How To Hook A Husband (And A Baby)

by Carolyn Zane

  What was stuck in his craw? Wendy wondered as she watched him yank off his leather gloves and fire them at the ground.

  “But,” he snapped, moving toward her, his eyes glittering dangerously in the lamplight, “since you seem so curious about whether or not I got an eyeful, I can tell you right here and now that you handled that good-night kiss all wrong.”

  Wendy smirked. “Oh, I did, did I?”

  “Yes.” He took a step closer and she could feel his heavy breath warm on her cheek. “You were acting completely disinterested.”

  “Because I was disinterested,” she said, gazing up into the black depths of his eyes.

  A muscle worked in his jaw, even as the worry in his eyes relaxed slightly. Reaching out, Travis grasped her upper arms and scowled as he pulled her tightly into his chest. “Wendy.” Her name was a frustrated groan low in his throat. “If you’re going to be engaged by the Russo wedding, you’re going to have to act interested in a good-night kiss. Very interested.”

  She rested her palms against the steel hills of his broad chest and could feel the arrhythmic beat of his pulse.

  Clutching his shirt for balance, she touched her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. I’m interested. The unspoken words swirled dizzily through her brain as her eyes locked in an electrical storm with his. I’m very interested.

  With no time for vacillation or excuses, Travis pulled her mouth beneath his. Once again their lips had ignition and they were both blasted into orbit by a power that came only from the energy the two of them could generate together. Waves of gooseflesh raced up and down Wendy’s arms and legs as she thrilled and shivered under the overwhelming onslaught. Kissing Abner had been nothing like this, she thought blindly as Travis’s demanding kiss brought her to heights of passion and excitement she hadn’t known existed. As Travis finally had to drag his mouth from hers and gasp for air, his voice was shaky and nearly angry as he growled low in her ear.

  “When you are interested in your partner, you let him know. Not by pushing him away, but by moving closer for another kiss.”

  “Like this?” Wendy asked breathlessly, pushing ever closer to the fire that radiated from his hard body. Winding her arms around his neck, she searched for and finally found his mouth, bringing it back to hers.

  Suddenly it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what she was doing. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t an expert in physical relationships with men. She knew human nature, and she knew that Travis wanted her kiss as much as she wanted his. Maybe she wasn’t the most talented woman he’d ever kissed, or been kissed by, as she was doing now. But there was something alive, nearly palpable, that sparked between them every time they touched this way.

  He bent her head back, and Wendy could feel his desire beginning to flare out of control right there in the middle of his driveway. Arching toward him, she threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned his name against his lips.

  “Travis,” she whispered, her voice husky against the dark. “Teach me…”

  As though someone had tossed a bucket of cold water on him, Travis stilled, pulling back. “No,” he groaned, taking a wobbly step away from the warmth of their embrace.

  Dazed, Wendy looked up at him. “No, what?” Was he serious? They were just getting to the best part of the lesson here.

  “No,” Travis rasped. “We’re never going to meet your goal if we keep this up.” A raging fire burned in his eyes and he raked a hand across his jaw.

  Again, he seemed almost angry. But why? Wendy just didn’t get it. If anyone should be mad here, it should be her, she thought, watching as he turned, kicking his hacksaw and pruning shears out of the middle of the driveway, and strode rapidly toward his house.

  “Hey,” she called, suddenly ticked off herself. “What’s the problem? Why are you so mad?” She rushed after him. He wasn’t going to kiss her that way and then stalk off like a bratty little kid, packing up his toys and going home.

  “I’m not mad,” he flung over his shoulder. “It’s late. You should be in bed.” Turning, he scorched her with his burning gaze. “You have to get your beauty rest for the next guy on your list, right?”

  Scurrying up his front steps, Wendy raced after him into his house.

  “Travis, I don’t know why you’re acting this way. I’m sorry if I let you down with Abner there, but—” She threw his front door closed behind her and followed him into his living room. Standing in his path as he paced, she planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Hey, I can’t help it. The guy does nothing for me.”

  Reaching up, Travis massaged the tightly corded muscles in his neck. He hated himself for the perverse pleasure he took in knowing that Wendy still hadn’t found her dream man. It was almost as if he wanted her to fail. But why? Was it for Dusty’s sake? That’s what he’d like to believe. But as he stood there, looking at her, her face flushed with displeasure, her chest heaving with anger, her eyes glittering with frustration, and her lips…rosy red and swollen from his kiss, he knew the reasons went far deeper than that.

  He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Geez. What a mess. Why couldn’t things just go back to the way they were? Why did she have to go and spoil everything by embarking on this ridiculous husband hunt? He longed for the days when he and Dusty had her all to themselves. Life was so easy back then. So uncomplicated.

  Then again, had it really been as wonderful as he’d like to remember? He’d been getting pretty tired of BambiAnn and the singles scene. If anyone could understand the humdrum life of a single person, he could. Lifting his bleary eyes out of his hands, he trained his gaze on her as she stood, her chin tilted defiantly at him, questions he couldn’t answer burning furiously in her eyes. Oh, Lord, she was beautiful. Why was it, he wondered in confusion, that if he was truly so tired of the single life himself, he couldn’t support Wendy in her efforts to leave it behind, as well?

  The answer to that one was as complex as it was frightening, and Travis didn’t want to have to delve too deeply into those waters. Last time he’d begun to feel this way about a woman, he’d ended up married to her. And, ultimately, abandoned by her. Not that Wendy was anything like Elly Mae. Anybody with half a brain could see that.

  But, good grief, he wasn’t ready to contemplate marriage again. And Wendy wanted a husband and a baby more than anything. Therein lay the crux of his problem. She wanted something he just wasn’t ready to give. Not yet anyway. And as much as he wasn’t ready to commit to her, he couldn’t stand the thought of her making a life with another man. With other children.

  Grinding his teeth, he felt about to explode with frustration. Crimeney damn. Someone else was going to get her.

  Heavy bands of doom tightened around his heart, constricting his breathing.

  Travis stared at her as she stood mere feet away, his eyes dropping to the mouth that spelled ecstasy for him. He shouldn’t have kissed her again tonight. He’d known that, even as he was hauling her into his arms. This whole thing was killing him. Deep in his subconscious, he knew that the sooner she found a man and began her new life, the sooner he could get on with his. It was the only way. He simply wasn’t as ready as she was to commit, and given her state of mind, he couldn’t ask her to wait.

  “I’m sorry about Abner.” His voice was tight with emotion.

  Wendy dropped her hands and slapped her thighs. “You should be.” She sighed and, like an aging party balloon, floated tiredly onto his sofa.

  “He was that bad?” he asked, sinking down at the opposite end, where it was safe.

  Grabbing one of his throw pillows, she pulled it across her middle and tucked her feet up under her. She felt less vulnerable to him in this position. Sternly, she pursed her lips and her nod was curt. “Travis, Abner is a very sweet, very sensitive man. Extremely sensitive. We talked about his sensitive nature in great depth tonight. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

  “Are you sure he doesn’t carry it in his belly?” Travi
s asked, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Very funny.” Wendy sighed. “No. Do you know that Abner feels that it’s his fault when it rains? He feels it’s his fault when the Cowboys lose. It’s his fault when his favorite TV show gets canceled. It’s even his fault when the Fourth of July lands on a Wednesday and no one gets a three-day weekend.”

  “So that’s who’s responsible,” Travis mused, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Abner finds solace in food, Travis. Great mountains of food. And, being as he’s such a sensitive guy—for crying out loud, he gets misty over the Clucky Fried Chicken ads—I couldn’t point out to him that he eats like a pig. I mean, there was food everywhere! On his face, on his clothes, on my clothes, for heaven’s sake. He belches and picks his teeth with the steak knife. He talks with his mouth full, not to mention cries with his mouth full. And he knows every fastfood joint in the entire state.”

  “I wonder if he’s been to that new rib joint out on I-30…”

  “Travis! This isn’t funny!”

  “Sorry.”

  “You know, I don’t have to be in love with my future husband. At least, not right off the bat. And I made an honest effort tonight, when it came to kissing him. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t eaten corn on the cob,” she mused thoughtfully. “I just couldn’t get past all those fuzzy teeth smiling at me that way.” She shook her head ruefully. “Anyway, I may not have to be in love, but if I’m ever going to have my baby, I can’t be repulsed by him.”

  Travis’s eyes strayed to her flat belly and wondered possessively what it would be like to know that she carried his son or daughter beneath her breast. A smaller version of Dusty. His heart picked up speed and his breathing and blood pressure reacted not so subtly to the possibilities. The things she did to him—even from clear across the sofa, even though they were nowhere near touching—made him ache for her. Gave him a raw yearning deep in his gut to hold her the way she needed to be held her first time. To teach her the rest of the story when it came to making love. But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready for marriage. And for Wendy, he would settle for nothing less.

  It was time to find her a husband.

  * * *

  “Dusty?”

  “What?”

  “C’mere, will ya?” Travis called from the kitchen where he stood next to the microwave, nuking their frozen dinners the following Thursday.

  It had been almost a whole long, grueling week since Wendy’s date with Abner. And in that time she’d gone out every evening with some Joe or another. That didn’t even count the breakfast and lunch dates she managed to squeeze in, as she energetically interviewed her prospective husband candidates.

  Popping open the microwave, Travis prodded the contents with a fork. Not done. Sprawling across the countertop, he reprogrammed his microwave and contemplated life at the post office with Wendy. Working in such close proximity with her while she executed her latest plan of attack on the husband hunt was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to endure. If he didn’t wind up the post office remodel pretty soon, he’d go ballistic and wind up on the wall—in the form of a Wanted poster.

  As it was, he’d given up his own dating life and practically turned into a damned monk, just so that he could keep tabs on the monster he’d created. A babe in the woods like her needed somebody to watch over them. He was the selfappointed guy for the job. Besides, BambiAnn and the crowd down at Little Joe’s had completely lost their appeal. In fact, next to Wendy, they were positively dull.

  Leaning over his drainboard, Travis squinted across his yard toward her place. She had another date tonight and he was trying to catch a glimpse of her as she moved around inside her house, preparing for her evening out. It was futile though. No matter how he craned his neck out the kitchen window, he couldn’t see a blasted thing.

  All day long she’d been very closemouthed about her plans for this evening. Refused to tell him who she was seeing tonight. The curiosity was driving him up the wall. He’d pretty much made an idiot out of himself, quizzing her. Pretending he wasn’t jealous as he pumped her for information. But she wouldn’t budge. Said she wanted to handle her love life her own way from now on.

  That’s what worried him.

  “What, Dad?” Dusty padded into the room, his feet bare, his clothes mismatched, his hair sticking up on one side and looking as if it was filled with something…maybe jam.

  The kid needed a mother, he thought shamefacedly as the timer on his microwave sounded. “Sit down, kiddo, dinner’s ready.”

  Dusty frowned dubiously and sniffed the air. “What is it?”

  “Fish sticks.” He scratched his head. “I think,” he said, tossing the steaming container onto the kitchen table and pouring them each a glass of milk.

  “Yuck,” Dusty complained when his dad dumped a pile of the stinky, mushy brown sticks onto his plate. “This isn’t the way Wendy makes them. Wendy puts them in the oven. Then, Wendy makes French fries and tartar sauce.” He poked at the lumpy pile with a wary finger. “Wendy wouldn’t make me eat this, Dad.”

  “Well, Wendy isn’t here, is she?” Travis snapped, squirting a glob of catsup over Dusty’s fish sticks, hoping to disguise them.

  Dusty was silent for a moment, then, chin tucked to chest, he muttered, “No. She’s goin’ out on a date tonight with some guy.”

  “Did she say who?” Travis asked quickly, hating himself as he quizzed his son for information on the love life of the woman next door.

  “Yeah.”

  Travis leaned eagerly forward. “Who?”

  “Reggie Reno.”

  Travis froze. “Reggie Reno?” he whispered and, leaping to his feet, ran to the living room window, just in time to see Wendy and Reggie pull away from the curb in his trickedout, spiffed-up, cherry-condition, custom-designed van, complete with minibar, ceiling mirrors, big-screen TV and waterbed. The damn thing was a rolling hotel room and everyone in New Hope knew it. Everyone, it seemed, with the unfortunate exception of Wendy.

  For a moment Travis contemplated grabbing his shotgun and tearing out after them, but. who would take care of Dusty while he was out kickin’ Reggie Reno’s flashy butt? Aw, Wendy. For pity’s sake. What the devil are you thinking?

  Taking the opportunity to escape his less than palatable fare, Dusty ambled up beside his dad and stared out the window with him. “Neat van,” the child observed as Reggie rounded the corner of the cul-de-sac, tires squealing, stereo blaring. Travis could feel the speakers vibrate from where he stood a block away.

  “Yeah.” Travis glanced worriedly down at his son.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm?” Travis asked distractedly as his eyes surveyed the empty street.

  “I don’t think Wendy loves Reggie.”

  Smiling, Travis reached out and ruffled Dusty’s hair. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I think she loves us.”

  He took a deep breath and carefully regarded his son. “I know she loves you, anyway, Sport-o.”

  Wide-eyed, Dusty looked up at his father. “You, too, Dad. I can tell. Why don’t you guys get married? Then she could be my mom. I think she wants to.”

  Out of the mouths of babes, Travis thought absently. The icy tentacles of depression that had grabbed hold of his heart thawed somewhat at his son’s innocent words. He wished it were true. He wished Wendy wasn’t so hell-bent on finding a husband. He wished he had more time to explore the possibilities. But, wishing wouldn’t make it so. It was good that she was getting on with her life. He just wished it wasn’t with the oily Reggie Reno.

  “Hey, buddy, what say you and me go get us a burger? Those fish sticks are rank.”

  “Yippee!” Dusty jumped up and down. “We can go to World of Burgers!”

  “Why there?”

  “‘Cuz that’s where Wendy’s goin’.”

  Travis felt a wide grin split his face. “World of Burgers it is, buddy. Go put your shoes on.”

 
The following Monday at noon, Wendy dusted off a sawhorse and sank gratefully onto its rough, less than comfortable surface. Surveying the work Travis was doing in her back room at the post office, she smiled with satisfaction. He was good. The best. She was so glad that he’d won the bid on this job. Without exception, he was giving her everything she wanted, and more. The craftsmanship was superb, the job was winding up in a timely manner and Travis looked wonderful in a tool belt.

  Was that why he’d crept into her dreams on a nightly basis, ever since he’d been working at the post office? she wondered, inhaling the scent of sawdust and drywall and coffee and after-shave. She loved these smells. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get them out of her mind at the end of each day. And it was only getting worse. The harder she tried to forget the effect he had on her—his kisses, the way he smelled, the way he looked in a tool belt—the more he haunted her dreams. Her daydreams were no exception.

  The sad thing was, she was making an honest effort to be attracted to each of her dates. To give them the benefit of the doubt. But each weeknight date she went on, each post office patron she flirted with, each breakfast and lunch date endured, only further proved to her that there was no man out there who compared to Travis Donovan.

  “Lunchtime?” Travis queried, glancing at her as he carried a sheet of plywood across the room and set it against the wall.

  “Yeah,” Wendy said, making her way to the small refrigerator and retrieving her brown bag.

  “What, no lunch date?” Travis feigned shock.

  “Not today. I needed a breather. Besides,” she said, wagging a finger at him as she took her seat at the break table, “I’m afraid you and Dusty would only show up to stare at me the whole time.”

  “Can’t.” Travis shrugged easily as he pulled his own lunch out of the refrigerator. “Dusty’s in school.” His smile was mischievous. “So, how’d it go Thursday night, once Dusty and I left World of Burgers?”

  Wendy tossed her hair over her shoulder and snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Well, it’s safe to say that I crossed Reggie off my list.”