Patricia Thayer – Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...: Meet Mr. Prince (страница 8)

“I know, but it has been two years.” Jeremy had seemed to snap back to his old self within months of Jenny’s death. Then again, he was only four when Jenny first got sick. He’d quickly adapted to the fact that his mother couldn’t do the things she’d always done, so her loss hadn’t affected him in the same way it had affected Katie. And me.

“Each of us is different. Some of us deal with these things better than others. In your case, you’re stronger than Katie … and wiser. For a girl, losing a mother is traumatic. And for a girl Katie’s age—on the cusp of her teen years—it’s life-changing. But your daughter is going to be all right, I feel quite sure of that. I just wanted you to know that we’re not there yet. And I wanted to tell you again now much I like your daughter.” Her expression softened. “Katie’s a special girl. She’s going to be a remarkable woman someday.”

Zach suddenly found it hard to speak around the lump in his throat. “She’s … very like her mother.”

The warmth in the counselor’s eyes said she understood exactly how he was feeling. “I suspected as much. She talks about her mother with so much … love and gentleness.”

Zach managed to get a grip on his emotions, but once he stepped outside and began the twenty-block walk home—he’d decided he could use the exercise today—that feeling of emptiness and loss returned with a strength he hadn’t felt in months. And he knew—sadly—that both he and his oldest daughter, at least, still had a ways to go before they’d be completely whole again.

“So how was your first day at work?”

Georgie made a face. “It was fine.”

“Georgie, I can tell just by the tone of your voice that it wasn’t fine,” Joanna said.

So Georgie, who hadn’t planned to say a word until Joanna had called and begun pumping her, spilled the whole story—how Zach Prince had showed up at the office so late, how he’d skipped out again without any explanation about where he might be going, how she felt even more uneasy about him now than she’d felt before—and then she even found herself telling Joanna how good-looking he was.

“Really?” Joanna said. “He actually looks like Patrick Dempsey? Gee, he can’t be that hard to work with, then. At least you’ve got something great to look at! I mean, he didn’t act obnoxious or anything, did he?”

“No.”

“Well, then? How bad can it be? Just sit back and enjoy the scenery for a while.”

Joanna’s comments caused Georgie to remember what she’d said to her sisters a while back when they’d started bugging her about getting married. “What?” Bobbie had said. “You’re going to go without sex for the rest of your life?” And Georgie had laughed and retaliated, saying she hadn’t said a thing about going without sex, that she intended to have plenty of lovers.

Now why on earth had Joanna’s comment about Zach made her think of that conversation?

“Speaking of scenery,” Georgie said, “how’s your romance going?”

“Chick’s wonderful,” Joanna said dreamily. “Oh, Georgie, you should try it.”

“Try what?” But Georgie knew.

“Being in love. There’s no feeling like it in the world.”

Later that night, as Georgie slathered moisturizer on her face in preparation for bed, she thought about her conversation with Joanna again. She was glad she hadn’t confessed the momentary attraction she’d felt toward Zach, especially since soon after that she’d discovered he was married. Georgie knew it wasn’t uncommon to be attracted to people who were out of bounds. Shoot, she wouldn’t be human if she could turn off physical reactions the way you turned off a TV remote. Still, the memory of her involuntary physical response to Zach’s smile continued to plague her even after she’d climbed into bed and turned off the bedside lamp, because it had been such a strong response, the likes of which she hadn’t had in a long time.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was that tomorrow she would redouble her efforts to be a perfectly controlled, perfectly businesslike employee. And hopefully, her future assignments would keep her well away from the office … and from Zachary Prince and his damned smile.

“You look beautiful, as always, Corny.”

Cornelia kept her voice light as she answered, although the expression in Harry’s dark eyes unleashed some unwanted butterflies. “Always the flatterer, aren’t you, Harry?”

He smiled. “I mean every word. No one would ever believe you’re sixty-six. Why, today you don’t look a day over forty.”

“Oh, please,” Cornelia scoffed. “Don’t exaggerate. Fifty maybe. But forty?”

“You’re more beautiful now than you were as a young girl,” he insisted.

The two of them were having a late lunch at a charming lodge-type restaurant out near the Hunt mansion. It was a typical Seattle winter day—cold and gloomy and threatening rain at any moment—but the lodge had a cheery fire going in their big stone fireplace, and Harry had secured a table close by the inviting warmth. And, of course, Cornelia had ridden to their lunch date in comfort and style, because Harry had sent Walter, his long-time driver, to pick her up in the Lincoln Town Car.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said with a chuckle. “For a seventy-two-year-old man, that is.” Harry was still as tall as he’d been as a young man—topping six feet four—with the hawklike features and thick hair that had always been the standard by which Cornelia measured other men.

He laughed. “You just couldn’t resist letting me know that I’m an old geezer, could you?”

“You know I was teasing you.”

His smile faded, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “Were you? Maybe you really do think I’m too old.”

Cornelia’s wayward heart betrayed her at the look in his eyes. What was happening here? she wondered. She was afraid to hope. For so long, she’d hoped to no avail. She couldn’t go through that again. She’d been disappointed too many times. “Too old for what, Harry?” she said carefully.

“Too old to try again.”

“To try what again?” Cornelia wasn’t going to make anything easy for him. Not after what he’d put her through.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”

Cornelia refused to look away. Instead, she met his gaze squarely. Almost defiantly.

“Beg for what, Harry?”

“For you, Corny. For you. I let you slip through my fingers once. And that was a big mistake. Maybe the biggest I’ve ever made.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well? What do you think?”

“What do you think, Harry?”

“I think we belong together.”

“I once thought we did, too. But you couldn’t wait for me to grow up, could you? Instead, you picked all those other women.” For the first time, she couldn’t hide from him the bitterness she thought she’d eradicated.

“Hell, Corny, I know I was stupid. I’m trying to tell you that. I guess my pride was hurt.” He shrugged. “I was young, too. I may have been smart when it came to electronics and computers, but I didn’t have much experience with life. Certainly not with women.” His dark gaze shined intently as he put more pressure on her hand. “Cornelia, I love you. I always have loved you. And I don’t want us to waste another minute. I want us to be together for as many years as we’ve got left.”

Cornelia’s traitorous heart was now pounding. But she was determined not to make this easy for him. He’d hurt her too much in the past. He needed to suffer a bit, too! There are none so blind as those who will not see. The familiar line from the Bible stiffened her resolve as she reminded herself of all the years of Harry’s cluelessness. If he really had come to his senses and wanted her now, he was going to have to work for her. “I might want that, too,” she said, “but right now, I’m not sure. I need some time.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is it that golf pro? Dammit, Corny, he’s too young for you.”

Cornelia yanked her hand away. “Is that so? Well, maybe I don’t agree.” She had half a mind to get up and walk out on him, even though their dessert hadn’t yet been served. She knew Walter would take her home. He liked her better than Harry, anyway. And how did Harry know about Greg?

“Ah, come on, Corny, stop it. You know we belong together.” Harry reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a small black velvet box. Snapping it open, he showed her the ring inside. “I bought this for you. I want you to marry me.”

Cornelia almost gasped, but she stopped herself just in time. Sitting there was one of the most magnificent rings she’d ever set eyes on. A huge round pink diamond circled by dozens of tiny diamonds, it was set in what she figured was platinum—nothing but the best for Harrison Hunt—and it was breathtaking. The ring would probably overpower her slender hand, but that was Harry. He did nothing by small measures. Gathering every ounce of strength she possessed, she said quietly, “That’s quite a ring, Harry.”

“Is that all you have to say? I said I was sorry, Corny. I said I was stupid. I said loved you. I said I wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together. What more can I say?”

“Oh, I think you can say a lot more, Harry. And if you’re really serious, if you really mean everything you’ve said tonight, then you’ll be quite willing to court me the way you should.”