Long-Lost Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “That seems to be an area of concern. Or so I understand.”

  He folded his arms across his massive chest. “You have something to tell me?”

  “I sure do. Since I’m so busy revealing secrets today, I thought I’d reveal another.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t cook.”

  Mojo positively beamed. “No cooking? For real?”

  “No cooking. For real. Our housekeeper in Costa Rica tried to teach me a number of times, but finally gave it up as a lost cause.”

  Chaz relaxed enough to smile. “How many dinners did you burn?”

  “Too many to count. Rafe was amazingly equitable about the whole thing. Maybe because he’d just rescued me from—” Her mouth snapped closed an instant too late.

  “Rescued you from...?” Chaz repeated softly. “Who? From me?”

  “No! No,” she repeated again, so there wouldn’t be any doubt. “You know full well I didn’t need rescuing from you.”

  “Then who?”

  “My...my aunt.” She hopped off the counter and offered his employees a brilliant smile. “So have we resolved the kitchen crisis? You’ll continue cooking for us, Mojo?”

  “You got it. And if there’s something special you want some night. Well, hell. I’ll even consider fixing it.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Shayne said gravely. “And I’ll try not to take you up on it.”

  He patted her on the back, his meaty hand nearly leveling her. “I knew I liked you. A bit on the scrawny side, but I can take care of that.”

  Chaz stepped in before Mojo pounded her into the ground with his enthusiasm. “She’s fine how she is.”

  “Not if she’s eating for two.”

  Chaz whipped around. “What did you say?”

  “I have the eye,” Mojo insisted proudly. “Got it from my momma. She could see things like that and so can I.”

  Shayne caught Chaz’s hand and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. Mojo’s just teasing. It’s too early to know for sure.”

  He allowed himself to be drawn from the kitchen. “Mojo’s gonna find himself out of a job if he’s not careful.”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? You really that bad?”

  “Worse.” She shot him a grim look. “Far, far worse.”

  “But, you don’t understand, boss.”

  Chaz didn’t look up from his accounting book. “There’s nothing to understand, Jumbo. She’s in charge. If she says to move something to the left, you damn well pick up the house by the foundations and move it to the left. Got it?”

  “But... But she has a clipboard.”

  That caught Chaz’s attention. “A what?”

  “You heard me. It’s one of those official ones with a pen hangin’ from it and...” Jumbo’s single eyebrow knotted into a ferocious scowl. “And it gets worse. I don’t know how to tell you this, boss. So I’m gonna come right out and say it. But I want you to brace yourself.”

  Aw, hell. “I’m braced.”

  “She’s makin’ a list. Just like she was Santa freakin’ Claus.”

  Chaz put down his pencil. “A list, you say?”

  “Don’t that beat all?” Jumbo began to pace, eating up the huge room in three short strides. He turned and rumbled toward the desk again. “It wasn’t very nice of me, but I peeked at the damned thing. And it’s numbered and everything.”

  Chaz ran a hand across his jaw. “Numbered.” He shook his head. “That sounds serious.”

  Jumbo planted massive fists on his equally massive hips and glared, his eyebrow doing a mambo from one side of his face to the other. “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “Looks like I’ll have to talk to her. Any idea where she is?”

  “In one of the bedrooms.” He shuddered. “I’ll just wait here until you turn her from the devil’s spawn back into that sweet little lady you married.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Chaz ran her to ground in the spare bedroom he’d considered using for Sarita. His wife was curled up on the padded bench in the bow window that overlooked the pasture, cradling something in her arms. Tossed to one side was the clipboard with its ominous list and he couldn’t help but grin. She’d even changed for the role she’d taken on, dressing in neat black wool slacks, crisp black blouse and power jacket. And she’d tortured that glorious hair into a businesslike knot.

  He came up behind her and made short work of the knot, allowing the straight, pale strands to slide free. Then he slipped his hands beneath the golden waterfall and massaged the stiffness from her neck. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you actually scared Jumbo.”

  She kept her back to him, leaning against his chest and staring out at the snow-peaked Rockies. “So I gathered. I suspect it was the clipboard that put him over the edge.”

  “He’s in my office trembling like a scolded puppy. I’m standing here prayin’ he doesn’t wet the carpet.”

  A hint of laughter touched her voice. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to be organized.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? Try a little less organization so you don’t chase off the help.” She nodded in agreement and he asked, “Come up with any brilliant ideas?”

  “A few.” She straightened away from him. Ever so gently she took the box she held and set it on the window seat next to her. “I decided this would be the perfect room for Sarita. I gather you did, too.”

  Damn. He’d forgotten he’d left that here.

  Shayne turned the box around, revealing the doll he’d bought Sarita, the sort he hoped a little girl would find irresistible. The face was porcelain, the hair long with shiny black curls. She was dressed all in satin and lace, her dress poofed out over layers and layers of petticoats. Long silky lashes framed big brown eyes that stared solemnly up at him.

  He cleared his throat, aware that something had gone terribly wrong, but not quite sure what or why. “I heard little girls like dolls that share their coloring.”

  Shayne closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. How could a man who acted with such thought and care think himself so heartless? It didn’t make sense. “It’s absolutely gorgeous,” she said. “Sarita will love it.”

  “Will she? I picked it up for a Christmas present or as a little special something to make her feel more at home when she moves in here. What do you think?”

  It was the first time she’d ever heard him sound uncertain. He must want his daughter very badly. Part of her rejoiced for him, that he’d go to such lengths to make a home for her. But another, far less noble part, wept that he’d never made such an effort for his long-ago wife. She collected her clipboard and stood. “I think it’s the perfect present, whenever you choose to give it to her.”

  He caught her arm as she started past. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You’re upset. Why?” He studied her intently. “Is it this clipboard business?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Is it because of last night? Are you afraid I’m going to dump you once I have Sarita?”

  She didn’t have the energy for another confrontation. How could she explain to a man who didn’t believe in love that she’d spent her entire life searching for it? That once upon a time, she’d found it in his arms. And how could she explain to a man who didn’t believe in love that it was the one thing his daughter would crave more than anything in the world, including beautiful, porcelain-faced dolls? Shayne had once been a little girl who’d lost her parents, and been left in a cold, sterile environment without love or laughter or reassurance. They’d been the worst years of her life, a full decade that had left scars more permanent then the ones she carried on her body. As a result, she’d learned that, without love, life was a wasteland.

  She stared up into her husband’s eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes that could be as hard and cold as a winter’s day one minute, and gentle and concerned and brimming
with kindness the next. Right now they were summer-warm. Are you afraid I’m going to dump you once I have Sarita? he’d asked. Didn’t he understand?

  “No, Chaz. I’m not afraid of that.” She fought to keep her mouth from trembling, to reveal how heart-wrenching she found their situation. “I’m afraid—terrified, actually—that you’re serious. That you really don’t know how to love, anymore.”

  And as she watched, winter descended, sweeping into the harsh lines bracketing his mouth and darkening the sunshine of his gaze. “No need to be afraid of the truth, honey,” he said, coupling his exaggerated accent with a humorless smile. “Just face right on up to it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To My Long-Lost Bride,

  I went to the Christmas Ball. It goes without saying that you didn’t

  I don’t know what to write anymore. I don’t know what to feel I guess that’s because there aren’t any feelings left. I never thought I’d give up. But right now...

  I met someone, Shayne. I don’t love her, but then, I don’t think I’m capable of experiencing love anymore. Madalena and I have reached an understanding and she seems happy enough, even though I don’t have much to give her. Hell, if I were honest, I’d admit I don’t have anything to give her, not that she’s asking. But she fills a void that’s grown larger with each passing year. A void I suspect will someday consume me.

  So why do I feel like I’m cheating on you?

  I’ve failed you, honey, and I’m truly sorry for that. But this is it. I can’t take anymore. And so, my long-lost bride, I’m saying a final goodbye.

  If I could have found a Forever Love, it would have been with you.

  CHAZ remembered the exact second the realization struck. He was on a ladder, pulling all manner of debris out of the gutters around the house. He could have lost her.

  He’d spent years searching for Shayne and she could have been permanently lost to him ages ago, killed in a car accident on a twisty mountain road in Costa Rica. And he’d never have known of her fate. Despite the frigid temperatures, he broke out in a cold sweat. He climbed off the ladder before he fell off and walked into the house. He found her upstairs, ordering the general destruction of all three spare bedrooms.

  She paused mid-order and looked at him, an eyebrow raised in question. “Do you need something?”

  “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I do.”

  He waved the workers from the room, then stripped off his work gloves and dropped them to the floor. The second they were alone, he backed her up against the nearest wall and cupped her face in his hands. For a long moment, he simply looked at her, drinking in the delicate features. She had such soft, creamy skin, the healthy flush of exertion. highlighting her arching cheekbones. As he watched, she moistened her full, lush mouth and fixed him with velvety dark eyes. Eyes that had haunted him for years. Eyes that continued to haunt him even when he stood perched on a ladder, cleaning out gutters.

  “Chaz?” she whispered.

  “Shh. I just had to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  Words escaped him so he let his actions answer instead. He slipped his hand around the nape of her neck and drew her up toward his mouth. And then he tumbled into sheer pleasure, the fall long and hard and endless. But it wasn’t painful. Not when he was caught by the most delectable set of lips he’d ever kissed. He inhaled her, consumed her, ate her up in quick, hungry bites.

  She could have died.

  But she hadn’t and the evidence was lifting on tiptoe to return his embrace. His fears subsided, if not his desire. If anything, his desire had become so strong, he could barely think straight. He scooped her closer, relishing the feel of her soft breasts flattening against his chest and the rounded hips snuggling into the cradle of his. If there hadn’t been people nearby, he’d have taken her then and there. Would she have wrapped her slender legs around him and allowed the wild storms to consume them? Or would modesty have prevailed? Their passion deepened with flash-burn intensity and he had his answer.

  But how long would that passion last? How many days would he continue to crave the woman in his arms? How long would it be before his heartlessness destroyed their marriage? How many nights would pass before one or both of them became sated into dissatisfaction? He kissed her again, harder and more uncontrolled this time, desperate to hold the future at bay and focus on the delights of the moment. She was harbored safe within his arms—if his arms could be deemed a safe harbor. Not that Shayne seemed to share his doubts.

  For his wife, his sweet, precious wife, gave her mouth with such unstinting tenderness and generosity, so open to his every desire, that it threatened to utterly destroy him.

  If she lived to be a hundred she’d never understand the man. “I don’t understand you, Chaz. I thought you wanted me to fix the place up.”

  “Yes. Fix it.” His jaw worked in an odd way. “Fix means paint. Fix means doodads on the furniture. Fix means...means—” His arms made a few pinwheels in the air. “It means a rug here and there and maybe one or two of those useless colored pillows. It doesn’t mean this!”

  “I wasn’t going to leave the bathroom without plumbing for long. I just had to pick fixtures more suitable to a little girl.”

  “Little girls need railings on their tub?”

  She avoided his gaze. “And in the shower. Along with one of those cute seats in the corner. They’re perfect for holding all the shampoo bottles. Little girls use lots of different shampoo bottles. A whole seat covered with them.”

  He crammed his Stetson further down on his brow and clamped his back teeth together. “Fine. Have a shower with a seat. But two sinks? What does she need two for?”

  “Yes, well...” Inspiration struck. “It’s obvious you’ve never had a house full of females before.”

  “One little girl is not a house full of females.”

  “It is when she has friends over for her birthday or a slumber party.”

  Chaz paled. “Slumber party?”

  “They’re essential,” Shayne stated firmly. At least, they had been for the girls she’d gone to school with. Her aunt had never allowed her to attend any, let alone throw one, so her knowledge of sleep overs was painfully limited. But even so... “Why, as soon as word gets out that you have a daughter, I suspect you’ll be overrun with hordes of little girls.”

  “Hordes,” he repeated faintly.

  “Giggling and shrieking and putting on makeup.”

  For the first time in her entire life, she saw Chaz look downright terrified. “Makeup? Sarita’s only three!”

  “They do grow up fast,” she replied cheerfully.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Oh, no. Not my daughter.”

  She wrinkled her brow in thought. “I seem to remember Rafe saying something similar about me. Except it was in Spanish and there was some sort of threat involving the first man who tried to date his little sister.”

  Chaz slumped against the wall in defeat. “Date?” he croaked.

  She patted his arm. “We’ll talk later. Right now I have a meeting with the electrician. Little girls need lots of electrical outlets for their stereo systems and electrical outlets for their private phone lines.” Giving his arm a final pat, she started down the hallway. “Now, what did I do with my clipboard? I really should make a few notes so I don’t forget to arrange for the satellite TV hookup.”

  “What the hell happened to my floor?” Chaz roared.

  Jumbo held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. This was all your wife’s idea.”

  “My—” He should have known. “And just where is my dear wife?”

  “In your office.”

  Chaz frowned. That didn’t make him any happier. A man’s office should be sacrosanct, even from wives. He jabbed Jumbo’s chest with his finger. “Don’t cut any more holes in my floor. Got it?”

  “Sorry, boss,” Jumbo replied cheerfully. “I’m not taking orders from you these days, remember? You told me to do everything Shayne said and
that’s what I’m doing. Including six more holes.”

  A growl of frustration rumbled deep in Chaz’s chest. “Keep it up, big man, and I’ll have you riding fence line until your...your ears freeze off.”

  “My ears, huh?” Jumbo whistled. “Marriage sure has done strange things to your grasp of the English language. You aren’t anywhere near as colorful as you used to be.”

  The fact that his employee was right only served to aggravate Chaz all the more. “Oh, yeah? Well, your colorful days will soon come to a screeching halt, too, my friend. The second my daughter hits this house, I don’t want to hear a single word not meant for a child. And that goes for Mojo, too.”

  Jumbo grinned. “You gonna tell him that or you wanna tie a note to a rock and heave it in the general direction of the kitchen?”

  Momentary laughter glittered in Chaz’s eyes. “Think I’ll let my wife handle that particular duty.”

  “And he’ll take it like a lamb. Hell, he’ll probably even smile at the scolding.” Jumbo shook his head in disgust. “Never thought I’d see the day when a woman would lead my little brother around by the...er...ears.”

  “You haven’t seen anything, yet. Wait until my daughter moves in. She’ll have him tied up and put in his place within the hour.”

  Assuming she moved in. Which brought him right back to Shayne. Chaz glanced at the door to his office—a closed door. A closed door behind which sat his precious wife getting into heaven only knew what sort of mischief. Dammit it all, he had work to do. He couldn’t afford to spend all his time—

  Giving in to the inevitable, he thrust open the office door. “Shayne, what the hell have you done to my floors?” he demanded.

  She sat behind his desk, her glorious mane of hair once again constrained in a painfully tight knot at the nape of her neck. His hands itched to ease the tightness, just as he longed to ease her toward their bedroom and kiss his way down all those silvery scars. Of course, he hadn’t been given the opportunity.

  The only time she’d allowed his touch in the past two weeks had been the far too infrequent kisses they’d exchanged during the day or when she’d been sound asleep. Only then would she curl into his arms and wrap herself around him. Only then would she kiss his jaw and whisper her forbidden words of love, allowing him to join her in sweet oblivion. Only then did he find true peace. Their marriage was killing him, bit by bit, chipping him into pieces he’d never be able to put together again. Not that his wife noticed. Hell, no. She remained frustratingly oblivious.