Waiting for the Wedding Read online

  She knew she should go out and help him with the load, but she still harbored a touch of resentment that he’d managed to involve her in this whole situation. He’d manipulated their friendship and her genuine caring for him, and she was—exactly where she didn’t want to be.

  However, her irritation with him didn’t stop her from opening the door for him as he stepped up on the front porch.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked as he maneuvered the wooden railings and child-size mattress through the door and into the living room.

  “Etta Mae let me borrow it.” He leaned the pieces against the wall and threw a smile in Kathryn’s direction. “I’ve got more stuff out there,” he said. “Be right back.”

  Once again she watched as he raced back out to the car. He waved at one of his neighbors, then opened the back car door and pulled out several plastic shopping bags.

  As he walked back toward the house, Sherry wondered what it was that had kept him single all these years. He was a handsome man, with clean-cut features and blue eyes that promised intelligence and humor. He was considered the major catch of Armordale, yet rarely dated and had never come close to marriage other than with her.

  “Etta Mae made me a list of things I’d need,” he said when he was back in the house and unloading the shopping bags.

  Etta Mae was the fifty-six-year-old woman who worked as a dispatcher at the sheriff’s office. She was combination co-worker, mother and confidante to the men she worked with, calling out codes and procedure with the same confidence she offered wisdom and advice.

  “Rice cereal, baby food, more diapers…” He crouched and pulled each item from the bags and placed them on the floor next to him. “Rattles, teething ring, sleepers.”

  Sherry eyed the array of items. “This doesn’t look like a two-week stay,” she observed.

  Clint stood and shrugged. “Babies require a lot of stuff.” He pulled the last item from the bag, a stuffed white bear with a bright pink bow.

  “Ah, yes, that definitely looks like a must,” she observed dryly.

  He shrugged again and smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t resist.” His blue eyes danced with pleasure as he set the soft bear next to Kathryn.

  Of course he couldn’t resist, Sherry thought with a pang to her heart. Every daddy should buy their daughter their first teddy bear. “I already ate supper and fed her. Her diaper has just been changed so she shouldn’t need anything for a little while. Since you’re home now, I’ll go unpack and get settled into the spare room.”

  He looked at her in surprise, his dark brows pulling together. “You already ate? I thought maybe we’d, you know, eat dinner together.”

  “You can’t fool me, Clint Graham,” she replied as she picked up the baby paraphernalia from the floor. “You assumed you would come home to a nice, home-cooked meal—a meal I would have slaved over all afternoon.” She grinned at him knowingly. “I always suspected you harbored a latent streak of chauvinism in your heart.”

  He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “All right. I’ll confess, I did have a little fantasy of walking in this evening and smelling the savory scent of dinner cooking. As I remember, you used to make a mean hamburger casserole.”

  “That was a long time ago. I don’t do much cooking anymore.” Sherry carried the teddy bear and other items into the kitchen, aware of Clint trailing behind her. “I’m here to take care of the baby while you’re at work,” she said as she placed the baby food in the cabinet. “But I’m not here to take care of you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ringing with sincerity. “And I do appreciate what you’re doing for me…and for Kathryn.” He said the baby’s name with a lilt in his tone, a tone that told her he’d not only accepted the possibility that Kathryn was his but considered it probable.

  As Sherry placed the last of the items in the cabinet, Kathryn let loose a wail from the living room. Sherry turned and looked at Clint. “I’m officially off duty. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she left the kitchen, went down the hallway and into the spare room. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, conflicting emotions bubbling inside her.

  Baby beds and baby food. Rattles and stuffed bears. They were all things she’d put behind her, wishes that belonged to another woman, a lifetime ago.

  She shoved herself away from the door and unpacked the few articles of clothing she’d brought. It’s not Clint’s fault, a little voice niggled inside her. And it isn’t Kathryn’s fault. Neither of them had manufactured the situation, yet Sherry had been subtly punishing them both from the moment she’d reluctantly agreed to help Clint out.

  She finished unpacking her few toiletries, then sank down on the edge of the bed. Clint’s baby. It’s what Sherry had wanted for him. It was why she’d broken their engagement years before. She’d wanted him to have all the things she’d never have…like babies.

  If the baby did belong to Candy, then what on earth would possess the woman to leave her on Clint’s doorstep with nothing but a vague note?

  Of course, in Candy’s case the dire circumstances might be anything from a jealous wife after her hide, to the lure of a Caribbean cruise, where a small child would cramp her style.

  In any case she was once again brought back to the fact that none of this was Clint’s fault. When he’d asked for her help, she’d had the option of giving it or not. She’d chosen to be here, but so far had acted rather poorly.

  She stood, deciding an apology was in order. Before she could reach the door to leave the room, a knock sounded. “I’m sorry to bother you,” Clint said when she opened the door.

  He’d changed out of his uniform and was now clad in a pair of worn jeans and a navy T-shirt. “Could you help me put the crib together? It would be easier with two people instead of one.” He held up a screwdriver and a pair of pliers.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “Where are you going to set it up?” she asked as they went back into the living room.

  “Uh…” He frowned a moment, thinking. “I guess in my bedroom. If you’ll grab Kathryn, I’ll carry all the parts in there.”

  “Okay,” Sherry agreed. She swooped the baby up in her arms, drawing in a deep breath of baby fragrance. The scent created a blend of joy and torment inside her.

  Clint’s large bedroom was a study in masculinity. A navy spread adorned the king-size bed, and a heavy, dark-wood double dresser took up much of the length of one wall. Scenic pictures of trout streams adorned the walls. A wooden mallard duck with a scooped-out back for pocket change sat on the dresser amid a variety of cologne bottles.

  Clint carried the baby-bed parts to the empty space in front of the single window the room contained. Sherry placed the baby on her back in the center of the bed, where Kathryn cooed and aahed, perfectly satisfied to once again find her toes.

  “Clint, I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk,” Sherry said as she held the crib’s side panel against the foot rail.

  He smiled, the familiar gesture that created attractive sunbursts of lines at the corners of his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’d rather have a cranky Sherry than no Sherry at all.”

  His smile faded, and he covered her hand with his own. She’d always loved his hands. Big, strong, capable hands, his all but engulfed her smaller one. “I am grateful for your help, Sherry. I meant what I said earlier this morning. I wouldn’t want to trust her to anyone but you.”

  The warmth of his hand on hers seemed to seep up her arm, across her body to embrace her heart. It was not the warmth of a friendly touch, but rather something deeper, more provocative.

  She averted her gaze from his, confused by the strange heat that suffused her. She breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his hand from hers and picked up the screwdriver and got to work.

  “Did Walt give you a hard time about taking off work?” he asked as his long fingers nimbly placed a brass screw in the appropriate place.

  “Wa
lt doesn’t know how to do anything but give me a hard time,” she replied.

  Clint laughed. “He’s the biggest curmudgeon this town has ever known. I’ve never seen a man who takes such misery in each and every day.”

  Sherry’s laughter joined his as she thought of her boss at the bar. “If Walter isn’t moaning, he’s whining.” She picked up the second railing and held it in place for him.

  Clint paused and looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “Don’t you ever miss teaching?” he asked.

  She felt the barrier fall into place, the self-protective wall that kept her from feeling the emotions of the woman she’d once been…and would never be again. “Never,” she replied more sharply than she intended. She forced a light smile. “I love working at the bar. I love the nighttime hours, all the people I meet, and I make a pretty decent wage with tips.” She raised her chin a notch, as if defying him to say anything to the contrary.

  Clint studied her for a long moment, then nodded and went back to work.

  Within a few more minutes the crib was together and the mattress was in place. Sherry placed the sheets Etta Mae had sent with Clint on the mattress as Clint picked up the little girl from the bed.

  “I’m going to fry a couple of hamburger patties,” he said as they left his bedroom. “Sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  “No, I’m fine. I was up late last night, and I’m exhausted. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just call it a day.”

  She didn’t want to sit in the kitchen and watch Clint cook while the baby cooed and kicked in her car seat. It felt too intimate, too domestic.

  “Towels are under the sink in the bathroom, and if you need anything else, just ask,” he replied. He looked so darned handsome standing there, the tools in one hand, the baby in his arms.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sherry replied. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she added, then turned on her heels and headed for her room.

  She grabbed her nightgown and robe, then went into the bathroom, intent on a nice long shower to ease the tension that had tugged at her back and shoulders all day.

  She hadn’t lied when she’d told Clint she was exhausted. She’d worked until after three the night before, then his phone call had awakened her at just a few minutes after seven. She usually required at least eight hours of sleep to function properly.

  As she stood beneath the hot spray of the shower, she thought again of that moment when Clint’s hand had covered hers.

  For just a brief moment she’d remembered when the touch of his hand had made her knees weaken, her breath catch in her throat. She’d remembered how Clint’s touch, his kiss, had made it so difficult for her to keep her vow to be a virgin bride.

  Definitely a lack of sleep, she decided. Those days of romance and chemistry were long gone where they were concerned.

  She took an unusually long shower, relaxing muscle by muscle beneath the warm water. When she finally finished, she dried off and slipped into her nightclothes, then eased the bathroom door open. The scent of cooked hamburger hung in the air, and she assumed enough time had elapsed that Clint had already finished eating.

  As she started to open the door to her bedroom, she heard the faint murmur of his deep voice coming from the living room. She peeked around the corner of the hallway and saw Clint sitting on the sofa, Kathryn snuggled against his chest.

  “Sweet little baby girl, I’m right here for you. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was softer than Sherry had ever heard it, a deep, melodic singsong of love. His hand stroked the top of the baby’s head, lulling her to sleep.

  This was what it could have been, she thought, as fantasies danced through her head. She could easily imagine herself on the sofa, a baby in her arms, both of them surrounded by Clint’s strong embrace.

  She blinked to erase the deceptive image, her vision blurring with a trace of tears. A fool’s fantasy, that’s what it was.

  She backed away and retreated to her room, swallowing against the tears that still threatened. She’d always known Clint would make a wonderful father, and the scene she’d just witnessed attested to that fact. Already his heart was embracing the child he thought to be his.

  Yes, it’s what she’d always wanted for him, but having Kathryn here, seeing Clint and the baby together, had stirred up emotions Sherry had believed were behind her. She’d thought she could handle it, but it was too much.

  First thing in the morning she had to tell Clint that she couldn’t help him anymore. As much as she cared for Clint, as much as she would like to be here for him, she had to protect her own heart.

  Chapter Three

  C lint groggily opened one eyelid, vaguely wondering if he’d fallen asleep the night before with the television on. No…he wasn’t on the sofa. He was in bed, and the noise that had awakened him wasn’t the television.

  As the last of sleep fell away and consciousness overtook him, he sat up and realized exactly what the sound was that had awakened him from his slumber.

  Kathryn. She lay on her back, arms waving and legs flailing. Her hands opened and closed as if in an attempt to capture the pale light of dawn that seeped through the window.

  Although she wasn’t fussing at the moment, she’d been up and down all night. And consequently so had Clint.

  At midnight he’d given her a bottle and changed her diaper. At two o’clock he’d sat next to the crib and stroked her cheek until she’d fallen back to sleep. At three he’d rocked her in his arms and sung her every lullaby that had not been sung to him as a child.

  Although it was early and Clint felt the weariness of too little sleep, he also felt the profound joy of fatherhood. With each and every moment that passed he was more and more certain that Kathryn was his.

  He wasn’t sure why Candy hadn’t told him, didn’t know what kind of game she might be playing, but if it was a ploy to gain support, both emotionally and financially from him, that wasn’t a problem.

  Clint intended to be a father in every sense of the word to the little girl. He’d pay support and demand liberal visitation. If he discovered that Candy wasn’t a fit mother, then he’d fight her in court for full custody. But first he had to find out exactly what was going on. And that meant he had to get up out of bed.

  He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, then walked over to the side of the crib. Kathryn smiled. Like a ray of sunshine, the toothless gesture warmed him through and through. Kathryn. His child. His daughter.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, and touched a finger to her cheek. “Are you ready for a diaper change?” She kicked her legs, as if urging him to hurry. “Okay…okay.” He changed her diaper, then picked her up and carried her into the kitchen.

  The minute he placed her in the car seat she started to fuss, and he knew it was probably hunger. He moved quickly to make her a bottle, then propped it up with a dish towel so she could drink while he made a necessary pot of coffee.

  He wondered if Sherry was up yet. He hadn’t heard any noise from her room as he’d walked past it. He knew she was accustomed to keeping odd hours because of her waitressing job. But she’d gone to bed the night before at a ridiculously early hour.

  Clint looked at the clock on the stove. It was just a few minutes before six. He’d give Sherry an hour or so, then he would need to wake her up so he could get ready for work.

  A moment later he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, his head filled with thoughts of the woman who slept in his spare room.

  Normally there was very little awkwardness between them, but since she’d arrived to help him out with Kathryn, there had been a strange energy between them…one he wasn’t sure he understood.

  He only knew one thing. He would never want to do anything to jeopardize the friendship they’d managed to develop when they’d outgrown their case of puppy love. They’d only been twenty-three and it had been a first serious relationship for both of them.

  Puppy love. Was that
what it had been? What he and Sherry had shared? He’d told himself often in the past five years that that’s what it must have been—an innocent first love that couldn’t sustain itself outside childish fantasy.

  However, at the time he’d been in it, it hadn’t felt childish or fanciful at all. Loving Sherry had consumed him. Planning for their future together had filled his life with a happiness and contentment he’d never known before or since. But it was done, a part of the past he rarely took out to examine.

  She’d chosen not to be with him, insisted that her love for him had changed, and nothing she’d said or done in the intervening years had indicated anything different. She’d made her choice where he was concerned, and she seemed satisfied with that choice. End of story.

  By the time he finished his cup of coffee, Kathryn had taken most of her bottle and had fallen back asleep. He checked the clock once again and realized he needed to get Sherry up.

  He poured another cup of coffee, added two scoops of sugar and a liberal splash of milk, just the way Sherry liked it. Carrying the cup, he walked down the hallway to her closed door.

  He rapped his knuckles gently against the wood, then waited for a reply. Nothing. No sound of stirring, no sound of anything remotely alive on the other side of the door. He knocked louder.

  “Yes…” The sleepy reply drifted out, and Clint took it as encouragement to go in.

  The moment he opened the door, he realized his mistake. She sat up and grabbed the sheet to her chest, but not before he saw the dainty spaghetti straps of her burgundy nightgown, not before he’d seen the expanse of creamy skin, the swell of her breasts barely hidden by the silky material.

  Heat flooded through him. Unexpectedly. Spontaneously. He felt as if he’d been plunged into a fiery inferno.