Brides and Grooms Box Set: Marriage Wanted\Bride Wanted\Groom Wanted (23 page)

“I can ask for anything?” she murmured between kisses.

“Anything.”

“Throw away that stupid agreement.”

He smiled boyishly and pressed his forehead against hers. “I already have…. The first night, after we made love.”

“You might have told me!”

“I intended to when the time was right.”

“And when did you calculate that to be?” she asked, having difficulty maintaining her feigned outrage.

“Soon. Very soon.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. “But not soon enough.”

“I had high hopes for us from the first. I opened my mouth and stuck my foot in it at the beginning by suggesting that ludicrous marriage-of-convenience idea. Marriage, the second time around, is a lot more frightening because you’ve already made one mistake.”

“Our marriage isn’t a mistake,” she assured him. “I won’t let it be.”

“I felt that if I had control of the situation, I might
be able to control my feelings for you, but after Susan’s wedding I knew that was going to be impossible.”

“Why didn’t you follow your own advice and ask how
I
felt?” she said, thinking of all the weeks they’d wasted.

“We haven’t been on the best of terms, have we?” he murmured.

Savannah was embarrassed now by what a shrew she’d been. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly in an effort to make up for those first weeks.

“You said I can ask for anything I want?” she said against his lips.

“Hmm…anything,” he agreed.

“I’d like a baby.”

Nash’s eyes flew open with undisguised eagerness. “How soon?”

“Well…I was thinking we could start on the project tonight.”

A slow, lazy smile came into place. “That’s a very good idea. Very good indeed.”

Three years later
…

* * *

“I can’t believe the changes in Nash,” Susan commented to Savannah. She and Kurt had flown up from California to spend the Christmas holiday with them this year. The two women were working in the kitchen.

“He’s such a good father to Jacob,” Savannah said, blinking back tears. She cried so easily when she was pregnant, and she was entering her second trimester with this baby. If the ultrasound was accurate, they were going to have a little girl.

“Nash is doing so well and so are you. But don’t you miss working at the shop?”

“No, I’ve got a wonderful manager and you can imagine how busy a fourteen-month-old keeps me. I’ve thought about going back part-time and then decided not to, not yet at any rate. What about you? Will you continue teaching?” Savannah softly patted Susan’s slightly distended stomach.

“No, but I’ll probably work on a substitute basis to keep up my credentials so when our family’s complete, I can return without a lot of hassle.”

“That’s smart.”

“She’s my sister, isn’t she?” Nash said, walking into the kitchen, cradling his son in his arms. Jacob babbled happily, waving his rattle in every direction. He’d been a contented baby from the first. Their joy.

Kurt’s arms surrounded his wife and he flattened his hands over her stomach. “We’ve decided to have our two close together, the same way you and Savannah planned your family.”

Savannah and Nash exchanged smiles. “Planned?” she teased her husband.

“The operative word there is
two
,” Nash said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been over this a hundred times. I really would like four.”

“Four!” Nash cried. “The last time we talked you said three.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Four is a nice even number.”

“Four children is out of the question,” Nash said with a disgruntled look, then seemed to notice Kurt and Susan staring at him. “We’ll talk about this later, all right? But we will talk.”

“Of course we will,” Savannah promised, unable to hold back a smile.

“She’s going to do it,” Nash grumbled to his sister and brother-in-law. “Somehow, before I’ve figured out how she’s managed it, we’ll be a family of six.”

“You’ll love it, Nash, I promise.” The oven timer rang and Savannah glanced at the clock. “Oh, dear, I’ve got to get busy. Mr. Serle and Mr. Stackhouse will be here any minute.”

“This is something else she didn’t tell me before we were married,” Nash said, his eyes shining with love. “She charms the most unexpected people….”

“They love Jacob,” Savannah reminded him.

“True,” Nash said wryly. “I’ve never seen two old men more taken with a toddler.”

“And I’ve never seen a man more taken with his wife,” Susan added. “I could almost be jealous, but there’s no need.” She turned to her husband and put her arms around his neck. “Still, it doesn’t do any harm to keep him on his toes.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Savannah agreed. And they all laughed.

Bride Wanted

New York Times
Bestselling Author

Debbie Macomber

One

J
ulia Conrad wasn’t a patient woman at the best of times. She paced her office, repeatedly circling her high-gloss black-lacquer-and-brass desk. She felt so helpless. She should’ve gone to Citizenship and Immigration Services with Jerry rather than wait for their decision.

Rubbing her palms together, she retracted the thought. She was a wreck and the Immigration people would have instantly picked up on that and it could hurt their case. She couldn’t help being anxious. The future of the company rested on the outcome of today’s hearing. Ultimately she was the one responsible for the welfare of Conrad Industries, the business her grandfather had started thirty years earlier.

In an effort to calm herself she stared out the window. The weather seemed to echo her mood. There was a ceiling of black clouds, thunder roared and a flash of lightning briefly brightened the room. The lights flickered.

Julia’s reflection was mirrored in the window and she frowned, mesmerized by the unexpected sight of herself.
Her dark hair was swept back from her face and secured with a gold clasp. She wore a dark suit with a pale gray blouse, which—in her view, anyway—conveyed tasteful refinement. She
looked
cool, calm and collected, but inside she was a mass of tension and nerves. At thirty she had a pleasant face when she smiled, but she hadn’t been doing much of that lately. Not in the past three years. Her cheekbones were high, her jaw strong, but it was her eyes that told the story. Her eyes revealed vulnerability and pain.

The image of herself distressed Julia and she hurriedly glanced away. Sighing, she circled her desk once more, silently praying for patience. She was determined to get the company back on its feet, to overcome the odds they faced. Jerry, her brother, had worked with her, sacrificing his personal life the way she had hers. They’d met with a handful of small successes. And now
this.

Both Julia and Jerry were determined to revive Conrad Industries. Julia owed her father that much. Jerry had shown such faith in her by volunteering his services. If their situations were reversed, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been so forgiving. But her brother had stuck by her through all the turmoil.

Slowly she lowered her gaze, disturbed by that revelation. However, she didn’t have the time or the inclination to worry about it. If she ever needed a cool head and a cooler heart, it was now. Two years’ worth of innovative research was about to be lost because they’d allowed the fate of the company to hinge on the experiments and ideas of one man. Aleksandr Berinski was a brilliant Russian biochemist. Jerry had met him some
years earlier while traveling in Europe and convinced Julia he was the answer to their problems. Her brother was right; Alek’s ideas would revolutionize the paint industry. Bringing him to the United States had been a bold move on their part, but she hadn’t been sorry. Not once.

Hiring Aleksandr Berinski from Russia and moving him to Seattle—it was the biggest risk Conrad Industries had ever taken. Now the fate of the company rested in the hands of a hard-nosed official.

Julia wondered again if she should’ve attended the hearing at the district office of Citizenship and Immigration. She’d done everything within her power to make sure Aleksandr’s visa would be extended. She’d written a letter explaining his importance to the company and included documentation to prove that Aleksandr Berinski was a man of distinct merit and exceptional ability.

Jerry, who was a very good corporate attorney, had spent weeks building their case. Professional certifications, affidavits, a copy of Aleksandr’s diploma and letters of reference filled Jerry’s briefcase.

Her brother had told her there could be problems. It was often difficult to renew an H-2 visa, the type Aleksandr had been granted when he’d entered the United States. The H-2 is one of temporary employment. He’d warned her that if it looked as though employment might become permanent, then Immigration and the Labor Department would be reluctant to extend the visa.

On top of all that, the case had been assigned to a particularly difficult bureaucrat. Jerry had warned her that the agent hearing their case might decide Alek had
applied for the temporary visa knowing the job was really permanent and refuse to grant an extension on principle.

She checked her watch again and exhaled with impatience. Only a few minutes had passed. Annoyed with herself for the uncharacteristic display of anxiety, she sat down on her white leather chair. Everything was neatly arranged on the polished black desk. A small marble pen stand was next to the phone. The address and appointment books were perfectly aligned with everything else. Behind the desk stood her computer table, the company website pulled up, its logo prominent. Julia liked to keep her office and her world under control.

When her phone rang, the sound caught her off guard. She grabbed the receiver. “Jerry?”

“Sis,” Jerry’s voice greeted her. “I’m on my cell. I thought you’d want to know the decision as soon as possible.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m afraid it didn’t go as well as we’d hoped. They’ve decided not to renew Alek’s visa.”

His words felt like a kick in the stomach. She closed her eyes and waited until the shock had passed. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known the likelihood of this verdict. The fact that Aleksandr had no proof of a permanent residence in Russia didn’t help. In the eyes of Immigration Services that was a red light indicating he didn’t intend to return. Furthermore, she and Jerry were dealing with a large, complex bureaucracy. In a fit of worry, Julia had tried to contact the agency herself, reason with them. She’d spent nearly an hour on the phone and hadn’t spoken to a single person. She was forced to
listen to one recording after another. Press a number on the phone, listen, press another one, then another. She quickly became lost in a hopeless tangle of instructions and messages.

“When will he have to leave?”

“By the end of the week, when his current visa expires.”

“That soon?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Jerry, what are we going to do?”

“I’ll talk to you about it as soon as we get back to the office,” her brother said in reassuring tones. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a contingency plan.”

Nice of him to mention it now, Julia mused. He might’ve said something this morning and saved her all this grief.

Ten minutes later, her intercom buzzed; her assistant announced that Jerry was in her outer office. Julia asked Virginia to send him in and waited, standing by the window.

Jerry entered and Aleksandr Berinski followed. Although Aleksandr had been working for Conrad Industries for nearly two years, she’d only talked to him a handful of times. Even those conversations had been brief. But she’d read his weekly reports and been excited by the progress he was making. If he was allowed to continue, Julia didn’t doubt that his innovations would put Conrad Industries back on a firm financial footing.

Julia and Jerry, but primarily Julia, had taken on the impossible task of resurrecting the family business, literally from the ashes. Three years before, the plant and adjacent warehouse had been severely damaged by fire;
fortunately, it hadn’t spread to the lab and the offices. Because of the rebuilding they’d had to do, she’d decided the line of paints Aleksandr was developing would be called Phoenix.

To be so close to success and lose it all now was more than she could bear. For three long, frustrating years, she’d hung on to the business by wheeling and dealing, making trades and promises.

Being aggressive and hardworking had come naturally to her. Jerry possessed the same determination and had been a constant help. If she was cold and sometimes ruthless, she credited it to Roger Stanhope. She’d needed to be, but Julia didn’t have any more tricks up her sleeve once Aleksandr returned to Russia.

She feared that losing the business would be a fatal blow to her grandmother. No one knew better than Julia how fragile Ruth’s health had become these past few months.

“You said you have a contingency plan.” She spoke crisply, the sound of her steps muffled by the thick wheat-colored carpet as she stalked back to her desk. She leaned forward and averted her gaze from Aleksandr’s.

The man disturbed her in ways she didn’t understand. He was tall and lanky with impeccable manners. His face wasn’t handsome the way Roger’s had been, but rawboned and lean. His eyes were dark, the brows arched slightly, and in him she read strength and character. Unwillingly she found her own eyes drawn to his, and the shadow of a smile crept across Aleksandr’s face. She focused her attention on Jerry.