The Bachelor Takes A Wife. Jackie Merritt
grown up next door to each other. But cute and pretty simply weren’t the right words to describe how she looked now. Her figure was incredible, especially provocative in that two-piece ivory gown she was wearing. It fit like a dream, from its high neckline all the way down its classic lines to a hem incorporating one sexy slit that permitted brief glimpses of the lower portion of her left leg. It was a marvelous dress, Keith decided, its delightful color accenting Andrea’s hair and eyes. Her black hair was much shorter now, but its simple style was extremely becoming to her beautiful face.
“If I had wanted or believed I needed an escort, I would have invited a friend to accompany me this evening. Your protocol is about fifty years outdated. You may find this a major shock to your good-old-country-boy beliefs, but nowadays women actually walk and talk all on their own. Please let go of my arm.”
“I’ll let go of yours if you’ll take mine.”
“How about if I kick you in the knee, put you out of commission and get rid of you that way?”
“Resorting to violence already, are we?”
Andrea shook off his hand with one big jerk of her arm. “That’s enough childish horseplay!” She started walking toward the entrance, fully aware of Keith keeping up with her every step. He wasn’t going away, however rude she might be. She heaved a sigh. The evening was going to be as unbearable as she’d anticipated.
Inside the club there was a receiving line, and while Keith bantered and laughed with his friends greeting the arriving guests, Andrea smiled congenially, and furtively checked out the décor. It was as dreadfully macho as she’d been told. Was that a boar’s head over the mantel? She shook hands and made appropriate comments to people she recognized but just barely knew. Her friends were not members of this club, which admittedly did a lot of good for the community but was also known for some very rowdy escapades. Now that Andrea was inside she could tell that the band was playing some very lively songs, mostly with a country-and-western slant. Well, what did you expect? Schubert? Beethoven? Chopin?
“My dear, we’re all so proud of this year’s choice of charities,” an older woman, Janice Morrison, wife to a lifetime member of the club, said while gripping Andrea’s hand in a long handshake. Mrs. Morrison’s diamond necklace alone would have financed the operation of New Hope for five years, Andrea thought, although she certainly did not begrudge the congenial woman her astounding necklace. Andrea was wearing very little jewelry herself—a pearl-and-diamond ring and matching earrings—but she had some very good pieces in her safe. They were gifts from Jerry, her deceased husband, which was the only reason she kept them, because she hadn’t worn the items since his death.
“We at New Hope are both proud and delighted,” Andrea murmured. “Be assured that all donations will be put to very good use.”
“I’m sure they will. My, you two make a fine-looking couple,” Mrs. Morrison gushed.
The woman was gazing from her to Keith, and Andrea’s smile faded a little as she withdrew her hand. Keith saved the day by quipping, “We’re just a couple of old friends, Janice.”
Janice Morrison wasn’t convinced. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Keith Owens?”
Andrea wilted internally. Here was a lady with a long memory, and there were probably dozens of others attending the ball that also remembered when the Vances and the Owenses—her parents and Keith’s—had lived next door to each other. This time, when Keith took Andrea’s arm to steer her away from the receiving line, she felt too weak to protest. How in heaven’s name was she going to make it through an entire evening of innuendo and reminders and still keep on smiling?
“Sorry about that,” Keith said to her.
Andrea forgot about smiling and her eyes flashed angrily. “Why would you expect anything else when you’re sticking to me like glue?”
“Would you really rather be left on your own in this crowd?”
“I’d rather not give anyone the wrong impression!” Andrea glanced around. “Do you have any idea of how many people are looking at us right now?”
Keith glanced around himself, then grinned wickedly. “Quite a few, by the looks of it. Wonder what they’re whispering about. Maybe they’re wondering if we’re sleeping together.”
Andrea gaped at him. “Are you mad? We didn’t even sleep together when we dated!”
“That sure wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Since you had—and probably still do have—the morals of an alley cat.”
“Don’t tell me the subject of sex still embarrasses you. Andrea, you’re a big girl now. Actually, when I think about it, you were a big girl in college, but you had far too many hang-ups for a…” Keith wisely closed his mouth. He’d been about to say something about randy young college men, but decided to avoid that topic for the present. “How about a glass of champagne?” he asked instead.
“If I say no are you going to go off and find someone else to badger?”
“Nope.”
“Then yes, I’d like a glass of champagne.”
“Great.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, and enjoying a delicious tingle in his lower regions from the physical contact, Keith steered her through the crowd to one of the bars and ordered two glasses of champagne. After handing one to Andrea he smiled and said, “Cheers, sweetheart, and let me add that you’ve got what it takes.”
Andrea felt heat rising in her cheeks and knew that she’d turned pink. “What on earth are you talking about? Why didn’t you stop at ‘cheers’ and make this a tolerable occasion?”
“You know, I should have. Sometimes I say things without thinking. I mean, that was obviously a compliment, but if I had thought about it before speaking, I would probably have postponed it until you’d had a couple of glasses of champagne.”
Andrea glared at him. “Meaning I would appreciate crude remarks then? You didn’t know me in college and you don’t know me now. I never liked your crudity, which you would remember for yourself if your self-serving, smug, conceited head wasn’t bigger than Rhode Island!”
Keith roared with laughter. “Andy, I absolutely adore you.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she drawled, although her heart was suddenly pounding unmercifully fast. He didn’t mean what he’d said, for heaven’s sake. He was just the kind of man who said outrageous things to women and then laughed at their reactions. He obviously believed he was God’s gift to womankind, and maybe he was—for some women—but he was no gift in her estimation. He was a cad without a conscience, and he didn’t even have the grace to pretend otherwise.
He peered, owl-like, at her over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow. “How about a game of tit for tat?”
“Which is?” she asked, frowning and suspicious.
“I’ll give you a break if you get rid of that stick up your spine. You used to be a fun person to be with. You used to laugh a lot. You’re arguably the most beautiful woman here and if people are staring and speculating, that’s why. After all, I’ve been single and alone for four years. I’d have to be crazy to be talking with the loveliest lady here and not let you—and everyone else—know that I’m interested.”
Andrea gasped. “Do you actually have the temerity to think I care if you’re interested?” Fury set in then, and she felt herself start to tremble. She had to get away from him before she let the whole crowd know that she could happily murder Keith Owens where he stood. “Which way is the ladies’ room?” she asked. It was at that moment that she realized she didn’t have her handbag. “Oh, no, I left it in the limousine!”
“Left what in the limo?”
“My handbag.” She glared into Keith’s eyes. If she hadn’t been so unnerved by the evening ahead at the time of arrival,