A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (12 page)

She’d feared getting too attached to Lorelei, and he’d attacked her motives, cut her deeply. Seeing the things she held dear confused him. He knew her intimately, how she looked as she came apart beneath him. He learned more about Rosie every day, but she held secrets in those pretty blue eyes.

And some things didn’t add up. He’d thought her in love with Dean, but her actions baffled him. Bitter? Angry? Maybe both. Or it could be jealousy. He hadn’t puzzled that one out yet. At least he had some answers.

“Although I took my dear, sweet time coming to the realization, I can see you care about Lorelei. As for the other . . .” He took her hand in his, needing the connection. “If you’re protected during sex, the rest is none of my business.”

Her gaze shifted to their linked hands for a long moment before she responded.

“Sam, do you trust me?
Really
trust me?” The question wasn’t casually delivered.

Did he? He could see the answer was important to her and resisted the urge to offer quick reassurance. Experience had taught him trusting wasn’t often the wisest choice, especially where women were concerned. But this was Rosie. She wasn’t distant and emotionally unavailable like his mother, nor was she obsessive and self-centered like Jasmine. He couldn’t believe that anyone who wept over a sleeping child and cherished an heirloom baby quilt would intentionally hurt either of them.

Rosie broke their physical connection. “O-kay. Guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

He stopped her from rising with a hand on her arm. “Sorry. I was just . . . kind of surprised that the answer is yes.”

The admission pleased her, if her wry smile was any indication.

“If I’m to go along with this plan to keep a mother and child apart, I need to be able to gauge for myself whether I’m doing the right thing. Overall, I have faith in your judgment. But in this you’re too emotionally invested, too close to the situation for me to believe you’re completely objective.”

“You’re saying this now, the night before the wedding?” Damn. He didn’t want to get into this.

“I know. It’s Monday morning quarterbacking. But I need to know I’m doing the right thing for Lorelei.” Her gaze held his, pleading with him to understand.

“Put like that, how can I object?” He stood, needing to move, wishing the memories crowding in could be outrun. Rosie’s admission got to him. That she wanted to do right by his little girl meant more to him than she knew.

“If I tell you, it has to remain confidential,” Sam stated. “Because of Jasmine’s celebrity, the press would hound us for weeks if they got the slightest whiff of this. I don’t want Lorelei subjected to that.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Rosie said, her gaze turning serious as she waited for him to continue.

* * *

S
am returned to his place beside her on the sofa. Elbows on knees, he leaned forward, staring at his interlocked hands.

While their conversation had gone much easier than she’d expected, Rosie couldn’t relax.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Do you remember that nightmare Lorelei had?” Sam asked, ignoring her question.

“Of course,” Rosie murmured, but the faraway look in Sam’s eyes indicated he hadn’t expected an answer. He was reliving the past.

“Several months ago I flew to Los Angeles with my agent. We were negotiating a contract for this screenplay conversion I’m working on when Lorelei’s nanny called. She claimed to have accidentally overheard a phone conversation between Jasmine and a man called Deuce. According to Nanny Bridges, Jasmine arranged to buy cocaine. When she realized Nanny had overheard, Jasmine demanded the apartment key back and threw her out.

“I wasn’t worried at first. Nanny had a bit of a hearing problem. I thought she’d misunderstood, and Jasmine had thrown one of her famous snits. So, I calmed Nanny, and she agreed to go back, apologize to get back into the apartment, and continue taking care of Lorelei.” Sam paused and raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m getting the impression it didn’t end that way.”

Sam shook his head. “I kept mulling it over and it gradually dawned on me how Jasmine’s radical mood swings, the dark circles under her eyes, blotchy skin, and what she called hay fever could all be attributed to frequent cocaine use.

“Before I could catch the red-eye back home, Nanny called again saying she’d tried several times, but Jasmine wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Did she call the police?” Rosie asked.

Sam frowned and shook his head. “Yes, but I had her omit the part about drugs.” His voice held a defensive edge. “I didn’t have any proof of what I suspected, and I didn’t feel I could take the chance of ruining Jasmine’s career on a hunch.”

He looked at Rosie for the first time since he’d started the story. “That may sound strange, but living in the public eye as much as we did makes you rethink
everything
you do and how it could be misconstrued in the tabloids.”

“And the police?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “They wouldn’t get involved, stating Jasmine had every right to fire Nanny and stay inside with her daughter. I didn’t push it because I was scheduled on the red eye, and we both believed Jasmine was in the apartment with Lorelei.”

Cold chills of foreboding slept over Rosie. She covered her mouth with her hand, afraid she’d guessed part of what was to come.

Sam looked at her with weary eyes. “Yeah. Not only was she not home, but before she left, she pushed Lorelei and her crib into a large closet and shut the door.”

Rosie sucked in a breath. “How long was Lorelei alone in there?” She dreaded hearing the answer. Thinking of Sam’s little girl in such a situation made her heart ache.

“By the time I reached the apartment, it must have been about eight to ten hours. I walked in the door and called for Jasmine. When Lorelei heard me, she screamed, but her voice was so hoarse, I couldn’t hear her very well.”

“Oh, my God. That poor baby,” Rosie whispered, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing to a helpless young child. She fought the urge to dash into Lorelei’s room and hold her close.

“She’d been trapped in the dark with a soggy diaper—cold, hungry, and scared out of her mind.” Sam frowned, clenching his jaw as he struggled with his emotions.

“That look on her face . . .  It still haunts me.” Sam shook his head, staring off at a vision Rosie could only imagine.

“No wonder she has nightmares,” Rosie said, remembering the night light ever present in the little girl’s room. “I just can’t understand how a parent could be so . . . callous about their child’s welfare. It’s unforgivable.”

Sam raked both hands through his hair before raising them in a classic gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I should’ve considered the possible consequences more carefully before leaving—”

“Sam.” Rosie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I was talking about Jasmine. You couldn’t possibly have known what would happen. You made the best decision you could, given the information available. Lorelei could just as easily have been safe at home in the care of her mother. Surely you don’t blame yourself for this?”

“Let’s face it. I put Jasmine’s reputation and my distaste for the paparazzi before Lorelei’s safety. I let her down. It’s my responsibility to make sure Jasmine won’t ever be in a position to mistreat her again.”

The self-loathing in his voice shocked her. Rosie scooted closer to Sam. “I think this is one of those damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t scenarios.”

“Either way, I’m in the wrong. An innocent child got hurt because I wasn’t thinking and acting like a father.”

He was such a good and loving dad. Couldn’t he see that? “Don’t beat yourself up about this. She got hurt because she has a bad mother, not because of your actions. What’s done is done. The best thing you can do for Lorelei at this point is exactly what you’re doing. Show her Daddy loves her and be there when she’s scared until she forgets and feels safe again.”

“I can’t imagine loving her any more than I do now, even if . . .”

“What?”

“Nothing.” His voice was husky. Sam turned toward her, his tortured gaze easing somewhat. “I appreciate your loyalty, but I wasn’t asking for absolution.”

“You don’t need any. Why didn’t you tell me this to start with? I wouldn’t have fought with you over the custody issue.”

“Tell you up front what a lousy father I am? You wouldn’t have agreed to marry me.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Because I’m the lesser of two evils?”

“No. This is ridiculous. You’re not to blame for what happened.” Rosie rubbed her hand back and forth across his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. When the feel of his warmth and muscles beneath her hand created heat in her belly, she withdrew. “You made an error in judgment where Jasmine is concerned. I did the same thing.”

“That’s different. You don’t even know her.”

“Did you? Really know her, I mean. Sounds to me like she intentionally hid her true nature.”

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sometimes, I don’t think I knew her at all. What does that say about me?”

“That we have something in common. I’d much rather believe most people are good and be disappointed occasionally than the alternative.” Fatigue settled heavily over Rosie’s shoulders. After a full day at work, the gamut of emotions she’d experienced tonight had taken their toll.

Threading the fingers of his right hand through hers, he caressed her palm with his thumb. “I guess I would too.” Sam shook his head. “It isn’t fair that Lorelei had to pay for Jasmine’s web of deceit.”

A dull pain clenched at Rosie’s heart, but she closed her mind to the past, unable to deal with anything else tonight. “The innocent are often casualties. As much as we wish it weren’t true, sometimes we can’t protect them.”

With her free hand, she pushed off the sofa and stood, barely able to cover a wide yawn in time. “I’d better get my beauty sleep. I have a big date tomorrow.”

Her feeble attempt at levity fell flat. Sam tugged on the hand still linked with his. “Stay.”

The seriousness of his gaze, and the lingering pain there forestalled the teasing, flirtatious response on the tip of her tongue. “I can’t.”

“I thought we had a truce.”

“We do, but . . .” She broke off, shaking her head.

“Say it.”

“We’re playing a dangerous game, Sam. I take full responsibility for my part in what happened, but we need to consider the pitfalls. We’re not strangers who met in a bar and fell into bed. We’re friends with a long history. It would be easy to start believing the lie. In our case, even if it looks like a real marriage and feels like a real marriage, it won’t magically become a real marriage.”

“I thought we had established that. Who do you feel needs a reminder? Me? Or you?”

Rosie flinched. Okay, maybe she deserved that for letting her emotions get involved in the first place. “Both. We changed the dynamic of the plan.”

Sam frowned. “So what?” He practically threw the silly rejoinder at her. “Take it from me, sex doesn’t make a real marriage. We both know the score. Don’t try to tell me you don’t want a repeat of our night together.”

No. She couldn’t say that. It would be a lie.

He pulled her closer, her pulse finding warp speed beneath his fingers. Framing her face with his hands, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

She pulled his hands away. “Sam?”

He nibbled his way along her jaw.

“Sam?”

“I’m busy here,” he murmured, nuzzling her ear.

Rosie shivered from the thrill of his touch. It was now or never. Either she made him understand in the next few seconds, or she’d be begging him to hurry. “While I appreciate, uh . . .” Oh, she did so love it when he nipped at the tender flesh of her neck like that. Um, where was she? Something about appreciating. Oh, yes. “I appreciate your efforts, but this needs to stop. It’s
so
not happening tonight.”

He eased away from her, his gaze roaming over her face. “You’re serious.”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath and backed away from him. “Regardless of the circumstances, this is a wedding, and there are traditions to uphold. As the bride, I don’t want to be tiptoeing from the groom’s bed on the morning of our wedding. What if you saw me? It’s bad luck, you know.”

A slow grin spread across Sam’s face. He leaned forward, a glint in his eye. “What if I promise to kick you out of bed before midnight?”

“Tempting, but no. Tonight, I’m sleeping alone.” She pulled away from him and slipped through the connecting door with a great sigh of regret.

Sam went to bed alone, but it was a good while before sleep claimed him. Memories of Rosie lying across his bed, her hair sprawled over the pillow, kept him tossing and turning.

One taste of her was not enough to end his need for her. Even a night of loving had been much too short. Would a year be long enough?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I
n the wee hours of the morning a thunderstorm washed away several days of dust. Later, Rosie woke to iffy weather, overcast and gray. By early afternoon, the clouds hadn’t completely dissipated.

After having been pampered and fussed over by her mama, Claire, and Sara, Rosie stood waiting in a white tent that doubled as her dressing room. Everyone but Claire had left to take their seat. As planned, Rosie wore no veil, but a circlet of silk violets tucked into snowy baby’s breath nestled in her hair. She’d chosen a dress with a sweetheart neckline, fitted waist and softly gathered skirt. A chiffon overlay ended in handkerchief points and swirled about her calves as she walked. She’d opted to carry a small nosegay of miniature irises and white roses.

“Sure hope those clouds scram soon. They’re making the guests nervous.” Claire peered through the front opening, waved at someone and ducked back inside, clearly not expecting a response.

Rosie wasn’t worried. The park gleamed when the sun occasionally found an opening, and the temperature had, thus far, stayed at a more moderate level than had been felt in months. It was a good omen, reflecting the positive attitude she had adopted the evening before.

In the gamut of emotions she’d endured while rocking Lorelei, the sweet torture of having a child in her arms had awakened a possessive streak a mile wide. Oh, she wasn’t about to forget this marriage would be temporary, or that Sam and Lorelei weren’t hers to keep. He’d made that very clear. But she had months, possibly a year to experience the joys of being a wife and mother.

Assured that Sam hadn’t changed his mind about their arrangement, she fully intended to embrace every aspect of their marriage and store memories while she could. No one could take that from her.

Her daddy ducked through the tent opening. “You ready to get this show on the road?”

“Just waiting for you. What’s taking so long?”

He gestured toward the tent opening and ran a finger between his neck and collar. “Travis is seating your mama. It shouldn’t be long now. You nervous?”

“She’s cool as a . . .” Claire trailed off and frowned.

“Cucumber.” Rosie and her dad said in unison.

“Thanks. I knew it was a green veggie. We’re the ones who are nervous. Doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“It’s because when you love someone, like with her mama and me, you know you’re doing the right thing.”

Claire’s gaze locked on hers and Rosie smiled, stifling the pang of guilt her dad’s words brought.

John Thomas ran a finger under his collar again as the music changed. With a wink in her direction, Claire took her first step toward the gazebo. Between her platinum hair and a deep purple sheath with a wide belt that emphasized her tiny waist, no one was likely to miss the fact that the wedding had begun.

Impatient to see Sam, Rosie took a turn peeking through the opening as Claire turned and disappeared from view. He wasn’t in sight, but dozens of  Sweetwater Springs’ citizens watched from the edge of the park. No surprise there. Everyone who had a wedding here knew to add enough cake for a least a hundred over their guest list. Few could resist romance in such a lovely setting. The smarter ones had umbrellas at the ready.

She stood beside her father, poised to move through the opening. Now that it was time to put their plan in motion, Rosie couldn’t wait to get started. Had Sam found the ensemble she’d left for Lorelei inside his door?

John Thomas patted her hand at his elbow. “I wanted to say how proud your mother and I are. You’ve pulled together a very nice wedding here. You waited for the right guy when a lot of women would have settled for less.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

He blinked rapidly, trying not to get all teary on her.

She squeezed his arm in silent communication and hoped Claire was walking fast.

He patted her hand again. “You remind me of your mama when we got married.”

“Oh, Daddy, don’t say stuff like that.” She blinked rapidly against a sudden rush of tears, and he patted faster.

The music swelled and anticipation chased the tears away. With a nod of agreement, they stepped onto the sidewalk. A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.

Thankfully, she didn’t trip on the sidewalk or rush to the gazebo in her eagerness to see Sam. He stood at the top of three stairs, looking like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ. Broad shoulders, trim waist, dark hair and a strong jaw line. He’d looked much the same at J.T.’s wedding, sophisticated and oh-so-tempting.

Jeezus Pete he was handsome and—for a while at least—hers.

If the pre-wedding preparations had moved at a snail’s pace, the actual ceremony sped by. The minister was blessing them in prayer when the unmistakable sounds of a fussy toddler rose over the proceedings.

Sam shot her a slightly panicked look once the amen had been said.

Instead of turning toward her groom as they’d practiced, Rosie stopped the minister from continuing with a raised palm. “Excuse me one second.”

She ignored the confused murmurings from their audience.

Sam whispered, “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming back,” she answered, negotiating the stairs and crossing to Sara, who struggled to keep a squirming Lorelei in her lap.

“Let’s go see Daddy.” Rosie extended her arms, hoping her brief bonding experience with the little girl had been memorable. Lorelei came readily, drawing a chorus of “ahh’s” from the audience when she came into view dressed in a ruffled white dress and a miniature circlet which matched Rosie’s.

Chuckles and sniffs accompanied their return to the gazebo when Sam’s daughter hid her face in Rosie’s neck and refused to budge.

With Lorelei straddling her left hip, Rosie faced Sam and linked her right hand in his. “Continue,” she instructed the minister, who quickly pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Moreland and family.

While her first kiss as a married woman wasn’t the one she’d envisioned in her plans at the ripe age of ten, it felt exactly right.

* * *

S
am gazed into her eyes again and again as they danced. Rosie could see the question there. Soon they would leave here for an overnight stay in the Little Rock hotel—a generous wedding gift from J.T. and Travis.

How soon could they make an escape?

Townsfolk from the peripheral crowd dashed into the tent in twos and threes to congratulate them. Most got caught in the cloudburst forcing everyone to seek shelter. When the rain dwindled into occasional light sprinkle, the majority of the technically uninvited guests departed. Sam glanced around the tent. “Looks like we’d better leave while there’s still a few folks left to throw birdseed on us.”

“Not so fast, my friend. I haven’t danced with the bride, yet.” The man had a tinge of New York in his cultured tones. Rosie faintly remembered seeing him standing beside Sam during the ceremony.

“Rosie, this is my longtime friend, Bill Powers.”

“You’re Sam’s lawyer.”

He swept her into his arms and danced her away from Sam. “Friend, lawyer, confidant and best man. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Something we have in common, Mr. Powers.”

“Touché. And call me Bill. When was the last time you saw Sam or contacted him socially? Before he moved back here, that is.”

Rosie didn’t believe for one moment he was simply making polite conversation. The keen intelligence behind his gaze said otherwise. “Do you go fishing often, Bill?”

One corner of his mouth quirked in a sardonic smile. “Fine. We’ll lay our cards on the table.” His hand tightened around hers, not so anyone would notice, but so he had her full attention.

“Even if no one else knows the score here, I do. Don’t think you can wring more money from the situation or play on his emotions. That prenup is ironclad.”

The flush of anger heated her cheeks, but she held her tongue, believing Bill’s words were motivated from his heart. They danced a few more steps before she spoke, the words surprising even her.

“Years ago, at my brother’s wedding, Sam asked me to dance.” She closed her eyes. “He looked much like he does today, so handsome in his tux. I couldn’t help remembering an adolescent crush I’d had on him. But for the first time, we were grownups, equals.”

It was a memory she’d all but shoved from her mind. Why she felt the need to explain to this man, this stranger who’d rudely questioned her motives was a mystery, but she felt compelled to continue. “Even though he was technically my brothers’ friend, I’ve always felt a special connection to Sam. We spent a large portion of the summer together after his parents died, swimming, fishing in the creek behind my parents place and sometimes, doing nothing more than sitting in the shade of a tree, talking. Believe me, you’re not the only one who knows the depths of the pain he’s been through.”

Bill nodded, the hard glitter in his eyes dimming. His grip eased. “So, you’re telling me you fell in love with him at your brother’s wedding?”

“Oh, nothing so dramatic. I wanted his kiss so badly I practically threw myself at him, but we were interrupted, the moment lost, and that was that.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I know where I stand with Sam, and have no illusions about who’ll be hurt when all this is over.”

But she intended to grab a little happiness along the way.

Bill stopped dancing and released her when the music stopped. He hesitated, like he wanted to add something to their conversation, then smiled and led her back to Sam. Bowing over her hand, Bill kissed it in a courtly gesture of days gone by. “Thank you.”

His eyes were shuttered now, his smile polite, as if their encounter hadn’t taken place.

“Hey, hey, watch those moves, buddy. This one’s already taken, remember?” Sam’s jovial tone contradicted the warning.

Bill clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Congratulations. She’s all yours.”

A slow number started, and Sam swung her back onto the dance floor. “What was that all about? He wasn’t putting the moves on you, was he? Bill likes to charm the ladies.”

“No doubt he’s quite successful, but no. He was curious as to when we’d last seen each other. I think he was actually worried I might have known you longer. Of course, I distracted him so he wouldn’t realize I have.”

“Hey, look at that.” Sam nodded toward his left where John Thomas danced around Reba with Lorelei giggling in his arms. “I think she’s getting used to them.”

“She’ll be fine with them. It’s just one night.”

At the reminder of what awaited them, Sam turned his attention back to her. “J.T.’s wedding, right?”

“What about it?”

“The last time we saw each other.”

“Right.”

“Your hair was up, and you wore a black dress that dipped very nicely in the front.”

“It’s called a scooped neck.”

“It’s called cleavage.” His voice rumbled deliciously close to her ear.

“You guys have selective memories.”

“I remember more. We were dancing—like this—a slow number. I’d only seen you facing me, so it came as a surprise that the dress had no back in it.”

“It had straps.”

“Those little crisscrossing elastic threads? You were practically naked. It took all my concentration to keep from stepping on your toes.”

“That’s because you were holding me all stiff and proper.”

“If I hadn’t, you’d have discovered I was . . . stiff and improper.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of toes, those strappy high heels you wore were practically an invitation to—”

“I’m wearing a similar version in white today.”

“Is it getting hot in here?”

Rosie smiled against his neck. “Do you know, for a moment that night, I actually thought you were going to kiss me? Then we were interrupted, and I decided it must have been my imagination.”

He drew in a long breath and released it slowly.

“Sam?”

“Hmmm?”

“Was it my imagination?” She pulled back, her gaze searching his face, feeling the tension in his body.

“No.” He tugged her closer, and she smiled.

Their dance became no more than a gentle sway to the music. Sam caressed her back. She returned her head to his shoulder, her fingertips exploring the hair on his nape.

Sam shuddered and pulled back slightly. “I wanted to do a lot more than kiss you that night.”

“And now?” The question was little more than a breathy whisper. Her knees would collapse if they kept going like this.

He lowered his head and kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder, before giving it a gentle nip.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled.

* * *

“
I
believe we have a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Moreland.”

“Yes, sir. One night, in our honeymoon suite. The additional gifts and amenities requested have already been placed in the suite. Will there be anything else?”

Sam couldn’t remember his response, or how they came to be in the elevator. He glanced over at Rosie as it ascended to their designated floor. What was she thinking behind the enticing cool blue of her gaze?