Tempting Fate Page 34

  “Did you get married or somethin', Maggie?” the eight-year-old girl who lived on the first floor asked, standing by the fence.

  Jonah glanced at her, his smile was sincere and apologetic as heat crept up Maggie’s cheeks.

  “No, Karen,” she called out.

  Jonah stepped out of the back seat onto the pavement beside her. Maggie watched as, one by one, the other children drew their gaze to this stranger.

  Ever the curious child, Karen asked, “Then who's this guy?”

  She glanced at Jonah and saw that he was clearly amused. He was much less tense now than he'd been at the coffee shop.

  “This guy is a friend,” he called out, answering for her. “Sir Jonah Wallace, Karen. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Karen stared at his outstretched hand. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  “Ah. Good rule.”

  The interchange seemed to satisfy the young girl. She quickly turned and joined the other children for another romp under the sprinkler.

  “There's a lot of that going around,” Maggie said when she turned around to face Jonah again.

  “Sorry?”

  She motioned with her head toward the front seat of the limousine. “The misconception that we'd gotten married.”

  “Crazy, isn't it?”

  His eyes never left hers. If the circumstances were different, she’d almost think what she saw was interest there. But that was crazy.

  It had to be some kind of delayed shock on his part. No matter what Jonah had said in the car about his plans to marry being a business arrangement, he had to have some feelings for this Catherine woman. He’d been so despondent earlier at the coffee shop.

  “Well, thanks for the ride, Jonah.” She turned and took a few steps up the porch.

  “Maggie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How about it?”

  “How about what?”

  Jonah took a step closer and peered up at her. It was there again. That look in his eyes that she could only call interest. The cobalt blue seemed liquid and made his eyes mystical. His dark hair shined jet-black under the glare of the sun.

  “Will you marry me?”

  * * *

  Jonah, ol' boy, you've really come undone this time, he thought as he looked at Maggie's shocked expression. For a moment, he wasn't sure she was still breathing.

  “Don't you think you're rushing things just a tad?” She lifted her hand and pinched her index finger and thumb together for emphasis.

  “I'll admit my proposal is a bit abrupt,” he stammered.

  “A bit?”

  “We've only known each other--”

  “Forty-five minutes tops,” she blurted out. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Her tone was incredulous. And he really didn't blame Maggie if she thought he was nuts. He felt nuts. Desperate, too. But he found himself defending his proposal.

  “Quite possibly. But you see, that’s exactly my point. I'm have a bit of a time-crunch here, and it seems as though--”

  Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “How silly of me. Here I thought you were sweeping me off my feet.”

  He shook his head with a chuckle. “I do sound mad, don’t I?”

  “Recognition is the first step toward recovery.”

  Something rumbled up from deep inside him. Jonah laughed at himself, this disastrous day, and the absurd situation he'd been forced into by his grandfather. It felt good to laugh. That in itself was incredibly surprising, considering he hadn't managed to do much laughing at all since he'd learned of the impending plans for Wiltshire.

  He peered at Maggie through moisture filled eyes. She wasn't laughing. But she was incredibly beautiful. Her sapphire eyes sparkled when she teased him. There were small freckles sprinkled across her nose that looked adorable with the sun shining on her creamy skin.

  When she looked at him the way she was right now, it didn't seem like such a crazy idea to marry her. At least not for the reasons he was proposing. He hadn't given it a second thought. And yet, now he realized just how ridiculous he looked from her eyes.

  “I'm not making a pass at you. Truly, I'm not.”

  “You just asked me to marry you.”

  “I'm asking for your help.”

  “Again?”

  His lips tilted up to one side. “Again.”

  Maggie took two steps down the stairs until they were both standing at eye level. “Forget the phone call, the nice air conditioned ride in the limo, the coffee, the pie—”

  “Which by the way was truly inspiring,” he interjected. “If I didn’t already tell you that.”

  “You did. You don't even know me. You’re asking a total stranger to marry you.”

  He shrugged. “I know that. But I know you make me laugh.”

  “So that's all it takes for a happy marriage? Bet we could make a killing with that book.”

  “I sound delusional,” he said. “Even to my own ears, which is pretty scary.”

  He was delusional. He'd just asked a woman he didn't even know to marry him! And the fact that he was truly considering it was entirely grandfather's doing.

  Maggie was laughing now. So much so that tears formed in her eyes and began spilling down her cheek. He decided her laughter was something he could get very use to hearing every day. It was just one more thing that surged him on.

  He threw open the back door of the limo and rummaged through the console, plucking out a business card. Then he strode back to the porch where Maggie still stood, watching him. Her laughter had subsided, and she'd resumed her position, standing with her arms crossed over her chest like a shield.

  “Think about it. And call me, if at some point you decide I'm not completely bonkers.”

  She took the card, but locked her gaze with his for a long moment. “You really are serious, aren't you?”

  “Marriage is not something to be taken lightly.”

  “I totally agree, which is why I can't believe you're asking a woman you don't even know anything about, who doesn't know anything about you, to marry you.”

  He glanced down the narrow street, at all the cars parked tightly in a row against the sidewalk and then back at Maggie.

  “I don't expect you to take my word that I'm not some deranged person. Call the number. Talk to a private investigator if you'd like. Have him send me the bill. You can never be too careful.”

  Her eyes became impossibly wide as she glanced down at the card for the first time. “Sir Jonah Wallace? You're an English Knight?”

  He shrugged, slightly abashed. “Guilty.”

  “I can't believe this woman stood you up at the altar and you're an honest to goodness knight?”

  “Does that really make a difference one way or the other?”

  A hint of a blush crept up her cheeks. “I've just never met a real knight before.”

  He just smiled at her. “I'm still just a regular guy.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, you're not. The Queen of England doesn't just hand out knighthood like floss at the dentist office.”

  “I suppose you're right.”

  She drew in a shallow breath. “Why are you doing this? I mean, you could probably marry anyone. Why ask some stranger?”

  Jonah ran his hand over course dark hair until his hand rested at the nape of his neck where the ends had curled from the heat and humidity. “It's rather complicated.”

  She sat down on the splintered stair treads and patted the spot next to her where the stain had been faded by foot traffic and weather. “Try me.”

  Jonah took the seat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “My grandfather holds the deed to a piece of property that has been in my family for over three hundred years. It was my childhood home, my father's and grandfather's before him.”

  “And so on. I get the picture.”

  “Right. The roots of my family run deep in this estate. Unfortunately, my grandfather has decided to take out the gard
en sheers and cut it free. He's selling it to the highest bidder.”

  “What does that have to do with needing a wife?”

  “You see, the only way he'll allow it to stay in the Wallace family is if I marry.”

  Maggie croaked. “You've got to be kidding.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “Isn't that blackmail?”

  “Technically, yes. But since he holds the deed, he can do with it what he wants. His requirement for passing it on to me is that I marry for at least one year.”

  Maggie shook her head and said almost under her breath. “Nice man.”

  “Actually, he is. We've always been close. He's more of a father to me than my own father ever was in many ways. But grandfather has always been a bit of a joker. Now he's playing one heck of a joke on me.”

  “Can he really do this to you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It's still his since my father refused ownership of it some thirty years ago. I have a choice to go against his wishes. But I can't. A home with three hundred years of roots deep in the ground is not something I'm willing to walk away from.”

  “You're willing to get married...for a house?”

  “An estate,” he corrected. “One that has been in my family for three hundred years. I know it may not make any sense to someone like you.”

  Her smile faltered and her back became broomstick straight as she sat beside him. Instantly, he realized he’d hit a raw nerve.

  “Believe me, I know all about roots. Before I was born, my grandmother started the Coffee Drop from nothing but a dream in her heart and sweat from her brow. She was the very foundation of my family.”

  “Was?”

  “She passed away five months ago.”

  Jonah wondered briefly if the picture he'd noticed on the wall of the coffee shop had been of Maggie and her grandmother. His chest constricted, remembering the look of affection that had passed between the two women as the photograph was snapped. He also wondered if the small gold cross he’d seen draped across the picture belonged to Maggie or her grandmother.

  “I'm sorry for your loss. But you see, that's a very important thing we have in common then. Roots.

  “What I'm proposing is a business arrangement. You'll be compensated monetarily for the inconvenience.”

  The gold flecks in her eyes were brilliant. “You do realize you sound nuts.”

  “I know,” he groaned.

  “And this Catherine woman really didn't mind getting married for this reason?”

  “She agreed.”

  Going over the events of the day in his head as they rode to Maggie's, Jonah came to a startling conclusion. Perhaps Catherine's motives for agreeing to marry him were strictly mercenary. How else could Derek have known where and when the wedding was to be held? It all seemed so perfectly choreographed. Catherine was good at that. It's what made her an excellent secretary.

  He shook the thoughts from his mind and tried not to hold any ill feelings for Catherine. After all, she was merely a woman in love, desperate to win her man. And he had always known he wasn't that man.

  “This whole thing sounds crazy,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it does. I have no choice. But you do. I'm just asking you to consider it. I can't imagine why it would be, but if it is something that you're interested in, call me. Soon. I don't have much time to waste.”

  Silently, Maggie lifted from the stairs, pausing just a second to look down at the business card in her hand and then back at Jonah before turning toward the tenement door and closing it behind her.

  There was absolutely no way she was going to call, Jonah thought as he headed toward the limousine. He was sure of it, in fact. Desperation made people do crazy things, but Maggie Bonelli didn't look either.

  He, on the other hand, had made a complete idiot of himself in front of this extraordinary woman.

  As he climbed into the back seat of the limo, he glanced up to the top floor of the tenement and caught a glimpse of Maggie peeking out from behind the curtains.

  This was crazy. Just as Maggie stated. But for some strange reason, Jonah didn't feel crazy or insane. Finding Maggie Bonelli was the answer to his prayers.

  # # #

  Chapter Three

  The organza curtains floated back into place against the window as the Jonah's black limousine drove down her street.

  Not just Jonah, Maggie reminded herself. Sir Jonah. The man was an in-the-flesh English Knight for cripes sake!

  With the back of her hand, Maggie wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead and pushed off her work shoes. The immediate relief she felt as her foot hit the cooler vinyl floor had her moaning with satisfaction.

  “It's about time. I thought you'd stay out on the porch forever.” Startled, Maggie swung around to find her mother, Rhonda, standing at the doorway to the living room, wearing nothing but her full slip. She pointed toward the window. “Did I just see you get out of that black limo?”

  Maggie steadied her rampant heartbeat by placing her hand over her chest. “What are you doing home?”

  “I asked you first, young lady. So don't you bother playing secretive with me.”

  Maggie heaved an impatient sigh. “I'm serious, Mom. You're never home from work before me. Are you sick?”

  Rhonda pushed her hair away from her face with both hands. Her gray roots were showing, but Maggie knew her mother's routine beauty ritual would take care of that in a day or two at the most.

  “It's this heat. Blew out the air conditioner at the office. When the temperature inside reached ninety, they had to let us all go home. I think Evan was afraid one of us would fake heat exhaustion and sue. As if he couldn't do to part with a few pennies.”

  Relieved it wasn't anything serious, Maggie picked up a paperback on the end table and began fanning herself with it. “It doesn't feel much better here.”

  “It's not so bad in the bedrooms with the doors open. I put your fan on, too, so there is a nice cross breeze blowing the heat out. I just put my feet up and turned on the T.V. when I heard you talking to someone outside.”

  Maggie arched an eyebrow and eyed her mother suspiciously. “You heard me talking over the fan and T.V.?”

  “I turned both off so I could hear,” Rhonda confessed. “Not that it helped much. The kids next door are making a ruckus.”

  “They're just playing in the sprinkler.”

  “I might go down and join them,” her mother said with a quick laugh. “Why don't you put your feet up? I'll pour you a glass of lemonade and you can tell me all about this man you were with on the sidewalk. You know Mrs. Bennigan probably saw you and will probably have rumors all over the end of church services this Sunday.”

  Maggie collapsed on the sofa, rolling her eyes. The old pine coffee table creaked as she plunked her feet up on top of it. Today seemed longer than most days and the unusual afternoon only added to it. It wasn't every day a man like Sir Jonah Wallace waltzed into a girl's life and proposed marriage.

  “Later, I'm starved. Is there anymore chicken left?”

  “Oh, honey.” Rhonda's shoulders sagged as she dropped the cold glass of lemonade into Maggie's hand and made a disgusted face. “Don't tell me you're going to eat that chicken and chocolate sauce concoction again.”

  Maggie took the cool glass to her forehead and ran it across her hot skin, grinning. “I'm adding olives to it this time.”

  Rhonda cocked her head to one side and hesitated before opening the fridge. She pulled out the plate of leftover chicken and dropped it on the counter next to the avocado breadbox.

  “Now are you going to tell me about this man or am I going to have to hold the chocolate sauce hostage?”

  “You wouldn't dare!”

  Her mother arched a thinly lined eyebrow. “You know I would.”

  Maggie threw her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, the day suddenly crashing in on her. How could she possibly explain this and have it make sense? It didn't even make sense to her.


  “He came into the coffee shop and asked to use the telephone.”

  “I should think a man with enough money to afford a limo would carry the best cell phone money could buy. Please don't tell me you've fallen for a chauffeur.”

  Maggie lifted her head and glared at her mother. “It's a perfectly respectable job, but no, I haven't fallen for anyone. And he needed to call his driver.”

  Rhonda's eyebrow tilted again. Maggie had never known a time when her mother wasn't weary of men. She’d always wondered if her mother would have been this way if her father hadn't abandoned them before Maggie was born.

  “We had a cup of coffee while he waited for his driver to pick him up. We talked and he offered me a ride home.”

  Rhonda's lips pursed into a suspicious grin.

  Maggie blew out a frustrated breath. “The bus stop was hot, my feet were killing me, so I said yes to an air conditioned ride. Shoot me for my stupidity.”

  She could only imagine what her mother's reaction would be when she heard the rest of the story.

  Rhonda stood beside Maggie, resting her hip against the back of the sofa. “And that's it?”

  “I knew you wouldn't let this go.” She sprang from the sofa, padded to the kitchen and began slicing pieces of cold leftover chicken, placing them on bleached white bread.

  “You talked for a long time. What did he want?”

  “To thank me.”

  “It doesn't take fifteen minutes to thank a person.”

  Maggie took a bite of her sandwich, wondering if food would ever taste like this after the baby was born. Between bites, she glanced back at her mother only to discover her standing with her fists propped on her hips, waiting for a reply.

  She'd never known her mother to let anything go. If it took the whole evening, Rhonda would pry every minute detail of her encounter with Jonah Wallace out just like she had when Maggie told her she was pregnant. Not wishing the same onslaught of questions, she gave it up.

  “He asked me to marry him,” she said, feeling silly for actually feeling a little flattered after the disastrous scene with Keith when she'd told him she was expecting his baby.

  Rhonda gasped and her jaw dropped to her chest. “You're getting married?”