The Marriage Maker Read online

  Both Cleo and Jasmine whipped around, to find that the man in question had just slipped in the back door. Jonah kicked and so did Cleo’s heart. Ethan had changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but he hadn’t shaved and his dark gold hair stood on end. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Does Ethan what?” he asked again.

  “Noth—”

  “Need manuals,” Jasmine said over Cleo. “L-o-v-e manuals.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  The look in Ethan’s eyes was unreadable as he transferred his gaze from Jasmine to Cleo. Lord, but she hoped tomato-red was her color, because her face was so hot it just had to be that particular shade. Then his gaze slid off her face, and down, down to— Oh, please, don’t let her nipples be hardening from the mere brush of his gaze.

  She shifted Jonah so that he covered both strategic areas. Then she tried on a sickly smile. “Sleep well?”

  He drifted closer to her, picked her mug up off the counter and sipped from it. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I went comatose on you, didn’t I?”

  The back door opened again and a handsome, tanned man came in, carrying two stacked produce boxes. “Hey, ladies!” He slid the boxes onto the kitchen table. “The asparagus looks good today, Jasmine.”

  Then his gaze snagged on Ethan, standing so close to Cleo. His eyes widened. “It wasn’t just a rumor?” he asked, looking again at Jasmine.

  “Nope, Cleo really got hitched yesterday afternoon.” Jasmine performed introductions with the point of her wicked-looking butcher knife. “Ethan Redford, this is Jeremy Ricksley, our local organic farmer. Jer, this is Ethan.”

  Ethan held out his hand, but Jeremy ignored it to sweep Cleo—Jonah, too—into a green-smelling embrace. “I’ll be damned.” He released her, kissed her cheek, hugged her again, then gave her another kiss, this one on the mouth. “Congratulations.”

  Cleo smiled and gave his cheek a pat. Jeremy was such a dear, dear, old friend. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said.

  Jeremy spun in his work boots. “And you,” he said to Ethan. He slapped him on the back, causing Ethan to hop forward a few inches. “You hooked the best woman in town,” Jeremy said.

  “Is that so,” Ethan replied carefully, rotating his shoulders as if checking to see they still worked.

  “Man, yes! Broke my heart a dozen times, I’ll tell you, but it was worth it. She gave me the best kiss of my life.”

  Ethan froze. “Is that so,” he said again.

  Cleo rolled her eyes. “In fifth grade, Jeremy. Mention that part.”

  Jeremy smirked. “Okay, but that was just our first kiss.”

  Cleo rolled her eyes again. Yeah, Jeremy had caught her once beneath some mistletoe, but he’d smelled like beer and been on the rebound, so she’d quickly left him to his own devices.

  “Oh, well. Fifth grade.” Ethan seemed to relax a little. He even smiled.

  Cleo looked at him sharply. Wait a minute. Maybe she liked it a little better when he was wondering what kind of kisses she’d exchanged with Jeremy. Ethan certainly hadn’t given her any worth talking about yesterday.

  He started small-talking with Jeremy, apparently now quite at ease with her elementary school conquest. Jeremy went on and on about her virtues, which would have been all right if he’d concentrated on her great kisses, Cleo thought. Maybe then Ethan would regret what hadn’t happened the night before.

  Instead, Jeremy was telling Ethan how businesslike Cleo was. He told Ethan they served on a commit tee together for the local chamber of commerce. Everyone knew they could rely on Cleo. Practical, sensible Cleo.

  Ugh.

  Cleo sipped her coffee, tuning out the men’s voices and stealing little glances at her new husband. Ethan seemed plenty rested now, all ready to be sociable. But could he have saved a little something of himself for her last night? No. When she was all hot and flustered and thinking lusty thoughts, he’d been sawing logs as though deep winter was coming.

  She frowned. Then there was that smile of his when Jeremy’d mentioned fifth grade. Oh, yeah, immediately Ethan’s interest in who else she’d kissed had cooled way down when he’d heard those words. Maybe he didn’t think a woman as practical and capable as she could attract a grown man.

  Cleo bit her lower lip. And maybe she couldn’t. After all, she and Ethan had only had that one brief interlude of passion months ago. If it was as memorable for Ethan as it was for her, why hadn’t he been able to stay awake last night?

  A cold dousing of embarrassment ran over her. Suddenly she was thankful he hadn’t woken up. He probably didn’t want her that way. After all, he’d been willing to postpone the intimate part of their marriage indefinitely.

  Another sip of Jasmine’s coffee tasted bitter in her mouth. Cleo had almost made a fool of herself last night by putting the moves on him. Well, that wouldn’t happen again.

  Unless she was positively, absolutely, certain he did want her.

  Five

  Three days into his marriage, Ethan hung up the phone in the room he used as an office and sought out Cleo. He wasn’t accustomed to discussing his plans with anyone, but he realized that his upcoming schedule had to be presented to his…wife.

  It was still hard to think the word. Wife. He had one.

  He found her in Jonah’s room, standing at the changing table. Ethan hesitated in the doorway, watching her spread lotion over the baby’s freshly bathed skin. Cleo was whispering something to Jonah and smiling, and he stared back at her with all the intent of a man—albeit an infant one—deeply in love.

  Cleo picked up the lotion bottle and as she upended it, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Ethan. She froze, in the act of squeezing apparently, because a huge dollop squirted into her hand and threatened to overflow her cupped palm.

  “Whoops.” She hastily set the bottle down and stared at her hand in dismay. “Did you need something?”

  Ethan came closer. “Sorry to startle you. Can I, uh, help?”

  “Thanks.” She shuffled a bit to the side. “Take the baby, will you?”

  Ethan hesitated, then gamely reached for the wiggling body of his nephew. He held him awkwardly against his chest.

  “Hold it right there,” Cleo said. She dabbed two fingers into the lotion in her palm and rubbed the stuff into the skin of Jonah’s back above his soft cloth diaper.

  Ethan held the baby awkwardly and breathed in the powdery scent of the lotion. Jonah’s eyes were wide as they took in his face, and guilt pinged Ethan. With expert Cleo on the scene, he left most of the baby-tending to her. He’d never quite gotten the hang of what Jonah needed.

  And for his sister Della’s sake, he’d been determined to find someone who could.

  Hence the marriage, hence this moment, hence the uncomfortable task of sharing his life with another person. Of course, marrying Cleo had been his idea, but it still took some getting used to.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you— I mean, talk to you about my schedule for the next couple of weeks.”

  “Okay.” Cleo dabbed her fingers into the lotion again but this time rubbed it on herself instead of the baby, her hand moving against the smooth skin of her arm.

  Ethan forgot what he was supposed to be talking about. He watched her fingers make circles, circles. Then she bent and started stroking her calves with the stuff, lifting the long hem of her skirt to new heights.

  His muscles tightened. Maybe he’d never before seen Cleo’s knees.

  Which led his thoughts instantly back to their wedding night. If he hadn’t had to bust his butt getting from one side of the world to the other… If he hadn’t gone to sleep on her…would those knees be something he was intimately familiar with by now?

  He imagined his hands where hers were, his palms just there, on the inside of her knees. He imagined pushing them apart so he could push the part of him that was going hard this moment into her…

  “Ethan?”

  He shook his head to clear it. “What?” he said hoarsely.

  She strai
ghtened and cocked an eyebrow. “Your schedule, you said?”

  His mind whirled, trying to refocus. His schedule. Yeah. Right. He automatically handed Jonah back to her and shoved his hands into his pockets. To tell the truth, it was damn awkward accounting to Cleo. Maybe because his old man had never bothered to give Ethan’s mom a why, where fore, or the courtesy of a what-do-you-think.

  Maybe it was because Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about Cleo’s knees.

  He cleared his throat again. “We need to work out a few details.”

  She gently laid the baby back on the changing table and deftly started dressing him. “Okay.”

  “I need to head back to Houston in the next couple of days.” He winced at the decisiveness in his voice. “I mean, if that’s all right with you.”

  Cleo shrugged. “No problem.”

  No problem. That should be good. But instead it bothered him a little that she was so cavalier about his comings and goings. “I might have to be gone for a week.”

  “Fine.”

  “Or two,” he added, an unfamiliar feeling coming to life in his gut.

  “Okay.”

  It was a hot feeling in his gut, completely foreign to him. She didn’t blink when he said he might be gone for two weeks? What kind of marriage did she think they were going to have?

  Maybe she had counted on him being gone most of the time. There were all those men who couldn’t wait for chances to kiss her.

  But of course that was stupid. Cleo was as loyal as he was business savvy. That fire in his belly subsided. “I don’t like to be gone that long,” he explained, “but I want to get my business moved to White horn as soon as possible.”

  “What?” Her attention finally garnered, she picked up the baby and turned to face him. “You’re moving the business from Houston to Montana?”

  He blinked. “Of course. You didn’t think I was going to add out-of-town headquarters to a business that already keeps me from home, did you?”

  “Oh.” She fussed with the baby’s wispy hair. “Of course I didn’t.”

  But it was obvious she had. He thought of those kissing “old friends” of hers again, but dismissed the idea again. “Anyway,” he said, “if I remained headquartered in Houston, it wouldn’t look very convincing to Jonah’s grandparents. They need to see that we’ve created a two-parent, stable home for him.”

  “Mmm.” She gave a little nod. “Jonah’s grandparents. That’s right. This is all about that custody issue.”

  There was a little edge to her voice he didn’t understand. “Yes,” he said quietly. “And don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, Cleo.”

  “What I’ve done,” she echoed.

  “Taking on the baby, me…”

  She gave Jonah a big kiss on the top of his head. “Taking on the baby has been a pleasure.”

  Ethan noticed she said nothing about taking on him.

  “But since you’re going to be gone so much,” Cleo continued, “do you mind if I return to Beansprouts?”

  She’d taken the past couple of weeks off, though yesterday she’d driven in while Jonah was napping. “Well, uh, sure,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

  “I’ll take the baby with me, of course. I can set up a portable crib in my office and I’ve already in creased my assistant’s hours. It won’t be as if I’ll ignore Jonah’s needs.”

  “I didn’t think for a second you’d ignore Jonah’s needs,” Ethan said. The only person ignoring needs was Ethan himself. The sudden need to kiss Cleo’s little frown away.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I know this is weird, trying to accustom our selves to a life together, but I trust you to do the right thing, Cleo.”

  “Thank you. And I trust you, Ethan.”

  God, he wished he was so certain. This woman had gone out on a limb for him and Jonah, and he wanted to do right by her. He figured that meant slow and cool, but all he felt was this hot, quick need to bury himself inside her and know that she couldn’t get away.

  Only the thought that if he got close to her he might hurt her—emotionally—stopped him. He couldn’t take the risk.

  Because all that heat and all that quickness reminded him much too much of his father and the way he’d hurt his family. Ethan had survived by evicting emotion from his life. But that meant he didn’t know how to have the kind of relationship a woman such as Cleo would want.

  He sighed and stepped back. “By the way, when I’m in Houston I’ll also be moving my bank accounts. I’ll do it first thing, and then call to give you the numbers.”

  “What would I need the numbers for?”

  “Because it’s your money, too. I’ll have the checks and debit card sent directly here, okay?”

  Cleo shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want your money.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I have to do that.” He didn’t like the stubborn expression on her face. Money was what he brought to the table, damn it. If he couldn’t do anything else well, he knew he could provide for them.

  “It just doesn’t seem…right, somehow.” Cleo frowned and looked at Jonah, who appeared serious, as if he understood the adult talk.

  “Hell, Cleo, what’s mine is yours. We are married, after all.”

  She looked up, her violet eyes holding questions he didn’t have the answers to. “Are we?”

  But that answer he knew. “Yes.” The little burn in his belly had fired up again and he frowned. “We’re definitely married.” Before he could say something stupid, he stalked off.

  Entering his office, he managed to not slam the door, but he did throw himself into his chair in front of his laptop computer. Damn, damn, damn.

  He’d thought he was the one who needed to get used to being married. Ha! The joke was on him, because it was Cleo who suddenly seemed the more uncomfortable. But they were married. More than half of him wanted to take her to bed right now to prove that point.

  But more important was Jonah and the promise Ethan had made to his sister before she died. Jonah would have the love, the nurturing, that he and Della had missed out on. That meant Ethan couldn’t take a chance on messing things up with Cleo.

  Cleo sat at her desk at Bean sprouts, trying to ignore the calendar that reminded her of how long Ethan had been gone. She knew he regretted the necessity of leaving White horn. It was the only soothing balm to the rawness of their new and to-date tense marriage.

  He’d left for Houston, as physically distant as ever.

  It made her nuts, because she was aware of him every moment they were together in the house. She would catch him watching her, and her skin would prickle in awareness. He would walk past her and she would follow him with her gaze, drinking in his lean strength and the graceful, male way he moved.

  Though they still weren’t comfortable in their marriage, he’d called her every night over the past week. No surprise, Ethan wasn’t a chatterer, but the sound of his voice in her ear created a new intimacy between them. They talked of their child—that’s what Cleo was careful to do, refer to him as “our boy.” Ethan seemed to be getting used to it, though the first time she used the term, there had been forty-five full seconds of silence before he’d spoken.

  They talked of whatever deal he was working on and Cleo would entertain him with Bean sprouts reports—Bessie had recently forgiven Kenny G. and laid a big kiss on the little boy, which had sent him to Cleo’s office in tears.

  For a few minutes each night, they laughed together.

  Cleo treasured the moments because they reminded her of the first time Ethan had been in Montana. Then, she’d known he saw her as a woman, not as a sensible, capable, practical caretaker for the child who had been dropped into his life.

  Last night Ethan had even mentioned a gift. “Be on the lookout for its delivery tomorrow,” he’d said.

  Cleo had melted with tenderness. She was lying in his bed in the master suite—she would change the bedding so he would never, ever kn
ow she’d slept there—her body a warm puddle of breathlessness. “For me?”

  His voice was soft, but rough, like the tongue of a cat, and she wiggled against the sheets. “For you, Cleo. Because…” He’d let the last word trail away.

  Because why? Oh, how much she’d wanted to ask.

  But she hadn’t managed another word, and so all morning she’d wasted time looking out the window for a delivery truck, visions of lingerie or champagne or perfume or all three in her mind.

  “Cleo?” Her assistant Nancy’s voice sounded from the door.

  Cleo straightened her spine, trying to appear business like, but afraid her daydreams were still written on her face. “Yes?”

  “There’s a package here for you.”

  Cleo’s heart jumped. Ethan’s gift? “I can’t believe I missed something being delivered.” Then she flushed and tried explaining why she was suddenly so interested in deliveries. “Ethan said he was sending me a present.” Then her cheeks went even warmer. The last thing she needed was someone looking over her shoulder while she opened it. But knowing Nancy…

  Oh, and she was right. Not only Nancy, but the three other staff members who’d managed to find the time to wander by her office as she stared at the over large envelope on her desk. An envelope, she noted, made from the kind of paper guaranteed to resist water as well as dynamite.

  Cleo sighed, supposing she could send them all on their way. But a sisterhood developed when there was an all-woman staff. Frank opinions, unqualified support, and the right to watch someone open a present—especially one sent by a new husband!—were givens.

  She tested the package’s weight. Not soft enough for lingerie, not liquid enough for champagne. A book, maybe?

  Nancy reached over and poked the package. “I think it’s a book,” she confirmed. “Poetry, do you suppose? How romantic.”

  “Come on! Open it!” the others urged, and Cleo used her scissors to cut across the envelope top. Then, she hesitated, suddenly remembering Jasmine’s talk the other day about love manuals. How much had Ethan heard? Her heartbeat sped up. Thump-thump-thump. Surely he wouldn’t—