A Convenient Proposal

by Lynnette Kent

  Not even considering the fantastic sex. If she wasn’t pregnant now, it wasn’t because they hadn’t tried.

  The thought cast a shadow over his sunny morning. Arden had come to Sheridan because they’d made a deal. He would get to show her off and she would get pregnant. Whether or not they enjoyed their time together was, in fact, irrelevant.

  Griff had a hard time remembering that detail. He liked her more with each meeting, in private or in public. He craved making love to her the way an alcoholic craves liquor. She could become very necessary in his life, very fast. Except she would be planning to leave town once Zelda and Al had left for their honeymoon.

  “I think you’ve run the gauntlet this week,” he said, distracting himself from the prospect of a future without Arden Burke. “First, a family dinner—though not every relative we could call on was present.”

  She laughed. “Oh, heavens. How many more could there be?”

  “Hundreds. Then the ultimate embarrassment with my mother and a family argument.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “You survived lunch and shopping with the sisters, even meeting the ex. Plus horse surgery and Miss Patty’s reminiscences.”

  “There’s this weekend still to come, though.”

  The cocktail party and the dinner. “Let’s not go there today, either. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve crossed the first set of hurdles, and you cleared every single one.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Has anything come up that I need to fill you in on? Any questions or comments we should cover?”

  She rode in silence, letting Dorsey choose her footing across the steep slope of the hill as they headed toward Cripple Creek. Once they’d crossed the stream, with Dorsey stepping carefully across the rocks, Arden stirred in the saddle.

  “I was surprised to learn that Kathy wears hearing aids.”

  He hadn’t expected that comment. “Since babyhood, as a matter of fact.”

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  “She caught bacterial meningitis, though we never figured out how. We were just lucky we didn’t lose her. When she finally did recover, our parents gradually realized she couldn’t hear well. The hearing aids help, and she’s a whiz at lip reading. All of us learned sign language, thinking we’d need it, but we almost never use it with her.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed.” Arden stared straight ahead. “She seems to understand even when she’s not looking at you.”

  “Her hearing is about forty percent, I think. So if the surroundings aren’t too noisy, with too many voices, she makes out pretty well.”

  “I see.” Arden nodded, but still didn’t look at him. “So she won’t pass her…problem…on to her child.”

  “Nope. Purely an accident. They might have a few qualms about the vaccine, but I suspect Jim will convince her to go for it. Homeschooling is all well and good, but even colleges still look at your shot record before they let you in the door.” He’d expected to provoke a laugh, or at least a smile, but Arden didn’t seem to hear. Or just didn’t get it.

  After a minute, though, she returned from wherever her mind had been wandering. “So what’s the secret to going faster with Dorsey, here?”

  Griff grinned. “That’s the first step. I never offer to speed up until a new rider asks. Now, for the trot, what you’re gonna do…”

  Within a few minutes, Dorsey and Cowboy were trotting along the level stretch of road, with Arden posting as if she’d invented the practice. Cheeks pink with the wind, hair flowing and eyes bright, she was a picture of health and happiness that smote Griff in the heart.

  I’d be happy to call Sheridan home, he thought, if Arden Burke would stay here with me.

  THAT EVENING, Griff pulled the Jaguar into a line of cars snaking up to the front door of the Patrick home.

  “Valet parking,” he said. “Of course.” Instead of his usual relaxed driving position, he sat upright with both hands gripping the steering wheel. He hadn’t smiled even once since picking Arden up at the cottage.

  “Tell me about the Patricks,” she suggested. “What should I know to make this ordeal easier?”

  “Ted Patrick practices law—personal injury and malpractice cases, mostly. Hence the huge house. His wife, Dee, is Zelda’s mother’s closest friend, president of the Garden Club and the Women’s Club and the Junior League. She pretty much runs the town. Their son works for his dad and their daughter married more money. I think she also does room decorating.”

  “Interior design, I believe it’s called.”

  “Right.” He tapped the wheel with his fingers. “If we could move on, actually leave the vehicle, then we could get this thing over with.”

  Arden shifted in her seat, feeling slightly smothered even in her beautiful, spacious car. Her stomach hadn’t been feeling good all afternoon, and now her muscles ached, no doubt from the two hours she’d spent on Dorsey’s back. Griff had gone to visit Rajah after their ride, so she’d taken a nap, thinking she’d wake refreshed and ready for the party. But she still felt tired.

  Perhaps the stress of the situation had made her nervous. She’d been a victim of stage fright occasionally in the past, at especially important concerts. Once she was involved with the music, her nerves and her twinges had always disappeared.

  So she agreed with Griff wholeheartedly—they would be better off if they could just get into the house.

  They reached the head of the line, finally—the spot in front of the steps, where the car doors were opened by a young man on each side.

  “It’s showtime,” Griff muttered, and reached over to squeeze Arden’s hand. Hard.

  “Hey, Dr. Griff.” The redhead on the driver’s side shook his hand.

  “Hey, Rusty.” Upon emerging from the car, Griff assumed his usual friendly demeanor. “Good to see you.”

  “Thanks. Hey, remember my hound, Bo? Thought we’d lost him to distemper, but you pulled him through? You oughta see him these days—ninety pounds of muscle, fit as a fiddle.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. You’re keeping him vaccinated now, right?” Coming around the car, Griff put his hand at the small of Arden’s back as they started up the steps.

  “Sure thing, Doc. I learned my lesson. And don’t worry— I’ll take good care of your car here.”

  “Thanks. There are a few advantages,” he murmured into Arden’s ear, “to having everybody in town know your face.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She was grateful she couldn’t say the same.

  Just inside the front door, a man and a woman greeted the guests. “Griff Campbell. Good to see you, son.” From his short, stylish salt-and-pepper hair to his custom-made suit and Italian loafers, everything about Ted Patrick whispered money.

  “You, too, Mr. Patrick. Let me introduce you to Arden Burke.”

  The attorney’s hands were soft as they closed over Arden’s. “I’m glad to meet you, Arden. Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

  Like a stage curtain, Arden’s public persona fell into place without effort. “I’m sure I will. You have a lovely home, Mr. Patrick.”

  “All the credit belongs to my wife,” he said, passing them along to the plump blonde woman on his left. “I just make the money. She spends it. Look who’s here, honey. Griff and his friend.”

  “Griff!” Dee Patrick’s squeal turned several heads in their direction. Standing on tiptoe, she threw her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you home again.”

  His face reddened—from embarrassment or lack of oxygen, Arden wasn’t sure which—and he stepped back as soon as she released him. “Thank you, Mrs. Patrick. This is—”

  “Arden.” Dee’s look was coy and her hands were cold. “But I’ve heard there’s a little more than friendship going on with you two. I expect we’ll be having another nuptial party here real soon, won’t we? Now, y’all go get yourselves something to drink and something to eat. I’m sure everybody here will want to talk to you, once t
hey’ve seen Zelda and Al.”

  To Arden’s dismay, she seemed to be correct in that prediction. As soon as she and Griff moved away from the reception area, two friends he knew from high school stepped up to talk to them. A married couple of about the same age joined them, but then the two men were replaced by an older man and woman whose daughter Griff had dated. As his date, Arden couldn’t move from the spot, hemmed in as they both were by a constantly changing barrier of busybodies.

  Across the room, however, the official stars of the evening drew an even bigger crowd. Zelda wore a fitted red dress that brought highlights to her honey-blond hair and depth to her blue eyes. The diamond on her left hand flashed under the lights, but was not remarkable for its size. Her smiles seemed genuine, and when she looked up at her groom-to-be, Arden felt her throat catch. Their locked gazes blatantly conveyed love and trust.

  Al McPherson was not the brawny type Arden had expected, but slender instead, even bony, with a long, serious face, deep-set eyes and a sheaf of straight dark hair falling over his forehead. He wore a plain charcoal suit and a nondescript tie, and though he smiled easily, he never released his grip on Zelda’s hand.

  The crowd around Arden and Griff shifted again, but when she focused on the new faces, she was relieved to recognize Kathy and Lauren.

  “We thought you looked trapped,” Lauren said in a stage whisper, as Griff remained captured by an older gentleman who would not be dislodged. “So we brought you some punch.”

  “Wonderful.” Arden took a sip and closed her eyes in relief. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

  “You two are a sensation,” Kathy said. “Zelda’s probably jealous that you’ve taken over her party.”

  The thought made Arden even queasier. “I hope not. I certainly didn’t intend to.” Turning away from Griff slightly, she drew the sisters closer. All the noise in the room made following the conversation difficult enough. She didn’t want Kathy and Lauren to speak loud enough to be overheard—especially by their brother.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Lauren told her sister. “Zelda’s not the jealous type and you know it.”

  Arden looked at her in surprise. “She isn’t?”

  Kathy pouted but Lauren shook her head. “Zelda’s a nice girl. We were all ready to call her sister until she dumped Griff.”

  Giving in to her own curiosity, Arden asked, “You didn’t have a clue that she might not be committed to marrying him?”

  “Nobody knew,” Lauren replied.

  “I did,” Kathy said at the same time.

  Arden and Lauren both stared at her. “You did?” her sister demanded.

  “I saw her with Al once, up in Clarksville, in the mountains. They were sitting at a table, holding hands, talking. Neither of them looked happy. I knew it was serious.”

  “And you didn’t tell Griff?”

  “I’m not a snitch. And I didn’t want to hurt him…or make it any easier for her.”

  “For who?” Griff said at that moment, pivoting to join them. “Or whom, maybe?”

  Lauren and Kathy seemed to have been struck dumb, so Arden supplied an answer. “Dana. We were discussing our shopping trip the other day.”

  “Was everybody as successful as Arden?” he asked his sisters. “Because the dress she’s wearing is a scorcher.”

  Arden smiled, glad to think that she’d made the right choice with her clinging, strapless black dress and finely woven stole.

  Before Lauren or Kathy could respond, though, he looked over their heads in the direction of the guests of honor. “The crowd has shrunk to a manageable size. Shall we pay our respects?”

  “Have a drink first.” Kathy held out the punch she’d brought for him.

  Griff took the glass and tossed back the pink liquid in one swallow. His face contorted. “Bleh. Pink lemonade and champagne? What a foul idea.” He slipped his hand between Arden’s elbow and her ribs. “Here we go.”

  His grip got tighter as they approached Zelda and Al, driving Arden’s tension higher in response. Somehow, as they joined the receiving line, the dynamics of crowd movement brought them to the guests of honor right away.

  Zelda’s eyes widened when she saw them. “Hi, Griff. And…and Arden, right?”

  “Yes,” Arden said, extending her hand. “We didn’t get to talk on Monday morning. You have my best wishes on your upcoming marriage.”

  “Th-thanks.” Zelda’s hand shook her as fingers brushed Arden’s. “It was nice of you both to come tonight.”

  “It was nice of your mother to ask Dee to invite us,” Griff said, his voice unusually deep.

  All at once, they seemed to be the only people standing with the happy couple. Arden felt as if a bank of stage lights highlighted the four of them.

  “Al, honey.” Zelda tugged on the hand holding hers. “Look. It’s Griff and—and his friend, Arden.”

  Al turned to face them. “I’m pleased to meet you, Arden. Welcome to Sheridan.”

  Then his stony brown gaze met Griff’s steel blue one. Al’s right hand lifted, wrist stiff and straight, at the same time as Griff extended his. The two hands, one light-skinned and the other bronzed from the sun, met and gripped until both sets of knuckles turned white. Each man spoke one word.

  “Al.”

  “Griff.”

  In the next instant, as if struck by a hammer, the two hands broke apart. Al felt for Zelda’s grasp. Griff’s fingers clenched Arden’s elbow.

  He spoke into the silence. “We’re out of here.”

  Before the collective gasp had died away, he swept her past the Patricks and out the front door.

  Chapter Nine

  The downside of valet parking was that you couldn’t make a quick getaway. You had to wait for the attendant to notice you, find your ticket and then bring the right car back. You had to scrounge in your wallet or your pockets for a tip—or borrow from the woman you came with, which was a total embarrassment. Only then was escape possible.

  Griff blew out a huge breath when the doors finally shut on both sides of the Jag and he could put his foot on the gas pedal. After a few minutes of driving blindly through the Patricks’ upscale neighborhood, he brought his brain back on track.

  “How about a real dinner? Somewhere my suit and your dress fit in? We do have a fancy French restaurant in Sheridan, it’s called—”

  “I don’t think so, thanks.” Arden’s voice sounded tight, rigidly controlled.

  “What’s wrong?” He moved his hand to cover hers on the seat, but she slipped her fingers away. “Arden?”

  He heard her sharp breath in the darkness. “Are you going to ignore what just happened? What you did?”

  Griff pulled his hand back. “Sounds like a good option.”

  “You investigate the behavior of others—you want to know every detail of my past, my—my motivations and my reasons, my plans for the future. But you don’t stop to examine your own?”

  Jaw clenched, he took whatever turns became available, heedless of direction. “I’m aware of my own faults. Believe me, I know exactly where I come up short.”

  “This is not about failing, Griff. This is about facing your life and making it work.”

  “Which you, living like a hermit on a deserted island, know so much about?”

  “I made my choice deliberately and was quite…satisfied, thank you very much.”

  “That’s not true, Arden, and you know it. You’re happier after a week in Sheridan than you ever were on that pile of sand.”

  “And you are an expert at evading the issue. But I won’t allow it this time. What you just did, in the middle of a very nice party, was rude and immature.”

  “I shook their hands. I said hello.”

  “And you stalked out as if you’d shaken hands with the devil himself.”

  “Well…”

  “Are you still so in love with her that you can’t bear to see her happy?”

  He opened his mouth…and then closed it again because the automatic a
nswer he’d started to give surprised him so much.

  When was the last time he’d thought about Zelda as…well, as the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life? For six months, he’d been laboring under a sense of rejection and loss, but was he missing her—or simply the habit of being half of a pair?

  Because these days, when he saw a woman in his mind’s eye, when he thought about who to talk to, spend time with…make love with all day and night…the face was Arden’s. The body in his dreams, the voice in his head, the laugh he wanted to hear when he encountered something funny—they all belonged to Arden Burke.

  His foot had eased off the gas as he pondered, and the car had slowed almost to a stop. He braked and shifted into Park, then turned to face her. “Arden—”

  But now she sat with her head against the back of the seat and her eyes closed.

  “Honestly, Griff, I’m really not feeling well. I’d like to go home—” She stopped short, then continued after a pause. “That is, to the cottage. To bed. If you don’t mind.”

  “No problem.” He made the turns that would take them back toward the farm. “Are you just tired, or really sick?”

  “Both, I think.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” He stayed close to the speed limit as he drove, torn between avoiding trouble and making Arden comfortable as soon as possible.

  “Why don’t I make you some tea,” he offered as they stepped into the cottage, “while you get into bed?”

  She shook her head. “Igor needs a walk first.”

  Griff suppressed a wince. “I’ll take him out.”

  For the first time since leaving the party, their eyes met and held. “Neither of you will like that.”

  “We’ll manage.” He gave her a gentle shove down the hallway. “Get into your gown, crawl between the sheets. I’ll multitask in the kitchen.”

  Her shoulders lifted on a sigh, but she did as he directed. With a cup of water heating in the microwave, Griff took the dog’s leash and opened the door to the sunroom.