a towel and raced across the bedroom.

  “Hello!” he yelled into the receiver.

  “Ninety-eight point six.”

  He pulled open the drawer on his nightstand and searched blindly for a pen. Water was raining down from his hair, dripping onto the bed. “Got it.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Great.”

  Wednesday morning, Rich waited in bed until he heard from her.

  “Ninety-eight point six.” She sounded discouraged.

  “Hey, nothing says it has to happen right away.”

  “I keep trying to visualize it.”

  “What is this? Think yourself pregnant?”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Call me tomorrow.” He reached for his chart and made the notation.

  “I will.”

  Thursday showed no difference, but Friday, Rich knew from the tone of her voice that something was up, and he hoped it was her temperature.

  “Ninety-eight point seven… I think. Darn, these thermometers are hard to read. But it’s definitely higher.”