Her Necessary Husband. Sharon Swan
firm answer. “I must have been around twelve, and I remember standing chest-high in one of the drifts.”
Jenna sipped her coffee. “That was the year it was nearly over my head in spots.”
“And did you build the biggest snowman you could, as I did?”
“Mmm-hmm. My sisters and I made fast work of it, too, since snow seldom lasted for long here. We tied a bright red scarf around his neck, as I recall, and thought he looked very dashing—until he started to lean to one side and promptly fell over. Then we consoled ourselves with a snowball fight.”
“I recall a few of those myself,” he told her. “Being an only child, I relied on my friends and a cousin around my age to provide a satisfying battle. We usually wound up half burying each other in the stuff.”
Jenna laughed, and found that it felt good. Somehow the thought of very young Ross Hayward covered from tip to toe with snow put her more at ease. It wasn’t like her to let her nerves rule, which they mostly had since he’d arrived on the O’Brien doorstep to pick her up. She usually had a much better hold on them.
Certainly her escort had done nothing to foil her efforts in that respect, either. This might not be quite the normal version of a first date, but so far he’d made no reference to the startling suggestion he’d come up with days earlier. She could only be thankful that he hadn’t brought it up again, because at this point she was still a long way from sure how she would respond if he actually wound up proposing.
At the moment it was far easier to put herself to the task of being a genial companion. With that in mind she kept up her end of a casual conversation, which remained centered on the past as they talked about the grammar school they’d attended and the first-grade teacher who’d taught several generations of the city’s residents.
“I haven’t seen Miss Hester since I got back,” Jenna said. “I wonder if she’d remember me.”
“My guess is she would,” Ross replied. “Although she’s over eighty now, she’s still as sharp as a tack. I think she really runs half the town, although no one will admit it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I could never get away with anything with her,” Jenna confessed.
He leaned back in his chair. “Neither could I, despite the fact that we’re related, at least through marriage.”
Now Jenna was surprised. “You are?”
“Yes. My grandfather married Hester Goodbody’s sister.”
Harmony was indeed, she thought, a small community. “I do know that your grandfather was mayor at one time.”
“That’s right. And,” he added, “there’s a possibility that I’ll be running for that office, too, provided our current mayor decides not to run for reelection.”
“Would you really want to do that?” she had to ask, again surprised. He’d seemed content with his business career.
“My grandfather would have wanted it,” he told her.
But that wasn’t the question she’d asked, Jenna noted.
She also noticed the lack of any mention of his father. And maybe that wasn’t quite so surprising. She’d heard about the events that had taken place during the time she’d been away. As far as her friend Peggy knew, the distinguished-looking man Jenna had little trouble recalling hadn’t set foot in Harmony since he’d abruptly walked out on his wife in favor of, as rumor had it, a far different lifestyle in California. As to the woman he’d left behind, she had immediately filed for divorce and had refused to discuss the subject in public right up to her death.
It wasn’t long before Ross paid the check and took a last sip of his coffee. “Ready to go?”
Jenna nodded and gave herself a mental pat on the back. She’d relaxed and had even managed to enjoy herself.
As he had before, Ross steered them both through the cheerful maze of small, candle-lit tables with a light grasp on her elbow. And as before, Jenna felt the barest grip of his long fingers right down to her toes. So much for relaxation, she reflected as sheer awareness had her shoulders tensing once more.
Sudden thoughts of how the evening might end surfaced as they left the restaurant and walked across the parking lot to her escort’s late-model blue sedan. If this were an ordinary first date, Jenna knew that something she hadn’t considered until now could well be taken as a fitting way to wind things up.
A kiss—a brief kiss—was almost customary.
Then again, even if this were an ordinary date, could the prospect of locking lips, even briefly, with Ross Hayward ever be judged an everyday average event? Not hardly, she acknowledged to herself. Not by you.
But then, he might not even be considering a kiss.
HE WAS GOING FOR IT. Or he was if he got the chance. If she didn’t slip away from him and head inside the minute they arrived at their destination, Ross thought as they started down a short walkway where a child’s tricycle was parked on one side of the path.
“Nice night,” he said, keeping his voice low as he glanced up at a black sky sprinkled with stars.
“Yes,” was her soft reply.
“Cool but pleasant.”
“Yes,” she said one more time as they reached a plain oak door lit by a small overhead lamp. She looked up at him and held out her right hand. “Well, thank you again for din—”
“I’d like to kiss you.” The blunt words were out before he even considered the tone of them. But he wouldn’t call them back if he could have. If he hadn’t said something, he’d probably be looking at that door closing behind her in a matter of moments.
When she just stared at him, brown eyes gleaming in the darkness, he cleared his throat. “Given the situation, I think we should find out what it would be like.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, it seems logical.” Right, and physical attraction has nothing to do with it, a more candid part of him mocked. He ignored it. “That way, we’ll have a better basis to, ah, make our decision.”
She studied him for a silent second. “So you haven’t reconsidered? You’re still thinking about marriage?”
“I am,” he assured her. “And I’m still of the opinion that, if we decide to go through with it, it would have benefits for both of us. But right now, I’d just like to kiss you. May I?”
She released a short breath. “Okay.”
The word was scarcely out when he lifted one hand to cup her chin. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, taking in her subtle floral scent and reminding himself that this was only a kiss. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—lead to greater intimacy. Whether there would even be an opportunity for any real body-to-body, skin-to-skin intimacy between them remained to be seen.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the moment. And he did exactly that as he deepened the kiss just slightly, just enough to discover that he’d like to take it deeper still, much deeper. Instead he made himself settle for a gentle exploration of a mouth far softer than his own. As he lingered, his blood heated despite the cool breeze, and in a matter of seconds he had to work at keeping an invisible fist tight on his control, denying feet ready to take a last step to get even closer and hands that wanted to wander. All of him, in fact, wanted many things, none of which he could have.
Which he would never have, not with Jenna, unless he became her lover. No, unless he became her husband.
He needed, he reminded himself, a wife.
At last he forced himself to lift his head and to drop the hand still cupped around a silky-smooth chin. Inhaling a rough surge of air, he took a brief step back to let his senses clear. It was hard to believe that a kiss, even an undeniably potent one, had been enough to have him making up his mind about