by Gail Dayton
Sherry clung tight to the cast-iron armrest to hold herself in place. Otherwise, she’d be pressed to Mike’s side telling him everything would be okay. It wouldn’t. At least, she didn’t think so. “Micah, why are you here? You said it was about the divorce…?”
“I tore up the papers.” He sat up straight, staring across the flowers at the tennis court.
“You said that already. So where are the new ones?”
“There aren’t any.”
“There…? Why not?”
Mike looked at her then. His ravaged expression tore at the protective scar tissue around her heart, and the faint light of hope in his eyes had it beating faster. “I don’t want a divorce. Come home with me, Sherry. Be my wife.” His throat moved as he swallowed down some emotion he didn’t want her to see. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
Ah. Now she understood. Guilt had reared its ugly head once more. That overgrown sense of responsibility of his had him tightly in its grip.
She smiled. “I’m doing just fine, Micah. Maybe it’s not what I grew up with, but I have everything I need. They’re moving me into management training next week. I really can take care of myself.” She laid her hand gently over his where it rested beside him on the bench. “I don’t need you to rescue me.”
“Hell, I know that. That’s not why I’m here.” He turned his hand over and gripped hers with crushing strength. “Rescue me, Sherry. Rescue me.”
She could only stare as he slid off the bench onto his knees in the grass and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Mike, what…? Get up from there.”
“I can’t. This is what you’ve done to me. This is where you’ve put me. I’m in hell without you.” He kept his head bent, lips against her fingers, teasing them with his breath as he spoke. “You said you loved me. Was that the truth?”
Hot tears blurred her vision, finally spilling over. She was almost afraid to speak, almost afraid to hope. But this was the new Sherry, the woman he had helped her become, and this woman didn’t back down from her fears. She took his face between her hands and tipped it up until she could see his beautiful gray eyes.
“I’ve never lied to you, Micah,” she said. “Ever.”
“I lied to you.” He rested his hands on her knees, lightly, carefully, as if afraid she might knock them off. “I’m sorry. I was—”
She shook her head, pressing her thumbs across his lips to silence him. “I understand. It’s all right. As long as you don’t do it again.”
“Never.” He took oath.
“Do you really want to stay married to me?” She bit her lip, the old uncertainties battering her new confidence.
“God, yes.” He leaned forward, apparently intending to rest his head on her knees along with his hands.
“Why?” She needed the words.
Mike’s head jerked up, and he stared at her. Then understanding came into his eyes and his smile warmed them. “We both already know I’m an idiot. I just proved it again.”
He took her hands in his and raised them one at a time to his lips for a tender kiss. “Sherry Eloise Nyland Scott, I love you with all of my heart. Will you please do me the honor of being my wife?” He reached into his pants pocket and drew out the wedding ring she’d left lying on the bar. Clara’s ring.
“I want more than paper,” he said. “I want promises. Commitment. The till-death-do-us-part kind. Kids. The whole package. From you, Sherry. Only from you. Because I love you.”
“Really?” She wanted so much to believe it. “Truly?”
“Hell, woman, what more do you want? You’ve already got me on my knees.” He pushed the ring onto her finger. “Why do you think I went so crazy? Because I was so crazy in love with you that I couldn’t stand to think you didn’t love me back. And I didn’t dare believe you did. But you do. Now, are you coming home with me, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there? Because that’s your only choice here. You love me and I love you and we’re married and that’s all there is to it.”
Laughing through the tears streaming down her cheeks, Sherry launched herself at Mike, knocking him flat on the grass, covering his face with kisses. Her assault caught him off guard, but he recovered in seconds, rolling to lie over her and capture her lips in a long, sweet, hot, wet kiss.
“Thank heaven,” he murmured when he paused to catch his breath. “For a minute there, I was worried.”
“For a minute there, so was I.” Sherry snuggled in. “Then you told me what was what. You only talk like that to people you really love.”
“Don’t you ever forget it.” Mike lowered his head for another kiss.
The loud clearing of a throat interrupted him. A balding man in a resort management uniform stood scowling down at them. Sherry didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything. The resort had a lot of management. “Fraternization between employees and guests is strictly forbidden,” he said.
Mike stood and lifted Sherry to her feet. “Good thing I’m not a guest, then, because I have every intention of fraternizing her brains out.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sherry said airily. “I’m not an employee anymore, either.” She pulled her ID badge from her pocket and dropped it in the man’s hand. “I’ll turn in my key up front as soon as I’m packed.”
“B-but you can’t just quit. It’s high season.”
“Sorry.” She took Mike’s hand and tugged him down the path after her.
“But why? Where are you going?”
She looked up into Mike’s face, seeing what she’d been hunting all her life. “I’m going home. With my husband. Where I belong.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8622-5
HER CONVENIENT MILLIONAIRE
Copyright © 2003 by Gail Shelton
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