How To Hook A Husband (And A Baby)

by Carolyn Zane

  Wendy nodded. “Last February. At your brother’s engagement party.” She held out her hand. “I’m Wendy Wilcox, a good friend of Faith’s.” She glanced down at the still unconscious woman who was beginning to stir slightly. “And, uh…your brother and his fiancee’s.”

  Taking her hand in his, Nick’s brows formed a contemplative line. “I’m sorry. I’m a little fuzzy on that night.” His smile was sardonic. “Had a little bit too much of the punch, I guess.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Wendy said, remembering how Travis had had to pull the lampshade off BambiAnn’s head on more than one occasion that evening.

  The phone rang, and Nick spoke to Faith’s doctor. Faith began to rouse, drawing Wendy’s attention. Once Nick was sure that Faith was in good hands, he bid Wendy good afternoon, donned his leather jacket, and took off without directions to the formal-wear place he’d been looking for.

  Odd, Wendy mused, watching his retreating back as he disappeared into the crowd out on the street.

  “Wha-what happened?” Faith stammered groggily.

  “You fainted, honey.” Wendy smiled and patted her hand. “But the doctor says you’re going to be just fine. He wants to see you, though—”

  “Is he still here?” Faith interrupted, a sudden note of panic in her voice as she struggled to sit up.

  “The doctor? No, we spoke to him on the phone while you were sleeping.”

  “No,” Faith moaned, nearly frantic with frustration. “Nick. Is Nick still here?”

  “Nooo…” Wendy frowned, wondering what to do. Should she run after Nick? Why Faith should be so anxious to see Nick in the first place was beyond her. Risking her health—and the health of her unborn baby—Wendy’s gaze shot to Faith’s stricken face.

  Faith had fainted at the sight of Nick Russo. Wendy counted backward to the last week in February. Faith had hosted an engagement party for Michael and Michelle. Nick was at that party. Then, Nick left town…

  Wendy’s eyes collided with Faith’s.

  “Yes,” Faith moaned, and let her head drop back against the arm of the couch. “He’s the father of my baby.”

  Unfortunately, Wendy thought as she basted the plump, succulent turkey that emitted such fabulous smells from her kitchen, Faith had sworn her to secrecy. She was dying to rush into the living room, where Travis sat with Dusty watching football, and blurt out the truth. The juicy truth that she—and she alone—knew.

  Nick Russo was the father of Faith’s unborn baby.

  Wow. The burden of secrecy was killing her, and she’d only known for twenty-four hours. What must it be doing to Faith? This put a whole new spin on the Russo wedding for her. Would Faith attend? Did Nick know? Did the rest of the Russo family? Would they end up together?

  All in good time, she sighed, closing the oven door and wiping her hands on her apron. A wedding was most certainly not the time or place for a revelation such as that to occur, so most likely, like the rest of New Hope, she would just have to wait and see.

  “Halftime,” Travis murmured into her ear as he came up behind her, grabbed her around the waist and growled into her neck. “What smells so heavenly in here?” he asked, peering over her shoulder at the stove.

  For a moment Wendy allowed herself to melt back into his virile, sexy, utterly masculine body and imagine that he was her husband. Closing her eyes, she smiled. The image was so wonderful. It was so sad, how she’d gone and fallen in love with the wrong man, smack-dab in the middle of her husband hunt.

  Her eyes popped open and she stiffened. It was true. That’s exactly what she’d done. She’d fallen in love with Travis. A low moan sounded deep in her throat. What an idiot. Would she forever be a day late and a dollar short?

  “Mmm.” Travis buried his nose in the tender spot between her neck and her shoulder. “I love that little noise you make,” he said, planting a few small kisses. “Ah. I think I just found out what’s so delicious,” he teased, tightening his grip at her slender waist. “It’s you.”

  Luckily, before Wendy could angle her mouth back to his for one of those hot, zingy kisses that threatened to straighten her perm, Dusty wandered into the kitchen.

  “Is it ready yet?” he asked, sniffing around, much like his father.

  Travis dropped his arms. “Is it?” he whispered teasingly, trailing his hand down along the gentle swell of her hip.

  Wendy’s eyes shot to his. “It’s getting there,” she said, and reveled in the smoldering look that flashed across his face.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned, his eyes sweeping roguishly over her curves. “Dusty,” he ordered, grabbing his son by the arm, “let’s set the table. I’m starving.”

  Wendy grinned. Yes, but starving for what? As she covertly watched Travis direct the table setting procedures, she couldn’t help but notice once again what a wonderful, loving father he made. Just the kind of father she wanted for her own baby someday.

  A lump formed in her throat as she admitted that it was never to be. Travis had been too badly hurt by Elly Mae, and could probably never give his heart to a woman again. As much as she understood this, it didn’t make her situation any easier. Darn it, anyway. His kisses had ruined her for any other man.

  She should know. Lately she’d kissed her share of toads. Perhaps nearly as many as the social butterfly, BambiAnn. Heaving a heartfelt sigh, she checked the turkey one last time. How the heck was she supposed to lure a man into the marriage trap, if her heart was still with Dusty’s daddy?

  Later that evening, after they’d all claimed that they were fair to bursting, and Dusty had trundled off to bed, Travis watched Wendy as she gathered the table linens in a laundry basket and put the crystal back into her china cabinet. There was no getting around it anymore. He was in love with Wendy Wilcox. And now that he’d finally come to his senses, it was too late. She was on a mission, and Larry Miller was her latest target. He might as well forget the notion that she might aim Cupid’s bow at him. No. In her mind, he was a lost cause. Not that he blamed her. He’d failed in the husband category before.

  She saw him as a womanizing playboy. To a degree, she’d been right. But, dang it, anyway, a man can change. Crimeney, if someone had asked him a month ago if he’d be thinking about tying the knot now, he’d have died laughing. And if they’d asked him if he’d be thinking about tying it with Wendy, he’d have just plain died. But here he was, mooning over her like a lovesick bull, wanting nothing more than to marry her and make babies with her.

  She and Elly Mae couldn’t be any less alike if they tried, in all the ways that counted. He could see that now, and knew that he could trust Wendy with his life. More important, he could trust her with Dusty’s life. She was serious, loving, good-natured, well liked by the community and smart. Not to mention sexy as hell when she was just being herself and not wearing the hideous postal uniform or the garish big hair and makeup. She even seemed happy with her life here in New Hope, content to settle down and leave the wanderlust to the people on the soaps. He’d blown it: Should have staked his claim when he had the chance. Viciously punching his pillow, he stuffed it behind his head and settled in to wait for Wendy to come join him.

  At long last Wendy finished her chores, and brought their customary pot of coffee out to the living room. Settling next to him on the floor again, she smiled contentedly, purring like a kitten when he took her legs into his hands and began rubbing her calves.

  “Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’ll give you exactly fifty years to stop that.”

  “Deal,” Travis said solemnly, and meant it.

  “I got Michael and Michelle a wedding gift yesterday,” she murmured lightly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I went to the Baby Boutique to ask Faith what everyone else was doing, but…she was with a customer.”

  “Oh. So, what did you decide on?” he asked, working his thumbs into the back of her knee.

  She giggled. “That tickles.”

  “Sorry.”

 
“No. Don’t stop,” she ordered. “I like it.” Closing her eyes again, she pursed her lips. “Let’s see…where were we?”

  Travis knew where he’d like to be. It was everything he could do not to drag her into his arms and kiss those puckered lips. Man. Was she trying to kill him here? “You were, uh, telling mc about what we bought for the Russo wedding.”

  “Ohhhh, yeah,” she moaned, and he thought his chest would explode. “Uh, we bought them some silverware.”

  “Silverware?” Travis asked in a strangled voice.

  “Yeah. Silver. They were registered for a really pretty pattern down at Monaco’s Department Store. So I got several settings for them. It’s gonna cost ya,” she sang teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “That depends on the cost,” Travis said, his voice loaded with innuendo.

  Wendy grinned. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  Allowing his head to loll back on his shoulders, Travis exhaled wearily at the ceiling. Impossible. There was nothing remotely easy or simple about his relationship with Wendy.

  11

  Monday evening, the day before she turned thirty years old, Wendy looked into the mirror and saw a changed woman. And not because she was any closer to topping the crest of the dreaded hill. No. It went far deeper than that. She exuded a new maturity. A subtle grace. A certain love liness that came only with hard won self-confidence.

  If this husband hunt had been successful on any level at all, it was in the fact that it had forced her to grow up. To take a long, hard look at the path she was taking, and to alter her course for the better. To come out of her shell and meet the world face-on. And, most important, to allow herself to become vulnerable to another person.

  Although, a fat lot of good it did, she thought morosely as she styled her hair into the sleek chignon she’d copied from the latest copy of Metropolitan. So now she was filled with confidence and poise. So what? She still couldn’t have the man she wanted. Needed. Ached for. Dreamt about by night, couldn’t stop thinking about by day.

  Story of her life. She sighed and nervously dabbed a little perfume behind her ears. Any minute now Larry Miller would be showing up at her door and the whole exhausting getting-to-know-you process would begin again. For the millionth time, she desperately wished that she could marry Travis. She already knew him. She already liked him. More than that, she already loved him and his son to distraction.

  Oh, Travis, she thought, her heart heavy with sorrow. Why did she have to look any farther than the end of her driveway for the other half of her heart?

  But as much as she longed for a relationship with Travis, it wasn’t to be. Travis had no intention of ever trusting again. Of ever loving again. Of ever marrying again. He’d been hurt too badly. Besides, she wasn’t his type. And no matter how hard she tried to alter her appearance and her behavior, she never would be. She just couldn’t sustain the dumb-blonde routine. At heart, she was just an average woman who wanted the simple things in life.

  A nice guy like Travis and a few kids to call her own.

  Moving to her closet, she slipped her new, stylish blackand-white polka-dot-print dress over her head. The silky material floated down and clung becomingly to her figure. She cinched the wide belt at her narrow waist, deep in thought. What a mess she’d made for herself.

  Not only was she in love with Travis, but she needed him. As much as she knew he needed her. As much as Dusty needed her. Heavens, they were practically a family already. That’s the way everyone had treated them, at the Russo wedding. Just like a family. She’d loved the feeling of arriving at the sanctuary on Travis’s arm, taking her place on the pew between him and Dusty. Watching Michelle and Michael take their vows of love together. He’d held her hand, squeezing it from time to time, and it had all felt so right. It all made perfect sense. Too bad Travis would never see it that way. Oh, well, she thought, wiping at a stray tear that blurred her vision. It was too late anyway.

  Travis was afraid of marriage.

  Tomorrow she would be thirty.

  Larry was on his way.

  Snatching a tissue from her nightstand, she blew her nose and, taking a stoic breath, crossed the room to her dresser. She didn’t even particularly like Larry, she mused morosely as she fastened her new black-and-white earrings into her ears and slipped her pumps onto her feet. It hadn’t been her idea to have him over for dinner. Someone down at the post office had told him about her husband hunt, and he’d invited himself over. Just like that.

  Coating her lips in a bright, rosy shade of lipstick helped boost her confidence a little. She looked nice enough for the questionable Larry, she decided, powdering her nose and checking her stockings. Her heart just wasn’t in this date. They’d have a little dinner together and—unless he was really able to impress her in some way or another and change the niggling feelings of doubt she had about his character—she would most likely start the whole process over again next weekend with someone else.

  Except that, by next weekend, she would already be thirty. And her chances of landing that man, according to the article anyway, were practically nil. A sudden headache gripped her brain and she longed to take a couple of aspirin and crawl into bed. To hide from the world. That way, she could just skip the whole depressing ordeal with Larry. Deep in her soul, she knew that they were all wrong for each other. Just as she had known about Abner and Reggie and the host of other suitors she’d considered.

  Staring at herself in the mirror, she gave her head a little shake. Since when had she become so picky?

  Since she’d started comparing every man she met to Travis, she guessed wryly. Without exception, they all came up short next to him.

  It was funny, but in the past month he’d changed nearly as much as she had. A small, sad smile tinged the corners of her mouth. He probably didn’t even realize it, but he hadn’t been out on a date with anyone but her since BambiAnn had left him for Cecil. In fact, he’d even admitted that he was ready to stop acting like a wounded animal and start taking responsibility for his and Dusty’s future. Amazing. Neither of them was the same person at all anymore.

  The fading twilight drew her inexorably to her bedroom window, where she leaned against the sash and gazed into Travis’s yard. Somehow, she must have sensed his presence because he was standing there in his drive, arms crossed firmly across his powerful chest, legs spread slightly for balance, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pondered a seemingly heavy thought. Wendy’s sigh was haunted. He was everything she’d always wanted in a man. Why hadn’t she ever been able to see that before?

  She’d always liked Travis, just the way he was. But now…now she was in love with him. Probably always would be, until her last, dying breath.

  Someday, when she and her husband were old and gray and sitting out on the front porch in their matching rocking chairs, she would probably look next door toward Travis’s place with the same hollow yearning she felt for him right now.

  The doorbell chimed, interrupting her ruminations. Larry was here. Taking a deep breath, she dragged her eyes from the man she loved, cast a last-minute glance over her appearance, then headed to the door to let Larry in.

  Larry had arrived.

  Time to go prune Wendy’s side of the hedge, Travis thought grimly, grabbing his gardening shears and hacksaw as he headed toward her yard. He pondered the idea of bringing his shotgun, but thought better of it. Might not need it on the hedge, but then again, you never knew…

  He squinted at Larry’s beater, parked at the curb in front of Wendy’s place. Something about that guy bugged the hell out of him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t about to let Wendy serve that loser dinner, alone in her house, without keeping an eye on the both of them.

  Burning off his nervous energy, he attacked the hedge with a renewed vengeance. Most likely, when he was done with the poor thing, there would be nothing left. He paused in his assault. Was he thinking about the hedge, or Larry? Didn’t matter. Sweat broke out on his bro
w as he worked and strained to see something through Wendy’s picture window.

  Anything.

  Damn.

  Nothing.

  Couldn’t hear anything, either. What was going on in there? he wondered, whacking savagely at the leafy green.

  “What are ya doin’, Dad?” Dusty asked as he ambled up behind his father. His soft, baby-fat belly was peeking from beneath the sweatshirt he’d outgrown.

  “What does it look like?” he barked, then immediately felt like an old ogre. He shouldn’t take his frustration over Wendy’s idiotic love life out on his son. He should be taking it out on her. Dagnabbit, anyway. What the devil was wrong with him? Why didn’t he just march himself over there and claim her as his woman and get it over with? He wanted Wendy. She wanted a husband. Dusty wanted a mother. They all wanted each other. It had become amazingly clear in his mind. “I’m pruning the hedge,” he explained in a softer tone and smiled at his curious son as he mopped his brow.

  “In the dark?”

  “It’s not totally dark yet.”

  “The streetlights are on.” Dusty pointed up.

  “Yeah, well.” Travis lifted and dropped his shoulders, then stared over at Wendy’s picture window. The curtains were drawn. Why had she drawn the curtains? She never did that. Probably just so she could drive him crazy. Well, he thought discontentedly, it was working.

  “You know what I want for Christmas, Dad?” Dusty asked, picking up his father’s hacksaw and swinging it around in wild circles.

  “Dusty, you’re going to put somebody’s eye out with that thing,” he admonished and, never taking his gaze off Wendy’s window, reached out and took the saw.

  “Do ya, Dad?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Know what I want for Christmas?”

  “No.”

  “I want Wendy to be my mom.”

  “That’s nice.” Travis nodded absently, wishing he could be a fly on the wall over at Wendy’s place. What the hell was going on over there, anyway? The not knowing was killing him. How could he drop by and check things out, without seeming obvious?