It took Frank three weeks after the baseball game to convince Jenny to once again spend some time with him outside of the hospital. She displayed an inordinate amount of distrust of his motives. No doubt that had something to do with the undeniable arousal he was sure she’d detected when he’d taken her into his arms in the bleachers at the end of the game. It they’d been anywhere but in the middle of a stadium, she might not have escaped so easily. At the very least, he would have kissed her the way he wanted to, slowly and deeply and convincingly.
“Hey, I’m fighting for my life here,” he teased, trying to overcome her reluctance with the humor she seemed to prefer to serious declarations. “What’s one measly little afternoon? Surely you can trust yourself not to attack me and ravish me in that length of time.”
Her brows rose a disapproving fraction. “I’m not the problem,” she reminded him pointedly.
“Handcuff me,” he suggested.
She chuckled at the outrageous option. “I don’t think we need to go that far.”
Frank seized the faint hint of surrender. “You’re wavering. I can tell. What’ll it take? A promise written in blood? A chaperon? I’ll even ask Karyn to fly home and take your side. She’d love the chance to give me a little grief. She claims I made her dating life a living hell.”
Jenny immediately appeared fascinated. “How? Too protective?”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted ruefully. “She’s itching to even the score. I will invite her, though. Just say the word.”
“No,” she said finally. “I guess I can trust you.”
“Your faith is overwhelming.”
“Don’t pout. Besides, I’m not finished. I’ll agree to see you, but only if I get to choose what we do. Something therapeutic.”
Frank groaned, but agreed. “Anything you say. What’s it going to be?”
“You’ll see,” she said with an unexpectedly impish little gleam in her eyes. “Sunday afternoon at three. Be ready. I’ll pick you up.”
Frank was so enthralled by the gleam in her eyes, so caught up in the seductive possibilities, that he forgot all about the Chambers Sunday dinner tradition. When his mother called that night to remind him, as she had every week since he’d moved out of the family home, he braved her wrath and announced, “Can’t make it this time, Ma. I’ve got an important date.”
Her startled silence lasted no more than a heartbeat. “Important?” she repeated with obvious fascination. “You’ll bring her along. That’s no problem.”
“It’s a problem. She’s already made plans.”
“What plans?”
“I don’t know. It’s a surprise.”
“Well, you just surprise her and tell her you’re coming here. Is it Jenny?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. She’ll fit right in. Four o’clock, same as always.”
She hung up before he could argue. Maybe they could do both, he thought reluctantly. Maybe Jenny wouldn’t mind at least dropping by for dinner, though the prospect of subjecting her to the fascinated examination of his family on a more concentrated level than the ones she’d been exposed to at their hospital visits was daunting. Tim and the others were not known for their subtlety. The already-skittish Jenny was likely to take off before dessert and never speak to him again.
He hadn’t been off the phone five minutes when it rang again.
“Frank?”
From the sudden leap of his pulse, he would have known it was Jenny, even if he hadn’t recognized that tentative note in her voice. The only time she ever sounded that uncertain was when she was talking to him about their relationship, rather than the progress of his therapy. “Hi. Didn’t we just see each other? You aren’t calling to cancel our date already, are you?”
“I’m not sure. I just had the oddest call from your mother.”
Frank muttered a curse under his breath. He should have guessed she’d leave nothing to chance. “What did she want?” he inquired, though there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d taken that Sunday dinner invitation into her own capable hands.
“She said she wanted to personally invite me over on Sunday. She seemed to think you might not relay the message, something about a traditional family dinner.”
“An astute woman, my mother.”
“Frank, is your family getting the wrong impression about us?” Jenny definitely sounded troubled.
“I doubt it,” he said. “It seems to me they’ve got it pegged.”
“What?” She sounded even more alarmed.
“Never mind,” he said quickly. “What did you tell Ma?”
“What could I say? I told her I’d be delighted, but Frank, I am not delighted.” Each word was said with slow emphasis.
“Then we won’t go. I told my mother we had plans.”
He heard Jenny’s deep sigh. “I tried that, too. She doesn’t seem to take no for an answer. That’s when I caved in and said yes. That woman should pick a charity and become a fundraiser. She’d rake in millions.”
“Believe me, I know the feeling. Trying to argue with her is like jogging straight into a brick wall. It’s up to you, though. We do not have to go, no matter what you told her. I’ll take care of it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he said, though, now that he thought of it, the idea of watching Jenny interact as a part of his family held an undeniable appeal.
Now that she knew she had his support, she seemed to hesitate. “Is everyone going to be there?”
“Everyone. I think these Sunday dinners were part of the compromise when we all started to move out. We swore that we would always come back once a week.”
“Then you can’t very well back out of this one. You go. We’ll do something another time.”
Frank grabbed desperately at the first response that came to him. “And have my entire family know that you broke our date because you were scared of them?”
“I’m not scared of them,” she countered. “Well, not exactly, anyway. I just don’t want them to get the idea that there’s anything serious between us.”
“It might be too late for that,” he admitted. “They all know how I feel. If you don’t show up Sunday, I guarantee each one of them will probably pay you a visit to tell you what a great guy I am. I don’t think any of them will beat you up…”
He allowed the possibility to linger before adding, “They’re not usually violent. We all do tend to be pretty protective, though.”
There was a long pause before Jenny said, “Are you saying I might have to listen to six separate sales pitches on your behalf?”
“Seven. Ma’s a real tigress. Come to think of it, she might beat you up.”
Jenny finally started chuckling. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Oh, no, sweetheart. This is gospel.”
“It might almost be worth it to stay home and see who turns up to list your attributes.”
“You already know my attributes. Well, most of them, anyway. I’d be glad to share the rest anytime you’re ready.”
“I’ll just bet you would. Okay, forget my surprise. We’ll go to dinner with your family. But I swear to you, if the words wedding or marriage even creep into the conversation in a whisper, I’ll turn you over to Otis.”
“That’s no threat,” he scoffed. “He’s on my side.”
“I was hoping you didn’t know that.”
“I’m sure you were. See you Sunday.”
Frank found himself looking forward to the prospect with a very odd mixture of buoyant optimism and gut-deep dread. The combined forces of all the Chambers would either win Jenny over, or scare her away for good.
* * *
Jenny stood outside the Chambers’s small, unpretentious home, Frank beside her, and battled the flutter of a thousand butterflies in her stomach. A fresh coat of paint in sedate white lost its innocent air in the red trim. The combination reminded her of the family, old-fashioned with an intriguing hint of quirky daring. Frank epitomized those qualities, though she doubted he saw himself that way.
There was no mistaking the fact that he’d been courting her for all these weeks now, setting a pace that was just shy and patient enough to relax her guard. At the edge of all that caution, though, was the sly promise of dangerous desires about to be unleashed. Jenny was captivated, despite her best intentions to maintain a careful distance between herself and the man who was so trustingly offering her his heart.
She’d been lured here today by curiosity and longing. It seemed like forever since she’d felt part of a family. Never had she even imagined belonging to a clan as boisterous and tight-knit as this one. She’d been unable to resist the chance to spend one brief afternoon in an environment filled with warmth and acceptance and love. It might be the only chance she ever had to experience what it could have been like had she dared to believe in Frank’s love, had she dared to make a forever commitment. Though she would never have admitted it to him, she was indulging herself in a dream, a dream that was both alluring and forbidden.
“You’re shaking,” he observed, snapping her out of her lovely daydream. “Scared?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’re a braver soul than I am,” he said fervently, making her laugh and forget her fears.
“They’re your family,” she reminded him.
“Then my reaction ought to tell you something. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go skydiving?”
“Absolutely not. I can’t wait to see why they have a grown man like you quaking in your boots.”
He grinned and held out his hand. “Then let’s get it over with.”
Before they’d made it up the front walk, the door was thrown open. Mrs. Chambers, wearing a simple navy dress with a prim, lacy, white collar under her apron, waited for them with a beaming smile. She wiped both hands on the apron, then held them out to Jenny. “Welcome, Jenny. Come in. We’ve been waiting for you. Everyone’s here.”
As they walked toward the living room, Frank leaned down and whispered, “I warned you. They’ve never been on time before. Today they couldn’t wait.”
His mother hushed him. “Maybe they just knew I was making pot roast.”
“Ma, you always make pot roast on Sunday.”
“I do not. Just last week we had chicken.”
“Tasted like pot roast to me,” Frank said.
“Me, too,” Tim concurred, popping into the hallway. “Looked like it, too. Must have been all those carrots and baby onions you used to hide the meat.”
Mrs. Chambers glared indignantly at the pair of them. “Keep it up and there will be no apple cobbler for the two of you.”
“Cobbler again?” Peter chimed in with an exaggerated groan as he joined them.
His mother waggled a finger in his direction. “Just for that, you can set the table. Now. Jenny, you go on in the living room and sit down. Daniel, Kevin and Jared are in there. Don’t let them gang up on you. If they start giving you a rough time, you can come hide out with me in the kitchen.”
Jenny laughed. “I think maybe that’s my first choice anyway. Can I come now? I’d like to help.”
Frank’s eyes widened in dismay. “Bad idea,” he warned. “The woman will try to pry information out of you. No secret will be safe. She’s going to want to know what your intentions are.”
Mrs. Chambers patted Jenny on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to a word he says. You come right along. The rest of you, play nice,” she added in an echo of Jenny’s own advice to Tim and Frank weeks earlier. Jenny understood now why Tim had teased her so over the comment.
Jenny had thought she’d feel safe in the kitchen, out of the reach of all those prying eyes, away from Frank’s hopes and everyone else’s expectations. And at first she did feel safe. At first it was comforting to be surrounded by the heavenly smell of the roast, the cinnamon-scented cobbler, the yeasty aroma of rising rolls.
“What can I do?” she offered.
“You can sit right over there and talk to me,” Mrs. Chambers said, waving Jenny toward a curved breakfast area. She gave Peter a handful of silverware and shooed him toward the dining room. She brought over a bag of beans and began snapping them as she sat across from Jenny. “You’ve been seeing Frank for a while now, isn’t that right?”
“At the hospital,” Jenny replied cautiously, trying to decide if the question was innocuous or the start of an inquisition. She grabbed a handful of beans herself and clumsily tried to imitate Mrs. Chambers’s quick, decisive motions.
Mrs. Chambers shot her a perceptive look. “Just another patient, right?”
“No, of course not. I mean…oh, dear,” she murmured, falling neatly into the maternal trap set by Mrs. Chambers.
“Frank’s a fine man,” his mother reported.
“I know that.”
“Took on a lot of responsibility at an early age.”
“I know.”
“Just look at this kitchen. He fixed it up for me, put in new cabinets, that fancy tile.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jenny said honestly. The white, glass-fronted cabinets gave the room an open, airy feeling. The white tile floor and single row of red accent tiles amid the white on the walls added to the cheerful ambience. The built-in breakfast nook was a similar combination of white Formica and red seat covers. “Did Frank build this breakfast area, too?”
Mrs. Chambers beamed with pride. “Isn’t it something? Used to be a pantry here. He knocked out the wall and the next thing you know the kitchen was nearly twice as big as it used to be. How many men would have thought to do that?”
Jenny admired all the extra touches that she was certain were Mrs. Chambers’s, the framed prints on the walls, the bright dish towels, but Frank’s mother wasn’t interested in her own contribution. She was pushing her son’s. In case Jenny hadn’t gotten the message, she added, “He’d make a wonderful husband.”
“Mrs. Chambers, really, Frank and I are just friends.”
“Good way to start.”
“Start?” Jenny said weakly.
“Of course. My husband and I started out as friends, too. Makes a lot more sense than the way kids do things these days. They fall into bed, get married and then discover they don’t have a thing in common. Do things slow and you do them right. You two take your time, if that’s what you need.”
Suddenly the large room seemed to be closing in on Jenny. “But…” The protest was barely begun before it was interrupted.
“Of course,” Mrs. Chambers said cheerily, “I always did think a fall wedding was mighty nice. The church could be decorated with bright yellow mums. Karyn would look real good in that coppery shade that you see in all the fancy fashion magazines.”
“Karyn?”
“Of course, I don’t mean to be pushy. I know you have your own friends, but I always think it’s nice if someone from the groom’s family stands up with the bride, too, don’t you?”
“In theory,” Jenny said, wondering desperately if there was any polite way she could escape to the living room or find a pit of vipers to throw herself into. If she stayed here much longer, she was liable to end up married before anyone heard her protests. She crumbled the beans in her hands into little, bitty pieces before she realized what she was doing.
The kitchen door swung open. “How’s it going in here?” Frank inquired. “You two getting acquainted?”
“Oh, my, yes,” his mother replied. “We were just discussing the wedding.”
Frank’s startled gaze shot to Jenny. His eyebrows rose a quizzical half inch. “Wedding?” he repeated. “Whose?”
“Why yours, of course,” Mrs. Chambers said, back at the stove and still oblivious to Jenny’s panic.
“Ma!”
She turned and waved a spoon at him. “It never hurts to give a girl a nudge, let her know she’ll be welcome in the family.”
A twinkle of amusement appeared in Frank’s eyes as he scanned Jenny’s face. She was sure she must be pale as a ghost. “You feeling welcome?” he asked.
“Very,” she said, injecting the single word with ominous implications.
“Maybe you’d like to come back in the living room with me,” Frank suggested hurriedly.
“I’d love to.”
Mrs. Chambers gave them an approving smile. “You two go right along. I’m sure Jenny and I will have a chance to talk more later.”
Jenny nearly moaned as she left the kitchen.
“I tried to warn you,” Frank said, his arm circling her shoulder.
She twisted away from the embrace. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re letting your mother do your dirty work.”
“What dirty work is that?”
“The woman practically proposed on your behalf.”
His expression brightened. “Really? What did you say?”
“Say? She didn’t want an answer. She took the answer for granted.” Jenny knew her voice was climbing, knew that her attempts to cover her earlier irritation with humor were starting to fail her now. This was exactly what she had feared would happen. The whole Chambers family was going to sit around all through dinner staring at her, waiting for an announcement that was not going to come. And she was going to have to put up with it.
Why? she thought suddenly. Why shouldn’t she just lay things on the line? Frank might be a little embarrassed at first, but wasn’t that better than allowing this whole misunderstanding to get entirely out of hand? Or was the real problem that a tiny part of her wanted the charade to be perpetuated? If she were to be perfectly honest, hadn’t she enjoyed sitting in that kitchen and playing prospective daughter-in-law?
Okay, yes, dammit! Was that so terrible? It wasn’t going to happen, but couldn’t she indulge herself for a few minutes or even a few hours in the fantasy of becoming Mrs. Frank Chambers?
She looked up at Frank then and caught the speculative spark in his eyes. It was as if he could read her mind, as if he knew that she was waging an internal war and laying odds on the outcome.
Before she could come to a final decision on whether to go or stay, the choice was taken out of her hands. Mrs. Chambers started putting food on the table and the next thing Jenny knew, she was seated beside Frank’s mother and they were all holding hands to say grace. When Mrs. Chambers gave thanks that her oldest son had found such a pretty, kind woman, Frank squeezed Jenny’s hand reassuringly. She caught herself blinking back the surprising sting of salty tears and trying desperately to hold back the flood of hope.
* * *
As they drove home, Frank marveled at the transformation that had come over Jenny during the afternoon and evening. From a shy, unwilling date, she had slowly fallen into the role of fiancée. Though he’d been ready to strangle his mother when he’d first walked into that kitchen, he had to admit now that he should be grateful. After a few token protests, Jenny had apparently taken to the idea. By the time they’d left she’d been teasing his brothers, beating them all at Monopoly and agreeing to return the following Sunday. He still wasn’t sure exactly what had come over her, but he’d be damned if he’d complain about it.
“Did you have a good time?” he inquired as she sat beside him, her eyes closed, a pleased smile tilting the corners of her mouth.
“The best,” she murmured.
“Did it have anything to do with me?”
She blinked and stared at him sleepily. “Of course, why?”
“Because a few hours ago, you were adamant about defining the parameters of our relationship in very businesslike terms. By the time we left my mother’s, if I’m not mistaken, at least seven people were of the opinion that we’re engaged. I’m one of them.”
She sighed. “I never really said that, did I?”
“No, but you knew that was the impression and you didn’t correct it. Why?”
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she obviously struggled with an answer. “I guess I just got caught up in a fantasy,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry.”
His heart thudding, Frank said, “It doesn’t have to be just a fantasy. I love you, Jenny. You know that. I want to marry you.” He pulled the car to the side of the road and touched her cheek, which was damp with unexpected tears. “I do love you, sweetheart.”
Her fingers traced his jaw, then his lips as his breath lodged in his throat. “Oh, Frank, if only…”
“There are no ‘if onlys,’” he said angrily. “All you have to do is say yes. One little word. Why is it so hard for you?”
“You know why,” she said, her voice thick with tears.
“Then come with me, come home with me and let me show you that there is nothing, nothing, standing in our way.”
Jenny’s eyes were shining, her lips trembling, when she finally whispered, “Yes. I’ll come with you.”
He caressed her cheek, his thumb moving over the lush curve of her lower lip as his heart slammed into his ribs. Anticipation rushed through him, hot and sweet and urgent. Along with it came a faint anxiety that he was certain mirrored hers.
“You won’t be sorry,” he vowed to reassure them both. “You will never be sorry.”