Mail-Order Cinderella

“It’s not really a date,” she whispered. “It’s more like a business meeting, isn’t it?”

Call it what you will, this may be your last chance, a voice nagged from a fragile, worried corner of her soul.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

Two

Tyler was prepared for the worst when he arrived early and parked outside Van Gogh’s, just north of Westheimer. The trendy Houston restaurant was nestled on immaculately landscaped grounds. Along the sloping grass that ran down to the bayou, the famous peacocks were strutting their stuff for tourists wielding zoom-lensed cameras.

He parked within easy sight of the main entrance to the restaurant, hoping to see Julie arrive. If she looked just too dreadful to consider marrying, he’d make the meal a quick one then send flowers to her home the next day. The polite note accompanying them would thank her for her gracious company then explain that he felt they weren’t as natural a match as he’d hoped.

However, as he sat restlessly in the sleek Lincoln Continental he’d rented earlier that afternoon at Hobby Airport, he doubted the remaining six months before his thirtieth birthday would bring a more suitable prospect.

He waited nervously, trying to recall her most promising traits. Julie seemed polite, moral, genuinely fond of children and interested in the domestic arts. When they’d spoken on the phone two days after Tyler had first seen Julie on her tape, she’d mentioned her love of cooking twice. He assumed she’d eventually become so busy with the children and her own interests, he wouldn’t need to worry about changing his life much at all. If Julie did object to his long working hours, he’d just put her straight, and, as meek as she was, she wasn’t likely to insist.

Something told him she wouldn’t be terribly demanding in bed either.

Maybe it was her naturally quiet nature. Her voice over the phone that night he’d called had been as sweet and shy as on the tape. He’d started to ask about her sexual history, which seemed to him a logical question for two people considering making babies together. But she became so flustered he immediately bailed out, deciding to wait until they could discuss the subject face-to-face.

Tyler looked down at his hands and found he was gripping the Lincoln’s steering wheel as tightly as if he were maneuvering through careening traffic. Deliberately, he loosened his fingers. Women never made him nervous. Why should this little mouse?

At last a faded red subcompact pulled up hesitantly in front of Van Gogh’s entrance. The driver seemed confused when the valet tried to open her door for her. Tyler couldn’t help smiling. After several minutes of animated conversation, the young man coaxed the woman out of her car and took her place in the driver’s seat. She stood at the curb, staring after her vehicle as it disappeared around the corner, as though expecting never to see it again.

This could be none other than his Julie Parker.

Her charming naïveté tugged at Tyler’s heart. He decided he couldn’t in good conscience let her walk into the restaurant alone and deal with Jean Paul. The maître d’s icy French scowl would be enough to send her scurrying home.

Quickly, Tyler let himself out of the car and jogged across the street, punching the button on his electronic key to lock the car doors as his long legs ate up pavement. Just as Julie’s hand reached with an obvious tremor for the polished brass door handle, he caught up with her.

“Allow me,” he said, stretching around her to open the door.

Julie caught her breath as if she hadn’t been aware anyone was behind her. “Oh. Thank you.” She blinked up at him warily, and he was struck again by the subtle variations of colors in the irises. Her breath across his nostrils was petal-sweet. “You’re Mr. Fortune?”

“Tyler.” Placing his free hand at the small of her back, he guided her inside. “I just arrived myself. And you’re Julie, right?”

“Oh, well, yes,” she managed.

“Here, let me take your coat.” It was still chilly for a Texas March. The Southwest had seen an unusually cold winter. People were wearing wool coats and scarves that hadn’t been taken out of closets in years.

“Thank you,” she murmured again, flicking her eyes up at him for a hasty view of his face before she looked around the foyer.

It was designed to resemble a Roman grotto—bare stone, little sprigs of green growing between the rough gray rocks. A waterfall splashed sedately at the far end, near the dining rooms. He’d chosen this restaurant because it felt like his turf. Rugged yet refined. Sophisticated…quiet…intimate. He’d flown dates to Houston for a weekend when he didn’t want the whole town of Pueblo gossiping about who their most eligible bachelor was seeing socially. The restaurant’s atmosphere was tinged with upper-class seduction. He felt his body react mildly to the suggestion, and he folded his hands in front of himself.

“I apologize for not noticing you sooner,” Julie said softly. “I was looking for Arizona plates on the cars along the street.”

“I picked up a rental at the airport,” he explained.

“You flew to Houston? Oh my, that must have cost a fortune.”

“Things were pretty busy at the job site. I didn’t want to—” He stopped himself before saying waste the time. “I didn’t want to be away too long.”

“I see.” She smiled up at him as if impressed by his strong work ethics. “I know how that is. I hate to leave a job half done.” Her eyes widened as a woman in a long black crepe gown slit up to her thigh passed them. She wore a diamond ankle bracelet. Glancing down self-consciously at her neat wool skirt and matching sweater set, Julie grimaced. “I think I may be a little underdressed for this place.”

Tyler shook his head. “Not at all. You look fine.”

She stared at him for a second, as though trying to determine whether he was being honest or just hoping to make her feel better. He kept his expression blank. Sighing, she changed the subject. “Your job in construction…what exactly do you do? Run heavy equipment? Hammer nails and such?”

He laughed. “Not ordinarily, although I can handle both.”

Jean Paul arrived at that moment, saving him from admitting more than he chose to just yet. Tyler had intentionally skirted a full explanation of his work, as well as specifics about himself and his family. Such as the fact that the Fortunes were the wealthiest and most influential residents of southern Arizona. He’d wanted to see Julie’s reaction to him as a person before he revealed that marrying him would make her a wealthy woman.

When they were seated, he ordered wine and suggested two specialties of the house. She eagerly agreed to the seafood. The sommelier presented the wine, a rare white merlot, opened the bottle, offered Tyler the cork then poured when he’d approved. At last, all the servers left them alone.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

Julie lifted the crystal stem to her lips and sipped cautiously. “There isn’t a lot to tell. Most everything was in the bio Soulmate gave you.” She sipped again, and grinned like a child secretly allowed a sweet between meals.

He thought the guilty twinkle in her eyes charming. It brought out a wicked side of him that whispered how much fun it might be to shock her and set those fascinating, multicolored eyes afire. He attempted to undress her mentally, but her conservative outfit didn’t give his imagination much to work with.

“Oh my, this is delicious. I sometimes treat myself to a glass of wine after work. But one bottle lasts me a month, and it never tastes this good.”

She lifted her glass and took another delicate mouthful. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head back as she swallowed. Her elegant throat taunted him, and he suddenly ached to reach across the table and smooth his open palm down the flow of ivory flesh. “We can have a different wine with our meal if you like.”

Julie’s eyes flew wide with alarm. “Oh, no, we mustn’t. This meal is going to be expensive enough.” She leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially to him. “One thing you should know right now, Mr. Fortune—”

“Tyler.”

“Tyler. One thing you should understand,” she said earnestly, “is that I can’t afford to marry a man who doesn’t know the value of a dollar. If I stay at home with my children…our children…we’ll have to live on your salary alone. A construction worker’s pay these days may be adequate for a comfortable life, but it won’t allow for many nights like this.”

“No, I’m sure it wouldn’t.” He hadn’t intended to lead her on. However, he still needed to know a little more about Julie before admitting how little he worried about the cost of lavish dinners for his dates.

She rested back in her chair and observed him solemnly. “I’m sorry if I’ve been too blunt. I believe in living within one’s means…that’s all.”

“Perfectly understandable,” he replied. “I want to know exactly what you expect of me. And I’ll be very frank about what I can and can’t do for you. But first I need you to tell me who Julie Parker really is. There’s a lot more that goes into a person than a job and a few hobbies.”

“It’s not a very interesting story,” she said apologetically.

“Let me be the judge.” He gave her an encouraging wink that seemed to put her more at ease.

“Well, I was born in Houston, never lived more than two miles from the neighborhood where I grew up and I’ve traveled only as far as New Mexico in one direction, Arkansas in the other. I graduated from the University of Houston, then took a job at the southwestern branch of the public library. I’ve always loved books; they’ve been my friends since childhood. It seemed natural to want to become a librarian.”

He nodded. “So you spend every day surrounded by tomes and silence?”

“I’m never bored, if that’s what you’re implying,” she said with unexpected energy. “But sometimes I do wish I could travel. After the bills are paid, there isn’t much left for zipping off to Europe.” She laughed to herself and shook her head wistfully, as if this was a fantasy normal people didn’t take seriously.

Tyler had been to England and the Continent fifteen times since he graduated from college. “I expect not,” he murmured diplomatically.

“Well,” she said on a long, deep sigh that suddenly made him aware of her breasts, “it’s a nice dream anyway. The important things, though, are spending time with one’s children, saving for their education, making sure they’re properly clothed and sheltered.” She looked at him. “Don’t you agree?”