Baby Dreams And Wedding Schemes
C.J. Hill
TO HAVE A FAMILY OF HER OWN…Perpetually single Sasha Lambert would do anything to have a baby. But days before her trip to the sperm bank she met a lonely little boy…and his irresistible father. Despite widower Jacob Windsor's announcement that he was not interested in marriage, Sasha could see he desperately needed some help with his adorable son.What choice did a natural-born do-gooder have? Sasha would help father and son to reconnect, gaining some invaluable lessons on mommyhood. And hope that when the time came, one very determined single dad would agree to grant her baby wish…and maybe a trip to the altar, as well!
“There is nothing crazy about wanting a child,” she protested. (#u9d8a6aea-e2d5-5783-957c-d928fa8796ae)Letter to Reader (#uf56e4b31-d124-5de7-8f1a-c91a12bbbe5a)Title Page (#u0ec79e84-6b8b-5c4a-9f7c-34a95e12b20c)Acknowledgments (#ua576b580-7c33-5779-a8f7-90d1a7d34d91)About the Author (#u4288bcd7-4fb7-5303-8393-2750b97bfab9)Letter to Reader (#ubfed1fda-3532-5502-ba1d-5be0144391da)Chapter One (#u3c100ceb-af4b-5a60-8b6f-549d42dc570e)Chapter Two (#u5ce8bf8c-e0c0-5ccc-b3e5-0b81c46a2c51)Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“There is nothing crazy about wanting a child,” she protested.
“Why shouldn’t I want to have a baby on my own?”
“Because you have no possible conception of what it will be like raising one by yourself,” Jacob replied. “And I should know,” he practically whispered.
“I know that you love Cody and want the best of everything for him. Can’t you understand that I want to feel those same feelings? That I want to have someone of my own to love?”
Her voice died away in the stillness as Sasha realized exactly what she had said. She’d admitted that she was lonely and alone in a world where love was the magic password to happiness. And she had admitted it to a single man who had told her many times that he had no desire for a wife.
Please, please don’t let Jacob know that I’d give anything to have Cody for a son...and him for a husband.
Dear Reader,
Unforgettable Bride, by bestselling author Annette Broadrick, is May’s VIRGIN BRIDES selection, and the much-requested spin-off to her DAUGHTERS OF TEXAS series. Rough, gruff rodeo star Bobby Metcalf agreed to a quickie marriage—sans honeymoon!—with virginal Casey Carmichael. But four years later, he’s still a married man—one intent on being a husband to Casey in every sense....
Fabulous author Arlene James offers the month’s FABULOUS FATHERS title, Falling for a Father of Four. Orren Ellis was a single dad to a brood of four, so hiring sweet Mattie Kincaid seemed the perfect solution. Until he found himself falling for this woman he could never have.... Stella Bagwell introduces the next generation of her bestselling TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP series. In The Rancher’s Blessed Event, an ornery bronc rider must open his heart both to the woman who’d betrayed him...and her child yet to be born.
Who can resist a sexy, stubborn cowboy—particularly when he’s your husband? Well, Taylor Cassidy tries in Anne Ha’s Long, Tall Temporary Husband But will she succeed? And Sharon De Vita’s irresistible trio, LULLABIES AND LOVE, continues with Baby with a Badge, where a bachelor cop finds a baby in his patrol car...and himself in desperate need of a woman’s touch! Finally, new author C.J. Hill makes her commanding debut with a title that sums it up best:
Baby Dreams and Wedding Schemes.
Romance has everything you need from new beginnings to tried-and-true favorites. Enjoy each and every novel this month, and every month!
Warm Regards!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Baby Dreams And Wedding Schemes
C.J. Hill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
My deepest thanks to three Fairy Godpeople:
Melissa Jeglinski: For a golden opportunity.
My sister Judy: The original Bednobs and Broomsticks.
Barry: For repeating three little words whenever
I needed them: “So, do it.”
I did!
C.J. HILL,
who also writes as Lois Richer for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, was born and raised in a small town in western Canada and could hardly wait to get out in the big, wide world. Once there, she earned her bachelor’s degree, started a career and searched high and low to find fame and fortune. Eventually she returned “home.” It’s that same small town where she met her husband and today raises her two sons. The wonderful sense of community and closeness found in rural areas is what she loves to explore in her stories.
Her family has come to understand that books, the computer and Mom are invisibly linked. C.J. admits that her ideas often overtake her time and shelf space. And so, when all else fails, the family dog takes her for a walk in the woods, where they discuss her next project. They’d both be pleased to hear from you at: Box 639, Nipawin, Saskatchewan, Canada S0E lE0
Dear Reader,
Welcome to my very first book for Silhouette Romance. I’m thrilled to be part of this wonderful tradition of love stories that tug at the heart and remind us all of the most important things in life. If you’re like me, you enjoy reading novels that take you away from your daily problems and plunge you into the wonders of that “special” love. When you’re there, anything can happen, and frequently does! And that’s why I wrote Baby Dreams and Wedding Schemes. I hope you enjoy this book and that you find a refreshing new way to look at your own life.
May your days be filled with joy and much love.
P.S. I’d love to have you check out my titles in the new Love Inspired line, too. Look for the FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY series in a bookstore near you.
Chapter One
“You lied!”
“That squeaky little voice could penetrate steel,” Sasha Lambert muttered, gritting her teeth and trying to remain calm.
Warning—this is what cute, darling little babies grow into. Rethink your plan! There it was again; that ridiculously mocking voice inside her head issuing its gloomy admonition.
I am just as capable as the next woman when it comes to children. I merely need to apply the fine art of reason to this situation, she told herself.
“Look, little boy,” she coaxed quietly. “I can’t have a funeral for Henry in my store! I don’t do funerals.”
He stared up at her, his eyes wide and accusatory. One short, stubby finger pointed to the sign in her window. “My dad tol’ me that sign says you can do anything here.”
Sasha sighed once in resignation, the second time in capitulation as she spotted one fat tear suspended on the end of his incredibly long lashes. “Actually it says we cater to all occasions. But it’s wrong. Sorry. No funeral. No way.”
She hadn’t meant to say it quite so loudly, but the words rang through Bednobs and Broomsticks like a cowbell on the open prairie. The customers quietly browsing her craft store opened their eyes wide to frown at the tall, slim woman positioned near the half-finished train display in the main aisle.
Sasha ignored them all, examining the preschooler from her impressive height. He refused to budge. Instead he stood watching her, his big brown eyes now welling with tears.
“But we hafta,” he wailed as one glistening droplet finally plopped down onto the copper freckles covering his chubby cheeks. “My dad’s gonna kill me when he finds out and then I’ll get grounded. I just gotta have Henry’s funeral first.”
She tried to ignore the sympathy pangs that were mounting inside her mushy heart. The frosty looks of condemnation her customers were casting her way didn’t help stifle the gnawing sense of censure that yawned inside. Nor the pangs of regret. Her eyes fell on the bit of paper she had taped to the counter.
“Word for the day. Compunction: anxiety arising from guilt.” Stupid word! Who needed extra guilt?
Some mother you’ll make, her subconscious chided. No empathy. She frowned, glaring maliciously at the cash register. She was as empathetic as the next woman and she fully intended to be the best mother since sliced bread. So there!
Sasha tossed her shining head back and considered her folly in moving to Allen’s Springs, Montana. Was it her fault poor old Henry had died right here in the middle of the store? she demanded of herself.
“I’m sure your father will understand when you explain it all to him.” There, her voice was kind but firm.
“Nah, he won’t.” The face drooped with misery. “He never does. He’s gonna be really mad. I just know it.”
Sasha closed her eyes in defeat as the tentacles of his mournful distress squeezed tightly around her heartstrings. With difficulty, she repressed the urge to push back the tumble of brown curls from his brow.
Softie. Don’t get involved. Not today. You’ve got that appointment to prepare for. If you’re lucky, you’ll soon have your own kids to worry about.
“Well,” she said in capitulation, knowing darn well she never took her own advice, “perhaps if I spoke to your father.” She glanced around the empty store and made a face. “I don’t think anyone else is coming in today anyway. That announcement of mine pretty well cleared everyone out.” She smiled grimly.
At least he had the grace to look downcast at her loss of business. Sasha handed him a tissue.
“Here. Blow.” Her tone was filled with resignation. “What’s your father’s name?”
“No! You can’t!” The boy’s voice trembled with fear. “I—I’ll tell him myself.” He was backing down the aisle toward the door now, one knobby knee showing through the wide tear in his black pants.
Sasha was amazed. What kind of an ogre was the child’s father, for heaven’s sake, to engender such fear in the boy? And where was he when his son needed him? This was the fifth time in as many days that she’d had the child as an afternoon visitor. Alone.
She darted past him and whipped the door closed, sending the chimes tinkling throughout the empty aisles. That was one advantage of having very long legs. She could outrun almost everyone. Of course, at five feet eleven and seven-eighths inches she also towered above every other living soul.
“I think you and I had better have a talk,” Sasha told him firmly as she closed her hand around one thin shoulder. “Come on. I made cookies yesterday.” He looked doubtful. “Triple chocolate chip with nuts.”
That seemed to decide the issue. He trailed along behind her, his black leather shoes clicking against the worn oak planks of the floor.
Black leather shoes?
Sasha took a second look at the child and grimaced. Most of the kids in Allen’s Springs wore jeans and a T-shirt with sneakers. This child was distinctly out of place in his white shirt, dress pants and leather shoes; the very same items he’d worn each time he’d visited her.
“What’s your name?” Sasha asked softly, leading him through the connecting door to her small living quarters at the rear. Somehow they had never gotten ’round to introductions.
“Cody,” he told her, gazing around with interest. “Is this where you live? I like it.”
His chubby fingers twiddled with the stuffed parrot that hung behind her sofa. “Trains,” he crowed, his eyes sparkling as he moved toward the display in the center of her living room.
Sasha watched as he lovingly gazed at the miniature machines, reached out a tentative hand and then dropped it back by his side. His eyes were huge, round saucers as he studied the red locomotives sitting silent on the tracks she had tacked to a board late last night.
“Four,” he half whispered to himself, nodding. “Here’s the engine and the c’boose. This one is for carrying stuff.”
Sasha pondered his rapt expression as she lifted the jug of milk from the refrigerator and poured a glass for herself and one for the child. Cody seemed mesmerized by her newest project. Good. The boy’s interest boded well for her expansion plans.
Sasha grinned as she removed several of the biggest cookies from the nutcracker cookie jar on her counter and arranged them on a tray. As the eldest of six children, if there was one thing she had experience in, it was kids and what they liked. Sasha grimaced. She should know; she’d played both mother and father in her own family for years.
The fact that this child was a little different from any of the children she’d baby-sat through high school and college just meant she needed a break from work. To get back her perspective! she told herself.
“Let’s have our snack in the backyard,” she told him, pushing the screen door open with one hip as she carried out the tray. “Then we’ll talk about Henry.”
At the mention of that name, Cody’s round face fell and he followed her out the door onto a tiny patch of lawn. “Henry’s gone,” he muttered disconsolately. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just wanted to take him for a walk.”
Sasha’s motherly heart ached at the sadness in his tone. Poor little waif.
“I was ever so careful to lift him gently.”
“Well, it was a nice idea, Cody, but I don’t think goldfish go for walks. They like their bowls.”
He shook his head sadly. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “Everything dies.” It was a solemn denunciation of his whole five-year-old world.
Sasha ruffled his hair gently, enjoying the feel of those silky strands against her palms.
“Who else died?” she asked, waiting for him to look at her.
He didn’t. Instead one grubby fist dashed away the tears before he picked up one of her cookies and started chewing. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Rocket.”
“Who’s Rocket?”
“My dog, o’ course.” Cody peered up at her then, as if to assess her mental age. “He got hit by a car when I letted him out of the gate.” He sniffed sadly. “An’ George and Gertrude.”
Sasha frowned. His grandparents?
“How did they die?” she asked softly.
“Ate too much.” He picked up a second cookie while his other hand grasped the glass.
Sasha was mystified. “Ate too much?” She tried to play along. Maybe this having kids thing was harder than she thought. “But that wasn’t your fault. People feed themselves. Except for babies, of course. No one could blame you, Cody.”
He shook his head doubtfully. “I feeded them too much birdseed.” His mouth was stuffed full of cookie and Sasha wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.
“Birdseed?”
He nodded. “Uh-huh. And I didn’t keep their cage clean ’nuf, neither.” Sadly, he scuffed his toe on the grass. “Dad said you can’t be pushing stuff at canaries all the time. They like to be left alone. Gertrude stopped singing one day and then she got dead.”
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as Sasha realized her error.
“And is that all?” she asked, unable to resist brushing her hand over his darkly shining head once more.
“Nope.” He slurped down the rest of the milk and then leaned over to pick a dandelion.
“Who else?”
His brown eyes peered up into hers. “Shelley—that was my turtle. And Rolly.”
“Who’s Rolly?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Gerbil,” he told her succinctly. “Got out of the cage and Dad stepped on him. Axidennnally, o’ course.”
“Oh, of course.” Sasha smiled, watching the round face with a pang. He looked so forlorn as he recounted the death of all his little pets.
“Henry was ’sposed to be my last chance. Now he’s dead, too. Just like my mom.”
It came out of left field, knocking her back in her chair.
“Your mom,” she half whispered, shocked by his bald statement. “What happened to your mom?”
He sniffed loudly. “She got dead, too.” He bent his head, shifting away from her probing glance.
“Was she sick?” Sasha hated asking the questions but for some reason she just had to know how this little scrap of a child came to be without a mother.
“Uh-uh. Least, I don’t think so. She got dead from a guy.”
“Oh, Cody.” Her soft heart melted then and she cuddled the wiggling little sweat-scented body close to her abundant chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. A mommy’s an awful thing for a boy to lose.” -
He hugged her back tightly, sniffing at the threatening deluge of tears. When at last he pushed away, Sasha let him go with an empty ache in her heart and her arms.
“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “‘Sides, she’s in heaven now.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you know, ’bout heaven?” he demanded, wiping one sleeve across his nose as he frowned up at her.
Sasha smiled. “Yes, I do. And I think your mom is very happy there.”
His big eyes studied her speculatively for a moment. “I guess.”
“But it still hurts, doesn’t it?” she guessed.
“Yeah.” He nodded glumly. “My mom used to laugh all the time. We had fun and we had lots of good times together. She always had surprises for me. Now we never have them. My dad doesn’t talk about her no more.”
“Why, Cody?” It was an invasion of privacy and under any other circumstances Sasha wouldn’t have probed, but there was something about Cody and his sad little face that tugged at her heartstrings, begged her to listen to his childish explanation.
“’Cause it’s my fault that she died and he don’t want people to blame me, I guess.”
“Oh, sweetheart, no. It isn’t your fault at all. It couldn’t be.” Sasha couldn’t bear to hear it. She gazed into those trusting brown eyes and the familiar ache for a child of her own welled once more.
Stop it, she ordered her brain. Think about this child for now.
He was watching her, waiting.
“Sometimes God just wants people to go and live with him, honey, and there’s nothing we did or can do that will stop that.” Sasha had no idea where the words came from but she was thankful Cody seemed to accept them.
His forehead wrinkled in a frown as he considered what she said, as if checking her sincerity. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, positively, unfailingly, irrevocably, indubitably sure, Cody.”
“I dunno what all that stuff means,” he mumbled, his face tipped up so that she could see the light that gleamed in his eyes. “But if you’re sure that I didn’t do nuthin’ bad, I guess that’s okay.”
With lightning swift change he shifted the conversation mode. “Can I play with those trains?” His head jerked toward the doorway. “I never had no trains to play with before.”
Sasha smiled. She was a fool. With his track record in pet care, she shouldn’t let him anywhere near the display. Let alone touch it. Nevertheless, she heard herself agree.
“Yes, you can play with them if you treat them very carefully. They’re my special trains and they don’t like it if you’re rough with them. Okay?”
His eyes were as big as saucers at the prospect of handling the models. He nodded his agreement as she led him back inside. Together they maneuvered the huge board outside onto the lush green lawn. Sasha ran an extension cord and tested the entire mechanism.
When his plump little fingers closed around a fire-red engine, she posed one last question. “What’s your dad’s name, Cody? I need to call him and tell him you’re here.”
His big clear eyes stared at her for one long moment, assessing her. Then he shrugged. “His name is Jacob Windsor,” he told her proudly. The child’s brow furrowed. “He don’t like people buggin’ him when he’s workin’ though.”
Sasha held her tongue with difficulty. Of all the insensitive brutes! “Well, I have to tell him where you are, Cody,” she said with some asperity. “He could be worried.”
Doubtful, her mind chided spitefully.
Cody watched her for a moment and then recited his father’s phone number with a happy grin. Pleased with his good memory, he turned back to his perusal of her trains.
Sasha squared her shoulders. Jacob Windsor had to be a cold, insensitive man. He sure didn’t deserve to have a wonderful son like Cody. How else did one explain a father who would leave a child so floundering, so unsure of his place in the world? This boy needed love and support, not guilt about his mother’s death, regardless of what had happened.
She poured herself another glass of milk and considered the situation at hand. It was up to her to rectify the matter, Sasha decided. If the man was so anesthetized to his son’s doubts and questions, it was her duty to set Mr. Jacob Windsor straight. The man needed to know his son was in pain and help him alleviate it.
She wasn’t surprised when the knock came at the side door fifteen minutes later. A stiff and formal telephone voice had curtly informed her that the Reverend Jacob Windsor would be over immediately to collect Cordell.
But when she opened the door, Sasha lost all ability to converse as she gazed at the very tall, very handsome man who stood waiting.
He’s taller than you. Her eyes relayed this unheard-of information with lightning speed to her foggy brain as Sasha tried to ignore the pulse of awareness thudding through her body.
“I believe my son is here,” he said quietly, his voice a low, husky rumble.
“Oh. Uh, yes. Yes, he is. Outside playing.” She nodded, holding the door wider.
Get a grip, she ordered her mushy brain. Think of the boy.
“I, um, I wanted to talk to you first, though. I’m Sasha Lambert.” She thrust her hand out toward him and was surprised to feel the strength in his lean grip.
He was tall, six three or four at least. And gaunt That was the only way to describe the jutting bones that carved the aristocratic planes of his rugged face. His jet-black hair flowed away from his forehead with just a tinge of silver visible on the sides. Solemn and sad, gray eyes met hers, cloudy with his own thoughts.
“Jacob Windsor. I’m the new minister at First Avenue.”
She digested the news with a nod, motioning to the nearest kitchen chair. Stern and sober; the name suited him and his profession.
“I assume that is your craft store in front,” he murmured. “I hope Cody didn’t break something.” His voice had the wistful tone of a man who knew the truth and wished he didn’t.
Sasha glanced down the long, lean length of him, taking note of the old-fashioned trousers and shirt he wore and the shabby jacket with elbow patches. Even so, the man was a hunk.
“I’ve just made coffee,” she offered, forcing herself to smile, hoping to counteract the lack of air in her lungs. “Would you like some?”
“Please don’t bother on my account. I’ll just take Cody home and leave you in peace.”
He turned toward the back door abruptly, causing Sasha to jump in where angels wouldn’t have.
“No, please.” She grasped his sleeve in her fingers, tugging him away from the screen and Cody’s whirring sounds as he ran the engine around the track. “I really do want to talk to you and it would be easier over a cup of coffee, don’t you think?”
Those silver gray eyes stared intently at her hand and Sasha pulled it away immediately, as if burned. Jacob Windsor resumed his seat slowly, studying her through narrowed eyes.
“What, exactly, is this about?” he asked, a thread of iron evident in the low rumbling timbre of his voice.
Sasha took another breath and charged in.
“Cody,” she told him clearly, setting a steaming mug of coffee and a huge slice of fresh apple pie in front of him. “I want to talk to you about your son.”
One black eyebrow lifted as he contemplated the pie and the steaming coffee, but he said not a word. Instead, he picked up a fork and cut off a piece, placing it between his lips like a connoisseur of baking.
“This is delicious,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to feed me. Widowers get used to fending for themselves.” His cool gaze studied her. “That is what this is about, isn’t it, Miss Lambert?”
There was something in his tone that rasped across her nerves. Some hidden meaning behind those innocent words that was meant to stop her from further questions.
Sasha watched the craggy lines of his face harden into a rigid mask.
“You want to help me out by being a mother to my poor, orphaned son.” His smile was not friendly. “You want to share some of the load that single parenthood presents. You want to relieve Cody of a father who has abnegated his responsibilities whe—”
“What was that word?”
Sasha grabbed a pad and began to print.
“What word?” His gray eyes glared at her, angry at the interruption.
She ignored the anger. “Ab-something.” She glanced up at him. “You said you had ab-something your responsibilities.”
“No, Miss Lambert, I did not. I said you thought I had abnegated my respon—”
“Could you spell that?”
She heard the sigh. Anyone would have. It was long and drawn out, as if to show the listener what extreme patience he exercised. When her eyes studied his face, she saw a look of disgust there. Loathing, almost.
“Miss Lambert. If we could return to the matter at hand?”
“In a minute.” She shook her head. “This is important. Could you please spell that abneg...whatever it was.”
He spelled it, slowly and carefully, as if she were mentally deficient and would never be able to print the letters if he spoke in a normal tone.
“Thank you.” Sasha grinned and slapped the sticky note against her fridge.
He frowned, glancing from her to the fridge. “What are you doing?”
“Collecting a word for the day,” she told him airily, pouring fresh coffee into his empty cup. “I try to get a really good one that I can use all day long.” She moved toward the counter to replace the decanter.
“Abnegate.” She rolled the word over her tongue to test its flavor. “It means to give up something, right?”
He nodded, dazed by the sudden turn of events.
“Thought so.” Sasha grinned. “I can usually tell from the context. Would you like some pie? I don’t want to abnegate my responsibilities as hostess.” Her dark head tipped back to study his annoyed features. “Now, what were you saying?”
Jacob frowned. “I can’t remember,” he admitted dryly. “Do you always go off on these tangents?”
“Yes.” She grinned.
But Jacob Windsor wasn’t watching her. He was glancing around her home. She could easily read the curious thoughts flitting across his expressive face. His wide mouth tipped downward on one side as his eyes remained fixed on the overstuffed purple wing chair she’d recovered herself. Finally they swiveled away from the matching sofa.
“’That’s a rather, uh, unusual piece of furniture.”
Sasha burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. People in Allen’s Springs had been thinking that for years but to date no one had told her outright, to her face.
“I guess I am mercurial,” she grinned. Then added,
“Some people even say I have rapid and unpredictable changes of mood.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he admitted. “I can see that. Now, about Cody?”
“Oh, Cody! He’s a great kid,” she enthused. “But he’s got a problem.”
Jacob Windsor grinned. At least she thought that’s what you could call it. His lips curled in a dry, mirthless sneer that made him look hard as a rock.
“I’m sure he does. More than one, in fact.” His gray eyes hardened to slits of steel. “But nothing that I can’t deal with. I’m used to it, you see. I am his father, after all.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “That is your bailiwick. But I don’t think you’re handling it very well.”
Black eyebrows tilted upward mockingly. “‘Bailiwick’?” He shook his dark head in amusement. “Yes, I guess it is.” His face hardened. “Look, Miss Lambert. I am perfectly capable of dealing with my son and his problems without the help of a female.”
Sasha decided she didn’t like the look he cast her way but watched silently as he surged to his feet, one hand digging into his pocket.
“We don’t need a little mother to take care of us. We’re doing just fine. Let me pay you for whatever damage he’s done and then we can get on with our respective lives.” He thumbed several bills from a worn, tattered leather wallet.
“Will this about cover the damage?”
Sasha shook her head determinedly. “Not nearly,” she muttered, frustrated by his uncaring attitude.
Mr. Jacob Windsor merely peeled off a few more dollars, ignoring her sarcasm.
“You know,” she mused, head tilted to one side as she perused his rigid stance. “I always thought a minister of the church was supposed to have some special sense that lets him see into the misery and confusion of others, empathize with their troubles. You appear to have lost it where Cody’s concerned.”
She watched the tide of red rise from the base of his neck to the black roots of his hair.
“Now, just one blasted minute. For an autodidact like yourself—”
“A what?”
His face wore the smug look of one who knows he has the upper hand. “It means a self-taught person.”
Sasha could feel him watching her scribble it on another of her sticky notes. She ignored him, finished the word, or a facsimile of it, and smacked it against the refrigerator with a snap of her wrist.
“Yes, I guess I am self-taught,” she told him. “That doesn’t mean I can ignore what I see. Go on.”
He inclined his head, obviously choosing his words with care. “To someone like you, who is a stranger to us and outside of our family, perhaps it seems as if Cody is having difficulties.”
He is a blind, narcissistic fool, Sasha decided impartially. Condescending and rude, yes. But still a hunk.
“I assure you that Cody is a perfectly normal little boy who is simply adjusting to a new environment.” .
Sasha placed her hands on her hips. This was going to be harder than she thought.
“Especially when he thinks he’s responsible for his own mother’s death, and that you blame him for that?”
He spouted another word Sasha hadn’t ever heard before but she had no intention of asking him to repeat it. In fact, she pretended she hadn’t heard it as she watched his hands curl into fists at his sides. She faced the flintlike steely gleam in his eyes when they riveted on her.
“What did you say?” His voice was frigid with dislike.
“Cody thinks he’s the cause of your wife’s death and that you are keeping mum about it to shield him from public opinion.”
“Just how did my son come to confide such information?” The words were chipped away from his hard lips as he scowled at her across the table.
“It was after Henry died. You see—”
“Who?” His eyes wore a dark, puzzled look as they met hers.
“Henry. The goldfish. The bag broke and Henry ended up drying out on my floor. He’s still there, I guess.”
Sasha thought about that for a moment before Jacob Windsor’s throat-clearing sounds drew her attention back to him.
“Anyway, Cody wanted me to give Henry a proper funeral. He said you’d kill him for making the mistake of terminating another pet. I don’t do funerals—especially goldfish.”
“I believe the sign in your window says you cater to all occasions,” he said tongue-in-cheek.
Sasha shook her head. “Sorry. Not funerals. But to get back to Cody...” She purposely let the words hang for emphasis.
“Yes, let’s.” He was clearly not going to be deterred by her sharp tone.
“In Cody’s words, ‘everything dies.’” There, she’d said it. Now he would tell her to mind her own business.
But Jacob Windsor just shook his head stupidly. Sasha could see he wasn’t following.
“I’m not going to kill Cody just because his goldfish died.” He looked confused.
“Oh, good.” She sipped at her coffee for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. It didn’t help, so she plunged right in. “Well, anyway, it was during this discussion that Cody told me about his mother dying. He said she died from a gun and that you didn’t talk about her any more because you didn’t want people to blame him.”
“Oh, my Lord. I thought we had left all that behind.” It was a groan of despair that touched her nerves as the tall man stooped against the tabletop, head in his hands as he sighed in defeat. “I really hoped he’d forgotten all about it.” His voice was full of pain and sadness.
“What happened?” she whispered softly, reaching out to brush her fingers over his arm in empathetic understanding. She pulled back when he flinched. “I just want to help Cody as much as I can.”
When he looked up at her his eyes were dark and hooded. He withdrew visibly into a shell that blazed don’t touch like a neon sign. The deeply carved lines of his face emphasized the sadness that marked him.
“I’m not sure you can,” he whispered hoarsely. His voice was flat. “And if anyone’s to blame for Angela’s death, it’s I. I insisted we go away. Unfortunately, it was too late.”
Sasha heard the words in stunned disbelief, but filed them away for later inspection.
“Cody was three when Angela died during our summer vacation.” He was speaking again in a dull, flat monotone. “She’d had an asthma attack. For some reason he’d started having nightmares. He dreams that she was killed by some punks who were trying to steal from the church. He thinks he saw the whole thing.”
“Oh, no.” Sasha gasped in consternation, imagining the terror such an event must have had on his young mind.
“In fact he did see her choking. But it happened almost three years ago and in another place. I was hoping he’d forget it all. Put it away. Get on with life.” He shook his head. “Apparently neither of us can,” he half whispered to himself.
Sasha thought for a moment considering the little boy’s plight and his words. “The series of recurring problems with pets probably brought on some of his self-blame. He seems to have some difficulty keeping them alive.” She tried to be kind.
He snorted derisively at her obvious understatement. “Difficulty? If Cody gets his hands on them, they can’t last long in this world. He’s probably the most well-known human in pet heaven and he’s only five years old!”
Sasha glared at her visitor.
“What your son needs, Reverend Windsor, is something to take his mind off his troubles. A little fun. Some jocund person who can regurgitate his high spirits back to where a five-year-old boy’s should be.”
“You really do have a thing for all these weird words, don’t you? Jocund, indeed.” He smiled sadly at her strange choice of words.
But Sasha held his gaze steadily, willing him to accept Cody’s distress. And her solution to it. When he inclined his head in a nod, she let her breath out in a whoosh of relief.
“And I suppose you have yourself in mind as this cheerful, animated person who is only too willing to sacrifice herself for the good of our family. To do her Christian duty, in fact.” His sigh was full of long-suffering patience.
She nodded slowly, keeping her gaze fixed on him. “Well, I don’t know about sacrifice myself. But, yes, I do have a certain perspective that you seem to lack.”
He muttered something disparaging.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said there’s always one. At least.” His voice was full of bitterness.
She frowned. “One what?”
He glared at her angrily.
“One do-gooder busybody who thinks she knows exactly what my son and I need in our lives. And she usually volunteers herself as that solution.” He paused to stare at her expectantly. When it became obvious to him that she had no idea as to the direction of his thoughts, Jacob Windsor clarified matters in a cold, mocking tone. “As Cody’s new mother. And my wife.”
Sasha couldn’t help it, her eyebrows rose to their full height as her eyes widened in shock at his words.
“I’m not proposing anything of the sort,” she informed him in a squeaky, high-pitched croak that was totally unlike her usually low voice.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get ’round to proposing fairly soon, Miss Lambert. They usually do.”
Fury rose like a red flag in front of a bull and Sasha’s reaction was just as quick. She slapped her hands on her hips and surveyed his seated form from her standing position.
“Well, they are not me! Of all the patronizing, rude—”
“Forget it,” he said snidely. “I’ve heard it all before. The pie, the little discussion, the motherly concern. They’ve already been used.”
“Not by me they haven’t. I couldn’t be bothered.”
The look he favored her with just then sent her temperature soaring several degrees higher. Which was not a good sign, Sasha decided angrily, releasing a breath that puffed the bangs off her forehead.
“Lest you faint away from shock,” she said gratingly, struggling to hold on to her temper, “I take great delight in informing you that I have not the least intention of becoming anyone’s wife.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded smugly. “That’s what they all say. At first.” He twiddled with the empty pie plate sitting in front of him as he spoke. “I’ll give you about five minutes until that tactic changes. The next step is sugarcoated sweetness.”
“Ooo-ooh.” Sasha’s hands formed fists at her sides as she blinked away the red tide of murder from her gaze. She planted herself directly opposite him and leaned in, holding her face mere centimeters from his.
“You may think you’re God’s gift to this earth, Reverend,” she rasped. “But let me be the first to have the temerity to suggest that I don’t find you so irresistible.” She refused to look away from those black depths. “Oh, I’d like to have a child like Cody, make no mistake about that.”
“I thought so.” The superior look on his face was shortlived as she prepared her ammunition and fired with both barrels.
“But to take you into the bargain seems an awfully high price to pay to be a mother.” She stiffened her backbone with barely concealed fury.
“Men!” She spat the word out in disgust, “Let me tell you, buster. Minister or not, I haven’t the least interest in you or any others of your kind.” Her eyes held his, refusing to look away from their piercing intensity.
“I am a career woman, dedicated to pursuing her own interests and livelihood. I don’t need a man to support me or to hold me down or to nurture. I’m fully capable of building my own life.” Her teeth hurt from clenching and she eased up on her jaw just a fraction. “If and when I decide to have a child, there are the facilities available. I don’t need you to accommodate me there. Thank you very much!”
Sasha could feel the heat radiate off her face as she ended the tirade and wondered if she’d been too blunt. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just naturally assumed that you were another—”
She cut him off. “Don’t naturally assume anything about me, Mr. Windsor.” Sasha tossed her head back angrily. “I like children, a lot. That’s all. Period. No strings.”
He nodded. “Fine. I understand.”
She searched his gray eyes but saw nothing save a faint remnant of suspicion and perhaps a hint of relief.
“What do you suggest I do about Cody, Miss Lambert?”
She sucked in a breath of air and allowed a slight softening to mold the curve of her straight lips. At least he had decided to listen to her opinion concerning Cody’s welfare. His gray eyes glinted at her.
“Thank you for your interest in him. And I really do apologize. I guess I was way off base.”
“Yes, you were,” she agreed pertly. “I am only thinking about Cody.”
He nodded gravely. “So am I.”
Sasha took that as a green light and proceeded to offer him her advice. “Well, Rev,” she began irreverently, enjoying the frown that drew his thick black eyebrows together.
Do him good, she told herself. Obviously thinks he’s hot stuff.
“The first thing I’d suggest is that you go down to Booker’s and see if you can find another goldfish to replace Henry. And eventually you’re going to have to talk to Cody about this strange idea he has regarding his mother’s death.”
He nodded, obviously considering her advice.
“I know. I did try, but when we moved and my mother was with us, I thought he’d forget about it. He hasn’t had a nightmare for quite a while, but obviously Cody still thinks about Angela. I guess we’ll just have to go over the whole thing again.” He heaved a sigh that lifted his wide shoulders high. “I’m not anxious to go back to that era.”
Sasha watched him covertly.
“You know, part of the problem might be that he’s by himself all the time,” she suggested softly, and watched as the Reverend Jacob Windsor frowned at her criticism, his back straightening in his chair.
“I spend as much time as I possibly can with my son, Miss Lambert.”
Sasha could hear the ice crackling in his voice and decided to drop that aspect. For now. She stood and carried the dishes to the sink, stacking them haphazardly.
“I’m sure you do, Rev. But tonight, I’m going to spend the evening showing Mr. Cody Windsor what a good time is like in Allen’s Springs.”
Sasha smiled widely. She liked kids, especially their capacity for love. She hadn’t had much to do with them lately; not with the store and all. Of course, Allen’s Springs usually attracted an older clientele to its rejuvenating mineral waters, although parents and children did come to the lake in the summer. And since she’d moved from Toronto, her siblings had found it expensive to visit.
This was exactly what she needed to get over Dwain, she told herself. Just what she needed to be young and carefree once more, no longer tied to a man who demanded straitlaced perfection and unending cloying devotion in a little town where their every move was relayed back to his fawning mother.
“How?”
She turned in surprise. The Reverend Jacob Windsor stood behind her, a look of expectation on his narrow face.
“Well, let’s see...” She paused, thinking madly. “Cody and I are going to go on a picnic.”
She grabbed a basket from the closet shelf and considered the contents of her fridge. When a choking sound penetrated her consciousness, she turned to find her guest eyeing the lake trout stretched out across her refrigerator shelf, its glassy eye fixed on them both.
“You’re not taking that, are you?” he asked curiously. “I mean, you’re not going to serve sushi or something, right?” He frowned down at her, his finger stroking the line of his jutting chin. “You know? Not right after Henry’s, er, demise?”
Sasha pointed her chin in the air and ignored his rudeness. She had never even seen sushi!
“If you hurry,” she intoned snottily, “you might get back with that goldfish in time to go with us.” Her eyes flashed indignantly. “Not that I’m inviting you, you understand. I wouldn’t want to be accused of pursuing you like some man-hungry female on the make.”
She didn’t bother to sugar-coat the words although Sasha wondered later if it was exactly the right phrase to use with a minister.
“Yes, ma’am,” he quipped, moving toward the door. “I got that message loud and clear.”
His eyes glanced across the blur of yellow sticky notes dotting her refrigerator. Each note had a cat prancing across the top and a word scrawled across the bottom. His eyes glimmered with some hidden vestige of humor as he studied their curious poses.
“I think it’s only fair to mention, however, that Cody is not an ailurophile. In fact, he’s allergic.”
He sauntered out the door, a smug smile of superiority curving his lips as Sasha frowned at his retreating back. He was trying to get back at her, make her feel inferior. Well, she’d show him!
She ignored his departure and concentrated on filling her picnic basket. But, finally, when she could resist no longer, she gave up and dashed out the door after him.
“A what?” she called.
Jake Windsor turned toward her. “An ailurophile. A lover of cats.” His gray eyes opened wide, mocking her ignorance. “I was sure you would know that one.”
But Sasha was ready for him. “I don’t go for bombastic words,” she told him saucily. “Too pretentious for a rural area like ours.”
With that she marched back into her house to prepare Cody’s picnic. And all the while her mind enumerated the indubitable assets of the newest inhabitant to Allen’s Springs.
So what if he was tall. Taller than her in fact.
And dark.
And handsome.
She was interested in the son, not the father.
Her mind echoed the unusually descriptive word Jacob Windsor had used earlier.
You’re interested in him all right, her subconscious asserted. But it won’t do you any good. He’s gun-shy. And you’re supposed to be focusing on a different goal.
Sasha picked up the hamburgers and stored them in a corner of the large basket before checking her appearance in the mirror for the sixth time. Her mouth tipped downward in just the tiniest way as she considered her actions.
Primping! Yuk!
But her mind wouldn’t stay off the subject of Jacob Windsor. She’d been truly sad to see Pastor Dan leave after so many years. But now there was Pastor Jacob Windsor. He did present a whole new range of possibilities.
Of course, they have nothing to do with the fact that he’s young and good-looking and four whole inches taller than me, she assured her subconscious in a severe tone. Nothing at all!
She knew she lied.
Chapter Two
“Amen.” Cody’s loud voice reverberated through the solemn silence of the woods later that afternoon.
Jake watched as Sasha Lambert leaned down to drop a few handfuls of the rich dark soil onto the tiny box that held his son’s dead goldfish
Cody wasn’t quite so dainty and Jake grinned as the little boy heaped up piles of the rich black soil with his bare hands. His pants were dirty and stained and there was a tear in one leg. Again! It was doubtful the shirt would be good for much but the rag basket after today. And Cody’s shoes? Well, they could probably be restored to something like their former state.
Somehow.
“We can have the lunch now,” his son told them cheerfully. “They always have lunch after funerals. To celebrate the person’s life, right, Dad?” He looked from Sasha to his father for confirmation. Jake felt another pair of eyes fasten on him, as well.
“Yes, well, uh, that’s right, Cody,” he mumbled, and felt embarrassed at the strange look she gave him. She was probably right. A five-almost-six-year-old shouldn’t know so much about funerals.
“Sorry, guys.” Sasha’s cheerful voice broke the silence. “I haven’t got a lunch. I’ve got supper!”
He watched her kneel beside Cody.
“I’ve got hamburgers and potato salad and pickles and chips and double-chocolate brownies. How about that, sport?”
Cody grinned. “I’m not a sport.”
Jake heard him giggle as Sasha tickled him under his chin.
“You’re not,” she said, pretending astonishment. “I was sure you were a good sport.” She rippled her fingers across his stomach and under his arms, drawing out squeals of glee. “Are you sure you’re not?”
He watched them cavort in the sun-dappled woods and thought how long it had been since he’d heard his son laugh so readily. Cody seemed to have developed a strong rapport with the owner of the local craft store in a remarkably short time.
Not that she wasn’t remarkable herself. Sasha Lambert was every bit as curious as the name she had given to her business. She was tall, stretching to just above his chin, and well rounded in all the right places. He knew that because she was wearing a yellow kind of skirt-shorts thing that showed off those long legs and a scooped-neck knit top that gave him a very good view of all of her assets. He tried to ignore the top’s bilious purple color, which bore a significant resemblance to the shade of her unusual furniture.
She was a pretty woman with that black cap of feathery hair cut close to her scalp, cupping the regal lines of her neck. The deep richness of its raven tones highlighted her round, expressive eyes and lent their green hue a clarity that was very effective in raising his temperature when she focused them on him.
He hated that flutter of awareness that tingled low in his stomach. It was, well, a betrayal of Angela somehow. A denial of the place his late wife should hold in his heart. The fact that Angela had died at the lowest point in their marriage was something he refused to think about.
Angela was gone. Why, then, did he feel so guilty? Why couldn’t he let her rest in peace?
It was a punishment; he understood that now. He hadn’t appreciated his wife’s fragility, her inability to handle the myriad problems that came with his job. He’d ignored her complaints and focused solely on the opportunity to get ahead. After all, they would have time later on.
Only they hadn’t. And Jake couldn’t ever say the words of apology that haunted him yet. He would live with that for the rest of his life. He shoved the thought away.
Despite his best intentions, Jake’s eyes persisted in their scrutiny of the vibrant young woman in front of him.
Sasha Lambert was nothing like Angela. She had a wide strong face with prominent cheekbones and a straight nose that tipped at the bottom just a bit. It was her mouth that really told him about her, though.
It curved and slanted and tipped in a thousand different ways when she spoke. Wide and mobile, with flashing white teeth, Jake was fascinated by the many moods delineated on that expressive face. He knew a word that exactly expressed the intangible quality he had seen in Sasha Lambert.
“Gallimaufry.” A hodgepodge or mixture of unrelated things. He wondered if he would see that look of delight cross her face again if he told her.
“Can we, Dad?”
Jake awoke from his study to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him. “Uh, I’m not...”
She took pity on him.
“We were just going to go over to the picnic area to get our fire started, Mr. Windsor. Are you coming?”
“Well,” he prevaricated, watching her closely. “I’m not sure I’m invited.”
She said nothing, waiting for Cody to give the word.
“Sasha always says ‘the more the merrier,”’ the little boy quoted. “I do, too.”
With a whoop of excitement, Cody whirled off after Sasha’s dog, tearing wildly through the overhanging boughs.
“‘Sasha always says,’?” he questioned softly. “Just how long has Cody been coming into your store, Miss Lambert?”
“About five days, on and off. Long enough to hear me say that, I guess.” She kept on walking, glancing placidly around at the trees. “And please call me Sasha. No one in Allen’s Springs calls me Miss.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Jake declared out loud. “He shouldn’t be bothering you at all, let alone at work. My housekeeper, Mrs. Gamer, is supposed to be watching him.” His gray eyes searched hers. “And my name is Jake,” he told her. “You can forget all that Reverend and Mister stuff.”
He frowned, wondering what else he had missed about his son’s current life. Hadn’t they made any progress after that desolate year when he’d been content to let his parents deal with Cody’s and his needs rather than force himself to deal with the raw edges of his own life?
Her voice drew him out of his reflections.
“Actually, I like it when he shows up in the store. I’ve been thinking of trying a new line of kids’ crafts for the children we get in when their parents come to use the spa. Cody’s been sort of test marketing things.” He watched her eyes close for a moment. “When I was a kid, there were always children around. I miss that.”
She glanced fondly at the boy and the dog, hunched together at the bottom of an old oak tree. “He gives Oreo a run for her money, too.”
Jake stared. “Oreo?” This was a dog’s name?
“Well, she has three chocolate spots and I thought she looked like a cookie when she was a pup.” She met his appraising glance with an embarrassed look. “It’s probably not appropriate for her breeding title, but who cares.” Her shoulders shrugged with indifference.
“Who, indeed,” he repeated, mulling over the events of the past hour. What a strange afternoon! But then everything about this woman was unexpected.
“This is the best table in the park,” she told him moments later.
Jake watched as she spread a plastic checked cloth over the picnic table and began to unpack the basket he had lugged across the thick grass.
“Aren’t you going to start the fire?” she chided, obviously waiting for him to begin.
He glanced up from his scrutiny of her very long, very shapely legs, to find her wide green eyes fixed on him curiously.
“Don’t you know how?” she asked kindly.
He felt himself bristle.
“Of course I know how to build a fire. I was the top camper in my Boy Scout troop,” he heard himself say smugly.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, Windsor, he admonished his overactive ego. It was an innocent offer to help. Don’t offend her yet again with your stupid assumptions. As he chopped and split the wood, Jake found himself answering her questions.
“How long have you been in Allen’s Springs?”
“Five days, give or take.” He grinned. “Cody must have been at your place on the first day. I’ve been so busy unpacking, I guess I haven’t paid enough attention.” As usual, he added to himself.
She glanced up from unloading the basket.
“Unpacking for so long? I don’t think I own enough possessions to unpack for five days straight. You must have brought a lot of stuff.”
“Yes, there is a lot to deal with. It’s all been in storage, you see. Since Angela’s death. While we were overseas.” He said the words without thought.
She had that warm, fuzzy look again. It made him nervous. Jake wasn’t sure he had enough strength left in him to fend off another man-hungry female but he sure as heck wasn’t ready to fall into the predatory clutches of some lonely woman on the make.
Then again, Sasha had made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested in men, just children. He decided to be cautious. Time would tell if she was merely trying another ploy from the “single woman syndrome.”
He straightened his spine with determination.
“What was it like?” The words were soft and dreamy, barely audible above Cody’s roughhousing with Oreo.
Jake frowned. “What was what like?”
“Overseas?”
He had to grin at his own foolishness. Sasha Lambert wasn’t a repressed spinster, she was a repressed traveler! He felt even sillier now.
“Well, I spent quite a lot of time at Oxford, actually. The past two years I’ve been working on a dissertation for my doctoral thesis. It was a much slower pace than I’d been used to. The life we led in Toronto wasn’t conducive to a lot of internal meditation.”
“England,” he heard her breathe. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Everything looks so lush and green in pictures people bring back.”
Jake watched her wide green eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she stared, totally unfocused, at her own verdant surroundings.
“Tower Bridge, the Crown Jewels. Oh,” she gasped as another thought struck. “Did you see Windsor Castle?”
He nodded. It was refreshing to see such excitement. Even Cody hadn’t been this enthused by their numerous sight-seeing excursions, and it was supposed to have been his holiday!
“All of it that I could,” he told her. Jake studied her in the bright sunlit glade.
“I guess you would. How does it feel to have your own castle?” Sasha giggled, her jade eyes twinkling at some inner joke.
He cast her a frowning look.
“You know, Windsor Castle—Jacob Windsor?”
He grinned.
“Oh, I don’t go back much now,” he told her in the Queen’s good English. “Too many drafts, you know. Have you traveled much?” Jake studied her smiling face with interest.
Sasha shook her dark head sadly.
“No. I was to have gone to Hawaii last winter but Dwain...” She let the words trail away, leaving him more curious than ever about her and the man she’d just mentioned. “Well, I think this fire is going to have to burn down some before we can roast anything on it.” It was a definite change of subject, but he let her get away with it.
Jake watched her slide gently to the grass, her long legs curled beneath her. Legs like that should be covered, he told himself, noting their smooth curves with growing interest. He quelled that inner spark of awareness and seated himself opposite her, keeping a watchful eye on Cody.
“Now you know about me,” he said. “Let’s hear about you.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Nothing much to know. I’ve lived here for about two years. I like the small community and my business is built around the tourism the mineral springs generates as well as local people who sell their wares to the visitors we get.”
Jake noted the glimmer of excitement that darkened her eyes when she spoke of her work. It was a good sign. Women who were involved in their own lives weren’t as likely to interfere in his.
“What did you do before that?” he asked curiously. “Surely you could have traveled then?”
A smile curved her wide mouth, tipping the corners up and showing her even teeth. She shook her dark head.
“Uh-uh. Too busy climbing the corporate ladder. Or trying to.”
“So what happened to change that?” Jake found himself studying her. The corporate ladder? Sasha Lambert looked nothing like the hard-nosed businesswomen he associated with corporate ladders.
She tipped her head to one side, nibbling on a fingernail as she considered his question and her answer.
“I hated the anonymity of the city. I moved here to be my own boss. I thought I’d found Mr. Right when I got engaged to Dwain, but my prince turned out to be a frog.” She shrugged, grimacing. “A little while ago I suddenly realized that because of him, I wasn’t anywhere near achieving the things I really wanted out of life—things that I’d left the city to find.”
“Like what?”
“A home of my own. Friends and neighbors who care. Independence. A child.” She ticked them off on her fingers.
His ears perked at that as Jake felt all his senses go on red alert. But Sasha wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the patch of grass she had tugged from the ground.
“I guess I thought I needed a man to give me all that,” she murmured, thinking aloud. “Maybe that’s how I got mixed up with Dwain. Everyone sort of paired us off. He is the town’s most eligible bachelor, after all!” He heard the self-mockery in her voice and resolved to find out more about the man.
“I knew it couldn’t go on. We didn’t want the same things. Dwain wasn’t interested in family and I want to settle down. When I finally got the courage to have it out with him a couple of months ago, our split caused a nineday wonder around here. I’m hoping that all that’s past now.” She tipped her head toward him then, chin jutting out defiantly.
“I don’t need a man to give my life meaning. And I’ve realized that Dwain certainly doesn’t need me. He just needs a dog, a housekeeper and someone to keep him warm.” She blushed, as if just realizing she was talking to a minister. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Dwain is a nice man, really. I’m just not suited to playing the part of the doting ‘little woman of the farm,’ I guess.”
She glanced down disparagingly. “Especially when I’m taller than he is.”
Jake tried to stifle it. He really did.
But the mental picture his mind conjured up of this tall exotic beauty mincing along in the path of some short, toady old farmer was just too much. His shoulders shook with mirth.
“I’m sorry.” He choked. “I’m not laughing at you. Really.”
“Yes, you are,” she returned tartly. Then she grinned. “But that’s okay. Sometimes I have to laugh at me, too.”
He liked her spirit, Jake decided. There were enough poor souls in this world who took things too seriously. He somehow sensed that Sasha Lambert had that irrepressible quality that would help her bounce back from disappointment.
“So exactly what do you do in Bednobs and Broomsticks?” he asked curiously. “The name is certainly attention-getting.”
“On purpose. We do everything. I can cater to most events, plus do cake decorating, wedding decorations, veils, bouquets, all kinds of craft supplies and make a whole lot of handmade articles for sale.” She grinned at him. “To name a few.”
Jake grinned back. “But you don’t do funerals?”
She took it in stride. “Nope. Sorry.”
“And your newest venture is trains?”
“Yes.” Her eyes sparkled with animation. “The men here are really getting into the act, especially with all the interest in the restoration of the old train station. They make a great birthday gift.” She grinned at him.
“From Cody’s reaction, I’ll bet the kids like them, too,” Jake muttered, watching as her eyes strayed over to the table.
“Is that fire about ready?” she asked. “I’m starved.”
“Pretty close,” he murmured, offering her a hand up only to find her slim form almost pressed against him when she surged to her feet. He stared into her shimmering green eyes for several moments, sliding his gaze down to note the dewy softness of her lips. Kissable lips. The kind that would taste sweet and haunting, begging him to come back for more.
He wanted to kiss her, to taste the zest and delight she found in life. But the very thought of doing such a thing amazed him. The moments ticked by as he studied the healthy sheen of her skin and the warm coloring that lit her cheeks with an inner light. And even as he stared, Jake felt his own body come alive in a way he hadn’t known in months—years.
When Sasha finally moved away, Jake mentally shook himself. He watched her brush at a fly and immediately felt disloyal, remembering how much Angela had detested cooking out of doors. The bugs and dust and smoky odors had set her teeth on edge and yet Sasha seemed perfectly comfortable with all three. As he checked the coals and adjusted the fire until the flames were minimal but gave off a glowing heat, Jake felt the solitude of the green spacious park invade his soul.
He’d missed this, he realized. For the first time in ages, the numbing fog that held him captive seemed to be evaporating, and the colors and smells and vibrancy of life were drawing on his senses. Maybe it was time he got back into living.
“Fire’s about right, I’d say. I’ll get Cody if you want to start the burgers.” He had only taken a few steps when she muttered something. “I beg your pardon?” Jake searched her gleaming eyes.
“I said, that’s all I am to you—a cook? Talk about preconceived notions! How like a male chauvinist!”
He grinned appreciatively.
“I’m not quite that puerile,” he chided and stalked away, enjoying the frown on her face. Halfway across the lawn he relented and turned back, ready to explain, but she forestalled him.
“No,” she agreed, staring at her hands and speaking so softly Jake barely heard the words. “I think you’re far beyond the childish stage. And that has probably discomfited more than a few women.” He barely heard the last few whispered words. “Me, included.”
As he strode over the uneven terrain, Jake grinned to himself. There was something about her that made him take himself lightly. He liked that. He’d been too serious for far too long.
But that’s all it was, he told the clear blue sky. Just someone to talk to and maybe a friend for Cody. He didn’t want anything else. He couldn’t. It was too hard.
They munched on burgers and chips, drank the lemonade and bought an ice cream cone from the boy pedaling his little truck through the park.
After that, Cody insisted on a game of catch. Sasha showed them the ducks and rabbits near the pond at the end of the park and they fed the animals the scant remains of their supper. It was an idyllic evening that Sasha allowed herself to thoroughly enjoy.
As she packed everything up, Cody’s tired voice penetrated her musings.
“We’re just like a real family, Dad,” he murmured, snuggling his head against his father’s broad shoulder as the sunlight waned and darkness loomed among the tall pines.
“A mom and a dad and a kid.”
Sasha felt his fist tugging her heartstrings once more. It was uncanny the way the child got to her this way. Just a few words and she was ready to forfeit her hard-won independence for the sake of a motherless little boy.
“It was fun, son;” she heard Jacob say. “But now I think we’d better get you into bed. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I’ve got a bit of work to do on my sermon yet.”
“Oh, please,” Sasha murmured, anxious not to waylay him. “Go ahead home. I’ll take the shortcut to my place. There’s no need for you to walk me there.”
His gray eyes were clear and focused as he met her gaze.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “Cody and I will see you home first.”
She read the underlying words with no difficulty. And knew why he didn’t want to say them. It would be tantamount to admitting they’d had a date if he said he never let a woman walk home alone. And the last thing Jacob Windsor intended was to have her—or anyone else—think that he wanted a woman in his life.
“Show me the shortcut,” was all he said.
So she did. And ten minutes later they were at the side door of her business-cum-home.
“Thanks for a lovely time,” she murmured, unwilling to wake the drowsy child.
“We should be thanking you,” he returned. “I’ll try to ensure that Cody doesn’t make a nuisance of himself anymore.”
She knew it was pointless to tell him that she enjoyed the energetic little boy. Jacob Windsor would only see it as her attempt to inveigle herself into his good graces.
Instead Sasha smiled and eased in through the door with her basket, murmuring a soft good-night.
It didn’t take long to get ready for bed and she decided to sit on the patio for a few moments in the dark. Sasha enjoyed the solitude. It was especially gratifying to sit outside tonight relaxing and thinking of the past few hours.
Thanks, Lord, for letting me see that there are still some real men in the world.
Sasha grinned to herself.
Even if they’re not for me. That sounded childish.
Not that I need one. Defiant. That was better.
Except to have a child with. She got up and climbed the stairs to bed. It was the same old circuitous argument that led nowhere and answered none of her questions.
Biological clock or not, she still ached with this incredible longing to have her own child, to create a family circle of her very own. Why would she feel this way if God intended her to remain single?
There was no answer.
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, which seemed to account for the large crowd at church. That and the fact that it was the first Sunday for the new minister. Sasha glanced around the small sanctuary and noticed the wealth of females in attendance.
A small grin twitched at the side of her lips. Let’s see you wiggle out of this one, Reverend Windsor, she snickered as she ticked off the possible contenders.
Mrs. Garner was old enough to be his mother, but she sat there, front and center, decked out in her Sunday-go-to-meeting hat and a brand-new dress. Sasha made a mental note to check whether the woman had shed her customary brown support hose for the occasion. Cody sat by the woman’s side, eagerly gazing ’round the small church.
Flora Brown, the church secretary, was also an older single woman. Today her mousey dry hair was ruffled into a new style that took years off her plain face. And she was not wearing black!
Maudie Roach, as I live and breathe. Sasha barely stifled the tickle of laughter that begged release as the town’s most eligible female sauntered suggestively down the aisle and placed herself in the center seat, second row. Her shapely figure was displayed to perfection in the fitted white silk suit she wore. A thigh-high slit in the skirt showed off her slim legs and dainty toes in sandals with four-inch heels.
For one green moment Sasha allowed jealousy to invade her. Just once she’d like to be short enough to be able to wear heels that endowed her with a regal grace and elegance instead of these plain flatties that minimized her five-foot-eleven-something stature.
And next to the expensive cut of Maudie’s outfit, Sasha’s own floral sundress looked home-made. Which it was, she mocked herself gently. She’d given up buying haute couture outfits when she’d moved to Allen’s Springs to become independent. A decision which I do not regret, she assured herself sternly.
“Morning, Vera.”
Looking frazzled and hot, Mrs. Bratley slipped onto the empty seat beside her, fingers clenched around the wriggling arm of her five-year-old son Bobby.
Sasha smiled sympathetically.
“Having a tough day?” she murmured as she watched the town brat snitch a soda cracker from the baby behind them.
“Just the usual.” Vera sighed. “Bobby didn’t want to come to church today. Hector’s gone fishing, you see.”
Sasha nodded. She knew exactly how Bobby felt. There had been times in her life when she would have far preferred to worship God in the cool stillness of the river rather than the stuffy confines of First Avenue Church.
While his mother leafed through the bulletin, Sasha slipped the child a mint, which he promptly chewed while holding his hand out for a second.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “That’s all I have.”
He went for her handbag, but Sasha slipped it to the other side just as the Reverend Jacob Windsor moved behind the pulpit.
It wasn’t a long service. The hymns were familiar upbeat ones that encouraged and uplifted the spirit. Maudie favored them with a solo that had the rafters resounding with pure, clear contralto tones that Sasha refused to allow herself to envy.
But the message... Now that was something else.
He started off well, Sasha decided.
“Cody and I would like to thank each of you for your kind welcome to Allen’s Springs. We are looking forward to getting to know all of you much better in the weeks and months ahead.”
And then came the warning.
“Although my wife has passed away, Cody and I are very happy together. We have many fond memories that we share when we’re feeling low. And so, while I appreciate the numerous invitations you’ve so graciously extended, we must have time to find our place together in this community.”
It was well said, she’d give him that. But the intent was still the same.
Back off.
There were more words along the same lines, but Sasha tuned the rest out as she surveyed the crowd for reactions.
Mrs. Garner was studying her gloves as if they were covered with some distasteful substance while Flora sat stiffly facing the front. Sasha couldn’t detect even the twitch of muscles in the harsh profile view. Two teenage girls were giggling and whispering to each other as they cast wide-eyed soulful eyes at Jacob.
But it was Maudie who made her teeth clench.
Gorgeous, self-aware Maudie, who leaned back in her seat comfortably. A predatory look that Sasha had seen numerous times curved the full red lips. In a movement as old as time, Maudie flicked back the silver-gilt curls with a careless twitch of her neck, her eyes studying the man in front of them all.
She’s gonna go for him, Sasha’s subconscious whispered. She’s loaded for bear.
The words rattled around and around her brain as the pastor pronounced the benediction. They ate away at her as she bid her friends and neighbors good morning. They nagged her conscience as she shook Reverend Windsor’s hand and facetiously thanked him for the “enlightening” sermon.
They hissed at her as she watched Dwain amble over to Maudie, trying desperately to get the other woman’s attention.
Warn him. Tell Jake what to expect.
“Lovely job of the bulletin, Flora. I really like those cartoons on the back.”
Tell him to be careful. If she gets her hooks in, he’ll wonder what hit him.
“Cody! It’s nice to see you again. I do like that shirt.”
Do you want Maudie Roach to become that child’s mother?
“Stop it,” she snapped, causing old Mr. Abernathy to pull his hand away abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, red-faced. “I was thinking of something else.” She watched him walk away with a frown.
“Home, I need to go home. Get out of this sun.” Sasha hoped no one would notice she was talking to herself.
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Maudie stood smiling artlessly down at her, Pastor Jacob directly behind holding the handle of her white parasol with two fingers. “You bigger women always seem to have trouble with the heat.”
“Bigger women” indeed!
It was a direct slam that hit home painfully since Sasha was only too conscious of her own overly large frame when measured against the other woman’s petite size. Sasha held her hands at her side, curved her nails down and forced her lips to smile.
“Oh, you don’t worry about me, Maudie. I’m not the one who needs a parasol. Actually, I’m quite strong. I don’t need a man to protect me from the elements.”
The woman looked like a cat, Sasha decided. A very contented cat as she curled her arm into the minister’s muscled black-robed arm.
“Oh, I just love having a big strong man around. It’s so refreshing to be taken care of.”
You and Scarlett O’Hara, Sasha thought, turning away. It was disgusting. She strode down the road, heading for home like a scared rabbit. Enough was enough!
She stripped the dress off in her bedroom and slid on a cool cotton romper that allowed the air to caress her heated skin.
“Bigger woman, indeed,” she muttered, assembling a sandwich for herself from the assortment of cold cuts and the garlicy dill pickles she loved. She was proud of her height and her well-endowed figure. She was!
Sasha refused to admit that she had donned the outfit in the hopes that a certain man and his son would stop by. She tried to remember all the confident, self-reliant messages she had learned while disengaging herself from a dependent relationship with Dwain.
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