Take Me. Cherry Adair
as she drove onto the narrow road leading up to the gatehouse. She’d been startled, no, stunned, when Joshua had admitted he was a married man. His honesty, not only in acknowledging his marriage, but the status of that marriage, had confused her.
If she hadn’t been his wife she would’ve politely walked away. Her mother had had plenty of married lovers. The ending was always sad and messy.
She sighed. His honesty had disarmed her and made her feel a little guilty about what she was about to do. But he was still The Glacier. Cold. Hard. Ruthless. He was still her absentee husband. He was still the man who was going to give her her heart’s desire. A baby. Born in wedlock.
It was the second week of the new year and cold for Northern California. The wind cut through her jacket as Jessie got out of the car. It was after three and she’d missed lunch looking for a particular wallpaper sample at the design center in the city. Her stomach growled.
The little cottage welcomed her with warmth as she quickly closed the front door behind her and headed for the kitchen. She loved the carriage house. It was home. Safe, warm, welcoming, and as permanent a home as she’d ever had. Joshua’s lawyer, Felix Montgomery, had taken her under his wing and introduced her to his son Conrad that dizzying day seven years ago.
Con had offered her not only the use of the gatehouse, but also a job in his architectural company while she went back to school. Conrad and his partner, Archie, had converted the gatehouse cottage into a charming home for her, then later incorporated the studio when she’d gone to work for Conrad full-time as an interior designer.
They’d helped her transform her life and, in the process, the two men had become her dearest friends and the brothers she’d never had.
The phone rang. Jessie turned off the machine. “Hello?”
“Where in the hell have you been?”
She dragged in a breath. “I believe you have the wrong number,” and hung up.
The phone rang again. Jessie tossed a tea bag in a mug of water and stuck it in the microwave. The phone continued ringing. The microwave dinged. She squeezed out the bag and poured in a little milk. “Hello?”
“This is extremely time-consuming,” Joshua said with a great deal of annoyance.
“Who is this?”
There was a pause. “Joshua Falcon.”
“Oh. Sorry. I’ve been getting a lot of crank calls,” Jessie told him sweetly. She sipped her tea and burned her tongue. She sat down at the small round table in a weak ray of sunshine and unhooked the calendar beside the phone.
“I’ve been calling you for weeks.”
“Darn. And I kept missing you.” She didn’t bother trying to sound too sincere. “I’ve been so busy.”
“So have I,” he said coolly. “I just returned from an important business trip, but I made time to call you anyway.”
Jessie grinned. “Where did you go?” Her stomach growled.
“Ireland.”
“I’ve always wanted to travel. Tell me about it.” She dragged the cord over to the cupboard and scanned her soups.
Talking to him on the phone was easier, safer, than in person. She couldn’t see his eyes. Or his mouth. Or smell his cologne. She wanted a baby from this man. She did not want to fall in love with him.
Jessie refused to go there. That path was rocky and filled with potholes. Fortunately, she’d outgrown the gigantic crush she’d had on him years ago. She’d seen what love had done to her mother. No, thank you very much. That wasn’t for her. Mutual attraction would get the job done. Quick. Painless. Satisfying. No fuss. No muss. It might be cold-blooded, but she’d know who her child’s father was. No one would get hurt. Everyone would get what they wanted.
It was a good plan.
She prayed she’d get pregnant immediately.
She held the phone between chin and shoulder as she found a bowl, opened a can of tomato soup and added water and milk to her late lunch.
Joshua gave her the Reader’s Digest travel tour of Ireland while she mumbled “Hmmm” and “Fascinating” at appropriate moments. And it would have been if she wasn’t so uptight about seeing him again. At this rate, she’d develop indigestion.
She was sure as soon as she saw him the panicky feeling she’d been experiencing would pass. Between her “schedule” and his business travel, she’d managed to avoid him since Simon’s Christmas party. Unfortunately January was a slow month in the interior design business, and she could’ve used the distraction of being genuinely busy. She’d have to see him soon, even if the timing wasn’t right.
“All right. Enough about my trip.” He sounded exasperated. “When the hell am I going to see you?”
“How about tomorrow night?” Jessie glanced at the calendar where the next night had been marked with an X. She’d calculated just how long she could keep him dangling. She didn’t want to see him one second more than necessary. Her attraction to him was already putting a crimp in her plans. She had to stay focused, no matter what.
“Tonight,” he insisted.
“I’m busy tonight.” She lied cheerfully, getting up to place her empty bowl and spoon in the sink. “I’m free tomorrow night or next Wednesday. Your choice.” Next Wednesday was circled in red. And underlined. She closed her eyes and prayed he’d pick door number two.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven.”
“I’ll meet you at Noble’s, near Fisherman’s Wharf, at seven-thirty,” she said, resigned. There was a long pause. Jessie held her breath. Had she pushed him too far?
He laughed sardonically. “God, you’re ornery. All right. Noble’s. Seven-thirty.” The dial tone buzzed in her ear.
She collapsed back in her chair, eyes closed. She’d done it. She picked up the calendar and ran her finger tenderly around the dates she’d marked in red and underlined. The nights for conception. All she had to do was hold him off a week, until her next ovulation. The prize was worth any discomfort she might feel, any small niggling twinge of conscience she might have. All she had to do was stick to her plan without deviating and she’d walk away with the grand prize.
JESSIE WAS COOL, calm and collected when she walked into Noble’s restaurant at precisely seven-thirty the next night. She wore a simple royal-purple dress with a jewel neckline and cap sleeves. Sophisticated and sexy enough to hold him off while beckoning him closer.
Joshua rose to greet her. The hem of her dress suddenly felt way too short, the silk far too thin, clinging to her body in a way it hadn’t done at home.
“Hello, Jessie. You’re more gorgeous than the last time I saw you.” His pale eyes gleamed in the candlelight as he took her hand, and drew her onto the banquet seat beside him. A sizzle of electricity arced up her arm.
“The last time you saw me I was covered in dirt.” God, but he smelled good. He looked virile and alarmingly masculine. And he was sitting far too close. Jessie tried to scoot up against the window.
“You were covered in skintight Lycra.” His breath fanned her mouth. She struggled to draw in air, mesmerized by his silvery gaze as he whispered huskily. “I’ve dreamed about peeling you out of it for weeks.”
Jessie paused a beat for her nerves to steady, then reached for the menu. If she handled this right, she could make the next date for the following week when it would count. One dinner for one night in his bed. Two dates. I can do this. I can.
“The seafood here is fabulous.” Her pulse throbbed in her ears. She willed herself to relax. She knew the outcome of tonight. He didn’t.
The waiter arrived. “Two specials,” Joshua said, neither consulting her nor taking his eyes off her for