Suddenly Daddy and Suddenly Mommy

by Loree Lough

He glanced at her, smiled slightly and raised a brow, then mouthed “Clarisse?” Behind the gauzy veil, he saw her eyes crinkle in a mischievous grin. She pressed her lips together to stanch a giggle before sending him a comical “Behave yourself!” expression.

  “I do,” Connor said.

  “And do you, Jaina Clarisse Chandelle, take this man, Connor Liam Buchanan, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  He saw her long, dark lashes flutter, saw her bite her lower lip, heard her whisper, “I do.”

  She had hesitated for at most a fraction of a second, but that infinitesimal space of time was long enough to cut him to the quick. Miriam had done the same thing, he recalled.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Connor lifted the filmy white fabric and laid it gently atop her head. She seemed so small, so vulnerable, standing there blinking up at him. Setting aside his own dashed hopes, male instinct made him want to wrap her in a protective embrace and shield her from all harm, from all pain, for a lifetime. All right, so she didn’t love him now. But maybe someday, he prayed. Someday…

  Gently, he pressed his palms to her cheeks and let his thumbs tilt her face up to receive his kiss. He’d intended a light brush of the lips, nothing more. But the moment his mouth met hers, Connor’s spirit soared, and the gloom that had enveloped him since Kirstie’s death lifted. Once I was lost, but now I’m found, flitted through his head, and Jaina will lead me home.

  “Atta boy, Connor!” a male voice called out from the back of the church as the congregation applauded, shattering the moment. He ended the kiss and stood back, hands still cupping her lovely face. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and met his. For a moment, he thought he saw love, real love, sparkling there among the green and gold flecks in her brown eyes, and his heart lurched.

  She’d only agreed to this charade of a marriage because he’d told her about the promise he’d made to Kirstie on her deathbed. He remembered the day he’d slipped the engagement ring onto Jaina’s finger, when she’d insisted he make a promise to her. He was never to tell anyone why they’d decided to get married. She claimed it was because she didn’t want people thinking he’d married her out of pity. But he knew better.

  His jaw tensed and his brow furrowed with determination. He’d have to harden his heart to her.

  Either that, or learn to live with a breaking one….

  She thought about it as they walked down the aisle arm in arm, smiling for the cameras, and as they stood on the steps of the church, accepting the congratulations and good wishes of friends and neighbors. It was on her mind as they sat side by side at the reception, eating their first meal as man and wife, and as they bade their guests goodnight. But try as she might, Jaina didn’t think she’d ever forget the cold, detached expression he’d aimed at her immediately after their kiss at the altar.

  Ever since she was a little girl, she’d stuttered when nervous or tense. Jaina had learned that taking a deep breath and repeating the last thing a person said could prevent it. She certainly hadn’t wanted to do a Porky Pig impersonation on her wedding day. Do you take this man…? she’d repeated mentally before saying in a sure, clear voice, “I do.”

  And then he’d given her that look.

  You little fool, she scolded herself. How can you believe he’s really in love with you? Those longing looks, those sweet words…they’re part of an act…a very well-orchestrated plan that’s helping him fulfill Kirstie’s dying wish.

  Well, she’d said yes, after all. And because she’d gotten swept up in the moment, in the hurly-burly rush of wedding plans, there hadn’t seemed to be time to change her mind.

  She was married now.

  To a man who didn’t love her.

  And you have no one to blame but yourself.

  Well, at least one good thing had come of the wedding. She was guaranteed a lifetime with Liam.

  Jaina had made Connor swear that he’d never tell another living soul that their phony courtship, their so-called engagement, the marriage itself, had taken place for no reason other than to bring peace of mind to his dying niece. And she had to give him credit; Connor had done a dandy job of making it look good—for her parents, for her employees, for everyone….

  He’d been the perfect gentleman…opening doors, pulling out chairs, offering her his arm as they moved around town. It was because he was a gentleman that she could trust that no one would ever discover the humiliating truth—that he wouldn’t have married her if not for that promise to Kirstie. All that talk on the Fourth of July was, well, that’s all it had been…talk. The proof? That look.

  It was going to be next to impossible, she believed, pretending she didn’t love him.

  Jaina squared her shoulders and told herself that if she could so quickly fall in love with Connor, she could fall out of love just as easily…provided she put her mind to it. They’d been married exactly twenty-four hours, and already she’d had it up to here with his cool, detached demeanor.

  To keep up appearances, he’d booked a room at a quaint inn in Pennsylvania. No one knew them there; no need for pretense in this charming little town. So why had he brought her breakfast in bed? Why was he standing there in the doorway with that gaudy silver tray in his hands, smiling like an innocent, wide-eyed boy who’d just picked his best girl a fistful of posies?

  Connor put the tray on the table near the patio doors and selected one red rose from the three in the crystal bud vase. Bowing low, smiling, he held it out to her. “For my beautiful bride.”

  Her insides trembled. Jaina prayed it wasn’t visible. “Thank you.” Their fingers touched as she accepted his gift, sending a burst of fiery currents straight to her already pounding heart. Instinctively, she held the flower near her cheek. “It’s lovely,” she admitted, closing her eyes to inhale the delicate aroma of its velvety petals.

  “Not nearly as lovely as you.”

  She opened her eyes and met his. Something burned in those icy blue orbs. Fire and ice, she warned herself. He’ll burn with his passion…or he’ll freeze you out. There would be no in-between, she believed.

  “We should eat before it gets cold…”

  His brows drew together as if she’d hurt his feelings. She certainly hadn’t intended that.

  “…since you went to so much trouble to bring the food up here and all, I mean.”

  He sat at the table, and Jaina poured coffee into the two snow-white china cups on the tray and steeled herself to his hard expression. You’ll be a kind and dutiful wife, she told herself, but you will stop loving him. You will stop, no matter how difficult it is!

  No…that was too much to ask. The most she could hope for was to be able to hide her heart away. Only with Liam could she ever wear it on her sleeve.

  He lifted his fork, then speared a slice of bacon. He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, which reminded her again of that young boy, this time caught red-handed with his fingers in the cookie jar. For the life of her, Jaina didn’t understand why her “let’s eat” comment should have hurt him since he so obviously didn’t love her. But he did appear to be pouting….

  She glanced up at Connor, who continued to eat in somber silence. She had discovered, during their brief courtship, that as well as losing his beloved sister, Susan, he’d buried his grandparents and parents, lost a child and divorced the wife whose betrayal had caused its miscarriage. And now he’d been forced to marry a woman he didn’t love—would likely never love—because his bigheartedness wouldn’t allow him to refuse his niece’s last request. Oh, Lord, Jaina prayed, make me a good wife for him. He’s suffered enough!

  Without even thinking about it, she impulsively reached across the table and placed her hand atop his. “This is a nice beginning to our…to our partnership,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

  His expression softened slightly.

  Surely Connor had dreams. As time went by, she would coax him into sharing them with her. Then she’d stand beside him, through good ti
mes and bad—just as she had promised at the altar—and help him turn his dreams into realities. Because they were married now, for better or for worse, and she had never done anything halfway. Why start now? Jaina asked herself.

  Would he notice the little things she’d do to make his life more comfortable? And if he did, would he treat them as gifts or as duties? She smiled to herself, for while there was much about Connor that Jaina didn’t understand, she believed she knew the answer to that question. He was, among other things, a good and decent man with a warm and giving heart. He would never take her caring and devotion for granted, not even if their marriage lasted as long as his friend, Judge Thompson’s.

  Jaina had no desire to burden him with the feeling that he must protect her from her own silly schoolgirlish wishes. And surely that’s what a man like him would do…a man who’d go to such lengths to grant a dying girl her final wish.

  “You were right,” she said.

  His left brow rose. “Really. About what?”

  “I could have done worse.” She smiled affectionately. “Much worse.”

  They’d been married all of two weeks when Connor had come home from work and announced they’d been invited to a posh charity ball. Black tie, tux, evening gown…the works. “I don’t particularly want to go to this shindig,” he’d said distractedly, putting the tickets in the sideboard drawer, “but I don’t have much choice. Everybody who’s anybody is going to be there.”

  “Maybe you ought to go alone.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  He tore off his tie. “Embarrass me? What are you talking about?”

  He watched her puttering around in the kitchen, drying blue-stemmed goblets with a terry tea towel, stirring the spaghetti sauce that was bubbling on the back burner. He’d always loved this house—especially the kitchen—but never more than now, with his beautiful bride in it. She’d insisted on handing the reins of The Chili Pot over to Ray, claiming he’d been the one who’d run the place all along anyway. So every day, when he came in from the office, she had a kettle of soup bubbling, a pot of stew simmering, or a roast in the oven. He’d never weighed more than 185 pounds, and in the weeks since they’d been married, the scale soared all the way up to 190.

  “Well, you know…someone might remember about me and…”

  “And what?”

  She faced him, aiming that dark-eyed gaze his way, and set his heart to thumping like a parade drum.

  “And…they might make life difficult for you.”

  The only one making life difficult for me is you, he told her silently, standing there and looking at me with those eyes of yours, when I can’t touch you….

  “People have plenty of dirt to dish up these days. They’ve got Hollywood and New York and London. And if they’re really bored, they’ve got Washington, D.C., to gossip about. They don’t need to dredge up stuff from your past.”

  Connor wished he knew what she was thinking because those closed-off expressions that flitted across her face from time to time drove him nuts.

  “And then there’s the matter of my limp. You don’t want to be seen—”

  “Hold it. Hold it right there,” Connor had interrupted. “Your limp is barely noticeable…except to you.” He tossed his tie on the antique buffet she’d found at a shop on Main Street. “If you don’t want to go, just say so. I’m not about to force you to do something you don’t want to do.” And the proof of that, Connor fumed, could be found at the top of the stairs…in two separate bedrooms.

  She stopped putting dishes away. “I never said…I didn’t say…of course I want to go. I was only trying to give you an out…in case you wanted one.”

  The way she was standing there, blinking those sad brown eyes at him, made him want to hug her. Kiss the daylights out of her. Take her upstairs and…. “Jaina, sweetie,” he said, softening his tone, “if I didn’t want to bring you, why would I have brought the tickets home?”

  She’d sighed heavily. “I guess that would have been the thing to do. Or not do, rather. If you didn’t want to bring me, I mean.”

  He had fumbled around in his briefcase, not knowing what else to say.

  And here it was, two weeks later, and he was standing in the master bathroom, this time fumbling with his bow tie.

  Almighty God, he prayed.

  It wasn’t much of a prayer. Wasn’t a prayer at all, really. Still, the power of those two simple words seemed enough to distract him from the feelings that simmered inside him. Feelings that, if he allowed himself, might one day make him forget that he’d promised to give Jaina the time and space she’d said she needed.

  “Are you almost ready?” she called from the hallway.

  “I don’t think it would violate any rules if you came in,” he said dryly. “I mean, you make up the bed every day, put my laundry away. We haven’t needed a chaperon…so far.”

  “You’re usually not here when I do those things.”

  And then she stepped into the room, a glass of water in one hand, a black beaded purse in the other. “Jaina!” he gasped. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

  She blushed like a schoolgirl at his compliment, and that only made her all the more beautiful to him. Her black gown accented her ivory complexion. Accented her feminine figure, too. The satiny material clung to her shoulders and arms and tiny waist before skimming over her hips and ending above matching shoes. As she moved, it shimmered with the silvery glow of reflected light, reminding him of what the pastor had said to him on their wedding day: “You married the prettiest girl in Maryland, Connor. She’ll be a beacon in your life.”

  “You look pretty good yourself,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

  He wanted to crush her against him. Wanted to welcome her into the room with a warm kiss. Wanted…

  Get a grip, pal….

  For weeks, he’d put on a show for her parents, for the men and women who worked at The Chili Pot, for Pearl, telling himself that the marriage—though nothing but a matter of convenience—must always appear as real and genuine as the diamond she wore on her left hand. He owed her that much—to protect her from the gossipmongers—didn’t he?

  He watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she raised the glass to her parted lips and drank.

  She put the glass and the purse on his dresser. “Come here,” she said, pulling him closer by tugging the ends of his tie. “Let me do that for you.”

  He stood there, arms hanging limply at his sides, and watched her tilt her head, studied her adorable little frown as she concentrated on the task. She smelled heavenly, looked lovely, and—

  “There! That’s got it,” she said, smiling finally as her fingertips tapped the tips of the bow. Jaina turned him around to face the dresser. “See?”

  He met her eyes in the mirror. “Perfect. Thanks.”

  She grabbed the glass and the purse, her pretty dress swishing softly as she moved toward the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” she said. “There’s no real hurry. We have about fifteen minutes before it’s time to leave.”

  “Right. No hurry,” he echoed. “I’ll be down in a bit.” When she was gone, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, held his head in his hands, then extended his arms and stared at his palms. “How are you gonna spend a lifetime under the same roof with a woman like that…and keep your mitts to yourself?”

  Connor thought he heard music, then went to stand at the top of the stairs. Yes, definitely music, he realized. A tune he’d heard before…

  He took the stairs two at a time, stopping in the foyer when he spotted her. She was in the living room, sitting at the piano, singing. “She has the voice of a songbird,” Ray had told him just the day before yesterday. As if Connor didn’t know it by then. He’d caught her humming as she dusted, as she fed Liam. Once, he’d come home for lunch and heard her singing Liam into his afternoon nap. She could croon every word from here on out and he’d never tire of the sound.

  I
f he’d never met her, he might never have discovered the difference between a boy’s love for a girl and the love a man feels for his woman. He might have gone right on believing that what he’d once felt for Miriam had been it.

  But he had met Jaina, and now that he knew how deep and all-encompassing love could be, he wanted more than to share this house with her. Wanted more than to sleep across the hall from her. For weeks now, he’d kept his word, never crossing that boundary line. The dilemma…how to tell Jaina he wanted to forget their agreement.

  He looked at her, innocent and pure and so alive! He was a man, full-grown and with a man’s needs and desires. The solution to his problem scared the daylights out of him. He’d have to admit he loved her. Somehow, tonight, he was going to let her know how he really felt…how he’d felt almost from the first moment they met.

  Almighty God, he began to pray. If the Good Lord felt any mercy, any compassion for him at all, He’d see to it that Jaina felt the same way.

  “Connor, how long have you been standing there?”

  He shrugged. “A while,” he said, grinning.

  She stood, smiling, and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “We’d better get Liam, head over to Mom and Dad’s, or we’ll be late. I hate to make an entrance.” Jaina draped a deep maroon satin shawl over her shoulders. “I’ve already packed his diaper bag and his toys,” she said, bending to lift him from the playpen, “so if you’ll…”

  She pressed a palm to the baby’s forehead.

  He read the look of alarm that widened her dark, glittering eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s burning up with fever, Connor.”

  They stood hand in hand under the glaring emergency-room lights, watching their boy sleep. She had saved his life, and if he didn’t already love her like crazy, that certainly would have clinched it.

  The resident on duty hadn’t seemed overly concerned when they brought the red-cheeked baby into the hospital. “It’s the start of the flu season,” he’d said offhandedly. “No big deal. Just give him baby acetaminophen and see that he gets plenty of liquids.”

  Jaina wasn’t having any of that! Hands on her blacksatined hips, she stood on tiptoe and said into the young doctor’s face, “My father nearly died of something like this a few years ago, so I know what I’m talking about. Liam has the same symptoms. This is not the flu. It’s meningitis, and if you don’t do something soon, it could—”