by Gina Wilkins
No, it wasn’t a particularly romantic speech, but she couldn’t deny that he’d laid out a very convincing argument. He was offering everything she’d looked for when she’d signed up with those online dating services hoping to make a connection. Well, almost everything. Maybe there was a bit more of the romantic in her than she’d realized. Most of the single women she knew would probably tell her she was crazy not to snap this guy up before he had even a chance to change his mind. And here she was dithering because there was some indefinable something missing from his earnest proposal.
Studying his face, she asked quietly, “What would you do if I were to tell you that I don’t want to marry you? That I’ve decided we’re not a good match after all?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he spoke in an even tone. “I’d be disappointed. Very disappointed. But I would accept your decision and I’d continue to focus on my work. Maybe I was meant to be a workaholic bachelor. Whatever happens between us, I would still treasure our friendship and your contribution to my company.”
“You honestly believe we could still work together if this experiment, as you called it, didn’t succeed?”
“I’d like to think so. It could be a little awkward at first, but I think we could manage it. Which doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have moments of regret that it didn’t work out,” he added candidly.
Moments of regret. Hardly a description of a broken heart, but then they’d made a concerted effort from the beginning of this plan to avoid that drastic outcome, right? He’d steadfastly asserted that avoiding unrealistic expectations would protect them both from bitter disappointment. It sounded so logical and honest that she couldn’t think of a sound argument.
“Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Tess? That you don’t think we’re a good match?”
“I think we’re a very good match,” she replied, drawing a deep, bracing breath and lifting a hand to his cheek. “We’d never have made it through the past six years working together if we weren’t. I’m willing to gamble with you that we’re equally well suited outside the office.”
The tension in his face eased. His smile broadened, as his face moved against her palm. “That’s a yes?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“We should seal the deal.” He stuck out his right hand. “Put ’er there, partner.”
A laugh sputtered from her. “I know you said you’re no poet, but honestly, Scott...a handshake?”
Grinning, he swept her into his arms and spun her around once. “I can do better than that,” he said, and smothered her laughter with his kiss.
They took their time making their way to her bedroom. Whether because of their new status or because they were becoming more comfortable with their lovemaking, they weren’t as frantic and impatient this time, but more deliberate, savoring every touch, every kiss, every slow caress. Clothes were smoothed out of the way rather than stripped off, falling softly to the floor beside the bed. Their bodies were illuminated by the dimmed light on her nightstand, an intimate circle of light in the otherwise shadowed room.
Scott frowned when he saw the bruise on her left shoulder that ran a few inches down onto her chest. He traced it very gently with one fingertip. “Does this hurt?”
“No, not really.” Caught up in the pleasure of being snuggled against his warm, bare body, she couldn’t care less about a couple of minor bruises.
“It’s from your seat belt, isn’t it? From the accident this morning.”
“I guess. It locked up hard to keep me in my seat. I’m fine. I’ve just always bruised easily.”
A lump formed in her throat when he pressed his lips very tenderly to the bruise. He lifted his head and smoothed her hair from her face, looking into her eyes with an almost fierce expression. “I don’t want anything like that to happen to you ever again. But if it does, call me. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I want you to call.”
She’d had no idea it would bother him so badly that she hadn’t called him that morning. She’d planned all along to tell him about the accident, of course. But she hadn’t realized he would take the delay so personally. “I’ll call,” she promised.
He gathered her closer, lowering his mouth to hers. “Good.”
* * *
Scott lay on his side, propped on one elbow as he looked down at the woman sleeping on the pillows beside him. He’d smoothed the covers over her and she’d snuggled into them, drawing them to her chin in her sleep. It was the first time she’d slept with him there. Was she growing more accustomed to his presence in her bed, or was she simply tired after a long week, a long day? He thought of the bruise on her shoulder and scowled, hoping she hadn’t underplayed the physical effects of the accident. Should he be monitoring her sleep? No, he was overreacting. She hadn’t hit her head. Even the bruise was mild, just a smudge of purple against her fair skin.
He was satisfied that she would remember to call him now should anything similar happen in the future. Now that they were engaged, he wanted to be the first one she thought to notify in an emergency, even a minor one.
Engaged. To be married. Tess Miller had agreed to be his wife.
He mulled the words over in his mind, getting used to the feel of them. They felt...pretty good, he concluded. Really good, he added, his body still warm and heavy with satisfaction.
He was still a little dazed by the way the evening had progressed. He hadn’t intended to propose tonight, certainly not to announce their engagement before he’d even confirmed it with Tess. Hell, she’d have had every right to toss him out on his ear for his arrogance. Why hadn’t she? Considering that Tess wasn’t one to allow herself to be railroaded—not at work or in her personal life—he could only conclude that she’d accepted his proposal because she wanted to marry him. He’d made some good arguments in his own favor. Presented his case with the same enthusiasm and persuasion he used when making a pitch to a potential client. And he’d convinced her to say yes.
He always reacted to victorious presentations with pride, gratitude, personal validation. He supposed he felt those things now, but in a deeper, quieter way. Losing a bid, even a big one, was hardly devastating. Disappointing, perhaps, but there were always more jobs, more opportunities to make money. Having Tess turn down his proposal would have been harder to swallow. Since he’d concluded she was the perfect mate for him, he couldn’t imagine anyone else in her place. He’d set his sights on convincing her and he’d been persistent. And now it was going to happen. He’d won again.
So why was there a nagging feeling deep inside him that something could still go wrong? That maybe he was forgetting something or overlooking some detail?
Perhaps it was simply all too new. Hadn’t sunk in yet. Maybe it was the abrupt way the engagement had come about, as opposed to his usual practiced sales style. He’d been left with the feeling that something was still unfinished.
She stirred in her sleep and tugged the covers to her ears. He smiled. Tess was a cocooner. She’d probably nestle into his arms if he settled in beside her. Because that sounded so appealing, he did so, finding that she did, indeed, fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder. He hadn’t intended to spend the night, but what the heck. He had no plans in the morning. It seemed like the right time.
He brushed a kiss across her warm forehead and closed his eyes. By tomorrow, he was sure this funny feeling inside him would be resolved.
Maybe he was just tired.
* * *
Tess wondered how long it would take for the novelty of waking up with Scott to wear off. She thought it might be a while. As for the novelty of having him join her in the shower and linger there with her until the water ran cold...well, she couldn’t imagine that ever growing mundane.
They cooked breakfast together. She made French toast while he sliced fruit and brewed coffee. They didn’t talk much as they prepared the
meal, but worked in companionable silence in her small kitchen.
“So what time are we supposed to go to your sister’s?” he asked.
“She sent me a text this morning. She ordered me to be there at two. I told her you’d be joining us.”
“What did she say to that?”
“‘Don’t be late. I have plans for the evening.’”
“I can tell she’s very happy for us.”
She gave him a look over her coffee cup. “Delirious.”
“Okay, two o’clock. That gives us time to stop by my place so I can change into clean clothes.” He was wearing the slacks and shirt from last night.
“Plenty of time.”
“Maybe we could run by the office, too. I have a couple of things I need to take care of there.”
“Fine. But if we’re late, you’ll have to explain to Nina.”
“Trust me. We won’t be late.”
She laughed in response to his fervent tone. Apparently Scott had decided it was best not to be on the receiving end of one of Nina’s icy looks.
An hour later he ushered her into his house, a three-bedroom traditional-style home in a peaceful development filled with upscale professionals with families. Because it had begun to rain, and occasionally heavy downpours were predicted all day, he’d parked in the garage and brought her in through the kitchen. She had always admired the granite counters, the cherry cabinets, the state-of-the-art appliances. The room was almost exactly what she’d have designed herself, given the choice. Scott hadn’t employed Stevie for the kitchen remodel because he hadn’t yet met her at the time, but Tess doubted her friend would have any criticism of the beautiful and functional space.
Scott had bought the house at about the same time he’d been involved with Sharon, though Tess had gotten the impression even back then that Sharon hadn’t been particularly enthused about living in this neighborhood with its families and minivans. Saying they could always flip the house for a profit and invest in something more to Sharon’s tastes, Scott had boasted about having gotten a very good deal on the place. He’d had it remodeled to his own satisfaction after Sharon had taken off. Sharon had never lived there. Tess doubted Sharon had ever even spent a night in the house.
She was ruefully aware she found that fact gratifying.
The high ceilings and open floor plan gave the first floor an airy, inviting feel. Having toured the home previously, Tess knew a private office and the master suite were located downstairs while two smaller bedroom suites and a media room made up the second floor. He favored a traditional style inside, too, with matte walls, clean lines, leather and wood and stone. Not too masculine, but well suited to a nesting bachelor.
“You have a new sofa,” she said as they entered the great room, nodding toward the large oxblood leather sectional positioned to face a big stone fireplace. Behind the sofa, glass doors led out to a travertine patio with teak furniture, a large fountain and a tidy expanse of privacy-fenced lawn beyond. He’d done little holiday decorating, but an artificial tree with multicolored lights and coordinated red and silver ornaments stood in one corner with wrapped gifts stacked neatly beneath. “Nice.”
“Thanks. I’d had the old couch for ten years. It was ready to be retired.” He motioned back toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m good. Go ahead and change. I’ll make myself comfortable on your new sofa.”
He moved toward the doorway. “Feel free to explore, if you want. After all, this will be your home, too, soon. Unless you want to sell both our places and find a different one,” he added, pausing with a thoughtful expression.
She waved him on. “We’ll talk about that later. Go change.”
She pressed a hand against a little flutter in her stomach after he left. Glancing around the room, she pictured herself living here. Waking in the mornings, having breakfast with Scott, perhaps riding to the office together. Sleeping in that big master suite. She’d bet he had a nice big shower in there.
She cleared her throat and sank onto the new sofa. Very comfortable. Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen leather, but she could get used to it quickly enough. She looked around. A beautiful house with a couple of extra bedrooms waiting to be filled, a handsome husband... Yeah, she could fit in here nicely, she assured herself.
He rejoined her a few minutes later wearing a royal blue shirt with khakis, clean shaven, his hair neatly combed. Her very own Prince Charming, she thought with a little smile, thinking of Stevie’s nickname for him. “So what do you think?” he asked. “Do you approve of the couch?”
She patted the soft leather. “I approve.”
He leaned over for a quick kiss. “We could always break it in,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows.
“Mmm.” She ran a fingertip from his throat down the center of his chest to his belt buckle. And then she flattened her hand on his chest and pushed him away. “Later.”
Scott groaned. “So cruel.”
She stood and spoke with determination, “Okay, let’s do this. We’ll stop by the office and then find out exactly how our engagement is complicating my poor sister’s life.”
Scott gave one last wistful look at the new sofa, then turned with her toward the door. She paused on the way out to glance over her shoulder at the house that would be her home soon. She was sure she’d be very happy here. After all, she asked herself again, what more could she want?
Chapter Nine
The softly glowing numbers on the nightstand clock read 2:25 when Tess rolled over in the bed to check the time. She groaned and pushed at her pillows, trying to fluff them into a more comfortable position. It was a futile gesture and she knew it. Her sleeplessness wasn’t caused by physical discomfort. It was too bad she couldn’t unravel the tangled thoughts in her head as easily as she could smooth out the lumps in her pillow.
The sound of the rain hitting her windows should have been soothing, but it was only annoying instead. It had been raining on and off for hours. Turning over to put the clock behind her, out of sight, she found herself gazing instead at the empty pillow on the other side of the bed. She rested a hand on it, wondering fancifully if she could still feel Scott’s warmth there. But no, it was cold. Claiming apologetically that he had a list of things to do to prepare for the to prepare for the busy upcoming workweek, he hadn’t stayed tonight after they’d returned from dinner with his family. He’d left her with kisses and reluctance and a comment that he was looking forward to the time when they made their home together.
They still hadn’t talked about a date for their wedding. Scott had implied that he’d like for it to be soon, which was no particular surprise to her. Once he had a plan in place, he was always impatient to get it under way. They’d talked about a wedding, both with her family and his, but had made no specific plans as of yet, agreeing that they should wait until Christmas was behind them to focus on the logistics.
Something about the word logistics made her wince. It was such a...businesslike word, taking the practicality of their engagement to an uncomfortable extreme. Scott could make her head spin with how smoothly and easily he transitioned from teasing, affectionate, even passionate to briskly realistic and deliberately prosaic. He claimed not to be the romantic type, and seemed to even take pride in the fact, but it was almost as if he were afraid of taking that final step into deep intimacy. Was it fear of being hurt? Of doing something wrong?
Now that she’d agreed to marry him, shouldn’t he be more confident about it? Should she really have seen the faintest hint of panic in his eyes yesterday whenever anyone in their families had alluded to how romantic it was that their working relationship had turned into an engagement?
She thought about her sister. Maybe Ken had given Nina one of his rare lectures about how she should act that afternoon, because she’d been on her best behavior. She’d serve
d tea and pretty little cakes to Tess and Scott in her parlor and congratulated them on their engagement. True to form, Nina hadn’t been able to resist a few complaints that she’d been left out of the loop and that she’d heard about their engagement in such an abrupt, public manner. Tess couldn’t totally blame her sister for feeling slighted, which made her more patient in dealing with the censure. Nina had regally accepted Tess’s apologies, then proved no more resistant than most to Scott’s charming smiles and winsome contrition.
Nina had insisted she would do everything she could to help with the wedding—though of course her schedule was so very full, her presence so in demand, that she wasn’t sure how much she could physically contribute. “We’ll try to arrange lunches during the weeks ahead,” she’d said to Tess. “You can bring photos and samples and I’ll be happy to give you my input.”
Tess could easily imagine how those meetings would go. She would potentially spend hours choosing colors and dresses and music and other details, and Nina would shoot down every option with an indulgent comment about how Tess’s ideas were “cute,” but perhaps she should consider Nina’s much more fashionably inspired suggestions instead. Tess had smiled noncommittally and politely promised her older sister she’d let her know when she needed advice.
The only truly personal moment between her and her sister had come just as the visit was ending. Scott had dashed out in the downpour with an umbrella, having chivalrously volunteered to bring his car close to the front door for Tess. Waiting just inside the door with her sister, Tess had been surprised when Nina gave her a firm, apparently impulsive hug.
“I am pleased for you, Tess,” she’d said. “I hope Scott will make you very happy. You deserve to have someone take care of you for a change.”