Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
position, something she was generally able to avoid. She wanted to rub her thigh, work the throbbing muscle, but that would reveal her pain, which she wanted to hide from Nash.
“You’ll know more tomorrow afternoon,” he promised, looking pleased with himself.
“How long will this take?”
“There are time restrictions? Are there any other rules we need to discuss?”
“I…We should both be reasonable about this, don’t you think?”
“I was planning to be sensible, but I can’t speak for you.”
This conversation was deteriorating rapidly. “I’ll be ready at closing time tomorrow afternoon, then,” she said, holding her hand against her thigh. If he didn’t leave soon, she was going to have to sit down. Disguising her pain had become a way of life, but the longer she stood, the more difficult it became.
“Something’s wrong,” he announced, his gaze hard and steady. “You’d argue with me if there wasn’t.”
Again she was impressed by his sensitivity. “Nonsense. I said I’d be ready. What more do you want?”
He left her then, in the nick of time. A low moan escaped as she sank onto her chair. Perspiration moistened her brow and she drew in several deep breaths. Rubbing her hand over the tense muscles slowly eased out the pain.
The phone was situated to the left of her desk and after giving the last of her discomfort a couple of minutes to ebb away, she reached for the receiver and dialed her parents’ number. Apparently Nash had decided how to present his case. She had, too. No greater argument could be made than her parents’ loving relationship. Their marriage was as solid as Fort Knox and they’d been devoted to each other for over thirty years. Nash couldn’t meet her family and continue to discredit love and marriage.
Her father answered on the second ring, sounding delighted to hear from her. A rush of warm feeling washed over Savannah. Her family had been a constant source of love and encouragement to her through the years.
“Hi, Dad.”
“It’s always good to hear from you, sweetheart.”
Savannah relaxed in her chair. “Is Mom around?”
“No, she’s got a doctor’s appointment to have her blood pressure checked again. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Savannah’s hand tightened around the receiver. She didn’t want to mislead her parents into thinking she was involved with Nash. But she needed to prove her point. “Is there any chance I could bring someone over for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course.”
Savannah laughed lightly. “You might want to check Mom’s calendar. It’d be just like you to agree to something when she’s already made plans.”
“I looked. The calendar’s right here in the kitchen and tomorrow night’s free. Now, if you were to ask about Friday, that’s a different story.”
Once more Savannah found herself smiling.
“Who do you want us to meet?”
“His name’s Nash Davenport.”
Her announcement was met with a short but noticeable silence. “You’re bringing a young man home to meet your family? This is an occasion, then.”
“Dad, it isn’t like that.” This was exactly what she’d feared would happen, that her family would misinterpret her bringing Nash home. “We’ve only just met.…”
“It was like that with your mother and me,” her father said excitedly. “We met on a Friday night and a week later I knew this was the woman I was going to love all my life, and I have.”
“Dad, Nash is just a friend—not even a friend, really, just an acquaintance,” Savannah said, trying to correct his mistaken impression. “I’m coordinating his sister’s wedding.”
“No need to explain, sweetheart. If you want to bring a young man for your mother and me to meet, we’d be thrilled, no matter what the reason.”
Savannah was about to respond, but then decided that a lengthy explanation might hurt her cause rather than help it. “I’m not sure of the exact time we’ll arrive.”
“No problem. I’ll light up the barbecue and that way you won’t need to worry. Come whenever you can. We’ll make an evening of it.”
Oh, yes, it was going to be quite an evening, Savannah mused darkly. Two stubborn people, both convinced they were right, would each try to convert the other.
This was going to be so easy that Nash almost felt guilty. Almost…Poor Savannah. Once he’d finished with what he had to show her, she’d have no option but to accept the reality of his argument.
Nash loved this kind of debate, when he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. By the time he was done, Savannah would be eating her words.
Grabbing his briefcase, he hurried out of his office, anxious to forge ahead and prove his point.
“Nash, what’s your hurry?”
Groaning inwardly, Nash turned to face a fellow attorney, Paul Jefferson. “I’ve got an appointment this evening,” Nash explained. He didn’t like Paul, had never liked Paul. What bothered him most was that this brownnoser was going to be chosen over him for the partnership position that was opening up within the year. Both Paul and Nash had come into the firm at the same time, and they were both good attorneys. But Paul had a way of ingratiating himself with the powers that be and parting the waters of opportunity.
“An appointment or a date?” Paul asked with that smug look of his. One of these days Nash was going to find an excuse to wipe that grin off his face.
He looked pointedly at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, Paul, I have to leave, otherwise I’ll be late.”
“Can’t keep her waiting, now can we?” Paul said, and finding himself amusing, he laughed at his own sorry joke.
Knotting his fist at his side, Nash was happy to escape. Anger clawed at him until he was forced to stop and analyze his outrage. He’d been working with Paul for nearly ten years. He’d tolerated his humorless jokes, his conceited, selfrighteous attitude and his air of superiority without displaying his annoyance. What was different now?
He considered the idea of Paul being preferred to him for the partnership. But this was nothing new. The minute he’d learned about the opening, he’d suspected Stackhouse and Serle would choose Paul. He’d accepted it as fact weeks ago.
Paul had suggested Nash was hurrying to meet a woman—which he was. Nash didn’t bother to deny it. What upset him was the sarcastic way Paul had said it, as though Savannah—
His mind came to a grinding halt. Savannah.
So she was at the bottom of all this. Nash had taken offense at the edge in Paul’s voice, as if his fellow attorney had implied that Savannah was, somehow, less than she should be. He knew he was being oversensitive. After all, Paul had never even met her. But still…
Nash recalled his own reaction to Savannah, his observations when he’d met her. She was small. Her dark, pixie-style hair and deep brown eyes gave her a fragile appearance, but that was deceptive. The woman obviously had a constitution of iron.
Her eyes…Once more his thoughts skidded to a halt. He’d never known a woman with eyes that were more revealing. In them he read a multitude of emotions. Pain, both physical and emotional. In them he saw a woman with courage. Nash barely knew Savannah and yet he sensed she was one of the most astonishing people he’d probably ever meet. He’d wanted to defend her, wanted to slam his colleague up against a wall and demand an apology for the slight, vague though it was. In fact, he admitted, if Paul was insulting anyone, it was more likely him than Savannah.…
When