Girl Least Likely to Marry

Tuck turned in his chair to see who Gina had in mind for him. A woman about the same age as Gina in some kind of purple dress was walking towards them. She had long dark brown hair arranged in loose ringlets that fell forward over nice bare shoulders. She had a cute nose, pretty eyes and an interesting mouth, and she was walking along seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, a slight frown marring her forehead as if her thoughts were somewhere else.

She was no English sex kitten, that was for sure.

She didn’t look like the average gridiron groupie either. Still, she was female, and Tuck had always liked a challenge. He turned back and smiled at Gina. ‘Piece of cake.’

Gina laughed. ‘Oh, this is going to be good.’

Tuck raised an eyebrow. ‘What do I get? When I win?’

Gina smiled. ‘The pleasure of Cassie’s company, of course.’

Tuck inclined his head. ‘Of course.’

Despite her earlier concerns about leaving Gina and Tuck together, Cassie had given it little thought in the fifteen minutes she’d been away. Her brain had been mulling over the findings of an astronomy research paper she’d read last night. She’d even applied the lipstick as ordered by Gina without conscious thought as she recalled the fascinating data.

She was surprised for a moment when she arrived back at the table to find Tuck Whats-his-name sitting there with Gina, apparently getting along just fine. She slotted the research into a file in her head and shut it down with a mental mouse click.

‘Everything okay here?’ she asked.

Tuck took a deep breath, then stood and used one of his very best hey-baby smiles on Cassie. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Reese’s cousin, Tuck.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘It’s mighty fine to meet you, ma’am.’

Cassie blinked up at him as he towered over her. Two things struck her at once. The man smelled incredible. Her nostrils flared as her senses filled up with him. And it wasn’t his cologne, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t smell anything artificial at all. Maybe a hint of soap or deodorant.

This was much rawer. More primal. Powerful. Overpowering, even. It made her want to press her nose to his shirt and inhale him. It demanded that she do so and she had to actually put her hands on the chair-back to stop herself.

So this was pheromones.

Scientists had known of their existence for decades, and perfume companies around the world had been trying to perfect them for just as long, but this man exuded it in hot, sticky waves.

Her salivary glands went into hyper-drive and she swallowed as she grappled with the urge to sniff him.

The second thing was his eyes. They were an intense, startling blue. The exact shade of an exploding star she’d once seen through the lens of a deep space telescope. They were out of this world. They were cosmic. Captivating.

Tuck looked into Cassie’s upturned face. She was staring at him, her lips slightly parted, the sound of her breath husky in his ears. He glanced at Gina and grinned.

Piece of cake.

‘Ma’am?’

Cassie dragged herself back from the universe she could see in his eyes, his intoxicating scent still singing to her like a Siren from the rocks. ‘Oh, yes…sorry.’ She shook her head. What had he said? Name. He’d introduced himself. ‘I’m Cassie,’ she said. ‘Cassiopeia.’

And then she made the mistake of slipping her hand into his and his pheromones tugged at her—hard.

‘So you’re the geek,’ he said softly, smiling at her.

Another dizzying wave of male animal wafted over her and it took a moment for Cassie’s brain to clear the fog.

Yes, she was the geek. And he was the jock. She had him by a good sixty IQ points—probably more. She didn’t get stupid around men. She didn’t get stupid, period!

So start acting like it!

She pulled her hand from his abruptly. ‘And you’re the jock,’ she said, as much to remind herself as a statement of fact.

Tuck refused to be offended. He shot Gina a faux insulted look. ‘Why do I get the feeling that Cassie isn’t fond of jocks?’

Gina lifted a shoulder. ‘Don’t take it personally. Cassie’s not fond of men generally.’ He shot her a look and she cut him off before he gave voice to what she knew he was thinking. ‘Not women, either.’

Tuck grinned, then turned his attention back to Cassie. Okay, so he had his work cut out for him. His momma always said things came too damn easy to him anyway. Her eyes were even prettier up close. A grey-blue, like a misty lake, with subtle charcoal and silver eyeshadow bringing out both colours perfectly.

He nodded at her place card on the table next to his and said, ‘Looks like I have the whole night to change your mind.’ Then he pulled out her chair and smiled at her.

Cassie didn’t move for a moment. She simply stared at him as the deep modulation of his voice joined forces with his heady scent to drench every cell in her body with a sexual malaise. Her nipples beading against the fabric of the flimsy dress Gina had loaned her snapped her out of it.

‘I usually require several pieces of evidence from trusted sources before I change my mind about anything,’ she said primly, taking the seat.

‘Noted,’ Tuck murmured, stifling a grin as he took his seat. He lounged back in it, regarding Cassie as she fiddled with her cutlery. ‘So, you don’t sound like you’re from around these here parts,’ he said.

‘No.’ Cassie refused to elaborate. Just because Reese thought it was a good idea to sit them together, it didn’t mean she had to be agreeable.

Gina rolled her eyes and took pity on Tuck. ‘Cassie’s Australian.’

‘Ah. Whereabouts? Sydney? That’s one pretty little city you have there,’ he said.

‘Canberra,’ Cassie said as she ran her finger up and down the flat of her knife. ‘It’s the capital,’ she added. A lot of people didn’t realise that.

And he was a jock.

‘Well, now,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze acknowledging Gina before returning to Cassie, ‘we can have us a meeting of the United Nations.’

‘Hardly,’ Cassie said, desperately trying to sit as far back in her chair as possible and remember that he was a jock—a footballer—even if he did have pheromones so potent he should be being studied at the Smithsonian. Or milked and sold to the highest-bidding perfume manufacturer.

‘There are one hundred and ninety-three member states in the United Nations. And they meet in Geneva.’ She looked at Tuck. Jocks weren’t very good with geography. ‘That’s in Switzerland.’

Tuck raised an eyebrow. He was used to people making assumptions about his intelligence. Truth be told, he played up to them mostly—because calling people on their ignorance was usually an amusing way to pass the time.

It looked as if he was going to have a whole lot of fun with Cassie. ‘That’s just north of Ireland, right?’

Cassie pursed her lips. ‘It’s in Europe.’

‘Europe? Dang,’ Tuck said, broadening his accent. ‘I’m always getting them muddled up.’

‘Of course if you’re talking about the Security Council,’ Cassie plunged on, as the deep twang in his accent twanged some invisible strings low down inside her she’d never known existed, ‘that’s in New York. And you’d be in luck as Australia has just scored a seat on the Security Council.’

Tuck shot a look at Gina, who winked and grinned, clearly enjoying herself. Tuck was about to say something like, They wear those funny blue helmets at the Security Council, right? But the imperious tones of his and Reese’s Great-Aunt Ada interrupted.

‘Samuel Tucker,’ she said in her brash, booming New York accent. ‘How’d you sneak in here undetected?’

Tuck stood and smiled down at the self-appointed matriarch of the family. A died-in-the-wool Yankee, she liked to pretend that the Southern branch didn’t exist most of the time, but he had a soft spot for the sharp-tongued octogenarian.