Christine Rimmer - Wife Wanted

“There. Look. That’s my family’s estate.” Natalie pointed at a huge green expanse of lawn on a faraway bank. The lawn swept up to a graceful stone balustrade and a wide terrace. Behind the terrace loomed an imposing Greek Revival-style house, its many windows glittering like jewels in the afternoon sun.

“Impressive,” Rick said.

A wave of sadness washed over Natalie. Once, the huge house had been like a second home to her. But now, with her father living there alone save for the small army of staff the place required, it just wasn’t the same. She’d spoken to her father two days before, when she’d asked him to send help to switch the furniture around for Toby. He’d sounded awful—distracted and distant. In spite of her determination to steer clear of family turmoil, she hadn’t been able to stop herself asking him if he was all right.

He’d laughed; it had been a grim, depressing sound. And he’d told her not to believe everything she read in the papers, that he was getting by.

Now, she found herself telling Rick, “When I was a little girl, it seemed as if we used to spend more time in that house over there than at our own house in Minneapolis. We’d come out on weekends, even in the deepest heart of winter, when the grounds were covered in a blanket of white and we had to spend most of the time indoors. And in the summer, we’d sometimes come and stay for weeks at a time. Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben lived there together, right up until he died, about ten years ago. When I was little, my aunt Rebecca— She’s Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben’s youngest. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

“Rebecca Fortune…the mystery writer?”

“That’s the one. Anyway, Aunt Rebecca was still a child, too. So she lived at the estate. And my uncle Nathaniel used to bring his family for visits, the same as my dad and mom brought us—all the time. So the place always seemed like it was full of kids. Overflowing with activity. Laughter and happy shouts just bounced off the walls.”

Rick was watching her, smiling a little. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Three sisters, one brother.”

“A big family.”

“You actually sound jealous.”

“I am,” he admitted. “I was an only.”

“You wanted siblings?”

“You bet I did.”

She couldn’t resist confessing, “There have been times I would have gladly given away one or two of mine.”

“Which ones?”

“Is that a fair question?”

“Natalie. Come on.”

“Oh, all right. The twins. Allie and Rocky.”

“Allie’s the model.”

“Yep. And Rocky looks just like her. They’re identical. Two of the most gorgeous women in the world—even though Rocky never went in for the glamour route. She’s a pilot, like Grandma Kate.”

“Why would you have given them away?”

“Did I say that?”

“Come on. Spill it.”

She laughed. “All right. Because I was so jealous of them, that’s why. They always had each other, no matter what else went wrong. They had that thing that identicals so often have. A world of their own. It was sometimes as if they could read each other’s minds, you know? And even though they were two years younger than me, which should have given me some kind of edge over them, I was the one who felt left out.”

“So you were jealous of their closeness.”

“Yes. And that’s not all.”

“I’m listening.”

And he was. Listening. So intently. As if he really cared. She felt her cheeks coloring. “Why am I telling you all of this?”

“Because I asked. Go on.”

“It’s not important.”

“Natalie.” He looked at her levelly. “I want to hear it.”

She believed him. She shouldn’t, she knew it. But she did. She heard herself confessing, “Well, to me it always seemed that, between the two of them, Allie and Rocky were perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Um-hm. They seemed to have every single desirable trait that I lacked. Beauty and courage, a spirit of adventure, an air of excitement that followed them both wherever they went. And you know what?”

“Uh-uh.”

“They’re both still like that. Gorgeous and brainy and brave and exciting.” She rested a hand on the bench cushion and leaned toward him. “And Caroline, my older sister, is no slouch, either. The truth is, I’m the boring sister.”

He faked a groan. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

She thought about that, then confessed, “Sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?”

He leaned toward her, so there were only inches between their noses. She caught a hint of his after-shave, a fresh, outdoorsy scent, and found herself thinking that he smelled every bit as good as he looked.

He said, “You are not boring.”

She sighed. Rick was a terrific guy.

Too terrific, a voice way back in her mind warned, to ever want or need someone like you.

She had to get some distance. Fast.

She shifted back away from him. “We should either drop the anchor or start up the engine again. We’re getting a little too close to shore.”

They started the engine. Toby, who’d been sitting on the deck with Bernie, got up and stood proudly beside his father as Rick took the wheel. At a cove Natalie knew, they dropped the anchor.

When she and Rick were settled on the padded bench once again, Natalie found herself asking him, “Are your parents still alive?”

Rick shook his head. “They died when I was in my teens. An electrical short that started a house fire. Late at night, while we were asleep. I woke up and managed to get Mom out, but couldn’t find Dad. A neighbor saved me, but they… neither of them made it.” He looked out over the water.

Not stopping to consider whether such a move was wise, she laid her hand on his. “How sad for you.”

He looked down at where she touched him. “It was a long time ago. I went to live with my aunt and uncle, but they didn’t have kids, either. Anyway, I always wanted a bunch of brothers and sisters. But you know what they say, if wishes were horses…” As his voice trailed off, he looked up into her eyes. Then, slowly, he turned his hand and wrapped his fingers around hers.

Natalie was stunned. It seemed at that moment like the most intimate thing any man had ever done to her—to turn his hand and take hers and look right into her eyes as he did it. Suddenly, the day seemed terribly hot, the air unbearably close and humid against her skin. And the hand that held hers was so warm and encompassing, sending little shivers zinging through her.

She realized he was smiling at something behind her. “What?” she asked, turning.

Bernie was stretched out on the deck, asleep. And Toby had used the dog as a giant-size pillow. The big brown-and-white belly cradled the small, dark head. The boy’s eyes were closed, and his thin chest rose and fell in an even, shallow rhythm.

Natalie turned back to Rick again. He smiled at her, deep into her eyes. And for a moment, what they were doing—sitting here, holding hands as the boy and the dog slept so peacefully a few feet away—seemed the most natural, right, thing in the world to be doing.

But then reason reasserted itself.

Natalie Fortune, are you out of your mind? that voice in her head warned. Before you know it, you’ll be doing his laundry and raising that darling little boy for him.

It occurred to her that there were worse fates.

And that was when she knew she was really in trouble here. She’d barely gotten rid of Joel. In fact, Joel still refused to admit he’d been gotten rid of. It was way too soon to be falling for another man—and especially not a man like this. A man who was just too good to be true.

She pulled her hand free. He let it go.

There was an awkward, awful moment when she had no idea what to do next.