The Marriage Solution. Brenda Harlen

the erotic images that haunted her were a result of the hormonal changes of pregnancy. Yes, that made sense. Once she had this baby, her relationship with Craig would settle back to normal. The next eight months might be a challenge, but she was confident she could get through them knowing that this fierce attraction was a temporary phenomenon.

      Craig returned with a tube of antibacterial ointment and a Band-Aid, and she breathed in his scent again. He tore a paper towel off the roll and carefully dried her hand. Her finger, almost numb from the cold water, was infused with heat by the simple touch. Damn, it was going to be a long eight months.

      “Okay?” he asked.

      She nodded, then glanced up. And saw the awareness she felt reflected in the depths of his brown eyes. If this attraction was a temporary phenomenon, apparently it was affecting him, too.

      But then he tore his gaze away from her to pick up the tube of cream and she managed to breathe again. His motions were brisk, efficient and so completely impersonal Tess wondered if she’d imagined the sizzle in the air between them.

      He wrapped the Band-Aid around her finger. “There you go.”

      She swallowed. “Th-thank you.”

      “I’m going to put the steaks on.” His smile seemed strained. “Try not to cut off any appendages while I’m gone.”

      Craig flipped the meat on the grill, listened to the sizzle and pop as the marinade dripped onto the hot coals. It reminded him of the heat that had flared between him and Tess when he’d touched her. He’d tried to keep the contact casual, impersonal, but the skin of her hand was soft in his and the scent of her hair tantalized his senses. And as he’d leaned over her by the sink administering first aid to her bleeding finger, he couldn’t help but notice how the soft fabric of her blouse molded to the curve of her breasts. And he couldn’t help but remember how those breasts had filled his palms, how she’d moaned in pleasure as he’d caressed them, with his hands, with his lips.

      He breathed deeply of the cool night air as he willed the haunting images away. Tess would hardly be impressed if she knew about his prurient fantasies.

      He was supposed to be her friend—and he had been, for fifteen years. There had been times in recent years that he’d wondered whether there could be anything more between them, but he’d always discarded the thought. He valued her friendship and he didn’t want to do anything to risk it. No matter how many times he’d wondered what it would be like to touch her, to kiss her, and not like a friend.

      Now he knew—and he knew that being friends wasn’t enough anymore.

      It was a huge leap from one night together to marriage, and he knew it wasn’t a commitment he’d be considering now except for the fact of Tess’s pregnancy. But instead of feeling trapped by the circumstances, he felt as if he’d been given an incredible opportunity. If only he could find a way to convince Tess of that fact.

      He kept the conversation light and casual during dinner, and she finally seemed to relax a little. At least until he inadvertently brushed his knee against her thigh under the table. Then she jerked away as if he’d stabbed her with his steak knife, and he accepted that easing the tension between them wasn’t going to be that simple.

      “I’ve got Chunky Monkey for dessert,” he said.

      She loaded the dishwasher while he scooped her favorite ice cream into bowls. When he was finished, he decided that it was time to get to the purpose of her visit.

      “You know that I wanted you to come over tonight so we could finish talking about my proposal.”

      Tess took the bowl he handed to her, passed him a spoon she’d taken out of the cutlery drawer. “I don’t recall hearing an actual proposal.”

      Craig followed her to the table, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips as she moved. Then her response registered and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

      She dipped her spoon into the ice cream. “You didn’t ask me to marry you. You said we should get married.”

      He watched her lips close around the spoon, heard her soft hum of pleasure as she tasted the ice cream. He shoved a spoonful into his own mouth, hoping that the cold substance would help alleviate the heat raging through his system. It didn’t work.

      “I asked,” he said.

      “No, you didn’t. You never ask,” she continued. “You just assume you’ll get what you want.”

      “I do not,” he protested indignantly.

      “Yes, you do. Because nobody ever says no to Craig Richmond.”

      As he scooped up some more ice cream, he realized she might be right. As Vice President in charge of Research and Development at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, he held a position of power and he knew how to wield that power effectively, but he’d never realized that his professional demeanor carried over to his private life.

      Was that why she’d turned him down, because he hadn’t asked?

      He swallowed another mouthful of ice cream. “All right. Tess, will you marry me?”

      She smiled but shook her head. “No.”

      “No?” So much for her theory that no one ever said no to him.

      “I didn’t refuse your so-called proposal because it wasn’t in the form of a question,” she told him. “I refused because my pregnancy isn’t a good enough reason for us to get married.”

      Tess swirled her spoon in her ice cream, then licked the back of it. And he nearly groaned aloud at the erotic images the action evoked.

      “I would never deny you access to our child,” she said, drawing his attention back to the topic of conversation. “And I’m not going to marry a man I don’t love and who doesn’t love me just so my child will have a family when we can accomplish the same thing by sharing custody.”

      “I don’t want to be a weekend dad.” He couldn’t stand the thought of his child being shuffled between households, never feeling as if he truly had a home, somewhere that he belonged. He didn’t want his child to grow up thinking his father didn’t want to be part of his life. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Why can’t you accept that this is important to me?”

      “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want to get married?”

      “Because you were addressing wedding invitations not six months ago,” he pointed out.

      “That was different,” she told him.

      “Because you thought you were in love with Roger?”

      “Maybe I was wrong about him, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up my dreams and settle for a loveless marriage.”

      He pushed his empty bowl aside. “Did you ever tell your fiancé that you spent four years of your life in foster care?”

      She frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

      “It doesn’t change the fact that he was cheating scum and he didn’t deserve you,” he told her. “But I have to wonder if the relationship wasn’t doomed anyway because you didn’t let him see who you really are.”

      “Four years in foster care didn’t make me who I am.”

      “A friend once told me that everything we experience in life—the good and the bad—helps to make us the people we are.”

      She shrugged, unable to argue against her own words. “Do you have a point?”

      “Did he know about the foster homes?” he asked again. “Did he know how your mother died? How completely alone you felt when you realized her death made you an orphan? Did he know how much you looked forward to the monthly visits you were allowed with your stepsister, because she was the only family you had left?” He shook his head, then answered his own questions. “Of course he didn’t know because you never told