A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing Page 5

  Rosie wasn’t even aware that she’d had those expectations

  Before she could say anything, the Fasten Seat Belts sign dinged and lit up. Then a grinding, metallic sound beneath her feet caught her attention.

  She gripped the armrest so hard her knuckles turned white. “Oh, God—”

  “That’s the landing gear.” Steve pried her fingers loose and took her cold hand into his. “It’s real hard to set one of these babies on the ground without it.”

  “I know. I just wish they could do it more quietly. Any sudden noise makes me nervous. I’d feel so much better if I could see the flight crew. If I knew they were talking about where to go for dinner after work and not about emergency vehicles lined up on the runway, then I could relax, too.”

  “Has anyone ever told you flying is safer than driving your car?”

  “Yes. I dated a pilot once.” She had the tiniest feeling of satisfaction when he frowned at that. Then the look was gone and she figured she must have imagined it. “He said if anything is going to happen it would be at takeoff or landing. So, after a successful takeoff, I have the whole flight to worry about what could happen on the other end.”

  “Nothing is going to happen. Are you buckled up?”

  She stared at him. “Did it occur to you that the juxtaposition of those two sentences does not inspire calm and confidence?”

  Without responding, he leaned over and gave her seat belt a tug to make sure it was secure. His gaze lingered a moment on her abdomen, then he met her gaze. “Is that too tight? For the baby, I mean?”

  “It’s fine,” she said, touched that he would think of that. Then as the plane descended, her stomach seemed to drop. “Oh, mercy,” she said, while his hand tightened around hers.

  Several minutes later the plane touched the ground. Steve nodded with satisfaction. “One bounce. Not bad.”

  “No bounces would be better. And why do I always feel like I want to help put on the brakes?”

  He just laughed as the plane taxied to the jetway. When they came to a stop, there was a flurry of activity as all the passengers stood and gathered their belongings. Rosie started to do the same.

  “There’s no rush. Let’s wait,” Steve said, putting his hand on her knee to stop her. “I don’t want you caught up in the crush.”

  The heat of his touch on her leg seeped through the denim jumper and worked its way inside her, kick-starting the glow resting dormant in her abdomen. It took precious little to ignite the warmth. Rosie wondered what she could do to extinguish that little spark. It would help if he stopped being so sweet and protective.

  “Aren’t you in a hurry to get up to the mountains?” she asked.

  “Not so much that I want you to get banged around,” he answered, looking behind them at the passengers lined up in the narrow aisle. “They’re jammed in here like sardines,” he muttered.

  The glow started again, or more likely it never

  The line of people finally began to move; in short order, the aisle was clear. Steve stood and moved to let Rosie precede him. She started to climb onto the seat so that she could reach the overhead bin where her carry-on had been stored.

  “What are you doing?” Steve asked.

  “Getting my bag. The flight attendant put it up here. Remember?”

  “Would it kill you to ask for help, Ro? Let me do it.”

  What about when you’re not around? Which obviously will be most of the time, she thought. Rosie patted herself on the back for not letting those words come tumbling out of her mouth. She didn’t need him. He’d been kind enough to lend her his name, but responsibility stopped there. She’d learned to survive very well on her own. It would be best not to count on his help, as he’d made it crystal clear that he intended to be an absentee husband. Which suited her fine.

  The thought rang hollow, but there was no time to think about that.

  He reached up and grabbed the handle of her tapestry makeup case. As he did, the cotton material of his shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders and strong arms. The play of muscles mesmerized her.

  When she moved to take the bag from him, he

  “I’m perfectly capable of lugging my stuff. If you weren’t here, I’d have to.”

  He didn’t say it, but she saw a look flash into his eyes. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. If he weren’t there, Wayne would have been. Steve was looking for some sign of how she felt about that. She wasn’t sure. For a woman who’d had everything figured out a short time ago, she was pitifully unsure of anything now.

  Steve stared at her. “While I’m here, you’re not carrying anything heavier than a handbag.” He set her case down long enough to shrug into his leather jacket.

  Rosie wasn’t sure if the masculine figure he now cut fully compensated her for covering up the view of his broad shoulders in that white shirt. But, she had to admit, either look was good.

  She sighed, weariness overtaking her. Fatigue left her vulnerable. That had to be the explanation for her super-acute response to Steve. He was her honorary brother. She was immune to him. Any involuntary, visceral response to the contrary could easily be explained. She just needed more sleep.

  “Okay, squirt, let’s go.”

  ’Nuff said. How could she possibly be attracted to a man who called her “squirt” on an annoyingly regular basis?

  They walked through the airport, down some stairs, and stepped onto the escalator to get to Baggage Claim. As they did, Steve kept his arm around her, shielding her from the crush of people in the busy terminal. A girl could get used to this, she thought,

  When they finally found the big, silver carousel, Steve set her case down and settled in to wait for the luggage to start circling. As he stood there, arms folded over his chest, he played havoc with her senses. His aftershave made her heart flutter, the sight of him turned her legs to jelly, and if he said one more word in his wonderful deep voice, she couldn’t be sure of maintaining anything resembling her dignity. He had said he was leaving. Rosie figured the sooner, the better.

  She touched the sleeve of his jacket. The smooth leather covered his warm skin, but her imagination was on overdrive and her fingers tingled. “I’ll wait for the luggage. There’s no need for you to stay. Go on up to the cabin. You’ve earned a vacation.”

  He had a what-the-hell-does-that-mean look on his face, but only said, “I’ll see you home first.”

  She shook her head. “Not necessary. I’ll take a cab.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  “Your watch?” With an effort she kept her voice calm. “What does that mean? Am I some kind of military expedition? Search and destroy?” She didn’t often display the legendary, passionate Marchetti temper, but she’d just about reached her saturation point with him. She didn’t enjoy feeling like the family mess that he was cleaning up. Giving him a smart salute, she said, “At ease, soldier. Mission accomplished, sir.”

  “Knock it off, Ro. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Of course you did.” Her emotions ranged from impotent fury to blinking back tears. She took a deep

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go home and pick up my car. I don’t need your help with that.”

  “Define ‘pick up your car,’” he said.

  “There’s nothing to define. One usually needs a car if one is planning to go somewhere. I’m not staying in my apartment.”

  “Of course you are.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’m too old to be grounded.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Isn’t it? Look, you’re taking a vacation. I’ve arranged time off from the store. This is probably the last opportunity I’ll have to get away for a long time. I intend to take advantage of it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Up the coast, maybe.”

  “Maybe? So you don’t even have a place to stay?”

  “This is January, Steve. How hard could it be to find a B and B at
the beach?”

  Steve had focused intently on the fact that his job would be done once he got Rosie home. He’d neglected to take into account the fact that she had a mind of her own. A mind-set that dictated not facing her parents.

  “This is me, Ro. You’re postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later you have to tell your family what’s going on.”

  “Can’t argue with that logic. But wouldn’t it make more sense to do it when my husband is with me?”

  He didn’t miss her emphasis on the word. By definition, that’s what he was. He’d said vows giving him legal right to the title. But he’d been so caught up in keeping his husband-in-name-only status—translation: keeping his distance from Rosie—that he’d forgotten something. If she faced her family alone, the jig would be up.

  But jeez, after kissing her at the ceremony, his temperature had gone off the meter. And he’d wanted badly to kiss her again. If he did, he would want more. Years of perfecting his big brother act would be down the tubes if he let his instincts take over.

  Marrying Rosie Marchetti had put him smack-dab on that fine line between friendship and duty. Nick would have a fit when he found out what Steve had done. But as long as he complied with her brother’s hands-off-Rosie rule, there was still a chance he could salvage his relationship with the best—the only good friend he’d ever had.

  Steve was afraid the only way to follow that rule was to stay away from Rosie. But he knew if he walked out on her now she would take off alone. That was a bad idea, and he knew better than to try to talk her out of it. That left him only one option, an equally bad idea. But he didn’t have a choice.

  “Do you have warm clothes with you?” he asked. When she nodded, he said, “Then you’re coming with me.”

  Steve led the way up the stairs to the spacious mountain cabin. He welcomed the cold, fresh air that filled his lungs and cooled his body. He had expected to make the drive alone. He’d been wrong. Rosie had slept the whole way, but he’d been painfully aware

  He must have been nuts to bring her along. He might have been able to turn his back except for the look in her eyes when he’d said he was going on his own. He knew it was more than the threat to take off alone that had swayed him. It was that same don’t-leave-me-out look she’d always worn as a child when he and Nick were doing something. He hadn’t been able to resist it then, and Rosie had grown into a sweet, shapely, seductive woman. He sure as hell had his work cut out for him to resist her now. The whole setup was a recipe for disaster.

  Why hadn’t he listened to Rosie? After he’d told her she was coming along, her reaction had made it clear she’d taken offense at his words. To quote her, they didn’t need to be joined at the hip to make everyone believe they were a couple. He grinned as he recalled her crack about “misguided macho posturing.” No one in the family would know they hadn’t spent the whole time together. But he just couldn’t leave her at the airport alone. Mrs. M. had entrusted him with the responsibility of her daughter and he wouldn’t do the job halfway.

  If only he could convince himself that she was safer with him than she would be in another state. If he gave in to his attraction, he would hurt her. He would rather die than do that.

  On the wide wooden porch, Steve fumbled with his keys to find the right one for the front door. When he had unlocked and opened it, he noticed Rosie’s brief

  She flipped the switch just inside the entry and the living room flooded with light. “Brrr. This place is freezing.”

  Steve turned on the thermostat and heard the heater instantly ignite. “It won’t take long to get warm. You stay here while I go get the suitcases out of the car.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” she said.

  When he carried the luggage inside, Steve noticed her bending over the circular, screened-in fire pit that dominated the center of the room. She set newspaper and kindling in the middle and lighted it with a long wooden match. She looked up as he set the suitcases down.

  “So which bedroom do you want?” she asked.

  Steve blinked. For some reason he had expected—maybe it was more that he’d wanted—her to claim her wifely right to share a room. He would have turned her down, no doubt about that. But she acted as if nothing had changed because of their vows. That bothered him. It shouldn’t have, but with Rosie, he’d learned never to count on “could,” “would,” or “should.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her. “I thought you’d want the master bedroom downstairs.”

  “No. I’m here by default. The folks gave you the place. I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out of the best room, even if it does have that great Jacuzzi tub.”

  Share it with me. The room, the tub, the bed—all of the above. The thought flashed through his mind. He wished it was from out of nowhere, but he knew it was a function of spending too much time with a

  Tiredly, he ran his hands over his face, then met her gaze. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded emphatically. “I’ll use my old room upstairs,” she said with a wide, bright smile.

  She was mighty damn cheerful about sleeping alone on her wedding night. Why? And what the hell was he doing questioning it? Never look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d never understood that expression. If someone had checked that wooden sucker out, the political dynamics of the world could be very different today.

  Steve knew he should be glad she was making this so easy. Instead, he couldn’t tamp down the annoyance her indifference generated.

  She put a log on the brightly blazing kindling. “You never told me what my mother said when you called her from LAX.”

  “Yeah, I did, before I realized you were asleep.”

  “Okay, I’ll rephrase. What did my mother say when you talked to her?”

  “I didn’t talk to her. No one was home. I left a message on her answering machine and told her not to worry, everything was fine.”

  Her full lips twisted wryly. “That should put her mind at ease.”

  “She knows where I am if she wants details,” he said, sitting on the bricks beside the fire. He watched Rosie nudge the blaze with the poker.

  “Did you know that when my folks first bought this cabin it was one story?”

  He shook his head. “It was like it is now the first time I came.”

  “They used it for a getaway place when Nick and Joe were little. After Alex and Luke and I came along, it was harder for them to leave us. But at least once a year Grandma Marchetti would come and stay with us kids while Mom and Dad came up here to be alone. When Grandma got older, there was no one they trusted to dump us on.”

  “‘Dump’?”

  “What else would you call it? No one cheerfully begs to watch five hyper children.”

  “I suppose not.”

  A pensive look wrinkled her forehead. “My parents just had a wedding anniversary.”

  “How many years?”

  “Thirty-five. Mom got pregnant with Nick on their honeymoon. In this cabin.” Her expression changed, turning somewhere between pleasure and pain.

  “What is it, Ro?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s not your fault. It’s all my fault. I appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made—”

  “Jeez, Ro, stop. I’m not some knight in shining armor.”

  “I can’t think of anyone who would have done what you did. And I don’t expect anything more. You’ve been a wonderful friend, Steve—”

  “Are you going to continue to play the Queen of Qualifying or just spit it out?” He smiled. “What is it you’re trying to say?”

  “I just can’t help being a little bit sad.”

  “About what? Specifically,” he added at her pointed look.

  “From the time I was a little girl, my mother always told me she hoped I would find a man as wonderful as my father. All she ever wanted for me was a long, happy marriage, like hers.”

  “You’ll have that someday.”

  “Wish I was as sure. I’ve done ev
erything wrong. It’s a sure bet my parents’ marriage of thirty-five years didn’t start out like ours.”

  Steve wondered if she was already regretting marrying him. He couldn’t blame her. A guy with his negative family credentials wasn’t something a girl like Rosie could brag about.

  “I suppose not,” he said.

  “My parents were in love.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. They still are.”

  She looked at him and the corners of her mouth lifted. “I know.” Her smile faded. “I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain Mom and Dad didn’t start their honeymoon with a conversation about which bedroom the other wanted.”

  Steve figured it was a sure bet they’d shared a bed and everything that went along with it. Mr. M. still looked at Mrs. M. as if she hung the moon. He’d never seen his father and mother together; didn’t know if they had even married. The Marchettis were together. As far as he could tell, they were pretty content, too. They were the exception. Steve figured a guy like himself had no business believing in happy endings. No way would he drag a girl like Rosie down with him.

  “I always wanted to follow in their footsteps,” Rosie said.

  He didn’t know what to say. “Your folks just want you to be happy.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. “I may not be following in their footsteps. But thanks to you, at least I don’t have to tell them I’m pregnant and not married.”

  “I’m not so sure I’ve done you any favor,” he said truthfully.

  Chapter Five

  A week later Steve was still convinced that he hadn’t done her any favors. He prowled the cabin like a caged tiger, feeling like a thunderstorm about to explode. Talk about your mixed metaphors, he thought irritably.

  He glanced at Rosie as she finished the breakfast dishes and hung the towel over the drainer resting on the ceramic tile counter. Even dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked domestic, maternal, serene—perfect. And so beautiful he ached. He was dopey, sleepy, cranky, crabby, and any of the other seven dwarfs who were not happy about sharing a cabin with a woman.