Sharon Swan - Her Necessary Husband

The blunt words were out before Ross could consider their tone. But he wouldn’t call them back even if he could have.

“Oh…” Jenna managed.

“I mean, it seems logical.” Right, and physical attraction has nothing to do with it, a more candid part of him mocked. “That way, we’ll have a better basis to, ah, make our decision.”

“So you haven’t reconsidered? You’re still thinking about marriage?”

“I am,” he assured her. “But right now I’d just like to kiss you.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, taking in her subtle floral scent and reminding himself that this was only a kiss. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the moment. At last he forced himself to lift his head, drop the hand still cupped around her silky-smooth chin and take a step back. “I’m prepared to suggest that we take this…all the way.”

Jenna stared up at him, her own breathing far from even. “All the way?”

“To the altar.”

Her Necessary Husband

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my agent, Pam Hopkins,

with many thanks for all her support.

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing as a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life, because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND *

939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE!*

966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE

983—HER NECESSARY HUSBAND*

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Something told Jenna Lorenzo that Ross Hayward would not be hiring her as his live-in housekeeper the minute he opened the front door.

Only moments earlier she’d been admiring that door, painted the palest of yellows, and the wreath of sage green leaves topped with delicate dried flowers that hung under a high arch gracefully etched into the smooth wood. Like the rest of the modern two-story home built of narrow bricks shaded a pristine dove gray, the door was a tribute to conservative elegance. Even the well-trimmed front lawn with its neatly shaped borders of low plants sporting a quiet mix of early September blooms was designed to bid visitors a gracious welcome.

Serene, Jenna thought. That was the word that came to mind. She had never worked—and certainly never lived—anywhere quite like this place.

And she wouldn’t be working, or living, here. The polite smile that didn’t quite reach the deep-set navy eyes of the tall man standing in front of her had her all but positive of that.

“Come in, Jenna,” he said in a low voice she’d by no means forgotten from the initial interview he’d conducted several days earlier at Dewitt’s Diner. Despite the business nature of the lunch, she’d felt at ease in the familiar setting, having indulged in one of the downtown diner’s juicy hamburgers along with a mound of crisp fries many times with her friends when she was growing up in Harmony, Arizona.

She didn’t, however, feel anywhere near that same level of ease right now. The truth was that when it came to casually comfortable surroundings, the Hayward home was an entirely different matter.

Just how different Jenna realized full well the moment she stepped into the entryway and found herself confronted by a landscape of sheer white. Carpet, walls, ceiling. Even what living room furniture she could see through an arched opening at one side of the hall featured a white-on-white design. Only a group of pastel prints simply framed in silver and hung at well-spaced intervals provided any hint of true color.

Everything sparkled in the sun slanting through lacy white curtains. Nothing was out of place. It was a scene straight out of a trendy home magazine.

But this was real life, and there were children living here. “How in the world does it stay clean?” Jenna wondered out loud.

“We’ve learned to be careful,” the man at her side said.

The attractive man at her side, she couldn’t help thinking as they made their way to the living room. At one time, as had many girls in town, she’d had a major crush on the Golden Boy—which was how her adolescent eyes had come to view him—with his sun-streaked brown hair and flashing grin. Somehow it had only seemed natural when he’d started dating Cynthia Morgan during his high school days.

A slim blonde with the lightest of blue eyes, Cynthia had swiftly become the other half of the Golden Couple—a couple some had envied for their popularity. They’d married shortly after both graduated from college, Jenna had learned from friends on her recent return to Harmony. It had been, by all accounts, an excellent marriage, one that had quickly produced a beautiful baby daughter, and eventually another.

And then, almost three years ago, Ross Hayward had tragically lost not only his wife but also his mother when the car Cynthia had been driving skidded off a snowy road and crashed.

“Have a seat,” he said. “I’m glad you were able to spare me some time this morning.”

Jenna settled herself on a long sofa while her host chose an overstuffed chair across from her. A chrome-and-glass coffee table with smoothly curved lines as quietly refined as the rest of the room occupied the space between them.

“Actually, I was waiting for your call,” she admitted. “When you said you’d get back to me, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to meet again.” And when he had called her at the home of a friend where she was currently staying and invited her to come over, she’d imagined she was well on her way to being offered the housekeeper’s job. Until she’d seen his expression.

Now even his polite smile had faded. “I meant to get in touch sooner,” he said, “but I had some things to consider.”

What things? Jenna couldn’t help wondering as she folded her arms across the front of her deep tangerine pantsuit. No ready answer came to mind, but there was no denying that her prospective employer—most likely ex-prospective employer—looked far from overjoyed at the moment. He also didn’t look quite as much like a businessman today.