by Joan Wolf
He sighed and laid back on his pillow. “No. The person who got hurt in that relationship was Jane. She expected to marry me, and she had every reason in the world to expect it. But in the end, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to her. I put in some pretty bad nights over Jane, I can tell you. She didn’t deserve to get hurt. I was so glad to see her with her family the other day. Salved my conscience, you might say.” There was a trace of bitterness in his laugh.
“I know.” Patsy’s voice was perfectly sober. “It’s just wretched, having to hurt someone.”
“You’re quite a gal, Miss Clark.” He picked up her hand. “No wonder half the world’s in love with you.”
“No,” Patsy said, “they’re in love with my face.”
“I love that too,” he said reassuringly, and Patsy laughed.
“Are you really safe from Garfield, Michael?” she asked after a bit, changing the subject.
“Yes. It’s not as if my testimony was essential at his trial. The Justice Department has all the paperwork.”
‘I suppose you’re going to continue with your dangerous career of catching thieves?”
“Well,” he answered reasonably, “it’s my job.”
“Most accountants don’t end up having guns pointed at them.”
“It’s not something I make a habit of myself.”
Patsy sighed. “Oh, well, far be it from me to interfere with your job. Only I would appreciate it if you would exercise a little caution in the future. I have a stake in your well-being now, you know.”
“A girl in a million,” he said reverently, and kissed her hand.
“I suppose I’ll have to move in with you. The way you complain about New York traffic, I don’t see you commuting from my place.”
“Well, no.” He sounded amused.
“I don’t like to sound snobby, Michael, but this house is ghastly.”
“You can fix it up however you like.”
“I have a better idea. If you can salvage some of my money, we can buy our own house on the beach.” There was a small silence and she turned her head. “I hope you’re not going to object to using my money?”
“The thought never occurred to me. I was just running some properties through my mind.”
“You.” It was her turn to lean up on an elbow so she could watch his face. “Enjoy it while you can, my friend, because the flow of modeling money is shortly going to stop.”
He raised his brows. “Oh? Why?”
“Once I fulfill my present contracts, I’m retiring, that’s why. I’m going to do as Mother has always wanted, and stay home and cook dinner for my husband.”
He looked horrified. “Do you mean you’re going to make me support you?”
She grinned. “Yep. But for a dowry, I’ll buy you a house.”
“Well ...” he said, considering.
“A big house. I want a lot of children.”
“I’ll have to raise my fees.”
“And we’d better start soon. The sands of time are running out, you know. In two years I’ll be thirty ... Michael!”
He had pushed her down on her back, and now his shoulders loomed over her.
“You just told me you wanted to start soon,” he said. “I’m only trying to oblige.”
“You nut.” She laughed at him. “Be careful of your leg.”
“The hell with my leg. It’s another part of me that concerns me at present.”
Patsy’s eyes widened as she felt what he was talking about. “Oh, my. I see what you mean.”
“Now,” he murmured, his weight pressing her back against her pillows. “You were saying something about babies?”
Her arms reached up to encircle him. “So I was.” And she drew his head toward hers. “Darling, so I was.”
Copyright © 1985 by Joan Wolf
Originally published by Signet/Rapture Romance [ISBN 0451130170]
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.