It was all very confusing, until he handed her the sheets of paper. “It evidently followed you all over the city. First to your apartment, then to where you were working, back to your apartment, and finally to my mother’s…”
She glanced up with a worried frown at the first line of the letter, studying Kern carefully. Her frown lifted, just a little. It had started out to be a very good act of vibrating anger, but his mouth was twitching. He was not as upset as he was trying to make her believe he was. She scanned the contents of the letter quickly:
There was a postscript referring to a potential dinner invitation.
Trisha refolded the papers from Cal Whitaker, slipped them neatly back in the envelope and tore them in half. The memory of that afternoon in his office whipped through her mind, an agony she thought she’d forgotten, and she looked up at Kern again with troubled eyes.
Kern took the two parts of the envelope from her hands and ripped the rest over and over into little pieces, glaring at her one minute, and the next tossing the whole mess in the air so that it floated down like snow. Her eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing. “So he had a hard time convincing you to go after what was ‘rightfully yours,’ did he? Tell me about it, Tish,” Kern suggested dangerously.
“Kern!” she sidestepped, wanting to laugh with him, as his hand reached for her but grabbed at air. She retreated two more steps as he advanced one more. “I want to tell you,” she tried to say gravely. “The day I left here I went to see him and walked out, Kern, I couldn’t…and then there was the fire. I heard about it the same night. I would have made sure he understood I didn’t want-but I forgot him, Kern, I…”
His damned arms were so long. Behind the desk was no shield. She was caught, and before she could maneuver he had lifted her up and over and they were both sitting in his overstuffed chair in the corner. “I thought you wanted to be free,” she said simply, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his eyelids to close down that glowering expression in his eyes. “It wasn’t something I ever wanted, Kern. I was trying to do what I thought you-”
“To hell with that. I want to know what he thinks he’s doing inviting you out for dinner!”
She chuckled, her fingers reaching teasingly for the buttons on his shirt, her lips brushing apologies on his throat. “Well, he’s just got that kind of ego, Kern; that’s his problem. You wouldn’t have cared anyway, would you have? I mean, you could have written him a legal brief yourself on what a frigid little wife you used to have…”
His mouth pressed on hers, shutting off her teasing, invoking all the promises of loving they knew in each other. “You’ve burst like a flower, Tish,” he murmured softly. “So much love in you-I can’t get enough…”
“And I’ve decided he’s right,” she murmured back, hiding her face in his neck when his fingers reached beneath the soft pink fabric to play against her skin. His fingers stilled.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He’s right,” she repeated teasingly, her eyes wide open and innocent on his as she escaped from his lap before he could catch her again. “I have every intention of ‘taking you for all I can get,’ Kern. Although I certainly don’t have money in mind!”
“You come back here!”
She shook her head with a radiant smile. “I’ve got a houseful of people,” she said, scolding. “But Kern…when I went into town this morning…” She hesitated and then opened the door. “You know that little creek, about twenty-minute walk from the camp? I think we should do the next one there. And for the third baby, we could go back to the waterfall again…”
“Trisha!”
She closed the door, singing with mischief and laughter and love inside. The four women were waiting with raised heads, demanding to know what Kern had wanted, teasing her for the flush of pink on her cheeks as she settled down to work again. The quilt was within an hour of being done. The women would go then. She could wait, to really savor the news with Kern. The look on his face had told her all she needed to know, that first startled expression rapidly changing to elation. He wanted children. Her children. And she felt absolutely exhilarated.
Kern was suddenly a giant in the doorway again, silent this time, his eyes strictly on his wife. The four other women glanced up at him and then at each other.
“It’s not as though we can’t finish this another time,” Rhea said as she moved toward the door.
“Yes,” Trisha said helplessly.
In five minutes they were alone in the room. “You didn’t really expect to just drop fireworks like that-” Kern started vibrantly.
“No.” She shook her head, laughing as she crossed the room to him. “I meant to tell you after a terrific dinner with chilled champagne. But I couldn’t wait, Kern.” She wound her arms around his neck, looking up at him with love-filled eyes. “I love you so!”
“And I love you,” he murmured deeply, and dipped his head to kiss her. “How soon?” he whispered.
“March,” she whispered back.
“You need
“Rest?” she reminded him teasingly as she felt his fingers unsnapping the back of her dress. His hand faltered.
“Tish, if you actually need-”
She shook her head. “What I need, Kern, is you.” Fleetingly she thought how good and easy it was to say those words. And as Kern removed the last of their clothing, a look of happiness and love on his face, Trisha welcomed him with open arms, certain they shared the joy of knowing they were building a rich, new life-together.
About the Author
Jennifer sold her first book in 1980, and since then she has sold more than eighty books in the contemporary romance genre. Her first professional writing award came from RWA-a Silver Medallion in l984-followed by more than twenty nominations and awards, including being honored in RWA’s Hall of Fame and presented with the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Jennifer has been on numerous bestseller lists, has written for Harlequin Books, Avon, Berkley and Dell, and has sold over the world in more than twenty languages. She has written under a number of pseudonyms, most recognizably Jennifer Greene, but also Jeanne Grant and Jessica Massey.
She was born in Michigan, started writing in high school, and graduated from Michigan State University with a degree in English and psychology. The university honored her with their “Lantern Night Award,” a tradition developed to honor fifty outstanding women graduates each year. Exploring issues and concerns for women today is what first motivated her to write, and she has long been an enthusiastic and active supporter of women’s fiction, which she believes is an “unbeatable way to reach out and support other women.” Jennifer lives in the country around Benton Harbor, Michigan, with her husband, Lar.
