The Marriage Prescription
He couldn’t believe this. Was she insinuating that he was old? “What has my age got to do with anything?” he demanded, irritation gnawing its way through his composure. He ran a couple miles every single day. Did his time at the gym three times a week as well.
She flared her palms impatiently. “Games, Ashton,” she snapped. “You’re still playing your immature little games. You thought if you ate it, I would. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t throw down the gauntlet back there with that first forkful of potatoes. Remember the lemon pie? You were always trying to prove you were better because you were older and a boy.”
“A boy?” He darted another look at his lovely, albeit confusing, passenger. A grin stretched across his face at her stiff posture. She was furious. At what, he couldn’t be certain. Surely they could put the past behind them if that’s what the problem was. “I thought we’d already established that we’re both adults now.”
She folded her arms firmly over her chest. “Well, at least one of us is.”
He braked to a stop at a red light. Was she accusing him of being immature just because he’d eaten his steak and potatoes? He ignored that little voice that told him she was right about the challenge. It was instinct. Whenever he was around Beth, he tried his level best to treat her like one of the guys. It was the only way to protect himself from doing something completely stupid—like kissing her. The mere thought made his muscles harden, some more than others.
“Would you care to elaborate on that innuendo?” he prodded, determined to get to the bottom of her unreasonable behavior once and for all. His mother’s peculiar conduct was more than enough to contend with. He and Beth could at least be civil to each other. “The burden of proof lies with the accuser,” he added when she didn’t answer.
Beth rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t use your lawyer talk on me. You know exactly what I mean.”
“You’re saying that one of us isn’t an adult. I just wondered from what basis you drew your conclusions.”
She shifted to face him, one long shapely leg crossed over the other, and totally unaware that her dress had slid up a few more inches, showing off a little more tanned thigh. Zach’s mouth parched as he sneaked a second look.
“Well, let’s see,” she began, ticking off the list on her fingers. “There’s the cherry-red sports car and the GQ look.” She shook her head as if what he had was terminal. “Not to mention the immortal male attitude.”
He glared at her, his foot going automatically to the accelerator when the light turned green. “What about my car and the way I dress?” Ire sprouted inside him. Sure he had a little attitude, but what the heck? A guy couldn’t survive in his profession without a pair of brass ones.
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug of indifference, or maybe disdain. “I think any man who feels the need to express his insecurities so literally when he hits middle-age is immature.”
Middle-age? Insecurities? He arrowed a glower in her direction. “You think I bought this car because I feel insecure about being closer to forty than thirty?”
She pursed those lush lips and inclined her head in triumph. “Yes, I do.”
Fury hurdled through him. He didn’t bother slowing down for the next light that went from yellow to red before he passed under it.
“I am not,” he said, enunciating each word slowly, precisely, “going through any midlife crisis. I bought this car because I liked it. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my clothes.” He turned onto Hunter Ridge Road. “Or with the occasional meal that includes more than leaves and twigs.”
She smiled patiently, as if completely certain of her assessment. “You date a different woman every weekend. You don’t have time for a social life through the week,” she added, nailing down his personal life in two short sentences. “You tell yourself that there’s plenty of time for marriage and children later. That legitimately explains your single status and leaves you free from having to commit.”
He shook his head. How the hell did she know all that? “What is this? The amateur psychology hour?”
“Am I right?”
Oh, he saw now. This was a trick. She was baiting him to get the answers she wanted. She wanted to know about his personal life—his sex life.
“Am I right?” she repeated, adding extra emphasis to the last word.
“If you want to know how often I have sex, just ask. And besides, what would you call divorcing the man you supposedly loved after five years of commitment?” A four-way stop gave him the opportunity to look directly at her and wait for the answer to his pointed question.
Silence thundered for several excruciatingly long beats.
She wasn’t going to say anything. The dim glow from the dash didn’t allow him to read her eyes completely, but he could see that he’d done what he intended. He had ended what she started. Cut her off at the knees like any good attorney would do. The knowledge gave him no pleasure. In an abrupt epiphany he also realized what he’d given away with his heartless remark—he knew the ink wasn’t even dry on her divorce papers yet. She would know he’d asked about it.
“I’d call it a mistake,” she said finally, her chin quivering slightly.
He held her gaze, hard as that proved in light of the hurt he knew he’d wielded. He wanted to hold her and apologize profusely for what he’d said and whatever the jerk she’d married had done. Disappointment pooled in his gut when he considered her words further. She thought she’d made a mistake. And all this time he’d thought he’d been the one who made the mistake. But then, they weren’t talking about the same mistake.
“The divorce or the marriage?” he asked quietly, unable to help himself from pursuing the subject. He had to know.
She wanted to lie. God, a part of her wanted so badly to deny the truth…to somehow explain it away as something other than a personal failure. The other part of her wanted to hit Zach for even asking.
“The marriage,” she relented tightly. “It was a mistake. But we’re still friends.”
She saw the sympathy flicker in those blue eyes. She was so hopelessly pathetic. She faced front, turning away from what she no longer wanted to see, especially from Zach.
“Sorry,” he said contritely. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.” She didn’t want to hear what she’d already seen in his eyes.
“Are we through fighting?” he asked softly, too softly.
She continued her stare into the darkness. “I guess so.”
“What are we going to do about our mothers?”
Beth closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about that either. “I don’t know. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Zach pulled away from the intersection. “I can’t figure it out. Something’s changed though. Mom isn’t behaving like her usual self.”
At a loss to stop herself, Beth studied his handsome profile, her heart doing a little dance in spite of the anger she’d felt at him just moments ago. “Different how?” She wondered if it was anything like her own mother’s odd behavior.
He exhaled noisily. “I can’t exactly pinpoint it, just different. She told me she loved me three times in the space of as many minutes. She was almost clingy.”
Beth knew exactly what he meant then. Colleen Ashton was one of the strongest women Beth knew, her mother included. Colleen had never been one to show her affection with outward gestures. Hers was always an understated way.
“Your mother won’t tell you anything?” he asked as he parked and turned off the engine and lights, leaving nothing but the moon to relieve the darkness that now cloaked them.
“Nothing.”
“We have to get to the bottom of this,” he said, his voice curling around her in the still, dark night. “At their age life is too uncertain to stay mad at each other. Think how one would feel if something happened to the other while this standoff was going on.”
Beth nodded. “What can we do?”
“Just keep plugging away until we figure out what it is that’s caused this kind of damage.”
At that moment Beth wanted more than anything in this world to feel Zach’s arms around her. Further proof that nothing had changed. They could be yelling at each other one minute, then making up the next. “Good idea,” she mumbled, then quickly scrambled out of the car. She would not let her emotions get the better of her again.
Zach followed her up the flagstone walk and to her door. She faced him there, the glow from the outside light pooling around them like a dim spotlight. Good-night would be said right here. She didn’t want him to come inside. She’d had all the Zach stimuli she could handle for one night.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said lamely. Truly pathetic.
“Any time,” he offered in that deep, husky voice.
“Good night, Zach.” The words sounded breathless. But how could they sound any other way with him standing so close and her pulse tripping so out of control? She wanted to back up but the closed door was right behind her, preventing her escape.
When his gaze dropped to her mouth the air evaporated from her lungs.
“Good night,” he murmured.
Slowly, very slowly, he leaned toward her. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it. She moistened her lips, in anticipation of his sealing completely over hers.
But they didn’t. Instead, he pressed that perfect mouth to her forehead.
As if she were a child.
Or his little sister.
“See you tomorrow.” With one last breath-stealing smile, he turned and walked away.
She wanted to scream. Fury mushroomed inside her. She opened her mouth to tell him she would be busy tomorrow, but he suddenly stopped and faced her. She snapped her mouth shut.
“By the way,” he said in that teasing tone that was all charm and Ashton, “I think it’s great how you agreed to come up with the theme for the whole event.”
Theme?
Grinning widely, Zach winked and strolled away.
Beth sagged against the old wooden door and watched him go. So that’s what Viola had asked her. Beth mentally recited a few choice expletives. What did she know about themes? She was a doctor. She didn’t do themes.
One way or another she had to mend this rift between her mother and Zach’s. Her heart couldn’t take spending this much one-on-one time with the only man she’d ever really loved…
…the same one who’d never thought of her as anything but the girl next door.
Chapter Three
Colleen Ashton signed the letter she’d just finished writing and made quick work of folding it, then tucked it into the matching embossed envelope. She sealed it, penned her son’s name on the front, then set it aside to put in the safe when she finished the remainder of this morning’s correspondence. She restrained the uncharacteristic tears that crowded her throat for the second time today.
No one would ever convince her that she was making a mistake. Not even Helen whom she trusted with her life.
The thought that she and Helen had not spoken in more than twenty-four hours weighed heavy on Colleen’s heart. But there was nothing to be done about it. She and Helen didn’t see eye to eye on the matter and she doubted that anything was going to change that indisputable fact.
“We have a problem.”
Colleen’s head came up at the unexpected sound of Helen’s voice. As Helen crossed the room, Colleen stood, squared her shoulders and faced what would likely be another attempt to sway her decision. But she would not relent. It was completely out of the question.
“I thought we weren’t speaking,” Colleen said crisply when her friend paused next to the antique writing desk.
Helen raised one tawny brow. “We aren’t, but this is an emergency.”
“What sort of emergency?”
It irritated Helen to no end that Colleen could be so blasted analytical about everything—including this. Helen wanted to shake some sense into her, but she knew Colleen too well. Nothing would change her mind unless she wanted to change it. Unfortunately, she didn’t.
“Beth suspects something.”
Colleen wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I would imagine she does. After that little performance you gave in here yesterday, I would think the whole world suspects something is amiss.”
“No.”
The singular word spoken so sharply echoed in the room. Fear seeped into Colleen’s weary bones.
“I mean she really suspects. I’m sure she’s talked to Zach already.”
Colleen nodded. “She has. Zach gave me the third degree last night after he returned from town.”
“It’s time,” Helen said, her gaze pinning Colleen’s with fierce determination. “What if you’d died when you suffered that heart attack? I can’t take this secret to the grave with me. I just can’t do it.”
“But I didn’t die.” Colleen lifted her chin a notch. “It wouldn’t have changed anything if I had. We both know that.”
“It’s wrong for us to say nothing,” Helen insisted, her expression as grim and desperate as her tone. “You know it’s wrong.”
“If that’s all you have to say then there’s nothing else to discuss.” Colleen held her ground, not giving an inch. “You and Beth are a part of this family, Helen. As much as you mean to me, I will not allow you to take matters into your own hands. We took an oath never to speak of this again.”
“We were young.” Helen shook her head, tears shining in her worried eyes. “We didn’t think.”
Colleen struggled to hold back her own tears. “Helen McCormick, I will hold you to that oath until the day I die.”
Helen swiped at the lone tear that managed to escape her brutal hold on her emotions. “This is wrong and you know it. It’s a mistake.”
“That may be. But it’s my decision. If it’s a mistake, then it’s mine to make.”
Two long beats passed before Helen walked away.
Colleen watched her go, sadness welling inside her. What was done was done. There was no turning back now.
“YOU’RE SURE you want to tackle this job, Mr. Ashton?”
Hank, the local handyman, eyed Zach speculatively. At sixty, the man had attempted just about any kind of fixer-up job one could imagine. Including getting his portly frame trapped under Widow Murphy’s house while repairing her faulty plumbing. Ten at the time, Zach vividly recalled the local volunteer fire department having to rescue the man. He doubted Hank crawled under many houses these days. But he’d kept up the maintenance here ever since Beth’s father died.
Zach turned his attention back to the ornate gazebo nestled amid the lush landscape of the backyard where he’d played as a child. Since his mother had decided to have her birthday party here, the gazebo, she had insisted, required a fresh coat of paint. It looked fine to Zach, but then he wasn’t a painter. And it wasn’t his birthday. Whatever his mother wanted, he intended to make sure she got.
“You know,” Zach began somewhat hesitantly, “I think I will do it myself.” At least this way he’d have something to do besides think about the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t.
Hank stroked his jaw and studied the large structure as if assessing the possibility. “You’ll need the right equipment. Ladders, brushes and such.”
Zach nodded, his gaze shifting to the other man. “You could take care of that for me, couldn’t you?”
“Sure. Be happy to. I’ll set you up right now, if you’d like. I can even run down to the hardware and pick up the paint.” Hank smoothed a stubby hand over one intricately carved post. “A nice semigloss would be your best bet.”
Never one to waste time once he’d made a decision, Zach said, “Let’s do it then.”
Hank adjusted his cap, then hung his thumbs on the suspenders of his overalls. “I’ll have everything set up within the hour.”
“Excellent. I’ll be ready.”
The handyman lumbered off in the direction of his truck. Zach watched him drive away, then walked slowly toward the French doors at the back of the house. He hadn’t slept more than an hour last night. And there was no one to blame but himself. He’d known when he came here the risk involved if Beth happened to visit at the same time. Not to mention the infernal restlessness that always plagued him. He was a man of action. He wasn’t one to sit around waiting for things to happen. Finding something tangible to occupy his time would alleviate the latter problem, but Beth was another story.
The last thing he’d expected to find was her living here again. Zach rubbed the back of his neck, the move proving useless in his attempt to loosen too-tense muscles. She was divorced and sharing her childhood home with her mother. He resisted the urge to glance in the direction of the cottage. She wasn’t there anyway. She’d left early that morning, probably for the hospital. He’d watched from his bedroom window. The same way he’d watched her every move back when he’d lived at home, or on the occasions he’d visited after leaving for law school.
He’d had it all planned out in his mind sixteen years ago. Beth was too young for him, way too young. He knew how important it was to her mother that she got her education. How important it would be to Beth. Helen McCormick wanted better for her only child than she’d had herself. All parents wanted that, he supposed. Zach’s own mother was no exception. She, in typical Colleen fashion, had ensured Beth’s attendance at one of the top medical schools in the nation by calling the Dean personally. As a high school graduation present, Colleen had given Beth a check that would, combined with Helen’s savings, pay Beth’s tuition in full. Beth and Helen had adamantly objected, but there was no changing an Ashton’s mind once it had been made up.
The McCormicks weren’t just employees. They were family. And Zach’d had plans for the youngest McCormick. All he’d had to do was be patient. He’d carefully maintained a safe distance, as difficult as that had proven. Especially after Beth hit junior high. She’d made no secret of her feelings for him. He’d read how much she loved him in those big dark eyes way before she’d ever said the words out loud or kissed him. He had known that if he let his guard down it would be a mistake. He would have wanted more than that kiss…had wanted more. One thing would have led to another and he couldn’t allow that to happen until Beth was old enough to know whether she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He didn’t want her making a lifetime commitment until she fully understood what it entailed. Her happiness meant too much to him.
So he’d been the refined gentleman his mother and father had raised him to be, and he’d waited.
The day she graduated from medical school he had intended to tell her how he felt. She would forgive him then, he’d been certain, for turning her away all those years ago. She would understand that he’d been right all along. That he’d had her best interests at heart. Both had needed to be sure of what they wanted before taking such a life-altering step, like marriage. But when he arrived on graduation day, flowers and ring in hand, she was already engaged to someone else. So he’d just walked away. Beth hadn’t even known he was there. It was his fault after all. He should have gone to her sooner and explained his feelings. Instead, he’d stayed away. Too busy building his career and proving he could be everything his father had believed he could. He’d finally achieved the success he’d sought so fiercely when Victoria Colby had made him an offer. He’d been ready then to get married and start a family.
But all of those dreams had died an instant death when he’d seen Beth in the arms of another man. Zach paused to steady his shaky composure before going inside the house. He’d put all that behind him years ago. He couldn’t understand why he was putting himself through it all over again now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had other women. He’d gone through dozens while waiting for the only one he wanted. But he’d waited too long.
Zach dismissed the past from his mind. None of that mattered now. He was here for his mother, not for Beth. It was good to see her, but whatever had been between them was over…the opportunity had passed.
He clenched his jaw at the memory of how touching her, of simply pressing his lips to her forehead just last night had affected him. He still wanted her desperately, at least on a physical level. His gut instinct told him that she was still attracted to him as well. He doubted it would take much on either of their parts to fall into a brief affair. A two-week affair to be exact. He shook his head. He wouldn’t do that. He was used to short relationships, but Beth wasn’t. He wouldn’t risk hurting her that way. It wasn’t her fault he’d screwed up.
Their lives were different now. There was no going back. That time had passed. Zach didn’t want those things anymore. He had no desire for marriage and family. He’d banished those concepts from his life the day Beth married another man. He’d gotten used to being a confirmed bachelor. The fact of the matter was he enjoyed playing the field. What did he need with a permanent relationship at this point in his life? He spent far too many hours at the office to be a good husband or father. He was probably too old to change.
But he and Beth could have what they’d always had—friendship. He would walk on broken glass to protect that precious bond. No matter how attracted they were to one another, he wouldn’t risk hurting Beth again.
Zach opened the door and stepped into the house. The summer room was quiet and deserted. It had never been that way back in his days as a teenager. He studied the way the sunlight streamed in through the numerous windows warming the comfortable overstuffed furnishings and nurturing the entourage of plants and indoor trees. The only room in the house that contained a television set, this had been Zach’s favorite. He and his buddies had spent many fall Saturday afternoons watching college football in here. He and Beth had spent just as many Saturday nights watching movies in here, too. They’d stretched out on the carpet and shared a big bowl of popcorn. He smiled at the protective feeling that welled in him even now. Later, when he’d had the occasional weekend home from college, his feelings had changed. He remembered the first time he’d looked at Beth and felt something different…something that startled him.
Zach swore hotly at himself, using a particularly nasty compound adjective that described perfectly his inability to keep his head on straight. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. His mother.
“Shame on you, Zacharius Ashton,” Colleen scolded. “Where on earth did you learn such language?”
Speak of the devil. She crossed the room with slow, measured steps, her gaze searching his. “At law school,” he lied, putting his disturbing predicament aside for the moment. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her waiting cheek. “It was required methodology for closed door negotiations.”
His mother smiled fondly as she caressed his jaw with one frail hand. “You’re so like your father. Confident, strong and so handsome.”
Zach smiled, too, remembering. “But he always told me that I got my blue eyes from the milkman.”
Colleen patted his shoulder. “The broad shoulders, too,” she mused, going along with the old family joke. “That milkman was a real looker.”
Zach took her hand in his and ushered her toward the sofa. “Sit with me for a while.” Hank wouldn’t be back with the paint for another half hour or so, there was time.
Colleen settled primly on the edge of the sofa, the pink of her tailored suit enhancing the light dusting of blush on her pale cheeks. “Did you talk to Hank about freshening up the gazebo?”
Zach sat down next to his mother and stretched out his long legs. “I did.” He crossed his legs at the ankles. “But I decided to paint it myself.”
Colleen looked aghast. “You can’t be serious. Why you’ve never painted anything in your life. You might…” She waved a hand fretfully. “You might fall off the ladder and break something important.”
He laughed. “Well, hopefully I won’t break anything—important or not.”
She frowned and assessed him more closely. He couldn’t be sure if it was out of concern or if she feared the damage he might do to her gazebo or the surrounding shrubbery.