Sandra Steffen – A Bride by Summer (страница 1)
“As tempting as it is to take a little detour here with you, I’m not going to.”
“You’re not?”
“Here’s the thing,” Reed declared, using her exact terminology.
It occurred to Ruby that he was not a man of almosts. He wasn’t almost tall or almost handsome or almost proud. He was all those things and more. He’d drawn a line in the sand, and apparently he intended to make certain she knew exactly how far, how deep and how wide the line ran.
“The baby you saw my brother carrying before lunch?” he said. “You assumed Marsh is his father.”
She stood mute, waiting for him to continue.
“Are you telling me Marsh isn’t Joey’s father?”
“It’s possible he is.” Reed’s voice was deep, reverent almost, and extraordinarily serious. “But it’s also possible I am.”
Surely Ruby’s dismay was written all over her face. But she didn’t have it in her to care how she looked.
The baby she’d seen before lunch was possibly Reed’s? Had she heard him correctly?
* * *
Round-the-Clock Brides:
Minute by minute … hour by hour … they’ll find true love.
When I was fifteen, my brother said, “There’s a guy I want you to meet.” He was tall and older—sixteen. Three years later I married him, and I’ve loved him, and a good wedding, ever since. It’s not the walk down the aisle or even what happens after that walk is over, because let’s face it, a lot of hard things can happen later. What I love is the moment when two people promise to love one another forever. In that instant forever is possible; all good things are.
When I began writing my first book set in Orchard Hill, I didn’t know it would launch a series called Round-the-Clock Brides. I only knew it would begin with a gift and end with a wedding. Halfway through The Wedding Gift I knew minor character Ruby O’Toole would star in her own book one day.
A Bride by Summer is Ruby’s story. It begins with a chance encounter and ends with a promise: good things are going to happen.
Let’s all believe…
Sandra
A Bride by Summer
Sandra Steffen
SANDRA STEFFEN has always been a storyteller. She began nurturing this hidden talent by concocting adventures for her brothers and sisters, even though the boys were more interested in her ability to hit a baseball over the barn—an automatic home run. She didn’t begin her pursuit of publication until she was a young wife and mother of four sons. Since her thrilling debut as a published author in 1992, more than thirty-five of her novels have graced bookshelves across the country.
This winner of a RITA® Award, a Wish Award and a National Readers’ Choice Award enjoys traveling with her husband. Usually their destinations are settings for her upcoming books. They are empty nesters these days. Who knew it could be so much fun? Please visit her at www.sandrasteffen.com.
For my beloved brothers, Ron and Dave.
Every girl should have a big brother.
I was lucky enough, and so blessed, to have two.
Contents
Reed Sullivan wasn’t an easy man to read.
Not that the two women waiting in line behind him at the drugstore in Orchard Hill weren’t trying. In the security camera on the wall he saw one nudge the other before motioning to the small carton he’d pushed across the counter. The pharmacy tech held any outward display of curiosity to a discreet lift of her eyebrows as she dropped his purchase into a white paper bag.
Apparently men didn’t buy paternity test kits here every day.
He didn’t begrudge any of them their curiosity. Most of the time he appreciated that particular trait inherent in most women almost as much as he enjoyed the way they could change the atmosphere in a room just by entering it. He had a deep respect for women, enjoyed spending time with them, was intrigued by them and appreciated them on so many levels. He did not leave birth control to chance. And yet here he was, making a purchase he’d never imagined he would need to make.
He paid with cash, pocketed his change and left the store, by all outward appearances as cool, calm and confident as he’d been when he’d entered. Out in the parking lot, a bead of sweat trickled down his neck and under the collar of his shirt.
Reed understood profit margins and the challenges of zoning issues. Those things always made sense in the end. This was different. Nothing about this situation made sense. Gnawing worry had jolted him awake at 4:00 a.m. It didn’t require great insight to understand the cause. It all centered around the innocent baby he and his brothers had discovered on their doorstep ten days ago.
The very idea that someone would abandon a baby in such a way in this day and age was ludicrous. And yet there the baby had been, unbelievably tiny and undeniably alone. Reed, Marsh and Noah were all confirmed bachelors and hadn’t known the first thing about caring for a baby, but they’d picked the crying infant up and discovered a note.
Our precious son, Joseph Daniel Sullivan. I call him Joey. He’s my life. I beg you take good care of him until I can return for him.
Our precious son? Whose precious son?
The handwritten note hadn’t been addressed. Or signed.
Reed wasn’t prone to self-doubt, but now he wondered if they should have performed a paternity test immediately. He should have insisted. What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking. None of them had.
They’d spent the first week fumbling with formula and feedings, diaper changes and sleep deprivation while doing everything in their power to determine what the infant in their charge needed and wanted.
Joey had a lusty cry he wasn’t afraid to use, and yet before his first night with them was over, he’d looked with burgeoning trust at the three men suddenly thrust into this new and foreign role. He didn’t seem to mind their ineptitude.