Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance (37 page)

Traffic sped up eventually and Jack’s frustration eased its grip on his mood. He’d opened his mouth to say something pleasant—although he hadn’t worked out the words yet—when Elise turned down the volume.

“Whatcha thinking?” she asked.

“That I should say something nice to reassure you I’m not going to be in a foul mood all weekend.”

She laughed. “Go right ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”

He ruled out telling her his thoughts. Get her talking, that was a better strategy. “Tell me about your childhood. What was Christmas like at your house?”

Elise shifted in her seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shorts riding up those creamy smooth legs. His lingering frustration at the traffic quickly shifted toward the prospect of having sex with her.

“Ordinary, I guess. Dad’s one of those suburban warriors who has to put up all the outdoor lights and decorations in the week after Thanksgiving. I remember arguing with him about the environmental cost of all that needless energy consumption, and he trotted out some bogus statistics about how if we just slept in the summer with the windows open instead of using an air conditioner, it would save more energy in a year than ten years’ worth of Christmas lights.”

“Let me guess, your dad doesn’t wear Birkenstock sandals.”

“No, he’s not a former hippie. I don’t agree with him on a lot of things, but I have to admit that my environmental crusade was a bit of a sham. I just resented the attention those lights got every December.”

Ah. Daddy issues. Good to know.

Jack was still convinced if he could just figure out what Elise’s problem with marriage was, he could… Oh, hell, he really was full of himself, wasn’t he? Even if he thought he’d figured out Elise’s “issues”—even assuming any existed—they were, by definition,
her
issues. Only she could come to terms with them. He shook his head in self-disgust.

“What?” Elise demanded.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just reflecting on what an ass I am.”

He expected her to make a snide remark, but she didn’t. He hoped she’d disagree with him, but she didn’t do that either. They drove in almost-companionable silence for another ten miles, then the traffic sped up and Jack needed to concentrate on the road.

When they got to Eagles Mere, Jack barely had a chance to introduce Elise to his cousin Hugh O’Hara and his wife, Debbie, before they were split up immediately by his family. Jack found himself sequestered with the men, which meant Elise had been pulled into some room filled with women fussing over food or flowers.

Hugh poured him a Scotch without even asking if he wanted it. “You look like you need this.”

“Too true.” Jack took the glass. “Thanks.”

Rand hailed Jack from the music room. “Come meet my dad and my best man.”

Rand’s dad, Alan Jennings, was a trim sixty, with salt-and-pepper hair and a healthy tan. They exchanged pleasantries about the wedding, Eagles Mere, and the weather before Jennings rejoined his son.

Phil Gaffney, the best man, looked like he just walked in from strolling on a beach. Turned out, he was an affable bankruptcy lawyer in the process of moving from San Francisco to Wilmington, Delaware. A city, he pointed out, where the bankruptcy court had twice as many judges as the district court.

“And a commensurate number of bankruptcy lawyers,” Jack said.

Phil laughed, and Jack had the weird feeling he’d just made a friend. How odd. They couldn’t be more different. Phil had that surfer-boy-made-good casual look, with shaggy blond-tipped hair and a healthy tan. He was quick with a joke and relaxed, while Jack felt stolid and humorless. Ordinarily, Phil’s type made him feel like the kid left in the library while everyone else attended a party. Only here, Jack sensed they had just traded secret handshakes, forging a friendship on the spot.

Jack and Phil joined the other men, already comfortably seated in the living room. In a lull in the conversation, Jack asked them—well, except for Phil, who said he was blissfully single—how they’d proposed marriage to their wives.

Bill, normally the last in any group to speak up, started. “That’s easy. I took Stacy to our favorite beach on the Jersey shore. But I’d only checked Philadelphia’s weather. When we got to the parking lot in Ocean City, it was starting to spit rain. Hardly romantic. We sat for a while, then I figured I had nothing to lose. I pulled out the ring box—which was empty because I knew better than to guess what sort of ring she’d like—and flipped it open just as if there was something in there.”

Bill chuckled, rubbing his scalp lightly. “Well, it took a while to convince her that no one had stolen the ring. But once I got that tiny matter settled, I proposed and she said yes.”

“Hugh?” Jack prompted. Jack had attended Hugh and Debbie’s wedding but his recollections were lost in the tangle of law school memories.

“I don’t entirely remember,” Hugh admitted. “We’d been living together for a long time before we got married. I think it was a casual follow-up to our discussion about having kids. I thought Debbie would care about getting married more than I did, but in the end, I really wanted her and the kids to have my name. I got a bit caveman about it, as I recall. She’ll remember the details,” he concluded sheepishly. “Sorry, Jack. I’d make a bad witness.”

“No need to apologize.” Jack turned to Rand’s father. “Alan?”

Jennings said, “In order to understand how I proposed, you need to understand the background of how I got to know my wife.” He relaxed in his chair, a born storyteller.

“Dee’s parents were Old Hollywood. Gary Griffith had been a very junior executive at Twentieth Century Fox when
Cleopatra
nearly bankrupted the studio. Gary arranged for financing to keep the studio from going under, a nifty trick that got him noticed pretty quickly. Anyway, when I was just starting out as a lowly production assistant on
M*A*S*H
, Gary was a big deal at Fox. I got invited to a garden party at the Griffiths’ Bel Air estate, and Dee was there. I fell for her in a big way, but Gary liked to intimidate pipsqueaks like me. Definitely the kind of guy who could have me fired with a phone call—I don’t know, maybe all he’d have had to do was lift an eyebrow. He seemed to have enough flunkies orbiting around him.

“Anyway, there was Dee, and she had her own satellites, men who all looked richer, more powerful and frankly taller than me. I needed to think of a way to get her to notice me without calling so much attention to myself that Gary would get pissed off with me.”

Alan swirled his Scotch. “I did my research. Dee volunteered at a local homeless shelter. So I did some finagling and got some of the cast members from
M*A*S*H
to come down to the shelter to work the lunch line. It was perfect—
TV Guide
had a photographer there, the cast had a great time, and I’d like to think life was a bit brighter for the guys living in the shelter, at least for one day.”

“Wait, I’m confused. I thought that’s how you met Mom, not how you proposed,” Rand said.

Alan pressed his lips together and shook his head. Then he shrugged and said, “Yeah, well, it was both. I waited until the lunch service was over and things were shutting down. Then I got down on one knee, pulled out a box that did have a ring in it, thank you very much, and proposed.”

“But, Dad, you barely knew her.” Rand seemed aghast at the idea.

“My thinking was that I couldn’t lose. Even if she turned me down, she’d have noticed me. And if she said yes, we’d have a long engagement to get to know each other.”

“Maybe that’s the mistake I made,” Jack muttered.

“Aha!” Phil cried. “I suspected something of the sort. I gather you got shot down, Jack?”

Rand was still staring at his dad. “Wait—I have to know. What did Mom say?”

“She said yes.”

“You’re kidding me. She said yes, she would marry you based on a publicity stunt at a homeless shelter?” Rand’s mouth gaped—he looked like he didn’t know whether to be outraged at his father’s chutzpah, or impressed.

“It was a
long
engagement, son. And believe me, your grandfather grilled me unmercifully every single time I showed up at their house. He made sure nothing about our engagement was as easy as the proposal.”

Rand nodded. “Yup, that’s Grandpa. I’m sorry he can’t be here.”

“Don’t worry—he sent his favorite cameraman to make the wedding video,” Alan said.

“Don’t remind me,” Rand muttered. “I know we’ll be grateful to have the result, but what a lot of palaver. As far as I know, they’re still there setting up lights and camera angles.”

“Hollywood meets the Endless Mountains,” Hugh said. “It’ll be the talk of Eagles Mere for years to come.”

Phil opened his mouth, probably to grill Jack about his botched efforts with Elise. Jack couldn’t stop himself tensing slightly.

“Okay, so how did you propose to Libby?” Alan asked his son.

Jack exhaled. He’d dodged a bullet there. He caught Phil’s mocking smile. Jack nodded—he knew Phil had guessed what had happened. Hopefully, it would be their little secret.

Rand seemed only too happy to talk about his roller coaster ride with Libby. “Two proposals, really. I had messed up when she was on the show, so I flew to Philly as soon as the show wrapped. Saturday evening, so I figured she’d be home, probably studying. I just couldn’t face her, though. So I had the cabby take me to the bar where I’d first met her.”

He lifted his chin at Jack. “You were there, sir, and helped a little with the confusions that had arisen between us. Then we went back to her place and I basically asked if I could move in.” At the good-natured laughter, Rand smiled sheepishly. “I was a bit more romantic than that.”

“Yeah, because it sounds like you’re a moocher,” Phil teased.

Rand ignored him. “That got us living together. We’d talked about marriage a few times, but she was swamped with the moot court competition and finding a job, so I didn’t want to pressure her. After she got her job offer and her team won moot court, she was a lot more relaxed. That’s when I sprung it on her.”

“A bear trap?” Bill teased his future son-in-law.

“Nope. I’d made a movie with the camera Dad gave me. A montage of man-on-the-street comments about love and marriage. I even got one of Libby’s professors to participate.”

“I’d like to see it.” Alan Jennings’s voice held both paternal pride and a certain professional interest.

“I have the DVD here—maybe after supper, if Libby says it’s okay, we can play it.”

The idea that he’d need his fiancée’s permission earned Rand hoots of laughter from the older men in the room. “Yup, you’re ready to be married,” Hugh said. “When you need to check with your better half, you might as well have a ring through your nose—I mean, on your finger.”

As if on cue, the women filed in to announce that it was time for dinner.

Jack hung back until Elise joined him. “Having fun?” he asked her.

She tucked her hand into his arm. “Of course. Women love weddings.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. “It seems funny to be here when the house is jam-packed, though. I miss how it was in June—you know, unstructured and anything goes.”

“We had fun.” Jack felt hollow. Why didn’t she want this, too—the camaraderie and sense of family? She could belong here, have a permanent place with the O’Haras, Pembrokes, and now the Jennings.

“How about you menfolk? Did you find something to talk about?”

No way was Jack admitting he’d gotten them to tell stories of proposing marriage. Elise would think he’d set her up. Knowing her, she’d steal the Lexus and drive herself home wearing a nightgown and not much else.

“Sports, mostly,” he lied.

Over Elise’s head, Phil Gaffney was looking at him with something suspiciously like sympathy. Damn him.

Jack’s silence was driving Elise batty.

“Wasn’t that movie the cutest way of proposing marriage you’ve ever seen?” she asked as she brushed her hair. “Rand’s talented. At least, it seems like it to me. His dad appeared pleased with—what did he call them? Oh, right—the production values. And they think lawyers have jargon!”

Jack was watching her solemnly but not talking. Unnerving to have that relentless stare directed at her every minute they were together, but he had to relax soon. He’d been okay before this trip. It was just the family thing. He was the youngest of the cousins and now even the next generation was pairing off.

Elise understood how that could piss Jack off. She knew he wanted to introduce her as his fiancée. She even understood how she’d put him in a bind because she’d needed more time. She felt guilty because during the past few weeks, she hadn’t thought about the future. She’d focused on work and being with Jack. Being together—and ensuring they were too busy with sex to talk about marriage.

Still, this silent treatment was pissing her off. It was rude. They shouldn’t have to talk about marriage—not at Libby and Rand’s wedding. Elise should have a few weeks before he got to mention the future again. The sex with him was too good. She didn’t want to get all serious now. A couple more weeks.

“Come.” He patted the mattress where he’d thrown back the covers. Elise stood by the side of the bed, annoyed. She’d spent a fortune on a shell-pink silk nightgown just for this weekend, and Jack had barely looked at it.