An Engagement in Seattle

Two

Chase Goodman stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. He’d turned on the television and was standing in the bathroom doorway listening to snippets of news while he dried his hair.

He dressed in slacks and a crisp blue shirt, hoping Lesley didn’t expect him to wear a tie. Gray slacks and a decent dress shirt was as good as he got. A regular tie felt like a hangman’s noose and he’d look silly in a bow tie. He didn’t usually worry about what a woman thought of his appearance, but he liked Lesley.

That was the problem. He liked her, really liked her. The hollow feeling hadn’t left his stomach since the moment they’d parted. It was the kind of sensation a man gets when he knows something’s about to happen, something important. Something good.

He liked that she was tall and not the least bit apologetic about it. He preferred a woman he didn’t have to worry about hurting every time he held her. His size intimidated a lot of women, but obviously not Lesley. She had grit, too; it wasn’t every woman who’d race after a mugger.

Objectively, he supposed, Lesley wasn’t stunningly beautiful nor did she have perfect features. Her face was a little too square, and her hair a dusty blond. Not quite brown and not quite fair, but somewhere in between. Maybe it wasn’t the conventional pale blond most guys went for, but it reminded him of the color of the midnight sun at dusk.

Her eyes appealed to him, too. He couldn’t remember seeing a darker shade of brown, almost as dark as his own.

Chase was physically attracted to Lesley and the strength of that attraction took him by surprise. It confused and unsettled him. He’d come to Seattle to find himself a wife, had gone about it in a direct and straightforward manner. You couldn’t get more direct than renting a billboard! And yet he’d met Lesley by complete chance. Not only that, his billboard clearly hadn’t impressed her, he thought wryly.

Nonetheless, he wanted to develop a relationship with Lesley, but he was worried. Lesley was vulnerable and hurting just now. If he romanced her, even convinced her to marry him, he’d never be certain he hadn’t taken advantage of her and her battered heart. Even worse, she might feel he had. Regardless, nothing could dampen his anticipation of their evening together. That was all he wanted. One evening, and then he’d be better able to judge. Afterward he could decide what he was going to do. If anything.


Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chase reached for the TV remote and turned up the volume, hoping the newscaster would take his mind off the woman who attracted him so strongly. Not that it was likely. Not with that swift emotional kick he’d felt the minute he saw her.

“Hiya, doll,” Daisy Sullivan said, letting herself into Lesley’s place after knocking a couple of times. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Daisy lived in the house adjacent to Lesley’s rental and had become one of her best friends.

“Sit down,” Lesley said, aiming an earring toward her left ear. “Do you want some iced tea?”

“Sure, but I’ll get it.” Lesley watched as her neighbor walked into the kitchen and took two glasses from the cupboard. She poured them each some tea from the pitcher in the fridge. “I’m glad to see you’re going out,” Daisy said, handing Lesley one of them. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend this evening alone.”

Lesley felt warmed at this evidence that someone had remembered today’s significance. “The date slipped by Jo Ann and Lori.”

“So what are you doing? Taking yourself out to dinner?” Daisy was nothing if not direct. Her neighbor didn’t have time to waste being subtle. She attended computer classes during the day and worked weekends as a cocktail waitress. Lesley admired her friend for taking control of her life, for getting out of a rotten marriage and struggling to do what was right for herself and her two boys.

Her neighbor was a little rough around the edges, maybe a little too honest and direct, but she was one heck of a friend. Besides school and a job, she was a good mom to Kevin and Eric. Daisy’s mother watched the boys during the daytime now that school was out, but it wasn’t an ideal situation. The boys, seven and eight, were a handful. A teenage girl from the neighborhood filled in on the nights Daisy worked; Lesley occasionally helped out, as well.

“How does this dress look?” Lesley asked, ignoring Daisy’s question. She twirled to give Daisy a look at the simple blue-and-white-patterned dress. The skirt flared out at the knees as she spun around.

“New?” Daisy asked, helping herself to a few seedless red grapes from the fruit bowl on the table. She held one delicately between manicured nails and popped it into her mouth.

“Relatively new,” Lesley said, glancing away. “I’ve got a date.”

“A real date?”

“Yes, I met him this afternoon. I was mugged and Chase—that’s his name—caught the thief for me.”

“In other words, Chase chased him.”

“Exactly.” She smiled at Daisy’s small joke.

“You sure you can trust this guy?”

Lesley took a moment to analyze what she knew about Chase Goodman. Her impression was of strength, eyes that smiled, a gentle, fun-loving spirit. He was six-four, possibly taller, his chest was wide and his shoulders were broad. Despite his size, he ran with efficiency and speed. Her overall impression of Chase was of total, unequivocal masculinity. The type of man who worked hard, lived hard and loved hard.

Her cheeks flushed with color at the thought of Chase in bed.…

“I can trust him,” Lesley answered. It was herself she needed to question. If she was still in love with Tony, she shouldn’t be attracted to Chase, but she was. She barely knew the man, yet she felt completely safe with him, completely at ease. She must, otherwise she wouldn’t have blurted out the humiliating details of her broken engagement. She’d never done that with anyone else.

“I’m meeting Chase at the Seattle aquarium at six,” Lesley elaborated.

“Hmm. Sounds like he might be hero material,” Daisy said, reaching for another cluster of grapes after she stood. “I’ve got to get dinner on for the boys. Let me know how everything goes, will you? I’ll be up late studying, so if the light’s on, let yourself in.”

“I will,” Lesley promised.

“Have fun,” Daisy said on her way out the door.

That was something Lesley intended to do.

At 6:10, Lesley was standing outside the waterfront aquarium waiting. She checked her watch every fifteen seconds until she saw Chase coming toward her, walking down the hill, his steps hurried. When he saw her, he raised his hand and waved.

Relief flooded through Lesley. The restless sensation in the pit of her stomach subsided and her doubts fled.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, after dashing across the busy intersection. “I had a problem finding a place to park.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lesley said, and it didn’t now that he was here. Now that he was grinning at her in a way she found irresistible.

He smiled down at her and said in a low, caressing voice, “You look nice.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little. How about you?” Pedestrian traffic was heavy and by tacit agreement, they moved to a small fountain and sat on a park bench. She didn’t explain that her appetite had been practically nonexistent ever since she’d lost Tony.

“Some, but I’ve never been to the waterfront before,” Chase said. “Would you mind if we played tourist for a while?”

“I’d like it. Every year I make a point of bringing my class down here. They love the aquarium and the fact that some of the world’s largest octopuses live in Elliott Bay. The kids are fascinated by them.”

They stood and Chase reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. It felt oddly comfortable to be linked to him. They began to walk, their progress slowed by the crowds.

“Other than the aquarium, my kids’ favorite stop is Pier 54,” she said.

“What’s on Pier 54?”

“A long row of tourist shops. Or in other words, one of the world’s largest collections of junk and tacky souvenirs.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“To third-graders it’s heaven. Imagine what their parents think when the children come home carrying a plastic shrunken head with Seattle stamped across it. I shouldn’t be so flippant—it’s not all like that. There’s some interesting Northwest Indian and Eskimo art on display, if you want to walk there.”

“Sure. Isn’t that the ferry terminal?” he asked, pointing toward a large structure beyond the souvenir shops.

“Yes. The Washington State Ferries terminal. Did you know we have the largest ferry system in the world? If you’re looking for a little peace and some beautiful scenery, hop on a ferry. For a while after Tony told me about April, I used to come down here and take the Wins low ferry over to Bainbridge Island. There’s something about being on the water that soothed me.”


“Would you take a ferry with me sometime?” Chase asked.

“I’d like that very much,” she replied. His hand squeezed hers and she congratulated herself on how even she managed to keep her voice. Countless times over the past few months she’d ridden the ferry, sat with a cup of coffee or stood on the deck. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about being on the water that she found so peaceful, but it helped more than anything else.

They walked along the pier and in and out of several of the tourist shops, chatting as they went. It’d been a long time since Lesley had laughed so easily or so often and it felt wonderful.

As they strolled past the ferry terminal, Lesley asked, “Have you been to Pioneer Square? There’s a fabulous restaurant close by if Italian food interests you.”

“Great!”

“I’ll tell you all about Pioneer Square while we eat, then,” Lesley said, leading the way. The restaurant was busy, but they were seated after a ten-minute wait.

No sooner were they handed menus than a basket of warm bread appeared, along with a relish tray, overflowing with fresh vegetables and a variety of black and green olives.

“Pioneer Square is actually the oldest part of Seattle,” Lesley explained, somewhat conscious of sounding like a teacher in front of her class—or maybe a tour guide. “It was originally an Indian village, and later a rowdy frontier settlement and gold rush town.”

“What’s all the business about mail-order brides?” Chase asked while dipping a thick slice of the bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

“You heard about that?”

“I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for a TV documentary I saw. I only caught the end of it, though.”

“The brides are a historical fact. Back in the 1860s, Seattle had a severe shortage of women. To solve the problem, a well-intentioned gentleman by the name of Asa Mercer traveled East and recruited a number of New England women to come to Seattle. These weren’t ladies of the night, either, but enterprising souls who were well-educated, cultured and refined. The ideal type of woman to settle the wild frontier.”

“What would Asa Mercer have said to induce these women to give up the comforts of civilization? How’d he get them to agree to travel to the Wild West?” Chase asked, setting aside his bread and focusing his full attention on her.

“It might surprise you to know he didn’t have the least bit of difficulty convincing these women. First, there was a real shortage of marriageable men due to the Civil War. Many of these women were facing spinsterhood. Asa Mercer’s proposition might well have been their only chance of finding a husband.”

“I see.”

Lesley didn’t understand his frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure her. “Go on, tell me what happened.”

“The first women landed at the waterfront on May 16, 1864. I remember the day because May 16 is my birthday. Seattle was a riproaring town and I imagine these women must’ve wondered what they were letting themselves in for. But it didn’t take them long to settle in and bring touches of civilization to Seattle. They did such a good job that two years later a second group of brides was imported.”

“They all got married, then?”

“All but one,” Lesley told him. “Lizzie Ordway. Eventually she became the superintendent of public schools and a women’s activist. It was because of her and other women like her that Washington State granted women the right to vote a full ten years ahead of the constitutional amendment.”

“Now you’re the one who’s frowning,” Chase commented.

“I was just thinking that… I don’t know,” she said, feeling foolish.

“What were you thinking?” Chase asked gently.

She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to voice the fears that gnawed at her. That she was afraid she’d end up like Lizzie, unmarried and alone. These few details were all Lesley knew about the woman’s life. She wondered if Lizzie had found fulfillment in the women’s suffrage movement. If she’d found contentment as a spinster, when her friends had married one by one until she was the only one left. The only one who hadn’t been able to find a husband.

“Lesley?” Chase prompted.

“It’s nothing,” Lesley said, forcing herself to smile.

The waiter came just then, to Lesley’s relief, and they ordered. Their dinner was wonderful, but she’d expected nothing less from this restaurant.

Afterward, they caught the streetcar and returned to the waterfront. On the short ride, Lesley regaled Chase with the history of the vintage streetcars, which had been brought from Australia.

“This is Tasmanian mahogany?” Chase repeated.

“And white ash.”

“I’m impressed by how well you know Seattle’s history,” Chase said when they climbed off the streetcar.

“I’m a teacher, remember?”

Chase grinned and it was a sexy, make-your-knees-weak sort of smile. “I was just wondering why they didn’t have anyone as beautiful as you when I was in school. I only ever seemed to have stereotypical old-maid teachers.”

Lesley laughed, although his words struck close to home. Too close for comfort.

“How about taking that ferry ride?” Chase suggested next.

“Sure.” Lesley was game as long as it meant their evening wouldn’t end. She didn’t want it to be over so soon, especially since she’d done most of the talking. There were a number of questions she wanted to ask Chase about Alaska. Normally Lesley didn’t dominate a conversation this way, but Chase had seemed genuinely interested.

As luck would have it, the Winslow Ferry was docked and they walked right on. While Lesley found them a table, Chase ordered two lattes.

He slid into the seat across from her and handed her the paper cup. Lesley carefully pried open the lid.

“I’ve been doing all the talking,” she said, leaning back. “What can you tell me about Alaska?”

“Plenty,” he murmured. “Did you know Alaska has the westernmost and easternmost spots in the country?”

“No,” Lesley admitted, squinting while she tried to figure out how that was possible. She guessed it had to do with the sweep of islands that stretched nearly to the Asian coastline.

“We’ve got incredible mountains, too. Seventeen of the twenty highest mountains in the entire United States are in Alaska.”

“I love mountains. When we’re finished with our drinks, let’s stand out on the deck. I want to show you the Olympics. They’re so beautiful with their jagged peaks, especially at this time of night, just before the sun sets.”


A short while later they went onto the windswept deck and walked over to the railing. The sun touched the snowcapped peaks, and a pale pink sky, filled with splashes of gold, spilled across the skyline.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Lesley said, holding on to the railing. The scent of the water was fresh and stimulating. The wind blew wildly around her, disarranging her hair. She tried several times to anchor it behind her ears, but the force of the wind was too strong.

Chase stood behind her in an effort to block the gusts. He slipped his arms around her shoulders and rested his jaw against the top of her head.

Lesley felt warm and protected in the shelter of his arms. There was a feeling of exquisite peace about being in this place with this man, on this day. This stranger had helped her more in the few hours they’d been together than all the wisdom and counsel her family and friends had issued in months.

“Let him go,” Chase whispered close to her ear.

A thousand times Lesley had tried to do exactly that. More often than she cared to count, more often than she wanted to remember. It wasn’t only her day-to-day life that was interwoven with Tony’s, but her future, as well. Everything had been centered on their lives together. She couldn’t walk into her home and not be confronted by memories of their five-year courtship.

The bookcases in her living room had been purchased with Tony. They’d picked out the sofa and love seat together, and a hundred other things, as well. Even her wardrobe had been bought with him in mind. The dress she was wearing this evening had been purchased to wear to a special dinner she and Tony had shared.

“I want to go back in now,” she said stiffly, and wondered if Chase could hear her or if he’d chosen to ignore her request. “It’s getting chilly.”

He released her with obvious reluctance, and in other circumstances his hesitation would have thrilled her. But not now, not when it felt as if her heart were melting inside her and she was fighting back a fresh stab of pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said when they returned to their seats.

“Don’t be,” Chase said gently. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

Lesley struggled for the words to explain, but she could find none. Some days her grief was like a room filled with musty shadows and darker corners. Other days it was like a long, winding path full of ruts. The worst part of traveling this road was that she’d been so alone, so lost and afraid.

The ferry docked at Winslow and they walked off and waited in the terminal before boarding again. Neither seemed in the mood to talk, but it was a peaceful kind of silence. Lesley felt no compulsion to fill it with mindless conversation and apparently neither did Chase.

By the time they arrived back at the Seattle waterfront, the sun had set. Chase held her hand as they took the walkway down to street level, his mind in turmoil. He should never have asked Lesley to let go of the man she loved. It had been a mistake to pressure her, one he had no intention of repeating.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her down the pier. The crowds remained thick, the traffic along the sidewalk heavy even at this time of night. The scents of fried fish and the sea mingled.

“Down there,” he said, pointing to a length of deserted pier.

It was a testament to her trust that she didn’t seem at all nervous. “There’s nothing down there.”

“I know. I’m going to kiss you, Lesley, and I prefer to do it without half of Seattle watching me.”

“Aren’t you taking a lot for granted?” she asked, more amused than offended.

“Perhaps.” But that didn’t stop him.

Not giving her the opportunity to argue, he brought her with him and paused only when he was assured of their privacy. Without another word, he turned her toward him. He took her hands and guided her arms upward and around his neck. He felt a moment of hesitation, but it was quickly gone.

He circled her waist with his arms and pulled her to him. At the feel of her body next to his, Chase sighed, marveling when Lesley did, too. Hers was a little sigh. One that said she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing.

He smelled her faint flowery scent. It was a sensual moment, their bodies pressed against each other. It was a spiritual moment, as well, as though they were two lost souls reaching toward each other.

For long minutes, they simply held each other. Chase had never been with a woman like this. It wasn’t desire that prompted him to take her into his arms, but something far stronger. Something he couldn’t put words to or identify on a conscious level.

He longed to protect Lesley, shield her from more pain, and at the same time he was looking to her to end his loneliness.

Chase waged a debate on what to do next—kiss her as he’d claimed he would or hold her against him, comfort her and then release her.

He couldn’t not kiss her. Not when she felt so good in his arms.

Slowly he lowered his head, giving her ample opportunity to turn away from him. His heart felt as if it would burst wide open when she closed her eyes and brought her mouth to his.

Chase wanted this kiss, wanted it more intensely than he could remember wanting anything. That scared him and he brushed his lips briefly over hers. It was a light kiss, the kind of kiss a woman gives a man when she’s teasing him. The kind a man gives a woman when he’s trying to avoid kissing her.

Or when he’s afraid he wants her too much.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy either of them. Lesley blinked uncertainly and he tried again, this time nibbling at her slightly parted lips.

This wasn’t enough, either. If anything, it created a need for more. Much more.

The third time he kissed her, he opened his mouth and as the kiss deepened, Chase realized he’d made another mistake. The hollow feeling in his stomach returned—the feeling that fate was about to knock him for a loop.

Sensation after sensation rippled through him and his sigh was replaced with a groan. Not a groan of need or desire, but of awakening. He felt both excited and terrified. Strangely certain and yet confused.

Lesley groaned, too, and tightened her hold on him. She’d felt it, too. She must have.

His hands bracketed her face as he lifted his head. This wasn’t what he expected or wanted. He’d feared this would happen, that he’d be hungry for her, so hungry it demanded every ounce of strength he possessed not to kiss her again.

They drew apart as if they were both aware they’d reached the limit, that continuing meant they’d go further than either of them was prepared to deal with just then. Their bottom lips clung and they pressed their foreheads together.


“I…” He couldn’t think of any words that adequately conveyed his feelings.

Lesley closed her eyes and he eased his lips closer to hers.

“I want to see you again,” Chase said once he’d found his voice, once he knew he could speak without making a fool of himself.

“Yes” came her breathless reply.

“A movie?” That was the first thing that came to his mind, although it was singularly unimaginative.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” Waiting longer than a few hours would have been a test of his patience.

“Okay. What time?”

He didn’t know. It seemed a bit presumptuous to suggest a matinee, but waiting any longer than noon to see her again seemed impossible.

“I’ll give you my phone number,” she said. “And my cell.”

“I’ll call you in the morning and we can talk then.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

He didn’t dare take hold of her hand or touch her. He’d never felt this way with a woman, as if he’d lose control simply brushing her lips with his. All she needed to do was to sigh that soft womanly sigh that said she wanted him and it would’ve been all over, right then and there.

They didn’t need to walk far. Lesley had parked in a slot beneath the viaduct across the street from the aquarium. He lingered outside her door.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not looking at him.

“Dinner was my pleasure.”

“I didn’t mean for dinner.” She looked at him then and raised her hand, holding it against his face. Softly, unexpectedly, she pressed her mouth to his.

“I…don’t know if I would’ve made it through this day without you.”

He wanted to argue with that. She was strong, far stronger than she gave herself credit for.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said finally, when he could think of no way to describe the strength he saw in her without making it sound trite. He wished he could reassure her that the man she loved had been a fool to let her go, but she didn’t want to hear that, either. Those were the words he knew others had said to her, the counsel she’d been given by family and friends.

“I’ll wait to hear from you,” she said, unlocking her car door.

He’d be waiting, too, until a respectable amount of time had elapsed so he could phone her.

“Thank you again,” she said, silently communicating far more than thanks. She closed the door and started the engine. Chase stepped aside as she pulled out of the parking space and stood there until her car had disappeared into the night. Then he walked to his own.