Craig held up his hands in a sign of truce, then put the keys into the ignition. “If he’s as good a dog as you say he is, I guess I can learn to live with him. But he’s your dog, Jacquelyn, not mine.”
The engine roared to life, and under the noise Jacquelyn’s heart hummed happily. Craig could learn to live with Bailey. So he’d actually thought about marriage. Jacquelyn had made it clear that she would never live with a man without being married and Craig seemed to respect her views. He knew her belief in God’s commands about sexual purity would not allow her to consider surrendering her body before vowing her life and love at the altar.
Maybe, she thought, relishing the feel of the wind in her hair as the car pulled out into the street, he’s planning to propose today. They had packed a romantic picnic for two, complete with flowers and a blanket. The CD player in the trunk was loaded with lush, romantic music….
She turned her face toward the street so Craig wouldn’t see the light of hope in her eyes. Her unfulfilled dreams were simple: she wanted a loving man to live in her house, children to fill the empty bedrooms, a promotion to supervising nurse at the clinic. All in good time, of course, but now was as good a time as any to begin.
Jacquelyn wrapped her hand in Bailey’s collar, loving the warmth of his fur against her skin and the solid dependability of the man at her side.
The future looked suddenly brighter than it had only a few hours before.
Craig drove with deft skill, slanting from one lane to the next, dodging the slow-moving holiday drivers. Winter Haven, the central Florida city where Jacquelyn had been born and raised, retained many of its small town qualities even as other neighboring communities mushroomed into tourist meccas under the influence of Disney World. Disney’s irresistible lure had brought quick money and rows of ticky-tacky motels to towns like St. Cloud and Kissimmee, but Winter Haven remained largely untouched and Jacquelyn was grateful for the city’s slower pace.
Over one hundred lakes lay within the area surrounding Winter Haven. She and Craig drove to Lake Silver, one of the larger lakes with a clean public beach. As Jacquelyn staked Bailey’s long lead into the ground, Craig dutifully spread the blanket over a shady spot beneath a sprawling oak. The dog’s chain was at least twenty-five feet long, long enough for the pup to play freely while keeping him safely within calling distance. Though Jacquelyn knew Bailey had the gentle temperament of a sleepy kitten, but the dog’s sheer size might intimidate anyone who passed by.
“Here you go, Bailey,” Jacquelyn said, setting a huge bowl of fresh water in a shaded spot. Bailey obediently trotted over, slurped up a drink and then looked at his mistress as if awaiting instructions.
Jacquelyn laughed. “Go on, check things out, have fun,” she said, waving the dog away. “It’s a holiday.”
Craig came toward her, his biceps bulging under the weight of the picnic basket. “He’s only a dog, Jacquelyn. He hears everything you’re saying as ‘blah blah blah.’”
“I disagree,” Jacquelyn said lightly, not willing to spoil the beautiful day with an argument. “He understands more than you can imagine.” She turned to give Craig a hand with the basket. “And he’s smarter than the average dog.”
“Yeah, right,” Craig answered, but there was no malice in his tone as he lowered the basket to the blanket.
“What on earth did you pack in here?” Jacquelyn asked. She knelt and lifted the lid. “It weighs enough to hold food for ten people!”
“Just a little something to get us through the afternoon.” Craig slipped to the blanket beside her. His strong hand closed over her wrist and his brown eyes sought hers. “I wanted this to be a special day. Something we would always remember.”
A blush of pleasure rose to her cheeks. A special day! Abruptly she looked away, afraid he would read her eyes and know how desperately she wanted to hear that he was ready to marry her. She was more ready than she’d ever been. The past weeks with unpredictable Jonah Martin had convinced her that she wanted safety, logic, dependability in her life…and if she were married to Craig, maybe her heart wouldn’t jolt and her pulse pound every time Jonah Martin’s voice rang through the clinic corridor.
“This looks like fried chicken,” she said, lifting out one of the neat containers he’d packed into the basket. “Umm, it smells good. But I can’t believe this came from the grocer’s deli.”
“It didn’t. I got everything from Just Desserts.” He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “They do more than great cheesecake.”
“Potato salad—” she pulled another container from the basket “—and fresh-baked croissants?”
“With honey butter.”
“And what’s this?” She lifted out a plate-sized blue tin and shook it. Something rattled inside. “Cookies?”
“No, we have cheesecake for dessert.” His dark eyes glowed with a secret. “Open it.”
She grinned and pried the lid off, half eager, half afraid to discover Craig’s surprise. A cry of relief broke from her lips when she opened the tin and found four giant-size dog biscuits.
“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Craig remarked dryly, watching her. “I suppose the way to a woman’s heart is through her dog.”
“You are too much.” She leaned forward and lightly planted a kiss on his cheek. Though this wasn’t the surprise she’d been expecting, at least he was showing some interest in one of her guiding passions. Sometimes, especially when he canceled a date or forgot to show up for dinner, she wondered if he cared about anything other than his business. But he was an entrepreneur, a hard worker, a man who marched to his own drummer…
He helped her unpack the rest of the basket, then they arranged the feast on the blanket and began to eat. Though Bailey came over and looked at the food with frank longing in his velvet eyes, he seemed content to take one of his dog biscuits and retreat to a shaded spot under some bushes.
As Bailey delicately nibbled at his treat, Craig explained his latest ambition—an expansion of his custom car lot. “I see us opening a high-end, quality division for pre-owned vehicles,” he said, using his fork to chase a slippery cube of potato around his plastic plate. “Nothing but Mercedes, Cadillacs, BMW’s, upscale cars. They hold their resale value, and a lot of corporations surrender them at the end of a one-or two-year lease. The companies have no personal stake in the vehicles, so they don’t quibble over trade-in value. There’s a fortune to be made in that market, and I think I may know how to make it.”
“That’s great, Craig.” Jacquelyn nodded automatically and let her eyes roam over the lake. A half-dozen boats were crisscrossing the crushed diamond water, each dragging a skier or two. The whooping and hollering of the boats’ occupants reached even the shore where they sat. Several other families and couples had decided to picnic at this beach, too, though most had spread their blankets and opened umbrellas nearly at the water’s edge. Occasionally a small child splashed into the water or walked through the sand with a bucket in hand, an anxious mother not far behind.
Inexplicably, tears welled in Jacquelyn’s eyes. Her own memories of early childhood were sketchy, all but obliterated by the heavy, dark memories of her mother’s five-year battle with cancer. More recent memories were painfully clear: the long hours of waiting in the nondescript hospital lobby during her mother’s surgeries, the painful sounds
