Her Necessary Husband

The blunt words were out before Ross could consider their tone. But he wouldn’t call them back even if he could have.

“Oh…” Jenna managed.

“I mean, it seems logical.” Right, and physical attraction has nothing to do with it, a more candid part of him mocked. “That way, we’ll have a better basis to, ah, make our decision.”

“So you haven’t reconsidered? You’re still thinking about marriage?”

“I am,” he assured her. “But right now I’d just like to kiss you.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, taking in her subtle floral scent and reminding himself that this was only a kiss. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the moment. At last he forced himself to lift his head, drop the hand still cupped around her silky-smooth chin and take a step back. “I’m prepared to suggest that we take this…all the way.”

Jenna stared up at him, her own breathing far from even. “All the way?”

“To the altar.”

Her Necessary Husband

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing as a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life, because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.

Books by Sharon Swan

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND *

939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE!*

966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE

983—HER NECESSARY HUSBAND*

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Something told Jenna Lorenzo that Ross Hayward would not be hiring her as his live-in housekeeper the minute he opened the front door.

Only moments earlier she’d been admiring that door, painted the palest of yellows, and the wreath of sage green leaves topped with delicate dried flowers that hung under a high arch gracefully etched into the smooth wood. Like the rest of the modern two-story home built of narrow bricks shaded a pristine dove gray, the door was a tribute to conservative elegance. Even the well-trimmed front lawn with its neatly shaped borders of low plants sporting a quiet mix of early September blooms was designed to bid visitors a gracious welcome.

Serene, Jenna thought. That was the word that came to mind. She had never worked—and certainly never lived—anywhere quite like this place.

And she wouldn’t be working, or living, here. The polite smile that didn’t quite reach the deep-set navy eyes of the tall man standing in front of her had her all but positive of that.

“Come in, Jenna,” he said in a low voice she’d by no means forgotten from the initial interview he’d conducted several days earlier at Dewitt’s Diner. Despite the business nature of the lunch, she’d felt at ease in the familiar setting, having indulged in one of the downtown diner’s juicy hamburgers along with a mound of crisp fries many times with her friends when she was growing up in Harmony, Arizona.

She didn’t, however, feel anywhere near that same level of ease right now. The truth was that when it came to casually comfortable surroundings, the Hayward home was an entirely different matter.

Just how different Jenna realized full well the moment she stepped into the entryway and found herself confronted by a landscape of sheer white. Carpet, walls, ceiling. Even what living room furniture she could see through an arched opening at one side of the hall featured a white-on-white design. Only a group of pastel prints simply framed in silver and hung at well-spaced intervals provided any hint of true color.

Everything sparkled in the sun slanting through lacy white curtains. Nothing was out of place. It was a scene straight out of a trendy home magazine.

But this was real life, and there were children living here. “How in the world does it stay clean?” Jenna wondered out loud.

“We’ve learned to be careful,” the man at her side said.

The attractive man at her side, she couldn’t help thinking as they made their way to the living room. At one time, as had many girls in town, she’d had a major crush on the Golden Boy—which was how her adolescent eyes had come to view him—with his sun-streaked brown hair and flashing grin. Somehow it had only seemed natural when he’d started dating Cynthia Morgan during his high school days.

A slim blonde with the lightest of blue eyes, Cynthia had swiftly become the other half of the Golden Couple—a couple some had envied for their popularity. They’d married shortly after both graduated from college, Jenna had learned from friends on her recent return to Harmony. It had been, by all accounts, an excellent marriage, one that had quickly produced a beautiful baby daughter, and eventually another.

And then, almost three years ago, Ross Hayward had tragically lost not only his wife but also his mother when the car Cynthia had been driving skidded off a snowy road and crashed.

“Have a seat,” he said. “I’m glad you were able to spare me some time this morning.”

Jenna settled herself on a long sofa while her host chose an overstuffed chair across from her. A chrome-and-glass coffee table with smoothly curved lines as quietly refined as the rest of the room occupied the space between them.

“Actually, I was waiting for your call,” she admitted. “When you said you’d get back to me, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to meet again.” And when he had called her at the home of a friend where she was currently staying and invited her to come over, she’d imagined she was well on her way to being offered the housekeeper’s job. Until she’d seen his expression.

Now even his polite smile had faded. “I meant to get in touch sooner,” he said, “but I had some things to consider.”

What things? Jenna couldn’t help wondering as she folded her arms across the front of her deep tangerine pantsuit. No ready answer came to mind, but there was no denying that her prospective employer—most likely ex-prospective employer—looked far from overjoyed at the moment. He also didn’t look quite as much like a businessman today.

Then again, it was Saturday. Even the top guy at Hayward Investments was allowed to dress down on the weekends, she supposed. Not that his cream-colored knit shirt and well-ironed khaki pants were anywhere near as casual as faded denim, but the outfit still displayed some impressive sights. Strong shoulders snugly outlined by smooth cotton and forearms left bare to reveal lean muscles dotted with swirls of crisp hair readily indicated that this man didn’t spend all his time behind a desk.

Jenna dropped a brief glance down, half expecting to find gleaming leather loafers to complete the picture. Instead she saw no shoes at all, merely dark socks.

“We generally take off our shoes when we come in,” he told her, obviously noticing the direction her gaze had taken.

“Ah, yes, the white carpet,” she summed up with a nod. She dropped another look down, this time at her black pumps.

“You’re a guest, so you get to keep yours on.”

The wry statement had her chuckling. “Thanks,” she said.

Her host cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I know your qualifications are top-notch.”

But…He didn’t say it; she heard it, anyway. And what more could she say? He’d checked her references before their lunch. Three couples in the Denver metropolitan area combining dual careers with a bustling family life had confirmed that she’d run their busy households and done a bang-up job of it at a time when they’d needed someone like her most.

Jenna could only agree.

During the seven years since she’d left Nevada—where her father had relocated her family when she was sixteen—for the high plains of Colorado, she had put talents learned at her mother’s side to good use. Combining them with her own love of tackling new challenges, she had built a solid career for herself despite the lack of a college degree—a career she’d still be pursuing in the Denver area if the urge hadn’t hit to revisit her birthplace in Arizona during an unexpected break between jobs.

And then there’d been no question of a permanent return. As she’d come around the last curve on a winding highway lined with tall pines and gazed down on the small, sun-splashed city rimmed by a chain of low mountains northeast of Phoenix, something inside her had recognized it as…home. After more than a dozen years she was home, and she meant to stay.

“Look,” she said, deciding it was time to stop skirting the issue, “I’ll admit I’m more than getting the feeling that for some reason you don’t think I’m right for this position.”

And maybe it wasn’t right for her, she mused, all at once aware of precisely how attractive this specific member of the male species was—not to the female half of the population in general, which was probably a given, but to her in particular.

Good heavens, she couldn’t still have a crush on Ross Hayward, former Golden Boy. That would be ridiculous.

“Why don’t we just declare this visit over?” she suggested, then slanted a sidelong look out a curtained window and waited for the expected agreement.

Rather than simply concurring, however, the man seated across from her held back a grimace at her abruptly brisk tone. He hadn’t meant, Ross thought, to be quite so obvious about having reservations where this woman was concerned—reservations resulting from a recent conversation he had no trouble recalling.

“People are bound to talk if a widowed man still in his early thirties hires a single woman in her twenties as a live-in housekeeper,” Tom Kennedy, Harmony’s veteran police chief, had pointed out when Ross had stopped by police headquarters for a brief chat after his initial interview with Jenna. And hard on the heels of that statement, Ross remembered, the longtime friend of the Hayward family had gone on to share some news.

“Normally, I’d say it’s your choice on whether to just ignore the gossip,” Tom had told him. “But voters gossip, too, and you know our mayor is pushing seventy, and I’ve heard he may not decide to run again. That means we could wind up with another Hayward in the mayor’s office next year, provided you’re interested.”

And he was interested. Ross couldn’t deny that. His grandfather had been the last Mayor Hayward, and it was a sure bet that the old man, rest his stubbornly upright soul, would have counted on his direct descendant and the sole grandson to bear the Hayward name to try to follow in his footsteps. Especially since the old man’s only son had already left a black mark on the pages of the family history.

Ross knew it could be argued that he had been an upstanding citizen of Harmony right from the day he’d been born into one of the founding families first to settle the city. For generations most Haywards had been dedicated to getting things done and had won respect for their achievements. As time passed, some residents had even come to expect Haywards to set an example of what good stock and hard work could accomplish.

What no one had expected a Hayward man to do was to walk out on his wife of many years and head off to Southern California to live the life of an aging playboy. Which was exactly what his father had done, Ross thought grimly. And if he hoped to be mayor in spite of Martin Hayward’s hardly admirable behavior, it could only be smart to look after his own good standing in the community.

So, taking all of that into account, he’d been having a devil of a time making up his mind about whether to offer Jenna Lorenzo the job.

There was no question that he needed to fill the position—and fairly soon, what with Myra Hastings having to leave at the end of the month to care for her elderly mother full-time. But replacing his middle-aged housekeeper with a younger person who, while perhaps no true beauty, was still a striking-looking woman, might not be the wisest course he’d come to recognize.

And now that woman had just handed him an easy out.

The thing was, for some reason he found himself reluctant to take it. Not yet, anyway.

“Let’s not be too quick to throw in the towel,” he told her.

A fast frown formed on his visitor’s brow as she pulled her gaze away from the window. “I don’t understand. Either you want to hire me or—”

“Daddy!” a young voice wailed, breaking into the conversation. A rosy-cheeked blonde dressed in a pink cotton top with matching pants soon appeared in the doorway to the living room. She was a six-year-old bundle of usually cheerful energy. Yet despite her angelic looks, Ross knew full well she could sometimes be as mischievous as a pint-size imp.

“My daughter Katie,” he explained to his guest before fixing his attention on his youngest child. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

Katie brushed back a small tear as she ran to him. “Pandora lost her hair again!” She held out a doll wearing a well-worn yellow satin gown and sporting a jumble of deep auburn curls.

Ross studied the object in question. It was a collector’s item more than a child’s toy, but his mother had presented it to Katie on her third birthday, anyway, with the warning to be careful when she played with it. Reality had, of course, stepped in; the doll had clearly seen better days. Nevertheless, Katie continued to favor it over most of her other toys.

“We’ll try to glue it on one more time,” he said, lifting his gaze from the delicate porcelain forehead sadly lacking a wide fringe of bangs. “Where’s the part that fell off?”

“I don’t know. Myra said it could be in the vacuum cleaner, ’cause she cleaned this morning.” Katie’s lower lip trembled. “Can you get it out, Daddy?”

Ross held back a sigh. “Even if I could find it,” he explained as gently as possible, “it would probably be in too bad a shape to save it.”

“But you could,” Jenna pointed out as she entered the discussion, “cut off some of what’s left and make a new hairdo.”

Him? Provide a doll with an entirely different hairdo? Ross couldn’t even imagine it. “I’m not sure I could do that if my life depended on it,” he admitted dryly.

“Could you?” Katie asked, spinning around.

Ross sat forward. “Katie, this is Ms. Lorenzo,” he said, completing the introduction.

Jenna smiled softly. “Pleased to meet you, Katie. May I see your doll for a minute?”

“Sure.” Katie took a seat beside Jenna and handed Pandora over. “Do you know how to do hair stuff?” She studied the woman next to her with a doubtful tilt of her head.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jenna’s smile took a knowing slant. “I wear my hair straight back like this,” she explained, smoothing a hand over the thick coil at the nape of her neck, “because it’s long, and this is the best way to keep it neat.”

“How long?”

“Almost to my waist.”

“Wow.” Katie’s eyes went wide. “How do you wash it?”

“It takes time,” Jenna allowed. She inspected the doll. “One of my sisters has hair this color. And another one has naturally curly hair she keeps short, like yours.”

Katie folded her small hands in her lap. “How many sisters and brothers have you got?”

“No brothers. Three younger sisters. And I helped all three fix their hair while they were growing up.”

Katie mulled that over. “Maybe Pandora could wear her hair like the twins on the TV show I watch sometimes after school.”

“You might be on to something there,” Jenna agreed after a moment, clearly recognizing the show in question when Ross had no clue. Myra wouldn’t, either, he knew, despite the fact that she was here every day when his daughters got home from school.

His current housekeeper was a fine person in her own right who cooked good, healthy meals, kept his house sparkling clean and could be trusted without question to watch over his children whenever he was away. Yet, for all of Myra’s virtues, taking time from her busy day to watch a kid’s television show with Katie on occasion would simply not have occurred to her.

But it obviously would to Jenna.

While a spirited discussion of how the new hairdo might be best achieved continued, Ross found himself wondering how his visitor would look with her own midnight-dark hair spilling past her shoulders and down her back.

Exotic, he decided. Yet classically female, as well. In fact, her oval-shaped face with its straight nose, high cheekbones and fine, creamy skin—not to mention those chestnut-brown eyes that slanted up slightly at the corners—would probably look right at home in a painting by one of the old masters.

As to the rest of her, he couldn’t make out enough to judge. Both of the tailored outfits he’d seen her in so far were by no means formfitting. Still, although she was several inches shorter than his own six-feet-plus, petite wasn’t the word that came to mind. Not when he suspected that a full figure with plenty of curves might be lurking out of sight.

Whatever the case, she’d been in his thoughts ever since their initial meeting. Something about her had captured his attention, that was plain. Something that might turn out to have little to do with her qualifications as housekeeper, if he wanted to investigate the matter further.

One thing for certain, when it came to her qualifications, she was the right choice to run his household, as he’d concluded soon after she’d offered her credentials. If he’d had the least lingering doubts about that, the way she was currently chatting so easily with Katie would have routed them once and for all.

Too bad Tom Kennedy had hit the nail on the head, Ross thought, recognizing that more than ever as his hooded gaze silently told him in no uncertain terms just how striking Jenna Lorenzo was—how vivid, how…alive she looked against a backdrop of almost total white. People were bound to talk if she moved in and took Myra’s place. Despite Harmony’s genuinely friendly atmosphere, gossip was a fact of life.

And the truth was that even if he chose to ignore the gossip, he was a long way from certain he’d be doing the fair thing by subjecting this woman to it.

Logic said to just tell her face to face that it wouldn’t work out and to thank her for her trouble, which he’d undeniably been of more than half a mind to do when she’d arrived on his doorstep. On the other hand, something that went beyond pure logic was still urging him not to let her go so easily.

Ross frowned at the knowledge that he had to make up his mind before his prospective housekeeper decided he’d left her hanging long enough and walked out on him.

JENNA SOMEHOW FOUND herself seated at a round, glass-topped kitchen table, a pair of shiny scissors and a small tube of clear glue set in front of her on a gray-and-white-checked place mat. Moments earlier she’d learned that the deep blue eyes belonging to the youngest member of the Hayward household could be very persuasive when attempting a woeful look. Even before Katie had followed it up with a whispered, “Please,” Jenna had suspected that her immediate future would include treating Pandora to a new hairdo.

Probably only an objection from the man now seated beside her would have changed her fate, she reflected as she placed a silver-gray linen dishtowel trimmed in lace around the doll’s neck. Instead, Ross had merely suggested that they adjourn to the rear of the house, where he’d again played host, offering refreshment and providing what materials she needed to get the job done. Then he’d settled into a chrome-backed chair in his not surprisingly gleaming kitchen and seemed to sink into his thoughts, as he had during most of their time in the living room.

What was he thinking so hard about? Jenna had to wonder. And was she going to be offered the position or not?

“Myra’s gonna be surprised to see how Pandora looks when she gets back.” Katie tucked small feet snuggled into pink socks under her and leaned in from her seat at Jenna’s other side. “Do you start cutting now?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jenna sat the doll on the table, picked up the scissors and carefully began her task, her eyes narrowing for a better look. Her thoughts drifted to the brief meeting that had taken place in the hallway outside the kitchen just before Myra Hastings, a tall, thin woman with short salt-and-pepper hair, had left to visit her elderly mother who remained hospitalized after a stroke.

The housekeeper’s greeting could hardly be classified as warm, not when she’d explained, oh, so primly, that it took a great deal of effort to keep a home like this in tiptop shape. Plainly she knew, although Ross hadn’t said as much during his introduction, that Jenna had applied to replace her. And the older woman wasn’t exactly impressed. The question was: how much would Myra’s opinion count with her employer?

Certainly he didn’t seem any happier now than he had earlier. No, less, Jenna concluded, slanting a glance his way. But even with the corners of his mouth turned down and a deep frown marring his brow, he still looked good to her.

Probably too good.

“There, I think that’s enough off,” she told Katie, mustering a cheerful tone for the little girl’s sake. “Now we’ll glue on some new bangs and cut them on an angle, just like the television twins wear theirs.”

When the job was finally done, Katie clapped her hands and wasted no time in offering her judgment. “Pandora looks neat!”

“She looks very nice,” another young voice politely chimed in from behind Jenna. Startled, she turned around to find herself being calmly studied by light, clear blue eyes, a sight that instantly reminded her of the woman Ross Hayward had married. This slender-as-a-reed girl with straight, shoulder-length blond hair could only be Cynthia Morgan’s child.

The man of the house proceeded to introduce his eldest daughter, Caroline, who shook hands with the quiet courtesy of someone far older than her own ten years. Again he made no reference as to why their visitor was there. This time it had Jenna more than suspecting that the children weren’t aware of her status as a potential employee, as Myra plainly had been. They probably thought she was an acquaintance of their father’s.