Cathy Gillen - Her Bachelor Challenge

“I have been patient, darling,” Martin said gently, covering her hand with his.

Bridgett swallowed and tried not to think how heavy and almost uncomfortable the emerald-and-platinum ring felt on her right hand. She looked into Martin’s eyes. “I know you have,” she said softly.

“I waited for you throughout the long months of your book tour.”

And he had never complained about her absence, Bridgett thought in her soon-to-be fiancé’s defense. Not once.

“But my patience,” Martin continued, “is almost gone.”

HOURS LATER, Bridgett’s mind was still reeling with all Martin had demanded of her as he walked her to the front door of her newly acquired “single house” in the historic district of Charleston. Like all town homes of the early 1800s, the single-pile redbrick Georgian had been turned sideways on the narrow city lot. A two-story piazza, or covered porch, had been built along the length of the building to provide outdoor living space for each floor, as well as shade on the windowed facade. On the first floor the street-front room was her office, where she worked on her books and advised clients on financial matters. The single room behind it was an eat-in kitchen. On the second floor, she had a combination master bedroom and bath at the front of the house and at the rear a cozy sitting room, where she relaxed, read, watched television and entertained. It was small but perfect, and as soon as Bridgett had purchased it, she had known she had really made it. No longer was she merely the daughter of the housekeeper of a well-heeled Charleston family. Now she was one of the elite that kept the city humming.

“You’ll call me in the morning to let me know what you’ve decided?” Martin said as he ever so tenderly increased his grip on her hand.

Bridgett nodded as she looked into his eyes. “Absolutely.”

“Sleep well, my precious.” Martin brushed his lips across her temple. He turned and headed down the sidewalk to the car at the curb. Bridgett waited, enjoying the splendor of the cool spring evening, until he’d driven away before she turned to let herself inside. And that was when she saw him, relaxing in the shadows, of her first-floor piazza.

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