The Matchmaker's Happy Ending: Boardroom Bride and Groom

by Shirley Jump

  He leaned forward, caught her hands. The cozy restaurant provided a dark, intimate cover, leaving them nearly alone, while the sultry jazz music played on in the background. Her breath fluttered in and out, her pulse ticked in her throat, and no matter how frustrated he got, all he could think about was kissing her, damn it. “You were not.”

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me the truth, Nick.” Carolyn closed the distance between them even more. “Did you want me because I was a challenge, that cold Bostonian girl who turned down every guy at Lawford U, or because I was truly someone you loved?”

  “I...”

  She tugged her hands out of his grasp, grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. She paused by the table. “Just the fact that you’re hesitating answers the question.”

  Then Carolyn left. Something in her broke as the door shut behind her, muting the sound of the music. And Nick.

  Carolyn stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab. She inhaled the warm, humid summer night air. A slight buzz of traffic filled the streets around her. A few cabs passed, but all had their lights off. Occupied.

  The door to the club opened, releasing a burst of air-conditioned air, a snatch of a song. And Nick.

  “You think that settles it?” he asked. “You think the only reason I wanted you was to add some kind of silly conquest to my list?”

  “Yeah.” Now that she had said it, the truth became a sharp edge slicing along her heart. She’d thought she couldn’t hurt over Nick Gilbert anymore. She’d been wrong.

  “I wanted you for a hundred different reasons, Carolyn. And I still do.”

  “Nick, there’s nothing between us except past history.” She turned back toward the street. Where was a cab when you needed a really good exit?

  “Nothing, huh? Why don’t you try this for nothing?” Then before she could react or think, Nick took her in his arms and pulled her to him.

  And kissed her.

  Three years had passed since the last time she had been kissed by Nick Gilbert, but it felt like three hundred. Carolyn’s entire body surged forward, responding like a starving traveler who’d stumbled upon a feast. Her arms reached around him, locking in on familiar muscles and planes, fitting into the same places as before, drawing him closer. Closer still.

  His lips knew hers as well as the musicians inside had known their notes. At first his mouth drifted over hers, soft, easy, gentle—a prelude to what was to come—then, with a note of urgency, his hands splayed against her back and his mouth opened against hers. And everything within Carolyn opened in return.

  He tasted of scotch and old memories, of everything she had denied herself over the past three years, and everything she had dreamed about and ached for, when the regrets crept in and shared her bed at night. Her fingers slid into his hair, then down his neck, along his shoulders, as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him now—

  As if she knew she’d better memorize this kiss because there wouldn’t be another.

  Nick pulled back, but his arms remained holding her tight to him. “That’s what we still have in common, Carolyn. And if you’d start with that, then we could move forward.”

  She swallowed hard. How easy it would be to let that kiss be enough. To pretend everything was fine. But she knew better. And in her heart she knew Nick did, too. “It wasn’t enough then, Nick. And it’s still not enough. I wish it was. Oh, how I wish it was.”

  He broke away, a gust of frustration escaping him. “What is it with you and these emotional walls? Getting close to you is like trying to scale Alcatraz.”

  She looked at the man she once thought she’d known better than herself and realized she’d been wrong. It had taken two to end this relationship—and it was now taking two to keep it from blossoming again. “Don’t talk to me about putting up walls, Nick Gilbert. Not when you’ve thrown up just as many emotional bricks as I have.”

  A cab came down the road, its top light on, and Carolyn raised her hand. In the kind of luck that only seemed to happen in the movies, the yellow cab stopped. Carolyn got in and left.

  Before she could be wrapped in Nick’s spell again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JEAN’S FACE SAID IT ALL. But Nick still forced himself to ask the question. “Where’s Bobby?”

  “He can’t come today. We’re looking for a temporary placement for him.” A heavy sigh escaped Jean, seeming to weigh down the air around all of them.

  Not that the air had been all that light to begin with. As promised, Carolyn had arrived at the city park where the best fireworks viewing could be found, but hadn’t said much to Nick. They had planned to spend the late afternoon at the park, have a picnic dinner, then let Bobby play before the fireworks started late that night. Nick wondered how they were going to get through all that time with him and Carolyn barely speaking, because it seemed pretty clear they’d gone back to being—what was her word?—cordial colleagues.

  “A temporary placement?” Carolyn asked. “Why?”

  “His mother had to be admitted to the hospital this morning. She’s not doing well. They think she has pneumonia, and after just battling breast cancer, the doctors didn’t want to take any chances, so they had her checked in.”

  Carolyn put a hand to her heart. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “The doctors think so. And she’ll probably only be there for a few days, at most. She needs an IV, some antibiotics. She’s been feeling ill for a while but resisted going to the hospital because she didn’t want Bobby to be put into foster care again.”

  “I understand that,” Nick said. “It’s clear how much she loves him.”

  Several other families passed by, heading for the small public barbecues set up by the picnic tables. The scent of grilled meat filled the air, coupled with the sound of laughing children and barking dogs.

  “Right now,” Jean said, “Bobby’s at a residential child care facility, until I can find him a foster family. It’s a holiday weekend, so I’m having a hard time. Everyone’s away on vacation.”

  “But surely, you have lots of families to choose from.”

  Jean indicated the picnic table beside them and gestured for the two of them to sit. “Can I be frank?”

  Nick and Carolyn nodded in tandem and settled onto the opposite bench.

  “We don’t have a ton of foster parents to choose from. There’s a long program to go through to be approved. Finding a temporary home at the last minute, especially on a holiday weekend, can be a challenge.” Jean placed a hand on Carolyn’s, met Nick’s gaze. “I don’t want you two to worry about Bobby. We’ll find someplace for him until his mother is out of the hospital. He’ll be fine.”

  “But what if you don’t?” Carolyn said.

  Jean’s eyes were sad, filled with a reality she knew, but didn’t really want to share. “He’ll stay at a residential facility. It’s not our first choice. And the upheaval for Bobby has already been so hard.”

  “Isn’t there any other option?” Nick asked. He thought of Bobby’s eyes, of the sadness he had seen in the boy’s face. Damn, that kid had already faced enough. When would he catch a break?

  “Well...” Jean paused. Looked from one of them to the other. “Bobby’s mother and I did discuss one other possibility. And I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t completely out of options.”

  “What?” Carolyn and Nick said at the same time.

  Jean steepled her fingers. “Bobby responded really well to the two of you. He smiled. He laughed. You have no idea how huge that is. This is a boy who has had nothing but tragedy for the last year of his life. His mother liked the two of you. She said Bobby did nothing but talk nonstop about the picnic and the fair.”

  “We had a great time with him, too. He’s a fabulous kid,” Nick said.

  “He is,” Jean agreed. “Pauline said she hasn’t seen he
r son this happy in ages, and she’ll do about anything to keep him that way, especially while she’s in the hospital.”

  “I can understand that,” Nick said. He thought of his own mother, how she’d put her family ahead of virtually everything. The Gilberts had been blessed with a happy home, free of what Bobby had gone through, but they had one commonality—mothers who deeply loved their children.

  Jean bit her lip, then went on. “Because of that, she’d much rather see him stay with friends than strangers.”

  “Friends?” Carolyn asked. “As in...?”

  “You two.”

  The words hung in the air. No one said anything for a long moment.

  “You want us to watch Bobby?” Carolyn said.

  “It’s an idea.”

  Carolyn’s gaze met Nick’s. Held. They each knew how being in a foster home had affected Bobby. They’d seen it in the boy’s eyes. Heard it in his voice.

  Carolyn thought of her own childhood. Of being ripped out of the only home she’d ever known, and being sent to live with a cold, dictatorial woman, essentially a stranger, who had never extended a warm hug or a kind word. What difference would it have made to her to have had even a few days with someone who had made her laugh? Made her smile? Given her the memories of potato sack races and cotton candy?

  Would she have been able to forget what had happened to her father, if only for a little while, and felt like a normal child? Could it be possible to give that same gift to Bobby?

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Carolyn asked Nick, wondering whether she could even do this, because this was completely not her area of expertise. Out of her comfort zone didn’t even begin to describe it. “I mean, it’s a crazy idea, but you said before, you and I are better—”

  “Together than apart,” he finished, reading her mind, slipping into the familiar patterns from three years ago as if no time at all had passed. “It’s only a few days. I’m sure we could do it.”

  “I can rearrange my work schedule.” Carolyn smiled, suddenly feeling like this was the perfect choice. Helping Bobby—what better way was there to spend her time? “Mary would be thrilled to help me do that.”

  “I’m owed some vacation time on my end, too.” Even as the plan took place between them, Nick couldn’t believe they were considering such a crazy idea.

  But then he thought of Bobby. Of the wonder he had seen in the boy’s face over simple things like a stuffed dragon, a ride on the Ferris wheel, a new truck. He’d appreciated everything—and asked for nothing.

  Nick had been so incredibly fortunate in his own life. This would be a chance to give back, and see a direct result of his efforts. He’d enjoyed the toy buying, the picnic, the fair, so much more than he had expected. He looked to Carolyn again and nodded.

  “Jean,” Carolyn began, “Nick and I would like to take Bobby in, until it’s time for him to return to his mother.”

  Then an awful possibility occurred to Nick. What if Pauline never got better? What if Bobby eventually had to leave and go into permanent foster care? Could Nick let him go then?

  He’d have to. He certainly couldn’t take Bobby on as a son. Nick was a single man—a man who worked an incredible amount of hours—a man with few responsibilities, who hadn’t even managed to hold on to a marriage. Heck, he’d barely grown up himself.

  Clearly, he wouldn’t make a good father, and especially not a good single father. Surely, if something tragic were to happen, Jean would find someone to take Bobby. Someone who would love him and want to give the boy a permanent home.

  “I was only throwing the idea out. You two don’t have to do this,” Jean said. “It’s a terrible imposition, on such short notice, and—”

  “We want to,” Nick said, thinking again of the boy and of the way his face had lit up at the fair, of how a simple thing like winning a stuffed toy had changed his outlook for hours. “That way, he can still go to the fireworks, still have the fun that we promised him, and his mother won’t have to worry. He’ll be in a stable home, with two people.”

  Relief flooded Jean’s features. “Are you really sure?”

  Once again, Carolyn and Nick locked gazes. An electric thrill of connection ran between them, hot, fast. This was what had brought them together in law school, this energy, this shared passion for changing the world. They each nodded, then turned back to Jean. “Yes, we’re sure,” Carolyn said.

  “Forgive me for getting personal,” Jean said, “but you two aren’t married and...don’t live under the same roof. How are you going to make this work?”

  Ah, the one detail they had overlooked in their rush. They’d both only been thinking of the child, not each other. In that moment, Nick saw Carolyn realize what their hasty offer entailed—the two of them being together.

  Entirely together. Under one roof. For the next few days.

  It had only taken them three weeks the last time they’d been together on a continual basis to make the decision to run off and elope. How long would it take, the second time around? Or would they realize this time in a matter of days instead that they were meant to continue on their separate paths?

  “We’ll figure it out,” Carolyn said. “For Bobby’s sake.”

  “Of course we will,” Nick added. But at that moment, with every one of his senses on heightened Carolyn alert, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be figuring out—

  How to love Carolyn again, or how to forget her again.

  * * *

  The overnight bag sat in the foyer, a blaring announcement of Carolyn’s insanity. She stared at the small brown suitcase, wondering if it was too late to back out. To come up with another plan.

  Then she thought of Bobby and reconsidered. Hadn’t she known what it was like to be shuffled off to someone she didn’t know, someone who didn’t really want her?

  For him, she could do this. She’d just avoid Nick. Not look at him when he woke up in the morning, his hair slightly mussed from sleep. Steer clear when he stepped out of the shower, his skin warm and steaming from the heat. Keep an entire floor between them when he went off to bed and sank beneath his covers, wearing—

  “Do you want me to show you to the guest room?”

  Nick’s voice, low, husky, behind her. Carolyn tensed, then relaxed, steeling herself again before turning around. She would not react. Would not show him that hearing his voice, seeing him here—in the most intimate of environments, his home—had any affect whatsoever on her.

  Whoa. He looked good. Wearing only a simple blue cotton T-shirt and cutoff shorts. His feet were bare, the muscles of his arms exposed, and the tattoo, that silly shark tattoo, peeked out from under the sleeve, teasing at the edge of her vision.

  Bandit skidded in, plopped down beside his master, then nosed forward, sniffing at the new guest. He offered up a slobbery greeting on Carolyn’s hand, then sat back and panted happily. She’d won the dog over with nothing more than a smile.

  “Sorry, I’m a mess,” Nick said, grabbing a towel from the counter and wiping his hands. “I was doing a little yard work before you got here. Trying to clean up out there so Bobby will have some room to play. The weather’s so nice and—” He cocked his head, studied her. “What? Do I have grass in my hair or something?”

  “Oh, oh, no.” Shoot. She’d been caught staring at him. Well, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t? Nick Gilbert gave handsome a new definition. And it had been way too long since she’d been on a date. “I just got lost in my thoughts.”

  He took a step closer. “Were any of those thoughts about me?”

  He knew she’d been staring at him, darn it. “No,” she lied.

  “Too bad. Because a few of mine lately have been about you.” Another step closer.

  “Just a few?” she said, trying to tease, but the words just sounded panicked.

&nbs
p; He caught the strap of her sundress beneath his finger and Carolyn froze, unable to think, to hear, to do anything but stare into Nick’s eyes and think about those few days they had been married. How wonderful the days had been. How much sweeter the nights had been. His touch was light, almost chaste, yet the sensation of skin on skin sizzled along her nerve endings, sparked her memories.

  Had it been this good three years ago? No, this was better. Hotter. More tempting. Because she knew. She knew what pleasure awaited her in Nick’s arms.

  “I’ve had more than a few thoughts about you,” he said, his voice low and dark with a mirror of her desire. “In fact, every other thought ever since that kiss outside the jazz club has been about you. Maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to move in together. Even for a few days.” Another step, closing the gap. “Why can’t I forget you, Carolyn?”

  “Uh, because you once told me that you have a photographic memory?” The words were a squeak, her senses off-kilter, her normal equilibrium gone. Good thing she’d never faced Nick in court, because she’d have lost every time.

  “Maybe,” he said, his voice lower, darker now. “Or maybe it’s because I never forgot this.” And then he leaned down and kissed her.

  This kiss wasn’t like the one last night. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t quick. It didn’t tease her, or make her wonder where they stood.

  This kiss rocked her to her very core, and stamped every cell in Carolyn’s body with the message that Nick Gilbert still wanted her. He cupped her jaw, then opened his mouth against hers, tasting her, holding her captive with the desire that still ran so strong in her veins that ignoring it would surely have made her fall apart.

  Her arms circled around his back, her fists bunching the cotton of his T-shirt, lifting the fabric until she could touch his back, feel his warm skin against her palms once again. She ran her hands up those hard planes, tracing the ridges of his spine, then over the tips of his shoulder blades, down again, over every inch of his skin. She had missed him. Missed this. Missed everything about Nick.

  Nick’s kiss deepened and he groaned, then his hand slipped between them and cupped her breast. Every one of Carolyn’s senses erupted into a fire that had been lying dormant for so long—too long—and she arched against him, pressing her breast deeper into his palm. His name slipped out of her mouth, half moan, half whisper. Nick’s other hand tangled in her hair, fingers dancing along her neck.