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Sweet Child of Mine
Jean Brashear


While seeing his town through a life-threatening crisis, Prosperino mayor Michael Longstreet faced his own crisis–his powerful family was demanding that he produce a bride! Only Suzanne Jorgenson was desperate enough to enter into this hasty arrangement.Because this raven-haired beauty needed a husband to get custody of the child she'd lost long ago. But once Michael sealed their pact with a kiss, the fire that had always sparked between them became a four-alarm blaze. And that changed everything. Because Suzanne was now about to become his bride in every way!









“Are you saying you can’t resist me?” Michael asked.


“Of course not,” Suzanne snapped. “It’s just—”

“There are two doors between us. You can shove a chair under the knob if you think your charm is so fatal that my self-control will fail.”

She thought of hot, deep kisses and his hard male body pressing into hers—but she reminded herself that she’d just seen a side of him she hadn’t known. He’d just demonstrated how unsuitable she’d always known they were.

This man had women aplenty only too happy to fall into his arms.

“Fine. But knock before you enter the dressing room, and I’ll do the same.”

He nodded. “I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready to leave. Look around all you want. I have no secrets.”

She watched him go, mouth agape at the blatant falsehood. Maybe he really believed that, but she knew she’d never met a more complicated or mystifying man in her life.







Meet the Coltons—

a California dynasty with a legacy

of privilege and power.

Michael Longstreet: Prosperino’s golden boy. He’d grown up with his wealthy parents granting his every wish. But now they have a wish of their own—for him to find a bride ASAP….

Suzanne Jorgenson: Tireless social worker. Only one man can get under her skin, and now a small child’s welfare depends on her marrying him!

Bobby Roper: Lost-and-found child. Now that his adoptive parent can no longer care for him, he’s about to be reunited with the one woman who has never stopped loving him.

Rafe James: The very private P.I. He has some ideas about who might be responsible for the town’s current crisis—he just doesn’t know how personally involved he’s about to become….




Sweet Child of Mine

Jean Brashear





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




About the Author


JEAN BRASHEAR

A Texan to her toes, award-winning author Jean Brashear still couldn’t help falling in love with Northern California from the moment she saw it, so the invitation to be part of a series set there was thrilling. An avid reader from childhood, she has been in love with romance almost as long as she’s been in love with books. She considers Silhouette a wonderful fairy godmother for giving her the chance to share that love with readers, as the joy of writing stories is one that never pales. She welcomes mail from readers at P.O. Box 40012, Georgetown, TX 78628 or via the Silhouette Web site at www.eHarlequin.com.


To my beloved brother Buddy and his lovely Liz,

and to their sweet Jackie, Jimmy, Justin, Joey

and Jenny, with great affection and heartfelt thanks

for cheering me on.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve




One


“Michael, your father just wants to know that you’ll have someone of your own. We worry about you being alone. He needs the peace of mind.”

“I’m not alone, Mom. I have plenty of friends.” Michael Longstreet leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the desk, and squeezed his eyes shut. Telephone cradled on one shoulder, he stared out his law office window. The quiet of Prosperino’s Main Street in early February was something he normally looked forward to, but this year was anything but normal.

His town was in trouble. His father’s heart was giving out. His mother, usually so relentless in her need to meddle in his life, had turned frail overnight.

“And I had someone,” he continued to make his case. “I had Elaine.”

“I know.” Her voice fell. “I can’t help thinking that if we’d given our blessing to your marriage, she and the baby would still be alive.”

No, Mom. That’s not on your shoulders. That blame is all mine. “Mom, don’t—”

“It’s just that he worries about you.”

“I know.” It was an old record, the grooves worn thin. “But there’s no reason to worry. My life is fine. I’ve got my work and my duties as mayor—” He glanced at his watch and shoved to his feet. Rory Sinclair, the FBI expert investigating the contamination of the Hopechest Ranch well, had asked for a meeting that would begin in half an hour.

“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry. There’s a meeting about Hopechest. I’ll stop by and see Dad in the morning, all right?”

“Michael, will the town’s water be all right?” She sounded old, all of a sudden. Tremulous in a way that worried him.

“Sure it will,” he said, with a confidence he couldn’t back up with facts. It was his main task lately, projecting assurance so that people wouldn’t panic. “The FBI is on the case and they’re getting close, they tell me. We’ll know soon what made so many people sick.” He stood up, ran his fingers through his hair and wondered when he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again. “Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go now, but don’t you worry. I can’t magically produce a wife to make Dad happy, but I’ll talk to him again, make sure he sees that I’m just fine. I’ll figure out a way to ease his mind.” And he would, just as he’d always done his duty by his family.

With one notable exception.

He listened to his mother for another few moments, made sure that she was steadier before he said good-bye. Then he glanced at his watch again, grabbed his jacket and strode out the door.

Mayor Longstreet was on the job.



Something was wrong with Suzanne Jorgenson.

That evening Michael frowned, watching the slender, dark-haired social worker standing so quietly at the podium. The emergency city council meeting was jammed with anxious citizens, all talking at once.

A voice lifted above the rest. “Michael, how do we know this DM—uh—”

“DMBE,” he supplied. He’d only heard of the substance an hour ago himself.

“Whatever,” the man in the second row shouted. “My wife’s pregnant and we’ve got three other kids. What makes you think the contaminated water is only at Hopechest Ranch?”

Michael leaned closer to his microphone, praying for the right words. The air was thick with fear. A full-blown panic wasn’t far off.

“The only people who’ve gotten sick have been either kids who live at Hopechest or townspeople who work there.”

“Why would anybody want to poison a ranch full of kids?” someone asked.

“Those kids are troublemakers. Even their parents don’t want them,” said a disgruntled voice.

Finally Michael saw a spark in Suzanne’s deep violet eyes. Her long hair swung as she turned quickly to pin the speaker with a glare. “Just because it’s been forty years since you had kids around, Homer Wentworth, doesn’t mean you have no responsibility to help those less fortunate.”

Michael tried not to gloat. Old Wentworth wanted to raise the drawbridge around his property and ignore the rest of the world—until his taxes were impacted.

He’d picked the wrong person to spar with. Suzanne Jorgenson was passionate about one thing beyond anything else: troubled children. In the months since she’d come to Prosperino, he’d seen the raven-haired beauty standing at the podium in city council chambers many times—usually chewing him out for all the shortcomings of the city he ran, full of suggestions for ways to better the lives of Prosperino’s neglected children. She would work herself into the ground to give them the love and support she firmly believed should be every child’s God-given right.

Michael was accustomed to the crackle in the air from her boundless well of energy, her St. George-against-the-dragon flair. He would even admit to enjoying baiting her simply to see the sparks flare from those bottomless eyes. There was very little that was restful about the social worker whose primary responsibility was the unwed mothers at Emily’s House. Hopechest Ranch had not been the same since her arrival a year ago.

But no one was peaceful in Prosperino now—not with the threat of a contaminated water supply hanging over them. And tonight was a night for pulling together, not butting heads.

He tapped his gavel for order and leaned toward his microphone. “Homer, I want to assure you and all the citizens of Prosperino that every possible avenue is being explored to protect the safety of the citizens. The city wells are being monitored—”

“Some folks think it’s best to leave town, Mayor.” This from an elderly lady near the back.

“That’s up to the individual, of course. For myself, I’ll be staying here. I have every faith that we’ll soon know how DMBE got into the well at Hopechest. In the meantime, we have experts standing by, generously paid for by Joe Colton, who are working night and day on a solution to removing the substance from the water, should it reach the town’s water supply.”

There was a smattering of applause for the town’s leading citizen, Joe Colton, and his wife, Meredith. The dark-haired older man nodded his head in acknowledgment.

Michael waited for the applause to fade. “Our next concern is what to do with the children at Hopechest who haven’t fallen ill. Blake, could you tell us more about what you need?”

Blake Fallon, director of Hopechest Ranch, was standing beside Suzanne and nodded. “We’re looking for as many as thirty homes in which to place one or two of the kids. We’d prefer them to not stay at the ranch, even with water being trucked in, until we can be sure it won’t happen again.” His voice was calm as always. A less steady man would never have lasted at Hopechest.

“Blake,” Joe Colton called as he stood up, tall and distinguished. “Meredith and I have a solution we’d like to offer. We have plenty of room on the ranch for the kids who need a place to stay. That way they wouldn’t have to be split up.”

Suzanne stirred. “Mr. Colton, the girls at Emily’s House need special diets, along with transportation for regular doctor’s visits. Are you sure about this?”

Joe nodded. “Hopechest Ranch is our baby.” He smiled fondly at the wife he’d almost lost. “This feels right to us. The staff at Hopechest can set up the usual routines for however long our quarters are needed. We’ll do everything possible to meet the needs of these very deserving children.”

Michael wanted to chuckle when some of Suzanne’s normal sass revealed itself in the triumphant look she shot back at Homer Wentworth.

That was more like it.

Blake Fallon smiled broadly. “Thanks, Joe. We’ll do everything in our power to make this as easy on you and Meredith as possible. Won’t we, Suzanne?”

The long fall of her straight black hair shimmered on her shoulders as Suzanne nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”

“All right,” Michael said. “The city secretary will be placing a daily update on the city’s Web site, and for those of you who insist on pretending the Internet doesn’t exist—” he grinned good-naturedly “—a printed memo will be posted on the bulletin board outside city offices.”

He scanned the room and waited for total silence to fall. “My father is very ill and I have no intention of moving him out of Prosperino, nor do I plan to leave myself. That’s how sure I am that it will all work out. I want every citizen of this town to know that all possible resources are being tapped to ensure their safety, and I have every faith that we will succeed. You all know where my office is—hell, most of you wind up on my front porch at one time or another.” He grinned as laughter traveled around the room.

“I’m not going anywhere and I’m available whenever you have a question, all right? We’re in this together, and I won’t rest until we get this puzzle solved. Now, anybody have another question?” He waited patiently, but no one spoke up.

“All right, then. This meeting is adjourned.” He brought the gavel down and rose, pulling his battered leather jacket from the chair behind him. Within seconds, people surrounded him, all wanting answers he didn’t have, but he would do his best to soothe them, to instill confidence in the government he headed. That was his job as mayor and a duty he held sacred. This town was his responsibility, just as were his dying father and his frightened mother.

Michael Longstreet had had one spectacular failure as a young husband and father and it had cost him the family he should have saved.

Never again would someone in his care suffer.



“Let’s go talk to Joe and see how soon he can take the kids,” Blake Fallon said.

Suzanne flicked a glance toward the dais where Michael Longstreet held court. With her accursed sensitivity to the emotional temperature of her surroundings, Suzanne felt the anxiety of the crowd pummel her already battered nerves, but she could feel the lowering of the tension around her.

Thanks to Mr. Mayor’s glib tongue.

“Suz?” Blake broke in. “Did you hear what I asked?”

“Oh—yes. Sure. Let’s go.”

That was a cheap shot, calling him glib. Yes, Michael Longstreet had the devil’s own silver tongue. He could probably call the birds down from the trees. He’d certainly gotten the upper hand often enough when she’d tangled with him. She glanced back toward the dais and saw his shaggy, sun-streaked brown hair as he towered above most of his constituents. In his usual jeans and boots, no one would guess he was a graduate of Yale and Georgetown Law School, smart, rich and, yes, too good-looking. When he could have been a partner in any Wall Street firm, why had he come back to Prosperino?

She didn’t know and couldn’t care. As she walked toward Joe and Meredith Colton, she could only be concerned about the kids of Hopechest Ranch. She had eight homeless pregnant girls at Emily’s House. Despite the doctor’s reassurances, they were still worried about the effects of DMBE on their babies.

Then there were the forty-eight kids at Hopechest Ranch right now, some of whom were at delicate stages in their emotional development. She’d have to find extra time to keep meeting with the kids, one on one, to monitor their emotional well-being.

A light touch on her arm brought her up short. “Suzanne, you look tired. This must be very hard on you and Blake,” said Meredith Colton, gracious and elegant as always, her warm brown eyes filled with sympathy.

“The whole staff’s pretty tired. No one’s gotten much sleep since this thing started.”

“But are you sure that’s all that’s wrong? You seem so—” Ever the soul of discretion, Meredith didn’t continue.

As soon as she could get away, Suzanne was going to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide from the bombshell that had been dropped right into her dreams just as she was about to leave for the meeting tonight.

Joe Colton and Blake looked at her oddly, and Suzanne straightened. She would lick her wounds in private. “I’m just fine. It’s the kids I’m worried about. Tell us how you want to work out the details of turning your beautiful home into an orphanage.”

Joe and Meredith laughed and even Blake, exhausted and worried as he was, cracked a smile.

Suzanne shoved away the blues and concentrated on the children under her care.



“See you in the morning, Blake.” Michael waved at his troubled friend. “Go get some sleep. It’ll all be here tomorrow.”

Blake shook his head. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“We’re going to lick this, buddy. Your friend Sinclair broke the case, and the FBI’s now involved. The EPA guys are champing at the bit after Inspector O’Connell’s death. We’ll find out who and why and what we have to do. Joe’s brought all his resources to bear, too.”

“But what if—”

Michael knew exactly what Blake meant. He wouldn’t be sleeping soundly at night until they knew for sure how the DMBE got into the Hopechest water and could be sure it hadn’t traveled into the city’s wells. But he’d learned long ago that lying awake didn’t do anything but make you too tired to deal with tomorrow. “Tomorrow, Blake,” he said firmly. “No more for you tonight.” With a friendly push, he sent his friend toward his car. “Home. Sleep.”

Blake saluted, got into his car and drove away.

Michael stood on Prosperino’s Main Street and looked around him at the town where his childhood memories had been born. He thought of the son who’d never ride his bike on these streets, never climb a tree. He felt an echo of the old, gut-wrenching pain and looked up at the stars.

Not one parent in Prosperino is going to lose a child, I swear it. I will not rest until everyone here is safe again, no matter what it takes.

There was nothing he could do to safeguard the woman and child buried, along with his heart, a continent away. There was nothing he could do to make his father’s long-damaged heart mend. Nor was there anything he could—or would—do to satisfy his father’s dying wish for Michael to marry.

But he could expend every ounce of his determination and strength to keep the citizens of this town safe. Corny as it might sound, they were his responsibility. He had taken an oath to serve this town that was so much a part of him, of his family’s heritage, and he would honor that oath.

Michael’s senses registered the breeze through the trees, the muffled sounds of slow, small-town living. Suddenly he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was starving. His gaze lit on Ruby’s Café, the heartbeat of Prosperino. He didn’t feel like going home to an empty house tonight. Ruby’s, it was. With quick strides, he headed down the block.

When he entered the café, quiet at this late hour, he was stopped at every occupied table or booth by people seeking reassurance. He did the best he could, though it had been a very long day and all he really wanted was some peace and quiet and food.

He spoke with the last group and traded handshakes all around, then headed for his favorite back booth.

But it was occupied—by the very woman he’d been worried about earlier.

Staring into a coffee cup, looking utterly lost, Suzanne Jorgenson seemed to gather what little light made it into that corner of the room. Sleek and straight, her black hair fell past her shoulders, veiling her face as she leaned forward, her head in her hands.

Suzanne was a good foot shorter than his own six four, but her will was so strong and her spirit so indomitable that she’d always seemed taller. Tonight she looked fragile and vulnerable, and it shocked Michael so much that he wasn’t sure whether to go to her or retreat.

But he’d never been much for retreating.

“Mind if I join you?”

Her head jerked up, and he could see that she’d been crying. On her lovely face was a look of such despair that it didn’t matter how tired he was. Instead of waiting for an answer she seemed too dazed to give, he sat down. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment the old sparks flickered in those stunning violet eyes. “I don’t recall inviting you to sit down, Mr. Mayor.” But he heard the tremble in her voice.

“So sue me. What’s wrong? The kids are going to be okay, I swear it. We’ve got lots of people working on this. The ranch isn’t alone anymore.”

“It isn’t—” She stopped, but he could see temptation flicker.

He cocked his head. “Is there something about the ranch I need to know? Something you and Blake haven’t told us?”

She shook her head slowly. “It’s not the ranch. It’s—” She glanced away. “Nothing. Not anything you need to worry about.”

But she was worried, desperately so. He made his living reading people—in court, in depositions, in the confidences they shared with him. He also knew the value of silence. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders and a willing ear to spare.”

When her gaze flickered over him, measuring those shoulders, Michael felt an answering response, and the strength of it surprised him. Well, all right, it wasn’t like he’d never looked at her as a woman. But most of the time she was a pain in the behind, always involved in some cause or other, always trying to push for the city to pitch in, always impatient with the pace of bureaucracy.

But he had noticed she was female. She was slender though definitely curved in all the right places. You couldn’t look at her with those big violet eyes and those knockout legs and not know she was all woman. If she’d use that delectable mouth for something besides arguing with him over every line of the city budget as though the only important causes were hers—

He caught himself staring at that mouth and turned away quickly, calling out his order to Ruby.

“No date tonight, Mr. Mayor?” There it was, that tone she used, that snotty tone that made him—

She didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was making her cry, so she must be out to pick a fight.

He wasn’t going to cooperate. “Nope. No date. Doesn’t look too good for the head of the emergency management team to be playing while the Titanic sinks.”

Her eyes went wide, and she shifted in the booth. “Oh God, the kids—”

He stopped her with one raised palm. “It was a joke, Jorgenson. All right, a lousy one, but I’m a little punchy. We’ve been putting in some long nights lately.”

Suddenly her eyes softened. “Blake’s exhausted.”

“I’ll bet you are, too. You’ve been at the hospital every day and all that driving back and forth to the ranch trying to keep the kids calm has to be wearing you out. You should be home asleep, you know. You won’t do them any good if you wind up in a bed beside them.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Careful, Longstreet. I might get the idea that you’re a decent guy.”

He shrugged and grinned. “I even have a mother who thinks I’m pretty terrific. Go figure.” He watched her closely. He took one more stab, keeping his tone light. “So if it’s not the ranch, is it some deep, dark secret that I can exploit the next time you’re haranguing me at the council meeting?”

She made a halfhearted attempt to rise to the bait. “Can’t help you there. Sorry.”

The waitress walked up with his food, and Suzanne fell silent.

Michael didn’t speak either but tucked into his meal, savoring the first bites of Ruby’s meat loaf from heaven. After he’d satisfied the initial hunger pangs, he looked at Suzanne again, observing the slim fingers clutching the coffee cup until her knuckles turned white.

He went on impulse. “Give me a dollar.”

Her head jerked up again. “What?”

“Give me a dollar.” He spied the change beside her cup and grabbed it. “Never mind. Thirty-seven cents will do.”

“What are you doing?”

“You just hired me as your lawyer. Now I can’t reveal to a soul anything you tell me. So spill it, Suzanne. Something’s eating you up and you need to talk about it.”

She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

Then the tears spilled over.

“I’m going to lose my son. For the second time.”




Two


“You what?” Michael’s deep green eyes widened. The shock of sun-streaked brown hair that always fell over his forehead bounced as his head reared up. “You have a son? Where is he?”

“He’s in Sacramento with his father. Well, not his—” Yes, Jim Roper was Bobby’s father, the only one he’d ever known. “He’s with his father.” She lapsed into silence.

She expected a volley of questions, but instead Michael waited her out.

She reached for the saltshaker on the table in front of him, sliding it around in aimless circles until she realized what she was doing and jerked her hand back, trapping it in her lap. “I—” She glanced up once, then down quickly, but he didn’t look impatient. Instead he sat there, fork still, simply watching her with only concern in his eyes.

“Your food will get cold. Go ahead and eat,” she said.

“My food can wait. Talk to me, Suzanne.”

The gentle tone was something she’d never heard from him. They’d always been too busy striking sparks off each other, arguing vigorously in one meeting or another.

She realized that she’d never been alone with Michael Longstreet before. There was a stillness about the man that seeped beneath her skin, a patience that made her realize how much she needed to talk to someone.

“I had to give him up for adoption.” She kept her eyes on her coffee cup. “I didn’t want to, but it was the right thing to do. I was sixteen. I couldn’t have cared for him the way he deserved.” She couldn’t risk a glance upward, couldn’t bear seeing if his expression disapproved. No matter how often she’d told herself she’d done the right thing, it still hurt. She’d still wanted her baby back, sometimes so much she thought she couldn’t last into the next breath.

Anyway, it was done. It was over—or it had been over. But not anymore.

“A few months ago I received a call from Jim Roper, the man who adopted my baby. Bobby—”

She looked up then and couldn’t help a smile. “His name is Bobby. He’ll be ten soon.” And oh, how she wanted to celebrate his birthday with him. Wanted to bake him a cake with her own hands and blow up balloons and do all the things she’d wanted to do every March 28th of the last nine years.

“What happened to his biological father?” Michael asked.

She glanced away. “He didn’t want a baby. His future was too bright, he said. Too much of his life ahead of him. He offered me money for an abortion and made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with a child he doubted was his own.”

A low curse issued from Michael’s throat, and she gathered the courage to look back. She saw his eyes darken with outrage, but on his face she saw more than that, a swirling of strong emotions she couldn’t define. “I’d never been with anyone else. Fool that I was, I actually thought we were in love, this rich man’s son and the daughter of a plumber.” A rich man’s son like the one who sat before her.

Michael didn’t miss the accusation in her voice. If only she knew. He’d made the opposite choice from her rich boy and married the waitress his parents tried to buy off, knowing his parents would cut him off without a penny. Feeling righteous because he loved her so much.

His foolish pride had ultimately cost his wife and unborn baby their lives.

Michael jerked his dark thoughts back to the woman across the table. “He didn’t deserve you. He wouldn’t have made you happy.”

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “But I could have kept my baby—” She grasped her napkin in white-knuckled fingers and sniffed hard, forcing the tears back. “No, you’re right. I know I did the best thing for Bobby, but—” Her hands fluttered from the table, palms up in helplessness.

“So now you fight like a tigress for other people’s children.”

The violet gaze shifted to his, the thick black lashes still shimmering with tears. The corners of her full mouth tilted slightly, and she nodded. “I guess so.”

“So what’s happened now, tonight?”

The faint smile vanished. She twisted the paper napkin through her fingers. “When Jim Roper contacted me, it was because Bobby had been wanting to meet his biological mother. His adoptive mother died five years ago, and Jim has been raising Bobby alone.” Her face brightened in a way he’d never seen. “He’s done a good job. Bobby’s a bright, healthy, energetic boy who’s very secure in the love he’s been given.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “I was so afraid to meet Bobby, even though Jim and I agreed to take it slow and not tell him yet that I was his mother. Give him time to get used to me, to decide if he liked me without all that pressure.” Moisture glistened again, one slow tear trailing down her cheek. “He likes me, but I’m so afraid that he’ll hate me when he knows.” The napkin tore in her fingers. “And now it’s too late.”

Michael frowned. “Why?”

“Jim hasn’t been feeling well. He finally went to the doctor last week and found out that he’s got pancreatic cancer. He doesn’t have long. He wants me to take Bobby.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Her head snapped up. “Of course I do, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But Jim’s wife has a cousin named in his will as guardian if anything happens to Jim.”

“So? He can change the will.”

“He’s afraid she’ll contest it because I’m single and I don’t have a long job history or much money. The cousin is married and is financially secure.” She looked up at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such misery in his life. “I understand. I do. Jim doesn’t have much to leave for Bobby, so he needs to be sure Bobby’s in the best hands. It’s just that—” Her voice broke, and he saw her shoulders shake. “I feel like I’m losing him all over again. Jim says he believes that I’d be the best mother, but he admits that the cousin would be good to Bobby and she’s got all the things that I don’t.”

“Like a husband and solid financial footing?”

Her eyes sparked as she nodded. Her voice was fierce when she spoke. “But I have love, so much love. All the love he could ever want. And it’s going to be so hard on him, anyway, losing Jim. He doesn’t know this cousin, and he really likes me, I know he does. Jim says so, too, says he’s never seen Bobby take to someone so quickly.

“Isn’t this ridiculous?” she asked through a sheen of tears. “It sounds like a great soap opera plot, I’m sure.”

Michael shook his head. “In your work and mine, we both see a lot of messy situations. Life is like that.”

“Mine’s not. Not usually.”

“Want me to see if I could negotiate something? It’s what I do for a living, after all.”

She shook her head. “Jim is too sick. I’m worried about the strain on him. He’s holding it together for Bobby right now, but I think it’s sheer will. He needs a quick and easy solution, and the easiest thing is just to give in and not fight this. Maybe I’m being selfish, wanting Bobby back so badly.”

Remembering how badly Elaine had wanted their baby, Michael shook his head. “You gave him up once, despite what you wanted. I don’t think selfish applies.”

She ran the fingers of one hand through the long, silky mane and tried to smile. “Jim said it was too bad I couldn’t just order up a husband. He thinks he could get the cousin to back off if he’s able to show her that I could give Bobby as much as she could.”

She glanced up at Michael. “Know any likely candidates, Counselor? Since you’re on retainer and all, I might as well get my money’s worth.” She strove for lightness, but in her eyes swam pure misery.

Michael thought about his conversation with his mother and almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny. Just hours ago he’d been gnashing his teeth, wishing for a way to ease his father’s last days but unable to stomach the hypocrisy of searching for a temporary wife.

He shook his head. Surely he couldn’t seriously be considering the obvious option. He had the solution for both of them right in his hands, but—

He knew he couldn’t rule it out. Fate was a quirky, ill-tempered witch, but every once in a while, she smiled your way. “What would you do with this husband if you found him?” He strove for a casual tone.

“I’d kiss his feet if he’d help me get my son.”

“You only want a man long enough to get custody of your child, is that it?” He didn’t know why that pricked at his temper. It was perfect. All he wanted was a way to make his dad happy for whatever time remained. He had no heart left to give a woman.

But Suzanne didn’t look cynical. Just worn and sad. “My only concern has to be Bobby right now. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. There’s no candidate running around.”

Michael took a quick glance out the window, wondering if he could really do this.

Then he looked back at the woman across from him, and the slope of defeat in her shoulders tugged at his conscience. He could help her out and make his dad happy at the same time. She didn’t want more than he could give. All her love would go to her son. If he were the one dying and having to leave a son behind, he’d want that son to have a mother’s love as fierce as Suzanne’s.

“Maybe there is someone.”

Her head jerked up. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny, Michael. Please…I don’t feel like sparring now.”

“I’m not sparring. And I’m not joking. Maybe I’ve got a solution for you.”

Any hesitation he felt was doomed, once he saw the flare of intense joy in her eyes. Quickly, she banked it, holding herself stiffly as if afraid to trust his words. Her tone was guarded as she responded. “And what might that solution be?”

Here goes nothing. He felt a swift inner clench as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You could marry me.”



Suzanne would have thought despair had dulled her capacity for shock, but obviously not. Dire as her situation was, she felt stunned laughter bubble up in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”

Eyes the color of moss by a mountain stream never wavered. “I’ve got all the qualifications—money, stability, solid background, good reputation.” He grinned, though it seemed a little forced. “Even got all my teeth.”

Her shocked laughter died out quickly. “I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?”

He clucked his tongue. “Such a cynic.” But she caught the hollowness in his eyes as he glanced away.

“Michael, this is ridiculous.”

His gaze clicked back to hers. “But it solves your problem, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, and unleashes about a zillion more. We can’t even be in the same room without arguing. We’re as different as night and day. You’ve got a different future. One of these days you’re going to fall in love with one of the babes you’ve always got stashed away, have a rich baby or two and live the perfect life in a perfect house.”

“No.” His jaw flexed. “I’m not falling in love again. Not ever. That’s over for me.” For one instant, something dark and wounded peered out from deep inside his eyes. Quickly he shuttered them, so quickly she might have imagined it.

The very thought shocked her. She’d never thought of Michael Longstreet as anything but on top of his game. That was the man everyone knew: easy to laugh, comfortable inside his skin, a confident leader of men. She’d never thought his razor-sharp mind capable of being clouded by the messy emotions real people felt.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

One sharp glance told her the topic was closed for discussion. He shrugged, then flashed her the old killer grin she’d seen charm any number of women since she’d first met him. She’d never thought of it as hiding anything but idle rich-boy carelessness before.

“Don’t change the subject. It would solve your problem, right?” he asked.

Suzanne blinked, then shook her head. “Why would you do such a thing? Especially for me. You don’t even like me.”

“That’s not true.” His tone was emphatic. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He shoved his plate away and leaned closer. “I like your mind.” When she snorted, he didn’t give. “No, it’s true. I respect your mind and your passion for what you do. I don’t have to agree with your approach in order to respect you or to know that you’re motivated by the best of intentions.”

“Then why are you so often the roadblock for my ideas?”

“Because you’re impulsive and you let your heart rule your head. You go off half-cocked. You can’t expect the whole world to fall in line simply because it feels so right to you. People don’t work that way.”

“You are so wrong.” Suzanne’s temper spiked.

Then she heard him chuckle.

One dark eyebrow lifted as she illustrated his point perfectly.

She shoved her fingers into her hair. “It would never work. We’d kill each other and Bobby would be an orphan again.”

His eyes softened. “I don’t think it would go quite that far, as long as we gave each other wide berth.”

A spark of hope glimmered. “So it would all be a sham? We’d only pretend to be married?”

“We’d have to make it legal. I’d imagine Jim’s cousin would check. You’d have to live with me.”

“Not forever, though. Just until I could adopt Bobby legally. Then she could never take him.”

“We’d have to both adopt him. The courts aren’t going to give custody in a situation where the husband doesn’t want to be involved. As a birth mother who has terminated her rights in order for him to be adopted in the first place, you’re no different in the eyes of the court than Joe Blow off the street.”

She knew it was true, but hearing it from him was like a knife blade to the pain she’d carried around ever since the day she’d signed those papers.

“I don’t understand you at all. Why would you want to do this?”

His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”

“Uh-uh. No dice, Rich Boy. I had to spill my guts, now you start talking, too.”

For a moment his eyes looked hard and cold as ice. He glanced away, then sighed deeply. He studied the scarred tabletop as he spoke. “My father has been ill for many years. Ever since I was twelve and he had a massive heart attack, his health has been precarious and every day was a bonus. For too many years I forgot that, but I’ve tried to make it up to him since I moved back.” He glanced up quickly through thick brown lashes. “He had pneumonia this winter, and it put a terrible strain on his already-damaged heart. His doctor says he’s weakening pretty dramatically lately. I can see it myself.”

He stopped and toyed with his glass of iced tea, skimming wet circles on the table. She tried not to notice his long fingers, his capable hands. Then he looked at her squarely. “He wants badly to see me settled, wants to see me happily married and building a future like the one he’s always wanted for me.”

“But I can’t—”

He shook his head vigorously. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. That’s not my future. I like my life just fine as it is.”

“So what is this, Michael? Why are you talking to me about—”

“I could give him the illusion. That’s little enough for me to do. I can’t do anything else for him anymore, but I could do this. I could give him a reason to think that the future he’s convinced I need is within reach. He won’t last long enough for me to give him a grandchild, but I could give him the hope, if you’d help me.”

“What about Bobby? I couldn’t stay married too long. I wouldn’t want Bobby to get attached to you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. He’s young enough not to care about the legal issues. I’ll just be a friend. I actually like kids a lot.” There it was again, that swift stab of pain in his eyes. “But I won’t try to win your son over. And as soon as permanent custody is granted and my dad is gone, we can get a painless divorce. I’ll pay child support—I can afford it. I wouldn’t want your son to suffer because of any of this.”

She stiffened. “You aren’t going to buy me off. I’m through with rich boys buying their way out of things.”

“I’m not the rich boy who hurt you, Suzanne. If monthly support isn’t acceptable, then let me give you a settlement for his college education.”

“This isn’t about money. If we did this crazy thing, I’d be responsible for all my expenses and Bobby’s.”

A tiny smile flickered on that too-handsome face. “I doubt you make enough to pay my electric bill.”

“I’m not going to be indebted to you for money.” Just as she felt temper flaring, she beat it back. He was being decent, and her pride was striking out.

Suzanne reached across the table for his hand. The feel of his skin jolted her, made her very aware of the reality of what she was doing. But she was also deeply grateful. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to leaning on other people. I can’t lean on you. If I could do this alone, I would, but you’re right. It’s a godsend. I don’t want your money, though. It’s enough—more than enough—that you’d do this to help me get back my son.”

She could feel tears threatening, but she couldn’t give in. In the morning they’d probably both decide that the whole idea was insane. But just in case, she had to set the ground rules.

“Separate bedrooms. If my money won’t go far enough, we’ll keep an account. I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll play whatever part is needed to convince your father.” She drew a deep breath. “And no settlement at the end.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You can’t tell me what to do with my money. If I want to set up a college fund for the boy, I’ll damn well do it.”

“You will not—” She exhaled in a gust and fell back against the booth. “This is hopeless. It would be worse for Bobby to go into a home where there’s fighting than to be with Jim’s cousin.”

“I never took you for a quitter,” he said, settling back against the booth. But his eyes bored into her. “It’s not hopeless unless you let it be. Difficult, yes, but not hopeless. We’ll put on a great show in public and give each other wide berth in private.”

“And what will Bobby think? He’ll be there in private with us.”

“We’ll keep things very civil and pleasant. You can restrain yourself enough to do that, right, Suzanne?” His gaze dared her to admit she lacked self-control. “I’ll be good to the boy, I told you that. You’ll give him the love he needs. You’re the expert on children, and you want to raise him alone anyway. If he doesn’t get attached to me, it will make things easier in the long run. But that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.” His smile was wry. “Believe it or not, any number of people seem to think I’m pretty good at being a friend.”

Shame washed over her. He was making her a very generous offer, giving her a path to a dream she’d held so long that it had woven itself into the fiber of her soul. She could have her son back, and all she had to do was to pretend to be happily married to Michael when they were out in public.

He wasn’t an ogre. He never had been. They didn’t see eye to eye on politics, but he’d never been unkind to her. There was more than a little truth in his assessment—she led with her heart, always had. Just because he didn’t wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t her way.

“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if you’re crazy about Bobby and don’t want to let me have him?”

“That—” his voice grew tight “—will not happen.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, Suzanne, if you want me to put it in writing, I will. I don’t want a family. I don’t need one.”

“Why not?” She’d often thought him some sort of Casanova, some perpetual playboy with an Ivy League mind. Now she knew she’d judged him too quickly. There was a story here, and she wanted to know it.

“I had a family I loved very much. They’re gone. End of story.”

She’d heard once that he’d been a widower for years, but no details. “What happened?”

She was shocked to see his eyes hollowed out by grief. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

Shame washed over her again. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away.

There was pain here, and it was deep. Why had she never suspected? He’d perfected his cover, that was why. She had bought the fiction of a man who was everyone’s friend, whose life was a breeze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s over.”

He was dead wrong. He’d erected barriers fathoms deep and oceans wide, but he hadn’t dealt with his grief, merely buried it.

His demeanor made it abundantly clear that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. And truthfully, he’d just given her the best assurance she could have that he wouldn’t want to claim her son. He had a child of his own who still resided in his heart, alive or not.

She should accept this boon for what it was—a very generous gift. He had reasons to need this marriage and so did she. They were reasonable people. And it was only for a little while. Only temporary. She’d lived with a hole in her heart for ten years. She’d have her child back, the child she’d never quit missing. She could play her part in the charade that would make that possible.

“All right. I think we understand each other and what we need and don’t need, what we want and don’t want. You’ll help me get my son, and I’ll help you make your father happy. As soon as possible, we’ll go our own ways, but in the meantime, we’ll deal together as reasonable people and try to make it as easy on each other as we can. Deal?” She held out her hand.

His mood lightened. His mouth quirked in a grin. “You won’t strain something trying to be reasonable, will you?” He closed his large, warm hand over hers, and she felt the jolt again.

“It depends. Do you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor?”

He laughed then, dimples winking, his even white teeth flashing. For one second, something inside her shivered as his very maleness swamped her.

“No. I have my faults, but that’s not one of them.”

She pulled her hand away, but she could still feel the heat of him buzzing beneath her skin. “Have we lost our minds, trying this?”

“Probably. But let’s do it anyway.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “Walk out with me. We need to get started convincing people that we’re a couple.”

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand in his, let him tug her to her feet.

But he didn’t stop there. He pulled her into his arms and before she could react, lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was quick but lethal. Michael lifted his head and stared at her, his own confusion mirroring hers.

Suzanne knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. The sense of safety in his strong arms was seductive. It felt far better than it should.

Mistake, her mind kept trying to say to her.

But before her voice could catch up, Michael lowered his mouth to hers once more.

And this time it wasn’t quick. It wasn’t casual.

It was more lethal. Devastating. When one arm tightened around her and the other hand slid into her hair, Suzanne felt her legs turn to jelly, her brain overload.

All the fire that had sparked between them in words in the past raced to a four-alarm blaze when they touched. As though they belonged to someone else, her arms slid around his trim waist, her hands sliding over the long muscles of his back, her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.

Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. His powerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.

Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.

Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.

“This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”

She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.

“It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.

Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”

There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.

She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.

One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.

“Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”

She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.

So she just patted the hand that lay on her shoulder and smiled for the audience. “Reasonable, that’s right. Now get me the devil out of here.”

Michael laughed and led her outside.




Three


Warm rays of sunlight on his face awakened Michael. He levered himself up from the bed, not happy that he’d overslept. A glance at the clock told him he’d have to hurry to squeeze in his morning run. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then slid them upward through his hair.

And then it hit him.

He fell back on the mattress, arms outspread. The night—and his impulsive gesture—came flooding back.

He was going to get married. To Suzanne Jorgenson.

Jerking upright, he pulled on a pair of ancient sweats and shoved his feet into his running shoes. He barely spared a glance for the treasured panorama from his bedroom but as he crossed to the hallway door, his gaze fell on the connecting door that led from his bedroom to an old-fashioned dressing room…and then to the bedroom Suzanne would have. The house had been built by a San Francisco shipping magnate in the last century and it had four bedrooms, two large and two small, all on the second floor. He used one of the smaller ones for an office, and the boy would need the other, which left only the room originally designed for the magnate’s wife.

Separate bedrooms had seemed perfectly reasonable last night, but that was before that last kiss. Now he wondered if maybe these weren’t separate enough.

Michael began his warm-up stretches, his mind lost in thought.

He should have expected it, he guessed, that swift punch of need. It was an understandable reaction to the wealth of passion he’d already seen in Suzanne’s devotion to her causes. He had to admit that he’d wondered, sitting there on the dais watching her eyes spark as she argued fervently over one thing or another, if that fervor would translate to the physical.

He’d underestimated how much. And seriously underestimated his own reaction to it. The woman would strip a man of every rational thought and leave him happily witless.

Suzanne might be small, but she packed a punch.

But that wasn’t the part that worried him most. For all that she could make a man want, it was the new vulnerability he’d seen in her that gave Michael pause. This was a dangerous game they would play—assuming she wasn’t having second thoughts as huge as his.

He’d have to track her down this morning and take a good look in her eyes. Given how badly she wanted her son, he suspected she’d go ahead, no matter her doubts. And he’d given his word, so he wouldn’t retract his offer.

He finished his last stretch and cast one more look at that connecting door.

Shaking his head, he pounded down the stairs. He’d hate to drill into the antique doors, but locks were made to control temptation, if he needed them. Kissing Suzanne last night had been an impulse but a very good lesson. Having her close would be a constant physical temptation, but he had his warning.

He’d have to be very careful. A woman like that could make a man lose his head. Good thing he wasn’t a man who let his body rule his mind.

But that kiss, that feel of her pressed against him—

No. Suzanne needed his help, and he was a man of his word. If she still wanted to go through with it, he would not let her down nor let physical attraction complicate an already thorny situation.

He raced out the front door and let the cold air slap sense into him.



Suzanne slipped out of the last room housing one of her charges and walked down the hallway of Emily’s House, already thinking about Monday’s move of the kids to Hacienda de Alegria, the Colton ranch. Mentally compiling her to-do list, she was lost in thought when she heard his voice. Her gaze arrowed toward the man who’d made last night a very bad one for sleep.

Michael stood with a couple of staff members and Dr. Jason Colton, patiently answering questions about the water crisis. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Suzanne was free to look her fill. She needed to do it, to put him into some perspective. To remember that he was merely extending a helping hand in return for her help in solving his own problem. That was all this was, nothing else. A simple, bloodless, temporary marriage that each of them needed for different reasons.

If only he didn’t look so good. Dressed in his usual jeans and boots and wearing a long-sleeved forest-green shirt, he held his leather jacket over his shoulder with two fingers. Tall and so at ease in his skin, he smiled and laughed easily as he talked with the trio.

She wondered if anyone else in Prosperino knew he was a fraud. That Mr. Romeo Rich Guy had a heart that had never healed after a loss he refused to discuss.

She wanted to know what had happened, but he’d made it very clear that the topic was off limits. And maybe it was better that way, she thought as she watched his dimples flash around a smiling mouth.

Because that mouth was a problem. Suzanne lifted one hand and pressed her lips, still able to feel the touch of his.

No wonder he had hot and cold running women. The man could kiss…oh, how he could kiss. She’d have to add one more item to the list. Separate bedrooms weren’t enough.

No kissing. No touching. Only her son could matter, and her plans were clear. She needed this sham of a marriage only until she could make Bobby hers again. Michael had promised to keep his distance, but she could already feel how keeping her own could become a problem.

Just then he looked up and saw her. Quickly she dropped her hand, but she couldn’t seem to move.

He said something to the group and shook hands with Dr. Colton, but he hardly took his eyes off her. With that long ambling stride of his, he headed in her direction, his gaze holding her in place.

“Good morning,” he said, the smooth baritone voice sliding easily over her jangled nerves.

She slid one finger beneath her hair and tucked it behind her right ear, gripping the strap of her purse tightly with her other hand. “Good morning.”

He studied her. “You didn’t sleep. You need to rest, Suzanne. You’re worn out.”

Why was it he could make her temper kick up so easily? “I’m perfectly fine. You needn’t worry about me.” She subjected him to the same perusal. “How did you sleep?”

The broad shoulders shrugged. “I slept great. Overslept, in fact.”

Damn him. He did look rested, at least more so than she felt.

A long pause ensued.

Michael broke it. “Have you had breakfast?”

She shook her head. “I’m not much on eating first thing in the morning.”

“Well, I’m starved. I only had an apple after my run.” He held out a hand. “Come have breakfast with me and we’ll make plans.”

Carefully, she avoided touching him. Taking his hand last night was where the problem started. “I’m not really hungry, but I suppose we do need to talk.”

Michael’s smile was too perceptive. He walked beside her down the hall and leaned closer. “So you’re not chickening out?”

Suzanne turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Not if it’s still what you want.”

What she wanted? Did she want this? She wanted her son, yes, but if there were any other way…

“Calculating your options?”

She saw his knowing smile. Why did he have to be so big, so thoroughly male? Feeling the heat of his big body beside her, she was thrown back into last night, into how safe she’d felt tucked against him.

Safety was seductive, a luxury she couldn’t afford. The last time she’d felt safe, she’d been fifteen and wildly in love. It had been her last fling with innocence, with wholehearted abandon. The price had been high. Too high.

She settled for honesty. “I wish I could see an option, but I can’t. Only giving up Bobby, and I won’t do that again. What about you? Surely you’ve come to your senses and know how insane this is.”

“I gave you my word, Suzanne. I don’t welsh on commitments.” Her hair had swung out from behind her ear as she turned. With one long finger, he tucked it back.

Her breathing deepened. Everything stood still.

Then someone opened the door beside them. With a jolt, she blinked as if awakening from a dream.

Michael broke the contact, putting out one hand to hold the door open for her.

Suzanne brushed past him, very, very careful not to touch.



They were back in Ruby’s. Back in the same booth. But not the same people they were last night.

Michael sipped his coffee and studied the woman across from him. She was no longer in despair, but she was nervous. Really nervous. Her napkin was twisted and shredded on the ends.

“Suzanne, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I promise I’m not an ogre.”

Her head jerked upward. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Look, we don’t have to do this, you know. It’s going to be tough enough if we cooperate. Being at odds will only make things harder.”

She dropped her napkin and exhaled. “I know. I’m sorry. I just—” She stopped, stared behind him. Her face underwent a major change into horror, and she leaned forward, whispering. “Oh, no. Here comes Homer Wentworth’s wife.”

Michael leaned toward her. “Then I’d say we’d better put on a good show for the town gossip if we want to sell that we were overcome by passion and couldn’t wait.” He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. When she sucked in a quick breath, he reminded himself that this was all for show.

“Is she still looking?”

“Hmm?” Suzanne stiffened and looked behind him. “Oh. Yes.”

“Then you might want to smile as though you like it.”

“Right.” Quickly she treated him to a blinding smile.

He squeezed her hand and tried to ignore the jolt that accompanied every time he touched her. “That’s good. Maybe a little contrived, but—”

Suddenly she leaned across the table and put her mouth on his.

Just as quickly, she sat back on her seat, her violet eyes wide and a little too bright.

He knew how she felt. Maybe if they kissed a lot, it would get ordinary.

Yeah, right.

She arched one raven eyebrow. “Was that more convincing?”

Michael had to chuckle. Damned if he’d let her know that the punch landed straight to the gut. Whimpering might have been tempting, but it wouldn’t do for the mayor to howl at the moon. Especially on a bright Wednesday morning. “Yeah.” He exhaled forcefully. “That should work.”

“So,” she said with the faintest quiver in her voice. “How shall we do this?”

“I think Tahoe is our best bet. This weekend. We spend the rest of the week showing people that the sparks they’ve seen flying at council meetings have turned to something new, so it seems in character. Scales falling from the eyes, that sort of thing. We got under each other’s skin and one day we realized why.”

Her eyes were huge and uncertain as she studied him, but after a moment she nodded and looked down at her coffee cup. “I suppose that’s the best angle, some sort of physical reaction that got out of control. We can pretend that it’s true, that we got swept away. Then when it’s over, we’ll just say that we were too hasty. Didn’t take enough time to know the other as a person.”

Pretend that it’s true? There was too much truth in it for comfort. She was lying to herself if she said otherwise. The body doesn’t lie, and he’d felt her respond to him. She couldn’t have missed his response to her.

But let her lie to herself all she wanted. It would make it easier for him to keep his hands to himself except in public.

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely and resisted a smile. “So how about if I make arrangements in Tahoe for Saturday? We can leave that morning and be back that afternoon.”

“It’s close to a five hour drive. We’d need to leave early.”

“We’ll be there in less than an hour. We’ll take my plane.”

She blinked, then her eyes widened. “You have your own plane?”

He shrugged. “It has its uses.”

Her voice cooled noticeably. “Right. Useful.”

“What?” He didn’t like her look.

“Nothing.” She glanced away.

“What, Suzanne? Remember Mrs. Wentworth behind us. It doesn’t look good for you to be scowling at me. That’s the old routine, remember?”

She glanced past him and pasted on a smile.

“That’s better. Now tell me what the problem is. Are you afraid to fly?”

She shook her head.

“Afraid to fly with me? I’m a good pilot. Not one accident, and I’ve been flying since I was sixteen. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? What’s the problem?”

She dropped the smile and leaned closer. “You’re really rich, aren’t you? Not just well-off but honestly rich.”

He shrugged. “I’m not Bill Gates, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that people will think I’m marrying you because you’re rich.”

He leaned closer. “Suzanne, I have a news flash for you. You are marrying me because I’m rich.” With a chuckle, he slid one hand into her hair and kissed her quickly, then let her go and tried to dodge the punch to his senses. “I guess it’s up to you to convince people it’s my body you’re truly after.”

He grinned, but it wasn’t funny, the corner they’d painted themselves into.

But laughing seemed the only solution.



On Saturday, Suzanne heard the knock on the door of the tiny garage apartment where she lived. She glanced in the mirror one last time and saw her bloodless cheeks.

Was she crazy? She was about to marry a man she barely knew, a man with whom she had nothing in common but a need to appear to be happily married. It certainly wasn’t her girlish dream of her wedding day. She’d imagined the long white dress, the orange blossoms, the tall, handsome groom who was crazy in love with her.

Michael Longstreet was tall and handsome, but that was the only similarity she could find.

He knocked again, and she snapped shut her lipstick and left the tiny bathroom, not even stopping to check her appearance in the mirror. If she let herself reflect on the difference in this deep purple wool dress and the long white gown of her dreams, she was afraid she would break down.

Today was for Bobby’s sake. That was all that could matter. Even as she thought of his name, his dear face leaped into her mind, the black hair like her own, the blue eyes of his father. The precious sprinkle of freckles over his nose. He would be taller than her, thank goodness. Already his head came up to her shoulder.

She would walk over hot coals for her child. She would never, ever leave him again. She should count herself lucky that Michael Longstreet’s need for her help in his own masquerade dovetailed so nicely with hers.

That settled, she drew in a deep breath, crossed to the door and opened it.

With just one tiny hitch, her heart settled back into its normal beat. Yes, Michael looked wonderful in the camel sweater that brought out the rich brown of his hair, the bright streaks sunlight had left. Yes, his mossy green eyes and thick lashes tugged at her, pulled her toward the drowning pool of his appeal.

But today wasn’t about Michael’s sex appeal, potent as it was. It was about Bobby. Only Bobby. So Suzanne worked up a neutral smile. “I’m all ready.” She turned away to retrieve her purse and coat.

Michael snagged her arm and turned her back toward him. “You look really nice.” He glanced down at his jeans. “I’ve got a suit in the car, but it’s easier to pilot a plane in comfortable clothes.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” From behind his back, he retrieved a small, perfect nosegay of violets, delicate lace flaring out from the edge. “You’ve never been married before, right?”

Too shocked to speak, she took them from his hand and brought them to her face. She shook her head while she breathed in the delicate fragrance.

“You’ll have the wedding you want one day, but there’s no reason this day has to be stark and sterile.”

Suzanne glanced up and found golden flecks around the pupils of his mesmerizing green eyes. Her heart flooded with an unfamiliar emotion. She swallowed hard. “This is very kind.” She batted back the tide that would swamp her if she let it. It would be foolish to see this as more than the gesture of a man who had dealt well with many women. “This isn’t a real wedding day, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

He studied her for a long moment. She stood there under his perusal and fought the urge to shrink away. There was something very serious in those eyes, something that tugged deeper than she wanted to feel.

“You can still back out, Suzanne. No harm, no foul.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Do you want me to back out?”

His answer didn’t come quickly. Then he shook his head and exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what I want.” His grin was wry as he rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “I want to make my father happy. I want to help you with your son. But this feels so—”

“Calculated?” she supplied.

He dropped his hand and his eyes showed his appreciation. “Yeah. I never thought of myself as a romantic. Hell, I’m a lawyer. Logic is my life.” He grinned then, that slashing white smile that brought out those devastating dimples. “But I’m not big on taking vows I don’t intend to fulfill.”

She understood completely. His admission warmed the chill that had settled in her bones. “I know. I feel the same way.” She took another whiff of the violets to steady herself.

“How about if we look at it this way?” she said. “We’ll do our best to live up to the vows we can until it’s time for this pact to end. We don’t love each other, and we can’t pretend that we do. But we can honor and respect each other and do our best to deal well together, knowing that we’re really doing this for other people who need us.”

He gazed at her intently, but he didn’t speak.

She wasn’t sure why she needed to convince him; perhaps the argument was one she needed to hear. “We are doing a good thing, Michael. We’re trying to help people we love, and love demands sacrifices. I think I can live with the difference between this day and a real marriage if you can, knowing that it’s the only way I can do the right thing by my son. Is knowing how happy your dad will be enough reason for you?”

Michael smiled, and this time his eyes held a fondness she hadn’t seen before. “Yeah.” He exhaled and his shoulders settled. “I think it is.” He didn’t touch her, but his gaze was almost a caress. “Thanks, Suzanne. That helps. I wasn’t comfortable wondering if I was rushing you into something you’d regret.”

She smiled then. “We may both regret this heartily before we’re done, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s what we need to do, that we’re doing it for good reasons.”

The dimples flashed again. “The strain of not arguing may kill us.”

“I have no intention of not arguing with you. You’re wrong too often.”

Michael laughed. “That’s the Suzanne I know.” He walked past her and picked up her coat. “All right, Ms. Jorgenson. Your chariot awaits.”

The time for second thoughts was past. Suzanne picked up her purse, took one more sniff of the violets for courage and took her first steps into a future that was anybody’s guess.




Four


She sat in the passenger seat, stiff as a board, her fingers clutched tightly around the violets. She was so damn delicate, despite her fierce will.

“I really am a good pilot, I swear,” Michael said soothingly.

Her dress was simple and almost severe, her hair done up tightly in a sophisticated twist. But tiny tendrils escaped around her neck and ears, reminding him that beneath this too-still woman lived the fire-brand he thought he knew. She turned his way.

“I’m sure you are. I’ve just never flown so…close to the ground.” She glanced away. “Really, it’s very interesting.” But her voice quavered, just a bit.

“You’re afraid of heights.”

She started to shake her head, then glanced at him, a tiny glint in her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. Somehow this seems so…real. I’ve flown before, but never on such a small plane.”

Michael wanted to laugh. His Bonanza was not considered small, especially compared to his first plane, a Piper Cub. But it was no 757, that was for sure. You felt the experience in this, instead of the distant feeling a jumbo jet conveyed. “You could close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think that’s likely.” Her lips turned up slightly. “Actually, I want to like it. I’m just not good at looking down.”

“So you’d just as soon I didn’t do logrolls, I guess.”

He saw her swallow hard, but her grin was brave. “Unless you just really need to do one, I think I’ll pass.”

Michael laughed. He’d never expected to like her this much. “I think I’ll survive.”

She drew in a deep breath, and he tried not to notice how the soft purple wool clung to her very lovely curves. “Thank you.”

Before too long, they were on approach to the small Tahoe airstrip. He explained the mechanics of what they were doing, and she took it all in, asking intelligent and probing questions. It wasn’t really a surprise; Suzanne was a very intelligent woman. Only a very smart mind could tangle so successfully with his own as often as she had done in the past.

They touched down, and he heard Suzanne’s heartfelt sigh of relief.

He laughed. “I told you I’d get you here safely.”

She grinned. “And I believed you. It’s just that—”

“I could teach you to fly, you know.” What was he offering? They wouldn’t be together that long.

“I don’t—” Her eyes sparked. “Really?”

That was also the Suzanne he thought he knew. Bold and adventurous. “You’d have to study. How are you at math?”

Her chin tilted. “I’m good. Well, pretty good.” She glanced over. “Okay, not great.”

He laughed. “You’ll have to look down sometimes. You ready for that?”

“I might surprise you.”

Oh, you do that already, Suzanne. “Once we get back and you get settled in, we’ll see if you can spare the time.”

She went suddenly quiet. He concentrated on taxiing to the terminal. Finally, she spoke. “Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen your house. Will I—” She paused. “Will I fit there?”

He thought back to her apartment, which, though small, burst with life, from the plants she had at every window to the quilt folded over her sofa. His house had been constructed with fine craftsmanship, but he’d never made it as much a home as she had done with a tiny place she couldn’t even call her own. “You know that quilt on your sofa?”




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