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She frowned, drawing back and looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He shrugged, hesitated. Finally he said, “I still think marriage would be a good plan, if you want to know the truth. We both want the same thing, Jess. I think we could be happy together.”
She sighed. “We’re never going to go back to the way we were, are we?” she asked sadly.
Soberly he shook his head. “Doubt it.”
Fear shot through her at the cool, measured tone. The last thing she wanted was to lose him altogether. Reluctantly she said, “All right.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Explain exactly why you think we should get married.” Get married…get married… The words echoed in her head. Was she really having this conversation with this man?
“Okay.” He stood and began to walk the length of her living room, such as it was. “Selfish reasons first. Number one—I’ve got ridiculous numbers of women throwing themselves at me ever since that stupid article came out. You saw how it is today. Marriage would kill all that.”
“One of them might make a good wife.” But she hoped not.
He shook his head. “Any woman who would come on to a man like that is not a woman I’d want to date, much less marry.”
“Maybe not.” She shouldn’t feel so relieved by his terse words. After all, she didn’t want to marry him. Did she? Of course not. Ryan deserved to find another woman like Wendy, a woman who would adore him and whom he could adore in return. It wouldn’t be fair at all to trap him into marriage to her simply because they shared a history and a common goal.
You both could do a lot worse, pointed out a small devil’s voice inside her head.
That might be true, but what if it didn’t work out? A tremor ran through her at the mere idea. She didn’t think she could bear losing Ryan, as she surely would if they married and it was a disaster. He’d been the rock that anchored her stormy childhood, and he still was her dearest friend in all the world. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything to jeopardize that.
“Number two.” Unaware of her mental deliberations, he held up two fingers of his right hand. “I liked being married. I liked coming home to someone, sharing meals, sharing conversation. Wendy and I were friends. We could talk about anything.” He looked at her. “You and I have that, too.”
Jessie nodded. But she was very aware that there was one thing he hadn’t mentioned sharing in a marriage: a bed. A tingle of awareness shot through her, shocking her with its intensity.
“Number three,” he went on. “I want children. Of my own. Running through my house making noise, breaking windows with baseballs—”
“They might be girls,” she said automatically, still preoccupied by the strange feelings rioting through her.
But Ryan didn’t respond. He stopped pacing, his back to her, and she could see the tension in the rigid set of his shoulders and the way his head drooped. Sensing pain in his silence, she rose and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind as far as they would go.
The butterflies that had been plaguing her returned the moment she touched him. He felt bulky and muscular, warm beneath her hands, and his strong back, against which she pressed herself, was as unyielding as steel. He smelled of some expensive cologne and the clean scent of drycleaned wool. Then he turned, dislodging her hold. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he bent his head and kissed her temple.
Her breath caught in her throat and she stepped back, giving him room. As she lifted her gaze to face him, he said, “So what are your objections?”
She shook her head. “When you get hold of an idea, you don’t let go, do you?”
He grinned. “Just noticing?”
She smiled, then crossed her arms and lifted a finger to tap her lips. “Objections. Hmm.” She spread her hands, loath to put all the things running through her head into words. “I don’t know. I haven’t even given marriage a thought since I was too young to know better.”
“With what’s-his-name.”
“His name was Chip and you know it. You never liked him, did you?”
Ryan shrugged. “Maybe I just didn’t think he was good enough for you.”
She laughed. “You were right. And thank God I figured it out before I married him!” Then she sobered. “Actually, he was a great guy. Just not for me. I realized that I liked the things I got from him—security, adoration, the illusion of belonging—a lot more than I liked him. And marriage wouldn’t have been fair to him.” She fell silent.
“Back to your objections,” he prompted.
“I don’t know,” she protested. “I suppose I always assumed that when I married it would be for the usual reasons.”
“The usual reasons?”
“You know. Love,” she said, throwing her arms wide. “And passion.”
As soon as the words were out, she saw his face change. Though he hadn’t moved, she suddenly felt as if all the air in the room were supercharged. A strange, wild flame leaped, deep in his blue eyes, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, igniting a quivering spark in her abdomen that made her catch her breath in shock. “Passion, I can promise you,” he said, his voice soft and low.
Jessie was stunned. This was Ryan, for heaven’s sake! Her friend.
But the feelings coursing through her weren’t those of friendship. She felt as though an invisible cord inexorably tugged her toward him. She could almost feel his strong arms around her again. Her body ached to feel him pressed against her, and her lips practically tingled beneath his intent gaze.
Good Lord. How had she not noticed how incredibly sexy he was for all these years? Or had she? Had she simply refused to acknowledge the deep pull of attraction between them? After all, he’d been married.
“Ryan?” Her voice sounded like a stranger’s.
He took a step toward her, and she instinctively put out a hand to hold him off. But he took it and tugged her toward him. “Don’t you think we should explore what we could have between us?” Pulling her into his arms, he folded her firmly against him. Her hands splayed wide over his biceps. She intended to push him away, but her limbs felt weak and shaky, and when he didn’t release her, she simply stood in his embrace, feeling the erotic electricity that flowed from him to her. She was shockingly aware of his hard body against hers, of the checked power in his close hold.
Jessie’s teeth were practically chattering with nerves. “I…I don’t know. I never thought about you—about me and you—as anything more than friends.” She felt tears fill her eyes yet again. “You’re the best friend I have in the whole world, and I don’t want to screw things up and lose you. I need you to be my friend, Ry.”
Silence fell. Ryan didn’t move. He didn’t release her, nor did he tighten his arms. She kept her head down, knowing that if she raised her face to his right now this whole discussion would be moot, and their relationship would change forever. And despite the words of caution she’d just uttered, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like with Ryan. Would he be slow and gentle or as hot and wild as the sensations ripping through her right now? She saw again in her mind the light in his eyes and heard his deep, rough voice: Passion I can promise you.
His hands were on her back, and as he shifted them slightly, rubbing gentle patterns over her sensitive flesh, she shuddered. Had she ever wanted to cast rational thought to the winds so badly? Her body warred with her mind for another long moment. But finally she heaved a deep sigh and pushed back from his embrace. This time he let her go.
“No,” she said, trying to invest her tone with a firmness she didn’t feel. “This wouldn’t be right.” She turned away, hugging her arms tightly about herself. “I’m sorry.” She knew the words were inadequate, but her throat felt as if someone were squeezing it with a vise.
Behind her she heard his footsteps as he went to the closet and took out his coat. Fabric rustled as he donned his outerwear, then he walked to her, stepping into her line of vision and lifting her chin with one finger. Jessie had been standing with her eyes closed, but she forced herself to open them and gaze into his blue ones.
And the moment she did, she knew that nothing would be as it had been before. Awareness leaped and crackled between them like well-fed flames.
“All right,” he said. “Friends it is. But the offer of marriage still stands. Think about it.”
She nodded, unable to trust her voice.
He dropped his hand from her face, stepped away. “Good night.”
Jessie didn’t sleep well that night. Or any night for the rest of the week. On Saturday she threw away the preliminary profiles of the donors. Although she didn’t believe the process carried the risks that Ryan thought it did, it seemed impersonal and distasteful to her now.
On Sunday she walked through the Public Gardens. A young couple passed her, their faces alive with laughter as their toddler, awkward and stiff in layers of bulky winter clothing, ran in circles until she was dizzy. As the father scooped the pink-cheeked child into his arms, the baby squealed with laughter, and Jessie felt her heart contract with pain.
Why shouldn’t she have that joy? Just because she hadn’t been lucky enough to find someone with whom she could share her life—
Ah, but you had someone, her inner self reminded her. And you gave him away.
Chip. She’d been courted by a star member of the football team during her first year of high school. At the time, she hadn’t given the guy behind the persona a serious thought. He’d been popular; every girl in the school had envied her. At fifteen, that was what it all had been about. In her naïveté, she’d never really thought about the fact that they had next to nothing in common. To her he’d represented safety. Security. Someone who loved her unconditionally, darn near worshipped her, for heaven’s sake. In her whole life there had never been anyone like that. Ryan had been her lifeline during her childhood, but he’d distanced himself when she began dating Chip, and she’d rarely seen him after he’d left for college. Looking back, she almost felt as if he’d abandoned her. Was it any wonder she had followed Chip south to school?
It wasn’t until she’d gotten to college that she’d begun to grow and change, to realize that the world was a big place and her choices were limitless. And as she had, she’d realized that she could never make a life with Chip.
She’d been fond of him, but she hadn’t loved him. To marry him would have been unfair to them both. She’d used him as a crutch for a very long time, and she prayed that he’d found some sweet girl and was married, that they were happily raising half a dozen little football players and cheerleaders.
And that thought brought her back to her present problem. She could have married and had children with Chip. But…something had stopped her. She hadn’t known at the time exactly why he wasn’t right. She’d just known he wasn’t.
And after she’d settled down in Boston and gotten her shop established, she hadn’t found the right man, either.
Will you marry me?
Ryan’s words echoed over and over again in her head. Was it possible she’d been tempted to blurt out, “Yes!” for one ridiculous, impetuous instant?
Familiarity, she decided. Ryan had known her forever. He knew all her warts and quirks. They had a number of interests in common. Living with Ryan would be comfortable in many ways.
But as she remembered the breathless, shocking awareness that had swamped her when he’d taken her in his arms, the word comfortable wasn’t the one that seemed to apply.
That line of thought was dangerous. Her mind shied away from any examination of exactly what had happened last night. Instead she focused on his refusal to help her in her quest for motherhood. She should have realized, would have, if she’d thought about it longer, that Ryan Shaughnessy would have difficulty with the concept of a biological child to which he had no rights or attachment.
Ryan’s family had been a close and loving one. She should know. Hadn’t she sought refuge in Mrs. Shaughnessy’s plump arms more than once? Mr. Shaughnessy had been warm and boisterous, including her in the games of pitch-and-catch with Ryan and his older brother, tossing her high in the air just to hear her scream. And on the occasions when she’d eaten at the Shaughnessy house, the teasing camaraderie and open love in their home had never failed to amaze her.
Her family had been very different. Her mother, as far as Jessie could tell, felt that raising a child was little more than a duty. Her grandparents regarded her as a trial, a punishment sent by God for some unfathomable crime. They had failed as parents when their only daughter had gotten herself pregnant and, even worse, refused to marry—or even name—the father of her baby.
Unless they’d been a lot different during her mother’s childhood, Jessie thought it likely that her mother had succumbed to the first man ever to say a kind word to her. A mistake Jessie herself very nearly had made with Chip, although he’d been quite different from the man who’d apparently seduced and waltzed away from her mother.
No, thank goodness she’d gotten smart. She wasn’t ever going to believe that a man was her ticket to fulfillment. She knew better.
And where did that leave her? Alone, childless, aching for her life to mean something to somebody. Which was why, if she was honest with herself, she felt so strongly about having a child of her own.
She thought again of her fears, weighed them against the certainty of years passing her by. Could she marry Ryan? Perhaps he was right about their friendship being a good basis for the marriage. But…what if she didn’t conceive? What would happen then? She had friends who had infertility problems, and the uncertainties put a strain on even the most devoted couple. What would happen to a couple like Ryan and her if something like that happened?
And then it struck her. What if they compromised? What if she agreed to marry Ryan if, and only if, he gave her a baby? She hadn’t thought that her baby needed a father. After all, she’d survived without one. What her baby needed was love, and that she knew she could give it. But she also knew Ryan. He’d said marriage, and she knew he’d never go for anything less.
And the thought of giving her child a warm, loving, complete family was very seductive. Maybe they could even have more than one child. Then it struck her—additional children would be conceived far more conventionally if this all came to pass. She’d be tacitly agreeing to a lasting sexual arrangement with Ryan. And in good conscience, she couldn’t pretend that would be a problem.
The real problem might be keeping her hands off him.
She shivered suddenly, though she was walking down Marlborough Street now at a brisk pace. Her mind racing, she considered the idea from all angles. As she reached the steps of her building, she nodded once, sharply, then went inside and headed straight for the phone.
When Ryan’s deep voice said, “Hello?” though, for a moment her throat seized up, and she couldn’t speak.
“Jessie? Is that you?” His voice was sharp enough to startle her into speech again.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Caller I.D.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
“Jess? Did you call me for a reason or did you just want to breathe heavily into the phone?”
“I want to talk to you again. About this baby stuff.”
On the other end of the phone, he sighed. “I don’t believe there’s any point in talking it to death.”
“I had an idea,” she said. “Could you meet me for dinner?”
“Three meals in two days. All my adoring fans are going to start to worry.”
“Maybe they should.”
“Jess—”
“Come on, Ryan. Live dangerously. The East Coast Grill? Seven o’clock?”
“Wow. All the way over in Cambridge? I didn’t know you strayed that far from home.”
“Very funny. Will you do it?”
“All right,” he said. “But only because I know you’ll bug me to death until I listen to you. I’m telling you right up front that there is no way I am going to change my mind.”
“I understand,” she said. “All I ask is that you listen.”
When she arrived in a taxi at 7:05 he already was waiting. To her eternal amusement he was seated at the bar with a woman on each side of him apparently vying for his attention.
Jessie walked up behind them and put her hands over his eyes. “Guess who?”
“Hey, there.” He swiveled around on his stool to face her. “You’re early.”
The women who’d been speaking to him were eyeing her with something less than friendliness. An imp of mischief seized her, and she placed her hands on either side of Ryan’s face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Miss me?”
“Always.” She hadn’t counted on his quick reflexes. His hands came up before she could draw away. One shackled her wrist, the other cradled the back of her head as he returned a second, much more leisurely kiss. His lips were warm and firm, molding her own as her heart thudded, and she nearly sank into the promise inherent in the lingering caress before she remembered who she was kissing and why. When he let her go, she drew back, flustered.
He rose and settled a hand at her waist, turning to smile at the women as Jessie blinked and forced herself to focus. “It was nice meeting you.”
As he seated her and moved around the small table, she sent him an easy grin, determined not to let him see she’d been shaken by that kiss. “Was I helpful?”
“Infinitely.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket. “I was being accosted.”
“Well,” she said, “it’s not every day a girl gets to meet an eminently available hunk.”
“If I hear that phrase out of you one more time,” he said, leaning forward with mock menace, “your derriere is going to meet my eminently available hand.”
She smiled brilliantly. “Ooooh, sounds like fun. Promise?”
His eyes narrowed, and that quickly the playful moment metamorphosed into something entirely different, something dark and dangerous with undercurrents of an intensity that caught her breath in her throat.
“Okay. You folks want to order drinks?” The arrival of the server broke through the stillness between them.
She sat quietly as Ryan ordered their drinks. What was happening to her? And to the comfortable, familiar relationship she’d had with Ryan?
