Marrying Mr. Right. Carolyn Greene

Marrying Mr. Right - Carolyn  Greene


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right there,” she hollered.

      With a prolonged sigh, she pulled a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair. It wasn’t like Donald to show up unannounced after work unless he’d had a bad day. During those times, he would spout off whatever difficulties he’d incurred at his struggling law practice and then spend the rest of the evening unwinding in front of her television.

      Well, she’d had a rough day, too, and tonight she just didn’t know if she could summon the encouragement and smiles he would need to put him back in his usual good mood.

      It wasn’t so much the physical exhaustion that came with the job of landscape designer, though that certainly played a part in her frustration. Mostly it was her supervisor, Linda, who had the annoying habit of sending her out on jobs that any of the groundskeepers could have handled. The reason? Because “you have a knack for dealing with difficult customers,” Linda had said, expecting her to be so flattered she’d drop the argument. But today she hadn’t dropped it.

      Maybe it was because of the run-in she’d had with Greg the night before, or perhaps a hormonal fluctuation, but today she’d eloquently and insistently pointed out that as the landscape designer, that’s what she intended to do hereafter... design. Routine lawn and plant maintenance would have to be left to the staff hired for that job, no matter how difficult the client might be.

      Christina didn’t know if her adamant stance would have an effect on her supervisor, but it had certainly taken the other woman by surprise.

      She crossed the living room and reached for the doorknob. Regardless of the result, she needed to do some decompressing and unwinding, herself. And she would start with a trip to the Salad Hut for dinner.

      “Hi, I was just going to...” The rest of the sentence hung in her throat as she opened the door and saw not Donald, but Greg standing on her porch.

      The image before her was closer to the memory she carried of her teenage groom than the man she’d seen a few nights before. The black jeans reminded her of the rebel he’d once been, and the close-fitting, pectoral-hugging pullover shirt reminded her of one reason she’d said yes to his impetuous proposal. The difference was that he was now bigger, older and more in control...not only of himself, but also of those around him. And the fading pink scar on his cheek hinted that he was still willing to do whatever was necessary to retain that control.

      “You’re going to the warehouse with me,” he finished for her and then gave her a quick once-over. “You don’t have to change...you look fine.”

      Despite their years apart, a compliment from Greg still unnerved her... made her self-conscious, yet eager to please. How was it that he held such power over her? She tried to make herself immune to his charms, which was about as likely as the tide making itself immune to the pull of the moon. Even so, she ought to at least appear invulnerable.

      “Excuse me?” she said evenly.

      “No need to apologize. It could happen to anyone,” he said with a devilish grin. “Cucumbers for lunch?”

      “I didn’t—You can’t just—”

      “Yes, I can. Mrs. Odell gave me the key for a final walk-through before we draw up the lease. Since we’re going to meet with her this weekend, I thought we’d be more believable as a married couple if you’d already seen the place and could make a few knowledgeable comments about it.”

      “Well, I suppose you’re right...”

      “Of course I’m right. Now grab your purse and we’ll be on our way.”

      He was doing it again—bursting into her life and trying to turn it upside down with a smile and a snap of his fingers. She’d already blown up at her supervisor today, and she wasn’t about to let herself be manipulated by a husband—a soon to be exhusband—that she hadn’t seen in ten years. No matter how handsome he might be.

      “Look, I haven’t even had dinner yet, and I was planning to—”

      “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

      Dinner would indeed be on him if he persisted in being so pushy. But then she considered her options. She had been left with no choice in the matter of meeting with Mrs. Odell and playing the part of Greg’s devoted wife. Perhaps, as he had suggested, touring the warehouse with him would help pave the way to a quicker signing of the lease...and a quicker annulment. Even the mere thought of forever signing him out of her life made her breath catch in her throat. But she had to steel herself and do whatever it took. In the long run, it would be better for both of them.

      She turned her attention back to the matter at hand. If they left the car window down, her hair would dry before they reached the restaurant. She left him at the door while she went to retrieve her purse.

      “You still like veggies, right?” he asked upon her return. “I hear they have a great Wednesday night special at the Salad Hut.”

      Whatever annoyance she’d felt toward him until now was diminished with that one observation. After all these years, he’d remembered her favorite food.

      

      The warehouse sat in a formerly neglected pocket of town. Previously used to store furniture, the building had fallen into disrepair when Mrs. Odell’s husband became ill fourteen years ago. Then, after the furniture company tenants moved out, the structure languished as the elderly woman struggled to recover from her husband’s death. In recent years, however, many of the old homes around the building had been sold and renovated as offices or torn down to make room for restaurants and quaint retail shops.

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