Cole really was an organizational genius, Stevie concluded an hour later. He’d taken care of logistical details for their elopement that hadn’t even yet occurred to her, including the marriage license they dealt with immediately upon their arrival at their wedding destination.
She saw him caught off guard only once during those preparations.
“Stephanie?” he asked in surprise when they’d filled out their license application. “Your full name is Stephanie Joan McLane?”
She wrinkled her nose as she nodded. “Mom named me after Stevie Nicks—whose birth name was Stephanie—and Joan Jett, her two favorite women singers. My brother is Thomas Neil, after Tom Petty and Neil Young. He’s always said it was a good thing Mom wasn’t a country music fan or we might have ended up answering to Dolly and Porter.”
That had made Cole laugh. He had such a rich, deep laugh. She hoped to hear it often during their upcoming years together, she thought wistfully.
The little wedding chapel he’d reserved was close to the state border, only some forty miles from their honeymoon destination of Branson, Missouri. Located in an old, white-frame church with battered but gleaming wood floors and rows of antique oak pews, it was generously, almost overly, decorated with white silk flowers and big red hearts. Romantic instrumental music played from speakers. A portly, sixtysomething officiate with a beatific smile and twinkling eyes welcomed them warmly, introducing himself as Pastor Dave and his equally plump and smiling wife, Luanne.
“You were very lucky we had this slot available today. Valentine’s Day is our most popular day for elopements, you know,” he confided, pumping Cole’s hand and winking at Stevie. “Got five more weddings scheduled before the day’s done.”
Valentine’s Day. Stevie just barely stopped herself from slapping her hands to her cheeks with a gasp. How flustered had she been today that she’d written the date probably half a dozen times without considering the significance? She’d been vaguely aware that the holiday was upon them, of course, but she hadn’t watched much TV or spent much time on social media during the past few busy, emotionally stressful weeks. How on earth had Cole managed to make wedding and honeymoon reservations in less than twenty-four hours for this particular weekend? He’d assured her they would be staying at a very nice hotel and even had tickets to a couple of popular shows.
Watching him slip a couple of bills to their beaming host, she suspected he’d quietly greased a few palms. And he’d done this all for her. She bit her lower lip, then released it immediately to keep from chewing off her freshly applied gloss. She wanted to look nice in the Elite Matrimonial Photo Package Luanne would take with her digital camera.
“Shall we begin?” Pastor Dave waved a hand toward the altar at the front of the little chapel, looking surreptitiously at the antique clock on the wall behind him as he turned. “You requested the nondenominational religious ceremony, is that correct, Mr. McKellar?”
“Yes,” Cole agreed, glancing at Stevie as if for confirmation.
She managed a smile and a nod, resisting an impulse to nervously twist her hair. No second thoughts, she ordered herself. For once in your life, you’re doing the sensible thing.
“Here you go, Miss McLane.” Luanne pressed three long-stemmed red roses tied together with a white satin ribbon in Stevie’s hand, then stepped back to raise her camera. “Give us a big smile, hon.”
The roses were pretty, part of the Special Deluxe Elopement Package. Holding them gently in her left hand, Stevie set her small handbag on a front pew, rummaged in it for a moment, then turned toward her groom. “I’m ready.”
“When I heard your fine Scottish surnames, I chose a special wedding song just for the two of you,” Pastor Dave confided as he moved to the small lectern at the front of the room. He pressed a couple of buttons and after a brief pause, a bagpipe version of Ode to Joy poured from the overhead speakers. Stevie slanted a glance at Cole to find him smiling down at her in a way that almost elicited a completely inappropriate giggle. She heard the click-click of Luanne’s camera as Pastor Dave began his simple ceremony, barely referring to the little book in his hands as he recited words he must have intoned countless times before.
Somehow she managed to pay attention, and to respond appropriately at the correct times. She smiled faintly when the officiate read her almost-husband’s full name. Cole Douglas McKellar. A fine Scottish name, indeed.
She moistened her lips as Cole’s gaze locked with hers. A ripple of awareness coursed through her at the thought that this attractive, caring and complex man would now be bound to her. They would share a home, a future. A bed. As hectic as the past twenty-four hours had been, she’d hardly had time to even think about that part of their marriage. She realized suddenly that she was looking forward to the journey they’d embarked on together that morning.
What was Cole thinking? Feeling? He looked as at ease as ever. But on closer inspection, was there just a hint of tension in his dark eyes? She had no doubt he was taking these vows very seriously, but was he wondering whether he’d acted on an uncharacteristic and perhaps imprudent impulse? Was he having second thoughts?
Pastor Dave peered at them over the top of his reading glasses. “Do y’all have rings?”
“I do.” Cole drew a white gold band from the pocket of the charcoal sport coat he wore with a pale blue shirt, lighter gray pants and a blue and gray patterned tie. Knowing how much he hated wearing ties, she was touched that he’d gone to the effort of dressing up for this occasion, even though they had no audience for their ceremony other than Pastor Dave and Luanne.
“I have one, too,” she said, opening her left hand to reveal the band she’d taken from her purse. Like hers, it was white gold, his with a brushed finish. She’d bought it that very morning. She’d stopped into a jewelry store in the same business center as her office and taken only a few minutes to select a ring that seemed to suit Cole’s tastes, making a guess at his size. She saw surprise flit fleetingly across his face. Had he thought she’d forgotten to get a ring? Or had he never actually expected to wear a wedding band again?
And here she was, second-guessing his emotions again. She shook her head slightly and slipped the ring on his finger when prompted by Pastor Dave. It fit well enough, not snug but not so loose it would slip off. She saw Cole look down at his hand as if to admire the band there, and she hoped that was a sign that he liked it.
Luanne moved into position behind Pastor Dave with her camera raised as he pronounced them husband and wife. The camera snapped noisily when he added, “Y’all can seal this deal with a kiss now.”
Stevie’s giggle was smothered beneath Cole’s willingly cooperative lips. And while the presence of their approving audience held the kiss in check, she was vividly reminded of the more heated kisses they’d exchanged in private yesterday.
Her heart tripped in her chest. She and Cole would be spending this night together as husband and wife. Judging by the fireworks that went off inside her whenever their lips met, this was going to be a very special honeymoon, indeed!
* * *
Cole had made a reservation at a nice hotel just off Branson’s main thoroughfare. Stevie’s palms felt damp as she followed him into the elevator for the ninth floor. Apparently she’d been so focused on the impromptu wedding that she hadn’t looked much farther ahead. She certainly hadn’t anticipated how nervous she would be at the prospect of officially beginning their honeymoon! Nervous—but excited, she realized with a flutter of anticipation.
Cole swiped the key card without looking around at her, then moved out of the way to allow her to precede him into the room. Suite, she corrected herself when she walked in and looked around. In addition to a king-sized bed and a small table with two chairs, there was a pretty little sitting area with what she assumed to be a sleeper sofa and an armchair. Her attention was drawn almost immediately back to that huge bed. She hoped Cole didn’t hear her hard swallow.
Cole set down their bags before turning to her. Though she couldn’t stop glancing toward the bed, he seemed to be making an effort to avoid looking at it. “Would you like to change before dinner, or are you good in what you’re wearing?” he asked.
“This is fine, thanks.”
“You don’t mind if I get rid of this tie, do you?” He was already tugging at the knot.
She smiled. “I’m surprised you kept it on this long. By all means, make yourself comfortable. It’s not like ties are the typical dress code for Branson.”
He shed both jacket and tie and pulled a navy V-neck sweater from his bag to tug over his pale blue shirt. “That’s better,” he said with a sigh of such relief that she had to laugh.
She reached up to smooth his hair, resisting an urge to play in it for a bit. She really did love his springy dark hair.
Aware again of that big bed behind her, she dropped her hand and took a step back. “So. Dinner?”
Was his smile just a bit strained when he nodded? “Dinner,” he said, and motioned toward the door.
* * *
Carrying a plastic mug shaped like a cowboy boot, Stevie reentered the hotel room later that evening with a slightly weary sigh. It had been a long, momentous day after an early start, and she was tired, but not in a bad way. On a whim, she retrieved the three red roses she’d stuck into a glass of water earlier and transferred them to the souvenir boot mug. The blooms were already starting to wilt, but she set them prominently in the center of the table, stepping back to admire them while Cole hung up their coats.
He turned to study her makeshift centerpiece, then pushed a hand through his hair, speaking wryly. “So, your wedding night festivities consisted of sitting on benches in an arena, eating pork and chicken and corn on the cob with our hands, while entertainers did tricks on horseback for the dinner show.”
She giggled. He was not exaggerating. “Maybe the place didn’t offer silverware, but the food was delicious and the show was fun.”
Cole looked as though he tried to smile in response, but he wasn’t very successful at it. Taking a step toward her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed down at her gravely. “I feel as though I should apologize.”
She felt her eyebrows rise. “For...?”
“I doubt very much that this was the wedding experience of your dreams. A one-day engagement. Pastor Dave and Luanne. Two nights in a town that’s basically one big amusement park. A wedding night barbecue dinner shared at a long table with a group of senior citizens who came from Wisconsin on a tour bus. Not exactly a tropical resort or a European villa.”
“I happened to enjoy that dinner,” she assured him, letting her hands rest on his chest. “And the sweet little old man sitting at my other side kept me laughing all through the meal and the show. It was a pleasure to share a bench with him.”
“He was flirting with you.”
“Yes, he was. He said he’s ninety, but he still has an eye for the ladies. He asked me to run away with him after dessert. I told him I would have, but I’m a married woman now.”
She felt Cole’s fingers flex on her shoulders in response to those words, perhaps a subconscious reaction. Probably he was still adjusting to the reality of being a married man again after so many years of bachelorhood. That was certainly understandable.
“I’m glad you didn’t run off with the old guy,” he said, a slight smile now softening his troubled expression.
Aware of how closely they were standing, she moistened her lips. It would require only a slight shift of her weight and she could be in his arms, cradled against that warm, strong chest. She shifted her hands a bit, savoring the feel of firm muscles beneath his soft sweater. Her shiny new rings glinted on her left ring finger. “So am I.”
His gaze lowered, and if she wasn’t mistaken he focused intently on her mouth. What was he thinking? she wondered. Before she could ask, he blinked, and the moment was over. He glanced at the bed, and those brown eyes darkened. Frowning, he turned his head to look at the sofa bed in the sitting area. “It’s been an eventful day. I’m sure you’re tired. You can take the big bed. I can sleep on the sofa bed.”
“Cole.” She tightened her grip on his sweater as she interrupted. It was apparent that he was trying so hard to keep his tone casual and considerate, careful not to cause her any discomfort or embarrassment on their wedding night. Nerves danced frantically beneath her skin, but she held his gaze steadily. “First, you need to understand that you don’t owe me apologies for today. We had a lovely wedding. The dinner show made me laugh, which I always appreciate. I expect to have a fun weekend with you here in a place that holds many happy childhood memories for me. It doesn’t take a tropical resort or a European villa to make me happy.”
He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Maybe you don’t need them, but you deserve them. I’d like to take you to both someday. In the meantime, if there’s anything special you want to do while we’re here this weekend, just let me know.”
He was trying so hard to please her. Very sweet, but unnecessary. She wasn’t that high maintenance.
Her hands still clutching his soft sweater, she rose slowly on tiptoes, trying to read his expression as she brought her mouth close to his. Did he truly want to spend their wedding night on the sofa bed? Perhaps they’d entered a marriage of convenience based on building a stable family for this child and for themselves—but he needed to know she considered it a real marriage. She didn’t think either of them would be satisfied for long being nothing more than friendly roommates. She knew she wouldn’t.
Now that she’d allowed herself to acknowledge her attraction to him, just standing this close to him made her skin tingle, her pulse accelerate. And from the way his eyes darkened as she moved closer to him, it was clear he had healthy desires of his own. Though he’d kept his private life to himself for the most part, and rarely confided details of where he went on his nights out with friends, she’d never thought of her quiet neighbor as monk-like.
“Thank you for taking care of everything this weekend for us, Cole,” she murmured against his lips. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”
She kissed him before he could respond.
Fueled by simmering emotions, by nerves and uncertainties, hopes and resolve, the kiss was spectacular. Stevie threw herself into it, pushing away thoughts and doubts in favor of feelings and sensations.
When she pressed her abdomen to the gratifyingly hard ridge in his pants, he froze, then broke off the kiss as if he’d abruptly come to his senses. “I, uh...”
He cleared his throat, hard, his hands on her shoulders. To keep her close? Or to hold her away? He looked as though even he wasn’t quite sure of his intentions.
“Look, Stevie, I know I rushed us into all of this. I mean, I tend not to waste much time when I get a good idea, but now that we’ve taken care of the formalities, there’s certainly no pressure for you to...we have the rest of our lives to...I mean, just so you know, when the time is right, I’m here for you, but—”
“Cole,” she said again, reaching up to lay her fingers against his clever mouth. It was so rare to see him flustered and babbling. She couldn’t help being both amused and charmed. “We’re married. We made promises to each other in that chapel today in front of Pastor Dave and Luanne. I want to share a bed with my husband, if he’s interested.”
“I’m interested.” Cole’s voice was husky. “Been interested for longer than I’ve wanted to admit.”
A part of her had known, she thought as she took his hand. Just because they hadn’t acknowledged the attraction didn’t mean it hadn’t always been there.
She took his hand and moved a step backward toward the big bed. Looking up at him through her lashes, she smiled. “I’m very happy to hear that.”
She was already tugging at the hem of his sweater. Judging from touch alone, those clothes hid a seriously fine body. Plus, there’d been that brief glimpse of a chiseled chest the day he’d changed the light bulb. Now she was eager to explore it more closely. His hands joined hers where she worked at the buttons of his shirt, and she left him to finish while she shed her boots.
They tossed their clothes aside quickly as impatience took over. But she had the presence of mind to glimpse at his body as he revealed it. She took in the strong planes of his back and chest and the rock-hard muscles of his thighs. He stopped at a pair of boxers, and she was denied the full view she anticipated. Before she could remove her underwear he stepped forward and took her in his arms, tumbling her onto the pillows, his mouth on hers as their limbs tangled. He was so warm. Solid. Being in his arms was like being wrapped in armor. She felt safe. Protected. It was a novel feeling for someone who’d spent her whole life taking care of herself and taking care of others. Quite a seductive sensation in itself—not to mention how very good he felt on top of her.
For a man who spent so much time working on computers, Cole McKellar kept himself in excellent physical condition. And he proved very quickly that he knew exactly what to do with that great body.
It was no surprise to her at all that he was a thorough and unselfish lover, two adjectives that seemed the perfect description of the man she’d come to know during the past year. Now that they were in the bed, he took his time, lingering and savoring as he explored, caressed, tantalized, then unhurriedly moved on. He was so gentle at first, so obviously intent not to cause her discomfort. She was the one who lost patience, growling beneath her breath and tugging at him until he got the message with a low, willing laugh.
He stripped her bra, his hands moving more eagerly, less carefully now over her breasts as he revealed them. Then he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slipped off her panties, dragging his fingers down her legs as he pulled them off. When he returned to hover over her, she wasted no more time. To convince him she was neither fragile nor shy, she matched his kiss hungrily, letting her tongue tangle with his. She slipped one leg around him and in one smooth motion his body merged with hers. Her breath escaped in a gasp of pleasure, echoed by Cole’s deep groan. He brought her other leg around him and went even deeper, and she welcomed him into her. Moving with him in an age-old rhythm, she built inexorably toward a powerful climax, one so intense that she could not think or speak or even moan. Just feel.
He followed her immediately, and from the contented groan he gave right before his release, she reasoned he felt the same.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Stevie,” she heard him murmur some time later, after he’d recovered enough breath to speak. Not quite to the point of speech, herself, she merely smiled sleepily and nestled contentedly into his bare shoulder.
* * *
Cole lay awake for some time after Stevie slept. He hadn’t yet turned off the small lamp in the sitting area, and there was just enough light in the room for him to see her sprawled bonelessly beside him in the big bed, clutching her pillow into a ball with both arms. Her blond curls tumbled riotously around her shoulders, partially hiding her face, though he could see that her lips were parted in what he thought looked like a soft little smile. She looked sated and utterly relaxed. Though he hadn’t been presumptuous enough to predict the evening would end this way, it had come as no surprise to him to discover that, along with her many other attributes and eccentricities, Stevie was a passionate and sensual woman.
In those fantasies that had haunted his nights since he’d gotten to know Stevie, he’d always imagined that making love with her would be an adventure. Hard as it was to believe, the reality had been even more spectacular. Fact was, just looking at her sleeping now made him harden again, already impatient to see if it would be just as mind-blowing the next time. He’d never met anyone quite like Stevie. Being on the receiving end of her enthusiastic passion was decidedly flattering. A heady ego boost for an innately introverted computer nerd. He couldn’t help but smile.
A guy could spend a lifetime getting to know and appreciate all the facets of Stevie. He lifted his left hand, and the band on his finger gleamed softly in the dim light. He wasn’t at all sorry he’d signed up for this mission. He just hoped he could keep up with her and make sure she never regretted accepting his proposal.
He wasn’t her usual artistic type. He was no poet. Couldn’t play a musical instrument. Sang like a bullfrog. Couldn’t draw a stick figure. He had no expectations of sweeping Stevie off her feet. But he liked the image he’d formed of their future together, the one she’d described for him earlier—coming home from his business trips to a house filled with warmth and light, to the welcome of a woman who rarely stopped chattering and whose laughter was infectious. To a child’s hugs and what-did-you-bring-mes?
He would do his best to make Stevie happy with what he had to offer in return for the family he’d thought he’d never have. He’d be there for her, take care of her even when she didn’t know she needed it. That was what he did.
As for what he would receive in return . . . He brushed a light kiss against her warm, damp cheek, certain he’d gotten the best of this bargain. In addition to the cozy family home he’d just envisioned, he had more nights in bed with Stevie to look forward to. Considering how spectacular their first time had been, he was eagerly anticipating the next. He had a feeling he had just begun to explore all the fascinating facets of this woman who was now his wife.
* * *
After a surprisingly sound night’s sleep, Stevie woke slowly, stretching and yawning before she opened her eyes to find Cole watching her with a smile. A little gasp escaped her before her sleep-clouded mind cleared enough to remind her of why he was there.
He reached out to touch her arm. “That’s twice in the past week I’ve startled you out of sleep. I feel as though I should apologize again.”
Rubbing her eyes, she laughed ruefully. “It’s not your fault. I just tend to wake up disoriented.”
“I’ll keep that in mind in the future,” he murmured.
She blinked a few times at the reminder of a future that included him now. “Oh, my gosh!”
His left eyebrow rose. “What?”
Struggling to sit up, she pushed at her tangled hair with a rueful little laugh. “Like I said, I wake up disoriented. I just remembered we got married yesterday.”
Rising onto his elbow, he looked at her with both brows lifted now. A grin tugged tentatively at the corners of his lips, though he looked as if he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh. “I’m not surprised you’re befuddled. It all happened pretty fast.”
She smiled to show him she recognized the humor in her admission. “You could say that again. Thursday morning I woke up thinking I’d be a single mom and by Friday afternoon I was a married woman. I mean, I’ve acted on impulse more than a few times in my life, but—oh, my gosh.”
He did chuckle then. “You think it’s hard for you to believe? Even after I’d spent several days considering the idea, I didn’t really expect to be married within twenty-four hours of proposing. It just sort of happened. I’m not calling it an impulse, though. More like a plan of action expedited for maximum benefit.”
Laughing, she cupped his face in her hands and murmured against his lips, “I just love it when you talk all analyst-y.”
“I’m not sure that’s a—”
She kissed him before he could finish the sentence.
Showing that he was still open to spontaneity—or, as he would consider it, efficiently taking advantage of an impromptu opportunity—he flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her. Her delighted laughter quickly changed to murmurs of pleasure as he proved once again that her math genius husband was as clever with his mouth and hands as he was with that brilliant mind.
They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a farmhouse-style diner, during which Stevie chattered about trips to Branson as a child with her mother and brother. Cole mentioned that he’d visited only a few times himself, the first trip as a very young boy with his parents during one of their attempts to act the part of happy family—an attempt she surmised hadn’t been particularly successful, though he didn’t elaborate.
Taking advantage of a chilly, but otherwise beautiful day, they wandered through attractions and shops after breakfast. They were strolling at a leisurely pace through an outlet shopping center when Cole drew her into a store that specialized in baby supplies. An odd feeling gripped her as she drifted down the aisles beside him, rather intimidated by all the merchandise surrounding them. There seemed to be so much of it, so many options, colors, sizes. Was all this stuff necessary for one little baby? She didn’t even know what some of these things were. Insecurity rose up in her. Shouldn’t she know?
“Stevie? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
She tried to force a reassuring smile for Cole, who gazed down at her in concern. “Just a little overwhelmed. I don’t even know how to use most of this stuff.”
He placed a hand on the small of her back. “You’ll learn what you need to know.”
She wished she felt as confident as he sounded. She gave a determined nod. “I’ll learn.”
“Have you decided which bedroom will be the nursery?”
“The one I’ve been using as a guest room, I suppose—the one that was mine growing up. It’s close to the master, and I’ve been using the third bedroom as a home office. Um, my house is a little bigger than yours, so it makes sense for us to set up there, right?”
He nodded. “I can keep my office in my house for now, but we’ll probably want to discuss combining our households into a larger place eventually. One that will accommodate two offices and a guest room.”
She wasn’t ready to discuss selling or buying houses just then. It was a given that they would live together in one house, of course. After all, they were married.
She changed the subject quickly when she spotted a white wicker bassinet with a sage-and-off-white chevron-stripe liner. “Oh, look, Cole. Isn’t it pretty?”
“That’s the same color green you’ve used in your house, isn’t it?”
“Sage. It’s my favorite.” She was already stroking the little bed, picturing it in a sage-and-cream nursery suitable to either gender. She could find some vintage nursery prints to frame for the walls, and invest in a comfortable nursing chair in a soft nubby fabric with one of her late maternal grandmother’s hand-knit throws draped over the back. The turtle night-light would sit on an antique nightstand beside the crib. Perfect. “And look, it’s on sale!”
This little basket was definitely going home with her.
“I’ve got this.” Cole was already signaling for assistance from a clerk. “Is there anything else you want here? What about that little bouncy seat thing over there? The pad is the same shade of green, right? One of my friends swore his daughter was only happy when she was sitting in her bouncy seat after nursing. There’s room in the back of the SUV for both the bassinet and that, if you like it. Maybe a few other items, if you see anything else you want.”
He was already reaching for his wallet. Stevie shook her head, moving to stand between him and the bassinet. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve done enough already this weekend.”
“Not that much,” he assured her. “I’ve provided a honeymoon of sorts for my bride. Now I’d like to get a few things for the baby.”
“No. I want to buy this.”
He went still, frowning as he studied her firmly determined expression. “Why?”
“Because it’s my—” Realizing what she’d almost said, she bit her tongue before she could complete the blurted sentence.
Cole’s hand fell to his side and he took a step back. His voice turned cool. “All right. Get what you want and I’ll help you load it into the car.”
She’d hurt his feelings. Guilt flooded through her with the realization. That had been the last thing she’d wanted to do. She needed Cole to understand that though their marriage was based on his selfless offer to help her raise this child, she had no intention of taking advantage of his innate generosity. She’d been independent for more than a decade. She’d married him to be a partner to her, not for financial support. They hadn’t had time yet to talk about money or the other day-to-day responsibilities of marriage, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her to adjust to his new role in her life. To learn to lean on someone else for a change.
Before she could figure out how to apologize for her thoughtlessness, a salesclerk approached with a bright, friendly smile. “Can I help you?”
Conceding that this was the wrong time and place for a momentous discussion, Stevie purchased the bassinet and bouncy seat, then helped Cole carry them to his SUV. She wondered if he’d be mad at her, but quickly found he’d masked any feelings behind an easy smile. He even teased her about having to leave his suitcase behind if they bought much more on this trip. Apparently he was determined to put their brief clash behind them, intent on keeping this day a pleasant one. She was glad; it was their honeymoon, after all. Practical discussions could wait until later.
Glancing at his watch, he asked if she wanted to eat dinner before the musical variety show they would be attending that evening.
“Oh, my gosh, yes!” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m starving. I’d never make it through the show without food. For the past couple of weeks, it seems like I’m hungry all the time.”
He chuckled and opened her door for her. “As the old saying goes, you’re eating for two now. What would you like?”
“Anything that sounds good to you. I’m not picky.”
“We’ll even find a place with silverware this evening,” he assured her, then closed the door.
Watching him round the front of the SUV to the driver’s seat, she was relieved he’d put that momentary awkwardness behind them so easily. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Cole wasn’t one to let emotions rule his actions, something that was difficult for her even when she wasn’t flooded with early-pregnancy hormones.
This was all going to work out, she promised herself. It was only to be expected that there would be some compromises in the process. But now that they’d gotten this first minor clash out of the way, she just knew the rest of their honeymoon would be nothing but enjoyable.
* * *
Cole stood beside the bed a few hours later, feeling helpless as Stevie curled into a ball and moaned. He’d dimmed the lights for her comfort, but even in the shadows her skin still seemed to have a slightly green tint to it. “Is your stomach still upset?”
The only response to his tentative question was another heartfelt groan.
He moved to the sink where he dampened a washcloth with cold water, then carried it back to her. “Let me put this on your throat. My grandma used to do that for me when I was nauseated and it always seemed to help.”
She shifted on the thick pillows and allowed him to press the cloth gently to her throat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean for the evening to end this way.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just sorry you’re ill. Are you sure we shouldn’t have you checked by a doctor?”
She shook her head and managed a weak smile as she peered up at him through barely cracked eyelids. “No. It’s just nausea. I guess I bragged too soon about not being sick a day so far. At least we made it to the end of the show.”
But only just, he thought with a wry shake of his head. He’d noticed Stevie had seemed subdued at intermission. At first he’d wondered if it was because he’d somehow annoyed her at the baby supplies store earlier, though they’d gotten along fine during dinner. But she’d confided that she was feeling a little queasy, so he’d bought her a soda to sip while the energetic young singers and dancers had taken the stage for the second half. He’d only halfway paid attention to the stage, surreptitiously watching Stevie instead as she’d wilted visibly in her seat. He’d all but carried her to the car afterward, and she’d barely made it into the room before bolting into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. When she’d reemerged, it was only to collapse on the bed, still fully clothed.
He slipped off her shoes and set them on the floor. “Would you like to put on your nightgown?”
Her eyes were closed again, but he thought there might be a bit more color in her face now. “I’ll change in a minute,” she murmured.
He moved to the dresser. She’d brought a couple of nightgowns—one made of black satin, the other a warmer purple knit splashed with cheery red flowers. As diverse as the two garments were, each somehow seemed perfectly suited to Stevie. Though his hand lingered for a moment on the black one, he pulled out the more comfortable-looking gown and carried it to the bed. “Here, let me help you,” he said.
A few minutes later, she was snugly tucked into the bed, the washcloth redampened and draped again on her throat. “Can I get you anything else? Some more soda?”
She shifted on the piled pillows, moistening her lips. “Maybe a little.”
Sitting beside her on the bed, he handed her the glass of citrusy soda he’d purchased from a vending machine down the hall. She took a couple of sips, then gave it back to him. “Thanks. I feel better now. Just tired.”
“I’ll sleep on the sofa bed.”
She shook her head and patted the bed next to her. “I’m hardly contagious. You’ll be much more comfortable here in this king-sized bed than on that fold-out.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, considering she’d be snoozing beside him, temptingly close but needing her rest. Still, as she’d said, it was a big bed. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone, and he had to admit he liked the feel of a warm, soft body next to him even if only in sleep.
She was mostly out by the time he climbed in beside her, taking care not to jostle the mattress or otherwise disturb her. He’d hardly settled onto the pillows before she turned and snuggled into him, her hair tickling his chin, her small hand resting on his chest. He wore pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, but he could feel her warmth through the fabric. Too warm? He rested a hand lightly against her face, reassuring himself that she wasn’t running a fever.
“I’m fine,” she murmured drowsily, and he wasn’t sure she was actually awake. “I just never want to smell popcorn again.”
He stroked a wayward curl off her cheek. There was no need to reply. She wouldn’t have heard him, anyway, as she’d already drifted off again.
On impulse, he pressed a light kiss on the top of her head, then tried to relax. It wasn’t easy. Even discounting the distraction of having her in his arms, he was having trouble turning off his thoughts. He kept replaying the day, from the exhilarating wake-up sex to that terse exchange in the baby store. He still wasn’t sure exactly why she’d taken such exception to his offer to buy the bassinet and seat. He wasn’t very good at reading emotional cues, being the type who preferred issues plainly spelled out. But he thought maybe he’d unwittingly stepped on her pride.
He hadn’t tried to imply that she wasn’t capable of providing for her child. He hadn’t been trying to take charge or insist on having his own way. He’d simply wanted to show her that he shared her excitement about the baby.
Her baby, he reminded himself with a wince. It had been clear enough what she’d started to say before she’d swallowed the words. For all her talk about sharing the child with him, about commitment mattering more to her than biology, for all the nervous enthusiasm she’d shown so far toward their marriage even to the point of eagerly consummating their wedding night, there was still a part of herself she was holding back from him. A self-protective door that she hadn’t yet unlocked, perhaps because of her past disappointments. And she didn’t yet trust him enough to open that door for him.
He had to admit it had hurt when she’d snapped at him. When he’d realized what she’d almost said. Her baby. Not theirs. The words had hit him like a blow, though he’d tried to hide his reaction to keep the peace.
Because he wasn’t one to dwell on injured feelings, he relied instead on his usual method for dealing with uncomfortable emotions. Objective analysis. He needed to be patient. This was all so new for both of them. In the long run, he still believed he and Stevie would make a success of this marriage. That they and the child they’d raise together would have a good life. A contented life.
He’d have to proceed cautiously, prove to her that he was here for the long term. That he would not walk away from her when life got difficult. With time, he would convince her that she could trust him completely. And that she and her child—their child—could rely on him. Always.