Sweet Child of Mine

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But laughing seemed the only solution.

On Saturday, Suzanne heard the knock on the door of the tiny garage apartment where she lived. She glanced in the mirror one last time and saw her bloodless cheeks.

Was she crazy? She was about to marry a man she barely knew, a man with whom she had nothing in common but a need to appear to be happily married. It certainly wasn’t her girlish dream of her wedding day. She’d imagined the long white dress, the orange blossoms, the tall, handsome groom who was crazy in love with her.

Michael Longstreet was tall and handsome, but that was the only similarity she could find.

He knocked again, and she snapped shut her lipstick and left the tiny bathroom, not even stopping to check her appearance in the mirror. If she let herself reflect on the difference in this deep purple wool dress and the long white gown of her dreams, she was afraid she would break down.

Today was for Bobby’s sake. That was all that could matter. Even as she thought of his name, his dear face leaped into her mind, the black hair like her own, the blue eyes of his father. The precious sprinkle of freckles over his nose. He would be taller than her, thank goodness. Already his head came up to her shoulder.

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 swallowed 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.

Four

She 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?”