A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing Read online

  “Let’s go in here,” she said, pointing to a store with knickknacks displayed. “Mom always liked this place. It’s got everything from shelf paper to fashion accessories. Maybe I can find something for her in here.”

  “Okay.”

  Steve opened the door and waited for her to go inside.

  Her gaze was drawn to a long wall filled with children’s things. The plush stuffed animals drew her like a magnet. She picked up a rag doll and. fiddled with the yarn hair and floppy arms. “I had one just like this when I was a little girl,” she told Steve. “I still have it somewhere, thanks to you.”

  “Me?” He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned a broad shoulder against the wall. “You’re on thin ice here. I never played with dolls. Any hint of impropriety in that regard would create a ripple of shock through macho men everywhere.”

  “Kind of like ‘The Force’?” When he nodded, she grinned. “Tell me you don’t remember rescuing Gwendolyn from my brother Joey before he could pull off the other leg. Then you strong-armed him into telling you where he’d hidden the amputated limb so you could fix it.”

  He shook his head. “I have no independent recollection—”

  “You’re lying,” she accused. “Deny it if you

  “You’re lucky.” He folded his arms across his chest

  She glanced at the infant sleepers beside her. “I hope I can give my baby a happy childhood.”

  “That phase of life is highly overrated.”

  His sharp tone caught her attention. She studied the tight jaw, the lines that deepened on either side of his mouth, the hard look in his blue eyes. He had put the “cyn” in cynical, but she supposed he had reason. She’d like to give a piece of her mind to the parents who had thrown him away as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. Even more, she’d give anything to take away his pain.

  Life was hard enough without starting out alone. She had her parents and brothers. Their interference annoyed her, but she knew their motivation was love. Her baby wouldn’t have a father, but she would be around. There would be uncles and grandparents. Steve had given them a cover story to explain any future questions about parentage. She wished she could give him something back.

  “I think you started M.M.A.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Macho Men of America? How do you figure that?”

  “You had to do something to camouflage your soft heart.”

  “A vicious rumor.”

  “Then explain the plaque in the cabin kitchen and the events that followed.” When he shrugged indicating he hadn’t a clue what she meant, she said, “Work with me here, Steve. Walk backward through

  He smiled. “Okay. Then he got even and did the same to you and you almost drowned.”

  “But you pulled me out.”

  His smile faded. “It wasn’t macho. I just got lucky.”

  She shook her head. “I’m the fortunate one. But I bet you wish you hadn’t been so quick that day.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Then you wouldn’t be stuck married to me now.”

  Chapter Six

  Steve was mad as hell. The reminder of that day and the fact that she could have been ripped out of his life forever sent cold chills down his spine.

  He stared hard at her. “I don’t regret marrying you any more than I regret pulling your behind out of the lake that day. Don’t you ever say anything like that again.”

  “Lighten up. I was joking.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” he said, an edge to his voice.

  He knew he would never be sorry, not for one second, that he’d married her. He knew it as surely as he knew he could only stay with her until she didn’t need him anymore. Rosie deserved a better man than him. Her brother had always known that.

  “My mistake,” she said, studying him intently.

  He glanced at the baby paraphernalia beside him. “Look, if we’re going to get a souvenir for Mrs. M., I suggest we try a different department.”

  Steve followed her around the store, struggling to

  In the past four days, he hadn’t retained a single word he’d pretended to read. But short of skipping out on her, it was the best he could do to keep his distance, and his feelings for her, under control. Unfortunately, it had worked about as well as a cold shower, his stroll with her through the woods, or anything else he did with Rosie nearby.

  He still wanted her.

  Steve hated shopping, almost as much as he’d despised his childhood. Rosie brightened up this tedious experience the same way she had brought sunshine into his life from the first time he’d seen her. He still enjoyed watching her.

  She wandered around the shop and picked up a set of candlestick holders. The glitter of the crystal ran a distant second to the sparkle in her eyes. She read funny cards, and her merry laugh made him smile. When her gaze was drawn again to the tiny baby bibs and blankets, her face filled with emotions that he couldn’t name. He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her. She would be a good mom. No way would she turn her back on her kid.

  It didn’t surprise him when she picked out something for her own mother in that vein. She finally chose a wooden plaque that read “Mom’s busy. Pick a number. Line forms to the right. No problem’s so big it can’t be fixed with a hug.”

  They left the store, and Rosie pulled her purchase

  “She’ll love it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because it’s from you.”

  Rosie’s eyebrow lifted. “You’re tired of shopping, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I’d like nothing better than to spend hours in there,” he said, indicating the store they’d just left. “But I think we should grab a quick, early dinner and head back to the cabin before the weather turns.”

  “You’re good, Steve. Most women wouldn’t be able to tell that you’re bored to tears.”

  “No way. Did you see tears? I don’t think so. It’s in the M.M.A. rule book, right up there at the top. Number one or two. ‘Macho men do not cry, for any reason.”’

  “Sell it somewhere else, Schafer. I’ve got your number.”

  “Okay. I’ll buy your silence with dinner. Anywhere you want.”

  Without hesitation she said, “The Hot Dog Hut. Sauerkraut, relish, mustard and onions.”

  “Lucky for me your silence comes cheap.”

  Her smile warmed him inside and out, touching the dark place in his soul that only she’d ever been able to reach. He was in big trouble. He could feel it. He was afraid no book in the world, paper or hardback, would be enough to protect him from Rosie Marchetti. Definitely Marchetti, not Schafer. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, think of her as his wife. If he did, no power on earth could protect her.

  Steve ushered Rosie through the cabin door and felt her shiver. “It’s cold in here. I’ll build a fire,” he offered.

  “That sounds wonderful. While you do that, I’ll whip up some hot chocolate.”

  When she came back with a couple of steaming mugs, Steve had a blazing fire going. She held out a cup to him, then sat on the brick seat beside the fireplace and leaned toward the warmth. “That feels so good.”

  “It’s pretty cold outside.”

  “On the radio, the weatherman said reports of snow were greatly exaggerated.”

  “Yeah.” Good thing, too, he thought.

  He’d hate to get snowed in up here. It was Friday. They’d leave for home early Sunday. All he had to do was get through one more day. That was doable.

  Even if his will power was wearing mighty thin.

  Even if all he could think about was Rosie.

  Even if he wanted to kiss her again, and touch her again and make love to her.

  A little over twenty-four hours and they would be outta there. Then she would be safe from him.

  He put his mug down. “I think I’ll hit the sack.”

  “But it’s early,” she said, a hint of hurt in her voice. “I can only guess what the macho men’s rule b
ook would say about that.”

  Steve hated the disappointment in her tone, hated that he’d put it there. But he couldn’t help admiring her attempt at humor to cover it. That still wasn’t enough to change his mind to stay there with her in the most romantic setting he could imagine. But he made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her eyes gave her away. It was the expression that had gotten to him ever since she was a little girl.

  “Are you warm enough now?”

  She nodded and stood. “This side is definitely cooked to perfection.”

  “Then let’s sit on the couch before I have to explain a one-sided tan to your mother.”

  She took the hand he offered, and the slight widening of her eyes told him that she felt the same spark he had. He led her to the sofa and they sat down. On the pretext of settling in, he moved so that no part of their bodies touched. A man could only stand so much.

  “I’ve been thinking about something, Steve.”

  “What?” He braced himself for anything and she took so long to answer, he dreaded her response. What she said surprised him.

  “I’ve been wondering how to extricate ourselves from this situation.”

  “‘Situation’?” he said. “‘Extricate’?”

  He knew what she was talking about, but the question gave him a chance to throw some ice water on the anger bubbling inside him. How could she be so cool and clinical about this? He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from, but knew he would be up to his neck in alligators if he explored it too thoroughly. Especially when she was so close, he could reach over and pull her into his arms.

  “You know. This marriage.” She wrapped her hands around her mug and stared into the fire just a few feet away. “We need to make some decisions. Like what to tell everyone when we split up.”

  There it was again: white-hot anger. He detoured from the flash point—her reference to separating. “We haven’t discussed what to tell them about why we married in the first place.”

  She looked at him and her eyes were huge and haunted and so beautiful he could easily lose himself in them. “I’ve been thinking about it and this is what I decided our story should be. It happened very fast. We were there, it seemed right, we did it. All of that is true.”

  As far as it went, he thought. “Then what?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could stick around for a few weeks after the baby is born. Then I’ll tell them it’s not working for me. I thought I was in love with you. But I was wrong and we decided to end the marriage before destroying any chance of a friendship.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “They’ll have to know the truth. Otherwise they would believe you’re the father and hold you responsible for something you didn’t do. They would hate you. I’d never forgive myself for that.”

  He wasn’t worried about Flo and Tom Marchetti. At least, not too much. Nick was another story. Since they were kids, Steve had always understood and abided by the hands-off-Rosie rule. And, except for the kiss, he’d followed the prime directive. He walked a fine line by marrying Nick’s little sister. That kiss had him teetering dangerously. Now he felt as if he were working without a net.

  “This is your gig. Tell them what you want,” he finally said.

  “I’ll take all the blame, Steve. You’ve been so generous.” She crossed her arms over her abdomen in an unconscious gesture to protect the baby growing there.

  He felt the prick of guilt. Would she have been so

  He knew he would hate her answer, but he couldn’t help asking, “Do you miss the weasel?”

  Her lips tightened, but he saw the gleam of mischief in her eyes. “I assume you mean Wayne?”

  He just looked at her.

  “I miss him dreadfully. My heart is broken and I don’t think I’ll ever recover. You’ve ruined my life, Steve, and I’ll never forgive you.”

  “So you’re fine with it.”

  “I hate that you know me so well.” She moved closer and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Her thigh hugged his. She put her hand on his knee as she thought for a moment. “I never loved him.”

  “You sound sure about that.”

  “I am. I talked him into marrying me for the sake of the baby.”

  “Bet you didn’t have to talk very long or hard,” he said sarcastically.

  “A lot you know about it,” she countered. “Actually, it took some fast talking on my part to convince him. He said he loved me and didn’t want to get married for the wrong reason. He didn’t want to hurt me.”

  “But he took the money and ran.”

  “I think that had more to do with my family than with me. He didn’t want to jeopardize my relationship with them.”

  “As opposed to staying and facing his responsibilities, which would prove to them that he was good enough for you.”

  “I already told you I didn’t love him. Why are you on this mission to assassinate his character?”

  “Because—” He looked at her. “I’m ticked that you waited so long to confirm my suspicion that you didn’t love him and spare me more guilt.”

  He’d held his breath, praying she wouldn’t pick up on the word more and grill him about it. It wasn’t that he regretted breaking up her wedding. He felt guilty about checking out her former fiancé in the first place. No one had asked him to, and he still wasn’t sure why he’d felt compelled to do it. The evidence he’d compiled convinced him that there was no way she could marry that creep. The word “lowlife” was too good for him. Steve resolved as soon as possible to get those pictures back from Mrs. M. and destroy them. Rosie would never see them. She never had to know what a despicable bastard the guy was.

  “Guilt builds character,” she said.

  “I think I’m pretty heavy in the character department,” he said smugly.

  “Yes, you are,” she answered, her tone suddenly serious. She put a protective hand over her abdomen again. “You married us and gave us your name. That will mean a lot when we’re alone.”

  There it was, that look again. There was no time for rational thought. The action was instinctive. He pulled her into his lap and folded her into his arms.

  “You’ll never be alone,” he said.

  “I know.” She snuggled closer. “But you did something for me that no one in my family could do.” She leaned away and looked at him. “I’ll always love you for it.”

  It was just an expression. He knew that. It was for what he’d done, not who he was, he knew that, too. But the words touched him in a place not even Rosie had been able to reach before.

  He tunneled his fingers into her hair. His heart pounded as he stared into her eyes. His gaze traveled lower, to her full lips. Maybe if he’d never tasted her before, he would have been able to resist. But he had kissed her, and he wanted to again, more than he wanted his next breath.

  He dipped his head and touched his mouth to hers. The shiver that rippled through her had nothing to do with cold. He knew that because when he looked, he saw passion in her eyes. That was something he understood. His blood warmed and raced through his veins, sending liquid heat to every part of his body.

  He needed her. He wanted to make love with her.

  There was a small distant voice whispering frantically in his ear that it was wrong. He listened for a moment, and pulled back slightly, staring into Rosie’s flushed face and passion-dazed eyes. Her ragged breathing matched his own.

  “Don’t, Steve—”

  His name was a plea on her lips, and he could no more deny her than he could resist the expression in her eyes that once again said loud and clear, “Don’t leave me out.”

  She took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. He kissed her back, then trailed nibbling caresses over her cheek, down her neck, then back up to the soft, responsive spot just beneath her ear.

  “Make love to me, Steve.”

  He blinked the passion haze from his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

  “Yes,” she
said with complete conviction.

  Steve stood with Rosie in his arms and carried her to the master bedroom where he set her on the bed. She slid over to make room for him, and sighed contentedly

  He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and touched her breast, smiling at her moan of pleasure. He wished her life would only be filled with moments like that. As long as he could, he would do his best to see that nothing bad touched her.

  Rosie wondered at the frown on Steve’s face. Before she could ask, he moved his hand to her other breast, shooting pleasure through her like a rocket. She wished she knew what fairy godmother she should thank for making this dream come true. She finally felt married and the honeymoon was about to start.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hands over the muscled contours of his chest. Her palms tingled at the masculine covering of hair. His breathing grew more harsh and she reveled in her power. She’d wished once to shake him from his complacency. She’d finally done it and would give anything to know how.

  Then he kissed her and everything else was forgotten. In a haze of pleasure and passion, Steve took her to a place she had never been before. It was a perfect world. He learned her body and its secrets until he’d taken her to the heights of desire. Then he buried himself inside her, and together they jumped into a dizzying spiral of release.

  Tired beyond belief, Rosie was vaguely aware when Steve pulled her into his arms. He made her feel safe and secure. That was her last thought before sleep claimed her.

  Rosie awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains and Steve’s arm thrown possessively across her waist. They were lying spoon fashion, his chest to her back. And neither chest nor back was clothed. For a moment she thought she must be dreaming. She pinched her arm and broke into a wide grin when she felt it and knew she was wide awake.

  She had thought this would never happen. After finding a tall blonde in his apartment with him, she had resigned herself to life without Steve. She had made up her mind that she would find a man who could care about her the way she wanted. She would live happily ever after with him.