Читать книгу The Perfect Match: First Comes Marriage / Yours and Mine - Debbie Macomber - Страница 9

“All right,” Janine said, bracing herself. “What’s he offering you? Huge bonuses?”

“No,” Zach said quickly.

“Cash? I want to know exactly how much.”

“He didn’t offer me money.”

Janine frowned. “What then?”

“I think we should meet and talk about it.”

If her grandfather had openly approached Zach with the arranged-marriage idea, Janine knew darn well that Gramps would’ve made it worth Zach’s while. Despite his claims to the contrary, it wouldn’t have surprised Janine to discover that the newly appointed chairman of the board of Hartman-Thomas Business Supply had taken the bait.

“You want us to meet?” she repeated in a faltering voice.

“There’s a restaurant on University Way—Italian 642. Have you heard of it?”

“No, but I’ll find it.”

“Meet me there at seven.” Zach paused, then added, “And listen, it might not be a good idea to tell your grandfather that we’re getting together. He might misunderstand.”

“I won’t say anything,” she promised.

Zach hesitated once more. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Janine’s heartbeat accelerated, and she felt the perspiration break out on her forehead. “Zach,” she began, “you haven’t changed your mind, have you? I mean, you’re not actually considering this ridiculous idea of his? You can’t…We agreed, remember?” She swiped at her forehead with the back of her free hand as she waited for him to answer.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he finally said.

Replacing the receiver, Janine had the sudden horrible sensation of being completely at her grandfather’s mercy. He was an unshakably stubborn man who almost always got what he wanted. Faced with a mountain, Anton Hartman either climbed it, tunneled through it or forged a path around it; failing such active alternatives, he settled down in the foothills and waited for the mountain to dissolve. He claimed he won a majority of his battles by simply displaying patience. Janine called it not knowing when to pack up and go home.

She knew her grandfather’s methods, but then so did Zach. She hoped Anton’s candidate for her husband would at least be able to withstand a few bribes, however tempting. Apparently he did, because he’d told her she had nothing to worry about. On the other hand, he sounded downright eager to discuss the subject with her.

“He says he never wants to get married,” she muttered aloud in an effort to reassure herself. Indeed, Zachary Thomas was the last man who’d be humming “The Wedding March”—especially when someone else was directing the band.

Janine was waiting in the library, coat draped over her arm, when her grandfather got home at six-thirty. He kissed her dutifully on the cheek and reached for the evening paper, scanning the headlines as he settled into his big leather chair.

“Zach called,” she said without thinking. She hadn’t intended to mention that to Gramps.

Anton nodded. “I thought he might. You meeting him for dinner?”

“Dinner? Zach and me?” she squeaked. “No, of course not! Why would you even think I’d agree to a dinner date with…him?” Darn, she’d nearly forgotten her promise to keep their meeting a secret. She detested lying to her grandfather, but there was no help for it.

“But you are dining out?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t very well deny that, dressed as she was and carrying her coat.

“Then you’re seeing Peter Donahue again?”

“No. Not exactly,” Janine said uncomfortably, “I’m meeting a…friend.”

“I see.” The corners of Gramps’s mouth quirked into a knowing smile.

Janine could feel the telltale heat saturating her face. She was a terrible liar and always had been. Gramps knew as surely as if she’d spelled it out that she was meeting Zach. And when she told Zach she’d let it slip, he’d be furious with her, and rightly so.

“What did Zach want?”

“What makes you think he wanted anything?” Janine asked fervently. Her heart was thundering as she edged toward the door. The sooner she escaped, the better.

“You just said Zach phoned.”

“Oh. Yes, he did, earlier, but it wasn’t important. Something about…something.” Brilliant! She rushed out of the house before Gramps could question her further. What a fool she was. She’d blurted out the very thing she’d wanted to keep secret.

By the time Janine located the Italian restaurant in the University district and found a parking place, she was ten minutes late.

Zach was sitting in a booth in the farthest corner of the room. He frowned when he saw her and glanced at his watch, just so she’d know she’d kept him waiting.

Ignoring his disgruntled look, Janine slid onto the polished wooden bench, removed her coat and casually announced, “Gramps knows.”

Zach’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“He knows I’m having dinner with you,” she explained. “The minute he walked in the door, I told him you’d called—I just wasn’t thinking—and when he asked why, I told him it had to do with something. I’m sure you’ll be able to make up an excuse when he asks you later.”

“I thought we agreed not to say anything about our meeting.”

“I know,” she said, feeling guiltier than ever. “But Gramps asked if I was going out with Peter and he just looked so smug when I told him I wasn’t.” At Zach’s sudden movement, she burst out, “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

He grunted, which wasn’t much of an answer.

“If I wasn’t going out with Peter, I’d have to come up with another man on the spot, and although I’m clever, I don’t think that fast.” She was breathless with frustration when she’d finished.

“Who’s Peter?”

“This guy I’ve been seeing off and on for the past few months.”

“And you’re in love with him?”

“No, I’m not.” Doubtless Zach would suggest she simply marry Peter and put an end to all of this annoyance.

Zach reached abruptly for the menu. “Let’s order, and while we’re eating we can go over what we need to discuss.”

“All right,” Janine said, grateful to leave the topic of her blunder. Besides, seven was later than she normally dined, and she was famished.

The waitress appeared then, and even as she filled Janine’s water glass, her appreciative gaze never strayed from Zach. Once more Janine was struck by the knowledge that although he wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, he seemed to generate a good deal of female interest.

“I’ll have the clam spaghetti,” Janine said loudly, eyeing the attractive waitress, who seemed to be forgetting why she was there. The woman was obviously far more interested in studying Zach than in taking their order.

“I’ll have the same,” Zach said, smiling briefly at the waitress as he handed her his menu. “Now, what were you saying?” he asked, returning his attention to Janine.

“As I recall, you were the one who insisted we meet. Just tell me what my grandfather said and be done with it.” No doubt the offer had been generous; otherwise Zach wouldn’t have suggested this dinner.

Zach’s hand closed around the water glass. “Anton called me into his office to ask me a series of leading questions.”

“Such as?”

Zach shrugged. “What I thought of you and—”

“How’d you answer him?”

Zach took a deep breath. “I said I found you attractive, energetic, witty, a bit eccentric—”

“A bandanna dress and a string of Christmas-tree lights doesn’t make me eccentric,” Janine said, her voice rising despite herself.

“If the Christmas-tree lights are draped around your neck it does.”

They were attracting attention, and after a few curious stares, Zach leaned closer and said, “If you’re going to argue with everything I say, we’ll be here all night.”

“I’m sure our waitress would enjoy that,” Janine snapped, then immediately regretted it. She sounded downright jealous—which, of course, was ridiculous.

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

“Shall we return to the conversation between your grandfather and me?”

“Please,” she said, properly chastised.

“Anton spent quite a long time telling me about your volunteer work at the Friendship Club and your various other community activities.”

“And I’ll bet his report was so glowing, I rank right up there with Joan of Arc and Florence Nightingale.”

Zach grinned. “Something like that, but then he added that although you were constantly busy, he felt your life lacked contentment and purpose.”

Janine could see it coming, as clearly as if she were standing on a track and a freight train was heading toward her. “Let me guess. He probably said I needed something meaningful in my life—like a husband and children.”

“Exactly.” Zach nodded, his grin barely restrained. “In his opinion, marriage is the only thing that will fulfill you as woman.”

Janine groaned and sagged against the back of her seat. It was worse than she thought. And to her chagrin, Zach actually seemed amused.

“You wouldn’t look so smug if he said marriage was the only thing that would fulfill you as a man,” she muttered. “Honestly, Zach, do I look like I’m wasting away from lack of purpose?” She gestured dramatically with her hands. “I’m happy, I’m busy…in fact I’m completely delighted with my life.” It wasn’t until she’d finished that she realized she was clenching her teeth.

“Don’t take it so personally.”

Janine rolled her eyes, wondering what his reaction would be if he was on the receiving end of this discussion.

“In case you didn’t know it, Anton’s a terrible chauvinist,” he remarked, still smiling. “An old-fashioned word, perhaps, for an old-fashioned man.”

“That’s true, but he is my grandfather,” she said. “And he’s so charming, it’s easy to forgive him.”

Zach picked up his wineglass and gazed at it thoughtfully. “What I can’t figure out is why he’s so keen on marrying you off now. Why not last year? Or next year?”

“Heavens, I don’t know. I suppose he thinks it’s time. My biological clock’s ticking away and the noise is probably keeping him awake at night. By age twenty-four, most of the women from the old country had four or five children.”

“He certainly seems intent on the idea of seeing you married soon.”

“Tell me about it!” Janine cried. “I’d bet cold cash that when he brought up the subject he said you were the only suitable man he’d found for me.”

“Anton also said you have a generous heart, and that he feared some fast-talker would show up one day and you’d fall for him.”

“Really?” she asked weakly. Her heart stopped, then jolted to life again. Anton’s scenario sounded exactly like her disastrous romance with Brian. She sighed deeply. “So then he told you he wants me to marry someone he respects, someone he loves like a son. A man of discretion and wisdom and honor. A man he trusts enough to merge companies with.”

Zach arched his brows. “You know your grandfather well.”

“I can just imagine what came next,” Janine added scathingly and her stomach tensed at her grandfather’s insidious cleverness. Zach wasn’t someone who could be bought, at least not with offers of money or prestige. Instead, Gramps had used a far more subtle form of inducement. He’d addressed Zach’s pride, complimented his achievements, flattered him. To hear Gramps tell it, Zachary Thomas was the only man alive capable of taking on the task of becoming Janine’s husband.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, her voice low.

“I told him no way.”

Janine blinked back surprise mingled with a fair amount of indignation. “Just like that? Couldn’t you at least have mulled it over?” Zach was staring at her as though he thought someone should rush over and take her temperature. “Forget I said that,” she mumbled, fussing with her napkin in order to avoid meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t want to encourage him.”

“That was wise.” Janine picked up her water glass and downed half the contents.

“To your grandfather’s credit, he seemed to accept my answer.”

“Don’t count on it,” Janine warned.

“Don’t worry, I know him, too. He isn’t going to give up easily. That’s the reason I suggested you and I meet to talk about this. If we keep in touch, we can anticipate Anton’s strategy.”

“Good idea.”

Their salads arrived and Janine frowned when the waitress tossed Zach another suggestive glance. “So,” she began in a conversational tone once the woman had left, “Gramps was smart enough not to offer you a large incentive if you went along with his scheme.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She stabbed viciously at her salad. “I hadn’t expected him to stoop that low. Exactly what tactics did he use?”

“He said something about family members having use of the limousine.”

Janine’s fork made a clanging sound as it hit the side of her salad bowl. “He offered you the limousine if you married me? That’s all?”

“Not even that,” Zach explained, not bothering to disguise his amusement, “only the use of it.”

“Why…why, that’s insulting.” She crammed some salad into her mouth and chewed the crisp lettuce as though it were leather.

“I considered it a step above the cow and ten chickens you suggested the first time we discussed this.”

“Where he came from, a cow and ten chickens were worth a lot more than you seem to realize,” Janine exclaimed, and immediately regretted raising her voice, because half the patrons in the restaurant turned to stare. She smiled blandly at those around her, then slouched forward over her salad.

She reached for a bread stick, broke it in half and glared at it. “The use of the limo,” she repeated, indignant.

“Don’t look so upset.” He grinned. “I might have accepted.”

Zach was deriving far too much pleasure from this to suit her. “Your attitude isn’t helping any,” she said, frowning righteously.

“I apologize.”

But he didn’t act the least bit apologetic. When she’d first met Zach, Janine had assumed he was a man who rarely smiled, yet in the short time they’d spent together today, he’d practically been laughing outright.

The waitress brought their entrées, but when Janine took her first bite, she realized that even the pretense of eating was more than she could manage. She felt too wretched. Tears sprang to her eyes, which embarrassed her even more, although she struggled to hide them.

“What’s wrong?” Zach surprised her by asking.

Eyes averted, Janine shook her head, while she attempted to swallow. “Gramps believes I’m a poor judge of character,” she finally said. And she was. Brian had proved it to her, but Gramps didn’t know about Brian. “I feel like a failure.”

“He didn’t mean any of it,” Zach said gently.

“But couldn’t he have come up with something a little more flattering?”

“He needed an excuse to marry you off, otherwise his suggestion would have sounded crazy.” Zach hesitated. “You know, the more we discuss this, the more ludicrous the whole thing seems.” He chuckled softly and leaned forward to set his elbows on the table. “Who would’ve believed he’d come up with the idea of the two of us marrying?”

“Thank you very much,” Janine muttered. He sat there shredding her ego and apparently found the process just short of hilarious.

“Don’t let it get to you. You’re not interested in me as a husband, anyway.”

“You’re right about that—you’re the last person I’d ever consider marrying,” she lashed out, then regretted her reaction when she saw his face tighten.

“That’s what I thought.” He attacked his spaghetti as though the clams were scampering around his plate.

The tension between them mounted. When the waitress arrived to remove their plates, Janine had barely touched her meal. Zach hadn’t eaten much, either.

After paying for their dinner, Zach walked her to her car, offering no further comment. As far as Janine was concerned, their meeting hadn’t been at all productive. She felt certain that Zach was everything Gramps claimed—incisive, intelligent, intuitive. But that was at the office. As a potential husband and wife, they were completely ill-suited.

“Do you still want me to keep in touch?” she asked when she’d unlocked her car door. They stood awkwardly together in the street, and Janine realized they hardly knew what to say to each other.

“I suppose we should, since neither of us is interested in falling in with this plan of his,” Zach said. “We need to set our differences aside and work together, otherwise we might unknowingly play into his hands.”

“I won’t be swayed and you won’t, either.” Janine found the thought oddly disappointing.

“If and when I do marry,” Zach informed her, “which I sincerely doubt, I’ll choose my own bride.”

It went without saying that Janine was nothing like the woman he’d want to spend his life with.

“If and when I marry, I’ll choose my own husband,” she said, sounding equally firm. And it certainly wouldn’t be a man her grandfather had chosen.

“I don’t know if I like boys or not,” thirteen-year-old Pam Hudson admitted over a cheeseburger and French fries. “They can be so dumb.”

It’d been a week since Janine’s dinner with Zach, and she was surprised that the teenager’s assessment of the opposite sex should so closely match her own.

“I’m not even sure I like Charlie anymore,” Pam said as she stirred her catsup with a French fry. Idly she smeared it around the edges of her plate in a haphazard pattern. “I used to be so crazy about him, remember?”

Janine smiled indulgently. “Every other word was Charlie this and Charlie that.”

“He can be okay, though. Remember when he brought me that long-stemmed rose and left it on my porch?”

“I remember.” Janine’s mind flashed to the afternoon she’d met Zach. As they left the restaurant, he’d smiled at her. It wasn’t much as smiles went, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to forget how he’d held her gaze, his dark eyes gentle, as he murmured polite nonsense. Funny how little things about this man tended to pop up in her mind at the strangest moments.

“But last week,” Pam continued, “Charlie was playing basketball with the guys, and when I walked by, he pretended he didn’t even know me.”

“That hurt, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” Pam confessed. “And after I bought a T-shirt for him, too.”

“Does he wear it?”

A gratified smile lit the girl’s eyes. “All the time.”

“By the way, I like how you’re doing your hair.”

Pam beamed. “I want it to look more like yours.”

Actually, the style suited Pam far better than it did her, Janine thought. The sides were cut close to the head, but the long bangs flopped with a life of their own—at least on Janine they did. Lately she’d taken to pinning them back.

“How are things at home?” Janine asked, watching the girl carefully. Pam’s father, Jerry Hudson, was divorced and had custody of his daughter. Pam’s mother worked on the East Coast. With no family in the area, Jerry felt that his daughter needed a woman’s influence. He’d contacted the Friendship Club about the same time Janine had applied to be a volunteer. Since Jerry worked odd hours as a short-order cook, she’d met him only once. He seemed a decent sort, working hard to make a good life for himself and his daughter.

Pam was a marvelous kid, Janine mused, and she possessed exceptional creative talent. Even before her father could afford to buy her a sewing machine, Pam had been designing and making clothes for her Barbie dolls. Janine’s bandanna dress was one of the first projects she’d completed on her new machine. Pam had made several others since; they were popular with her friends, and she was ecstatic about the success of her ideas.

“I think I might forgive Charlie,” she went on to say, her look contemplative. “I mean, he was with the guys and everything.”

“It’s not cool to let his friends know he’s got a girlfriend, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess….”

Janine wasn’t feeling nearly as forgiving toward Zach. He’d talked about their keeping in touch, but hadn’t called her since. She didn’t believe for an instant that Gramps had given up on his marriage campaign, but he’d apparently decided to let the matter rest. The pressure was off, yet Janine kept expecting some word from Zach. The least he could do was call, she grumbled to herself, although she made no attempt to analyze the reasons for her disappointment.

“Maybe Charlie isn’t so bad, after all,” Pam murmured, then added wisely, “This is an awkward age for boys, especially in their relationships with girls.”

“Say,” Janine teased, “who’s supposed to be the adult here, anyway? That’s my line.”

“Oh, sorry,”

Smiling, Janine stole a French fry from Pam’s plate and popped it into her mouth.

“So when are you leaving for Scotland?” Pam wanted to know.

“Next week.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“Ten days.” The trip was an unexpected gift from her grandfather. One night shortly after she’d met Zach for dinner, Gramps had handed her a packet with airline tickets and hotel reservations. When she’d asked why, his reply had been vague, even cryptic—something about her needing to get away. Since she’d always dreamed of visiting Scotland, she’d leapt at the chance.

It wasn’t until she’d driven Pam home that Janine thought she should let Zach know she was going to be out of the country. It probably wasn’t important, but he’d made such a point of saying they should keep in touch….

Janine planned her visit to the office carefully, making sure Gramps would be occupied elsewhere. Since she’d been shopping for her trip, she was carrying several department and clothing store bags. She was doing this for a reason. She wanted her visit to appear unplanned, as if in the course of a busy day, she’d suddenly remembered their agreement. She felt that dropping in would seem more spontaneous than simply calling.

“Hello,” she said to Zach’s efficient secretary, smiling cheerfully. “Is Mr. Thomas available? I’ll only need a moment of his time.”

The older woman clearly disapproved of this intrusion, but although she pursed her lips, she didn’t verbalize her objection. She pushed the intercom button and Janine felt a tingle of awareness at the sound of Zach’s strong masculine voice.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, standing as Janine breezed into the room.

She set her bags on the floor and with an exaggerated sigh, eased herself into the chair opposite his desk and crossed her legs. “I’m sorry to drop in unannounced,” she said casually, “but I have some news.”

“No problem.” His gaze fell to the bags heaped on the floor. “Looks like you had a busy afternoon.”

“I was shopping.”

“So I see. Any special reason?”

“It’s my trousseau.” Melodramatically, she pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “I can’t take the pressure anymore. I’ve come to tell you I told my grandfather to go ahead and arrange the wedding. Someday, somehow, we’ll learn to love each other.”

“This isn’t amusing. Now what’s so important that it can’t—”

“Mr. Thomas,” his secretary said crisply over the intercom, “Mr. Hartman is here to see you.”

Janine’s eyes widened in panic as her startled gaze flew to Zach, who looked equally alarmed. It would be the worst possible thing for Gramps to discover Janine alone with Zach in his office. She hated to think how he’d interpret that.

“Just a minute,” Zach said, reading the hysteria in her eyes. She marveled at how composed he sounded. He pointed toward a closed door and ushered her into a small room—or a large closet—that was practically a home away from home. A bar, refrigerator, microwave, sink and other conveniences were neatly arranged inside. No sooner was the door slammed shut behind her than it was jerked open again and three large shopping bags were tossed in.

Janine felt utterly ridiculous. She kept as still as she could, afraid to turn on the light and almost afraid to breathe for fear of being discovered.

With her ear against the door, she tried to listen to the conversation, hoping to discover just how long Gramps intended to plant himself in Zach’s office.

Unfortunately, she could barely hear a thing. She risked opening the door a crack; a quick glance revealed that both men were facing away from her. That explained why she couldn’t understand their conversation.

It was then that Janine spotted her purse. Strangling a gasp, she eased the door shut and staggered away from it. She covered her mouth as she took deep breaths. When she found the courage to edge open the door and peek again, she saw that all her grandfather had to do was glance downward.

If he shuffled his feet, his shoe would catch on the strap and he’d drag it out of the office with him.

Zach turned away from the window, and for the first time Janine could hear and see him clearly.

“I’ll take care of that right away,” he said evenly. He was so calm, so composed, as though he often kept women hidden in his closet. He must have noticed Janine’s purse because he frowned and his gaze flew accusingly toward her.

Well, for heaven’s sake, she hadn’t purposely left it there for Gramps to trip over! He wasn’t even supposed to be in the building. That very morning, he’d told her he was lunching at the Athletic Club with his longtime friend, Burt Coleman. Whenever Gramps ate lunch with his cronies, he spent the afternoon playing pinochle. Apparently he’d changed his habits, just so her hair would turn prematurely gray.

Several tortured minutes passed before Zach escorted Gramps to the door. The instant it was shut, Janine stepped into the office, blinking against the brightness after her wait in the dark. “My purse,” she said in a strangled voice. “Do you think he saw it?”

“It would be a miracle if he didn’t. Of all the stupid things to do!”

“I didn’t purposely leave it out here!”

“I’m not talking about that,” Zach growled. “I’m referring to your coming here in the first place. Are you crazy? You couldn’t have called?”

“I…had something to tell you and I was in the neighborhood.” So much for her suave, sophisticated facade. Zach was right, of course; she could have told him just as easily by phone.

He looked furious. “For the life of me I can’t think of a solitary thing that’s so important you’d do anything this foolish. If your grandfather saw the two of us together, he’d immediately jump to the wrong conclusion. Until this afternoon, everything’s been peaceful. Anton hasn’t mentioned your name once and, frankly, I appreciated that.”

His words stung. “I…I won’t make the mistake of coming again—ever,” she vowed, trying to sound dignified and aloof. She gathered her purse and her bags as quickly as possible and hurried out of the office, not caring who saw her leave, including Gramps.

“Janine, you never did say why you came.” Zach had followed her to the elevator.

Janine stared at the light above the elevator that indicated the floor number, as though it was a message of the utmost importance. Her hold on the bags was precarious and something was dragging against her feet, but she couldn’t have cared less. “I’m sorry to have imposed on your valuable time. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t even important.”

“Janine,” he coaxed, apparently regretting his earlier outburst. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Yes, I know,” she said smoothly. The elevator opened and with as little ceremony as possible, she slipped inside. It wasn’t until she was over the threshold that she realized her purse strap was tangled around her feet.

So much for a dignified exit.