Jackie Braun - Saying Yes to the Boss

Ree had envied them that. Their grand, sweeping love affair had spanned more than five decades of marriage, while even the most tepid of emotions hadn’t been evident just a few short years after her and Paul’s wedding day.

“I can’t imagine that kind of love,” she murmured.

“My sisters seem to have found it,” Dane said thoughtfully after chewing a bite of sandwich.

“They’re both married?”

He nodded. “And Audra’s expecting her first baby in the fall. A girl. The doctor says she’ll arrive around Halloween, but if the kid is anything like Audra, she’ll be so stubborn she’ll hold out till Christmas.”

Interesting, but beneath the humor she thought he’d sounded almost wistful. And so she asked boldly, “What about you? Have you found that kind of love?”

Dane had spooned up a mouthful of soup as Ree spoke. Then he nearly choked on it as the name Julie Weston blasted into his brain with all the subtlety of a stick of dynamite detonating. It was the first time he’d thought of his girlfriend since arriving at Ree’s. He acknowledged that truth with a stab of guilt, followed swiftly by regret, because he knew that neither the knot on his head nor his near-death experience was the real reason she’d failed to show up on his mental radar.

Everyone kept telling him how perfect Julie was for him. After nearly three years of dating, he’d be the first to admit she was a fantastic woman: smart, funny, pretty in an understated sort of way. She cooked a mean beef stew, could carry on an intelligent conversation and was the ideal euchre partner, never reneging or failing to take a trick with trump. But too often he found himself wishing for a loner hand and thinking that something was missing.

One question haunted Dane: Was this all there was?

Ali had Luke. Audra had Seth. Both couples seemed to have hit the mother lode of happiness. They deserved their bliss. Dane didn’t begrudge them a moment of it. But as they feathered their new nests and made plans to start families, he felt envious, and maybe even a little empty.

He was thirty-five, settled and successful. During the past few months he’d begun to agree with Julie: Time was ticking away and they weren’t getting any younger. Yet marriage to her seemed utterly anticlimactic, an epilogue rather than an exciting new chapter in his life. He had enough respect for the institution that he didn’t think it should be that way.

“When are we going to make it official, Dane?” Julie had asked him the question that very afternoon. He’d had no answer for her when he’d left Trillium, so eager to escape that he’d foolishly headed out into a storm on the pretext of getting supplies that the resort hardly needed posthaste.

He glanced across the table at Regina Bellini. God help him, but he did have an answer for Julie now, and it wasn’t one she was going to like. But how could he make a lifetime commitment to one woman when in the space of a couple hours a virtual stranger had helped convinced him that would be a huge mistake?

Love at first sight? Nah. No way. But something was going on here. Something disturbing enough that it had caused him to forget completely the woman with whom he had been inching toward matrimony.

“Well?” Ree asked.

He blinked. “S-sorry?”

“I asked if you’ve managed to find that kind of love.”

The candle flickered briefly between them on the tabletop, the dim light making the room intimate as the revelation in his head slipped past his lips.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

They talked for another hour sitting in her homey kitchen. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the storm was moving off. Dane credited the food, the painkillers and a second glass of wine for the fact that he no longer felt so shaky and weak. He credited Regina for the fact that he was actually enjoying himself on what undoubtedly had been one of the worst nights of his life.

“Well…” Ree stood and began gathering up the dishes. After depositing them in the sink, she said, “You’re probably getting tired.”

“Not especially. I’m a bit of a night owl,” he admitted. “Besides, I read somewhere that people who take a blow to the head shouldn’t go to sleep—at least not alone. Something about the possibility of lapsing into a coma.”

He couldn’t resist flirting with her and he enjoyed immensely watching one side of her mouth quirk up.

“I think that’s an old wives’ tale,” she replied dryly, but she settled back onto the chair opposite his.

She didn’t rise again for another two hours. By then, they both were yawning.

“I’ll show you to your room,” she told him as she blew out the candle and flipped on the flashlight.

Dane pulled the afghan more securely around his midsection and stood. Even though he felt steady on his feet, he didn’t object when she drew near to assist him.

For the past couple hours they had talked companionably about everything from the right way to eat French fries—doused in mustard rather than catsup—to whether the Detroit Lions would ever manage a winning season. Neither would bet on it. Beneath the newly established camaraderie, awareness had simmered. Now, as he walked with her through the quiet house, that awareness returned to a rolling boil.

“I think you’ll be most comfortable in here. This is the only one of the seven bedrooms located on the main floor.”

Ree opened the door and Dane knew right away that it was hers. The light bewitching floral scent had him inhaling deeply. In the dim light he eyed the big four-poster bed with its fluffy down comforter and then cleared his throat.

“This is your room.”

“Yes.”

“Where will you be sleeping?” It came as quite a surprise to realize he was holding his breath after he asked the question.

“I’ll be in the first room to the left at the top of stairs.”

When he started to protest, she shook her head. “I’ll be perfectly comfortable there. It’s the room I slept in before my grandmother died. Besides, I don’t think you’re ready to navigate stairs in a strange house in the dark. I’ll feel better with you in here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She was still standing beside him, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist. It took little effort for Dane to turn until they were facing one another. When he bent, he intended only to brush a kiss over her cheek, but she turned her head slightly or maybe he turned his. Either way, his mouth settled over hers and the chaste peck graduated to a kiss full of curiosity.

Still, he might have pulled back and managed to bank the need, but she made a soft moaning sound in the back of her throat that had the same effect as pouring kerosene on a campfire. Heat flared and good intentions were forgotten. He framed her face with his hands. He had to do something with them, because if they were allowed to roam any lower he knew he would be doomed.

And that was before the afghan wrapped around his waist tumbled to the floor right along with the flashlight she’d been holding.

The kiss ended on his strangled laugh and Ree was chuckling as well when Dane rested his forehead against hers.

“I seem to have lost something,” he said at last. “And you, too.”

Oh, Regina knew she’d lost something. Forget the flashlight, she’d lost her mind. This was crazy, foolish and she wasn’t the sort of woman who did crazy, foolish things. She’d toed the line her entire life, eager to spare her grandparents the worry and grief her mother’s impulsiveness had caused.

Thinking of them, she said, “I’d better go.”

“Yes. You should.”

But he didn’t release her and she found herself almost glad. It felt so good to be held, to be wanted. It took all of her willpower to finally step away—and to keep her gaze level with his before she turned toward the door.