The Marriage Maker

“Oh.” Cleo kneeled again, putting one hand on Ethan’s shoulder. They were face-to-face, and hers was full of concern and sadness. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.”

He looked at her steadily, and suddenly she dropped her hand and jumped to her feet. “Well, well.” Something was making her very nervous, and he wondered if she’d figured out what he was about to ask.

She swallowed. “So now you’re back in Montana,” she said briskly. “The ATI Com-Sokia deal again?”

Ethan captured her hand and stood. “I’ve been thinking about another kind of merger altogether.”

She swallowed again, but didn’t say a word.

“I need something from you, Cleo.”

“Me?” Her voice sounded breathless and her hand tried to slip from his. “What could I possibly do for you?”

Ethan held her fingers firmly. “You could marry me, Cleo.”

Marry him. Marry Ethan.

Cleo’s heart lurched, as if it were trying to find a way out of her chest. “Are you kidding?” she said, her voice sounding very far away.

Ethan’s blue eyes were scarily solemn. “Not kidding.”

Cleo’s heart pitched again, like a boat ready to capsize. Marry Ethan? This whole episode was like something out of a fantasy, a too familiar fantasy born the first moment she’d seen Ethan last winter. A fantasy that had only grown in detail and proportion every time she’d encountered him after that.

But the reality of Ethan was right in front of her, too close, really. She could smell his delicious, sophisticated scent and see new lines of tiredness, or grief maybe, etched around his serious mouth. His sister had died. He had a baby now.

Little Jonah was real, too. Cleo looked down at the sweet baby, snoozing in his carrier. With his blond hair and the blue eyes she’d glimpsed, he could really be Ethan’s.

A husband. A child. Ethan and Jonah.

“Cleo?” Ethan rubbed his thumb across the backs of her knuckles, and she suppressed a shiver. A fantasy couldn’t come to life this easily. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Ethan, I need to know—”

A light knock on the office door interrupted her.

They both started and with the distraction Cleo was able to reclaim her hand. She moved away from Ethan and hoped she appeared calm.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened and Lynn, one of the caregivers on her staff, peeked in. “I’m sorry, Cleo, but Bessie had a fall and needs your expert touch in the bandage department.” Lynn’s gaze slid toward Ethan and her eyes widened. “That is, if you have the time.”

“I always have time for Bessie,” Cleo said, almost glad for the temporary reprieve. She smiled as Lynn escorted the four-year-old into the office.

Bessie had platinum-blond hair in pigtails and her eyelashes were spiked wet with recent tears. A painful-looking scrape slashed across one knee.

Cleo knelt by her side. “What happened, sweetie?” she said softly. Though Ethan had stepped out of the way, she continued to feel his gaze on her.

Bessie frowned fiercely. “Kenny G.,” she said, her gravelly voice always a shocking contrast to her angelic features.

Lynn, who stood behind Bessie, must have seen the puzzlement on Ethan’s face because she suddenly grinned his way and explained Bessie’s statement. “Not the famous musician, mind you, but an infamous three-year-old. We have four Kennys at Bean sprouts.” Her fingers ticked them off. “Kenny E., Kenny K., Kenny T., and—” she paused, “—Kenny G.”

Bessie’s truck driver voice took over. “Kenny G. pushed me down.”

Lynn smiled in Ethan’s direction again. “Kenny G. is currently having a time-out.”

Cleo tamped down a little spurt of irritation at the other woman. There was no need for Lynn to explain things to Ethan, or to even be looking at him with such appreciation. But she focused on Bessie instead, brushing back a stray strand of the little girl’s hair. “You’re okay now, though?”

Bessie nodded and held out a bandage. “But I want you to put this on for me.”

“Sure, hon.” Cleo swung the little girl into her arms and sat her on the edge of her desk. With gentle hands she lifted Bessie’s right leg and propped her sneakered foot against her own thigh. “Did Lynn clean this for you?”

Bessie looked as though she wanted to say “yes,” but Lynn produced a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a soft cloth. “She wanted you to do that, too.”

“No problem, kiddo,” Cleo said. “We’ll get it taken care of pronto.” She hadn’t met a child yet who didn’t detest getting his or her scrapes and cuts cleaned, but she also knew that handling it with confidence and without cringing was best for everyone.

Within moments she ensured the scrape was free of dirt and then she applied the bandage, the whole time chattering with Bessie about what was scheduled for the afternoon’s snack and the new kitten in the little girl’s household. Aware the entire time of Ethan’s focus on her, Cleo was proud that her hands didn’t shake once. She ended the first aid with her usual healing kiss on Bessie’s forehead and then she took the little girl’s light weight in her arms to lift her off the desk.

Bessie looked over Cleo’s shoulder. “Who’s that?” she asked in her improbably rough voice, pointing at Ethan.

“Um…” Cleo froze, and noticed that Lynn’s expression was as curious as Bessie’s. “That’s Mr. Redford. He’s my, uh, friend.” She set the little girl on her feet.

“He’s cute,” Bessie said, and she gave a little wave then skipped out of the room.

Lynn backed out more slowly, her gaze flicking between Cleo and Ethan. “Well, I’ll just, um…” She seemed to have forgotten who and what generated her paycheck. “I’ll just…”

“Go watch the kids?” Cleo prompted.

Lynn sighed. “Yeah.” But then, as if she couldn’t help herself, she sent Cleo a thumbs-up sign before shutting the door behind her.

Cleo hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt when she turned to face Ethan. “I’m, uh, sorry about that.”

An echo of that old, confident Ethan grin flashed over his face. “Why? One female says I’m cute and another appears to have given me her stamp of approval. I’m thinking that’s good for my case.”

Apparently his proposal wasn’t just a daydream, after all. Cleo leaned against her desk, gripping the edges with tight fingers. Marriage to Ethan! But as appealing as the idea was…

She inhaled a long, deep breath. “Why me?”

His eyes widened. “Uh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he retreated to the far side of the small room, where he leaned his shoulders against the wall. “’Why you’?” he echoed.

Cleo tightened her grip on the edge of her old oak desk. “It’s a hard question?”

“No. Yes.” He groaned and pushed his hands impatiently through his hair.

Cleo had never seen the golden locks so disordered, not even the night she’d touched them herself as they’d kissed. She ignored the little hot rush of her blood at the memory. “Talk to me, Ethan,” she said quietly.

His fingers raked through his hair once again. “My attorney in Houston—the one handling Della’s estate and all the legalities regarding Jonah—he’s very experienced in custody issues.”

Cleo nodded. Ethan was no fool and money was no object. He’d hire the best.

“The Coving tons—Jonah’s grandparents—have a lot of influence in Houston. If it comes to a court battle, they have the time and the money. To ensure I keep Jonah the attorney thought I needed something better than fat bank accounts, a trust fund for Jonah, and a top-ranked nanny. He thought I needed—”

“A wife.” Cleo wasn’t a fool, either.

“A mother for Jonah,” Ethan corrected quickly.

Cleo’s blood was running cooler now, but there was still hope in her heart. “That still doesn’t explain why you came to see me, Ethan. Certainly you know plenty of women in other places. Someone from Houston, for example.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Cleo…”

“I never thought you were a man who didn’t appreciate your share of women, Ethan.”

He shifted again. “Sure, I have ‘appreciated’ women, but it’s not like I have a harem of them all dying to wear my ring.”

Cleo wanted to disagree, certain there were several—if not dozens—of women who wouldn’t say no to Ethan. Women who’d be thrilled to wear his ring.

Such as herself.

Without warning, she remembered again that night on the love seat in the little den. She remembered how needy she’d been for him, how her pulse leaped when he’d touched her with his big hands. How she’d craved to have all of him against all of her.

No man had ever made her so excited and so hungry. And now she could have it all if she agreed to wear his ring. But still…

“You’re in Montana, Ethan. Looking for a wife in my office. Please, just say it. Why me?”

“Because you’re perfect, Cleo.”

Her heart went crazy again, hopping around like a high school cheerleader. She released her grip on the desk, just about to launch herself into his arms.

“Because you’re so…capable.”

Capable? Cleo’s heart tripped, and then fell with a long whoosh. Going cold, hot, cold, she sagged back against the desk, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Instead Ethan smiled at her and continued. “You see, you’re a child care provider. How ideal is that? You have the education and the experience to be an unbeatable mother. My attorney couldn’t be happier.”

“Your attorney is happy?”

Ethan smiled wider and nodded. “’Unbeatable mother material.’ Those were his exact words.”

“What about a wife?” she said quietly, her words tinged with just a bit of sharpness. “What kind of wife material do you suppose I am?”

Ethan looked suddenly wary and he tried to step back, but his heel hit the wall with a soft thump. “Cleo, I—”

“What kind of wife material do you suppose I am, Ethan?” she asked again, her voice steelier this time.

He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if the answer might be written on them. Then he looked back up, his blue eyes guarded. “You’re a practical, capable, sensible woman, Cleo. I think you make fine wife material or I wouldn’t be here.”

Capable. Practical. Sensible.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t slept well the night before—she hadn’t slept well in three months—that the words sounded more like insults instead of flattery.

Ethan needed a mother for Jonah and she had the right credentials. Ethan was willing to take a wife to get that mother, and she fit the bill because she was practical, capable, sensible.

Was that really the best thing anyone could say about her? It certainly echoed the sentiments her mother, sister and cousin had expressed this morning. Everyone was so darn certain that Cleo was sensible and practical.

Or maybe she was really just boring.

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly mad at the world, but especially mad at Ethan, her family, herself. What kind of woman gave a man the impression she’d be swayed by “practical” and “capable” and “sensible”?

She took a fast breath through her nose. “No,” she said.

He blinked. “No, what?”

Cleo stared at him. What an idiot. “No, I won’t marry you.”

He blinked again. “Cleo—”

“Go find someone else, Ethan.” She cast a look at Jonah and found herself softening when she saw the baby’s sweet round cheeks and silky eyebrows. So she looked back at the rotten, gorgeous, and unpleasantly surprised Ethan.

Practical. Sensible. Ugh. “Goodbye,” she said briskly.

“Goodbye?” he echoed stupidly.

“Goodbye.”

He swallowed. “We can’t talk about this some more?” He came toward her and she backed around her desk. “If not now, sometime later?”

So what that he was so darn good-looking he made her heart flutter? “No. I’m too busy. I have Bean sprouts to run. Children, the staff.” She looked out the window and remembered the most pressing problem. “I have to find a new building. My lease is running out and this one is up for sale.”

Without waiting for him to answer, she sat in her chair and pulled a list of phone numbers from her desk drawer. “If you’ll excuse me, Ethan.” She put her hand on the phone.

He could be as belligerent as she. “What if I won’t?”

She refused to look at him, even for one last time. “Please,” she said.

A long, tense pause and then there was a flurry of movement and firm footsteps. Her office door opened, closed.

The room was without Ethan.

Cleo instantly folded, bending over to rest her flushed cheek on the cool desktop. Hot tears stung her eyes and she was unsure whether she was elated or disappointed that Ethan had given up.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.