How to Hunt a Husband

by Jacobs, Holly

  “Patricia Leonard and Kyle Bruno, this is Nate Calder and his parents, Paul and Judy.”

  “These are your friends from work, dear?” Mrs. Calder asked.

  Nate suddenly realized that these were the friends she’d based her little strip-club stories on and suppressed a groan.

  Their plans were about to tank all because his mother was a lousy cook.

  He knew what he was getting her for Christmas … cooking lessons. She didn’t have to be a cordon bleu chef, but man, you’d think at her age she could broil a hunk of meet without charbroiling it and ruining all his plans in the process.

  He’d be the first man in history forced to walk down the aisle because of a burnt meal.

  “Why, Shannon,” his mother said, “you didn’t tell us Candy here was dating Bruno. That’s wonderful.”

  “Candy?” Patricia asked.

  “She prefers to be called Patricia,” Shannon corrected.

  This time Nate didn’t try to suppress his groan. No, he let it out, knowing that if his mother noticed it would be the least of their worries.

  Shannon had told his mom that Patricia stripped under the name Candy and of course his mom—the woman who could forget about dinner until the smoke alarms went off—didn’t forget little things like Shannon’s fictional account of her fictional job at the fictional strip club using her real colleagues fictional stripping name.

  “How come you didn’t tell me you two were dating,” Shannon said.

  Nate could tell she was trying to head off further questions by her friends, but he could have told her, the way his luck was going, it wasn’t going to work.

  “We didn’t really want anyone to know,” Patricia said. “It’s all so new and you know how it is at work. Everyone knows everyone’s business.”

  “Tell me about it,” Shannon muttered.

  Nate could tell she was thinking about everyone at school knowing this particular business on Monday.

  It occurred to him that reading her was getting easier and easier, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

  “I suppose people in your line of work tend to band together,” his mother said. “I mean, it’s wonderful to have friends who understand what you do and why. People who don’t judge you,” his mom said.

  “Oh, you’re so right,” Patricia said. “So many people just hear the bad stuff, how tough it can be. They don’t understand that there are good things involved with the job. That the good things far outweigh the bad.”

  “Shannon was just telling us about it the other night. Would you like to join us?” his mom said. “I’d love to have a chance to get to know Shannon’s friends better now that she and Nate are so close.”

  “Sure. We’d love to,” Patricia, aka Candy, said as she pulled up a chair from a neighboring table. “So, Nate, how long have you and Shannon been seeing each other?”

  “A while,” he said as noncommittally as he could mange. He turned to Kyle, aka Bruno the Bouncer. “How ‘bout those Pirates?”

  “Yeah. How ‘bout them?” Kyle countered. “I think they can go all the way this year.” He turned to Nate’s dad and said, “You?”

  “An Indian fan through and through.”

  Nate worked at keeping the conversation turned to sports. He figured if they were talking balls and strikes loud enough his mom couldn’t start to cross-examine Shannon’s friend about work.

  “Patricia …” his mom said.

  “And what about the Otters still being in the play-offs?” Nate said, hoping to out-talk his mom. He should have known it wouldn’t work. “It’s so great to still have hockey games so far into the spring.”

  His mom shot him an evil glare and continued, “So, how long have you worked at … well, with Shannon?”

  “Oh, it must be three years now, right Shannon?” Patricia said.

  “Yeah,” she answered, sounding as morose as he felt.

  “I’ve been to all the home games,” Nate said. “I play amateur hockey with some friends.”

  “Me, too,” said Kyle. “A bunch of us at work got together and formed a team. We’ve got games through July. I love baseball, but hockey, now that’s a tough sport.”

  Nate’s mom picked right up on that. “The people you … work with are on a hockey team?”

  “Co-ed. It’s just for fun. Work can be so stressful, there are just so many demands on us. We need somewhere to unwind. And there’s no better way to de-stress than skating around an ice rink hitting pucks.”

  “I imagine you do need an outlet given the circumstances,” his mom said. “It’s good that all the women at work have you to look after them.”

  Kyle grinned at Patricia. “I look after some a little more closely than others.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re a gentleman. Shannon told me that you’ve been her hero on more than one occasion.”

  “Oh, yeah. There was that time the Pembrooke clan got together and …

  Chapter Seven

  “Well, now, that was an interesting night,” Nate said as they walked up to Shannon’s porch.

  Interesting was going to be the discussion in the teacher’s room on Monday. Trying to explain what happened … yeah, that would be interesting.

  For the life of her, Shannon couldn’t think of a way to explain her outfit.

  Somehow they’d made it through the meal without having Nate’s mom see through their deception, but it had been a near thing more than once. Thank goodness for the Erie Otters being in the play-offs. The guys had kept that conversation going for quite a while.

  “Interesting,” Shannon repeated. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

  She stood, staring out at the streetlights wondering if she could bribe Patricia and Kyle into silence.

  Oh, her date was going to be all over the faculty room on Monday, she just knew it.

  “That was …” Nate left the sentence hang, smiling as he stood next to her.

  “Funny, Calder. Real funny. Let’s see how funny you’d think it was if some of your customers from the pharmacy saw you all bikered up.”

  His smile faded abruptly and he laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. It was meant to be comforting. “You’re really upset,” he said, softly.

  She nodded.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I should have refused to go out with my mom. I just don’t know how to tell her no sometimes.”

  “Tell me about it. It’s not your fault I’m in this absurd situation. It’s my mother’s. Your not being able to say no to a dinner is far more understandable than my not being able to say no to a wedding.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this right now,” Nate said slowly, “but I have to confess, I’m sort of grateful to your mom.”

  “Grateful?” Of all the things she’d expect to hear him say, that wasn’t one.

  “Grateful?” she repeated.

  “Yeah. I mean, if your mom hadn’t come up with that bet and started throwing you at men, you wouldn’t have ended up at Mick’s. If you hadn’t ended up at Mick’s, then I wouldn’t have met you. If I hadn’t met you I wouldn’t be standing here on your porch, with a full moon blazing overhead, thinking about doing this—”

  There was no time to think, no time to prepare, though even if there had been, Shannon would have been defenseless as Nate stopped talking and moved toward her. He turned her gently until she was facing him and then lowered his lips to hers.

  She could have turned her head.

  She could have backed away.

  Instead, she met the kiss.

  Any thoughts of ruined reputations, or overbearing mothers were immediately lost in the sensation of kissing Nate.

  The smell of him, the taste of him, the firmness of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed to hers. Shannon was swimming in a sea of sensations—drowning in them.

  The kiss eased and slowly, their lips parted, but neither o
f them released their hold on the other.

  “Wow,” Nate said as he released his breath.

  Shannon laughed. “Oh so eloquent, as always, Mr. Calder.”

  “How’s this for eloquent … I want you. Not just some kiss on your porch, but all of you. I want to take you inside, into your room and—”

  “Nate,” she said, interrupting his description because it so well matched her own thoughts … her own desires. “I don’t know. I don’t want to take our charade, our partnership, and try to turn it into something that it’s not. What we have is fiction. Even our casual dating agreement isn’t a real relationship.”

  “I’m not suggesting marriage. I’m suggesting that this could be good. Very good. I think over the last two weeks we’ve developed something more than fiction … we’ve become friends. We both understand that we’re not ready for a lifelong commitment. Why can’t that friendship extend to what we both so obviously want?”

  “Nate, I’ve come to value your friendship. I know we haven’t known each other long, but you mean something to me. Something I’m not willing to lose. Do you really think we could be intimate and still just be friends?”

  “Why not? A friendship that extends into the bedroom.” He paused. “Bedroom buddies.”

  “Why not?” she repeated with a laugh. “Yes, you are eloquent.”

  “You want something more eloquent? How about this.” He paused a moment, then said, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that first night at Mick’s. I like being with you. I like laughing with you. I liked holding you in my arms while you slept last week. Hell, I didn’t even mind watching a chick-flick with you.”

  “You said Terminator wasn’t a chick flick,” she pointed out with a laugh.

  “I lied. You were right. It’s a romance.”

  “And this? What will this thing between us be, Nate?”

  “We’re friends. Friends who want to be with one another.”

  “And that will be enough?” She was asking the question of Nate, but really, it was meant for herself.

  Could it be enough to just be intimate friends with Nate?

  What had he said—bedroom buddies. Friends who occasionally slept together, but had no real commitment?

  Could that work?

  She didn’t know the answer.

  “It could be enough, I think. At least for me,” he said. “What about for you?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. I’ll confess, I’ve had boyfriends in the past, but no one I’ve wanted the way I want you. No one I felt this sense of friendship … this sense of connection with.”

  “Is that enough?” he asked softly as he pulled her close, tighter within the shelter of his arms.

  “For now,” she said, nodding as she answered her own question. “Yes. It can be enough for now.”

  Decision made, she didn’t want to think or analyze any more. She just wanted him—immediately, if not sooner.

  She fumbled through her purse for her keys. Two tries later, she couldn’t contain the tremor in her hand long enough to get the key into the hole.

  “Let me,” Nate said.

  He unlocked the door and swept her inside, slamming the door behind him. He dropped the keys, and they landed on the tile with a clank.

  “I—”

  “Shh. We’re not talking. We’re …”

  Without releasing his hold on her, they started up the stairs.

  Shannon was just getting the hang of walking backwards and kissing when she thwacked to an abrupt halt, her back pressed against her bedroom door, her front pressed against Nate. She reached behind her back fumbled with the knob and they both practically fell into the room as the door swung inward.

  They stood at the end of her bed and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Shannon pulled back and tried to catch her breath, but Nate didn’t seem to want to oblige. His hands were tugging at her shirt, pulling it up and off. And suddenly she was helping him, needing to remove any barriers between them. As he slid off his own shirt, she unbuttoned her pants and tugged downward.

  They didn’t budge.

  Not even an inch.

  She tried again. But, unfortunately, pleather seemed to have a lot of the same characteristics as leather. It didn’t slide well on hot, sticky skin.

  And even more unfortunate, Shannon was definitely hot … and not because of the temperature, but because of the man standing next to her, watching as she tugged at the waistband of the pants. The fabric moved a millimeter toward her feet and then stuck again, as if superglued.

  “Problems?” Nate asked, tossing his shirt on the floor.

  She stared at his naked chest. It was a sight to behold. Firm, without being overworked. He looked like a man who was active enough, without being obsessed by his body.

  “Shannon?” he said, reaching for the snap on his jeans.

  “Yes?” she said, her voice practically a whisper.

  She knew he was asking her something, but she was mesmerized by the sight of him and had lost track of what she’d been doing and what he was asking. She reached out and grazed a line down his chest with the tip of her finger.

  “Shannon, you stopped. What’s wrong?”

  Stopped? Her mind was fuzzy. She felt almost drunk on the sight of him.

  “Stopped?” she echoed.

  “Stopped undressing.”

  “I, uh …” What were they talking about? She didn’t have a clue. She stood, frozen to the spot, watching every movement Nate made.

  “Shannon-me-love,” he crooned, his face lowered and just a breath away from her own.

  His lips grazed hers again.

  Her chest pressed to his, her heartbeat melded with his.

  Thump, thump.

  Thump, thump.

  It was as if there was no separation between them. They were one.

  One breath.

  One heartbeat.

  “Here, let me help,” he said as his hands hooked onto her waistband and tugged.

  The pants didn’t move.

  Suddenly she remembered what she’d been doing when he removed his shirt.

  She remembered the fact that she was stuck in her pants.

  Nate’s lips left hers and he looked down, studying the problem.

  “Uh?”

  “They’re fake leather,” she said as she joined his tugging. “They say it’s like leather, but maybe they should say it’s like a chastity belt. Parents all over the world would buy pseudo-leather pants for their daughters.”

  They both tugged and the pants slipped down another fraction of a millimeter.

  “Maybe if you sat down on the bed and I pulled,” Nate said.

  Shannon nodded. She was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic about being stuck in her pants. What if they couldn’t get them off?

  She sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the footboard.

  Nate pulled.

  Hard.

  She was glad she’d held on, because her pants didn’t move at all, but her body practically flew off the bed, suspended between the footboard and Nate’s grip on her pant-legs she hung like a suspension bridge.

  Nate let her settle back down onto the mattress and Shannon could have sworn she heard a chuckle, but when she checked he looked serious.

  “I don’t think this is working,” she said. “I should have taken them off before I got so …”

  “Hot?” he supplied, unable to continue his fake-seriousness he was grinning.

  Leave it to a man to find the idea that he’d got her so worked up that she was stuck in her pants a compliment.

  “It is warm out tonight.”

  “I don’t think that’s why you’re all hot,” he said. “No, I don’t think it has a thing to do with the weather.”

  “You’re enjoying this.” He reached for her again, and she moved back. “Let me think a minute.”

  “Do you have any powder?” he asked.

  “Powder?”

  “Maybe if
we shake a little into your pants it will help.”

  “You want to powder my pants?” She giggled. “Ah, Bull, you are a kinky man.”

  “Ah, but you love it, Roxy.”

  They both burst out laughing, full, deep, catch-your-breath-when-you-were-done sort of laughter.

  When she could breathe again, she said, “You know, this has never happened before.”

  “Getting stuck in your pants?” He gave the waistband another little tug, but it didn’t move at all.

  “No. This. Laughing like this when I’m …” she paused, looking for the right word.

  He just grinned and quirked an eyebrow.

  They both burst out laughing again.

  Maybe it was nerves, or maybe, just maybe there was something special about her relationship with Nate. Something more than just friendship. Something that warranted reflection.

  But she’d reflect tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to get her pants off.

  She found a bottle of powder from her vanity and sprinkled some liberally into her pants, reaching down the legs and rubbing it as far down as she could.

  Nate sat on the edge of the bed, watching her every move. “Want help?”

  “If you help I’m bound to get hotter, which will ultimately defeat the purpose. Stay there.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. The laughter had died from his voice. Now she heard something else, something thick and hot.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “So, basically, you want me to stay over here and watch you … strip.”

  “Yeah. Remember, no touching.”

  “Your boss has rules, right, Roxy?” he asked. There was humor in the question, but underneath that was desire.

  “Right, my boss has rules.”

  He leaned back on his elbows and watched. “Ah, Roxy, I’m a lucky man.”

  “Don’t forget it, Bull.”

  She worked the powder down as far as she could, and pulled again. The pants moved. Slowly, bit by bit, she eased them over her hips. Once clear, they came off.

  Free at last.

  “Hey, Roxy, I like the undies.”

  Shannon blushed, knowing he was looking at her thong underwear. “I bought them to go with the outfit. They made me feel sexier.”

  He pulled her toward the bed. “I think you should wear them all the time.”