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“Have I told you today that I love you, Bridget?” Jonas made the declaration in a hoarsely fervent tone, lifting his head only inches above hers.
“No, I don’t think so. Do you know I love you?” Her hands were resting on his shoulders. She was about to wind them around his neck when she noticed the decorating tube she still held and the swirling glob of white icing on the dark suede of his jacket. “Look what I’ve done to your coat!” she exclaimed with a rueful laugh. “I’ll clean it off.”
Twisting out of his arms, she set the decorating tube on the counter where it couldn’t do any more damage and reached for the damp hand towel. Jonas watched her with a lazy smile as she vigorously wiped at the icing.
“That’s enough,” he stated after a few seconds and shrugged out of his coat to toss it on the nearest kitchen chair.
“I didn’t get it all,” Bridget protested.
“I don’t care.” Jonas shook his head briefly and curved his arms around her, locking them together at the small of her back.
The light in his eyes gave his next move away. He bent his head toward hers, brushing his lips over her cheek and temple. The musky fragrance of his aftershave lotion combined with his male scent to fill her senses with heady results. His body heat made her think she was standing in front of a roaring fire.
“What do you think about getting married next week?” he asked her, his mouth moving against her smooth skin as he spoke. “Before Christmas. As soon as I can arrange it with the minister. Is that all right?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Will you have time to do everything? We can have a real wedding, Bridget, just as fancy as you want it to be. It isn’t going to be any rushed, hole-in-the-corner ceremony. I love you and I want everyone to know it.”
“I’ll find the time. I’ll enlist every friend I have in Randolph.” Every second between now and her wedding day would be hectic and frantic, but Bridget knew she wouldn’t want to change it. The smile faded from her lips as other, more serious thoughts crowded their way to the front. “Jonas, I want to tell you about Brian and my mar—”
“No.” His hand covered her mouth to stop the words and stayed there. “This last week I’ve had time to do some soul-searching. During the ten years, nearly eleven, that we’ve been apart, a lot happened to each of us. I don’t want you to explain anything to me about your late husband or your marriage. It’s none of my business. Our life together starts from this moment, and that’s all that counts.”
“But, Jonas, there’s—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “There’s Molly to be considered. I like her, Bridget. She’s a great kid.” Bridget noticed that he didn’t make any more comparisons, or try to liken Molly to her or her father. “After we’re married, I’d like to legally adopt her if you and Molly agree.”
“I think both Molly and I would,” Bridget nodded. “All the same, Jonas, I want to tell—”
“We aren’t going to talk about the past any more, only our future,” he insisted firmly.
She took a deep breath. If they were going to have a future together, she had to tell him the entire truth. Now.
“Jonas,” she declared, “you have to listen to me.”
His gaze narrowed on her serious face. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Her voice was no more than a whisper when she finally found the courage to speak. “Molly is your daughter, Jonas.”
“What?” He stared at her uncertainly.
“Do you remember”—her fingers began nervously smoothing the collar of his shirt, a caressing quality in their movement—“that Saturday we started out to go skiing cross country and happened across that abandoned logging camp? We went inside one of the huts to get warm and—”
His arms tightened fiercely around her. “Do you honestly think I’ve forgotten the first time we made love?” he demanded huskily. “We spent the whole day there. The sun was going down when we left. We barely got back before dark.”
“Less than a month later, you left. A couple of weeks after you had gone, I realized I was going to have your baby.”
“Why didn’t you let me know?” he groaned.
“How?” Bridget reasoned without any bitterness. “You never told me where you were going or how I could reach you. I could have tried harder, but I—I was afraid.”
“You shouldn’t have been,” he said softly.
“As far as I was concerned, you’d deserted me. My mother took over and she convinced me that you didn’t have a right to know about our baby.”
Jonas turned away from her in agitation, raking a hand through his hair. “I should have considered the possibilities,” he growled in self-accusation. “I should have known.”
“It wasn’t easy, because I still loved you,” she told him quietly. “My mother arranged for me to stay with her sister in Pennsylvania,” Bridget explained.
