Chapter Eight #2
She smiled sheepishly. “I like women’s fiction and books about gardening and gourmet cooking.”
He searched her eyes. “Your mother said you like astronomy.”
“I do,” she agreed. “But I can’t afford a telescope.”
He leaned forward. “I have a twelve-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain.”
That was an expensive composite telescope, part refractor and part reflector. She’d dreamed of owning something so large and efficient. She gasped. “You do?”
He laughed. “I spend a lot of time outside at night. Since I live so far out of town, I don’t have problems with light pollution.”
“I’ll bet you can see the craters on the moon,” she sighed.
“I can see inside them,” he corrected.
She whistled softly. “I’d love to look through it.”
“We can arrange that. Think you could get used to two warlike Siamese cats?”
“I like Mee and Yow,” she replied, curious.
He stared down at his plate. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to our situation,” he said finally. “Since you left and went to work for Wright, my priorities have changed. I’m not as happy being alone as I used to be.”
She put down her fork and sat just staring at him. Her heart was beating her to death. Could he mean…?
He lifted his eyes to hers. “I said that I wasn’t a marrying man. And at the time, I believed it. But I like having you around.” His gaze fell to her mouth and his eyes darkened. “In fact, I’d like having you around more than just at work.”
“I don’t understand,” she faltered.
He reached for her hand and curled her fingers into his. He looked into her blue eyes and felt as if he were drowning. “I think we might get engaged,” he said, trying to find the right words and failing miserably.
“You and me?” she exclaimed.
“You and me,” he agreed. He slid his fingers over hers. “Violet, we have a lot in common. I think we’ll find a lot more as we go along.” His voice lowered. “And physically, there’s no question of compatibility.”
She flushed softly. “But, you said you didn’t ever want to get married, and that you’d never want children…”
“A man says a lot of stupid things when he’s trying to hold on to a comfortable routine, Violet,” he replied. “I’m a loner. It’s been hard for me to even think about changing my life, in any way.”
“You don’t love me, though,” she blurted out.
He couldn’t pretend to. It would look like a lie.
Violet was perceptive. His fingers curled around hers.
“Friendship and affection can lead to it,” he said gently.
“I can’t give you any guarantees about happily ever after.
But I can promise you affection and companionship and respect.
The rest will fall into place. I know it will. Give it a chance. Say yes.”
She hesitated. It didn’t sound genuine. He wasn’t pretending undying love, but he wasn’t promising much.
She could get companionship and affection from a dog or a cat.
What she wanted from Blake was much more.
What sort of marriage would it be if he didn’t love her, as she loved him?
He obviously enjoyed her physically, but everybody said that passion wore itself out eventually.
After it was gone, what would Blake have left if he didn’t love her as well as want her?
“You’re thinking it to death,” he accused.
“Listen to me. I’m tired of living alone.
I’m willing to take a chance if you are.
If things don’t work out, it’s no problem.
We’ll go our separate ways.” He was already thinking ahead; if she turned out not to be pregnant, there was no reason to think he’d have to stay married to her. But he wasn’t about to admit that.
“You mean, we’d get a divorce,” she said.
He shrugged. “Sometimes things don’t work out. I’m not saying I think we wouldn’t make it, Violet. I’m offering you a way out, just in case.”
“Isn’t that sort of like having a fire engine stand by in case there’s ever a fire?” she fished.
He chuckled. “No. It’s not.” He studied her warmly. “Come on. Give in. You can have any sort of engagement ring you like, and I’ll even let you sign an ironclad agreement that you’ll never leave me to work for anyone else ever again.”
“Why would I sign such an agreement?” she exclaimed.
“For my peace of mind, of course,” he told her dryly. “You’d want me to be happy, wouldn’t you?”
She lost her apprehension and laughed with him. “That’s awful.”
“Give me time. I’ll get even worse with age,” he promised.
“What a horrible thought!”
“I’ll promise not to throw dictionaries at you,” he added.
“You’ve never thrown one at me,” she recalled. She hesitated. “You didn’t throw one at Jessie?”
“It was a thin one,” he assured her. “Paperback, and abridged.”
She burst out laughing. “No wonder she quit!”
“Oh, that wasn’t about the dictionary,” he said easily. “That was after I poured coffee over a brief she typed.”
She gaped at him, waiting for an explanation.
“It had two spelling errors per line. I wanted to make sure she knew to redo it.”
“You couldn’t have just asked?”
“Too demeaning,” he said. “My way worked much better.”
“Your way made her quit!”
“So you could come back,” he pointed out. “She wouldn’t have quit if I’d just asked her to retype the brief, would she?”
She really liked him. It was surprising how comfortable she felt with him, now, even though he excited her almost beyond bearing.
It would be taking a chance, she supposed, to marry him.
But she didn’t have enough willpower to refuse.
Perhaps she could teach him to love her, if she worked at it.
At the moment, she felt as if she could do anything. Her heart was soaring with delight.
Her free hand covered his. “I must save other women from you,” she said facetiously. “So I suppose I’ll have to marry you, after all.”
He felt funny in the pit of his stomach.
He was willing to marry her out of a sense of duty, although she wouldn’t know it.
But when she agreed to it, he felt suddenly lighter than air.
He felt like the luckiest man alive. That was absurd.
He didn’t love her. He wanted her. He remembered suddenly the feel of her eager, untried body under his on the living room carpet and his cheeks reflected a ruddy color.
“What is it?” she asked, curious.
“I was remembering my carpet.”
It took a minute, but she remembered, too. Her own face flushed.
He laughed softly, wickedly. “At least, in that department we’re very compatible, aren’t we, Violet,” he taunted.
“Devil!” she accused, glancing around to make sure nobody heard him.
“It’s okay. We’re alone on the planet,” he assured her in a mock whisper. “We’re invisible to the rest of humanity. That being the case, how do you feel about linoleum?” he asked with a speculative glance toward the floor.
“Blake Kemp!” she exclaimed, smacking him on the arm.
He grinned at her. It was a genuine smile. He’d never felt such pleasure in a woman’s company. Well, not since Shannon. The thought of Shannon wiped the smile from his face and left him haunted.
She saw that, and her face fell. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
He couldn’t tell her the truth. “I was thinking about your mother,” he lied.
“Oh. Oh, dear!” She bit her lip. “Blake, I can’t leave her alone. I wouldn’t dare.”
“How would you feel about having someone stay with her, around the clock, if we visited her often?” he asked, looking for compromises.
“I don’t know…”
“We won’t get married in the next two days,” he said with a comforting smile. “We’ve got plenty of time to work something out.”
“Yes,” she murmured, but she was wondering what he meant about plenty of time. He didn’t sound as if he was expecting to marry her soon.
He let go of her hand and reached for his coffee cup. “Don’t borrow worries, Violet,” he chided gently. “Everything falls into place, given time.”
“I suppose so.”
“Want dessert?” he asked.
She grimaced. “Not really,” she confessed.
“It’s too hard to work it off once I gain it.
” Then she remembered that she was going to be gaining a lot of weight, soon, and her spirits drooped.
Her hormones were already reflecting her pregnancy.
She was going to go through a lot more changes in the near future.
“I like the way you look,” he said, his voice deep and soft.
She lifted worried eyes to his. “Do you, honestly?”
He nodded.
She finished her own coffee, just as Jan, the young woman who worked for Barbara, brought Mrs. Hardy’s supper in a bag for Violet.
“Should we tell Mama yet?” she asked Blake.
He hesitated. He was still getting used to the idea of having to get married. He didn’t want to tell anybody.
“We could wait, a few days, at least,” she suggested.
“Do you want to?” he replied, surprised.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I need time to get used to the idea myself,” she confessed with a shy smile.
She didn’t add that she didn’t think he was serious about getting married, and she didn’t want her mother to be disappointed in case he found a reason to back out of it.
Maybe it had been an impulse, asking her to marry him, and he was already regretting it.
“If that’s what you want,” he agreed easily.
* * *
He walked her to her car. The parking lot was crowded and he wasn’t keen to give local citizens any more reason for gossip. He caught her hand and touched it to his lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Right. I enjoyed supper,” she added with a shy smile.
“So did I. We’ll have to spend more time together. I don’t know much about you, do I?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know a lot about you, either.”
“All the more reason.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a phone call about a case, at home. It’s almost time. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” She would have said more, but he was already walking away. He didn’t break stride until he reached his car, and he didn’t look back.