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Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisFalling in love this summer is forever…Wedding planner Savannah Charles has never thought about her own big day. So when divorce attorney Nash Davenport unexpectedly proposes she is surprised to find herself saying yes. Nash doesn’t believe that love and marriage go together, but Savannah is the most passionate woman he’s ever tried not to love…Sherry Waterman’s definitely attracted to the good-looking and stubborn Cody Bailman, but he has neither the time nor the patience for romance. Fortunately – or unfortunately! – Cody’s twelve-year-old daughter is determined to play matchmaker, because Sherry is just perfect for her dad!











Make time for friends. Make time for




Debbie Macomber


CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

1022 Evergreen Place

1105 Yakima Street

A Merry Little Christmas

(featuring

1225 Christmas Tree Lane

and 5-B Poppy Lane)

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as

Old Boyfriends)

Back on Blossom Street

(previously published as

Wednesdays at Four)

Twenty Wishes

Summer on Blossom Street

Hannah’s List

A Turn in the Road

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

Angels at Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

A Mother’s Wish

Happy Mother’ s Day

Be My Valentine

THE MANNINGS

The Manning Sisters

The Manning Brides

The Manning Grooms

Summer in Orchard Valley

THE DAKOTAS

Dakota Born

Dakota Home

Always Dakota

The Farmer Takes a Wife

(Exclusive short story)




Summer

Wedding

Bells

Marriage Wanted

Lone Star Lovin’


Debbie Macomber

featuring Marriage Wanted and Lone Star Lovin’






www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)



Marriage Wanted


To Randall Toye

who has supported and encouraged me

for twenty-eight wonderful years




One


Savannah Charles watched the young woman wandering around her bridal shop, checking prices and looking more discouraged by the moment. Her shoulders slumped and she bit her lip when she read the tag on the wedding gown she’d selected. She had excellent taste, Savannah noticed; the ivory silk-taffeta dress was one of her own favorites. A pattern of lace and pearls swirled up the puffed sleeves and bodice.

“Can I help you?” Savannah asked, moving toward her. Startled, the woman turned. “I…It doesn’t look like it. This dress is almost twice as much as my budget for the whole wedding. Are you Savannah?”

“Yes.”

She smiled shyly. “Missy Gilbert told me about you. She said you’re wonderful to work with and that you might be able to give Kurt and me some guidance. I’m Susan Davenport.” She held out her hand and Savannah shook it, liking the girl immediately.

“When’s your wedding?”

“In six weeks. Kurt and I are paying for it ourselves. His two younger brothers are still in college and his parents haven’t got much to spare.” Amusement turned up the corners of her mouth as she added, “Kurt’s dad claims he’s becoming poor by degrees.”

Savannah smiled back. “What about your family?”

“There’s only my brother and me. He’s fifteen years older and, well…it isn’t that he doesn’t like Kurt. Because once you meet Kurt, it’s impossible not to love him. He’s kind and generous and interesting.…”

Savannah was touched by Susan’s eagerness to tell her about the man she wanted to marry.

“But Nash—my brother—doesn’t believe in marriage,” the young woman went on to explain. “He’s an attorney and he’s worked on so many divorce cases over the years that he simply doesn’t believe in it anymore. It doesn’t help that he’s divorced himself, although that was years and years ago.”

“What’s your budget?” Savannah asked. She’d planned weddings that went into six figures, but she was equally adept at finding reasonable alternatives. She walked back to her desk, limping on her right foot. It ached more this afternoon than usual. It always did when the humidity was this high.

Susan told her the figure she and Kurt had managed to set aside and Savannah frowned. It wasn’t much, but she could work with it. She turned around and caught Susan staring at her. Savannah was accustomed to that kind of reaction to her limp, the result of a childhood accident. She generally wore pants, which disguised the scars and disfigurement, but her limp was always noticeable, and more so when she was tired. Until they knew her better, it seemed to disconcert people. Generally she ignored their hesitation and continued, hoping that her own acceptance would put them at ease.

“Even the least expensive wedding dresses would eat up the majority of the money we’ve worked so hard to save.”

“You could always rent the dress,” Savannah suggested.

“I could?” Her pretty blue eyes lit up when Savannah mentioned the rental fee.

“How many people are you inviting?”

“Sixty-seven,” Susan told her, as if the number of guests had been painfully difficult to pare down. “Kurt and I can’t afford more. Mostly it’s his family.…I don’t think Nash will even come to the wedding.” Her voice fell.

Despite never having met Susan’s older brother, she already disliked him. Savannah couldn’t imagine a brother refusing to attend his sister’s wedding, no matter what his personal views on marriage happened to be.

“Kurt’s from a large family. He has aunts and uncles and, I swear, at least a thousand cousins. We’d like to invite everyone, but we can’t. The invitations alone will cost a fortune.”

“Have you thought about making your own invitations?”

Susan shook her head. “I’m not very artsy.”

“You don’t need to be.” Opening a drawer, Savannah brought out a book of calligraphy. “These are fairly simple and elegant-looking and they’ll add a personal touch because they’re individualized.” She paused. “You’ll find other ideas on the internet.”

“These are beautiful. You honestly think I could do this?” She looked expectantly at Savannah.

“Without a doubt,” Savannah answered with a smile.

“I wish I could talk some sense into Nash,” Susan muttered, then squared her shoulders as if she was ready to take him on right that minute. “He’s the only family I have. We’ve got aunts and uncles here and there, but no one we’re close to, and Nash is being so unreasonable about this. I love Kurt and nothing’s going to change the way I feel. I love his family, too. It can be lonely when you don’t belong to someone. That’s Nash’s problem. He’s forgotten what it’s like to belong to someone. To be in a relationship.”

Loneliness. Savannah was well acquainted with the feeling. All her life she’d felt alone. The little girl who couldn’t run and play with friends. The teenage girl who never got asked to the prom. The woman who arranged the happiest days of other people’s lives.

Loneliness. Savannah knew more than she wanted to about long days and longer nights.

“I’m sure your brother will change his mind,” Savannah said reassuringly—even though she wasn’t sure at all.

Susan laughed. “That only goes to prove you don’t know my brother. Once he’s set on something, it takes an Act of Congress to persuade him otherwise.”

Savannah spent the next hour with Susan, deciding on the details of both the wedding and the reception. With such a limited budget it was a challenge, but they did it.

“I can’t believe we can do so much with so little,” Susan said once they’d finished. Her face glowed with happiness. “A nice wedding doesn’t mean as much to Kurt as it does to me, but he’s willing to do whatever he can to make our day special.”

Through the course of their conversation, Savannah learned that Kurt had graduated from the University of Washington with an engineering degree. He’d recently been hired by a California firm and had moved to the San Francisco area, where Susan would be joining him.

After defying her brother, Susan had moved in with Kurt’s family, working part-time and saving every penny she could to help with the wedding expenses.

“I can hardly wait to talk to Kurt,” Susan said excitedly as she gathered her purse and the notes she’d made. “I’ll get back to you as soon as he’s had a chance to go over the contract.” Susan paused. “Missy was right. You are wonderful.” She threw both arms around Savannah in an impulsive hug. “I’ll be back as soon as I can and you can take the measurements for the dress.” She cast a dreamy look toward the silk-and-taffeta gown and sighed audibly. “Kurt’s going to die when he sees me in that dress.”

“You’ll make a lovely bride.”

“Thank you for everything,” Susan said as she left the store.

“You’re welcome.” It was helping young women like Susan that Savannah enjoyed the most. The eager, happy ones who were so much in love they were willing to listen to their hearts no matter what the cost. Over the years, Savannah had worked with every kind of bride and she knew the signs. The Susans of this world were invariably a delight.

It was highly unlikely that Savannah would ever be married herself. Men were an enigma to her. Try as she might, she’d never been able to understand them. They invariably treated her differently than they did other women. Savannah assumed their attitude had to do with her damaged leg. Men either saw her as fragile, untouchable, because of it, or they viewed her as a buddy, a confidante. She supposed she should be flattered by the easy camaraderie they shared with her. They sought her advice, listened politely when she spoke, then did as they pleased.

Only a few men had seen her as a woman, a woman with dreams and desires of her own. But when it came to love, each of them had grown hesitant and afraid. Each relationship had ended awkwardly long before it had gotten close to serious.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment, Savannah mused sadly. Maybe it was her own attitude. She’d been terrified of ever falling in love. No matter how deeply she felt about a man, she was positive that her imperfection would come between them. It was safer to hold back, to cling to her pride than risk rejection and pain later on.

A week later, Susan came breezing through the door to Savannah’s shop.

“Hello,” she said, smiling broadly. “I talked to Kurt and he’s as excited as I am.” She withdrew a debit card from her purse. “I’d like to give you the down payment now. And I have the signed contract for you.”

Savannah brought out her paperwork and Susan paid her. “My brother doesn’t believe we’ll be able to do it without his help, but he’s wrong. We’re going to have a beautiful wedding, with or without Nash, thanks to you.”

This was what made Savannah’s job so fulfilling. “I’ll order what we need right away,” she told Susan. Savannah only wished there was some way she could influence the young woman’s unreasonable older brother. She knew his type—cynical, distrusting, pessimistic. A man who scoffed at love, who had no respect for marriage. How very sad. Despite her irritation with the faceless Nash, Savannah couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Whether or not he realized it, he was going to lose his sister.

There were just the two of them, so she didn’t understand why Nash wouldn’t support his sister in her decision. Luckily Susan had Kurt’s parents. Undoubtedly this was something her brother hadn’t counted on, either.

Susan left soon afterward. What remained of Savannah’s day was busy. The summer months used to be her overburdened time, but that hadn’t held true of late. Her services were booked equally throughout the year.

Around five-thirty, when Savannah was getting ready to close for the day, the bell chimed over her door, indicating someone had entered the shop. She looked up from her computer and found a tall, well-dressed man standing by the doorway. It had started to rain lightly; he shook off the raindrops in his hair before he stepped farther inside. She saw him glance around and scowl, as if being in such a place was repugnant to him. Even before he spoke she knew he was Susan’s brother. The family resemblance was striking.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello.” He slid his hands in his pockets with a contemptuous frown. Apparently he feared that even being in this place where love and romance were honored would infect him with some dread disease. It must take a good deal of energy to maintain his cynicism, Savannah thought.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I was just looking.” He walked slowly through the shop. His expensive leather shoes made a tapping sound against the polished hardwood floor. She noticed that he took pains not to touch anything.

Savannah nearly laughed out loud when he passed a display of satin pillows, edged in French lace, that were meant to be carried by the ring bearer. He stepped around it, giving it a wide berth, then picked up one of her business cards from a brass holder on a small antique table.

“Are you Savannah Charles?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied evenly. “I am.”

“Interesting shop you have here,” he said dryly. Savannah had to admit she found him handsome in a rugged sort of way. His facial features were strong and well-defined. His mouth firm, his jaw square and stubbornly set. He walked in short, clipped steps, his impatience nearly palpable. Naturally, she might be altogether wrong and this could be someone other than Susan’s brother. Savannah decided it was time to find out.

“Are you about to be married?”

“No,” he said disgustedly.

“This seems like an unusual shop for you to browse through, then.”

He smiled in her direction, acknowledging her shrewdness. “I believe you’ve been talking to my sister, Susan Davenport.”

So Savannah had been right. This was Susan’s hard-nosed older brother. His attitude had been a dead giveaway. “Yes, Susan’s been in.”

“I take it she’s decided to go through with this wedding nonsense, then?” He eyed her suspiciously as if to suggest his sister might have changed her mind except for Savannah’s encouragement and support.

“It would be best if you discussed Susan’s plans with her.”

Nash clasped his hands behind his back. “I would if we were on speaking terms.”

How he knew his sister was working with her, Savannah hadn’t a clue. She didn’t even want to know.

“So,” he said conversationally, “exactly what do you do here?”

“I’m a wedding coordinator.”

“Wedding coordinator,” he repeated, sounding genuinely curious. He nodded for her to continue.

“Basically I organize the wedding for the bride and her family so they’re free to enjoy this all-important day.”

“I see,” he said. “You’re the one who makes sure the flowers arrive at the church on time?”

“Something like that.” His version oversimplified her role, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate a detailed job description. After all, he wasn’t interested in her, but in what he could learn about his sister and Kurt’s plans.

He wandered about the shop some more, careful not to come into contact with any of the displays she’d so carefully arranged. He strolled past a lace-covered table with an elegant heart-shaped guest book and plumed pen as if he were walking past a nest of vipers. Savannah couldn’t help being amused.

“Susan hasn’t got the money for a wedding,” he announced. “At least, not one fancy enough to hire a coordinator.”

“Again, this is something you need to discuss with your sister.”

He didn’t like her answer; that much was obvious from the way his mouth thinned and the irritation she saw in his eyes. They were the same intense blue as his sister’s, but that was where the resemblance ended. Susan’s eyes revealed her love and enthusiasm for life. Nash’s revealed his disenchantment and skepticism. She finished up the last of her paperwork, ignoring him as much as she could.

“You’re a babe in the woods, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Savannah said, looking up.

“You actually believe all this…absurdity?”

“I certainly don’t think of love and commitment as absurd, if that’s what you mean, Mr. Davenport.”

“Call me Nash.”

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. In a few minutes she was going to show him the door. He hadn’t bothered to disguise the purpose of his visit. He was trying to pump her for information and hadn’t figured out yet that she refused to be placed in the middle between him and his sister.

“Did you ever stop to realize that over fifty percent of the couples who marry in this day and age end up divorcing?”

“I know the statistics.”

He walked purposely toward her as if approaching a judge’s bench, intent on proving his point. “Love is a lame excuse for marriage.”

Since he was going to make it impossible for her to concentrate, she sat back on her stool and folded her arms. “What do you suggest couples do then, Mr. Davenport? Just live together?”

“Nash,” he reminded her irritably. “And, yes, living together makes a lot more sense. If a man and woman are so hot for each other, I don’t see any reason to muddy the relationship with legalities when a weekend in bed would simplify everything.”

Savannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Rejecting marriage made as much sense to her as pushing a car over a cliff because the fender was dented. Instead she asked, “Is this what you want Susan and Kurt to do? Live together indefinitely? Without commitment?”

That gave him pause. Apparently it was perfectly fine for other couples to do that, but when it came to his little sister, he hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said. “Until this infatuation passes.”

“What about children?”

“Susan’s little more than a child herself,” he argued, although she was twenty-four—and in Savannah’s estimation a mature twenty-four. “If she’s smart, she’ll avoid adding to her mistakes,” he said stiffly.

“What about someone other than your sister?” she demanded, annoyed with herself for allowing him to draw her into this pointless discussion. “Are you suggesting our society should do away with family?”

“A wedding ring doesn’t make a family,” he returned just as heatedly.

Savannah sighed deeply. “I think it’s best for us to agree to disagree,” she said, feeling a bit sad. It was unrealistic to think she’d say anything that would change his mind. Susan was determined to marry Kurt, with or without his approval, but she loved her brother, too. That was what made this situation so difficult.

“Love is a lame excuse to mess up one’s life,” he said, clenching his fists at his side with impotent anger. “A lame excuse.”

At his third use of the word lame, Savannah inwardly flinched. Because she was sitting behind her desk, he didn’t realize she was “lame.”

“Marriage is an expensive trap that destroys a man’s soul,” Nash went on to say, ignoring her. “I see the results of it each and every day. Just this afternoon, I was in court for a settlement hearing that was so nasty the judge had to pull both attorneys into chambers. Do you really believe I want my little sister involved in something like that?”

“Your sister is a grown woman, Mr. Davenport. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Mistakes, you mean.”

Savannah sensed his frustration, but arguing with him would do no good at all. “Susan’s in love. You should know by now that she’s determined to marry Kurt.”

“In love. Excuses don’t get much worse than that.”

Savannah had had enough. She stood and realized for the first time how tall Nash actually was. He loomed head and shoulders over her five-foot-three-inch frame. Standing next to him she felt small and insignificant. For all their differences, Savannah could appreciate his concerns. Nash loved his sister; otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to such effort to find out her plans.

“It’s been interesting,” Nash said, waiting for her to walk around her desk and join him. Savannah did, limping as she went. She was halfway across the room before she saw that he wasn’t following her. Half turning around, she noticed that he was looking at her leg, his features marked by regret.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said, and she couldn’t doubt his sincerity. What surprised her was his sensitivity. She might have judged this man too harshly. His attitude had irritated her, but she’d also been entertained by him—and by the vigor of their argument.

“You didn’t know.” She finished her trek to the door, again surprised to realize he hadn’t followed her. “It’s well past my closing time,” she said meaningfully.

“Of course.” His steps were crisp and uniform as he marched across her shop, stopping abruptly when he reached her. A frown wrinkled his brow as he stared at her again.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughed shortly. “I’m trying to figure something out.”

“If it has to do with Susan and Kurt—”

“It doesn’t,” he cut in. “It has to do with you.” An odd smile lifted his mouth. “I like you. You’re impertinent, sassy and stubborn.”

“Oh, really!” She might have been offended if she hadn’t been struggling so hard not to laugh.

“Really.”

“You’re tactless, irritating and overpowering,” she responded.

His grin was transformed into a full-blown smile. “You’re right. It’s a shame, though.”

“A shame? What are you talking about?”

“You being a wedding coordinator. It’s a waste. With your obvious organizational skills, you might’ve done something useful. Instead, your head’s stuck in the clouds and you’ve let love and romance fog up your brain. But you know what?” He rubbed the side of his jaw. “There just might be hope for you.”

“Hope. Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you. There just might be a slim chance of reasoning with you. You’re clearly intelligent and even a little witty. But unfortunately you’re misguided. Now that you’re dealing with your sister’s marriage, however, there’s a remote possibility someone might be able to get through to you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest and resting his weight on one foot.

“Your judgment’s been confused by your clients. By their anger and bitterness and separations. We’re at opposite ends of the same subject. I work with couples when they’re deeply in love and convinced the relationship will last forever. You see them when they’re embittered and disillusioned. But what you don’t seem to realize is that you need to see the glass as half-full and not half-empty.”

He frowned. “I thought we were talking about marriage.”

“We are. What you said earlier is true. Fifty percent of all married couples end up divorcing—which means fifty percent of them go on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.”

Nash’s snort was derisive. He dropped his arms and straightened, shaking his head. “I was wrong. There’s no hope for you. The fifty percent who stay together are just as miserable. Given the opportunity, they’d gladly get out of the relationship.”

Nash was beginning to irritate her again. “Why is it so difficult for you to believe that there’s such a thing as a happy marriage?”

“Because I’ve never seen one.”

“You haven’t looked hard enough.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that your head’s so muddled with hearts and flowers and happy-ever-afters that you can’t and won’t accept what’s right in front of your eyes?”

“Like I said, it’s past my closing time.” Savannah jerked open the shop door. The clanging bell marked the end of their frustrating conversation. Rarely had Savannah allowed anyone to get under her skin the way she had Nash Davenport. The man was impossible. Totally unreasonable…

The woman was impossible. Totally unreasonable.

Nash couldn’t understand why he continued to mull over their conversation. Twenty-four hours had passed, and he’d thought about their verbal sparring match a dozen times.

Relaxing in his leather office chair, he rolled a pen between his palms. Obviously Savannah didn’t know him well; otherwise, she wouldn’t have attempted to convince him of the error of his views.

His eyes fell on the phone and he sighed inwardly. Susan was being stubborn and irrational. It was plain that he was going to have to be the one to mend fences. He’d hoped she’d come to her senses, but it wasn’t going to happen. He was her older brother, her closest relative, and if she refused to make the first move, he’d have to do it.

He looked up Kurt Caldwell’s parents’ phone number. He resented having to contact her there. Luck was with him, however, when Susan herself answered.

“It’s Nash,” he said. When she was little, her voice rose with excitement whenever he called. Anytime he arrived home, she’d fly into his arms, so glad to see him she couldn’t hold still. He sighed again, missing the child she once was.

“Hello, Nash,” Susan said stiffly. No pleasure at hearing from him was evident now.

“How are you doing?” That was the purpose of this call, after all.

“Fine. How about you?” Her words were stilted, and her stubbornness hadn’t budged an inch. He would have said as much, then thought better of it.

“I’m fine, too,” he answered.

The silence stretched between them.

“I understand you have a wedding coordinator now,” he said, hoping to come across as vaguely interested. She might have defied him, but he would always be her big brother.

“How do you know that?”

“Word, uh, gets around.” In fact, he’d learned about it from a family friend. Still, he shouldn’t have said anything. And he wouldn’t have if Savannah hadn’t dominated his thoughts from the moment he’d met her.

“You’ve had someone checking into my affairs, haven’t you?” Susan lowered her voice to subzero temperatures. “You can’t rule my life, Nash. I’m going to marry Kurt and that’s all there is to it.”

“I gathered as much from Savannah Charles.…”

“You’ve talked to Savannah?”

Nash recognized his second mistake immediately. He’d blown it now, and Susan wasn’t going to forgive him.

“Stop meddling in my life, Nash.” His sister’s voice quavered suspiciously and seconds later the line was disconnected. The phone droned in his ear before he dejectedly replaced the receiver.

Needless to say, that conversation hadn’t gone well. He’d like to blame Savannah, but it was his fault. He’d been the one to let her name slip, a stupid error on his part.

The wedding coordinator and his sister were both too stubborn and naive for their own good. If this was how Susan wanted it, then he had no choice but to abide by her wishes. Calling her had been another mistake in a long list he’d been making lately.

His assistant poked her head in his door, and he gave her his immediate attention. He had more important things to worry about than his sister and a feisty wedding coordinator who lived in a dreamworld.

“What did my brother say?” Susan demanded.

“He wanted to know about you,” Savannah said absently as she arranged champagne flutes on the display table next to the five-tier wedding cake. She’d been working on the display between customers for the past hour.

“In other words, Nash was pumping you for information?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry, I didn’t tell him anything. What I did do was suggest he talk to you.” She straightened, surprised that he’d followed her advice. “He cares deeply for you, Susan.”

“I know.” Susan gnawed on her lower lip. “I wish I hadn’t hung up on him.”

“Susan!”

“I…He told me he’d talked to you and it made me so mad I couldn’t bear to speak to him another second.”

Savannah was surprised by Nash’s slip. She would’ve thought their conversation was the last thing he’d mention. But from the sound of it, he didn’t get an opportunity to rehash it with Susan.

“If he makes a pest of himself,” Susan said righteously, “let me know and I’ll…I’ll do something.”

“Don’t worry about it. I rather enjoyed talking to him.” It was true, although Savannah hated to admit it. She’d worked hard to push thoughts of Nash from her mind over the past couple of days. His attitude had annoyed her, true, but she’d found him intriguing and—it bothered her to confess this—a challenge. A smile came when she realized he probably saw her the same way.

“I have to get back to work,” Susan said reluctantly. “I just wanted to apologize for my brother’s behavior.”

“He wasn’t a problem.”

On her way out the door, Susan muttered something Savannah couldn’t hear. The situation was sad. Brother and sister loved each other but were at an impasse.

Savannah continued to consider the situation until the bell over the door chimed about five minutes later. Smiling, she looked up, deciding she wasn’t going to get this display finished until after closing time. She should’ve known better than to try.

“Nash.” His name was a mere whisper.

“Hello again,” he said dryly. “I’ve come to prove my point.”




Two


“You want to prove your point,” Savannah repeated thoughtfully. Nash Davenport was the most headstrong man she’d ever encountered. He was also one of the handsomest. That did more to confuse her than to help. For reasons as yet unclear, she’d lost her objectivity. No doubt it had something to do with that pride of his and the way they’d argued. No doubt it was also because they remained diametrically opposed on the most fundamental issues of life—love and marriage.

“I’ve given some thought to our conversation the other day,” Nash said, pacing back and forth, “and it seems to me that I’m just the person to clear up your thinking. Besides,” he went on, “if I can clear up your thinking, maybe you’ll have some influence on Susan.”

Although it was difficult, Savannah resisted the urge to laugh.

“To demonstrate my good faith, I brought a peace offering.” He held up a white sack for her inspection. “Two lattes,” he explained. He set the bag on the corner of her desk and opened it, handing her one of the paper cups. The smell of hot coffee blended with steamed milk was as welcome as popcorn in a theater. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said next, gesturing toward the stool, “because it might take a while.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Savannah felt obliged to say as she carefully edged onto the stool.

“It’s a great idea. Just hear me out,” he said smoothly.

“Oh, all right,” she returned with an ungracious nod. Savannah might have had the energy to resist him if it hadn’t been so late in the day. She was tired and the meeting with Susan had frustrated her. She’d come to her upset and unhappy, and Savannah had felt helpless, not knowing how to reassure the younger woman.

Nash pried off the lid of his latte, then glanced at his watch. He walked over to her door and turned over the sign so it read Closed.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

“It’s—” he looked at his watch again “—5:29 p.m. You’re officially closed in one minute.”

Savannah didn’t bother to disagree. “I think it’s only fair for you to know that whatever you have to say isn’t going to change my mind,” she said.

“I figured as much.”

The man continued to surprise her. “How do you intend to prove your point? Parade divorced couples through my wedding shop?”

“Nothing that drastic.”

“Did it occur to you that I could do the same thing and have you meet with a group of blissful newlyweds?” she asked.

He grinned. “I’m way ahead of you. I already guessed you’d enjoy introducing me to any number of loving couples who can’t keep their hands off each other.”

Savannah shrugged, not denying it.

“The way I figure it,” he said, “we both have a strong argument to make.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “But you aren’t going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours.” She didn’t know what kept some couples together against all odds or why others decided to divorce when the first little problem arose. If Nash expected her to supply the answers, she had none to offer.

“Don’t be so sure we won’t change each other’s mind.” Which only went to prove that he thought there was a chance he could influence her. “We could accomplish a great deal if we agree to be open-minded.”

Savannah cocked one eyebrow and regarded him skeptically. “Can you guarantee you’ll be open-minded?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered, and she was impressed with his honesty. “But I’m willing to try. That’s all I ask of you.”

“That sounds fair.”

He rubbed his palms together as though eager to get started. “If you don’t object, I’d like to go first.”

“Just a minute,” she said, holding up her hand. “Before we do, shouldn’t we set some rules?”

“Like what?”

Although it was her suggestion, Savannah didn’t really have an answer. “I don’t know. Just boundaries of some kind.”

“I trust you not to do anything weird, and you can count on the same from me,” he said. “After all—”

“Don’t be so hasty,” she interrupted. “If we’re going to put time and effort into this, it makes sense that we have rules. And something riding on the outcome.”

His blue eyes brightened. “Now there’s an interesting thought.” He paused and a smile bracketed his mouth. “So you want to set a wager?”

Nash seemed to be on a one-man campaign to convince her the world would be a better place without the institution of marriage. “We might as well make it interesting, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more. If you can prove your point and get me to agree that you have, what would you want in exchange?”

This part was easy. “For you to attend Susan and Kurt’s wedding. It would mean the world to Susan.”

The easy smile disappeared behind a dark frown.

“She was in this afternoon,” Savannah continued, rushing the words in her eagerness to explain. “She’s anxious and confused, loving you and loving Kurt and needing your approval so badly.”

Nash’s mouth narrowed into a thin line of irritation.

“Would it really be so much to ask?” she ventured. “I realize I’d need to rely on your complete and total honesty, but I have faith in you.” She took a sip of her latte.

“So, if you convince me my thinking is wrong on this marriage issue, you want me to attend Susan’s wedding.” He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Deal,” he said, and his grin reappeared.

Until that moment, Savannah was convinced Nash had no idea what he intended to use for his argument. But apparently he did. “What would you want from me?” she asked. Her question broke into his musings because he jerked his head toward her as if he’d forgotten there might be something in this for him, as well. He took a deep breath and then released it. “I don’t know. Do I have to decide right now?”

“No.”

“It’ll be something substantial—you understand that, don’t you?”

Savannah managed to hold back a smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“How about home-cooked dinners for a week served on your fanciest china? That wouldn’t be out of line,” he murmured.

She gaped at him. Her request had been generous and completely selfless. She’d offered him an excuse to attend Susan’s wedding and salvage his pride, and in return he wanted her to slave in the kitchen for days on end.

“That is out of line,” she told him, unwilling to agree to anything so ridiculous. If he wanted homemade meals, he could do what the rest of the world did and cook them himself, visit relatives or get married.

Nash’s expression was boyish with delight. “So you’re afraid you’re going to lose.”

Raising her eyebrows, she said, “You haven’t got a prayer, Davenport.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, making an exaggerated gesture with both hands. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”

This discussion had wandered far from what she’d originally intended. Savannah had been hoping to smooth things over between brother and sister and at the same time prove her own point. She wasn’t interested in putting her own neck on the chopping block. Any attempt to convince Nash of the error of his ways was pointless.

He finished off his latte and flung the empty container into her garbage receptacle. “Be ready tomorrow afternoon,” he said, walking to the door.

Savannah scrambled awkwardly from the stool. “What for?” she called after him. She limped two steps toward him and stopped abruptly at the flash of pain that shot up her leg. She’d sat too long in the same position, something she was generally able to avoid. She wanted to rub her thigh, work the throbbing muscle, but that would reveal her pain, which she wanted to hide from Nash.

“You’ll know more tomorrow afternoon,” he promised, looking pleased with himself.

“How long will this take?”

“There are time restrictions? Are there any other rules we need to discuss?”

“I…We should both be reasonable about this, don’t you think?”

“I was planning to be sensible, but I can’t speak for you.”

This conversation was deteriorating rapidly. “I’ll be ready at closing time tomorrow afternoon, then,” she said, holding her hand against her thigh. If he didn’t leave soon, she was going to have to sit down. Disguising her pain had become a way of life, but the longer she stood, the more difficult it became.

“Something’s wrong,” he announced, his gaze hard and steady. “You’d argue with me if there wasn’t.”

Again she was impressed by his sensitivity. “Nonsense. I said I’d be ready. What more do you want?”

He left her then, in the nick of time. A low moan escaped as she sank onto her chair. Perspiration moistened her brow and she drew in several deep breaths. Rubbing her hand over the tense muscles slowly eased out the pain.

The phone was situated to the left of her desk and after giving the last of her discomfort a couple of minutes to ebb away, she reached for the receiver and dialed her parents’ number. Apparently Nash had decided how to present his case. She had, too. No greater argument could be made than her parents’ loving relationship. Their marriage was as solid as Fort Knox and they’d been devoted to each other for over thirty years. Nash couldn’t meet her family and continue to discredit love and marriage.

Her father answered on the second ring, sounding delighted to hear from her. A rush of warm feeling washed over Savannah. Her family had been a constant source of love and encouragement to her through the years.

“Hi, Dad.”

“It’s always good to hear from you, sweetheart.”

Savannah relaxed in her chair. “Is Mom around?”

“No, she’s got a doctor’s appointment to have her blood pressure checked again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Savannah’s hand tightened around the receiver. She didn’t want to mislead her parents into thinking she was involved with Nash. But she needed to prove her point. “Is there any chance I could bring someone over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Of course.”

Savannah laughed lightly. “You might want to check Mom’s calendar. It’d be just like you to agree to something when she’s already made plans.”

“I looked. The calendar’s right here in the kitchen and tomorrow night’s free. Now, if you were to ask about Friday, that’s a different story.”

Once more Savannah found herself smiling.

“Who do you want us to meet?”

“His name’s Nash Davenport.”

Her announcement was met with a short but noticeable silence. “You’re bringing a young man home to meet your family? This is an occasion, then.”

“Dad, it isn’t like that.” This was exactly what she’d feared would happen, that her family would misinterpret her bringing Nash home. “We’ve only just met.…”

“It was like that with your mother and me,” her father said excitedly. “We met on a Friday night and a week later I knew this was the woman I was going to love all my life, and I have.”

“Dad, Nash is just a friend—not even a friend, really, just an acquaintance,” Savannah said, trying to correct his mistaken impression. “I’m coordinating his sister’s wedding.”

“No need to explain, sweetheart. If you want to bring a young man for your mother and me to meet, we’d be thrilled, no matter what the reason.”

Savannah was about to respond, but then decided that a lengthy explanation might hurt her cause rather than help it. “I’m not sure of the exact time we’ll arrive.”

“No problem. I’ll light up the barbecue and that way you won’t need to worry. Come whenever you can. We’ll make an evening of it.”

Oh, yes, it was going to be quite an evening, Savannah mused darkly. Two stubborn people, both convinced they were right, would each try to convert the other.

This was going to be so easy that Nash almost felt guilty. Almost…Poor Savannah. Once he’d finished with what he had to show her, she’d have no option but to accept the reality of his argument.

Nash loved this kind of debate, when he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. By the time he was done, Savannah would be eating her words.

Grabbing his briefcase, he hurried out of his office, anxious to forge ahead and prove his point.

“Nash, what’s your hurry?”

Groaning inwardly, Nash turned to face a fellow attorney, Paul Jefferson. “I’ve got an appointment this evening,” Nash explained. He didn’t like Paul, had never liked Paul. What bothered him most was that this brownnoser was going to be chosen over him for the partnership position that was opening up within the year. Both Paul and Nash had come into the firm at the same time, and they were both good attorneys. But Paul had a way of ingratiating himself with the powers that be and parting the waters of opportunity.

“An appointment or a date?” Paul asked with that smug look of his. One of these days Nash was going to find an excuse to wipe that grin off his face.

He looked pointedly at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, Paul, I have to leave, otherwise I’ll be late.”

“Can’t keep her waiting, now can we?” Paul said, and finding himself amusing, he laughed at his own sorry joke.

Knotting his fist at his side, Nash was happy to escape. Anger clawed at him until he was forced to stop and analyze his outrage. He’d been working with Paul for nearly ten years. He’d tolerated his humorless jokes, his conceited, selfrighteous attitude and his air of superiority without displaying his annoyance. What was different now?

He considered the idea of Paul being preferred to him for the partnership. But this was nothing new. The minute he’d learned about the opening, he’d suspected Stackhouse and Serle would choose Paul. He’d accepted it as fact weeks ago.

Paul had suggested Nash was hurrying to meet a woman—which he was. Nash didn’t bother to deny it. What upset him was the sarcastic way Paul had said it, as though Savannah—

His mind came to a grinding halt. Savannah.

So she was at the bottom of all this. Nash had taken offense at the edge in Paul’s voice, as if his fellow attorney had implied that Savannah was, somehow, less than she should be. He knew he was being oversensitive. After all, Paul had never even met her. But still…

Nash recalled his own reaction to Savannah, his observations when he’d met her. She was small. Her dark, pixie-style hair and deep brown eyes gave her a fragile appearance, but that was deceptive. The woman obviously had a constitution of iron.

Her eyes…Once more his thoughts skidded to a halt. He’d never known a woman with eyes that were more revealing. In them he read a multitude of emotions. Pain, both physical and emotional. In them he saw a woman with courage. Nash barely knew Savannah and yet he sensed she was one of the most astonishing people he’d probably ever meet. He’d wanted to defend her, wanted to slam his colleague up against a wall and demand an apology for the slight, vague though it was. In fact, he admitted, if Paul was insulting anyone, it was more likely him than Savannah.…

When he reached his car, Nash sat in the driver’s seat with his key poised in front of the ignition for a moment, brooding about his colleague and the competitiveness between them.

His mood lightened considerably as he made his way through the heavy traffic to the wedding shop. He’d been looking forward to this all day.

He found a parking spot and climbed out of his car, then fed the meter. As he turned away he caught sight of Savannah in the shop window, talking to a customer. Her face was aglow with enthusiasm and even from this distance her eyes sparkled. For a reason unknown to him, his pulse accelerated as joy surged through him.

He was happy to be seeing Savannah. Any man would, knowing he was about to be proven right. But this was more than that. This happiness was rooted in the knowledge that he’d be spending time with her.

Savannah must have felt his scrutiny, because she glanced upward and their eyes met briefly before she reluctantly pulled hers away. Although she continued speaking to her customer, Nash sensed that she’d experienced the same intensity of feeling he had. It was at moments such as this that he wished he could be privy to a woman’s thoughts. He would gladly have forfeited their bet to know if she was as surprised and puzzled as he felt. Nash couldn’t identify the feeling precisely; all he knew was that it made him uncomfortable.

The customer was leaving just as Nash entered the shop. Savannah was sitting at her desk and intuitively he realized she needed to sit periodically because of her leg. She looked fragile and confused. When she raised her eyes to meet his, he was shocked by the strength of her smile.

“You’re right on time,” she said.

“You would be, too, if you were about to have home-cooked meals personally served to you for the next week.”

“Don’t count on it, Counselor.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve already got the menu picked out. We’ll start the first night with broiled New York sirloin, Caesar salad and a three-layer chocolate cake.”

“You certainly love to dream,” she said with an effortless laugh. “I find it amusing that you never stopped to ask if I could cook. It’ll probably come as a surprise to learn that not all women are proficient in the kitchen. If by some odd quirk of fate you do happen to win this wager, you’ll dine on boxed macaroni and cheese or microwave meals for seven days and like it.”

Nash was stunned. She was right; he’d assumed she could cook as well as she seemed to manage everything else. Her shop was a testament to her talent, appealing to the eye in every respect. True, all those wedding gowns and satin pillows were aiding and abetting romance, but it had a homey, comfortable feel, as well. This wasn’t an easy thing to admit. A wedding shop was the last place on earth Nash ever thought he’d willingly visit.

“Are you ready to admit defeat?” he asked.

“Never, but before we get started I need to make a couple of phone calls. Do you mind?”

“Not in the least.” He was a patient man, and never more so than now. The longer they delayed, the better. It wasn’t likely that Paul would stay late, but Nash wanted to avoid introducing Savannah to him. More important, he wanted her to himself. The thought was unwelcome. This wasn’t a date and he had no romantic interest in Savannah Charles, he reminded himself.

Savannah reached for the phone and he wandered around the shop noticing small displays he’d missed on his prior visits. The first time he’d felt nervous; he didn’t know what to expect from a wedding coordinator, but certainly not the practical, gutsy woman he’d found.

He trained his ears not to listen in on her conversation, but the crisp, businesslike tone of her voice was surprisingly captivating.

It was happening again—that disturbing feeling was back, deep in the pit of his stomach. He’d felt it before, several years earlier, and it had nearly ruined his life. He was in trouble. Panic shot through his blood and he felt the overwhelming urge to turn and run in the opposite direction. The last time he’d had this feeling, he’d gotten married.

“I’m ready,” Savannah said, and stood.

Nash stared at her for a long moment as his brain processed what was going on.

“Nash?”

He gave himself a hard mental shake. He didn’t know if he was right about what had happened here, but he didn’t like it. “Do you mind riding with me?” he asked, once he’d composed himself.

“That’ll be fine.”

The drive back to his office building in downtown Seattle was spent in relative silence. Savannah seemed to sense his reflective mood. Another woman might have attempted to fill the space with idle chatter. Nash was grateful she didn’t.

After he’d parked, he led Savannah into his building and up the elevator to the law firm’s offices. She seemed impressed with the plush furnishings and the lavish view of Mount Rainier and Puget Sound from his twentieth-story window.

When she’d entered his office she’d walked directly to the window and set her purse on his polished oak credenza. “How do you manage to work with a view like this?” she asked, her voice soft with awe. She seemed mesmerized by the beauty that appeared before her.

After several years Nash had become immune to its splendor, but lately he’d begun to appreciate the solace he found there. The color of the sky reflected like a mirror on the water’s surface. On a gray and hazy morning, the water was a dull shade of steel. When the sun shone, Puget Sound was a deep, iridescent greenish blue. He enjoyed watching the ferries and other commercial and pleasure craft as they intersected the waterways. In the last while, he’d often stood in the same spot as Savannah and sorted through his thoughts.

“It’s all so beautiful,” she said, turning back to him. Hearing her give voice to his own feelings felt oddly comforting. The sooner he presented his argument, the better. The sooner he said what had to be said and put this woman out of his mind, the better.

“You ready?” he asked, flinging opening a file cabinet and withdrawing a handful of thick folders from the top drawer.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, taking a chair on the other side of his desk.

Nash slapped the files down on his credenza. “Let’s start with Adams versus Adams,” he muttered, flipping through the pages of the top folder. “Now, this was an interesting case. Married ten years, two sons. Then Martha learned that Bill was having an affair with a coworker, so she decided to have one herself, only she chose a nineteen-year-old boy. The child-custody battle lasted two months, destroyed them financially and ended so bitterly that Bill moved out of town and hasn’t been heard from since. Last I heard, Martha was clinically depressed and in and out of hospitals.”

Savannah gasped. “What about their sons?” she asked. “What happened to them?”

“Eventually they went to live with a relative. From what I understand, they’re both in counseling and have been for the last couple of years.”

“How very sad,” she whispered.

“Don’t kid yourself. This is only the beginning. I’m starting with the As and working my way through the file drawer. Let me know when you’ve had enough.” He reached for a second folder. “Anderson versus Anderson…Ah, yes, I remember this one. She attempted suicide three times, blackmailed him emotionally, used the children as weapons, wiped him out financially and then sued for divorce, claiming he was an unfit father.” His back was as stiff as his voice. He tossed aside that file and picked up the next.

“Allison versus Allison,” he continued crisply. “By the way, I’m changing the names to protect the guilty.”

“The guilty?”

“To my way of thinking, each participant in these cases is guilty of contributing to the disasters I’m telling you about. Each made a crucial mistake.”

“You’re about to suggest their first error was falling in love.”

“No,” he returned coldly, “it all started with the wedding vows. No two people should be expected to live up to that ideal. It isn’t humanly possible.”

“You’re wrong, Nash. People live up to those vows each and every day, in small ways and in large ones.”

Nash jabbed his finger against the stack of folders. “This says otherwise. Love isn’t meant to last. Couples are kidding themselves if they believe commitment lasts beyond the next morning. Life’s like that, and it’s time the rest of the world woke up and admitted it.”

“Oh, please!” Savannah cried, standing. She walked over to the window, her back to him, clenching and unclenching her fists. Nash wondered if she was aware of it, and doubted she was.

“Be honest, Savannah. Marriage doesn’t work anymore. Hasn’t in years. The institution is outdated. If you want to stick your head in the sand, then fine. But when others risk getting hurt, someone needs to tell the truth.” His voice rose with the heat of his argument.

Slowly she turned again and stared at him. An almost pitying look came over her.

“She must have hurt you very badly.” Savannah’s voice was so low, he had to strain to hear.

“Hurt me? What are you talking about?”

She shook her head as though she hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. “Your ex-wife.”

The anger that burned through Nash was like acid. “Who told you about Denise?” he demanded.

“No one,” she returned quickly.

He slammed the top file shut and stuffed the stack of folders back inside the drawer with little care and less concern. “How’d you know I was married?”

“I’m sorry, Nash, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Who told you?” The answer was obvious but he wanted her to say it.

“Susan mentioned it.…”

“How much did she tell you?”

“Just that it happened years ago.” Each word revealed her reluctance to drag his sister into the conversation. “She wasn’t breaking any confidences, if that’s what you think. I’m sure the only reason she brought it up was to explain your—”

“I know why she brought it up.”

“I apologize, Nash. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why not? My file’s in another attorney’s cabinet, along with those of a thousand other fools just like me who were stupid enough to think love lasts.”

Savannah continued to stare at him. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

“As much as any foolish twenty-four-year-old loves anyone. Would you mind if we change the subject?”

“Susan’s twenty-four.”

“Exactly,” he said, slapping his hand against the top of his desk. “And she’s about to make the same foolish choice I did.”

“But, Nash…”

“Have you heard enough, or do you need to listen to a few more cases?”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.” The atmosphere in the office was stifling. It was as though each and every client he’d represented over the years was there to remind him of the pain he’d lived through himself—only he’d come away smarter than most.

“Do you want me to drive you back to the office or would you prefer I take you home?” he asked.

“No,” Savannah said as they walked out of the office. He purposely adjusted his steps to match her slower gait. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to have our, uh, wager settled this evening.”

“Fine with me.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to head for my parents’ home. I want you to meet them.”

“Sure, why not?” he asked flippantly. His anger simmered just below the surface. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.…

Savannah gave him the address and directions. The drive on the freeway was slowed by heavy traffic, which frustrated him even more. By the time they reached the exit, his nerves were frayed. He was about to suggest they do this another evening when she instructed him to take a left at the next light. They turned the corner, drove a block and a half down and were there.

They were walking toward the house when a tall, burly man with a thinning hairline hurried out the front door. “Savannah, sweetheart,” he greeted them with a huge grin. “So this is the young man you’re going to marry.”




Three


“Dad!” Savannah was mortified. The heat rose from her neck to her cheeks, and she knew her face had to be bright red.

Marcus Charles raised his hands. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” But there was still a smile on his face.

“I’m Nash Davenport,” Nash said, offering Marcus his hand. Considering how her father had chosen to welcome Nash, his gesture was a generous one. She chanced a look in the attorney’s direction and was relieved to see he was smiling, too.

“You’ll have to forgive me for speaking out of turn,” her father said, “but Savannah’s never brought home a young man she wants us to meet, so I assumed you’re the—”

“Daddy, that’s not true!”

“Name one,” he said. “And while you’re inventing a beau, I’ll take Nash in and introduce him to your mother.”

“Dad!”

“Hush now or you’ll give Nash the wrong impression.” The wrong impression! If only he knew. This meeting couldn’t have gotten off to a worse start, especially with Nash’s present mood. She’d made a drastic mistake mentioning his marriage. It was more than obvious that he’d been badly hurt and was trying to put the memory behind him.

Nash had built a strong case against marriage. The more clients he described, the harder his voice became. The grief of his own experience echoed in his voice as he listed the nightmares of the cases he’d represented.

Nash and her father were already in the house by the time Savannah walked up the steps and into the living room. Her mother had redecorated the room in a Southwestern motif, with painted clay pots and Navajo-style rugs. A recent addition was a wooden folk art coyote with his head thrown back, howling at the moon.

Every time she entered this room, Savannah felt a twinge of sadness. Her mother loved the Southwest and her parents had visited there often. Savannah knew her parents had once looked forward to moving south. She also knew she was the reason they hadn’t. As an only child, and one who’d sustained a serious injury—even if it’d happened years before—they worried about her constantly. And with no other immediate family in the Seattle area, they were uncomfortable leaving their daughter alone in the big city.

A hundred times in the past few years, Savannah had tried to convince them to pursue their dreams, but they’d continually made excuses. They never came right out and said they’d stayed in Seattle because of her. They didn’t need to; in her heart she knew.

“Hi, Mom,” Savannah said as she walked into the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the sink, slicing tomatoes fresh from her garden. “Can I do anything to help?”

Joyce Charles set aside the knife and turned to give her a firm hug. “Savannah, let me look at you,” she said, studying her. “You’re working too hard, aren’t you?”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“Good. Now sit down here and have something cold to drink and tell me all about Nash.”

This was worse than Savannah had first believed. She should have explained her purpose in bringing him to meet her family at the very beginning, before introducing him. Giving them a misleading impression was bad enough, but she could only imagine what Nash was thinking.

When Savannah didn’t immediately answer her question, Joyce supplied what information she already knew. “You’re coordinating his sister’s wedding and that’s how you two met.”

“Yes, but—”

“He really is handsome. What does he do?”

“He’s an attorney,” Savannah said. “But, Mom—”

“Just look at your dad.” Laughing, Joyce motioned toward the kitchen window that looked out over the freshly mowed backyard. The barbecue was heating on the brick patio and her father was showing Nash his prize fishing flies. He’d been tying his own for years and took real pride in the craft; now that he’d retired, it was his favorite hobby.

After glancing out at them, Savannah sank into a kitchen chair. Her mother had poured her a glass of lemonade. Her father displayed his fishing flies only when the guest was someone important, someone he was hoping to impress. Savannah should have realized when she first mentioned Nash that her father had made completely the wrong assumption about this meeting.

“Mom,” she said, clenching the ice-cold glass. “I think you should know Nash and I are friends. Nothing more.”

“We know that, dear. Do you think he’ll like my pasta salad? I added jumbo shrimp this time. I hope he’s not a fussy eater.”

Jumbo shrimp! So they were rolling out the red carpet. With her dad it was the fishing flies, with her mother it was pasta salad. She sighed. What had she let herself in for now?

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy your salad.” And if his anti-marriage argument—his evidence—was stronger than hers, he’d be eating seven more meals with a member of the Charles family. Her. She could only hope her parents conveyed the success of their relationship to this cynical lawyer.

“Your father’s barbecuing steaks.”

“T-bone,” Savannah guessed.

“Probably. I forget what he told me when he took them out of the freezer.”

Savannah managed a smile.

“I thought we’d eat outside,” her mother went on. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”

“No, Mom, that’ll be great.” Maybe a little sunshine would lift her spirits.

“Let’s go outside, then, shall we?” her mother said, carrying the large wooden bowl with the shrimp pasta salad.

The early-evening weather was perfect. Warm, with a subtle breeze and slanting sunlight. Her mother’s prize roses bloomed against the fence line. The bright red ones were Savannah’s favorite. The flowering rhododendron tree spread out its pink limbs in opulent welcome. Robins chatted back and forth like long-lost friends.

Nash looked up from the fishing rod he was holding and smiled. At least he was enjoying himself. Or seemed to be, anyway. Perhaps her embarrassment was what entertained him. Somehow, Savannah vowed, she’d find a way to clarify the situation to her parents without complicating things with Nash.

A cold bottle of beer in one hand, Nash joined her, grinning as though he’d just won the lottery.

“Wipe that smug look off your face,” she muttered under her breath, not wanting her parents to hear. It was unlikely they would, busy as they were with the barbecue.

“You should’ve said something earlier.” His smile was wider than ever. “I had no idea you were so taken with me.”

“Nash, please. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

“But why?”

“Don’t play dumb.” She was fast losing her patience with him. The misunderstanding delighted him and mortified her. “I’m going to have to tell them,” she said, more for her own benefit than his.

“Don’t. Your father might decide to barbecue hamburgers instead. It isn’t every day his only daughter brings home a potential husband.”

“Stop it,” she whispered forcefully. “We both know how you feel about marriage.”

“I wouldn’t object if you wanted to live with me.”

Savannah glared at him so hard, her eyes ached.

“Just joking.” He took a swig of beer and held the bottle in front of his lips, his look thoughtful. “Then again, maybe I wasn’t.”

Savannah was so furious she had to walk away. To her dismay, Nash followed her to the back of the yard. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of her parents talking.

“You’re making this impossible,” she told him furiously.

“How’s that?” His eyes fairly sparkled.

“Don’t, please don’t.” She didn’t often plead, but she did now, struggling to keep her voice from quavering.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She bit her lower lip so hard, she was afraid she’d drawn blood. “My parents would like to see me settled down and married. They…they believe I’m like every other woman and—”

“You aren’t?”

Savannah wondered if his question was sincere. “I’m handicapped,” she said bluntly. “In my experience, men want a woman who’s whole and perfect. Their egos ride on that, and I’m flawed. Defective merchandise doesn’t do much for the ego.”

“Savannah—”

She placed her hand against his chest. “Please don’t say it. Spare me the speech. I’ve accepted what’s wrong with me. I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll never run or jump or marry or—”

Nash stepped back from her, his gaze pinning hers. “You’re right, Savannah,” he broke in. “You are handicapped and you will be until you view yourself otherwise.” Having said that, he turned and walked away.

Savannah went in the opposite direction, needing a few moments to compose herself before rejoining the others. She heard her mother’s laughter and turned to see her father with his arms around Joyce’s waist, nuzzling her neck. From a distance they looked twenty years younger. Their love was as alive now as it had been years earlier…and demonstrating that was the purpose of this visit.

She scanned the yard, looking for Nash, wanting him to witness the happy exchange between her parents, but he was busy studying the fishing flies her father had left out for his inspection.

Her father’s shout alerted Savannah that dinner was ready. Reluctantly she joined Nash and her parents at the round picnic table. She wasn’t given any choice but to share the crescent-shaped bench with him.

He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that she yearned to be closer yet. That was what surprised her, but more profoundly it terrified her. From the first moment she’d met him, Savannah suspected there was something different about him, about her reactions to him. In the beginning she’d attributed it to their disagreement, his heated argument against marriage, the challenge he represented, the promise of satisfaction if she could change his mind.

Dinner was delicious and Nash went out of his way to compliment Joyce until her mother blushed with pleasure.

“So,” her father said, glancing purposefully toward Savannah and Nash, “what are your plans?”

“For what?” Nash asked.

Savannah already knew the question almost as well as she knew the answer. Her father was asking about her future with Nash, and she had none.

“Why don’t you tell Nash how you and Mom met,” Savannah asked, interrupting her father before he could respond to Nash’s question.

“Oh, Savannah,” her mother protested, “that was years and years ago.” She glanced at her husband of thirty-seven years and her clear eyes lit up with a love so strong, it couldn’t be disguised. “But it was terribly romantic.”

“You want to hear this?” Marcus’s question was directed to Nash.

“By all means.”

In that moment, Savannah could have kissed Nash, she was so grateful. “I was in the service,” her father explained. “An Airborne Ranger. A few days before I met Joyce, I received my orders and learned I was about to be stationed in Germany.”

“He’d come up from California and was at Fort Lewis,” her mother added.

“There’s not much to tell. Two weeks before I was scheduled to leave, I met Joyce at a dance.”

“Daddy, you left out the best part,” Savannah complained. “It wasn’t like the band was playing a number you enjoyed and you needed a partner.”

Her father chuckled. “You’re right about that. I’d gone to the dance with a couple of buddies. The evening hadn’t been going well.”

“I remember you’d been stood up,” Savannah inserted, eager to get to the details of their romance.

“No, dear,” her mother intervened, picking up the story, “that was me. So I was in no mood to be at any social function. The only reason I decided to go was to make sure Lenny Walton knew I hadn’t sat home mooning over him, but in reality I was at the dance mooning over him.”

“I wasn’t particularly keen on being at this dance, either,” Marcus added. “I thought, mistakenly, that we were going to play pool at a local hall. I’ve never been much of a dancer, but my buddies were. They disappeared onto the dance floor almost immediately. I was bored and wandered around the hall for a while. I kept looking at my watch, eager to be on my way.”

“As you can imagine, I wasn’t dancing much myself,” Joyce said.

“Then it happened.” Savannah pressed her palms together and leaned forward. “This is my favorite part,” she told Nash.

“I saw Joyce.” Her father’s voice dropped slightly. “When I first caught sight of her, my heart seized. I thought I might be having a reaction to the shots we’d been given earlier in the day. I swear I’d never seen a more beautiful woman. She wore this white dress and she looked like an angel. For a moment I was convinced she was.” He reached for her mother’s hand.

“I saw Marcus at that precise second, as well,” Joyce whispered. “My friends were chatting and their voices faded until the only sound I heard was the pounding of my own heart. I don’t remember walking toward him and yet I must have, because when I looked up Marcus was standing there.”

“The funny part is, I don’t remember moving, either.”

Savannah propped her elbows on the table, her dinner forgotten. This story never failed to move her, although she’d heard it dozens of times over the years.

“We danced,” her mother continued.

“All night.”

“We didn’t say a word. I think we must’ve been afraid the other would vanish if we spoke.”

“While we were on the dance floor I kept pinching myself to be sure this was real, that Joyce was real. It was like we were both in a dream. These sorts of things only happen in the movies.

“When the music stopped, I looked around and realized my buddies were gone. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Joyce.”

“Oh, Dad, I never get tired of hearing this story.”

Joyce smiled as if she, too, was eager to relive the events of that night. “As we were walking out of the hall, I kept thinking I was never going to see Marcus again. I knew he was in the army—his haircut was a dead giveaway. I was well aware that my parents didn’t want me dating anyone in the military, and up until then I’d abided by their wishes.”

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see her again,” Savannah’s father went on. “But Joyce gave me her name and phone number and then ran off to catch up with her ride home.”

“I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was convinced I’d imagined everything.”

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” Marcus confessed. “Here I was with my shipping orders in my pocket—this was not the time to get involved with a woman.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Nash said, studying Savannah.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t think I had much of a choice. It was as if our relationship was preordained. By the end of the following week, I knew Joyce was the woman I’d marry. I knew I’d love her all my life, and both have held true.”

“Did you leave for Germany?”

“Of course. I had no alternative. We wrote back and forth for two years and then were married three months after I was discharged. There was never another woman for me after I met Joyce.”

“There was never another man for me,” her mother said quietly.

Savannah tossed Nash a triumphant look and was disappointed to see that he wasn’t looking her way.

“It’s a romantic story.” He was gracious enough to admit that much.

“Apparently some of that romance rubbed off on Savannah.” Her father’s eyes were proud as he glanced at her. “This wedding business of hers is thriving.”

“So it seems.” Some of the enthusiasm left Nash’s voice. He was apparently thinking of his sister, and Savannah’s role in her wedding plans.

“Eat, before your dinner gets cold,” Joyce said, waving her fork in their direction.

“How long did you say you’ve been married?” Nash asked, cutting off a piece of his steak.

“Thirty-seven years,” her father told him.

“And it’s been smooth sailing all that time?”

Savannah wanted to pound her fist on the table and insist that this cross-examination was unnecessary.

Marcus laughed. “Smooth sailing? Oh, hardly. Joyce and I’ve had our ups and downs over the years like most couples. If there’s anything special about our marriage, it’s been our commitment to each other.”

Savannah cleared her throat, wanting to gloat. Once more Nash ignored her.

“You’ve never once entertained the idea of divorce?” he asked.

This question was unfair! She hadn’t had the opportunity to challenge his clients about their divorces, not that she would’ve wanted to. Every case had saddened and depressed her.

“As soon as a couple introduces the subject of divorce, there isn’t the same willingness to concentrate on communication and problem-solving. People aren’t nearly as flexible,” Marcus said. “Because there’s always that out, that possibility.”

Joyce nodded. “If there was any one key to the success of our marriage, it’s been that we’ve refused to consider divorce an option. That’s not to say I haven’t fantasized about it a time or two.”

“We’re only human,” her father agreed with a nod. “I’ll admit I’ve entertained the notion a time or two myself—even if I didn’t do anything about it.”

No! It wasn’t true. Savannah didn’t believe it. “But you were never serious,” she felt obliged to say.

Marcus looked at her and offered her a sympathetic smile, as if he knew about their wager. “Your mother and I love each other, and neither of us could say we’re sorry we stuck it out through the hard times, but yes, sweetheart, there were a few occasions when I didn’t know if our marriage would survive.”

Savannah dared not look at Nash. Her parents’ timing was incredible. If they were going to be brutally honest, why did it have to be now? In all the years Savannah was growing up she’d never once heard the word divorce. In her eyes their marriage was solid, always had been and always would be.

“Of course, we never stopped talking,” her mother was saying. “No matter how angry we might be with each other.”

Soon after, Joyce brought out dessert—a coconut cake—and coffee.

“So, what do you think of our little girl?” Marcus asked, when he’d finished his dinner. He placed his hands on his stomach and studied Nash.

“Dad, please! You’re embarrassing me.”

“Why?”

“My guess is Savannah would prefer we didn’t give her friend the third degree, dear,” Joyce said mildly.

Savannah felt like kissing her mother’s cheek. She stood, eager to disentangle herself from this conversation. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mom,” she said as if suggesting a trip to the mall.

Nash’s mood had improved considerably after meeting Savannah’s parents. Obviously, things weren’t going the way she’d planned. Twice now, during dinner, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She’d expected them to paint a rosy picture of their idyllic lives together, one that would convince him of the error of his own views.

The project had backfired in her face. Rarely had he seen anyone look more shocked than when her parents said that divorce was something they’d each contemplated at one point or another in their marriage.

The men cleared the picnic table and the two women shooed them out of the kitchen. Nash was grateful, since he had several questions he wanted to ask Marcus about Savannah.

They wandered back outside. Nash was helping Marcus gather up his fishing gear when Savannah’s father spoke.

“I didn’t mean to pry earlier,” he said casually, carrying his fishing rod and box of flies into the garage. A motor home was parked alongside the building. Although it was an older model, it looked as good as new.

“You don’t need to worry about offending me,” Nash assured him.

“I wasn’t worried about you. Savannah gave me ‘the look’ while we were eating. I don’t know how much experience you have with women, young man, but take my advice. When you see ‘the look,’ shut up. No matter what you’re discussing, if you value your life, don’t say another word.”

Nash chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Savannah’s got the same expression as her mother. If you continue dating her, you’ll recognize it soon enough.” He paused. “You are going to continue seeing my daughter, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t object?”

“Heavens, no. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of my little girl?”

Nash didn’t mince words. “She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

Marcus nodded and leaned his prize fishing rod against the wall. “She gets that from her mother, too.” He turned around to face Nash, hands on his hips. “Does her limp bother you?” he asked point-blank.

“Yes and no.” Nash wouldn’t insult her father with a halftruth. “It bothers me because she’s so conscious of it herself.”

Marcus’s chest swelled as he exhaled. “That she is.”

“How’d it happen?” Curiosity got the better of him, although he’d prefer to hear the explanation from Savannah.

Her father walked to the back of the garage where a youngster’s mangled bicycle was stored. “It sounds simple to say she was hit by a car. This is what was left of her bike. I’ve kept it all these years as a reminder of how far she’s come.”

“Oh, no…” Nash breathed when he viewed the mangled frame and guessed the full extent of the damage done to the child riding it. “How’d she ever survive?”

“I’m not being facetious when I say sheer nerve. Anyone with less fortitude would have willed death. She was in the hospital for months, and that was only the beginning. The doctors initially told us she’d never walk again, and for the first year we believed it.

“Even now she still has pain. Some days are worse than others. Climate seems to affect it somewhat. And her limp is more pronounced when she’s tired.” Marcus replaced the bicycle and turned back to Nash. “It isn’t every man who recognizes Savannah’s strength. You haven’t asked for my advice, so forgive me for offering it.”

“Please.”

“My daughter’s a special woman, but she’s prickly when it comes to men and relationships. Somehow, she’s got it in her head that no man will ever want her.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is true, simply because Savannah believes it is,” Marcus corrected. “It’ll take a rare man to overpower her defenses. I’m not saying you’re that man. I’m not even saying you should try.”

“You seemed to think otherwise earlier. Wasn’t it you who assumed I was going to marry your daughter?”

“I said that to get a rise out of Savannah, and it worked.” Marcus rubbed his jaw, eyes twinkling with delight.

“We’ve only just met.” Nash felt he had to present some explanation, although he wasn’t sure why.

“I know.” He slapped Nash affectionately on the back and together they left the garage. When they returned to the house, the dinner dishes had been washed and put away.

Savannah’s mother had filled several containers with leftovers and packed them in an insulated bag. She gave Savannah detailed instructions on how to warm up the leftover steak and vegetables. Attempting brain surgery sounded simpler. As it happened, Nash caught a glimpse of Marcus from the corner of his eye and nearly burst out laughing. The older man was slowly shaking his head.

“I like the coyote, Mom,” Savannah said, as Nash took the food for her. She ran one hand over the stylized animal. “Are you and Dad going to Arizona this winter?”

Nash felt static electricity hit the airwaves.

“We haven’t decided, but I doubt we will this year,” Joyce answered.

“Why not?” Savannah asked. This was obviously an old argument. “You love it there. More and more of your friends are becoming snowbirds. It doesn’t make sense for you to spend your winters here in the cold and damp when you can be with your friends, soaking up the sunshine.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve got a long time to make that decision,” Marcus reminded her. “It’s barely summer.”

She hugged them both goodbye, then slung her purse over her shoulder, obviously giving up on the argument with her parents.

“What was that all about?” Nash asked once they were in his car.

It was unusual to see Savannah look vulnerable, but she did now. He wasn’t any expert on women. His sister was evidence of that, and so was every other female he’d ever had contact with, for that matter. It looked as though gutsy Savannah was about to burst into tears.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice so low it was almost nonexistent. Her head was turned away from him and she was staring out the side window.

“Tell me,” he insisted as he reached the freeway’s on ramp. He increased the car’s speed.

Savannah clasped her hands together. “They won’t leave because of me. They seem to think I need a babysitter, that it’s their duty to watch over me.”

“Are you sure you’re not being overly sensitive?”

“I’m sure. Mom and Dad love to travel, and now that Dad’s retired they should be doing much more of it.”

“They have the motor home.”

“They seldom use it. Day trips, a drive to the ocean once or twice a year, and that’s about it. Dad would love to explore the East Coast in the autumn, but I doubt he ever will.”

“Why not?”

“They’re afraid something will happen to me.”

“It sounds like they’re being overprotective.”

“They are!” Savannah cried. “But I can’t force them to go, and they won’t listen to me.”

He sensed that there was more to this story. “What’s the real reason, Savannah?” He made his words as coaxing as he could, not wanting to pressure her into telling him something she’d later regret.

“They blame themselves for the accident,” she whispered. “They were leaving for a weekend trip that day and I was to stay with a babysitter. I’d wanted to go with them and when they said I couldn’t, I got upset. In order to appease me, Dad said I could ride my bicycle. Up until that time he’d always gone with me.”

Nash chanced a look at her and saw that her eyes were closed and her body was rigid with tension.

“And so they punish themselves,” she continued in halting tones, “thinking if they sacrifice their lives for me, it’ll absolve them from their guilt. Instead it increases mine.”

“Yours?”

“Do you mind if we don’t discuss this anymore?” she asked, sounding physically tired and emotionally beaten.

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Savannah’s sigh of defeat.

“When would you like me to start cooking your dinners?” she asked as they neared her shop.

“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “Just like that, without so much as an argument? You must be more tired than I realized.”

His comments produced a sad smile.

“So you’re willing to admit marriage is a thing of the past and has no part in this day and age?”

“Never!” She rallied a bit at that.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Are you ready to admit love can last a lifetime when it’s nourished and respected?” she asked.

Nash frowned, his thoughts confused. “I’ll grant there are exceptions to every rule and your parents are clearly that. Unfortunately, the love they share doesn’t exist between most married couples.

“It’d be easy to tell you I like my macaroni and cheese extra cheesy,” he went on to say, “but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind in the morning and demand a rematch.”

Savannah smiled and pressed the side of her head against the car window.

“You’re exhausted, and if I accepted your defeat, you’d never forgive me.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“A draw.” He pulled into the alley behind the shop, where Savannah had parked her car. “Let’s call it square. I proved what I wanted to prove and you did the same. There’s no need to go back to the beginning and start over, because neither of us is going to make any progress with the other. We’re both too strongminded for that.”

“We should have recognized it sooner,” Savannah said, eyes closed.

She was so attractive, so…delectable, Nash had to force himself to look away.

“It’s very gentlemanly of you not to accept my defeat.”

“Not really.”

Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head so she could meet his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I’m about to incur your wrath.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

He smiled. It’d been so long since he’d looked forward to anything this much. “Because, my dear wedding coordinator, I’m about to kiss you.”




Four


“You’re…you’re going to kiss me?” Savannah had been exhausted seconds earlier, but Nash’s words were a shot of adrenaline that bolted her upright.

“I most certainly am,” he said, parking his car behind hers in the dark alley. “Don’t look so scared. The fact is, you might even enjoy this.”

That was what terrified Savannah most. If ever there was a man whose touch she yearned for, it was Nash. If ever there was a man she longed to be held by, it was Nash.

He bent his head toward hers and what resistance she’d managed to amass died a sudden death as he pressed his chin to her temple and simply held her against him. If he’d been rough or demanding or anything but gentle, she might’ve had a chance at resisting him. She might’ve had the desire to resist him. But she didn’t. A sigh rumbled through her and with heedless curiosity she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips grazing his jaw. Her touch seemed to go through him like an electrical shock because he groaned and, as she tilted back her head, his mouth sought hers.

At the blast of unexpected sensation, Savannah buckled against him and whimpered, all the while clinging to him. The kiss continued, gaining in intensity and fervor until Savannah felt certain her heart would pound straight through her chest.

Savannah closed her eyes, deep in a world of sensual pleasure.

“Savannah.” Her name was a groan. His breathing, heavy and hard, came in bursts as he struggled to regain control. Savannah was struggling, too. She finally opened her eyes. Her fingers were in his hair; she sighed and relaxed her hold.

Nash raised his head and took her face between his hands, his eyes delving into hers. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

An apology. She should’ve expected it, should’ve been prepared for it. But she wasn’t.

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond so she gave him a weak smile, and lowered her gaze, not wanting him to guess how strong her reaction had been.

He leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled softly. “You’re a surprise a minute.”

“What do you mean?”

He dropped a glancing kiss on the side of her face. “I wouldn’t have believed you’d be so passionate. The way you kissed me…”

“In other words, you didn’t expect someone like me to experience sensual pleasure?” she demanded righteously. “It might shock you to know I’m still a woman.”

“What?” Nash said. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” she said, frantically searching for her purse and the bag of leftovers her mother had insisted she take home with her.

“Stop,” he said. “Don’t use insults to ruin something that was beautiful and spontaneous.”

“I wasn’t the one—”

She wasn’t allowed to finish. Taking her by the arms, he hauled her toward him until his mouth was on hers. Her resistance disappeared in the powerful persuasion of his kisses.

He exhaled sharply when he finished. “Your leg has nothing to do with this. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“Why were you so surprised, then?” she asked, struggling to keep her indignation alive. It was almost impossible when she was in his arms.

His answer took a long time. “I don’t know.”

“That’s what I thought.” She broke away and held her purse against her like a shield. “We’ve agreed to disagree on the issue of love and marriage, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” he said without emotion.

“Then I don’t see any reason for us to continue our debate. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Davenport. Goodbye.” Having said that, she jerked open the car door and nearly toppled backward. She caught herself in the nick of time before she could tumble headfirst into the alley.

“Savannah, for heaven’s sake, will you—”

“Please, just leave me alone,” she said, furious with herself for making such a dramatic exit and with him for reasons as yet unclear.

Because he made her feel, she guessed sometime later, when she was home and safe. He made her feel as if she was whole and without flaws. As if she was an attractive, desirable woman. Savannah blamed Nash for pretending she could be something she wasn’t and the anger simmered in her blood long after she’d readied for bed.

Neatly folding her quilt at the foot of her bed, Savannah stood, seething, taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.

In the morning, after she’d downed her first cup of coffee, Savannah felt better. She was determined to put the incident and the man out of her mind. There was no reason for them to see each other again, no reason for them to continue with this farce. Not that Nash would want to see her, especially after the idiotic way she’d behaved, scrambling out of his car as if escaping a murderer.

As was so often the case of late, Savannah was wrong. Nash was waiting on the sidewalk in front of her shop, carrying a white bag, when she arrived for work.

“Another peace offering?” she asked, when she unlocked the front door and opened it for him.

“Something like that.” He handed her a latte, then walked across the showroom and sat on the corner of her desk, dangling one leg, as though he had every right to make himself comfortable in her place of business.

Savannah hadn’t recovered from seeing him again so soon; she wasn’t prepared for another confrontation. “What can I do for you?” she asked stiffly, setting the latte aside. She sat down and leaned back in the swivel chair, hoping she looked relaxed, knowing she didn’t.

“I’ve come to answer your question,” he said, leg swinging as he pried loose the lid on his cup. He was so blasé about everything, as if the intensity of their kisses was a common thing for him. As if she was one in a long line of conquests. “You wanted to know what was different last night and I’m here to tell you.”

This was the last thing Savannah expected. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Is this going to take long? I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be out of here before your client arrives.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms, trying to hold on to her patience. Their kisses embarrassed her now. She was determined to push the whole incident out of her mind and forget him. It’d been crazy to make a wager with him. Fun, true, but sheer folly nonetheless. The best she could do was forget she’d ever met the man. Nash, however, seemed unwilling to let that happen.

“Well?” she pressed when he didn’t immediately speak.

“A woman doesn’t generally go to my head the way you did,” he said. “When I make love to a woman I’m the one in control.”

“We weren’t making love,” she said heatedly, heat flushing her cheeks with instant color. Her fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arms as she fought to keep the embarrassment to herself.

“What do you call it, then?”

“Kissing.”

“Yes, but it would’ve developed into something a whole lot more complicated if we hadn’t been in my car. The last time I made love in the backseat of a car, I was—”

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have no interest in hearing about your sexual exploits,” she interjected.

“Fine,” he snapped.

“Besides, we were nowhere near making love.”

Nash’s responding snort sent ripples of outrage through Savannah. “You overestimate your appeal, Mr. Davenport.”

He laughed outright this time. “Somehow or other, I thought you’d say as much. I was hoping you’d be a bit more honest, but then, I’ve found truth an unusual trait in most women.”

The bell above her door chimed just then, and her appointment strolled into the shop. Savannah was so grateful to have this uncomfortable conversation interrupted, she almost hugged her client.

“I’d love to continue this debate,” she lied, “but as you can see, I have a customer.”

“Perhaps another time,” Nash suggested.

She hesitated. “Perhaps.”

He snickered disdainfully as he stood and sipped from the take-out cup. “As I said, women seem to have a hard time dealing with the truth.”

Savannah pretended not to hear him as she walked toward her customer, a welcoming smile on her face. “Good morning, Melinda. I’m so glad to see you.”

Nash said nothing as he sauntered past her and out the door. Not until he was out of sight did Savannah relax her guard. He claimed she went to his head. What he didn’t know was that his effect on her was startlingly similar. Then again, perhaps he did know.…

The woman irritated him. No, Nash decided as he hit the sidewalk, his stride clipped and fast, she more than irritated him. Savannah Charles incensed him. He didn’t understand this oppressive need he felt to talk to her, to explain, to hear her thoughts. He’d awakened wishing things hadn’t ended so abruptly between them, wishing he’d known what to say to convince her of his sincerity. Morning had felt like a second chance.

In retrospect, he suspected he was looking for help himself in working through the powerful emotions that had evolved during their embrace. Instead, Savannah claimed he’d miscalculated her reaction. The heck he had.

He should’ve realized she was as confused as he was about their explosive response to each other.

Nash arrived at his office half an hour later than usual. As he walked past his assistant’s desk, she handed him several telephone messages. He was due in court in twenty minutes, and wouldn’t have time to return any calls until early afternoon. Shuffling through the slips, he stopped at the third one.

Susan.

His sister had called him, apparently on her cell. Without further thought he set his briefcase aside and reached for the phone, punching out the number listed.

“Susan, it’s Nash,” he said when she answered. If he hadn’t been so eager to talk to her, he might have mulled over the reason for her call. Something must have happened; otherwise she wouldn’t have swallowed her pride to contact him.

“Hello, Nash.”

He waited a moment in vain for her to continue. “You called me?”

“Yes,” she said abruptly. “I wanted to apologize for hanging up on you the other day. It was rude and unnecessary. Kurt and I had a…discussion about it and he said I owed you an apology.”

“Kurt’s got a good head on his shoulders,” he said, thinking his sister would laugh and the tension between them would ease. It didn’t.

“I thought about what he had to say and Kurt’s right. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Nash admitted. “I shouldn’t have checked up on you behind your back.” If she could be so generous with her forgiveness, then so could he. After all, Susan was his little sister. He had her best interests at heart, although she wouldn’t fully appreciate his concern until later in life, when she was responsible for children of her own. He wasn’t Susan’s father, but he was her closest relative. Although she was twenty-four, he felt she still needed his guidance and direction.

“I was thinking we might have lunch together some afternoon,” she ventured, and the quaver in her voice revealed how uneasy she was making the suggestion.

Nash had missed their lunches together. “Sounds like a great idea to me. How about Thursday?”

“Same place as always?”

There was a Mexican restaurant that was their favorite, on a steep side street not far from the King County courthouse. They’d made a point of meeting there for lunch at least once a month for the past several years. The waitresses knew them well enough to greet them by name.

“All right. See you Thursday at noon.”

“Great.”

Grinning, Nash replaced the receiver.

He looked forward to this luncheon date with his sister the way a kid anticipates the arrival of the Easter bunny. They’d both said and done things they regretted. Nash hadn’t changed his mind about his sister marrying Kurt Caldwell. Kurt was decent, intelligent, hardworking and sincere, but they were both too young for marriage. Too uninformed about it. Judging by Susan’s reaction, she wasn’t likely to heed his advice. He hated to think of her making the same mistakes he had, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. He might as well mend the bridges of communication before they became irreparable.

“Is something wrong?” Susan asked Savannah as they went over the details for the wedding. It bothered her how careful Susan and Kurt had to be with their money, but she admired the couple’s discipline. Each decision had been painstaking.

“I’m sorry.” Savannah’s mind clearly wasn’t on the subject at hand. It had taken a sharp turn in another direction the moment Susan had shown up for their appointment. She reminded Savannah so much of her brother. Susan and Nash had the same eye and hair color, but they were alike in other ways, as well. The way Susan smiled and her easy laugh were Nash’s trademarks.

Savannah had worked hard to force all thoughts of Nash from her mind. Naively, she felt she’d succeeded, until Susan had come into the shop.

Savannah didn’t know what it was about this hardheaded cynic that attracted her so strongly. She resented the fact that he was the one to ignite the spark of her sensual nature. There was no future for them. Not when their views on love and marriage were so diametrically opposed.

“Savannah,” Susan asked, “are you feeling okay?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, my thoughts seem to be a thousand miles away.”

“I noticed,” Susan said with a laugh.

Her mood certainly seemed to have improved since their previous meeting, Savannah noticed, wishing she could say the same. Nash hadn’t contacted her since their last disastrous confrontation a few days earlier. Not that she’d expected he would.

Susan had entered the small dressing room and stepped into the wedding gown. She came out, lifting her hair at the back so Savannah could fasten the long row of pearl buttons.

“I’m having lunch with Nash on Thursday,” Susan announced unexpectedly.

“I’m glad you two have patched up your differences.”

Susan’s shoulders moved in a reflective sigh. “We haven’t exactly—at least, not yet. I called him to apologize for hanging up on him. He must have been eager to talk to me because his assistant told me he was due in court and I shouldn’t expect to hear from him until that afternoon. He phoned back no more than five minutes later.”

“He loves you very much.” Savannah’s fingers expertly fastened the pearl buttons. Nash had proved he was capable of caring deeply for another human being, yet he staunchly denied the healing power of love, wouldn’t allow it into his own life.

Perhaps you’re doing the same thing.

The thought came at her like the burning flash from a laser gun, too fast to avoid, and too painful to ignore. Savannah shook her head to chase away the doubts. It was ridiculous. She’d purposely chosen a career that was steeped in romance. To suggest she was blocking love from her own life was ludicrous. Yet the accusation repeated itself over and over.…

“Savannah?”

“I’m finished,” she said quickly. Startled, she stepped back.

Susan dropped her arms and shook her hair free before slowly turning around to face Savannah. “Well?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you think?”

Although she was still preoccupied with a series of haunting doubts, Savannah couldn’t help admiring how beautiful Nash’s sister looked in the bridal gown. “Oh, Susan, you’re lovely.”

The young woman viewed herself in the mirror, staring at her reflection for several minutes as if she wasn’t sure she could believe what she was seeing.

“I’m going to ask Nash to attend the wedding when we have lunch,” she said. Then, biting her lip, she added, “I’m praying he’ll agree to that much.”

“He should.” Savannah didn’t want to build up Susan’s expectations. She honestly couldn’t predict what Nash would say; she only knew what she thought he should do.

“He seemed pleased to hear from me,” Susan went on to say.

“I’m sure he was.” They stood beside each other in front of the mirror. Neither seemed inclined to move. Savannah couldn’t speak for Susan, but for her part, the mirror made the reality of her situation all too clear. Her tailored pants might not reveal her scarred and twisted leg, but she remained constantly aware of it, a not-so-gentle reminder of her deficiency.

“Let me know what Nash says,” Savannah said impulsively just before Susan left the shop.

“I will.” Susan’s eyes shone with a childlike enthusiasm as she turned and walked away.

Savannah sat at her desk and wrote down the pertinent facts about the wedding gown she was ordering for Susan, but as she moved the pen across the paper, her thoughts weren’t on dress measurements. Instead they flew straight to Nash. If nothing else, he’d given her cause to think over her life and face up to a few uncomfortable truths. That wasn’t a bad day’s work for a skeptical divorce attorney. It was unfortunate he’d never realize the impact he’d had on her.

Nash was waiting in the booth at quarter after twelve on Thursday, anxiously glancing at his watch every fifteen seconds, convinced Susan wasn’t going to show, when she strolled into the restaurant. A smile lit her face when she saw him. It was almost as if they’d never disagreed, and she was a kid again coming to her big brother for advice.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into the vinyl seat across from him. “I’m starved.” She reached for a salted chip, weighing it down with spicy salsa.

“It’s good to see you,” Nash ventured, taking the first step toward reconciliation. He’d missed Susan and he said so.

“I’ve missed you, too. It doesn’t feel right for us to fight, does it?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re the only real family I have.”

“I feel the same way. We’ve both made mistakes and we should learn from them.” He didn’t cast blame. There was no point.

The waitress brought their menus. Nash didn’t recognize the young woman, which made him consider just how long it was since he’d had lunch with Susan. Frowning, he realized she’d been the one to approach him about a reconciliation, when as the older, more mature adult, he should’ve been working toward that end himself.

“I brought you something,” Susan said, setting her handbag on the table. She rooted through it until she found what she was looking for. Taking the envelope from her purse, she handed it to him.

Nash accepted the envelope, peeled it open and pulled out a handcrafted wedding invitation, written on antique-white parchment paper in gold letters. He didn’t realize his sister knew calligraphy. Although it was obviously handmade, the effort was competent and appealing to the eye.

“I wrote it myself,” Susan said eagerly. “Savannah suggested Kurt and I would save money by making our own wedding invitations. It’s much more personal this way, don’t you think?”

“Very nice.”

“The gold ink on the parchment paper was Kurt’s idea. Savannah gave me a book on calligraphy and I’ve been practicing every afternoon.”

He wondered how many more times his sister would find an excuse to drag the wedding coordinator’s name into their conversation. Each time Susan mentioned Savannah it brought up unwelcome memories of their few short times together. Memories Nash would rather forget.

“Do you like it?” Susan asked eagerly. She seemed to be waiting for something more.

“You did a beautiful job,” he said.

“I’m really glad you think so.”

Susan was grinning under the warmth of his praise.

The waitress returned and they placed their order, although neither of them had looked at the menu. “We’re certainly creatures of habit, aren’t we?” his sister teased.

“So,” he said, relaxing in the booth, “how are the wedding plans going?”

“Very well, thanks to Savannah.” She folded her hands on top of the table, flexing her long fingers against each other, studying him, waiting.

Nash read over the invitation a second time and saw that it had been personally written to him. So this was the purpose of her phone call, the purpose of this lunch. She was asking him if he’d attend her wedding, despite his feelings about it.

“I don’t expect you to change your mind about me marrying Kurt,” Susan said anxiously, rushing the words together in her eagerness to have them said. “But it would mean the world to me if you’d attend the ceremony. There won’t be a lot of people there. Just a few friends and Kurt’s immediate family. That’s all we can afford. Savannah’s been wonderful, showing us how to get the most out of our limited budget. Will you come to my wedding, Nash?”

Nash knew when he was involved in a losing battle. Susan would marry Kurt with or without his approval. His kid sister was determined to do this her way. He’d done his best to talk some sense into her, but to no avail. He’d made the mistake of threatening her, and she’d called his bluff. The past weeks had been miserable for them both.

“I’ll come.”

“Oh, Nash, thank you.” Tears brimmed and spilled over her lashes. She grabbed her paper napkin, holding it beneath each eye in turn. “I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

“I know.” He felt like crying himself, but for none of the same reasons. He didn’t want to see his sister hurt and that was inevitable once she was married. “I still don’t approve of your marrying so young, but I can’t stop you.”

“Nash, you keep forgetting, I’m an adult, over twentyone. You make me sound like a little kid.”

He sighed expressively. That was the way he saw her, as his kid sister. It was difficult to think of her married, with a family of her own, when it only seemed a few years back that she was in diapers.

“You’ll love Kurt once you get to know him better,” she said excitedly, wiping the moisture from her cheek. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” she muttered. Her mascara streaked her face in inky rows.

His hand reached for hers and he squeezed her fingers. “We’ll get through this yet, kid,” he joked.

Nash suspected, in the days that followed, that it was natural to feel good about making his sister so happy. All he’d agreed to do was attend the ceremony. He hadn’t figured out what was going to keep him in his seat when the minister asked anyone who opposed the union to speak now or forever hold their peace. Attending the ceremony itself, regardless of his personal feelings toward marriage, was the least he could do for causing the rift between them.

The card from Savannah that arrived at his office took him by surprise. He stared at the return address on the envelope for a moment before turning it over and opening it with eager fingers. Her message was straightforward: “Thank you.” Her elegant signature appeared below.

Nash gazed at the card for several minutes before slapping it down on his desk. The woman was driving him crazy.

He left the office almost immediately, shocking his assistant, who rushed after him, needing to know what she was supposed to do about his next appointment. Nash suggested she entertain him with some law journals and coffee. He promised to be back in half an hour.

Luckily he found a parking spot on the street. Climbing out of his car, he walked purposely toward the bridal shop. Savannah was sitting at her desk intent on her task. When she glanced up and saw him, she froze.

“I got your card,” he said stiffly.

“I…It made Susan so happy to know you’d attend her wedding. I wanted to thank you,” she said, her eyes following his every move.

He marched to her desk, not understanding even now what force had driven him to her. “How many guests is she inviting?”

“I…believe the number’s around sixty.”

“Change that,” he instructed harshly. “We’re going to be inviting three hundred or more. I’ll have the list to you in the morning.”

“Susan and Kurt can’t afford—”

“They won’t be paying for it. I will. I want the best for my sister, understand? We’ll have a sit-down dinner, a dance with a ten-piece orchestra, real flowers and a designer wedding dress. We’ll order invitations because there’ll be too many for Susan to make herself. Have you got that?” He motioned toward her pen, thinking she should write it all down.

Savannah looked as if she hadn’t heard him. “Does Susan know about all this?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t you think you should clear it with her first?”

“It might be too soon, because a good deal of this hinges on one thing.”

Savannah frowned. “What’s that?”

“If you’ll agree to attend the wedding as my date.”




Five


“Your date?” Savannah repeated as she leapt to her feet. No easy task when one leg was as unsteady as hers. She didn’t often forget that, but she did now in her incredulity. “That’s emotional blackmail,” she cried, before slumping back in her chair.

“You’re right, it is,” Nash agreed, leaning forward and pressing his hands against the edge of her oak desk. His face was scant inches from her own, and his eyes cut straight through her defenses. “It’s what you expect of me, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Since I’m so despicable.”

“I never said that!”

“Maybe not, but you thought it.”

“No, I didn’t!” she snapped, then decided she probably had. She’d been shaken by his kiss, and then he’d apologized as if he’d never meant it to happen. And, perhaps worse, maybe he wished it hadn’t.

A slow, leisurely smile replaced Nash’s dark scowl. “That’s what I thought,” he said as he raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. His fingertips lingered at her face. “I wish I knew what’s happening to us.”

“Nothing’s happening,” Savannah insisted, but her voice lacked conviction even to her own ears. She was fighting the powerful attraction she felt for him for all she was worth, which at the moment wasn’t much. “You aren’t really going to blackmail me, are you?”

He gently traced the outline of her face, pausing at her chin and tilting it upward. “Do you agree to attend the wedding with me?”

“Yes, only—”

“Then you should know I had no intention of following through with my threat. Susan can have the wedding of her dreams.”

Savannah stood, awkwardly placing her weight on her injured leg. “I’m sure there are far more suitable dates for you,” she said crisply.

“I want you.”

He made this so difficult. “Why me?” she asked. By his own admission, there were any number of other women who’d jump at the chance to date him. Why had he insisted on singling her out? It made no sense.

Nash frowned as if he wasn’t sure himself, which lent credence to Savannah’s doubts. “I don’t know. As for this wedding, it seemed to me I could be wrong. It doesn’t happen often, but I have been known to make an error in judgment now and again.” He gave her a quick, self-deprecating grin. “Susan’s my only sister—the only family I’ve got. I don’t want there to be any regrets between us. Your card helped, too, and the way I see it, if I’m going to sit through a wedding, I’m not going to suffer alone. I want you there with me.”

“Then I suggest you ask someone who’d appreciate the invitation,” she said defiantly, straightening her shoulders.

“I want to be with you,” he insisted softly, his eyes revealing his confusion. “Darned if I know why. You’re stubborn, defensive and argumentative.”

“One would think you’d rather…oh, wrestle a rattlesnake than go out with me.”

“One would think,” he agreed, smiling boyishly, “but if that’s the case, why do I find myself listening for the sound of your voice? Why do I look forward to spending time with you?”

“I…wouldn’t know.” Except that she found herself in the same situation. Nash was never far from her thoughts; she hadn’t been free of him from the moment they’d met.

His eyes, dark and serious, wandered over her face. Before she could protest, he lowered his head and nuzzled her ear. “Why can’t I get you out of my mind?”

“I can’t answer that, either.” He was going to kiss her again, in broad daylight, where they could be interrupted by anyone walking into the shop. Yet Savannah couldn’t bring herself to break away, couldn’t offer so much as a token resistance.

A heartbeat later, his mouth met hers. Despite her own hesitation, she kissed him back. Nash groaned, drawing her more securely into his embrace.

“Savannah,” he whispered as he broke off the kiss. “I can hardly believe this, but it’s even better than before.”

Savannah said nothing, although she agreed. She was trembling, and prayed Nash hadn’t noticed, but that was too much to ask. He slid his fingers into her hair and brought her face close to his. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” he asked, his cheek touching hers.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered. She felt his smile against her flushed skin and realized she hadn’t fooled him any more than she had herself. “I don’t know what I am.”

“I don’t know, either. Somehow I wonder if I ever will. I don’t suppose you’d make this process a lot easier and consider just having an affair with me?”

Savannah stiffened, not knowing if he meant what he was saying. “Absolutely not.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a lengthy sigh. “It’s going to be the whole nine yards with you, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she insisted.

“Perhaps not.” Pulling away, he checked his watch and seemed surprised at the time. “I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll give Susan a call this afternoon and the three of us can get together and make the necessary arrangements.”

Savannah nodded. “We’re going to have to move quickly. Planning a wedding takes time.”

“I know.”

She smiled shyly, wanting him to know how pleased she was by his change of heart. “This is very sweet of you, Nash.”

He gestured weakly with his hands, as if he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. “I still think she’s too young to be married. I can’t help thinking she’ll regret this someday.”

“Marriage doesn’t come with guarantees at any age,” Savannah felt obliged to tell him. “But then, neither does life. Susan and Kurt have an advantage you seem to be overlooking.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re in love.”

“Love.” Nash snickered loudly. “Generally it doesn’t last more than two or three weeks.”

“Sometimes that’s true, but not this time,” Savannah said. “However, I’ve worked with hundreds of couples over the years and I get a real sense about the people who come to me. I can usually tell if their marriages will last or not.”

“What about Kurt and Susan?”

“I believe they’ll have a long, happy life together.”

Nash rubbed the side of his face, his eyes intense. He obviously didn’t believe that.

“Their love is strong,” she said, trying to bolster her argument.

Nash raised his eyebrows. “Spoken like a true romantic.”

“I’m hoping the skeptic in you will listen.”

“I’m trying.”

Savannah could see the truth in that. He was trying, for Susan’s sake and perhaps hers. He’d come a long way from where he was when they’d first met. But he had a lot farther to go.

Nash had no idea weddings could be so demanding, so expensive or so time-consuming. The one advantage of all this commotion and bother was all the hours he was able to spend with Savannah. As the weeks progressed, Nash came to know Savannah Charles, the businesswoman, as well as he did the lovely, talented woman who’d attracted him from the beginning. He had to admit she knew her stuff. He doubted anyone else could have arranged so large and lavish a wedding on such short notice. It was only because she had long-standing relationships with those involved—the florists, photographers, printers, hotel managers and so on—that Nash was able to give Susan an elaborate wedding.

As the days passed, Nash lost count of how often he asked Savannah out to dinner, a movie, a baseball game. She found a plausible excuse each and every time. A less determined man would have grown discouraged and given up.

But no more, he mused, looking out his office window. As far as she was concerned, he held the trump card in the palm of his hand. Savannah had consented to attend Susan’s wedding with him, and there was no way he was letting her out of the agreement.

He sat at his desk thinking about this final meeting scheduled for later that afternoon. He’d been looking forward to it all week. Susan’s wedding was taking place Saturday evening, and Savannah had flat run out of excuses.

Nash arrived at the shop before his sister. He was grateful for these few moments alone with Savannah.

“Hello, Nash.” Her face lit up with a ready smile when he walked into the shop. She was more relaxed with him now. She stood behind a silver punch bowl, decorating the perimeter with a strand of silk gardenias.

Her knack for making something ordinary strikingly beautiful was a rare gift. In some ways she’d done that with his life these past few weeks, giving him something to anticipate when he got out of bed every morning. She’d challenged him, goaded him, irritated and bemused him. It took quite a woman to have such a powerful effect.

“Susan’s going to be a few minutes late,” Nash told her. “I was hoping she’d changed her mind and decided to call off the whole thing.” He’d hoped nothing of the sort, but enjoyed getting a reaction out of Savannah.

“Give it up. Susan’s going to be a beautiful bride.”

“Who’s going to be working the wedding?” he asked, advancing toward her.

“I am, of course. Together with Nancy. You met her last week.”

He nodded, remembering the pleasant, competent young woman who’d come to one of their meetings. Savannah often contracted her to help out at larger events.

“Since Nancy’s going to be there, you can attend as my date and leave the work to her.”

“Nash, will you please listen to reason? I can’t be your date.… I know it’s short notice but there are plenty of women who’d enjoy—”

“We have an agreement,” he reminded her.

“I realize that, but—”

“I won’t take no for an answer, Savannah, not this time.”

She stiffened. Nash had witnessed this particular reaction on numerous occasions. Whenever he asked her out, her pride exploded into full bloom. Nash was well acquainted with how deeply entrenched that pride was.

“Nash, please.”

He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. His mouth grazed her fingertips. “Not this time,” he repeated. “I’ll pick you up just before we meet to have the pictures taken.”

“Nash…”

“Be ready, Savannah, because I swear I’ll drag you there in your nightgown if I have to.”

Savannah was in no mood for company, nor was she keen on talking to her mother when Joyce phoned that same evening. She’d done everything she could to persuade Nash to change his plans. But he insisted she be his date for Susan’s wedding. Indeed, he’d blackmailed her into agreeing to it.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages,” her mother said.

“I’ve been busy with the last-minute details of Susan Davenport’s wedding.”

“She’s Nash’s sister, isn’t she?”

Her mother knew the answer to that. She was looking for an excuse to bring Nash into the conversation, which she’d done countless times since meeting him. If Savannah had to do that wager over again, she’d handle it differently. Her entire day had been spent contemplating various regrets. She wanted to start over, be more patient, finish what she’d begun, control her tongue, get out of this ridiculous “date” with Nash.

But she couldn’t.

“Your father’s talking about taking a trip to the ocean for a week or two.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Savannah had been waiting all summer for them to get away.

“I’m not sure we should go.…”

“For heaven’s sake, why not?”

“Oh, well, I hate to leave my garden, especially now. And there’ve been a few break-ins in the neighborhood the last few weeks. I’d be too worried about the house to enjoy myself.” The excuses were so familiar, and Savannah wanted to scream with frustration. But her mother had left out the real reason for her uncertainty. She didn’t want to leave Savannah. Naturally, her parents had never come right out and said that, but it was their underlying reason for staying close to the Seattle area.

Savannah had frequently tried to discuss this with them. However, both her parents just looked at her blankly as if they didn’t understand her concerns. Or they changed the subject. They didn’t realize what poor liars they were.

“Have you seen much of Nash lately?” Her mother’s voice rose expectantly.

“We’ve been working together on the wedding, so we’ve actually been seeing a lot of each other.”

“I meant socially, dear. Has he taken you out? He’s such a nice young man. Both your father and I think so.”

“Mother,” Savannah said, hating this, “I haven’t been dating Nash.”

Her mother’s sigh of disappointment cut through Savannah. “I see.”

“We’re friends, nothing more. I’ve told you that.”

“Of course. Be sure and let me know how the wedding goes, will you?”

Seeing that Nash had spared little expense, it would be gorgeous. “I’ll give you a call early next week and tell you all about it.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Mom, I promise.”

Savannah replaced the receiver with a heavy heart. The load of guilt she carried was enough to buckle her knees. How could one accident have such a negative impact on so many people for so long? It wasn’t fair that her parents should continue to suffer for what had happened to her. Yet they blamed themselves, and that guilt was slowly destroying the best years of their lives.

Nash arrived at Savannah’s house to pick her up late Saturday afternoon. He looked tall and distinguished in his black tuxedo and so handsome that for an awkward moment, Savannah had trouble taking her eyes off him.

“What’s wrong?” he said, running his finger along the inside of his starched collar. “I feel like a concert pianist.”

Savannah couldn’t keep from smiling. “I was just thinking how distinguished you look.”

His hand went to his temple. “I’m going gray?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Distinguished is the word a woman uses when a man’s entering middle age and losing his hair.”

“If you don’t get us to this wedding, we’re going to miss it, and then you really will lose your hair.” She placed her arm in his and carefully set one foot in front of the other. She rarely wore dress shoes. It was chancy, but she didn’t want to ruin the effect of her full-length dress with flats. Nash couldn’t possibly know the time and effort she’d gone to for this one date, which would likely be their first and last. She’d ordered the dress from New York, a soft, pale pink gown with a pearl-studded yoke. The long, sheer sleeves had layered pearl cuffs. She wore complementary pearl earrings and a single-strand necklace.

It wasn’t often in her life that Savannah felt beautiful, but she did now. She’d worked hard, wanting to make this evening special for Susan—and knowing it would be her only date with Nash. She suspected there was a bit of Cinderella in every woman, the need to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, in true love conquering against impossible odds. For this one night, Savannah longed to forget she was crippled. For this one night, she wanted to pretend she was beautiful. A princess.

Nash helped her across the yard and held open the door for her. She was inside the car, seat belt buckled, when he joined her. His hands gripped the steering wheel, but when he didn’t start the car, she turned to him.

“Is something wrong?”

He smiled at her, but she saw the strain in his eyes and didn’t understand it. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, I can hardly keep my hands off you.”

“Oh, Nash,” she whispered, fighting tears. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She shook her head, knowing she’d never be able to explain.

The church was lovely. Savannah had rarely seen a sanctuary decorated more beautifully. The altar was surrounded with huge bouquets of pink and white roses, and their scent drifted through the room. The end of each pew was decorated with a small bouquet of white rosebuds and gardenias with pink and silver bows. The effect was charming.

Seated in the front row, Savannah closed her eyes as the organ music swelled. She stood, and from the rustle of movement behind her, she knew the church was filled to capacity.

Savannah turned to see Nash escort his sister slowly down the center aisle, their steps in tune to the music. They were followed by the bridesmaids and groomsmen, most of them recruited late, every one of them delighted to share in Susan and Kurt’s happiness.

Savannah had attended a thousand or more weddings in her years as a coordinator. Yet it was always the same. The moment the music crescendoed, her eyes brimmed with tears at the beauty and emotion of it all.

This wedding was special because the bride was Nash’s sister. Savannah had felt a part of it from the beginning, when Susan had approached her, desperate for assistance. Now it was all coming together and Susan was about to marry Kurt, the man she truly loved.

Nash was uncomfortable with love, and a little jealous, too, although she doubted he recognized that. Susan, the little sister he adored, would soon be married and would move to California with her husband.

When they reached the steps leading to the altar, Susan kissed Nash’s cheek before placing her hand on Kurt’s arm. Nash hesitated as if he wasn’t ready to surrender his sister. Just when Savannah was beginning to get worried, he turned and entered the pew, standing next to her. Either by accident or design, his hand reached for hers. His grip was tight, his face strained with emotion.

Savannah was astonished to see that his eyes were bright with tears. She could easily be mistaken, though, since her own were blurred. A moment later, she was convinced she was wrong.

The pastor made a few introductory comments about the sanctity of marriage. Holding his Bible open, he stepped forward. “I’d like each couple who’s come to celebrate the union of Susan and Kurt to join hands,” he instructed.

Nash took both of Savannah’s hands so that she was forced to turn sideways. His eyes delved into hers, and her heart seemed to stagger to a slow, uneven beat at what she read in them. Nash was an expert at disguising his feelings, yes, but also at holding on to his anger and the pain of his long-dead marriage, at keeping that bitterness alive. As he stared down at her, his eyes became bright and clear and filled with an emotion so strong, it transcended anything she’d ever seen.

Savannah was barely aware of what was going on around them. Sounds faded; even the soloist who was singing seemed to be floating away. Savannah’s peripheral vision became clouded, as if she’d stepped into a dreamworld. Her sole focus was Nash.

With her hands joined to Nash’s, their eyes linked, she heard the pastor say, “Those of you wishing to renew your vows, repeat after me.”

Nash’s fingers squeezed hers as the pastor intoned the words. “I promise before God and all gathered here this day to take you as my wife. I promise to love and cherish you, to leave my heart and my life open to you.”

To Savannah’s amazement, Nash repeated the vow in a husky whisper. She could hear others around them doing the same. Once again tears filled her eyes. How easy it would be to pretend he was devoting his life to hers.

“I’ll treasure you as a gift from God, to encourage you to be all He meant you to be,” Savannah found herself repeating a few minutes later. “I promise to share your dreams, to appreciate your talents, to respect you. I pledge myself to you, to learn from and value our differences.” As she spoke, Savannah’s heart beat strong and steady and sure. Excitement rose up in her as she realized that what she’d said was true. These were the very things she yearned to do for Nash. She longed for him to trust her enough to allow her into his life, to help him bury the hurts of the past. They were different, as different as any couple could be. That didn’t make their relationship impossible. It added flavor, texture and challenge to their attraction. Life together would never be dull for them.

“I promise to give you the very best of myself, to be faithful to you, to be your friend and your partner,” Nash whispered next, his voice gaining strength. Sincerity rang through his words.

“I offer you my heart and my love,” Savannah repeated, her own heart ready to burst with unrestrained joy.

“You are my friend,” Nash returned, “my lover, my wife.”

It was as if they, too, were part of the ceremony, as if they, too, were pledging their love and their lives to each other.

Through the minister’s words, Savannah offered Nash all that she had to give. It wasn’t until they’d finished and Kurt was told to kiss his bride that Savannah remembered this wasn’t real. She’d stepped into a dreamworld, the fantasy she’d created out of her own futile need for love. Nash had only been following the minister’s lead. Mortified, she lowered her eyes and tugged her trembling fingers free from Nash’s.

He, too, apparently harbored regrets. His hands clasped the pew in front of them until his knuckles paled. He formed a fist with his right hand. Savannah dared not look up at him, certain he’d recognize her thoughts and fearing she’d know his. She couldn’t have borne the disappointment. For the next several hours they’d be forced to share each other’s company, through the dinner and the dance that followed the ceremony. Savannah wasn’t sure how she was going to manage it now, after she’d humiliated herself.

Thankfully she was spared having to face Nash immediately after the ceremony was over. He became a part of the reception line that welcomed friends and relatives. Savannah was busy herself, working with the woman she’d hired to help coordinate the wedding and reception. Together they took down the pew bows, which would serve as floral centerpieces for the dinner.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful ceremony,” Nancy Mastell told Savannah, working furiously. “You’d think I’d be immune to this after all the weddings we attend.”

“It…was beautiful,” Savannah agreed. Her stomach was in knots, and her heart told her how foolish she’d been; nevertheless, she couldn’t make herself regret what had happened. She’d learned something about herself, something she’d denied far too long. She needed love in her life. For years she’d cut herself off from opportunity, content to live off the happiness of others. She’d moved from one day to the next, carrying her pain and disappointment, never truly happy, never fulfilled. Pretending.

This was why Nash threatened her. She couldn’t pretend with him. Instinctively he knew. For reasons she’d probably never understand, he saw straight through her.

“Let me get those,” Nancy said. “You’re a wedding guest.”

“I can help.” But Nancy insisted otherwise.

When Savannah returned to the vestibule, she found Nash waiting for her. They drove in silence to the high-end hotel, where Nash had rented an elegant banquet room for the evening.

Savannah prayed he’d say something to cut the terrible tension. She could think of nothing herself. A long list of possible topics presented itself, but she couldn’t come up with a single one that didn’t sound silly or trite.

Heaven help her, she didn’t know how they’d be able to spend the rest of the evening in each other’s company.

Dinner proved to be less of a problem than Savannah expected. They were seated at a table with two delightful older gentlemen whom Nash introduced as John Stackhouse and Arnold Serle, the senior partners of the law firm that employed him. John was a widower, she gathered, and Arnold’s wife was in England with her sister.

“Mighty nice wedding,” Mr. Stackhouse told Nash.

“Thank you. I wish I could take credit, but it’s the fruit of Savannah’s efforts you’re seeing.”

“Beautiful wedding,” Mr. Serle added. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed one more.”

Savannah was waiting for a sarcastic remark from Nash, but one never came. She didn’t dare hope that he’d changed his opinion, and guessed it had to do with the men who were seated with them.

Savannah spread the linen napkin across her lap. When she looked up, she discovered Arnold Serle watching her. She wondered if her mascara had run or if there was something wrong with her makeup. Her doubts must have shown in her eyes, because he grinned and winked at her.




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Debbie Macomber

Тип: электронная книга

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

Язык: на английском языке

Издательство: HarperCollins

Дата публикации: 16.04.2024

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О книге: Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy′ – CandisFalling in love this summer is forever…Wedding planner Savannah Charles has never thought about her own big day. So when divorce attorney Nash Davenport unexpectedly proposes she is surprised to find herself saying yes. Nash doesn’t believe that love and marriage go together, but Savannah is the most passionate woman he’s ever tried not to love…Sherry Waterman’s definitely attracted to the good-looking and stubborn Cody Bailman, but he has neither the time nor the patience for romance. Fortunately – or unfortunately! – Cody’s twelve-year-old daughter is determined to play matchmaker, because Sherry is just perfect for her dad!

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