Wife Wanted

by Christine Rimmer

  Oh, yeah, he’d called it love, and he’d been totally infatuated at first. But had it really been love? He couldn’t be certain anymore.

  It had gone to pieces quickly. Vanessa had wanted more attention than he could afford to give her. She’d gotten pregnant sooner than either of them planned—and then hated him for making her that way. By the time Toby was born, they’d hardly been speaking. And then, when Toby was barely a year old, she’d taken him and walked out, returning to the one person who knew how to love her and lavish on her the attention she craved—her mother.

  Rick had immersed himself in work. He’d sent the alimony and support checks before they were due.

  And for the next four years, he hadn’t allowed a woman to get to him in any way that mattered. If a woman came on to him, he made it clear up front that he was single and planning to stay that way. They took him on those terms, for as long as it lasted, or they walked away right at the start. He’d seen no reason at all to let himself want them too much.

  But then there had been the accident. And Toby had come back to him. And his whole life had been upended, turned inside out. And he’d seen how damn empty it was.

  And then, not quite a month ago, he’d walked into this house and seen Natalie. And almost immediately, he’d started wanting her. The sound of her laughter sent his nerves humming. The sight of her coffee cup in the sink destroyed him. He couldn’t forget the way she smiled at Toby, the way she scratched Bernie behind the ears. Her scent seemed to linger on the air, whether she was in the house or not. And a glimpse of her, out on the front lawn, wearing old cutoffs, with her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, could arouse him more thoroughly than any skilled lover he’d ever known.

  But it was bad timing. The moment he laid eyes on her, he’d started to see that he was ready, at last, to take a chance again—while she wasn’t.

  And, in retrospect, he had to admit to himself that he should have been more understanding about that phone call from the Englishwoman. He still didn’t believe that the woman was a fraud. But he hadn’t lived Natalie’s life. He wasn’t from a prominent family. He had no idea what it might be like to have people pretend to be what they weren’t for the sake of a newspaper story.

  He had to be nicer to her. He would be nicer to her. He would not hold it against her that she refused to give him what he really wanted from her. It was her choice. And, damn it, he would show her that he was capable of respecting a woman’s choice.

  Ten

  Natalie pulled up to the house at a little before nine. The lights in the front parlor were on. Rick was probably in there. Since she wanted to stay clear of him, she parked her car in the garage, let herself in through the back door and headed straight for the central hall and the stairs.

  She had her hand on the newel post and her foot on the first riser when Rick’s voice stopped her.

  “Natalie…” He was standing in the door to the parlor, wearing a gray sweatshirt, old jeans and a pair of moccasins. The shirt was soft and clung to the strong, broad shape of his shoulders.

  So much for escape. She stopped and looked at him.

  “Hi,” he said. He was smiling.

  She wondered whether she was seeing things. He hadn’t smiled at her in days. Her heart beat faster, for which she despised it.

  “Hi,” she said, and waited.

  But he didn’t seem to have anything more to say.

  So she said, “Good night,” and started up the stairs again.

  He coughed. “Natalie, I…”

  She stopped on the second step and waited some more. Still he didn’t go on. So she asked in a wary tone, “Yes?”

  He folded his arms over his chest, shifted from one moccasin to the other. “I wonder if we could talk. Just for a minute or two.”

  The way he’d been behaving lately, she probably wouldn’t like what he had to say. But to refuse might only make him mad, and she was trying to keep things on an even keel with him. So she murmured grudgingly, “All right.”

  His smile became rueful. He turned a little and gestured toward the sofa in the room behind him. “Come in here, why don’t you? Sit down.”

  She frowned. They were supposed be avoiding each other. And he really had been mean lately. She didn’t know quite how to take him now.

  He went on smiling in that thoroughly charming, rueful way. “Please. I won’t bite. I promise.”

  That made her laugh a little, but it was a nervous sound. He gestured toward the couch again. So she came across the threshold and went past him, to sit where he had indicated.

  He followed a moment later, dropping into a wing chair opposite her. Once there, he seemed not to know how to begin. He rested his elbows on the chair arms, folded his hands on his stomach and then looked down at his hands, as if studying them.

  Natalie found herself staring at his hands, too. They were well-shaped hands, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. Very handsome hands, actually.

  “Look. I’ve been thinking about a few things.”

  “Yes?” She sounded ridiculously hopeful. And she was sitting forward, leaning toward him. She made herself sit back, and counted to five before she spoke again. “What things?”

  “I know I’ve been…hard on you lately.”

  Suddenly there was a pressure at the back of her throat and she found it difficult to look at him.

  “Natalie?”

  She made herself lift her chin and face him. “Yes. You certainly have. Been hard on me, I mean.”

  He shifted around in the chair. “I…judged you harshly, when you wouldn’t call that Holmes woman back.”

  “That’s right, you did.”

  “And I’ve been out of line about some other things lately. I went overboard about the Newsweek. And I over-reacted about your…” He cast about for a suitable word for her underwear.

  She provided it. “Lingerie.”

  He coughed. “Right. I guess the real deal here is that I want a chance with you and you’re not giving me one. And I’m…”

  “Sulking?”

  He grunted. “Men don’t sulk.”

  Wisely, she refrained from argument on that point.

  “I…apologize.”

  Lord. He sounded just the way her father had sounded apologizing to Erica this morning. Like Jake, Rick was making saying he was sorry into a major concession. Natalie experienced a sudden flash of irritation at all men.

  Rick must have seen her exasperation in her eyes. “What? You don’t accept my apology?” Now he sounded noble. And slightly wounded.

  She longed to say something snappish and hurtful, to get back at him a little for the way he’d been treating her. But what good would that do, really? She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “No. I do. I accept your apology.”

  He made a sound of disbelief, which reminded her of her father, too. And suddenly she felt very tired. She looked away, toward the dark windows.

  The room was quiet. Then Rick said, “What is it?”

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Something’s bothering you.” He granted her that rueful smile again. “Other than me, I mean.”

  For some totally incomprehensible reason, she found that she wanted to tell him. Everything. About her father and her mother and the odd, scary way her father had been behaving. She wanted to confide in him, of all things. To confide in a man.

  She remembered the day he and Toby had arrived to stay. She’d confided in Rick that day, out on the lake, told him too much about her childhood and her sisters, about Joel and their breakup. It hadn’t been like her at all. Natalie Fortune did not confide in men. Men confided in her.

  “Natalie. Tell me.”

  “Oh, Rick…”

  “Come on.” His blue gaze was so tender, so full of honest concern. He really did seem to want to know.

  But her family’s never-ending difficulties had nothing to do with him. She shook her head.

  Rick stared at her intently for a mom
ent more. “All right. Whatever.” He glanced down at his hands again, then back at her. “Look. It’s only a few days now until you leave.”

  “Five days.”

  “Yes. And during that time, I want us to be…” He sought the right word.

  She tried to help him. “Friends?”

  He winced. “God. Talk about clichés.”

  “How about ‘on friendly terms,’ then.”

  He considered, then nodded. “That’s better.” His eyes narrowed. “You look doubtful.”

  “I guess I am, a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, even though I’m the one who suggested it, I can’t help wondering what being ‘on friendly terms’ is going to entail.”

  “Nothing much. I promise.”

  She looked at him sideways.

  He chuckled. “Now you’re wondering what exactly I mean by ‘nothing much.’”

  “Yes. I suppose I am.”

  “I mean, we’ll just…make an effort to get along, that’s all. I don’t mean we have to share meals or go out on the Lady Kate together.”

  She felt disappointed—and detested herself for it.

  He continued, “But we could…exchange a few pleasant words now and then, when we pass in the hall. Even share a little conversation when we happen to be in the same room together.” He was watching her closely. “So. What do you think?”

  It sounded lovely. She didn’t like living in this hostile silence they shared now. And yet it seemed dangerous, to let down her guard with him. She really was drawn to him. And he was so frank about being attracted to her.

  Could this be some kind of trick on his part?

  But that was ridiculous. She was being paranoid.

  Next she’d be thinking he was after her because she was a Fortune and he wanted to get his hands on her money, or make use of her connections.

  “Damn it, Natalie. I like you.”

  She believed him. But she knew she shouldn’t. Hadn’t she proved conclusively that her judgment was truly awful when it came to men?

  Rick rubbed one of those good-looking hands down his equally good-looking face.

  And that was another thing: Rick was much better-looking than any man she’d ever gone out with. It wasn’t just physical, though his body was big and well proportioned and his features were arranged compellingly. It was something in his eyes. And in the way he carried himself. Something strong and determined.

  Something totally male.

  The few men she’d dated had been a lot like Joel, in all honesty. Just a little bit less than all man. Just a little bit weak.

  Rick Dalton was not weak.

  He was frowning again, as he tried his very best to be patient. But she’d taken way too long to answer him, and he was clearly worrying about what might be going through her mind.

  She stood. “I like you, too, Rick.”

  He looked up at her, and his fine mouth twitched at the corners. “Thank God for small favors.”

  “And I’d like to be…friendly. Until I leave.”

  The next morning, when Natalie came downstairs, Rick smiled at her and told her the coffee was hot. She poured herself a cup and sat down in the padded rocker in the great room with Toby, who was watching cartoons and building some kind of spaceport out of a plastic construction set. With Bernie sprawled close by, she rocked and watched Toby and sipped her coffee, while Rick sat at the breakfast table reading the Star Tribune.

  Eventually she got up and poached herself an egg and sat down across from Rick to eat. Once or twice, when he was turning the pages of his paper, Rick spoke to her—casual things. He told her teasingly that Dayton’s was having a big sale starting Friday.

  “Now that you won’t want to miss.”

  She pretended to yawn. “I’ll mark it on my calendar.”

  He chuckled. “You might get yourself a deal on platform shoes.”

  She knew he was referring to that very first day, when he’d caught her singing along with Bernie and Janis, all dressed up in bangles and beads. She played along with his teasing. “What about lampshades?”

  “That’s right. I guess you probably get tired of wearing the same one all the time.”

  She agreed that she did.

  He told her that lamps and lamp shades were going to be half-off.

  “That does it. I’ll be there,” she vowed.

  They talked about the Twins—who were not having the best of years. Rick said he preferred the Saints, anyway. And they played at the St. Paul Municipal Stadium, which was out-of-doors, unlike the Twins, who played their home games at the Metrodome.

  “Baseball should be played outside,” he said.

  She was with him on that. “And the minor-league games are more fun, anyway. It always feels more like they’re playing the game for love.”

  “A guy in the minors has to love it,” Rick said. “If he didn’t, he’d find something that paid better.”

  Natalie happened to glance over, and saw that Toby was watching them. Maybe she was taking this “friendliness” thing a little too far.

  She stood and carried her dirty dishes to the sink. As she rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, she caught herself humming a tune from Pocahontas. She stopped that foolishness right away. And when she glanced at Rick, he was hidden behind his paper. Obviously, he hadn’t heard. And even if he had heard, it didn’t matter. It was only a silly song.

  That evening, Natalie played Concentration with Toby. Together they spread the deck of cards facedown on the rug in the great room. Then they took turns trying to choose pairs. Toby was surprisingly good at it. He matched several pairs after seeing a mate only once.

  After Toby was in bed, it just seemed natural that Natalie and Rick would sit in the great room and talk for a while. They didn’t talk about anything in particular, really. There were some loose boards out in the boathouse, Rick said. She thanked him for telling her and told him she’d get someone over from the estate to handle the repair. He was taking Toby into the Cities tomorrow. Was there anything he could pick up for her? She said she was going in herself. Bernie had a date at the dog groomer’s for his final bath and comb-out before she left on her trip. She almost suggested that they all just go together.

  But she stopped herself. After all, they’d agreed that they weren’t going to take this thing too far.

  The next night, Erica called just as Rick was tucking Toby in. Natalie’s mother was fretting over Jake again, having second thoughts very similar to Natalie’s about their visit to the estate.

  “The more I think about it, the more strange the whole encounter seemed. Do you know what I mean, Nat?”

  Natalie didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to add to her mother’s worries, either. So she made a noncommittal noise.

  Erica went on, “His hair was wet, did you notice? As if he’d just showered. But it was after eleven. That’s the scariest thing, when I really let myself think about it. That he was there, at the estate, and not at the office. After eleven on a weekday. That’s not the Jake I know at all. And his eyes. His eyes looked wrong, Nat. Terribly troubled. Did you notice?”

  Natalie did her best to soothe her mother, reminding her that even if there was something really bothering Jake, no one could help him if he didn’t want to be helped.

  “And hasn’t that always been the problem with Jacob?” Erica said sadly. “He keeps it all in. It’s almost impossible to know what’s really going on inside him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Natalie tried her best to believe her own words.

  A few minutes later, her mother said goodbye. Natalie hung up just as Rick returned from Toby’s room.

  One look at her face and he was demanding, “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Just my mother.”

  “What did she say that’s got you upset?”

  The other night, she’d put him off. But right then, the offer of a friendly ear was just too tempting.

  Five minutes later
, they were sitting at either end of the sofa in the great room and Natalie was sharing her concern about her father.

  Rick listened and agreed that it didn’t sound good. “But I don’t know what you can do about it.”

  “I don’t really think there’s anything. Except to be available if he needs me. And to try to stop worrying about him.” She gathered her legs up to the side and leaned a little closer to Rick. “Thanks for listening. I feel better, just having someone to tell it to.”

  “Any time.”

  They shared a long look. Natalie was feeling so warmly toward him. She really loved the way they were getting along now.

  All at once, Rick cut his eyes away. He stood. “I think I’ll go out on the back porch. Listen to the cicadas.”

  She was a little surprised at his abruptness, but she covered it up with teasing. “And get eaten alive by the mosquitoes?”

  His chuckle sounded slightly forced. “Why not?”

  He hadn’t invited her to accompany him, and she assumed he must want to be alone. So she stayed where she was as he went out the back door.

  She’d rented a movie, a romantic comedy, from the store in Travistown. It was waiting on top of the VCR in her sitting room upstairs.

  Maybe Rick would enjoy watching it with her.

  She went up and got it. When she came back down, he was still out on the porch. She started for the back door.

  And then nervousness assailed her. Maybe he really didn’t want to be bothered right now. Maybe—

  She was being a fool. She knew it. Making a big deal over a simple little thing like asking him if he’d like to share a movie with her.

  She decided she’d make popcorn first. That would give him a few more minutes outside, undisturbed, and provide her with something to do while she built up her nerve. She marched over and plunked the tape down on top of the television, then proceeded to the kitchen, where she got out a bag of microwave popcorn.

  In minutes, it was ready. She poured the fat, butter-flavored kernels into a bowl and carried the bowl into the great room, where she set it on the coffee table next to Toby’s latest project: a Matchbox car kit called Emergency City.