by Day Leclaire
Slowly, she opened her eyes and he saw then that she'd become a flame to his moth, a bewitching siren capable of enticing him to his doom. If his little brother saw them like this, he'd know what sort of woman he intended to marry. Whether she planned to line her pockets with Sanders money or she just hoped to advance her career, her reasons for marrying Eric had nothing to do with love. Jonah fought a surge of anger. The proof of that stood trapped within his arms, evidenced by the blatant desire reflected in a pair of pansy-soft eyes.
So where the hell was Eric? he wondered savagely. Why wasn't he here to witness the duplicity of his blushing bride-to-be?
His expression must have betrayed the violence of his thoughts. With a small murmur of dismay, she attempted to twist free. Jonah caught her close, not daring to release her. Not yet. Not until he decided what to do with her.
"Easy," he soothed, stroking her back. "Take it easy."
"Joe, please..."
There was a frantic note to the way she spoke his name and he knew what was coming. If he didn't act fast, she'd panic and run. And he'd never have the opportunity to uncover her plans for the evening. He slackened his hold, allowing her some breathing space while still keeping her within the circle of his arms.
"It's okay, Nikki. Just relax."
"Easier said than done." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Look, this was a mistake. Maybe—"
"Maybe we should make polite conversation for the next minute or two," he interrupted. "Would that help?"
She nodded in relief. "It might be wise."
"Fine. Let's see..." He fingered the cluster of pearls and crystal beads decorating her lapel. "You look stunning this evening. Very bridal." He used the word deliberately, hoping to guide the conversation toward Eric and their impending nuptials. To his surprise, her tension dissipated.
His increased.
Didn't it bother her that she'd just made passionate love to a complete stranger while her fiance waited somewhere in the vicinity? A muscle jerked in his cheek. Apparently not.
She gave a self-conscious shrug, her gaze darting to meet his. "Isn't that the idea?"
"To look bridal tonight?" His eyes narrowed as he assessed the implications of her remark. Then he caught her left hand in his and lifted it until the overhead light sparked off her gold wedding band. "Most brides aren't already married."
"Sorry," she said with a wry laugh. "I've worn it for so long, I forgot it was there."
"I don't imagine your husband has forgotten."
"I don't have a husband. That's why I'm here."
"To get married," he clarified.
"Well, of course."
"And where is your groom-to-be?"
She'd recovered her poise and offered a cool, mysterious smile, so at odds with her fiery looks. "I haven't found him. Yet."
"And when he shows up?"
"Then we'D marry." A small frown touched her brow. "Isn't that how it works?"
His mouth quirked to one side. "Damned if I know."
"Look..." She moistened her lips, drawing his attention to their swollen fullness.
He'd done that, Jonah realized, or rather his kisses had. Here she stood waiting for her future husband while the taste of another man lingered on her lips. The anger that had smoldered just beneath the surface caught fire. What sort of woman was she? And why hadn't Eric seen through her? As though sensing that something about their conversation had gone awry, she stepped clear of his embrace.
"Perhaps this would be a good time to become better acquainted."
A harsh laugh escaped before he could prevent it, "I'd say the past few minutes pretty much covered that. Wouldn't you?"
His sarcasm didn't go unnoticed. She wrapped her arms around her waist in a defensive gesture. "I meant... Would you mind if I asked a few questions?"
"About what?"
"About you."
He eyed her with suspicion. "What do you want to know?"
She shrugged. "Why don't we start with the basics? Where are you from?"
"Originally? Chicago."
"And more recently?"
"Abroad."
That caught her attention. "You've been living overseas?" she asked with a delighted smile. "That's perfect. Will you be staying in this country for a while or—"
"My plans are indefinite." Impatience crept into his voice. "I should be able to wrap up the situation here in a week or two."
Disappointment drained the animation from her face. "I'm... I'm sorry to hear that. Is there any possibility you might alter your plans?"
What the hell was going on? Did she hope to arrange some future rendezvous? He glared in frustration, knowing he couldn't ask without tipping his hand. But damn it all, what about Eric?
"What is it you want?" he demanded bluntly.
She stiffened. "Nothing that will fit in with your plans, I'm afraid," she said, retreating behind a remote coolness.
"How the hell do you know that?"
She took a quick step backward, distancing herself still further. Jonah grimaced in annoyance, aware their rapport dissipated with each passing second. He'd screwed up but good and didn't have a clue how to make a graceful recovery.
"I'm based in New York," she explained. "If you were willing to move there, perhaps we could work something out. But—"
Work something out? Rage made him blind to everything else. He caught her arm and yanked her close. "Lady, I'm going to ask you one last time. What is it you're asking me?"
Alarm flared in her wide eyes. "I was asking if you'd relocate to New York. But now I just want you to let go of my arm."
Slowly, he released her and stepped back. It had to be exhaustion. There couldn't be any other excuse for his behavior. "Sorry," he muttered, thrusting a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Forget it," she retorted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my future husband." And with that she turned on her heel and walked away.
CHAPTER TWO
Nikki swept across the ballroom, determined to put as much distance between her and Joe Alexander as possible. Never in her entire life had she lost control like that. She fought to draw a deep, steadying breath. What could she have been thinking? Control was everything to her.
And she'd lost it the instant he'd put his hand on her.
Lost it? Hah! She'd given it up without so much as a token struggle.
She shook her head. How could she have been so foolish? Since the day her parents had died, she'd been forced to take charge of her odd assortment of relatives—Krista and Keli, Uncle Ernie and Aunt Selma, her cousins.... They all routinely turned to her with their problems. And with cool, calm logic, she'd resolved every single one they'd dumped in her lap. Even when her work situation had turned problematic, she'd found a solution without asking anyone for help.
She was proud of that. Proud of the fact that no matter how desperate the circumstances, she'd never become emotional, never failed to choose a course of action and never, ever lost her cool.
Until tonight.
She risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Joe stood where she'd left him—apart from the glittering crowd, his arms folded across his chest—watching her with a fierce green-tinged gaze. She looked away, shaken. What had just happened? One minute she'd been kissed to within an inch of her life, and the next he'd treated her as though she were beneath contempt. It didn't make any sense.
She balled her hands into fists.
More than anything, she wanted to forget him and move on to the next man. But she couldn't. Joe was too fascinating. From the moment he'd intruded on her conversation with Morey, she'd been utterly spellbound, walking into his arms as though she'd been born to do so.
Was it his eyes? she wondered. They were such an odd shade of hazel—flashing green fire one moment, before darkening to a crisp golden brown the next. Or perhaps it was the keen intelligence she'd glimpsed in his stare, the instinctive knowledge that he'd fought his way through every single one of the years mar
king his hard, chiseled face. Whatever it had been, it had ignited an answering spark in her. Even when a cold sharpness had settled in his gaze, he'd still managed to hold her captive.
"Excuse me," an earnest young man interrupted, tapping her shoulder. "Would you care to dance?"
Unable to concoct a plausible excuse for refusing, she reluctantly slipped into his arms. She'd have time for regrets later. But not now, not when she had business to attend to. It was growing late and she still hadn't found a suitable husband. Unfortunately, Joe Alexander had succeeded in destroying what little enthusiasm she'd managed to summon for the job. She suspected it would be a challenge to find anyone else who came close to matching him.
She glanced at her current partner and struggled to muster some interest. He was a handsome man. Very handsome. In fact, his features bordered on the classic. Best of all, his rounded jaw didn't so much as hint at an annoyingly stubborn nature. Nor did he have thick, winged brows that notched upward in silent demand for answers to unreasonable questions. He also lacked that penetrating stare that stole every thought from her head.
Instead, his nose was arrow straight—no intriguing little bump to suggest a barroom brawl. His lips were on the narrow side—no wide, sensuous mouth capable of stealing soul-altering kisses from unwary women. And he had a soft tenor voice—no deep, rumbling bass tones that echoed through her mind long after the words had died.
He was quite, quite perfect.
And quite, quite boring.
She sighed. This had to stop! She had to quit comparing every man she met to Joe. She risked another brief look at her current dance partner, determined to find something that appealed. His hair was a pleasant enough shade of brown, but a degree or two darker than Joe's and lacking the startling sun-bleached streaks. Nor did this man's height compare. At a guess, Joe stood several inches over six feet. Broad shouldered and built along rock-solid proportions, he eclipsed most of the men she'd spoken to so far that evening, including this one. She'd never met anyone who exuded quite such an air of power and authority.
So what in the world had gone wrong?
"My name's Dan Forsythe," her dance partner announced at length.
She broke off her analysis long enough to reply, "Nikki Ashton." Was it something she'd said that had annoyed him?
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
Something she'd done?
"Er... the song's ending."
Something she didn't say or do?
"Would you...would you care to talk for a few minutes? Nikki?" He stopped dead in the middle of the floor. "Ms. Ashton?"
She blinked. "The song ended."
He looked at her oddly. "Yes. And I thought we could take the opportunity to talk. You know. Get better acquainted."
Nikki released a quiet sigh as they left the floor. How different from Joe's more aggressive approach. But then, if Dan had swept her off to a darkened corner and attempted to kiss her, she'd probably have slapped his face. "What is it you're looking for in a wife?" she asked, deciding to be blunt.
"Children," he blurted with awkward enthusiasm. His gaze slipped from her face to a spot somewhere behind her and then back again. "Do you like kids?"
"I'm afraid I'm not ready to have a baby," she confessed gently. "At least not yet."
"Oh."
His focus continued to shift to a point somewhere behind her with nervous regularity. She refrained from turning around, but couldn't help wondering if he'd found someone more appealing. She cleared her throat to regain his attention. "The problem is, I have a career."
"Then kids are out, huh?"
She hesitated. Forget Joel she told herself sternly. Concentrate on the business at hand. She'd known all along that certain concessions might be necessary to achieve her goal. Her problem with Dan mirrored many she faced at work—two parties with similar ambitions but with differing needs and objectives. She just had to find an equitable solution to their dilemma. "I wouldn't say children are out, precisely."
"Still, you're not interested in having any." He looked behind her again while at the same time edging backward. "Are you?"
If she didn't do something fast, she'd lose him. "Perhaps we could reach a compromise," she offered quickly. "If you were willing to wait a while to have children-"
"Forget it. I.. .I guess we're just not compatible. It was nice meeting you." And with that he vanished into the surrounding crowd.
She frowned. That was odd. Why had he kept looking behind her? He'd almost acted as if... Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. He'd almost acted as if he were intimidated by something. Or someone. She spun around, not in the least surprised to discover Joe standing nearby. He held a glass of champagne, which he raised in salute when their gazes clashed. Why, that dirty, rotten... Hadn't he done enough harm allowing her to believe he was interested in her when he wasn't? Why did he have to chase off those who might be sincere?
Snatching the arm of the closest available male, she offered a dazzling smile. "Care to dance?"
To her relief, he didn't flat out refuse. But the next ten minutes proved to be the most arduous of her life. It didn't take any time at all to discover he was a pompous ass looking for a wife whose qualifications roughly equaled those of a maid. Worse, he danced in a tight little circle so that every few seconds she came face to face with Joe.
The instant the dance ended, she excused herself, determined to find a better scouting location—one that offered a suitable array of potential partners and yet didn't contain Joe Alexander. Unfortunately, she lost out on both counts. Over the next thirty minutes, her situation progressed from bad to worse. It didn't matter whom she spoke to or where she went—there was Joe. Several times he blatantly listened in on her conversation, making her so nervous she couldn't even string a coherent sentence together.
Finally, she couldn't take any more. Determined to put an end to his harassment, she excused herself from her latest disaster and crossed to confront him. She wouldn't give up control as she had before, she told herself. This time she'd take command of their conversation. And no matter what, she wouldn't allow him to touch her.
He greeted her with a lazy smile, a smile directly at odds with the hard glitter in his eyes. "Having fun?"
"No, I'm not. And it's all your fault. Why won't you leave me alone?" she demanded. "What do you want?"
"From you? Not a thing."
"Then why are you following me?"
"Curiosity."
"Curiosity?" She blinked in surprise. "But why? You had your chance to work something out between us. You blew it. So why can't you go away and let me find a husband?"
He stilled, eyeing her intently. "Is that what you're doing? Looking for one?"
"I'm trying! But you're making it rather difficult. You keep scaring them off."
She could see him analyzing her answers, considering them as though they were puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit. His brows notched upward and she knew what that meant—another of his impossible questions. "Tell me this..." He fixed her with an irritable glare. "Are you meeting your future husband here or not?"
"Yes, of course," she said. "Or I will be if you stop interfering."
"When and where will you meet him?"
"How would I know that?" she retorted, exasperated. "I'm not a fortune-teller."
He frowned. "I'm a bit confused. I was under the impression that you were waiting for someone specific."
She planted her hands on her hips. "I am. I have very specific qualifications, and for your information, you don't meet a single one." Honesty forced her to concede, "Well, maybe one or two. But not the important ones."
The predatory gleam returned to his eyes. "Perhaps we should discuss the ones I do meet."
"Forget it," she muttered.
Jonah came to a decision. He still didn't know whether or not she was waiting for Eric. Unfortunately, as much as he preferred the direct approach, he couldn't simply ask, not without revealing a suspicious amount of ignorance. But he needed answers
. And one way or another, she was going to provide them. "Arguing like this isn't helping either of our situations. We need to talk. Truce?"
She hesitated. "I don't know.... It's getting late and I can't afford to miss this opportunity. If we can't work something out, I've lost a lot of time."
"I won't keep you long." His hand settled on her shoulder. "Why don't we go outside and talk?"
He didn't give her a chance to think of an excuse, but opened a pair of French doors leading to the gardens and ushered her through. It was cool outside, though not uncomfortably so. Slate stepping-stones marked pathways that twisted in and out of exotic trees and shrubs, their presence an incongruous touch in the Nevada desert. Splashes of moonlight revealed tables and benches half-hidden in the leafy vegetation. Few were occupied, but Jonah wanted to insure their privacy and led her deeper into the garden.
In the far recesses, they approached a table tucked snugly beneath a tree covered in twinkling fairy lights. The couple who'd been sitting there were just leaving. The man tucked a set of papers into his suit coat pocket and planted a possessive arm around the woman. She peeked out from beneath white blond hair and exchanged a smile of recognition with Nikki.
"Good luck," she whispered before being whisked along the pathway toward the mansion.
"A friend of yours?" Jonah asked curiously.
"We met earlier in the evening," Nikki confessed. "I was a bit nervous and she sat and talked to me for a while."
"Why were you nervous?"
She shrugged. "This is a pretty big step, don't you think? I suppose I was having second thoughts about the wisdom of going through with this sort of marriage."
This sort of marriage? What the hell did that mean? He waited until she sat down before joining her on the bench. Enough was enough. The time had come for answers and he intended to get them, no matter what it took. "This is a rather unusual party," he probed carefully.
"Until I read the article, I'd never heard of anything like it," she agreed. "Imagine throwing a ball for people who want to get married."
So he hadn't misunderstood the card he'd found on her desk. This was a marriage ball. Still, he suspected he hadn't quite gotten the full picture. For instance-where was Eric? "That's how you found out about it?" he prompted. "From an article?"
