A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (7 page)

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” Rosie stared through the windshield, her expression growing thoughtful. “What about telling my family this weekend? We usually have a cookout for the adult birthdays and there’s one this Saturday at Mama and Daddy’s place.”

Sam braked at a stop sign. Apparently Rosie didn’t care to explain her outburst. Whatever had gotten under her skin seemed to have been exorcised. He thought about what she’d said, remembering similar celebrations he’d been invited to. “If memory serves, this would be
your
birthday.”

“Yes.”

He proceeded through the intersection. Perfect. “I know exactly what to get you.”

“Believe me, that’s not a requirement for attendance. You can skip the gift.”

“Not give Lorelei’s future stepmother a birthday present on the day we announce our engagement? That would look a little odd, wouldn’t it?” He glanced her way. Speaking of odd. The look of alarm on her face . . . 

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with being a st—” He stopped himself from saying too much in Lorelei’s presence. She was so quiet most of the time, he sometimes forgot she heard and understood more than he gave her credit for.

“Not the label, no.” Rosie saved him from having to resort to spelling. “But the role? Yes, it bothers me. It’s temporary. What about the attachment factor?”

Sam frowned. “I’ll admit that concerns me too, but I don’t see how we can avoid it. You two have to look comfortable with each other, the same as with you and I.”

“From what you’ve said about the past . . .” Rosie flicked a glance over her shoulder in Lorelei’s general direction. “I think contact should be limited.”

Sam’s immediate reaction was anger, that Rosie was reluctant to embrace Lorelei wholeheartedly—for whatever reason. But he knew that had a lot more to do with Jasmine and the past than Rosie. He pushed the anger back as he drove the short distance home. Once he’d managed that, he had to admit Rosie made a valid point.

He’d wrestled with the problem during the long drive to Arkansas, though in theory at that point. If Rosie encouraged a close relationship with his daughter, they’d have a better chance of winning, but Lorelei would be heartbroken in the end. If the two of them didn’t form an attachment, the judge, or whoever made recommendations to him or her, might not be convinced Sam’s home was the best and only place for Lorelei.

He couldn’t allow that to happen.

“I’d rather take a chance on her getting too attached. At least I’d be there to comfort her afterward and we could make sure the distancing is gradual. The alternative is a lot worse. We can’t risk the whole charade failing because we played it safe.”

“You really think it’s that big a deal? As long as she’s comfortable with me being around and holding her occasionally, we should be okay. I mean, it’s not like Lorelei can tell them a lot.”

Rosie came close to pulling off the nonchalant tone, except for a slight quaver in her voice. What was she afraid of, or was it too much all at once? If that were the case, he’d be the calming voice of reason.

“We’re dealing with professionals trained to see what most people don’t. We
have
to look like a real family. If you’re not willing to commit to this, we may as well call the whole thing off.” He eased to a stop in the driveway, but left the motor and air conditioner running. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

He couldn’t believe he’d said that. Sam’s palms broke into a sweat on the now cooled steering wheel where he gripped it tightly.

God help him if she did decide to back out of their deal.

CHAPTER SIX

“
H
old on. Hold on! Stop.” Claire stopped Rosie in mid-sentence, shaking her head vigorously. The last rays of sunlight shone through a nearby window, glinting off her silver teardrop earrings, which swung wildly.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re getting married to a guy you haven’t seen in years—until he moved into this house a few days ago. You’re having a civil ceremony at the courthouse. Two witnesses, no guests. Oh, and your family doesn’t know yet, so I have to keep it a secret until you tell them.”

Rosie winced at the incredulous look on Claire’s face. “That about covers it.”

“Not even.” Claire shook her head and plopped onto Rosie’s sofa, her purple slip dress riding high on her thighs. “This is messed up. I’m supposed to do the wacky stuff, and you’re supposed to talk sense into me. Not the other way around.”

“I figured you’d have questions.” And she dreaded giving the answers. Rosie sat, facing Claire’s right with the middle cushion between them.

“Duh. For starters, what’s the scoop here? The last time we talked, he was offering you a wad of cash for your business. Now you’re planning a quickie wedding, but there’s no talk of love.”

Rosie plucked at the hem of her khaki capri pants. Somehow she had to show Claire that the arrangement with Sam was good for everyone concerned without revealing her attraction to him.

“Sam agreed that since you knew about the loan, I could let you in on the secret. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not my family, not a customer in strictest confidence, not even your cat.” He hadn’t liked it, but he’d agreed.

“I don’t have a cat.” Claire crossed her arms under her breasts and glared, daring Rosie to dispute the statement.

She refused to be sidetracked with the ongoing debate as to whether the stray feline Claire fed twice daily had now become a pet. “Come on, Claire. I need your word on this.”

“Not until you promise I can stand up with you. I’m your best friend. If you can trust me with your secret, you can trust me to be best maid.”

“Best . . . Oh. You mean maid of honor. I told you. We’re not having attendants, only—”

“Yeah, I know. Witnesses. So why can’t I be your best whatever and act as a witness, too?”

Why not? One pair of attendants wouldn’t hurt anything. Sam hadn’t specified who they’d use as witnesses. Maybe she could wear a short white dress and flowers in her hair—just to make things look legit, of course.

“I’ll promise if you’ll promise,” she said, hoping Sam wouldn’t have a conniption fit and could find a best man on short notice.

“Deal.” Claire clapped her hands. “Now dish.”

Rosie explained the situation, saying that Sam had “personal reasons” for not wanting to share custody with his ex-wife. As they’d agreed, she wouldn’t divulge details regarding Jasmine.

Claire was quiet for a few moments after Rosie finished, a thoughtful look on her pretty face. “I know you said it’s temporary, but are you sure you want to get in the middle of this? Their divorce was tabloid messy. Maybe you could get the money—”

“It’s not about the money, and Sam’s not acting out of spite over some past dispute. He has justifiable reasons to fight joint custody, but has no intention of keeping Jasmine from visiting her daughter here—if she wishes to.”

“And he’s explained those reasons to your satisfaction? You’re convinced he’s not just getting even?”

“Yes.” Rosie smiled, remembering the night he’d quieted the little girl’s night terrors. “You should see him with Lorelei. He’s a great dad. Believe me, he wouldn’t hurt his daughter to get revenge.”

“Are you falling for this guy?”

“No! Why even ask when I’ve told you how it is between us?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the dreamy look on your face when you defend him.”

“That’s ridiculous. Sam and I are just friends.” The last statement came out more sharply than she’d intended in her quest to keep her attraction to herself. Apparently she needed to work harder at it.

Claire squeezed her arm below the elbow. “Be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I’ll be fine. This time I’m walking in with my eyes wide open.”

“Sorry to intrude. I knocked, but there was no answer.”

At the sound of the masculine voice, both women startled, their heads turning in unison toward the open doorway to the dining room.

How much had he overheard?

“You must be Claire.” Sam approached them, hand outstretched in greeting. His gaze flicked over the younger woman’s hair before adding, “The stylist.”

“And you’re Sam.” Claire stood and shook his hand firmly while her gaze traveled over him in the same manner. “The reluctant groom.”

One corner of Sam’s mouth lifted, but he didn’t comment. They studied each other; one tall, deliciously dark and intimidating even in faded jeans and a soft gray T-shirt, the other thin, cheeky and blonde. Despite platform heels that looked as if she’d been shopping at a shady lady boutique, Claire still had to look up at him.

“Jeezus Pete. Should I ring a bell and announce round one?” Rosie grumbled, her composure shaken by the possibility that Sam had overheard Claire’s dreamy comment.

“Not at all. I’m sure we’ll be friends before this is over, but tonight it’s getting late.” Claire enveloped Rosie in a fierce hug then released her. “Let me know when the wedding is scheduled, and I’ll be there.”

Ignoring the quizzical look from Sam, Rosie walked Claire to the door.

* * *

T
he lock had barely clicked into place, when Sam voiced the question foremost in his mind. “What did she mean by ‘again?’”

“Excuse me?”

“Claire said she didn’t want to see you get hurt—again.”

Rosie frowned and hugged her elbows tightly to her waist. “Did she?”

He resisted the urge to demand answers. “You said there was no guy in your life. Is that a recent development? Do I need to be concerned about some jealous ex-boyfriend showing up and changing your mind at the last minute?”

“No. Absolutely not. The relationship she was referring to ended a long time ago. I rarely see him anymore and prefer it that way. He’s engaged to someone else now.”

Relief flooded through him at her words. But her phrasing at the end struck him as significant. “Meaning he was engaged to you at one time?”

“Yes.” Her gaze darted around the room. “Where’s Lorelei? Shouldn’t you be putting her to bed?”

Sam smiled. Did she think he could be so easily distracted? “Don’t try to change the subject. She’s been asleep for an hour.”

Rosie gaze snapped to his, her eyes narrowed. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even if we’re technically going to be married, it doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do, what to say or how to say it. Ever. And just so you know, the wedding vows will
not
have the word ‘obey’ in them. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” But why the sudden outburst? He’d been teasing about changing the subject.

Rosie raised her chin defiantly. She was really something when riled, what with her eyes sparkling and the color heightened in her cheeks. He took another look, noting the slight trembling in her hands and the wariness that had crept over her features, as if expecting backlash. From him? Either she was afraid of something, or she was desperately trying to distract him.

She had nothing to fear from him and no reason to suspect she would that he could think of, so what didn’t Rosie want him to know?

Under his scrutiny, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth until it was swollen and pink. The action set off a gut-deep surge of desire so potent he became concerned she’d be able to see the reaction.

He’d rarely experienced this strong a physical reaction to a woman, but when he had, it had always been a fleeting thing—until now. That this increasing attraction was occurring with a woman he’d planned on linking himself to legally for a long period of celibacy was damned inconvenient. Thank goodness he hadn’t tucked in his T-shirt.

Keeping his movements deliberately casual, he lowered himself onto one end of her sofa. Though his body had other ideas, his mind raced with questions he couldn’t voice right now. She was too upset, too defensive.

“Were you expecting opposition?” He shrugged and propped his bare feet on a vintage trunk that doubled as a coffee table. “None here. I’m not a fan of Neanderthal.”

“I didn’t think you were.” She still sounded defensive. Didn’t she believe him? He’d meant it, never having been of the opinion that women were the weaker sex. Upper body strength aside, his experience had been that they had the emotional fortitude of Goliath.

Maybe Rosie harbored feelings for someone and didn’t want to tell him.

She’d certainly tried to distract him earlier and became upset when the subject of the past arose. Was it all a smoke screen to keep him from asking more questions?

“You’re sure about the ex-fiancé not being a problem? I don’t want the solution to my situation to create complications for you.”

“It won’t. Really. Dean’s moved on, and so have I. I wouldn’t have committed to do this if I wasn’t free.” Rosie’s shoulders softened slightly, but she still looked poised for flight.

Dean, huh? If her initial reaction was any indication, she still had strong feelings for Dean—whoever. Her being “free” didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to be. As long as he lived, he’d never understand women or what made them tick, but he could delve into the matter later. “What did Claire mean, she’d be at the wedding?”

“She was upset that she wouldn’t get to be my maid of honor, so I told her she still could.” She tossed the words at him in a rush. “And she’ll act as one of our witnesses, so you can choose a best man, if you want.”

“Hmm.” Sam murmured in response, hardly listening. He didn’t like the idea that Rosie might be sacrificing her own happiness for his. That she might be in love with this Dean guy chapped his hide, though there was no reason it should. This was a business deal. Nothing more.

If his gut was churning, it was over an unwanted wedding coming awfully fast and guilt over a friend putting her future on hold for him, that’s all.

* * *

T
he following week became a whirlwind of appointments sandwiched between work. Rosie searched her desk for the planner she knew had to be there, while going over her own wedding checklist.

The prenup arrived early Tuesday, and Sam insisted on paying her lawyer fees. She took it to the same man who’d guided her through the purchase of her aunt’s floral shop years ago and obtained his approval for a hefty amount.

Throughout the week, she ignored the questioning looks and sly glances Sara sent her way after several outside meetings. Thankfully, her sister-in-law didn’t comment, but Rosie got the distinct impression Sara thought the time spent away from the shop was of a romantic nature.

Though they met at the courthouse on Wednesday to apply for the license, avoiding Sam was surprisingly easy. He hired a part-time sitter for Lorelei and disappeared into his office at every opportunity, burying himself in converting one of his books into a screenplay and writing a proposal for another.

Her mother called, subtly fishing for information. News of their Sunday brunch date and Wednesday’s lunch sans Lorelei at the Wok-In’s buffet after their courthouse appointment now hummed along the gossip grapevine. Bless the Busy Biddy Brigade, they hadn’t disappointed.

Though sweet and short, Sam’s kiss as they’d parted in the parking lot Wednesday had fueled more than talk, leaving her yearning for a repeat of their first kiss and something more she hadn’t yet defined.

Spying her planner sitting on the fax machine, Rosie snagged it on her way out.

Sassy Bing and her daughter, Cassandra, were already involved in a discussion of which type of aisle markers to use at Cass’s upcoming nuptials when Rosie joined them at the small table. She set aside thoughts of Sam and her own upcoming nuptials and braced herself for a long and tedious consultation.

After several discussions regarding such intricacies as whether to clip, pin or magnet the corsages for the mothers of the bride and groom, her patience wore thin. Most people left such things to the florist. Most people didn’t even know they had that many choices. Mrs. Bing spent way too much time surfing the Internet.

“Mo-ther!” Cass protested. “Rosie’s the best judge of those things. Can’t we leave the smaller details to her?”

“Honey, I want you to have the wedding of your dreams,” Sassy replied huffily. “With the wedding a mere four months away, we need to make some quick decisions.”

“Then let’s decide on the type of flowers to use, and let Rosie get on with her day.”

“Don’t you think Cass should have some stephanotis in the bridal bouquet, Rosie?”

“Mother, please!”

Enough. Rosie clapped her hands to get their attention. “Ladies, let me make a few suggestions to speed things along.”

She took advantage of the startled silence. “At the rate we’re going this Christmas wedding won’t take place until next spring. Cass, why don’t you tell me what colors you prefer and explain to me what your overall concept, or look, is for the wedding. Sassy, you give me a budget amount and we’ll meet again next week. By that time, I’ll have several suggestions and picture examples for your approval.”