Looking for a Hero

  They were on the freeway, driving toward Seattle, before Savannah found the courage to speak. It would help if she broached the subject first.

  “Thank you, Nash, for a lovely picnic.”

  He said nothing, which was just as well.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, clasping her hands tightly together.

  “I doubt that.”

  She smiled to herself. “I’ve seen this happen with other men, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Worry about what?”

  “You’re attracted to me and that frightens you—probably more than the other men I’ve dated because a woman you once loved has deeply hurt you.”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about Denise.”

  “I’m not going to ask about her, if that’s what concerns you,” she said quickly, wanting to relieve him about that. “I’m going to talk about us. You may not realize it now, but I’m saving you the trouble of searching for the right words.”

  He jerked his head away from traffic and scowled at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me right. You see, it’s all familiar to me, so you needn’t worry about it. This isn’t the first time.”

  “It isn’t?” The question was heavy with sarcasm.

  “I’ve already explained it’s happened before.”

  “Go on. I’d be interested in hearing this.” The hard muscles of his face relaxed and the beginnings of a smile came into play.

  “You like me.”

  “That should be fairly obvious,” he commented.

  “I like you, too.”

  “That’s a comfort.” The sarcastic edge was back, but it wasn’t as biting.

  “In fact, you’re starting to like me a little too much.”

  “I’m not sure what that means, but go on.”

  “We nearly made love once.”

  “Twice,” he corrected. “We were closer than you think a few minutes ago.”

  “Under a tree in a pedal boat?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Trust me, honey, where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  Savannah blushed and looked pointedly away. “Let’s not get sidetracked.”

  “Good idea.”

  He was flustering her, distracting her train of thought. “It becomes a bit uncomfortable whenever a man finds me attractive.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because...well, because they have to deal with my problem, and most people are more comfortable ignoring it. If you deny that there’s anything different, it might go away.”

  “Have I done that?” This question was more serious than the others.

  “No,” she admitted. “You’ve been accepting of my...defect. I’m just not sure—”

  “I’ve never viewed you as defective,” he interrupted.

  It seemed important to him that she acknowledge that, so she did. “I’m grateful to have met you, Nash, grateful for the fun we’ve had.”

  “This is beginning to sound like a brush-off.”

  “It is,” she murmured. “Like I said, I’m saving you the trouble of coming up with an excuse for not seeing me again. This is the better-to-be-honest-now-instead-of-cruel-later scenario.”

  “Saving me the trouble,” he exploded, and then burst into gales of laughter. “So that’s what this is all about.”

  “Yes. You can’t tell me that isn’t what you were thinking. I know the signs, Nash. Things got a bit intense between us and now you’re getting cold feet. It happened the night of Susan’s wedding, too. We didn’t make love and you were grateful, remember?”

  He didn’t agree or disagree.

  “Just now...at the lake, we kissed, and you could feel it happening a second time, and that’s dangerous. You couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

  “That’s not entirely true.”

  “Your mood certainly changed.”

  “Okay, I’ll concede that, but not for the reasons you’re assuming. My mood changed because I started thinking about something and frankly it threw me for a loop.”

  “Thinking about what?” she pressed.

  “A solution.”

  “To what?”

  “Hold on, Savannah, because I don’t know how you’re going to react. Probably about the same way I did.”

  “Go on,” she urged.

  “It seems to me...”

  “Yes?” she said when he didn’t immediately finish.

  “It seems to me that we might want to think about getting married.”

  Nine

  “Married,” Savannah repeated in a husky whisper.

  Nash knew he’d shocked her, but no more than he had himself. The notion of marriage went against the grain. Something was either very wrong—or very right. He hadn’t decided yet.

  “I don’t understand.” Savannah shook her head, making a vague gesture with her hands.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll do a decent job of explaining it,” Nash said.

  “Try.” Her hands were at her throat now, fingering the collar of her sweatshirt.

  “This could work, Savannah, with a little effort on both our parts.”

  “Marriage? You hate the very word.... I’ve never met anyone with a more jaded attitude toward love and romance. Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Trust me. I was just as shocked at the idea as you are, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I wish it was a joke.” Nash’s choice of words must have been poor because Savannah recoiled from him. “It would be a marriage of convenience,” he added, hoping that might reassure her—or at least not scare her off.

  “What?” she cried. “In other words, you intend to take what I consider sacred and make a mockery of it.”

  It was difficult not to be defensive when Savannah was acting so unreasonable. “If you’ll listen, you might see there are advantages for both of us.”

  “Take me back to my shop,” she said in a icy voice.

  “I’m going there now, but I was hoping we could talk first.”

  She said nothing, which didn’t bode well. Nash wanted to explain, ease her mind, ease his own, but he wasn’t sure he could. He’d spoken prematurely without giving the matter sufficient consideration. It was after they’d kissed under the weeping willow that the idea had occurred to him. It had shocked him so completely that for a time he could barely function. He’d needed to escape and now that they were on their way back into Seattle, he realized he needed to talk this over with her.

  “I know this comes as a surprise,” he said, looking for a way to broach the subject once again. He exited from the freeway and was within a mile of Savannah’s shop.

  Savannah looked steadfastly out the window, as if the houses they were passing mesmerized her.

  “Say something,” Nash demanded. He drove into the alley where her car was parked and turned off the engine. He kept his hands tightly on the steering wheel.

  “You wouldn’t want to hear what I’m thinking,” Savannah told him through clenched teeth.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But would you listen to what I have to say?”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I don’t know if I can and keep a straight face.”

  “Try,” he said, just as she had earlier.

  “All right, go on, explain.” She closed her eyes.

  “When I came to pick you up this afternoon, you were upset.”

  She shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge even that much. It wasn’t an encouraging sign. He’d been premature in mentioning marriage. He wasn’t sure why he’d considered it so urgent that he couldn’t take the night to sleep on it first. Perhaps he was afraid he’d change his mind. Perhaps this was what he’d always wanted, and he needed to salvage his pride with the marriage-of-convenience pr
oposal. Either way, it didn’t matter; he’d already shown his hand.

  “You love your parents and want them to go after their dream, isn’t that right?”

  “Would you simply make your point?”

  “Fine, I will,” he said, his argument gaining momentum. “I’m offering you the perfect solution. You marry me.”

  “In other words, you’re suggesting we mislead my parents into believing this is a love match?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but, yes, I guess we would be misleading them. If that makes you uncomfortable, tell them the truth. Keep your maiden name if you want. That wouldn’t bother me at all. The point is, if you were married, your father and mother would feel free to move south for the winters the way they’ve always wanted.”

  “What’s in this for you?” she demanded. “Don’t try to tell me you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart, either. I know better.”

  “You’re right, there’re advantages to me, too.”

  She snickered softly. “Somehow I thought there would be.”

  “That’s the beauty of my idea,” he said, trying to keep his irritation in check. Savannah was treating this like a joke while he was dead serious. A man didn’t mention the word marriage lightly. Nash had been through this before, but this time marriage would be on his terms.

  “Go on,” Savannah snapped.

  “As I said, there are certain advantages in this marriage for me, as well. The night of Susan’s wedding, John Stackhouse pulled me aside and told me that I was being considered for the position of senior partner.”

  “But it would help if you were married.”

  Savannah wasn’t slow-witted, that was for sure. “Something like that,” he admitted. “It seems the other senior partners are afraid that my bitterness about my own divorce has spilled over into other areas of my life.”

  “Imagine that.”

  Nash tried to hide his annoyance. Savannah was making this extremely difficult.

  “There’re no guarantees for either of us, of course. If you agree to the terms of this marriage, that doesn’t mean your parents will pack up and head south. If we did go ahead with it, there’s nothing to say I’ll be made senior partner. There’s an element of risk for us both. You might get what you want and I might not. Or vice versa.”

  “Ah, now I understand,” Savannah said in a slow, singsong voice. “That’s where the convenience part comes into play. You want an out.”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” Nash flared.

  “Do you think I’m stupid, Nash? Of course it does. No one wants a cripple for a wife,” she said furiously, “and if you can put an escape clause in the marriage contract, all the better.”

  “That’s ridiculous! It has nothing to do with this.”

  “Would you have proposed marriage to any other woman this way, suggesting a short-term relationship for the sake of convenience? Heaven forbid that you might feel some genuine affection for me!”

  It took Nash a moment to compose himself. He’d acted on impulse, which was not only uncharacteristic but a huge mistake, one that had only led to greater confusion. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all,” he began. “I should’ve ironed out the details before talking to you about it. If you want to find fault with me for that, then I’ll accept it with a heartfelt apology, but this business about me using you because I consider you less of a woman—you couldn’t be more wrong. Your suggestion insults us both.”

  “Why do I have a hard time believing that?” Savannah asked. She sounded suspiciously close to tears, which grieved him more than her anger had.

  “All I’m looking for here is a way of being fair to us both,” Nash argued. “Despite what you think, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. You’re probably thinking people will admire you. Imagine Nash Davenport taking pity on that—”

  “Savannah, stop.” He pressed his lips tightly together. She was making a mockery of his proposal, a mockery of herself.

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

  His self-control was stretched to the limit. “Don’t even suggest that,” he said.

  “I have to go,” Savannah whispered. She turned from him, her fingers closing around the door handle. “It’d be best if we didn’t see each other again.”

  Nash knew that the minute she left his car it would be over between them. He couldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t let her leave, not without righting the wrong. He needed to do something, anything, to convince her he was sincere.

  “Not yet,” Nash said, taking her by the shoulder.

  “Let go of me.”

  “Not without this.” He locked his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

  She didn’t resist, not for a second. Her own arms crept around his neck, and then they were kissing again, with the same passion as before.

  He didn’t know how long they were in each other’s arms—or what brought him back to sanity. Possibly a noise from the street, or Savannah herself. He jerked his head up and buried his face in her shoulder, which was heaving with the strength of her reaction. Her fingers were buried in his hair.

  “I find it amazing,” she whispered brokenly, “that you’re looking for a marriage in name only.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was being humorous or not, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “We might need to revise that part of the agreement.”

  “There won’t be any agreement, Nash.”

  He was afraid of that. “Would you kindly listen to reason, Savannah? I wasn’t trying to insult you... I thought you’d like the idea.”

  “Think again.” She was breathing deeply, clearly fighting to regain her composure.

  “Are you willing to listen to reason?” he asked again, hoping he’d reached her, if on no other level than the physical.

  “I’ve had to deal with a certain amount of cruelty in my life,” she said in a low voice. “Children are often brutal with their taunts and their name-calling. It was something I became accustomed to as a child. It hurt. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words cut far deeper.”

  “Savannah, stop.” That she’d compare his proposal to the ridicule she’d endured as a child was too painful to hear.

  She stiffened, her back straight. “I don’t want to see you again.”

  The words hit him hard. “Why not?”

  She opened the car door and stepped awkwardly into the alley. Her leg seemed to be bothering her and with some effort she shifted her weight. “I don’t trust myself with you...and I don’t trust you with me. I’ve got to take care of myself.”

  “I want to help you, not hurt you,” he insisted.

  She hung her head and Nash suspected she did so to hide the fact that she was crying. “Goodbye, Nash. Please don’t try to see me again.... Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Nash’s sister, Susan, strolled into Savannah’s shop. Savannah felt a sense of awe at the happiness that shone from the young woman’s eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon.”

  “We’ve been back for several days.”

  Following the wedding, Savannah rarely saw her clients. Whenever someone made the effort to stop in, it was a special treat. More so with Susan because Savannah had been so actively involved in the wedding. Actively involved with Nash, if she was willing to be honest, which at the moment she wasn’t.

  “You look—” Savannah searched for the right word “—serene.” The two women hugged and Savannah held her friend tightly as unexpected tears moistened her eyes. She didn’t allow them to fall, not wanting Susan to see how emotional she’d become. “I’ve missed you,” she said. She had, but more than that, she’d missed Nash.

&n
bsp; “Nash said the same thing. You both knew before I was married that I’d be moving to California with Kurt. Now you’re acting like it’s a big shock. By the way, Kurt sends his love.”

  Savannah eased from Susan’s embrace. “What are you doing back in Seattle so soon? Kurt’s with you, isn’t he?”

  “Why I’m here is a long story. As to your second question, Kurt couldn’t come. With the wedding and the honeymoon, he couldn’t get away. It’s the first time we’ve been apart since the wedding and I miss him dreadfully.” A wistful look came over her.

  “What brings you to Seattle?”

  Susan hesitated just a fraction of a second. “Nash.”

  So her big brother had sent her. This was exactly what she should have expected from Nash. The man wasn’t fair—he’d use any means at his disposal to achieve his purpose.

  “He doesn’t know I’m here,” Susan said as if reading Savannah’s thoughts. “He’d be furious if he ever found out. I phoned him when Kurt and I got home from our honeymoon and he said he was having several pieces of furniture shipped to us. Things that belonged to our parents. I was a little surprised, since we’re living in a small apartment and don’t have much space. Nash knows that. Kurt talked to him, too, and afterward we agreed something was wrong. The best way to handle the situation was for me to visit.”

  “I see.” Savannah made busywork around her desk, turning off her computer, straightening papers, rearranging pens in their holder. “How is Nash?”

  “Miserable. I don’t know why and he’s doing an admirable job of pretending otherwise. He’s spending a lot of time at the office. Apparently he’s tied up with an important case.”

  “Divorce?” Savannah asked unnecessarily. That was his specialty—driving a wedge deeper and deeper between two people who’d once loved each other, increasing misery and heartache. Each divorce he handled lent credence to his pessimistic views. That wasn’t going to change, and she was a fool if she believed otherwise.

  “You might have read about this case. It’s the one with Don Griffin, the man who owns all those great seafood restaurants. It’s really sad.”

  Savannah did remember reading something about it. Apparently Mr. Griffin had an affair with a much younger woman. It was a story as old as time. She hadn’t realized Nash was involved, but should have. He was Seattle’s top divorce attorney, and naturally a man as wealthy and influential as Don Griffin would hire the very best.