Married by Accident Read online

  “Damn you, Melinda...”

  He came at her again.

  She raised her right arm, brought it back and slapped him, resoundingly, across the face.

  Cole froze. And then he swore again.

  Melinda stared at his cheek. The shape of her hand showed clear on the skin, dead white at first, then quickly flushing angry red.

  Very slowly, Cole lifted a hand and rubbed where she’d hit him.

  Damn, he thought. She can pack quite a punch.

  For a grim, suspended moment, they gaped at each other. Then he watched as she closed her eyes. With a small, hopeless moan, she buried her face in her hands.

  Cole stared at her bent head. He felt about knee high to an inch worm right then. Never in his life had he touched a woman in rage. Where he came from, a man didn’t do things like that.

  “Melinda. Please. Look at me.”

  She dropped her hands, shuddered, drew her shoulders back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I... Look. I shouldn’t have done that, grabbed you like that...” He went on, willing her to understand, hoping she might forgive him when he damn well couldn’t forgive himself. “I’m...about at the end of my rope, that’s all. Annie won’t budge. I hate to leave her here. But I’ve got to get back home.”

  She stared at him him, violet eyes wide and brimming with hurt. He wanted to reach for her, pull her close, cradle her against his body until she sighed and relaxed in his arms, until he was certain she understood that he would never, ever do her harm.

  But who was he kidding? The minute he had her into his arms, he’d start thinking about other things than easing her fears.

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it? The problem they weren’t talking about? The thing that hummed between them whenever he got near her. The thing he wanted to get over that she wouldn’t let him get over, since she showed up at Annie’s place every damn day.

  Yeah, all right. Maybe, in some ways, he was as much of a starry-eyed fool as his baby sister. Maybe, for a long time now, he’d been waiting. For the right woman to come along.

  He’d known just how she’d be, sweet and innocent. Needing him to care for her, just as he would need the comfort of her tender arms.

  And maybe, the first moment he’d set eyes on Melinda Bravo, sitting there trapped in her own seat belt in her fancy wrecked red car, he’d thought, Well, here she is. And about time, too...

  Maybe, if she’d been someone else, just a nice woman he’d run into because he’d been arguing with Annie and taken his eyes off the road for a split second too long—maybe, in that case, he wouldn’t have been so eager to give her a ride. Maybe he would have let her go into that movie star’s mansion by herself as she’d wanted to. Would have let her call a cab from the hospital. Or go on home with the tow truck driver.

  If she’d been someone else, he never in a hundred years would have taken her to that coffee shop in the last hours before dawn. He wouldn’t have followed her inside her house. Wouldn’t have pulled her close and kissed her.

  Wouldn’t have made a damn fool of himself hoping for something that never could be.

  And he certainly never would have ended up, as he’d been doing for days now, telling himself over and over that Melinda Bravo was everything he didn’t want in a woman, that she was too beautiful, too rich, too sophisticated. That she hated country life. And she’d sworn off men.

  If she’d been someone else who was keeping him from taking Annie home, he never would have lost his temper, never would have grabbed her, never would have ended up standing here feeling like a worm.

  “Melinda. I mean it. I am truly sorry. I had no right to grab you.”

  She pulled herself even straighter and forced a weak smile. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have grabbed me. And I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

  He watched her shoulders droop again. She looked down at the floor, let out a long, pent-up sounding breath. “I suppose your father is really getting worried.” Her head came up again. “I suppose he’s wondering what’s going on, why you haven’t come home?” She looked at him so pitifully, as if she wished he would lie and say his dad was just fine.

  Well, he couldn’t make her wish come true. He shrugged. “Annie made me swear not to say anything to him about Brady. So yeah, he’s worried, all right. Worried enough that it scares me, because he is a sick man.”

  Melinda stared at him for a long time. He wished he could see what was going on inside her mind.

  Were that possible, he would have felt a little better.

  Because the moment had finally come when Melinda was ready to face the uncomfortable truth.

  She was ready to admit to herself that she was not hanging onto Annie for Annie’s sake.

  No, she clung to Annie for other, more self-serving reasons.

  She clung to Annie because Annie gave her acceptance and real understanding. Helping Annie and the baby made Melinda feel as if she were doing something worthwhile— when nothing else in her life right then seemed to matter much at all.

  Annie said she couldn’t go home—for her father’s sake. She swore the sick old man wouldn’t be able to bear seeing his beloved daughter with a fatherless baby in her arms.

  But Melinda didn’t really believe that.

  No, Cole was right. It had to be much worse for Annie’s father this way, being kept in the dark, left in Texas to wonder when his son would finally come home—and what Cole would have to tell him when he did.

  “What time is it?” she asked, then glanced at her watch and answered her own question. “A few minutes after nine.”

  Cole eyed her warily. “Why?”

  “Annie should still be up, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then I’ll follow you to her apartment.”

  “And do what?”

  “I’ll say goodbye. To your sister and that beautiful baby of hers. And I’ll tell her that I think she’s hurting her father a lot more by staying here than she would by going home and facing him. I’ll tell her that if she really loves her dad, she’d better stop dragging her heels and hurry back to Texas with you.”

  “Oh!” Annie exclaimed when she opened the door and found her brother and Melinda standing on the walk at the foot of her front step. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  Melinda gulped. “Annie, I really need to talk to you.”

  Annie’s doubtful glance swept from her brother to Melinda and then back to Cole again. She accused, “What have you done now, Cole Yuma?”

  “More than I should have and less than I would have.” He put his hand at the small of Melinda’s back and gave a gentle push. Ignoring the silly thrill his touch sent shivering through her, she moved forward, up the step and into the apartment, with Cole following right behind.

  He shut the door when they were inside and turned to Melinda. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

  Annie backed toward the kitchen. “What is going on? I don’t like this one bit.”

  “Tell her,” Cole demanded again.

  Melinda shot him a fulminating glance. “I will. Just give me a—”

  “Tell me what?” Annie cried. She stared at Melinda, those sweet, soft eyes pleading. “What is he talking about?”

  “Annie, I...” Oh, how to say this? There was just no easy way.

  And besides, Annie already knew—or at least, she seemed to have a pretty good idea. She glared at her brother. “You’ve been workin’ on her haven’t you? Harpin’ at her to get her to see things your way.”

  “Damn it, Annie.”

  “Do not start cursing, Cole Yuma! Do not curse at me!”

  Her cry set the baby off. He started wailing from his crib.

  “Oh, see what you’ve done now,” Annie hissed at her brother. She raced over, scooped up her child and stood there, rocking back and forth, whispering, “There, there now. It’s all right, my sweet boy. It’s okay, it’s all right...”

  Melinda turned to Cole. “Would you please just leave us alone fo
r a little while?”

  He canted his head to the side, clearly distrustful.

  “Cole. Will you just go?”

  “You’d better not back out on me now.”

  “I will do what I came here to do. Now please. Go.”

  He held his ground for a minute more, glancing doubtfully from one pair of accusing feminine eyes to the other. Then he backed up. He reached behind him, pulled the door open and slid out, closing it in his own face without ever turning around.

  The baby had fallen. silent. Annie said to the door Cole had just escaped through, “You’d better not turn your back on us right now, mister.” Then she caught Melinda’s eye.

  And Melinda couldn’t help it. She laughed. Annie glared at her for a moment—and then she was laughing, too.

  The baby started crying again. Their shared, slightly mad laughter faded. They looked at each other over the head of the crying child. Annie’s chin trembled a little—in hurt for the things she sensed her friend had come to say.

  Melinda dropped to the edge of the bed. “Oh, Annie, I—”

  The baby cried louder. “Wait. Just a minute. Let me quiet him down.”

  So Melinda waited as Annie sat in the rocker and opened her blouse. Brady stopped wailing the minute he found his mother’s breast. Annie looked down at him, a tender smile on her mouth. Then the smile faded.

  She lifted her head. “Go ahead. Say it.”

  Somehow, Melinda forced the words out. “Annie, I...I just can’t keep quiet about this any longer.”

  Annie grunted. “Not with my brother badgerin’ you, you can’t. He has some nerve sometimes, he really does. I just cannot believe the way he—”

  “Annie., will you just let me say this. Please?”

  Annie shifted a little, hefted the bundle at her breast, making them both more comfortable. Then she blew out a breath. “Oh, all right. Shoot.”

  Melinda stared at her friend. “I...you have to know, it’s meant so much to me, to know you. And Brady. It’s... well, it’s made the loss of my own baby a little easier to live with, to have you to talk to, to see you with Brady, to know that I helped a little, when he was born.”

  “You helped a lot,” Annie said in a tight voice. “You made it so I could bear it. And more than just gettin’ through Brady’s bein’ born. You’ve made it so I can bear the way things are right now. So I can—”

  “That’s it,” Melinda said sadly. “That’s just my point.”

  Annie blinked a tear away. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, Annie, if I weren’t here, if you hadn’t met me, if there wasn’t this...special friendship between us, you would have been on your way back to Texas by now.”

  “No.” Annie’s mouth drew into a tight knot. “I would not. I told you. I can’t go back. My dad—”

  “Your dad will probably be very upset with you,” Melinda cut in quietly. “But he will accept you. And he’ll accept Brady. You know he will. I can see it in your eyes. You just...hate to face him. You’re afraid to face him. I understand that.”

  “No, I—”

  “Annie, you are hurting your father more by staying away than you could ever hurt him by letting him see that things haven’t worked out the way you wanted them to.”

  “You don’t know my dad.”

  “I don’t have to know your dad. I know you. And that obstinate brother of yours. I know that your father raised two very fine, loving children. To do that, he would have to be a fine man himself.”

  “It will break his heart.”

  “Annie. This. Your staying here, keeping Cole here, leaving your father to wonder what might have happened to you—this is what will break his heart.”

  Annie held her baby closer. She blinked—and twin tears escaped the dam of her lids to trail down her soft cheeks.

  “Oh, Melinda...”

  Melinda stood. “Go home, Annie. Go home right away. Don’t cause your poor father any more pain than he’s already suffered, worrying about you, wondering if you’re all right.” She went to the door. “I...I can’t come here anymore, Annie. I just wouldn’t be your friend if I did.”

  Annie choked on a sob. “Cole made you say that. He did, didn’t he?”

  “No, Annie. He wanted me to say that. But he could never make me. I’m saying it because it’s the right thing to do. I’m saying it because you have a home, and people who love you. And because you need to be with them now—just as they need to be with you and Brady.” She reached for the door.

  Annie said, “Wait.”

  Melinda sighed. “Oh, Annie.”

  “No wait. Just listen. You’re right. I am a big coward. I don’t want to face my dad. But I will. I will do it.”

  Melinda. nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

  “There’s an ‘if.’”

  Melinda frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll do it—if you’ll come to Bluebonnet with us.”

  Melinda gaped at her friend. Then she groaned. “Oh, Annie. That’s crazy.”

  “Why? Why is it crazy?”

  “Well, I can’t just...take off for Texas.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because. I—”

  “You could. You could do it.”

  “No, I—”

  “You don’t have a job right now—and you said yourself you don’t have to find one right away. And maybe a visit to Bluebonnet would be good for you. You would like the folks there, I know you would. Maybe a little change might help you, too. You might see your life in a whole new light.”

  “Oh, Annie. Running off to Texas isn’t going to help me.”

  “You can’t be sure unless you try it. And anyway, even if it doesn’t do much for you, it would mean everything to me. You’re my friend. And I need you right now. Just for a while, please? Just for a week or two. Because I am a coward and I need a friend beside me, to help me face my father. I need—”

  “Annie. Stop. No.”

  Annie’s mouth went tight again. “I mean it. I won’t go. I won’t go without you. And that’s that.”

  “You’re being foolish.”

  “Maybe so. But unless you come with us, I’m stayin’ right here.”

  Chapter Nine

  Melinda went home certain that she had done the right thing. Somehow, she got through the weekend that followed, though her mother called on Sunday morning, depressing her further. Elaine and Melinda’s father, Austin, had run into Christopher at the home of a mutual friend.

  “Just a little dinner party,” Elaine said. “Good food, enlightening conversation. Your father and I enjoyed ourselves immensely.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Mother.”

  “Poor Christopher. He looked a bit...at loose ends. Of course, he brought a date. Just a friend, though, he said.”

  “Mother, could we talk about something other than Christopher, please?”

  “I’m almost finished. What I wanted to tell you is, he asked about you. And he gave us a copy of his latest book of poems—signed, of course. Melinda. The book is dedicated to you. ‘To My Linda, my beautiful one. My only love...’ Terribly touching, I have to say. I really do believe he realizes he made a big mistake in letting you go and he can’t help but hope that things might still work out between you. And your father and I agree that, if he were willing to make a firm commitment this time—and I do believe that marriage might be in the offing, I sincerely do. If that were the case, don’t you think it would be the best thing that could possibly—”

  “Mother, it is over between Christopher and me. Please accept that.”

  “Oh, Melinda. When are you going to stop this foolishness? Yes, you lost a child. And it was a difficult, painful experience, I’m sure. But it’s been several months now. You need to put it behind you and reclaim your life.”

  “That is exactly what I’m trying to do.”

  Elaine pretended her daughter had not even spoken. “Your relationship with Christopher once meant everything to you.”


  That was way too true. Once, she had thought that her love for Christopher made her life worthwhile. She had considered herself the woman behind the man, told herself that loving Christopher, supporting him in his work made up for her otherwise lackluster performance in the arena called life. Her parents had seemed to think so, too.

  Her mother said, “I’m trying to tell you that you could have all that back again.”

  “I don’t want it back again. I truly do not.”

  “You say that because Christopher hurt you deeply and it’s difficult to forgive.”

  “No, I say it because it’s true. I do not want Christopher back. It turned out that we—wanted different things out of life. I’ve accepted that fact. And I wish you would, too.”

  “But you don’t even know what you want.”

  “I know what I don’t want. And that’s Christopher Blayne.”

  “Well,” her mother said. “If that’s how you honestly feel...”

  “It is.”

  “Then couldn’t you at least return home to live? You could come to us, here in the Hamptons, for the rest of the summer. And then, in the fall, we could find you something in the city, some meaningful work you might do. Your father has a colleague in the history department who’s looking for someone to—”

  “Mother. I’m not coming back to New York.”

  “Oh, you’re beginning to sound just like your brother.”

  She found herself wondering, What’s so bad about that? She asked her mother as much. “Zach knew what he wanted out of life—and he got it. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I am merely referring to the fact that he never would do what we felt was best for him.”

  “He made his own choices, Mother. I think that’s admirable.”

  “Well. I suppose one could look at it that way. And, over the years, we have come to accept the choices your brother has made. But yours is a different situation entirely. You haven’t run to Los Angeles. You’ve run away—from your own disappointments.”