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Angel In Disguise
Patt Marr


Betrayed by her handsome fiancé, girls' basketball coach Sunny Keegan knew for a fact that fairy tales faded. So when her rowdy team successfully challenged her to appear on Dream Date, Sunny gritted her teeth…and groaned when she "won" a date with blue-eyed, raven-haired Pete Maguire.Yet impossibly gorgeous carpenter Pete seemed a reluctant contestant, too, and Sunny sensed secrets behind his thousand-watt smile. Still, as he gently shepherded Sunny from hurt to hope, from loss to love, she began to wonder if she'd finally found Prince Charming. Or was Pete a heaven-sent angel in disguise?









“Pete, I appreciate your offer to help, but God will take care of me,”


Sunny said.

Pete’s eyes lifted innocently. “You don’t think God uses people to carry out His plans? For all you know, I could be your guardian angel in disguise.”

Sunny laughed at the thought. Would God send her a handsome charmer, especially when He knew how much she didn’t trust them?

Then again, Pete could be an angel, the way he made her feel that her problems were tiny and that contentment was fingertip near.

But Pete Maguire looked nothing like any storybook angel she’d ever seen. Not with that lock of black hair falling over his brow, the wicked half smile and the teasing gleam in his eyes.

If Pete really was her guardian angel…

…that was some disguise!


PATT MARR

has a friend who says she reminds him of a car that’s either zooming along in the fast lane or sitting on the shoulder, out of gas. Her family says he’s dead right.

At age twenty she had a B.S. in business education, a handsome, good-hearted husband and a sweet baby girl. Since then, Patt, a professional musician, has earned an M.A. in counseling, worked a lifetime as a high school educator, cooked big meals for friends, attended a zillion basketball games where her husband coached and her son played, and enjoyed many years of church music, children’s ministries, drama and television productions.

In down time, Patt reads romances, eats too much chocolate, watches too many movies and sleeps way too little. She’s been blessed with two darling granddaughters, wonderful friends, a great church and a chance to write love stories about people who love God as much as she does.




Angel in Disguise

Patt Marr







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Trust in the Lord and do good…and He shall give you the desires of your heart.

—Psalms 37:3-4


For a first book, there are many people to thank for their encouragement and support: family, friends, the Romance Writers of America, teachers of the craft and most of all, God. Special thanks go to my husband, David Marr, for sharing his knowledge of basketball coaching and providing many pots of coffee, to Randall McNaughton, Eldon Partridge and Big Bear Rangers for sharing their knowledge of camping and hiking, and to Medical Arts physicians for providing information about the character Pete Maguire.

I dedicate this first book to J-J

My wonderful, precious daughter


Dear Reader,

I hope you have a “forever love” in your life, someone to cherish, someone who loves you more than any other. It’s a magnificent feeling to have that connection. If you happen to be alone right now, let Pete and Sunny’s story remind you how quickly things can change.

They were alone, living in a maze with tall walls that obscured the future. Those walls had so defeated Pete, he’d given up even trying to find a way out. Yet, right around the corner, his “forever love” waited for him in a most unexpected spot. Sunny had turned one corner after another, searching for a way to have a relationship with her family without bowing to their will. Suddenly she had “an angel in disguise” to help her find the way.

God has the best seat in the house, looking down on the maze we live in. From His view, He sees it all. And He knows exactly which way we should turn. Dead ends bring discouragement, frustration and despair. When we remember to ask for His direction, God helps us discover the path to joy, peace and love.

My prayer is that you and I will be great “remember-ers!” God wants to bless us beyond our expectations.

Thank you for reading Angel in Disguise. I hope you’ll share it with others. If you would like to write, please address mail to P.O. Box 692, East Moline, IL 61244. If you would like an answer, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope or, even better, your e-mail address.

In Him,









Contents


Prologue (#u252df812-7c96-528f-bd0b-e3f55333653e)

Chapter One (#u8b5a926a-1df3-54fe-a803-9ca71c0c8cc7)

Chapter Two (#ud9ad288c-d047-5ed2-88a3-29717955fcbc)

Chapter Three (#uf7133ac9-eec4-5341-a615-723e812bef85)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


Sunny Keegan stepped inside the sanctuary three hours before her wedding wearing well-washed jeans, a faded yellow T-shirt and comfortable sneakers. The clothes felt just right, but the headpiece to her bridal veil had either been pinned too tightly or she was unbelievably tense.

She touched her temples, wishing she could massage circles there, but that wouldn’t do. She might smudge her professionally applied makeup and she’d already made the mistake of wearing a T-shirt to have her hair done. Someone would have to scissor her free, and that was a shame for the old shirt held great memories. She’d put it on today, wanting to wear something familiar, something of her own. This wedding sure wasn’t.

Not that she was complaining. If things had gotten out of hand, it was her own fault for letting her mother and the wedding consultant run with the ball. But, as her father said, she was her mother’s only daughter, and it was true her parents’ wealth could handle any extravagance. Even for a Beverly Hills wedding, though, some of the plans were over the top.

The dove release, for instance, was extreme, and the twenty-limousine caravan pure ostentation. What her parents were paying for flowers could have housed the homeless, and the price of her beaded wedding gown, six inches longer than Princess Di’s had been, could have fed them. Their two thousand guests certainly didn’t need a seven-course dinner, and one band was enough, not three.

Since her groom had objected to none of it, she’d let things slide. She couldn’t blame Bruce for appreciating what he called “the good life” since it wasn’t something he had known all his life.

She looked down the long aisle and tried to imagine him standing beside his nine attendants and herself beside her own nine, all of them dressed in white. White didn’t particularly flatter her redhead’s coloring, but it was supposed to make an elegant June wedding.

Bruce, with his dark hair and eyes, would look fantastic in white. He had such presence, such charisma. All eyes would be on him, and that was fine with her. Handsome, well educated, successful, Bruce was perfect. Even her parents thought so. Finally she’d done something right. That this wonderful man loved her as much as she loved him seemed almost a miracle. But he loved her. There was no doubt about it.

So why was she standing here with lead in her stomach and a sinking heart? She might as well admit it, she’d give anything if she could run.

Lord, if this is just prewedding jitters, please ease my spirit. Give me the joy of a bride on her wedding day. If this is anything else, then I ask that You give me a sign, an unmistakable sign. As much as I love Bruce, as much as my parents would be upset, I would walk away from all this if it’s not what You want. I can’t imagine You letting me get this far without it being Your will, but I should know better than question. In all things, I trust You.

Sunny took a deep breath and realized she felt better. Prayer always helped. She’d been silly, imagining some dark foreboding, wasting time when she should find the changing room and let the bridal staff go to work, transforming her into a beautiful bride. Her mother swore they could do wonders.

At both ends of the foyer, stairs led to a lower level where the changing rooms were. The women’s area was supposed to be at one end, off a courtyard centered with an angel fountain, and the men were on the opposite side. Exactly where she wasn’t sure because she hadn’t been paying attention during the wedding coordinator’s instructions. She couldn’t, not with Bruce kissing her neck, whispering “babe” in her ear. He knew how she loved that.

Uncertain which end of the foyer to choose, she tried the left stairs, and was relieved when she spotted a bubbling fountain centered with angels—well, to be precise, cherubs, but people often said one when they meant the other. She was probably in the right place, and it would only take a minute to check.

If she was wrong, the worst that could happen was Bruce teasing her about her sense of direction. Knowing him, he’d steal a kiss and walk her back. How bad could that be?

The rooms around the courtyard were laid out in a circular design, and the first one, a small reception area, had obviously been claimed by the florist. The second was a bookstore, dark and closed at this hour. The third opened into a small library, also dark, but voices came from inside. She walked into the carpeted room and discovered an alcove tucked under the stairs with two chairs and a large sofa, its back toward her.

Two people lay on the sofa. She smiled to herself. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t even know she was here. If she retreated, quiet as a mouse, she’d be gone before they realized their privacy had been invaded. Why they’d chosen this place and this time for a tryst, she couldn’t imagine, but it was none of her business. Today she wished all lovers well.

She had almost returned to the checkout desk when she heard the woman moan a name. Every muscle in her body tightened. Her heart nearly stopped.

“Bruce,” the woman moaned again. “This is crazy.”

Slowly Sunny turned, her eyes focused on that sofa, her hearing on the couple’s passionate breathing, their murmured words. It sounded like Bruce and the bridesmaid she barely knew, a distant cousin of his whom he’d wanted as a member of their wedding party.

Inch by inch, she retraced her steps, drawn by a desperate need to prove she was wrong, until she stood so near they should have sensed her presence. They would have if they hadn’t been oblivious to everything but each other. Watching them, disillusionment clawed at her soul.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Bruce, especially not here, not now,” the woman murmured.

“You worry too much. It’s okay, babe.”

Babe? That’s what Bruce always called her.

“But what if someone walks in on us?” the woman argued.

“That’s half the fun, knowing there’s the off chance it could happen. But the guys aren’t due for another hour, and the women are on the other side of the church.”

“Where I’m supposed to be,” the woman said with a giggle.

“But not yet. There’s plenty of time before we have to be dressed for the pictures.” He kissed the woman’s neck, and she giggled again.

Horrified, Sunny stared, not believing something this awful could happen. Nausea curled in waves of revulsion. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Wait until you see me in my bridesmaid dress.”

“I’d rather see you out of it.”

She’d never heard Bruce talk that way. A sleazy lounge lizard had more finesse.

The woman giggled again. “Bruce! You are so naughty!”

“But you like it,” he teased, kissing the hollow spot at the base of her neck until her laughter turned into a moan.

“Oh, babe,” he murmured, “I don’t think I could get through this fiasco with Li’l Sunshine if it weren’t for you.”

This had to be a terrible, hideous dream. Please, God, let her wake and escape it.

“I love it when you do that,” the woman said with a sigh.

“If you liked that, how about this?”

Tears burned behind Sunny’s eyes. She’d never had Bruce’s love. Not if he could do this. It had all been a sham. How humiliating to know he’d made such a fool of her.

Then again, humiliation was a choice. It didn’t have to be hers. Not today. Not ever. He didn’t have to know how devastated she felt, how belittled.

Her heart pounding, she shook his shoulder roughly. “Bruce,” she said, getting his attention.

He looked up, and the shock on his face should have been satisfying, but she was too shattered to care.

“Sunny!” He pushed away from the woman. “This is not what it seems.” Caught red-handed, he lied as he buttoned his shirt.

“I think it’s exactly what it seems.” Betrayal like this was hard to disguise.

He raked his hand though his hair. “I can explain.”

How stupid did he think she was? She met his eyes boldly, contempt coursing through her body. “Just pretend I was never here. I’ll lock the door on my way out so no one else will disturb you. Take your time. There’s no rush, not anymore, for the wedding is off.”

“No!” He reached toward her, his eyes wide with alarm.

It was a first, seeing fear on his face.

“You know I love you, Sunny!”

Oh, she could see that.

“C’mon, Sunny, don’t be this way.” Tucking in his shirt, he rose from the sofa and came toward her.

She stopped him with a open palm. “Forget it!”

“But you’ve got to at least give me a chance, babe.”

“Babe?” Fire-hot fury made her voice shrill. “Oh, no! I’m ‘Li’l Sunshine.’ Wasn’t that it? Really, Bruce, you’ve got to do a better job of keeping your women straight. Here, let me help you.”

She twisted the diamond from her finger and threw it at him, taking grim pleasure when it landed hard on his chin. “Now you have one less to worry about.”

“Sunny! This isn’t like you!”

It wasn’t? Had she been a gullible fool all along?

“Sunny, darling, please…” His dark eyes were as beguiling as a puppy dog’s, pleading for a better home than the pound. “Let’s talk about this.”

He actually believed he could turn this around? Did he think that much of himself or that little of her?

“Just give me a minute, darling. I can make this okay.”

“Sorry. Time’s up.” Pivoting, she ran from the room.

“Sunny! Wait!”

She heard him following her and panicked. She’d left with some measure of dignity, but she’d taken as much as she could. He must not see these hot, renegade tears spilling down her cheeks, but where could she go?

Lord, tell me what to do.

In front of her were glass double doors marked with red letters. The message read Exit, and that’s what she did.




Chapter One


Eight months later

Sweat trickled down Pete Maguire’s back as he stood behind a pulsing neon heart and listened to the studio audience applaud the last contestant’s entrance. It was the last time his little sister would catch him coming to her rescue. If Meggy couldn’t handle her new job as a Dream Date production assistant, she could broil burgers somewhere. Setting him up to appear on national television was the last straw.

He shifted his shoulders and tried to get comfortable in the clothes she’d provided when she dragged him out of the house as a last-minute replacement. He’d have to talk to her about her taste in ties. Real men did not wear grapes and leafy things.

With his heart pounding as loud as it was, he barely heard the show’s host say, “The last of our contestants is a guy named Pete.” That was his cue to go on, and he’d do it if his body would cooperate. Someone shoved the middle of his back and he stepped into blinding bright light.

“Pete, a carpenter by trade, says he’s looking for a girl just like Mom.”

A carpenter. If they only knew. Well, it was true enough once. And more accurate than anything else these days, unless you wanted to count rich, worthless beach bum. Though nearly blinded, he headed toward the one unoccupied chair on the set. A spontaneous scream from the women in the audience startled him. For his sister’s sake, he tried to look pleased and threw the audience a wave. They screamed again. Man, Meggy owed him big.

“Welcome, Pete! It’s going to be a great show, folks!” the host proclaimed. “After we break for commercial, we’re going to match one lovely lady with one lucky guy and send them on their very own Dream Date! Don’t go ’way.”

Pete settled into his leather chair and checked out the group. The guy next to him was a regular weight lifter. If the sleeveless T-shirt showcasing massive biceps didn’t give him away, the tree-trunk neck did.

The other guy had longer hair than most women, holes in his jeans, a dangly earring and a soulful look. Two bucks said he played a guitar and screamed into a mic.

Pete fingered his ugly tie. He could have worn what he wore at the beach and felt less out of place here. Leave it to a woman to overdress a guy.

The three female contestants were knockouts. The lush blonde was giving him the eye, and the petite brunette looked unbelievably interested, as well. Pete wondered which they liked best—his new nose, cheekbones or chin.

He still wasn’t used to The Face, as he’d come to call it, or women’s reaction to it. He doubted if he ever would be. No matter how much the guys with knives changed his looks, he was the same Pete Maguire he’d been for thirty-two years.

There’d been a time he’d have appreciated two babes checking him out. Shoot, he’d have been tickled with one. You’d think a guy whose wife had dumped him for his best friend would be happy with the attention, but that wasn’t the way it worked. Not when he knew it wasn’t him that turned them on—just The Face.

The redhead across from him seemed preoccupied with covering long, gorgeous legs with a skimpy black leather skirt. From the way she flipped that mane of coppery curls, he’d say she’d give a lot to be just about anywhere else. Edgy, that’s what she was. Real edgy. And indifferent to him. Good for her.

Signaling the end of the commercial, the stage manager pointed to the show’s host who smiled at a camera and said, “It’s time for our guys and gals to share their responses to our Dream Date questionnaire. When a gal’s answer matches a guy’s, they get a matchmaker point. Everybody understand?”

Pete understood the questionnaire was a big deal, but Meggy said she’d completed his with such crazy answers he couldn’t possibly win. Thirty minutes, she’d said, and it would be over.

“Okay, here we go,” the host said. “Remember, the couple with the most points at the end of the show shares a fabulous Dream Date. Then in a couple of weeks they’ll return to rate their date. Will it be a dream…or a nightmare? Everybody ready?”

Pete hadn’t dated since high school and wasn’t about to start now. He leaned forward in his chair, the better to concentrate on losing.

“The first category,” host Mike Michaels enthused, “is ‘Food on a First Date.’ On their bios, contestants were asked to state where or what sort of food they would enjoy on a Dream Date. Cheryl,” he said to the blonde with the low neckline, “let’s start with you. What’s your choice in food?”

“Well, Mike, I like really nice restaurants. Romantic places with gourmet food and fine wine. Oh, and valet parking.”

The audience chuckled, and Pete smiled at the idea of turning his old pickup over to a parking attendant. ELEGANT DINING popped onto the board behind the woman. Mike moved on to the brunette. “Jacy, how about you?”

“Sushi, Mike. Can’t get enough sushi. I like to head down to the marina and spend some time there.”

As SUSHI appeared on the electronic board behind Jacy, Pete wondered if either the weight lifter or the longhair were more willing to eat raw fish than he was.

Mike turned to the redhead. “Sunny, what’s your preference?”

Sunny glanced at the studio audience where a dozen or so teenage girls chanted, “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the emcee and said, “Mike, I like to stay home and cook for my dates.”

Looks could be deceiving, but Pete would have bet his pickup that this woman didn’t know a whisk from a blender.

The board faithfully registered HOME COOKING, and the host looked at the redhead with awe. “We don’t get too many women choosing to cook. Bet you’re real popular, Sunny.”

The redhead grinned and shrugged her shoulders. Personality sparkled in her pretty brown eyes.

It was only a little twinge Pete felt. A little zing in the gut. But it took him by surprise. It had been so long since it happened that a moment passed before he recognized the feeling. Attraction, he guessed you’d call it. Man, it had been a while.

Even in the old days he’d never been attracted to redheads, yet he felt the impact of this one’s smile right down to his socks. What was her name? Sunny? She sure was when she smiled. The smile was beautiful. In fact, spectacular.

She caught him staring at her. Her eyes were huge, the warm color of butternut, and uneasy. Rather pointedly, she turned toward the host. He had to smile. She didn’t know it, but she didn’t have to worry about him coming on to her. Any interest he had in her was purely analytical.

“Kevin,” Mike said to the longhair, “on your questionnaire you stated that you prefer ethnic food. Right?”

“Mostly Mexican and Thai. The hotter the better,” Kevin claimed in a dark, sultry voice, dramatically swishing his hair as ETHNIC FOODS registered.

Pete was fairly sure he’d have trouble relating to Kevin.

“Frank, our fireman from the LAFD…”

“Firefighter,” the weight lifter corrected politely.

“Frank the firefighter,” the emcee repeated goodnaturedly, “says he prefers pasta and salad. Looks good on you, Frank.”

Frank smiled as if he might think so, too. Pete approved of his diet, if not the attitude.

“According to Pete,” the host said, “the perfect meal is a big pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob dripping with butter and chocolate-chip cheesecake.”

The audience groaned. So did Pete, at least inwardly. He avoided red meat and kept an eye on his fat grams. The pot-roast fantasy was Meggy’s creation. “Trust me,” she’d said. “I know these girls and what they say.”

She’d better, since her life was on the line.

“Pete also says,” continued the host, “that his favorite place to eat is his mom’s own backyard. Isn’t that nice?”

The audience laughed. Pete thought they’d get an even bigger kick if they knew his mother was so into her art that she never knew when it was time to eat.

He looked warily at the board behind Sunny. Her HOME COOKING could be a match with Frank’s PASTA or the POT ROAST hanging over his own head.

“What do you say, audience?” yelled the host. “Which couple matches? Cast your electronic votes now.”

In mere seconds the boards flashed behind Pete and Sunny.

The “Do it” girls exploded in screams and piercing whistles as they high-fived each other all over the place. The blonde threw him a pout, and the brunette seemed disappointed.

Sunny looked as if she’d been sentenced to ten days in the county jail. He wasn’t happy about the match, either, but he couldn’t say he liked her reaction.

In the second category, which had to go better than the first, Mike started with the guys, asking their music preference on a first date. Frank the firefighter liked rhythm and blues. Kevin the longhair predictably talked about rock and said he sang with a band. Since Pete didn’t know the answer Meggy had given for him, he gave his honest preference: country.

Sunny’s answer, “All types of music,” made him nervous until Cheryl answered, “Rock.” That, of course, was a perfect match with Kevin the longhair, and Pete breathed easier.

For the next category, “TV Preference on a First Date,” Mike started with Sunny. “I understand you’re a teacher and the girls’ basketball coach at San Josita High?”

She nodded and flashed that beautiful, warm smile. Again Pete felt the zing, and again it surprised him.

Mike glanced out at the teenagers. “You didn’t happen to bring the team with you?”

“Whuh, whuh, whuh,” the group of girls chanted.

“Actually, Mike, they brought me. This was their idea. I promised to do anything they wanted if they’d win the regional championship. They won.”

“Get a nice trophy?”

“Big trophy. Huge,” she said, smiling down at the girls.

“Congratulations! I can see you’re proud of your team, and it looks as if they’re rooting for you to take home a ‘huge’ trophy from Dream Date.”

The audience laughed, especially when the firefighter flexed a bicep. The girls broke out more high fives. Pete frowned. He couldn’t see Sunny and the firefighter together, but what did he know? Or care.

“What kind of TV do you watch on a first date, Sunny?”

“Sports. Football or basketball, mostly.”

Pete’s mouth went dry. If he were honest, that’s what he’d say, too. But hey, all guys would. Well, maybe not the longhair, but he knew he could depend on the firefighter.

Kevin’s answer, MTV, and Frank’s SPORTS, came as no surprise. His own preference, again compliments of Meggy, was a revelation. He was sure he had never watched SPORT FISHING. In fact, he wouldn’t know a trout from a tuna, but he had to give Meggy credit. It put him in the clear. He smiled as the match went to Frank and Sunny.

Not only was her team ecstatic, Sunny didn’t seem to mind winning this one. If he’d cared, he might have taken the difference in her reaction personally.

In the category “Transportation on a First Date,” it was a tie. Jacy the brunette matched Kevin with FOREIGN SPORTS CAR, and for their second point, Sunny matched Pete with PICKUP TRUCK.

It was true that more women drove pickups these days, but he couldn’t imagine this redhead in her miniskirt behind the wheel of one.

“Congrats on your second point, Pete and Sunny!” The emcee beamed at them. “What do you think, Sunny? Have you got a place on your mantel for a trophy like Pete?”

Sunny forced herself to laugh along with the audience even though there was positively no place in her life for a state-of-the-art stud like Pete. He reminded her so much of Bruce, it was scary. Give her an average-looking, good-hearted guy anyday, not some blue-eyed, raven-haired hunk.

During the next break, she waved at her girls and tried to act as if she were having a good time. She loved those kids, and, more than anything, wanted them to love the Lord. Sometimes it made it hard for her to be as firm with them as she should.

For instance, she should have put her foot down when they claimed dressing her for the show was part of the deal. Tugging on this dinky strip of leather they called a skirt, trying to gain an inch of modesty, she thought of her family’s reaction. Daddy’s blood pressure would soar, and Mother would choke on her pearls.

She didn’t especially like the idea of upsetting them, but maybe they’d finally realize she wasn’t going back to Bruce, no matter how much he promised to win her. Last month he’d gone too far, showing up at her school, announcing she was his fiancée and ruining the relative anonymity she’d enjoyed this school year. Now, faculty and students alike believed Bruce’s version, and the rumor mill was killing her.

But her girls knew her and smelled a rat. If she were engaged they’d have known it. Why Bruce would pretend something that wasn’t true, they didn’t know, but they knew it wasn’t right.

Behind her back, they’d set her up for this show. Her ex couldn’t claim he was engaged to a Dream Date contestant, could he? It made sense to her. So here she was, rooting for the women beside her, counting the minutes until the show ended.

In the new round, “Outdoor Activity on a First Date,” the guy with the earring said he liked to walk along the beach, and the guy with the bull neck said he liked mountain climbing. Hopefully she wouldn’t get matched with anyone, but if she absolutely had to be matched, she prayed it would be with one of them. They didn’t intimidate her at all. Just please not the hunk. Though he did have the sweetest smile she’d ever seen, she wanted no part of him. Guys like him were so full of themselves; they did what they pleased and expected you to thank them for it. She’d already been there and done that.

He must have felt her eyes on him for he slid one of his slow, lopsided smiles her way. Warm tingles fluttered in her stomach, and she almost smiled back. Silly tingles, reacting to chemistry instead of good sense.

“Pete,” the emcee said, “tell us about being a carpenter. What kind of carpentry do you do?”

A strange look crossed Pete’s face. Then he gave Mike a phony smile. Definitely phony. She was an expert on that. It was an odd reaction to a simple question.

“Mostly residential construction,” he said.

It wasn’t exactly the truth. She was sure of it, but why lie about that?

“Your questionnaire says your choice of ‘Outdoor Activity on a First Date’ is camping and exploring the great outdoors. How long have you been into ‘exploring the great outdoors’?”

The guy glanced uneasily toward the side of the stage. It wasn’t the first time Sunny had noticed an interchange between him and a cute brunette holding a clipboard.

“Mike,” he said, clearing his throat, “I can’t remember when I first became interested in camping and…exploring, but it’s been…an indescribable part of my life.”

Even without her teaching experience, Sunny recognized hooey when she heard it. Why had he made that up?

Pete’s lack of candor apparently didn’t bother Cheryl, the first woman in the round, for she sent a seductive glance his way and said to the emcee, “Mike, I know my bio says my favorite outdoor activity is shopping, but I want to change that to camping and exploring.”

The audience laughed, but Pete looked embarrassed, which surprised her.

The host smiled regretfully. “’Fraid that’s not the way it works, Cheryl. Let’s see SHOPPING on Cheryl’s scoreboard!”

Jacy’s answer was “volleyball,” and, for once, Sunny could answer honestly. The team had allowed her the one genuine preference. As she answered, and BACKPACKING went on the board, she knew why. Backpacking had point-maker potential.

Mike instructed the audience, “Okay, ladies and gentlemen. We’re down to the wire. Kevin has matched two of the women—Cheryl and Jacy. Sunny has matched two of the guys—once with Frank and twice with Pete. That means we could have a tie between Jacy and Sunny. Cheryl, honey, it looks like you’ll have to go shopping alone, at least this time.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I had a great time. And, Pete, I’ll give you my number. For a real date, you give me a call.”

The crowd loved it. Sunny thought they made a perfect pair.

“Okay, what’s it going to be, folks? Do you see Kevin and Jacy ‘walking on the beach’ after a hot game of ‘volleyball’?”

“Oooo,” the audience reacted. They had Sunny’s vote.

“Or do you see Sunny ‘backpacking’ as she ‘mountain climbs’ with Frank? Or Sunny ‘backpacking’ as she ‘camps and explores’ with Pete?”

Sunny cringed as she heard far more people screaming her name and Pete’s. Hot color crept up her neck. Please, God, get me out of this.

“A match for Sunny and Pete gives them a clear win. Otherwise we go into our tie-breaker. Okay, folks, time to cast your vote. Do it now.”

Sunny heard her team chanting Pete’s name and thought of the windsprints and laps those girls would get.

When the scoreboards behind her and Pete registered the win, her heart sank. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this, but she was not going camping with a stranger.

Pete couldn’t remember ever letting his sister down, but there had to be a first for everything. He wasn’t doing the date.

“I can’t do it, Meggy,” he said, his arms folded, ready for the inevitable wheedling debate. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“I know. I don’t expect you to.”

That surprised him. From babyhood, she’d expected him to leap tall buildings if that was what it took to get her way.

“I’d like to help you out, but…”

“It’s okay. A promise is a promise. I said you wouldn’t have to do the date if you won, and you won’t.”

“You won’t get into trouble?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can always get another job.”

Guilt was an awful thing to swallow. This was the best job Meggy had ever had. She loved this job.

“Who would have thought we’d get a woman who wanted to cook for her dates?” she muttered. “Ridiculous!”

Well, not from a man’s point of view. That is, if he actually wanted a date.

She sighed, brave disappointment on her face. “That’s it, then.”

If he screwed this up for her, could he forgive himself? Probably not.

“I guess no job’s perfect.” She sighed again.

It was only one date. He could do it. Drawing an extra deep breath, he said, “Okay, you win, but don’t expect me to bail you out again. This is the last time, understood?”

“You’ll…do the date?” She looked stunned.

No wonder. He felt stunned. Already he could kick himself for rescuing her again. “What do I have to do?”

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. A tear welled in her eye. “You haven’t dated since…”

“Don’t start. Just tell me what I have to do.”

“Thank you, Pete,” she said in a shaky voice as a tear dropped on her cheek.

“Darn it, Meggy, stop that.” She knew he couldn’t stand tears. He rubbed the tear away with his thumb.

She sniffed and gave him the watery smile she’d perfected as a toddler. “We’d better go meet the guy who plans the dates.”

He followed Meggy down one hallway and then another, wondering what other guy would feel sick to his stomach knowing he had a date with a gorgeous redhead. A real, honest-to-goodness date. Time alone with a woman when you weren’t sure what you were going to say or what was going to happen?

From junior high on, he’d been paired with Lisa. He’d never had to plan where they were going or what they’d do. Well, that much wouldn’t change. Dream Date would take care of the planning.

He knew they were getting close to the meeting room when the girls’ basketball team spotted him and started up that stupid “Pete, Pete, Pete” thing again. The piercing whistles came from the tallest girl. Pete had to respect the way she could whistle with her fingers in her mouth. He’d have given a baseball card to be able to do that when he’d been a kid.

In a conference room Sunny sat on a short sofa, showing more leg than she wanted if you judged by the way she shifted around, tugging at that little skirt. As far as Pete was concerned, she might as well give in gracefully. Those were truly great legs.

As he entered the room, the first thing he noticed was the change in Sunny. Her wide-eyed, admiring expression was the one he usually got from women these days. Even if it was only The Face she liked, it was better than her earlier reaction. The change seemed strange. Stranger still was the fact it mattered.

Sunny felt like an idiot, giving Pete her warmest smile, but with twenty-eight years of practice, she knew what to do when life threw her a curve. As long as she had to do a televised date with this guy, she’d make the best of it. All she had to do was act as if Pete were the answer to a single girl’s prayer. He was probably used to that role. It was only TV, and she’d played “pretend” all of her life.

As he settled into the love seat beside her, Pete’s arm touched hers lightly, briefly. Just one touch, but tingles radiated along her arm. It was all she could do to keep from rubbing the sensation away. Her heart raced, but it had to be from nerves, not awareness.

“Sunny Keegan,” she said, extending her hand.

“Pete Maguire,” he responded, taking hers. His hand was slightly callused, a working man’s hand, and his handshake was confident, firm, just right.

Sitting slightly sideways, he slid his arm along the low-backed cushion behind her. His scent was exactly the way she liked men to smell, faintly of soap and woodsy aftershave, not that he was leaning too close or coming on to her. Any man Pete’s size took a little more than his share of the room.

He seemed almost shy, but that only proved he was an even better actor than she was, for certainly he knew what those bad-boy eyes did to a woman. Who could ignore eyes like that? The way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, they could steal her heart away and make her glad they had. Heaven help her if she let herself fall for another handsome charmer.

A bubbly, balding man introduced himself as the date coordinator. “You guys!” he exclaimed, beaming at them. “You’re something else. Looks like your date will have to be a two-parter.”

“Two-parter?” Pete echoed, sounding startled. “You mean go out twice?” Disbelief filled those blue eyes.

Sunny didn’t know what he was so upset about. A guy with Pete’s looks didn’t come on a show like Dream Date because he needed a date. He probably wanted to get noticed by someone in show business. You’d think he’d be happy with more TV exposure.

“Most of the time we send our couples to a restaurant or a resort for their dream date,” mused the coordinator, “but it will take a couple of dates to reflect your preferences. There’s the backpacking, the camping…”

“We can skip that part,” Pete muttered.

“The home cooking…”

“A restaurant’s good,” Sunny said. “In fact, I’d love a restaurant!”

“Well, yes, but we’ve got to do the home-cooking thing.”

“Not for me we don’t,” Pete said flatly. “I can have pot roast some other time.” One corner of his mouth tilted. “With Mom in her backyard.”

“Thanks, kids. Nice attitude.”

“It’s asking a lot for Sunny to cook,” Pete persisted.

She agreed. Totally.

“The problem is,” the coordinator said with professional patience, “the next time you’re on, the audience will expect your date to reflect the matches you made on this show.”

“Next time?” Pete murmured.

Sunny heard him, but the coordinator either didn’t or ignored the alarm in Pete’s voice.

“For the first part of the date, Sunny, we’ll have you cook Pete’s favorite dinner at your place.”

Sunny couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper.

“Or at Pete’s if you’d rather.”

“No!” If she had to provide a meal, she’d take the home court advantage. “My place is fine.”

“What was the menu?” the coordinator asked an assistant.

“Pot roast, mashies and corn on the cob.”

“Don’t forget the cheesecake,” Pete muttered bleakly.

“Chocolate chip,” she added, trying hard not to laugh. Talk about a stretch. No way could she manage that meal.

The coordinator checked his list. “That’s right. We can’t forget dessert! Sunny, we’ll provide groceries, flowers, candlelight, wine, the works. If you’d like, we’ll send in a cleaning team to make everything party perfect.”

She should seem appreciative, but it just wasn’t in her. They could forget the flowers and keep the cleaners. Send a chef.

Frowning slightly at his notes, the coordinator continued. “For the backpacking/camping part of your…”

A faint sound, maybe a groan, came from Pete’s direction. Again, it was so soft, Sunny thought she may have been the only one to hear it, especially when the coordinator went right on talking about Big Bear and free camping gear.

She glanced Pete’s way and saw he’d shaded his eyes with his hand. The lower half of his face looked grim. She wasn’t thrilled with the plans, either, but she had the decency to hide it.

“Any questions?” the coordinator asked. “No? Then I guess that wraps it up. Have fun, kids. You make a great-looking couple. We’ll see you here in the studio in a couple of weeks for the report-back taping. Okay?”

It wasn’t, but Sunny had the manners to fake it. Pete, on the other hand, didn’t even look up. What was his problem?

As the staff left the room, Pete stirred from his end of the couch. Leaning toward her, he touched her arm. “Are you going to be all right with this?”

Probably not, but he’d never know it. “Sure,” she answered, flashing him her biggest smile. “Just get me the recipe for your mom’s cheesecake.”




Chapter Two


Sunny lay on her cream leather sofa, uncomfortable in a pair of too-tight jeans and a skimpy sweater, while the team finished her “home-cooked” meal. One of the mothers had made Pete’s cheesecake, and another had taken care of the rest. The girls had arranged everything, right down to setting the table with her grandmother’s china. They were such good kids. Working with them this past year had been the happiest time of her life.

Mouse, the team’s point guard, bent over her and used a pick to lift sections of Sunny’s hair, squirting spray as she went.

“Mouse, don’t you think that’s enough?” Sunny didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings, but already her hair was a wild, sexy mane with a life of its own.

“It’s gotta be perfect, Coach. Once everybody sees this on TV, your ex won’t bother you anymore and the talk ’round school will shut down. Everybody’s gonna know he’s a liar.”

That was youth speaking. Sunny knew people could say and print almost anything, and others would believe it. Her skin was thick, but the girls were still idealistic enough to expect fairness. It bothered them that people believed Bruce and were describing her as coldhearted, self-centered and worse.

She didn’t like the idea of the kids being involved with her problems, but getting them to leave her alone was like getting a fast-breaking team to stall.

Leteisha, the team’s six-foot center, hovered above her. “Coach, are you concentrating on your date?”

“Not really,” she answered honestly.

“There’s nothing more important than your date, Coach. You gotta focus.”

Words from her own mouth.

“That’s right,” Mouse said, her dark eyes shining. “You are supposed to think about this hot guy. He is, like, very sexy, and you want him madly.”

“Easy, Mouse,” Leteisha warned.

“But I think Coach ought to…”

“Not now, girl!”

Sunny hid a smile. Leteisha ran the team with a firm hand.

“Okay, Coach,” Leteisha said, her dark eyes sincerely determined. “Let’s go over what you’re supposed to do. Have you got your plays straight?”

Obediently Sunny recited, “Take the pot roast and mashed-potato casserole out of the oven. Nuke the corn. The gravy’s on the range. Salad and cheesecake in the refrigerator. Okay?”

“You forgot the apron.”

She wished they had.

“You need it, Coach, for realism.”

“And to protect your outfit,” added Mouse, who’d chosen the miniskirt for the TV show and the tight jeans and sweater tonight.

Sunny disliked the sweater as much as she had the miniskirt. The sweater was white—never her color, though with the amount of makeup they had on her, it probably wouldn’t matter—and it clung like a second skin. Surely Mouse would take pity on her if she complained once more.

“This sweater is so tight, I can’t breathe. Please, Mouse, choose something else.”

“No, no! You must wear it! My brother says a man cannot resist a woman in a tight, white top.”

“Ooooo,” the girls crooned.

Sunny lifted a brow at them, but it didn’t have its usual sobering effect. In fact, one of them, probably Heather, couldn’t suppress a giggle.

Circling Sunny as an artist would study her masterpiece, Mouse said, “Coach, you’ve got to help that sweater. Use better posture. Throw your shoulders back, and…”

“I’ve got the idea, Mouse.”

So did the team. They hooted, loving every moment despite her embarrassment.

“All right, you guys,” Leteisha ordered, pulling Sunny to her feet. “Huddle up.”

The girls swarmed Sunny as they did during a time-out. Leteisha held up her hand, and a hush fell.

“Okay, Coach, after this date Mr. Big Deal Bruce Daniels is going to know for sure he’s been ‘exed.”’

“He’s history,” somebody said.

“For-got-ten!” said another.

“That’s right,” Leteisha confirmed, shushing further comments with a look. “Now, we’ve got you this far, but, Coach, you’ve got to do your part.”

“We’re counting on you, Coach,” Mouse said. “When the TV camera’s on you, you gotta make the date look real good.”

“’Real good?”’ she repeated, not at all sure she’d want to comply with their standards.

“Just be all over the guy, Coach.”

“Yeah, make him sweat.”

“Put a liplock on him.”

“Practice safe—”

“Enough!” Sunny shouted. She loved these kids, but they got out of hand so quickly.

“Settle down,” Leteisha bellowed. “You know how Coach feels about that kind of talk. How’s she gonna go on national TV with all this hassle? We’re here to give her our support.”

The girls quieted down but grinned, unrepentant.

Mouse waved an emerald-green chef’s apron and sung out, “Coach needs to put this on.”

“Thanks, Mouse. Let’s get that apron on you, Coach.”

Sunny groaned.

“See how nice it goes with your hair?” Mouse coaxed, slipping the apron over Sunny’s hair.

At least it would cover the tight, white sweater.

“Go over the game plan, Mouse,” Leteisha ordered.

“Okay. Coach, after you answer the door, pretend you forgot to take the apron off and act real embarrassed.”

She probably would be.

“Then take your time untying the strings.”

“Take a lot of time,” Leteisha added with a wicked smile.

“Slip the apron off slow,” Mouse coached.

“Yeah, reeeeeeal slow.”

“Yeah, like you’re doin’ a striptease.”

“Then the guy sees you in that tight, white top and…”

“It blows his mind!”

The girls high-fived and yelled like they’d just scored the winning basket on a shot from midcourt.

“That does it!” Sunny ordered. “You’re out of here!”

Proud of themselves, the team called out outrageous advice all the way to their cars.

Girls! You took two steps forward with them and one step back. She’d never been as bold, but then Eleanor Keegan’s daughter had known her manners before she’d known her ABC’s.

They were good kids, and they’d worked hard all season, playing with more heart than ability. She’d felt safe promising them anything if they’d win the championship. Of course, now that she knew kids could play over their heads, she’d be careful giving out blank checks.

Winning a championship had been an unexpected thrill and confirmation she was making her life count. Things would be great once she convinced her family to leave her alone. For the girls and herself, she would get through this evening and do her best to dazzle Pete Maguire…if she didn’t break out in hives.

Her burst of confidence lasted until the doorbell rang. “Take deep breaths,” she told herself. “Lots of deep breaths. Focus. Be convincing. Pretend you’re happy to see this guy.”

Donning a welcoming smile, she opened the door in a swoop and struck a pose.

But Meggy, the woman from Dream Date, stood there.

So much for dazzling.

“Hi, Sunny,” the woman said brightly. “We’re set up and ready for Pete to arrive. Everything okay here?”

She nodded, forcing her plastic public smile.

“Good. Like we said on the phone, try to ignore the cameras. We’ll shoot some stuff to establish Part One of your date and be gone before you know it.”

“Great. That’s just great. Really great.”

Pull yourself together, Sunny. Use that college education. Speak in multisyllables. “Are we on schedule?”

“Yes, we are. In fact, Pete ought to arrive in just a few minutes. Have fun.”

“Thanks.” Sunny closed the door and worked on the breathing exercises she’d taught the girls for pre-game jitters. From now on, she’d have a new respect for people who went before the cameras for a living.

She wondered if Pete was as nervous about all this as she was. Probably not. Not with his experience charming the ladies.

Pete popped a fourth antacid into his mouth and wished he’d been an only child. It was plenty nerve-wracking sitting here in the rental new-model pickup Meggy had paid for so he wouldn’t look like a pauper on national TV.

A pauper. He could buy a fleet of new pickups if he wanted to. It was his business what he drove, and he liked driving Old Red, no matter how much money he had. Things like loyalty were important, and he’d had Old Red since high school.

The Dream Date staffer who’d stopped him a block from Sunny’s place handed Pete a two-way radio. Meggy’s voice came through. “Pete, how are you doing?”

“How do you think? Let’s get this over with.”

“Uh, Pete, the audience always loves it when the guy brings the girl a flower. Teresa’s got one there for you.”

The staffer handed Pete a red rose.

“What next, Meggy? A stuffed animal?”

“No, we didn’t think Coach Keegan seemed like the stuffed animal type. But it would be nice if you’d give her a hug.”

“It would be nice if you’d ease up.”

“Sorry, Pete, the staff and I—” she paused, letting it sink in that others were listening “—don’t mean to be pushy. We’re here to make your date successful.”

For the benefit of those others, he gushed. “You’ve done a super job, Meggy. I mean it. If I sounded…unappreciative, it’s because all this is pretty strange to me.”

“We understand. No problem. When you’re ready, drive on down to the house. Try not to look at the cameras.”

Nervous as a kid up to bat at his first big game, Pete approached Sunny’s condo, where a TV van and dozens, maybe hundreds, of teenagers surrounded the place.

Lord, if you’re out there and listening, get me through this. I’d take it as a personal favor if You’d see to it that my hip doesn’t act up and I don’t make a fool of myself.

When he stepped out of the pickup, his eyes swept the scene to get his bearings. Naturally he looked right into a camera. Sorry, Meggy.

Fixing his eyes on Sunny’s door, he made his way there. Concentrating as hard as he was, he forgot the rose clutched in his hand until he knocked on the door, and the thing jiggled in his grip. When the door swung open, his hand held the rose in midair, raised in a salute. He felt like a fool.

But Sunny’s smile was so beautiful and warm, it didn’t seem to matter. Those soft butternut eyes affected him the same way they had on the show. He felt the same zing in his gut. The same shortness of breath.

She glanced at the rose in his hand, and he remembered his manners, offering it to her.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, touching her nose to the flower, sniffing its fragrance. “What a nice thing to do.”

He thought about giving Meggy the credit, but noticed from the corner of his eye that the camera was recording the whole thing. This was as bad as being on the show.

What else had Meggy said he should do? Oh, yeah, the hug. Well, he wasn’t giving hugs because his sister said to; however, Sunny looked as if she could use one. Unless he’d lost the ability to read a woman’s eyes, she was plenty shaken by this.

As she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in, Pete slid his arm around her waist tentatively. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he was a lech or anything, but a friendly “we’re in this thing together” kind of hug should be okay.

As if the hug were her own idea, Sunny snuggled into it, and Pete felt his heartbeat pick up. Except for Meggy and his mom, it had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. It was ridiculous how much he liked it.

She lifted her face and there wasn’t a thing he could do but give her a kiss—just a friendly “glad to see you” kiss. That’s what he intended. Who knew it would ignite into a genuine, man-to-woman, take-his-breath-away kiss? Panic ripped through his brain before instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss.

“Get a bucket of water,” someone said, “or hose ’em down.”

The rude interruption pulled them apart. Pete’s heart pounded as if he’d jogged for miles. Sunny’s face and neck were flushed, and those big, golden brown eyes looked flustered.

Her embarrassment was his fault. On second thought, the loudmouth had a lot to answer for. Pete turned, ready to silence the man, but Meggy beat him to it.

“Shut up, Brad,” she said to her camera operator.

“But we’ve got enough of this shot. They can do that on their own time. I don’t want to be here all night.”

“Shut up, or give me the camera and go to the van. We can do this without you.”

The guy clamped his jaw, and Pete grinned. Watching his sister back the guy down was sweeter than doing it himself.

“Score one for Meggy,” Sunny whispered as she pulled him inside. “I’m ready to join her fan club.”

That made two of them.

Sunny had set a table for two in a bay window. Classy, he thought. Real classy. He didn’t know they made glasses with stems that tall. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” he said.

“Actually I haven’t,” she said, an honest-to-goodness blush on her cheeks.

Pete liked modesty in a woman. “Everything looks great, and the food smells good, too.”

“Thanks. Dinner’s ready. Shall we eat now?”

“Why don’t we get our guests out of here first?” Turning toward the door as the crew struggled in with their equipment, he said, “Meggy, I believe you said this wouldn’t take long?”

“It won’t. All we need is a few seconds of this and that to establish Part One of your date. Let’s start with a shot in the kitchen.”

Sunny led the way into a large, light-filled room filled with sleek cupboards, expensive-looking appliances and lush plants. Pete had worked on units like this. They didn’t come cheap. Teachers’ pay must be better than he thought.

Sunny was taller than he’d remembered, about five foot eight or nine, tall enough to be a presence in a girls’ basketball game, though her slender build belonged to a model. Her gorgeous legs were covered by jeans, but there was no way a guy could complain about the way she looked in those jeans.

Meggy removed the lid from a pot and said, “Umm, gravy. Pete, would you mind standing here while Sunny stirs this?”

Not any more than he minded everything else.

“Sunny, taste the gravy, reach for the salt and shake a little into the pot.”

For a woman who liked cooking for her dates, Pete thought Sunny seemed rather ill at ease following Meggy’s orders. Of course, a person was probably awkward doing commonplace things in front of cameras.

“Good,” Meggy said. “Now, remove whatever’s in the oven.”

Pete edged Sunny aside and said, “Let me.” He looked around for an oven mitt or pot holders, but didn’t see any. “Where are your pot holders?”

She looked at him blankly. “Pot holders?”

This TV thing must really be hard on her. “Or an oven mitt?” he suggested.

Sunny felt heat crawl up her neck. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but she knew she ought to.

“That’s okay,” he said, smiling as he reached behind her. “I’ll use this.” He grabbed a towel off the counter and used it to protect his hands as he lifted the hot pan from the oven.

Ah, that’s what he meant. He must think she was a real idiot. A person who supposedly “loved to cook” ought to have a working knowledge of basic kitchen equipment.

How was she going to get through this charade? She still felt unsettled at the way she’d greeted Pete, kissing him as if he’d just come home from a war. Though she’d offered the kiss for the folks in TV land, she’d felt its impact down to her toes. And Pete? He’d reacted as if it were his homecoming.

“Did you get the shot of Pete taking the pan out of the oven, Brad?” Meggy asked.

“Got it. You’re gonna love the shot of his backside.”

This guy’s survival instincts were pretty weak. From the set of Pete’s jaw, Sunny would say Brad was asking for trouble.

“We’re almost through,” Meggy said grimly, apparently fed up with the guy herself. “Let’s get a shot of you two at the table, toasting each other.”

Toasting she knew how to do, and Sunny breathed easier. From the refrigerator she pulled out a bottle of sparkling cider and handed it to Pete. “Will you do the honors?”

The label seemed to surprise him. She wouldn’t argue about it and he didn’t have to drink it, but that’s all she kept in the house. “Nonalcoholic,” she said with no apology.

“Good,” he said, going to work unwrapping the seal.

That was different. Her ex always ridiculed her beverage preference.

Muscles rippled in Pete’s arm as he opened the bottle, and the fabric of his blue denim shirt strained across his broad, muscular back. This was a guy who worked out.

There was a tiny scar intersecting his left eyebrow that she hadn’t noticed before, and faint scars near his ear and under his chin. Strangely, the imperfections made her more comfortable.

“Do you want to get the glasses?” he asked.

“What? Oh, sure.” Sunny retrieved them from the table, wondering why he hadn’t taken the bottle there. Maybe he wanted more time away from Brad and his camera. That she understood.

He took one goblet and filled it. “I thought we could use a minute without an audience,” he said, confirming her suspicion. “Your dinner looks great.”

“I just hope it’s half as good as your mother’s,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be if she’d cooked it.

“I expect it’s even better.”

He smiled again, and Sunny’s heart seemed to contract. The shine in those blue eyes made her wonder if all handsome charmers had to be bad.

They carried their glasses to the dining area, and Meggy asked, “Sunny, do you want to keep the apron on?”

Oops. She’d forgotten the thing, maybe subconsciously, for as much as she had resisted wearing the apron, she now dreaded taking it off. She knew she had a good figure, but she took pride in the condition of her body, its strength and health, not its shape, and she never purposely called attention to herself. However, she’d better follow orders unless she wanted to hear about it from Mouse.

Untying the apron was a bit tedious because somehow she’d knotted the strings. Getting the apron over her head without messing up her big hair was slow-going, too. Finally she tossed the apron aside and sneaked a glance at Pete to see if Mouse’s brother was right about the tight white top.

He was. Appreciation registered in Pete’s eyes.

“N-i-c-e sweater!” Brad said with a low whistle.

Pete’s head whipped around, and he took a threatening step toward the man, but Meggy said, “Brad, for the last time, if you want to work for Dream Date again, keep quiet.”

“You’re the boss,” he said irreverently. “What do you want to do about the glare from the window by the table?”

“Should I pull the shade?” Sunny asked.

“No. It’ll make a tighter shot if you sit beside, instead of across from Pete.” Meggy maneuvered them into position, changing the place settings as she talked.

“Sunny, hold your goblet in your right hand, rest your elbow on the table and lean toward Pete. Pete, hold—”

“I got it, Meggy,” he interrupted.

“It’ll be over soon,” Sunny whispered.

His rueful smile was endearing. “Sorry about the attitude.”

“Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

“We’re rolling,” Meggy said. “Touch glasses, take a sip, do what comes naturally.”

Pete touched the rim of his goblet to Sunny’s and whispered, “Punching Brad’s face in comes naturally.”

“Let me be the one to do it,” she whispered back.

He grinned and toasted her again.

Her heart did its strange flip-flop just like before.

“Did I see antipasto on the table, Sunny?” Meggy asked.

“Yes. Shall we eat some?”

“You might feed each other a bite or two.”

“I don’t usually finger feed on a first date,” she said, a nervous giggle escaping. Mortified, she covered her mouth, struggling for control.

Pete looked longingly at the door. What if he balked here and now? As long as she’d endured the torture of the TV taping, she’d like to see this through.

Sobering, she said, “You go first. I like those big black olives. Do you want to pop one of them into my mouth?”

He followed her directions to the letter, popping the olive into her mouth with all the aplomb of a guy feeding a heartworm pill to his dog.

“C’mon, Pete,” Meggy complained, “you can do better than that. You’re on a date. Make it look sensual.”

Pete raised an irritated brow. “What do you think?” he murmured. “Should we try it her way?”

“I like black olives so much, I can probably make it ‘look sensual.”’

“Okay, one sensual olive coming your way,” he warned, leaning toward her, teasing her mouth with the olive, outlining her upper lip and tracing the lower lip back and forth before slipping it between her teeth. She bit down slowly, covering his fingers with her lips. Slowly he dragged his fingers away. She had no idea that such a simple thing could be so erotic.

“Whew,” he breathed softly, watching her lips as she slowly chewed. “I like the way you do that.”

“Really,” she murmured. “It didn’t look stupid?”

“Are you kidding?” His eyes glowed with approval.

The approval caught her by surprise. It felt warm, wonderful and better than she could have believed.

It would have to be better still without an audience. She whispered, “Don’t you think we’ve been cooperative long enough?”

Nodding, he stood and said, “You’re through here, aren’t you, Meggy?”

Something unspoken passed between the two. Sunny didn’t understand it, but Meggy quickly agreed and managed to get the crew out within minutes. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. It was just good to have their audience gone.

Standing next to Pete in the doorway, seeing them off, Sunny felt awkward, almost shy. It was ridiculous, feeling this nervous about being alone with a guy. She was twenty-eight, not sixteen, and it sure didn’t matter if he invited her to the prom.

Pete closed the door and gave her one of those lopsided smiles. “Coach, you were awesome. Poised. Cute. A dream date, for sure.”

It was a line. It had to be, but she didn’t feel nervous anymore. “You were pretty great your-self,” she said, wanting to return the good feeling. “An old pro, in fact.”

“That’s me, all right. An old pro. I can’t wait to see myself on TV.”

The sarcasm surprised her. She must have shown it.

He added, “Well, it’s not like I’m the most photogenic guy in town. I always look awkward in home movies.”

Awkward was not a word she would have used to describe Pete Maguire, not in a million years. “You’ve got to be joking. You couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Well, you couldn’t,” she insisted.

As quickly as a cloud steals the sun, Pete’s blue eyes dulled. The sadness, the loss in those eyes took her breath away. What was wrong? Was it something she said?

Pete felt like a fool. It wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten the new cheekbones, Roman nose and classic chin. When he looked in a mirror these days, it wasn’t him. Sometimes he felt like an alien the way people treated The Face as if it were real. The few times he tried to explain, he got pity or skepticism. Even worse was the advice he should be grateful.

Why didn’t people understand he wasn’t somebody brand-new just because he looked it? Whoever said what counted was the person inside had never had reconstructive facial surgery. People wouldn’t let you be the person inside. They reacted to what they saw. Or thought they saw.

It was better to live like a hermit, hang out at the beach by himself and get through the days, one at a time, until he got comfortable with all the changes. If he ever did.

He should never have let Meggy talk him into this date.

Determined to escape, but not wanting to hurt Sunny’s feelings—she was too nice a person for that—he said, “Now that the cameras are gone, I should probably head out, too.”

“Head out?” she echoed, her pretty brown eyes perplexed. “You want to leave now? Was it something I said?”

“No!” He didn’t want her to think that. “It’s just… I think I should go. I’m not very good company.”

She shrugged. “You’re a lot better than Brad.”

He liked her quick comeback even if she wasn’t letting him bow out gracefully. “I may be better than Brad, but believe me, you can do better than me—a whole lot better.”

“The audience didn’t seem to think so. What am I supposed to do with all this food?” she asked, her hands on her hips, her stance defiant, as if she were arguing with a ref who’d just called a foul on a good blocked shot. “We’ve got pot roast, Pete, and mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob and the cheesecake. In fact, everything but your mom and her backyard.”

“What would you say if I told you I don’t eat red meat, I hate cheesecake, my mom never cooks and she has no backyard.”

Surprise flared in those butternut eyes, but she quipped, “What would you say if I told you I didn’t cook a speck of this food and, in fact, can’t even boil water?”

He felt the smile break across his face.

“You think that’s funny? We’ll see who’s laughing if you don’t eat this food. My girls will track you down and use that ugly tie you wore on Dream Date to hang you by your neck.”

Maybe he ought to try the pot roast. If Sunny served it, he might even like cheesecake.




Chapter Three


“Who’d you say cooked the pot roast?” Pete said, sopping gravy with the last of his mashed potatoes.

“Leteisha’s mother.”

“Lucky Leteisha. Was your mom a good cook?”

“A wonderful woman named Cook did our cooking.”

“Hmm. A guy named McDonald did most of ours. I learned to love peanut butter. Now it’s a vice.”

She laughed and silently thanked Pete for not pursuing her family background.

“So, do you want to invite the team over for cheesecake?” he said, leaning back in his chair, dangling his goblet in one hand.

“You aren’t trying to slip out on me again, are you?”

He grinned. “No, I just thought the girls had worked pretty hard on this meal and deserved a treat.”

“It’s more than that. Confess. You want someone to eat your piece of cheesecake.”

He worked that crooked smile and nodded. “Guilty,” he said, not looking it, not for a minute, not with those teasing eyes.

“We’d better not have the girls over. Mouse would have a fit if she knew I’d changed out of that top.”

“That was a great top.” The appreciative gleam in his eye made her as self-conscious as she’d been in the sweater.

“I thought I ought to work on that gravy stain right away. The sweater belonged to her.”

“Very considerate.”

He wouldn’t think so if he knew she’d spilled the gravy on purpose. She felt bad about it, but she’d buy Mouse a dozen sweaters if need be. She’d just had to get out of that thing.

“The way your girls brought this whole thing off, it’s no wonder they won the regional. You must be some coach, Sunny Keegan.”

The words might be pure shmooze, the stock and trade of handsome men, but she didn’t mind, not this once. “The girls deserve all the credit,” she said, trying not to enjoy his praise too much.

“I can’t believe the trouble they went to, getting you on Dream Date and all.”

“They were dead serious about getting me a date.”

“They thought they had to fix you up?” His astonishment was real and very flattering.

It gave her the courage to tell him what he’d probably find out anyhow. He deserved the truth, and she’d rather it came from her. “I hadn’t had a date since they’d known me.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

She looked away, not wanting to see the inevitable pity her explanation would generate. “Last June I was supposed to be married. Hours before the wedding, I discovered my fiancé with one of my bridesmaids and realized…well, you know.”

She risked a glance. It wasn’t pity on his face, but anger. That was okay.

“I didn’t handle it very well. I knew I couldn’t marry him, but I was pretty confused. Maybe it was cowardly, but I just took off and left the explanations to him.”

“Cowardly?” His eyebrows rose in protest. “He got off easy. If it were my sister, she’d have shot the guy. What happened when everybody realized you were gone?”

“My dad stood beside Bruce at the altar and told everyone the wedding was postponed because I was ill.”

“Postponed?”

She nodded.

“And you didn’t tell anyone what you saw.” He said it as a statement, not a question, as if he understood she’d rather live the lie than have people pity her.

Let people think she was an irresponsible flake. It was better than having them know she was an idiot who’d been taken in. Besides, if her parents hadn’t believed her, how could she expect anyone else to?

There was no pity in Pete’s eyes, just an awareness of the tough time she’d had. Testing his reaction, she added, “They went ahead and turned the reception into a party, saying I’d insisted on it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said with disgust.

She’d felt the same way, but she had to be fair.

“I ought to explain that my ex and my father are both in politics. It’s normal for them to put a spin on a bad situation. That’s why they went ahead with the reception.”

Pete was obviously baffled. “Let me get this straight. You found your ex messing around, told him it was over and took off. Nobody knew why or where you’d gone, and your parents went ahead and partied with your ex. That doesn’t make sense.”

Exactly. “Well, that’s what happened. My parents believed Bruce, not me. They thought I’d done him a great wrong, jumping to conclusions they way I did. My anger shouldn’t have been with Bruce, but with the deranged groupie who’d cornered the poor man and forced herself on him.”

“Groupie? Sunny, who is your ex?”

“Congressman Bruce Daniels.”

“No way! I voted for the guy!”

“You don’t need to again.”

“I won’t!” Shaking his head in wonder, he murmured, “Politics!”

She smiled. It was rather nice having someone understand, though it still hurt how her parents reacted that night.

“What happened when you confronted Bruce about his lies?” he asked tersely, as if he already knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

She grimaced, waving the question away. She didn’t care to relive that scene. If Pete understood at all, he’d give her a break on this.

And he did, just muttering under his breath, “Daniels! What a jerk!”

She was human enough to appreciate his distaste and support. It made her feel less alone somehow.

“The gifts were returned,” she said, clearing the lump in her throat when the words came out thick with emotion, “but my parents and Bruce still talk about our engagement as if it’s an ongoing thing.”

“And you don’t mind?” Pete asked, incredulous.

“Mind! Of course, I do, but keeping silent has been better than having the facts brought out. They’ve left me alone until recently. Not long ago Bruce visited a government class at my school and told everyone I was his fiancée. My girls knew I couldn’t be engaged to anyone without them knowing it, and they were furious.”

“Good for them!”

“Then a tabloid printed a news story that really got the rumor mill spinning. I’m from a political family, so my hide is tough. But the girls can’t stand it that I’m seen as heartless and insensitive while Bruce is the long-suffering lover.”

“I’m with the girls.” He stood abruptly as if he couldn’t sit still another minute. “I don’t like to see Daniels get away with this.”

His righteous anger made her smile. It was great having a champion. “The girls are determined to shut Bruce down. That’s why they got me on the show. Don’t you think a big-haired babe in pursuit of her dream date ought to give Bruce and my parents a reality check?”

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. It was remarkable what this man did for her morale. She’d even stopped minding that he was way too good-looking.

“Now that I think about it,” he said, still chuckling, “that kiss you gave me at the door… That was probably more for the congressman than it was for me.” His adorable lopsided smile dared her to deny it.

She shrugged innocently. “Just following orders. The girls said to make it look ‘real good.”’

“I expect it did!”

She was lucky he was such a good sport. “If I got a little overenthusiastic, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her.

“I was really nervous.” It was a relief to admit it.

“Really? It was a great kiss. Perfect, in fact.”

This guy said all the right things. “You did okay yourself,” she said, wanting to return the good feeling.

“Yeah?” His grin turned shy. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“Out of practice!” It was her turn to laugh. “You? Pete Maguire? The man Cheryl wanted to go ‘exploring’ with?”

“I couldn’t believe she said that.”

“Well, you are pretty cute.”

“Cute?”

“Okay, good-looking.”

“Let’s change the subject.”

He was embarrassed. Her ex wouldn’t have been. He’d have relished the compliment and fished for more. “If you want to change the subject,” she said, “you’ll have to do it.”

“Fine. I will.”

Watching him search for a topic, she smiled, delighted to know there lived a charmer who wasn’t totally self-centered.

“This date we’re doing,” he said thoughtfully, “it won’t be on TV for a while. Right?”

“They said in about six weeks.”

“That’s quite a while. What are you going to do about the rumor mill until then?”

“Things should be better at school after tonight. There were a lot of kids here.”

“But what about Daniels? Six weeks is a long time.”

“I know. I guess I’ll just try not to worry about it.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it. But I really will try. Worry tells God I don’t trust Him, and I do.”

Something crossed his eyes that could have been cynicism, perhaps unbelief. She never argued religion, but the Lord had taken care of her so well, she’d never be ashamed of Him. “The Bible says God will ‘devour any who would rise up against me.’ I believe it.”

Pete’s eyes narrowed, and she thought he was going to dispute the point. But he leaned forward, touched her hand and said, “You’re one hundred percent right.”

“I am?” She couldn’t help sounding surprised. “A second ago, I didn’t think we were on the same wavelength.”

“It took me a second to switch gears. It’s been a while since someone’s quoted scripture to me. You know, I used to help out with our youth group.”

A deep gladness filled her heart. “I’m so happy you know the Lord!”

She’d barely said the words when she wished she could take them back. Such a mix of emotion passed across Pete’s face that she couldn’t begin to read them all, but she recognized anger and resentment. How could she not, when she’d known them herself?

Pete rose from the table and carried their plates into the kitchen.

Silently she asked God what to do, what to say. She glanced over to her Bible on the coffee table, wondering which scripture she could read that would help Pete the most. Maybe something in John.

But Pete strolled back into the room, and she canceled the Bible study. His lady-killer smile was back, firmly in place, and his eyes glowed with mischief.

“Sunny, how would you like to shut Daniels down right away?”

This guy could really switch gears. “Well, I’d love it.”

“What if the media were here when I pick you up for Part Two of our date? Let them get photographs of you greeting me at the door the same way you did tonight. How about that?”

Pete truly was an ally if he could offer to help her, but how could she talk about trusting God one moment and, in the next, take matters into her own hands even more than she already had?

“Pete, I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do this for me. God really will protect me.”

Those bad-boy eyes lifted innocently. “You don’t think God uses people to carry out his plans? For all you know, I could be an angel in disguise.”

She laughed at the thought. Would God send her a handsome charmer, especially when He knew how much she didn’t trust them? Actually, He might, though Pete’s feet seemed planted pretty firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, hardly believing this particular guy would set himself up as a media target. He didn’t know what it could be like.

“Oh, I think I can make myself kiss a pretty girl when it’s for such a good cause. Besides, it’s part of the job. As far as angel assignments go, I got lucky. If it hadn’t been you, I might have been assigned to Brad.”

She smiled and the good feeling went all the way to her toes. He could be an angel, the way he made her feel that her problems were only tiny white specks on a big, fluffy cloud and contentment was fingertip near.

But he looked nothing like any storybook angel she’d ever seen, not with that lock of black hair falling over his brow, the wicked half smile and the teasing gleam in his eyes. If Pete really were her angel…that was some disguise.

Pete parked his truck in Sunny’s drive and sucked in a deep breath. It was the sequel to the circus of the first part of their date, only worse. This time there were several media vehicles, not just the Dream Date van, and a couple of squad cars with rotating lights that added to the general confusion. And there was a really big crowd.

His mother always said he was a born protector, but this time he may have overdone it.

Sunny sat on her steps, probably waiting for her cue. Purple bougainvillea cascaded down the side of her condo, a brilliant backdrop for her lush coppery hair. She was a beautiful woman all right.

She’d warned him she was going to take her girls’ advice and pretend she was “wild about him.” He wasn’t sure what that entailed, but whatever it was, he could handle it. It was past time somebody helped Sunny get Bruce Daniels out of her life.

Wearing a headset, looking in charge of things, Meggy walked up to his truck. “How’re you doing, bro?”

“Just peachy,” he said, trying to hide his nervousness. “Can we get on with this?”

“We’re ready and rolling. Go for it.”

Determined to silence Sunny’s ex-fiancé once and for all, Pete put a big smile on his kisser, got out of the truck and walked up the driveway with his arms spread wide.




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