Hasty Wedding Page 2

  “How unfortunate,” Wilma Spencer murmured into the silence that followed Clare’s explanation.

  They were distracted by the waitress who delivered menus, and Clare was eternally grateful. She had little appetite and ordered a small dinner salad and a crab cake appetizer.

  “That’s all?” Reed questioned when she’d finished.

  Flustered, Clare nodded. “I’m not very hungry.”

  His dark eyes, which had been so unreadable only a few minutes earlier, clearly revealed his opinion now. He was telling her, without uttering a word, that she was too thin.

  Erin had been saying the same thing for weeks. Clare had defended her recent weight loss, claiming she was striving for an understated elegance, a fashionable thinness that suited her petite five-foot-four frame. Erin hadn’t been fooled, and it was unlikely she was deceiving Reed Tonasket, either. Clare was unhappy, and growing more so every day as she battled her suspicions that Jack had no intention of ever marrying her.

  “Look, the band’s going to play,” Erin said excitedly, looking with wide-eyed eagerness toward Gary. Their gazes met and held, and even from where she was sitting, Clare could feel the love they shared.

  Love had taken her friends by surprise. They’d both been wary, afraid of repeating the mistakes of their first marriages. Even though it was apparent to everyone around them how perfectly suited they were, Erin and Gary had taken their time before admitting their feelings for one another.

  Dinner was served, and the chatter around the table flowed smoothly. Clare found herself talking with Aunt Wilma, who at seventy-five was as spry as someone twenty years younger. The meal was festive, filled with shared chatter and tales of romance and rediscovered love.

  Erin and Gary told of how they’d met following a football game, crediting Clare, who blushed when she became the focus of the group’s attention. Funny, she had no problem linking up her friends with prospective husbands, but she couldn’t find love and companionship herself.

  Following the dinner, Reed stood and waited until the table had quieted before proposing a toast to the happy couple. Clare sipped her wine. Although she was happy for Erin and Gary, the lonely ache inside her intensified. Rarely had she felt more alone.

  Dessert arrived, a flaming Cherries Jubilee that produced sighs of appreciation. Erin dished up small servings and passed them down the table, but it seemed Erin, who was looking longingly toward the band, was more interested in dancing than sampling dessert.

  As soon as everyone had a plate, she reached for Gary’s hand and led him onto the dance floor. Erin’s parents and their prospective mates joined the wedding couple.

  Soon everyone at the table was on the dance floor with the exception of Reed Tonasket, Clare and Aunt Wilma. The feeling of being excluded from the mainstream of happy couples had never felt more profound.

  Aunt Wilma, bless her heart, kept her busy with small talk, although Clare answered in monosyllables, sloshing through a quagmire of self-pity. Reed hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with her the entire evening, and the burden of carrying the conversation was beyond her just then.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  His invitation took her by surprise. It was all she could do not to ask if he meant to dance with her. His eyes held hers; the same dark eyes she’d found intimidating before were warm and intriguing now. Before she realized what she was doing, Clare nodded.

  He held his hand out and guided her onto the crowded floor. The dance was a slow number, and he turned Clare gently into his arms as though he feared hurting her. His arms circled her, drawing her close to the solid length of his body. Soon she was wrapped in the shelter of his embrace, in the warm muskiness of this man.

  They fit together as though they’d been made for each other, and her heart beat steadily against his chest. Together they moved smoothly, with none of the awkwardness that generally accompanies a couple the first time they dance together. Clare swallowed, surprised by how easily she adapted to his arms, by how right she felt being held by him. Even her headache, which had been pounding moments earlier, seemed to lessen.

  Something was happening. Something Clare couldn’t explain or define. They were closer, much closer than when they’d first started dancing, but Clare couldn’t remember moving. Her heart was more than beating, oddly it seemed to be pounding out a rhythm that matched the hard staccato of Reed Tonasket’s heart. His hold on her was firm, commanding, as if he had every right in the world to be this intimate.

  A scary excitement filled her. Her body ached in a strange, embarrassing way. Her breathing went shallow as she battled these inappropriate sensations.

  Reed’s eyes found hers, and their gazes met and locked. Clare could feel the heat in him. It reached out and wrapped itself around her, enfolding her as effectively as if keeping her prisoner. For a wild moment she seemed incapable of breathing or swallowing.

  Myriad feelings tingled to life, feelings she didn’t want to feel, not now, not with this man when it should be Jack. Clare closed her eyes, concentrating instead on matching her steps with his. That didn’t work, either; instead she felt every nuance of his intense, magnificent body. Battling down a bevy of fluttering, inarticulate feelings, she opened her eyes and stared into the distance.

  Without speaking, Reed seemed to be commanding her to look at him. Feeling the way she did, Clare decided it would be best to avoid eye contact. He may be able to hide his emotions, but she couldn’t. Reed would know in an instant how confused and shaken she was.

  The urge to look up at him was nearly overwhelming. She wasn’t going to do it, she determined a second time. She didn’t dare. Yet, the urge to do so grew stronger, more intense as his unspoken request seemed to draw her gaze upward.

  No, she silently cried, I can’t.

  “You’re not feeling well, are you?”

  Despite her recent conviction, Clare’s gaze shot to his. “How…how’d you know?”

  “Headache?”

  She nodded, amazed he could read her so accurately, unable to drag her gaze away. “I’ll be better by morning.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, and his lips grazed her temple as though to ease away the pain with his touch. The kiss was so gentle, so overwhelmingly sweet that tears sprang to her eyes.

  With what felt like superhuman strength, she broke away. Color burned in her face, pinkening her cheeks. She felt jolted and dazed and for some odd reason…reprehensible to the very core of her being.

  “I…have to go,” Clare said abruptly. She needed to escape before she did something that would humiliate her. “I’ve got a million things to do before the flight tomorrow,” she offered as an excuse. “Would you be kind enough to make my excuses to Erin and Gary for me?”

  “Of course.” He released her immediately and guided her back to the table. Clare swiftly gathered her purse, and with little more than a nod to Aunt Wilma, hurried out of the restaurant.

  Clare didn’t know what had prompted her to behave this way. She’d practically made a spectacle of herself. That was it. She wasn’t herself, Clare mused, searching to find some excuse, some reassurance as she hurried out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

  The day had been a whirlwind of activity as she’d driven with Erin into Port Angeles, fifty miles east of Tullue, to shop a new outfit for the honeymoon trip.

  After such a hectic afternoon, Clare couldn’t be blamed for indulging in a few unorthodox fantasies. Circumstances were further complicated by Jack’s canceling at the last minute. But no matter what excuses she offered, when it came right down to it, Clare had to admit she was thoroughly fascinated by Reed Tonasket.

  Not sexually fascinated…no, not that; Clare was the first to concede she was something of a puritan. Her experience was limited and what little she’d encountered had always been—she hated to admit—boring. But in Reed she sensed hunger, raw and primitive, as elemental as the man himself. Heaven help her, she was intrigued. That was only natural, wasn’t it? Especia
lly when she’d be spending the better part of two days in his company.

  Reed’s reputation with the ladies only added to her curiosity. Although Clare wasn’t privy to a lot of what was said about him, she’d heard rumors. There were those who claimed no woman could refuse him. After experiencing his blatant sensuality, Clare tended to believe it.

  Once she was home, Clare leaned against her door and turned the lock. Her heart was racing, and the headache had returned full force. Already the pressure was building up in her sinuses. Stress. These headaches came on whenever she was under an abnormal amount of anxiety.

  She walked into her bedroom, ignoring the suitcase, which was spread open atop her mattress, and sat on the edge of the bed. Covering her face with both hands, her long brown hair fell forward. Impatiently she pushed it back, regretting now that Erin had convinced her to wear it down. She exhaled slowly, then breathed in a deep, calming breath. The last thing she needed now was one of her infamous headaches.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, hoping to relax and let the tension drain out of her body. But when her head nestled against the pillow, Reed Tonasket leaped, full-bodied, into her imagination. He wore that knowing look, as if he were capable of reading her thoughts, capable of discerning how much he’d affected her.

  The doorbell chimed and, groaning inwardly, Clare moved off the bed. Jack Kingston stood on the other side of the door, his handsome face bright with a smile. For a split second, Clare debated if she should let him inside.

  He was always so persuasive, so convincing. She had every reason in the world to be angry with him, but if the past was anything to go by, before the end of the evening, she’d end up apologizing to him. It went like that. He’d hurt or disappoint her, and before the night was over, she was asking his forgiveness.

  “Clare,” he said, kissing her softly on the cheek as he casually strolled inside her home with the familiarity of a long-standing relationship. “I’ve got wonderful news.”

  “You’re going to marry me,” she said smoothly, crossing her arms. She didn’t suggest he sit down, didn’t offer him coffee. In fact she did nothing.

  Her lack of welcome didn’t appear to phase Jack, who moved into her kitchen and opened her refrigerator, peering inside. “I’m starved,” he announced, and reached for a cluster of seedless grapes.

  Clare reluctantly followed him. “What’s your news?”

  Jack’s brown eyes brightened. “It looks like Roth is going to give me the contract. He wanted to think about it overnight, which he says he does as standard procedure, but he was impressed with my ideas and the quotes I gave him. I like the man, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to run for mayor sometime in the future.”

  “Congratulations,” Clare returned stiffly.

  Jack hesitated and eyed her suspiciously. “Do I sense a bit of antagonism?”

  “Tm sure you do. I just spent one of the most uncomfortable evenings of my life.” But not for the reasons she was implying. It shook her that she could look at Jack and feel nothing. There’d been a time when she’d lived for those rare moments when he’d drop by unannounced, but those times had wilted and died for lack of nourishment. Perhaps for the first time, she saw Jack as he really was—self-centered and vain. If she let him, and so far she had, he’d string her along for years, feeding her blank promises, keeping her hopes alive. It astonished her that she hadn’t realized it earlier.

  “Aren’t we being a bit selfish?” he asked, arching his thick eyebrows.

  “Not this time,” Clare answered smoothly. “If anyone was selfish it was you. This dinner’s been planned for weeks—”

  “I’ve got to put the business first,” Jack interrupted calmly. “You know that. I don’t blame you for being disappointed, but really, babe, when you think about it, I did it for us.”

  “For us?” The excuse was well-worn, and she’d grown sick of hearing it.

  “Of course.” He popped another grape into his mouth, not threatened by her words. “I don’t enjoy working these long hours any more than you enjoy having me miss out on these social events that are so important to you. I hated not being there for your friends’ dinner party this evening, but it was just one of those things. Someday all this hard work is going to pay off.”

  “What if I were to say I didn’t want to marry you anymore?”

  Jack’s hand was halfway to his mouth. He paused, the grape poised before his lips. “Then I’d say you don’t mean it. Come on, babe, you’re talking nonsense.”

  “Actually I’m grateful you put off setting the wedding date. I seem to be a slow learner and it’s taken me this long to realize we’re nowhere near being compatible. Marriage between us would have been disastrous.”

  Jack stood immobile for a moment, as though he weren’t sure he should believe her. “Are you in one of your moods again?”

  “Yes,” she returned evenly, “I guess you might say I haven’t recovered from ‘my mood’ earlier this evening.”

  “Clare…”

  “Please don’t say anything. I didn’t know anyone could be so blind to the obvious.”

  “I want to marry you, Clare,” Jack refuted adamantly, “but when the time’s right. If you think you’re going to pressure me into setting the date because you’re angry, you’re wrong. I’m not going to allow you to manipulate me.”

  “This isn’t a pressure tactic, Jack. I’m serious, very serious. It’s over.”

  “You don’t mean it.”

  Arguing with him wouldn’t help, she should have known that by now. With her arms crossed, she leaned against the refrigerator door. “You’re wrong, Jack, I do mean it.” Her voice faltered just a little—with regret, with sadness. She’d wasted three years of her life on Jack, when it should have been obvious after the first month how ill suited they were. Erin had tried to tell her, but Clare hadn’t listened. She hadn’t wanted to hear the truth.

  Jack stalked to the far side of her kitchen, opened the cabinet door under her sink and tossed what remained of the grapes into the garbage. “You’re trying to pressure me into marrying you, and I won’t have it. If and when we marry, it’ll be on my timetable, not yours.”

  “Whatever,” she said, growing bored with their conversation. She wasn’t going to change her mind, and wondered briefly how she could have endured the relationship this long.

  “Come on, Clare, you’re being unreasonable. I’m not going to put up with this. I said I’d marry you and I will, but I don’t like being blackmailed into it.”

  “Jack,” she said, growing impatient, “you’re not listening to me. I’ve had a change of heart, I don’t want to marry you. You’re off the hook, so stop worrying about it.”

  “I hate it when you get in these moods of yours.”

  “This isn’t a mood, Jack, it’s D day. We’re through, finished. In plain English, it’s over.”

  “I refuse to allow you to back me into a corner.”

  “Goodbye, Jack.”

  His eyes rounded with surprise. “You don’t mean this, Clare, I know you. You get all riled up about one thing or another and within a day or two you’ve forgotten all about it.” Frustration layered his words.

  “Not this time,” she said without emotion as she led the way to her front door. She opened it and stood there waiting for him to exit.

  Jack’s eyes followed her across the living room floor, but he stood where he was, just outside her kitchen, as though he weren’t sure he could believe what was happening.

  “Don’t be hasty,” he warned in a low voice. “We both know you don’t mean it and that tomorrow you’ll have a change of heart.”

  “I do mean it, Jack. It took me three years to wake up and smell the roses. I’m not exactly a fast study, am I?” she asked dryly.

  “You’re going to regret this.”

  Clare didn’t answer.

  Jack’s gaze narrowed. “You’re being unreasonable because of Erin and Gary getting married,
aren’t you? I swear I hate it when one of your friends asks you to be in their wedding party. It never fails. You become completely irrational. This time you’ve gone too far. It’s over, Clare, you just remember that, because once I walk out that door, I’m never coming back, and that’s final.”

  Once again, Clare decided it was best to say nothing.

  “Don’t try to phone me, either,” Jack added, as he cut across her lawn to where he’d parked his pickup truck. “You’ve pushed me just a little too hard this time.” He pulled open the door and leveled his gaze at her.

  “Goodbye, Jack,” she said evenly, then stepped back and closed the door.

  Chapter Two

  Clare had done it. She’d actually severed her ties with Jack. She wasn’t sure what she expected to feel, certainly not this sense of release, of freedom, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

  For months, perhaps even years, she’d been wearing blinders when it came to Jack’s faults and the unhealthy twists their relationship had taken. It’d bothered her, but she’d chosen to overlook their problems all in the name of love. And the promise of marriage.

  At some point she’d cared deeply for Jack, but her feelings had died a slow, laborious death. So slow that she hadn’t realized what was happening until she’d danced with Reed Tonasket. She would never have felt the things she did in Reed’s arms if she truly loved Jack.

  The memory was followed with an instant surge of renewed embarrassment. Groaning inwardly, Clare placed her hands over her reddening cheeks and closed her eyes. When he’d asked her to dance, Clare had fully expected to feel awkward in his arms. The last thing she’d anticipated was a full scale sensual awakening.

  Reed had known what was happening, too. He must have. It mortified her to recall the erotic way in which their bodies had responded to each other, as though they were longtime lovers. It’d flustered her so badly, she’d hurriedly left the restaurant, unable to cope with what had passed between them.