Smooth Talking Stranger (Travis Family #3)(96)

Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head tilted slightly as he watched me. His simmering gaze took me in from head to toe, lingering at the diamond sparkling on my hand. I saw his chest rise and fall with a quick breath.

Sipping my coffee, I approached him and handed him the note.

Dear Jack,

I love you, too.

And I think I know the secret to a long and happy marriage— just choose someone you can't live without.

For me, that would be you.

So if you insist on being traditional . . .

Yes.

—Ella

Jack let out a pent-up sigh. He took my h*ps in his hands as I stood before him. "Thank God," he murmured, drawing me between his thighs. "I was afraid you were going to give me an argument."

Taking care not to spill my coffee, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, letting our tongues touch. "When have I ever said no to you, Jack Travis?"

His lashes lowered as he glanced at my damp lower lip. His accent was as thick as sorghum. "Well, I sure as hell didn't want you to start sayin' it now." Taking the coffee from me, he finished it in a few swallows and set the cup aside, disregarding my laughing protest.

He kissed me until my arms were twined around his neck and my knees threatened to buckle.

"Ella," he said, finishing the kiss with a gentle nuzzle, "you're not going to take it back, are you?"

"Of course not." I was filled with a sense of rightness, of calm certitude, and at the same time I was as giddy as a kaleidoscope of butterflies. "Why would I?"

"You told me you believed marriage was for other people."

"You're the only man who could make me believe that it's for me, too. Although when you get down to it, love is what's real. I still say marriage is just a piece of paper."

Jack smiled. "Let's find out," he said, and he pulled me down to the bed with him.

It occurred to me much later that the people who said marriage was just a piece of paper were usually people who had never done it. Because that cliché discounted something important—the power of words . . . and I, more than anyone, should have understood that.

Somehow the promise we had made on that piece of paper gave me more freedom than I'd ever known before. It allowed both of us to argue, to laugh, to risk, to trust—without fear. It was a confirmation of a connection that already existed. And it was a bond that extended far beyond the borders of a shared living space. We would have stayed together even without a marriage certificate . . . but I believed in the permanence it represented.

It was a piece of paper you could build a life on.

At first my mother had been incredulous that I had managed to catch a Travis, and she had tried to descend like a plague of Egypt in hopes of profiting from my new connections. But Jack handled her adroitly, using a mixture of intimidation and charm to keep her in line. I didn't see or hear from her often, and when she did get in touch, she was oddly subdued and respectful.

"I wonder what's going on with her," I told Jack in bemusement. "She hasn't said anything about my weight or my hairstyle, and I haven't had to listen to any gross stories about her sex life or grooming habits."

"I promised her a new car if she managed not to piss you off for six months," he said. "I told her if I ever saw you frowning or unhappy after you got off the phone with her, the deal was off."

"Jack Travis!" I was amused and indignant. "Are you going to start buying her big-ticket items every six months as a reward for impersonating a decent human being?"

"I doubt she'll last that long," he said.

As for Jack's side of the family, I found them colorful, affectionate, argumentative, fascinating. They were a real family, and they made a place for me, and I loved them for it. I quickly grew fond of Churchill, who was a kind and generous soul despite the fact that he didn't suffer fools gladly. We debated various subjects and annoyed each other with dueling political e-mails, and we made each other laugh, and he insisted that I sit right next to him at family dinners.

After two weeks at GarnerHospital, Joe came home to recuperate at the mansion in River Oaks, which delighted Churchill nearly as much as it aggravated his son.

Joe said he wanted privacy. He didn't like it that when anyone came to see him, they visited with his dad first. But Churchill, who hardly minded having so many attractive young women come to the house, retorted that if Joe didn't like it, he'd better get well faster. As a result Joe was a model patient, determined to recover his health as soon as possible and get away from his interfering parent.

I married Jack two months after he proposed, which shocked all of my friends and most of his, who had come to think of him as a perennial bachelor. I'd heard some speculation that his near-death experience had helped him to readjust his priorities. "My priorities were fine," Jack told everyone innocently. "It was Ella's that needed straightening out."

The night before the wedding, my sister Tara came to the dinner for out-of-town guests. She was beautifully dressed in a pink suit, her hair upswept, diamond studs sparkling at her ears. And she was unescorted. I wanted to ask her how she was, if she was being treated well, if she was happy in her arrangement with Noah. But all thoughts of Tara's relationship with Noah Cardiff disappeared as soon as I realized she had brought Luke.