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Her Necessary Husband
Sharon Swan
From Housekeeper…To Honeymooner?If someone had told Jenna Lorenzo that she'd be floating down the aisle to wed the biggest catch in Harmony–after applying for a position as Ross Hayward's housekeeper, no less–she'd have laughed her head off! But here she was…adorned in an antique wedding gown, shielding a scandalous past, moments away from pledging her heart to the high-powered family man who'd once had a starring role in her adolescent fantasies. Exchanging breathtaking vows with Ross was a fairy-tale dream come true…except for one thing. He was–sigh!–only in it for convenience' sake. What's a hopelessly smitten Cinderella bride to do? Make her dashing groom fall head over heels in love, that's what!Welcome to Harmony: A little town with lots of surprises!
“I’d like to kiss you.”
The blunt words were out before Ross could consider their tone. But he wouldn’t call them back even if he could have.
“Oh…” Jenna managed.
“I mean, it seems logical.” Right, and physical attraction has nothing to do with it, a more candid part of him mocked. “That way, we’ll have a better basis to, ah, make our decision.”
“So you haven’t reconsidered? You’re still thinking about marriage?”
“I am,” he assured her. “But right now I’d just like to kiss you.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, taking in her subtle floral scent and reminding himself that this was only a kiss. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the moment. At last he forced himself to lift his head, drop the hand still cupped around her silky-smooth chin and take a step back. “I’m prepared to suggest that we take this…all the way.”
Jenna stared up at him, her own breathing far from even. “All the way?”
“To the altar.”
Her Necessary Husband
Sharon Swan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my agent, Pam Hopkins,
with many thanks for all her support.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing as a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life, because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?
Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.
Books by Sharon Swan
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES
928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND * (#litres_trial_promo)
939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE!* (#litres_trial_promo)
966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCЕE
983—HER NECESSARY HUSBAND* (#litres_trial_promo)
Contents
Chapter One (#u0db4cfbc-85c0-5b41-9692-0fbad247ddd3)
Chapter Two (#u81ca3a38-b930-558f-aea7-08e07cec84ef)
Chapter Three (#uefa84d6c-3a90-5405-8cad-d8dc2f9cf177)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Something told Jenna Lorenzo that Ross Hayward would not be hiring her as his live-in housekeeper the minute he opened the front door.
Only moments earlier she’d been admiring that door, painted the palest of yellows, and the wreath of sage green leaves topped with delicate dried flowers that hung under a high arch gracefully etched into the smooth wood. Like the rest of the modern two-story home built of narrow bricks shaded a pristine dove gray, the door was a tribute to conservative elegance. Even the well-trimmed front lawn with its neatly shaped borders of low plants sporting a quiet mix of early September blooms was designed to bid visitors a gracious welcome.
Serene, Jenna thought. That was the word that came to mind. She had never worked—and certainly never lived—anywhere quite like this place.
And she wouldn’t be working, or living, here. The polite smile that didn’t quite reach the deep-set navy eyes of the tall man standing in front of her had her all but positive of that.
“Come in, Jenna,” he said in a low voice she’d by no means forgotten from the initial interview he’d conducted several days earlier at Dewitt’s Diner. Despite the business nature of the lunch, she’d felt at ease in the familiar setting, having indulged in one of the downtown diner’s juicy hamburgers along with a mound of crisp fries many times with her friends when she was growing up in Harmony, Arizona.
She didn’t, however, feel anywhere near that same level of ease right now. The truth was that when it came to casually comfortable surroundings, the Hayward home was an entirely different matter.
Just how different Jenna realized full well the moment she stepped into the entryway and found herself confronted by a landscape of sheer white. Carpet, walls, ceiling. Even what living room furniture she could see through an arched opening at one side of the hall featured a white-on-white design. Only a group of pastel prints simply framed in silver and hung at well-spaced intervals provided any hint of true color.
Everything sparkled in the sun slanting through lacy white curtains. Nothing was out of place. It was a scene straight out of a trendy home magazine.
But this was real life, and there were children living here. “How in the world does it stay clean?” Jenna wondered out loud.
“We’ve learned to be careful,” the man at her side said.
The attractive man at her side, she couldn’t help thinking as they made their way to the living room. At one time, as had many girls in town, she’d had a major crush on the Golden Boy—which was how her adolescent eyes had come to view him—with his sun-streaked brown hair and flashing grin. Somehow it had only seemed natural when he’d started dating Cynthia Morgan during his high school days.
A slim blonde with the lightest of blue eyes, Cynthia had swiftly become the other half of the Golden Couple—a couple some had envied for their popularity. They’d married shortly after both graduated from college, Jenna had learned from friends on her recent return to Harmony. It had been, by all accounts, an excellent marriage, one that had quickly produced a beautiful baby daughter, and eventually another.
And then, almost three years ago, Ross Hayward had tragically lost not only his wife but also his mother when the car Cynthia had been driving skidded off a snowy road and crashed.
“Have a seat,” he said. “I’m glad you were able to spare me some time this morning.”
Jenna settled herself on a long sofa while her host chose an overstuffed chair across from her. A chrome-and-glass coffee table with smoothly curved lines as quietly refined as the rest of the room occupied the space between them.
“Actually, I was waiting for your call,” she admitted. “When you said you’d get back to me, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to meet again.” And when he had called her at the home of a friend where she was currently staying and invited her to come over, she’d imagined she was well on her way to being offered the housekeeper’s job. Until she’d seen his expression.
Now even his polite smile had faded. “I meant to get in touch sooner,” he said, “but I had some things to consider.”
What things? Jenna couldn’t help wondering as she folded her arms across the front of her deep tangerine pantsuit. No ready answer came to mind, but there was no denying that her prospective employer—most likely ex-prospective employer—looked far from overjoyed at the moment. He also didn’t look quite as much like a businessman today.
Then again, it was Saturday. Even the top guy at Hayward Investments was allowed to dress down on the weekends, she supposed. Not that his cream-colored knit shirt and well-ironed khaki pants were anywhere near as casual as faded denim, but the outfit still displayed some impressive sights. Strong shoulders snugly outlined by smooth cotton and forearms left bare to reveal lean muscles dotted with swirls of crisp hair readily indicated that this man didn’t spend all his time behind a desk.
Jenna dropped a brief glance down, half expecting to find gleaming leather loafers to complete the picture. Instead she saw no shoes at all, merely dark socks.
“We generally take off our shoes when we come in,” he told her, obviously noticing the direction her gaze had taken.
“Ah, yes, the white carpet,” she summed up with a nod. She dropped another look down, this time at her black pumps.
“You’re a guest, so you get to keep yours on.”
The wry statement had her chuckling. “Thanks,” she said.
Her host cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I know your qualifications are top-notch.”
But…He didn’t say it; she heard it, anyway. And what more could she say? He’d checked her references before their lunch. Three couples in the Denver metropolitan area combining dual careers with a bustling family life had confirmed that she’d run their busy households and done a bang-up job of it at a time when they’d needed someone like her most.
Jenna could only agree.
During the seven years since she’d left Nevada—where her father had relocated her family when she was sixteen—for the high plains of Colorado, she had put talents learned at her mother’s side to good use. Combining them with her own love of tackling new challenges, she had built a solid career for herself despite the lack of a college degree—a career she’d still be pursuing in the Denver area if the urge hadn’t hit to revisit her birthplace in Arizona during an unexpected break between jobs.
And then there’d been no question of a permanent return. As she’d come around the last curve on a winding highway lined with tall pines and gazed down on the small, sun-splashed city rimmed by a chain of low mountains northeast of Phoenix, something inside her had recognized it as…home. After more than a dozen years she was home, and she meant to stay.
“Look,” she said, deciding it was time to stop skirting the issue, “I’ll admit I’m more than getting the feeling that for some reason you don’t think I’m right for this position.”
And maybe it wasn’t right for her, she mused, all at once aware of precisely how attractive this specific member of the male species was—not to the female half of the population in general, which was probably a given, but to her in particular.
Good heavens, she couldn’t still have a crush on Ross Hayward, former Golden Boy. That would be ridiculous.
“Why don’t we just declare this visit over?” she suggested, then slanted a sidelong look out a curtained window and waited for the expected agreement.
Rather than simply concurring, however, the man seated across from her held back a grimace at her abruptly brisk tone. He hadn’t meant, Ross thought, to be quite so obvious about having reservations where this woman was concerned—reservations resulting from a recent conversation he had no trouble recalling.
“People are bound to talk if a widowed man still in his early thirties hires a single woman in her twenties as a live-in housekeeper,” Tom Kennedy, Harmony’s veteran police chief, had pointed out when Ross had stopped by police headquarters for a brief chat after his initial interview with Jenna. And hard on the heels of that statement, Ross remembered, the longtime friend of the Hayward family had gone on to share some news.
“Normally, I’d say it’s your choice on whether to just ignore the gossip,” Tom had told him. “But voters gossip, too, and you know our mayor is pushing seventy, and I’ve heard he may not decide to run again. That means we could wind up with another Hayward in the mayor’s office next year, provided you’re interested.”
And he was interested. Ross couldn’t deny that. His grandfather had been the last Mayor Hayward, and it was a sure bet that the old man, rest his stubbornly upright soul, would have counted on his direct descendant and the sole grandson to bear the Hayward name to try to follow in his footsteps. Especially since the old man’s only son had already left a black mark on the pages of the family history.
Ross knew it could be argued that he had been an upstanding citizen of Harmony right from the day he’d been born into one of the founding families first to settle the city. For generations most Haywards had been dedicated to getting things done and had won respect for their achievements. As time passed, some residents had even come to expect Haywards to set an example of what good stock and hard work could accomplish.
What no one had expected a Hayward man to do was to walk out on his wife of many years and head off to Southern California to live the life of an aging playboy. Which was exactly what his father had done, Ross thought grimly. And if he hoped to be mayor in spite of Martin Hayward’s hardly admirable behavior, it could only be smart to look after his own good standing in the community.
So, taking all of that into account, he’d been having a devil of a time making up his mind about whether to offer Jenna Lorenzo the job.
There was no question that he needed to fill the position—and fairly soon, what with Myra Hastings having to leave at the end of the month to care for her elderly mother full-time. But replacing his middle-aged housekeeper with a younger person who, while perhaps no true beauty, was still a striking-looking woman, might not be the wisest course he’d come to recognize.
And now that woman had just handed him an easy out.
The thing was, for some reason he found himself reluctant to take it. Not yet, anyway.
“Let’s not be too quick to throw in the towel,” he told her.
A fast frown formed on his visitor’s brow as she pulled her gaze away from the window. “I don’t understand. Either you want to hire me or—”
“Daddy!” a young voice wailed, breaking into the conversation. A rosy-cheeked blonde dressed in a pink cotton top with matching pants soon appeared in the doorway to the living room. She was a six-year-old bundle of usually cheerful energy. Yet despite her angelic looks, Ross knew full well she could sometimes be as mischievous as a pint-size imp.
“My daughter Katie,” he explained to his guest before fixing his attention on his youngest child. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”
Katie brushed back a small tear as she ran to him. “Pandora lost her hair again!” She held out a doll wearing a well-worn yellow satin gown and sporting a jumble of deep auburn curls.
Ross studied the object in question. It was a collector’s item more than a child’s toy, but his mother had presented it to Katie on her third birthday, anyway, with the warning to be careful when she played with it. Reality had, of course, stepped in; the doll had clearly seen better days. Nevertheless, Katie continued to favor it over most of her other toys.
“We’ll try to glue it on one more time,” he said, lifting his gaze from the delicate porcelain forehead sadly lacking a wide fringe of bangs. “Where’s the part that fell off?”
“I don’t know. Myra said it could be in the vacuum cleaner, ’cause she cleaned this morning.” Katie’s lower lip trembled. “Can you get it out, Daddy?”
Ross held back a sigh. “Even if I could find it,” he explained as gently as possible, “it would probably be in too bad a shape to save it.”
“But you could,” Jenna pointed out as she entered the discussion, “cut off some of what’s left and make a new hairdo.”
Him? Provide a doll with an entirely different hairdo? Ross couldn’t even imagine it. “I’m not sure I could do that if my life depended on it,” he admitted dryly.
“Could you?” Katie asked, spinning around.
Ross sat forward. “Katie, this is Ms. Lorenzo,” he said, completing the introduction.
Jenna smiled softly. “Pleased to meet you, Katie. May I see your doll for a minute?”
“Sure.” Katie took a seat beside Jenna and handed Pandora over. “Do you know how to do hair stuff?” She studied the woman next to her with a doubtful tilt of her head.
“Mmm-hmm.” Jenna’s smile took a knowing slant. “I wear my hair straight back like this,” she explained, smoothing a hand over the thick coil at the nape of her neck, “because it’s long, and this is the best way to keep it neat.”
“How long?”
