Or even better, followed him to the high school when he sought refuge in his old baseball coach’s office.
Lila Renee, a fellow alumna from the local community college Heath had gone to right after high school, stood in the doorway, steaming casserole in hand and smiling like a possum. “Your mother said that you didn’t have any lunch before you left. So, I volunteered to bring a little something over to you. Hope you like tuna casserole surprise.”
Between his mother’s meddling and Haven’s marriage proposal, he’d had more surprises than he could handle.
“Volunteered or
voluntold
?” he asked, taking the dish from her and almost burning his hands. With a muted curse, he dropped it on Coach Jenkins’ desk. “Thanks for lunch.”
“My favorite.” The older man grinned at Heath right before Lila Renee lightly smacked him on the arm.
“Don’t talk about Mrs. Ambrose that way.”
A tic started up in his jaw. “I’m not talking about her in any way.” He exhaled, trying not to take his rising annoyance out on her. “Honestly, I just want to know what she’s telling the women around here.”
A frown turned down Lila Renee’s face. “The women—as in plural?”
“Yeah. She’s been all but throwing me at them, or I’ve somehow managed to conveniently run into every single available woman in this town.”
“But your mother said that you wanted to get reacquainted with
me
. That the whole reason you came home was to date a local girl because the ones you’ve been with weren’t cutting it, and the first person to come to mind was me.”
Coach Jenkins barked out a laugh while Heath stared at his her in total disbelief.
Holy. Shit.
“I’m so sorry, honey, that my mother misunderstood my intentions,” he began, “but I only came home to visit with old friends.”
Lila Renee’s face turned scarlet as her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air before she finally replied, “I guess you don’t consider old girlfriends as friends, huh?”
He had a total of three old girlfriends—two were married, and the third moved to Tokyo, where she modeled for a large ad agency. “We never dated.”
Lila Renee gasped. “You took me to one of your brother’s races.”
He had? The only time he ever remembered taking a girl… “That was a group date, group thing…group
activity
.” Not to mention that it was six years ago.
“I was the only girl, and we rode together,” she pointed out, her eyes narrowing.
“Still doesn’t make it a date, or you my girlfriend,” he pointed out, wishing like hell they didn’t have an audience. He didn’t relish the thought of embarrassing anyone, but there was no way he’d be accused of being so callous. He lowered his voice. “I know this must be embarrassing, but—”
“Don’t patronize me.” Lila Renee snatched her hand from his grip. “You’re the reason why the Buccaneers didn’t go all the way. Can’t signal the pitcher for crap.”
Heath’s mouth dropped open.
Lila Renee grabbed the casserole dish from the desk and marched out of the office.
“I can’t believe her,” Coach said.
“Me either, but—”
“Didn’t even let me finish that casserole.” The older man shook his head. “Best be glad she left, son. I don’t trust a woman who’d take away a man’s meal just because she got rejected.”
Heath snapped his mouth shut. When in the hell had Holland Springs become a daytime soap opera? Haven’s offer was looking better and better.
Inwardly grimacing, he made some small talk with Coach Jenkins and then left the school.
Knowing he only had two choices to pick from in order for this madness to stop made him edgy. Either he could hurt his mother’s feelings by telling her how he felt and then leave for a tropical paradise vacation, or he could take Haven up on her offer of marriage, which would ensure his mother’s happiness and guarantee that she would leave him alone.
At the moment, neither was appealing. He didn’t care for his hand being forced, not that Haven was shoving anything on him.
Slowing down to make the turn onto his parents’ gravel driveway, he noticed a line of cars parked by the house and groaned. He’d forgotten about his mother’s weekly recipe exchange. No way in hell he was stepping foot in his parents’ house.
His phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Heath, could you do me the biggest favor and pick up some pimento cheese sandwiches from—”
“Wish I could, but I have a date.” The words poured from his mouth before he could stop them.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” He could hear the excitement and curiosity in her voice. There was no way she would let him off the phone before he told her.
In for a penny… He might as well get the ball rolling in the right direction. “Haven Crawford.”
His mother’s silence was deafening.
*
Haven pulled up the reservations program on her laptop, checking for vacancies. Honestly, vacancies didn’t worry her as much as they used to. Now that she and Willow had joined forces, Chesson House was being booked almost every weekend for weddings.
Sometimes, two different brides wanted the same day and time, and it was up to her and Willow to work it out. Judging by her bank account balance, it was a very good problem to have.
Her burgeoning smile faded.
Only it wouldn’t be her problem much longer if Heath didn’t agree. Given the last-minute nature of the offer and the buyer’s determination to close in thirty days, she didn’t have time to find another man she could vet.
Gotham jumped in her lap and settled down. She stroked her furry head, the movement and the sound of her loud purring calming.
For the rest of the week, Chesson House was empty. She had one event on Sunday, and then the Ladies of Holland Springs Reading Society would meet in her sitting room the Thursday after. She looked forward to their meetings. Zoe Ambrose headed the organization and made sure to pick a variety of books, not just the ones that Oprah recommended.
Sometimes, Haven read along, but at the moment, she was currently re-glomming
Runaways
, a comic book series about a group of teens who discovered their parents were evil and came together to try to defeat them.
Blowing out a breath, she closed her screen and picked up her well-worn copy of issue twelve, intent upon relaxing in a bubble bath until the water grew cold or she turned into a prune. Heath hadn’t given her an exact time, but it was still early afternoon, so…
The doorbell rang.
Gotham simultaneously hissed and dug her claws into Haven’s skin. “Ouch!” Using her thigh as leverage, the cat leapt from her and zoomed out of the office.
Rising from her chair, she placed the comic down and headed to the front door, wondering all the while who it could be.
“Haven, it’s me.”
She froze in place, but her heart slammed against her chest so hard that her breath whooshed out of her. He was here. She’d have her answer as soon as she opened the door.
Her hands began to shake.
Quickly composing herself, she took two deep breaths and called out, “Be right there.” Forcing her feet to move, she was at the door in a matter of seconds and opened it.
Heath stood on the porch, his light brown hair highlighted from the back by the sun. His face was taut. The line of his broad shoulders was tense.
“Did something happen?” she asked stupidly.
“You and my mother,” he said, walking inside.
She closed the door and turned to face him. He dominated the foyer without even trying, taking up way more room than she was used to.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly, but she wasn’t and they both knew it.
“If I agree to marry you, then you have to be nice to me.”
Recoiling from him, she made a face. “Why?”
“Because we’ll have to spend time together.”
“Does that mean I can’t be sarcastic? What if you say something really lame, and I’m the only one who—”
“I come from a big family of teasers, of kidders…of giving each other hell until the other cries Uncle, but it’s always done in good fun. The only person who has fun when you’re sarcastic is you.”
“You want me to stop being me?”
“No.” He took a step closer. “I want you to be nice to me.”
“Nice is a four-letter word.”
“So is sale.”
For once, she didn’t have a comeback. He was right. “Is that all? I have to be nice.”
He shrugged. “I think we’ll improvise the rest.”
“Are you serious?”
His blue eyes turned hard. “Pick a date, Haven.”
Relief surged through her so powerfully that her knees threatened to give out and tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. “You’ll marry me?”
“Name the time and place, and I’ll be the one at the front waiting with the preacher.”
She shook her head. There was no way she was getting married by a real preacher. “I was thinking we could slip down to Myrtle Beach, get married there, and—”
“No.”
“No?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I want a real wedding.”
“But it’s not a real marriage,” she pointed out.
“Either we do it my way, or deal’s off.”
Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
“Any other way would disappoint my mother.”
Well, she couldn’t let that happen. Heath was funny about his momma. Okay, so he cared about his mother, loved her, and would do anything for her—like a good son would.
Like she had for her grandparents. She guessed it was something they had in common. She felt herself softening towards him.
No, you can’t let that happen.
No muss, no fuss.
He reached out suddenly, his hand going to her hair. Her body tensed in anticipation even as a thrill of pleasure made her suck in a breath.
“Softer than I thought it would be,” he murmured.
“Would it disappoint her if I wore the tux and you wore the gown?”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. He let go of her hair. “Haven.”
“Soon to be Haven Ambrose to the entire population of Holland Springs—and
oh my word
. My initials will be HA.
“So?”
“As in ha, ha.”
“We’ll match,” he said with an evil grin.
That horrified her even more than her initials. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any part of you—”
Suddenly, Heath pulled her close, wrapping his big arms around her. His head dipped, and he murmured, “Kiss me.”
She struggled against him. “Are you crazy?” She was. She had to be… because she was seriously considering doing exactly as he’d ordered.
“If you want this to look real and not contrived on our wedding day, then kiss me, Haven.” He brushed his lips against hers, and she froze. “We need the practice.”
“I don’t know,” she said faintly.
“You won’t have to do a thing,” he said in a husky voice. “Don’t move, sweetheart.”
She didn’t think, didn’t protest a minute longer… just used the excuse to do the one thing she always wanted to do with Heath, and kissed him.
Chapter Six
‡
S
he was out of her mind and desperate. That was the only reasonable explanation for why she was allowing Heath Ambrose to continue kissing her without biting off his tongue.
No, not kissing her. That was too tame of a word to describe what he was currently doing to her.
It was an erotic assault on her senses.
He explored her mouth, the shape of her lips, and the line of her jaw. Sensation after sensation rocketed through her as his mouth found hers again. She sighed, her body beginning to ache though he’d just fulfilled a tiny piece of one of her most forbidden fantasies.
“Why are you kissing me?”
“Because you are entirely kissable.”
“Oh.”
He smiled, not the cocky movement of lips she was used to, but something tender. Something that made her heart swell. “Want to stop?”
Shaking her head, she rose on her toes and slanted her mouth against his. No, she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t ever want to stop. His scent surrounded her, releasing the burning desire that she’d kept restrained until now.
This time, he broke off their kiss and stared deeply into her eyes, as if he were searching for the answer to a question only he knew. Or he’d finally come to his senses and realized he kissed the woman who usually used her mouth to cut him to the ground.
“How about a honeymoon?” His hand coasted down her back to grab her bottom.
Of course, he wanted sex. He was the ultimate player—or so she liked to believe. Because if she thought any differently, that she would be someone different and special to him… it would wreck her when he realized she wasn’t special at all.
“Yeah, right.” She shifted to the right and then the left, savoring the feel of him.
“I hear what you’re what you’re saying, but you’re rubbing up against me.” He let out a ragged breath. “I can’t think. Help me out.”
“Keep on dreaming about a honeymoon,” she said, but her words and playful tone didn’t match.
“You know my sister writes romance novels and in those—”
“Nope.”
His blue eyes burned hot. “But maybe you’ll get real horn—”
“Please don’t take this anyway but how I say it—Heath Ambrose you’re a killer of lady boners.” She punctuated her insult with a nip at his bottom lip.
“And please take this exactly how I say this—Haven Crawford, you’re a liar. You enjoyed kissing me as much as I did you.”
When she didn’t deny it, he lowered his head and… he softly, sweetly brushed his mouth against hers.
Once more, her fingers wound into his hair and his hands went to her back, urging her closer and closer to him. His fingers slowly glided up and down her spine, making her relax into him in slow degrees.
The way she responded to his touch was shameful, but she was needy.
Aching.
She wanted him to touch her, wanted him to kiss her senseless so she couldn’t think about what he was doing to her. Or the fact that he was the one doing all of that.
Heath Ambrose is kissing you
, her mind screamed at her.
Make him stop. It’s not right. He’s Bella’s, not yours.
But she refused to listen to the voice in her head.