Candy had wanted that kiss from the moment Jake strolled through the door on Monday afternoon

She suspected it had something to do with that sexy grin, maybe a little more with his delicious masculine scent. But more and more she was suspecting it was the way he cared for baby Bonnie. Walking in on the two of them sleeping in that recliner flip-flopped her heart in a thousand tiny ways.

For all these years, she’d blamed him for breaking her heart, but had he been the one responsible? Or had she done the breaking all by herself?

Because as tough as Jake came across on the outside, those moments when she caught him smoothing Bonnie’s hair, fixing the collars on one of her tiny dresses or planting a kiss on top of her head, spoke louder than any words he ever could have spoken. Jake was no heartbreaker, for in taking orphaned Bonnie into his home and arms he was a heart mender.

Dear Reader,

What a spectacular lineup of love stories Harlequin American Romance has for you this month as we continue to celebrate our 20th anniversary. Start off with another wonderful title in Cathy Gillen Thacker’s DEVERAUX LEGACY series, Taking Over the Tycoon. Sexy millionaire Connor Templeton is used to getting whatever—whomever—he wants! But has he finally met his match in one beguiling single mother?

Next, Fortune’s Twins by Kara Lennox is the latest installment in the MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA continuity series. In this book, a night of passion leaves a “Main Street Millionaire” expecting twins—and has the whole town wondering “Who’s the daddy?” After catching a bridal bouquet and opening an heirloom hope chest, a shy virgin dreams about asking her secret crush to father the baby she yearns for, in Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend, part of Rita Herron’s HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS series. And don’t miss Inherited: One Baby! by Laura Marie Altom, in which a handsome bachelor must convince his ex-wife to remarry him in order to keep custody of the adorable orphaned baby left in his care.

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and be sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Inherited: One Baby!

Laura Marie Altom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one’s for grandparents. Those I dearly miss: Joe and Lu Jachim, Shirley Jeanne Alisch and Doris Altom. And those I’m still fortunate enough to have with me: Fred Alisch, Sylvia Altom-Shelton and my honorary grandparents, Katie and Paul Sage. I love you all very much.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, Laura knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps. She has written three romances for another publisher.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys a glamorous lifestyle of lounging by a pool that’s always in need of cleaning, zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out and she is constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura’s content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her handsome hubby.

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or via e-mail: BaliPalm@aol.com.

Books by Laura Marie Altom

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

940—BLIND LUCK BRIDE

976—INHERITED: ONE BABY!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

“Come again?” Jake Peterson said to the silver-haired dynamo in charge of his infant daughter’s adoption case. The metal desk she sat at had probably once been painted a color, but over the years it had become a crazy quilt of smiling faces. Children’s faces captured in photos. Hundreds of them—maybe even thousands. Mrs. Starling had made all of these children happy. Why couldn’t she do the same for his baby girl?

“You’re telling me that just because this Elizabeth Mannford is related by blood to Bonnie that that makes her a better parent? Having me raise their daughter was my friends’ dying wish. You can’t take Bonnie away from me—the only family she knows!”

“Mr. Peterson, please, there’s no need for raised voices. Butterscotch?” She gestured toward a lumpy clay dish brimming with gold-wrapped candies. “I find butterscotch to be the most soothing of flavors, don’t you?”

Jake hardened his jaw.

He didn’t want to come down on this grandma. Really, he didn’t, but what else could he do?

He wouldn’t break his promise to Cal and Jenny who had been killed six weeks earlier by a drunk driver. He wouldn’t lose this chance in a million to make good on a dream he’d long since had for himself. The dream to somehow, some way become a father—just as long as that way didn’t include having a wife.

“Look,” he said, taking a calming breath. “I love Bonnie. And as CEO of Galaxy Sports, I make much more than an adequate living.”

“Miss Manning doesn’t dispute either of those things.”

“Then what’s her problem? Why is she doing this?”

“In a nutshell,” Mrs. Starling said, lacing her fingers atop a stack of manila folders. “After speaking with her at length this past Tuesday, it’s my opinion that she’s just plain lonely. Bitter about the way her life has turned out…and is now wanting to make amends, but not quite sure how to best go about it.

“From what you’ve told me about her relationship within her great-niece’s family, she was an outcast. The black sheep, if you will. Her niece, Jenny, was all she had left in the world—and, of course, Bonnie. As such, I can see where she wouldn’t want her last remaining link to family—even if it is a family she previously wanted nothing to do with—being signed away to a virtual stranger.”

“But that’s just it,” Jake said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m not the stranger here—at least not to Bonnie.”

Mrs. Starling lowered her gaze, making a slight clucking sound before once again glancing his way. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I’ve seen you and the infant together. The way the child seems so at peace when she rests her little cheek on your shoulder. Precious. Just precious. Believe me,” she said, gesturing to all of her pictures. “No one likes happy endings more than me. These photos, they aren’t just snapshots, they’re my life. My successes. Tangible proof that I’ve turned healing broken hearts into my life’s work.” Again lowering her gaze, she added, “Unfortunately, for all of these smiling faces, I’ve seen an awful lot of tears.”

On the edge of his seat, proverbial hat in his hands, Jake swallowed hard.

Yeah, well, if I have anything to say about it, tears you’ll never see are mine or my baby’s.

To anyone else, it might sound selfish, but what this woman didn’t realize was that it wasn’t just Bonnie’s future at stake, but his.

Growing up, he’d had an idyllic childhood. His parents were the best—especially his dad. Which was probably one of the reasons Jake had always wanted to be a dad. To do the Little League and birthday party routine. To help with homework and to tuck freshly scrubbed rug rats into bed.

After marrying Candy, his high school sweetheart, Jake had thought all of those dreams were finally within reach. But that was before she’d become obsessed with her business and started spouting nonsense about never wanting to be a mom.

He thought he’d die from the pain when, after five years of marriage, Candy had filed for divorce. But ten years after signing the papers, here he was, still going strong without her—or any woman. Here he was, holding steadfast to his vow to never again fall victim to love, and to his conviction that if it took a wife to have children, then he’d just have to suffer through life without them.

When Cal and Jenny died, fate had given Jake his dream after all. Finally, finally, he was a dad, and no matter what it took, there was no way in hell he was giving up his precious baby girl.

“Look,” he said, softening his voice. “I can do this. The diaper changing, bottle washing, shopping for prom dresses—none of it’s a problem. Besides which, I’m all Bonnie’s got. Her parents weren’t just friends, but family.”

“In a strictly nonrelated way. You must understand, Mr. Peterson, I can’t hand out babies to anyone who asks. There are procedures to follow, all of which center around not just the current well-being of this infant, but her future, as well. Please don’t think for a minute that I don’t believe you’d make an excellent father. All I’m saying is that sometimes judges…well, they tend to side with the law, which all too often sees these matters as being neatly tied with a bow when the man or woman appointed custody also happen to be a blood relative.”

“But that’s not right—or fair. In Elizabeth Mannford’s case, her being a member of Bonnie’s family is nothing more than semantics.”

Lips pursed, Mrs. Starling said, “I’m afraid you’re right. Now, if you were married, I could maybe—”

“What?”

She scrunched her nose. “Excuse me?”

“That last part,” he said, making a hurry-up gesture. “Come again on that last part.”

“I was only pointing out that if you had a wife, then—Oh, my. A wife. That’s it. Why didn’t I think of that?” Her gray eyes sparkled in direct proportion to the lifting in his heart. “Mr. Peterson? Where are you going?”

Leaving the office, Jake let out a whoop. “Where do you think I’m going? To my country club. Surely there’s a blonde lounging around the pool who’ll temporarily marry me.”

“Not so fast!” Mrs. Starling shouted.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jake groaned. “Now what?”

“Come back here. I see where you’re headed with this and while I must admit to being wholeheartedly in favor of your plan, you can’t marry a stranger. Any family judge worth his or her salt will see right through that old trick. No, what you need is an honest-to-goodness relationship. A loving relationship in which you share not just a future with a woman, but a past.” She paused, flashing him a hopeful smile. “You’ve got to have known this woman for a lifetime. Long enough to trust with every fiber of your being that she’d make a loving mother and wife. Long enough to know she’ll stand by you through a long, and quite possibly nasty, legal battle.”

Popping another butterscotch into her mouth, she said, “There now. Finding a wonderful woman like that doesn’t sound too terribly difficult, does it?”

Jake’s stomach fell the three flights of stairs he’d climbed to get to Mrs. Starling’s office.

Was the woman nuts?

Because from where he was sitting, he could only think of one woman in his life who’d ever even remotely fit such a lofty bill. Candy. In his mind’s eye, he clearly recalled her pretty smile and eyes so deliciously brown, that just meeting her gaze was akin to sinking in a vat of sinfully rich melted chocolate.

Unfortunately, the last time he’d been looking into those eyes, his ex-wife hadn’t been smiling. She’d been crying. And the sight of those tears hadn’t just ripped his heart in two, but made him adhere to a strict vow to never, ever get married again.

So now, here he was being told the only possible way he could keep baby Bonnie was to not only marry again, but to marry the one woman on the planet who’d torn his life apart?

In a perfect world, he’d oh-so-politely tell Mrs. Starling right where she could put her ludicrous suggestion. Problem was, his world was nowhere close to perfect, and if he didn’t go along with her suggestion, he wouldn’t even have a world—that was how strong his bond to Bonnie had become.

Steeling his jaw, Jake reached an inevitable conclusion. As unpalatable—hell, as downright unthinkable—as it sounded, if he was to have even a prayer of keeping Bonnie, he’d have to once again marry Candy. Fast!

Chapter One

Three days later…

In super-stealth mode, Jake Peterson stepped onto the brick step of the Candy Kisses Confectioner’s Shop and Ice Cream Parlor. But just as he was about to launch the most important merger meeting of his life, his cell phone rang.

Cursing himself for not leaving the stupid thing in his rental car, he answered, “Yeah?”

“Did you do it?”

“Hell, no, I didn’t do it.” He ducked out of the unseasonably hot Missouri May sun and into the shade of a bush trimmed into the shape of a—Was that a giant cat? On the branches of the cat’s belly, a flock of starlings bickered like toddlers vying for the teacher’s last animal cracker. Covering his left ear, Jake said, “I thought I told you to wait for me to call you.”

“I know, but I’ve got a baby question.”

“What?”

“Bonnie’s poop’s lookin’ a little off.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, man, it’s kind of purple. Something about it just isn’t right. And it smells a little like catfish bait.”

Jake sighed before asking Rick, his best friend from high school and now the manager of the original Galaxy Sports Store, located a few doors down from where he now stood, “What did you guys feed her? I’ve only been gone fifteen minutes.”

“Creamed chicken and some leftover noodle stuff—oh, and Dietz let her have a grape Popsicle. Man, you should’ve seen that little gal sucking away. Oh—and right after you left, she gummed a cherry Pop-Tart.”

“And did that make her poop red?”

“Come to think of it…”

Jake brushed his left hand over his face. Having grown up and later worked with most of the guys now manning the store, he’d thought they were all capable of watching Bonnie for a few hours. But maybe he’d been wrong. Come to think of it, maybe he was wrong to have even thought about setting foot back in this town. “Where’s Warren?” he asked.

“He got a call from his kid’s school. Millicent got knocked in the front tooth during gym class and he had to take her to the dentist.”

Great. So the only guy in the store with practical parenting skills was gone. “Look, Rick, baby poop is literally a fluid situation. Changes all the time. Don’t worry about it unless—well, hell, just don’t worry. And don’t call me for at least the next thirty minutes. I’m going in.”

“LET’S SEE…I’ll take two Coco Locos, a Dino Bar, and a chocolate-covered strawberry.”

“Mmm, I like your style.” Without looking up, Candy Jacobs-Peterson opened the glass storage case and gave the confections housed inside an appreciative whiff. Even after all her years in the candy business, she still loved the rich smell of her creations.

She reached for a piece of tissue, then snatched a couple of her most celebrated masterpieces. The milk chocolate, almond and toasted coconut Coco Loco blend outsold her other candies three to one. At Monday’s closing, she’d have to remind Candy Kisses’ new owners to make extra for the weekend rush.

Hard to believe that a week from today, the business that had become her family would be sold. For all practical purposes, she’d never had a mother. After her dad had died when she was eleven, she’d been raised by her grandfather right here in this store. Her brief marriage to Jake had started out as a blessing, but ultimately, as she’d feared it would, fallen victim to her curse.

After her divorce, Candy had returned to the store and her grandfather, believing that hard work would be the cure for whatever ailed her. For a while, it had been enough. But when he died and, over the year since he’d been gone, despite receiving comfort from many dear friends, the loneliness had consumed her.

She’d felt lost. Adrift.

And now…

Now, she needed more. Of what, she had no clue.

Yes, you do.

Candy ignored her conscience’s nudge toward unthinkable directions. Truly, something was missing from her life. But whatever that elusive something was, she’d had no luck finding it here in Lonesome, the only town where she’d ever lived. Which was why, first thing next Monday morning, she planned to sign the sale papers for Candy Kisses, close up her house, then leave Lonesome for however long it would take to find peace.

She swallowed a fresh batch of jitters to hand the customer his distinctive pink box that had her kindergarten picture right on the front, lips puckered for a kiss. “Can I get you anything el—”

The box, along with its contents, tumbled to the floor, hitting glowing hardwood with a soft thwack. Candy fluttered her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh…Jake.”

He matched her shock with a wry smile. “That happy to see me, huh?”

“It’s not that—well, it’s just that I…” Pull yourself together, she admonished. So what if it’s been ten years? So what if he’s grown taller, darker and infinitely more handsome? Just treat him like any other customer.

Easily enough said, but how many other customers broke your heart?

“In town for the reunion?” she asked, trying to play it cool while kneeling to clean up the mess.

“Yep. I thought I wasn’t going to make it, but at the last minute…” She stood in time to see him shrug. “You know how plans change.”

“Yes, well…” No one knew that better than her. “It’s good that you could make it after all. I know the guys down at the store must be glad to see you.”

What about you, Candy? Are you glad to see me? Jake reminded himself to breathe.

His ex had always been a knockout, but now…

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look past her whiskey-brown eyes, honeyed complexion and too-damned-sexy, sable-toned hair. In the millisecond it took to blink, he pictured her lounging in bed, wearing that ivory-silk negligee she’d bought him for their first wedding anniversary. Fine lace played hide-and-seek with her breasts while from behind her half curtain of sleek, dark waves, she grinned, beckoning him closer, inviting him to unwrap his gift.

Jake released a sharp breath.

Focus, man. Remember, you’re in town to find a temporary mom for Bonnie—not a playmate for you.

Besides, Jake reminded himself, being burned once by Candy’s particularly painful brand of rejection had been more than enough to scar his lifetime.

“So,” he said with a light clap, rubbing his palms together. “The guys told me you’re about to start a new project.”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” she said, straightening the already-perfectly-aligned jars of her signature ice-cream toppings.

“So? What’re you doing? Finally launching a new store? Some hot new candy you’re taking nationwide?”

Shifting two jars to a higher shelf, she stood on her tiptoes, raising her arms high enough for her breasts to strain the buttons of her white silk blouse. Finished, she said, “You were the only one around here with global dreams, Jake. Mine have always been simple.” A ghostly smile playing about her lips, she shook her head. “I can’t believe the guys didn’t tell you.”

Tell me what? That you’re hotter than ever?

He gulped. “How come I’m feeling like I’m the only one in town who doesn’t know?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Jake, we’re kind of divorced.”

“Touché.”

Averting her gaze, she said, “Wow. I can’t get over the fact that you’re really here. The last person I expected to see today was you.” When she again looked his way, she’d captured long strands of her hair between her fingers, intently twirling it as if the action would fix whatever was causing the sadness in her eyes.

The last time Jake had seen her twirl her hair was the day she’d signed their divorce papers.

“Candy,” he said, stepping closer to the counter. “Is something wrong? I mean, besides seeing me?” He flashed her a weak grin, which she answered with one of her own.

“No. It’s just that this is a pretty strange day.”

“How so? It’s just another Monday, isn’t it?”

Her nod was followed by a tiny hiccup, which was in turn followed by a gasping sob. “Oh, Jake, I know I’m making the right decision, but…”

In a heartbeat he stormed behind the counter and pulled her close. “Shh…” he said, stroking her hair while at the same time denying a strange sense of déjà vu. “Whatever’s going on with you, Candy, I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

As if only just now realizing that he held her in his arms, she stepped back, gazing up at him with a teary-eyed wonder that quickly turned to distrust. “Look at me,” she said, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She took another step back and straightened her hair. “Here I am, on the threshold of the biggest adventure of my life, and acting as if it’s some kind of jail sentence.”

Jake scratched his head. “Mind explaining all that for those of us who showed up late to the party?”

“Oops,” she said with a brave smile. “I forgot that you don’t know. Today is my last Monday standing behind this counter.” She washed her fingers over the timeworn white marble. “A week from today I’m selling Candy Kisses and leaving Lonesome.”

“Temporarily, right?”

“No. That’s the most exciting part. First, I’m crossing the Andes—on a llama! It’s one of those adventure/eco trips. And then there’s my Amazon cruise, and from there, the Galapagos, and—”

“But wh-what about your grandfather?” Dear Lord, what was she thinking? Candy Kisses had been in her family for more than fifty years. Candy Kisses was her family. She couldn’t just sell it.

“You didn’t know that, either? Grandpa died last spring.”

Jake washed his face with his hands, released a deep-throated groan. “Jeez, I’m so sorry…But that makes your wanting to sell all the more baffling. Woman, have you lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re selling the only thing in your life you’ve ever really loved in exchange for riding some hairy beast through the Andes? What is this? Some kind of harebrained attempt to find yourself?”

“Yes—I mean, no. And what if it is? What gives you the right to question anything I do? And you don’t have to make it sound as if my trip is some whacked-out, New Age spiritual thing. It’s just a vacation. A chance to see new things. Meet new people.” A chance to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

Candy brushed past Jake, ignoring the icy-hot tingles where the cramped space forced their arms and hips to touch.

“Where are you going?”

Without looking back, she answered, “Home. I have a lot of packing to do.” From out of the cabinet at the end of the counter, she snatched her purse.

“You’re just going to leave the store? I thought you stayed open late every night of the week?”

“Only Thursday through Sunday.”

“Yeah, but what about today’s customers?”

“They’ll come back tomorrow.”

“What kind of business plan is that? You’ve got to seize the market. Be ready to close the deal on even the smallest sale.”

Heading for the front entrance, she said, “At the moment, Jake, the only thing I’m closing is the door. Last warning or you’ll be spending the night.”

In one of those grandiose moves only her ex would even think about pulling off, he braced his hands on the short counter and swung his legs over. Sure enough, he beat her to the door and now stood, arms crossed, blocking it.

“You haven’t grown an emotional inch, have you?”

“Oh, like you have? Hiding from whatever’s eating you by cutting it out of your life?”

“I’m not hiding. I’m going home to pack.”

“Packing for your trip to run off and hide.”

Tears welled at the backs of Candy’s eyes and she stubbornly forced them away. It had taken years to stop crying herself to sleep over this man. No way would she give him the satisfaction of crying over him now. Had he forgotten what he put her through? Had he forgotten what kind of pain she’d put aside just in trusting him enough to marry him?

He’d known what kind of rotten family she’d come from. He’d known, and yet he hadn’t cared. For if he had cared, he wouldn’t have pressured her for so much more than she would have ever been able to give.

“If we’re talking about running, Jake,” she said, taking a deep, calming breath, “I’m not the one who left the only home he’s ever known to whoop it up on Florida’s beaches.”

“We’re not talking about me, Candy, we’re talking about you, still avoiding your problems.”

“What problems?” she asked a little too shrilly. “Until you, the Official Playboy of the Entire Eastern Seaboard, showed up, life was looking good.”

“There you go, blaming your troubles on me.”

“Argh, I guess some things never change. Add the two of us mixing like oil and water to that list. I thought your showing up out of the blue for the reunion was some kind of sign. You know, that you had finally put the past behind you and we could at least act civilized toward each other. But I guess I was wrong.”

Fumbling through her purse for her keys, she was again fighting back tears, telling herself that it was saying farewell to her store that had her in such a dither. “You never understood me.” Understood what I gave up for you. “And who are you to lecture me about my faults, when there you are, day after day, throwing it all away.”

“Throwing what away?”

Your big chance, Jake. Your chance to be the one thing you could never be with me. The one thing I know you wanted above anything else—especially me. The chance to become a father. Keys in hand, Candy pressed her lips tight.

“Answer me.” Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a light squeeze. “What was that last comment supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Bull!” Jake released her along with a wall of pent-up air. His back to her, he raked his fingers through his hair. This whole scene was out of control. He’d intended this to be a clean-cut mission. In, propose, out. One, two, three. So where had he gone wrong?

Funny how that was the same question he’d faced the last time they’d fought.

If he knew what was good for him, he’d leave right now and take his chances with hiring a woman to play the role of his wife. Maybe he could even answer one of those mysterious ads in the backs of magazines that promised to create false IDs and personal histories in thirty days or less.

Yeah right, and maybe donkeys fly south for the winter.

Face it, bud, the only shot you’ve got at keeping Bonnie is standing right in front of you, staring you down as though she’d just as soon spit on you than look at you.

“Jake,” she said in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Why are you really here? And don’t give me that line about being in town for the reunion, because Page Watson told me six weeks ago that you wrote ‘Return to Sender’ on the outside of your invitation.”

Six weeks ago, Cal and Jenny had still been alive.

And Candy was right. Ordinarily, Jake wouldn’t have shown up at their class reunion for all the beer in St. Louis. Sure, he would’ve loved hanging out with the guys, but given the very good chance that he’d also run into Candy…thank you very much, but he’d have more fun in bankruptcy court.

That being the case, again, why not walk away? Hop the next flight for Palm Breeze and never look back?

Bonnie, that’s why.

Flashes of cute chubby cheeks, heart-melting toothless grins, silky-soft tufts of hair and the scent of freshly washed and lotioned baby tummy not only steeled his resolve, but took the decision out of his hands and put it squarely in the hands of fate.

Hardening his jaw, he said, “You’re right. The reunion was an excuse. I’m really here to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Marriage. Or to be more specific…our marriage. And the question of whether or not you’d be amenable to starting it back up?”

Jake couldn’t tell whether Candy had parted her ripe lips to speak or was caught in a gasp. Either way, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d meant to thaw her a little before popping the mother of all questions, but dammit, given his time crunch—not to mention her travel plans—there wasn’t a whole helluva lot else he could do.

“I-I…I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breathy, as if his suggestion had knocked the wind from her lungs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight and instead of fighting, we’ll talk—even better, say you’ll cook dinner for me.”

“B-but—”

“Great,” he said with a wide grin. “I’ll be at your place at seven.”

Chapter Two

“What’s with the corn dogs?” Candy’s best friend and neighbor, Kelly Foster, asked at six forty-five that night.

“You think I should’ve made Jake a standing rib roast?”

From her perch on one of the tall stools lining the burgundy-tiled counter, Kelly made a face. “At least spaghetti and a salad would have been nice. I mean, come on, corn dogs? The guy asked you to marry him again, not scrub his toilets.”

“True,” Candy said, pulling open the oven door and sliding in the tray of dogs. “And, hey, at least this time around he’s loaded. He can afford a dozen housekeepers to do all the dirty work. Think they clean up broken hearts?”

For a brief second, she squeezed her eyes shut while forcing back tears. Sarcasm wasn’t like her, which proved that the sooner Jake returned to Florida, the better off her mood—not to mention, life—would be. “Sorry to be so testy,” Candy said. “It’s just that where Jake Peterson is concerned, one marriage was way more than enough.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “From your first bizarre date spent picnicking on the Lonesome High football field, you two were made for each other. Everyone knows it. Why do you think Jake never married again?”

“How should I know? We haven’t exactly stayed close. And for your information, our first date wasn’t bizarre, it was romantic.” Candy threw extra force into whacking a freezer-burned bag of French fries against the butcher-block cutting board.

“Eww,” Kelly said. “How old are those?”

“Judging by the ice pack’s density, I’d make a conservative guess that I bought them around the time I broke up with Chad. Remember that grease phase I went through?” Candy shuddered. “My skin breaks out just thinking about it. At least one good thing is coming out of this dinner.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m cleaning out the freezer.”

Grinning, Kelly shook her pretty blond head. “You’re hopeless. Back to the subject of Jake, what do you think he’s up to?”

“You mean, besides no good? Ba-bum ching.” While tapping the high hat on her imaginary drums, Candy flashed her friend a smile.

“You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Reaching into the fridge for mustard and ketchup, Candy said, “I wasn’t trying to.”

“You’re scared to death, aren’t you?”

“About what? This is just dinner. I do it every night of the week, every week of the year—except during our annual cruise, and then I do it two times a night. Ba-bum ching.” Using the ketchup bottle as a microphone, she said in a deep Elvis voice, “Thank you, thank you very much. You can catch my act nightly at the Lonesome Lounge.”

“This is bad. Very bad.” Leaning her right elbow on the counter, Kelly cupped her chin in her hand. Tapping her cheek with her index finger, she said, “I haven’t seen you this un-funny since the night you heard Jake was leaving for Florida.”

“What are you talking about?” Candy said, filling two glasses with iced tea. “We celebrated that night. Remember? I sprung for all of us girls to eat the Holiday Motel’s seafood buffet. It was a lot of fun.”

“Of course, how could I forget a thrill-a-minute evening of culinary delights like crab-flavored chicken wings—not to mention the fact that you must’ve told enough cornball jokes to keep Laffy Taffy in business for the next hundred years. Come on,” Kelly said with a sigh. “It’s me you’re talking to. You can tell me how you really feel.”

“How many times do I have to say this,” Candy said, putting the mustard and ketchup in the dishwasher. “I feel fine. I’m not the least bit upset about Jake being back in town.” One by one, she started to unload mugs from the top rack and slide them onto the brass hooks beneath the cabinets.

“Is it because you’re on such an emotional high that you’ve decided to unload the dishes before even washing them?”

Candy gazed at the assorted dribbles of coffee, tea, and cocoa pooling on the counter. “Crap.”

“What was that? Miss Sunshine isn’t actually a tad on edge is she?”

“No,” Candy all but growled.

“Good, then when you finish reloading all those dirty mugs, you might want to unload the ketchup and mustard.”

A squeal of pure panic escaped Candy’s lips. “Oh, God. I am a wreck, aren’t I? Kelly, you’ve got to stay through dinner. What am I going to do? Say? I can’t be alone with him. You know what just looking at Jake does to me. I mean, I despise him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still think he’s the hottest guy on the planet. I mean, you should’ve seen him at the store today, his hair all mussed and that disgustingly handsome chiseled jawline of his all freshly shaven and tanned. And his bod—don’t even get me started on what ten years have done for the man’s physique.” When Candy’s shoulders slumped, her best friend hopped off her stool to enfold her in a hug.

“Trust me,” Kelly said, “you’re going to be fine. You two were high school sweethearts. You’ve known each other forever. Maybe, just maybe,” she said, brushing away one of Candy’s tears, “he misses you, and that proposal was more real than you think.”

“Fat chance,” Candy said through one last sniffle. “Even if I wanted to get back together with him—which I don’t—you weren’t here the morning he came home to pick up the last of his stuff. I handed him the shoe box he kept my love letters in, but he told me to keep it, Kel. He told me he didn’t want a single thing in his new life to remind him of me. After that, he walked out. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Thanks,” Kelly said, using a paper towel to blot at her own tears. “Now you’ve got me all choked up, too—and I’m supposed to be the strong one.” She pulled Candy into a fierce hug.

“Please stay for dinner,” Candy whined. “I’ll make you a steak—oh, and those twice-baked potatoes you love.” A sharp metallic noise called her gaze to the window. “Oh, no, was that a car door?”

“See ya,” Kelly said, pulling back with a wave of her paper hanky.

“What about your steak? You love my steaks.”

Kelly blew her a kiss on her way out the back door. “I also love you, which is why I think it’d be best for you to handle this one on your own. Besides which, not only do I have a watercolor class tonight, but I happen to know for a fact you have nothing in that fridge of yours besides moldy cheese and three-year-old pickles. ’Bye.”

“Deserter,” Candy mumbled, watching her only link to sanity fairly skip across the backyard.

The doorbell rang.

The screen door creaked open. “Candy? You in there?”

She crossed through the living room on her way to the front door.

“Hi,” was all she could think to say when, just like when she’d been a new bride watching her groom saunter into the house, Jake’s lopsided grin tumbled her heart.

“Something smells good,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”

“Corn dogs.”

“Yum. My favorite.”

Had he always been so tall? The room never used to feel cramped when he was in it. And why was she suddenly wishing she’d taken Kelly’s advice and at least made a quick batch of spaghetti? “Sorry I didn’t fix a more substantial meal. I’m basically running low on everything.”

“Who’s complaining?” he said, gazing around the comfortable room with what she hoped was appreciation.

They’d bought the once-nearly-condemned Queen Anne not long after their wedding because the payments had been cheaper than rent. The rambling home sat atop a forested hill overlooking Lonesome Lake. Over the years she’d restored the place to its former glory, and though she couldn’t fathom why, it meant a lot to her that Jake liked what she’d done.

Licking her lips, she said, “A lot’s changed around here since you left.”

“I’ll say.” He let loose with a low whistle. “It actually looks cozy instead of like the poorest frat house on campus. What happened to the cement-block bookshelves and Goldilocks—that old gold sofa we had to prop up with leftover bathroom tiles?”

“They died. They’re now at the city dump, resting in peace beside a lovely retired couple. You might know them. The Kenmores? Adorable pair of washer and dryers. Used to live over on Pecan Lane in a yellow ranch.”

Jake’s chuckle caught Candy off guard, filling her with velvety images of the past. Breakfasts and dinners shared upon a wobbly sawhorse table. Saturday night candlelit bubble baths, exchanging off-color jokes as to why the hot water pipes groaned. For a second, Candy’s world felt right again, the way it used to. Back in the days when if only she could make Jake laugh, everything would be okay.

A pang shot through her at the realization of just how not okay those old days had turned out to be.

Since the last thing she wanted Jake knowing was how topsy-turvy his presence made her feel, she played tour guide. “On the left, you’ll see my sort-of-new sofa. Note the soft floral chintz. Always a big hit during the occasional bridal shower I get wheedled into hosting. And to the right, we have a real, live bookshelf/entertainment unit—I’m still working on the entertainment part.”

“Nice,” Jake said with a slow nod. “But how do you see what’s on TV? It’s awfully small. I didn’t even know they made that size for home use.”

“Well, now you do. Besides, it suits me just fine since now that the house is done, my nights are usually spent reading or doing the shop’s books.”

“That’s all well and good, Candy, but if you want a big screen TV, all you have to do is—”

“Thank you, but I don’t want your money, Jake.”

“It’s our money.”

“You formed the current-day Galaxy Sports after our divorce.”

“Yeah, but in the divorce papers, it states quite clearly that you’re a half owner.”

“But I don’t want to be.”

“Tough. You are.”

“Argh!” she said, ducking her gaze from his intense dark one. “Ten years certainly hasn’t put a dent in your pride.”

They stood only three feet apart but, in that instant, they might as well have been on separate planets. What was it about him that after all this time still turned her legs to taffy? Part of her wanted nothing more than to drop the pretense of not-so-polite chitchat and get to the reasons for his sudden—not to mention ludicrous—proposal. But another part of her, the part fighting a bizarre desire to drag the man back into her life, to lock him up and throw away the key, felt that the more casual they kept this meeting, the better.

“I know this’ll sound strange,” he said, “but once I tell you why I’m here, you’ll see just how little pride I have left.”

“I’m all ears.” She mimed bunny ears at the sides of her head, wiggling her fingers in a feeble attempt to disguise a nervous giggle.

“Okay, well…” He sniffed, looked toward the kitchen. “Is that smoke? Jeez, Candy, from the looks of it, your whole damned kitchen’s on fire!”

A FEW MINUTES LATER Jake had extinguished supper, but a thick, not to mention, smelly, gray cloud still clung to the ceiling. On the scary meter, the oven flame-up had been nothing compared to the white-hot terror stuck in his throat at the mere possibility of Candy being in danger. Now that he knew she’d be okay, he felt even worse.

Because really, he had no business worrying about her.

For a minute there, he’d felt as though they were married again, as though she was still his responsibility.

“Well, that oughtta do it,” he said, setting the extinguisher on the counter before adding, in what he hoped was a carefree tone, “Good thing I carry that model in all of my stores. If I hadn’t been familiar with how it works, your kitchen might be toast.”

“Yeah,” Candy said from beside the sink. Already having opened the windows and turned on the fan, she now wielded the faucet’s spray attachment—just in case. “Guess I’d better start keeping a closer eye on those rascally corn dogs, huh?”

“Might be a good idea—especially when you set the oven on broil.”

“Oops. I thought I’d set it on three-fifty. Guess before you got here I was sort of wound up.”

A charming blush pinkened her cheeks, but it did little to quench his frustration with her for being so careless. Didn’t she know how much she meant to him?

Whoa, buddy. Shouldn’t that be how much she used to mean? Because now, a reunion with Candy only meant one thing: keeping Bonnie.

Leaning against the counter, he turned serious. “I’m afraid you’re going to need a new oven.”

“You think?”

He nodded and crossed to where she stood. Hands on her shoulders, in his best manly fireman voice, he said, “It’s okay, ma’am. Fire’s out. You can safely put down the hose.” Easily enough said, but the jolt zinging through his arms from just touching her made him think he was the one in danger from fire. The flames leaping from her!

He must not have been the only one affected by their touch. Candy not only popped the spray nozzle back into its hole, she scooted a good two feet down the counter.

In all the excitement, she’d earned a black smudge of courage across her left cheek. Years of watching out for her leaned him forward, where, with the pad of his thumb, he brushed away the soot.

“What’re you—” She tensed until she realized what he was doing.

“Sorry, you had some—”

“It’s okay.” Her dusky gaze darted to the floor, then back to him. “Thanks. For the cleanup job and for saving our—I mean, my house.”

“No problem.” Had he only imagined it, or was the Ice Queen starting to thaw? “Glad I was here to help.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Candy gave herself a mental thwack on the head. Yeah. Me, too? What was wrong with her? For a second there, she’d actually enjoyed his company.

Time for a reality check. And the lonely reality was that no matter how right Jake’s being back in their kitchen might feel, his presence was only temporary.

Which was good.

Because, really, she was far better off without him.

How could she have forgotten how relieved she’d been when he’d left? How great it had felt knowing she’d never hear him ask those tired old questions again?

“When do you want to start our family?” he’d asked morning, noon and night. “You’re gorgeous. Only in my dreams can I imagine how adorable our kids are going to be.” Nuzzling her neck, he’d follow up with, “Any idea how soon we can expect to be expecting?” And toward the end of their marriage, “Come on, Candy Cane. I’m just asking for a couple of kids. How bad could they be?”

Candy swallowed hard, watching through watery eyes as the only man she’d ever loved sauntered to the fridge.

Head inside, giving her an entirely too attractive view of his tight, jeans-clad derriere, he said, “I’m hungry, woman. What’s to eat around here besides—” he pulled out a jar, squinting at the label “—mini-gherkins?”

Hurriedly wiping at a stray tear, she said, “Ketchup or mustard. Take your pick.”

“You need to go to the store. This is no way to live.”

“Ordinarily, I’d say you’re right, but in case you forgot, I’m leaving for Peru in six days, so there’s not much need for stocking up.”

He closed the fridge, eyed the now soggy bag of fries. “Wanna order a pizza?”

“Nah, let’s save money and play food scavenger hunt.”

“Why? There’s no need to save money.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Candy,” Jake said, softening his tone. “Half of everything Galaxy Sports has ever made is sitting in an account with your name on it. Why won’t you use it?”

“Simple, because I don’t want your money.”

“It’s our money. Dad gave that business to me and you on our first anniversary. Remember? The divorce papers say all profits are to be split fifty/fifty.”

“For the last time, Jake, please listen. Thank you for the offer. It’s sweet—beyond sweet. But really, I don’t want or need it. Give the money to charity. Send a few kids to college.” She turned her back on him, knotting her arms across her chest.

“More than a few kids. We’re talking millions of dollars, Candy.”

“Oh, so is that the going rate for a woman’s heart?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She spun around to face him. “What do you think it means? Sure, we fought a lot about how you wanted kids, but beyond that, Galaxy Sports also contributed to our marriage falling apart. Because you started caring more about proving to your dad how good you were at selling everything from footballs to fishing poles than you ever cared about being my husband.”

“Wrong. If memory serves me correctly, you spent an awful lot of time at Candy Kisses, too. What was I supposed to do, turn caveman and drag you home? The more I thought about it, the more I realized maybe you’d never wanted to be my wife.”

“That’s not true,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper. She swallowed hard, fighting still more tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. “You know why I asked for a divorce. It was about kids, Jake. Your obsessive need for them. I told you I couldn’t have them, but you wouldn’t listen. You knew I could never be a mom. You knew it, yet you kept bringing up the subject—despite the fact that you also knew how much it hurt me to let you go.”

“Let me go?” He laughed. “More like booted me out the door.”

“Argh, this is just like you, you stubborn—Never mind. Evidently my reasons don’t matter any more now than they did ten years ago.”

“What reasons? That’s just it. You never gave me any. I could live without having kids, what I couldn’t live without was love, Candy. And let’s face it, when that last year went by with us living like strangers, what was I supposed to think? And when you filed for divorce…Well, I know I can be thick-headed, but it wouldn’t have taken a jackhammer to pound the fact into me that at that point you pretty much didn’t give a damn about me or our marriage.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She aimed her index finger in the direction of his chest, ignoring the release of ten years’ worth of hot tears. “I—I would have done anything for you. That’s how much I used to love you, Jake. I loved you so much that I set you free. I couldn’t give you kids, so I set you free to have them with another woman. That’s how much I loved you—not Candy Kisses—you.”

“Jeez.” He slashed his fingers through his hair and haltingly approached her before going for broke and crushing her in a hug. “Oh, man, Candy. What a mess we made of things, huh?”

She nodded against his warm, oh-so-solid chest. Being back in his arms felt so good, so right, as if she’d finally come home. Too bad that home was just a dream. The fairy tale the two of them once shared could never be recreated.

Those once-idyllic days had been back when they were lovesick teens. Married at eighteen, only a month after their high school graduation, their marriage lasted a whole five years. At first, it’d been idyllic. With both of them working long hours in their respective family businesses, they hadn’t given a thought to the future aside from what time they’d next make love. For nearly twelve months, that had been enough, but then Jake had wanted more.

The total package—meaning kids.

He knew what kind of mother she’d had. The whole town knew the sad cliché of poor little Candy Jacobs’s mother running off—never to be seen again—with a traveling carpet company rep she’d met at the interior design shop where she worked.

Even before that, though, Valerie Jacobs could hardly have been nominated for mother of the year. She didn’t bake cookies, read bedtime stories or attend school plays. She never cooed over scribbled drawings or A-plus spelling tests, and she certainly never braided her daughter’s hair or shopped hand in hand for the perfect Easter dress. Not that any of that would have even mattered to Candy had she provided the one thing every child craved above all else—love.

No, the worst thing about Valerie Jacobs was that she’d been devoid of feelings for anyone but herself—oh, and of course, for her lovers.

Candy’s dad had tried making up for her mother’s shortcomings with occasional pats on the head and hugs, but he was always busy at work, trying to keep her mother in the finery that only occasionally made her smile.

Years after the fact, Candy had learned that the man her mom had finally run off with hadn’t even been her first affair.

When her father died of a heart attack three days after Valerie’s abandonment, no one had been surprised. They’d just amended the gossip to include the fact that “that Jacobs woman” had quite literally broken her husband’s heart.

When Candy’s grandfather had taken her in, life had been a little sweeter. But the little girl who eventually grew up never forgot the kind of emptiness that lurked inside. After all, half of her blood was Valerie’s, which meant she was destined by DNA to be just as wretched a wife and mom. The only question was when the time bomb ticking inside her would finally go off.

Jake had known all about Candy’s mother. What he hadn’t known—because she’d never told him—was that Candy had no intention of repeating her mother’s mistakes. When Jake began pressuring her to have kids, Candy realized she had already made one disastrous error in ever daring to dream she’d make a good wife. Hurting herself and Jake had been one thing. But her most sacred vow, no matter what, she wouldn’t break. And that was to never, ever become a mother herself. No child deserved the lonely life she’d once led.

Jake softly stroked her hair, so softly that had Candy been a cat, she would have flopped onto her back and purred. Problem was, she wasn’t a cat. She was a flesh-and-blood woman who needed to get on with life.

Life without Jake.

Jake stiffened when Candy pulled away.

After sniffling, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all emotional on you. What I meant to say is that if you’d like a pizza, since I’m tonight’s hostess, I’ll buy.”

“Sure,” he said, tucking his hands into his jean’s pockets, warming them because after releasing her, bone-chilling loneliness licked the tips of his fingers. “That sounds good—only I’m paying.”

“Okay,” she said with a wooden nod. “I’ll go call.”

Alone in the comfortable kitchen with its yellow-gingham curtains, hanging copper pots and glowing oak cabinets, Jake felt lost. Out of his comfort zone. His world was modern and sleek. Filled with man stuff. Chrome and leather and women who didn’t even know a kitchen came with their mansions. He’d come here to ask Candy a simple question. What had gone wrong?

In spite of Candy’s confession that, at least in her mind, her reasons for divorcing him had been entirely altruistic, that didn’t mean their main dispute had changed.

He still wanted kids, she didn’t. Period. Not just end of story, end of their story.

If he were smart, he’d walk away.

But he wasn’t smart, he was in love—not with Candy—but Bonnie. And if that made him a fool for love, then so be it.

Gazing around the kitchen, taking in the handmade rag rug hugging the brick floor, the candid photos gracing buttercream-yellow walls, the beams of warm twilight shafting through the paned bay window to kiss the ladder-backed chairs at a round oak table, he realized with a lonely ache that this was the kind of home he’d grown up in.

This was the kind of home he wanted for Bonnie.

Oh, sure, he could have Palm Breeze’s hottest designer turn his house into a carbon copy of Candy’s, but what he couldn’t pay someone to reproduce was the everyday simplicity. The deep-down sweetness.

The scent of painstakingly rubbed lemon oil that did battle with burnt corn dogs and won. The happy gurgle of a fish tank bubbling in the far corner. And from outside the screened windows, faint stirrings of leaves in the trees. Waves lapping at the lakeshore. Kids playing Freeze Tag somewhere down the street.

After all that Jake had achieved, the fortune he’d amassed, this kitchen was the one thing that, in as long as he could remember, felt familiar. Like home. It irked him that just being back in this room, no matter how much in appearances it’d changed, inside, he felt the same way he had walking out for the last time. Like an empty, aimless shell of a man.

Dammit, but he resented Candy for going on with her life and this house without him.

This had been his house as much as hers. His dream as much as hers. And now, seeing how capably she’d managed without him, he felt like an intruder. A failure. And that scared him, for the only thing he’d ever in his whole life failed at was his relationship with her.

How ironic was it that his future with Bonnie depended on his past with his ex-wife?

Just like his dad, he’d always planned on returning home after a long day’s work not to an empty house, but to a home bursting with laughter and life. Kids, dogs, cats, hamsters—Once upon a time Jake had wanted it all, with Candy beside him, hugging him, kissing him, making love to him late into the night until they had to stop because one of their kids was banging on the bedroom door.

“Mommy? Daddy? Can I come in? I had a bad dream.”

Candy would giggle, pulling her simple cotton nightie over her head, past full breasts, slim abdomen and hips. Jake would hop out of bed and yank on his boxers before opening the door to scoop his sleepy rug rat into his arms. For the sake of his daydream he’d call the kid Mark, and he would smell a little sweaty and of cedar shavings—not unlike his pet hamster.

In his mind’s eye, Jake watched himself lug Mark to their bed where he’d wriggle—footie pajamas and all—smack-dab into the middle before promptly falling asleep, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. And then, in milky moonlight, Candy would reach out to him, her husband and best friend, grasp his hand and give it a light squeeze. Without either of them saying a word, Jake would know his every wish had quietly come true.

Back to reality, Jake swallowed hard.

What happened, Candy? What happened between us to make love not be enough?

“Pizza should be here in about forty minutes.”

He looked up.

Even doing something as simple as crossing the room, Candy had such grace. A long time ago she was everything he’d ever wanted and more. That long, silky hair, those even longer legs. When they made love, she’d had this way of wrapping those legs around him, urging him deeper, urging their souls closer, that had nearly made him weep with the sheer joy of being her man.

Now…

Whoa. Now, he just wanted out. Time to regroup.

The woman and her cozy kitchen were dangerous. “Forty minutes, huh? Whew, that’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” At the waist of her simple floral dress, she fumbled with her hands. “Uh, want to watch a movie or something while we wait?”

“No, Candy, I think what we should do is talk.”

Chapter Three

Minutes later, in the living room, Candy took the sofa while her ex choose an overstuffed tapestried wing chair.

Personally, she’d had enough talking, but seeing as how Jake probably wouldn’t leave without spilling whatever was on his mind, she figured she might as well let him get it out of his system. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s hear it. What in the world made you re-propose this afternoon at the shop?”

“Jeez, where do I start?” He cleared his throat, worked the opening of his forest-green golf shirt—the one she was trying not to notice did such heavenly things with his annoyingly direct gaze. “I’ve gotten into a bit of a jam, and need your help—no, I’m desperate for your help.” A strangled laugh passed his lips. “I would offer to pay you, but—”

“I get the picture. Go on.”

“So anyway, I had these great friends, Cal and Jenny. And they had a great baby. Her name is Bonnie and you should see her blue eyes sparkle. I was at the hospital the day she was born—saw her just an hour out of the womb. Jenny told Cal all babies have blue eyes, but he told her, ‘Nonsense, this beautiful kid of ours is destined to have the most striking pair of bonny blue peepers in the whole wide world.’ And so they named her Bonnie Blue, just like Rhett and Scarlett’s daughter—only I’ll be damned if I ever let her near a horse.”

Candy leaned forward, spellbound by the change in Jake’s expression. His eyes glowed with love for this child who wasn’t even his. If there’d ever been a doubt in her mind that she hadn’t done the right thing in giving him a divorce, it was gone now. Jake was destined to be a dad. Just like she was destined to never be a mom.

“In fact, I’m thinking of banning her from all moving things. Trikes, bikes, and especially cars—not to mention the wild teens who drive them.”

“Jake,” she said, a sickening suspicion forming in her stomach. “Why are you talking about this baby as if she’s yours?”

He swallowed hard, and it was then she saw tears shimmer in his deep brown eyes. “Because she is mine, Candy. Cal and Jenny—they died.”

“Oh, no.” She flung her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Not thinking, just doing, she went to him, wrapping him in a hug. “How? They must have been so young.”

“Drunk driver,” he said when she sat on the coffee table in front of him. “It was bad. A couple of kids out cruising on a Friday night hit them head-on. Cops said the driver must’ve downed at least ten beers for his blood alcohol to be so—”

He paused to swallow, catch his breath, and she reached for his hand. “Go on. It’s okay.”

Nodding, he said, “Sorry. It’s been a month, but it’s still hard.”

“I can imagine. These people were your friends.”

“Yeah. They were the best. When my dad died, and then my mom, they were the ones who helped me through.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your mom’s funeral.” She squeezed his hand. “But with Grandpa in the hospital last spring and everything.”

“It’s okay. I understood. I wish the guys down at the store would’ve told me he was sick. I’m sure he needed you.”

I wanted you to need me, too.

Had she? Lord, what was happening? All of her carefully constructed emotional dams felt dotted with holes.

“Anyway,” he said after expelling a deep breath. “In the emergency room, right after Jenny died, Cal asked me to take Bonnie. All they had for family was each other and their friends, so Cal asked me to raise their daughter like she was my own. And, of course, I agreed, never thinking it would actually come to that. But then Cal died, too. So…I did as he asked. And I’ve been caring for Bonnie ever since.”

“Of course.”

“And everything was going great. I was really getting the hang of the whole diaper thing and feeding. Bonnie’s a good baby. At first, she cried a lot, but she seems to be getting better. She’s known me her whole life, so I guess I’m making an all right substitute dad.”

“I know you, Jake. I’m sure you’re making an awesome dad.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Problem is,” he said, scratching his head, “Bonnie’s great-aunt—a bitter old woman named Elizabeth Mannford—doesn’t think so.”

“Why?”

He gave her the short version of Mrs. Starling’s speech. “So there you have it. My only hope of keeping Bonnie with the only family she knows is by getting hitched. And not just to anyone, Candy…but to you.”

“Wow.” Head spinning, Candy abruptly stood and put her hand to her forehead. “So that proposal of yours was the real deal? You truly do want to get married?”

He nodded. “But only until the adoption is legal. I’m figuring it’ll take a year tops. In fact, after you make a brief appearance at Mrs. Starling’s office, where we can dazzle her with our marriage license, rings and smiles—not to mention the old photo albums of how much fun we had back when we first got married—you’ll probably be off the hook.”

Candy, nibbling her pinkie fingernail, began to pace. Fireplace to breakfront. Breakfront to fireplace. “You know my family history, Jake. I vowed a long time ago to never be a mom. Do you know what you’re asking?”

She paused just long enough to see him nod.

Fireplace to breakfront. “I mean, if I say no, that pretty much makes me the most heartless soul alive. Yet if I say yes, all my promises to myself…my plans…You don’t know what it’s been like for me since losing Grandpa. This is a small town. I’m surrounded by people who love me, yet I feel lost, like there’s something missing inside of me I haven’t been able to find. This trip, it means everything to me, Jake. It’s about reclaiming my soul.”

“So why can’t you reschedule?”

“It’s not that easy. The tour’s being led by a top writer from National Geographic. I applied for the honor of being in her party almost a year ago. All the documentation on the sale of Candy Kisses has been finalized. I mean, my life is like the space shuttle, ready to blast off.”

His expression dark, Jake stood. “So your answer is no. That’s all you had to say. I understand.”

“No. I mean, no, wait. That isn’t my answer. I just need time to think. You showing up, throwing me this curve ball, it’s all too much.”

“I’m sorry, Candy. If I could, I’d give you all the time in the world. Jeez, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d just as soon tie the knot again as I would leap off a cliff.”

“Thanks. Glad to know how much you enjoy my company.”

“You know what I mean. It’s not like getting married was my idea. Anyway, bottom line, I can give you a week, but that’s it. If I’m not back in Florida by then, who knows what this Elizabeth Mannford may do. I wouldn’t put it past her to charge me with kidnapping.”

“Okay, then,” Candy said, fingering long strands of her hair. “A week it is. I’ll give you my answer Saturday night at the reunion.”

FROM WHERE SHE SAT cross-legged on Candy’s sofa, Kelly snagged a piece of sausage-and-mushroom pizza, brought it to her lips and groaned. “Five delicious pounds in the smell alone.”

Candy summoned a weak smile. “Thanks for coming over. Jake left so suddenly, I was at a loss as to what to do next.”

“Candy,” Kelly said, slapping her friend lightly on the back. “You called the right person, because faced with an entire pizza, believe me, I know just what to do.”

“Not about the pizza,” Candy said. “About Jake. I feel so torn. Like I have to help him, but at the same time, like there’s no way I can help him. It took me such a long time to get over him, how can I possibly go through the whole thing again?”

“It’s not as if he wants to get married for real.”

“I know, but his plan sounds like a pretty dangerous emotional game.”

“So don’t play it.” Kelly sipped at a cola.

“But if I don’t, I’ll feel like a schmuck.”

“So do it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Candy said, shooting her friend a dirty look. “You’re a ton of help.”

“Look, the guy gave you a week to think it over, why do you have to decide in the next thirty minutes?”

Candy swigged her own cola. “Because that’s who I am. I’m legendary in the shop’s kitchen for being quick on my feet in times of crisis. I mean, any time we run out of unsweetened chocolate, who else but me is going to know you can substitute unsweetened cocoa powder plus butter? And did you know one and a quarter cups granulated sugar plus a quarter cup of any liquid also works? And that if you run out of cake flour, then—”

“News flash,” Kelly said through trailing mozzarella. “We’re not in your boring old shop kitchen. This is real life, Candy. And guess what?”

“What?”

“Sometimes it sucks.”

“Gee, Kel, that’s sweet. Have you ever considered a second career writing greeting cards?”

“I’M COMING, I’m coming.” At six o’clock Tuesday morning, eyes barely open, Candy felt her way down the stairs and to the front door.

Whoever stood outside rang the doorbell again.

She growled before asking, “Who is it?”

“Me.”

Jake. Oh, now that woke her right up. She flew her hands to her face, hair, thin white tank T-shirt and cat print pajama bottoms. “Go away!”

“Why?”

“I’m not dressed.”

She swore she heard him chuckle. “Come on, Candy, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

It had been on the tip of her tongue to reply with a sassy, “Yeah, but you haven’t seen mine,” when her conscience chose to remind just how much of her he had seen.

The last time they’d made love—not long before she’d asked him for a divorce—had been right there in the living room, on the couch she told Jake she’d taken to the dump. Good thing she’d had the foresight to move Goldilocks into the boathouse, or he might have gotten the wrong idea—like she held a soft spot for the wretched thing. And God forbid he actually think she’d enjoyed all those nights with him spent rolling around on that couch.

Her cheeks burned.

Okay, so maybe I enjoyed just a few of those nights.

And that last night…Oh, that last night had been steamy in every possible way….

Rain had been falling in driving sheets. That summer, Lonesome had been going through a drought, and the air that night was ripe—smelling of parched earth taking a good, long drink. Since they hadn’t been able to afford air-conditioning, the humidity had had them glowing with sweat. They’d been watching TV, but about nine-thirty they’d turned it off, planning to take a quick shower before hitting the sack. With only the one lamp on and the occasional strobe of lightning, the living room had been nearly dark.

“Come here,” Jake had said from the sofa.

“Why? I thought we were going to bed.”

He’d shaken his head, wielded that slow, sexy grin that melted her like butter. “Come here, gorgeous.”

She remarked that her heart had pounded just looking at her handsome husband, stretched out on the couch wearing only black boxers and his hard-earned muscles. Her mouth had gone so dry. Other parts of her—lower parts—had dampened with need.

“Peel off your shirt.”

“Here?”

“No, in the kitchen.” He’d shot her another slow grin. “Damn straight, here. I want to see my merchandise….”

The doorbell ding-donged three times.

“Come on, Candy! I brought breakfast and the groceries are getting heavy!”

Pulse pounding, palms sweating, Candy licked her lips. Opening the door, she averted her gaze, scared to death Jake could tell just by looking at her exactly what she’d been thinking.

“Morning, gorgeous. Mmm, it sure smells better in here than it did last night with all those corn dogs flaming. Miss me?” He kissed her on the forehead before strolling in. Even worse, it wasn’t groceries he carried, but the most adorable pink-cheeked, blue-eyed baby she’d ever seen.

Her heart lurched.

“Bonnie,” he said, turning the infant away from his chest and toward her. “Meet Candy. Hopefully, she’ll agree to be your temporary mom.” To Candy he said, “Wanna hold her?”

“Uh, no thanks.” Arms crossed, she shook her head—just in case there was something about her verbal message he hadn’t understood. Even from a good two feet away, she detected distinctly disturbing baby scents. Baby lotion, baby shampoo, baby powder—even Bonnie’s ruffled pink dress sported the annoyingly pleasant scent of laundry detergent. From a safe distance—say, ten feet—all of those smells were nice enough, but up close and personal? No. Couldn’t happen.

Except for that one time you’ve never told anyone about.

Yes, but I’ve already established the fact that an incident like that will never happen again!

Candy knew better. Babies were toxic to her system, and if she wasn’t careful, she might end up suffering some kind of meltdown. Frowning, she said, “Have you ever heard of picking up a phone?”

He grinned. “I couldn’t remember the number.”

“Lonesome does have phone books.”

“Yeah, but lucky for me, it also has rental cars, so I figured, what the hey? I might as well drive over.”

“Sure. Why not.”

“Great. I’m glad you’re happy to see us. Here,” he said, thrusting out the baby. “Take her while I carry in the grub.”

“Jake, I—” Too late, the infant was already in her arms.

“Abba, blabba—goo!” The tiny creature giggled.

Wow. Oh, wow.

To relieve tension, Candy would have ordinarily twirled a couple hundred hanks of hair, but seeing how at the moment her hands were kind of full, all she could do was stare at the wide open, porcelain-blue gaze staring at her.

“So,” she said. “You’re Bonnie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Bzzzzz.” A few bubbles escaped lips so perfectly round and sweet, they resembled a big, fat cherry plopped into the midst of Bonnie’s whipped-cream-smooth complexion.

The child gave a few sharp kicks before, with a juicy sigh, snuggling against Candy’s breasts.

Over her years spent working in a candy store, Candy had been coerced into holding her share of babies, but somehow, knowing this was Jake’s baby—even if by horrible tragedy as opposed to her being of his flesh and blood—made the experience different.

Better, in a terrifying way.

“Jake!” she hollered out the door. “Hurry!”

“What’s the problem?” he called, just the top of his heartstoppingly handsome mug visible above the paper sacks with Gregg’s Grocery emblazoned across the side.

Candy peered at the angel resting her cheek on her left breast. Problem? Gee, where do I start? “Uh, well, I think—”

“How cute. I think that means she likes you.”

“Yes, well…”

“You two hang out while I cook.”

“But I really…”

He’d shut the front door and headed for the kitchen.

“…don’t think this is going to work.” On her own again with Bonnie, Candy made a beeline for the kitchen. “Come on, Jake, you know about me and babies. Unless someone practically forces me to hold an infant down at the store, I always steer clear. My friends don’t even let me baby-sit.”

“Have you ever offered?” he asked, unloading bacon, eggs, cheese and…chili?

“Well…” Bonnie wriggled, repositioning herself so that tufts of her fluffy blond hair tickled Candy’s chin. A second later the baby’s mini hair bow slid to the floor. Candy knelt to pick it up, then, as efficiently as possible while working one-handed, she brushed the pink scrap against her flannel PJ bottoms. Wouldn’t do for Bonnie to get dust in her hair. Bow neatly back in place, Candy said, “I don’t suppose I ever volunteered, but then, everybody knows I’m no good with babies. I mean, besides my indestructible goldfish, I don’t even have any pets.”

“We had that kitten.”

“Dabney?” Heart aching from the memory of the tiny kitten, and the brief joy it had brought into their lives, Candy gave Bonnie a slight squeeze. “If I ever had another cat, I’d make her an inside cat. That way nothing could happen to it.”

She looked up to see Jake frown.

“What? You think a lawn service truck is going to come barreling through the living room?”

“No, it’s just that if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past month, it’s that nothing’s permanent. I mean, we can think it is, but jeez, when I remember how one minute Cal and Jenny were with me at a late dinner meeting, and the next…”

Cupping her palm to the curve of Bonnie’s head, Candy pressed her lips to impossibly sweet-smelling hair. Poor little thing.

“Guess what I’m getting at is that stuff happens. All we can do is live for the moment and hope for the best. So,” he said, looking as if he was making an effort to lighten his expression. “How about one of my world-famous, chili-cheese omelets?”

ALL THROUGH BREAKFAST, Jake watched.

Bonnie with Candy. Candy with Bonnie.

And all through breakfast, one thing became abundantly clear: Candy would make a great temporary mom. If only he could convince her of that fact.

In the brief time he’d been there, he’d already seen dozens of positive signs. Sure, at first, she’d been tentative about the whole baby thing, but no doubt about it, she was softening. The squeezes, the kisses pressed to Bonnie’s forehead, the unconscious yet meticulous care taken with repositioning her hair bow. Could the morning’s plans be proceeding any more smoothly?

In fact, things were running so smoothly, that in the living room, Bonnie had even sacked out in the portable playpen Jake had brought in from the car. Nothing—and he meant nothing—was more irresistible than sleeping Bonnie. She was so cute that he wouldn’t be surprised to find Miss I-Don’t-Care-For-Babies sneaking in there for a few quick rump pats!

“That was good,” Candy said, pushing her empty plate aside to make room for a cup of coffee. “At first, I have to admit to having doubts about your creation, but now I bow to your omelet prowess.”

“Thanks. I perfected these babies on the last company camp-a-thon.”

“Camp-a-thon?”

“Yeah. Me and the other board members get people to sponsor us to camp on the roof of Galaxy Sports headquarters. It’s grown into a pretty big deal—customers drive by, honking at us and dropping off cash donations. This year, we raised a bundle for Special Olympics.”

Grinning, Candy said, “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you don’t host simple, black-tie, fund-raising dinners like other business tycoons?”

“What’s the fun in that? I mean, come on, how many CEOs do you know who get to spend a whole week sleeping under the stars and playing rooftop volleyball all in the name of charity?”

“You’ve got a point there.”

Inside, Jake couldn’t help but preen. Candy’s improved mood could only mean one thing. Not only had he seduced her with his cooking, but she’d seen what a love bug Bonnie was and didn’t even need the rest of the week to decide to remarry him. A fact that put him in the mood to party. “Say, Candy Cane, if you don’t have anything going on today, how about we head down to the lake for a sail?”

She choked on her latest sip of coffee.

Good sign or bad? Man, oh, man, what had gotten into him to have accidentally called her “Candy Cane”?

“That sounds nice,” she said, “but I have to pack. And this afternoon, I should head over to the shop. I want to make sure there’s a surplus of everything when the new owners take charge. They’re friends. Greg and Betsy Hammond. Remember them from high school? They were a grade ahead of us.”

“Sure. How are they?”

“Good. Betsy just had their fourth boy. I think she was hoping for a girl this time, but…” Fidgeting with her hands, she said, “Anyway, they’re about the only ones happy with my decision to sell. Kelly’s finally cutting me some slack, but when I first told her, she read me the riot act.”

“So why are you doing it? I mean, why take such a drastic step as to outright sell? Why not leave it in the hands of your most trusted employees? Surely someone could run the place while you take time off?”

Head bowed, Candy said, “It’s not that simple. I need the money to travel, and I’m afraid what I’m looking for can’t be found in a few days. Something’s missing inside me, Jake.” Palms pressed to her chest, she said, “I feel lonely in crowds, like there’s a piece of me out there that I haven’t been able to find. I have to take this trip. I’m sorry if my selling Candy Kisses hurts people’s feelings. It’s hurting me, too. That business is my only family aside from you—or, I mean, at least you used to be my family. Now…” She flopped her hands on her lap. “I don’t know, I just feel restless.”

At first, Jake thought every word his ex muttered about needing to find herself had been hogwash, but now, seeing the sadness in Candy’s eyes, made the part of him that would always care about her wonder if maybe she was on the right track. Because, shoot, who was he to say running off on some great adventure wouldn’t be the key to unlocking whatever tormented her soul?

Problem was, if Candy took off to find her soul, that left him losing his. For if the state took Bonnie, Jake knew he’d be done for. Oh, no matter how bad it hurt, he’d abide by the law and give her up, but doing so might very well kill him.

Toying with his coffee cup, Jake said, “I don’t mean to pressure you, Candy, but I can’t begin to explain how much Bonnie means to me. I can’t—”

“No, Jake. Don’t do this. Please don’t play the guilt card. It isn’t fair.” Candy pushed back her chair, reached for their plates, and stormed to the sink.

Jake followed suit.

At the sink, he spun her around to face him. “Mind telling me what is fair? You can go on this trip of yours anytime. I’m not asking you to cancel flat-out, just to postpone. If you want to be stupid enough to throw away a business that has the potential to one day become a family legacy like Hershey or Godiva, be my guest. All I’m asking for is a year—maybe even less—of your time.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.