Ready-Made Bride

by Janelle Denison

  “Yes, there is.” Jeff ruffled through the papers in the file and pulled one out. “I know I’ve only been in charge of the mill the last couple of years since my father died, and it’s taken me a while to get up to speed on everyone. I’ve been reviewing your employee file and I’ve noticed you’ve topped your wages in your position.”

  Kane’s jaw tightened. “I’m satisfied with my wages.”

  Jeff eyed him steadily, making Kane uncomfortable. “You’ve passed up numerous promotions.”

  “I’m satisfied where I’m at.”

  An odd look passed over Jeff’s features. Then he went on, either not having heard how satisfied Kane was or purposely dismissing his claim. “Roy Peters just gave me two weeks notice. He’s moving to California. There’s a position open in purchasing, and I’d like to offer it to you.”

  “No.” Kane’s answer was quick and instinctive.

  “There would be a considerable salary increase-”

  “No.”

  “You’re perfect for the job, Kane,” Jeff argued. “You know this mill inside and out-”

  Kane’s hands curled into tight fists on his thighs. He experienced a strange sense of déjà vu and couldn’t help but wonder how Megan would feel about him refusing a job promotion and salary increase. He remembered Cathy’s bitterness when he’d refused her father’s job offer and didn’t think he’d be able to stand the same rejection from Megan.

  But he couldn’t accept the job, either.

  He pulled in a deep breath to calm the chaos raging inside him. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jeff regarded Kane speculatively. “Mind if I ask why?”

  Kane stared at him, wondering what his boss would say if he told him the truth, that he’d be totally lost in the sea of paperwork the purchasing position required. He remained silent. His gut churned, and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

  Jeff released an impatient sigh. “I need to note on your review the reason why you refused the promotion.”

  “Just put personal reasons.”

  When had he completely lost control of his life?

  Kane scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he drove home from work, an aggravated sound rumbling from his chest. A familiar frustration flooded him, stripping away any bit of confidence he’d been feeling since his conversation with Megan about selling his woodwork. He couldn’t even accept a job promotion in an industry he’d been involved in since the age of twelve, and Megan thought he could run his own business?

  Pulling into his dirt drive, he swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. Lately, he’d been feeling as though he was dodging bullets that were increasing in quantity, speed and size. The changes in his life were happening rapidly, and keeping up a pretense required all his concentration. Coping on a day-to-day basis with all the adjustments Megan was making at home was going to push him to the brink of insanity. She was pulling the rug from beneath his feet, constantly making him stumble and grope for balance.

  Tired and weary, he got out of the truck, gave Andrew a halfhearted hello and wave as he played in the yard and entered the house through the kitchen. He stopped just inside the threshold, his gaze taking in yet more changes.

  She must have unpacked another box of her things and done more shopping in the city. Peach frilly curtains framed the window over the sink, and a floral arrangement sat on the table, along with new matching place mats and cloth napkins at each setting.

  He noticed other things, too, new appliances on the counter and dish towels that weren’t frayed around the edges. What else had she replaced in the kitchen?

  Suddenly feeling irritable and edgy, he set his lunch box on the counter and opened the cupboard where he normally stored packaged and canned foods. Floral patterned plates and bowls had replaced his chipped set of dishes. And the food, he discovered as he rummaged around, was in a different cupboard. Sometime over the past three days she’d gone grocery shopping again and was slowly replacing the brands of food he recognized with her own selections.

  He blew out a harsh breath and slammed the cupboard door, which did nothing to calm his escalating temper.

  “Kane?”

  He spun around and glared at the woman responsible for spinning his world out of control and wreaking havoc with his emotions. The day’s accumulation of stress, combined with frantic fears he couldn’t name, caused something within him to snap. “I can’t find anything in this house anymore! By the time you’re done rearranging and decorating everything, will I have anything to call my own?”

  Her eyes widened at his outrage and she took a step back, confusion etching her features. He was glad for the distance his anger put between them, but he hated himself for hurting her. Damn, he didn’t know what to do or feel anymore.

  “I only thought I’d add some of my stuff to the house. If it bothers you…”

  Her words faded as his gaze drifted to the stack of banded letters she clutched against her chest. Prickles of apprehension raced down his spine, and his legs turned to jelly. Terror, cold and clammy, gripped him. Oh, God, no…

  He started toward her and grabbed the letters, his movements rough enough to startle her. “Where did you get these?” he demanded. But he knew the answer. Knew, too, that she’d discovered more than just these unopened letters. Bile rose into his throat until he thought he might be sick.

  Her gaze narrowed, as if she was trying to figure him out and analyze his radical behavior. He didn’t like her scrutiny. Not one bit. He deepened his scowl in an attempt to discourage her silent probing.

  “I found them in our bedroom,” she finally said.

  In his closet, buried behind other boxes and old sweaters on the top shelf. Swearing vividly, he charged past her and halted abruptly in the living room, dread squeezing his chest like a vise. The box he’d stashed so carefully in his closet was open, the contents spilling across the coffee table. Unopened letters and correspondence, his parents’ marriage and death certificates, a few pictures of his parents and sister, and most telling, Andrew’s kindergarten and first-grade workbooks.

  The room spun, and he squeezed his eyes closed. Memories rushed in on him, taunting him, forcing him to remember all the nights he’d stayed up late, tracing letters and words in Andrew’s workbooks, not knowing what any of it meant.

  He felt violated and too damned vulnerable. Like she’d glimpsed the deepest, darkest part of him. Slowly, he turned and looked at her. He trembled, not with rage but with a panic that caused his heart to triple its beat. “What the hell were you doing going through my personal things?”

  She moved forward, the first inkling of irritation creasing her brows. “I found the box while I was cleaning.”

  “You had no right to go through it.” He dumped the workbooks into the box, hating them and everything they represented. Everything he’d never have. Like his own cabinetry business. Like a promotion to purchasing that would stimulate his mind more than his boring, monotonous job of unloading logs and guiding them through scaling and cutting machines.

  “I have every right.” She pulled on his shirt sleeve, hard, until he glowered at her. And wished he hadn’t, because there was so much gentleness in her gaze he wanted to purge himself of the humiliating truth. He clenched his jaw. Her irritation and anger he could deal with, but this… Damn, didn’t she realize her tenderness had the ability to bring him to his knees?

  “Kane, I’m your wife,” she said, her voice a shade away from a plea, her eyes the softest shade of blue he’d ever seen. “If you can’t trust me, then we don’t have much of a marriage.”

  He pulled his shirt from her grasp, ignoring her and the dull ache throbbing near the vicinity of his heart.

  She dragged a shaky hand through her loose hair, then pressed her fingers to her lips, watching as he set the banded letters on the table and gathered his other possessions.

  She picked up the stack, and when he tried to take it back, she stepped away, defiantly holding it out of reach. He co
uld have sworn he saw tears shimmering in her eyes, but she blinked, and something hard and determined replaced the moisture.

  “These letters are from your sister,” she said evenly. “Why haven’t you opened and read them?”

  Taking the letters from her, he tossed them into the box with the rest of his personal belongings. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Yes, it is my business,” she returned heatedly. “No secrets or lies, remember, Kane?”

  But he did have a secret, a devastating one, and lies were the only way to keep the truth from driving her away. But wasn’t he doing that now?

  “Like I said, it’s none of your business,” he said harshly. He picked up the box and walked away, muttering, “Can’t a person have a little privacy?”

  He was back to avoiding her.

  Sitting on the front porch swing late at night, Megan huddled into the warmth of Kane’s sheepskin jacket. Unfortunately, nothing could chase away the chill that had settled deep inside her. Three days had passed since her argument with Kane, three days since he’d touched her or talked to her other than polite, necessary daily conversation.

  She stared at the barn, as she’d done the past three nights. A warm glow of light spilled out the door, and occasionally she saw her husband’s silhouette pass the window.

  His withdrawal hurt, but not as much as the fact that he didn’t trust her with certain aspects of his life. Recalling his harsh words about not being able to find anything in his house anymore and not having anything to call his own since she’d added her possessions, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was already regretting their marriage and her intrusion into their lives.

  Closing her eyes, she swallowed the huge lump lodged in her throat. Was she moving too fast, making too many changes when he wanted to stay in charge? He’d been alone for so many years. She never stopped to think that maybe her direct approach threatened him.

  The unopened letters she’d found from his sister and his strong reaction to them and the contents of that box still puzzled her. She thought about the comment Diane had made about Kane never answering any of her letters, yet when she’d confronted Kane with that he’d gotten angry and defensive, then stalked away. And she still had no answers.

  Shivering from the cold evening and an aching loneliness that wouldn’t go away, Megan leaned her head against the linked chain holding up the swing. She missed the warmth of her husband’s arms around her, hated his reserve and politeness when she’d experienced just how tender and giving he could be. He was like a stranger again, cool, distant and unapproachable.

  Whatever was wrong with Kane, she wanted to make it better, but he wouldn’t let her get close enough to understand his pain or those shadows she occasionally glimpsed in his gaze. Those damned walls of his were up and secured, and she suspected if she went to him or touched him, her efforts would be rejected. As difficult as it was, she had to wait for him to come to her. Like she’d told him, without trust, they had no marriage.

  Knowing tonight would be a repeat performance of the past three, with Kane remaining in his workshop until well past midnight when he assumed she was asleep, she sighed and went inside the house. She changed into a pair of old sweats, crawled into bed and snuggled beneath the covers to generate some warmth.

  A shiver chased through her body and wrapped around her heart. It was going to be another long, cold, lonely night.

  Megan sat in the corner of her and Kane’s bedroom where she’d set up her desk and computer for writing. Setting the first draft of her new book aside, she picked up the handmade book Andrew had created out of construction paper, colored markers and his drawings. He’d won first place with his essay book, Having a Family, and had proudly presented it to her the night before at his school’s open house. Written within the pages, with an abundance of love and care, was a young boy’s view of having a family. The only thing the story lacked was a set of smiling grandparents.

  She hoped that would change after tonight’s dinner with Patricia and Harold. Guilt pricked her conscience. She hadn’t told Kane about inviting the Lindens for dinner and had no idea how he’d react. Then again, she had no idea what to expect from him, never knew when something she said or did would set him off like a time bomb.

  Sighing, she put Andrew’s project on the shelf next to her desk where she could see it every day. After checking on the pot roast, carrots and potatoes slow cooking in the crock pot for dinner, she sat at her desk with a glass of iced tea, ready to immerse herself in her new book and forget about her marriage problems for a few hours.

  Around one-thirty she heard Kane enter the house. Her heart raced when his booted steps echoed down the hall and into the bedroom. She didn’t turn, though every feminine molecule within her affirmed his presence with a tingling sensation. The mattress springs squeaked as he sat on the edge of the bed behind her, then there were two thumps as he removed his boots.

  She closed her eyes as the silence stretched between them. Is this what they had come to? she wondered painfully. Strangers whose only similar interest was Andrew? Dammit, she wanted to end the awful tension. She knew if she didn’t say or do something now he’d disappear to his workshop for the afternoon.

  She whirled her swivel chair until she faced him. He glanced up, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and shadowed, concealing his thoughts and emotions. If she reached out she could touch him. If she slid to her knees she’d be kneeling between his strong thighs. She did neither.

  “How was work?” Stupid and inane, but other than demanding to know what he was hiding from, she couldn’t think of anything witty to say.

  He slowly unbuttoned his blue chambray work shirt. “Same as yesterday.” His tone was flat and distant.

  Manufacturing a smile, she forged on, determined to reach him. “I started a new book. It’s called Andrew’s Father Gets Married.”

  The subject of her new book, which paralleled the new event in Andrew’s life, didn’t so much as cause a flicker of interest from Kane. “That’s great.”

  As emotionless as he was about their conversation, they might as well have been discussing the weather. She wanted to hit him or throw something at him just to rouse some kind of solid emotion.

  He shrugged out of his shirt, and her mouth went dry. Liquid desire settled low in her belly, stirring her senses to life.

  She dragged her gaze up, meeting his. The heat simmering in the depths stunned her. Her pulse responded with a feathery flutter. “Would you like to read the first draft of my new book?”

  A stricken look crossed his features, and his complexion went pale. He’d had the same reaction at the open house when she’d given him Andrew’s book to read.

  “Kane?” She frowned, trying to understand her husband’s shifting moods. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” he said, his voice harsh.

  He started to stand, but she wasn’t about to let him dismiss her so easily. Not this time. With a hand pressed to his chest, she pushed him onto the mattress. Boldly, she straddled his lap and framed his face in her hands, forcing him to confront their problem, and her, head on. He gripped her hips with his hands and attempted to jerk his head away. She held firm. A battle of wills ensued.

  “Dammit, Kane, don’t lie to me!” Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help make it better.

  His expression hardened.

  “I can’t take much more of your silence, or the way you’re avoiding me.” I miss you. I want you. I ache for you. How can we be so close yet so far apart?

  A shudder racked his body, and his gaze locked on hers in silent communication. I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you.

  I know, but whatever’s wrong, you can trust me.

  Something within him crumbled, filling his eyes with anguish. I…can’t. Oh, God, I can’t! I don’t want to lose you.

  You won’t. Ever. I promise. “I love you,” she whispered, the words feeling so perfect So right.

  His lashes drifted closed. “No,” he groane
d. Shaking his head, he dropped his hands from her hips and gathered her skirt in his fists.

  Expecting him to shove her away, she tightened her knees at his waist. “Look at me.” The demand came out as a soft invocation.

  He did, revealing green eyes stormy with denial. And a need that gave her the strength to lay herself bare. “I love you, Kane. More than I ever thought possible. I won’t let you ignore it.”

  “I don’t deserve it.” His voice was low and tormented.

  “You do. You deserve the love of a good woman, and I’m gonna be the one to give it to you, whether you want it or not.”

  His body trembled. A flicker of trust brushed his features, the emotion honest and real. As brief as the glimpse was, it was all the sign she needed. She wanted to touch his heart, give him enough love to chase away whatever demons haunted him. Enough love that he’d tell her what caused him so much heartache.

  Cradling his head in her hands, she lowered her mouth and sealed her vow with a breath-stealing kiss. His lips parted on a groan, and she slid her tongue past all barriers to tangle and mate with his. He was suffering, and her only thought was to comfort him in the only way she knew he’d accept.

  Their mouths fused. His hands gripped her thighs then slid over her hips and waist and along her spine, pulling her so close the only thing separating them was their clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling as though she was burning up from the inside out.

  She wanted their clothes off and bare skin touching. She wanted him to ease the unbearable ache and loss of being without him. She wanted his love.

  Breaking their kiss, she pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath her palms. Staring into eyes hazed with passion, she slowly peeled her camisole top over her head, then unclasped her bra and let both items fall to the floor. Her breasts swelled beneath his hot gaze.

  She took his hands and cupped his palms over the firm mounds of flesh. “Make love to me, Kane.”

  His hands shaped her while his thumbs scraped over her sensitive nipples. “I can’t resist you,” he said, his voice husky.