Fortune's Twins Page 7

  Gwen hoped “proving himself” didn’t include marrying her, or poor Eli might have a long wait for acceptance.

  On this third day of her “confinement,” she sat on the porch, wrapped in one of Stella’s afghans and reading a book borrowed from Irene, who seemed to have an endless supply of recent bestsellers. She was one of Amanda’s best customers at Ex-Libris and occasionally helped Amanda part-time. This particular book was a time-travel romance, not something Gwen would ordinarily have picked up, but she was now entrenched in the pages and thinking she could really get used to this life of leisure.

  She didn’t realize Eli was nearby until she heard his hammer pounding away just a few feet from her. She jumped, startled. But her accelerated heartbeat had more to do with Eli’s nearness than anything.

  “Hey, give a girl some warning,” she called out.

  Eli smiled down at her from a ladder. He was nailing up a loose piece of latticework—something she’d been meaning to take care of for weeks. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “But I’m going into baking withdrawal.” She lowered her voice. “And if I have to eat any more of Stella’s casseroles I’m really going to be sick. I mean, come on—hot dogs, Velveeta and canned mushrooms? Can’t you convince the others to at least let me resume cooking?”

  Eli grinned even wider. “I’ve taken care of it. Irene and Stella are trading jobs.”

  “Really? How did you manage that? Stella fancies herself quite a gourmet cook, you know.”

  Eli hung his hammer on his belt and moved down the ladder to perch on one of its steps. “I suggested to Stella that it might not be quite fair, giving Irene all the disagreeable tasks like scrubbing bathrooms and such. Stella is so naturally sweet, she agreed immediately and relinquished her apron. They’ll probably trade back in a couple of days, but at least we’re safe from salmon loaf until then.”

  Gwen didn’t like laughing at Stella’s expense, but she couldn’t help it. Last night’s salmon loaf had been just about the most repulsive dish she’d ever seen. Who ever heard of putting radishes in salmon loaf?

  “Can Irene cook?” Eli asked.

  “I don’t know. She never has, in the six years since she’s been here. But I’m willing to take my chances. Unless, of course, you pit bulls will let me back in my own kitchen.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “I’m going stir-crazy!”

  “Have you taken your walk today?”

  “I made it once around the block, the same boring block I always walk.”

  “How about walking to Pop’s? Matinee prices are good until four o’clock, and he’s showing a sci-fi double-feature on screen two. Day of the Triffids and Night of the Lepus.”

  “Lepus. Is that the giant rabbit movie?”

  Eli nodded enthusiastically. “You know it?”

  Eli didn’t realize it, but he’d just touched on Gwen’s one and only lifetime indulgence. She’d been a movie addict since she was a child. Though she wouldn’t say her childhood had been unhappy, she’d been a shy and awkward little girl. Escaping into the fictional world on the silver screen had become a passion. In that wonderful, dark old theater, with the clackety-clack of the projector and the smell of buttered popcorn all around her, Gwen could pretend she was Cleopatra, Princess Leia or even Indiana Jones. She hadn’t had much time lately for her favorite time-waster, though.

  “What’s showing on the other screen?” she asked.

  Eli scrunched up his face. “Some romance.”

  “Oh, I remember. That new one directed by…you know, that guy who did—”

  “Not Myself. It’s been out six months.”

  “That’s new for Pop’s.” Actually, Pop had been dead for twenty years. His son Don ran the theater. In a day and time when most small-town theaters had been killed off by video rentals, Don managed to keep Pop’s open by running “newer” movies on one screen and classics on the other—and serving the best popcorn in two states.

  Gwen’s mouth watered at the thought of that popcorn. The theater was close enough she could walk—as was just about everything in Jester. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” She picked up the Pine Run Plain Talker, which she’d read earlier, and found the entertainment page. “It starts at four. Perfect. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”

  She pushed herself up and headed inside to get her sweater and purse, feeling Eli’s gaze on the back of her neck.

  She often found an excuse to make a hasty escape when Eli was around. Not that she didn’t like being close to him. The problem was, she liked it too much. If he was within touching range, she found her hands itching to reach out and stroke those strong muscles or ruffle his dark hair. If he ever found out how much she still wanted him, it would be embarrassing. She couldn’t imagine he would find her attractive in her current condition, and the thought of an unrequited crush was downright humiliating.

  She avoided Eli for another reason. She was afraid to talk to him about the future, about the role he would play in their children’s lives. She didn’t want to know yet what his intentions were. If he wanted to marry her, she would have to make it clear that her small fortune was off-limits to him. And she really, really didn’t know what his reaction might be.

  If he didn’t want to marry her…well, she didn’t want to know that, either.

  He didn’t seem in any hurry to voice his intentions. Maybe he had some of the same concerns she did—that whatever he suggested wouldn’t sit well with her, and they would have to mar their friendship with arguments.

  They were friends, she realized. After everything he’d done for her—from the chicken soup to the handyman repairs—she couldn’t think of him as less.

  She wanted to think of him as more, but she was afraid to.

  As she ambled along Main Street toward Pop’s, she pondered why she was so timid when it came to relationships. She wished she could be more like her friend Sylvia. When Sylvia saw a man she wanted, she pounced. She wasn’t afraid of rejection. She didn’t worry about the future. Her relationships lasted as long as they lasted, and when they ended, there were no tears, no recriminations, no “if only I’d done things differently.”

  She simply moved on, savoring the good memories.

  Gwen supposed her conservative upbringing with her grandmother had partly contributed to her shyness. Not a day went by that Grandmother hadn’t reminded her that most men were losers, out for one thing. They used and abused women, then cast them aside without a thought. And who could blame the woman for feeling that way? Her own son had deceived, knocked up and abandoned Gwen’s mother. As for Gwen’s paternal grandfather, her grandmother never spoke of him. Gwen could only assume something dreadful had happened concerning their marriage, if there’d even been a marriage.

  But sometimes Gwen was sure she’d just been born shy. The night she’d met Eli had been an aberration.

  “One for Not Myself, please,” she said to Don at the ticket window. Don was large and lumbering. He hadn’t finished high school, and he’d never done anything except run the theater. But he knew everything about movies, far more than Gwen herself, and for that she respected him. He was also very kind.

  “Well, hello, Gwendolyn,” he said warmly as he made change for her, carefully counting out the coins. “I’m not sure you’ll like this one so well. It’s kind of sad.”

  “I could use a good tearjerker.” Nothing like a good cry.

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you decide you don’t like it, you can sneak into the other theater and watch the big rabbits. I’ll look the other way.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Don.”

  Inside, she bought a small popcorn. Not exactly on her diet, but not forbidden, either, and she could hardly sit through a movie without popcorn, could she?

  Inside the dimly lit theater, she felt the familiar anticipation come over her. She found her customary seat, the middle of the third row from
the back. She had the small auditorium to herself.

  For about three minutes. Then a man joined her. It took her about half a second to realize the man was Eli, and he was heading straight for her.

  He sat down next to her, propped his large lemonade on his knee and helped himself to a few kernels of her popcorn. “When I suggested a movie, I meant we should go together.”

  “You mean, like a date?”

  “Yes, like a date. Your well-meaning friends at the boardinghouse would like for us to get together, but they’re so suspicious of me they won’t give us a minute alone.”

  “Oh. What do we need a minute alone for?” She knew she sounded exceedingly stupid. But it was hard to think straight with that hard male body next to hers. She could smell his shampoo and laundry detergent, and the scent of fresh air. It was even more alluring than the popcorn.

  “Gwen. We’ve been avoiding it for too long. I’d like to talk about our children.”

  “You mean, like, what sports we should encourage them to play, and whether to get them piano lessons?”

  “I mean, like, am I going to be a part of those decisions?”

  “You’re their father.”

  “And you know as well as I do that I have no rights over your children unless you give them to me.”

  “That’s not true at all. Fathers have all kinds of rights. The courts are full of—”

  “I have no intention of going to court. I don’t believe in lawsuits for every occasion. I want us to work this out like mature, considerate adults.”

  “What if I were to say I want to raise the twins alone?”

  Eli didn’t answer right away. She sensed the tension in him. Finally he spoke, his voice low and even. “I would try to convince you otherwise. But Gwen, surely you know a child is better off with two caring parents—”

  “Hold on, hold on. That was just a hypothetical situation. I don’t plan to deny you access to your children.”

  He relaxed slightly. “So you were just yanking my chain.”

  Maybe she had been. “I guess I was just wanting to put the worst-case scenario out on the table. But we’re not going there.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  The $64,000 question. “What do you want? How do you see it?”

  “That’s two different questions. The way I see it? You’ll have custody. I’ll have unlimited visitation, a privilege I won’t ever abuse.”

  “And you’ll live next door?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’ll call you Dad,” she said, “and everything will be open and honest. Have I got it right?”

  “That’s the way I see it—the most likely scenario. But it’s not what I want.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you want?”

  “I want to marry you.”

  Gwen’s heart pushed into her throat. So it hadn’t been a toss-off line. He really was willing to marry her.

  The lights dimmed and the film started. Gwen used that as an excuse not to reply, and Eli didn’t push her. He settled deeper into his chair and helped himself to another handful of her popcorn.

  “They sell this stuff in the lobby, you know,” she whispered.

  “I’m saving you from yourself. You eat this whole bag, you’ll retain water for days.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out. You are such a gentleman.” But she moved the bag over so he would have easier access, and he offered her frequent sips of his lemonade.

  The movie was good, and Gwen tried to lose herself in it. But she couldn’t quite forget about the marriage proposal on the table. Certainly this time she would have to give Eli an answer.

  She wanted to say yes. Her naive, romantic side longed to throw her arms around him and drag him to the nearest preacher. But her practical side forced her to consider all aspects of the issue. Did a one-night stand and an unplanned pregnancy add up to a good reason to commit for the rest of her life to a man she barely knew?

  The movie’s leading actress, a young unknown, cozied up to her leading man, and Gwen couldn’t help but notice how slender the actress was. Gwen used to be that size. She suspected she’d never see size four again, except in children’s clothes.

  Uh-oh. This was more than cozy. The characters on screen were going to make love. Gwen was used to watching movies alone. She hadn’t counted on watching a sex scene with Eli sitting right beside her.

  It was a scene to remember, too, for what it didn’t show. The woman never showed a single part of her body that couldn’t be revealed at a neighborhood swimming pool. But the lovemaking was so beautifully choreographed, so subtle, so sexy, that what wasn’t revealed became as arousing as what was.

  Gwen was suddenly aware that Eli had slipped an arm around her shoulders. He idly caressed her neck with one thumb. That single, innocent contact was all Gwen could think about—until he leaned closer and nibbled her ear.

  She knew she should tell him to stop. But it felt so good, her body wouldn’t obey as her brain instructed. Instead, she concentrated on what felt like a million nerve endings in her ear and at the nape of her neck, and recalled in delicious detail exactly what Eli was capable of doing to the rest of her nerve endings.

  Gwen ceased to be interested in how the characters on screen were getting along. She could think of nothing except that Eli’s innocent, playful gestures were driving her wild. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Surely no man in his right mind would purposely drive a very pregnant woman insane with a longing that couldn’t be quenched.

  She turned her face toward his, intending to say something, anything, to end the torture. But his mouth claimed hers, and the kiss was deep and wet and thoroughly delicious. His lips were slightly salty from the popcorn.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, surrendering. She didn’t care that she was making out in a movie theater like a lusty teenager. At least they were the only ones here.

  Eli moved one hand to her breast. Oh, how she’d wanted this! She’d dreamed almost every night of Eli’s hands on her. She wished desperately to get rid of the barrier of clothing between them, so she could get the full effect, but even with her brain short-circuited by her cravings, she was still cognizant of their surroundings.

  She thought he would suggest they move to a more amenable location, but he didn’t. He seemed content to make out with her in the dark, with the flickering of the film playing over them.

  When the house lights came up, Gwen realized they’d missed the end of the movie.

  She broke the embrace and stared into Eli’s passion-hazed eyes. “Damn,” he said, his voice thick with feigned regret. “I wanted to find out how it ended. Now we’ll have to sit through it again.”

  “I am not—”

  He grinned. “Gotcha. How about I drive us into Pine Run for a steak dinner?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m up to it.” Actually, she was. She was feeling full of energy and hungrier than she’d been in weeks. But a steak dinner seemed to imply Eli might expect something special afterward, and she didn’t mean a hot-fudge sundae.

  “What would you like to do, then?” he asked, seemingly unfazed by her turndown.

  Go home and make love. But really, that was out of the question. Though technically there was no medical reason a pregnant woman couldn’t have sex, she felt pretty sure her obstetrician wouldn’t approve. He’d even said that any little thing could drive her into premature labor. At any rate, she just couldn’t see herself getting naked in front of Eli in her current condition. Much as she wanted to.

  “Eli…we can’t make love.”

  “Is that what’s got you worried?”

  “Why would you want to marry someone you can’t have sex with?” she blurted out.

  He surprised her by laughing. “I presume that’s not a permanent condition. I mean, Thing One and Thing Two have to come out into the real world before too long.”

  “Yes, but then I’ll still be fat, and we’ll have bottles and diapers a
nd…twins, you know.”

  “I recall you mentioned something about twins.”

  “Things won’t be the same. Not like they were in Roan.”

  “Things never stay the same,” he said. “At least, they don’t for me. That’s one lesson I’ve learned. But I don’t see any reason in the world we can’t have fulfilling—no, fantastic—sex after you recover from childbirth.”

  She sighed. “You’re waiting for me to make a decision about getting married.”

  “No hurry.”

  “It’d be nice if the babies could be born in wedlock, I suppose. I know that’s old-fashioned, but Jester is a small town.”

  “I’d prefer that, too.”

  “They’ll hear wild stories about their origins as it is. That twit reporter from Pine Run, Harvey Brink-man, has already dubbed them ‘Fortune’s Twins.’”

  “How did the newspaper find out you weren’t having just one?”

  Gwen shrugged. “Someone in town is feeding gossip to the media. First it was when baby Max was left on the counter at The Brimming Cup. Then it was Jack and Melinda getting engaged. Then Amanda adopting her half siblings, and Jennifer Faulkner coming to town to claim her inheritance and then marrying the sheriff. Then Sam and Ruby Cade’s almost-divorce. It’s become a regular soap opera around here since the lottery, and apparently the public continues to be interested in us.

  “Needless to say news of my pregnancy didn’t escape anyone’s notice. Harvey called me a few days ago to confirm I was having twins. I didn’t see any reason to deny it.”

  “I hope you’re keeping these articles for the kids’ scrapbooks.”

  “I never even thought of that.” Maybe the articles would seem amusing after a while, but right now Gwen just wanted to forget about them.

  Eli stood and helped her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

  They left the theater, meeting several people arriving for the evening show. Finn Hollis smiled a greeting, his eyes filled with curiosity at seeing them out together.