A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband
Page 17
Why was it that life was so complicated? Why couldn’t Rex simply understand that? Why did he have to go off about the pinpricks? She told him she hadn’t used those.
Anyway, Rex wouldn’t even consider marrying her, and she certainly didn’t want to marry him. If she did, she’d be giving in to her mom’s bet. Of course, it was a nonissue because Rex never gave her any indication he might be interested in marriage.
Besides, where would they live? Even though Erie didn’t feel like home right now, she was sure in a week or so it would, and she’d settle right back into her routine.
Even if things had worked out between her and Rex, she couldn’t stay in Texas. She had her family and her job and her friends here.
When she had been in Pegleg, Cara thought she had everything figured out. She was a modern woman, she was going to have a baby, raise it on her own, be pen pals with the father. She knew what she wanted and no one could stop her.
Then something had happened between the time she left Pegleg and arrived back in Erie. Time, that’s what had happened. Time to think. Time to reflect. Time to contemplate the fact that she didn’t have a baby, she didn’t have Rex, and probably would never have either.
She wanted him. All she could remember were the moments she had spent with Rex. To remember what it was like to stroke his face. The feel of his temple where the tiny pulse point seemed to accelerate beneath the touch of her fingertips. She’d circled his temple with a softness and gentleness she didn’t realize she possessed. The feel of his cheek, the contour of his jawline traveling upward toward the earlobe, then behind the shell of his ear and toward the nape of his neck. Never would she have thought that a cheek could make her body tingle, make her want to drink in the fragrance of his cologne, nuzzle the crook of his neck and never have to raise her head.
What she realized most of all, what she hadn’t expected, was the loneliness. The terrible, terrible sense of loss, something that had hit her hard when she had least expected it. The moment she had left Tony’s restaurant.
On Sunday night, the phone rang, and she could tell by the ring that it was Cecilia. Only her mother’s rings were that persistent.
“Where have you been?” Cecilia shrieked at her. “Don’t you know I’m your mother?”
“Yes. How are you?”
“I’m as fine as can be expected being the mother of a daughter who drops off the face of the earth for ten days.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I couldn’t stand the matchmaking anymore.”
Her mother let out one of her big sighs. “I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t meddle. After all, I’m sure Brigit’s skinny daughter is already married by now and probably pregnant.”
“Do you know that for a fact?” Cara hoped Shannon was married. It would sure be a relief to get Cecilia off her back.
“No, she’s not married,” her mother snapped. “If she were married, don’t you think Brigit would be lording the fact over us until we all puked?”
Oh, well, Cara thought. So much for that wish. “Maybe you and Brigit can call it a draw and the two of you can go to the Catskills and leave us alone.”
Cara could hear her mother nodding, since her cheek was rubbing up and down on the mouthpiece. “I was thinking the same thing. There’s no point in playing around with your future and your happiness.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Well, I know I shouldn’t have done this, since you’ve been such a terrible daughter, running out on us without a word. But you know, there was this sale, and I did find a beautiful dress for you, and I’m dying for you to come over and try it on.”
“Is this a setup?”
“How could it be setup? Did I know you were going to be home? Did I know I was going to see you?”
“No. Okay, I’ll be right over.”
Ten minutes later Cara was knocking on the front door of her parents’ house. Her mother opened it and gave her a big hug. “I missed you,” she said, and for the first time Cara knew her mother really meant it.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s in the den. Do you want to go and see him?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I’ll go get the dress. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Cara’s dad was sitting on the chair in the den, and for the first time in as long as she could remember he didn’t have his head buried in a newspaper, and he wasn’t watching television. He stood up and walked over to her, gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You had us worried, Cara. Don’t ever leave without giving us a number where we can reach you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was so wrong of me to do that.”
“That’s right, it was,” said a wonderfully familiar voice. “Do you know how long it took to pry out of Tony where you lived?”
Cara swung around. “When did you get here?”
“Thirty minutes ago.”
“Ohmigod. With my parents?”
“That’s why your mother called you. I wanted to meet them first before I saw you again.”
“Why? To see if I come from good breeding stock?”
“Come on, Cara. You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No.”
“I asked her to call you because I wanted to see you again. In neutral territory.”
“This isn’t neutral.”
“It is to me.” He stood in front of her, gathering her hands in his. “I had to see you again. I had to tell you how much I love you. How sorry I am about what happened.”
“Rex.” She put her arms around him and melted into his chest. Home. This is where she belonged. The feel of him. His arms around her. His face nuzzling her neck. This is where she needed to be.
“I see you found him,” Cecilia said. “Nice boy. If he had been living in Erie, I would have brought him over to meet you.”
“I know you would have, Mom.” Not likely. Rex was too manly. Cecilia had preferred all the wimpy, skimpy men with no personalities.
“Here,” her mother said. “Your dress.”
It would figure her mother would have bought her a bridal gown.
Cecilia held it up against her own body. “Do you like it?”
“It’s nice.” She wasn’t going to get excited over lace and silk, no matter how beautiful the dress was. She wasn’t getting married.
“I was hoping you’d have changed your mind about that.” He pulled one of Cara’s gold coins out of his pocket. In the hole where it was supposed to be attached to the bracelet, he had tied a big ring. A diamond ring. “I was making sure the ring and the coins all matched. Wouldn’t want you clashing.” He took her hand, slipping the diamonds and gold on her finger.
She looked at her hand, then at her mother and father, and finally at Rex. “I love you, you know.”
He released a big breath. “You can’t possibly love me more than I love you.”
“You called me a thief and a liar.”
“You did lie and you stole my heart.”
“I didn’t steal your semen,” she whispered.
“We’ll talk about it when we can use visual aids,” he said quietly.
“I can’t hear anything. Did she say okay?” Cecilia interrupted.
“I don’t recall hearing a question,” Cara said.
“Did you ask her? What’s taking so long?”
“I hope you’ll marry me, Cara. I love you. I want you. I want to be the father to all your children. I love your heart, your spirit and your kindness. I love your protectiveness, your loyalty and your body.” He winked, leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Especially that one particular dimple on your hip, I love to nip it and lick it—”
Cara stepped back, her face heated, her temperature rising. She gazed at the man in front of her. Pure male. How she loved him. “I almost want to say no because of my Mom and Brigit’s stupid bet. But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be apart from you. I only want to be with you always and forever. So it’s a yes
.”
Cecilia started jumping and screaming and singing, “Where’s the phone, where’s the phone, I’ve got to call that Brigit. Where’s the phone?”
Cara took Rex by the hand. She whispered so only he could hear, “Come on with me, big boy. I want to take you back to my apartment so that you can show me the right and proper way to gather up your personal stash of semen.”
How To Hunt a Husband
Holly Jacobs
“Bull.”
“That’s right, ma’am, just call me Bull. And of course I like steak. A real manly meal, that is. I was afraid we’d be eating some highbrow food, like couscous or sushi.”
The minute Shannon’s mother was out of the room Shannon started laughing. “You’re good, Nate, uh, I mean Bull. Very good.”
“I thought she was going to pass out,” he said.
“Me, too. I bet she’s gone to get reinforcements, namely my dad. You must have her really flustered.”
When Shannon’s parents returned, she noted how they kept shooting looks at each other. It was that strange couple-speak that truly connected people—people who were meant for each other—had. Those kinds of looks carried more meaning than words. She wondered if Nate would agree.
Bull, aka Nate, sidled up to Shannon quietly as her parents busied themselves setting the dinner table. He whispered softly in her ear, “I totally agree.”
Dear Reader,
In How To Hunt a Husband, Shannon and Nate (aka Roxy and Bull) embark on a journey of change and discovery. Their little trick to escape their mothers’ meddling ends up being a lot more than either one of them ever dreamed about, especially when it ends in love. How To Hunt a Husband is a sequel to last year’s How To Catch a Groom. I hope you enjoy revisiting these characters as much as I did!
Somehow it seems appropriate that this book is about change and discovery, because it’s the last of a fantastic series. Though Duets is being put to bed, so to speak, Harlequin’s new romantic comedy line is on its way as Flipside. I hope you’ll discover Flipside—it’s a smart, sassy, single-volume series that will keep you laughing even as you fall in love.
Holly Jacobs
I love to hear from my readers. You can find me online at www.HollysBooks.com, or snailmail me at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.
Books by Holly Jacobs
HARLEQUIN DUETS
43—I WAXED MY LEGS FOR THIS?
67—READY, WILLING AND…ABEL?
RAISING CAIN
84—HOW TO CATCH A GROOM
92—NOT PRECISELY PREGNANT
100—THE 100-YEAR ITCH
SILHOUETTE ROMANCE
1557—DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?
1653—A DAY LATE AND A BRIDE SHORT
To JoAnn Ross, a fantastic writer,
a wonderful mentor…and a heck of a friend!
A special thanks to Burhenn’s Pharmacy!
1
“THAT WOMAN,” Brigit O’Malley said.
There was a certain humph in her mother’s voice that left no question in Shannon O’Malley’s mind as to who “that woman” was.
Tuesday was pinochle day, so “that woman” had to be Cecilia Romano. Even a beautiful March day—and beautiful days in March were rare and treasured in Erie, Pennsylvania—couldn’t obscure the black cloud “that woman” had given Brigit O’Malley.
Actually not much could shake Brigit from her Tuesday-evening funks.
“Mom, why do you go play cards every week when you always come home in a snit?”
“I am never in a snit. Snit. That’s such an undignified word. I am—” her mother paused a moment, searching her thesaurus-like brain for a better word choice “—perturbed. Cecilia perturbs me beyond the limits of what a sane rational human can endure. Why, do you believe she’s saying her daughter could—” she sputtered her way to a standstill.
“Cara?” Shannon said. “What could Cara do?”
Shannon didn’t actually know Cara Romano, but knew of her, not only through their mothers, but because Shannon’s sister, Kate, had married Cara’s ex-fiancé, Tony Donetti.
The logistics of their connection were tangled at best, but it was their mothers that made Shannon feel a bond to the unmet Cara. After all, Cecilia Romano seemed as determined to control the fates of her children as Shannon’s own mother was.
At least Brigit O’Malley had long ago decided that Shannon was a hopeless cause and had concentrated on getting Mary Kathryn’s life in order. But since her sister had moved to Texas with her new husband, Shannon had noticed her mother was around a lot more, dropping in unexpectedly—as she’d done this evening—and taking a sudden interest in Shannon’s activities.
Truth be told, all the attention made her a bit nervous.
More than a bit.
A lot.
Her mother stopped sputtering and said, “Cecilia said Cara can find a man before you can, when everyone knows that you are far more beautiful than that Cara Romano is. Why, men are beating down your door, begging to marry you. Aren’t they?”
“Not exactly.”
Beating down her door? Heck, she could hardly remember what it was to have them knocking softly.
Shannon hadn’t had a date in months. She’d been so busy planning for Mary Kathryn’s wedding, then dealing with her parents in the aftermath of her sister’s great bridal escape, that she simply hadn’t had the time—or inclination—to date. “And, since I’m not looking for a man, Mother, I’m going to assume that Mrs. Romano is right, Cara will probably beat me to the altar.”
No, the last few man-free months had convinced Shannon that dating was overrated. Without a man in the picture she’d been able to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted, without having to consult someone else. She hadn’t watched one blood-and-guts testosterone-filled film during the entire time. She’d watched chick-flicks. Lots of chick flicks. She’d drooled over Colin Firth, Ewan McGregor and Hugh Jackman—big-screen men who didn’t mind that she hadn’t shaved her legs for weeks.
Yes, there were advantages to a man-free existence.
“You’re not a—” her mother paused and lowered her voice as if there were hidden microphones in the apartment that might overhear her question “—one of those women who doesn’t like men?”
“I like men just fine, at least on a limited basis. Limited, Mom. That’s the keyword. I’m not looking for anything long-term when I date from now on. I’ve decided that I want to see a man only as long as the initial politeness lasts.”
“Initial politeness?”
“You know, that golden time in a relationship when a man will do what you want. When he’ll listen to what you have to say as if every word is a treasure. Why, when things are new he’ll even see chick-flicks or go shopping. Once that glow is over, I’m done with him.”
That was going to be her new rule of thumb. Use them, then lose them.
“Shannon Bonnie O’Malley, you take that back.”
Shannon suppressed a shudder. “Mother, I hate it when you call me that.”
“We’ve had this fight over and over again. Bonnie is a perfectly lovely name. It was my mother’s name and she was a wonderful woman. You’re lucky to be named after her.”
“You’re right. Bonnie is a perfectly lovely name, so is Shannon for that matter. But some names don’t go together. Bonnie doesn’t go with Shannon. Ichabod and Archibald, they don’t go together either.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult? Mary Kathryn never complained when I called her Mary Kathryn.”
That was the refrain of her relationship with her mother. Shannon had been difficult when she’d played soccer rather than join the science club. She’d been difficult when she’d discovered a passion for art rather than something more academic.
Mary Kathryn was the good daughter, bending to her parents’ dreams for her. And Shannon? Well, she was the variable in the equation of her mother’s life.
“Ah, but Mary Kathryn’s not a Mary Kathryn anymore, is she?”
“She’s Kate. Kate Donetti,” Shannon continued. “And I think she’s happier that way.”
Her mother just shook her head. “You are the most difficult, cantankerous girl alive.”
“I learned from the best.” Shannon leaned over and gave her mother a peck on the cheek. She’d never really seen eye-to-eye with her about, well, about anything, but she loved her.
And though she frequently annoyed her mother, she didn’t doubt Brigit loved her as well, even though she wasn’t overly demonstrative.
“Here, try this on,” her mother said as she thrust a garment bag at Shannon.
Shannon looked at the huge bag. “What is this?”
“It’s Mary Kathryn’s wedding dress. I asked her to mail it back to me. We spent a small fortune on that dress, you know. I want to see it walk all the way down the aisle. Oh, she did some damage we’d have to get repaired, but let’s see if it fits you before we worry about that.”
“Fits me?” Shannon stared at her mother, not sure where she was going with this. “Why would you care if it fits me?”
“Well, if it doesn’t we’ll have to find something else for you to wear.” Her mother put her hand on Shannon’s shoulder and started steering her toward the bedroom. “Come on, try it on.”
Shannon ground her heels into the carpet and faced her mother. “Wear when?”
Maybe her mother’s fight with Cecilia had finally driven her over the edge. Maybe she’d been sniffing just a bit too much formaldehyde in the lab she worked at.
Maybe her mother was totally deranged.
“At your wedding,” her mother said.
“What wedding?” Shannon asked, feeling not-very-bright and more than a little nervous.
“The wedding I’m planning. I told you what Cecilia said about Cara. I can’t let that woman beat me, so that means I can’t let her daughter beat you to the altar. I thought right after school got out. June twenty-fifth. What do you think about that day? That leaves you plenty of time for a honeymoon before you start back to school next fall. Of course, that doesn’t leave me long to get the entire thing planned. Less than four months.”