“Absolutely.”
“Thank you. First of all, let me say I appreciate your generosity and the spirit of friendship in which the offer was made. I’d like to accept, with the stipulation that we draw up the proper papers for a loan and you charge me the going rate of interest.” There. She’d done it.
“But—”
“No. I insist, or we won’t do this at all. The offer itself is above and beyond anything I could have—”
“Wait.” Sam glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening. He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “Before you go painting me with a saintly brush, I need to make something clear. This isn’t an altruistic offer. I need something from you in return, and it isn’t as simple as interest money.”
“Oh.” Her pulse fluttered at his nearness. Stop it. This is business! Close enough to see bronze flecks in Sam’s dark, serious eyes, she straightened, suddenly aware she’d leaned as far in as he had. If they weren’t careful, the Busy Biddy Brigade would have them pegged as having a torrid affair. “I think you’d better explain.”
On the heels of that stiff request came a sinking, icy sensation washing over her. Had she walked dead on into a situation like she’d had with Dean? Jeezus Pete. This time the man lived right in her house. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t seen him in years. He could have developed all kinds of controlling predilections.
Sam muttered a curse under his breath, nudged Rosie’s arm in warning as he rose to his feet, looking beyond her shoulder. “Hello, Mrs. Bradshaw. Good to see you again.”
“Well, now, I thought that was you over here making eyes at our Rosie. Sam Moreland. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Lilah Bradshaw delivered the last as a statement of fact and tittered, as if she’d said something terribly clever.
A charter member of the Biddy’s, Lilah never missed an opportunity to add fodder to the gossip mill. The problem was, her hearing was a bit faulty, her attention a bit wayward, and wild rumors were often the result.
“Those baby blues don’t look sore to me,” Sam teased, casually bumping his knuckles against Rosie’s a couple times.
She ignored the unspoken request for help, her mind still spinning with unanswered questions.
“Oh, you!” Lilah’s drawl became more pronounced. “As charmin’ as yer granddaddy was. And will you look at this little darlin’. Is this your little girl?”
“Yes.” Sam moved quickly to stand between Lilah and Lorelei’s stroller, forming a protective buffer. He made small talk and, when Lilah wasn’t looking, flashed Rosie a wide-eyed plea for help. She was frozen, ignored him as she had the hand bumping.
Dean would’ve never admitted, silent or otherwise, that he didn’t have a situation under control.
Blood flowed back into Rosie’s extremities as Sam and Lilah continued to talk. With it, a good dose of common sense returned. This was Sam, not some nut. He would’ve had to have a personality transplant to change that much. She took a deep breath, only to have it whoosh out again when she heard Lilah’s bald statement.
“So you’re living with Rosie?” The expression on her face was pure angel, if not for the devilish twinkle in her eyes.
“No! Not together. He and Lorelei live in a separate downstairs apartment, Mrs. Bradshaw. We’re getting reacquainted after all these years.” What had Sam been telling her, anyway?
“Is that the lingo nowadays? Reacquainted? And y’all can call me Lilah.”
Sam chuckled, offering no help at all. The traitor. He was paying her back for not responding to his silent pleas.
Finished with her snack, Lorelei began to whine. Rosie seized the opportunity to escape and turned the stroller toward the sidewalk.
“We’d better get this little one home for her bath. It’s getting late. Good seeing you, Miz Lilah.”
Sam’s startled look had her wishing she could snatch the words back. Jeezus Pete. Had those words actually come from her mouth? She’d made it sound as if they shared parenting duties.
“Mothering looks good on you, child. Y’all take care now.” Lilah inclined her gray-brown helmet and hurried back the way she came, no doubt eager to set tongues wagging.
Oh, man. She’d walked right into that one. Rosie pivoted toward Sam. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Now we’ll be the talk of the town.”
“We would’ve been anyway. She saw what she wanted to.” He reached for the stroller and steered it toward home. “It could work to our advantage, if you’re willing to meet my terms for the loan.”
“Now you’ve really piqued my curiosity. What on earth could you want more than repayment with interest?”
“It’s not what I want. It’s what I need.”
“O-kay.” She drew out the word. “Then what is it you need?”
Sam stopped and turned toward her with an earnest expression, his deep-set eyes glittering in the waning sunlight. The hollows below his cheekbones pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.
The movement fascinated her.
They stood on the wide sidewalk, facing each other, motionless. Inside her, a warm, contented feeling swelled and threatened to overflow. And though they didn’t touch, she felt his gaze everywhere at once. Wow. Her attraction to him was getting out of hand.
She started to turn away, but his hand on her elbow stayed the movement. He withdrew as if the contact had hurt him somehow, and his slight flinch confirmed it. Well, that was clear enough. He obviously wasn’t attracted to her.
The painful realization brought her back to reality, and she prodded him a trifle sharply. “Sam, what is it?”
He took a deep breath, and expelled it. “I need you to marry me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
He was an idiot to spring it on her like that. If Rosie’s indrawn breath weren’t clue enough, the color leaching from her face confirmed Sam’s idiocy.
She clutched at his forearms, her eyes registering shock.
He pulled her closer as a couple jogged past, discussing the balmy evening. Behind them, a family of four approached, the kids complaining about having to leave the park. Their rubber flip-flops scuffed against the concrete, the sound louder than usual in the sudden silence after his abrupt announcement.
“Let’s go,” he said, then leaned in to murmur, “You okay?”
Rosie glanced around them, blinked as if emerging from a trance, and nodded. A little color returned to her skin. The urge to offer comfort was strong, but the habit of keeping to himself overruled it.
Damn his hectic schedule. Always mindful that he was fighting the clock, he’d flung the idea at her as if tossing a ball. This wasn’t a situation he could rush. It required a little finesse, something he didn’t have time for, but had to manage anyway.
Not a word was said on the walk home.
He dreaded the explanation she was sure to demand. No need getting too detailed. She probably wouldn’t marry him anyway. Other than the money, which he was perfectly willing to loan her regardless, there was no reason for her to commit herself to something so outrageous. Still, on the odd chance she might accept, he had to give it his best shot. For Lorelei.
They’d barely set foot onto Rosie’s property when his daughter whined again. She’d refused to take a nap and had been cranky all afternoon.
“I need to get her to bed. Can we talk about this after she’s asleep?” His gaze met Rosie’s long enough to recognize the relief there. Damn. She didn’t want to have this conversation any more than he did.
“Sure.”
He took Lorelei from the stroller, tiny arms slipping around his neck. The trust in her gaze eased his tension. Right now she was his priority. “Back porch? Half hour?”
Rosie nodded.
As it happened, ten minutes was all Sam needed. Lorelei turned on the waterworks when he headed for the bathtub, and he made a command decision to put her straight to bed. After all, it wasn’t like she’d actually played in the park or gotten dirty.
Once he’d pulled on he
r nightie and tucked her in, she turned over and fell asleep with a sigh. He smoothed the hair back from her face and watched her for a few moments.
This time I’ll do right by you, baby. I promise. Visions of the tear-streaked, filthy baby he’d come home to after a business trip had him clenching his fists. He’d grasped at a quick fix last time, flinging hush money around, desperate that Lorelei be protected from the backlash of a scandal, and in some ways had made things worse now. He had to do this. Jasmine couldn’t be allowed unsupervised visitation with Lorelei—ever.
Sam found Rosie on a wicker chaise. Light spilled softly through a nearby window, creating an air of intimacy he would have appreciated, maybe even encouraged under different circumstances.
“Thank you for waiting.” Ouch. That sounded too formal, but he’d expected to have a few more minutes to get his thoughts together. Wicker crackled under his weight as he sat and unfolded his legs on the length of the matching lounger.
When Rosie didn’t respond, he ventured a glance. She stared into the night, chin tilted at a stubborn angle. He’d seen that look before. Usually when she was royally pissed.
“I guess I should explain.”
She rounded on him. “Yeah, you do that. But first, let me say that if you meant this as a joke, it’s not funny. And if you’re serious, I’d like to know what you’ve been smokin’.”
Her sassy indignation thickened the Southern in her speech, and he had to smother a surprised grin in a cough. The resulting anger turned her eyes a darker blue and heightened the color in her cheeks with nice results. For a brief moment he thought he saw hurt mixed with the anger.
Or was his imagination running amok?
“What’s the matter, Sam? Can’t think of a good excuse?”
“I apologize for the way I handled that, but I was acting on my lawyer’s advice. I really do need a temporary wife.”
“Temporary? Oh, this just gets better and better.” She glared at him.
When he didn’t respond, her eyes widened. “You’re serious!”
No doubt she was questioning his sanity about now. “I know the idea sounds crazy, but you need a pretty hefty loan, and I need to win a custody case. If you—”
“Wait. I thought you settled all that in divorce court.”
“Yes, and I was awarded sole custody. But Bill—that’s my lawyer—tells me Jasmine will change her mind in order to refute recent stories in the press. Her public image is pretty clean.”
“Look, if this is some residual tug of war from your divorce, I really don’t want to get involved. Lorelei is Jasmine’s daughter, too. Of course she wants equal time with her child. I’d go crazy if I were lucky enough to have a baby, and it was taken away from me. Can’t the two of you reach a compromise?”
Sam shook his head. “Lorelei wasn’t exactly ‘taken away’ from Jasmine.” How much should he tell her? He couldn’t face a recounting of the whole story tonight, but he had to make her understand his position. “Just between us?”
“Of course.”
“Jasmine never wanted to be a mother and doesn’t want anything to do with Lorelei.”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Obviously, you’re wrong if she’s suing for custody.”
Sam swung his legs to the side and faced her. “You don’t understand. This is all a smoke screen so the press won’t label her a bad mother. The tabloids have raised questions about why she didn’t seek custody. Don’t you see? If she’s fighting for her child, she garners public sympathy and free publicity.”
“Wow. You’ve really become cynical, haven’t you?”
You don’t know the half of it. Even though he knew he had good reasons for his position, Sam shifted under Rosie’s pitying gaze.
“And you’re being naïve. Believe me. I have very good reasons for wanting to protect my daughter from her narcissistic mother.”
Rosie frowned. “Oh, come on, Sam. That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it? Protect her from her own mother?”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to go there. He’d let his frustration get the best of him. With deliberate intent, he leaned in, closing the gap between them to mere inches. Her gaze became wary.
“Look at me. I’m the same Sam you knew years ago. Have you ever known me to rely on melodrama?”
“No, but she’s her mother. I’m sure she misses Lorelei terribly. You’ll have to give me more than your say-so if you want me to help you keep a child away from her own mother.”
Sam stood and paced before coming back to sit sideways on the chaise, facing Rosie. “Jasmine never wanted Lorelei in the first place. I happened to find her home pregnancy test and forced her to go to the doctor.
“She screamed at me, saying she’d get an abortion because she couldn’t afford to ruin her figure and her sex appeal for some brat of mine. There was no concern for the child growing inside her.”
“But Lorelei’s here, so you must’ve gotten through to her.”
Sam shook his head. “I couldn’t sway her. Seeing a few pictures in an anti-abortion pamphlet did the trick. Jasmine hates anything to do with illness and medical procedures. As a young girl, she watched her mother die from some long debilitating illness. Just the hint of someone coming down with a cold was enough to make her flee the room.”
Rosie looked away, her expression thoughtful. “Now that’s melodrama. It seems odd, though, that labor and delivery didn’t bother her.”
“I don’t think that detail occurred to her until it was too late. Once she announced the pregnancy, she was too busy enjoying the attention her condition brought on. Believe me, she milked it.”
“Maybe she was just shocked to learn she was pregnant and it was a knee-jerk reaction. Lorelei seems to be a little quiet and reserved for a two-year-old, but overall she’s happy and well taken care of. Jasmine must have had something to do with her well being.”
Sam had to admit, Rosie wasn’t a pushover. She stood her ground, defended her position, and demanded answers. He’d always admired that about her.
“No. She didn’t, and that’s precisely the point. I know you think I’m looking at things one-sided, but I’m not. You’re looking at this from your perspective—how you’d feel and react—but Jasmine isn’t like you. She’s totally without maternal instincts.”
“Oh, come on, Sam!” Rosie protested. “It’s one thing to carry a grudge against your ex-wife. It’s another to let it carry over into Lorelei’s relationship with her mother. Frankly, I’m surprised at you.”
The words tumbled from him, unchecked. “Jasmine changed one diaper—one!—and then declared it too gross for her delicate constitution. She refused to breastfeed, even though Lorelei couldn’t tolerate most formulas, because she wanted her body back in shape for her next magazine layout.”
He lowered his voice but couldn’t stop the venom welling inside him. “The first time Lorelei spit up on her, she handed her to me like a piece of garbage and told me, ‘You wanted this brat. You take care of her.’ To my knowledge, she’s never held her since.” He paused, seeing images he wished he could erase, regret heavy in his heart.
“Lorelei was all of five days old. If Jasmine gets her hands on that child, she’ll put on a show in public and hand her off to strangers when the cameras shut off.”
Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
Rosie sat perfectly still, unable to grasp how anyone could be so uncaring. Especially regarding a precious newborn.
Poor Lorelei, rejected by her own mother. No wonder Sam hadn’t contested the divorce as the tabloids had stated. She glanced at him, surprised to discover how much it hurt to see the haunted expression in his eyes. Like in the park, she experienced another bout of that warm, overflowing feeling, and her eyes prickled hot.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t know. You must have been very hurt, loving someone like that.” Rosie lightly squeezed his forearm, the hair coarse under her fingers.
His laugh sounded harsh, and he waved off her touch. “Lov
e had nothing to do with my marriage. I don’t even know if I believe in such a thing.”
“You can’t mean that. You love Lorelei.” She squelched the sting from his rejection.
“Of course, but that’s different. I don’t know if I believe that the romantic love stuff we see in the movies can survive in our current society.”
This from a man who’d proposed—more or less—earlier in the evening. Obviously, he’d never been in love.
She could argue the point, using her parents and his grandparents as examples, but why? He wasn’t asking for hearts and flowers. He wanted to purchase a wife, and a temporary one at that.
Rosie had no idea what to say in response. After his parents unhappy marriage, then his own, he had a right to his feelings. She’d much rather the whole thing be a lame attempt at a joke, but Sam was deadly serious.
Marriage. To Sam.
A flush swept over her again. Probably a mini-adrenaline rush due to the idea, even if it was a brief, in-name-only kind of thing. With her luck, it was more likely the onset of freakishly early menopause.
“I had this crazy idea that if I explained the predicament I was in and helped you with your cash flow problem, you’d help me provide the rest of the ‘complete family’ Bill says I need to present in court.”
His words sunk in, nipping the budding feeling before it could flower. Put that way, it sounded like a deal she shouldn’t refuse. And wasn’t that the crux of the matter? Why couldn’t she get it through her head? Sam was appealing to her as a businesswoman, not a potential life partner and certainly not a love interest. She was the necessary trump card in a court fight, with Sam the resigned but reluctant groom.
“It’s a smart move, business wise. You wouldn’t have to repay the loan. Helping me keep custody of Lorelei would more than settle the debt.”
Quite the sales pitch Sam had, and he was expecting some kind of response.
“Are you—”
She held up her hand to stop whatever he’d been about to say, to adjust to the strangely disconnected sensation now holding her in its grip. “I need a minute here.”
A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel Page 5