One Step Away: Once Upon a Proposal

by Sherryl Woods

“That’s not enough fuel for a cold day like this,” he said, and plunked a spoonful of eggs and two strips of bacon on her plate. “Protein is essential.”

  She eyed the tempting but long-ago forbidden food warily. “Protein, maybe, but this is pure cholesterol.”

  “When was the last time you ate bacon and eggs?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Then you don’t have to worry about the cholesterol just this once, do you?” he said, looking disgustingly pleased with his triumph. “Now, tell me how you ended up in Vermont.”

  With a faint sigh, Beth conceded to herself that she had completely lost control of this meeting, after all. Worse, she was beginning to relax under his patient, teasing questioning. And she knew what lay at the end of that road—trouble.

  At the very least, she needed to put some distance between them. She had no intention of telling this man her life story. She kept her reply brief and unemotional.

  “I had been skiing nearby one year,” she said, avoiding any mention of how disastrous the trip had been with her stepchildren sulking the whole time and Peter blaming her for ruining the vacation.

  “When I decided to leave California, I remembered how charmed I’d been by Berry Ridge when I’d driven through it one day.”

  She didn’t add that she had taken the car for a ride while the rest of the family stayed at the ski resort. It was during that drive that she had reconciled herself to the fact that the marriage would never work. In fact, it had been over a cup of coffee and one of the Berry Ridge bakery’s huge, warm cinnamon rolls that she had vowed to call it quits.

  What had convinced her to move here was the fact that Lou Pulanski, the bakery’s owner, had brought her the roll and refilled her coffee cup half a dozen times without any hint that she had noticed the tears streaking down Beth’s cheeks. Oddly, Beth had found comfort in that quiet attention that had been offered without any attempt to intrude on her pain.

  Now that she knew Lou better, she knew that the older woman would have been more than willing to lend an ear or to dispense advice, if asked. But she would never be so indiscreet as to suggest by word or deed that a customer might be in need of sympathy.

  “Some folks just plain like to keep quiet about their troubles,” she’d told Beth later. “If that’s their choice, then I got no business not respecting it.”

  “What?” Ken said, interrupting her memories.

  She regarded him blankly, unwillingly drawn back to the present.

  “You were smiling. What were you thinking about?”

  “How different Berry Ridge is from Los Angeles.”

  “You don’t regret leaving the warm weather and sunshine for this?” He gestured out the window where more snow was falling against a leaden sky.

  “It was a trade-off. No earthquakes, no traffic, and lots of serenity. What about you?”

  “I’ve been on the east coast playing ball for more than ten years. I’ve gotten used to the cold. Chet Mathias had me up here one summer. I wasn’t wild about the solitude at the time, but when I realized I was facing a long recovery from this injury, this seemed like the right place to do it. I figured maybe nobody around here would bother me.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s too soon to tell if I’ll like it enough to stay on.”

  Beth was surprised by the wistful note in his voice. She would have expected him to crave the recognition and adulation he’d had as a star quarterback, but she could definitely relate to his desire to keep to himself and recover. Perhaps they had more in common than she’d guessed. Both of them apparently viewed Berry Ridge as a haven, far from the turbulent life-styles they’d previously led.

  “I guess Roger put an end to that notion right off the bat,” she sympathized. “I’m sorry he was so tactless.”

  Ken shrugged. “He didn’t mean any harm. Hopefully, though, he’ll lay off those plans for some kind of football charity event.”

  “Fortunately, it will be months before the snow melts,” she reassured him. “He’ll probably forget all about it by then. Roger’s enthusiasm is legendary in these parts, but he’s fickle. He comes up with something new almost every day. If the town wants to follow through on one of his ideas, the mayor turns it over to a committee. Even the Chamber of Commerce, of which Roger’s president, manages to snatch the reins away from him if it really wants to implement one of his ideas.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Gracious, look at the time. I really do need to be going.”

  “I’ll drive you,” he suggested.

  “But my car...”

  “Will be here when I bring you back.”

  “What if you decide not to spend the whole day there?”

  “I won’t.”

  To her amazement, Ken did stick it out. He even sent out for sandwiches and coffee for everyone at noon. And he graciously signed autographs for every single man before they left for the day. Initial awe and wariness had quickly given way to respect when he had, as promised, pitched in to help with whatever task was asked of him, no matter how menial.

  “You’ve won them over,” Beth said to him as they stood on the walkway after everyone else had gone. “You could complete this job without me.”

  He glanced down at her and the expression in his eyes made her heart slam against her chest. “Not a chance,” he said softly. “They’d figure out in no time that I don’t have a clue about what needs to be done or how to do it.”

  Beth seriously doubted the modest claim. He’d required almost no direction before he was handily repairing the molding in the master bedroom. In fact, at the rate the work was coming along, they really would have the repairs done and those two bedrooms ready with the basics by the following week. After that, most of the work would be cosmetic—wallpaper, paint, furniture, and those carefully chosen accessories and pictures that would make it seem like a home.

  Still, it would take weeks to finish up. Weeks of working side by side with this man to whom she was drawn as inevitably as bits of metal to a magnet. Dangerous weeks.

  She glanced up to find his gaze on her face. She lost herself in the warm expression in his eyes.

  “Your hair is just about covered with snow,” he said, his voice low.

  Her entire body stilled as his fingers reached toward her hair. As light as his touch was, she could feel it all the way to her toes. And when the caress moved on to her cheek, she was convinced her heart would never withstand the thrill.

  “Beth?”

  “Hmm?” she murmured, her face upturned, her gaze locked with his as the pad of his thumb skimmed over her lower lip.

  “Your skin is so hot, the snow melts as soon as it touches you.”

  She could believe that. In fact, she was burning up. She doubted her temperature would drop to normal until he took away his touch. She couldn’t have dragged her gaze away from his for anything. Again her pulse skittered wildly as he slowly lowered his head. A halfhearted protest formed, but never made it past her lips as his mouth covered hers. Warmth spread through her, warmth and a kind of sweet torment.

  She’d only had a heartbeat to anticipate the actual kiss, but somewhere deep inside she realized she had been anticipating it, dreaming about it, for days now. She had imagined the smooth texture of his lips, the fiery heat, the gentle persuasiveness. But none of her imaginings were nearly as devastating as the reality.

  In reality, the kiss stole her breath, stole her good intentions, stole her powers of resistance. If her resolve and emotions were shaky, her body was alive with almost forgotten sensations. No, she corrected. She had never experienced anything quite like this before, after all. Every fiber of her being hummed...all from just one kiss.

  Maybe if it had seemed practiced and assured, she wouldn’t have fallen prey to it so easily. But his initial touch was uncertain, just hesitant enough to convince her th
at he hadn’t expected this, either.

  And in that instant of awareness, she felt the first faint stirring of trust. That was the most unexpected, most treasured sensation of all.

  * * *

  It had been seventy-two hours since the kiss.

  Ken realized with chagrin that that was how he was beginning to mark time. Every minute, every hour that passed was traced back to the moment when he had lost his head and kissed Beth Callahan.

  Damn, he felt as if he’d never kissed another woman before, when that was far from the truth. Not that he’d seduced anywhere near the numbers the tabloids printed. The fact of the matter was that he’d never seduced a soul other than his wife during his entire marriage. The vows had meant something to him, even in the last terrible months when he’d known in his gut the marriage was over.

  Unfortunately, that commitment on his part hadn’t prevented a lot of exuberant women from planting a kiss on him from time to time. Not one of those stolen kisses, not even the most enthusiastic and darkly sensual of them, had ever held a candle to the sweet surrender of Beth’s lips beneath his.

  Since the night when they’d stood in the snow, their bodies barely touching, but their mouths locked in a seductive dance, he hadn’t laid so much as a finger on her. That resolve to back off hadn’t stopped him from wanting to, though. In fact, he was losing patience with himself. He’d never allowed any woman to tie him in knots this way.

  Like some randy kid, he had dreamed up excuse after excuse to spend the past three evenings with her. He had questioned prices, insisted on additional samples and, just the night before, had hauled her back to the house for a midnight inspection of some flaw that he claimed had been on his mind.

  Standing on the front porch, bathed in moonlight, his body had ached with need for her, but he’d kept his hands firmly jammed into his pockets. He was proud of that restraint, that determined refusal to take what he wanted, not even another kiss. He wasn’t nearly as proud of having dragged her out at that hour in the first place.

  She had responded to his irrational demands with patience and good humor. In fact, she was so blasted calm and serene, he found it irritating. Hadn’t she felt what he’d felt? Hadn’t she been as stunned as he was by the force of a desire barely held in check?

  Apparently not, he decided as she quietly handed him yet another set of unnecessary figures.

  Avoiding her gaze, he decided enough was enough. Once the house was finished, he would avoid the lingering dinners that somehow always seemed to follow their business meetings. In fact, he would avoid anything more than a casual greeting on the street. That would be best...for both of them. He needed to concentrate on his daughter now. Beth needed peace of mind.

  In the meantime, every time they saw each other he felt a terrible longing to kiss her again, to loosen her hair and watch it tumble free, to unbutton the top button of her high-necked blouse...and then the next...and the next.

  Damn, but he’d better finish the initial redecorating and get an increasingly impatient and belligerent Chelsea up here before he made an utter fool of himself and did something he’d regret. Berry Ridge was too small. He would have to face up to a mistake with Beth Callahan every single day of his life. And she, no doubt, would pay an even higher price for his lack of sensible restraint, especially if things didn’t work out in Berry Ridge and he moved away to someplace better for Chelsea.

  He glanced down into her green eyes, as luminous as emeralds, and felt his resolve waver. Again.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice husky with unspoken need.

  She regarded him expectantly. “About what?”

  “I read that there’s a big antique auction this weekend. I thought maybe we should go. What do you think?”

  She beamed at him and his heart flipped over. “I have the notice in my purse. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Great minds...” he murmured.

  “We can stop by some shops, too, and you can see the pieces I had in mind firsthand before you make a decision.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he said. A whole day, alone, together. It did sound perfect.

  It also sounded more dangerous than facing down an all-pro line dead set on stripping him of a football and planting his rear on a rock-hard field. To his everlasting regret, he could hardly wait.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday dawned with cloudless blue skies, relatively mild temperatures in the thirties and endless stretches of snowy landscape. It was the kind of postcard-perfect morning that reminded Beth why all the subzero temperatures were worth tolerating.

  For once she didn’t think about Ken as she chose her clothes: a pair of sturdy jeans, a turtleneck, boots, and a down-lined jacket. Though the auction itself was indoors, many of the places they planned to visit would have items on display outdoors or in unheated barns. She didn’t intend to miss anything, no matter how chilly the air or how many filthy things had to be moved out of the way. An antique lover had to be part dreamer, part expert and part intrepid adventurer. She wasn’t entirely sure which mattered most. She, for one, liked the adventure of it best.

  Until she’d come to Vermont she had never known the joy of discovering a genuine treasure buried amid piles of dilapidated furniture or time-worn utensils. The process of discovery was almost as rewarding as taking some beloved object home. She enjoyed talking to the knowledgeable dealers, learning more with each contact until she was now able to spot quality amid junk. She loved sorting through a clutter of items and imagining the people who’d once lovingly held even the most garish knickknack in their hands. She got a real adrenaline rush from the competitive bidding. Her excitement mounted just thinking about the day ahead.

  And that was even before she added Ken into the mix.

  She brewed a pot of coffee and poured it into a thermos, then put that into the basket she’d already filled with Lou’s bakery-fresh blueberry muffins, napkins and two mugs. That should tide them over through lunch. And the coffee would take the chill off while they were exploring all of the prospective finds at the auction.

  She hoped that Ken proved to be a patient companion. She’d been known to linger through hours of bidding just to get her hands on some two-dollar treasure she’d spotted lumped in with an entire lot of pure junk.

  By the time her doorbell finally rang, she was already pacing, anxious to hit the road to see what the day had to offer. Basket in hand, cash in her purse, she opened the door and all thoughts of antiques died, driven straight out of her head by one quick glance at the sexy man on her doorstep. Lordy, but he took her breath away—a fact that deeply troubled her.

  “Good morning,” he said, seemingly oblivious to the impact he had on her.

  “Morning,” she mumbled when she managed to find her tongue. This wasn’t good. If the man could render her speechless just by showing up, exactly what would happen if he ever actively set out to seduce her? She sure as heck hoped he would try soon so she could end the speculation and then get on with her life. Trying to figure out why that one knockout of a kiss hadn’t been repeated was tormenting her.

  He reached for the basket and drew in a deep breath. “Coffee?” She nodded. “Thank you. You’ve saved my life. Maybe we should have a cup here before we hit the road,” he said, regarding her hopefully.

  “No,” Beth said curtly, then winced. “Sorry. It’s just that we don’t want to be late. I want to get a look at everything before the bidding starts.”

  “You take this stuff seriously, don’t you?”

  “You should, too,” she advised him. “It’s your money we’re spending.” She closed the door and headed to the driveway. “Let’s go. You can drink your coffee on the road.”

  She realized he wasn’t following and turned back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just wondering if you ever slow down and hav
e fun.”

  She grinned at his worried tone. “This is fun,” she promised. “You’ll see. I guarantee that before the day is out you’re going to buy something ridiculous that you don’t need, just for the sheer thrill of acquiring it.”

  “Bet I don’t,” he countered. “Talk to my broker. He’ll tell you I’m thoughtful and disgustingly methodical when I look into a new stock acquisition. I have never, ever taken an impetuous, uncalculated risk.”

  “Want to lay odds that you will today?” Beth challenged.

  “Sure,” he said with supreme confidence. “If I win, you’ll spend an entire evening with me. Dinner, dancing, the works. Not one mention of the house or its contents will cross your lips.”

  She was taken aback by his choice, but she was too much of a competitor to back away. “And if I win?”

  “You won’t,” he said confidently.

  “But if I do?”

  “You choose.”

  She thought about what she wanted most at this precise moment on a Saturday morning in early November. “If I win, I want you to come to my place, fix a huge bowl of buttered popcorn, pour some nice white wine—”

  “I’m beginning to like the sound of this,” he taunted. “Maybe I should let you win.”

  “Stop,” she said, laughing. “I’m not finished.” Her expression sobered and she studied him worriedly. “You may not like this.”

  “Try me,” he said, apparently not fazed by her suddenly troubled tone.

  “I want you to show me the tape of one of your Super Bowl victories.”

  He regarded her incredulously. “Why would you want me to do that?” he asked, his voice suddenly dull and lifeless, all the joy drained out of it.

  “I want to see for myself how great you were.”

  “Past tense,” he reminded her. “You know who I am now. Why does any of that matter?”

  Beth wasn’t sure she could explain, short of admitting that over the past few days she had felt an increasing need to know everything about him. Football seemed a safer topic than his personal life.