Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  “Honestly?” She pondered that for a moment, then smiled as she imagined the perfect man. “Kindness. Affection. A sense of humor. Most of all, though? A man who values family.” Her smile faded. “Which is why it really irritates me when men say things like you did earlier, about working hard being a man’s way of showing his family he loves them.”

  He cocked his head to the side, looking far too tempting for her own good. “Let me ask you something. If you dislike workaholics so much, why are you trying to dress me up like a corporate monkey?”

  “Because we’re not talking about my likes and dislikes.” Refolding the dress shirt, she tucked it back in its cubby. “We’re talking about women in general. And—Where are you going?” She scowled as he turned and walked away from her.

  When he refused to answer, she hurried after him past the mahogany tables stacked with sale items, down the polished marble aisle of the department store, and into the sportswear department.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he began riffling through a circular rack of brightly colored, long-sleeve shirts.

  “Shopping.” He pulled shirts off the rack until he held a fistful of hangers. “Isn’t that what we came here to do?”

  “Yes, but—” She broke off as a salesman rushed over.

  “May I help you, sir?” the clerk asked a bit frantically as he watched Mike all but strip the rack of size-large shirts.

  “Yeah.” Mike dumped the whole load into the man’s arms. “I’ll take these.”

  “I’ll put them in the dressing room.” The salesman staggered slightly under the weight.

  “No, that’s okay, just ring them up.” Mike moved to the shelves of casual slacks.

  “Yes, sir!” The clerk beamed in the face of such a straightforward, take-no-prisoners approach to shopping.

  Kate gaped as the salesman trotted off. “I thought you agreed to let me pick out your new look.”

  “I said you could help me pick out some new clothes,” Mike answered. “Not turn me into something I’m not.”

  “I’m not trying to turn you into anything,” she insisted. Personally, she thought he looked darn near perfect the way he was, but she wasn’t the potential wife they were trying to please. “I’m just sprucing up the package.”

  “Kate.” He turned to face her, and she squirmed under his direct gaze. “I can think of only two times in my life when I’ve worn a white dress shirt. Both times were for weddings, and, quite frankly, if they hadn’t been my sisters’ weddings, I doubt I’d have worn them then.”

  “Well, dressing for a wife hunt is sort of like dressing for a wedding,” she offered.

  “It’s still false advertising,” Mike said, pulling two pairs of slacks off the shelf. “I have no intention of lying to my wife, before or after the wedding. Now, which of these pants do you like?”

  Even at a glance, she could tell he’d picked one size too big. She turned to the shelves. “Try these.”

  “You sure?” He took the pants from her. “They look a bit small.”

  “Trust me, Mike. On this one thing, just trust me.” Putting the others back, he unfolded the pair she’d selected and held them to his waist. A mouthwatering image sprang to her mind of exactly how delicious he’d look wearing clothes that fit. She quickly turned away. “Okay. I don’t suppose you’d consider a few ties to dress up those loud shirts you just bought?”

  “Actually, I like ties. But I get to pick them out.” He motioned to the salesman to come get the five pairs of pants he’d chosen, all of them in the size Kate had suggested.

  “You know,” she said, “I never would have pegged you as a clotheshorse.”

  “I’m not.” He grabbed three more pairs of pants and handed them to the clerk. “I just don’t see any reason to waste a lot of time on something that is basically cut-and-dried. I mean, who in their right mind wants to spend a whole day at the mall combing through every shop when you can walk into one good department store, get what you came for, and be done for the next five years?”

  Kate rolled her eyes at such sacrilege. “Come on, we’ll pick the ties out together while we discuss a game plan.”

  “Game plan?” he asked as they headed back down the aisle.

  “For finding you a date. Last time I checked, dating is the first step toward marriage.” Reaching the lit cases of ties, she selected a conservative stripe. “I don’t suppose you’d consider a dating service.”

  “About as much as I’d consider buying that tie.” He shuddered.

  “All right, no dating service.” She held on to the tie and looked for another one in the same vein. “I guess we’ll have to use the traditional approach.”

  “Which is?” he asked as he perused a section of psychedelic silks.

  “Work, church, social clubs.” She realized she needed to learn more about his lifestyle to know if any of those applied. “I assume, even working from home, you work with other people.”

  “In the movie biz? Oh, yeah.” He stopped his search to glance at her. “I thought dating coworkers was considered politically incorrect.”

  “Only if it doesn’t work out. Even then, it can be acceptable as long as you observe a few basic rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “Pick someone who works with you, not for you, and nobody in the same department. Also keep the initial flirtation very light and nonthreatening so the work environment won’t become awkward if they’re not interested.” She gave the selection of ties before her undue attention as an image formed in her mind of Mike out on a date, gazing hopefully into some woman’s eyes. Why did thinking of him with a specific woman bother her when the broad concept of helping him find a wife hadn’t? Ridiculous. “So, umm, are you interested in anyone who works with you?”

  “Hard to say since I’ve just started a new project.”

  “Project?”

  “Movie,” he clarified. “So far, everyone I’ve met on this film is either married or male—not exactly my type on either score.”

  “Well, that’s a challenge,” she said, glad to learn he respected marriage vows. As for the other, she’d never thought for a moment he was anything other than a one-hundred-percent heterosexual.

  “How about this one?” He held up a tie-dye pattern so wild her head spun.

  “Honestly?” She laughed, because the tie suited him so well. “I think it’s great, but some women would take one look at that tie and run the other way.”

  “Any woman who doesn’t like this tie has no sense of humor.”

  “There is that,” she admitted and watched his delight as he spotted a whole section of chili pepper ties. Mike had a point about not dressing him up as something he wasn’t. The woman he married needed to see what she was getting up front. And that was a man who still had a boyish exuberance for life, and a passion for what he did. The first had jealousy stirring again, but the second worried her. Maybe she should help him find a fellow workaholic so they could both ignore each other. She shook the thought away as a bridge to cross when she got there. “Tell me about the people you’ve worked with on past movies. Have you been drawn to anyone in particular?”

  He considered the question a moment, then shrugged. “Not in particular.”

  “Are you saying you’ve never dated a coworker?”

  “I’m not sure I’d call some of those relationships dating—exactly.”

  She lifted a brow. “And what exactly would you call them?”

  “You have to understand, making a movie is sort of like joining a family. The crew becomes very close for the time they’re thrown together. Then they move on to the next project, sometimes together, sometimes not. There isn’t a lot of time for anything as formal as dating in the middle of all that organized chaos.”

  “Not a lot of time for dating…” She muttered under her breath as the magnitude of the challenge sank in. In trying to prove to herself she still had what it took to be Cupid, had she instead set herself up for failure? “Let me be sure I h
ave this straight. You’re in the middle of a film right now, right?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at his watch, apparently remembering his workload, and let out a breath. “Just getting into the thick of it, actually.”

  “I see.”

  “Speaking of…” He glanced toward the door to parking lot. “Are we just about done here?”

  “Mike.” She waited until he looked at her. “When exactly during the next few weeks did you plan to squeeze in time to find a wife?”

  “I’ll, um, work something out.” His frown told her he’d realized the challenge as well. But then, his eyes focused on hers and she saw his conviction. “I need to. As much as I enjoy what I do, I want more in my life than that. I need more.”

  She ached for him, because she wasn’t sure he understood the reality of being married. Relationships took time. Would he come to resent that as much as Edward had?

  “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. No sense tossing in the towel this early. “We’ll work around it. It sounds like your schedule flips back and forth between drought and flood.”

  “Something like that, but more flood than drought.”

  It just got better and better, she thought with a sinking heart. “Well then, considering all that, I think your best bet would be to marry someone else in the movie industry.”

  He looked ready to argue, then shrugged. “If that’s what you think.”

  “Any possible contenders on this movie project?”

  “Not among the ones I’ve met on other projects. The rest I’ll meet this Saturday. The cast and crew are flying in from L.A. to start the location shooting. The Alliance is hosting a big Welcome to Texas bash out at the Lakeview Inn, where some of the cast and crew will be living for the next month.”

  “The Alliance?”

  “The Austin Movie Alliance,” he explained. “It’s a group of local actors, producers, scriptwriters, and old crew dogs who meet every month to figure out ways to promote the film industry in Texas. The average person thinks most movies are made in California or foreign countries. They have no idea how many movies are filmed in places like Texas.”

  “Sounds like a fun group.”

  “They are. And before you even ask, the answer is no, I’m not dating, sleeping with, or interested in anyone in the Alliance.”

  “Too bad.” She frowned at her own sense of relief. “The party, though, sounds like the perfect opportunity for you to look for a date.”

  “I suppose,” he said, then his eyes lit on something behind her. “Now this is what I call a tie!”

  She tried to move away when he reached behind her, but found herself trapped between him and the counter. His nearness brought all her senses to life.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Willing her heart to settle, she stared at the Tasmanian Devil tie he held to his chest. It suited him so perfectly, he’d be downright irresistible wearing it. The image of him on a date sprang back to life, this time with the faceless mystery woman stroking his chest and making some suggestive, humorous comment about devils. She imagined Mike’s low chuckle as he countered with a wicked reply. Followed by a heated kiss. That segued to greedy hands on hot skin…

  “You absolutely cannot buy that tie!” The word burst from her before they even registered in her brain.

  “Why not?” Confusion creased his brow as he held out the end to study the tie upside down.

  She clamped her mouth shut. What was wrong with her? He’d hired her to help him find a wife, and that tie would attract exactly the type of woman who would appreciate him.

  “Well, I’m getting it,” he decided. “It’s the perfect tie to wear when we go to the Alliance party.”

  “We?” She blinked. “What do you mean we? I’m not going.”

  “Of course you are.” He gathered up the ties he’d picked, ignored hers completely, and motioned for the clerk, who had followed them from sportswear. “You don’t even trust me to pick out my own clothes, so surely you don’t trust me to pick up a date at a party by myself.”

  “Good point, but since you don’t take my advice, it’s not exactly a valid one, now is it?”

  “Hey, I bought the pants you suggested.”

  “I’m still not going.” If one short shopping trip had her thinking explicit thoughts about him, the last thing she needed to do was go to a party with him. Keep it business, she told herself.

  “Why not?” He looked genuinely baffled.

  “Don’t you think taking a woman on a wife hunt would sort of hamper your style?”

  “Well, it’s not like you’d be my date, precisely. You’d just be tagging along as my… consultant. You know, in case I get tongue-tied and need a coach.”

  “Consultant?” She fought the urge to laugh. The man oozed confidence. No one could possibly need a dating coach less. If not for his crazy professional life, he would never have stayed single this long. “Come on, Mike, you’re a big boy. I think you can handle an evening of mingling and flirting all by your lonesome.”

  “Scared?” He cocked a brow in challenge.

  “Of you?” She scoffed. “Hardly.” Terrified fit more accurately.

  “Then come with me.”

  She hesitated, far too tempted by his offer.

  A smile curved his mouth, making her insides flutter. “Come on, you’ll have fun.”

  Fun . The word pricked a hole in her resolve. Wasn’t recapturing her fun side part of her quest to save her job? “You really do understand, though, that I wouldn’t be your date, right?”

  “Absolutely. Now, how about something to eat? My treat.”

  Before she could point out that she hadn’t officially agreed, his phone chimed, signaling he had a text. He’d had several since they’d left the house.

  “Hang on.” He pulled the phone out and left her standing there while he read the message and tapped out a reply. If he’d left it at that, she might have been only mildly irritated, but he flipped over to see how many emails had come in since the last time he’d checked. Did he intend to read all those emails right then? She’d been in this situation with Edward enough times to tell at a glance Mike had several.

  “Excuse me,” she said to get his attention. “We were talking about lunch.”

  “Oh. Yes.” He blushed as he realized what he’d done and quickly slipped the phone in his pocket. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll go as long as you don’t read email while we’re eating—”

  “No email?”

  “So we can focus on finding you a wife! And I get to pick the restaurant.”

  He hesitated, then blew out a breath. “Okay. I can do that. As long as the restaurant isn’t one of those pretentious places that puts weeds on a plate and calls it a salad.”

  “I thought you California types liked sprouts and field greens.”

  “Scurrilous lies and vicious slander.”

  She laughed. “In that case, you’re going to love this place.”

  Chapter 7

  *

  “YOU’RE RIGHT, I love it,” Mike said over the din the minute they stepped into Paddy’s Pub. Dark paneling and a green coffered ceiling gave the place the feel of an old Irish pub while a long, mirror-backed bar took up most of the side wall.

  As Kate led the way between the crowded tables, the woman operating the gleaming brass beer fountain looked up and gasped in delight.

  “Kate!” the woman called, then laughed when she sloshed beer down the front of her Paddy’s Pub T-shirt. “Hang on, I’ll be right with you.”

  “Take your time,” Kate called back and motioned toward an empty booth in the corner. “We came for lunch.”

  “I take it you come here often,” Mike said as they slid into the corner booth upholstered in a faded cabbage-rose brocade. A stained-glass window beside them illuminated the scarred, wooden table.

  “Not nearly as much as I should.” She glanced at the woman behind the bar. “My cousin Mary Pat is the owner.”

&
nbsp; “Well, your cousin has a great place.” He looked around at the coat of arms over the unlit fireplace, the posters of Ireland, and pictures of people in famous locales around the world wearing Paddy’s Pub Tshirts. If he didn’t know they were in Texas, he’d swear they were in some neighborhood bar in Dublin. “Very authentic.”

  “It ought to be.” Pride shone on Kate’s face. “My mother and uncle grew up in Ireland.”

  His curiosity rose at the mention of her family. “Oh? What took them to the US?”

  She cocked her head. “We’re supposed to be talking about you.”

  “Let’s start with you,” he countered. “So I can get a feel for who I’ve hired to help me find a wife.”

  “It’s a little late for a job interview.” She laughed, and he reveled in the sound.

  “Seriously,” he said, placing a hand on the table between them. “I’m interested.” I’m interested in everything about you, he longed to say. Every single detail from the day you cut your first tooth to the name of every boy whose heart you broke. I want to know your favorite food, what music you like, and how I can make you scream with pleasure in bed. Most of all, I want to know who put that wary look in your eyes and what I can do to take it away.

  She shook her head. “I think it’s more important for me to get to know you, if I’m going to help you pick out the perfect wife.”

  “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about this movie you’re working on?”

  “Ooo, dangerous topic.” He pulled back.

  “Why’s that?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied her. “First you tell me you don’t like compulsive workaholics. Then you ask me the one question guaranteed to keep me talking about my work for hours, bore you to tears, and convince you I’m a total lost cause.”

  Her laugh bubbled out. “Then I’d say it’s the perfect topic, since I’m trying my best not to like you. Too much.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “No reason.” A shadow of old hurts moved over her eyes.

  He tried to tease her back to him with a smile. “Is it working?”

  “Maybe,” she said with a slow grin that told him she liked him in spite of her efforts not to. But then, he already knew that. He could feel it in the electricity that arced between them each time their eyes met. “So are you going to tell me about your movie project or not?”