“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Problem is,” he said, scratching his head, “Bonnie’s great-aunt—a bitter old woman named Elizabeth Mannford—doesn’t think so.”
“Why?”
He gave her the short version of Mrs. Starling’s speech. “So there you have it. My only hope of keeping Bonnie with the only family she knows is by getting hitched. And not just to anyone, Candy…but to you.”
“Wow.” Head spinning, Candy abruptly stood and put her hand to her forehead. “So that proposal of yours was the real deal? You truly do want to get married?”
He nodded. “But only until the adoption is legal. I’m figuring it’ll take a year tops. In fact, after you make a brief appearance at Mrs. Starling’s office, where we can dazzle her with our marriage license, rings and smiles—not to mention the old photo albums of how much fun we had back when we first got married—you’ll probably be off the hook.”
Candy, nibbling her pinkie fingernail, began to pace. Fireplace to breakfront. Breakfront to fireplace. “You know my family history, Jake. I vowed a long time ago to never be a mom. Do you know what you’re asking?”
She paused just long enough to see him nod.
Fireplace to breakfront. “I mean, if I say no, that pretty much makes me the most heartless soul alive. Yet if I say yes, all my promises to myself…my plans…You don’t know what it’s been like for me since losing Grandpa. This is a small town. I’m surrounded by people who love me, yet I feel lost, like there’s something missing inside of me I haven’t been able to find. This trip, it means everything to me, Jake. It’s about reclaiming my soul.”
“So why can’t you reschedule?”
“It’s not that easy. The tour’s being led by a top writer from National Geographic. I applied for the honor of being in her party almost a year ago. All the documentation on the sale of Candy Kisses has been finalized. I mean, my life is like the space shuttle, ready to blast off.”
His expression dark, Jake stood. “So your answer is no. That’s all you had to say. I understand.”
“No. I mean, no, wait. That isn’t my answer. I just need time to think. You showing up, throwing me this curve ball, it’s all too much.”
“I’m sorry, Candy. If I could, I’d give you all the time in the world. Jeez, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d just as soon tie the knot again as I would leap off a cliff.”
“Thanks. Glad to know how much you enjoy my company.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not like getting married was my idea. Anyway, bottom line, I can give you a week, but that’s it. If I’m not back in Florida by then, who knows what this Elizabeth Mannford may do. I wouldn’t put it past her to charge me with kidnapping.”
“Okay, then,” Candy said, fingering long strands of her hair. “A week it is. I’ll give you my answer Saturday night at the reunion.”
FROM WHERE SHE SAT cross-legged on Candy’s sofa, Kelly snagged a piece of sausage-and-mushroom pizza, brought it to her lips and groaned. “Five delicious pounds in the smell alone.”
Candy summoned a weak smile. “Thanks for coming over. Jake left so suddenly, I was at a loss as to what to do next.”
“Candy,” Kelly said, slapping her friend lightly on the back. “You called the right person, because faced with an entire pizza, believe me, I know just what to do.”
“Not about the pizza,” Candy said. “About Jake. I feel so torn. Like I have to help him, but at the same time, like there’s no way I can help him. It took me such a long time to get over him, how can I possibly go through the whole thing again?”
“It’s not as if he wants to get married for real.”
“I know, but his plan sounds like a pretty dangerous emotional game.”
“So don’t play it.” Kelly sipped at a cola.
“But if I don’t, I’ll feel like a schmuck.”
“So do it.”
“Gee, thanks,” Candy said, shooting her friend a dirty look. “You’re a ton of help.”
“Look, the guy gave you a week to think it over, why do you have to decide in the next thirty minutes?”
Candy swigged her own cola. “Because that’s who I am. I’m legendary in the shop’s kitchen for being quick on my feet in times of crisis. I mean, any time we run out of unsweetened chocolate, who else but me is going to know you can substitute unsweetened cocoa powder plus butter? And did you know one and a quarter cups granulated sugar plus a quarter cup of any liquid also works? And that if you run out of cake flour, then—”
“News flash,” Kelly said through trailing mozzarella. “We’re not in your boring old shop kitchen. This is real life, Candy. And guess what?”
“What?”
“Sometimes it sucks.”
“Gee, Kel, that’s sweet. Have you ever considered a second career writing greeting cards?”
“I’M COMING, I’m coming.” At six o’clock Tuesday morning, eyes barely open, Candy felt her way down the stairs and to the front door.
Whoever stood outside rang the doorbell again.
She growled before asking, “Who is it?”
“Me.”
Jake. Oh, now that woke her right up. She flew her hands to her face, hair, thin white tank T-shirt and cat print pajama bottoms. “Go away!”
“Why?”
“I’m not dressed.”
She swore she heard him chuckle. “Come on, Candy, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”
It had been on the tip of her tongue to reply with a sassy, “Yeah, but you haven’t seen mine,” when her conscience chose to remind just how much of her he had seen.
The last time they’d made love—not long before she’d asked him for a divorce—had been right there in the living room, on the couch she told Jake she’d taken to the dump. Good thing she’d had the foresight to move Goldilocks into the boathouse, or he might have gotten the wrong idea—like she held a soft spot for the wretched thing. And God forbid he actually think she’d enjoyed all those nights with him spent rolling around on that couch.
Her cheeks burned.
Okay, so maybe I enjoyed just a few of those nights.
And that last night…Oh, that last night had been steamy in every possible way….
Rain had been falling in driving sheets. That summer, Lonesome had been going through a drought, and the air that night was ripe—smelling of parched earth taking a good, long drink. Since they hadn’t been able to afford air-conditioning, the humidity had had them glowing with sweat. They’d been watching TV, but about nine-thirty they’d turned it off, planning to take a quick shower before hitting the sack. With only the one lamp on and the occasional strobe of lightning, the living room had been nearly dark.
“Come here,” Jake had said from the sofa.
“Why? I thought we were going to bed.”
He’d shaken his head, wielded that slow, sexy grin that melted her like butter. “Come here, gorgeous.”
She remarked that her heart had pounded just looking at her handsome husband, stretched out on the couch wearing only black boxers and his hard-earned muscles. Her mouth had gone so dry. Other parts of her—lower parts—had dampened with need.
“Peel