Sweet Child of Mine

by Jean Brashear

  “Michael?”

  He was several steps ahead of her, carrying his suit bag and the sacks from his shopping trip, now filled with her dress and heels. She was wearing the wool pants and sweater he’d bought her, warm boots on her feet, every bit of the clothing far more costly than anything she’d ever bought herself, the quality of workmanship something she’d only dreamed of owning. Perhaps Meredith Colton could help her figure out what value she should put down in the book of expenses she was keeping, despite what Michael had said.

  “What?” He barely turned toward her. All morning she’d felt invisible.

  “How soon do you think we could go see Bobby?”

  He turned, his face impassable. “You don’t need to wait for me.”

  “He needs to meet you. He’s going to be living with you, Michael. As your son.”

  One quick dart of pain flared in his darkening green eyes. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but then he let out a breath and his shoulders settled, though he didn’t look happy. “Let’s get you moved in first, Suzanne. Let’s give ourselves a few days to get used to all these changes.”

  Oh, no. He didn’t want Bobby here. This wasn’t going to work, she knew it in her bones. She should never have done this.

  He continued, “It would be dangerous for the pup to roam loose at my place. I’ll have to get a fence built, but if I get someone on it right away, maybe we can bring both of them over next weekend.”

  Relief rushed over her. “You’d do that?”

  “The boy’s got some rough times ahead of him. Seems to me he’ll need his furry friend.”

  “Yes. He will.” She stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm, to express her gratitude.

  He stiffened and started to step away, then glanced back at the building behind him. “Zeb will be inside the terminal. He’ll be our first audience. Guess we’d better start making our case for a love match.” The reluctance in his voice made it seem impossible.

  Yesterday had been a roller coaster, but last night she’d thought they had a shot at becoming friends, at getting through this charade with only minor scratches. But today he was so remote. Not at all the easygoing Michael everyone knew.

  “I’m sorry, Michael.”

  He frowned. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry that we have to do this. Maybe we should call it quits right now before—”

  “No.” His jaw went hard as steel. “It’s too late for that. You’ve told Bobby and Jim. I’ve told my parents. For better or for worse, we’re stuck with this.”

  Stuck. It was foolish, but the word stung. She’d never wanted to make any man feel that way about being with her. Humiliation swept over her.

  “Suzanne—”

  “Don’t.” She swallowed hard, fury rushing to her rescue. “Don’t you dare pity me. I’ve made a life for myself without anyone’s help, and I won’t be a millstone around anyone’s neck.”

  Michael swore harshly. “Come here,” he muttered, leading her around the corner of the building, away from the windows.

  She jerked her arm away from his grip. “Don’t order me around, Michael Longstreet. You’re used to getting your way, but your money doesn’t buy you any leverage with me.”

  “Dammit, Suzanne, I don’t pity you.” Sparks of temper shot from his gaze.

  “The devil you don’t.” Her voice rose. “I’m not poor Suzanne. Get that straight.” She poked her finger in his chest. “I’m just as stuck with you as you are with me, and you’re no bargain, pretty boy, no matter what your parents may have told you all your life. You’re hardheaded and used to getting your own way. You like bossing people around and you think that smile of yours fools everyone, but I’m telling you—” she poked him again “—it doesn’t fool me.”

  He dropped the sacks in one hand and grabbed her hand. “That finger ought to need a permit. It’s a lethal weapon.”

  But he was grinning at her, curse him. Grinning! The sight of it shot her temper out of orbit. “Don’t you laugh at me, Rich Boy. Don’t you dare.” Her voice almost a growl, she struggled to pull her hand from his.

  When he laughed, she shoved at his chest.

  He dropped his suit bag and pulled her into his arms with breathless speed.

  “I said, stop laughing.” Her attempts at battle were futile as his strong arms patiently held her.

  Furious embarrassment kept her struggling a moment longer, but his arms were too strong. His body too warm. Then his mouth lowered to hers.

  Too hot. Too tempting. He angled her head to taste her more deeply.

  And then there was only this. Only the kiss. Tiny embers of temper flared in one last futile attempt at resistance, but the power of Michael’s kiss turned temper into something dark and sweet.

  Suzanne fell headlong into the kiss, pressing her breasts against his muscled chest, her thighs against his. Need swept through her like a brushfire, and reason deserted her utterly.

  She heard Michael groan and felt him grip her more tightly, felt him hard and ready against her. She slid her hands into his hair and grabbed on for the ride.

  “Well, boy, exactly what do we have here?” a ragged voice cackled.

  Suzanne and Michael jumped apart instantly, and she turned around to see the wizened old caretaker who kept Prosperino’s tiny airfield running.

  Face flaming, trying to adjust to the quick dive from arousal to shame, she tried to step away, but Michael slid one arm around her waist and held her close.

  Her heart was pounding and she seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  Michael’s voice was steady, though, and she tried not to resent it. For Romeo Rich Boy, she supposed this was nothing new, but she felt the bite of disappointment when he grinned so casually and looked so unmoved. “We have a couple on their honeymoon, Zeb. Why don’t you just go back where you came from?”

  The tiny old man scratched his chin, watery blue eyes bright. “Honeymoon? You? And her?” He pointed to Suzanne. “Ain’t she the one who’s always yellin’ at you at the meetin’s?”

  When Michael grinned again and winked, she wanted to kick him. “She’s a passionate woman, Zeb. What can I say?”

  Zeb frowned. “You married her?”

  She stiffened and pulled away, but Michael’s arm was a steel band around her. “Look at her, Zeb. You get a shot at a filly this prime, wouldn’t you want to brand her as your own?” His voice was easy, but he cast a glance of warning at her.

  Brand? She’d kill him for sure. Find something heavy and knock him on that thick, arrogant head.

  Zeb cackled again and looked over her, then nodded. “’spect I would, boy. ’spect I would.”

  “If you two Neanderthals would excuse this little filly to go to the ladies’ room?” She didn’t try to keep the acid from her voice or the sparks from her eyes.

  But Michael didn’t just let her go. He leaned down and kissed her hard, then whispered against her lips. “Play nice.”

  She whispered back. “In your dreams.” When he chuckled, his arm relaxed and she pulled free. Without a backward glance, she stalked away from them both.

  But not quickly enough to miss their next exchange.

  “Spirited, isn’t she, Zeb?” And damn him, Michael chuckled again.

  “Yep. B’lieve you got your hands full, boy, but she’s a looker. You’d best keep tight reins on that one.”

  Spirited. Tight reins. Just wait until she got Michael alone. She’d read him the riot act. Sure they had to pretend, but there were limits to this charade. He made her so mad sometimes, so mad she forgot herself, so mad—

  That last kiss flashed into her mind, and she knew the cost of losing her temper. That devastating, curl-your-toes kiss had happened after she’d let fury grab hold.

  Her temper had always been fiery and easily aroused. Around Michael, it was lethal. He was easygoing to a point, but he would not be pushed around. And touching him, even in aggravation, could spark the fire between them that never seemed to cool.

/>   For the sake of everyone involved, she’d better keep a much tighter rein on herself. Prime, spirited filly that she was.

  As she walked away, she tried in vain to stifle a smile. She didn’t want to like Michael Longstreet so much, curse his charming soul.

  But it didn’t seem to matter.

  As they drove into Prosperino, Michael finally spoke. Up till now they’d maintained another careful silence. “How about if I take you to my place first so you can see the surroundings and figure out what you’d like to bring over for tonight?”

  “Tonight?” She’d been thinking about climbing into her own bed and pulling the covers over her head.

  He cast her one quick glance, then continued in a dry tone. “I’m pretty sure newlyweds who elope in the heat of passion are expected to start spending their nights together right away. Would you rather do it at your place?”

  She thought about Michael filling up all the space in her small apartment and decided then and there to keep it for another month, at least, as a refuge. In that case, the less he was there, the better a bolt-hole it would make. “No. You’re right. I—I just wasn’t thinking.” She tried to stem the butterflies suddenly loose in her stomach.

  He noticed. “It’s not a bad house, I promise.” But there was an odd note in his voice.

  Maybe he had butterflies, too?

  She glanced out the window, mentally shaking her head. Romeo Rich Boy? Hardly.

  Soon they were climbing the slope to the mountaintop retreat she’d heard about but never seen. She looked around her, memorizing the route, noticing how the road disappeared around curves into dense forest.

  Then suddenly, the road leveled, opening onto a spacious clearing. To the left she saw a barn and pens and—

  “Horses.” A deep sigh escaped her. She loved horses.

  He glanced over. “Do you ride?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not great, but I love it. How many do you have?”

  “Seven. Probably seven too many, but I’m a soft touch.”

  “Do you raise them to sell or race or something?”

  He chuckled. “Nope. Just to consume staggering amounts of feed and require endless hours of work.”

  But she could hear the love of them in his voice. “I missed having horses when I was back east.” The sorrow she’d heard before was there, an undertone of grief.

  “So when I came back, I knew I wanted a place with room enough for a horse.”

  “But you couldn’t stop at one?” she teased.

  He nodded ruefully. “People get horses and then can’t care for them and want to get rid of them, not always in kind ways.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “The vets in the area seem to have figured out that I’m an easy mark. My place has become the horse foster home for the area.”

  “So you just keep them for a while until they find good homes?”

  Color dusted his cheeks, and she was fascinated by it. “That was the plan. Unfortunately, I’m pretty picky on what I consider a good home. And then I get attached.”

  Every time she turned around, she discovered some new, surprising facet to a man she’d once considered unbearably arrogant and hardheaded. The knowledge disturbed her. He’d made it clear that his heart was not available. Caring too much about him would only break her own heart.

  “Bobby will love it. Jim used to ride in rodeos and Bobby has inherited his love of horses.”

  “Does Bobby have his own horse?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Michael slowed and pointed to a paint. “That mare is very gentle and she’s not too big. Daisy might be a good match for him.”

  Gratitude swamped her. She reached out and brushed his arm. “Michael, you’re doing so much for him. I don’t know if—”

  “It’s no big deal.” His jaw flexed as he shifted away from her touch. “Daisy needs exercise, and I could use the help. If you’re interested, pick out the one you want to use while you’re here.”

  While you’re here. The words snapped her back into what was real. She and Bobby would only be guests, only for a small span of time. She’d do well to remember that.

  He drove on, and she studied the house up ahead. It was like nothing she would have ever expected from the man she’d always considered some kind of misplaced urban sophisticate, despite his boots and jeans.

  This, she realized, was more than a house. It looked like home, like the very definition of the word, and she couldn’t be more surprised that Michael had chosen it. Two stories and Victorian, it looked big enough to shelter a family, a place where you grew up with traditions and handed them down with love. A dusty blue with darker blue and white trim, it was the jewel in this wonderful, unexpected place, the harbor she’d wished for all of her life.

  “It’s beautiful, Michael.” She turned and caught the quiet pride in his smile.

  Michael stopped the car in front of the house and pointed to the left side. “I thought I’d get the pen for the pup built there. That way when nobody’s home, he’s safe from wandering so far away he gets lost, but he’s right next to the house so he’ll have shelter. We’ll get him a doghouse, too.”

  “I’ll pay for—”

  He rounded on her, eyes snapping. “Maybe I’ll want a dog when you’re gone, ever think of that? Dammit, Suzanne, we’re not keeping score here. I can’t be wondering every second if I’m spending money that will beggar you.”

  “You’ve never had to worry about money, have you?” It was such a novel idea, she couldn’t quite take it in.

  His shoulders stiffened. “For your information, I once had to count every cent.”

  “When was that?”

  “When I defied my parents and married my wife. They cut me off without a penny. I’ve never accepted anything from them since. Everything I have, I’ve made on my own.”

  She’d always assumed his wealth was inherited, that he was a trust-fund kid. “What a terrible surprise that must have been.”

  “It wasn’t a surprise,” he snapped. “I knew they would do it.”

  “And you went ahead, anyway.” She studied him. “You must have loved her very much.”

  He stared into the distance, his jaw rigid. “My pride cost her everything.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  His head whipped around. In his eyes was a bleakness she’d never seen on a living soul. “I’d call her life everything, wouldn’t you? Her life and our baby?”

  Then suddenly he was out of the car, leaving the air behind him stinging with an angry grief bigger than she knew how to handle. She wanted to understand. She wanted to go to him, to soothe him, but he’d walked around to grab their things from the back, and every implacable line of his frame shouted out a warning not to trespass.

  Something festered deep inside him, but she was a stranger. She had no right to pry into something so obviously painful. If his friends and family hadn’t been able to find a way past his guard, how could she expect to do so?

  But she still wanted to help, so she opened the car door and emerged, following him up the steps. “Michael, maybe it would be good for you to talk about—”

  His hand stilled on the screen door. Slowly, very slowly, he turned. His face was the mask of a stranger, a hard man she didn’t want to know. “Suzanne, get one thing straight. This marriage is a charade we will act out for the benefit of others. I will do my best to get along with you and your son and make this time as comfortable as possible for all of us.”

  Then his voice lost its careful neutrality. “But if you want to stay in this house past the next second, you will never, ever ask me about my wife and son again.” The green eyes that could be soft and warm and funny were hard as malachite now. “Is that clear?”

  She felt like nothing so much as a chastened child. If she hadn’t heard the enormous relief in Jim’s voice that she would be able to take Bobby, she’d turn around right now and walk back to town, right after telling Michael Longstreet to go straight to hell. />
  But her son and the good man who loved him were depending on her. So she clenched her jaw and bit out the words. “Very clear.”

  “Fine.” He held the door open for her. “After you.”

  “Fine.” She swept ahead of him in high dudgeon, not sparing a glance for her surroundings. “If you’ll show me my room, I’ll take a look and then you can take me home.”

  He didn’t try to mouth any platitudes about this being her new home. It was abundantly clear now that this would never be more than a way station. She would check first thing Monday morning on getting someone else to help her with gaining legal custody of Bobby. She would bite her tongue off before she asked this man for the tiniest favor that wasn’t absolutely required by this sham of a marriage.

  She followed him upstairs, mentally making a list of all she’d need to do to get this over with as soon as possible. When Michael stopped at a doorway, she almost plowed right into him.

  He stepped aside and gestured. “Here it is. Bobby will be over there.” He pointed to a room diagonally across the landing.

  She didn’t ask where he would be. In the barn would suit her fine. Then she stepped into the room and almost gasped with pleasure.

  It was a woman’s room, that was obvious. A stunning mahogany four-poster bed was set diagonally in the far corner, its coverlet a pale lavender satin. Fluffy, lacy pillows were mounded at the head. Gleaming oak floors were topped with a beautiful rug in pale cream, mint green and all shades of lavender and rose. An antique vanity with a big rounded mirror stood against the wall nearest the door, and in the corner to her left, a chaise angled by the window, a place to read and dream.

  She’d never seen a more beautiful room in her life. Then an uneasy suspicion grew. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

  “I didn’t. The former owners sold it to me fully furnished. I’ve remodeled and replaced some things in the spaces I use most, but I left this room as it was. I don’t know why.”

  He sounded almost embarrassed, and some of the hurt leaked out of her.

  Be an adult, Suzanne. He has a right to his secrets.

  She was about to turn around, an apology on her lips, when she spotted the door just before the chaise and walked to it, pulling it open, expecting a closet.