Mail-Order Cinderella

Tyler dropped his boot heels from the desktop with a thud and shot to his feet. “Are you sure? Is he sure?”

“Link’s a pretty cautious guy. He wouldn’t come out with some outrageous theory unless he had proof. He believes the elevator was sabotaged, which means Mike might have been intentionally killed.”

“You mean murdered.” Now that it had been said out loud, Tyler felt it must be true.

Dodd had been a crucial cog in the hospital project, which was a labor of love for the Fortunes. Everyone in the family was taking part—raising money, putting in unpaid hours of labor, donating materials, gathering regional and state political support and local sympathy for a medical facility that would serve the young, ethnically diverse population around Pueblo.

Once the hospital was complete, injured and sick children wouldn’t need to be rushed off to Tucson, twenty-five miles to the north, for medical care. Papago families would receive care for their children without requiring proof of insurance or demands that they pay astronomical medical costs they couldn’t afford. This had been his family’s dream for as long as Tyler had been in the business, and that was as far back as he could remember.

If someone wanted to hurt the Fortunes, sabotaging the hospital was a perfect way to do it.

“This is terrible. Have you told Dad yet?”

Jason lifted a hand in a helpless gesture. “I’m on my way to the ranch right now.”

Tyler nodded grimly. A family didn’t acquire the wealth of the Fortunes without making enemies along the way. But he hadn’t wanted to believe envy and greed could push anyone in Pueblo to murder.

“You want to come with me when I give Dad the news?” Jason asked.

Tyler found himself staring at the dark TV screen. “No. You go ahead, I’ll get the details later. Too much to do here.”

Jason shook his head as if he understood the flow of his brother’s thoughts. “You can’t order a wife as if she were a pizza.”

Tyler flicked a piece of lint off his denim shirt. “Marriages used to be arranged on a lot less than a videotape.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Jason threw his strong arms around Tyler and thumped him fondly on the back.

Minutes later, Tyler found himself standing in the middle of his office, still staring at the dark TV screen. Was he crazy for wanting to take command of his own future? Women made demands on their men. Children required unlimited love and constant attention to their physical needs. All of that time spent relating to family members ate up precious work hours and changed a man. Whether he wanted to be changed or not.

The cold, black expanse of screen challenged Tyler. Alternatives. He desperately needed alternatives. Tyler reached for the remote again. Julie Parker’s smooth, pale countenance materialized before him.

He was partial to flaming redheads. Miss Parker’s hair was paper-bag brown. He melted in the presence of blue eyes. Hers were a subtle mossy hue. Tall, leggy women instantly attracted him. He glanced down at the stats accompanying her tape. She was barely five-foot-two. He’d tower over her.

She was all wrong for him physically. But he could tell by her shy manner, frequent blushes, and the way she repeatedly averted her eyes from the camera that she wasn’t the type to assert herself. This might actually work to your advantage, a persistent voice whispered to him. And all she asked from him was a baby.

She needed a husband; he needed a wife. A simple trade-off.

She had just about given up hope. In less than ten days, the six-month membership Julie had purchased in the upscale matchmaking service would expire. She couldn’t afford to sign up for another. She could barely afford next month’s rent.

That same night, the telephone rang. “We’ve received a request for a personal contact,” the woman on the other end cheerfully informed her. “I can overnight a copy of the gentleman’s tape to you. Let us know if you’d like to meet him. He looks like an excellent match for you, Miss Parker.”

Julie was skeptical. Her first thought was: This is the bait to make me sign up for another six months.

But when the tape arrived along with a brief biographical sketch, she wondered if this might actually be the moment she’d been waiting for. Someone was interested in meeting her! And he knew from the start what she looked like, how awkwardly she behaved around strangers and what she expected of him.

Last fall, it had taken every ounce of her precious store of courage to contact Soulmate Search after rejecting every other dating service in the phone book because they’d seemed embarrassingly tacky if not outright perilous. Imagine divulging your private hopes and dreams to hundreds of absolute strangers! And they could just forget about her climbing into a car with a stranger.

But this company guaranteed confidentiality and a thorough screening of applicants to weed out undesirables. She would receive names and video interviews of men from all across the country who were serious about marriage and potentially interested in her. Soulmate’s clients were men and women with stable incomes who wouldn’t mind flying to the opposite coast to meet a potential mate. No lounge lizards, prison inmates or out-of-work loafers here!

The next day Julie had blown her entire savings on one last-ditch effort to find a man who could give her what she so desperately needed.

Now her heart beat frantically in her chest and her fingertips felt moist as she slipped the tape cartridge into the used video player she’d purchased for ten dollars at the thrift shop. Julie poured herself a glass of the generic Chablis she kept handy as a cooking ingredient. The love she would have lavished on a child she put into creating exotic dishes, even though she had no one to share them with in her tiny apartment. She took three fast sips to steady her nerves, then pushed a button and stood back from the screen, her grocery-store wineglass cupped between trembling hands.

The man on the screen was drop-dead gorgeous. This had to be a mistake.

Julie ejected the film, inspected the label, reread the accompanying letter.

No, everything appeared to be in order. His name was Tyler Fortune, just as the woman on the phone had said. He lived in Pueblo, Arizona, almost due west of Houston, where she lived. This was good. She felt better knowing they both resided in the Southwest.

Julie started the tape again.

She sat down without looking to see if a chair was nearby, and her bottom made serendipitous contact with a sofa cushion. Hugging her knees to her chest, she held her breath while the amazing man on the screen answered a list of questions posed by a female interviewer.

“What line of work are you in, Mr. Fortune?” the woman asked.

“Construction.”

Ah, Julie thought, so that’s how he got those strong neck and shoulder muscles—swinging a pickax, hefting lumber, lugging sacks of cement mix. Even in a respectable dress shirt and tie, he clearly was a well-formed man.

“And your hobbies?”

“Not many.”

“Name one or two, please.”

“I, um, well, I like the outdoors.”

Great! Children should play outside a lot. She wasn’t very athletic herself, so it would be wonderful if their father took them on hikes, fishing, played ball with them.

“Is marriage a high or low priority for you, Mr. Fortune?”

“Very high,” he answered solemnly, his gray eyes steady and calm.

A little yelp of joy escaped Julie’s lips. She took a quick sip of wine, then giggled as some dribbled down her chin. And this man had liked her tape!

“What about children?”

“Yes, there definitely need to be children in my marriage.”

This was almost too good to be true! Perhaps these were the very reasons this Tyler Fortune found her tape appealing. He obviously wanted a family just as much as she did. He was a man capable of looking beyond her ordinary appearance and nervous responses, to more important and practical issues. To a future that could be good for both of them.

But there was one thing that bothered her. She’d learned to be wary of handsome men. A man who was too good-looking usually knew it and took full advantage. Tyler Fortune should have been awash with women. There must be something drastically wrong with the man.

Julie watched the interview all the way through to the end, rewound, then watched it three more times—accompanied by three more glasses of wine. Instead of defects showing up, Tyler looked better and better with each playing, and each glass of wine. He seemed to be staring straight through the camera lens at her. Only her. His gaze was direct, intelligent and sometimes playful. He was a man she at least could like, if not love. He was a man who made strange, tickley things happen inside her.

Turning off the TV, Julie picked up the letter that had come with the tape. She rolled the side of the wineglass across her forehead, cooling her feverish skin. She thought about possibilities…dreams…a future. And risks.

The letter said it was now up to her to contact Mr. Fortune if she was interested in meeting with him. He had not been given her address or phone number, in case she decided against following up on his invitation to call.