Teresa Southwick - The Acquired Bride

“Mommy, I hafta go.” One of the little girls—Kelly or Molly?—tugged on her hand.

No, don’t go, he thought. He felt like he could stand there and talk to her forever.

Dana looked down at her daughter. “Okay, sweetie.”

Dana turned back to Quentin and said, “I think I’d better get the children home. Let me know if you change your mind about the cleaning charges,” she offered.

“I won’t. But thanks.”

Dana released one of the girls and instructed Molly and Kelly to hold hands tight. Then she took her son’s sticky fingers in a firm grip. “I appreciate your understanding about Lukie. Somehow, I’ll figure out a way to thank you. Goodbye, Quentin.”

He searched for something to say that would keep her there a little longer, but came up empty.

He watched her walk away, and the crowd swallowed Dana Hewitt and her brood before his lightning-fried brain functioned normally again. He realized he hadn’t asked for her phone number. He could always drop by the store, or…

No.

This was for the best. He would bet everything he owned that she was still getting over the loss of her husband. But because of all he owned, it was necessary to question the motives of every woman he met. And Dana was especially risky. He was pretty sure she didn’t have a lot of money to spare.

He looked down at his pants. In spite of the spectacle he must make, he grinned. Cute kids—especially Lukas. But the fruit didn’t fall far from the tree. Cute mom.

Now he would do himself a favor and forget her.

“I guess that does it.” Cleland Knox, owner of Storkville’s insurance agency and president of the chamber of commerce, consulted his notes.

It was October first and the merchants of Storkville were meeting in the town hall to discuss the tentative schedule of holiday events, from Halloween to Christmas and New Year’s. When finalized, it would be printed and posted all over town.

Dana, sitting in for her boss, fidgeted in her chair. She wondered if her hair and clothes looked all right. Normally, she didn’t question her appearance. Ordinarily, she did the best she could with what she had. But tonight wasn’t normal or ordinary. Quentin McCormack was sitting behind her.

Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chill in the hall skittered up and down her arms. She had carried around a mental picture of the brown-haired, blue-eyed hunk ever since she’d first laid eyes on him in August. His cover-model good looks had been responsible for her not noticing right away what Lukie had done to him. And that was because her gaze had only strayed as far from his face as to his impossibly broad shoulders and his flat abdomen. Only later had she noticed his muscular thighs encased in the expensive material—and covered with gunk.

“Is there any other business?” The C.O.C. president interrupted her delicious yet mortifying daydream.

Dana raised her hand. “Mr. Knox?”

He looked into the crowd. “The chair recognizes Mrs. Hewitt of Bassinets and Booties.”

She suppressed a grin at his formality. He and his wife Grace were regulars in the store, frequently buying toys, clothes and furniture for their four grandchildren.

“Mr. President, I just wanted to make sure that the Bassinets and Booties holiday party, fashion show and raffle are on the schedule. I didn’t see it on the rough draft.”

Dana had just come up with the idea a couple days ago. Her boss had loved her suggestion for the store’s Christmas promotion this year. Every merchant planned something and the events were staggered so that people could get to them all. It was also a last big push that boosted sales through Christmas and the end of the year.

Cleland scanned the paper in his hand and nodded. “I have it penciled in here. Don’t worry. It will be on the final schedule. Second Saturday in December,” he confirmed.

“That’s right,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

“The weekend after that is Santa’s visit to the kids at BabyCare. That okay with you, Hannah?”

“Wonderful,” the woman sitting to Dana’s left answered. “And don’t forget the costume party for the kids at the day-care center the week before Halloween.”

The blond highlights in Hannah’s brown hair glowed beneath the town hall’s fluorescent lights. But that was nothing compared to the sparkle in her brown eyes. And that had everything to do with Jackson Caldwell, the love of her life, who was sitting beside her. Her face was so bright, she could have lit the town of Storkville for the entire holiday season, Halloween and Thanksgiving included.

Dana sighed. She envied them. They’d been childhood sweethearts who had recently been reunited and rekindled their love. Together they were caring for, and falling in love with, the twins abandoned at the day-care center a few days after she’d first met Quentin.

What would it be like, she wondered, to find a love that neither time nor adversity could kill? Her one and only experience with romance hadn’t shown her. And she wasn’t likely to get another chance—even if she wanted one. Her job hindered her from meeting unattached men. And then there was the issue of her three children. They would be enough to scare even the most intrepid man into a monastery. But she adored them and they came first.

“Mr. President?”

Dana would have known Quentin’s deep voice anywhere. She blushed, remembering how its timbre lowered a notch as he joked about dropping his pants right there on Main Street so that she could have them cleaned. Her heart beat faster at the image. He was pretty spectacular with his pants on and she suspected he was something of a religious experience with them off. Merely an objective observation. Her heart might be romantically challenged, but her eyesight was twenty-twenty, uncorrected.

“The floor recognizes Quentin McCormack.”

“I just want to remind everyone of the Halloween costume party at the McCormack estate on Saturday, October twenty-eighth. Invitations will go out in the next couple of days. But my parents and I would like you to put the date on the calendar. We’re hoping for a big turnout.”

“Got it down, Quentin. Anyone else?” Cleland scanned the room. Satisfied that no one else had anything to add, he banged his gavel. “Meeting adjourned. My mouth has been watering for some of Doris and Vern Feeney’s cherry pie. They were kind enough to bring some over from the diner.”

“I’ve brought some of my special lemonade,” Aunt Gertie piped up. In her late sixties, she was a petite, silver-haired woman with twinkling brown eyes and a magic brew “guaranteed” to help along prospective mothers trying to get pregnant.

A line formed beside the refreshment table. Dana didn’t even need to look to know who had stepped behind her. Quentin McCormack. The scent of his cologne was permanently embedded in her memory. He was close enough so that she could feel the heat of his body. And what a very tall body he had, she thought, her heart fluttering. Okay, so being romantically challenged didn’t preclude some involuntary spasms.

Dana poured herself coffee, then glanced at him. “Hello.”

Her knees went weak at his oh-so-attractive smile. She debated the pros and cons of turning completely around. On the one hand, not looking at him would be incredibly rude. On the other, if she faced him, she would have to deal with the full effects of Storkville’s sexiest man.

She took a deep breath and turned around.

“Hi,” he answered. “I see you’re avoiding Aunt Gertie’s lemonade,” he said, ladling some into his cup. “It’s made with Storkville springwater,” he added.

“So I’ve heard, along with the rumor about it causing pregnancy. But I see you’re not afraid.”

Grinning, he said, “For obvious reasons. But you shouldn’t be either. The last time I took biology, they were teaching that there’s only one time-honored way to produce a baby,” he said, his voice lowering with the suggestive comment. “And it doesn’t include storks or finding bundles under cabbage leaves.”