Bridegroom On Her Doorstep

He allowed himself a scornful smile. “If you’re talking about the stocking strip show, honey, I’ve seen lewder sights at G-rated movies.”

“Maybe you should keep your eyes on the screen!”

He laughed. She had a quick wit; he had to give her that. “Bad day?” he asked.

She blinked, shifting her attention to the Gulf. “Perfect day.” Stepping onto the grass, she pivoting toward the water. “Goodbye.”

He almost smiled at her brush-off. Did she really think it would be that easy? He cleared his throat and followed after her. “Perfect? I gather you’ve found a number of hot prospects in your husband hunt?” He caught up with her as she reached the gate. Releasing the latch, he motioned for her to precede him.

With her nose in the air and a muttered “Thank you” on her lips, she did. She’d scurried five feet away by the time he secured the gate. Broadening his pace, he reached her side in a half dozen strides. “You don’t say? That many?” He slid his hands into his back pockets, keeping his demeanor more carelessly curious than rankled.

She gave him a dark look but didn’t take the bait.

He pressed on. “Tell me again why you’re interviewing for husbands?” he prodded. “It slipped my mind.”

Though he could tell she detested the need to, she returned her gaze to his, making it clear from her expression she was not amused by his pestering. “Look, I just want to walk on my beach. It is mine. I’m paying for the right to use it.”

Her cutting glare could have drawn blood from a lesser man. Even Cole felt its jab. She turned away and hurried off. “Oh, right,” he drawled, deciding to theorize why she was there. Clearly she had no intention of telling him without some manipulation. “It’s that career move, right?”

She faltered but recovered quickly, whirling to confront him. “I didn’t tell you about the promotion. Did Ruthie?”

Damnation. Why did he have to be right? He would have given a lot not to be. Hiding his anger behind a mask of indifference, he walked up to join her. “Ruthie didn’t say a word.” When they were toe to toe, he dropped the bomb. “You did. Just now.”

She inhaled sharply; her cheeks going pink. “That was a dirty trick.”

He shook his head. “No dirtier than the one you’re going to play on some unsuspecting man.”

Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

He could no longer hide his anger. Towering over her, he leaned forward, fixing his eyes on her like gun barrels. “I’m talking about the poor guy you marry. What happens when you’re through using him? Does hubby get severance pay?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he went on. “What job could be so all-fired important that you’d make this mad dash to snag a husband? What kind of work even has husband in its job requirements?”

She took a step backward, clearly intimidated by his animosity and his height. Even so she matched his stance, defiantly jutting her chin. “The job is none of your business, but just to be clear, the man I choose to marry I’ll marry for keeps!”

He couldn’t believe such ludicrous tripe and responded with a hollow laugh. “Yeah, sure—and the check is in the mail.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

His laugh died and so did his smile. “If you’re not lying, you’re deluded.”

“You have some nerve!” She kneaded her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. “You don’t know me! You don’t have any right to presume anything about me!”

“I know plenty of women like you.”

Her lips sagged and she made a low, guttural sound. He tensed for the attack he knew was coming. She lashed out with a hand, but he caught her before she made contact with his face. Her arm trapped in his fist, she bared her teeth. “I don’t know what kind of women you know, and I swear I don’t want to know.” She jerked on his grasp. “Let go!”

“So you can take another shot at me? Do you think I’m stupid?”

She yanked on his hold, glared at him, but didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Of course, I think you’re stupid, glittered in her eyes.

With a muttered oath, he released her.

Surprised, she stumbled several steps.

“Maybe you shouldn’t bad-mouth stupidity, honey,” he muttered. “Only a guy with nothing going on between the ears would agree to some half-baked marriage scheme.”

“Then you’d be perfect for the job!” she cried, her eyes a blink away from tears.

“So where do I get in line?” That crazy question came out of nowhere. The shock on her face was no more staggering than the shock he felt from hearing the inquiry in his own voice.

She closed her mouth, swallowed, then whispered hoarsely, “What?”

He shoved a hand through his hair and counted to ten to restore his composure. He told himself he was being sarcastic—to shake her up. He’d succeeded, he could tell. With a crooked smile that felt tight, he said, “In your opinion, I’m stupid enough to be perfect. So—where’s the line?”

Her expression mutated from a stunned stare to a murderous glare. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “My husband would need credentials. At least a college degree—advanced would be better.” She licked her lips, obviously grasping at any straw that would convince this lowly handyman he didn’t have a chance at marrying her, no matter how desperate she might become. “And—and…” she went on, “he must be able to converse with intelligent, educated businessmen who have money, position and power.”

He eyed heaven theatrically, deciding words weren’t necessary to convey his contempt.

“I don’t care what you think. There are logical, level-headed men out there who can understand that two intelligent people with the right attitude and similar goals can make a good marriage!”

“Bull.”

Their eyes traded stinging hostilities before she responded. “I couldn’t expect you to comprehend. I imagine you’d be hard pressed to understand anything more complicated than peeling bananas with your toes and—and swinging around in trees!”

“Are you calling me an ape?”

She winced and he sensed she wasn’t in the habit of insulting people. “Forget it.” She turned away to stare out to sea. “I just want to be left alone. Even a not-so-bright ape could see that.”

He felt an unexpected twinge of compassion but shook it off. She was planning to use some poor jerk to advance her career. She didn’t deserve compassion. “For the record,” he asked, “how many logical, advanced-degreed Nobel prize winners have loved your proposition so far?”

She bit her lip, her only reaction.

“That many?”

She cast him a furtive glance. “I have very high standards.”

From her pensive preoccupation earlier, he bet much of the turning down hadn’t been on her part. Deciding she needed taking down a peg he meandered casually around her, making it clear he was checking her out from all angles. “Mm-hmm,” he said when he’d finished his leisurely circuit.

She glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean!”

“It means, men have standards, too, Miss Sancroft.”

A glint of uneasiness in her eyes told him he’d hit a nerve. “What—what are you saying?”

With the flick of his hand he indicated her attire. “Look at you.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I may not have the most aristocratic résumé as potential husbands go, but I know what men want.” He allowed a stony silence to lengthen between them before he let her have it right between the eyes. “And it’s not a priggish, cold-fish virgin.”

“Priggish?” Shock edged her tone. “Cold fish? How dare you!” He noticed she stopped short of repeating “virgin” and thought that significant. It was like admitting that part, at least, she couldn’t dispute. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” She spun away and stalked off.

“Like hell I don’t!” He followed, grasping her arm. “When you need expert advice, Miss Sancroft, you’d be wise to listen to an expert.”