Orchard Valley Grooms (18 page)

They were both breathing hard. A tumult of confused emotions raged within her, and she braced her arms against him, ready to get up and move away. Instead, his arms, which were around her waist, held her firmly in place.

“It seems we’ve been here before,” he said, his eyes gazing into hers.

“I—” She stopped abruptly and nodded.

“Do you remember what happened that day?”

Incapable of speaking, she nodded again.

“Do you remember the way we kissed?”

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t allow him to read the answer in her eyes.

He held her fast for another long moment before he gradually eased his hold. “Let’s talk about that time.”

“No!” she cried. The instant she was free, she rushed to her feet, not realizing she must have sprained her ankle. But when she placed her weight on her left foot she experienced a sharp stabbing pain. She couldn’t suppress a whimper as she leaned against the stall door for support.

“You’re hurt,” Charles said, immediately getting to his feet. He slipped his arm around her waist.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve just twisted my ankle—it hardly hurts at all,” she lied.

Without another word, Charles effortlessly scooped her into his arms.

“Charles, please,” she said, growing angry. “I’m perfectly fine. It’s a minor sprain, nothing more. There’s no need for this.”

He didn’t reply but began to carry her out of the stable.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“The kitchen. You should put ice on it right away.”

“I want you to know I don’t appreciate these caveman tactics.”

“That’s too bad.” He was short of breath by the time he reached the back door, which infuriated Steffie even more. “Put me down this instant,” she snapped.

“In a minute.” He managed, after some difficulty, to open the door, then deposited her unceremoniously in a chair—like a sack of flour, she thought with irritation. He was pulling open the freezer section of the refrigerator and removing the ice-cube tray.

She rested her sore foot on her opposite knee and was about to remove her shoe when he stopped her. “I’ll do that.”

“Charles, you’re being ridiculous.”

He didn’t answer, but carefully drew off her shoe and sock. His fingers were tender as he examined her ankle, and it felt strangely intimate to have him touch her like this.

“I told you already—it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she argued. “I might have gotten up too fast or put my foot down wrong. I don’t feel a thing now.”

“Try standing up.”

Cautiously she did. His arm circled her waist as she gingerly placed her weight on the foot. “See,” she said, feeling both triumphant and foolish. “There doesn’t seem to be any damage.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Try walking.”

The floor felt cool against her bare foot as she took a guarded first step. There was barely a twinge. She tried again. Same result. “See?” she said. “I’m fine.” And she proceeded to prove it by marching around the kitchen.

“Good.” Charles replaced the ice-cube tray in the freezer, but he was frowning.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” she teased as she pulled on her sock and shoe.

He glanced at her, then smiled slowly, sensually. “I’ve heard of some inventive ways to avoid kissing a man, but…” He let the rest fade as he sat down beside her, then pulled her chair toward him until they sat face to face, so close their knees touched.

Steffie shut her eyes as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. His breathing grew ragged and he whispered her name. “Stephanie,” he said, leaning forward to touch her lips with his own.

Steffie was afraid—of his kiss and of her own response. But she felt a thrill of excitement, too. He must have sensed that, because the quality of his kiss changed from gentle caress to fierce desire.

Charles groaned, and she slid her hands up his chest, delighting in the feel of hard, smooth muscles as she gave herself fully to his kiss.

Suddenly he broke away, his shoulders heaving. Steffie let her eyes flutter open and for a long silent moment they stared at each other.

His hand reached out to touch her hair, a small, intimate gesture that moved her unbearably.

Then he stretched out his arms, clasping her by the waist and lifting her from the chair to set her securely in his lap. She wasn’t given the opportunity to protest before his mouth claimed hers once more.

This time his kiss was slow and gentle, as tender as the earlier kiss had been hungry and demanding. She felt herself melting in his arms, surrendering the last of her resistance.

“I want to talk about what happened,” he whispered.

She knew what he meant, and she wanted none of it. That scene in the stable—the fall she’d faked—was much too embarrassing to examine even now. “That was in the past.”

“It has to be settled between us.”

“No,” she said, trying to change his mind with a deep, hungry kiss.

His voice was rough when she finished. “Steff, we have to clear the past before we can talk about the future.”

“We only just met, remember?” He was the one who’d suggested they start over. He couldn’t bury the past and then ask that they exhume it.

“Just listen to me…”

“Not yet,” she pleaded. Maybe never, her heart whispered, balking at the idea of reliving a time that had been so painful for her.

“Soon.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and spread kisses across her face.

“Maybe,” she agreed reluctantly.

The sound of laughter broke into the haze of her pleasure. At least Steffie assumed it was laughter. It took her a wild moment to realize the sound was coming from the porch, and that it must be her father. Not knowing what to think, she slowly broke away from Charles.

“Is that David laughing?” he asked.

Steffie shrugged. “I’d better find out if something’s wrong.”

He nodded, and they walked hand in hand to the porch.

“Dad?” she asked softly when she saw her father, rocking contentedly. His smile broadened when he noticed her and Charles. His gaze fell to their hands, which were still clasped tightly together, and his eyes
fairly twinkled. “Check the freezer, will you? By heaven, I wish I’d thought of this sooner.”

“The freezer?” she repeated, glancing at Charles, wondering if her father had lost his wits. “Why do you want me to check it?”

“We need something special to fix for dinner tonight. We’re going to have a celebration!”

Steffie frowned in puzzlement. “What kind of celebration?”

“There’s going to be a wedding in the family.”

Steffie groaned inwardly. “Dad…”

“Don’t argue with me, Princess, there isn’t time.”

“But, Dad…”

“See there?” he said, pointing toward the long stretch of driveway. “What did I tell you?”

Steffie looked, but she couldn’t see anything except a small puff of dust, barely discernible against the skyline.

“I was about to give up on those two,” he said with a wry chuckle. “They’re both too stubborn for their own good. I have to admit they gave me pause, but your mother was right. Guess I shouldn’t have doubted her.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

“Your sister and Colby. They’re on their way back to the house now.”

Steffie glanced up again, and this time the make and color of the car was unmistakable. Colby was returning to the house. And although she couldn’t clearly tell who the passenger was, she knew it had to be her sister.

“E
ven now I can’t believe it,” Valerie said wistfully, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Steffie and Norah lounged on the opposite end, listening.

“Colby actually chased you down on the freeway?” Norah wanted to know.

Valerie’s smile lit up her whole face as she nodded. “It really was romantic to have him race after me. He told me he didn’t realize he was planning to do it until he was on the interstate.”

“You’ve got everything worked out?” Steffie asked. From what Norah had told her, and from remarks Valerie herself had made, she knew there were a lot of obstacles standing in the way of this marriage.

“We’ve talked things out the best we can. It’s been a struggle to come up with the right compromises. I’ve got a call in to Rowdy Cassidy at CHIPS. I think I can talk him into letting me open a branch of the company in
Oregon. He’s already done a feasibility study for the Pacific Northwest. He was just waiting until he could find the right person to head it up. He didn’t originally have me in mind, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem giving it to me. Then again—” she paused thoughtfully “—it may be better to discuss this in person.”

“Colby doesn’t mind if you continue working?” Norah’s voice was tinged with disbelief.

“No. Because it’s what I need. Naturally he’d rather I was there to pamper him when he gets home from the hospital every night, but this way we’ll learn to pamper each other.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Steffie leaned forward to hug her sister. Valerie’s eyes reflected an inner joy that Steffie had never seen in her before. This was what love—real love—did for a person. When two people cared this deeply for each other, it couldn’t help but show.

“Now that we’ve decided to go ahead with the wedding, Colby wants to do it as soon as possible,” Valerie went on to say. “I hope everyone’s willing to work fast and hard because we’ve got a wedding to plan for next month.”

“Next month!” Norah’s blue eyes widened incredulously.

“I was lucky to get him to wait
that
long. Colby would rather we flew to Vegas tonight and—”

“No way!” was Norah and Steffie’s automatic response.

“I never thought I’d be the sentimental sort,” Valerie admitted sheepishly, “but I actually want a large fancy wedding. Colby loves me enough to agree, as long as I
organize it quickly. Once that man makes a decision, there’s no holding him back.”

Steffie smiled to herself. Dr. Colby Winston was in for a real surprise. Valerie was talented enough in the organizational department to manage the United Nations. If he gave her a month to arrange their wedding, she’d do a beautiful job of it with time to spare.

A wedding so soon meant the family was about to be caught up in a whirlwind of activity, but that suited Steffie. It was time for them to celebrate. The grieving, the anxiety, were over.

“You’ve been seeing a lot of Charles lately, haven’t you?” Norah asked, looking expectantly at Steffie. “Do you think we could make this a double wedding?”

Valerie smiled broadly at Steffie, as though she’d be in favor of the idea, too.

“I haven’t been seeing
that
much of Charles,” Steffie answered, thrusting out her chin. She realized she sounded defensive. “Well, I—I suppose we have been together quite a bit lately, but there’s certainly never been any talk of marriage.”

“I’ve always liked Charles,” Norah said, studying Steffie closely. “I mean, I could go for this guy, given the least bit of encouragement. First Valerie falls in love and now you. You know, it’s a little unfair. I’m the one who lives at home and you two fly in and within a few weeks nab the two most eligible men in town.”

“Me?” Steffie argued. “You make it sound like a done deal. Trust me, it isn’t.”

“You’re in love with him,” Valerie said quietly. “Aren’t you?”

Steffie didn’t reply. She was unwilling to openly admit her feelings for Charles. It would be so easy to fool herself into believing he held the same tenderness for her. But he’d never said so, and other than a few shared kisses he hadn’t given her any indication he cared.

But he had,
something inside her said.

Steffie refused to listen. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, forget that she’d made a fool of herself over him, not once but three times. Because she’d cared, and he hadn’t.

“I don’t know how Charles feels about me,” Steffie said in a soft steady voice.

“You’re joking!” Norah exclaimed.

And Valerie added, “Steffie, it’s obvious how he feels.”

Steffie discounted their assurances with a shrug. “For all I know, he could be hanging around me in order to get close to Norah.”

“Charles? No way.” Both Valerie and Norah burst into loud peals of laughter.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t mind me dating him?” Norah teased, winking at Valerie.

“Feel free.” In fact, Steffie would throttle Norah if she went within ten feet of Charles, though she could hardly say so.

“I hope you’re joking,” Norah said, shaking her head. “I should’ve seen what was going on a long time ago. I don’t know how I could’ve been so dense. Charles and Dad became friends shortly after you left—good friends.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing,” Steffie insisted. She didn’t need anyone else building up her hopes, and although her sisters meant well, their encouragement would only make her disappointment harder to bear.

“It wouldn’t mean much if Charles hadn’t made a point of asking about you every time he stopped by,” Norah was saying. “I have to hand it to the guy, though—he was always subtle about his questions.”

“Now that you mention it, whenever I talked to Charles, Steffie’s name cropped up in the conversation,” Valerie reported thoughtfully. “I should have guessed myself.”

“You were too involved with Colby to see anything else,” Norah teased and then sighed. She crossed her arms and rested them atop her bent knees. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you two, but I wish I’d fall in love. Don’t you think it’s my turn?”

“Aren’t you leaping to conclusions here?” Steffie asked. She wasn’t exactly sporting an engagement ring the way Valerie was. She and Charles hadn’t arrived at that stage of commitment—and probably never would. Besides, her past mistakes with him had been the result of leaping to certain incorrect conclusions about his feelings, and she wasn’t ready for a repeat performance.

Steffie didn’t see Charles again until Tuesday afternoon. She wasn’t surprised not to hear from him, knowing how involved he was with the production of the paper during the first part of every week.

Valerie and Steffie had driven into town to visit The
Petal Pusher, the local flower shop. Valerie had decided on a spring color theme for her wedding and had already chosen material for Steffie’s and Norah’s gowns in a pale shade of green and a delicate rose.

Valerie angled the car into the slot closest to the flower shop. Since the newspaper office was almost directly across the street, it was natural for her to glance curiously in that direction.

“You haven’t talked to Charles in a couple of days, have you?”

“He’s busy with the paper.”

“There’s time to stop in now and say hello if you want. I’ll be talking to the florist, so you might as well.”

Steffie was tempted, but felt uncomfortable about interrupting Charles at work. “Some other time,” she said with a feigned lack of interest, though in actuality she was starving for the sight of him. Helping Valerie plan her wedding had forced some long-buried emotions to the surface. Steffie hadn’t admitted until these past few weeks how deeply she longed for marriage herself. A family of her own. A husband to love and live with her whole life.

A husband.

Her mind stumbled over the word. There’d only ever been one man she could imagine as her husband, and that was Charles. Even though Steffie knew it was unwise, she’d started dreaming again. She found herself fantasizing what her life would be like if she was married…to Charles. She wanted to blame her sisters for putting such thoughts in her head, but she couldn’t. Those dreams and
fantasies had been there for years. The problem was that she couldn’t suppress them anymore.

An hour later, at the same moment as Steffie and Valerie were leaving the flower shop, Charles happened to step out of the
Clarion
office.

Steffie instinctively looked across the street, where he was walking with Wendy, deep in conversation. Something must have told him she was there because he glanced in her direction. He grinned warmly.

Steffie relaxed and waved. He returned the gesture, then spoke to Wendy before jogging across the street to join Steffie and her sister.

“Hello,” he said, but his eyes lingered on Steffie. He barely seemed to notice Valerie’s presence.

“Hi.” It was ridiculous to feel so shy with him. “I’d have stopped in to say hello, but I knew you’d be busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you.” His eyes were affectionate and welcoming.

“See,” Valerie hissed close to Steffie’s ear. Then, more loudly, “I’ve got a couple of errands to run, if you two would like a chance to talk.”

Charles checked his watch. “Come back to the office with me?”

“Sure.” If he’d suggested they stand on their heads in the middle of Main Street, Steffie would have willingly agreed.

Valerie cast a quick glance at the clock tower. “How about if I meet you back at the car in—”

“Half an hour,” Charles supplied, reaching for
Steffie’s hand. “There’s something I’d like to show you,” he told her.

“Fine, I’ll see you then, Steff,” Valerie said cheerfully. She set off at a brisk walk, without looking back.

Their fingers entwined, Charles led Steffie across the street to the newspaper office. “I was going to save this for later, but now’s as good a time as any.” He ushered her in and guided her down the center aisle, past the obviously busy staff, to his desk.

Steffie wasn’t sure what to expect, but a mock-up of the
Clarion
’s second page wasn’t it. As far as she could see, it was the same as any other inside page she’d read over the years.

“Clearly I’m missing something,” she said after a moment. “Is the type different?”

“Nope, we’ve used the same fonts as always.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

“How about a hint?” she asked, a bit puzzled.

“I might suggest you read the masthead,” he said next, his dark eyes gleaming.

“The masthead,” she repeated as she scanned the listings of the newspaper’s personnel and the duties they performed.

“All right, I will. Charles Tomaselli, editor and publisher. Roger Simons—”

“Stop right there,” he said, holding up his hand.

“Publisher,” she said again. “That’s new. What exactly does it mean?”

His smile could have lit up a Christmas tree. “It means, my beautiful Stephanie, that I now own the
Orchard Valley Clarion.
”

“Charles, that’s wonderful!” She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him, but it was difficult.

“My dream’s got a mortgage attached,” he told her wryly. “A lot of folks think I’m an idiot to risk so much of my future on a medium that’s said to be dying. Newspapers are folding all over the country.”

“The
Clarion
won’t.”

“Not if I can help it.”

Her heart seemed to spill over with joy. She knew how much Charles loved his work, how committed he was to the community. “I’m so excited about this.”

“Me, too,” he said, his smile boyishly proud. “I’d say this calls for a celebration, wouldn’t you?”

“Most definitely.”

“Dinner?”

She nodded eagerly and they set the date for Thursday evening, deciding on a restaurant that overlooked the Columbia River Gorge, about an hour’s drive north.

Steffie felt as if her feet didn’t touch the pavement as she hurried across the street thirty minutes later to meet her sister. Never, in all the time she’d known Charles, had she seen him happier. And she was happy with him, and
for
him. That was what loving someone meant. It was a truth she hadn’t really understood before, not until today. This intense new feeling had taught her that real love wasn’t prideful or selfish. Real
love meant sharing the happiness—and the sorrows—of the person you loved. Yes, she understood that now. She realized that her past obsession with Charles had focused more on her own desires than on his. Her love had matured.

Charles had wakened within her emotions she hadn’t known it was possible to experience. Emotions—and sensations. When she was with him, especially when he kissed her, she felt vibrant and alive.

“You look like you’re about to cry, you’re so happy,” Valerie said when Steffie joined her in the car. “I don’t suppose Charles popped the question.”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “But he asked me to dinner to help him celebrate. Guess what? Charles is the new owner of the
Clarion.
”

Valerie didn’t seem nearly as excited as Steffie. “He’s going to be working a lot of extra hours then, isn’t he?”

“He didn’t say.” If he spent as much time at the newspaper as he had three years earlier, there wouldn’t be any extra hours left.

“I suppose his eating habits are atrocious.”

Steffie suspected they were, but she shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I bet he’d enjoy a home-cooked meal every now and then, don’t you?”

Steffie eyed her sister suspiciously. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Of course,” she answered with a sly grin. “I think you should heat up some of that fabulous spaghetti
sauce and take it to him later. You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart, don’t you?”

“Funny, that sounds exactly like a suggestion of Dad’s. What’s your interest in this?”

“Well,” Valerie said coyly, “that way I wouldn’t feel guilty about asking you if I could take some to Colby’s. If he tasted your spaghetti sauce and happened to assume, through no error of mine, that I’d cooked this fabulous dinner—” she paused to inhale deeply “—he’d be so overcome by the idea of marrying such a fabulous cook that he’d go over the wedding list with me and not put it off for the third time.”