Ready-Made Bride
Janelle Denison
"Wonderful – will stir the heart as easily as it coaxes a smile." – Day Leclaire
Whirlwind Weddings
His second wife?
Andrew Fielding wants a mom and his daddy could use a wife. He thinks he's found the perfect woman for both of them: Megan Sanders – which is fine with Megan. The Fielding men have their attractions: one's as cute as a button, the other as sexy as they come! Together, they're the family Megan's always wanted! But convincing brooding widower Kane Fielding is less easy…
He's determined to keep his distance and ensure his dark secret stays hidden. But to keep his son, Kane is prepared to do anything. Even the one thing he's promised he'll never do again.marry!
Who says you can't hurry love?
Janelle Denison
Ready-Made Bride
A book in the Whirlwind Weddings series, 1998
Dear Reader,
The world is made up of words, which most of us read and take for granted. After all, learning to read is taught to us at an early age. But how does someone who sacrificed their education to help support their family cope with not knowing how to read?
Ready-Made Bride is a story that touched my heart from the moment of its inception. So did the gruff hero, who harbored a shocking secret. I knew it would take a special heroine to reach him, a woman who believed in him when he’d long since stopped believing in himself. With the help of one mischievous little boy, these two lonely people learn what love is all about. And with love, anything is possible.
I hope you enjoy Lane and Megan’s story as much as I loved writing it
Happy reading!
This book is dedicated to my brothers, Jay, Jeff and Kirk,
heroes in their own right. And to the women who put up
with them, Erin, Karen and Debbie, wonderful sisters
and extraordinary heroines.
And, as always, to my husband, Don, who gives new
meaning to the word hero. You continually amaze me
with your patience, belief and love. This wonderful
dream wouldn’t be possible without your support
and encouragement
PROLOGUE
HIS dad needed a wife, and he wanted a mom. Seven-year-old Andrew Fielding had found the perfect woman for both of them.
Sitting at the oak desk his dad had made for him and chewing on the eraser end of his pencil, Andy reread the letter he’d written inviting Megan Sanders to come and visit his second grade class for his eighth birthday next month. They’d been penpals for over a year and a half, ever since he’d written to tell her how much he liked the books she wrote called Andy’s Adventures.
They were great adventures. Just the kind he got into. And the boy in the pictures looked like him, too, with blond hair and brown eyes. Andrew liked to pretend he was Megan’s Andy, fighting imaginary pirates and building fortresses to ward off Indians.
She wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids. She’d even written in one of her letters that she wished she had a little boy as wonderful as he was.
He wanted her for a mom, to take care of him and his dad and bake cookies on rainy days.
His dad needed a wife, to make him laugh and smile more often. Someone to convince him to make up with Grandpa and Grandma Linden.
Megan could do all that, and Andrew knew his dad would love her as much as he did.
It was the perfect plan.
Now all he had to do was get his dad to fall in love with her.
CHAPTER ONE
“DAD! She’s coming, she’s coming!” Andy bounded down the porch stairs just as Kane exited his pickup. He waved a piece of paper in his hand, his face wreathed in excitement. “She’s coming for my birthday next month!”
Kane Fielding eyed his son curiously as they headed for the back door leading into the house. “Who’s coming for your birthday?”
Andrew skipped next to his side. “Megan is!”
His brows rose in surprise and a little disbelief. “Megan Sanders? The woman who writes those books you read?”
“Yep!”
Kane knew who Megan was. How could he not when that’s all his son ever talked about-Megan Sanders and the Andy’s Adventures stories she wrote. Some days he regretted the day he’d walked into the bookstore in the city and had asked for a good children’s book for his son, who was just starting to read. The clerk had told him that Andy’s Adventures was the hottest series for young boys. The catchy title had amused Kane and enthralled his son enough to write the woman a fan letter that had evolved into a friendship.
“Care to tell me how this came about?” Kane asked, not certain he really wanted to know.
“I wrote her a letter and invited her to come and visit for my birthday.” Andrew grinned at him, seeming pleased with himself. “And I told her she could stay with us and that you wouldn’t mind.”
Kane held open the screen door for Andrew, then followed him into the kitchen. Maintaining a long-distance friendship with the author was one thing, but to actually invite her to Linden? “Andrew, you don’t even know her.”
“Yes, I do, and you do, too.” A frown creased Andrew’s forehead. “She calls all the time, and you’ve talked to her on the phone.”
Kane set his lunch box on the counter, unable to refute Andrew’s claim. After his and Megan’s initial introduction, he only spoke to her briefly each time she called, just enough to let that soft voice of hers tie him inside out and make him wonder, for a second or two, what she was really like before he handed the phone over to Andrew. He’d never minded her talking to his son because Andrew received so much pleasure from their conversations.
“Talking to her on the phone and receiving letters from her isn’t the same thing as really knowing her,” Kane tried explaining.
The pure and simple joy in his son’s eyes slowly died, and his shoulders slumped. “You don’t want her to come visit?”
Kane scrubbed a hand over his jaw, hating the disappointment in Andrew’s voice, and that he’d caused it. “No, it’s not that-”
“Will you at least read the letter she wrote?” he asked, a hopeful catch to his voice.
Kane stared at the piece of paper Andrew extended toward him, then casually moved to the sink and turned on the tap. “Why don’t you read it to me while I wash up?”
Kane listened to his son recite the letter, about Megan telling him she’d love to drive out and visit and stay with them as long as it was okay with his dad. Kane cringed. Great, she was leaving the decision up to him.
Once Andrew was done, he looked at Kane expectantly. “So, can she come, Dad, please?”
Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he released a long breath. “I don’t think her staying with us is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He gave Andrew a pointed look. “Because it’s not proper.” He hadn’t so much as dated since his wife, Cathy, had died, at least not anyone in town. He could just imagine what a field day the gossips would have if they discovered he had a woman staying with him, no matter how platonic the arrangement.
Tears welled in Andrew’s eyes and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “This is all I want for my birthday. I was gonna take her to school to meet all my friends. I told them she was coming, and if she doesn’t, they’re gonna think I was lying.”
Kane’s heart twisted. Andrew rarely asked for anything, and he hated denying him the one thing he wanted so badly. Pushing his fingers through his thick hair, he turned his head and glanced out the kitchen window. He knew people would talk and speculate, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been under scrutiny. And when did he care what the small-minded people of Linden thought, anyway?
“Please, Dad?” Andrew whispered.
How could he say no? Making Andrew happy was his main concern. And if having Megan nearby meant so much to his son, he was willing to take a little heat to give him his wish. Megan was, after all, just a friend visiting. A purely normal occurrence, he told himself, just as long as she didn’t expect him to entertain her.
“She can stay here,” Kane said on an expelled rush of breath.
Andrew’s eyes grew round with delight and he danced around excitedly. “Yippee! Come on, Dad, let’s go call her!” He raced into the living room.
Kane followed at a more leisurely pace, wondering what, exactly, he’d gotten himself into.
Megan Sanders’s heart faltered as she stared at the sight in front of her. A man, a gorgeous specimen of a man, stood in the center of the barn she’d just stepped into, his back to her. He wore a pair of faded jeans that hugged long, muscular legs and a faded blue T-shirt that shaped a welldefined chest and back. Black hair, dusted with wood shavings and too long for traditional standards, curled at the nape of his neck.
This had to be Kane Fielding, she thought, tamping the sudden fluttering in her belly that had little to do with the nerves she’d been experiencing on her two-day drive to Linden.
Busy concentrating on his carpentry, he hadn’t heard her pull up to the main house or enter the barn. Breathing in the scent of man, sawdust and linseed oil, she watched as he sanded a flat piece of wood, then slowly caressed the length with long, strong fingers. He turned to examine the oak in the light, giving her a glimpse of his sharp, defined features and a full, sensual mouth. He was, by far, the most blatantly sexy man she’d ever encountered.
Knowing she couldn’t just stare at him forever, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”
He whirled around, piercing green eyes narrowing on her. She’d envisioned Andy’s father to be a larger version of the blond-haired boy, not this…renegade.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, willing her pulse to a normal cadence. “I just tried the main house, but no one answered the door.”
He watched her walk fully into the barn and approach him, his expression darkening, turning cautious. His mouth was firm, unsmiling, and his brooding gaze raked over her. So much for a warm welcome, she thought apprehensively. Maybe she had the wrong house. Her smile faltered.
“Can I help you?” His voice was deep, smooth and rich, belying the chilling intensity of his eyes.
“I’m hoping you can.” She offered a smile. “Are you Kane Fielding?”
“Yeah, I’m Kane Fielding.” Laying the wood on a nearby makeshift table cluttered with tools, he faced her again. He rested his hands on his hips, his stance defensive. “What can I do for you?”
Ignoring his ominous frown, she took the three final steps that separated them and extended her hand. “I’m Megan Sanders.”
Obvious relief relaxed his features but didn’t erase the caution. “You’re Megan Sanders? You look nothing like your publicity photo.”
Tentatively, he grasped her outstretched hand, his long fingers wrapping around her slender hand. Heat radiated up her arm, and her heart thumped in her chest. The swift, irrational attraction knocked her for a loop but oddly felt right. She’d learned enough from Andy’s letters and her brief conversations with his father to know she’d like Kane, but she never dreamed she’d have this instantaneous response to him. Like she’d known him for years instead of only a handful of minutes.
Crazy, but the feeling was undeniably there.
“It’s amazing what a makeup artist can do with straight hair and ordinary features,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Kane let go of her hand, thinking she was far prettier than the small, black-and-white glamor shot printed on the back flap of her books-the one Andrew showed him every time he received one of Megan’s books. ordinary features? Hardly. She had thick, shoulder-length auburn hair a man could lose his hands in and big blue eyes full of sparkle and life. Wearing a minimum of makeup, she looked fresh and wholesome, not at all what he expected of a best-selling author. She was petite, but the distinctly feminine curves outlined beneath her simple lavender dress and those shapely legs more than made up for her lack of height.
His body tightened in a subtle but unmistakable way.
Irritated that she had the ability to affect him so strongly, he kept his tone curt. “I wasn’t expecting you until later this evening.” And his first thought upon seeing her had been that she was a new representative from Human Services, sent by his in-laws to check on his parenting abilities. It wouldn’t be the first time someone dropped by unannounced.
She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled despite his brusque attitude. “Actually, I made better time than I anticipated, and I didn’t expect to find anyone home.”
Normally, no one would have been. He only worked half days at the sawmill on Fridays. He was home by one and used the extra time to get chores done around the house and make any appointments needed for Andrew or himself. The schedule worked well and afforded him more time with his son.
When he didn’t reply, she shifted on her feet and asked, “Is Andrew home from school?” An anxious quality tinged her voice.
“Not yet.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “The bus should be here any time.”
“I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be able to spend some time with Andrew.”
He regarded her a little disbelievingly. “You do this for all your fans?”
“Andrew is the first,” she admitted. “When he told me all he wanted for his birthday was for me to visit, I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint him.”
The kind gesture astounded him. “Why my son?”
Her expression softened, as did the incredibly blue hue of her eyes. “I care for Andrew very much.”
“You hardly know him,” he said, more gruffly than he intended.
“You’d be surprised how much I know. We’ve corresponded for a year and a half. Surely you must have read the letters he’s written telling me about himself, and you.”
If he answered her question honestly, she’d think he didn’t care about his son. But the truth was far more complicated than a simple yes or no.
Tightening his jaw, he began putting away the tools scattered on the table. With a snap of his wrist, he tossed a tarp over the half-finished bookcase he was making for Andrew’s birthday. “Why don’t we go up to the house and you can wait for Andrew where it’s cool?” And I can figure out what I’m going to do about this mess I’ve made of things and what I’m going to do about you.
He passed her, and she followed him outside into the sunshine and fresh air and up to the house. Entering from the front door, they walked through a small living room and into the kitchen.
He headed for the refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink? I have apple juice or beer.”
“Apple juice sounds good,” she said, sitting in one of the wooden chairs at the table.
He filled a glass with the cool liquid and set it on the table in front of her. Returning to the beer he’d left on the counter for himself, he took a long swig.
“How long do you plan on staying here in Linden?” he asked.
Her eyes met his. “At least a week, if it’s not a problem.”
His gaze strayed to the way she absently chewed on her bottom lip. He wondered if her mouth would taste as sweet and soft as it looked. Hell, a week would feel like a year.
He took another drink of beer, hoping it would douse the slow burn traveling through his veins. It didn’t. “You have that kind of free time?”
“One of the perks of being a freelance writer.” She grinned, her eyes dancing with humor. “You make your own hours and you don’t have to answer to anyone except yourself, and on occasion, your editor.” She took a drink of her juice. “So, do you mind?”
He blinked. “Do I mind what?”
“If I stay for a week.”
She rubbed her finger down the condensation gathering on her glass.
Yeah, he was beginning to mind a whole lot. What in the hell had be been thinking to tell Andrew that this woman, or any woman, for God’s sake, could stay with them? And for an entire week?
“Linden is hardly a tourist town,” he said, thinking to dissuade her. “There’s not much here to keep you busy for a couple of days, let alone a week.”
“I’m not really interested in touring the town,” she replied, easily thwarting his plan. “I’m here to spend time with Andrew, if you don’t mind my staying here, that is.”
Realizing a woman like Megan was probably used to more luxurious accommodations than what he had to offer, he said, “The house is small and nothing fancy.”
He lived a simple life with Andrew, and he wouldn’t apologize for the small house he’d inherited when his father had died. He’d been all of seventeen then, his younger sister, Diane, twelve, and he’d made this house the best home he could for the both of them. Except it hadn’t been good enough for his wife. Nothing had been good enough for Cathy Linden after she’d learned the truth he’d kept hidden for most of his adult life.
Her mouth quirked. “I don’t need anything out of the ordinary. A couch to sleep on will be fine.” She stood, took her glass to the sink, then stopped in front of him. “I was hoping you’d let me do the cooking while I’m here, sort of a thank-you for letting me stay here.”
A light feminine fragrance teased his senses and tightened his gut. “That’s not necessary. In fact, I think-”
“I insist,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish telling her that staying in his home wouldn’t be such a good idea. “Besides, Andrew mentioned you’re not real fond of cooking.”
He set his empty beer bottle on the counter, feeling frustrated and edgy. “Andrew talks too much,” he grumbled. Pulling in a deep breath, he met her wide, guileless gaze and tried again. “Megan, about staying here-”
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