MATT didn’t sleep at all for the rest of the night, and Jo never came back to bed. When he went downstairs early in the morning, he found her on the sofa, dark circles under her eyes, and her head resting on an embroidered cushion. A blanket was draped over her, and he fought the urge to tuck her in closer. He touched her hair with the tips of her fingers. Short bristles, still.
It would grow back. Somehow that had become his mantra these days.
Esther was standing in the door when he straightened up, a frown darkening her face. She beckoned for him to come to her, and he did so, sighing.
“Why is Jo sleeping on the sofa?” she demanded. Matt patted her shoulder.
“Butt out, Esther.”
“That’s disrespectful.”
“So is interrogating us about our personal life.”
“It’s just not right, Matthew!”
He kissed her on the cheek. “Jo needs to wake up in twenty minutes, for work. Will you wake her? She doesn’t have an alarm clock down here and I know she hates being late for work.”
“I’ll wake her,” Esther said grudgingly. “I’ll give her a piece of my mind too.”
“No!” He pulled Esther with him to the kitchen and pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Esther.”
She did, rather to his surprise. He put his hands on his hips and loomed over her, hoping to intimidate the old lady for once. “Don’t interrogate Jo. Don’t push her. This is not your problem. Leave us to handle it.”
“You are having problems, aren’t you? And don’t give me that nonsense about snoring. I know Jo wouldn’t let that keep her away from you at night.”
“If we are, they are our problems. Not yours.”
“There are professionals who can help with such issues,” Esther said, fiddling with the sash on her robe. “I know I pushed you into marriage. If there is a problem, I feel responsible. There must be something we can do about it. Isn’t there?”
“Don’t worry about this. Just leave us to it. It’s our marriage now—despite your fingers in it, and yes, you shouldn’t have pushed us, but it’s over and done with now. You’re not our marriage counselor, okay?”
Esther nodded. “I won’t talk to Jo about why she’s on the sofa,” she said with a sigh. “But I really should have a talk with you about why she’s the one on the sofa. That’s not gentlemanly.”
“I’ve got to go, Esther,” he told her, glad to have a good reason to escape. “Save your gentleman lecture until later, okay?”
Esther scowled at him. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook.”
“Never,” he assured her, and headed for the front door. Jo was still on the sofa, sound asleep as he passed her.
No, he wasn’t off the hook.
The investigation was finally over. Jo’s name had been cleared.
Matt gnawed on a pencil and stared at the investigative report. It was thorough, detailed, and left no room for doubt. There was even a warning that she’d have excellent grounds to sue and a recommendation that the company settle with her quietly and peacefully if that was in any way possible.
He should be worried about the risk of her suing the company. He should also be furious over his betrayal by one of the people he’d trusted—a man who’d been with the firm for almost a decade, who not only had betrayed his trust, but had picked Jo to frame for his crimes.
But his mind wasn’t on the job at hand.
Instead all he did was obsess about how to turn this pretend relationship of theirs back into a real one.
He shook his head in attempt to rid it of old memories and concentrated on the open report on his desk. How had things gone so out of hand in the first place? How had Jo gotten in such deep trouble with such flimsy evidence?
So many factors had combined. He’d been away and his father had been determined to close the matter with a minimum of fuss. Jo’s furious departure from the company after he’d come back and tried to reinstate her hadn’t helped the issue. By the time the dust had settled, everybody was convinced she must be guilty.
Well, now they would know differently.
He reached for the phone, intending to call Jo with the good news, but slowly withdrew his hand. She would be vindicated—but there was their relationship to consider.
He rested his head in his hands and tried to think. If he started with the news that her name had been cleared, she’d think he’d only wanted her back when the investigators had proven her innocence.
When the phone rang, and Jo’s voice came over the line, nervous and stubborn as ever, his determination doubled. They had unfinished business—and if postponing this a few days would help, then he would.
“I’m telling her the truth tonight,” Jo said, her voice just this side of trembling.
Matt balanced the phone on his shoulder and started up his e-mail program. First things first—he’d let everybody at the company know Jo was innocent. He grinned as he remembered the special frown Jo used to give him if he kept working while they talked—it had always driven her crazy. “Are you sure that’s smart?”
“No. But we have no choice. I can’t go on like this, and it’s not fair to any of us.”
“What do we tell people?”
“I don’t care.”
Matt sent off his e-mail and leaned back in his chair, feeling better already. Everybody who’d doubted Jo would know the truth now. Next issue: his personal battle strategy.
“I see. We’ll discuss it, okay? I’ll pick you up around five, and we’ll decide on the way home when and how to tell her. Okay?”
“Fine,” Jo said grudgingly.
Despite the long drive, they were still far from having resolved the issue of whether or not to tell Esther the truth, when they got home to find a visitor in the living room with her.
Esther cheerfully summoned them, introducing the man with a sweeping hand wave. Matt noticed that his hair was almost as long as Jo’s used to be. “This is Dr. Walters.”
Matt shook hands with the doctor, while Jo rushed to her grandmother. “What’s wrong, Grandma?”
“I’m fine,” Esther beamed. “Just fine.”
“Why did you call the doctor? And why not Dr. Harrier like you always do? What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Walters is for you two,” Esther said sweetly, before grabbing her cane and hoisting herself to her feet. “He’s a therapist.”
There was total silence in the room for a few moments, broken only by the sound of Esther’s cane against the rug as she made her way toward the door.
“You hired a therapist for us?” Jo asked weakly. “Grandma…”
“Yes, love. I hope he can help you.” Esther hurried from the room and closed the door quietly behind her, leaving Jo and Matt to stare at each other, and then at the therapist standing in front of them.
Now what?
“Why don’t we have a seat?” the doctor said cheerfully, looking just as much at home as if he were in his own office. He sat down, crossed his legs and looked at them patiently. Matt shrugged and sank down on the sofa, beckoning Jo to follow. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “You’re a marriage counselor?”
“Something like that,” the man confirmed. “I specialize in helping couples who are having problems with marital relations.”
“Marital relations…?” His worst suspicions bobbed to the surface. Esther couldn’t have…No, she couldn’t possibly have…He glanced at Jo and saw an answering expression of rising horror, so it wasn’t just his paranoia speaking. It really was… “You don’t mean…?”
“I specialize in sexual problems,” Dr. Walters confirmed with a modest smile.
Matt watched Jo lean forward in slow motion until her forehead met her knees. “Oh, God,” he heard her mumble. “Grandma hired us a sex therapist.”
Matt cleared his throat. “Dr. Walters…this is a misunderstanding. We aren’t having any problems. We have no need for a…therapist. Any kind of therapist.” He looked to Jo for confirmation, but her face was hidden. “We’re doing fine.”
The doctor responded to that by getting a pad and a pen out of his briefcase. “Yes, Mrs. Brande told me that would probably be your response. She is very concerned for you. She tells me you two haven’t been sharing a bedroom, not even on your wedding night. It is a natural conclusion that you are facing some unexpected problems in the marriage bed.”
Jo’s head was still pressed to her knees, leaving him alone to deal with the therapist. He clenched his teeth in the effort to be civil. “Mrs. Brande means well,” he said. “But this is a misunderstanding. We’re not having any problems. She called you here for nothing.”
The doctor made a note on his pad. Why? What note was that? What had he said that warranted a note?
The doctor looked up at him over his glasses. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Matthew—may I call you Matthew? This isn’t an uncommon problem.”
“What problem? We’re not having any problems!”
“Many men have problems with performance anxiety as newlyweds—”
“I do not have performance anxiety!” Matt exploded, straining to keep himself from hyperventilating. Where had Esther found this guy? Why had Esther found this guy? What had Jo been telling her?
Jo’s shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t sure if she was laughing or just hiding in embarrassment. He hoped she wasn’t laughing. She’d better not be laughing at his “performance anxiety.”
“You don’t think it’s performance anxiety.” Dr. Walters nodded, concern on his face. “I see. Is it a question of…endurance perhaps? That’s a common—”
“I have plenty of endurance!” Matt yelled.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Matthew. Plenty of men have problems with—”
“I do not have a problem!”
Dr. Walters wisely closed his mouth, but was quick to recover. He made another note on his pad. Matt squinted, but couldn’t make it out.
“I see. Matthew, you do not think you have any problems. I want to ask you to keep in mind anyway that the first step toward solving a problem is acknowledging the possibility of its existence.” He wisely switched subjects before Matt could comment. “Now, let’s continue. Is it Joanna, perhaps, who’s having problems? It’s not an uncommon problem that the husband isn’t aware of some of the subtleties in his wife’s anatomy…”
“I know all I need to know about my wife’s…” Matt broke off and swore, clenching his fists. He had to stop shouting. Esther, upstairs, didn’t need to know about his in-depth knowledge of Jo’s anatomy. “So even if she’s the one having problems, it’s my fault, is it?”
Another note was scribbled. As the doctor leaned toward him, Matt finally got a look at his clipboard. “Husb. defens.” it said. “There is no need to establish guilt or responsibility,” Dr. Walters said in a voice that was probably supposed to be calming, but that did an excellent job of driving his blood pressure even further up. “Guilt serves no purpose in this matter. But what you may have here is a breakdown in communications. If there is a problem, it may be because one of you isn’t giving the other one some needed information or feedback. That’s something that can easily be resolved through some open and honest discussion. That’s what we’re here for.”
Matt whimpered. It was all he could do, but now Jo had at least raised herself up. She was still covering her face with her hands, and what little he could see was redder than the rose petals that had littered her bed on their wedding night. He narrowed his eyes, pried two of her fingers away for a confirmation of what he was seeing, and then leaned toward the doctor with a smile. “Actually, you’re right,” he confided in the man. “Joanna is having some problems, but it’s not a communications problem. She’s been very explicit in telling me what she wants, when, where and how.”
He heard Joanna gasp in horror and she removed one hand from her face and made an attempt at pinching his thigh, but he grabbed her hand and held it tightly in the gesture of the loving husband. He’d managed to see the truth when he’d pulled her fingers away from her face.
She was laughing—so hard she had tears streaming from her eyes, and despite everything her laughter loosened something around his heart, something he hadn’t even realized had been frozen. He felt his own face start to relax into laughter—but the issue remained. His masculinity was in question now.
Well, they’d just see who had the last laugh. “To be honest, doctor, it’s her…special requests that are a bit of a problem.”
“I see.” The doctor turned to Joanna, beaming with pleasure at this breakthrough. “We’ve narrowed the issue down. Good. Excellent progress. Tell me about your problem, Joanna.”
“Matt…” Jo begged. “Please. Save us.”
Matt put his arm over Jo’s shoulders, his other hand resting on top of hers in her lap. “This isn’t easy for her. My wife is a little embarrassed about her problem.”
“Matt!”
Matt tightened his arm around her and shook her a bit. “Tell the doctor, darling. We have to be open and honest about this.”
Jo’s voice lowered and she snatched her hand out of his, pulling away from him and perching on the edge of the sofa. “You’re a dead man, Matt…”
Matt cleared his throat and grabbed Jo’s hands back in his own. “Okay, darling, I’ll tell him. You see, she has these fantasies that she likes to act out…”
Dr. Walters leaned forward, hanging on every word, while Jo tore her hands free and covered her face again. “Yes?” the doctor prompted. “And those fantasies?”
Matt nudged Jo. “Darling? You can do it. Tell the doctor about our little problem with your fantasies.”
Some barely audible words emerged from behind her hands. He caught the phrase “slow and painful death” and smiled, satisfied.
“The truth is, she’s a bit of an exhibitionist. The reason we haven’t been doing much of anything in our bedroom is that it’s too tame for her. She’s not interested unless there is an element of danger. She just keeps getting more and more adventurous…and nothing else will do. It’s just a matter of time until we get ourselves arrested.”
“I see.” The doctor stared at the top of Joanna’s head for a while, before turning his attention back to Matt. He nodded slowly. “I see. This is indeed a problem.”
“It is,” Matt confirmed. “Quite a problem.”
“Indeed.” Dr. Walters was silent for a long moment, staring hard at Jo. Then he switched his gaze to Matt. “And your inability to fulfill your wife’s fantasies, are they only mental hang-ups, or do they lead to physical difficulties as well?”
“What?”
The doctor tapped his pen against his pad, his gaze disapproving. “You have an open-minded and free-spirited wife with a strong sensual nature, Matthew, while you yourself are stuck in another century. It’s not uncommon for men to feel threatened in those circumstances and have problems with performing, even within their own inhibited parameters. Performance anxiety under those circumstances is understandable. The cure lies in working on loosening your own inhibitions.”
This wasn’t funny anymore. Then why were Jo’s shoulders still shaking? She looked up and he could see her cheeks were wet with tears from laughing. “Matt, he does have a point. We can’t let your inhibitions and hang-ups, your old-fashioned, narrow-minded view on sexuality ruin our marriage.”
Matt felt like baring his teeth at her and growling. She was in for a punishment. If only he could think of one grave enough. He stood up. “Thank you, doctor, but that’ll be all—will you send a bill? To Mrs. Brande,” he added grimly.
“Certainly—would you like to book another appointment?”
“No,” Matt said. “I most definitely wouldn’t.”
Jo wasn’t in the living room when he got back. She’d probably escaped into her bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t follow to tell her exactly what he thought of her little game.
Fat chance.
He headed for the stairs and took them two at a time. She’d pay for this.
She had dried her tears by the time he got there, and her face was almost back to normal, if you didn’t count the chuckles that escaped every few seconds. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a pillow clutched to her chest, and her face was red.
He kicked the door shut with his heel and leaned against it, his arms crossed and his brow heavy. Jo had had her little joke, but now they had unfinished business.
“Well, I’m glad you got a kick out of this,” he said. Jo put her hand over her mouth, but her giggles were still escaping. He shook his head. “So you’ve got problems with my old-fashioned, narrow-minded sexuality, do you?”
Jo’s words were muffled from behind her hand. “You started it!” she countered.
“Well, you certainly repaid me.”
Jo lost control of her giggles for a few moments. “Lord, Matt, you should have seen your face when he was talking about your performance anxiety.”
“Of course, you do know I don’t have any problems.”
Her grin turned mocking. It made him want to corner her and hold her imprisoned while he kissed it away. “Men. Just the mention of problems in that area frightens you, doesn’t it? You really want my reassurance?” She inched backward on the bed, looking wary. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you now going to jump me to prove your virility?”
Matt shook his head slowly and took a few steps forward, not losing eye contact for a second. “You have no idea how tempting that is. You deserve a good spanking.”
There was humor in Joanna’s eyes, an expression that he knew well, but hadn’t seen for a long time. “Kinky, Matt. Dr. Walters would be proud.” Her teasing grin was so familiar, and he’d missed it so much it brought an ache to his gut. “Well, you have to admit my ‘complaints’ have a basis in truth. You were never fond of affectionate displays in public.”
Matt shook his head, the playfulness vanishing as he crashed back down to the grayness of reality and felt the weight of all that had happened settle on his shoulders. He straightened up and shook his head. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Jo. We were trying to keep our relationship a secret. There was a reason. A good reason.”
Her smile faded too. “I know.”
She knew. But she didn’t understand. She never had understood that he’d been trying to spare her. “I was your boss, Jo. I was trying to protect you until we could figure something out.”
“Yeah. And a great job you did at protecting me.”
He closed his eyes. “Jo…”
“Sorry. I do seem to have trouble with the forgetting and forgiving part, don’t I?”
Her voice was flip, but the smile had gone from her eyes, replaced by the hard defense he was so used to seeing. He’d hurt her badly. He hadn’t even realized how badly. Maybe there really was no hope of salvaging what they’d had.
There had to be.
Before he could change his mind, he’d crossed the floor in a heartbeat, reached out for her hand and pulled her to her feet. He noticed the startled look on her face only for a second before he had his hands cupping her face and his mouth drinking from hers. She didn’t even hesitate before responding, which warmed his heart and promised him that there might be hope for them after all. The kiss was as hot and deep as ever, her breath sweet and her skin warm against his hands. But there was something wrong…
Her hair…it should be flowing over his fingers, should be warm and vibrant and alive, but it was gone. Her lips were the same, soft and yielding, and her scent was the same….
But he couldn’t forget her hair—and his suspicions of why it was gone.
He rested his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, imprisoning her hands in his and holding them against his heart. She tried to free them, shock in her eyes now at what they’d just done, but he tightened his hold. “Tell me, Jo. Why did you cut your hair?”
Her eyes flickered. “Why not? It’s fashionable, you know. This is in. And I was in the mood for a change anyway.”
“A change?”
“Yes. I wanted something different. It’s comfortable this short. No problem to maintain. I like it. I love it,” she added, so defiantly that it convinced him she hated it herself.
He trailed a finger up her neck, past the outline of her ear and brushed it through the short wisps. “Your hair was so beautiful, Jo,” he said. “Perfect.”
Her eyes filled with tears and at the same time she pushed her elbow against his gut and shoved him away. “It’s none of your business, Matt. Nothing I do is any of your business. Not anymore.”
He grabbed her hands and imprisoned them against his chest again, pinning her against the wall. “Tell me the truth about why you cut your hair, Jo.”
“I just did, Matt! Let go of me.”
“You lied. Tell me the real reason.”
“Because you loved it so much,” she shouted, finally looking up at him again, tears sliding from her eyes as she blinked in angry defiance and her body slackened in defeat. “Yes! I cut my hair because of you! Happy now?”
“No,” he said and let her go, feeling ashamed and depressed at having forced the words out of her. “I’m not happy.”
She stared at him for a moment and when she spoke, her words almost stumbled out of her. “Let’s go talk to Grandma. Now. We’ll tell her everything. This has to end.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I can’t handle this anymore. Let’s tell her right now.”
He touched his thumb to her lower lip, then to her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were shimmering with emotion. He hated to see her so miserable. “I don’t think now would be a good time, Jo,” he whispered, not wanting to hurt her more, but she wouldn’t want Esther to see her in this state. “Your face. It shows that you’ve been kissing and crying.”
Jo gave a sharp sound of fury as she pushed his hand away. She stalked past him and out of the room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.
She’d cut her hair because of him. It was only confirmation of what he’d thought—a confirmation of how much their relationship had meant to her. But things were not exactly looking up regarding reconciliation, were they?
Matt took a deep breath, shook his head and headed toward Esther’s room. The old lady needed a good talking-to—but at least the whole farce had made Jo laugh before he had made her cry. Her laughter was a sound he’d missed.
Esther was in her easy chair, crossword puzzle in hand, the dogs resting at her feet and an audio book on the stereo. Matt pushed the pause button and knelt in front of his godmother, pushing one sleeping dog out of the way. She raised an eyebrow in question, her eyes twinkling. “Hello, Matt. Did the therapist help?”
Matt sighed. “Esther…”
“Yes, love?”
“Jo and I do not need a sex therapist.”
Esther winced. “He’s a marital relations counselor. There’s no need to be crude.”
Matt put the puzzle book on the table and grabbed both her hands. “Esther, you know you’re my favorite person in the world, but if you ever again try to interfere with my…marital relations, one of these days you’re going to wake up and find that your hair has been dyed orange.”
Esther’s lips pursed in a pout that reminded him of Jo during happier times. “I just wanted to help, Matthew. You didn’t spend your wedding night together. It’s obvious that you’re having problems.”
“Not that kind of problem. We do fine in that department. We always have.” Matt closed his eyes, not believing he’d had to confide this to his godmother.
Esther was eyeing him suspiciously when he opened his eyes again. “So you were having marital relations before the marriage, eh?”
“Well, people do, these days. It’s the way of things.”
“Well, to be truthful, they also did sixty years ago,” she whispered.
He tried to look properly scandalized, as he was expected to. “Esther!”
Esther cackled. “Don’t tell Jo. She’s bound to check the date of her mother’s birth and my wedding date. Not something I recommend. She’s so serious these days. She’d probably put ‘grand-bastard’ on her résumé.”
“‘Grand-bastard’?” Esther was good at making his head spin in confusion. It was an ability her granddaughter had inherited.
“Well, if everything’s fine in that department, you should sleep in the same room. Don’t give me that crap about you snoring. A woman wouldn’t let a few snores keep her away from the man she loves.”
Matt stared at his godmother, saw the concern in her eyes, and the pieces fell into place. He had been manipulated after all—more than he’d realized. “You know,” he said. “Don’t you? You know everything.”
Esther fiddled with her pencil. “Isn’t Jo waiting for you?”
“The game is up, Esther.” He shook his head. “I was convinced you were exaggerating things to get us into a marriage, but that’s not all, is it? You knew we’d broken up. Jo never told you—and you used that against us.”
“Well, breaking up was a stupid move, if you ask me.”
“It wasn’t my choice. It was Jo’s decision.”
“And you just let her?”
“What was I supposed to do, grab her by the hair and drag her back to my cave?”
“Absolutely. Figuratively speaking, of course.” Esther was frowning now. “Do you think Jo realizes what I was up to?”
Matt shook his head. “No. She’s pretty sure that you exaggerated things to get us married, but she doesn’t suspect you know we broke up.” He sent her a harsh glare. “She doesn’t believe you capable of such duplicity.”
Esther failed to look guilty. “Why do so many people assume you’re above suspicion when you’re old?” she mused. “A whole lifetime of debauchery and sin, and people assume you don’t even know the real story of the birds and the bees.”
“A lifetime of debauchery and sin?”
Esther gave him a quirky smile. “Exaggeration is an old lady’s prerogative, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
“You’re perfect for each other. That’s why I pretended to be a bit under the weather…”
“A bit under the weather? You told us you were dying!”
Esther ignored him. “…and pushed for the marriage. I waited and waited and you obviously weren’t about to make up. You had problems—and you let that be the end of it.” She shook her head in disgust. “Young people today have no stamina to try to work out their problems.”
“I see. That’s why you did it.”
“Yes. If you were married, if you were forced to be together, you’d have to work out your problems instead of running away from them.”
Matt tilted his head and stared at his godmother. Jo would go ballistic when she found out. “First, this wasn’t a legally binding marriage, Esther, and although we were pretending in front of you, it was never a real marriage to us. Second, there is such a thing as divorce.”
“You two won’t divorce,” Esther dismissed.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Why, you’re in love.” She narrowed her eyes and shook his hand. “Aren’t you? You do want Joanna back, don’t you?”
Matt sighed. “Yes. I want her back. That’s probably why I was stupid enough to let you trick us into this marriage.” He was silent for a moment, thinking. “Esther, I don’t approve of what you did, and I hope you never do that again, but maybe we can make this work to our advantage.” He took his grandmother’s hand and squeezed. “The important thing is that you don’t tell Jo yet.”
“Don’t tell Jo what?”
She was standing in the doorway, brimming with suspicion. Her face no longer bore the marks of either kissing or crying, and Matt saw determination in her face that spelled trouble. If he didn’t do something to prevent it, she would tell Esther the truth now and it would be over. “What are you two up to?”
Esther sighed. “I was confessing, love.”
Matt turned his head, staring at his godmother. She too? No. Esther couldn’t confess to Jo, not just yet. That would mean the end of everything—and he was just getting started. He’d kissed Jo again—and now there was nothing that would stop him in his mission of getting her back. He stood up, blocking Esther’s view of Joanna, and managed to give her a warning gesture without Jo seeing. Esther’s eyes widened and she nodded once in understanding. He turned around and sent the same warning gesture to Jo, who raised her eyebrows in question, but gave a slight nod that told him she would play along until he explained.
“Your grandmother just bought us a honeymoon,” he told Jo. “It was meant to be a surprise.”
“A honeymoon?” Jo leaned against the doorway, turning pale. Her eyes were full of questions, but he had no choice but to ignore them for now. He’d figure out some kind of explanation—only he’d have to do it fast.
Esther caught on quickly. “Yes. I deprived you of a real wedding, so I’m giving you a honeymoon to make up for it a bit. I handpicked the spot. You’ll love it.”
“Where is it?” Jo asked, obviously stalling for time. Her eyes kept sending desperate messages to him, and he threw her a tiny shrug in return. “Where…?”
Esther opened her mouth, looking confused. Matt bent down and hugged the old lady, whispering “Leave it to me,” into her ear. “Thank you, Esther,” he then said aloud, explaining away the sudden hug.
“It’s a mountain cottage,” he told Jo. “Esther already told me all about it, and it sounds wonderful. Amazing view, isolated. Perfect privacy.”
“An outdoor tub,” Esther chimed in—and he added that to his mental list. He’d better find such a place. And soon, before Jo found a way to wriggle out of this.
“We leave Saturday morning,” he said.
“I see.” Jo shook her head. “But I can’t leave, not on such a short notice. I can’t possibly go. I can’t take time off work.”
“It’s just a long weekend, so you only need one day off. Esther already called your boss,” he lied blatantly. He’d call Carl later and fix it. “He’s more than willing to give you Monday off and was thrilled to hear about the wedding.”
Inwardly he was wincing at the mounting pile of lies. Was this really the way to get Jo back?
“You called my boss?” Jo whispered. “Grandma…”
“He didn’t know you were married,” Esther happily told her. “Guess that man must be blind not to notice a new ring.”
“I don’t see him much,” Jo muttered. Her eyes were pleading with Matt, but she wasn’t giving anything away.
Good. She wanted his cooperation, and she wouldn’t be getting it. No way.
Jo walked to Esther’s bed, and grabbed her grandmother’s hand. “Grandma, there’s no way we’re leaving you alone here in your condition.”
“My condition is fine,” Esther said, reminding him of her trickery and Jo’s misery over it. It had been cruel of Esther, even if she’d had the best intentions.
“I thought you were dying,” he said.
“Matt!” Somehow Jo managed to hiss his name although it didn’t have a single sibilant in it. Impressive.
Esther seemed less offended by his dry comment than Jo was. “Well, I promise not to die tonight, don’t worry.”
“Grandma, I’m not leaving you,” Jo said firmly.
“The girls are staying while you’re away,” Esther told her. “All three of them. We’re going to have late nights and all-night bridge games. How many people do you suppose have sleepovers in their eighties? Go on your honeymoon, Jo, and enjoy it.”
“Grandma, I really appreciate your gesture…but…” She glanced up at Matt. “Would you talk to me for a minute?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but left the room.
“You’re really going on a honeymoon?” Esther asked, keeping her voice down. Matt nodded.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re going to be all macho and win her back, aren’t you?”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised.
“How are you going to convince her to go?”
“I have my ways.”
“I’m sure you do,” Esther said with a smile.
Jo was cleaning the kitchen cupboards. In the minute she’d waited for him, she’d managed to empty out an entire cupboard and was halfway inside it with her sleeves rolled up. He remembered that trait of hers. She’d always used housework to work off the angry energy she wouldn’t release elsewhere. “I can’t believe she called my boss,” she growled when she noticed he was here. “I have to call him and apologize.”
She started toward the phone, and he tried desperately to think of something to slow her down. He’d have to reach Carl before she did. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine,” he said, stepping between her and the phone.
She glared at him. “Fine? We have to tell her. Right now. I wanted to tell her today—you’d better have a good reason for stopping me. There is no way I’m going to pretend to go on a honeymoon on top of pretending to marry you.”
“Pretend honeymoon,” he mused. “It’s a fascinating concept, isn’t it?”
“You mean we pretend to go?” She shook her head. “We can’t do that, even if we wanted to. She’s going to want pictures, a postcard, details of how that cottage looks. Are you suggesting we forge all that? And why?”
“We could always tell her we spent the whole weekend in bed and didn’t notice anything but each other.”
She paused in her cleaning, her hand moving in a gesture from when her hair was long, an attempt to push it out of her eyes. When her hand didn’t encounter strands of hair, she rubbed at her temple instead. He smiled at the thought, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re not finding this funny, are you, Matt?”
“It is funny.”
“Under other circumstances it might be funny…”
He was infuriating. Didn’t this hurt him at all? It was agony for her, with all she still felt for him, to pretend she was married—and now she’d have to go on a pretend honeymoon? And he still hadn’t explained why, for heaven’s sake. They were just postponing the inevitable.
“We have to reach a decision, Matt. This can’t go on forever. Grandma is doing fine now. We’re not going to keep up this pretence for years, are we?”
“I suppose it would be tricky—after the pretend honeymoon, there’d be a pretend pregnancy, then a pretend birth and a pretend baby…at which time she’d probably catch on.”
Jo stared into the newly cleaned cabinet. Her own apartment had been spotless ever since she’d broken up with Matt. It beat any therapy. “Would you please be serious about this?” she snapped. Her heart still hadn’t recovered after their kiss, after that outburst of emotion on both sides. Matt knew she’d cut her hair because of him. He knew she’d loved him.
“Am I smiling?”
She checked. He wasn’t. Not anymore, anyway. “No.” She slammed the cabinet door shut and headed for the coffee. This had gone way out of hand and it was time to end it. “This is it. We tell her now. One cup of strong coffee, then we tell her.”
Matt squirmed into a kitchen chair opposite her—and the kitchen felt way too small. “No. I have a better idea about how to break it to her.”
“I’m listening. This better be good.”
“We’ll go on that pretend honeymoon—at least we’ll be in peace for a few days, no Esther trying to push us into bed together. Maybe when we get away from everything, some magic solution will present itself. If not…” He took a deep breath. “If we decide at the end of the weekend that there is no other way, we’ll come back and tell people our marriage was a mistake and that we’re getting a divorce.”
A divorce? “Why? Why a divorce? Why not just tell them the truth? And tell them now?”
“The truth will make Esther look like a fool. And if we go with the divorce story now, it’s too sudden.” He shrugged. “But after a honeymoon, several days of just the two of us in close proximity—I bet plenty of couples suddenly realize they can’t stand each other. It’s a good enough excuse, anyway.”
Jo stared at him, biting her lip. “Cynical, but you do have a point. This might make it easier on everybody. We’d just break up, naturally, amicably, and after that we never need to see each other again.”
“Right.” It wasn’t going to happen, he vowed. He’d convince Jo they had a future together. There was still the small matter of letting her know that her reputation had been cleared—but that had to wait. He couldn’t lose this chance. First, there was a pretend honeymoon to turn into a real one. Then—the truth could come out. One long weekend—one chance to win back what they’d lost. He’d make it work.
Jo looked up at him, determination in her jawline, although it was pretty clear her goals for this weekend were not the same as his. “Terrific. When can we leave on our divorcemoon?”
Great. Now she couldn’t wait.