The Wedding Bargain. Lisette Belisle
could she leave him stranded in the rain?
The small powder-blue car slowed to a stop.
Drew groaned inwardly. He thought he’d seen the last of her. Olivia. Now here she was again. He kept walking, hoping she’d get the message and drive on.
No such luck.
The horn beeped once, twice. Her persistence simply amazed him. When she reached to open the door, heat rushed out of the car.
“Do you want a ride?” she asked, her voice casual, but friendly, with that soft feminine persuasive note that could probably melt an iceberg.
Drew wasn’t totally immune.
For a moment, he searched his brain for any excuse, some glimmer of common sense that would keep him from accepting her invitation and getting further involved with her, this woman who made him ache just by looking at her.
He looked up and then down the highway, hoping for a reprieve, any sort of transportation that didn’t come with a delicate blonde in the driver’s seat. Unfortunately no one else was going his way. Just then, he felt the rain penetrate another layer of his clothes. Despite the chilling reminder of his present circumstances, he was still tempted to refuse her offer.
Then common sense came to his rescue.
Drew tossed his gear into the back seat. Avoiding Olivia DeAngelis wasn’t worth getting a case of pneumonia. He hoped.
“Thanks,” he muttered, folding his considerable length into the small passenger seat of her car. He couldn’t resist an irritated, “Do you make a habit of picking up strange men?”
Her eyes widened. “But I know you.”
He sighed. “Lady, you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“The waitress vouched for you.”
Biting off a few choice words, Drew said, “She never set eyes on me before I walked in there tonight.”
“But she knows your family.”
Drew stared at her in disbelief. “And that does it for you?”
“Why not? Is there something wrong with them?”
“No, of course not,” Drew muttered, refusing to be drawn into that sensitive topic. “But that isn’t the point.”
“Then, exactly what is?” She tilted her head. Definitely not an airhead, he decided. Sharp intelligence and stubborn determination gleamed in her gray eyes when she insisted, “You did me a favor when you repaired my car. I always pay my debts.”
Always?
He wondered if that was true.
For a moment, the overhead light illuminated the interior of the car, flickering over her bright hair and fair skin. In that instant, every detail about her registered in his mind, like an indelible stamp that would linger long after she did.
His gaze drifted lower. At some point, she’d unzipped her black leather jacket. Underneath, she wore a white tailored shirt and a snug-fitting suede vest. The look might have been severe, except for the whimsical needlework, roses and primroses, embroidered along the front panels. The vest hugged her, drawing his attention to the slender curve of her waist, the faint shadow between her breasts.
Drew dragged his eyes away from that sweetness, taking in the fine pulse beating in her throat. Her eyes looked wide—and wary—not totally trusting. Apparently she wasn’t as brave, or as bold, as she appeared on the surface.
That look of vulnerability melted his irritation.
The interior car light wavered, then blinked off, shutting out her image.
“Just drive,” Drew said, trying to dismiss her.
But his senses were filled with her. He smelled chocolate, and apples, and Olivia—a floral scent he couldn’t quite identify though it nagged at him, tantalizing, yet innocent and fresh. Soft music played on the radio, flutes and drums—no doubt meant to be soothing—but the rhythm and the rain threatened his last ounce of resistance.
He hadn’t been this close to a woman in five years—and he didn’t plan to start with a delicate blonde with a sweet smile and false bravado. She was obviously too young, early twenties, he guessed, and she made him feel every single one of his thirty-two years. He’d gone into prison a cocky young man and come out older. The gap between them was more than years and couldn’t be breached.
An awkward silence fell between them, splitting the air with tension. They drove north, at times passing a town, a blur on the landscape. Long stretches of open farmland and deep dark forests that looked dense and forbidding at night whizzed by.
At an intersection, her voice startled him. “I forgot to ask—you are going to Henderson?”
“Yes.”
“Are you staying long?”
So now they were going to make conversation. “Only a few days. That’s it.”
“Oh.” After a couple more failed attempts at conversation, she subsided into silence.
Drew preferred that to expanding their acquaintance. A relationship—even a fleeting one—wasn’t in the cards. Nevertheless, he was aware of her. A few miles later, when she visibly drooped, he noticed. “Why don’t I take over?”
The offer surprised Olivia.
“Thank you. I could use a break,” she said, grateful for his consideration. She was exhausted.
They traded places. Olivia slid along the seat, while Drew got out and went around to the driver’s side. After adjusting the seat to accommodate his long legs, he shifted the car into gear.
Olivia reached for a blanket from the back seat, then wrapped it around her shoulders. She sighed. Her eyes felt scratchy. Yet she couldn’t sleep. She dreaded going home alone.
Stone’s End would seem empty, the rooms filled with everyday reminders of Ira. Like so many, her memories of him were bittersweet. Nothing in Olivia’s life had ever been simple. From the first, Ira had seen past her flimsy defenses.
Through some hereditary alchemy, he’d recognized a certain trait in her and known how desperately she wanted to belong, how much she loved Stone’s End and everyone there—long before she knew it herself. Over the last four years, she’d grown to love Ira Carlisle; she thought he loved her. But then, he left the will, and now she wasn’t so sure.
Why did love always have conditions?
Why wasn’t she ever enough?
Earlier that day, she’d consulted a lawyer who termed the situation “awkward,” as if finding a husband to meet the terms of her father’s will was nothing more than an easy stroll down the aisle with a besotted bridegroom. Olivia had seen what love could do, and undo. Far better to rely on herself. In any case, there was no groom in sight, besotted or otherwise.
She had every reason to avoid marriage. Her parents were divorced before she was born. Among her mother’s many marriages, the one to Mike DeAngelis had been the most stable, but even that hadn’t lasted long—just long enough for Mike to adopt Olivia when she was ten. He’d given her a sense of security for the first time in her life. Out of loyalty, she still used his name.
She stifled a yawn, regretting that she’d changed her mind about staying overnight in Bangor and canceled her hotel reservation. Only hours ago, she’d waved her brother, his wife and their four children off at the airport. They’d be back in mid-December at the end of the Cornell University semester. She was going to miss them!
Nevertheless, she’d urged Jared to go when he offered to cancel his plans to present a wildlife lecture series, part of a prestigious grant connected to his veterinary practice.
Jared was concerned about her. Before leaving, he’d asked her not to do anything rash to comply with Ira’s will. Olivia had promised.