Sweet Child of Mine (4 page)

She would walk over hot coals for her child. She would never, ever leave him again. She should count herself lucky that Michael Longstreet’s need for her help in his own masquerade dovetailed so nicely with hers.

That settled, she drew in a deep breath, crossed to the door and opened it.

With just one tiny hitch, her heart settled back into its normal beat. Yes, Michael looked wonderful in the camel sweater that brought out the rich brown of his hair, the bright streaks sunlight had left. Yes, his mossy green eyes and thick lashes tugged at her, pulled her toward the drowning pool of his appeal.

But today wasn’t about Michael’s sex appeal, potent as it was. It was about Bobby. Only Bobby. So Suzanne worked up a neutral smile. “I’m all ready.” She turned away to retrieve her purse and coat.

Michael snagged her arm and turned her back toward him. “You look really nice.” He glanced down at his jeans. “I’ve got a suit in the car, but it’s easier to pilot a plane in comfortable clothes.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” From behind his back, he retrieved a small, perfect nosegay of violets, delicate lace flaring out from the edge. “You’ve never been married before, right?”

Too shocked to speak, she took them from his hand and brought them to her face. She shook her head while she breathed in the delicate fragrance.

“You’ll have the wedding you want one day, but there’s no reason this day has to be stark and sterile.”

Suzanne glanced up and found golden flecks around the pupils of his mesmerizing green eyes. Her heart flooded with an unfamiliar emotion. She swal
lowed hard. “This is very kind.” She batted back the tide that would swamp her if she let it. It would be foolish to see this as more than the gesture of a man who had dealt well with many women. “This isn’t a real wedding day, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

He studied her for a long moment. She stood there under his perusal and fought the urge to shrink away. There was something very serious in those eyes, something that tugged deeper than she wanted to feel.

“You can still back out, Suzanne. No harm, no foul.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Do you want me to back out?”

His answer didn’t come quickly. Then he shook his head and exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what I want.” His grin was wry as he rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “I want to make my father happy. I want to help you with your son. But this feels so—”

“Calculated?” she supplied.

He dropped his hand and his eyes showed his appreciation. “Yeah. I never thought of myself as a romantic. Hell, I’m a lawyer. Logic is my life.” He grinned then, that slashing white smile that brought out those devastating dimples. “But I’m not big on taking vows I don’t intend to fulfill.”

She understood completely. His admission warmed the chill that had settled in her bones. “I know. I feel
the same way.” She took another whiff of the violets to steady herself.

“How about if we look at it this way?” she said. “We’ll do our best to live up to the vows we can until it’s time for this pact to end. We don’t love each other, and we can’t pretend that we do. But we can honor and respect each other and do our best to deal well together, knowing that we’re really doing this for other people who need us.”

He gazed at her intently, but he didn’t speak.

She wasn’t sure why she needed to convince him; perhaps the argument was one she needed to hear. “We are doing a good thing, Michael. We’re trying to help people we love, and love demands sacrifices. I think I can live with the difference between this day and a real marriage if you can, knowing that it’s the only way I can do the right thing by my son. Is knowing how happy your dad will be enough reason for you?”

Michael smiled, and this time his eyes held a fondness she hadn’t seen before. “Yeah.” He exhaled and his shoulders settled. “I think it is.” He didn’t touch her, but his gaze was almost a caress. “Thanks, Suzanne. That helps. I wasn’t comfortable wondering if I was rushing you into something you’d regret.”

She smiled then. “We may both regret this heartily before we’re done, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s what we need to do, that we’re doing it for good reasons.”

The dimples flashed again. “The strain of not arguing may kill us.”

“I have no intention of not arguing with you. You’re wrong too often.”

Michael laughed. “That’s the Suzanne I know.” He walked past her and picked up her coat. “All right, Ms. Jorgenson. Your chariot awaits.”

The time for second thoughts was past. Suzanne picked up her purse, took one more sniff of the violets for courage and took her first steps into a future that was anybody’s guess.

S
he sat in the passenger seat, stiff as a board, her fingers clutched tightly around the violets. She was so damn delicate, despite her fierce will.

“I really am a good pilot, I swear,” Michael said soothingly.

Her dress was simple and almost severe, her hair done up tightly in a sophisticated twist. But tiny tendrils escaped around her neck and ears, reminding him that beneath this too-still woman lived the fire-brand he thought he knew. She turned his way.

“I’m sure you are. I’ve just never flown so…close to the ground.” She glanced away. “Really, it’s very interesting.” But her voice quavered, just a bit.

“You’re afraid of heights.”

She started to shake her head, then glanced at him, a tiny glint in her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. Somehow this seems so…real. I’ve flown before, but never on such a small plane.”

Michael wanted to laugh. His Bonanza was not considered small, especially compared to his first plane, a Piper Cub. But it was no 757, that was for sure. You felt the experience in this, instead of the distant feeling a jumbo jet conveyed. “You could close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think that’s likely.” Her lips turned up slightly. “Actually, I want to like it. I’m just not good at looking down.”

“So you’d just as soon I didn’t do logrolls, I guess.”

He saw her swallow hard, but her grin was brave. “Unless you just really need to do one, I think I’ll pass.”

Michael laughed. He’d never expected to like her this much. “I think I’ll survive.”

She drew in a deep breath, and he tried not to notice how the soft purple wool clung to her very lovely curves. “Thank you.”

Before too long, they were on approach to the small Tahoe airstrip. He explained the mechanics of what they were doing, and she took it all in, asking intelligent and probing questions. It wasn’t really a surprise; Suzanne was a very intelligent woman. Only a
very smart mind could tangle so successfully with his own as often as she had done in the past.

They touched down, and he heard Suzanne’s heartfelt sigh of relief.

He laughed. “I told you I’d get you here safely.”

She grinned. “And I believed you. It’s just that—”

“I could teach you to fly, you know.” What was he offering? They wouldn’t be together that long.

“I don’t—” Her eyes sparked. “Really?”

That was also the Suzanne he thought he knew. Bold and adventurous. “You’d have to study. How are you at math?”

Her chin tilted. “I’m good. Well, pretty good.” She glanced over. “Okay, not great.”

He laughed. “You’ll have to look down sometimes. You ready for that?”

“I might surprise you.”

Oh, you do that already, Suzanne. “Once we get back and you get settled in, we’ll see if you can spare the time.”

She went suddenly quiet. He concentrated on taxiing to the terminal. Finally, she spoke. “Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen your house. Will I—” She paused. “Will I fit there?”

He thought back to her apartment, which, though small, burst with life, from the plants she had at every window to the quilt folded over her sofa. His house had been constructed with fine craftsmanship, but
he’d never made it as much a home as she had done with a tiny place she couldn’t even call her own. “You know that quilt on your sofa?”

Her gaze shifted to his. “Yes.”

“I think my house has needed something just like that. And I’ve got lots of windows for your plants, if you want to bring them.” He realized they still had many details to handle. “Are you worried about giving up your apartment?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “A little. Prosperino doesn’t exactly have a surplus of housing.”

Damn. His impulse kept sending ripples through both their lives. “When it’s time—” He brought the plane to a stop and turned to her. “When it’s time for us to part, I won’t ask you to leave until you’ve found the right place for you and Bobby. All right? Even if it takes awhile.”

She nodded. “All right. I appreciate that, Michael. But I won’t be picky.”

He realized that she’d probably summed herself up pretty neatly in that one sentence. She expected everything of herself, but little of anyone else. It was a wise philosophy, one on which they could agree completely.

“Well.” He cut the engine and stirred in his seat. “You ready?”

He didn’t expect the quick grin, but maybe he should have. Suzanne Jorgenson was many things he
didn’t understand, but one of them was not faint of heart.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She reached for her purse and coat.

“Wait, let me help you out.” The Bonanza’s design had a door only on the passenger side, so he had to crawl over her. He did it with care, but there was no escaping the scent of her perfume rising from the heat of her body, the brush of her hair on his cheek. It would be so easy to pause, to close the faint distance between them….

Damn. He moved past her with haste and jumped down, then turned to lift her out. Hands easily spanning her waist, he lowered her carefully to the icy ground.

Neither one moved. The heat of her warmed his hands, and he found himself tempted to bend toward that beautiful, expressive mouth. Sooty eyelashes swept down to veil her pansy-dark eyes. Her hands tightened on his biceps, but he heard the small whimper of distress escape from her.

It was the dash of cold water he needed.

Mistake. Mistake, Longstreet. Let her go. Now.

Michael released her and stepped back, then focused on securing the plane.

The one time she’d forced herself to look down, Lake Tahoe had been a perfect sapphire blue, and she’d seen the dusting of snow on the treetops, the
soft white of the ski slopes. Suzanne stared out the window of the manager’s office at the small air terminal, watching unexpected snowflakes begin to fall and wishing she’d brought her boots. The plain black pumps she wore would never hold up if the snow picked up, but Michael had checked before they left, and snow wasn’t expected until sometime tomorrow.

But thinking about snow wasn’t working as a distraction. In a few more minutes they’d be standing in some anonymous chapel, saying vows they would later break. Yes, couples did that all the time, but at least they started out thinking “till death do us part” meant exactly that.

She couldn’t worry about that, she thought, brushing her fingers over the nosegay of violets, nor regret that she would not be wearing some stunning white confection. Michael had brought a suit and was changing now, but she would wear this simple wool dress. There was no one to impress, no sentimentality to appease.

This was a simple, straightforward arrangement. A marriage of convenience that they would both forget one day down the road when each of them found their true mate of the heart.

That would be the time for beautiful gowns and bowers of blossoms, not this. But she couldn’t help bringing the violets up to her nose and enjoying the delicate scent. At least her partner in this charade wasn’t heartless, no matter what he might say.

“Are you ready?”

She whirled at his voice, then lost the power of speech. She had never missed that he was a decidedly handsome man even in the boots and jeans he wore at his office, at council meetings, virtually everywhere he went.

But she’d never seen this Michael Longstreet. This man could indeed inhabit the halls of power, be invited to the most exclusive clubs, dine with the cream of society. The navy pinstripe suit had to be custom tailored, so sophisticated were its lines, so perfectly proportioned to his body. Blinding white shirt, discreetly elegant tie, a shine on his shoes that could put out the eyes…he took her breath away.

And made her more aware than ever that her dress had come off the sale rack of a no-frills department store.

She flattened one hand on her stomach to stem the jitters. How could she even pretend to belong to this wealthy, sophisticated man?

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased. Sliding the tip of one finger behind his top button, he grimaced. “I almost forgot how much I hate wearing a tie.”

The jitters smoothed—a little. “You look like you just stepped off the pages of
GQ.
”

He screwed up his face and shuddered. “I’ve done all of that I intend to do, thank you very much.” He walked into the office, and the entire space shrank. He was so big. So larger than life in so many ways.

“You look lovely, Suzanne.”

“It’s the same dress you’ve seen me in all morning. Michael, maybe we shouldn’t—”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I’ve enjoyed looking at you the entire time. The color makes your eyes even more vivid.” He stepped closer, let his gaze sweep her face before stopping at her eyes. “I always thought violet eyes were the invention of some marketing person, but yours are honest-to-God violet.”

“Michael, this isn’t going to work. No one’s going to buy that I’m your wife.”

One sable brow lifted. “They aren’t? Why not?”

“Don’t be dense. Look at us.”

His gaze swept over her with a thoroughness she felt to her bones. “I see a beautiful woman with skin pale as cream and hair black as midnight. What do you see?”

“I see a Yalie in a Savile-Row suit who owns his own plane. Michael, I’m still paying off my student loans, my car is ten years old and I buy strictly off the sale rack.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself that we don’t suit?” He laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “Suzanne, we already know we don’t suit, but it has nothing to do with money. Unless, of course, you intend to make me pay for what the rich kid did to you.”

Shame washed over her. She ducked her head.

“No. But you don’t understand. Your parents will keel over. They’ll hate your choice.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. “No, they won’t.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I promise you they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

“But we’ll never convince anyone that—”

“I never took you for a coward, Ms. Jorgenson.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned broadly. “Am I to understand that the same tigress who’s tangled with me vociferously over every possible issue for months is afraid of what people might think?”

“Of course not.” She tilted her nose in the air.

“My parents will buy it because it’s what they want desperately. Jim’s cousin will buy it because we’ll put on one hell of a show. And as to the differences between us, frankly, I’m shocked at you. I never took you for a snob.”

“A snob? Me? But you’re the one who—” Her temper, never docile, was beginning to acquire claws.

“As far as I can tell, my only crime this morning has been complimenting you on a lovely dress, bringing you violets, owning a good suit or maybe all three, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out why any of them is a hanging offense. Would you care to explain?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“You’d never understand.” Primarily because he was right. She was acting like a madwoman. It only made her more upset.

“When you have some spare time, maybe you’ll explain for the layman.” He chuckled indulgently.

Suzanne saw red. She stabbed his chest with one finger. “Listen, buster, don’t you dare patronize me. I’ll have you know—”

She didn’t get to finish because he grabbed her and pulled her against him. “Maybe John Wayne had it right. There might be only one way to handle a woman with a temper.”

He lowered his head and suddenly her mouth was too busy to answer.

For a moment, Suzanne was too stunned to react.

Then she was all too aware of the same quick fire that had raced through her veins before when Michael had kissed her. A part of her wanted nothing more than to yield, to revel in the power of this compelling man’s kiss.

But a part of her knew it was the road to disaster.

She put her hands on his chest and shoved. “Stop it, Michael. I don’t want this.”

Temper flared in his eyes, something she’d never seen before. Heat, hunger…all were there.

But swirling in the mix was the same caution she felt. For a moment his hands tightened on her arms.

Then he stepped away.

“I will concede that it’s a bad idea.” But just as she started to smile in triumph, he nipped that in the bud. “But you’re lying to yourself if you say you
don’t want it. You want me, Suzanne, and I want you. It doesn’t have to be smart. It just is.”

She took one step back and found herself against the window. She hugged her arms around her waist. “It doesn’t matter.” When she saw the corners of his mouth tilt, she shook her head. “It can’t matter. You know that as well as I do.”

“We don’t have to make this an endurance contest, Suzanne. Just because we don’t intend to stay married doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the proximity as long as it’s comfortable for both of us.”

She looked for that comfort in his eyes, but she didn’t see it. “It’s not comfortable, Michael. For either of us.”

The casual grin he displayed to the world came to the rescue. “Ah, but dancing close to the flames is its own kind of pleasure, don’t you think?” His tone was light, his grin disarming. But she could see something there that matched too closely to how she felt. There was danger here.

For both of them.

So she straightened and did them both a favor. “I’m not much for taking foolish risks. And I have a child to consider.”

Shame crept over his face then. She could see the heat give way to reality. All humor left his face, and his eyes turned somber. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

It was so tempting to soften then, but she knew it
would be a big mistake. “So, are we ready to begin this charade?”

Michael looked at his watch. “It’s just about time.” He turned to leave.

But then he turned back, on his face a curiously hesitant look. “Suzanne, look, I’m sorry. I was out of line. I just—” He stopped then as if unsure how to proceed. “Listen, if we’re going to carry this off, there’s something I need to give you. Otherwise, my parents will never buy that this is for real.”

“What is it?”

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a deep blue velvet bag that looked very, very old and handed it to her. “This is something the brides in our family wear when they’re married. It’s been a tradition for generations.”