Won't You Be My Husband?

Lauren, for example. Seeing her at the stadium was a gift from the gods that Nick did not deserve, but accepted. And though certain he would one day rue their meeting—like when her class act saw through the sham of his nouveau respectability—at the moment he was grateful for the diversion.

A glance at the card Lauren had given Nick reminded him for what address he now searched: 14 Blue Moon Lane. He spotted the street just ahead and, shortly after, her house, a modest two-story brick with a neatly manicured lawn. Turning into the drive, situated mid-point in a curve he considered dangerous, Nick braked his car and killed the engine, then got out and walked to Lauren’s front door.

He raised his hand to ring the bell, but hesitated, suddenly nervous. What the hell? he wondered, trying to analyze this unexpected reluctance to see Lauren again.

Was it concern he would do something stupid tonight that kept his hand hovering inches from the bell? Or was it worry he would put his foot in his mouth? Both, Nick instantly realized…plus raw fear that he hadn’t imagined the spark of interest he saw in her eye. That he would respond to it and reveal just how incredibly, sexually attracted he was to her, too.

Damn, but she was a beauty. Tall, generously curved, graceful. He broke out into a cold sweat just remembering how she’d looked Sunday in tight jeans, leather knee boots and that sweater…dear heaven, that sweater.

Nick swallowed hard. The door suddenly swung open.

“Are you going to stand there all night or ring the bell?” Lauren demanded, hands on hips.

“I-it’s broken,” Nick lied, for lack of a better excuse for loitering like an idiot on her front porch.

“It is not,” Lauren retorted, reaching out to thumb the button. At once chimes sounded inside the house. “So what’s the real problem?”

“I’m, uh, early.” He glanced at his watch, noting with relief that he was, indeed, early—one minute and thirty seconds.

“That’s okay. I’m ready.” Laughing, clearly not fooled by Nick’s fibs, though she couldn’t possibly know the reason for them, Lauren stepped back and ushered him into the house. “So what do you think?” she demanded, throwing out her arms as if to encompass her whole house in a hug.

“I think you look like a million dollars,” Nick replied, even though he knew she wanted his opinion of the house, not her person. His hungry gaze devoured Lauren, savoring every inch of her from auburn curls to open-toed high heels. His heart turned a back flip. His knees threatened to give way.

“Not me, doofus,” she said. “My house. Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible,” he murmured, without dragging his gaze away from her glittery black dress. Cut in a style from the past, its padded shoulders, diamond cutout neck, and knee-length skirt accentuated her shapely figure and drove his pulse to triple digits.

“I rented it three months ago with the option to buy and have been working like crazy decorating ever since. Only the bedroom is finished. I know we need to be going, but would you like to come up and look at it?”

She wanted him in her bedroom? Dazed by his good fortune, Nick followed her up the stairs. He noted that Lauren had to grasp a handful of skirt, thereby widening the slit in back, so she could manage the steps.

“I have the most gorgeous bedroom suite in the world.”

And the best legs, Nick silently added, relishing the tantalizing lengths of limb Lauren unwittingly revealed. Though tempted to hang back a step or two, he resisted. It wouldn’t do for her to catch him trying to get a glimpse of her panties. As it was, he’d have to keep his jacket buttoned all night to hide his unfortunate physical reaction to the seams of her sexy black stockings.

Lauren took a right at the top of the carpeted stair, leading Nick into a bedroom that looked as if it had come straight from “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”

“My God,” he murmured, momentarily distracted from Lauren, herself. Slowly he turned, taking in every detail of the cream-colored furniture, the diaphanous cream-colored curtains, the plush cream-colored carpet. The only color in the room besides cream, cream, cream was a splash of burnished gold here and there, the red roses he’d sent her on Monday and, at the moment, Lauren, herself, dressed as she was in take-no-prisoners black.

“You don’t like it.”

“It’s…incredible. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. All that’s missing is the virgin princess, stretched out on that four-poster bed, waiting to be kissed awake by the handsome prince.”

“Princess, heck! This is my room. Therefore, I’m the one who gets the kiss.”

“Then all I can say is ‘Look out, Sleeping Beauty,’ because if you’re wearing that dress when the prince shows up, you won’t be a virgin for long.”

“Oh, I took care of that little problem years ago,” Lauren told him with an airy wave of her hand. She walked over to the cheval mirror and smoothed her dress down over her hips. “So you like the outfit?”

“It’s really beautiful.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” To my sex—to my heart—to my life. Hearing the echo of his unspoken offer, Nick tensed. It would be easy to get in over his head, here. So easy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lauren, who now stood close enough to feel the reaction.

“I was just wondering where you’re going to clip your pager,” Nick quickly lied. While he didn’t mind her knowing he found her desirable tonight, he had no intentions of admitting he’d actually, even for a millisecond, thought of her in conjunction with his tomorrows. That was an insanity he could neither explain nor understand, unless seeing her again had somehow resurrected long-buried dreams of the good life. Too bad that Nicolas Gatewood, more than anyone, knew the good life wasn’t for everyone. “Assuming you’re taking it with you.”

“Of course I’m taking it with me. And I’m putting it in your shirt pocket.” Lauren scooped up her purse, took out the pager and tucked it in his shirt pocket. Then she smoothed his shirt and tie. “Goodness, but you’re all tensed up,” she murmured, the next instant stepping behind Nick and gently kneading his shoulders. “Take off your jacket.”

“What for?”

“Your muscles are in knots.” Even through the fabric of his black jacket and snow-white shirt, her probing fingers seared his flesh. “They need attention.”

I’ll show you a muscle that needs attention! Nick’s libido screamed, further rattling- his shaky nerves. “Though I appreciate the offer, we really don’t have time, for a back rub, Lauren. We have to be at Phillip Avery’s in—” he glanced at his watch, noting that his hands…hell, his whole body…trembled at her touch “—twenty minutes, and it’s going to take every one of them to get there.”

“Then I’ll give you a rain check,” Lauren murmured, tugging playfully on his earlobe.

Nick jumped as if she’d goosed him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lauren demanded. Serious now, and obviously concerned, she raised his left arm and ducked under it to stand eyes-to-Adam’s-apple with him.

“I guess I am a little nervous about this dinner party. I’m not sure of the reason for it. And then there’s this phony engagement business. Speaking of which—” Nick dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved the tiny blue velvet box he’d tucked there earlier “—put this on.”

Wide-eyed with curiosity, Lauren opened the box. While she examined the diamond solitaire inside, Nick examined her and saw the stuff of which a bad boy’s dreams were made: auburn hair, big blue eyes, kissable lips. Man, oh man.

She was out of his league and always had been. Yet here they stood—face-to-face and, of all things, faking an engagement.

“Where’d you get this?” Lauren held the ring up under his nose.

“My fiancée.”

“You’ve been engaged?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened?”

“Every time she set the wedding date, I found an excuse to change it.”

“Tsk. Tsk. And how many times did this happen?”

“Four.”

“No wonder she gave the ring back to you.”

“Actually, she threw it back to me, and I never blamed her.”