Wife By Contract. Raye Morgan
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“No kidding.” He threw down his napkin and glanced at the door, wondering if it would be rude to take a walk. A long, extended walk. Maybe go right past these kids’ bedtime.
“We’ve brought along some music tapes the kids like to listen to. You do have a stereo, so they’ll be able to use that.”
“Children’s songs,” he muttered, hoping someone would warn him. He wanted to be out of the house before the chanting songs about beluga whales started up. He’d had a friend with a two-year-old once, and the sappy whale song he heard at their house still haunted his nightmares.
Chynna read the aversion in his face and she bit her lower lip, her dark eyes clouded in thought. This was turning out to be more difficult than she’d expected, but she wasn’t going to let that get her down. She was used to coming up against brick walls and learning to dismantle them. Life had been like that for her so far. Not too many primrose paths in her background. Plenty of thistles and thorns and rivers to cross. When you came from times like that, you got tough or you crumbled. Chynna had no intention at all of crumbling. She was going to end up married to this man. That was a promise.
But for some reason, the kids were not cooperating. She glanced at them with a sigh, and then her gaze lingered and her heart filled with sweet love for them. Poor babies. What did she expect? They’d been wrenched away from the only home they’d ever known, flown across the country for hours, shuttled off in the small plane and plunked down in a gloomy old house in the middle of nowhere. And here was their harried mother, demanding they be on their best behavior. No wonder they seemed ragged and stressed out.
Sleep. That was what they needed.
“There’s no telephone,” Joe said, and she looked up, startled.
No telephone. That was going to bother her, and she knew it. But then, she reminded herself, that was what she’d come out here for. Maybe it was too many modern conveniences that had turned life upside down in the city. She’d wanted the opposite of that, and if giving up the telephone would help her get it, who was she to quibble?
“We’ll get used to it,” she said firmly. There would be no ordering out for pizza. But there would also be no crank calls, no banks calling to sell their credit cards, nobody selling tickets for the policemen’s ball. Life would go on.
“Nap time,” she murmured, untying Kimmie’s bib though she hadn’t really swallowed a thing.
Kimmie stared up, her dark eyes huge as she gazed around her fist at her mother, clinging to that thumb with all her might.
“I’m not sleepy,” Rusty said fretfully, but he rubbed his eyes and yawned, and Chynna knew it was only a matter of time before his eyelids began to droop.
Softly, as she cleaned them up from their meal and began to shepherd them into the bedroom they would be using, she began to sing a lullaby.
“‘Good night, say the teddy bears, it’s time to close our eyes.’” She’d sung it to the two of them at bedtime since they were babies, and by now it worked like magic. They heard the gentle melody and they both relaxed, knowing it was time for a nap, knowing there was nothing that could keep sleep away. That was just the way it was.
Joe watched her with a frown. It was all very well that she was a wizard with her kids, but what did that mean in the long run? Greg and kids—no, the two concepts clashed like...like pickles and ice cream. It wouldn’t work. He had to talk her into going back to Chicago, back to where she’d come from.
Rising, he began carrying dishes to the sink and tried to think of what he would use as his salient point. He was a lawyer, after all. All those years of training in logic and argument were finally going to come to something. No problem. Once he got going, she would be putty in his hands.
He rinsed off the dishes and stacked them, turning when he heard her coming back into the kitchen.
“They’re down for their naps,” she said simply, giving him a quick smile. “We can talk.”
“Nice work,” he said, complimenting her, his head tilted to the side as he looked her over. Nice work, he repeated silently to himself, but this time his comment was related to the state the woman was in herself. She still looked crisp and efficient in her blouse and skirt, but her hair had come undone just enough to leave wisps flying about her face in a very fetching way. She was one attractive woman.
“Shall we sit?” he offered, gesturing toward the chairs at the table.
She nodded and preceded him, glancing up in surprise when he helped her with her chair.
He took his place opposite her and narrowed his gaze, ready to lay down the law as he saw it.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he began. “You put yourself in a catalog for men who want mail-order brides. Greg answered, selected you and sent you money to come to Alaska. You brought along two kids you hadn’t told him about, hoping he would take them as part of the bargain. But Greg wasn’t here when you arrived. Is that about it?”
She stared at him for a moment, wondering how long he was going to try to keep up this pretense that he wasn’t Greg. She was sure he was going to try to use it as an excuse to get out of their contract. He’d taken one look at the kids and panicked. That had to be it. Now he wanted to get rid of her so he could order himself up another woman, someone who would come unencumbered with little ones.
Well, she understood his angle. She’d been afraid something like this might happen. But she wasn’t going to give up quite that easily. What she needed was time...time for him to get to know the children, time for him to get to know her and what kind of person she was. Once that happened, surely she would be able to talk him into taking them as a set. All she needed was time.
“That’s about it,” she said evenly. Leaning forward on her elbows, she decided to let him have his game without protest at this point. “The only part you left out was how committed I am to making this work out for all of us.”
He gazed into her dark eyes and found only sincerity, but he couldn’t hide his smile of skepticism.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know. This doesn’t make any sense, and you know it.”
She raised one delicately molded eyebrow. “Do I?”
His short laugh said it all. “Sure. Look, Chynna, you’re a beautiful woman. I can’t believe you’ve ever had any problem getting a man.” He turned his hand palm up on the table. “What would a woman like you need to resort to these measures for?”
For the first time, her gaze wavered. “I never claimed I had problems getting men,” she retorted stiffly.
He shrugged as though that proved his case. “Then why did you do it? Why did you make this contract with my brother?”
She hesitated, her eyes cloudy. “I have my reasons,” she said at last. “I’ll explain it all to you at some point. But I’m not quite ready to open up on every private hope and dream I have. Not yet.”
His mouth twisted as he studied her. “Why didn’t you tell Greg about the kids?” he asked.
She wet her upper lip with a quick slip of her tongue. “I knew what your first reaction would be,” she said simply. “I wanted you to get to know them before you turned them down.”
“I’m not Greg,” he said automatically, but he wasn’t really thinking about that. He stared at her. Nothing she said added up. There had to be something else going on here. But what?
“Sorry. ‘Joe,’ isn’t it?” she amended, rolling her eyes only slightly but letting the tone of her voice emphasize the way she felt about this masquerade she thought he was playing.
“‘Joe’ it is,” he stated flatly. “Always has been and always will be. And Greg...” He hesitated, then leaned forward, determined to get this cleared up and out in the open once and for all. “Listen,