Sweet Child of Mine by Jean Brashear

what they want desperately. Jim’s cousin will buy it because we’ll put on one hell of a show. And as to the differences between us, frankly, I’m shocked at you. I never took you for a snob.”
    “A snob? Me? But you’re the one who—” Her temper, never docile, was beginning to acquire claws.
    “As far as I can tell, my only crime this morning has been complimenting you on a lovely dress, bringing you violets, owning a good suit or maybe all three, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out why any of them is a hanging offense. Would you care to explain?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.
    “You’d never understand.” Primarily because he was right. She was acting like a madwoman. It only made her more upset.
    “When you have some spare time, maybe you’ll explain for the layman.” He chuckled indulgently.
    Suzanne saw red. She stabbed his chest with one finger. “Listen, buster, don’t you dare patronize me. I’ll have you know—”
    She didn’t get to finish because he grabbed her and pulled her against him. “Maybe John Wayne had it right. There might be only one way to handle a woman with a temper.”
    He lowered his head and suddenly her mouth was too busy to answer.
    For a moment, Suzanne was too stunned to react.
    Then she was all too aware of the same quick fire that had raced through her veins before when Michael had kissed her. A part of her wanted nothing more than to yield, to revel in the power of this compelling man’s kiss.
    But a part of her knew it was the road to disaster.
    She put her hands on his chest and shoved. “Stop it, Michael. I don’t want this.”
    Temper flared in his eyes, something she’d never seen before. Heat, hunger…all were there.
    But swirling in the mix was the same caution she felt. For a moment his hands tightened on her arms.
    Then he stepped away.
    “I will concede that it’s a bad idea.” But just as she started to smile in triumph, he nipped that in the bud. “But you’re lying to yourself if you say youdon’t want it. You want me, Suzanne, and I want you. It doesn’t have to be smart. It just is.”
    She took one step back and found herself against the window. She hugged her arms around her waist. “It doesn’t matter.” When she saw the corners of his mouth tilt, she shook her head. “It can’t matter. You know that as well as I do.”
    “We don’t have to make this an endurance contest, Suzanne. Just because we don’t intend to stay married doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the proximity as long as it’s comfortable for both of us.”
    She looked for that comfort in his eyes, but she didn’t see it. “It’s not comfortable, Michael. For either of us.”
    The casual grin he displayed to the world came to the rescue. “Ah, but dancing close to the flames is its own kind of pleasure, don’t you think?” His tone was light, his grin disarming. But she could see something there that matched too closely to how she felt. There was danger here.
    For both of them.
    So she straightened and did them both a favor. “I’m not much for taking foolish risks. And I have a child to consider.”
    Shame crept over his face then. She could see the heat give way to reality. All humor left his face, and his eyes turned somber. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
    It was so tempting to soften then, but she knew itwould be a big mistake. “So, are we ready to begin this charade?”
    Michael looked at his watch. “It’s just about time.” He turned to leave.
    But then he turned back, on his face a curiously hesitant look. “Suzanne, look, I’m sorry. I was out of line. I just—” He stopped then as if unsure how to proceed. “Listen, if we’re going to carry this off, there’s something I need to give you. Otherwise, my parents will never buy that this is for real.”
    “What is it?”
    He reached into his pocket and retrieved a deep blue velvet bag that looked very, very old and handed it to her. “This is something the brides in our family