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Welcome to Tulips by Tina Leonard
hello sisters.i am coming back with a very interesting novel:welcome to tulips by tina leonard.i hope that you like it .:dancingmonkeyff8: :dancingmonkeyff8:Single-mom-to-be Marnie McGovern has worked tirelessly to complete a set of stunning stained glass doors for The Tulips Saloon before her impending due date. The last thing she expects is for a handsome stranger on a Harley to drive right through them! Or for him to offer to play nursemaid to her newborn while she starts over and recreates the artwork from scratch :Tgn04610::Tgn04610::Tgn04610::Tgn04610::Tgn04610::Tgn04610: :Tgn04610::Tgn04610: |
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it seems interesting
please load it fast thenks alot |
thank you girls. enjoy the novel .bism allah nabdaa:
chapitre one Marnie McGovern heard the crash and knew that the beautiful stained-glass doors she'd taken months to create had just met a tragic end. She rushed out of the Baked Valentines bakery in Union Junction, Texas, not expecting to see a handsome man turn off his motorcycle and survey the damage he'd created. "Are you all right?" Marnie quickly asked the stranger. "I am. These doors aren't." His gaze met hers. "Someone's going to be very angry." Trembling hit her knees. "I can't say angry is exactly how I feel, but it's close." She pushed back the tears as she realized there was nothing left of the doors that could be salvaged. In her eagerness to get the project done before the birth of her baby, whose due date was in a few days, she'd put everything into her creation. Hired by Pansy Trifle and Helen Granger to design a door worthy of the love they felt for the town of Tulips and the saloon they owned, Marnie had identified with their vision. The beautiful doors were to have been delivered and installed that afternoon. "I'm glad you're not hurt, though." "I don't suppose I can replace them." She could barely take her gaze off of the fragments twinkling on the street in the late August sun. "No. But thank you for offering." John Colby, wealthy daredevil, entrepreneur and philanthropist, realized for the first time in his life he'd come across something money couldn't buy. From the heartbroken slump in the very pregnant woman's shoulders, he knew he'd destroyed something that mattered more to her than money. He wished he'd seen the artwork and stopped in time. He hadn't been going fast, but the delicate glass was nearly translucent, with gentle touches of pink and red. He hadn't seen it as he'd turned his large Harley into the street. Now not a piece of glass remained in the door frames that had been leaning against an old-fashioned wooden sawhorse. A truck pulled up in front of the bakery, and a tall, muscular cowboy jumped out. "What happened?" "Mason," Marnie said, "I won't need you to drive me to Tulips today after all." John looked at Mason evenly. "I'm afraid I've done some damage here." "I'll get a shovel from the girls." Mason directed a frown at John. "And a broom and trash can," he said, striding toward the Union Junction hair salon. John wasn't sure why the cowboy thought a shovel would be found in a hair salon, but he was from the city, not a small town. He supposed things were different here. On a cross-country trip across the United States by Harley, he'd seen a lot of things he'd call stranger. He looked back at the beautiful woman, wanting more than anything to put a smile on her face and take the sadness from her eyes. He noted a lack of a ring on her finger, but that could mean anything. But if she was a single mom… "I take it you're an artist, and this was your work." Lying in the street in shards… She nodded, her pageboy haircut sending a light brown wave of hair across her cheek. So this was also a financial blow he'd dealt, and John decided to see if he could at least make that part of it up to her. "If you could tell me the cost of the doors, I'm happy to replace your supplies, though I know I can't replace your time and effort." Her hazel gaze settled on him. "Thank you." She turned away. John realized she was holding back tears she didn't want him to see. He didn't even know her name, and he'd made her cry. John put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her, regretting his impulse when her shoulders stiffened. "Tell me how I can make this up to you." Marnie wasn't sure what this man might be offering, but it was obvious that he wanted to take some responsibility for his actions. Having had a fiancé who'd decided that married life wasn't what he really wanted, she no longer expected that from any man. Marnie didn't know if her surprise at the stranger's offer was due to the fact that he was extraordinarily handsome and she'd expected him to be shallow. Or maybe it was his motorcycle, which made her think he was one of those men who just liked to pass through life without commitments. She was prejudging him. Mason returned with two shovels, handing one to the broad-shouldered newcomer. "What's your name, stranger?" "John Colby. From West Virginia." Mason nodded. "I'm Mason Jefferson of the Double M ranch. Used to be known as Malfunction Junction. This is Marnie McGovern," he said, finishing up the introduction curtly. "Start shoveling, John. Marnie, go inside and have Valentine fix you a cup of something and sit down. You're making me antsy that you'll go into labor or something." Marnie's gaze settled on John. He stared at her with deep apology in his dark eyes. But she didn't need apologies from a man. She'd heard a lot of those. She went inside the bakery. "Marnie's a single mom," Mason said to John. "With a baby on the way, she won't be able to do another set of these doors. She's going to have her hands full." John handed the shovel back to Mason. "Thanks for the tip. Hang on a sec, would you? I'll be back to clean up my mess." John followed the tiny brunette into the bakery. "I'm not just talk," he said. "I intend to stay here and help you." "You're an artist?" she asked, surprised. He didn't seem the type to sit still long enough to even draw a stick figure. "No. But I can watch that baby you'll be delivering soon while you work on another set of doors." Marnie stared at the man who'd destroyed her dreams, her heart nervously thundering, her attention caught. Sensing her resistance, he smiled a slow, sexy smile. "Come on," he said, his voice a sinful lure. "I'd make a great house husband while you work. I promise the service is delivered with a smile, satisfaction guaranteed." |
Chapter Two
Marnie stared at the confident man who was offering his services. "What makes you think I need help? What makes you think I'd trust you with my baby?" "I owe you." John seemed sincere. "How much were you paid to create those doors?" She could barely think about the destruction. "That's between me and the ladies who commissioned them." "Front doors aren't cheap. I had some installed on my house last year. They were five thousand dollars and didn't have any glass in them, much less artistic rendering." She wondered where he lived that would require such elaborate doors. "Actually, I didn't charge Helen and Pansy except for supplies. They were helping me find a home in Tulips." He glanced around the bakery. "This seems like a nice enough town." "It is. But I live across the street in the Union Junction salon with the other girls. I have my studio in one of the back rooms. But with a new baby, I need a place of my own." "Girls?" She smiled. "Stylists." "So you're a hairstylist who does fabulous stained glass doors on the side?" "I'm hoping to. The Tulips Saloon was my first actual commission for doors. I wanted it to go well so I could include them in my portfolio." She touched her stomach. "I'd like to be close to my baby, at least for the first few years, and working in a home studio would allow me to do that. When I have my own place, that is." "You can't buy a house here?" Her gaze slid away from him. How could she explain that it was hard to live in a town where everyone knew she'd been deserted by her fiancé? And that she hadn't heard from him? She couldn't outrun what had happened, but she could start over fresh, keeping old friends, making new ones, expanding her horizons. John saw the dark shadows pass through Marnie's eyes and knew he'd stirred up uncomfortable memories, probably of a deadbeat mate. He felt an urge to kick the jerk into next week. "So. Taking me up on my offer?" She shook her head. "I can't. Just pay for the supplies and we'll call it…even." "I want to do more. You deserve more." She hesitated, and he realized part of her was truly tempted. "Not all men are recipes for disaster, Marnie." "Anybody ordering?" demanded a pretty redhead at the counter. "By the look on your face, Marnie, you could use a blackberry tea and some lemon ******s. You, stranger, I'm not sure about." "Thanks, Valentine," Marnie murmured. "This is John Colby. He just rode into town." "And totaled her doors," John said because Marnie was too ladylike to say so. "Please bring her a double blackberry tea and some of those ******s." He pulled out his wallet, and Marnie put a hand on his arm to stop him. "I'll pay for my own. Thanks." He frowned. "Lady, I just ruined your livelihood. Let me buy you a cup of tea, at least." Valentine set the tea down in front of them, as well as a plate of ******s. "It's on the house. Keep an eye on the shop for me. I'm going to check Mason's blood pressure." She went out the door. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as neither spoke. John didn't know what else to say to Marnie. He'd offered everything he could to make up for his mistake. "It would take another three months," she said softly. "So I can't accept." "Three months." He mulled that over. Piece by fragile piece. Wire by delicate wire. "So, did they ever find you a house? Those ladies in Tulips?" She smiled. "They did. Those doors were the down payment, you might say." "I'll take you to Tulips myself. Let me explain to your friends what happened. Then we'll see where the pieces fall." He winced at his choice of words. "On your Harley?" He nodded. "Unless you have a better idea, that's the coach I'm offering." "I don't think…" He stood. "You think about it. I've got a mess to clean up." John went outside and began shoveling the pieces of Marnie's design into a trash can. Mason cleared his throat. "Heading on after this?" John shrugged. "It's hard to convince her otherwise." The bakery door opened. Marnie walked outside as they finished shoveling the biggest pieces and went to work on sweeping up the smaller fragments. "I realize this is weird timing," she said, and John noted that her face seemed pale and anxious, "but my water just broke." |
Chapter Three
John froze at Marnie's announcement. "Okay. We're treading in deep water, for me at least. I'm more than happy to take you to the hospital, but motorcycle isn't how you should be traveling." Plus he wasn't certain exactly what all needed to be done for broken water issues. He'd been more comfortable with the broken doors. Valentine smiled. "I'll drive her. Mason, I'll spare you, though I know you'd be more than willing." "Probably be better if I watched your shop," Mason said gruffly. "I helped deliver my daughter, but Mimi did all the work." Valentine helped Marnie to her truck. John supported her on the other side, trying to be more help than pest. She felt great, he noted awkwardly, pretty certain he shouldn't feel any stirrings of lust for a woman in labor. But she had the softest skin he'd ever touched. "John, you don't have to come with us." Marnie glanced up at him as she slowly seated herself in the truck. "I'm going to follow behind on my motorcycle. That way you have the bench seat to yourself, and if you need anything like ice cream or pickles later, I can scoot off to get it." Valentine giggled. "She's past the point of pickles." John shrugged. "I'll follow." At the hospital, he parked and hurried to help Marnie walk inside. She seemed so small and fragile that guiltily, he thought maybe he'd upset her so much he'd made her go into labor. Despite all the adventures he'd experienced on this trip, this one made his heart race the fastest, and he wasn't sure why. He wasn't the one having a baby. At the ripe age of thirty-five, that was one of his regrets. He had no children, just an ex-wife from many years ago with whom he was still good friends, nothing romantic. He watched Marnie check in with the nurses at the desk, who then hustled her into a birthing room. "And you are?" a sweet-faced older nurse asked him. "My name is John Colby. I just met the…mother-to-be." She smiled at him. "Oh, so you're John. Very brave of you to join in the fun." He wasn't sure about that. "I think Marnie's the one with the courage. I'm just a bystander waiting to be sent for pizza or…whatever." "She'd like for you to go on your merry way, actually," the nurse said. "Did she say that?" He was surprised. "Yes. But I don't think Miss McGovern meant permanently. She said to ask you to make yourself comfortable elsewhere because this could take a while." "Oh." His disappointment faded slightly. "Is there a room for expectant bystanders or something?" She grinned. "Down the hall. There's coffee and some ******s. You could be here a while though. First babies are notoriously slow." It didn't matter. Hanging around was the least he could do. But it wasn't even about obligation. It was more about Marnie's soft skin…and he really wanted to know that she was going to be all right. |
Chapter Four
Twelve hours later, Marnie held her new daughter close. "She's beautiful," Valentine said. "You've got an anxious bachelor outside." "He's still here?" Marnie hadn't thought John would stick around. "Yes. Brave fellow." Valentine fluffed Marnie's hair with a smile. "You look beautiful, as does baby Liza. So shall we let John off the hook? I've spent a bit of time chatting with him, and he sincerely believes he made you go into labor early. Something Mason said sort of stuck in his brain." Fluttery nerves settled in her stomach, which she attributed to afterbirth pains. "If you don't mind getting him…" John walked in a few moments later carrying a bouquet of flowers and a huge teddy bear. Marnie blinked, not expecting gifts. "Hi." "For the new baby," he said, laying the flowers on a table, and Valentine excused herself to go get a vase. "She's beautiful." "Thank you." Marnie couldn't explain the wonderful feelings filling her. All the months of worry had melted away when Liza had been laid in her arms. "I think so, too." "When can you go home?" "I believe tomorrow since the delivery was uncomplicated." "That's too soon," John said, frowning. "You should probably stay here a month just to make certain the baby is all right." Marnie smiled at his protectiveness and his lack of knowledge. "I'd go crazy. Anyway, it's normal procedure." John reached out to touch the baby's hand when it flailed free from the flannel blanket. "She's so tiny." "Seven pounds, two ounces," Marnie said proudly. "So, now what?" John asked. She looked up at him. "What do you mean?" "You said you didn't want to live in the salon with the other girls, that you wanted to move to Tulips. I've thrown a wrench into those plans." She'd been about to deliver the doors—with Mason's help—to the new owners. Pansy and Helen would then have made the down payment on the house. "I'm not certain," she murmured, not wanting to sound like she had no place to go. She did have a room in the salon; she just wanted a different life for Liza. "We heard we have a new townsperson!" Two elderly women walked into the hospital room, heading straight for the baby. "Oh, Marnie, she's adorable," one of the ladies cooed. "Thank you." Marnie smiled. "Helen Granger, Pansy Trifle, I'd like to introduce you to John Colby from West Virginia." They smiled broadly, clearly impressed. "Hello, John," Pansy said, "are you staying in Union Junction? I don't believe I've heard your name before." "Last night I stayed here in the hospital." He grinned. "After that, I'm not certain." "You're always welcome in Tulips." Pansy turned to Marnie. "We've got plenty of room." Marnie clutched Liza to her more closely. "I have some bad news." "What is it, dear?" Pansy asked. Marnie hated to tell them. She glanced at John, realizing from the sympathetic look on his face that he knew exactly what she was about to say. "Funny thing how Marnie and I met," John said, "I drove my motorcycle through some beautiful doors that apparently were meant for you two." They gasped. "Thank heavens you're all right!" Pansy exclaimed. "Thank you." He acknowledged her comment with a nod. "When Marnie feels stronger, I'd like to be her house husband so she can work. It's not a fair exchange, because I should be the one working and she should be the one relaxing with the baby, but I don't have any other ideas. She says it should take about three months." Helen looked at him, her gaze shrewd. "You'd be willing to do that for someone you've just met?" Marnie's gaze met his, and he saw the same question lingering there. "How much better can life be than getting to hold a baby?" Pansy straightened. "I forgot to tell you, Marnie. We bought the house already." Helen stared at her friend. "Oh…that's right. So we could surprise you with a…decorated baby nursery. Courtesy of Ladies Day at the Tulips Saloon." "I don't know what to say," Marnie said, her eyes filling with grateful tears. "Except thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me." Helen grabbed John's sleeve, leading him into the hallway. "Now look, young man. That's a special woman in there. I hope you intend to back up your promise." "I do." Helen studied him, then nodded. "Excellent. Then get on that bike I saw outside with the West Virginia plates and follow us to Tulips. You're not needed here tonight, and you've got some painting to do in a baby's nursery!" "You fibbed?" "No more than necessary," Helen said. "I know the owner. It will be a simple thing to make the arrangements to buy the house right away. Holt is one of our dear friends and will be happy to help us." He looked at her, his own gaze turning shrewd. "Can I make the first payment?" He'd feel better if he could—it was the best way to replace what he'd ruined. Helen hesitated. "Exactly what are your intentions here, stranger?" |
Chapter Five
Pansy smiled at Marnie as she held her new baby. "Liza's like a little peapod." "Except not green." Smiling, Marnie marveled at the bonds of new motherhood sewing her tightly to her daughter. "I've waited all my life for this." "We're looking forward to having two new settlers in Tulips. We'll expect you at the Ladies Only Day every week. Us having a day to ourselves grates on the good sheriff's nerves," Pansy said, "but only because he's gotten used to his daily dose of tea, ******s and female friendship, though he'll never admit it." "I'm sorry about the doors," Marnie murmured. "Fortunately, some things can be replaced. But what I want to know is what happens after those three months are over?" Marnie looked at Pansy. "What do you mean?" "And the handsome stranger rides away on his motorcycle. Seems fate might have swept an opportunity into your lap." "Why? Because he's a man?" Marnie shook her head. "This from the woman who started a Ladies Only Day in her town." "It's just a thought," Pansy said with a smile. "What if you get attached to him?" She smiled at the hopeful matchmaking and decided to gently quash Pansy's hopes. "It's not like a fiancé backing out, is it? John won't exactly be leaving me. He'd be doing a job and then moving on." "So you've decided to accept his offer?" Marnie didn't reply. "Oh, let me tell you about the house," Pansy said. "You know there aren't many houses in Tulips available, because, frankly, there hasn't been much development there. We're the undiscovered gem of Texas." Marnie nodded. "That's a huge draw, in my opinion." She didn't want to raise her daughter in the city. She'd loved living in Lonely Hearts Station with the stylists, and when they'd moved to Union Junction, she'd loved living here, too. "So tell me what you found." "Well, Holt, our town hairdresser, owns a few properties and rents a few others. He happened to have a house Helen and I believe will be perfect for you. It even," she said with a gleam in her eye, "has a cute little outbuilding we think you might use for a studio." That sounded perfect. Marnie had dreamed of having space for a childproof studio that she could lock up at night. "I think the proper term is 'mother-in-law quarters.'" Pansy wrinkled her nose. "We prefer to call it a studio, though." Marnie smiled. "Thank you so much for all you've done." Helen and John walked back into the room, Helen smiling broadly. "I have thoroughly chatted with this young man and discovered his intentions, Marnie." "His intentions?" She looked at John warily. "Yes," Helen said nodding. "Between the three of us, Marnie would have all the help she needs while she works on the doors." "But she needs time alone with her new baby," Pansy said. Helen looked at John. "At least six weeks, don't you think?" Marnie blinked. "Oh, no," she said, "I can start right—" "That makes sense," John said. "Six weeks would give Marnie time to settle into her house with her new baby without a stranger being around. I could get to California and Alaska by then." As a business proposal, it was sound, and yet it felt awkward. Marnie didn't want to wait to see if another man was going to come back to her, and she didn't want to be a commitment John was obligated to fulfill. "It was my fault," she said softly, and everyone's face turned toward her. "I shouldn't have had my girlfriends carry the doors outside in the first place. I should have waited for Mason to get there with his truck. Anyone could have hit them." She looked at John. "Next time I'm waiting for something to be loaded, I'll use street cones to make certain the area is properly blocked off. Beginner's mistake since we don't get much traffic in Union Junction." She took a deep breath. "It would be easier for you, and all of us, if you just paid for the doors so you can be on your way. So I accept your first offer." |
Chapter Six
After Marnie accepted his offer of money to replace the doors he'd broken, John had quietly pulled out a checkbook and written a check for three thousand dollars, though he'd secretly wheedled Helen into letting him make the first payment on the house, as well. He knew what he'd pay an artist to create one-of-a-kind doors. Touching baby Liza with longing fingers, he then left the hospital and headed for Tulips, following the instructions Helen had written on a piece of paper. The key was under the back door mat, as she'd said it would be, and John walked into the small pink brick house Pansy and Helen had purchased for Marnie and Liza. He could fit the entire house into a portion of his home in West Virginia. Somehow, this one felt more homey. He liked knowing that he'd seen the house before even Marnie had, and could help get it ready. Then he would, as she'd requested, "be on his way." Her request had hurt his feelings somewhat, but he'd also understood. He had a sister, and he well remembered all the commotion a brand new baby had brought into her life. If Marnie needed time, he'd give her time. In fact, this trip was all about time he'd been searching for himself, time away from his family and their disappointment that he wasn't settling down; time away from his job that he'd worked at non-stop for fifteen years, growing it to success; time away from a mansion that had, lately, begun to seem empty. But now he had time to stop and paint a small nursery. Helen had tried to back out of letting him paint it after he'd paid Marnie for the doors, but this was John's chance to do some good. "And I'm going to do it," he murmured, rolling up his sleeves. Though it was a small room, it had a south-facing window which looked over the backyard and a tiny mother-in-law's cottage out back. It was a perfect workplace for Marnie since she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and artist. On the other hand, she might have wanted family to stay with her. Dismissing that thought, he remembered Marnie had seemed pretty close to her elderly friends. And to Mason, he thought with a bit of jealousy. There had also been a number of stylist friends coming in and out of the hospital room, so his departure had barely been noticed by Marnie, though her friends had been very happy to meet him. He opened a paint can, and stirred the sweet candy-pink-tinted white paint. Pansy and Helen had thought of everything for painting, including a drop cloth to protect the blond hardwood floors. The floors looked like they needed a buffing and maybe a sanding, as did the rest of the floors in the house. The rooms looked like they would benefit from a fresh coat of paint, and he'd vote for new appliances in the kitchen. Carefully, he taped off the windows, removed the switchplates in the room, and picking up a paint brush, began edging a ******** The truth was, he wouldn't have stayed this long if he hadn't felt attracted to Marnie. And Liza had stolen his heart in the few hours he'd seen her. He hadn't even held her—no one had. She'd stayed tucked in Marnie's arms. He knew he was dancing on the reckless edge of disaster. Marnie, it was clear, did not want a man in her life. Maybe she still pined for Liza's father. He wondered when she'd seen the rat last, and then recognized the unfairness of his rush to judgment. Just because the man hadn't been there for the birth of his child didn't necessarily mean anything. Marnie could get back together with him; things like that happened all the time. Marnie was the kind of woman who wouldn't go from one man to another easily. She would hold people she'd loved in her heart a long time. He thought about the clear hazel of Marnie's eyes, always looking at him, weighing him, measuring the meaning of his sudden appearance in her life. She'd been right: it was time for him to go. Four hours later, he finished painting Liza's little nursery. Despite how much his hands itched to improve the rest of the house, he did as he'd been asked. He got on his Harley, and he headed out of Tulips. |
Chapter Seven
Marnie and Liza settled in Tulips, delighted with the house that Helen and Pansy found. Liza was now six weeks old and only getting up once in the night. The small house had a calming effect on Marnie, and she was certain her daughter sensed her serenity. Marnie never let herself think about John Colby—or at least she tried not to. Pansy and Helen admitted that he'd painted the nursery to make up for the doors he'd broken. It hadn't been necessary for him to do that, but the room was so delicate and pretty, especially with the rosebud printed valances, that she was glad he'd painted it. She was slightly unnerved that he'd seen her house, and wondered if her two Tulip friends had been purposeful in allowing him to do it. Aware that John knew where she lived, Marnie wondered if he would ever return. He owed her nothing so there was no reason for him to come to Tulips; she'd told him not to. Still, she caught herself counting every once in a while. "That's exactly what I didn't want in the first place!" Annoyed at realizing today was the first day after Liza's six week birthday—and recognizing she felt disappointment that John hadn't been there—Marnie snapped herself back into line. She'd given him zero encouragement. In fact, she'd felt awkward, fat, tense and tired, and the door incident had capped off all the worry and some fear she'd felt before giving birth. "It was normal," Helen had pronounced when Marnie told her she'd felt like a giant bear in stretch pants around John. "Anyway, he seemed interested in you and I don't think it was because you looked like a mother bear." Pansy had giggled, and Marnie felt better now that she'd lost ten pounds and saw some of her normal curves shaping her body. "But why does it matter anyway?" she asked Liza, kissing her baby's head. "Only you made a good impression. Not to mention that we don't even know much about him." Of course, she'd known a lot about Liza's father, everything except his clear lack of interest in being a father when he learned Marnie was pregnant. So much for pre-wedded bliss. Marnie carried Liza out to the workroom she'd set up in the cottage. New, unstained wood for the doors lay against a wall. She had all the supplies she needed, and the original design was open in her portfolio. She was ready to start over. She heard voices in the back yard. "I think we have visitors," she told Liza. "It sounds like your aunts Pansy and Helen." She went outside, not at all surprised to see Liza's self-appointed angels, but surprised to see John Colby with them, carrying a giant two-story dollhouse wrapped with a big pink bow. Marnie's heart instantly began a nervous fluttering. "Hello," Marnie said, awkward all over again. She didn't recall John being so distinctly handsome. Suntanned from riding on his motorcycle, his hair longer than before and distinctly raffish, he didn't look much like the well-groomed man who'd hung around for Liza's birth. He was a lot more sexy, much more tempting, and it wasn't post-pregnancy hormones zinging around inside her convincing her of it. He grinned at her, and Marnie's knees went distinctly weak. "Reporting for duty," John said. "Happy birthday, Liza, one day late." |
Chapter Eight
John had thought long and hard about going back to Tulips. He'd known Marnie didn't have any interest in having a man in her life—raising a baby on her own, re-directing and growing her business in Tulips and settling into a new home were all she could handle. He'd been willing to move on for a while, continue on the path he'd planned for himself, and then come back to do exactly what he'd said he would: play house father for Liza while Marnie got on her feet. He set the dollhouse on the ground. Marnie stared at it, her eyes huge and startled. "Did you build this yourself?" "I did." It hadn't been hard since he built large homes and mansions. He'd enjoyed the challenge of designing a dream dollhouse for little Liza. If he had a daughter of his own, this would be something he would teach her to do. "It's a small-scale version of my house, actually." "It's lovely." Marnie crouched to look inside the windows. "The detail is amazing." "Thank you." He felt pretty proud of what he'd created, and glad that Marnie admired it. He'd hoped their shared joy in creating things would be a link that they could build on. "How did you get this here on your motorcycle?" She stood to look at him, and he realized she was thinner, making her seem taller. He was six two, so he figured her at about five seven. Her hair was longer, no longer in a true page boy, a more relaxed style for her. She'd been an attractive woman pregnant, but now he found himself thinking she was even sexier. Was it wrong to think that way with her holding a baby? He straightened, bracing himself against the surprising emotions. "I bought a truck in Alaska." "What happened to your motorcycle?" He'd been watching her lips as she spoke and nearly missed the question. So soft and supple and feminine… "The bike's in the back. I needed a truck for the road conditions, but I couldn't give up the Harley." "You're quite a traveler, aren't you?" Marnie asked, letting Pansy and Helen take Liza from her. The ladies walked inside the house with the baby, murmuring something about a diaper change. "It's been a goal of mine for a long time," John said. "I haven't taken a vacation in a few years. Five, actually. It was time." "Time?" "Time to get away. See new things." Her, for example. He'd never have met Marnie and Liza in this tiny town if he hadn't finally made a chink in his calendar for free-spirited wandering. "I'm thirty-five. Old by your standards, I suppose." She arched a brow. "I'm twenty-nine, old-timer." "And in the settling down phase. Anyway, I'm back to keep my end of the bargain." "We had no bargain, at least not after you paid for the doors." "But I'm a man of my word," John said, "and you need a helping hand if you're going to make the doors for that quaint saloon I saw in town. The Tulips Saloon makes great ******s and tea. Now they just need a proper door." "There's no door on this charming dollhouse," Marnie said, bending down once more to look inside, and he nodded. "I know. I figured if you turned me down for Liza duty, I'd at least commission you to do the front door for her dollhouse. And as I recall, you're hoping to put doors in your portfolio." Marnie noted John's shrewd appeal to her business and artistic side. "You want me to design the door for your gift to Liza." "To match the doors you're creating for the Tulips Saloon," he said, his dark eyes twinkling, "so she'll have something distinctly historical and meaningful from her new town." Smooth, Marnie thought—but she'd been smooth-talked before. |
Chapter Nine
"I've booked a room at Pansy's," John said, to further convince Marnie that she had nothing to worry about. "As your personal assistant, I can be here every morning as early as eight, or whatever time you like to work. And I cook breakfast. I should warn you, the kitchen is my favorite domain." Marnie looked at him, sorely tempted, not only because of the help he was offering but of the sexual longing tugging at her. How many women had a hunk offer to be their personal assistant? "John," she said, her conscience giving her desire one last good fight, "I don't know you…" "And so I'm providing personal references," he said cheerfully. "I brought a letter of introduction from my mother, who jumped on this opportunity to brag on me, a letter from my sister, who thinks the dilemma I've gotten into is a hoot and one from my ex-wife, who, strange as it may seem, is sort of a best friend/sister to me. She thinks I'm reaping my just desserts. But you can read that in the letter." Marnie raised her brow. "Just desserts?" "Yeah." He grinned. "One of the reasons we divorced was that I wanted children, and Susie just didn't. It was a lifestyle difference. She was kind of a wanderer and liked her freedom." "I would have said that was your description." John shook his head. "Not me. I'm a homebody. Susie said I was boring in an attractive way. But I still think there's nothing more appealing than settling down in your house at night with your wife, your kids, your dogs and maybe a glass of something good to drink. I see that in my distant future." "I don't believe you." He hadn't been home in months! That didn't seem very homebody to her. "Okay. Sex after the kids go to bed. That would complete my idea of the good life, when and if I ever get around to it." She didn't know what to say to that. Her throat had gone terribly dry. "Don't you agree?" Her gaze took in the T-shirt stretched over his chest and the tight cling of his jeans. "I'm sorry. Agree to what?" He chuckled. "That my description of a dream home life is—" "A dream." Marnie began walking toward the house, anxious to get away from the thoughts she was having about John. "Wait," he said, tugging gently at her hand. She stopped, gazing up at him. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." "I'm not uncomfortable." She was…afraid. Prince Charmings usually couldn't be trusted, except in fairy tales where writers wrote the endings. Real life was never so happily-ever-after. "So," he said, gently touching her cheek, "if you're not uncomfortable, will you take me up on my offer? I promised myself one good deed on my road trip." That was a story if she'd ever heard one. Marnie looked at him. "How are your diapering skills?" "Nil," he said, "but I'm a fast learner." A wriggling baby would soon test that theory. Marnie nodded. "As long as we agree to a one-week trial period. If your personal assistant skills are lacking, off you go, no questions asked." "I'll keep my truck keys handy." "Good." She walked inside the house and into the kitchen—a safe zone—all too aware of John following behind and a delicious longing waking inside her. He set the dollhouse on her kitchen table. "By the time you do the saloon and dollhouse doors, you'll have a nice addition to your portfolio." "By the time you watch Liza, you'll have a nice addition to your dad skills." He smiled. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her better." His dark eyes glowed with teasing directness. "And her mother." |
Chapter Ten
A knock on the front door saved Marnie from John's teasing. He was disappointed—he'd really wanted to set her off-balance. Her veil of unattainability was getting to him. Was she as cool as she acted toward him? He hoped not. He felt anything but cool toward her. She let in a big man dressed in a sheriff's hat, worn jeans, a badge and wearing a big smile for Marnie, whom he warmly greeted. "Hello, Sheriff Forrester, just passing by?" she said, obviously no stranger to the tall man's welcome wagon. Pansy and Helen came into the kitchen with baby Liza. Pansy filled John in on Sheriff Duke Forrester's story in a soft murmur. "Sheriff Duke's bride left him at the altar a few months ago. Of course, Duke will never get over Liberty. He's still reeling over our town's best girl's desertion. He and Marnie are becoming fast friends, but then that's Duke, always Tulips' best face forward. Duke's sister, Pepper, is a doctor up north, and we're ready for her to come home. Their younger brother, Zach, is a rascal, in the nicest sort of way. The Forrester family is our drama pageant, but that's what makes Tulips a town with heart. " Duke reminded John of the cowboy in Union Junction, Mason Jefferson, who'd befriended Marnie. If she liked tall, dark, and…well, scruffy, he amended, then John should fit right into Marnie's check list. What was it about him that didn't earn him the warmth that Mason and this sheriff guy received? "This is John Colby from West Virginia," Marnie said. "John, this is Tulips' sheriff, Duke Forrester." "Saw your truck outside," Duke said, shaking John's hand in a firm grip, "and your bike. Traveling man, huh?" "You could say that." John didn't like Duke's comment, as if Duke was hopeful that he'd travel on any moment and relinquish Marnie to him. "Come on, little pumpkin," Duke said, taking Liza from Pansy, "Uncle Duke has missed you." John needed a fire extinguisher for the flames of jealousy he could feel practically engulfing his body. "Look at this wonderful dollhouse John made Liza," Marnie said, and Duke nodded. "Carpenter?" he asked John. "Builder." John didn't want to clarify anything more. "We could use a good builder around here," Duke said. "We're developing a three-year plan to bring new settlers to our tiny little dot on the map we call Tulips." "John's going to stay with Pansy while I re-do the doors for the saloon," Marnie said. "Oh, you're the guy who—" Marnie put a hand on Duke's arm to silence the rest of his comment. "He's the man who's going to watch Liza for me while I work." Duke nodded, his gaze attentive. "Nice of you to help Marnie out, John." "It most certainly is," Helen said, and Pansy nodded her agreement. Awkward silence permeated the room until Marnie said, "Well, there's probably no time like the present to get started," and everyone took that as their cue to leave. Pansy and Helen kissed Marnie and Liza goodbye, and Duke gave Liza to Marnie and shook John's hand without any ill will, and suddenly, the door closed and John was alone with Marnie. "Here you go," Marnie said, placing Liza in John's arms. Liza began to wail instantly. That will run him off, Marnie thought, and then I'll be safe. Maybe safety was overrated, but fighting the attraction she felt for John seemed like her best option. |
Chapter Eleven
John held the crying baby, a little startled, a little apprehensive, and yet, a lot excited. "Hey," he said to the baby, "I promise I don't bite. At least I won't bite you." At the sound of his deep voice, Liza hesitated, then settled her fist into her mouth. "She might be colicky," Marnie said, "but I'm not certain of that. Every once in a while, she seems to get a tummyache." "Are you breastfeeding?" He noted the attractive blush that hit Marnie's cheeks. "Yes." "Has she eaten recently?" he asked. "Actually, right before you arrived." The blush became a little pinker. He studied Liza again. "You're too young for a motorcycle seat and most likely a stroller, as well," he mused. "So what is your choice of wheels?" Marnie held up a baby carrier. "Too young for wheels just yet, I'm afraid. This is her mode of transportation." "And so," John said, taking the baby carrier, "we'll tour Tulips by foot because there's nothing better than a twilight stroll to take the edge off our tempers. Ms. Pansy said you love walks and that I should take you out often for fresh air. We'll assume that's the magic cure for your tummy." With practiced hands that had held his sister's children, John slipped Liza into the carrier and put it on. "What did fathers do before these things, man purses and handheld TVs?" Marnie looked at him. "You actually don't look bad wearing that." There was nothing sissy about John. The truth was, he was one of those men who was even sexier taking on domestic duties. He wasn't metrosexual or trying to be up with the times; he was just big and strong and looked completely comfortable with a baby strapped to him. "We'll be back after we stroll off some tears," John told Marnie, leaving with a wink. The house fell silent after their departure. Marnie frowned, thinking she should have offered to go with him. But by walking together, they would have looked like a family. She didn't want that. Nor, she suspected, did he. She wasn't certain she completely bought the ex-wife being a best friend explanation. She hadn't read the letters of introduction he claimed he'd brought with him, but how many women would let a handsome, sexy, comfortable-in-his-skin man go easily? And yet she'd just allowed him to walk out the door with her child. Panic hit her. She flung open the front door to offer to walk with him and halted once she made it to the sidewalk. He was down the block, talking with Sheriff Duke and two older gentlemen who'd been introduced to her as town elders Bug Carmine and Mr. Parsons. The men were laughing and Liza wasn't crying anymore. Going back to her house, she closed the door, telling her heart to calm down. New mother nerves, she told herself—perfectly reasonable. Plus no man who'd created such a wonderful dollhouse could be bad. In the kitchen, she sat down to examine the dollhouse. She'd been too surprised by it earlier to do little more than thank John. The white house had a grandiose, curved balcony and a wide porch. A black roof sloped down, and gables graced the second story. Inside, two antebellum-style staircases swirled up to the second and third floors. All the rooms had crown moldings, and five of the rooms of the house contained lovely fireplaces. There was a library, painted with a collection of classics. Marnie caught her breath, seeing a claw-foot bathtub and tiny marble pieces for flooring in the master bath. The second floor was mostly hardwood, possibly for dancing or holding large gatherings. Most amazing was the floor under the gabled eaves, which was outfitted on one side for a large children's nursery with toys painted on the walls. There wasn't any furniture in the house, and no front door or windows. Marnie could design glass pieces, and one day Liza would enjoy choosing furniture for her dollhouse. Delicately scrolled letters on a near-hidden wall of the kitchen caught her eye. "Even a big house is small and empty without love," she murmured, her breath catching at the sentimentality expressed in the artwork. And it made her wonder just who John Colby was and why he seemed so determined to give her child a world filled with whimsical dreams. |
Chapter Twelve
An hour later, John returned, a calm and sleepy Liza in his arms. "She's been passed around like crazy. Everyone in Tulips has admired her. And I enjoyed cinnamon ******s at the Saloon. Life is good." He grinned at Marnie. "But I estimate feeding time can't be too far away for this little gal." He laid a small white paper bag on the kitchen table. "Compliments of Helen and Pansy. They said you really like the frosted tulip ******s." He hoped his offering would cheer Marnie up; she seemed so tentative around him. "Thank you. And thank you for walking Liza." "You're welcome." He hung the carrier over a chair. "If you give me my work hours, I'll be on my way. Pansy is stirring up some fettucine for me, and I don't dare be late." "You are getting the royal treatment." "Yes." Although he'd prefer to be stirring up fettuccine for Marnie, he didn't suggest it. She was far too skittish with him, but perhaps in the coming days she'd be more comfortable with their arrangement. "John, you really don't have to do this. I can work while Liza sleeps." That sounded distinctly like a woman who didn't want him around. John looked at Marnie, admiring her independence. "Can I ask you something?" "Yes," she said, her voice uncertain. "Where's Liza's father?" Marnie shook her head. "I honestly don't know." "But he knows about her?" "Yes. He did." Sadness for Liza sank his heart. "He has no plans on being part of her life?" Sighing, Marnie moved to the nursery with Liza. "No. He broke off our engagement when he found out. I misunderstood the depth of his commitment to me and what he wanted in life." "What did he want, if not a family?" John could hardly believe a man could walk away from a woman like Marnie and a sweet baby. He was having enough trouble walking away, and he had no reason to hang around. Marnie didn't give off many signals that would lead him to hope that she was interested in what he had to offer. "I don't think he knew what he wanted. But when I became pregnant, he knew very well what he didn't want." "I'm sorry." "Don't be." Marnie raised her chin. "It's the best thing that could have happened to Liza and me. I'd rather have honesty than someone staying with me out of obligation." He blinked. "I don't feel obligated." "Don't you?" Slowly, he shook his head at the question in her puzzled eyes. "Absolutely not," he said. "Obligation is the last thing I feel for you." And to prove his point, he slid his fingers along her cheek, drawing her to him for the most convincing kiss he could lay on her. |
Chapter Thirteen
Astonished, Marnie allowed herself to be kissed—at first—and then kissed John back, her hands sliding up his back. It felt so good! She had no idea what she'd been missing. When he pulled away, gazing at her to check her reaction, she turned away so he couldn't see the admission of pleasure in her eyes. She'd been kissed and left before, and John was a traveling man—maybe it meant nothing at all. Then again, maybe it did. "Convinced?" he asked, his voice husky. "That you want to be here?" Her heart thundered. She so wanted to believe that he felt something for her, something more than a garden-variety attraction. "Maybe that I want to be with you." The thunder in her heart subsided. Maybe. That dreaded word. The in-between word. Finally, she fell back on the hesitation she felt. "Maybe, perhaps, possibly." She turned to look at Liza, who was beginning to get restless in the crib, a sure sign that a full-blown meal request was about to be made. Marnie could feel her breasts start to tingle, a sure sign that she needed privacy very soon. "You'll have to excuse me, John." He frowned. "Maybe, perhaps, possibly?" he repeated. "Is that your answer?" "No." Desperately, she motioned toward the door with her hand. "If you don't mind, I need to feed Liza." "Oh." She was sure he didn't mean to, but his gaze fell to her breasts instantaneously. Marnie's cheeks warmed. Liza let out a yell, and Marnie and John both reached for her at the same time, their hands bumping awkwardly. "I'm so sorry," John said. Marnie replied, "It's fine. But this is a job I've got to do myself." He nodded and with one last glance at the baby, he said, "What time do you want to work in the morning?" "Nine o'clock." "I'll be here." He left and she heard the front door close a moment later. Sighing, she sat down with a very wriggly Liza and started to nurse her. Slowly, the baby began to relax. She heard the front door open. Her eyes widened. This was certainly a moment she didn't want John witnessing! "Marnie," he called. She quickly called back, "Don't come in!" "I'm not," he said. "I'm staying right here in the hallway. But I just wanted to tell you that maybe sometimes means that I really wanted to kiss you and it was hard to work the courage up, so I hope you didn't mind. At least for a guy who hopes you're not mad at him, that's what maybe means." She heard the front door close again. "Great," she murmured to Liza, "he's a gentleman on top of everything else." A hot, sexy gentleman who kissed so well and made her feel things she'd never experienced. Her own "maybe" was in great danger of turning into a "yes." |
Chapter Fourteen
When John arrived the next morning, Marnie was ready for him. She'd had the night to think about how she was beginning to feel about this man she knew nothing about, and her female intuition was warning her that she needed to be cautious. "About those letters of introduction or whatever you said you had," she said as he set eggs and croissants down on two plates in the kitchen. "Well, one's from my sister, and one's from my ex-wife as I said and there's even one from my mother. She can't bear to be left out of anything, and she felt for you about your artwork that I ran over," John said, licking a finger. "All of them sympathized with your situation, so I think they really worked that woman-to-woman bond in their notes. Hungry?" She blinked. "I can definitely eat. That smells so good." Hunger could be used to define different states of being, so she told herself she needed food more than romance and sat down at the table. "I assume they say nice things about you." "Intolerably nice." He grinned at her. "They'd like you, too, though. They're wonderful women." She was annoyed to find jealousy creeping into her emotions. How many men were on best-friends-only terms with their ex-wives—really? "Don't be jealous," he said cheerfully, just to rub her the wrong way. The twinkle in his eyes gave him away. "I'm not," she fibbed. "Anyways, the dollhouse is lovely. I don't know if I thanked you properly for it, but it's certainly a keepsake Liza will love." "Thank you. It was a pleasure to do it for her." She looked at him carefully, admiring his strong fingers as he held his fork, his broad chest stretching the fabric of a Lacoste shirt and decided to give in to her curiosity. "You said it was a replica of your house." He nodded, his gaze on her. "It seems awfully large. For just you." "Five thousand square feet." He laid his fork down, his eyes dimming a bit. "I was hoping to have a lot of children, but you might have been able to figure that out yourself." Marnie wondered if she should stop now before she asked something he didn't want to talk about, and then decided the fact that he'd kissed her gave her a reason to ask more. The reference letters he had weren't going to tell her what she was beginning to want to know—that could only come from him. "I did wonder," she admitted. "Your wife didn't want children?" "We waited too long," he said slowly. "One day, we woke up to find out that our careers had taken precedence over romance. We decided that having children might be best between two people who were still interested in being married to each other—especially when only one of us was really interested in having them at all. The funny thing is, we liked each other better when we weren't trying to force the romance and realized we were more comfortable as friends." She looked at him, remembering the wistful quotation he'd painted on the kitchen wall of the dollhouse. "Not that I'm making a statement about your situation," he said, "but it wasn't right for us." "Well, my situation is not ideal," Marnie said. "You've been a big help in making it better." She hesitated. "John, I know you made the first payment on the house for me." It was his turn to be silent. His dark eyes watched her closely. "There's a big difference between my fifteen-hundred-square-foot house and your five thousand square feet," Marnie said, "and I guess I have to wonder if—" "If I'm trying on the role of Prince Charming?" he asked, his gaze glinting. "I didn't hit the road to look for a replacement family to fill up my empty house, if that's what you're asking, Marnie." |
Chapter Fifteen
Marnie stood, not certain how to reply to John's statement. "I think I'll clean the kitchen and then get to work." Reaching out, he touched her arm. "I'll clean. You go work." "I can—" "I'm the house husband," he said firmly, "and you'd better use this time wisely because this is the end of my vacation." "John," she said, "how do you manage to be gone from your job so long?" "Blackberry," he said, pulling one from his pocket. "Cell phone. And I have a laptop in the truck. Life is good." "I see." Marnie blinked. "I don't even own a cell phone." "We should rectify that at once," John said, but Marnie quickly shook her head. "If you buy me one more thing, I'm taking a month off your time with Liza." He looked at her, his eyes crinkled at the sides. "Ouch. That hurt." "I know." She gave him a saucy look. "I have figured out exactly which woman in the house has your attention." "I hope you're not disappointed." His expression was wry. "Not at all," she said breezily. "I'm just glad to find that you actually have a weak spot." "Oh, I'm not the rescuing hero you seem to think I am." John lightly pinched her arm. "While my sister and ex-wife might like me very well, my business partners probably wouldn't write me anything but a check. I can be very tough on them, which is why we're successful. And my nieces and nephews say I snore. I know this is true because they tried to tape my mouth shut once when I fell asleep on my sister's sofa. So you can see I am far from princely." "Good," Marnie said, "you were starting to get on my nerves." He laughed. "You should come visit my house and family in West Virginia. You'd hear tales then." She went to the back door. "I can safely say I'll never be any closer to West Virginia than John Denver's wonderful song." As soon as she made that claim, she wondered if that was really the way she felt, but John just shrugged and turned to the sink. Marnie looked at his broad back, somehow disappointed that he didn't intend to reply. She'd been enjoying their banter. "John," she said, and he turned toward her, "you really seem like a nice guy. And I do appreciate everything you're doing." "Thanks. Kind of funny how some broken glass can bring two strangers together, isn't it?" He looked at her for a long moment, then put the dishes in the sink and turned the water on, his back to her again. Marnie hesitated for a half second too long, looking at the man who'd designated himself as her house husband. He was the closest thing she'd ever come to having a husband at all, she realized, and she was beginning to wonder if she was tempted to fill the position—permanently. |
Chapter Sixteen
John wasn't surprised by Marnie's lack of trust—he even admired her caution. He wondered about the guy who wanted no part of his little child's life—the man didn't know what he was missing. Obviously, Marnie had been interested in marriage at one time, but now it was obvious that she'd run in the opposite direction if she sensed John had anything on his mind other than helping her through a rough spot. "Do you blame her?" his sister asked him when he told her the situation by cell phone while Marnie was in the cottage. "Her fiancé was clearly emotionally under-developed. You, on the other hand, are an old soul in a great bod, something I tell you reluctantly because I like your humble side." He laughed at her. "Smart aleck." He knew too well Jane thought he was arrogant; so did his business partners. "So when does she get to see the real you?" Jane asked, and John chuckled. "The me you didn't describe in your reference letter?" She laughed. "I love you, John. And the kids miss their uncle. When are you coming home?" "Soon," he murmured, watching Marnie walk back from the cottage. She had the nicest sway in her hips when she moved. "Don't decide to stay," Jane cautioned. "West Virginia is where you belong." She hung up and John put away his cell phone. "Hi," he said to Marnie from his spot on the sofa. "Hi." She looked adorably rumpled from working all morning. "Is Liza in the nursery?" "Nope. She's right here." Marnie peered over his shoulder, her lips curving when she saw the baby asleep in his lap. "I thought she'd be getting restless for her lunch." "She will. She's very punctual, a good trait in a woman." He winked at Marnie. "Have you been sitting there since I went to work?" He pointed to his laptop and Blackberry. "I've been working, too." Marnie looked at her daughter with longing. "I thought she'd miss me." "Not with her Uncle John seeing to her every whim." Marnie pursed her lips, and he appreciated the unconscious gesture. "I think I can be done in three weeks," she said, surprising him. "I have the old pattern, which was time-consuming because I wanted the details small and intricate. I realized the design was what took the most time. It's just a matter of speeding up the process and I can be much quicker this time. Plus I'm much faster with the foiling process." His heart thudded with disappointment. "You're really not comfortable around me, are you?" She met his gaze. "I just don't want any distractions." "Distractions?" She nodded. "In learning who I am. In growing my relationship with my baby. In developing my own way in life." Damn. He might have known she'd be one of those independent, wonderfully un-shallow women to whom life and all its varying colors and shades mattered. He realized he'd hoped to convince her to blend him into her life, slowly, if need be, but blend just the same. She'd probably sensed that—Jane said a woman could detect a man's radar locking on to her and some were smart enough to move out of the target range. Marnie was one of the smart ones. "Actually," he said smoothly, "my business partners called today and they really need me back on site." I can tell you're extremely uncomfortable around me, no matter how much I'd give anything to taste your lips again. "I see." He thought he heard relief in her voice. His hand moved across Liza's back, enjoying the feel of a baby in his world. He would miss holding her and touching her soft skin. He'd most definitely miss the smooth suppleness of Marnie's mouth under his. But she had to want the closeness as much as he did—and it appeared she didn't. |
Chapter Seventeen
Marnie was scared, though she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone. John was a prince of a man. Surely she was crazy for wanting him to leave, but she kept thinking about Liza. She needed to focus on her daughter and on her job, and not a wonderfully charismatic male who'd rolled into her life. One man had already left their lives, and it was safer to have no man than a man who would eventually leave—she couldn't let Liza suffer in the process. She didn't want that heartache for Liza. "So we agree?" John asked. "I'll stay another three weeks or until you finish." She told herself to breathe a sigh of relief, but somehow the relief she'd expected didn't come. Disappointment carved out a hollow spot in her instead. "Thank you." Liza scooched and then snuffled, precursors to a wail. "Dinner," John said, and Marnie took her baby from him, her fingers brushing his as he carefully handed Liza to her. Liza was warm from snuggling with John. It occurred to Marnie that John would be a great place for any woman to rest and find warmth. He was so big and strong— "Is something wrong?" he asked, and Marnie blinked, realizing she'd been daydreaming. "No. I was just trying to decide if I should change Liza before or after I feed her," she said quickly. "Excuse me." She left the room, not able to meet John's gaze. Sitting in the rocker in Liza's nursery, Marnie comforted her baby and began to feed her. She could hear John moving around in the kitchen, opening cabinets and taking out pots. She closed her eyes against the cozy, homey sounds. He'd seemed so disappointed by her announcement that she could finish in three weeks, but ever since he'd kissed her, she'd felt herself in a dangerous place of longing. After she finished feeding Liza and changed her, she laid her in the crib, covering her with a light blanket before joining John in the kitchen. He was stirring something that smelled heavenly. "It's the playing house aspect that bothers me." Smiling he put down the wooden spoon and began chopping peppers. "You're not comfortable with a man working at home, are you? And being responsible for half the load." She looked at him before picking up a tomato and dicing it on the same board he was using. "Maybe not." "This is my job, Marnie," he said. "No different than what I do at home. I'm not playing house with you. It's real. Not pretend, like the dollhouse I built for Liza to decorate and imagine her own family in one day. No more chopping for you, lady," he said, moving her gently away from the board. "Until you start taking my work seriously, you have to watch." "I feel like I'm in a restaurant." "You think I'm doing this for you, but it's just part of my bachelor routine." She hadn't considered that. A little humility popped her worries. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to anyone doing anything for me." "Like I said, I'm not doing anything for you." His smile turned into a grin. "I'm working on my job, and I'm [ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ]ng because I'm hungry and I would anyway—you don't eat enough to make this chicken cacciatore just for you—and I watch Liza because I want to. She's small and delicate and only gives me sass when she's ready to eat. In fact, she's much easier to get along with than her mother." That was probably true. Marnie knew she'd been very stiff around John. Did she want fear and insecurity to rule her life? "It's all very new to me." He laid down the knife, washed his hands before turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm here because I want to be. Relax. I'm not going to eat you, Red Riding Hood." "But you did kiss me," she said. And he said, "And you kissed me back, I noticed." Darn him. "Does that fit into your everyday job description?" "Do you want it to?" She could go through life completely afraid of losing again. But life was made up of choices. Some were better choices than others. She threw her troublesome caution to the wind. "Let's evaluate that aspect of the job." |
Chapter Eighteen
John kissed her, darn him, and she wanted him to, only this time, she tugged him close, holding him tightly to her, forgetting all about job descriptions, letting herself enjoy the man and the moment. Before she knew it, they found themselves engaged in a much hotter embrace, one that led to passion against the kitchen counter and then the table and then, crazily, they fell over the sofa into the soft cushions, kissing hungrily. Marnie wasn't about to let John go. She tugged at his jeans. "I say we burn dinner." His chuckle was husky. "I turned off the stove when I saw the bad-girl gleam in your eyes." He moved his fingers inside her waistband. "But I have to know that there are no maybe's in this." "None." Marnie was nearly breathless from kissing John. Desire heated every cell of her body. "Of course if you're feeling a 'maybe' inside you—' Flipping her over, he pinned her beneath him. "I've never been a maybe kind of guy." He lightly bit her neck and stripped off her jeans. "You're beautiful. Absolutely one of a kind. I just hope this condom isn't a maybe. It's about a year old." She swallowed her worries about her after-pregnancy body before they could take shape in her mouth and focused on the fact that he had a nice erection—a positive development. Instead, she said, "Hurry," and so he did, and the next thing Marnie knew, she was lost in pleasure. The consequences could come later. * * * John thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Never had he imagined making love with a woman would be so satisfying. He had to keep Marnie. Somehow. The condom had held, to the best of his knowledge. But he wanted to put any and all fears Marnie might have to rest. "Marnie," he said after he'd held her for at least an hour, "before Liza decides to ring the dinner bell, I want to tell you that if there should be, you know, a baby between us, I wouldn't leave you high and dry." "Thank you," Marnie said, "but I'm wearing a ring." She was too lost in a happy glow to worry about anything outside the pleasure John had given her. He swiftly checked her hands. There were no rings on either hand. "Inside, John," she murmured. "I learned my lesson the first time." "All right," he said, filing that information away for later when he could sort it out, "but I still want you to come home with me." She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face to stare down at him. "What?" "Come home with me. After you finish your doors and hang them in the Tulips Saloon." Her eyes were so wide he could tell he'd shocked her. "I can't stay here forever," he said, "as nice and quaint as this town is." Marnie didn't know what she'd been thinking. Of course he couldn't stay. His job, his family, his whole life was in another state. He'd lulled her into thinking his existence was fluid, with his Blackberry and his motorcycle and his laptop—but she'd seen only what she wanted to see. Secretly, she'd hoped that this man would want her enough to stay in her world. It had been a subconscious test on her part, she realized with a sinking heart. "I can't, John," she said. "I just got here. I just bought my first house. Well, you made the initial payment, but—" He laid a finger over her lips. "Stop saying that. It's your house." Her heart was breaking. But she couldn't make any more changes in her life, not now. It had taken everything for her to start feeling settled in Tulips. "I can't move to West Virginia," she said. "I'm sorry." John's heart slid into an empty space inside him. He'd known Marnie was putting down roots here she needed. It was too soon for her; he completely understood that. Yet he'd fallen in love with her anyway, and like the doors he shattered, his broken heart couldn't be fixed. |
Chapter Nineteen
Marnie finished the doors in three weeks, just as she thought she would, and together, she and John hung them in the Tulips Saloon. They were every bit as beautiful as she'd hoped they would be. The soft pinks and reds and occasional green of the leaves shone softly against the small-town setting of the old building. Unfortunately, her relationship with John hadn't turned out as well. He'd been formal, politely reserved with her ever since they'd made love. For three weeks, he'd treated her home and her as if he were performing a service and she was the boss. Only when he was with Liza did he act like he was the happiest man on the planet. "It's amazing," John said, looking at the doors with admiration. "The building looks completely different, and the doors give it a soul, a secret world one wants to enter just to experience that connection." Marnie nodded. "That's what I love most about designing doors. I know it sounds crazy, but to me, they say 'Welcome. Come on in and be a part of good times.'" Pulling out his cell phone, he took a couple of pictures. "I want to show my sister. She'll never believe this." He took an up-close picture of the tulips, too, knowing the blend of colors might not show as well but wanting to remember it forever. "So, that's that," he said when he was satisfied with the picture. He turned to Pansy and Helen who were holding Liza and watching the doors being hung with delight on their faces. "Ladies, behold the artist and her dream." He could tell Pansy and Helen were seeing their vision transformed before them. He'd never seen two more rapturous faces. I'll miss that about Tulips. I'll miss the honesty and the joy in small things. The ladies hugged Marnie. Smiling, he checked the straps tying his motorcycle down in the back of his truck and then turned to kiss Liza goodbye. The two older women stared at him. He could hardly bear the stunned look in Marnie's hazel eyes, but it was time for him to go. "Thank you," he told her, "for some of the best memories in my life." He kissed her on the cheek, Liza on her soft fuzzy head—God, he was going to miss this baby—and Pansy and Helen on their doughy, wrinkled cheeks. "You ladies have given me a new lease on life." He took one more picture—the four of them standing together in front of the saloon doors before they could protest—and got in his truck. "Keep in touch," he said, knowing that none of them ever would. Waving goodbye, he drove off toward West Virginia, glad he'd finally restored what he'd broken in the first place and ignoring the crack in his own heart. "Did you know he was going to leave?" Pansy asked, looking as stunned as Marnie felt. "Yes," she said. "We had discussed it." Still, the pain was intense. "Oh," Helen said, "[ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ][ãÍÐæÝ]s and tea. At once." They went inside the Saloon together, sitting down on the mismatched velvet-covered antique chairs. "John seemed awfully fond of you," Pansy said. "At least he never stopped talking about you while he was staying at my house. I rather thought the two of you might have been developing a fondness for one another." "Actually, I fell in love with him," Marnie said, much more casually than she felt. The ladies gasped. "But you let him go!" Pansy exclaimed. Marnie stood, fixing Liza into her stroller carefully. "There really wasn't a way for us to move our lives together. It's not like combining two houses into one in a magical renovation." She smiled at her friends sadly. "I'm glad you like your doors. Thank you for everything you've done for me." She kissed them both and left, feeling like she'd lost a big piece of her heart. "Let's go home, Liza," she whispered to her baby as she stepped out into the late twilight enveloping Tulips. Pansy looked at Helen as Marnie left. "You didn't show her." Helen shook her head. "There was no point. They made up their minds about what they could be to each other. This article wouldn't change anything." She laid a piece of newspaper on the table Sheriff Duke had given her. Pansy couldn't read it all, of course, because of her developing macular degeneration. But Helen had read every word to her friend. Billionaire investor, world traveler, generous philanthropist and famous architect John Colby has just completed plans for a new theater centre in West Virginia, a jewel he plans to set in the heart of America's rugged mining state. "Funny how they both had that creating/building thing in their blood," Pansy said, and Helen nodded. But it had to be more. Love had to be about two perfectly suited pieces coming together to make one stunningly good whole. Marnie and John just hadn't been able to fit their lives together for that just-right, happily-ever-after. |
Chapter Twenty
For the next few weeks, Marnie made patterns for the tiny windows and doors of Liza's dollhouse during her daughter's naps. She had enough glass left over from crafting the two doors for the Saloon. She also liked the idea of using the same glass on Liza's house that John had helped her with. It would be a keepsake for Liza and a happy memory for Marnie. It was when she began fitting the small pieces into the dollhouse that she stopped and re-read the tiny scrolled letters John had painted in the kitchen. Even a big house is small and empty without love. She hesitated, her gaze caught, her heart racing. The thing was, even her small house felt empty and smaller these days. She had Liza. She had her glass. But she didn't have John. She forced herself to look beyond the glass and the comfort of her craft, seeing her life without him. She had to find out what was beyond the doors she'd used to keep him out, instead of welcoming him in, the way doors were meant to do. * * * John had faced the fact that he and Marnie hadn't been soulmates, at least, she didn't believe he was hers. Part of him had taken the past month to nurse the realization that she didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about her. What hurt the most was that he was certain—and had been certain from the moment he'd first met her—that she was his missing better half. But he also knew Marnie was very independent, and she guarded that independence. He missed her. In fact, he missed her so much he was dreaming her into walking up the curving lawn of his mansion, pushing little Liza in a stroller in front of her. But was that really her? She kept coming closer, and John stood still, his chest hammering, his eyes too afraid to believe. She smiled and waved, and he forced himself not to hurdle the shrubs lining the porch to get to her. Easy, he told himself, let her come to you this time. "Hello, stranger," he said. She put the brake on the stroller and made certain Liza wasn't in the direct sunlight. "Nice place." He raised his brow. "Thanks." He thought she was adorable in an ankle-length dress and sandals. "Do you want a tour? To come in out of the heat?" Slowly, she shook her head. "No. I already know it's fabulous." She took a deep breath. "I came to see only you." "How did you find my house?" She looked at him. "It's one of a kind. Except it's just like Liza's dollhouse. And you left some business cards in the kitchen." "I'm surprised to see you." She nodded. "I promise not to break your door. Those are the five-thousand-dollar doors?" He grinned. "Yes. They wouldn't break easily." They were made of mahogany and wrought iron. "Built to withstand kids, family, dogs, you name it." "About that family," she said, and he raised a brow. "I was wondering if you need a day wife. Not a housewife, exactly, because that wouldn't be me. More like an assistant." He snapped his fingers. "You mean like a house husband, only in the feminine sense. The very feminine sense." He let his gaze roam over her appreciatively. "I cook," Marnie said, "though not as well as you. I also have a guaranteed alarm." She pointed to Liza. "Maybe for a couple of weeks, we could take care of you so you can work." He looked at her shrewdly. "You know how I feel about the word maybe." She smiled. "We'd like to apply for the job." He felt the tension which had resided in his chest since he'd left Tulips begin to subside. "To be honest, I'm not looking for an assistant for while I work." "Oh." She sounded so disappointed he had to grin. "I could consider you as a wife and lifemate, however. Will you marry me, Marnie McGovern?" She jumped into his arms, surprising him, and delighting him with her joy. It was that joy in the small things that he'd discovered in Tulips, which he was now going to have forever. "I love you," he told Marnie, "and Liza, too." "That's good," Marnie said, kissing him on the lips, "because we love you, too. No maybe about that." Marnie slipped out of his arms and he took Liza from the stroller, and together they walked into the mansion that was no longer empty, but very, very full of love. |
The End
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