Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
was the most headstrong man she’d ever encountered. He was also one of the handsomest. That did more to confuse her than to help. For reasons as yet unclear, she’d lost her objectivity. No doubt it had something to do with that pride of his and the way they’d argued. No doubt it was also because they remained diametrically opposed on the most fundamental issues of life—love and marriage.
“I’ve given some thought to our conversation the other day,” Nash said, pacing back and forth, “and it seems to me that I’m just the person to clear up your thinking. Besides,” he went on, “if I can clear up your thinking, maybe you’ll have some influence on Susan.”
Although it was difficult, Savannah resisted the urge to laugh.
“To demonstrate my good faith, I brought a peace offering.” He held up a white sack for her inspection. “Two lattes,” he explained. He set the bag on the corner of her desk and opened it, handing her one of the paper cups. The smell of hot coffee blended with steamed milk was as welcome as popcorn in a theater. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said next, gesturing toward the stool, “because it might take a while.”
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Savannah felt obliged to say as she carefully edged onto the stool.
“It’s a great idea. Just hear me out,” he said smoothly.
“Oh, all right,” she returned with an ungracious nod. Savannah might have had the energy to resist him if it hadn’t been so late in the day. She was tired and the meeting with Susan had frustrated her. She’d come to her upset and unhappy, and Savannah had felt helpless, not knowing how to reassure the younger woman.
Nash pried off the lid of his latte, then glanced at his watch. He walked over to her door and turned over the sign so it read Closed.
“Hey, wait a minute!”
“It’s—” he looked at his watch again “—5:29 p.m. You’re officially closed in one minute.”
Savannah didn’t bother to disagree. “I think it’s only fair for you to know that whatever you have to say isn’t going to change my mind,” she said.
“I figured as much.”
The man continued to surprise her. “How do you intend to prove your point? Parade divorced couples through my wedding shop?”
“Nothing that drastic.”
“Did it occur to you that I could do the same thing and have you meet with a group of blissful newlyweds?” she asked.
He grinned. “I’m way ahead of you. I already guessed you’d enjoy introducing me to any number of loving couples who can’t keep their hands off each other.”
Savannah shrugged, not denying it.
“The way I figure it,” he said, “we both have a strong argument to make.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “But you aren’t going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours.” She didn’t know what kept some couples together against all odds or why others decided to divorce when the first little problem arose. If Nash expected her to supply the answers, she had none to offer.
“Don’t be so sure we won’t change each other’s mind.” Which only went to prove that he thought there was a chance he could influence her. “We could accomplish a great deal if we agree to be open-minded.”
Savannah cocked one eyebrow and regarded him skeptically. “Can you guarantee you’ll be open-minded?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered, and she was impressed with his honesty. “But I’m willing to try. That’s all I ask of you.”
“That sounds fair.”
He rubbed his palms together as though eager to get started. “If you don’t object, I’d like to go first.”
“Just a minute,” she said, holding up her hand. “Before we do, shouldn’t we set some rules?”
“Like what?”
Although it was her suggestion, Savannah didn’t really have an answer. “I don’t know. Just boundaries of some kind.”
“I trust you not to do anything weird, and you can count on the same from me,” he said. “After all—”
“Don’t be so hasty,” she interrupted. “If we’re going to put time and effort into this, it makes sense that we have rules. And something riding on the outcome.”
His blue eyes brightened. “Now there’s an interesting thought.” He paused and a smile bracketed his mouth. “So you want to set a wager?”
Nash seemed to be on a one-man campaign to convince her the world would be a better place without the institution of marriage. “We might as well make it interesting, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t agree more. If you can prove your point and get me to agree that you have, what would you want in exchange?”
This part was easy. “For you to attend Susan and Kurt’s wedding. It would mean the world to Susan.”
The easy smile disappeared behind a dark frown.
“She was in this afternoon,” Savannah continued, rushing the words in her eagerness to explain. “She’s anxious and confused, loving you and loving Kurt and needing your approval so badly.”
Nash’s mouth narrowed into a thin line of irritation.
“Would it really be so much to ask?” she ventured. “I realize I’d need to rely on your complete and total honesty, but I have faith in you.” She took a sip of her latte.
“So, if you convince me my thinking is wrong on this marriage issue, you want me to attend Susan’s wedding.” He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Deal,” he said, and his grin reappeared.
Until that moment, Savannah was convinced Nash had no idea what he intended to use for his argument. But apparently he did. “What would you want from me?” she asked. Her question broke into his musings because he jerked his head toward her as if he’d forgotten there might be something in this for him, as well. He took a deep breath and then released it. “I don’t know. Do I have to decide right now?”
“No.”
“It’ll be something substantial—you understand that, don’t you?”
Savannah managed to hold back a smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“How about home-cooked dinners for a week served on your fanciest china? That wouldn’t be out of line,” he murmured.
She gaped at him. Her request had been generous and completely selfless. She’d offered him an excuse to attend Susan’s wedding and salvage his pride, and in return he wanted her to slave in the kitchen for days on end.
“That is out of line,” she told him, unwilling to agree to anything so ridiculous. If he wanted homemade meals, he could do what the rest of the world did and cook them himself, visit relatives or get married.
Nash’s expression was boyish with delight. “So you’re afraid you’re going to lose.”
Raising her eyebrows, she said, “You haven’t got a prayer, Davenport.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, making an exaggerated gesture with both hands. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”
This discussion had wandered far from what she’d originally intended. Savannah had been hoping to smooth things over between brother and sister and at the same time prove her own point. She wasn’t interested in putting her own neck on the chopping block. Any attempt to convince Nash of the error of his ways was pointless.
He finished off his latte and flung the empty container into her garbage receptacle. “Be ready tomorrow afternoon,” he said, walking