Barbara Benedict - Solution - Marriage

Reb might have ranted on, but all Luke heard, thought or felt were the ramifications of Reb’s pronouncement. He had a kid out there, a kid who didn’t know he existed, an innocent left to believe his dad was this hopeless drunk on the bar stool beside him.

Filled with a rage he never could have imagined, he’d left the bar to roam the street for hours. All too well he could picture Callie’s face the day he’d left her. She must have known, even then. And still she’d said nothing.

The more he’d thought about it, the more it had fueled his anger. Knowing Callie, she probably felt she was protecting the kid. All well and good if she’d given him the chance to sink or swim, but she’d taken the decision right out of his hands. Now, none of them would ever know what Luke might have done with the knowledge. And the one who would suffer most for this was their innocent son.

So don’t talk to him about protecting Robbie.

He took a long moment to swallow his resentment, aware that he would do far more harm than good by giving vent to his anger at this particular moment. Taking the next right, he headed to her apartment, willing to give the inch if it eventually got him the mile. He was by nature the impatient sort, the kind who preferred to have things out in the open, but Callie was nothing if not stubborn, and she’d clung too long to her secret to give it up to the man she felt had abandoned her. Nothing would be gained by forcing her to tell the truth. She had to tell him of her own free will for there to be any real hope for the future.

“Fine, no visit to Ben today,” he told her, trying to keep his tone light. He didn’t really care about facing down his father, anyway. It was just an excuse, the only one he could think of to coax Callie into marrying him. Just for the record, she wasn’t the only one interested in protecting their boy.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She was still staring at him, a slight frown creasing her face. “Our situation, that ceremony? I mean, Mr. Fry and those ladies seemed so tickled to death for us. But it was just a lie and we kept it going.”

It was one thing to cultivate patience, but he didn’t like being called a liar. “Our marriage is the means to an end,” he said curtly, unable to keep the irritation from his tone. “That’s all there is to it.”

“But it feels wrong to me. Play-acting about love is like…like we’re playing with fate. Gramps always said love was a gift that should never be taken lightly.”

“I thought you wanted a marriage of convenience. If we’re going to make it one of those arranged contracts, like between royal families, love needn’t enter into it at all.”

“I know. It’s just…” She frowned, as if she were groping for the right words and couldn’t quite find them. “I saw how it was with my grandparents…and my folks before they died. They meant everything to each other. Just watching them together made you smile, made you want to be like them. That’s what I want someday, Luke. Not this…this travesty we call a marriage.”

Barely an hour into married life and already she was looking for the exit?

Pulling to a stop in front of her apartment, he told himself it shouldn’t come as a surprise. In his experience it was always this way. Maybe others could find real and enduring emotion, but all his relationships inevitably flat-lined somewhere along the way. Sooner or later the woman admitted that what she’d thought was love actually wasn’t.

Even Callie.

Not that he had let it deter him. He’d come back to Latour for his boy, and he wasn’t about to let any misconceived notions about love—or the lack thereof—stand in his way. “We made a bargain,” he said, turning to face Callie. “Are you going to keep your end of it, or what?”

She blinked, as if startled by the question. “Yes. For the one year I promised.”

“That’s that, then,” he told her. And in his mind, it was.

Getting out of Luke’s car, Callie didn’t feel nearly as settled. Ever since Luke had kissed her, her mind had been whirling out of control. It had been a mere peck, over before it had begun, but the man’s lips had lost none of their power. Even now she could feel the old longing, the same bittersweet acknowledgment of what could never be. Dangerous, that’s how she’d always described Luke Parker. Looked as if she would have to be twice as careful, twice as wary.

She risked a glance at him as they entered the rundown three story building, catching his ill-concealed look of dismay. Climbing the rickety stairs, noticing its threadbare carpet, she viewed her current home through his eyes. He was a Parker, accustomed to the very best money could buy; he couldn’t possibly enjoy learning, firsthand, how the other half existed.

And he’d be even worse inside the apartment. Her nicked and battered furniture, the little messes left behind by the rush to get Robbie to school on time, the overall shabbiness of the place—what a sharp contrast to the slick and glittering world Luke normally strolled though. He’d take one look at the place and want to make changes. The next thing she knew he’d be sweeping her and Robbie into the pampered life he took for granted.

No, she wouldn’t let that happen, she thought, as she led Luke to apartment 2B. She liked her world the way it was and what was more important, so did Robbie. Okay, maybe this hall was a little dingy, but she had neighbors who watched out for her and her boy—good, honest, caring people who stuck around through thick and thin.

She stopped before her door, suddenly realizing that those same good people would wonder about this stranger she’d unexpectedly brought into their midst. Gramps had constantly warned of the many ripples you could cause with a single action. Marrying Luke, it now seemed, had been like setting off a tidal wave in the tiny pond that had once been her life.

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea, your staying here,” she said, thinking out loud as she glanced back at him. “Maybe you should stay at your place tonight. Or even a motel.”

He reached down to take the key from her hand. “What is this, Cal? Cold feet?”

Actually, with her new husband now towering over her, she felt the chill from head to toe. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just thought that if we’re going to do this thing, we should start it off right.”

“Then in that case,” he said, slipping the key in the lock and shoving open the door, “allow me.” Giving her no chance to protest, he slipped one arm under her knees, the other under her back, and in one fluid motion swept her up against his chest.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” she gasped.

“Starting out right. The groom is supposed to carry the bride over the threshold, I’m told.”

“This is ridiculous, Lucky. You put me down, right this minute.”

“It’s Luke, not Lucky. Remember?”

Held captive in his arms, she could remember far too many things—the stolen moments, the hot, steamy nights they’d shared ten years ago. And as she gazed into his eyes and saw the sudden intensity there, she realized he was remembering, too.

She could feel the pull between them, as if some magnetic force urged their heads closer. Inches away from touching his lips, she heard footsteps through a haze, then the all too clear and startled, “Mom?”

“Ohmigod,” she said, all but leaping out of Luke’s grasp. “It’s Robbie.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.