Читать книгу 5 Minutes to Marriage - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8

“What’s he like?” Marisa’s aunt Rita asked. Rita had invited Marisa and Marisa’s current boyfriend, Patrick Moore, for dinner that evening. They were all seated around the dining table in Rita’s apartment.

Marisa picked up her glass of ice water, as if needing the cold against her skin as she talked about Jack Cortland. “Desperate,” she replied. “The little boys are a mess and from all appearances are the ones running things.”

“I still don’t like it,” Patrick exclaimed. “That man has a terrible reputation. I don’t like the idea of you living in that house with him.”

Marisa smiled at the handsome man across from her at the table. “Initially it’s just for a week. If I see behavior that makes me uncomfortable, then after that week I’ll be done.”

There were times she thought Patrick was too good to be true. Not only was he incredibly handsome and charming but he also had a good job as an accountant and seemed to have fallen head over heels in love with her.

They’d been dating only a couple of weeks, but Patrick had already made it clear that he believed she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Although Marisa liked him a great deal, she wasn’t about to fall into a hot, passionate affair with a man she’d been dating only a brief time. She’d done that once before in her life, and the results had been devastating.

She took a sip of her water and wondered why thoughts of a hot affair automatically brought a vision of Jack to her mind.

“I was a fan of Jack’s band for a while,” Patrick said. “Creation did some awesome songs, but once he married Candace Rothchild the band seemed to go straight downhill.”

“Such a shame about her,” Marisa said. She looked at her aunt. “You were working that murder case for a while, weren’t you?”

“Still am,” Rita replied. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many leads to follow.” Rita shook her head. “I can’t imagine having to bury a child, even a child who was thirty years old at the time of her murder.”

“It doesn’t seem to have slowed down her father. What’s he on now—his third or fourth wife?” Patrick asked.

“Third wife,” Rita replied. “This current one is a former showgirl considerably younger than him. Rumor has it that the thrill is gone and the marriage is in trouble.”

“I’m sorry that Harold lost a daughter, but I’m even sorrier that David and Mick lost their mother,” Marisa said.

Patrick smiled ruefully. “From all accounts, she wasn’t much of a mother.”

“I know, but I still feel bad for those little boys,” Marisa replied.

“Just don’t get too emotionally involved,” Rita said with a gentle smile.

Marisa laughed. “Aunt Rita, I’ve been a nanny for quite some time now. I know how to separate myself from my little charges. I never lose track of the fact that I’m only in their lives temporarily.”

Rita was the only person on the face of the earth who knew what had happened to Marisa in college. Eventually if she and Patrick decided to marry, she’d have to tell him before any vows were exchanged. But it was far too early in their relationship for deep, dark secrets to be exposed.

The rest of the dinner was pleasant, and when they were finished Patrick excused himself from the table and disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom while Marisa and Rita began to clear the table.

“I like him,” Rita said as she rinsed off one of the dinner plates. This was only the second time Patrick and Rita had shared any real quality time together. Rita had entertained them over dinner a week earlier.

“He is great, isn’t he?” Marisa handed her another plate. “He couldn’t wait to get to know you better. He knows how important you are to me.”

Although Marisa’s parents were lovely people, they’d never really understood their daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world rather than follow them into the very lucrative family real estate business.

Marisa had always been particularly close to her father’s sister, Rita. It had been Rita who Marisa had confided in when her world had fallen apart in college.

“How are you doing?” Marisa asked and gestured to the bandage on the side of Rita’s head. She and Jenna Rothchild had been kidnapped, and Rita had suffered a gunshot wound to the head. It had rendered her unconscious, and although she and Jenna had managed to get away neither of them had been able to identify the man responsible or why they had been kidnapped in the first place.

“I’m okay—a little headache now and then, but that’s all,” Rita replied. “You’re taking things slow with Patrick?”

“Absolutely. I want to marry once in my life. I’m not about to jump into anything too intense too fast.”

Rita smiled. “I think Patrick has other ideas. He seems quite smitten with you.”

At that moment he walked back into the kitchen and any further conversation with him as the topic halted.

After cleaning up the kitchen, the three of them moved into the living room where the conversation revolved around Las Vegas life, Patrick’s work and a new casino that had opened in town. Rita never discussed her work, but she was a charming hostess who kept the conversation flowing until Patrick and Marisa decided to call it a night.

It was just after nine when Patrick pulled up in front of the small house Marisa rented. “I like your aunt,” he said.

“She liked you, too,” Marisa replied.

“What’s not to like?” He flashed her a bright smile.

“I’d invite you in, but I really want to get a good night’s sleep before the morning,” she said as he parked the car.

“Am I going to see you at all over the next week?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Marisa admitted. “The first week in a new position is always pretty intense. But it’s just for a week, Patrick.” She opened the passenger door and got out.

Patrick got out of the car as well and fell into step next to her. He grabbed her hand in his as they walked to her front porch. “And what happens after the first week? What if you take the position for the next couple months? Does that mean I won’t be able to see you the whole time?”

She disentangled her hand from his to reach into her purse for her keys. “Not at all. If Jack Cortland and I agree that he needs my services for that long, then I always make sure I have most weekends off.”

She unlocked her door then turned back to face him. “Good night, Patrick.” She reached up and kissed him on his smooth cheek, but he quickly pulled her into his arms for a real kiss.

It was pleasant, but it didn’t curl her toes or weaken her knees. When the kiss ended he reluctantly released her. “Then I guess I’ll see you in a week or so?”

“I’ll call you and let you know how things are going,” she replied.

“You know I’ll be waiting for your calls,” he replied.

She watched as he walked back to his car. He was a man who could easily turn female heads. Tall and slim, with the dark features of his Hispanic heritage, he always dressed with an understated elegance and looked both handsome and successful.

Minutes later as she undressed in her bedroom she thought of that kiss and Patrick. Maybe one of the reasons she was attracted to Patrick was because there weren’t wild fireworks when they kissed, there wasn’t that sizzle that came from a simple touch and the breathlessness of a mere glance.

She’d experienced that crazy hot passion once in her life and never wanted it again. It had destroyed her life, and the thought of feeling that way again frightened her.

She pulled her red silk nightgown over her head, turned out the light and crawled into bed. Maybe real love was just that faint warmth that filled her when Patrick smiled at her or the quiet friendship they were building together.

She frowned as she thought of Jack Cortland. So what was it about him that had caused that sizzle inside her? Why did a man she had little respect for, given his past, fill her with a wild sense of anticipation at the very thought of seeing him again?

Jack worked until almost three in the morning cleaning the house. The boys had finally fallen asleep around eleven. He’d moved them into their bedroom, then had tackled the living room with a vengeance.

Toys went back into the boys’ room, dirty plates and cups carried back to the kitchen. He polished and washed and vacuumed until the room looked presentable. Then he went into the guest room that Marisa would call home and cleaned it as well.

It had needed to be done for the past couple months, but the days were so full with keeping the boys occupied and trying to oversee the work being done on the ranch. By the time the boys fell asleep at night Jack was comatose, and cleaning was the last thing on his mind.

He’d considered hiring more help but had put it off, hoping to get the boys better acclimated to him before bringing other people into their lives.

When he finally fell into bed he thought sleep would come quickly, but instead he found himself thinking of Marisa Perez.

He hadn’t expected her to be so sexy. Even though he’d known before he’d met her that she was twenty-seven years old, he’d expected a maternal type, someone who was overweight and not particularly attractive.

Marisa had been more than attractive. Her long, dark brown hair had sparkled with honey highlights and dark, sexy lashes fringed her large chocolate brown eyes. She had the bone structure of a model, but her body wasn’t model thin; rather, it was lush with curves in all the right places.

He’d eventually fallen asleep and dreamed of her…and in those dreams she’d been soft and yielding in his arms. Her kisses had stirred him like none had ever done.

He awoke at dawn and hurried into the shower, eager to get dressed and maybe choke down a cup of coffee before the boys awoke.

Betty wouldn’t arrive for another hour so he made the coffee, poured himself a cup and sat at the table, trying not to remember the dreams that had bordered on downright erotic.

He breathed in the peace and quiet of the morning and stared out the window where his herd of cattle grazed on whatever vegetation they could find in the hard, dry earth.

His father had raised cattle here, as had his father before him. Jack’s dad had wanted Jack to follow in his footsteps, to take over the ranch and continue producing quality cattle. He’d wanted Jack to live by the values they’d tried to teach him instead of the ones Jack had learned on his way to fame and fortune.

It would always grieve Jack that both his parents had died before he had returned here. Worse than that, he suspected that they had died brokenhearted by the bad choices their son had made in his life as a rock star.

He wouldn’t make the same mistakes now. He wanted his boys to grow up and be proud of him. He wanted to give them a solid foundation of love and good values. More than anything he wanted to be the man his parents had known that he could be.

By eight-thirty Jack looked forward to the arrival of Marisa. The boys had been fed their breakfast and were dressed in clean clothes.

The living room was still relatively clean, and the boys were playing quietly with their trucks in the middle of the floor.

Jack was grateful that he was going to get some parenting tips from Marisa, but he also recognized that his interest in her wasn’t solely that of a father needing help with his kids.

It had been a man’s interest that had kept him awake the night before, and it had been a shocking desire for her that had filled his dreams, reminding him that he’d been alone for a very long time.

At exactly nine o’clock his doorbell rang and he hurried to greet her, surprised that his heart was pumping harder than it had in months.

He opened the door, and she offered him a bright smile that made him believe that this was going to be a very fine day. “Good morning, come on in.”

As she walked past him into the living room he caught her scent, a floral spice that seemed to shoot right to his brain. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said. “You’ve cleaned.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten until I saw them through your eyes. Here, let me take that.” He gestured to the suitcase she held in her hand. “I’ll just take it to your room.”

“Thanks,” she replied.

He took the case and hurried down the hall. When he returned she was in the middle of the floor with David and Mick. The boys were showing her the trucks that were their favorite toys.

“So how does this work?” he asked. “You just teach them what they need to do?”

She smiled and rose from the floor with a sinuous grace. “It’s not quite that easy, Jack. What I’d like to do this morning is just kind of sit back and observe what would be a normal morning for you and the boys. Then at lunch we’ll sit down with a game plan.”

“Oh, okay.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stared down at his sons, then back at her. “All of a sudden I’m feeling very self-conscious,” he admitted.

At that moment Mick hit David with one of the trucks, and within seconds both boys were crying and Jack was yelling. He grabbed Mick up into his arms. “You don’t hit, Mick. That’s not nice.”

“Bad Jack,” Mick cried and wiggled to get out of his arms.

“Bad Jack,” David yelled, obviously forgetting that it was his brother, not his father, who had hit him in the head.

“Both of you go to your room,” Jack exclaimed as he set Mick back on his feet. “Go on. You’re both in trouble.”

As the boys went running down the hallway, Jack slicked a hand through his hair in frustration then looked at Marisa. “I handled that badly, right?”

“We’ll talk at lunch,” she said, her beautiful features giving nothing away of her emotions.

The morning passed excruciatingly slow for Jack. The boys seemed to be on their worst behavior, and he was overly conscious of Marisa watching his every move.

Then, right before lunchtime, while he was in the bathroom with Mick, David climbed through the window in his bedroom and snuck out of the house. As soon as he realized what had happened, Jack raced down the front porch to grab David. Marisa and Mick stood in the doorway and watched him.

Jack was exhausted and his patience was wearing thin. He hadn’t hired the lovely nanny to stand around and observe. She was supposed to be fixing things, not watching from the sidelines.

When Betty announced that lunch was ready, Jack had never been so happy for a meal. He set the boys in their booster seats at the dining-room table then gestured Marisa into the chair opposite his as he introduced her to the cook.

“About time you did something,” she said to Jack, then glared at Marisa. “I don’t babysit, and I don’t clean. I don’t leave this kitchen except to serve the breakfast and lunch meals. I don’t serve dinner. I just cook. That’s all I do.”

“That’s good to know,” Marisa replied with a friendly smile. Betty harrumphed and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“I pay her for her cooking skills, not her sparkling personality,” Jack said with a dry chuckle.

Marisa laughed, and the sound of her laughter filled a space in him that had been silent for a very long time.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared any laughter with anyone. For the past couple months everything had been so tense; the stakes had been so incredibly high.

“One of the first things we need to address is David’s ability to escape out any door and window,” she said. David smiled at her, his mouth smeared with mustard from his ham sandwich. “You need to purchase childproof locks for every door,” she continued.

“I agree. It’s only been in the past week or so that he’s developed this new skill,” Jack replied.

The afternoon sun drifting through the window played on those golden highlights in her hair, making it look incredibly soft and touchable. Her lipstick had worn off by midmorning, but she had naturally plump, rosy lips that he found incredibly sexy.

“What’s bedtime like?” she asked.

“Bedtime?” Memories of the visions he’d had of her the night before in his sleep exploded in his head, and he felt a warm wave seep through his veins.

“Do the boys have a regular bedtime?”

He shoved the visions away. “It’s regular in that their bedtime is whenever they fall asleep.”

“And they fall asleep in their beds?”

“They sleep wherever they happen to fall,” he replied.

“They’re bright, beautiful boys,” she said.

Her words swelled a ball of pride in his chest. “Thanks. I just want them to be good boys as well.”

“Good boys,” David quipped and nodded his head with an angelic smile, then threw a potato chip in Jack’s direction.

After lunch the boys played for a little while, then both of them fell asleep on the floor. Jack carried each of them into their room, put them in bed for their afternoon nap and then returned to where Marisa sat on the sofa.

He sat on the opposite end from her, close enough that he could smell the enticing scent of her perfume. “They should sleep for about an hour,” he said.

“What’s in the barn?”

He blinked at the question that seemed to come out of nowhere. “What?”

“Both times David got out of the house he was heading for the barn. What’s inside?”

“A small recording studio, memorabilia from my old band, my drum set.” He shrugged. “My past.”

“You miss it?” she asked.

He considered the question before immediately replying. “Some of it,” he admitted. “I miss making music, but I don’t miss everything that came with it. Why do you ask?”

Her dark eyes considered him thoughtfully. “I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul, that the number one priority in your life is your boys. I don’t want to spend a month or two of my time helping you here only to have you decide fatherhood is too boring and you’d rather be out on the road making music.”

There was a touch of censure in her voice that stirred a hint of irritation inside him. “Nothing in my life means more to me than David and Mick. When Candace and I divorced I rarely got to see the boys. Usually the only time I saw them or heard about them was if they were mentioned in an article in a tabloid.” He exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry Candace is dead, but I’m glad the boys are with me now—and I intend to do right by them not just for a month or two but for the rest of their lives.”

Warmth leaped into her eyes, and that warmth shot straight into the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him so intensely. He wanted to reach out and tangle his hands in her long hair. He wanted to press his lips against hers and taste her.

“It’s not going to be easy to turn things around here,” she warned.

He smiled. “Over the past couple of years I’ve fought some pretty strong personal demons. Two little boys aren’t going to get the best of me.”

“‘Bad Jack.’ Where did they learn that?”

Jack’s smile fell and he frowned instead. “I suppose from Candace. They refuse to call me anything but that.”

She leaned back against the cushion. “I hate to tell you this, Jack, but what we need to work on most is your behavior. Those boys are crying out for positive attention and boundaries.”

“I’m game,” he replied.

“Good.” She stood. “I’m going to go unload some things from my car.”

He jumped up. “Need help?”

“No, I can handle it.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “Besides, you’d better save your strength. You’re going to need it.”

He followed her to the front door and watched as she went down the stairs, her hips swaying invitingly beneath the navy slacks she wore.

The background check he’d done on her had told him a lot of things about her, but it hadn’t told him what he wanted to know at this moment.

Did she have a boyfriend? Was she in some kind of a committed relationship? Would he be a total fool to get involved with the woman he’d hired as a nanny?

He scoffed at his own thoughts. He’d be a real fool to think that a woman like Marisa would have any interest in a man like him. He was nothing but a washed-up rocker who she’d already seen as useless and ineffectual.

She was bright and beautiful and he could want her, but it was a desire he didn’t intend to follow through on. She was here for his boys and that was enough for him…it had to be enough.