It was Eden’s turn to go mute. She stared at Stony, heard the whinny of horses outside, the pounding of hooves as trainers put the beautiful creatures through their paces.
‘‘Excuse me?’’
‘‘I understand what you need,’’ he said quietly. ‘‘But because of the circumstances, Nikki mainly, that’s the only way I can see something like this working.’’
‘‘Marriage?’’ Her head was suddenly spinning.
‘‘With stipulations.’’
She swallowed, continued to gape at him. ‘‘Of course.’’ Almost immediately she shook her head, held up a hand. ‘‘Wait a minute. What am I saying? There’s no ‘of course.’’’ Evidently, irrational behavior was contagious. And though she was the least likely of the two, someone had to be reasonable.
‘‘They’re necessary.’’
‘‘What? Oh, stipulations…yes. But I meant marriage.’’ She hadn’t counted on permanence—just a baby. She was thoroughly taken by surprise and off balance. ‘‘Stony, I have a house and a business in Dallas. And a partner.’’
He gave a slow nod. ‘‘That’s why I said stipulations. You’ve given yourself six months, obviously intending to spend them here in Montana. Fine. We’ll give the marriage six months. If you’re not pregnant by then, we’ll call it quits.’’
She rubbed her forehead where a headache throbbed with a consistent dull pain. ‘‘And if I am?’’
‘‘Your choice. The door will still be open. I’ll want rights as far as the child goes, though.’’
‘‘Yes, of course.’’ Her heartbeat stuttered, and her brain went into fast rewind. ‘‘What kind of rights? I mean, I never intended for you to pay child support or anything.’’
‘‘If you have my baby, I’ll pay child support.’’ His statement was resolute, brooked no argument.
Although his attitude was commendable—the world would be a much better place if more men adopted the same one—Eden felt a slight niggling of unease.
‘‘I’d want to see my son or daughter, have him know who I am. You can choose the schedule and how often, but the main stipulation’s nonnegotiable.’’
She rested her hand on his arm. ‘‘I feel the same, Stony. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t pursue the clinical approach. It’s important to me to know the father of my child. And I want my baby to know his or her father. That’s how I’d always imagined it…in a perfect world, that is. Before…well, you know.’’ If she’d had the luxury to wait for love and marriage. If the clock wasn’t ticking.
He nodded. ‘‘I’d need my attorney to draft some papers, which of course will include clauses to protect your assets, as well.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ She fluttered a hand, a bit flustered. ‘‘I trust you.’’
‘‘You don’t know me.’’
‘‘That’s an odd thing to say after you’ve just offered marriage.’’
He shrugged. ‘‘It’s true.’’
‘‘You’re right. And smart. Thank you for having a care for my protection. My mother’s a judge—municipal court. She’d have fined me for stupidity if the code existed.’’ Eden smiled. ‘‘I confess I’m a little muddled right now. I’ve never been married before.’’
‘‘I have.’’
She gaped at him. ‘‘You have? Aunt Lottie never said anything.’’
‘‘Why should she? It’s old news. But you get my point now.’’
Yes, she got the point. Aunt Lottie had told her about Stony’s personality, his gentleness, his uncanny ability to charm horses, his dedication as a father. She’d sent a photograph as further enticement. But that was the extent of it. Now that she thought about it, Aunt Lottie had never offered personal details, had never breached Stony’s confidences.
Eden did not know Stony Stratton.
She only knew she had a powerful attraction to him. He made her tremble, and he made her ache in an elemental, carnal way.
But marriage? Could she do it?
She’d waited thirty-four years to do it right, had held on to the fairy-tale fantasies about love, marriage and family, even though she’d chosen to pursue career and financial stability first. That was the proper way to do things, she’d thought, the smart way.
Oh, she’d gone through the years of despairing that she’d ever marry, fearing that she’d end up an old maid. She’d watched her friends from high school settle down to husband, home, kids and carpools, and had suffered through a gut-wrenching, demeaning period in life when she’d looked at every man with an eye toward getting him down the matrimonial aisle.
The worst had been when Carrie had gotten married. They were best friends—and partners in business now—and had always done things together.
Thankfully, Eden had come to her senses, learned to be patient, to be comfortable with who she was and to respect her goals. To fulfill her career and financial aspirations first, trusting that when she was mature enough, the right man would come into her life, a man who would love her and she him, in return. A man with whom she would share friendship as well as the kind of deep and abiding love that would overcome life’s obstacles and carry them through until death would part them.
So, could she do this? Set aside her ideals of marriage and happily ever after? Could she enter into this sacred institution knowing up front that it could never work, that in fact it was predetermined to end in six months’ time?
Because it couldn’t work, even if she wanted it to. Her life and family were in Texas, more than fifteen hundred miles away.
And the man proposing marriage didn’t love her.
Cramps tightened her belly, low in her abdomen, sending a wave of nausea through her. She fought the weakness.
Just like she intended to fight it until the very last moment, until there was no longer any hope.
But right this minute there was hope.
And Stony Stratton was offering it…or agreeing, rather, with minor—major, she amended—alterations.
‘‘Are you sure about this, Stony?’’
‘‘It’s your decision.’’
That wasn’t an answer. But she wanted a baby more than anything. She wanted to try.
With Stony, she realized.
Which meant agreeing to his conditions.
‘‘When did you have in mind…to get married?’’
‘‘The sooner the better. Chances are good that Lottie didn’t keep this plan to herself,’’ he said. ‘‘All she’d need to do is tell one person, and the whole town would know in a matter of hours. Which means they’re already speculating, wondering if we’ve started trying for this baby of ours.’’
His words and his steady look made her blush. The curse of her auburn hair color, she’d been told. There was no controlling the way her cheeks bloomed at the least provocation. And he was right about the grapevine. Ozzie Peyton and Iris Brewer had already dropped some heavy hints and slips. Deliberate ones, she suspected.
‘‘Before you answer, though, there’s something I need to do.’’
‘‘Of course—’’
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her words dried up.
Oh, she thought. He meant he needed to do something right this very minute.
Suddenly she could hardly draw a breath. When his lips touched hers, her mind went absolutely blank for an endlessly long second. Then her senses kicked in, noting the smell of leather, the feel of his oval belt buckle pressing against her stomach, the sound of her own heart beating in her ears.
The sheer size of him surrounded her, made her feel petite and protected. The exquisitely gentle press of his palm on her back made her feel cherished.
She had to remind herself to tread carefully, to act like a lady, to take it slow. Because suddenly she felt wild, had an urgent, pressing need to get hot and sweaty and let desire sweep them over the rapids of sensation.
But Stony was old-fashioned enough to want marriage—even temporarily—rather than an affair. She didn’t want to offend.
When she felt the pressure of his body lessen, she found her lips clinging, found herself on tiptoe, trying to hold on to just a split second more of magic. And when she finally had the wherewithal to open her eyes, she knew the expression in them was stunned.
‘‘That answers one of my questions.’’
She had to clear her throat. ‘‘And that was?’’
‘‘Chemistry. It’s there.’’
‘‘I’ll say.’’
‘‘And to the other?’’
‘‘Huh?’’ She couldn’t seem to think clearly.
‘‘What do you say to the marriage?’’
‘‘Oh. Uh, yes.’’
‘‘Fine. I’ll have my attorney get started on the papers, and I’ll call the pastor and set something up.’’
‘‘Um…there’s no rush, really. I mean…’’ That darn heat of embarrassment crept up her neck and burned her ears. ‘‘My period’s due in the next day or so.’’
She’d gotten all flustered for nothing. He simply nodded as though speaking of female unmentionables was commonplace. ‘‘The weekend then? Friday or Saturday?’’
‘‘Saturday should be fine. What will we tell people?’’
‘‘What had you planned?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought explanations would be necessary. That whatever we did behind closed doors would be private.’’
‘‘Not likely in this town.’’
‘‘Then I suppose we could say it was love at first sight?’’
He shrugged. ‘‘That’s a stretch, but it’ll do.’’
She felt a swift punch of pain and looked away. They were making a mistake. She’d just agreed to marry this man, and he’d as much as admitted he could never fall in love with her. Granted, she’d only counted on a no-strings, adult relationship but…
What in the world was the matter with her? She didn’t want him to fall in love with her. She only wanted a baby. Her life was in Texas. There was no excuse to wear her heart on her sleeve. But doggone it…
He hooked a finger under her chin, tipped her face up. ‘‘I meant me, Eden. You’re beautiful. There isn’t a man in town who’d question or think twice. The stretch will be in folks believing that beauty fell for the beast. That only happens in fairy tales.’’
‘‘Stony—’’
He pressed a finger to her lips. There was a resignation in his eyes that made her sad. Words wouldn’t work with Stony Stratton. Perhaps that’s what he’d gotten from his ex-wife. Eden didn’t know. But instinctively she knew that for a man like Stony, a man who watched and studied so deeply, so thoroughly, actions were what he would respond to. Words were just a bunch of letters that made a sound. Actions spoke the truth.
And Eden vowed to make it her mission to show him a very vital truth—that he was a wonderful, sexy, handsome man. That exterior wounds were invisible when a man had such a powerfully good and gentle heart.
And that inner goodness made the outer package more handsome and appealing than the hottest movie idol.
She pursed her lips against his finger in a kiss and watched as his whiskey eyes went hot.
She was suddenly aware that they were alone in the house and had just made plans to marry and have an incredibly active sex life.
And after that kiss she was more than anxious to step up the pace a bit. Could she wait a week? My Lord, the changes in her life were coming at such a speed it left her spinning.
WHEN STONY WENT BACK outside to work with his horses, Eden got out bowls, measuring spoons and the canister of flour. Each time she passed by the kitchen window, her heart bumped in her chest.
Lord, he was something. All male. All cowboy. He sat atop a beautiful bay horse, man and animal appearing as one.
And he didn’t look a bit like a guy who’d just negotiated marriage with a relative stranger—a stranger who’d propositioned him like a lunatic right here in his very own kitchen.
She scooped shortening into the flour and had it blended before she realized she’d forgotten the salt.
Another sharp cramp tightened her abdomen, and she nearly bent double. Sweat broke out on her neck and hands, making her fingers slick on the slotted spoon.
She was doing the right thing, she told herself.
And as such, she needed to make a call. Picking up the phone, she punched in her long-distance calling card digits, followed by the number for Garden of Eden Catering.
Carrie Mugsannie wasn’t just her business partner; she’d been her best friend since kindergarten.
‘‘Garden of Eden, Carrie speaking.’’
‘‘It’s me.’’
‘‘Eden! I’ve been a nervous wreck waiting for you to check in with me. So, what’s the deal?’’
‘‘I’m getting married.’’
‘‘What?’’ Carrie shrieked. ‘‘Have you lost your mind?’’
‘‘Mmm, I haven’t truly ruled out the possibility.’’
‘‘Don’t joke….’’ Carrie paused. ‘‘You are joking, right?’’
‘‘About losing my mind or the marriage thing?’’
‘‘Dang it, Eden. Take your pick.’’
‘‘He suggested marriage, and I agreed.’’
For several moments there was silence on the line.
‘‘He’s that good?’’
Eden grinned and added yeast and warm water to her bread mixture. ‘‘I don’t know yet.’’
‘‘You don’t…Eden, it’s only because you’re my friend that I didn’t lock you in the pantry when you first hatched this whole crazy idea. But marriage? You were only supposed to go there for sex.’’
‘‘The rules changed.’’
‘‘The—Okay, I’m sitting down, now. Let’s have the whole scoop. Include all the details, please,’’ Carrie requested in an oh-so-prim-and-polite Texas drawl.
Eden laughed, and then she told her friend everything, trying her best to describe Stony, his gentleness, his morals and ethics. ‘‘He has to think about his daughter, Carrie. And I agree with him.’’
‘‘You knew he had a kid when you hightailed it out of here.’’
‘‘I wasn’t thinking.’’
‘‘Seems to me you’re still not.’’
‘‘Carrie—’’
‘‘I know, I know.’’ Carrie’s voice softened. ‘‘But I have to play the devil’s advocate. It’s my duty as your friend.’’
‘‘And I love you for it.’’
‘‘Okay, so you marry for six months and hope you get pregnant. What if you do and he sues you for custody of the baby?’’
‘‘Can’t,’’ Eden said. ‘‘That’s what the legal document is for. And it’ll have clauses to protect our business,’’ she assured her friend.
‘‘I’m not concerned about that,’’ Carrie said. ‘‘I know you wouldn’t jeopardize the company.’’
Eden refrained from telling her partner that she hadn’t had the presence of mind to remember the details, that it had been Stony’s suggestion. Granted, she’d have caught it before the actual papers were finalized, but still…
‘‘Legal papers are well and good, but isn’t Montana one of those macho states? What if the case went to court and the judge sided with him?’’
‘‘You forget who my mother is, Carrie.’’
‘‘In Texas. That doesn’t give her judgeship jurisdiction—or whatever you call it—in Montana. And you said he has custody of his daughter. Did his ex just give it over or was there a battle?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘Eden, you should find out these things.’’
‘‘Maybe his ex didn’t want Nikki.’’
‘‘Maybe the cowboy wouldn’t let her have Nikki,’’ Carrie countered.
Eden didn’t want to entertain these doubts. She was getting closer to her goal, taking steps to ensure her dream.
A huge step, she realized.
Or a blind leap, an inner voice taunted.
‘‘I’ll find out. And I’m only assuming he’s divorced. He might be a widower. He has a scar…’’ She broke off, feeling she was betraying him somehow by discussing the feature he was most self-conscious of. ‘‘Maybe his wife died or something.’’
‘‘Yeah, and maybe she gave him that scar in a wild and horrible fight—’’
‘‘Oh, stop it.’’ Despite the subject matter, Eden laughed. ‘‘You should hang up your apron and become a writer.’’
‘‘Not a chance. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?’’
‘‘You know why I’m doing it, Carrie.’’
‘‘Dang it all.’’ Carrie sighed, and her voice softened. ‘‘When’s the ceremony?’’
‘‘Friday or Saturday. I’m not sure. It depends on the lawyer, I think. And the, uh…length of my period.’’
‘‘Oh, Eden. Do you want me to fly out?’’
‘‘No.’’ Eden glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall by the phone. ‘‘We’ve got the Rammy party scheduled.’’ It was a big one, 250 guests for an elaborate buffet, complete with ice sculptures and artistically carved fruits and vegetables. ‘‘Besides, I imagine Stony and I will just go on down to the courthouse.’’
She was sure that sounded awful. Carrie’s exact sentiments were conveyed in the several moments of silence that followed.
‘‘What about your folks?’’ she finally asked. ‘‘You have to tell them.’’
‘‘I know. I just wanted to wait, to see if things would work out here.’’
‘‘Seems they’re working out a little too nicely. You are coming back, aren’t you?’’
‘‘You know I am, Carrie. But, I need…’’
‘‘I know. Stupid of me to say anything.’’
Eden closed her eyes, took a breath. ‘‘No matter what her age is, a girl just doesn’t tell her mom she’s off finding some man to sleep with.’’
‘‘No,’’ Carrie drawled in her best Southern irony tone. ‘‘She discusses it with her mother’s best friend. Or should I say plots it. What the heck is the difference?’’
Eden shrugged. ‘‘Aunt Lottie just always seemed so much more…cool, I guess. Besides, you know my mom. She won’t agree with my decision to put off surgery.’’
‘‘I’m not so sure I do, either. I’ve seen you these last few months, Eden, and you scare the daylights out of me.’’
‘‘I want a baby, Mugs,’’ Eden said softly, tears stinging her eyes before she could stop them.
‘‘Oh, Will, I know.’’ Carrie returned, her voice catching. As kids growing up, they’d shortened each other’s last names while playing detective—Mugs for Mugsannie, and Will for Williams. And while they were at it, they’d named their future children—Eden’s would be Julia or James, and Carrie’s would be Crystal or Stephen.
Carrie had gotten both her little Stephen and her little Crystal. And a fabulous husband who adored her.
‘‘I’m just so scared over your health,’’ Carrie said.
‘‘I’ll be fine.’’
‘‘You can adopt, you know. You don’t have to go through this.’’
‘‘I haven’t ruled that out, Mugs. But I have to try this way first.’’ Eden wiped dough off her hands and leaned a shoulder against the wall by the phone. She’d been through every stage of Carrie’s pregnancy with the twins, up to and including the delivery room. She’d watched every day as Carrie had nurtured those babies in her womb and then had witnessed the absolutely profound miracle of birth. Sharing the experience had created a need in Eden that was etched on her soul.
‘‘Okay, I’m with you, pal,’’ Carrie said. ‘‘If you change your mind, I can be out there quick as a hiccup.’’
‘‘Thanks. You just take care of the Rammys. I’ll call you soon.’’
When Eden hung up, she covered her bread dough with a towel and set it aside to rise. She told herself it was just as well that Carrie wasn’t coming out here for the ceremony. Although they’d vowed to be maid of honor at each other’s weddings, this wasn’t a true one. It didn’t really count.
That thought zinged her like touching bare fingers to a hot cookie sheet.
Still, whether it counted or not, Carrie had raised some questions in Eden’s mind, and she knew they would eat at her until she found out.
She washed her hands, took off her apron and went to find Stony, having to traipse through three outbuildings before she nearly ran into him coming out of a round training pen. A beautiful, light bay horse followed docilely, its nose practically pressed to Stony’s shoulder.
Astonished, Eden came to a stop. It was the darnedest thing; like a dog adoringly following his owner. The horse didn’t have on any headgear—no bridle, reins…nothing. Yet it strolled along behind him, ears twitching happily.
She grinned and pointed out, ‘‘You seem to have picked up a shadow.’’
He stopped in front of her, and the horse stopped, as well, lightly blowing through his nose and nodding his head as though wary, but enough of a gentleman to offer a greeting.
‘‘Meet King Henry VIII.’’
‘‘Henry VIII?’’ she repeated.
‘‘Mmm. Registered quarter horse gelding.’’
She cringed. ‘‘I doubt the original king—studly as he thought he was—would appreciate his namesake having his privates clipped.’’
‘‘Who’s gonna tell him?’’
Eden grinned and rubbed the horse’s cheek. ‘‘So what do you call him?’’
‘‘Henry. He didn’t seem to care for the pretentious, kingly title.’’
‘‘Told you that, huh? Hello, Henry. Aren’t you a beauty.’’
Again the horse nodded, and Eden laughed.
The bay’s coat was shot through with copper highlights, making him gleam in the sunlight. The contrast with his inky black main and tail was striking, as was his proud stance, giving him a regal look worthy of royalty.
Eden stepped back so Stony could continue on toward the stable. Henry politely followed, as did Eden. When they’d reached the bay’s stall, Stony asked, ‘‘Did you need something?’’
‘‘A question answered.’’
He glanced at her, picked up a currycomb and began combing Henry’s coat. ‘‘Shoot.’’
‘‘What was your wife’s name?’’
A pause. A beat of silence. Then the comb started moving again. ‘‘Paula.’’
‘‘Why did she give up custody of Nikki?’’
‘‘Is that a crime for somebody who’s fixin’ to stand in front of a judge with you?’’
‘‘Preacher,’’ he corrected.
‘‘We’ll discuss that.’’ What they intended surely ought not to take place in the Lord’s house. It didn’t seem right. ‘‘So, why did she?’’
‘‘Custody wasn’t hers to give up or keep. Nikki was my goddaughter—had been since before I got married. When Nikki’s parents died, I immediately started adoption procedures, a promise I’d made and never thought I’d have to keep. Paula wasn’t happy about it, wanted me to choose between them.’’ His palm slid down Henry’s sleek neck. ‘‘I chose Nikki.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ She hadn’t expected that. ‘‘Well…um, thank you, then.’’ Flustered, she backed out of Henry’s stall and headed toward the sunshine at the open end of the stables, knowing Stony was frowning in consternation at her abrupt exit. For some reason, though, she couldn’t seem to find her Southern manners, manners that dictated one must always excuse one’s self.
With each deliberate step she took, Carrie’s warnings tried to take hold, grabbing a little harder, shaking her confidence.
It had been stupid—and subconscious, she realized now—but she’d somehow thought that since Stony had his own child, he wouldn’t give her a bad time about keeping hers. Kind of like ‘‘one for you and one for me,’’ she supposed, feeling incredibly ashamed that her subconscious mind could even entertain such a notion.
There was absolutely no sense or logic to her thinking. A testament to her impulsiveness—or shock, perhaps.
She could still recall the doctor’s words—or word, rather. The only one she’d really heard past the buzzing in her ears. Hysterectomy.
Aunt Lottie’s phone call had caught Eden at a low point, a point beyond tears, a point where exhaustion had sent her body and mind into a state of shutdown.
So when her aunt had called back several days later, Eden had grasped the wild suggestion like a drowning victim reaching for the final lifeboat, even if it had holes in it.
She’d blocked out logic.
Embarrassingly so.
Would a man who had the honor, love and loyalty to uphold a vow, to adopt his goddaughter and love her like his own, be a man willing to give up a baby from his own seed?
If there was a baby.
She was placing her faith solely in Stony’s goodness, his gentle heart, the man her aunt had described as safe and genuine, the man who had sounded almost too good to be true.
And she hoped to Heaven she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.