The Bachelor Takes a Wife

by Jackie Merritt

  Calmer again, he said to Andrea, “Why don’t I go and get your handbag? I could do it in half the time it would take you.”

  “Just give me the directions,” she repeated.

  “Fine,” Keith said with a disgusted shake of his head. He glanced around and was relieved to see nothing of Dorian. He didn’t want Andrea wandering the grounds alone with Dorian hot on her trail. Maybe Dorian had shown his face just to prove he could and had already left. “Go through that far door, which leads to a patio restaurant, then leave the patio and follow the main path through the flower garden, go past the pool and you will reach the club’s valet-parking area. The limousines are usually parked on the right side of the lot.”

  It sounded like a long walk to Andrea, and his offer to run and get her handbag made a lot more sense than her strolling that far on high heels. But she’d already refused his help, and pride wouldn’t permit her to backtrack. Andrea handed him her glass. Then, with a stony expression and a clipped and unfriendly “Thank you,” she turned on her heel and headed for the far door.

  Walking as fast as possible in her dressy high heels, Andrea easily followed Keith’s directions. Her thoughts were still in a whirl from having to deal with Keith tonight. His mix of good looks, cocky personality and overwhelming self-confidence shouldn’t be allowed. She’d fallen head over heels for him years before she should even have noticed that he was a boy and she a girl, and while it nearly killed her to admit such a thing tonight, he was still a dangerous distraction to her emotional well-being.

  Did he affect every female that way, or was she particularly susceptible to him?

  Impossible, she decided. He probably drew women the way honey drew bees. She was just feeling overheated because of a very old romance and she resented it so much that she had to blink back tears of frustration.

  Keith had said she was fun in college, and that she had laughed a lot. Obviously he’d never seen beneath the laughter to the serious young woman underneath who had adored him since childhood. Much of it had been hero worship. He’d been her favorite playmate and the friend to whom she could tell anything. He’d been the first boy to kiss her. They’d been around eleven at the time and had decided that kissing wasn’t nearly as much fun as swinging a bat in a softball game or doing cannonball leaps into a swimming pool.

  High school had changed both of them. He’d become one of the swaggering superstar jocks, too cute to be believed and the target of every girl in school. Andrea had still adored him, but Keith’s head had swelled intolerably from his sudden popularity and she hadn’t been able to resist telling him to get real and to come back down to earth. He hadn’t taken criticism well, and their friendship had cooled drastically so that they rarely had even said hello to one another. The summer after high-school graduation they’d gotten back together and were thrilled to learn they had both been accepted at the same college, their plan for many years before Keith had grown too big for his britches.

  Oh, yes, she’d been fun and had laughed at everything. What girl wouldn’t laugh a lot when she was in a wonderful college and had the best-looking, most popular boyfriend of any of her sorority sisters?

  But then, of course, Keith began wanting more than kisses. And to be perfectly fair, she had wanted more than kisses, too. She’d explained her intention to wait for her wedding night to Keith, but he had never accepted her stand. Still, Andrea had been certain of their love, imagining Keith would get the message and propose to her.

  The blinders had fallen from her eyes the fateful night she had eagerly anticipated a marriage proposal and had instead received a business proposition from the love of her life. That had been the end of everything. They had finished college without ever speaking another word to each other. She had married Jerrold O’Rourke—her sweet, sweet Jerry—six years later, and according to rumor, Keith had married about a year after that. His marriage had ended in divorce, hers by the terrible finality of death.

  And now, after more years than she cared to add up, Keith was making overtures again? No, she would have no part of it. She didn’t need or want his friendship, and she certainly could never want anything else from him. She would get through tonight and then retreat back into her own life. This foray into Keith’s world would never be repeated. Never!

  Andrea finally reached the parking area with its dozens upon dozens of cars. Veering right, she located the limousines and realized, to her dismay, they all looked alike. Her limo had been white, but most of them were white and she hadn’t paid attention to exterior details.

  Distraught and frowning, she stood there and wondered what to do next. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and saw Keith coming toward her. Instead of resenting his presence, she felt relief. Maybe he could identify the right limousine.

  “Something wrong?” Keith called out before reaching her. He’d seen nothing at all of Dorian, thank goodness, and hoped again that the slime had left the ball and gone back under his rock.

  “All of these limousines look alike,” Andrea explained with a small frown.

  Keith stopped next to her and studied the gleaming vehicles. “No, they don’t. The one you arrived in is third from the left.”

  “It is?” Andrea peered at the one he’d named. To her it looked almost exactly like its neighbors, and she sighed. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” She started walking toward it. Keith kept stride—again—and she knew there was no shaking him tonight.

  Keith opened the door of the limousine and peered inside. “I don’t see a handbag,” he said.

  “Let me see.” Andrea tried not to make contact as she moved around him, but felt the brush of their bodies as she peered inside. The distraction of the warmth he was emanating and her determination to ignore it made it difficult to focus on the task at hand. “I don’t see it, either.”

  Turning a bit, she sat on the seat and began checking under it. Sliding along the soft leather seat she finally exclaimed, “Here it is! It must have fallen…” To her dismay, when she looked toward Keith, he wasn’t patiently waiting at the door of the limousine, he was inside the car with her. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded coldly.

  “I was going to help you look for your bag.”

  “Well, I found it, so put your transmission in reverse!”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He pulled the door shut and slid her way in one fluid movement. “The formal segment of the ball is going to get started in about ten minutes, but that’s long enough for former sweethearts to renew old acquaintances, don’t you agree?”

  Two

  To Andrea’s surprise, the closed door merely piqued her curiosity. Certainly there was no reason to fear Keith. Goodness knows, he’d never had a vicious or threatening bone in his body, and in spite of old resentments she couldn’t imagine him changing in that regard.

  “Whatever could you be thinking?” she murmured.

  Keith wasn’t a bit bashful. “There’s a lot on my mind tonight. For quite some time now. For certain since our last meeting.”

  “Which was when?” There was false innocence in her voice because she recalled the last time they’d seen each other quite clearly. She had been dining with a very nice young woman, Rebecca Todman, who had come to her for advice over Rebecca’s abusive past. Andrea’s longtime, well-known connection with New Hope sometimes resulted in one-on-one discussions with distraught women seeking relief from emotional pain and scarring caused by abusive relationships.

  At any rate, Andrea had listened to Rebecca’s story throughout most of the meal and was in the process of assuring her that she seemed to be on the road to healing herself when Keith and Robert Cole, the detective hired by Wescott Oil to investigate the murder of Eric Chambers, came into the restaurant. Andrea had seen their entrance but could not have imagined them joining her and Rebecca. Robert’s interest in Rebecca had been the big draw, not anything between her and Keith. She’d been only cool and distant with him, as usual, she recalled now, so whatever tidbit of a
ssociation occurring that evening to cause “a lot on his mind” had completely escaped her notice.

  “Surely you remember,” Keith said. “You were with Rebecca and…”

  “Yes,” she said flatly, cutting him off.

  In truth she had absolutely no desire to know what had happened that evening to reactivate his interest in her. The mere thought of Keith in her life again was stupefying. Why, they couldn’t be more different! He was wealthy beyond belief and while she was far from poverty—she had inherited from both of her parents and then her husband—her style of living would bore Keith silly. His would destroy her. Loud and boisterous friends, too much money and living in an ostentatious mansion? Oh no, she couldn’t even think of that sort of existence without shuddering.

  The limousine’s interior lights had gone out when Keith closed the door, but the parking lot lights illuminated his face. Andrea looked straight into his eyes and asked, “Isn’t it time we returned to the clubhouse? If I remember correctly, dinner is to start promptly at eight. I don’t have a watch. What time is it?”

  Keith obligingly checked his watch. “Yes, we have to go back, but in a minute. Andy—do you remember when I called you Andy?—for some time now when I’ve seen you something inside of me does flip-flops. I’ve been trying to understand it, without a whole lot of success. But since I have that same sensation tonight, it has to mean something. Any ideas?”

  “One springs to mind,” she said dryly. “Flopping organs could be serious. I would contact my cardiologist and request an EKG if I were you.”

  Keith grinned. “Ouch.”

  “Then again, it could be gas. Come on, let’s go.”

  Keith stared at her, admiring her grit and knowing he couldn’t let her get away with such brazen repartee at his expense. He moved quickly but smoothly, taking her by surprise, and ended up with his arms around her and his mouth on hers. He felt her shocked gasp on his lips but instantly forgot it within the hot whirlwind of emotions overwhelming him. Her mouth was incredible, soft and sensuous, and while she wasn’t exactly kissing him back, she wasn’t trying to scratch out his eyes, either.

  He didn’t overdo it and broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Dear Andy,” he murmured softly. “Sweet as candy. We had the real thing once, or we almost did. Something tells me that this is our time.”

  She was so outraged that she was trembling. “This is not our time! I don’t even know what you mean by that absurdity. Let go of me, Keith.”

  “Let’s go inside and have some fun,” he said cheerfully, letting her go.

  “I’m afraid your idea of fun and mine do not coincide.” Instead of waiting for him to get out through the door they both had used to gain entrance to the limousine, she opened the one on her side of the vehicle and exited as gracefully as she could manage, considering the explosive nature of her mood.

  Keith hastened to join her. “When did you become a snob?” he asked.

  Andrea stiffened and almost gave him no answer at all. How dare he judge her? But after a few seconds she had to defend herself. “I am not a snob,” she said icily.

  “Sure you are. You think you’re superior to everyone here, especially me. You didn’t feel that way in college.”

  “That was twenty years ago! I don’t know who or what I was in college, other than stupid!” She was referring, of course, to her relationship with him and hoping he got the message.

  He did, but not precisely as she’d meant it. “It wasn’t twenty years ago, it was eighteen years ago, and we were both a little stupid in those days. But neither of us was a snob, Andy Pandy.”

  “Please stop calling me those ridiculous names!”

  “I like those names. Be honest. Didn’t you enjoy that kiss just a little?”

  They had reached the patio, which was completely vacant. Everyone had gone into the ballroom for dinner. Andrea stopped at the door to send him a very poisonous look.

  “You are my age, thirty-eight years old, and still you behave like an adolescent. No, Keith, I did not enjoy that kiss. Perhaps I liked being pawed in my youth, but my youth has long been spent. Apparently yours hasn’t.”

  Swinging away, she opened the door for herself and went in. Shaking his head, Keith followed. “You act as though we’re ready for the rocking chairs. You sure don’t look like your nights should be spent a-rocking and a-reading. Hey, that’s good. You used to rock and roll, and now you rock and read.” He ducked his head to peer at her face. “Am I right or wrong?”

  “What you are is incredibly vexing.”

  “Vexing? I’m vexing? You know, I’ve seen that word in novels but I’ve never heard anyone actually use it before. Vexing Keith.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m a vexin’ Texan.”

  “You’re also not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

  “But I’m cute.”

  Andrea rolled her eyes. “Puppies, kittens and small children are cute. You’re a middle-aged man, for pity’s sake. Get over yourself.”

  “Middle-aged! Boy, you go right for the jugular, don’t you? Now, that hurt, Dandy Andy.”

  “I hope so,” she said sweetly and then said no more; they had reached the entrance to the ballroom. She could see that it had been festively decorated and set up for dinner with numerous tables, which were filled with chatting, excited, laughing people. Later, after dinner and the ceremony of presenting her with the club’s donation, most of the tables would be removed to make room for dancing. Andrea planned to leave shortly thereafter, as soon as she could do so without appearing rude or ungrateful. She was, after all, representing New Hope, and she couldn’t act solely on her own behalf. Of course, if she had only herself to consider, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.

  Keith offered his arm and said quietly, “Our table is across the room.”

  Gritting her teeth, Andrea forced herself to take his arm and to smile. Crossing that large room on Keith Owens’s arm, with nearly every eye in the place on the two of them, was pure torture. She knew she shouldn’t let it bother her. After all, she was there for the charity presentation, but how people did love to talk! To whisper and speculate and imagine. Andrea could see them doing it as she and her self-appointed escort moved among the tables. Escort indeed. What nerve!

  “Here we are,” Keith announced, stopping at a circular table with four couples and two vacant places. “I think you already know some of these people, but let’s make this easy. Starting on the left we have Will and Diana Bradford, then Rob and Rebecca Cole, Sebastian and Susan Wescott and finally Jason and Merry Windover. Everyone, this lovely lady is Andrea O’Rourke.”

  Hellos were said, Andrea’s chair was pulled out and then she and Keith sat down. Conversations began, and Andrea participated graciously. In mere minutes the first course of the meal was served, and Andrea found herself relaxing with these friendly people. From bits and pieces of the table talk she overheard while eating, she gathered that all of the men were members of the Cattleman’s Club, which forced her to alter the hard-drinking, crude-talking, cigar-puffing image of the typical member of this club with which she’d arrived. These were intelligent, attractive people, every one of them, ranging in age from mid-twenties to early forties, and it occurred to Andrea that she could like them—some more than others, of course—if they weren’t such bosom buddies with Keith.

  She fell silent, while enjoying a delicious salad made with tender greens, warm mushrooms and crunchy pecans, and thought about the kiss he’d ambushed her with in the limousine. She was glad, of course, that she hadn’t embarrassed herself by kissing him back. With his massive ego Keith would have taken even the slightest response from her as a green light and no telling what would have happened next.

  Andrea suffered a sinking sensation over the scenario that idea conjured up. She knew exactly what would have happened if she had given Keith the encouragement he’d obviously hoped for. The problem with that relatively certain theory was the sensual ache it created in the pit of her stomach.

&
nbsp; No! She would not ache for Keith Owens! For heaven’s sake, had she lost her mind tonight? She never thought about sex. She wasn’t looking for a man now, nor had she even considered another man since Jerry’s death! Lord love a duck, if you have to suddenly rediscover your libido, why pick Keith?

  Right in the middle of that horrifying question she felt Keith’s leg press hers under the table. She moved her leg away from his and furtively reached under the tablecloth and pinched him on his nervy thigh, at the same time giving him a phony smile and saying in a low, for-his-ears-only voice, “Try that again and I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. There are eight witnesses around this table, and friends of yours or not, if I suddenly stood up and told you to keep your hands to yourself, they would testify on my behalf in court.”

  “All I did was accidentally touch your leg with mine. You’re the one with the wandering hands. Who pinched whose thigh, you sneaky Pete?”

  “Who kissed whom in the limousine, you Don Juan degenerate?”

  “Oh, oh, the club photographer just snapped your picture. Could be one for the books, what with that accusing, vengeful expression on your pretty face.”

  “You’re lying through your teeth. I know how to maintain a normal expression however furious my thoughts.”

  “Learn that trick during your marriage?”

  Andrea gasped. “How dare you? My marriage was…was wonderful!”

  “Yeah,” Keith drawled. “So was mine. That’s why I’m divorced.”

  “You know perfectly well my husband passed away. We never would have gotten divorced!”

  Keith regretted his comment at once. He never should have wisecracked about Andrea’s marriage, not when he really knew nothing about it except that her husband had died. He just seemed to be more nervous around Andrea than he’d anticipated.