The Marriage Contract (6 page)

She wiped the
sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.  “That's sounds romantic. 
Maybe we can do that when I get home.  I want to introduce you to an old friend
who is back in town for the party.”

“Oh?  Have you
ever mentioned her before?”

She tried to
act nonchalant.  “No.  His name is Devin Michaels.”

“If you have an
old friend to spend some time with, what do you need me there for?”

Her heart fell
with his response.  Okay, not so much with his actual words, but his tone.  Roger
was actually relieved.

There wasn't an
ounce of jealousy flowing through this man's veins. For once, she wished he'd
let down his almighty guard and show a little emotion.

Normally it
wouldn’t have meant so much to have Roger around.  Although their relationship
had been steady, they’d never been joined at the hip.  But ever since this
afternoon when Cara first saw Devin standing on the lawn, it was like her
equilibrium had been thrown off kilter.  She couldn’t deny the instant
attraction she felt when Devin gazed at her with his dark eyes.  It was
magnetic, mystical almost, as if he could read her mind.  She needed Roger here
to keep herself grounded and keep these crazy emotions she’d been having all
week at bay.

“I'm not going
to spend all my time with Devin.  Besides, we'd talked about taking the ferry
to Nantucket a few times and never got around to it.  Now's our chance.”

“It means that
much to you?”

“Yes.”  

“Okay,” he said
in resignation.  She could almost see him forcing a smile for her benefit.  He
would tolerate being at her parents', but he wasn't happy about it.  But
because it meant a lot to her, he’d come.  “I'll be there early, before the
rush hour traffic.  But just so you know, I'm going to make it a working
vacation.”

She couldn’t
help but smile.  “You can use Daddy's den.  He's always at the hardware store,
anyway.”

Cara dropped
the phone in the cradle and brushed back her hair with her fingers.  It was
going to be strange having Roger staying under the same roof as her family,
eating at the same dinner table for more than just a few hours. 
Meeting
Devin Michaels
. 

Was she nuts? 
What did she just get herself into?

# # #

Chapter Three

“Rise and
shine, sleepyhead.”

Cara moaned at
the sound of Devin's voice.  With her eyes still closed, she fought to keep
from being pulled from the dream she'd been having.  

The ground was
moving around and around.  The carnival music blared and the bright lights
flashed all around them.  Up, down, up down. The carousel horses danced in a
row, the wind wiping through her long brown hair making it float on air like
the mane of real stallion racing.

“Cara.”

She turned to
the sound of Devin's voice.  He stood at the sidelines, calling her name.  Up,
down, all around she moved, wiping passed him. 

“Devin?”

The music began
to die down.  The horses moved in slow motion.  When the carousel came round
again, Devin was gone.  In the distance she saw him, moving through the crowd. 
He was leaving her.

The ground
beneath her began to rock.

“Cara?  Wake
up.”

The bed rocked
to and fro.  Cara sucked in a deep breath, wanting the dream to stay alive,
wanting to turn around and come back for her.  “Where are you going?” she
called out to him in her dream.  But he didn't turn around.  He was gone.

Cara's eyes
flew open and when they did, he saw her.  Devin was there, his broad shoulders
hunched over her as he sat on the side of her bed, gazing in to eyes.  His
strong hands were gripping her bare shoulders.

“You came
back,” she whispered in what sounded to her like a sleepy whimper.

His brows
furrowed slightly.  “I told you last night I would.” 

Slightly dazed,
Cara looked down, suddenly aware of where she was.  And what she
wasn't
wearing.  Although she had on her underwear and a light cotton tank top, the
top was old and worn in all the wrong places.  It was as good as wearing
nothing at all in mixed company.

Devin pulled
back and cleared his throat, looking almost apologetic.  But there was no
mistaking the heat in his eyes. 

“Ah...Ruthie. 
She suggested I come right in and wake you.” 

In a groggy
state, she clutched the white percale top sheet to her neck to cover her
bareness.  “I'll just bet she did.”

No longer quite
as sleepy, she gazed up at Devin and saw he was dressed in a tank top and
running shorts.  His smoky brown eyes smiled at her.

“What are you
doing here so early?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.  It
read six o'clock.  “So ungodly early, I might add.”

“We made plans
last night to go jogging on the beach this morning.  I told you I'd be here
early.  You still up for it?” 

She rubbed at
her gritty eyes and focused on him again and realized he was serious.  She
shifted in the bed and the thin sheet covering her pulled from her neck,
revealing her bare shoulders and a little too much skin just above her breast. 
She hiked it back up to her chin.

“Yes, but for
me that usually means after a cup of coffee and a shower at, oh, somewhere
around nine o'clock?”

He raised his
eyebrows.  “Why so late?”

“That's still
early for most people, Dev.”

Chuckling, he
added, “The day’s almost gone by then for me.” 

His expression
turned sheepish.  She remembered that well.  It was one he'd always had when he
was confessing some deep seeded secret or dream he'd had as a kid.  One he
thought she'd find ridiculous.  But she never did. 

Devin sat on
the bed beside her, looking suddenly very comfortable despite her bareness, as
if finding her half naked in bed was somehow normal.

With increased
awareness, vanity set in.  She combed her fingers through her disheveled hair. 
“Yeah, well, I'm still a don't-look-at-me-until-after-coffee person.”  She
motioned her head toward the bedroom door.  “If Ma's up, you just may get lucky
and get some breakfast.”

“I'll meet you
downstairs.”  He lifted from the bed, causing it to shake, and turned toward
the door.  She didn't drop the sheet until he closed the door tight behind him.

Her usual
morning routine of showering and dressing was completed with record speed,
despite the fact that on a normal morning, she would have downed two cups of
coffee during the process.  Twenty minutes later, she waltzed into the kitchen
toward the smell of freshly brewed coffee to find her mother and Devin were
nowhere in sight. 

Her
grandmother, Elsie, weighted down with more fishing gear than a person her size
could possibly handle, was just passing through the kitchen when she walked
in. 

So this was
the fishing thing her mother talked about.

“Gram, what are
you doing?” she asked, almost feeling ridiculous for asking a question that
should be so obvious by her attire.

“Can't talk
now,” Elsie said with a bright smile.  “I'm late.”

“Where are you
going?”

“Cod fishing. 
I've got to go while the getting is good.”  She reached out and grasped the
door handle, but Cara held her back.

“Please, just
come and sit for a minute so we can talk.”

“We can talk
later, the fish are waiting.”

Cara clutched
her hands together, not sure how to proceed with the subject at hand.  “What
about the man I saw you with?  Is he waiting, too?”

Elsie turned
back quickly, frantically waving her hands back and forth to shush Cara.  “Your
mother will hear you.”

Cara lowered
her voice to match her grandmother’s tone. “Ma doesn't know?”

“Of course
not.  Do you think I want her poking into my life the way she does yours?”

“Not possible. 
You're not in your child bearing years.”

  Elsie sunk
into the kitchen chair, half her gear rattled back and forth, hitting the table
with her motion.  “What’s more important is how you know about Albert.”

“Albert.  I,
uh, we saw you yesterday,” she said.  “Devin and I saw you.”

“Devin?”

“You know, the
man who was at dinner last night?”

“The
accountant?  Phooey!  All accountants are shysters.  Best to steer clear of
him, dear.  He'll only break your heart in the end.”  Elsie started to get up
as if that was sufficient enough to explain her actions, but Cara gently pulled
her back down.

“No, you
remember Devin Michaels.  He used to spend the summers in the cottage right up
the beach.”

As if a light
bulb had just been illuminated, her eyes widened and she nodded her head.  “Oh,
yes, he was a nice boy.  How is he doing?”

Cara shook her
head in frustration.  “Grandma, you had dinner with him last night.  Stop
purposely being evasive with me because that really only works with Ma.”

Elsie sagged
against the back of the chair and made a face.  “I should have known I couldn't
put that past you.”  She gave a good belly laugh, rattling her gear again. 
“You've always been too much like me.  Drives your mother crazy.”

But Cara wasn't
laughing.  “What's going on?”

“Albert is a
nice young gentleman friend of mine,” she said with a satisfied smile.  The
emphasis on the word “young” did not escape her.

Far be it for
Cara to begrudge her grandmother happiness, but there was the bigger, more
frightening issue of her behavior.  “Ma thinks you have Alzheimer’s.”

“No.  I have a
life.”

When that was
the only response her grandmother offered, she elaborated.  “Ma says you've
been doing odd things, like saying you're going to church in the middle of the
afternoon.”

“I don’t see
anything wrong with that.  Lots of people go to church every day.”

“Yes, but you
didn't go.  I saw you...on the beach,” Cara said delicately.

“You did?”

“You were with
Albert.”

Elsie's
wrinkles deepened into a frown.  “Were you spying on me?”

“No, I was
taking a walk and saw you swimming in the nude.”  She hoped she wouldn't have
to elaborate any further.  It was hard enough to accept what she saw when she
saw it.

“I think that
Albert and I deserve to have a little bit of privacy, don't you?”

“Gram, you were
naked on a public beach!”

Elsie balled
her fist.  “Dear, when life presents itself to you, you have to grasp it with
both hands and live it with gusto.”  She stood and shuffled to the door, making
it clear that the conversation was over as far as she was concerned.  With a
bright smile, she added.  “Have a nice day.”

Cara buried her
face in her hands.  Her poor mother thought her grandmother had Alzheimer’s and
all she was doing was having a torrid affair.  Cara didn’t know what bothered
her more, the deception or the fact that her grandmother was the only one
having sex. 

She took a deep
breath and let the smell of coffee fill her head.  A healthy dose of caffeine
would do her some good.  She paced across the green tile floor and pulled a
ceramic mug with little yellow daffodils on it from the cabinet.  After
preparing a cup for herself, she slumped back, leaning her hip against the
counter, wondering where Devin had disappeared to. 

Surely her
mother would have jumped at the chance to make him breakfast.  Ruthie was never
so happy as when she was cooking for a hundred people. 

A warm breeze
floated lifted to the curtains and brought with it the sound of voices. 
Pushing back the sunflower curtains above the kitchen sink, she saw Devin on
the front porch gripping a coffee mug in his hand as he leaned against the
porch post.  Her mother sat at the wrought iron table next to him, arranging a
colorful bouquet of flowers in a painted ceramic vase.  All she needed to hear
was Roger’s name and she knew she didn’t want to go anywhere near that porch. 
Lord only knew what Ruthie was filling Devin’s head with. 

The familiar
sound of the silver BMW pulling into the driveway pulled her attention away
from the porch.  She drew in a cleansing breath and pasted on a smile, readying
herself for the upcoming storm. 
Roger was here.

He said he’d
come and like always, he was true to his word.  That was a good trait in a man,
she’d always told herself.  She thought about the conversation she’d just had
with her grandmother.  Just once, she’d like to trade some boring old
predictability for a little bit of heavenly gusto.

Pushing through
the screen door, Cara felt a surge of unease wash over her.  Ruthie, in true
form, was already scowling as Roger climbed out of the car and slammed the
door.  The eerie feeling grew stronger and Cara vaguely wondered if this was
how the people of Washington State felt just before Mount Saint Helens blew her
top.

* * *

 Devin slumped
back against the porch railing, listening to the musical cry of seagulls on the
beach as he watched the tall sandy-haired man step out of the car.

So this is
the guy he’d just gotten an earful about.   

Devin had just
spent the last twenty minutes listening as Ruthie talk about “fine” Roger. 
From everything Ruthie had said, he was everything Cara would want in a man. 
He watched as the man smiled when Cara appeared in the doorway.  His teeth were
too straight and his hair was too neat.  But Devin knew too well that
appearances could be deceiving.  No one could be that perfect.  

Devin’s eyes
were drawn to Cara as she stepped out onto the porch.  She was all dressed in a
crisp white T-shirt and navy skin fitting spandex running pants hugging her
thighs.  For a fleeting moment he imagined those thighs pressed firmly against
his own body.  When had her thighs become
that
appealing?

His body
responded as it had earlier when he first caught sight of her lying in bed. 
Seeing her sleeping, with her wild dark hair cascading over her pillow, pretty
much drove him insane.  An honorable man would have turned and walked away as
soon as he opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball on her side.  But
there was nothing honorable about the way the sight of her, wearing a nothing
night shirt, made him feel.