A Wife for One Year. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ this marriage is a first for me, I’m pretty sure most husbands don’t bring up the topic of their wives’ ex-boyfriends on their wedding night.”

      “But we’ve already established that this isn’t like most marriages,” he said, unwilling to let her dodge the topic. “So what happened?”

      She picked up her fork and poked at her fish. “Do you really want to talk about my failed relationships?”

      He was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, but he found that he did. He’d been so grateful when she’d agreed to marry him that he hadn’t let himself question the fact that she was a beautiful, intelligent twenty-six-year-old woman who not only didn’t have a steady boyfriend but very rarely went out on dates.

      “I’m just realizing that you’re probably as much of a commitment-phobe as I am,” he told her.

      “I don’t know that any husband has ever spoken such romantic words to his wife.”

      The dryness of her tone made him smile as he cut into his steak. “I thought you were unhappy about being with me because you were thinking about him.”

      “Harrison and I broke up three months ago,” she told him.

      “But you thought he was the one.” He popped a piece of sirloin into his mouth, chewed.

      Kenna shook her head. “Not really. I wanted him to be the one, and then I realized that he wasn’t.”

      “So you weren’t thinking about him?”

      “No,” she said. “I was thinking—hoping that this marriage won’t jeopardize a decade of friendship.”

      “It won’t,” he promised.

      Yes, they were legally married, but that was just a piece of paper. And her new status as his wife aside, the woman sitting across from him was still the same woman he’d known for more than ten years, his best friend and most trusted confidante. There was no need for their altered marital status—or one little kiss—to change their relationship.

      But they did have to do something about their living arrangements. “I’ll ask Nate if I can borrow his truck when we get back.”

      She picked up her wine. “Why do you need his truck?”

      “To move your stuff.”

      She set down the glass without drinking. “I’m not moving into your place.”

      He popped a shrimp into his mouth and wondered why she sounded genuinely startled by the idea. “My condo’s bigger than your apartment,” he said logically. “And I have two bedrooms.”

      “I know, but...” Her protest trailed off.

      “But?” he prompted.

      She just shook her head. “Obviously I didn’t give the details of this arrangement enough thought,” she admitted.

      “What did you think—that we’d continue to live as we have been?”

      “Of course not,” she denied, but the color that filled her cheeks confirmed to him that was exactly what she’d thought.

      “I agreed to separate bedrooms, not separate addresses,” he said.

      “But you don’t have a bed in your second bedroom,” she pointed out.

      “We’ll move my desk out and your bed in. If anyone asks why, we’ll explain that we wanted to have a guest room for your sister when she comes to visit.”

      She considered this and finally, reluctantly, nodded. “But what if she really does want to come for a sleepover?”

      “How often does she stay at your place?”

      “Hardly ever,” she admitted, stabbing a piece of cauliflower with her fork.

      “Then we’ll worry about that if and when it happens.”

      She nodded, although not entirely happily, as she nibbled on the tender-crisp vegetable. “Your condo is almost a half-hour drive from South Ridge High School,” she pointed out. “I can be at work from my apartment in less than ten minutes.”

      “So you’ll have to get up a little earlier in the morning,” he acknowledged.

      “I’m more concerned about how long my car will last with the extra miles I’ll be putting on it every day.”

      “We’ll get you a new one.”

      She frowned. “You’re not buying me a new car.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because.”

      He lifted a forkful of mashed potatoes. “What kind of an answer is that?”

      “A valid one,” she said stubbornly.

      “Are you forgetting that I’m rich now?”

      “I didn’t marry you for your money.”

      “Actually, you did.”

      She flushed. “Okay, I did. But only for a small part of it and only for Becca.”

      “Because she needs the surgery,” he acknowledged. “Just like she needed new shoes when you took that fifty bucks off me back in high school.”

      The color in her cheeks deepened. “She’s a kid from a single-parent family in the wrong part of town—I just want her to have a chance.”

      “And she does,” he told her. “Because she has you in her corner.”

      “And you,” Kenna said. “You were the one who found Dr. Rakem.”

      “I just made some inquiries.” He opened the folder the waiter had left on the table, added a tip and signed the tab.

      “And then checked his references and arranged the consult.”

      He just shrugged, because it really hadn’t been the big deal she was making it out to be.

      “I don’t know how to express how truly grateful I am,” Kenna said softly.

      “Getting naked might work,” he said, because the mood had become entirely too serious and he wanted to see her smile.

      Her lips did curve, even as she shook her head.

      Then her gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about our wedding night...”

      His brows rose along with his interest.

      “...and I decided it might be fun to strip—I mean, see the Strip.”

      And that quickly, his hopes were dashed.

      “You want to play tourist, don’t you?”

      “Absolutely,” СКАЧАТЬ