Free Husband Wanted by Charlotte Hughes

was thrown completely off balance. The kiss deepened.
    She tried to resist, but it was only a halfhearted attempt, and they both knew it. He pulled her closer, flattening her body against his, so she could acquaint herself with the sinewy feel of him. Her stomach fluttered, and she was filled with a strange inner excitement. His hands were big and warm at the small of her back. He dropped them to her hips and splayed them wide. She was startled by the intimacy.
    He was the first to pull away. When he did, he found her staring back at him mutely, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. He smiled knowingly. “Not interested? You could have fooled me.”
    “I have to go,” she said, her voice quavering.
    “Coward.”
    “You’re beginning to annoy me, you know that?”
    He noted her fiery-eyed look and grinned. “That must mean I’m making progress.”
    She turned and started for the house.
    “I’ll walk back with you,” he said, still grinning.
    “It isn’t necessary.”
    “Oh, but I insist. After all, my father distinctly asked me to look after you.”
    They made it back to the house in record time, walking swiftly, saying nothing. They found Walter waiting in the study. “Oh, Frannie, I was just about to come looking for you,” he said. “Come sit on the sofa beside me. I have a surprise.”
    Smiling and trying to hide her frustration with the younger Coleman, Frannie crossed the room and joined Walter on the couch. She refused to look at Clay. “I love surprises,” she said.
    The older man returned the smile as he pulled a slender box from his jacket and handed it to her. “This is for you,” he said.
    She hesitated. Her smile faded slightly as a look of apprehension took its place. “What is it?”
    “Why not open it and see for yourself?”
    Frannie’s hands trembled as she raised the velvet lid on the jewelry case. She found herself looking at an exquisite pearl choker with matching earrings. “Oh, my,” she said.
    “They belonged to my wife. She called them her lucky pearls. I want you to wear them when you go to the airport tomorrow to pick up your daughter. You’ll be less nervous.”
    She was speechless; stunned. She sat there for a moment, trying to think of something to say. What could she say? Thanks but no thanks? She raised her eyes to his, and tried to think of a polite way of refusing the jewelry without hurting his feelings. His blue eyes were so sincere; they brought a lump to the back of her throat.
    Frannie remembered suddenly they weren’t alone. She glanced up and found Clay watching her, a knowing look on his face. She opened her mouth to say something, but he left the room before she could get the words out.
    #
    That same pearl choker felt heavy against her throat as Frannie climbed into Clay’s car the following afternoon wearing a smart green linen dress and matching pumps. Blair had come by earlier to apply Frannie’s makeup and put her thick hair in order.
    “You look like a princess,” her friend had told her as she ushered Frannie down the winding staircase to the main level.
    “I feel like one,” she’d confessed. In just a few days, her life had changed dramatically from the uniform-clad woman who opened the Griddle and Grill at five a.m. each day, worked till three, then studied if there was time before she had to go to class. She no longer knocked around in jeans, sweatshirts, and old sneakers; instead, she wore the very best Blair had to offer. She felt like a storefront mannequin. It was all she could do to keep herself from getting mussed, or stained, or wrinkled. How she longed for her jeans.
    Now, as Clay pulled out of the drive, Frannie wondered what he thought of her appearance. She didn’t have to wait long for her answer.
    “Nice necklace,” he said, turning onto the main road.
    She blushed. “I tried to give it back, but your father insisted I wear it. Finally, I agreed to wear it today, just for luck, but I have every intention of returning it.