A Man of her Own

by Jan Scarbrough

  Or at least he thought he had until last night when this wide-eyed woman had stripped his pride to the bone.

  Lane rubbed his chin. “I owe you an apology. I did have too much to drink, but that was no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze darted quickly away, and then, with a sigh, returned. “I’m at fault too. I made my intentions clear. You just did what any other man would do in the same situation.”

  “I should have told you to leave.”

  Sarah unhooked the horse from the cross ties, came out of the stall and shut the door. She turned to him with a sad expression on her face.

  “Look, there’s no point in arguing about whose fault it was. We’re both adults. We both knew what we were doing.”

  Lane had to grant her that. Things had gone too far, and he’d crossed a line he’d set up for himself many years earlier.

  “I’m not proud of what I did.”

  Flashing him another irritated look, Sarah lifted the groom box. “I wasn’t good enough, huh?”

  She walked away slowly. Lane picked himself mentally off the dirt and charged after her. Catching her arm, he spun her around.

  “Wait a minute, Sarah. Where did you get the idea? Who said you weren’t good enough?”

  She cocked her head. “Ah, let’s say I got the idea when you started snoring in my ear.”

  “I’m sorry.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “That was inconsiderate. I don’t know why I fell asleep like that.”

  “Bourbon?” Sarah shrugged his hand off and went into the tack room.

  Lane followed her to the door. He leaned against the doorframe for support. “That’s not an excuse. All I can think of is that I was tired. I’m sorry.”

  Sarah put the box down on the floor and turned to face him. “Would you please stop saying you’re sorry?”

  “But I am.” He searched her eyes. “Hurting you is the last thing in the world I want to do. I haven’t made love to a woman in a long time. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Maybe that was part of it.”

  “This kind of admission is a little too personal for me.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We have no commitment to one another. It was just a one night stand.”

  Her words rocked him. His gut clenched with the realization she was right. But somehow her words didn’t seem right. He’d taken something from her. It should have been something special for her to give on her wedding night. Sure he was old-fashioned, but that’s how he saw the world. That’s why he’d protected his family so intensely. Why should he accept Sarah’s stark assessment of the situation?

  “I expected better of you,” he commented softly.

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t come into my room expecting just a one night stand.”

  “We don’t often get what we want out of life.”

  Cynicism from one so young? Lane’s heart ached because he’d done that to her.

  Yet, it was something he could remedy. He could make everything better like his kid brother’s scraped knee or his sisters’ dating woes.

  Lane pushed away from the door and stood straight. He took a step toward Sarah. He touched her cheek with a fingertip. She flinched and glanced away.

  “I want to make this up to you,” he said, letting his hand linger on her cheek. “Will you marry me?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “No.”

  “No?” Lane’s hand dropped to his side. He looked as if she’d just punched him in the stomach. “What do you mean no?”

  “What part of no don’t you understand?”

  “You have to marry me. It’ll solve our problems.”

  “We have no problems.”

  Suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the tiny tack room, Sarah escaped into the hallway and strode down the aisle. The usual comfortable sights and smells of horses brought her no solace now. At the barn door, she let the May sunshine hit her face and gulped in the fresh spring air, buying time to compose herself.

  Lane followed her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Of course, I’m serious.” She twirled around to face him.

  “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

  “That had been my initial goal.”

  Heavens! She sounded so calm. Even to her ears. She didn’t quite believe she was in control.

  “I thought last night was good. What changed?” Lane fisted his fingers. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  The tables had turned and she saw confusion in Lane’s eyes. “Only if you’re asking because you love me.”

  His hesitation was slight, but deadly, cutting into Sarah’s aching, rebellious heart.

  “I want to do what’s right,” he said. “After taking advantage of you, I owe you that much.”

  “Don’t do me any favors!” Sarah’s control vanished. “In fact, you sound like some old-fashioned hillbilly father with a shot gun.” Sarah straightened to all of her petite size and shook her finger at him. “I’ll have you know, Lane Williams, I’m not some ‘deflowered’ female. I wanted to make love to you. This is the twenty-first century. I’m fully capable living with the consequences of my actions.”

  “Even if you’re pregnant?”

  Sarah stepped back, fighting to hold back her anger. They hadn’t used a condom, had they? So what? She wasn’t worried.

  “Even if I’m pregnant,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing with resolve.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve implied you aren’t capable or responsible.” Lane reverted to a formal tone and drew himself up like an army general. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Then you’d better examine your intentions, for they don’t measure up in today’s world.”

  They glared at each other. Finally Lane shook his head. “Of course you don’t want to marry me.”

  “Not like this, I don’t.”

  “I understand.”

  Do you? She wanted to pound him with her fists and make sure he got it through his thick skull. He didn’t love her. He was just doing his duty like he’d done all his life. She didn’t want him that way. After a while, he wouldn’t want it either.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around,” she said.

  “Certainly.” Giving her one more glance, Lane turned and headed toward the house.

  Sarah watched his long strides carry him away. She crossed her arms defensively across her stomach. Stupid, pig-headed man!

  She let out a long breath. She couldn’t get pregnant the first time, could she? Not from a casual one night stand.

  Realizing where her arms were, Sarah dropped them by her side. Sometimes she thought all she needed was a good horse. She knew how to handle a horse.

  Finding a good man, however, was as illusory as finding Prince Charming.

  ***

  “We’re a cheerful bunch,” Kate muttered into her piña colada. She pulled the paper umbrella out of her second drink of the night and popped a chunk of pineapple into her mouth.

  Sarah nodded her head at Kate’s tongue-in-cheek comment, silently agreeing with her assessment.

  Even Tracy seemed down. A quick glance at the glum faces of her two best friends told Sarah the whole story. They were stuck in a rut—back at the bar checking out the Friday night singles’ scene.

  But their hearts weren’t in it. At least Sarah’s wasn’t. The toad-kissing game didn’t have the innocent charm of five weeks ago.

  “It’s for the best,” Tracy said.

  Did she read minds? “Yeah.”

  “If a guy can’t appreciate you for yourself,” Tracy said hitting her fist on the table, “then he’s not worth having.”

  Sarah hated her friend’s words of wisdom.

  “Who ya trying to convince?” Kate asked. “Sarah did the right thing.”

  “I’m just trying to make her feel better.”

  Sarah pulled her glass of merlot toward her. “Thanks. You girls are great.”

  She’d confi
ded a few of the gory details. How Lane had proposed and how she turned him down. The fact he’d never once uttered the words “I love you.”

  But Sarah hadn’t told them how she’d shamelessly thrown herself at Lane. How, in the end, she’d seduced him when he was drunk. She didn’t tell them about the mind-blowing sex and the aching void it had left when he walked away.

  Somehow in her twenty-four years, she’d wisely avoided a broken heart. Oh, there’d been the typical middle school crushes. Who hadn’t had them? Yet, once in the fancy girls’ school, she hadn’t met many boys. During college she’d been too busy. This break-up with Lane was her first. And it hurt like it.

  Lifting her glass, Sarah took a quick sip. It had only been a week. She’d get through it. She’d seen Tracy survive a broken heart. Kate was dealing with one now, turning her failed marriage into one caustic joke after another and vowing never to love again.

  Sarah didn’t want to handle her broken heart that way. She still loved Lane. Just because he’d rejected her didn’t mean her love for him had ended. It would take a while to get over him, but she’d bounced back from tougher tragedies.

  As part of her self-prescribed therapy, she’d bought herself a new dress—dark red crepe this time with little spaghetti straps and a ruffle on the hem of its sinfully short skirt.

  Oh, no, she couldn’t wear that rumpled black dress. It was too much of a symbol of her failure.

  “Here comes trouble.” Kate sounded the alarm.

  Sarah glanced up from her wine glass. Lane Williams. He walked toward then. Tall and erect, dressed in a gray business suit, his bearing was like a handsome prince.

  And he looked damn wonderful.

  A thrill of hope shot through her.

  “Be careful,” Tracy whispered.

  “Don’t trust him,” Kate warned.

  Lane stopped at their table. Looking down like an aristocrat, he gave them a stiff nod. “Ladies, how are you?”

  Sarah couldn’t speak. She swallowed hard. What did he want? Kate and Tracy were right. She couldn’t trust him—shouldn’t trust him.

  Lane extended his hand to her. “Sarah, I want you to come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “I have something to show you at my condo. It’s just down the street, remember?”

  “Don’t go! Remember, he’s Mr. No Commitment,” Kate reminded.

  Tracy gave her a slight nudge. “Go on.”

  Sarah took Lane’s offered hand and immediately fireworks exploded along her nerve endings. She sensed he wasn’t as unaffected by their contact as he tried to appear. She slowly slid out of her chair.

  He smiled and it lit her heart. “Trust me,” Lane said. “This is important or I wouldn’t ask you.”

  ***

  “Thanks for coming, little one.” They stepped off the elevator together and walked into the cavernous living room that had once been a warehouse.

  Sarah’s heart twisted at his endearment. “Let’s get this over with. What do you want me to see?”

  “A cake I baked. I’ll bring it in here.”

  Left alone, Sarah glanced around the dimly lit loft. The bank of windows allowed the twinkling glow of lights from the Indiana side of the river. Flickering candles pooled light on tables and sideboards, giving the room a romantic atmosphere.

  She crinkled her nose, getting a whiff of freshly baked cake. But there was an underlying aroma as well.

  Sarah walked deeper into the room, and paused at one of the shimmering candles. The bakery-sweet scent of vanilla wafted up to her. Quickly she flicked a curl from her eyes. The mellow lighting and the arousing aromas made her insides start to simmer.

  Coming here had been a bad idea. Something was up. Was he going to seduce her?

  Then she noticed something was different. A wooden statue of a cigar smoking, golf playing toad stood in front of one window. A brass paperweight shaped like a toad held down a copy of Bon Appétit. About fifty stuffed toads were scattered all over the sofa. One was even dressed in a University of Louisville Cardinal t-shirt and carried a basketball.

  What’s going on? Dazed, Sarah sat down amid the stuffed animals and picked one up. Like a royal courtier from the sixteenth century, this green toad was dressed in purple velvet with a white lace ruffle and a gold crown.

  The toad was dressed as a prince.

  “I thought you might enjoy some coffee.”

  Startled, Sarah turned at the sound of Lane’s soft bourbon voice.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” It hurt too much to be here.

  He placed a wide tray on the coffee table and offered a smile. “Surely you have time to drink a cup of coffee along with tasting the cake.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but clamped her lips shut instead. He walked away. What did it matter? Lane was just being polite. As usual.

  Who was she kidding? She wanted Lane to be more than polite. She wanted his love. But that was unlikely to happen. And she knew it.

  Sighing, she poured herself a cup of coffee—strong and black. She brought the cup slowly to her lips, and a hint of vanilla tickled her nostrils.

  Lane had remembered she liked the flavor of vanilla in her coffee. The thought warmed her just as much as a sip of the steaming liquid. She sat back against the sofa, cradling her cup.

  Lane crossed the room this time carrying another large tray. He placed it on the low table and sat down beside her.

  “This is it.”

  Sarah sat forward. “It’s a Valentine!”

  The heart-shaped cake was frosted with pink icing. A green sugar concoction shaped like a toad sat on the top.

  “I have a confession to make,” Lane said. “I made the cake for you.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I didn’t know how else to tell you I love you.”

  His words exploded in her ears like the pre-Derby fireworks. “What did you say?”

  “I love you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I didn’t know how else to tell you,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  Sarah put down her cup and angled herself on the sofa to get a better view in the wavering light of the candles.

  “And when did you discover this?”

  “When you turned down my marriage proposal I discovered I can’t live without you.”

  Sarah exhaled slowly. She’d heard him right, hadn’t she? She couldn’t believe him. Didn’t trust him. Lane must have read it in her expression.

  “I know it’s hard to believe after all my earlier objections to the idea of love and marriage.” Lane glanced away, seeming to fortify himself with a deep breath. When he looked back, his eyes were smoldering with a new intensity.

  “That’s why I baked this cake,” he said. “It’s a token of my love. Something tangible. Something from my heart to prove I mean what I say.”

  Sarah clasped her shaking hands in her lap. “Look, I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I wish you’d stop. I was getting over our little ‘affair’ quite nicely.”

  What did a little white lie hurt?

  Lane glanced away as if unable to meet her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Look, Lane, we had a one night stand. The sex was good, but I learned from it that I’m not a casual sex kind of person.”

  He paused for a long moment. “Neither am I. Sex is just the icing on the cake.”

  “But that’s all we had together,” she pointed out.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Am I? You said something about making amends. That’s not a basis for a good marriage. I don’t want you to awaken one morning and regret taking on another responsibility. That’s the way you’d come to see me. I’d be one more millstone hanging around your neck.”

  A phantom of a smile lit his face. Lane stood up and walked to the windows. “Sarah, I’ve come to terms with my way of loving.”

  Looking out, he touched the window sill before
turning back to face her. “My family isn’t one that hugs and kisses. We demonstrate our love by action.”

  Silence filled the dimly lit room as Sarah let his words sink in.

  Lane crossed the floor again and stood in front of her. “Making sure there was food on the table. Paying college tuition. Baking cakes for Anne Louise. That’s how I’ve always expressed my love.”

  She dared to lift her gaze. “But your actions toward me were based on pity. You saw me as naïve and foolish,” she said softly.

  “No!” He dropped down beside her on the sofa. “I had a healthy dose of lust, maybe, but never pity. After our time together I felt the need to protect you. Keep you safe and close. That’s how I love you. It’s just my way. It’s what I know.”

  Sarah’s breath came quickly. She didn’t know how to respond. Lane grasped her hands, carefully unfolding her fisted fingers. She looked at his hands, hard and strong, so capable of baking a cake or arousing her passion. His words were almost impossible to resist.

  “I was so young when I assumed the responsibility for my family.” His voice caught with emotion. “Part of me resented it so much that I somehow mixed up the idea of love with the how I felt about being forced to take on that responsibility. That’s why I told you I wanted nothing to do with marriage.”

  Sarah closed her fingers around his. Could she believe him? She wanted to, didn’t she?

  “Pretty Sarah, with your glorious hair,” he whispered and gently pushed a strand away from her eyes.

  Her face felt hot. Was that really love in his eyes?

  He took a deep breath. “I may not be the Prince Charming you’re looking for. In fact, most of the time I feel like a toad, but I promise to make you a good husband, if you’ll have me.”

  The tension began to seep out of her, but Sarah still hesitated. This was a big step. If she said “yes,” her life would change forever. If she said “no”—she didn’t want to think about the consequences.

  He saw her reluctance. His take-charge manner returned. He let go of her hands and sliced a piece of cake.