Let's Get Mommy Married

by Marie Ferrarella

  She wasn’t sure she caught the drift of what Teri was driving at now. “What ‘all this’?”

  Not only did she have to lead this horse to water, she had to stick the straw in it for her, too. “Well, you dated him, didn’t you?”

  That was what Chris had said yesterday. But technically, in her mind, it hadn’t been a date either time. “No, I-”

  “All right, you were anesthetized by thinking that this woman would pop up eventually, but the fact is that you did go out with him and you did have a terrific time by your own admission. At the very least, that should show you something.”

  “That I do well in a group.” Rosemary swung her legs off the edge of the bed. “I always knew that.”

  “All right, take a bunch of hand puppets in your purse. Or gerbils if it makes you feel better. Just don’t let this guy get away.”

  Far easier said than done. The damage she’d done might be beyond her power to fix. “I yelled at him for calling me a liar, Teri. I think he’s already gone.”

  “His kind has far greater staying power than you’re giving him credit for. Apologize and take it from there.”

  “I—”

  “Apologize and take it from there,” Teri repeated firmly.

  Rosemary pressed her lips together. It was the only path open to her. Even if she didn’t want to make a stab at a relationship beyond being friends with him, she had to apologize for what she’d said. And she still wanted Chris to know that she didn’t have anything to do with the charade.

  “We’ll see,” Rosemary said as she hung up.

  “I sincerely hope so,” Teri whispered to herself as she replaced the telephone.

  10

  Three hours later, when Rosemary walked up Chris’s driveway, it felt as if she was walking the last mile before her execution. She was definitely not looking forward to this, but one way or another, it had to be done.

  She would have called him if she could, but she didn’t have his phone number. There was no Chris Maverick in the white pages of her telephone book and Information said he was unlisted.

  That left only one way open to her if she was going to resolve things.

  Face-to-face made it a great deal more difficult. But she owed him an apology and she wasn’t the kind to let things like that slide.

  Maybe she had seen Pinocchio one too many times, she thought ruefully as she rang his bell.

  She hoped he was in. She didn’t want to go through the agony of psyching herself up again later. As it was, it had taken her the entire time she’d driven Danny to his friend’s house and then back to work up her courage to do this.

  Danny had been very quiet and contrite after the dressing-down she had given him. But in the end, she’d forgiven him just as she had Teri. He meant well. Still, she had extracted a promise from him that he was never going to try to do something so secretive again.

  That should last until he was in his teens, she judged.

  Her palms felt wet. She didn’t mind admitting she was wrong; she just hated the embarrassment that went along with it.

  When he didn’t answer, she rang again. She knew he was home. This was Saturday and he didn’t have a radio show to do. Besides, his car was still in the driveway where he’d left it last night.

  There was still no answer. Rosemary leaned on the bell.

  “Please, answer,” she muttered under her breath. “And let me get this over with.”

  The door was suddenly yanked open. Startled, Rosemary took a step backward before the sight of Chris registered in her brain.

  He was standing dripping in the doorway, a black terry-cloth towel wrapped around his hips, another draped over his sleek shoulders.

  Déô vu.

  Except that this time he looked far from happy.

  Chris rubbed one end of the towel over his wet head, his eyes fixed on hers.

  “Is there some kind of a warning system hooked up to my shower?” he demanded. “Does it go off whenever I turn on the water and leave you with an uncontrollable desire to come running over and ring my doorbell?”

  If this was going to be done, she had to do it quickly. Pulling back would only make her lose her momentum and her courage. Holding on to both, she pushed past Chris and walked into the house.

  “Kind of testy today, aren’t we?”

  He stared at her. What was she doing here? After last night he’d figured that maybe things needed to cool off between them before they spoke to each other again. She’d certainly given him that impression.

  “I always get that way after I’m made to feel as if I’m the bad guy. It’s my way of working it out of my system.”

  And trying to work her out of his system, as well. Sometime last night he’d come to the realization that may be he was butting his head against a brick wall with her. That maybe she was serious about not wanting a romantic relationship with him or with anyone. If that was the way she really felt, then pushing could only be construed as being obsessive.

  So he’d decided to back off. And here she was, ringing his bell and his chimes. It certainly didn’t make things easier for him.

  Rosemary wished he was wearing something other than that towel again. The first time she’d seen him this way, it had unnerved her. And that was before he’d kissed her. Now she felt as if there were ants all over her body, moving insistently along, tingling her skin.

  She looked at his wet hair and hoped her eyes would stay put. The sight of the rest of him was a bit more than she could calmly endure.

  “I came over to apologize.”

  Chris stopped toweling his hair and looked at her. “Oh?”

  She faced him squarely, drawing herself up. “But it’s not what you think.”

  He cocked his head, studying her. She seemed full of confidence and nervous at the same time. He couldn’t help hoping the latter was because of him. “Then tell me what to think.”

  She wanted him to believe her in the worst way. “I really didn’t know about the Mary Smith thing. I honestly thought I was setting you up with someone. Maybe I’m stupid, but I just don’t think in those kinds of terms.”

  He shook his head. She was leaving something out. “What terms? You’ve lost me.”

  Just as long as you don’t lose that towel, we’re okay. “Devious ones.” She perched on the arm of his overstuffed sofa. “Teri and Danny set me up.” She licked her lips. God, but they felt dry. “They set both of us up, really. Except that you caught on.” She couldn’t help the small accusing look that came into her eyes. “Sort of.”

  He took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. Rosemary could feel the body heat radiating between them. And a yearning budding in hers.

  “Can we back up here for a minute? Are you telling me that you didn’t know that there was no Mary Smith? That you weren’t the one to make her up?”

  He was still skeptical, she thought, and it bothered her.

  “That’s what I’m telling you.” She frowned. It was a no-win situation. If he didn’t believe her, he’d think she was lying. If he did believe her, he’d probably think she was an idiot. “That doesn’t make me exactly a rocket scientist, does it?”

  He could afford to smile. She hadn’t been devious. It was the one thing that hadn’t clicked before. Devious didn’t seem to suit her personality. He felt relieved. And incredibly turned on, standing here in a towel, with her scent wafting to him.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I never went out with a rocket scientist myself. Something tells me, though, that they get so wrapped up in their work, they miss a few signs, too.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

  Suddenly she was finding it very difficult to breathe. “You’re being nice about this, but I feel badly.”

  “Why?” He nipped her lips slightly, barely touching them. Exciting himself—and her, he hoped. “I had a great time, I already told you.” He stopped for a second to look into her eyes. “Unless you didn’t.”

  “No, I did.
” He feathered a kiss along her jawline and her mouth almost fell open. She was having more and more difficulty pushing the words out of her mouth. “It’s just that, well, it’s the way I told you.” Her limbs were on their way to permanent liquefaction. “On a date, I become a mindless idiot.”

  “I doubt that.” He felt her pulse leap in her throat as he skimmed his lips along it. “All right, we won’t date.”

  “We won’t?” She was holding on to his shoulders now to keep from slipping away. Or maybe to keep him from stopping.

  His words brought her around. He was saying what she wanted him to say. At least, what she had thought she wanted him to say. But now that he did, something within her was screaming no.

  “No, we won’t,” he repeated. “I have a better idea. We’ll hang out together.” She’d said that being friends had made her feel more comfortable with her late husband. Then that was the route to go. “In different places. Just like friends.”

  She could feel every rippling muscle, every nuance of his desire. “What kind of friends?”

  “Close friends,” he whispered along her shoulder.

  She could hardly swallow, but then, that didn’t seem very important at the moment. Her mouth curved. “How close?”

  He looked into her eyes, his own glinting with mischief. And desire. “Close enough that if my towel starts to slip, you’d grab it for me and hold it up.” He sealed his arms around her.

  Rosemary felt something wild and wicked and wonderfully free being released within her. “How high would you want me to hold it?”

  He outlined the shape of her earlobe with his tongue and she was sinking at a speed that could only be measured in light-years.

  “I was thinking of somewhere over your head. But don’t let me rush you.” Tracing a path with his mouth, he switched to her other ear. “Take all the time you want.”

  She was melting into his arms, he could feel it, although no faster than he was dissolving himself. But a thought suddenly burst on his brain, bringing everything to a temporary halt.

  “Where’s Danny?”

  Danny? Oh, her son. Right. “I drove him to his friend’s house.” Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to think of that. She’d done it to keep him from seeing his mother eat crow, not because she’d expected to unlock the door of paradise. “He’ll be gone all afternoon.”

  Chris framed Rosemary’s face in his hands. “And the dog?”

  That one took her a second longer to remember. “Sleeping.”

  His smile began in his eyes and reached down to his lips. “Then we’re alone.”

  “Yes.” Rosemary was barely aware of mouthing the word.

  He kissed each eyelid shut and felt her heart hammering against his chest. “And it looks as if we’re going to stay that way for a while.”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect.”

  He found her mouth a second before she was going to pull him toward it. The kiss was wild, exciting, and just rough enough around the edges to show her what lay in store. And what it was that she had nearly backed away from.

  Her head spinning madly, Rosemary pulled her lips from his. “Chris?”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t want to talk anymore. It was past the time for words. He kissed her again.

  “Your towel’s slipping.” Her mouth curved against his in a smile.

  “I think you know what to do.”

  She grinned wickedly. “Yes, I do. I know exactly what to do.”

  His eyes held hers as they darkened with a passion that he had bridled until now. The very look excited her beyond words.

  “Then do it.”

  She held her breath. Her heart pounded anyway. “With no dog to blame it on?”

  Very slowly he moved his head from side to side. “I don’t think we need any familiars running interference any longer.”

  “No,” she agreed as her fingers curved along the perimeter of the towel, the portion that was just below his navel. “We don’t.”

  The black terry-cloth towel blended very well with the gray carpeting that it landed on. Which was just as well. Because it remained there, unnoticed, for a very, very long time.

  SILHOUETTE BOOKS

  eISBN 978-14592-8100-4

  LET’S GET MOMMY MARRIED

  Copyright © 1996 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Printed in U.S.A.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  About The Author

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Copyright