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Won't You Be My Husband?
Linda Varner


HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYSLauren West: Imagine, Nicke Gatewood, the sexy town bad boy, gallantly rescuing me from an obnoxious mule pursuer. But did he have to say we were engaged?!Nick Gatewood: It was nothing, really. Especially because I need one night of Lauren's time, as my fiancée, to convince the boss's wife that this bachelor isn't the proverbial Thanksgiving turkey.A simple agreement: But Lauren never expected her family and friends to get word of her nonintended nuptials. Or to find herself falling in love with her make-believe bridegroom and planning a very real wedding.Join Linda Varner as she celebrates the joy and love of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's with three very special couples.









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u9103e4f0-8ac7-5b39-bf7d-1e0c08b51a27)

Excerpt (#uca2e8fd0-8249-57d0-8de9-420184ebadc7)

Dear Reader (#ucf1ddb65-7f8f-5c68-9e3a-93933ba3527f)

Title Page (#uaf55130c-4e18-517a-9706-28de12fb41a3)

Dedication (#u3ffa4ef1-7fca-5d9e-a22c-315108a5d6fa)

About the Author (#u8eef6e54-c316-50d6-bcdf-f9a4dc3439e1)

Recipe for A Wonderful Thanksgiving (#u75cadb7e-acec-5238-8662-4150e374d92f)

Chapter One (#u722280dc-7456-5dba-bedd-829da5bcd0f5)

Chapter Two (#u724c380b-2ccd-5d4a-99f2-1e1e33739d43)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




The smell of a Thanksgiving feast filled the house.


Lauren hurried to the kitchen, but just enough cooking time remained for the dressing and rolls. Nick hovered at her elbow, sneaking bites of everything as it cooked, until finally, she shooed him out of her kitchen.



Lauren glanced toward the dining room where Nick stood, puzzling over what piece of her grandmother’s silverware went where. Her heart filled to bursting point with love. How thankful she was for him on this day meant for thanks. He’d brought sunshine into her life. He’d brought rain. He’d taught her how to treasure both.



How could she let him ride off into the colorful western sunset…alone?






Dear Reader,



In Arlene James’s Desperately Seeking Daddy, a harried, single working mom of three feels like Cinderella at the ball when Jack Tyler comes into her life. He wins over her kids, charms her mother and sets straight her grumpy boss. He’s the FABULOUS FATHER of her kids’ dreams—and the husband of hers!

Although the BUNDLE OF JOY in Amelia Varden’s arms is not her natural child, she’s loved the baby boy from birth. And now one man has come to claim her son—and her heart—in reader favorite Elizabeth August’s The Rancher and the Baby.

Won’t You Be My Husband? begins Linda Varner’s trilogy HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, in which a woman ends up engaged to be married after a ten-minute reunion with a bad-boy hunk!

What’s a smitten bookkeeper to do when her gorgeous boss asks her to be his bride—even for convenience? Run down the aisle!…in DeArma Talcott’s The Bachelor and the Bassinet.

In Pat Montana’s Storybook Bride, tight-lipped rancher Kody Sanville’s been called a half-breed his whole life and doesn’t believe in storybook anything. So why can’t he stop dreaming of being loved by Becca Covington?

Suzanne McMinn makes her debut with Make Room for Mommy, in which a single woman with motherhood and marriage on her mind falls for a single dad who isn’t at all interested in saying “I do”…or so he thinks!

From classic love stories, to romantic comedies to emotional heart tuggers, Silhouette Romance offers six wonderful new novels each month by six talented authors. I hope you enjoy all six books this month—and every month.



Regards,



Melissa Senate,

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Won’t You Be My Husband?

Linda Varner







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


To my special friend, Tammie Burgess,

a cosmetologist with talent, skill

and a heart of gold.




LINDA VARNER


confesses she is a hopeless romantic. Nothing is more thrilling, she believes, than the battle of wits between a man and a woman who are meant for each other but just don’t know it yet! Linda enjoys writing romance and considers herself very lucky to have been both a RITA finalist and a third-place winner in the National Readers’ Choice Awards in 1993.



A full-time federal employee, Linda lives in Arkansas with her husband and their two children. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her at 813 Oak St., Suite 10A-277, Conway, AR 72032.











Recipe for A Wonderful Thanksgiving


1 teenage “bad boy” (complete with motorcycle)



1 kid sister (not the bad boy’s)



1 chance meeting



1 make-believe engagement



Mix together the first two ingredients. Set aside to age. Several years later, toss in a chance meeting. Add the make-believe engagement, then heat to boiling point



Yield: A Home for the Holidays…and forever!




Chapter One (#ulink_c27bf705-70bb-527f-bfac-6e8347aaa628)


“Well, if it isn’t Sissy West. My, how you’ve grown.”

Lauren West started at the sound of the husky, masculine drawl and looked up at its owner, standing in front of her in the hot dog line, his back now to their destination. She saw a ruggedly handsome face and finger-combed black hair. She saw glittering brown eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. She saw the sexiest smile in the state of Texas, maybe the world…

She saw a stranger. A lean, six-foot-and-more stranger, who somehow knew a nickname she’d worked years to lose.

“H-haven’t I though?” Lauren stammered, smiling politely at the man even as her brain flipped frantically through mug shots of long-lost relatives, old boyfriends and past patients of her physician father.

“You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?”

So much for fooling the guy. Lauren hesitated, then gave in to honesty. “Sorry, no.”

“Nicolas Gatewood.”

Nicolas Gatewood? Ex-beau of big sister Diana? Texas City bad boy? High school dropout? Lauren’s gaze swept down and then back up his athletic frame, looking for any of Nick Gatewood’s trademarks: boots, black leather jacket or the words Harley-Davidson. Instead she saw a navy blue cotton sweater, faded form-fitting jeans and scruffy loafers.

“You’re lying,” she blurted, an answer that made him roar with laughter. That joyous sound turned the heads of the Dallas Cowboy football fans lined up all around them. Lauren didn’t care. That laugh also confirmed the man’s claim. Only one male alive displayed mirth with such abandon, and it was with difficulty that she hid her pleasure at seeing him again.

“I’m not, and I can prove it.” He thought for a moment. “Close your eyes and picture the corner of Third Street and Marshall, Texas City, Texas, on a sunny May afternoon about…oh…nineteen or twenty years ago. There are lots of kids standing around waiting for the school bus. One of them is a thirteen-year-old squirt of a tomboy with curly blond hair, freckles and knobby knees.” He paused. “Get the picture so far?”

“It’s slowly coming into focus.” Actually the scene was crystal clear, but Lauren didn’t tell Nick that. Why, she wasn’t sure, but guessed it had something to do with his blatant masculinity, his utter self-confidence, his charm.

Or was it the fact that the longer he talked, the longer she got to stare at him?

“The tomboy, we’ll call her Sissy, is being mercilessly teased by three high schoolers—”

“Moe, Larry and Curly,” Lauren wryly supplied. Nick grinned. “She’s frightened, near tears.”

“Bull. She’s about to break Moe’s nose.”

Nick’s grin widened. “So you remember that afternoon?”

“Of course I remember it. You saved those idiots from a thrashing they would never have forgotten.”

“And all this time I thought it was you I saved when I rode up on my trusty steed.”

“Trusty steed, my foot. You rode up on that beat-up Harley of yours, and the only reason I got on behind you was pity.”

He frowned slightly. “You felt sorry for me? Why?”

“Diana had just dumped you for Brent McEntyre, remember?” Lauren’s four-years-older sister had loved ’em and left ’em at an alarming rate during her teenage years.

“Ach. So she had. I’d forgotten.”

I’ll bet. Lauren still remembered the look on Nick’s face when he’d dropped her off at her house moments after the rescue and found Brent’s sports car parked in the drive. Devastated didn’t begin to describe his expression. “That’s the last time I ever saw you.”

“Until now.”

“Yes, until now.” Lauren smiled at him and, suddenly self-conscious, tried to play it cool as she twisted a tendril of hair that had escaped from the French twist at the back of her head. The next second she abandoned that and, with a hearty “God, it’s great to see you!” threw her arms around his middle.

Nick hugged her back so hard the breath left her lungs in a soft whoosh. Just as abruptly he let go and glanced over his shoulder to check his progress in the concession line. He moved a few steps closer to the counter, then gave Lauren his attention again.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, stuffing the tips of his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. She realized then that he didn’t look totally at ease, himself. “I seem to recall that you hate football.”

Lauren shrugged casually even as she noted the slight flush now staining his tanned cheeks. Had the hug embarrassed him or did he, too, want it to go on forever?

“One of my partners had a spare ticket.”

“Partners? What are you…a lawyer or something?”

She laughed. “Or something. I’m a doctor—OBGYN.” She told him the names of her four female partners and where their clinic was located.

Nick slapped the palm of one hand to his head as though pronouncing himself a dunce. “I should’ve guessed you’d follow in the old man’s footsteps. You had his knack for healing hurts even when you were a kid.”

Lauren thought of her father, a general practitioner dead eleven years. “You think?”

“I know.” Nick glanced back to check his progress in the line once again and adjusted his position accordingly. Lauren followed suit, keeping the distance between them the same. “You live here in Irving?”

“Dallas, actually. What about you? What are you doing now and where?”

“I’m an architect.” He laughed at her startled expression “With Avery, Sanders and Wright, Inc. Heard of them?”

Still stunned by his occupation—as far as she knew the man had never finished high school—Lauren barely managed a nod. Who hadn’t heard of the prestigious firm?

“I work in Dallas, too,” Nick said, adding, as if to answer her unspoken questions, “G.E.D. in the Army, college after I got out.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Lauren exclaimed, giving him both a verbal and literal pat on the back.

“You’re surprised, aren’t you?”

“To be honest, I am.”

“You thought I’d wind up working in a garage somewhere, wearing grease-stained coveralls and a torn T-shirt.”

“That’s not true,” Lauren retorted even though she knew he teased. For some reason it was important that Nick understand she’d always thought he had potential. “I may not have guessed you’d be an architect, but I knew you’d go places.”

“Oh, I went places, all right—beginning with boot camp and ending up in Germany. Six countries in seven years.”

“Must have been exciting,” Lauren murmured, nudging him to close the gap in the line again.

Nick moved obediently. “Turned my life around. Taught me discipline. Gave me pride, goals. Enlisting was the best decision I ever made.”

“An architect…” Lauren shook her head, still not quite believing it. “So are you happily married now, with two-point-five children?”

“Not me.” He glanced at her left hand, obviously looking for a wedding band. His eyes widened in surprise. “You’re single, too?”

“Yes, and probably always will be unless you know a saint who wouldn’t mind his wife delivering everyone’s babies but her own…”

“Hey, Bud! Do you want a dog or not?”

Thus alerted that he was holding up the line again, Nick said, “Don’t run off,” then turned his back on her.

Lauren noted that he was just two people from the counter now. Guessing he’d face forward until served, she made the most of the opportunity to examine this view of him. Not bad, she thought, relishing how his sweater accentuated his broad shoulders and how his jeans hugged his backside and long legs. Clearly he hadn’t let his desk job get the best of his physique. No, a man had to stay active to maintain a body like that.

“Lauren? Dr. Lauren West?”

For the second time that afternoon a man called her name. This time, however, Lauren recognized the voice. She cringed.

“It is you!” Frank Montgomery, friend of Lauren’s brother-in-law, exclaimed as he angled up from nowhere and turned her around to face him. “And looking h-o-t as ever. How’ve you been, babe?”

“Fine,” Lauren replied, unsuccessfully ducking the wet kiss he planted right on her mouth. That kiss brought back vivid memories of their one and only date in Houston last month—a disaster from the get-go, thanks to his inflated ego, ever-ready lips and busy, busy hands.

Frank, who stood maybe an inch over her own five-feet-eight, lay a heavy arm across her shoulders, holding her so that her back was to the food counter and the scoop neck of her sweater in his direct line of vision.

“Would you believe I was going to call you after the game today? I’m in town until Wednesday. Thought we could get together and take up—” he gave her arm a promising squeeze “—where we left off.”

Though tempted to slap the man senseless, Lauren kept her cool. Frank Montgomery was, after all, head of the surgery department at the hospital where Diana’s physician husband, Stephen, hoped to earn operating room privileges. Diana would kill Lauren if she did anything to jeopardize his chances.

“I really can’t—” Lauren murmured, trying to ease free of his embrace without giving him a peek at her breasts.

“Playing hard to get?” His beer-scented whisper fanned the tendrils of hair framing Lauren’s face. His lips loomed inches from her own.

“I’m not playing at all…”

“Lauren, honey, do you want mustard or ketchup on your—er, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” It was Nick, and looking as dangerous as 007 ever did.

Oh so grateful he’d saved Frank from bodily harm, Lauren wrenched herself free and followed his inspired lead. “Don’t be absurd,” she murmured, pulling her sweater back up on her bare shoulder. “This is just Frank Montgomery, whom I met through Stephen a few weeks ago. Frank, this is Nicolas Gatewood, my—”

“Fiancé,” Nick interjected, extending his right hand, which a visibly flustered—or was he angry?—Frank took, shook and quickly released.

“S-Stephen is going to be on the surgical staff at Houston Regional just as soon as his appointment is approved,” Lauren stammered, still trying to adjust to Nick’s sudden conversion from friend to fiancé. “Frank, here, is head of the department.” Anxiously, Lauren searched Nick’s expression for any sign that he understood her unspoken message: be nice to this jerk.

Nick’s quick wink, which could not have been seen by their companion, told her that he did. “Houston Regional’s gain.”

“Uh, yes, of course,” Frank murmured. “Stephen is a fine surgeon.” Lauren noted that his gaze dropped to her left hand just as Nick’s had earlier. He frowned ever so slightly. “How long have you two been engaged?”

“Not long at all,” Nick replied when words failed Lauren.

“We, um, haven’t even had a chance to shop for a diamond,” she added, trying to assuage the doubt she read in Frank’s expression.

“I…see. Well, congratulations and best of luck.” He began to edge away.

“Thanks,” Nick replied, standing by Lauren’s side until the man slithered off into the crowd. At that point he glanced back toward the counter. “Rescuing damsels in distress is not without its price.”

“What…?” Lauren, still in a bit of a daze, frowned after Frank.

“I lost my place in line, and not even for bratwurst on a roll will I go to the back and start over.”

A quick glance toward the head of the line confirmed it. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. Are you very hungry?”

“My stomach is gnawing my backbone.”

“I have a chocolate bar in my purse.”

“Give it to me, oh bride-to-be,” Nick told her, holding out his hand, palm upwards and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Abruptly Lauren grabbed. Nick’s hand and as good as dragged him away from the crowded concession area to the edge of the walkway. “I can’t believe you told Frank that we’re engaged.”

“Got rid of him, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but…”

“And probably for good.”

“Probably, but…”

“Then how about a little appreciation?”

Lauren sighed and gave him the credit he surely deserved. “Thanks, Nick. I owe you.”

“One good turn does deserve another,” Nick agreed, leaning against a concrete support, arms crossed over his chest. “You can pay your bill October twelfth at my boss’s house.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have a dinner party to go to a week from Wednesday. I want you to go, too, and play fiancée the way I just did.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Never more.”

“But why?”

“So a certain someone will keep her hands to herself.”

Lauren laughed in utter disbelief. “Can’t you just tell her to cool it?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Who is this mystery lady, for crying out loud?” Lauren teased, enjoying Nick’s obvious discomfort at having to admit his problem. “The boss’s wife?”

“Exactly.”

Lauren’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I were. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea. Won’t there be complications at your office? I mean, your boss will surely spread the word. Telling a white lie to Frank, who, with luck, I’ll never see again, is one thing. Telling one to your co-workers is quite another. Won’t they wonder if they don’t see us out together now and then?”

“I rarely socialize with my co-workers, so I seldom see them anywhere besides the office. If I do, I’ll just tell them you’re delivering a baby or something.” He took both her hands in his. “So can you do it?” he asked, flashing her a killer smile.

Lauren sighed and gave up the ghost. Freeing her hands, she dug in her purse for her pocket calendar. A quick peek at it revealed she could probably manage a dinner party in ten days. “I can do it, and I will—”

“Thanks, Sissy.”

“—on the condition that you never, ever call me that again.”

“Agreed…Dr. West. Now dinner is at eight. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“Okay.” Lauren dropped the calendar in her purse, then dug around for one of her personal cards, which she handed to him, along with a slightly squashed chocolate bar. “Here’s my address. There’s my home phone number. Is this thing dressy?”

“Dressy enough. I have to wear a tie.” He looked as if the thought choked him as much as the tie would.

Lauren laughed, pleased to see that a little of the old Nick still lurked inside the new. Not that there was one thing wrong with the new Nick. She found the combination of the past and present a most tempting package.

But who had time for temptation? Certainly not Lauren, who was suddenly assailed with second thoughts about the wisdom of all this. As if reading them, Nick frowned.

“You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

“No,” Lauren heard herself say. “This is a debt of honor, after all, and I—oops!” Her pager, clipped out of sight on the waistband of her jeans before she left for the stadium that morning, vibrated against her skin. With a sigh, Lauren raised the hem of her sweater and pressed a button to illuminate the number of her paging service. “Must be a real problem for them to page me here. I’m on fifth call today.”

“Fifth call? What in the heck is that?”

“It’s a rather complicated on-call system my partners and I worked out to keep our patients happy. Most of them are…hmm, I’m not sure how to put this…”

“Filthy rich?”

Lauren laughed. “I was going to say spoiled rotten, but filthy rich is appropriate, too. Anyway, to make sure every patient gets immediate and personal attention, my partners and I rotate responsibility. First call gets called first. Second call gets called if the doctor on first call is already busy. Third call—”

Nick held up his hands as if warding off a blow. “I get the picture, I get the picture. And I’m wondering ‘who’s on first’?”

“Dr. Carmencita Renfroe has first call tonight,” Lauren replied, only belatedly realizing Nick referred to the classic Abbott and Costello routine and not her equally complicated call schedule. She stuck out her tongue at him, an action that won her his mischievous grin. “I really have to go.”

“Not before we shake on this engagement thing.” Nick reached for her hand, but instead of a shake, he gave it a kiss…right in the sweaty palm. Lauren’s heart screeched to a halt then jump started back to life. She snatched her hand away and swiped it down her jeans.

“Just what was that?” she demanded, feigning indignation. It wouldn’t do for him to know just how much she wished that kiss had landed on her lips instead of in her hand.

“Inexcusable,” Nick said with a decidedly sheepish smile. “Just because I’m already half in lust with you is no excuse for me to act like Frank. I’m sorry, and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go that far,” Lauren thoughtlessly blurted out even as she registered his “half in lust” comment. Too late she heard the echo of her own candid reply. “What I mean is, I’d never compare you to Frank. You two aren’t a bit alike.”

“That’s true. I’m an architect—he’s a doctor.”

Lauren blinked at that response. Did Nick mean he considered them alike in ways other than professional? she instantly wondered. Like, maybe, sexual…?

Half in lust.

The very concept took her breath away, probably because Lauren was already half—if not three-fourths—in lust with him, too.

Amazing what a few years of growing up could do.

She swallowed hard, suddenly as rattled as a teenager on a first date, even though she was as experienced as two serious affairs could leave her.

“Now I’ll be out of touch for a few days,” Nick said. “But I’ll call your secretary early next week to have her remind you about our date, okay?”

“Okay,” she told him, though the chances of her forgetting were slim and none. “I really have to go, Nick.” With a wave, she spun on her heel and tried to put some distance between them.

“Lauren?”

“What?” She paused but did not dare turn to look at him again.

“Who the hell is Stephen?”

Lauren smiled to herself. “Diana’s husband, Stephen Bayer.”

“So he’s family,” Nick murmured, softly adding, “Good,” a word that Lauren barely heard; a word that did not give her peace of mind…or body.



True to his word, Nick called Lauren’s office the day of the dinner party and asked for her secretary. After identifying himself, he explained that he was an old friend of Dr. West’s who wanted to remind her about a social commitment.

“You don’t sound old,” replied the young woman, who called herself Lisa.

Nick heard her playful tone and grinned, liking her on the spot. “Must be the connection. You don’t sound a day over twenty-one, yourself.”

“I’m not a day over twenty-one,” she retorted with a laugh. “I am old enough to take a message, however. What do you want me to put in this one?”

Nick grinned a little bigger. “Just remind Dr. West that she has a date with me tonight at seven-thirty.”

“Did you say…a date?” Lisa sounded as if the concept were a new one.

“A date. You do know what one of those is, don’t you?”

“I certainly do,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly adding, “Though I’m not at all sure Dr. West does.”

Her casual comment stayed on Nick’s mind all day. Lauren didn’t date? Unbelievable! Was she too busy? Too tired? Too picky?

Couldn’t be picky, Nick thought with a dry laugh as he drove his sleek silver Mercedes-Benz to Lauren’s Dallas neighborhood that night. He glanced at his gold wristwatch, purchased with money from his first Avery, Sanders and Wright, Inc. paycheck some four years ago. Remembering how he’d passed over a style he liked better so he could purchase the most expensive one in the jewelry store, he noted the time, 7:15, and shook his head. Thank goodness money had finally lost its hold on him. It had taken a couple of years—the scars of poverty ran deep—but now he could honestly say he knew what was important.

Lauren, for example. Seeing her at the stadium was a gift from the gods that Nick did not deserve, but accepted. And though certain he would one day rue their meeting—like when her class act saw through the sham of his nouveau respectability—at the moment he was grateful for the diversion.

A glance at the card Lauren had given Nick reminded him for what address he now searched: 14 Blue Moon Lane. He spotted the street just ahead and, shortly after, her house, a modest two-story brick with a neatly manicured lawn. Turning into the drive, situated mid-point in a curve he considered dangerous, Nick braked his car and killed the engine, then got out and walked to Lauren’s front door.

He raised his hand to ring the bell, but hesitated, suddenly nervous. What the hell? he wondered, trying to analyze this unexpected reluctance to see Lauren again.

Was it concern he would do something stupid tonight that kept his hand hovering inches from the bell? Or was it worry he would put his foot in his mouth? Both, Nick instantly realized…plus raw fear that he hadn’t imagined the spark of interest he saw in her eye. That he would respond to it and reveal just how incredibly, sexually attracted he was to her, too.

Damn, but she was a beauty. Tall, generously curved, graceful. He broke out into a cold sweat just remembering how she’d looked Sunday in tight jeans, leather knee boots and that sweater…dear heaven, that sweater.

Nick swallowed hard. The door suddenly swung open.

“Are you going to stand there all night or ring the bell?” Lauren demanded, hands on hips.

“I-it’s broken,” Nick lied, for lack of a better excuse for loitering like an idiot on her front porch.

“It is not,” Lauren retorted, reaching out to thumb the button. At once chimes sounded inside the house. “So what’s the real problem?”

“I’m, uh, early.” He glanced at his watch, noting with relief that he was, indeed, early—one minute and thirty seconds.

“That’s okay. I’m ready.” Laughing, clearly not fooled by Nick’s fibs, though she couldn’t possibly know the reason for them, Lauren stepped back and ushered him into the house. “So what do you think?” she demanded, throwing out her arms as if to encompass her whole house in a hug.

“I think you look like a million dollars,” Nick replied, even though he knew she wanted his opinion of the house, not her person. His hungry gaze devoured Lauren, savoring every inch of her from auburn curls to open-toed high heels. His heart turned a back flip. His knees threatened to give way.

“Not me, doofus,” she said. “My house. Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible,” he murmured, without dragging his gaze away from her glittery black dress. Cut in a style from the past, its padded shoulders, diamond cutout neck, and knee-length skirt accentuated her shapely figure and drove his pulse to triple digits.

“I rented it three months ago with the option to buy and have been working like crazy decorating ever since. Only the bedroom is finished. I know we need to be going, but would you like to come up and look at it?”

She wanted him in her bedroom? Dazed by his good fortune, Nick followed her up the stairs. He noted that Lauren had to grasp a handful of skirt, thereby widening the slit in back, so she could manage the steps.

“I have the most gorgeous bedroom suite in the world.”

And the best legs, Nick silently added, relishing the tantalizing lengths of limb Lauren unwittingly revealed. Though tempted to hang back a step or two, he resisted. It wouldn’t do for her to catch him trying to get a glimpse of her panties. As it was, he’d have to keep his jacket buttoned all night to hide his unfortunate physical reaction to the seams of her sexy black stockings.

Lauren took a right at the top of the carpeted stair, leading Nick into a bedroom that looked as if it had come straight from “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”

“My God,” he murmured, momentarily distracted from Lauren, herself. Slowly he turned, taking in every detail of the cream-colored furniture, the diaphanous cream-colored curtains, the plush cream-colored carpet. The only color in the room besides cream, cream, cream was a splash of burnished gold here and there, the red roses he’d sent her on Monday and, at the moment, Lauren, herself, dressed as she was in take-no-prisoners black.

“You don’t like it.”

“It’s…incredible. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. All that’s missing is the virgin princess, stretched out on that four-poster bed, waiting to be kissed awake by the handsome prince.”

“Princess, heck! This is my room. Therefore, I’m the one who gets the kiss.”

“Then all I can say is ‘Look out, Sleeping Beauty,’ because if you’re wearing that dress when the prince shows up, you won’t be a virgin for long.”

“Oh, I took care of that little problem years ago,” Lauren told him with an airy wave of her hand. She walked over to the cheval mirror and smoothed her dress down over her hips. “So you like the outfit?”

“It’s really beautiful.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” To my sex—to my heart—to my life. Hearing the echo of his unspoken offer, Nick tensed. It would be easy to get in over his head, here. So easy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lauren, who now stood close enough to feel the reaction.

“I was just wondering where you’re going to clip your pager,” Nick quickly lied. While he didn’t mind her knowing he found her desirable tonight, he had no intentions of admitting he’d actually, even for a millisecond, thought of her in conjunction with his tomorrows. That was an insanity he could neither explain nor understand, unless seeing her again had somehow resurrected long-buried dreams of the good life. Too bad that Nicolas Gatewood, more than anyone, knew the good life wasn’t for everyone. “Assuming you’re taking it with you.”

“Of course I’m taking it with me. And I’m putting it in your shirt pocket.” Lauren scooped up her purse, took out the pager and tucked it in his shirt pocket. Then she smoothed his shirt and tie. “Goodness, but you’re all tensed up,” she murmured, the next instant stepping behind Nick and gently kneading his shoulders. “Take off your jacket.”

“What for?”

“Your muscles are in knots.” Even through the fabric of his black jacket and snow-white shirt, her probing fingers seared his flesh. “They need attention.”

I’ll show you a muscle that needs attention! Nick’s libido screamed, further rattling- his shaky nerves. “Though I appreciate the offer, we really don’t have time, for a back rub, Lauren. We have to be at Phillip Avery’s in—” he glanced at his watch, noting that his hands…hell, his whole body…trembled at her touch “—twenty minutes, and it’s going to take every one of them to get there.”

“Then I’ll give you a rain check,” Lauren murmured, tugging playfully on his earlobe.

Nick jumped as if she’d goosed him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lauren demanded. Serious now, and obviously concerned, she raised his left arm and ducked under it to stand eyes-to-Adam’s-apple with him.

“I guess I am a little nervous about this dinner party. I’m not sure of the reason for it. And then there’s this phony engagement business. Speaking of which—” Nick dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved the tiny blue velvet box he’d tucked there earlier “—put this on.”

Wide-eyed with curiosity, Lauren opened the box. While she examined the diamond solitaire inside, Nick examined her and saw the stuff of which a bad boy’s dreams were made: auburn hair, big blue eyes, kissable lips. Man, oh man.

She was out of his league and always had been. Yet here they stood—face-to-face and, of all things, faking an engagement.

“Where’d you get this?” Lauren held the ring up under his nose.

“My fiancée.”

“You’ve been engaged?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened?”

“Every time she set the wedding date, I found an excuse to change it.”

“Tsk. Tsk. And how many times did this happen?”

“Four.”

“No wonder she gave the ring back to you.”

“Actually, she threw it back to me, and I never blamed her.”

To Nick’s relief, Lauren slipped the ring on her finger instead of asking any more questions about that painful period in his past. “It’s a little loose, but I promise I won’t lose it.”

“Lose it. Lose it!” Ready to escape Lauren’s pristine bedroom, Nick walked out the door and down the hall to the stairs. Lauren turned off the light and joined him. Together they descended into the foyer, where she retrieved her coat from a closet. Moments after, they left the house.

The clock on the dash said 8:10 when Nick braked to a halt in Phillip Avery’s circle drive and assisted Lauren from the car. They hurried up the steps to the house, Lauren exclaiming over everything from the massive oak trees to the antique mailbox. It warmed Nick’s heart to hear her comments. Although a noted obstetrician in one of the city’s most influential clinics—at least according to the secretary who’d ordered the roses for him—Lauren was still just Sissy West from a small Texas town on the Gulf of Mexico.

Incredible, that, and disconcertingly appealing.

“Do I need to ring the bell?” Lauren asked, no doubt referring to his earlier reluctance to ring hers.

“Feel free.”

Lauren reached up, then slowly lowered her hand. “Do you really think they’ll believe we’re in love, Nick? I mean, we didn’t practice or anything—”

“Trust me, Lauren,” Nick couldn’t resist teasing. “If I’d had the slightest idea you wanted to practice loving me, I’d have been over every night this week.”




Chapter Two (#ulink_bd716179-6175-5520-891e-8465c084be0a)


“Why, Nick Gatewood, shame on you!” Laughing over her case of nerves, Lauren punched the doorbell. She heard its ring, muted by the heavy front door. Then the ornate wooden barrier was flung open wide.

“Hello, Nicky,” crooned an. emerald-eyed brunette Lauren guessed to be in her early twenties. She included Lauren in her smile almost as an afterthought. “Please come in.”

Grateful when Nick took her hand and led the way, Lauren stepped into the massive foyer of a house that could have been Tara, just as its mistress could have been Scarlett.

Unfortunately the conservatively attired man Lauren saw hurrying down the hall toward them couldn’t have been Rhett. No, he more resembled Scarlett’s father, a fact that explained Sabrina’s attraction to Nick—who could claim more than a few Rhett-ly qualities.

Nick cleared his throat, transporting Lauren back to Texas from civil-war Georgia. “I’d like to introduce my fiancée, Lauren West, an obstetrician who works at a clinic here in town. Lauren, this is Phillip Avery, one of the cofounders of Avery, Sanders and Wright, and his wife, Sabrina.”

“Fiancée? Well, I’ll be damned,” responded Phillip, with a delighted grin. He reached for Lauren’s hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. “When did all this happen?”

“Just what I was about to ask,” interjected Sabrina, her smile long since vanished, her skin tone as green as her eyes.

“It happened Sunday before last, actually,” Nick replied, laying his left arm casually over Lauren’s shoulders and pulling her closer to his side. Lauren slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

“We’ve known each other since we were teenagers,” she said. “So naturally we were both surprised when our friendship blossomed into love.”

Sabrina made a choking sound, which turned into a cough.

“Are you all right, darling?” Phillip asked, reaching out to pat her on the back.

“Fine,” she snapped, shaking off his solicitous touch. Her venomous gaze nailed Lauren to the wall, or would have if Nick hadn’t stepped in the line of fire. Lauren didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but appreciated the gesture.

“We aren’t ready to announce the engagement to everyone yet,” Nick then said. “But we did want you two to know.”

“We’re honored to be some of the chosen few,” Phillip told him, clearly oblivious to his wife’s reaction. “And I think this wonderful news deserves a toast. Follow me.” That said, the portly architect led the way into the den. An elaborate wet bar covered one wall, a massive fireplace, another. The third and fourth were made up of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books that Lauren bet the lady of the house had never dusted, much less read.

Phillip handed everyone a wineglass, into which he poured a measure of sparkling pink champagne, talking all the while. “I have to admit that lately I’ve been worried about Nick, who is the most gifted architect I’ve ever known, by the way.”

Nick flushed crimson in response to the praise and avoided Lauren’s gaze.

“He seemed restless,” Phillip continued. “A bit down. In fact, I actually wondered if he was going to come back after his vacation in a couple of weeks. I guess I can quit worrying about that now.”

“Yes, you can,” Lauren murmured with a questioning glance at Nick. His expression told her nothing.

Moments later, drinks in hand, the four of them toasted an engagement as fake as Sabrina Avery’s beauty mark. They next exchanged enough small talk to satisfy Phillip’s curiosity about Lauren. Their young hostess then excused herself to the kitchen to check on the meal, sweetly inviting Lauren to come along.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call 911,” Lauren whispered to Nick, under the guise of kissing his cheek. His eyes danced in response, and she saw a smile tugging the corners of his lips.

So he was enjoying this, huh? Well, no wonder. She was the one about to face the firing squad.

Lauren found the kitchen as impressive as the rest of the house and was surprised to discover that Sabrina seemed to know her way around the room.

“Something smells wonderful,” Lauren murmured, trying, for the sake of Nick’s career, to be friendly with this woman-child.

“It’s an old family recipe. My parents own a restaurant in New York. They feature European cuisine. I was practically raised in the kitchen.” She lifted the lid of a large, stainless steel pot and stirred the contents with a wooden spoon, releasing more aromatic steam. “Do you cook?”

“Not much,” Lauren admitted without thought.

“Poor Nicky,” murmured Sabrina. “He loves my cooking, you know.” She replaced the lid on the cook pot and turned to face Lauren. “You’ve known him how long, did you say?”

“At least twenty-five years.” Which is a couple of years longer than you’ve been alive, sweetheart.

“When is the wedding?”

“We’re not sure yet, since we both have such busy schedules.”

“May I give you a word of advice?”

A word of advice? From a preschooler? Though Lauren knew Sabrina’s action resulted from her immaturity and jealousy, she barely managed to contain her sarcasm when she replied, “I’m all ears.”

“My husband may not be particularly intuitive, but he is right about one thing. Nicky only pretends he is satisfied with his life.” Sabrina tossed her long dark hair, then lifted her chin, her gaze arrogant and disdainful. “He’s a rebel—a reckless, restless rebel—who will one day run away from everything, including you.”

Lauren abruptly lost her battle with her own good manners. “Your point?”

“Enjoy him while you have him.”

“Oh, but I do,” Lauren replied, by now sick of the woman’s melodrama and oddly disturbed by it. “In fact, that’s why we were late tonight…because we were enjoying each other so much.” Lauren spun on her heel and exited the kitchen, but not before she saw Sabrina’s jaw drop.

When Lauren burst into the den a second later, her eyes met Nick’s across the room. He leapt to his feet, a sure sign her anger must be showing. Phillip, clearly confused by Nick’s abrupt action, stood, too.

“Your headache must be worse,” Nick said to Lauren, taking her arm.

“Much,” Lauren told him through gritted teeth. “If I could just get some fresh air.”

“Why don’t you take her out in the garden?” Phillip suggested, clearly concerned. “You know the way, I believe. I’ll call you when everything is ready.”

“Thanks,” Nick murmured, grasping Lauren by the wrist and nearly dragging her down the hall and out double glass doors into the garden. The October breeze was a welcome relief, instantly cooling Lauren’s flaming temper. Cherishing the night sounds and garden smells, she let Nick lead her through the softly illuminated area to a covered bench swing.

“Speak to me,” he said the moment they were settled.

“That woman is such a witch!” Lauren exploded. “Granted, she’s a baby one, but what potential!” She gave him an edited account of her recent conversation with Sabrina, leaving out the woman’s prediction that Nick would soon break from the confines of propriety.

He groaned in response to her confession. “You actually told her we were late because we were making love?”

“As good as.”

“Damn, Lauren.”

“I know…I know. It was a terribly childish thing to do.” She shook her head in disbelief that she’d let Sabrina get to her that way. “I don’t know what came over me. I hope you’re not upset.”

To Lauren’s astonishment, the night rang with Nick’s laughter. “Awed by your creativity, maybe, but not upset. Did you really think I would be?”

“I wasn’t sure. I mean, she is the boss’s wife.”

“Yeah, poor guy,” Nick murmured, instantly sobering.

“And I did tell her one heck of a whopper.”

“The lie wasn’t that big.”

“Are you kidding? We haven’t even kissed.”

“We can remedy that easily enough.” Nick surprised Lauren by turning slightly so he could pull her up tight against him. He then brushed his lips over hers in the lightest of touches, just enough to leave her begging for more.

“You call that a kiss?” Lauren heard herself blurt out. It had been too, too long since a man had held her this close. She couldn’t resist prolonging the contact even though no good would come of it.

With a grunt of satisfaction that must have meant no, Nick pressed his mouth to hers again and proceeded to demonstrate exactly what he called a kiss.

Firmly, yet gently, his lips seduced. He teased, he tasted, he tantalized…without words urging Lauren to open her mouth and let him deepen the kiss. She did, then took control—slipping her tongue between his teeth, exploring, savoring.

The thunder of Lauren’s heartbeat drowned the night sounds. Nick’s musky cologne obscured the garden smells. She heard a soft moan—his or hers?—and sighed with regret when he dragged his mouth from hers.

“Woman, you are lethal,” Nick whispered, trailing his lips across her cheek so he could nibble the supersensitive spot just under her earlobe. Lauren shivered in response to the caress.

“Me?” She tipped her head, making it easier for him to nuzzle her neck. “You’re the one who’s lethal, and if I’d had the faintest idea you could kiss like that, I’d have fought Diana for you.”

Nick snorted and raised his head. “Get real. You were only thirteen.”

“Just the right age to learn about the birds and the bees,” Lauren replied. To her surprise, Nick held her away from him.

“Who did teach you about the birds and the bees?”

“Bobby Winfree when I was eighteen.”

“That empty-headed jock?”

Lauren shrugged. “He may have been an intellectual lightweight, but his kisses sure made my heart go pitterpat.”

“And what about my kisses?” Nick asked. “Do they do anything to your heart?”

“What is this, true confessions?”

“I was just curious.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll tell you what your kisses do to my heart after you tell me what mine do to yours.”

“It’s interesting you should mention that, because my heart is acting really weird right now.”

“What do you mean ‘really weird’?” At once all business, Dr. West pressed her palm to Nick’s chest. She tensed, then remembered and bubbled with laughter. “That’s not your heart, Nick. That’s my pager. It vibrates when I’m getting a call.”

With a grin that admitted he knew that already, Nick placed his hand over hers and pinned it against his shirt pocket. “I’m not letting you answer that, until I have your promise we can finish our cardiac comparison later.”

“Trust me when I tell you the mood won’t be the same,” Lauren murmured with disgust. How many times had that stupid pager interrupted a tender moment during the last few years of med school, residency and practice? Hundreds? No, more like thousands…at least it felt that way sometimes.

“Nick? Lauren?” It was Phillip, standing at the French doors. “Sabrina tells me that dinner is ready.”

“We were just coming in. Lauren’s been paged.” Nick got to his feet and tugged Lauren to hers. “Only a couple of hours more and this night will be over,” he whispered.

And when it ends, so will our engagement, Lauren silently answered, not a bit surprised to find herself despondent at the thought. Nick wasn’t the only one who’d felt restless of late. So had she, if the oft-verbalized concern of her co-workers was anything to go by.

But running into Nick at the stadium had changed all that. Suddenly energized and loving it, she could not bear to think what would happen once he exited her life again.

Lauren took care of the page with one quick phone call, and the four of them soon made their way to the dining room where waited a table set with delicate china and crystal. Wishing for pepperoni pizza and a cold beer, Nick assisted Lauren into her chair, then sat across the table from her.

Halfway through Sabrina Avery’s exotic meal, Nick discovered just how much his and Lauren’s garden escapade was going to cost him in peace of mind and body. He found himself eating automatically, one ear tuned to the conversation of his host, all his other senses focused on Lauren, smiling demurely at him from time to time.

He heard her easy laugh, felt when she crossed her long legs and accidentally nudged him, smelled her cologne. As for taste, even the highly spiced entree did not obliterate his memory of the flavor that was so distinctly Lauren. His whole body felt charged up and ready—some parts more than others—and he squirmed in his chair like a little kid anxiously awaiting the dessert.

Thus distracted, he had little to say the rest of the evening, but if Phillip noticed, he did not comment. As for Sabrina, she said maybe three words all during dinner and after. Finally at ten-thirty Nick and Lauren murmured their thank-yous and goodbyes and escaped to the car.

“Am I to understand that the whole reason for this dinner tonight was so Phillip Avery could hint he would sponsor you, should one of the partners at Avery, Sanders and Wright decide to retire?” Lauren asked, once they were safely away. She had already taken off a shoe and was rubbing her foot as if it were hurting, a task for which Nick wished he could volunteer.

“Looks that way,” he said, glancing over at her every time they passed under a streetlight. “Retirement rumors have been circulating around the office for months now, though no one has a clue which partner is retiring or who will be invited to replace him. I think this dinner tonight is Avery’s way of saying he’s sticking around and wants me in management.”

“Why, that would be fantastic!” Lauren exclaimed, the next instant adding, “Wouldn’t it?” in a voice so uncertain Nick knew she must have picked up on his mood. It was oddly flat, considering partnership in the architectural firm had been a dream of his for years.

“Yeah, sure.” To change the subject, he said, “Would a kiss make that better?”

“Would a…? Oh. My foot.” She shook her head and slipped her shoe back on. “Doctor that I am, I can say with complete authority that it would not. A Band-Aid would do wonders, though.”

“I have a whole tin of them at my place. Fluorescent ones. Want to take a detour and stop by there?”

For a moment Lauren didn’t answer, then she turned slightly in the bucket seat as though to better see him, not easy since the streetlights had begun to thin. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been invited to your place to look at some etchings?”

“Because you have?”

Lauren sighed. “Nick, there’s something I have to tell you—”

“’No thanks’?” So the party was already over. Though disappointed, Nick wasn’t surprised. He’d known it wouldn’t take long for Beauty to tire of the Beast and honestly hadn’t planned beyond tonight. “I understand, Lauren. I know I’m not your type, and I had no business even suggesting that we…um…get to know each other again.”

“For your information, I don’t have a type. And what I was going to say is this—while there’s nothing I’d like better than to get to know you again, I’ve tried twice to evenly balance my personal life with my professional one, and I just can’t seem to do it.”

“That’s crazy. There must be thousands, maybe millions, of doctors who carry pagers and yet manage to balance their professional and personal lives.”

“I didn’t say it couldn’t be done, Nick. I said I couldn’t do it evenly…at least at this stage in my life. I’ve only been in private practice for two years. I have dues to pay. Therefore, much as I’d love to spend all my time getting to know you again, the most I can promise is leftovers.”

“I’d never ask for all your time, Lauren. In fact, I don’t recall asking for any of it. I just thought—heck, I don’t know what I thought.”

“That the kisses we shared tonight were incredible, maybe? That it felt really great to be held so tight?”

“That just about sums it up.” Nick turned onto Blue Moon Lane, then a couple of blocks later, into her drive. He braked the car and killed the engine, then sat without speaking, not sure what to say to break the awkward silence between them.

Fortunately Lauren didn’t have that problem. “Just so you know, I enjoyed our garden party, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nick shifted his position so he could see her better. “What would you say if I told you I want to kiss you again?”

Leaning to cover the distance between the bucket seats, she gave him a light peck on the mouth that instantly set him on fire for her. In a flash, Nick wrapped his arms around Lauren, holding her where she was—close, and in danger of being stabbed by the stick shift.

“Now what about our doing some serious making out? Would you go for that, too?”

“Not in this car, I won’t,” she answered, squirming to free herself. “And I guess you’d better define serious.”

“Serious is—jeez!” Nick slapped a hand to his pocket, only then remembering that pesky pager, vibrating in his pocket like an angry bumblebee. With an embarrassed laugh, he handed the pager to Lauren, then flipped on the dome light so she could better view the number she needed to call.

“Lisa Millcott. One of our receptionists. I’d better call her, and I’d better set this pager to beep again.” Lauren did so, then opened the car door and looked back at Nick, who had never moved. “You’re coming in, aren’t you?”

“You want me to?”

“How else will I ever discover what ‘serious making out’ is?” Laughing, she slipped from the car and ran across the dew-kissed lawn to her sidewalk. Nick battled his raging libido maybe half a second before he leapt from the car and loped after her. Together they climbed the porch steps. After digging into her bag, Lauren unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The ring of her telephone greeted them. Lauren dashed into her den, set her pager on an end table, then scooped up the telephone receiver.

“Hello?”

Nick, who’d followed Lauren into the room, saw her face light up. “Why, hi there.” She covered the mouthpiece with one hand and whispered, “It’s Diana,” then motioned for him to have a seat on the blue chintz couch, which he did. She sank down on a matching chair, slipped out of her shoes and tucked one leg up under the other. “Is everyone okay? I mean, you’re usually snoring by now.” Lauren winked at Nick as though she knew that remark would bug the heck out of big sis.

Nick grinned, imagining Diana’s rejoinder. He expected Lauren to laugh, but to his surprise he saw her jaw drop and her cheeks flame crimson.

“Di…please…let me explain—”

Lauren’s gaze met Nick’s across the room. She drew her forefinger across her neck, the age-old sign of disaster and certain doom.

“Yes, Frank was talking about the Nick Gatewood you once dated—”

Uh-oh.

“—but he didn’t have his facts exactly straight.” She shook her head, clearly agitated by whatever Diana had to say to that. “No, I’m not saying he lied. What I’m saying is…is…” Once again Lauren put her hand over the mouthpiece and gave Nick her attention. “What am I saying?”

“Depends on what she’s saying,” Nick retorted.

“Di’s upset, and I mean really upset, because I told Frank about the engagement before I told her.”

Great. “Then you’d better tell her the truth.”

“Schoolgirl crush!” Lauren loudly exclaimed, apparently in response to something Diana said. Nick doubted she’d heard his suggestion at all. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I never had any schoolgirl crush on Nick Gatewood.” She positively glared at Nick as if he, and not her sister, were the accuser. “As for his suitability as a mate, I’ll have you know that Nick is an architect. Yes, I said architect. He works at a very prestigious firm here in Dallas and is going to be offered a partnership very soon.”

Nick groaned at that exaggeration, a sound that earned him another glare from Lauren.

“You’re what? Oh, Di, I wish you wouldn’t.” Lauren flashed Nick a look of pure panic, but said nothing, clearly on the receiving end of a sisterly diatribe. “But of course I’d love to see you, it’s just that I’m always on call and—okay, okay. Come ahead, but I’m telling you now that you’re going to feel really silly…”

Lauren heaved a sigh, met Nick’s steady gaze and shook her head.

“Maybe you’re right. A face-to-face chat is in order. I’ll do my best to meet your plane…what? Okay, then, take a taxi. You still have a house key? Good. Well, I’ll see you when I see you, I guess. And, Diana…will you please not mention the engagement to Mother? I, um, want to tell her myself.”

The moment Lauren hung up the phone she buried her face in her hands.

“You okay?” Nick asked, getting up and walking over to her chair. He dropped down on one knee in front of her.

Lauren raised her head. “Diana’s flying up in two weeks to find out what’s going on.”

“I gathered that.”

“I’m going to love looking her dead in the eye and telling her she’s interfered for nothing, that this whole thing is a lie.”

“You mean you’re actually going to wait that long before you spill the truth about us?” He couldn’t believe it.

As if already formulating just how she’d advise Diana to mind her own business, Lauren actually nodded in reply before his question really registered. Then she froze, winced and met his gaze. “Oh God. That would be awfully mean, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d say so, yeah. She’s your favorite sister, after all.”

“Diana is my only sister.”

“All the more reason not to keep her in the dark too long.”

“I suppose.” Lauren pulled the diamond ring off her finger. “Here, take it. There’s no way out of this mess now but to tell everyone the truth, and pronto.”

“Not so fast,” Nick retorted, backpedaling. “While it’s only right that you should tell Diana everything now, there’s no way I can do the same to Phillip Avery.”

Lauren arched an eyebrow in censure. “Well, if that isn’t a double standard!”

“No double standard. Our situations aren’t remotely similar, and there’s no way I can justify this faked engagement to Avery. I mean, what am I supposed to tell the man…that I lied so his wife would get her tongue out of my ear?” He shook his head and handed back the ring. “I don’t think so.”

Lauren hesitated, then took it. “I hate to admit it, but you have a point.” She slipped the ring back on her finger. “So we’re agreed that we won’t tell Avery, but do we tell Diana?”

“Absolutely.”

Sucking in a deep breath as if to bolster her courage, Lauren reached for the phone and punched out a number. Almost instantly she grimaced and dropped the receiver into the cradle. “Line’s busy.”

“She’s probably telling your mother about the engagement,” Nick teased with a wicked grin.

“She’d better not be!” Lauren exclaimed, turning on him. Her eyes flashed and two spots of crimson stained her cheeks.

“Just joking, just joking,” Nick hurriedly exclaimed, trying to soothe the waters he’d just troubled. “Try her again.”

“I will in a minute,” Lauren murmured, drawing out the sentence as if her mind were somewhere far away.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Nothing really.” She gave him a reassuring smile that did everything but reassure him. “What you said just served as a painful reminder of how many times Diana has irritated the holy heck out of me through the years.”

Nick didn’t like the sound of that. “For example?”

“For example…the time our Aunt Susan sent us a box of chocolates to split for Valentine’s Day. Diana, who’d gotten the mail out of the box that day, hid it in her closet and didn’t share for two weeks and only then because she’d eaten all the pieces with nuts in them.”

Nick frowned, hoping he couldn’t guess where this was headed.

“And then there was the time she borrowed and broke my favorite necklace.” Lauren, sitting with her legs crossed at the knee, bobbed her foot up and down in righteous indignation. “She let me look for that thing for at least two weeks before she confessed.”

Nick took note of the storm clouds gathering in Lauren’s expressive eyes. Was her sense of honor about to get swept away in a gale of childhood memories? It sure looked like it to him. “Why don’t you try calling her again? She’s probably off by now.”

Lauren never moved a muscle.

“Lauren…?”

“I’m thinking maybe I’ll let her stew awhile.”

“You can’t do that,” Nick replied.

“Why not? Heaven knows she deserves a little grief back for all she gave me when we were kids.”

“Kids being the key word, here. You’re not a kid now, you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t lie to their sisters.”

Lauren said nothing for a moment, then gave him a guileless smile. “You know, Nick, Diana has been matchmaking like crazy ever since Lee Jacobs and I broke up about a year and a half ago.”

Lee Jacobs? Who the hell was Lee Jacobs? “Er…sisters are like that, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, she’s worst than most. Always faxing me the names of eligible bachelors she knows, sending me off on blind dates whenever I visit her in Houston, lecturing me about my biological clock. She acts as if I don’t have enough sense to pick out a good man by myself.”

Nick’s sympathy for Diana began to wane. “I’m sure that the news of our engagement didn’t exactly reassure her.”

“No,” Lauren admitted, in the next breath qualifying that with “but only because you were such a rebel the last time she saw you.”

“Right,” he murmured somewhat dryly, now half-sorry he’d tried to make Lauren feel guilty for fooling dear ol’ meddling Diana.

Lauren gave him a sidelong glance, almost as though measuring the state of his feelings—sure indication she played him like a piano. “She was awful to you when you guys were an item, wasn’t she?”

“Not so bad,” Nick murmured, to discourage her from reopening teenage wounds.

“Oh get real, Nick. She cheated on you from day one, stood you up if someone better called and wore Brent McEntyre’s class ring for two weeks before she broke off with you.”

“Two weeks? She had that damn ring that long?”

Lauren, eyes twinkling, nodded.

“Well, hell.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought.

“Guess I should try to call her again,” Lauren finally ventured.

“What’s the rush?” he retorted.

Their gazes locked. “Or I could teach her a lesson.”

“Meaning?”

“We could play up our engagement for all it’s worth, gain her blessing—and she will give us that, once she gets to know you again—then tell her the truth. That would surely prove once and for all that I do have a brain in my head and can find myself a wonderful man—”

“That she passed over years ago.”

Lauren’s smile lit up the room. “So you agree we should do it?”

Nick battled his conscience. “Diana is nobody’s fool, Lauren. I’m thinking it won’t be so easy to pull the wool over your sister’s eyes as Sabrina’s.”

“True…” She thought for a moment, then flashed another brilliant smile. “Diana’s not coming until the twenty-eighth…sixteen whole days—”

And nights.

“Surely if we get together a few times—”

Hmm. Impulse took rein in Nick’s mind. “A few times? If we’re going to fool big sis, we’d better do more than that. Now I’m going to be out of town several days the weeks she’s coming in, but should be available before that.” He watched Lauren’s face, searching for a sign that she might go for the crazy idea now filling his head. “I suggest we spend as much time together as possible, to talk.”

“Okay.”

“And I think we should practice being more affectionate, too.”

Lauren frowned slightly at him as if trying to read his thoughts. Nick kept his mind blank, certain his X-rated plans might be a bit much for her.

“I agree with the first part,” Lauren replied, frowning slightly. “But not the practice thing. I personally think we have ‘affection’ nailed already, or if not that exactly, then a definite facsimile. Anyone watching us in the Averys’ garden earlier tonight would think we’ve been engaged, or maybe even married, for years.”

“Get real, Lauren. Anyone watching us would know we were kissing for the first time and had a long, long way to go before wedding bells rang.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Technique. There’s a world of difference between the kisses of a couple such as we, who really barely know one another, and a couple who plan to marry. Please bear in mind that I’m referring to a man and woman who don’t share a roof…unless, of course, you told Diana we live together. In that case, I’ll have to alter our strategy.”




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