Bride Candidate #9

Damn the man, anyway. She couldn’t even fault him for having poor taste—and he’d been hard enough to resist with his more obvious liabilities.

“Well, Miz Minx, if you aren’t a welcome sight for these sorry eyes.” He filled the room with his presence as he came through a door, shutting it before he added, “What brings you out of the big city?”

In casual wear he had been imposing, she recalled. In a tuxedo, he’d all but sent her into a swoon. But then, most men looked good in a tux. Dressed for success, however, he overwhelmed. The navy blue fabric of his suit matched his eyes. A splash of burnished gold in his tie coordinated with his hair, gleaming brilliantly in the mid-afternoon sun shining through a picture window, freeze framing him in her mind.

“Cat got your tongue?” His eyes danced with friendly humor, as if he’d last seen her six days ago instead of six months.

Ariel frowned. He’d flustered her from the moment they’d met. She, who was always in control, chairing committees, not just serving on them. She, who managed a portfolio worth millions; she, who successfully sweet-talked celebrities and politicians into giving time and money to charitable causes, was reduced to struggling to find the right words with him.

Which was why she’d avoided him since the cruise she’d arranged and he’d attended as a sports celebrity—before his unexpected retirement. And if she’d been surprised or even a little disappointed that he’d taken her at her word and not contacted her during the ensuing months, she hadn’t thought about it more than, oh, a couple of times a day.

She focused on the ever-present cigar that he grinned around. “Good afternoon, Mr. Walker. Still stinking up rooms, I see.”

With a chuckle, he pulled the cigar from his mouth and ground it out in a nearby ashtray. He led her to a burgundy leather sofa, then sat beside her. He fingered the sleeve of her red wool suit. “Dressed like this, you must mean business.”

He was a toucher. She’d forgotten that. He must be a wonderful lover—Ariel blinked, cannoning the image away, not for the first time. “I have a favor to ask,” she said abruptly. “I thought it should be in person.”

“Would you like something to drink?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but pressed a button on a speaker phone. “Marguerite, would you get Miz Minx and me a fresh pot of tea, please?”

“I’d be glad to, Luke,” came the immediate response.

“‘It should be in person’?” he repeated to Ariel, not skipping a beat.

She shifted her gaze from the intercom to his face. “What if I’d wanted coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Why, Ariel, we shared quite a few meals on the cruise. You always ordered tea. Plain tea. No fancy flavors. No sweetener. No milk. A smart man pays attention to what a lady in his company prefers. Now, the woman who sat on my other side—”

“The one you were setting your sights on that first night, until her husband joined her?”

His eyes twinkled. “I was just bein’ friendly.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She liked margaritas—and keep ’em coming. And the lady across the table drank only milk. Six months pregnant, you recall.”

“Which leaves Mrs. Kent...”

“She enjoyed her sherry, didn’t she?”

He waited, a challenge in his silence.

“Am I supposed to be flattered that you remember my tastes, Lucas, when you can also remember everyone else’s?”

“Can’t say the issue was whether you should be flattered, darlin’. Only that I noticed.”

Reluctantly Ariel smiled. Something else she’d forgotten—how easily he’d made her laugh. How much fun he was with his born-and-bred Texas drawl and understated humor. He’d been the only unmarried celebrity on the cruise, so at times—most of the time, actually—they’d ended up as a pair. He hadn’t harassed her. He hadn’t even looked at her with lust. But as soon as they’d become a couple by default, he’d monopolized her attention, entertaining her with stories that could as easily have been truth as fancy, and chipping away at the wall she’d built instantly between them, knowing she couldn’t handle him in the way she handled any other man.

Before they returned to port, he’d managed to chip that wall low enough to step over. But when he’d asked to see her after the trip, she’d automatically said no—and he’d respected her wishes. She’d become more grateful as time passed, coming to believe it would have been just another shipboard romance.

But seeing him again made the feelings resurface fast enough to give her the bends.

Maybe she was making a huge mistake coming to him for help—

“What can I do for you, darlin’?” he asked in a tone so tender she almost threw her arms around him Had her face revealed her feelings so vividly? She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I’m here on business, Lucas. Strictly business.”

“‘Lucas,’” he repeated, angling her way. “No one but my grandmother calls me that. Same prickly tone of voice, too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, then rested her shoulders against the cushions, making herself relax. “I’m under a lot of pressure right now. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I’m just such an agreeable target.”

“Too agreeable. You shouldn’t let me get away with it so easily” She touched the back of his hand in apology.

He turned his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers. “You have abused my tender sensibilities upon occasion.”

Ariel’s breath caught. He’d held her hand on the cruise now and then, mostly in public, when he needed her to seem like his date in order to avoid a fawning fan. And he’d held her chair for her at meals, then touched her shoulder or arm briefly before moving on to take his own seat.

And they’d danced. He was an incredible dancer, but it wasn’t his smooth moves that had triggered a shortness of breath or a rise in body temperature. There’d been something magical about the connection she felt with him, stronger than she’d ever felt for any man.

She might have accepted his invitation to see him after the cruise, too, if she hadn’t been so afraid of the attraction. He was a man who graced magazine covers, a man who lived in the spotlight, a place she couldn’t ever afford to be again, not if she wanted to keep what she’d worked so hard to achieve.

Regardless, they were too different in too many other ways. Compared to her slight frame, he was too big. A humble bone didn’t live in his body. He didn’t walk; he swaggered. He was forever chomping on that infernal cigar. His chest was hairy. He wasn’t anything like any other man she’d dated. Not even close.

And yet...the mere touch of his fingers to hers reduced her to jelly. She looked from their joined hands to his face. He seemed content just to sit there with her, not saying anything, which was staggeringly out of character He tended to talk a charmingly outrageous blue streak.

After a minute his assistant, a stunning brunette in her mid-twenties, came into the room, carrying a tray with a teapot, two mugs and a plate of cookies. Ariel tried to slide her hand from his.

“Will there be anything else?” Marguerite asked.

“No interruptions, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the door closed, Luke released her hand and picked up the teapot.

“You don’t have to entertain me. I came here on business,” Ariel said, noting how gracefully he poured even though his hands were large, his fingers long.

“Well, now, I don’t know how you do business, but I kinda like to ease into it.” He passed her a mug. “I’ve got plenty of time for you.”

“I’ll bet you don’t hold hands with most of your associates ”

He turned his head her way and flashed a smile. “You’d be right about that, darlin’.”

“Or call them darlin’.”