Ten Brides for Ten Hot Guys

by Donna Fasano

  Unfortunately, as a chief inspector, Pelle was also very good at asking the right questions.

  "You care about her, don't you?” his friend said quietly, not really asking.

  There was no use denying it. "Yeah.”

  "A lot?”

  Leif shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I suppose.”

  There was a pause. "But you’re worried about repeat performances.”

  No fucking kidding. "She's only in Sweden for a week,” Leif pointed out, skirting the question.

  "You going to let her go?”

  This interrogation was making him squirm. “Jesus, Pelle. Not like I could stop her, even if I wanted to.”

  His friend made a noncommittal noise. "Fine.” He exhaled. “You’re sure she’s not somehow involved in this spy thing?”

  "I’m sure,” Leif stated firmly, grateful for the change of subject.

  There was another short silence. Not one of doubt, Leif knew, but of deliberation. He and Pelle had been fast friends since they were in diapers, and trusted each other’s judgment implicitly.

  “Have you been able to talk to your father yet?”

  Leif shot a hand through his hair in frustration. “Still can’t get through.” His parents’ stupid bird-watching tour had taken them off the beaten path—and apparently out of range of every cell tower in China.

  "Well,” his friend said. “Jarmo will lead you to that damn plane. Hopefully, finding it will give us some answers.” After a slight pause he added, “And Joanne’ll be so grateful she'll fall right into your arms. Chicks are suckers for a hero.”

  Leif couldn't help but laugh. "Ya think?”

  "Oh, hell, yeah. Listen, any chance of pumping this CIA guy for what he knows?” Pelle suggested. “I could bring him in and we could pull out the whips and chains.”

  The idea was far too tempting. "With my luck, he'd probably just swallow a cyanide capsule, or something,” Leif muttered.

  It was Pelle’s turn to laugh. “Of course, you might just try asking him nicely.”

  “Uh-huh. Right. I’ll definitely try that.”

  Pelle chuckled. "Well, I'll send out a few emails and see what turns up. That crash was so long ago, I doubt any of my contacts know anything. But it’s worth a shot. Meanwhile, just find that damn plane.”

  When Leif hung up, he felt better. As usual, Pelle had pointed out the obvious. Instead of getting hung up on what Leif had no control over, he and Joanne should concentrate on doing something they could control—searching for Robert Grant's wrecked plane.

  Another thing had also been obvious to Pelle, even from a hundred and fifty miles away. Leif did not want Joanne to leave in four days.

  He was actually surprised—and vaguely alarmed—that he could admit it, even to himself.

  But, yeah. He wanted her to stay. To test their connection. Explore their amazing chemistry.

  It might not come to anything in the end, but damn, he wanted to give it a try. He was drawn to this confident, adorable, illogical, independent, and vastly infuriating woman in a way he'd never been attracted to any other.

  But... How could he possibly ask her to stay in this fiercely primitive place, beyond the fringe of the civilized world according to every other woman he’d ever been involved with?

  Yet, there was something about her that gave him hope.

  She had set out across the moors as if it were no big deal. She walked willingly a couple of miles to eat dinner in the village when she could just as easily have driven her car, brushing off as a prank nearly being run over. And not to forget, she'd tried to change her own tire. All because she wanted to find the final resting place of a man she’d never met, out of loyalty to a grandmother who meant the world to her.

  Perhaps it was typical for women from America to take difficult challenges in stride. Maybe it was unique to Joanne.

  Or just possibly, living in Detroit was not so very different from living in Karesuomi.

  Either way, if any woman could handle moving here from the outside world, Joanne could be the one.

  Oh, hell. Just face it. He was falling for her.

  In a big way.

  And that scared the living crap out of him.

  Chapter 37

  Toweling her wet hair, Joanne fell back onto the bed. She had an hour until Leif came to pick her up. Mentally, she scrolled through her Robert Grant to-do list, and suddenly remembered Reverend Sigurdsson.

  She decided to give him a call. Maybe he’d heard something from his Finnish friends. She also wanted to share the news about her new lead on the plane.

  The Reverend was delighted. "That's wonderful! Do you have any idea where it’s located?"

  "Not yet. Leif and I are meeting with Jarmo in a little while to get the details.”

  "Great!” he said. “Now, let's just hope it's the right plane.”

  She froze in consternation. It had never occurred to her that there could be some other, completely unrelated plane crash in this same area. "You don't think…?”

  "No, no, of course not!" He sounded jovial. "Surely, there couldn't be more than one mysterious wreck lying about.”

  Suddenly, Joanne wasn't so sure. But before she could dwell on that, the Reverend went on.

  "I haven't had any luck in tracing a burial certificate in Finland, so far. Though, once you find the plane so we can narrow down the most likely villages to query, it should be a piece of cake.”

  Joanne pushed out a breath. "I sure hope you're right.”

  “I did have an interesting call-back from a small parish here in Sweden that I contacted yesterday." He paused and clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "The pastor I talked to mentioned our conversation to his housekeeper. She used to help the previous pastor with his paperwork, you see. The name Robert Grant seemed to ring a bell with her.”

  Joanne felt a stirring of hope. “Yeah?”

  "She couldn't shake the feeling she'd run across it before. So, she decided to look through the old handwritten records. Sure enough, she found the name.”

  "Oh, my God. Really?" Excitement blasted through Joanne.

  "Yes, but unfortunately, it was a false alarm. The name was on a marriage certificate from the sixties.”

  "A marriage certificate?" She was taken aback.

  "Yes. The housekeeper had a vague recollection of the occasion because it was so unusual. Two bird-watching enthusiasts were visiting the village, and they fell in love with the small parish church, mainly because of its exquisite art nouveau stained glass window. They decided to tie the knot then and there.”

  “Oh,” Joanne said, deflated by disappointment.

  “That was pretty much all she could remember,” the Reverend mused, “other than she thought the man had a broken leg.”

  "Huh." Joanne pulled the wet towel off her hair. "And this was in the sixties, you say?”

  "Yes. So, it can’t be our boy. Right?”

  "No, you’re right. Just a coincidence.”

  Damn.

  She promised to call the Reverend back as soon as she had the exact crash location, so he could contact the nearby villages.

  She hung up with a gnawing in her gut. She didn’t trust coincidences—even if they were clearly just that. And this one definitely was. Her Robert Grant was already married—to her grandmother. No way it could be him. Besides, he had died in the plane crash. All the records had said so.

  Even so, she pulled out the short stack of files on Robert Grant that she’d brought with her.

  Spreading the files around her on the bed, she slowly read through them, checking each report for a reference to his death.

  They all said he died in 1956.

  Then she went back and read the ones that made reference to his marital status. Each said he was married...although none of them mentioned his wife’s name.

  The last document was a light copy of the microfiche record of his original enlistment form.

  She stared at it, wishing she could enlarge it. There seemed to hav
e been a stain of some kind on the original, making it really difficult to read. Her gaze snagged on her cell phone. Hmm. She grabbed it, clicked on the camera icon, and propped the paper up under a lamp. Zooming in to the highest magnification, she squinted at the small screen, focusing on the boxes following the words Marital Status on the form. There was a bold X in the box next to Married.

  But in the box next to Single, there was also a very faint X.

  Chapter 38

  At mid-afternoon, it was a Swedish custom to have a cup of coffee and a pastry. So, when Leif ushered Joanne into the dining room, she didn't seem too surprised.

  But pastry was not what he had in mind. She looked nervous when he strode right past all the empty tables in the bright, airy dining room and led her into the dim recesses of the pub beyond.

  Had it been just last night that he'd swept her away in front of the entire crowd of his friends and family? The memory of the caresses and kisses they’d shared afterward played sweetly in his mind.

  But for now, he put them aside and composed himself, guiding her to a wooden booth at the very back of the pub.

  "I felt like a little privacy,” he said, sliding onto the bench across from her. “We have to talk.”

  Her eyes widened a little.

  "About your grandfather." He smiled, ordered two beers from the waitress, and decided there was no sense beating around the bush. "Did you know Bill McAndrew works for CIA?”

  Her jaw dropped. "You’re kidding me."

  Leif shook his head, gratified her shock appeared genuine. “It’s been confirmed.”

  “Holy crap. That’s insane." She looked at him uncertainly, and he could see the gears turning in her mind. “You think he’s here because of the Hungarians?”

  He regarded her somberly. “No. He’s here because of you.”

  She blinked. Then flushed. “Me?”

  Leif barely resisted grinding his teeth. “Your search. For your grandfather.”

  If anything, she got even redder. “Oh. Of course.”

  He leaned forward. “Jo, what is it about this crash that everyone’s so damn eager to prevent you from finding—or finding out?”

  Her head wobbled. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

  The waitress arrived with their beers and Joanne stared down at her mug, but he could tell she wasn’t really seeing it. Once again, her distress seemed real.

  Anger and concern welled up within him. “I don’t like how these so-called accidents are escalating.” At her confused glance, he said, "I’m pretty sure that, at first, whoever’s doing this was just trying to scare you off. But when that didn’t work, they upped the ante.”

  She swallowed. "You really think my life is in danger?”

  He reached across the table and took her hands. They were cold from the beer mug...and maybe from fear. "Jo, you almost died today. That part may not have been deliberate, but either way, I don’t like what’s happening. Not one damn bit.”

  Her breath left her in a choked rush. “Me, neither.”

  He pinned her with a frown. "I don't want you going anywhere—and I do mean anywhere—without me.” He squeezed her hands. “And Jo, this time I mean it.”

  She stared back at him with large, round eyes, and nodded. Thank God, she finally seemed to be taking him seriously.

  “Good,” he said. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

  For a moment, she looked so lost, his heart squeezed painfully. An overwhelming need to keep her safe welled up within him. He’d felt protective of her since the first moment he’d seen her trying to fix that damned flat tire. But this feeling was different. Stronger. More urgent.

  He continued to run his thumb over her hand, thinking. "When we find him, you’re going to move Grant’s remains back to the States, right?”

  She nodded. "That’s the plan.”

  “What about the Russian defector he picked up? What happened to him?”

  “He was killed in the crash, too.”

  “Do they know where he’s buried?”

  “He’s not. They donated his body to science.” She glanced up from watching their hands. “You think there might be something buried with my grandfather? Like microfilm or something?”

  Leif lifted a shoulder. "It’s possible. The plane itself was probably examined long ago and anything left in it removed.”

  “By your father.”

  “That would be my guess, based on what we learned from Bengt. But whoever’s doing this may not know that.”

  “Well, thank goodness Jarmo knows where the crash site is," Joanne said. “Maybe finding it will make them stop trying to kill me.”

  He clamped his jaw. “Jesus, Jo. Don’t even say that. Nobody’s getting within a mile of you, as long as I’m alive.”

  She gave him a weak, if grateful, smile. “Thanks,” she whispered. Then she brought her hands to her face and pressed her fingers to her forehead. "This whole thing is giving me a bad case of vertigo.”

  He curled his fingers into his palms. He wished like hell she hadn't taken her hands away.

  She sighed, and put them back on the table. "I talked to Reverend Sigurdsson today. He found out something pretty strange.”

  “Yeah?”

  She told him about the Reverend’s discovery of a marriage certificate with Robert Grant’s name on it, and that when she’d checked the files, she’d found what might be conflicting information on his enlistment form.

  “Weird coincidence, huh?” she said.

  “I’ll say. But it couldn’t possibly be him…” Leif shook his head. "No. That would be too big a stretch.”

  “Definitely. He died in 1956. Everyone agrees on that much.”

  “And dead men don’t get married,” Leif said with a little smile.

  “Anyway. Can we go check out the plane right after we talk to Jarmo?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

  He glanced at his watch. "Depends. If it's way out in the forest somewhere with no roads nearby, it could take hours to reach." He quirked a brow. "I assume you don’t want to spend the night in the wilderness...”

  Her head came up. “Um...”

  His body roused to attention at the thought of spending the night with her. Sharing a sleeping bag. Under the midnight sun, with only a campfire for entertainment. Other than themselves...

  Thoughts of red tape danced in his imagination.

  Herregud.

  He took a long pull from his beer. “We’ll go first thing in the morning.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded. "Besides, we wouldn't want to miss the dance tonight. Everyone's counting on us.”

  She looked wary. "To do what?”

  His lips quirked. “Take a wild guess.”

  “Oh, lord.” She blinked, then let out a groan.

  "The joys of small town living. Better than TV." He waggled his eyebrows.

  She squirmed. “Leif—”

  "Hold that thought," he said glancing at the clock. "It’s time to see a man about a plane.”

  Chapter 39

  The meeting with Jarmo went well. Joanne eagerly watched as Leif spread a topographical map out on a table, and Jarmo quickly pinpointed the crash site.

  “How did you find out about it?” she asked, curious since the location had been such a well-kept secret all these years.

  “The plane went down near my uncle’s summer cottage,” he said.

  “You mean Kauti?” asked Leif.

  “You know him?”

  Leif nodded. “Sure. He’s been a good friend of my father’s forever. They go fishing together all the time. Just a few weeks ago, in fact.” He glanced at Joanne and said, “I’ll bet it was Kauti who was with my dad back when it crashed.”

  A few minutes later, Leif rolled up the map and they started to leave. She couldn’t help herself, she gave a startled Jarmo a huge hug. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this information means to me.”

  Jarmo blushed, and shrugged. “No worries.
Glad to help.”

  Driving back to the hotel, hopes and plans raced through Joanne’s mind in a jumble of excitement. She couldn’t wait to tell her grandmother the good news. She’d been faithfully emailing her every day with each development, but this definitely warranted a phone call.

  Leif broke into her thoughts. "I'll come by your room around eight tonight, okay?”

  She turned toward him, her breath catching in her lungs. "Um...”

  “The dance?”

  “Oh.” Her breath whooshed out. “Right.”

  "You want to go, don’t you? They’ll be expecting us.”

  "So you said." She smoothed her skirt nervously. "Maybe I should skip it...”

  He shot her a sidelong glance. "What’s wrong? Chicken?”

  She swallowed. “Hell, yeah.”

  He chuckled. "Sorry. You have to go.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?”

  He pulled the Landcruiser up in front of the Hjortron and gave her an enigmatic smile. "I’ll tell you when I pick you up.”

  One look at his face told her she would get nothing out of him until then. Lord, the man was infuriating. But she was too happy and excited to be angry with him.

  “Whatever.” She turned to get out of the car.

  He reached over the seat and took her hand. "Joanne?”

  She glanced back at him. “Yes?”

  “Just wanted to let you know. This afternoon, I took a nice, long nap.”

  Adrenaline surged through her, along with the memory of her bold proposition at lunchtime.

  Oh, God.

  “That’s...”

  His deep, blue, romantic eyes were more seductive than anything she could imagine. She gazed back at him as a whole gamut of emotions spun through her mind and body. Desire. Uncertainty. Anticipation.

  Pure, unadulterated terror...

  “That’s, um...”

  He winked. “Yeah. See you at eight."

  As usual, his wink zinged through the tips of her breasts and licked between her legs.

  Stifling a groan, she grabbed her purse, slid out, and watched him drive off.