Ready-Made Bride

arms around her waist, propped his chin on her shoulder and stared at the bright, crackling fire.

She slid her hands over his and twined their fingers together over her belly. “Have you ever thought about selling your work?”

Too many times to count, but selling required paperwork, which isn’t something I have a knack for. “Who would buy it?”

“I would.”

Her unconditional confidence in him made him almost believe in himself. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the softness of her neck, absorbing her warmth and gentleness in its purest sense. “You’re my wife. You’re supposed to feel that way.”

She turned in his arms until she could look at him. “I’m not biased.” She feigned an indignant look, the laughter dancing in her gaze a dead giveaway. Then she grew serious. “I’d bet, if you tried, you could find a place in the city where you could sell your furniture and toys on consignment.”

He gave his head a firm shake. Consignment equaled paperwork and filling out invoices. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” she persisted. “You have the ability to make a living doing what you love. Your workmanship is proof that you have an incredible talent and knack for creating beautiful things.”

The trust and certainty in her expression twisted Kane’s stomach into a knot. She was so completely open and honest with him, and he’d never given her anything but a tangled mess of lies and deceit, even if they were unspoken ones. Deception and bluffing had never bothered him much before, so why was he having an attack of conscience now? Because she put so much faith in him, and he didn’t deserve even a sliver of it. When it came down to stripping off the facade, he didn’t have the guts to do it and risk the painful repercussions.

Reflexively, he tightened his arms around her. “It’s just a hobby, Megan. Nothing more.”

“You know, writing was once my hobby.”

He welcomed the change in subject. “You didn’t always write?”

“Well, yes…kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I didn’t start out as a professional writer, but I always wrote in a journal, if that counts for anything. I’m a legal secretary by trade. I started writing after my divorce. Being a published writer was always a distant dream, but I wanted to be a children’s writer so badly that I made the dream come true. It took a lot of hard work and rejections from many publishers, but I finally got an offer and a series of my own. And I couldn’t be happier with my choice.” She smiled softly, encouragingly. “I believe in you, Kane. But you have to believe in yourself before you can believe in your work.”

“You make it sound so easy.” He wanted it to be that easy.

“It is. I believe in your talent and ability.”

He wished that was enough. “Yeah, well, I’m not one to take chances.” The odds were against him.

She lifted her fingers to the stubble covering his jaw, her touch light and reverent. “You took a chance with me.”

His throat jammed with a hundred different emotions he couldn’t define. Stealing an opportunity to end their conversation and make him forget, for a little while, what he’d never have, he slid a hand down her back and maneuvered her gently to the floor, easing his body over the length of hers.

“You, if I recall correctly, Mrs. Fielding,” he murmured, dipping his head to plant teasing kisses on her lips, “were a sure thing.”

“Kane, could I see you in my office, please?”

Jeff’s request put Kane instantly on guard, especially since Jeff had never summoned him to his office in the year and a half he’d been in charge of the mill. He wondered what was wrong.

Kane picked up a freshly cut board and placed it on the pile behind him. “Be right there, boss.”

Five minutes later Kane walked into Jeff’s office. He removed his leather gloves, tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans and approached the steel desk where his boss sat.

Jeff looked up from a file spread open in front of him. “Have a seat, Kane.”

Lowering himself to one of the Naugahyde chairs, he tried to relax his suddenly tense body. “Is there a problem?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, there is.” Jeff ruffled through the papers in the file and pulled one out. “I know I’ve only been in charge of the mill the last couple of years since my father died, and it’s taken me a while to get up to speed on everyone. I’ve been reviewing your employee file and I’ve noticed you’ve topped your wages in your position.”

Kane’s jaw tightened. “I’m satisfied with my wages.”

Jeff eyed him steadily, making Kane uncomfortable. “You’ve passed up numerous promotions.”

“I’m satisfied where I’m at.”

An odd look passed over Jeff’s features. Then he went on, either not having heard how satisfied Kane was or purposely dismissing his claim. “Roy Peters just gave me two weeks notice. He’s moving to California. There’s a position open in purchasing, and I’d like to offer it to you.”

“No.” Kane’s answer was quick and instinctive.

“There would be a considerable salary increase-”

“No.”

“You’re perfect for the job, Kane,” Jeff argued. “You know this mill inside and out-”

Kane’s hands curled into tight fists on his thighs. He experienced a strange sense of deja vu and couldn’t help but wonder how Megan would feel about him refusing a job promotion and salary increase. He remembered Cathy’s bitterness when he’d refused her father’s job offer and didn’t think he’d be able to stand the same rejection from Megan.

But he couldn’t accept the job, either.

He pulled in a deep breath to calm the chaos raging inside him. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

Leaning back in his chair, Jeff regarded Kane speculatively. “Mind if I ask why?”

Kane stared at him, wondering what his boss would say if he told him the truth, that he’d be totally lost in the sea of paperwork the purchasing position required. He remained silent. His gut churned, and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

Jeff released an impatient sigh. “I need to note on your review the reason why you refused the promotion.”

“Just put personal reasons.”

When had he completely lost control of his life?

Kane scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he drove home from work, an aggravated sound rumbling from his chest. A familiar frustration flooded him, stripping away any bit of confidence he’d been feeling since his conversation with Megan about selling his woodwork. He couldn’t even accept a job promotion in an industry he’d been involved in since the age of twelve, and Megan thought he could run his own business?

Pulling into his dirt drive, he swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. Lately, he’d been feeling as though he was dodging bullets that were increasing in quantity, speed and size. The changes in his life were happening rapidly, and keeping up a pretense required all his concentration. Coping on a day-to-day basis with all the adjustments Megan was making at home was going to push him to the brink of insanity. She was pulling the rug from beneath his feet, constantly making him stumble and grope for balance.

Tired and weary, he got out of the truck, gave Andrew a halfhearted hello and wave as he played in the yard and entered the house through the kitchen. He stopped just inside the threshold, his gaze taking in yet more changes.

She must have unpacked another box of her things and done more shopping in the city. Peach frilly curtains framed the window over the sink, and a floral arrangement sat on the table, along with new matching place mats and cloth napkins at each setting.

He noticed other things, too, new appliances on the counter and dish towels that weren’t frayed around the edges. What else had she replaced in the kitchen?

Suddenly feeling irritable and edgy, he set his lunch box on the counter and opened the cupboard where he normally stored packaged and canned foods. Floral patterned plates and bowls had replaced his chipped set of dishes. And the food, he discovered as he rummaged around, was in a different cupboard. Sometime over the past