An Engagement in Seattle - Debbie Macomber [115]
She nodded again and he started for the door.
“Chase.”
He turned around, impatient now and not understanding why. Lesley had agreed to marry him, which was more than he’d expected. “Yes?”
“Would you mind kissing me?” Her voice was small and uncertain. He purposely hadn’t made this easy on her for the simple reason that he wanted her to know her own mind. To be satisfied that marriage to him was the right decision. He would’ve liked to kiss her, and use their mutual attraction to convince her, but he couldn’t. That would have felt unethical to him.
He saw that Lesley had taken several steps toward him; the least he could do was meet her halfway. She needed reassurance and he should have given it to her long before now.
He walked back to her, held her face in his hands and kissed her. The kiss deepened and deepened until Chase’s control teetered precariously.
He’d forgotten exactly how good she felt in his arms. It shouldn’t be like this. His experience might not have been as extensive as that of some men, but with other women he’d always been composed and in control. His response to Lesley worried him. The fact that he found her so desirable was important, but that he could so easily lose his head over her was a negative.
Lesley exhaled, that soft womanly sigh that drove him to distraction. He lifted his mouth from hers and concentrated on the nape of her neck, scattering kisses there while struggling with his own composure.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The beauty of her words and the sweetness of her mouth were fatal to his control.
“This will be a real marriage, Lesley,” he warned.
“I realize that.” She sounded slightly offended, but Chase refused to leave any room for doubt.
“Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, then.”
Lesley nodded and Chase felt a sense of victory, hollow though it was. She’d agreed to marry him, but for none of the reasons he would’ve liked. She was running away from a painful situation that could only bring her heartache.
He was the lesser of two evils.
Not the most solid foundation for a marriage. But time and patience and love were the mortar that would strengthen it.
“You’re getting married!” Lori and Jo Ann repeated together in stunned disbelief.
“I didn’t offer to buy you lunch in a fancy restaurant for nothing,” Lesley commented brightly, forking up a slice of chicken in her chicken-and-spinach salad. “What are you two doing Wednesday evening?”
“Ah…nothing,” Lori murmured.
“Not a thing,” Jo Ann said.
“Great, I’d like you both to stand up for me at my wedding. Chase and I are—”
“Chase?” Jo Ann broke in. “Who on earth is Chase?”
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Lori said, sounding more surprised than upset.
Neither of her friends had touched their seafood salads. They sat like mannequins, staring at Lesley as if she’d announced she was an escaped convict.
“Chase Goodman,” Lesley repeated casually between bites. “That’s the man I’m marrying.”
Lori, small and fawnlike, with large dark eyes, gnawed on her lower lip. “Why does that name sound familiar? Do I know him?”
“I doubt it. Chase’s from Alaska.”
“Alaska.” Jo Ann said the name of the state in a low voice, as if trying to remember something. She picked up her fork. “Speaking of Alaska… Did either of you see the news story last week about this guy who came down from Alaska and advertised for a—” She stopped, her eyes widening. She made a few odd sounds, but nothing that resembled intelligible words.
“You’re marrying the guy who advertised for a wife?” Lori looked from Lesley to Jo Ann and back again.
“Lesley, have you lost your mind?” Jo Ann finally sputtered.
“Maybe.” She wasn’t going to argue with her two best friends. A week earlier she’d thought the whole idea of marrying a stranger was crazy. She’d said as much to Chase, belittled the women who’d applied, even made derogatory remarks about the type of man who’d defy convention in such an outlandish manner.
One week later, she’d agreed to be his bride.
“You will be my bridesmaids, won’t you?”
“Of course, but—”
“No buts.