Free A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel by Carol Burnside, Emily Sewell, Kim Killion Page A

of shaving cream. “Are we still on for brunch?”
    Rosie tried hard not to let her gaze stray from his face. She would not stare at the sprinkling of chest hair peeking over his tank. Glance, maybe—to commit to memory—but no staring. Concentrating on his face didn’t help either. One look in those serious eyes rimmed with long dark lashes and her lower abdomen ached in the best way possible.
    “We need to be seen together a lot,” he reminded her.
    Right. Except then she couldn’t avoid him.
    She tried to concentrate on his words. “I have a couple errands to run, but we could meet back here in about an hour.”
    “Great. I’m sure the power bar I had for breakfast will be long gone by then.” He turned to leave, then pivoted back. “I called Bill earlier. He’ll overnight the prenup in the morning. If you can manage a couple hours free during the week, we could run by the courthouse, apply for the license and have everything ready for a quick ceremony after we tell your folks.”
    “I’ll check my schedule and let you know when I can work it in.”
    “All right. See you later.” Sam leaned in the window and gave her cheek a quick kiss. “There’s an elderly couple walking this way. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” he whispered with a wink before retreating.
    Rosie stared at the spot where his face had disappeared, her cheek hot where his lips had brushed skin. She inhaled his lingering scent before checking her rearview mirror and accelerating. Nothing happened. She blinked twice while staring at the gearshift before realizing she’d shifted the van into park. Sheesh! The man should be arrested for looking so . . . distracting this early in the morning.
    Here she was getting more gaga over his fine, testosterone-filled self by the minute, and he was merely concerned with getting the show on the road.
    Why couldn’t she look at their agreement the same way?
    Until she’d sequestered herself in the dark confines of her bedroom last night, she hadn’t realized how much the thought of a quick civil ceremony bothered her. Fake marriage or not, a hundred guests or two witnesses, she’d always seen herself in a long, white dress and veil at her wedding. And she was getting married—sort of.
    She gripped the steering wheel, rested her forehead on her hands and sighed. It was silly to feel cheated. But this wedding might be her only personal experience with one. The fallout from her relationship with Dean had left her feeling like she was . . . less. Damaged goods. Not quite whole. Until Sam’s odd proposal, she’d kept buried what few romantic notions remained.
    Stop it, Rosie scolded herself. She’d made her decision and she’d stick with it. Sam needed her. Lorelei needed her.
    It would have to be enough.
    She could still avoid Sam whenever possible. She might be stuck parading around town with him this morning, but the rest of the day would be hers alone.
    * * *
    Man, it was hot.
    Sam jogged through the park on the wide sidewalk, guiding Lorelei’s stroller in front of him. The dazzling sun shone through towering pines, sweet gums and the occasional red oak, creating a dappled pattern under his feet.
    He’d felt twitchy, like his skin was too tight, ever since he’d “practice” kissed Rosie last night. Unfortunately, the sensation couldn’t be attributed to the heat, no matter how much he wished it was that simple.
    He’d kissed her, and not in a brotherly way.
    Damn his long abstinence for making him so susceptible to her sweet appeal. He had no right to kiss her like that.
    Like someone he was interested in.
    Like . . . he wanted her.
    Sam swore silently in deference to Lorelei’s presence. Those kisses could complicate things big time if they escalated again. The thought had him sweating more profusely. The pressure from juggling work and parenting was already getting to him. The last thing he needed was another complication.
    He stopped to check on Lorelei, realizing the high