Needed: One Convenient Husband

by Fiona Brand

  She crossed her arms over her chest, her stance combative. “Let me see, everything but children, and you would prefer sex as an additional extra.”

  His gaze narrowed at the way she phrased the same kind of straightforward marriage deal she had personally negotiated at least three times in the past six months. Except for the sex. And he couldn’t help a savage little jolt of satisfaction at that fact. “Yes.”

  She took a half step toward him. He registered the fiery glint in her eyes as she came to a halt in front of him and trailed her finger from a point just below his collarbone to the midpoint of his chest.

  “Marriage to you? Now, let me see...” Her gaze locked with his, and he knew very well that she didn’t intend to kiss him. “That would be a clear...no.”

  And with a shove she sent him toppling back into the pool.

  * * *

  The following night Eva prepared to go to a trendy singles bar with a couple of girlfriends. She hated singles bars and normally would never go to one but, after the debacle with Kyle, she was determined to make one more attempt at locating a husband.

  Kyle’s proposal was an unexpected goad. The fact that she personally wanted him had somehow made the situation even more fraught. Her response to his kiss had been a case in point. She’d never been able to resist him, and now he knew it. If they married, even if she said no to sex, would she be strong enough to hold out against him?

  She flipped through her wardrobe for something to wear. She needed something that was sexy but reserved enough that she could attract a man who was reasonably good-looking, intelligent and down on his luck. She doubted she would find the type of man she needed at a singles bar, since most men who went there just wanted sex, but she had to try.

  She chose a little black dress and pumps that weren’t too high, because she was already medium height and she didn’t want to narrow her options by being too tall. After putting on makeup, she combed her hair out straight so that it swung silkily around her shoulders. Affixing tawny earrings to her lobes, she spritzed herself with perfume and she was good to go.

  The bar was packed. After ordering a drink, she sat at a cozy sofa and coffee table setting. Feeling like a wallflower, Eva sipped the iced water she had ordered. Seconds later, she had her first approach, a handsome dark-haired guy who looked like a lawyer and proved to be. She sent him on his way when she found out he was married.

  Two more conversations later with men who up front admitted they were married, but had left their wives—which meant they were utterly useless to her because they couldn’t remarry until they were legally divorced—she scanned the bar. Depressingly, most of the men at the bar were either already hooked up with a partner or looked older, which from experience she knew probably meant they would still be married, even if they weren’t living with their wives.

  She caught a glimpse of the back of a guy’s head as he disappeared into a shadowy part of the bar. Adrenaline pumped, because she was certain it was Kyle. He was the right height and his shoulders were broad. He half turned, giving her a clear view of his profile. It wasn’t Kyle.

  Unacceptably, disappointment deflated her mood even further. Of course none of the Messena men would be seen dead in a singles bar. They were too wealthy, too macho and too gorgeous. They didn’t need to go after women, because women chased them. Jacinta’s reaction to Kyle was a case in point. She had practically swooned over him.

  A nerdy guy approached her and asked if she would like to dance. Eva checked out his left hand and saw the pale streak around his third finger. “Why don’t you ask your wife to dance?”

  “Uh—she’s out of town.”

  “And I thought this was a singles bar. You should go home.”

  His face reddened. “Who are you? My grandmother?”

  She gave him a straight look. “If I was, I’d be saying a whole lot more.”

  After biting out an uncomplimentary phrase, he spun on his heel and strode away. All pleasure was now leeched from the evening. In no mood to date, or marry, anyone, Eva pulled out her phone and checked an app that listed nearby nightclubs and bars.

  She didn’t want to go anywhere else. She would prefer to go home, make a cup of tea, curl up on the sofa and watch a movie, but she couldn’t give up just yet.

  She stepped outside of the air-conditioned bar into the hot, steamy air of a summer’s night. It was like walking into a sauna. Glancing skyward, she noticed the heavy layer of cloud that had rolled in, blotting out the night sky. Because Auckland City was situated on a narrow isthmus with the Tasman Sea on one side, the Pacific Ocean on the other, the weather could change quickly.

  Hailing a cab, she gave the driver the address of a bar she’d used before that was younger and a little wilder. She’d met Troy there, and that would have worked out if it hadn’t been for Kyle.

  He had vetoed every other guy she had chosen, and she couldn’t help thinking that if she located a possible groom tonight, he would no doubt suffer the same fate.

  Kyle wanted her.

  She tried to dismiss the disruptive thought, but heat flooded her at the memory of the kiss and the way she had reacted, like a love-starved teenager on her first date! She breathed a sigh of relief as the driver pulled away from the curb and the cab’s air-conditioning kicked in. Something made her glance back at the entrance of the bar. A tall, dark-haired man was just sliding behind the wheel of a glossy black sports car. Her heart slammed in her chest at the thought that it was Kyle, although she couldn’t be sure. There were a lot of dark sports cars in town, which all looked the same to her, and maybe she was seeing the same guy she had noticed before?

  If it was Kyle, that meant he was following her. A sharp thrill jolted through her at the thought.

  Determinedly, she squashed the idea along with any hint of relief that despite her saying no, Kyle might not have given up on her. Keeping her gaze fixed on the city street ahead, she tried to remember all the reasons she had to be furious with him. Unfortunately, the reasons seemed hollow when she kept coming back to the stunning fact that he had actually asked her to marry him.

  And she was wondering if the offer was still open.

  Craning around, she looked through the back window. The car was following so closely it was practically herding the taxi, but the windows of the sleek sports car were too darkly tinted to reveal who was driving. The driver could see her, but she couldn’t see him. Her heart pounded out of control. She was suddenly certain that it was Kyle.

  The taxi pulled into a space and the sports car swept past. Eva paid the fare and climbed out, all the while giving herself a good talking-to. She should be frustrated and annoyed if it was Kyle—she should be furious—so why did it feel like the evening was suddenly looking up?

  In the time it took her to close the door of the taxi, the sports car had disappeared. She checked in both directions, half expecting to see Kyle walking toward her. When she realized she was loitering on the sidewalk, actually waiting for him to appear, instead of going into the bar closest to where the taxi had parked, she quickly walked a little further down the road before spotting another random bar.

  Pulse rate still high, she checked the street one last time before walking in, only to find she had another problem. Now that she was here, she had absolutely no energy or enthusiasm for finding a suitable husband. Her experience at the previous bar had literally been the last straw.

  Kyle was right. She did not want a stranger for a husband.

  She could still say yes to Kyle. But if she allowed the attraction that sizzled through her every time she saw Kyle to turn into actual love, where would that leave her in two years’ time?

  The bar she’d chosen was an Irish pub, filled with young people and a sprinkling of tourists. Feeling too put-together and conventional amongst skin-tight denim, shaved heads and psychedelic tattoos, she took a stool at t
he counter, dropped her chin on one hand and ordered a glass of wine.

  The bartender, who looked ridiculously young and was probably a student, instantly started chatting her up. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Eva sipped her drink and logged the moment he recognized her.

  He nodded his head, grinning. “Oh yeah. The buses. The lingerie ad.”

  She groaned inwardly, but managed to keep her expression bland. She’d had a lot of practice handling these kinds of conversations, since the lingerie company she had worked for had plastered images of her on the back of buses and on huge highway billboards. “That was a while ago.” Two years. Although it felt like ten.

  “Cool. My mom used to buy your stuff.”

  Eva set her glass down and checked her watch. She had promised herself she would stay for fifteen minutes. By then, Kyle should have found a parking space and gone inside the other bar and she could safely leave without him seeing her. “I didn’t own the company, I just modeled for them.”

  He grinned again. “Still...nice. Those billboards were big. Most of the buses in town had you on the back of them. Pretty sure some of them still do.” He leaned forward on the bar, angling for a better view down the front of her dress. “If you’re still into that kind of work, I’ve got a friend—”

  “She doesn’t do charities for school kids.”

  The rasp of Kyle’s voice sent a hot tingle down her spine as he slid onto a stool beside her. Dressed all in black, a five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw, his gaze wintry, he looked, quite frankly, intimidating.

  Eva felt like banging her head on the counter. Former Special Air Service, an assault specialist who had once belonged to some hunter-killer squad with its own scary code name... Why, oh why, had she not known he would find her?

  His gaze touched on hers and her fingers tightened convulsively on the stem of her wineglass. Taking a deep breath because her heart was suddenly racing, she dredged up a dazzling smile for the bartender who, predictably, was backing off fast. “Actually, I would like to speak to your friend. As it happens, in about three weeks’ time I’ll be in the market for some modeling work.”

  “Uh—my friend’s more into movies, you know? Maybe, talk to me later.” His gaze flickered to Kyle, the subtext clear. When the boyfriend’s gone.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  A nervous tic jumped along one side of the bartender’s jaw. He glanced around, as if willing a customer to appear. “On second thoughts, I seem to remember my friend’s getting ready to go overseas...”

  And if she didn’t miss her guess, the bartender was getting ready to run.

  Drawn by a compulsion she couldn’t seem to resist, she met Kyle’s gaze and tried not to notice the instant little charge of adrenaline that shot through her at the laser blue of his eyes. Trying to ignore the tension thrumming through her, she ran her finger around the rim of the wineglass. “Do you have to ruin everything? Lately, I feel like I live in some kind of Mafia family.”

  “If you want modeling work, there are better places to get it than over the bar of some pub, like your agent, for instance.”

  “What would you know about it?”

  “The bank has modeling agencies as clients. I don’t know how they run their businesses, but I’m pretty sure it’s not at—” he looked at the sign over the bar “—Irish Jack’s.”

  She sent him a sideways glance that was supposed to be withering, then wished she hadn’t when she caught the gleam of humor in his eyes. She squashed the sudden, almost irresistible desire to smile with him. “My agent still has clients lining up. I can continue my modeling career if I want.”

  “In movies?”

  “I don’t do movies. I just said that to annoy you.”

  “You succeeded.”

  Feeling a little panicky, because she did not want to love Kyle’s dry sense of humor or the possessiveness, she slipped off the barstool. Maybe if she were standing, she would feel more in control. Unfortunately, Kyle also stood, towering over her, making her feel ridiculously small and feminine.

  She made a beeline for the door but couldn’t suppress her automatic pleasure at the small courtesy when Kyle held it for her. In her current state of mind, she could not afford to be charmed by Kyle’s manners.

  When she stepped out into the balmy evening air, she spun and confronted him. “Is the offer of marriage still open?” The words tumbled out sounding a whole lot more vulnerable than she’d planned.

  His gaze sharpened. “Why? What’s changed?”

  She swallowed at the leap he’d made, his scary insight. Because something had changed. She’d felt it in the instant he had sat down at the bar and fended off the bartender. She didn’t know exactly what had changed, just that she had liked it that Kyle wanted to protect her. “I’m not sure. I’m confused.”

  “The offer is still open.” He was silent for a moment. “If you want, I can give you a lift home.”

  She frowned at the sudden switch from aggressive pursuit to coolness. The sense of hidden depth and layers abruptly made her aware of the abyss that lay between the teenaged Kyle she had once fallen for, and the mature, seasoned man who stood in front of her now. “Okay.”

  The lights of Kyle’s Maserati, which occupied a parking spot further along the road, flashed. A short walk later, he opened the passenger side door for her. Taking a deep breath, careful not to brush against him, she settled into the luxurious seat, stomach clenching at the subtly masculine scent of leather. The door closed and seconds later, Kyle slid behind the wheel and the car accelerated off the curb.

  As they cruised through town, stopping at intersections filled with tourists enjoying the restaurants and cafés, and loved-up couples strolling, she suddenly didn’t want the night to end. “I don’t want to go home. Not yet.”

  He turned his head, and she caught the glitter of his gaze. The tension in the enclosed space seemed to tighten. “Where do you want to go?”

  “The beach.” The answer came straight out of the past and made warmth rise to her cheeks, because she belatedly realized the link to their long-ago tryst. It was just that the beach had been such a carefree place for her. She’d spent long summers at Dolphin Bay swimming and sunbathing and building late-night fires. Adoptive cousins, most like Kyle—second and third times removed—and extended family everywhere, and her old life with its trouble and grief left far behind.

  Kyle took a turn in the direction of the marina. Traffic slowed. Ahead, Eva glimpsed a bus and hoped it wasn’t one of the ones that still had the underwear ad. And, of course, it was.

  Kyle sent her a neutral look. “That’s one of the reasons Mario worried about you.”

  Eva studied the faintly battered line of Kyle’s profile, the tough jaw and ridiculously long, silky lashes. She shrugged. She wasn’t about to apologize for a highly successful modeling career. “Mario was conservative.”

  She switched her gaze to his hands on the wheel. A scar started at the sleeve of his shirt and ran the length of the back of his hand. “How did you get that?”

  He frowned. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “You always want to talk about me. Maybe I want to talk about you.”

  The minute the words were out, she wished she hadn’t said them, because they sounded flirtatious and provocative.

  “It’s a fishing injury from a couple of years ago. Nick was casting and his hook caught me.”

  “I thought it might be from the military.”

  Amusement flashed in his gaze. “Disappointed?”

  “No! That last injury putting you in the hospital was bad enough. You almost died.” Her stomach bottomed out at the thought. It was almost four years ago, but she could still remember how frantic she’d felt. She hadn’t questioned her reaction then, she had just thought it was a leftover of t
he crush she’d had on Kyle. But how long did crushes last?

  Kyle changed lanes and accelerated smoothly. “When I woke up, Gabriel told me that if I didn’t resign, he would join up. I knew he’d keep his word, and that the family and the bank couldn’t afford to lose him, so I signed the discharge papers.”

  “You didn’t want to leave? I don’t know how you could have wanted to stay in after—”

  “Nicola and Evan were killed?”

  She stared ahead, the stream of oncoming traffic a colorful blur. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I know what it’s like losing people you love. It’s hard to believe they’re gone.”

  She registered his curious gaze, as if he were waiting for her to elaborate. But she’d said too much already. She’d found that the less she said about her past, the better she fitted in. Ignoring the past didn’t make it go away, but it sure helped her to feel more normal.

  Kyle took an off-ramp and stopped for lights. “It was an attack on the barracks where we were based in Germany,” he said quietly. “Unfortunately, Nicola was driving past the car with the explosives when it detonated. Evan was in his car seat. It was pure bad luck. If she had been a few seconds earlier or later, they would have avoided the blast.”

  There was a moment of silence. “If I hadn’t insisted they come out to Germany for Christmas, they would still be alive.”

  The words, uttered flatly, nevertheless contained a rawness that riveted Eva. She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered that Kyle might blame himself for the death of his wife and child, but the flat statement made a terrible kind of sense.