Marriage by Contract. Sandra Steffen
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definitely had him concerned.
“That’s all right,” she said. “It was my fault.”
Her voice sounded kind of breathless, and made him wonder if her heart had jolted and her pulse was accelerating, too. He knew of one way to find out, but this wasn’t a private corridor, and Beth was inching away from him.
No matter what Amanda and Noah said, not every woman’s smile brightened when he passed. His eyes had sought Beth’s often since the night of the blackout. Although his body always did its part, his heart speeding up and his breathing slowing down, the most he’d ever gotten from her was a quick nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, this was the closest he’d been to her in two-and-a-half months.
Fortified by the memory of the brief brush of her body against his moments ago, and intrigued by the expression on her face right now, he said, “Unless you threw yourself at me on purpose, I don’t see how this could have been your fault.”
Beth was accustomed to taking blame, and would have liked to convince herself that the reason her nerves were standing on end was because there was no reproach whatsoever in Tony Petrocelli’s eyes. Unfortunately, she’d never mastered the fine art of lying, not to others, and certainly not to herself. That meant her heart was fluttering in her chest for another reason entirely.
“Did you throw yourself at me on purpose, Beth?”
At a loss for something clever to say, Beth could only shake her head and stare. Tony Petrocelli was standing a few feet away, one hand on his hip, the other in his pocket. A white shirt that had probably been wrinkle-free when he put it on was tucked into the waistband of low-slung dress pants. His lips were full for a man’s and were parted slightly, drawing attention to his mouth.
Beth’s heart thudded once, then settled back into its normal rhythm. There was no doubt about it. He had the looks, the style and, oh yes, the moves to unsettle a feminine heart. The question was, did she have the nerve to unsettle his?
Good Lord, what was she thinking?
He took one long, smooth step toward her. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze and drew on every last ounce of courage she possessed. Keeping her voice quiet so that no one else would hear, she said, “Although I didn’t actually throw myself at you, I was waiting for you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Beth was at a loss for words all over again. As one moment stretched to two, his gaze left hers and trailed over her body in that anything-but-subtle way men had. Before she lost all her nerve, she took a deep breath and wavered him a smile. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Dr. Howell. Perhaps I can help.”
Tony felt a fast little jolt, followed by a rousing dose of pure attraction. He had no idea what Noah had to do with any of this, but he could think of one way that Beth could help. Moving even closer, he lowered his voice and said, “I’m listening.”
She wet her lips, then glanced in every direction. Following the course of her gaze, he felt a tightening in his throat and a chugging in his chest. Doing everything in his power to let her set the pace, he whispered, “I think the coast is clear.”
He could see her breath catch in her throat, could practically hear her thoughts screeching to a stop. For a moment, he thought she might kiss him, here and now. Instead, she lowered her voice to but a whisper and said, “I heard Dr. Howell mention that you could use a wife.”
Tony went perfectly still, his eyes trained on Beth. Her auburn hair was pulled back, curly wisps framing a face that had gone noticeably pale. As if she read the question in his eyes, she finally said, “I, er, um, that is, I’d like to apply for the position.”
Blood pounded through Tony’s brain. Through the roaring din, he managed to say only one word. “Position?”
She nodded, her eyes growing more wary by the second.
“Are you telling me you’d like to be my wife?”
She nodded again and slowly lowered her gaze.
He snapped his mouth shut, but still he couldn’t move. She’d knocked the wind out of him, and she hadn’t even laid a hand on him.
His cell phone beeped. Incoming text: Dr. Petrocelli, please report to OB.
The sound of his phone jerked them apart like a bolt of lightning, then froze them in a stunned tableau all over again. “Look, Beth, I don’t know what to say.”
Beth had never heard of anyone dying of embarrassment, but she wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t be the first. She moved backward, holding up both hands in a halting gesture. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just forget I ever mentioned this. And I’ll do the same.”
When he continued staring at her, unmoving, she seized her opportunity and fled. She listened for the sound of footsteps behind her. Thankful that none came, she hurried down the stairs the way she should have done in the first place. At the landing between floors, she dropped her face into her hands. Her cheeks were on fire, and so was her pride. Mingling with her embarrassment and sheer humiliation was the deep-seated sadness that Christopher would never be hers.
* * *
“The doctors think Christopher will be ready to leave the hospital soon. Isn’t that wonderful?” Beth asked as she dusted a shelf of mining supplies and trinkets in her best-friend’s store.
The soft clink and jingle of bangle bracelets was the only indication Beth had that she wasn’t alone in the room. “Jenna?”
At the sound of more jingling, and nothing else, she turned around. “Don’t you think that’s wonderful news?”
Jenna Brigante tossed her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and flipped the Closed sign in the window of The Silver Gypsy. Instead of turning the lock, she swung around, her gauzy skirt swishing around her knees. “Not only do I think that’s wonderful, but I told you it was wonderful the first three times you mentioned it.”
“Oh. I must be repeating myself.”
“I live in an old prospector’s cabin in the mountains with only crows for company much of the time. So if you think I mind hearing about Christopher, think again. In fact, if you want to tell me one more time, be my guest. And then, when you’ve run out of diversions, you can tell me what’s really on your mind tonight.”
Beth folded her arms and studied her friend. Jenna looked every bit like the gypsies she claimed were her ancestors, from her big brown eyes to her low-necked blouse, all the way to the strappy sandals on her feet. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for with personality. She said she was thirty-two “springs” old, and had an incredibly straightforward way of saying exactly what she was thinking, not to mention an uncanny ability to read every nuance of a person’s expression and behavior. She was the only person Beth knew who could swear in four languages, and the only person who accepted Beth exactly as she was.
Straightening a display of silver baubles and charms and necklaces, Beth said, “I saw Barry today.”
Jenna made a derisive sound. “I suppose it’s inevitable. In a city of over sixty thousand people, you never run into an old friend or former classmate, but ex-husbands appear on every corner. How is old Barry, anyway?”
Setting a string of Romany wind chimes in motion, Beth said, “He seemed all right. Better than all right, actually, especially while he was introducing me to his new wife.”
“Aw, honey.”
“Her name is Chelsea.”
“It figures.”
“She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“What a jerk. Want me to put a curse on him? I could make his member fall off. Just say the word.”
Beth almost smiled in spite of herself. “You don’t have to do that on my account.”