Bride Candidate #9

“Won’t quit what?” Marguerite teased him.

“Come with me, little girl, and I’ll show you.”

“Stop growling like some lecherous wolf, Sam, and take it somewhere private,” Luke muttered.

“Jealous?”

“Hand me a cigar, then go home. Both of you.”

Sam plucked a cigar from the humidor on Luke’s desk, snipped off the end and passed it to his cousin, along with a lighter. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Luke caught the look that passed between Sam and Marguerite. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Turn off most of the lights, too, please.”

He waited until the door closed before he groaned. As soon as the swelling subsided and the medication kicked in, he’d be able to function again. He knew the drill. Until then, he had to lie still.

He blew a smoke ring, then another. Sam’s innocent query gave him pause. “Jealous?” he’d asked. Yeah, he was jealous. Jealous of Sam’s unbroken body. Jealous of his having a companion to share his life with. But not jealous of his impending marriage, not when Luke could see how hot Sam was for Marguerite.

Luke had made that mistake twice in his life—confused lust for love. Not this time. This time he would choose a woman he knew would be a good companion outside of the bedroom. And someone who didn’t want his money, either. He’d prefer a woman whose body was the exact opposite of either of his voluptuous ex-fiancées, a woman who didn’t make him fantasize.

He knew what he wanted. Home and hearth. Continuity. They had to be on the woman’s wish list, too.

He relaxed as his pain eased. Maturity hadn’t sneaked up on him—it’d slapped him full in the face. First, with the arrival of his thirty-fourth birthday six months ago. Then the damned injury two months later. He might have tried to continue playing ball for another couple of years, hoping that he wouldn’t totally destroy both knees, but he’d decided to stop sacrificing his body for his sport, difficult as that decision was.

Finally, the last big change, the sudden opportunity to take Titan to a whole new level of competition in the industry when his grandfather had turned over the presidency of the company to him. His entire life was going to be different from here on. A normal existence, finally. One where he wasn’t taking orders from coaches and trainers and owners, but leading the team, instead, and deciding the future. And marriage, of course.

Lust wasn’t going to make his decisions for him this time. Not that dubious emotion love, either, whatever that was. Nope. This time he was choosing a helpmate, a companion, a friend.

Gingerly, he swung his legs around and sat up. He’d already had surgery on one knee. Day after tomorrow, the other. Cautiously he stood, not moving until he got his balance, then he walked to his desk, switched on a light and opened his top drawer. He plucked a small velvet box from the corner he’d shoved it into and pushed up the lid. A flawless, three-carat diamond ring sparkled back at him. A ring his jeweler insisted any woman would be thrilled to wear. He snapped the lid shut and picked up his neatly typed list, examining it, top to bottom.

Each name was followed by the details he thought important. They represented a spectrum of professions—Realtor, two lawyers, orthopedic surgeon, physical therapist, actress, loan officer and television sportscaster. Five of them already had children—a definite advantage in his book—but it also meant an ex-husband to deal with forever because of kids being involved. Of the three childless women, he could conjure up the image of only one, the sportscaster for a San Francisco station, whom he’d met last year. He supposed he remembered her face because he’d seen her on television since.

Names. They were just names.

His plan suddenly seemed idiotic. Juvenile. And yet, how else could he get what he wanted? He had to start somewhere.

He let the paper drift back onto the desk, the sound as it landed seeming to whisper a word. He glanced out his window at the darkening sky. A moment later he picked up a pencil and scrawled an addition to the list—the name that had been in his head trying to get out all afternoon:

9. Ariel Minx—

He hesitated. What did she do for a living? Did she have any children? He realized how little he knew about her.

Finally, he added: professional do-gooder. That made him smile.

He took the paper with him as he returned to the couch and stretched out again. He drew on his cigar, contemplating Ariel. He admired that she hadn’t asked for help for selfish reasons. Had she begged his assistance for herself alone, he might have agreed without learning whether it made sense for Titan She hadn’t used that leverage.

Because she’d been so adamant about his not contacting her after the cruise, he hadn’t considered her before, but he could see that she would make a good wife. A great hostess. A phenomenal mother She wouldn’t care that they’d have to adopt, either. She’d love those kids just the same as if she’d given birth to them.

The scent of her perfume drifted over him before he realized how impossible that was. He’d already filled the air with cigar smoke. Wait. There it was again. Soft and flowery. He turned his head toward the back of the couch and sniffed. The leather seemed to breathe her fragrance.

He smiled. That all-business suit and hairstyle had thrown him at first, not looking like his recollection of her. But the fire in her eyes hadn’t changed. That she’d rebuffed him once before didn’t matter. He had a clean slate, he figured, since she’d come to him.

He tried to recall their kiss, but he’d been in so much pain, he hadn’t really been able to concentrate on it at the time. Without being able to put much weight on one leg, it was all he could do to stay upright. Still, if the lust had been strong enough, it would’ve wrestled the pain out of his mind, wouldn’t it? Yeah. He was sure of that. He’d had plenty of experience with lust. He’d only kissed Ariel because she’d all but challenged him to.

Yeah, right. Got some other fairy tale on your mind, Luke?

He stared at her name before folding the paper carefully and sliding it into his shirt pocket. He could make his own rules this time—and there was no rule saying he had to start his search at the top of the list.

Three

Ariel hung up the phone and flopped back on her bed, covering her eyes with her arm What a stubborn man Lucas Walker was. He hadn’t succumbed to any carrot she’d dangled in front of him Yes, Titan was going to save the Couch Potatoes event, but, no, Luke wouldn’t make a personal appearance. She’d thought for sure she’d be able to convince him. Ha!

A week had flown past, with phone calls back and forth, faxes sent and received. In the end, Titan would not only be the largest sponsor of the event but would also provide each participant with a new pair of athletic shoes, as well as T-shirts not available to the public yet. Luke had lined up a ton of autographed sports paraphernalia, not just from football players, but from most other pro sports as well. The ticket sales for the dinner-dance and silent auction were twice what her committee had anticipated during the initial planning, three times what they were a mere week ago.

Sold out. She couldn’t ask for more.

She was asking, however. She wanted him there, in person.

The thought curled around her like a drift of his cigar smoke, stinging her eyes. As long as she was being so honest with herself, she might as well take the truth the whole way—she wanted to dance with him again, to be in his arms again, maybe even kiss him again.

A memory of their last evening on the cruise had surfaced during the past week. She’d gone for a swim, enjoying the empty pool as everyone else partied. When she’d finally emerged, Luke had materialized out of the shadows, wrapping a towel around her from behind, his arms enfolding her, drawing her against him. Even through the fabric she’d felt the warmth of his body all the way down to her toes.

They’d stayed like that a minute or two, awareness sizzling. It was then that he’d asked to see her again.

She’d almost said yes. The truth was, she’d almost invited him to her cabin. Then someone walked by, calling his name, and she’d remembered his place in the world. Remembered the stack of Sports Illustrated magazines with him as the Super Bowl MVP on the cover that he’d autographed for the fans who’d donated big money just to be on the same cruise ship with him.

She’d found the strength to turn him down because of it. He didn’t have a clue about how hard it had been for her to give up the chance to see him again, when, in fact, she’d found him charming, appealing, exciting and very, very tempting.

Luke seemed to have all the determination this time around, however. He had no intention of being in San Francisco while his team played in the Super Bowl. The pain of not playing was more than he could bear.

Oh, he hadn’t said so, but she knew it.

The phone rang. She shoved herself up to answer it.

“Hi. It’s me again. I know you’re probably ticked off at me.”

“I won’t ask you again, Lucas. I promise. You’re not coming. I accept it.”

“Actually, I changed my mind”

“You did?”

“Under one condition. If I do your event, you do mine.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t seem to get the Dusters’ owner to take no for an answer. Everyone expects me in the box for the game. I’m asking you to go with me.”

Ariel clutched the receiver closer. He didn’t know what he was asking of her, of course. Didn’t know that she shunned the spotlight—and why. Could she risk a public appearance with him?