Brides and Grooms Box Set: Marriage Wanted\Bride Wanted\Groom Wanted (21 page)

“Your timing couldn’t be better,” he said, taking the sausage, cabbage and cheese casserole out of the oven and setting it on the counter. The scent of spicy meat filled the kitchen.

“That smells delicious,” Savannah said, and Nash beamed proudly. He’d discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that he enjoyed cooking. Over the years he’d learned a culinary trick or two, creating a small repertoire of dinners. Nothing, however, that required an actual recipe. Now he found himself reading cookbooks on a regular basis.

“I’ve got the table set if you’re ready to eat,” he told her.

“You must’ve known I was starving.”

“Did you skip lunch again today?” he asked, using oven mitts to carry the glass casserole dish to the table. Once again he had to stop himself from chastising her. Their peace was too fragile to test. “Sit down and I’ll bring you a plate.”

It looked as if Savannah was in danger of falling asleep as he joined her at the table.

“Nash,” she said after the first taste, “this is wonderful!”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“Keep this up and you can do all the cooking,” she teased, smiling over at him.

Nash set his fork aside and folded his hands. He couldn’t keep silent any longer. “You’re working too hard.”

She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I know. I scheduled the majority of these weddings soon after our own.
I…I thought it would be a good idea if I spent as much time at the shop as possible.”

In other words, less time with him. “I hope you’ve changed your mind.”

“I have.” Her hand closed around her water glass. “I assumed our…arrangement would be awkward, but it hasn’t been, not since the beginning.”

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.” It frustrated him, living as they did, like polite strangers, but that, too, had changed in the past couple of weeks. Their relationship had become that of good friends. Their progress was slow but steady, which gave Nash hope that eventually Savannah would be comfortable enough with him to make love. He realized his attitude was shortsighted. Breaching that barrier had been a challenge from the first, but he hadn’t thought beyond it. He didn’t want to think about it now.

When they finished eating, Savannah carried their plates to the sink. They had an agreement about cleanup, one of many. When one of them did the cooking, the other washed the dishes.

“Sit down,” Nash ordered, “before you collapse.”

“This will only take a couple of minutes,” she insisted, opening the dishwasher.

Nash took her by the hands and led her into the living room. Pushing her down on the sofa, he said, “I want you to relax.”

“If I do that, I’ll fall asleep, and I need to go back to the shop later to finish up a few things.”

“Don’t even think about it, Savannah.” Those were fighting words, but he counted on her being too tired to argue with him. “You’re exhausted. I’m your husband,
and I may not be a very good one, but I refuse to allow you to work yourself this hard.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa cushion. She gave him a small smile. “You are a good husband, Nash. Thoughtful and considerate.”

“Right.” He hoped she wasn’t expecting an argument. As it was, he should be awarded some kind of medal.

He reached for her legs and placed them on his lap. “Just relax,” he urged again when she opened her eyes, silently questioning him. He removed her shoes and massaged her tired feet. She sighed with pleasure and wiggled her toes.

“I haven’t been to my place in a week,” she said, and Nash found that an odd comment until he thought about it. She was admitting how comfortable she’d gotten living with him. It was a sign, a small one, that she was willing to advance their relationship. Nash didn’t intend to waste it.

“I’ve moved nearly all my clothes here,” she continued in sleepy tones.

“That’s very good, don’t you think?” he asked, not expecting her to reply.

“Hmm.”

He continued to rub her feet and ankles, marveling at the delicate bone structure. He let his hands venture upward over her calves. She sighed and nestled farther down in the sofa. Gaining confidence, Nash risked going higher, where her skin was silky warm and smooth. He wasn’t sure how this was affecting Savannah, but it was having a strong effect on him. His breathing went shallow and his heart started to thunder in his ears. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t ask her to make love again. She’d have to come to him. He
wanted her to beg—but if anyone was going to do any begging, it was him.

“It’s very relaxing,” Savannah murmured with a sigh.

Funny, it wasn’t relaxing for him….

“Nash.” His name was released on a harshly indrawn breath.

His hands froze. His heart went still and his breath caught. “Yes?” He struggled to sound expressionless, although that was nearly impossible. The less she recognized how critical his need was for her, the better.

“I think I should stop, don’t you?” Where he dredged up the strength to suggest that was beyond him.

“It feels good.”

“That’s the problem. It feels
so
good.”

“For you, too?”

Sometimes he forgot what an innocent she was. “For me, too.”

Her head was propped against the back of the sofa, her eyes closed. Her mouth was slightly parted and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Nash groaned inwardly and forced himself to look away.

“Maybe we should kiss,” she whispered.

Nash wasn’t interested in a repeat performance of what had taken place earlier, but at the same time he wasn’t about to turn down her offer. She wasn’t begging, but this was close enough.

He shifted his weight and brought her into his arms.

Perspiration broke out on his forehead and he held his breath while he reined in his desire. “If we start kissing, we might not be able to stop.”

“I know.”

“You know that?” Something was wrong with him.
He should be carrying her into the bedroom and not asking questions until afterward. A long time afterward.

“We can follow through with our agreement, can’t we?” she asked. Her eyes fluttered open.

“What agreement?” His mind could only hold one thing at the moment, and that was his painful physical need for her.

“We’ll separate once my parents decide to travel,” she said, and it sounded more like a reassurance. “In the meantime, I’m not going to be trapped in a loveless marriage. As per the contract, we can initiate divorce proceedings when the year’s up.”

“Fine,” he said, willing to agree to any terms. “Whatever you want.”

“Do you think it would be a mistake to make love?” she asked.

“No.” He sounded as if he’d choked on something. “That seems like a good idea to me,” he said a couple of seconds later. He got off the sofa, reached down and scooped her into his arms.

She gave a small cry of surprise when he lifted her up and marched down the darkened hallway. He walked into his bedroom and placed her on his bed.

He was afraid of going too fast—and of not going fast enough. Afraid of not lasting long enough, of cheating her out of what lovemaking should be for her first time. His fears managed to make him feel indecisive.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, staring up at him, her eyes wide and questioning.

Unable to answer, he shook his head.

She smiled then, softly, femininely, and stretched her arms up, bringing him down next to her. He noticed that her breathing was as quick and shallow as his own.
Carefully he peeled open the front of her shirt and eased it from her shoulders. Her bra and everything else soon followed….

* * *

They fell asleep afterward, their arms and legs intertwined, their bodies joined in the most elemental of ways. Nash had never known such peace, never experienced such serenity, and it lulled him into a deep sleep.

It was after midnight when he woke. The lights were still on in the living room and the kitchen. Carefully, so as not to wake Savannah, he crawled out of the bed and reached for his robe. Shuffling barefoot out of the bedroom, he yawned.

He felt good. Like he could run a marathon or swim a mile in world-record time. He finished the dinner dishes and was turning off the kitchen light when he looked up and saw Savannah standing inside the living room. Her hair was tousled, yet he’d never seen her look more beautiful. She’d donned her blouse, which covered precious little of her body.

“I woke up and you were gone,” she said in a small voice.

“I was coming back to bed.”

“Good.” She led him back, not that he required any coaxing. The room was dark, but streaks of moonlight floated against the wall as they made their way to the bed.

Nash held back the covers and Savannah climbed in. He followed, gathering her in his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder.

He waited for her to speak, wondering what she was thinking, afraid to ask. With utter contentment he kissed
her hair. She squirmed against him, nestling in as close as possible, and breathed out a long, womanly sigh.

Although he was an experienced lover, Nash had never heard a woman sigh the way Savannah did just then. It seemed to come from deep inside her, speaking of pleasure and the surprise of mutual satisfaction.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No,” she said. “Thank you.” And then she snuggled up to him again, as if she needed this closeness as much as he did. As if she craved these peaceful moments, too.

He waited a few more minutes, wanting to be sure she hadn’t drifted off to sleep. “We should talk.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I thought about that, too.”

“And?”

“I planned on discussing things with you, reassessing the issues, that sort of thing.”

“Why didn’t you?” He couldn’t help being curious.

He felt her lips move in a smile. “When the time came, all I wanted was you.”

His chest rose with an abundance of fierce male pride. “I wanted you, too.”

Serenity surrounded him and he sank into its warmth.

“Should we talk now?” Savannah asked after a while.

The last thing Nash wanted right this minute was a lengthy conversation about their marriage. Words would destroy the tranquillity, and these moments were too precious to waste.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, if you don’t want it to,” he murmured, rubbing his chin over her head, loving the silky feel of her hair.

Savannah went still, and he wondered if he’d said something wrong. “You’re content with our arrangement the way it is?” she asked.

“For now I am. We don’t have to make any decisions tonight, do we?”

“No,” she agreed readily.

“Then relax and go back to sleep.” His eyes drifted shut as he savored this closeness.

“Nash.”

“Hmm?”

“It was nothing like I expected,” she told him.

“Better, I hope.”

“Oh, yes.” And then she kissed him.

* * *

Don and Janice Griffin’s meeting before Judge Wilcox was scheduled for two in the afternoon. Nash was well prepared for this final stage of the divorce proceedings.

Don Griffin arrived at his office an hour early and—in what was fast becoming a habit—started pacing the room.

“I’m ready anytime you are,” his client said.

“If we leave now, we’ll end up sitting outside in the hallway,” Nash told him.

“I don’t care. I want this over with as quickly and cleanly as possible, understand?”

“That message came through loud and clear,” Nash assured him. “Settle down and relax, will you?”

Don thrust both hands into his hair. “
Relax?
Are you crazy, man? You might’ve gone through this a thousand times, but it’s almost thirty years of my life we’re throwing out the window. The stress is getting to me.”

“What’s this I hear about putting a divorce special on your restaurants’ menu?” Nash asked in an effort to take the older man’s mind off the coming proceedings.
“Anyone who comes into any of your restaurants the day his divorce is final eats for free.”

“That’s right, and I’d rather you didn’t say anything derogatory about it. I’ve met a number of men just like me. Some of ’em married twenty, thirty years and all of a sudden it’s gone. Poof. Suddenly they’re lost and alone and don’t know what to do with the rest of their lives.”

“I’m not going to say anything negative. I think it’s a generous thing you’re doing.”

Don Griffin eyed him as if he wasn’t sure he should believe that.

When they arrived at the courtroom, Mr. Griffin and Nash took their seats behind one table. Janice Griffin and Tony Pound sat behind the other. Nash noticed the way Don stole a look at his almost ex-wife. Next, he caught a glimpse of Janice looking at Don. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen countless times before. One last look, so to speak, before the ties were severed. A farewell. An acceptance that it was soon to be over—the end was within sight. This marriage was about to breathe its last breath.

Judge Wilcox entered the room and everyone stood. In a crisp, businesslike manner, he asked a series of questions of each party. Janice responded, her voice shaking. Don answered, sounding like a condemned man. They sat back down and the final decree was about to be pronounced when Nash vaulted out of his seat.

For a moment he didn’t know what had forced him into action. “If you’ll pardon me, Your Honor,” he said, with his back to his client, “I’d like to say a few words.”

He could hear Tony begin to object. Nash didn’t give him the opportunity.

“My client doesn’t want this divorce, and neither does his wife.”

A string of hot words erupted behind him as Tony Pound flew out of his chair. The judge’s gavel pounded several times, the noise deafening.

“Your Honor, if you’ll indulge me for just a moment.”

No one was more surprised than Nash when he was given permission. “Proceed.”

“My client has been married for almost thirty years. He made a mistake, Your Honor. Now, he’ll be the first to admit it was a foolish, stupid mistake. But he’s human and so is his wife. They’ve both paid dearly for this blunder and it seems to me they’ve paid enough.”

He turned to face Janice Griffin, who was shredding a tissue in her hand. “You’ve made mistakes in your life, too, haven’t you, Mrs. Griffin?”