Marry Me

by Cheryl Holt

  "Let me guess," Faith retorted. "He's staying?"

  "He sure is honey." Gracie gave her a shrewd nod. "And if I may say so, it's about time we had a man sharing our table. I certainly plan to enjoy it. How about you?"

  Faith patted a hand on her chest. "My heart will be all aflutter."

  "Faith," Bryce interrupted, "Lucas wants to take me to a Rockies's game. I can go, can't I?"

  "We'll talk about it."

  "They might make it to the playoffs. It would be so cool to see them."

  "We'll talk about it," she repeated more sternly.

  Faith peered up at Lucas, getting lost in those blue eyes.

  In the months he'd been away, nothing had changed. He was still too handsome, too charismatic, too, too everything. If she wasn't careful, her prior attraction would open up a dark, dangerous hole and she'd fall right in.

  "Could I speak with you for a minute?" she asked him.

  "I'm all yours."

  At hearing his suggestive innuendo, she frowned at him, then at Gracie.

  "Lucas and I have something to discuss," Faith told her. When Gracie didn't move, Faith added, "In private. Would you take everybody inside?"

  "I have a better idea," Gracie said. "You two go on in. Angela and I will drive the kids to the mall. We'll be there for hours."

  "You don't have to be away for hours," Faith replied. "This will only take a few seconds."

  "For hours," Gracie reiterated, "and I'll call before we head back, so you have plenty of warning."

  "Why would they need a warning?" Bryce inquired, not quite old enough to grasp the nuances.

  Angela bit down a snort as Gracie said, "They just might be…busy."

  "I wouldn't count on it," Faith quipped.

  She watched in consternation as Gracie hurried them into the car and sped away. Then she and Lucas were alone, and though she'd wanted a private moment, now that it had arrived, she was tongue-tied.

  Obviously he had a purpose in mind, and she didn't care to learn what it was. She suspected ulterior motives, probably a bribe to relinquish custody of Bryce and Peanut.

  Maybe he'd visited in an attempt to soften her up first. Or maybe he was about to restart his legal wrangling and was eager to explain himself. Or maybe it was more elemental than that. Maybe he simply hadn't been laid in awhile, and he thought she'd let him seduce her again.

  "Let's go in," he said once Gracie's taillights vanished around the corner.

  "I'd rather not."

  "Would you like to quarrel out here on the lawn where the neighbors can see?"

  "I wouldn't waste the energy."

  "Good because I have a couple of other issues to raise with you."

  "What are they?"

  "If you come inside, I'll tell you."

  He flashed that grin of his, the one that always flustered her, the one that made her remember how yummy he could be. She caught herself wondering if she should tumble into another affair, even though it was the very worst idea.

  He put a hand on the small of her back and guided her into the house. She didn't protest or dig in her heels. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to be swept along.

  She was an adult woman. She could have said no, so she figured that—deep down—she didn't want to refuse. A part of her, a very teeny-tiny part, was excited that he'd come and curious to know what he wanted.

  He entered her home as if he owned it and as they stepped into the living room, Faith scowled.

  The curtains were drawn, candles lit, pillows arranged on the floor in front of the fireplace. Though it was the middle of the afternoon, a fire was burning, cheery flames giving off a warm glow. A bottle of wine had been opened, and it sat on a tray with two glasses, just waiting to be poured.

  "How long have you been here?" she asked.

  "Long enough."

  "Who let you in?"

  "Gracie."

  "I should have a talk with her."

  "She adores me."

  "She shouldn't."

  "She's older than you and a good deal wiser. You should listen to her."

  "Where men are concerned, she's a pushover and always has been. I'm not so easy."

  "That's not what I hear."

  "Really? What do you hear?"

  "You're very forgiving, and when someone you care about screws up, you're the first to relent and show a bit of understanding."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Angela. Would you like to know what else she told me?"

  "No actually, I wouldn't."

  He continued anyway. "She confessed to making that tape on her own. She got you joking around and being sarcastic and she was able to steer the conversation in a bad direction."

  "She sure did. So what?"

  "So…I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry I accused you of harming Harold."

  "Apology accepted. Thanks for coming."

  He hadn't believed her when she'd proclaimed her innocence over the tape. He'd had to learn the truth from Angela. Once Angela insisted Faith was blameless, then he was contrite.

  Bastard.

  She walked over to the door and held it wide, gesturing to the street, but the idiot couldn't take a hint. He didn't comprehend that he was being thrown out.

  "I'm not ready to leave," he said.

  "But I'm ready for you to go."

  He chuckled. "I didn't think you'd be such a hard ass. I thought you'd be happier to see me."

  "What do you want Merriweather?"

  "What do you imagine I want?"

  "I don't have a clue and I won't play any games with you."

  "Wouldn't you like to seduce me again?"

  "No."

  "How about if I would like to seduce you?"

  "You had your chance buddy. You blew it. Now go away."

  He approached her, his stride lanky and cocky, and he kept coming until they were toe to toe. His gaze was so intent that a shiver of alarm raced down her spine. He pulled her hand from the doorknob and shoved the door closed.

  Before she realized what he planned, he bent down and kissed her. His lips were as delicious as she remembered, and for the briefest instant, she reveled in the embrace.

  Their physical connection was still potent, and she loved how it sizzled, how it flared constantly. She wouldn't deny it, wouldn't pretend it didn't exist, but she wasn't about to succumb to it.

  She laid her palm on his chest and pushed him away.

  "Whoa!" she said. "Just…don't."

  "What's the matter Faith?"

  "Nothing."

  "Why would a little kiss upset you?"

  "It wasn't the kiss. It was the man."

  "Why would I upset you? The only possible reason is that you still have the hots for me."

  "Don't flatter yourself."

  "Why not? I'm perfect. I can't fault you for lusting after me."

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Why are you here?" she inquired. "You haven't told me."

  "Don't you know?"

  "No. Tell me what you want, then beat it."

  "Okay."

  He rummaged around in a pocket and withdrew a diamond engagement ring.

  "Would you marry me?" he suddenly announced.

  "What…?"

  "You heard me."

  "No I didn't. I could have sworn you asked me to marry you. I must be going deaf."

  "You're not going deaf. Say yes and put us both out of our misery."

  "You are insane."

  She'd meant to storm off to the kitchen, to do something normal and sensible—brew some tea, make a pot of coffee—but before she could escape, he dropped to a knee. He clasped her hand, his grip warm and firm.

  "I didn't ask you in the way I should have," he said. "Let me try again."

  "I…I…"

  She was at a complete loss and could only stammer in astonishment. The man was out of his friggin' mind.

  "I think I'm in love with you," he started.

  "You think you are?"


  "I probably have been since the moment I met you. I've never felt like this before so I'm not sure what it is."

  "Maybe it's indigestion. Maybe it's mental psychosis."

  "No. I spent a couple of weeks with you and they were the best weeks of my life. You make me happy and when I was away from you, guess what I realized."

  "What?"

  "I've never been happy. I've never had anyone who cared about me."

  "I'm sad for you," she said.

  "You were the child with no parents but I was the orphan." He had to swallow twice before he could continue. "I want to marry you. I want you to care about me. I want you to let me be part of your family."

  "Oh Lucas…"

  "You and Gracie," he pointed out, "you take in strays, and there's no one farther adrift than me. Can I be the next person you decide to love?"

  Her heart was beating so hard that she was worried she might fall down. She didn't know why he was acting this way, didn't know why—out of all the women in the world—he'd pick her. She didn't believe he was serious.

  "Get up, get up." She tugged on his arm, trying to lift him off his knee.

  "Not till you say yes."

  "Lucas this is crazy. You are crazy."

  "Why?"

  "Because there's no reason you should want to marry me. You don't even like me."

  "That, Faith Benjamin, is where you're wrong."

  She tugged again and he obliged her, coming up to his feet.

  He was tall and strong and he towered over her with broad shoulders a woman could lean on in times of despair. Not that she was the leaning type. Not that she ever wished she had a man to rely on. She didn't. She was fine on her own. Usually.

  If she was lonely occasionally or yearned for a partner who would stand by her, she had Gracie. As opposed to Lucas who had no one, she could depend on Gracie and always had.

  He'd proven himself to be fickle, to spin and change direction at the drop of a hat. He flitted from opinion to opinion, not knowing what he needed or who he trusted.

  A woman who tied herself to such an erratic, variable individual was just asking for trouble. If she chose a husband, she'd select someone who was steadfast and committed, someone she could count on through thick and thin.

  "Let's not talk about this anymore," she said.

  "Why not?"

  "I can't figure you out. I haven't seen you in three months, and suddenly, you show up and propose to me. It's too bizarre."

  "It's not bizarre. It's the only rational, sane thing I've ever done."

  "But…why?"

  "Because if you decide to love me, you'll never stop."

  "No I never would."

  Her eyes grew wet with tears.

  His comment was so sweet and it completely captured the essence of who she was. She was an orphan who didn't know where she came from or where she belonged. When she loved, it was forever. She didn't cut people loose, didn't leave them behind. She couldn't.

  If Lucas recognized that core facet of her personality, then he truly knew her in a way few others ever would. What would it be like to bind herself to a man who understood her so thoroughly? What would it be like to have him as her own?

  The disturbing questions swirled by and she was startled to discover that she was actually considering his absurd proposal. Would she like to wed him? Is that what she'd been hoping would happen?

  She'd accused him of being crazy but maybe she was the one who was insane.

  "Marry me," he quietly urged. "Let me be your husband. Let me be a father to Bryce and Peanut. Let me be a part of you."

  "You mean it, don't you?" She was frowning, trembling.

  "You'll never be alone again Faith. You'll always have me by your side, guarding your back."

  To a girl who'd been abandoned on the day she was born, it was the best offer he could have tendered, the best reason he could have provided to earn her agreement.

  "What about Harold's money and the lawsuits and your family and…and…"

  "I don't care about any of it."

  "You say that now but how will you feel in three months? Or six? Or a year? Your mother would have a fit if you married me. So would your brother and sister."

  "I'm sure they would but I'm thirty years old. I don't need their permission."

  She yanked her gaze from his. It was so difficult to concentrate when he was staring at her. She looked down at her hand that was still clasped in his. His was larger, cradling hers, holding her safe.

  "I'm not a model or a movie star," she pointed out. "How would I ever make you happy?"

  "I don't want a model or a movie star for my wife. I want someone who loves and understands me. I want you."

  "But I'm not anyone special. I'm just me, plain, ordinary Faith Benjamin."

  "There's nothing plain or ordinary about you. My grandfather recognized that." He grinned. "I'm simply picking up where he left off."

  "I'm so confused. I don't know what to say."

  "Don't say anything right now."

  He slipped the ring onto her finger. Of course it fit perfectly. He must have learned her ring size and had it designed for her.

  She should have jerked it off and given it back but she didn't. It seemed appropriate to have it on. She felt relieved, as if she'd been expecting a proposal for ages and had been aggravated by his delay.

  "I'll think about it," she ultimately grumbled.

  "Fair enough but I deserve a chance to convince you."

  "I suppose you do."

  "In fact I deserve numerous chances. I deserve constant, incessant, perpetual chances."

  "Don't be greedy."

  "I cheat," he said.

  "No kidding."

  "And I always win." He glanced behind her to the stairs. "Where's your bedroom?"

  "Last door at the end of the hall."

  As if she was a bag of flour, he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Her torso hung down his back, her face at his waist.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded, shrieking and laughing.

  "You need to be reminded of how great I am at persuasion. I'd like to begin right away."

  "I don't know Lucas. I might be a tough nut to crack."

  "I doubt it. I give you a week—tops. I'll have you eating out of my hand."

  "Wanna bet?"

  "Don't have to. You're already all mine. You just haven't realized it yet."

  He went to the stairs and started to climb.

  Kiss Me

  Dustin's Story

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Kiss me."

  "What?"

  Dustin Merriweather stumbled to a halt as a short, voluptuous brunette threw herself into his arms.

  She was all lush curves and smooth, soft skin, her head a tangle of riotous curls that tickled his chin. Her petite frame fit perfectly against his tall, lanky one, and wretch that he was, he was in no hurry to push her away.

  When he bothered to date, he chose actresses and models. He had the money and renown to surround himself with some of the world's most beautiful women. But they were the types who starved themselves to the point of emaciation, so her shapely body was a nice change.

  He could feel it through the puffy goose down of her unflattering parka. It looked like a garment her younger brother probably wore in the sixth grade.

  "Don't just stand there," she said. "Kiss me or hug me or something."

  "I don't think I know you well enough to kiss you."

  "Then be a brick wall and hide me."

  He chuckled at her vehemence, as she moved closer and burrowed inside his leather jacket. Her cheek was pressed directly over his heart, her slender hands sliding around his waist to clasp the small of his back. She angled them so that his shoulders faced the street, and she was cradled against the wall of the building next to them.

  "What are we doing?" he asked.

  "Ssh," she warned. "Not so loud."

  "What are we doing?" he repeated, whispering.

  "Ther
e is a woman on the sidewalk behind you, and she'll pass by in a minute. You can't let her see me."

  "All right."

  He stood in the quiet, enjoying the feminine feel of her as he breathed deep of the cold autumn air. The stark scenery washed over him. It was a crisp October afternoon, the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains towering to the sky. Up on the steep slopes, a few patches of color were still visible as the last leaves on the aspen trees clung tenaciously to the branches.

  Soon they'd all be gone, and the frigid gray of winter would set in.

  Earlier in the morning, he'd driven up from Denver. Business had dragged him to the isolated town of Gold Creek. Though his family had made the bulk of their fortune in the prior century, emptying the abandoned mines that dotted the narrow canyon, he'd never previously visited.

  With the elevation above eight-thousand feet, it wasn't the most hospitable place. Only the hardiest souls could manage to thrive in such an unwelcoming environment. His shrewd, industrious great, great grandfather—a pioneer and prospector—had been one of them, but Dustin had no interest in following in the man's footsteps.

  He preferred the warmth of Los Angeles and the sandy beaches of the Caribbean, and at age twenty-eight, his constant goal was to work as little as possible and play as much as he was able.

  The town's main street, with its old shops and dilapidated houses, looked as if everybody was barely holding on. The area hadn't generated any of the modern economic prosperity achieved by other mountain communities.

  It was too far out of the way to attract tourists, and there were no gentle slopes that might have allowed for a ski resort or summer hiking. The mines had been boarded for decades so employment was sporadic and intermittent.

  Who would live in such a godforsaken spot? Who could bear it?

  He tamped down a shudder, imagining a windy, January day. It wasn't unusual to have four-hundred inches of snow in the winter, and his contemplation of that pile of white stuff ignited a wave of claustrophobia.

  On the trip up from Denver, he'd considered staying over, maybe checking out grainy photos at the historical society's museum, but he wouldn't.

  He had no abiding loyalty to his name or reputation, felt no connection to his ancestors and couldn't stand to reminisce. Their past actions and acclaim were dubious to say the least. Who could be proud of a legacy of gold mines and the poisonous devastation they left in their wake?