Her Necessary Husband. Sharon Swan
you considered how your daughters would feel about your remarrying?” she asked.
His expression sobered. “I’m not saying that the change wouldn’t have its rocky moments. There are bound to be some. But everything I’ve done since the day they were born has been with their happiness in mind, believe me.”
She believed him. In fact, his solemn tone made her wonder if he had already given up some of his own happiness in exchange for theirs. No, that was ridiculous, she told herself in the next breath. This man had been part of the ideal family. Whatever happiness he’d lost had been stripped from him by fate when he’d lost the perfect woman to share his life.
Jenna sighed to herself. How would that woman’s successor, no matter who she was, ever be able to compete with perfection?
“SO YOU DIDN’T get the housekeeper’s spot, but he wants to possibly offer you the job of wife.” Peggy O’Brien’s aquamarine eyes were wide, the flush of excitement on her cheeks nearly as red as the shiny curls brushing her shoulders. “What in the world did you tell him?”
“I finally agreed to think about it.” Jenna lounged back in a well-worn recliner set in one corner of a cozy family room, thinking that the O’Brien home, a ranch-style house located on a cheerfully rowdy street in a middle-class neighborhood filled with children, was usually a place that promoted relaxation. Unfortunately it wasn’t having that effect on her tonight.
She’d waited until Peggy’s five-year-old son, Tyler, had been put to bed and her loving husband, Jack, was puttering in his workshop off the garage before sharing that day’s startling events with her longtime friend from grammar school. When Peggy and Jack had invited her to stay with them during her job search, she had readily accepted.
“You have to think about the chance to marry Ross Hayward?” From her seat on a plump chintz sofa, Peggy crossed her arms over the front of the white T-shirt she wore with jeans and shook her head in wonder. “He’s got everything going for him, Jen. Looks, smarts, an excellent reputation in the community and a good income coming in from his business. He is definite husband material and—” Peggy wiggled a reddish brown eyebrow “—the man is probably one heck of a lover, as well.”
“He’s also a man who isn’t madly in love with me,” Jenna reminded her. “As I’ve explained, this wouldn’t be a traditional marriage. More one of convenience, in fact, than anything.”
“Hmm.” Peggy’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “Does that mean separate beds?”
Jenna cleared her throat. “Maybe in the beginning,” she replied, “but he frankly expects that to end at some point.”
“So the relationship wouldn’t be minus the normal physical aspects,” Peggy summed up. “Probably not for too long, at any rate. Which means you’d have the opportunity to find out exactly how good a lover he is.”
At the moment Jenna couldn’t imagine sharing a bed with the man who’d rendered her speechless that day. “I won’t be finding out anything if he never actually proposes. Or if he does, for that matter, and I decide to decline.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Peggy said. “You actually think you can turn this guy down?”
Because she was a long way from sure of the answer, Jenna countered with a question of her own. “Why not? Most people, even the least romantic of them, would probably think twice about entering into this kind of marriage, you know. Plus there’s the fact that I’m me. And he’s…him.”
“If you’re implying that you weren’t born high enough on the social ladder for him, Jen, my temper is going to get the better of me.”
Peggy’s staunch defense of her—their—less-than-upscale roots had Jenna smiling a truly genuine smile for the first time in hours. “No, I’m not implying that,” she said. “But you can’t argue the fact that Ross Hayward and I were born into very different kinds of families.”
Peggy raised one delicately boned shoulder in a shrug. “So what? Diversity isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Could be the Haywards would even profit from some new blood being added to the mix.”
“They seem to be doing just fine with the mix they have.” Jenna had to say it. “As far back as I can recall, they’ve been a good-looking bunch, and the two young girls I met today are certainly no exception.”
“Yes, ‘angelically fair’ would describe both whenever I’ve seen them around town, I agree. But then, how could they miss with the combination of genes from their father and…” Peggy’s voice trailed off as she steepled her fingers and tapped them together. “I think we’re getting to the heart of the matter here,” she continued after a second. “Unless I’m badly mistaken, your reluctance to consider the many merits of strolling down the aisle with the biggest catch in town has a lot to do with who he married first.”
Busted, Jenna reflected with a rueful twist of her mouth. “Okay, so maybe it does. But, my Lord, Peg, he had Cynthia Morgan to come home to every evening.” And to go to bed with every night. “You have to remember how she always looked—and acted.”
“Uh-huh. The stunning blonde with the polished poise most of our particular group would have given our eyeteeth to have at the time we were going through our awkward stage,” Peggy said. “Then again, she was older than we were.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Jenna advised. “Cynthia never had an awkward stage. She probably entered the world holding her tiny head high and greeting the doctor who delivered her with a gracious smile.”
“And you’re thinking that she’d be a hard act to follow,” Peggy surmised with a shrewd glance.
Jenna could hardly deny it. “Sure, I am. What woman who knew her could resist thinking along those lines?”
“Maybe none—but you’re the woman he’s at least considering making wife number two,” Peggy reminded her. “And not because he’d have any trouble finding someone else to wear his ring if he wanted to put the least bit effort into it, as we both know. Instead, though, he’s apparently setting his sights on you. Whatever his reasons, that has to count for something.”
“Yes, it does,” Jenna acknowledged. Truth be told, she couldn’t help feeling flattered. Not that it would be wise to get too caught up in that feeling, her more practical side told her. Still, no matter what it said, her pulse picked up a beat every time her mind drifted back to that afternoon.
To him. “You can handle whatever you have to if you take that walk down the aisle,” Peggy declared, regaining Jenna’s attention. “Ross Hayward isn’t the only one who has a lot going for him.”
“Oh, if the whole thing ever came to pass, I can deal with the cooking and housekeeping part,” Jenna said with confidence, although honesty forced her to admit, privately anyway, that Myra Hastings might not be an easy act to follow, either. Not when it came to maintaining a spotless house decorated mainly in white—or as much of it as Jenna had seen, anyway.
“You can handle the mothering part, too,” Peggy assured her. “You not only helped raise your sisters, but from what you tell me, you’ve had recent experience riding herd on kids, as well. Heaven knows, you already have Tyler wrapped around your finger. You didn’t scream when he pulled out the fake spider that looks real enough, goodness knows. It’s made you tops on his list.”
“He’s a great kid,” Jenna pronounced without hesitation, and fully meant it.
Peggy grinned a plainly proud grin at that compliment to her offspring. “Thanks. Watching you with him, it’s easy to see that you like children, and I’ll bet they generally like you, which goes a long way toward what’s needed to make a good mother, at least as far as I’m concerned.”
Jenna mulled that over for a second. “I guess you have a point there. To me, caring about kids—not just caring for their needs—has to be a prime ingredient in what makes a good mother. And stepmother, too,” she added firmly.