ONCE UPON A WEDDING

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "No. I'm used to settling in wherever I am. Comes from my years on the racing circuit."

  Something had changed about him, Hazel thought, but she couldn't quite pin it down to specifics. He was still solemn, still very reserved when he looked at her, his eyes seeing everything and revealing so very little. But there was something…

  Hazel smiled at him, testing the waters. "I'm listening," she said softly.

  "Pardon?"

  "You talk, I listen, remember?"

  Jess relished the give-and-take of a criminal trial because he'd always rigorously done his homework well before the gavel came down for the first time. The more difficult the defense, the more he tore into it.

  But O'Connor wasn't a defendant, nor was she a hostile witness. Instead she was a woman he respected, a woman who had rearranged her crowded schedule to give comfort to a woman she'd never met, simply because he'd asked it of her.

  Jess lowered his mug carefully to the table and edged forward until he was sitting straight. It was always better to face an unknown curve with too much confidence rather than too little.

  "Look, we both care about Francey, that's a given."

  That won him a small smile, giving him the courage to plunge ahead. "And I feel at least a certain responsibility to carry out Silvia's last request."

  "In a strange way, so do I."

  "I keep thinking about what she said. That she wanted her daughter to have a better life, and if the court does give me custody, I want you to know I intend to do the best I know how to be a good father."

  "I know that."

  "But a little girl … I had brothers. I don't even know the first thing about girls. And the idea of a nanny, well, it seems so impersonal."

  Impatience had her cocking her chin and staring up at him. "Then tell me, Jess, what is it exactly that you do want?"

  "Damn it, Hazel, I thought women were supposed to have a sixth sense about these things."

  "What things?"

  Jess took a deep breath. His palm was sweating, and his throat was dry. "I told you. I want you to move in with me."

  "To be Francey's nanny?"

  "Well, not exactly. More like her … mother."

  "I … you—"

  "Exactly. You and me. You yourself said that marriage was 'in' these days."

  Jess was beginning to feel foolish. This was supposed to be a straightforward merger, but Hazel O'Connor had a way of looking into his eyes that had him thinking of a houseful of children with red hair and green eyes and a smile just like hers. Boys, maybe, to spoil their big sister.

  "I realize there are things you need to know." He cleared his throat, more nervous suddenly than he'd ever been even for a summation in a capital case.

  "I'm just shy of forty-six, in decent shape financially and in excellent health. I'm easy to please and don't have too many bad habits, not any that are against the law, anyway."

  "That is reassuring."

  Jess saw the smile in her eyes and allowed himself to smile back. So far so good.

  "I'll pay the household expenses, but now that I've seen your place, it might be better if I moved in here instead of the reverse. Your house is twice as big as mine and has a yard." And a homey warmth that not even the expensive decorator he'd hired had been able to give his.

  "And a tree for a swing."

  "Yeah, right. A swing."

  "And maybe a sandbox."

  "Whatever you want."

  "You mean whatever is best for the baby?" There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

  "That's assumed."

  "Of course."

  "If you prefer, I'll have all of this stipulated in a contract."

  His eyes were very dark, very intense. Meeting them, she felt herself being pulled by the shadows faintly visible even in the inky depths. A dangerous man to love, she thought. Heartache in any relationship with him would be a given, but something told her that the pleasure he could give her with that hard body would outweigh the risk.

  "A prenuptial agreement, you mean?"

  "You could call it that, yes."

  "Notarized?"

  His eyes narrowed. Clearly she'd pushed him as far as he intended to allow. "Most people I know accept my word."

  "Ah, but will you accept mine?"

  "Yes."

  His eyes flashed a subtle but clear warning. This was not a man to lose control with, she told herself. He wouldn't be gentle, and he wouldn't be kind – not unless one or the other served his purposes. But he would be fair and in many ways exciting.

  As a lover, perhaps, a small voice of sanity reminded her. Not as a husband.

  "That's it?" She allowed a smile to play over her mouth. "One proposal wrapped up in legal ribbons and ready for my signature?"

  "That's it. Say the word, and I'll have the papers drawn up."

  She pressed both hands against the settee's cushion and swung her legs out in front of her. She had small, tidy feet, and her toenails were painted a wild pink, not the kind of image he would expect a kiddy shrink to project.

  Jess shifted his gaze from ankles that were far too slender for his peace of mind to her face. Her mouth was pursed into a pensive frown, and her lowered lashes hid her eyes.

  "Well, it's not the most … romantic proposal I've ever had," she said, studying those same bright toes while he studied her.

  "I'm not much for the candlelight and wine bit, O'Connor. You might as well know that up-front."

  She lowered her legs and lifted her gaze. "So what I see is, um, what I would get? Is that it?"

  "Exactly."

  Hazel heard the smile in his voice and searched for it on his lips. Instead she found his mouth bracketed by deep grooves that hadn't been there earlier.

  "Why marriage?" she questioned in a neutral tone. "Why not draw up a custody agreement between us? Wouldn't that serve the same purpose?"

  "I thought of that, but it wouldn't work." Tension banded his shoulders and sharpened his tone.

  "It wouldn't?"

  "No. For example, what if you met someone and decided to get married? Who would be Francey's daddy then?"

  "Yes, I see your point."

  She studied the veins on the backs of her hands. She'd worn a wedding ring for almost five years and spent another two in mourning for the man who'd given it to her.

  After that, she'd thought about remarrying a time or two. She'd even set the date once, with a man who'd promised to fill her old house with children. At the last minute she'd realized that she wasn't in love with him and called it off.

  "And, of course, you might meet someone and fall in love," she added when he remained silent. "Someone you would naturally want to be Francey's mother."

  "Unlikely at best."

  Her chin lifted slowly until her eyes were in line with his. "Just so I have this straight," she said in a tone that seemed far too calm. "This is to be a marriage of convenience between two consenting adults, with the welfare of the baby uppermost."

  Jess wondered why her words sounded so cold when she was simply paraphrasing his own. "Exactly."

  "And what about marital relations? Sex?"

  Jess rubbed his hand over his thigh, realized what he was doing and closed his fingers into a loose fist. A trickle of sweat was slowly making its way down his backbone, and his skin felt hot and tight, the way it had when he'd gotten himself stuck in the back of the pack with no way out. Taking a calculated risk had been his only choice then, and he'd been paying for it ever since.

  "That's up to you," he said in a tone that implied his own indifference. "I'm not so desperate for sex that I'd force you to do something you would hate."

  "That's very generous of you," she replied, standing suddenly. "I'll give it some thought, along with the rest of the items you put on the table."

  Jess got to his feet quickly. Even though she radiated an unnatural calm, her face had paled to the color of newly skimmed cream. His own felt as hot as a fresh burn.

  "I don't expect an answer
now," he said, when the prolonged silence had him ready to squirm.

  "Good," she murmured, her voice dry. "Because I'm still in shock."

  "Take all the time you need – as long as you give me an answer by Thursday night."

  "Why Thursday night?"

  "Because Friday I have my first appointment with Lynn FitzGerald. It would help my cause considerably to be able to tell her that you and I are engaged."

  Hazel ran an unsteady hand through her hair. "Of course," she murmured, her composure wobbling. "That makes perfect sense."

  Jess watched the sunlight come through the etched window glass to splinter into a dozen shades of red and gold in her hair. He liked the casual way she kept it, and the way the soft curls seemed to draw attention to the graceful slant of her cheekbones.

  She smoothed her borrowed slacks over her thighs, then stuck out her hand. He saw the tension then, in the stiff way she held her shoulders and the hint of strain in her smile. "Nice listening to you," she said, her tone wry.

  Her hand slid into his, and her grip was firm, the way he'd remembered. Her fingers gently pressed his before she let go.

  "Jess? Is something wrong?"

  "Ah, hell," he muttered, and then his mouth brushed hers, so desperately gentle, so heartbreakingly tentative, as though it had been a long, long time since he'd kissed a woman.

  Hazel's eyes grew damp, but whatever pity she might be tempted to feel was instantly smothered by the heat generated by the growing pressure of his hard lips over hers.

  No matter how vulnerable he might or might not be, at this moment he was kissing her with an impatient man's passion and a strong man's restraint. Kisses tasting of coffee and hunger.

  Jess had meant the kiss to be brief, without feeling, or so he'd told himself in the split second it had taken him to make up his mind. But her mouth was warm silk, and he had been lonely for a very long time.

  Her hands balled against his shoulders, pushing hard, but her mouth was busily softening under his. He felt need stir, the kind that he'd denied for so long – sharp and yet sweet, like the first biting swallow of Scotch.

  His hand moved lower until his palm found the curve of her spine. Tugging slowly, he arched her upward, taking most of her weight on his arm, until she was molded to him, her body pliant and warm and tempting.

  He kept the kiss soft, too afraid of the need he would unleash in himself if he didn't. His tongue tasted instead of plunging deep. His body ached to push hard against the yielding softness of her belly, but he remained motionless, letting his mouth do what his body dared not, drawing every ounce of pleasure he could from her until they were both breathless and shaken.

  Reluctantly, too close to the edge to risk going over, he drew back and waited for her to open her eyes, supporting her until she found her footing.

  "Was that about the baby, too?" she asked, her eyes full of confusion and lingering intimacy.

  "No," he said with a bite in his voice. "That was because I was damn tired of talking myself out of it."

  Looking like a man who was already regretting his actions, he turned abruptly and walked out.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  "A marriage of convenience, huh?" Cait filched a walnut from the pile she'd just finished chopping for the brownies Hazel was making. "You know, I've always wanted you two to get together, but somehow I didn't picture it quite the way you described it."

  "The way Jess described it, you mean."

  Hazel licked the brownie batter from her fingers and dropped the spoon into the sink. It was Sunday afternoon. Francey was with Jess and Tyler. According to Cait, Ty was teaching Jess how to give the baby a bath without drowning her, himself and the bathroom in the process.

  "I feel as though pride has me by one hand and Jess by the other, pulling like holy Ned." Hazel carried the bowl to the table and added the walnuts. "If I let go of my pride, I'll get my chance to be a mother, but I'll also be the wife of a man who doesn't love me. If I hang on to my pride, I'll lose Francey."

  "What do you want to do?"

  Hazel poured the batter into the pan. She'd never been able to deny herself chocolate, no matter how bad it might turn out to be for her well-being.

  "Honestly, Cait, I don't know," she said as she scraped the last speck of chocolate from the bowl's slick sides. "That's why I sent out an SOS for you."

  Cait gave her a sympathetic look. "And you knew that I would go anywhere, anytime, for brownies," she joked, watching Hazel slip the pan into a hot oven.

  "But of course," Hazel replied with a chuckle, though her heart wasn't in it.

  "Do you love him?" Cait asked softly, catching her off balance.

  "No, but I could – far too easily," she admitted, flopping into the nearest kitchen chair. "If he'd give me a chance, that is, which he won't."

  "How do you know he won't?"

  "Because, when I asked him if sex was included in this 'partnership' he was proposing, he said that it didn't matter much one way or the other. Whatever I wanted was the way he put it."

  Cait stared. "Jess said that? The same Jess Dante who's second only to my husband in the sexiest-man-of-all-time department?"

  "The very same, except that I'd rate him number one – no offense intended." Hazel managed a wisp of a smile for Cait's benefit.

  Cait smiled back. "None taken." Leaning back, she let her smile fade and replaced it with a thoughtful pursing of her lips.

  "If I'm reading you right, you're saying that a man who doesn't care whether or not he sleeps with his wife can't possibly be in love with her. Nor can he care whether or not she's in love with him."

  "Exactly." As usual, Cait was right on target, and the truth hurt.

  "In which case a woman with any self-respect at all would be a fool to fall in love with that man."

  Hazel nodded. "Exactly," she said again.

  They sat in silence for a few seconds before Hazel got to her feet and set about boiling water for herbal tea. She had a new kind that was supposed to calm frazzled nerves. She was hoping it would also do something for the low hum of desire that ran through her whenever she thought of becoming Dante's wife.

  "I've often tried to imagine what life must be like for him, but in all honesty, I can't." She glanced over her shoulder to find Cait watching her.

  "I know. When Ty broke his wrist and was in a cast, he nearly went crazy – and that was only for four weeks. Jess has had fourteen years of restrictions and obstacles and just about every other kind of frustration known to man, I imagine."

  Hazel carried the mugs of hot water and two tea bags to the table and sat down again. "Not to mention the stares and questions and misplaced pity," she said, dunking one bag.

  Cait plunked her own bag into the hot water, then wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent. "He handles it well. At least, he has whenever I've been around him in a public place. In private…" Cait shrugged. "Who knows?"

  Hazel ran her tongue along the inside of her lower lip. Jess kissed like a man who'd had more than his share of practice. And his need hadn't been feigned. She'd felt it in the faint trembling of his hand when it pressed her spine and in the hard tension of his thighs.

  At that moment, at least, he had wanted her. But there were still some things that required both hands, no matter how skillfully a person compensated or how strong he made himself. She wondered if making love was one of those things.

  Hazel tried the tea, then made a face. The stuff tasted awful; therefore it had to be good for her.

  Sipping determinedly, she glanced toward the window facing the backyard. Outside, a brilliant blue jay was doing a courting dance in the oleander bushes while the smaller, drabber female perched nearby, playing hard to get.

  Did birds mate for life? she wondered. Did they feel love and anguish and desire, or were they simply driven by primal juices to mate in order to continue the species? And did it really matter why the babies were born, as long as the adults were around to prot
ect them?

  "Cait, were you in love with Ty when you went to see him in that saloon in Sutter Creek?" she asked, still watching the courtship rite beyond the pane.

  "No, but like you said earlier, I knew I could be."

  Hazel brought her gaze to Cait's face. "And if he hadn't fallen in love with you, would you still have married him in order to reunite Kelsey with her father?"

  Cait looked thoughtful. "I admit I've wondered that myself, mostly in the middle of the night when I'm snuggled in his arms. The truth is, I truly don't know for sure. Oh, I tell myself, no, that I would have had too much self-respect, but I'm also extremely glad I didn't have to make that choice."

  Hazel thought about the control Jess had imposed on the two of them. And the explosive kindling of desire that had made that control necessary. Other marriages had started with less and succeeded very well.

  The problem was, Hazel needed a man to cherish her and laugh with her and share his hopes and dreams and fears with her more than she needed a skillful lover.

  "Stubborn man, he'll never let anyone get past that wall he put up when his wife walked out."

  She wasn't aware that she'd spoken her thoughts aloud until Cait shot her a startled look. "A classic response, but perhaps understandable in a man as sensitive and proud as Jess must have been. Still is, for that matter."

  "More like bullheaded and dictatorial."

  "Dreadful traits in a man, I agree." Cait grinned. "Reminds me of Ty, actually, when he was on parole and ready to snarl at anyone who looked at him crosswise."

  "He had a reason to be so prickly."

  "A lot of people would say that Jess does, too."

  Hazel gave a most unladylike snort. "Well, I'm not one of them. He's got a few problems, but so does everyone else. His are just more visible than most."

  "Something the press loved, Ty told me once."

  Hazel got up to check on the brownies. As soon as she opened the oven door, the tantalizing smell of chocolate filled the kitchen. Ten more minutes, she thought, inhaling as she reluctantly closed the door again.

  "What do you mean, the press?" she asked, taking her seat again.

  "Seems they even sneaked into his hospital room and snapped pictures of him when he was sleeping."