A Convenient Proposal(39)

But she had promised Griff she would stay until the wedding, and she hated to go back on her word. The look on his face today as he’d confronted Zelda had revealed the depth of his pain. Some people wouldn’t understand how much courage such a gesture required. For them, returning to the place where you’d been exposed and mortified might not seem so hard.

Arden knew differently. In Italy, she’d walked on stage three nights in a row to play the Bach D Minor Concerto for Two Violins with the top violinist in the local orchestra—one of the women with whom Andre had betrayed her. After each performance, she had held hands with that woman as they took their bows and accepted a kiss on each cheek. The other woman had only smiled, but Arden had read the truth in her eyes.

And in her dressing room that last night, Arden had lost the baby—Andre’s baby. Within weeks, she’d abandoned her career and the life she’d always known. How could she sentence Griff to a similar emotional desolation?

Leaving now would also mean abandoning her hope of having a baby. This wasn’t the right time in her cycle—she needed another week, at least, to be truly fertile. If she didn’t fulfill her part of the bargain, Griff couldn’t be expected to complete his. Everything they’d done so far would have been for nothing.

Nothing, that is, except the pure physical ecstasy of making love with a man unlike any she’d ever known. Arden admitted her experience was limited—she’d lost her virginity to Andre and hadn’t been with another man until today. But she’d slept with Andre for two years without coming close to the exquisite sensations of this afternoon. The earth had, indeed, moved. Now she wanted to experience that earthquake again. And again.

Blowing out a deep breath, she sat up on the bed and pushed her hair out of her face. Staying meant confronting Mrs. Campbell and the situation. She would have to brazen it out, she decided, leaving the explanations and reparations to Griff.

They were his family, after all. This was his home.

She was just passing through.



GRIFF WAS SPREADING garlic butter on slices of French bread when a shy tap sounded on the kitchen door.

“Come in,” he called, gesturing with the knife in his hand. “Welcome to Italian night.”

Arden stepped inside, shutting the door quickly behind her.

“I’m the sous-chef,” he told her, going over for a quick kiss. “She gives me the menial tasks. And lets me eat the food when it’s ready, which is the important point.”

“I hope you’ll join us,” his mother added. “I always make more pasta than any of us need to eat.”

“That sounds delicious.” Arden cleared her throat. “Can I help?”

Griff looked at his mother and saw that she was about to refuse…but then, in a split second, she changed her mind. “I’ve put vegetables by the sink.” She brought a big wooden bowl and tongs out of the cabinet. “Would you toss together a salad?”

Arden smiled. “I’d love to.”

His dad came in the door from the garage about seven-thirty. “Viva la pasta!” he shouted, after he’d kissed his wife. “Just what a working vet needs—besides a glass of wine. Anybody else?”

Griff exchanged looks with his mother and with Arden. They all said, “Me” at the same moment.

“Right.” Jake nodded. “It’s been that kind of day.”

Talk over dinner covered the emergencies at the clinic—a Chihuahua having trouble birthing her puppies, a Labrador that had eaten a bath towel and, of course, Rajah’s surgery.

“Sounds like that turned out pretty well, considering,” Jake said. “I called Stacy on my way home. She said the horse is bright-eyed and eating. She also talked about how fabulous you and your assistant were. Who went with you?”

“Arden.”

His dad sent a surprised glance in Arden’s direction. “The surgery didn’t bother you?”

She shook her head. “I thought it was fascinating. Although Griff did most of the hard work. I just wiggled the stupid board loose.” She hadn’t said much else during the cooking or eating process.

“I thought I’d go out there again tomorrow and check up on him.” Griff took a second helping of pasta and tomato sauce. “Stacy was a little squeamish about packing the wound.”

“Enough.” His mother held up a hand. “No graphic details at dinner.”

Griff and his dad rolled their eyes at each other.