The Marriage Contract Page 4

  Cara plopped down on a boulder, smooth from years of taking a beating by the incoming tide, and sat cross-legged.

  “I think my mom has been pushing me harder these days because she doesn’t want me to be alone when they move to Florida.”

  “She wants you to be happy. She loves you.”

  “Yes, she does. And despite her crazy ways, I love her. But I’m nothing like her. She is the epitome of domestic life. I can barely fry an egg. If it weren’t for takeout and microwavable food, I’d starve.”

  “I’m sure that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Okay. I make mean pancakes.”

  Devin lifted one knee and rested his arm across it as he sat on the boulder next to Cara. “Manny isn’t around to keep tabs on you, and your parents are going to be a few thousand miles away. Can you blame your mother for wanting someone to watch over you?”

  She laughed wryly. “I’m a big girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” Much more than he cared to admit. So much about the two of them sitting together, talking, made it seem as if the seventeen years apart never happened.

  And yet, feeling the heat from Cara’s body, seeing the sun bouncing off the waves of her chestnut hair, he felt like he was seeing this incredibly beautiful woman for the first time. He was sure she'd been just as beautiful seventeen years ago, but somehow, he'd forgotten that part of her. He snapped his gaze out to the bay and stared at the safety of a bobbing sailboat coming into shore.

  “Besides, I won’t be alone. I have friends. And Roger will still be here.”

  Devin twisted himself around. “Who's Roger?”

  He didn't realize his mouth had dropped open until he saw a full blown smile stretch her incredibly delightful lips. “Ma didn't tell you about Roger, did she?”

  “No.”

  Cara rolled her eyes and looked away. “Figures.”

  Ruthie hadn't mentioned another man in Cara's life during their phone conversation. But now he wanted—no, needed—to know who this Roger guy was.

  “I’m sure it was unintentional.”

  “Want to bet? I've been with Roger for over a year and they haven't been able to put up with each other for more than five minutes the whole time. I’ll bet Ma didn’t even invite him to my birthday party.”

  Devin chuckled. “Over a year, huh? I've never made it beyond a few months. But then I've never been one for longevity in the relationship department.”

  “Well, to mom, it's been a year too long. Roger is just as bad. He's thrilled beyond belief that my parents are moving to Florida. The farther away the better.”

  She fiddled with a seashell that was imbedded in a crack in the boulder until it came free, and then tossed it to the surf.

  Cara hadn't said she was in love with the man. She'd merely said involved. A woman in love would be betrayed by the emotion in her eyes, no matter what words she spoke. He was deftly accurate at reading emotion, however fleeting, in the eyes of people under question, whether it be a potential client, a juror, the prosecution, or a woman in love. Since he saw no emotion cross Cara's face when she mentioned Roger by name, he could only surmise that she no longer was in love with him. If she ever was at all.

  She drew in a deep breath and looked out at the white caps rolling in.

  “The holidays must have been lively around here.”

  Cara rolled her eyes and sputtered, “You have no idea.”

  She was smiling again. Not just her mouth but her whole face. Her eyes lit up like fire flies on a hot August night and her high cheekbones, delicately colored by the sun, brought back warm memories. In the sunlight, he could see the sheen of moisture that filled her eyes. “I’ve really missed this. Just you and me talking like this.”

  He did, too. He just didn’t realize how much until that moment.

  “Me, too.”

  Reaching out, he touched her hand, stroking the soft flesh with his thumb. A whirl of heat spread through him like melted butter on a toasted bagel. He took in a deep breath of salt air and pulled his hand away, uneasy with this newfound emotion gripping him.

  He'd been right to come here, no matter what the cost to his career. It was what he needed. From the few moments he'd just shared with Cara, he knew she needed it to.

  “We should be getting back.”

  He just nodded. Then in a lighthearted tone, he said, “Be easy on your mother.”

  Cara quirked an eyebrow and gave him a wicked grin. “Like she's been easy on me? What do you take me for, Devin?”

  Glancing over his shoulder at a couple of beach-goers, he did a double take. In the distance was what looked like an elderly couple stripping their clothes. “We’d better head out now. It looks like they’re about to turn this public beach into a nude beach.”

  “Huh?” She glanced in the direction he’d motioned to, but the couple had already made it to the water and submerged. “It’s kind of early in the day for skinny dipping, but it’s probably one of the locals who live along—.”

  The sound of laughter had them turning around just as they jumped off the last boulder onto the sandy beach. Cara gasped and focused her attention on the nude couple dropping to the sand.

  Her hands flew to her mouth. “That’s no ordinary blue haired lady!”

  “Who is it?”

  Cara’s face went as white as a sheet. “That’s my grandmother!”

  * * *

  An hour later, Devin was sitting at the small harvest kitchen table, diving his spoon into a delectable slice of Ruthie's famous lemon meringue pie. Cara had excused herself to make a phone call.

  “You outdid yourself, Ruthie,” Devin said, taking the last bite.

  Ruthie smiled her pleasure and lifted the plate, silently offering another slice of pie.

  “Maybe later,” he replied, gesturing with his hand to his stomach.

  “There's plenty left for after dinner. I have some nice steaks from the butcher marinating right now. Getting them all ready for the grill.”

  Ruthie moved about the kitchen putting pots and pans in the pickled white cabinets and wiping the counter of spills that weren't there. The radiant smile on her face made it clear she was enjoying this “mess” she'd created for her daughter, and she made no bones about hiding it.

  “You're so transparent, Ruthie,” he finally said.

  “Am I?”

  “You asked me to come here to break up Cara and her boyfriend, didn't you?”

  She grunted under her breath. “She told you about him.”

  “You don't like him?”

  She stopped cleaning her already clean surfaces and turned to face him, leaning her hip against the counter by the sink. “He's...fine,” she said tersely.

  Fine. No elaboration. He was going to have to pry it out of her. He was good at that. He used the one thing he was sure would get a rise out of her and make her reveal all.

  “I'm sure that it's just a matter of time before they marry and she gets pregnant with-”

  “Over my dead body! And that won't be any time soon, mind you.” Pointing a finger at him, she added, “If I have my way, there will be no marriage between Cara and Roger.”

  As crazy as Cara had always gotten about her mother’s antics, Ruthie had always been a good judge of character, just the kind of person he could have used in the courtroom to review a panel of jurors. If she had some beef with Roger, then she had to have had a good reason. Otherwise, why waste time calling a man in Manhattan that her daughter hadn't seen in years. Cara could easily have given her plenty of grandchildren with this Roger guy.

  “He's not a bad guy, is he?” he asked. An ominous thought crept into his mind, causing his heart to pound in his chest. “He doesn't hurt her or anything?” He’d kill the bastard.

  She shook her head and waved a hand at him. “No, no. Nothing like that. Roger is a perfectly fine gentleman.” She breathed a heavy sigh. “He's just not you.”

  He chuckled. “She's a grown woman, Ruthie. She
has a right to choose a man she wants to spend her life with.”

  “Not if she's choosing wrong.”

  “And you think she is?”

  “Roger is the kind of man a woman chooses when she wants stability.”

  “There's nothing wrong with stability.”

  “He is not marriage material, and he is certainly not the man who will be the father of my grandchildren.”

  There was something deep beneath the surface of Cara’s relationship with Roger. But Ruthie went back to polishing already clean surfaces, leaving Devin to wonder just what this fine Roger was all about.

  “Don't you think you're being a bit calculating? I mean, Cara is a very independent woman. She perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” he said in Cara’s defense.

  Ruthie held her hand to her heart in mock exasperation. “Calculating? You wound me, Devin.”

  He smiled, knowing that Ruthie truly did not have a mean bone in her body. “Well, maybe calculating was a bit harsh. How about-”

  “Concerned,” Ruthie decided for him. “I’m concerned for the well-being of my daughter and my future grandchildren.”

  “But what about Cara? Doesn’t she have a right to be with the man that she chooses?” he asked.

  “Of course she does. That’s my whole point.” Ruthie threw her hands in the air as if the light bulb she’d trying to turn on finally illuminated. “She’s already chosen him. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Well, that was Ruthie for you, Devin thought with a wry grin. She had her own way of thinking about how the world revolved around the sun. Underlying her reasoning was a healthy dose of mother knows best. If he was going to be an ally for Cara, he had his work cut out for him.

  * * *

  Cara plopped on her bed and stretched for the telephone on the white wicker night stand. Noting the time on her digital alarm clock, she took a deep breath and dialed Roger's number. After what she and Devin just witnessed on the beach, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the next plunge on this roller coaster ride of a vacation.

  Roger answered on the first ring. “Good afternoon, Roger-” he began to say his usual spiel, but Cara cut him off.

  “It's me, Roger.” She hoped she didn't get him in the middle of something. But that was ridiculous because he was always in the middle of something. The last time she'd interrupted him while working at home, he practically bit her head off about consideration. “I didn't pull you from a huge project, did I?”

  His voice was strained with patience, giving her the answer. “How is the beach?” he answered.

  “Good. The same.”

  “And Mother Dearest?”

  “She hates it when you call her that.”

  Roger chuckled. “I know. But she hates me, period, so we're even.”

  Cara rolled onto her back and stretched out on the floral down comforter, letting her legs dangle over the side. “Unfortunately, I fit into this equation, so it's not exactly even.”

  “Are you coming back to Boston?” he asked, a hint of optimism coloring his tone.

  “No. I still plan on staying until Labor Day.” She cleared her throat before asking her next question, and steeled herself for the battle to come. “I was hoping you could get away for a few days and come down here.”

  Silence.

  “Roger?”

  She heard his sigh carry over the phone line. “You know how I feel about visiting your family.”

  “Yes, but it's me, too. It'll be three weeks until I'm home. Aren't you going to miss me?”

  “Westport is not that far from Boston. You could drive up for dinner, stay overnight. They don't have you locked in your room, do they?”

  Cara stiffened. It was a losing battle to expect Roger to willingly come down to her parents beach home and enjoy it. He'd never stayed more than a few hours at a time and the animosity flowed freely between Roger and her mother. “My parents are having a birthday party for me. Did you know anything about that?”

  She heard the exaggerated breath carry over the line again and figured he’d probably been purposely excluded. She’d have to fix that with her mother later. His reply, however, was much softer than she’d anticipated. “No. But I was hoping we could have a more private celebration, like say, at the Bay Tower?”

  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.”