Mail-Order Cinderella (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 2)

by Kathryn Jensen

  “Link’s a pretty cautious guy. He wouldn’t come out with some outrageous theory unless he had proof. He believes the elevator was sabotaged, which means Mike might have been intentionally killed.”

  “You mean murdered.” Now that it had been said out loud, Tyler felt it must be true.

  Dodd had been a crucial cog in the hospital project, which was a labor of love for the Fortunes. Everyone in the family was taking part—raising money, putting in unpaid hours of labor, donating materials, gathering regional and state political support and local sympathy for a medical facility that would serve the young, ethnically diverse population around Pueblo.

  Once the hospital was complete, injured and sick children wouldn’t need to be rushed off to Tucson, twenty-five miles to the north, for medical care. Papago families would receive care for their children without requiring proof of insurance or demands that they pay astronomical medical costs they couldn’t afford. This had been his family’s dream for as long as Tyler had been in the business, and that was as far back as he could remember.

  If someone wanted to hurt the Fortunes, sabotaging the hospital was a perfect way to do it.

  “This is terrible. Have you told Dad yet?”

  Jason lifted a hand in a helpless gesture. “I’m on my way to the ranch right now.”

  Tyler nodded grimly. A family didn’t acquire the wealth of the Fortunes without making enemies along the way. But he hadn’t wanted to believe envy and greed could push anyone in Pueblo to murder.

  “You want to come with me when I give Dad the news?” Jason asked.

  Tyler found himself staring at the dark TV screen. “No. You go ahead, I’ll get the details later. Too much to do here.”

  Jason shook his head as if he understood the flow of his brother’s thoughts. “You can’t order a wife as if she were a pizza.”

  Tyler flicked a piece of lint off his denim shirt. “Marriages used to be arranged on a lot less than a videotape.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” Jason threw his strong arms around Tyler and thumped him fondly on the back.

  Minutes later, Tyler found himself standing in the middle of his office, still staring at the dark TV screen. Was he crazy for wanting to take command of his own future? Women made demands on their men. Children required unlimited love and constant attention to their physical needs. All of that time spent relating to family members ate up precious work hours and changed a man. Whether he wanted to be changed or not.

  The cold, black expanse of screen challenged Tyler. Alternatives. He desperately needed alternatives. Tyler reached for the remote again. Julie Parker’s smooth, pale countenance materialized before him.

  He was partial to flaming redheads. Miss Parker’s hair was paper-bag brown. He melted in the presence of blue eyes. Hers were a subtle mossy hue. Tall, leggy women instantly attracted him. He glanced down at the stats accompanying her tape. She was barely five-foot-two. He’d tower over her.

  She was all wrong for him physically. But he could tell by her shy manner, frequent blushes, and the way she repeatedly averted her eyes from the camera that she wasn’t the type to assert herself. This might actually work to your advantage, a persistent voice whispered to him. And all she asked from him was a baby.

  She needed a husband; he needed a wife. A simple trade-off.

  She had just about given up hope. In less than ten days, the six-month membership Julie had purchased in the upscale matchmaking service would expire. She couldn’t afford to sign up for another. She could barely afford next month’s rent.

  That same night, the telephone rang. “We’ve received a request for a personal contact,” the woman on the other end cheerfully informed her. “I can overnight a copy of the gentleman’s tape to you. Let us know if you’d like to meet him. He looks like an excellent match for you, Miss Parker.”

  Julie was skeptical. Her first thought was: This is the bait to make me sign up for another six months.

  But when the tape arrived along with a brief biographical sketch, she wondered if this might actually be the moment she’d been waiting for. Someone was interested in meeting her! And he knew from the start what she looked like, how awkwardly she behaved around strangers and what she expected of him.

  Last fall, it had taken every ounce of her precious store of courage to contact Soulmate Search after rejecting every other dating service in the phone book because they’d seemed embarrassingly tacky if not outright perilous. Imagine divulging your private hopes and dreams to hundreds of absolute strangers! And they could just forget about her climbing into a car with a stranger.

  But this company guaranteed confidentiality and a thorough screening of applicants to weed out undesirables. She would receive names and video interviews of men from all across the country who were serious about marriage and potentially interested in her. Soulmate’s clients were men and women with stable incomes who wouldn’t mind flying to the opposite coast to meet a potential mate. No lounge lizards, prison inmates or out-of-work loafers here!

  The next day Julie had blown her entire savings on one last-ditch effort to find a man who could give her what she so desperately needed.

  Now her heart beat frantically in her chest and her fingertips felt moist as she slipped the tape cartridge into the used video player she’d purchased for ten dollars at the thrift shop. Julie poured herself a glass of the generic Chablis she kept handy as a cooking ingredient. The love she would have lavished on a child she put into creating exotic dishes, even though she had no one to share them with in her tiny apartment. She took three fast sips to steady her nerves, then pushed a button and stood back from the screen, her grocery-store wineglass cupped between trembling hands.

  The man on the screen was drop-dead gorgeous. This had to be a mistake.

  Julie ejected the film, inspected the label, reread the accompanying letter.

  No, everything appeared to be in order. His name was Tyler Fortune, just as the woman on the phone had said. He lived in Pueblo, Arizona, almost due west of Houston, where she lived. This was good. She felt better knowing they both resided in the Southwest.

  Julie started the tape again.

  She sat down without looking to see if a chair was nearby, and her bottom made serendipitous contact with a sofa cushion. Hugging her knees to her chest, she held her breath while the amazing man on the screen answered a list of questions posed by a female interviewer.

  “What line of work are you in, Mr. Fortune?” the woman asked.

  “Construction.”

  Ah, Julie thought, so that’s how he got those strong neck and shoulder muscles—swinging a pickax, hefting lumber, lugging sacks of cement mix. Even in a respectable dress shirt and tie, he clearly was a well-formed man.

  “And your hobbies?”

  “Not many.”

  “Name one or two, please.”

  “I, um, well, I like the outdoors.”

  Great! Children should play outside a lot. She wasn’t very athletic herself, so it would be wonderful if their father took them on hikes, fishing, played ball with them.

  “Is marriage a high or low priority for you, Mr. Fortune?”

  “Very high,” he answered solemnly, his gray eyes steady and calm.

  A little yelp of joy escaped Julie’s lips. She took a quick sip of wine, then giggled as some dribbled down her chin. And this man had liked her tape!

  “What about children?”

  “Yes, there definitely need to be children in my marriage.”

  This was almost too good to be true! Perhaps these were the very reasons this Tyler Fortune found her tape appealing. He obviously wanted a family just as much as she did. He was a man capable of looking beyond her ordinary appearance and nervous responses, to more important and practical issues. To a future that could be good for both of them.

  But there was one thing that bothered her. She’d learned to be wary of handsome men. A man who was too good-looking usually knew it and took full advantage. Tyler Fortune shou
ld have been awash with women. There must be something drastically wrong with the man.

  Julie watched the interview all the way through to the end, rewound, then watched it three more times—accompanied by three more glasses of wine. Instead of defects showing up, Tyler looked better and better with each playing, and each glass of wine. He seemed to be staring straight through the camera lens at her. Only her. His gaze was direct, intelligent and sometimes playful. He was a man she at least could like, if not love. He was a man who made strange, tickley things happen inside her.

  Turning off the TV, Julie picked up the letter that had come with the tape. She rolled the side of the wineglass across her forehead, cooling her feverish skin. She thought about possibilities…dreams…a future. And risks.

  The letter said it was now up to her to contact Mr. Fortune if she was interested in meeting with him. He had not been given her address or phone number, in case she decided against following up on his invitation to call.

  “It’s not really a date,” she whispered. “It’s more like a business meeting, isn’t it?”

  Call it what you will, this may be your last chance, a voice nagged from a fragile, worried corner of her soul.

  “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  Two

  Tyler was prepared for the worst when he arrived early and parked outside Van Gogh’s, just north of Westheimer. The trendy Houston restaurant was nestled on immaculately landscaped grounds. Along the sloping grass that ran down to the bayou, the famous peacocks were strutting their stuff for tourists wielding zoom-lensed cameras.

  He parked within easy sight of the main entrance to the restaurant, hoping to see Julie arrive. If she looked just too dreadful to consider marrying, he’d make the meal a quick one then send flowers to her home the next day. The polite note accompanying them would thank her for her gracious company then explain that he felt they weren’t as natural a match as he’d hoped.

  However, as he sat restlessly in the sleek Lincoln Continental he’d rented earlier that afternoon at Hobby Airport, he doubted the remaining six months before his thirtieth birthday would bring a more suitable prospect.

  He waited nervously, trying to recall her most promising traits. Julie seemed polite, moral, genuinely fond of children and interested in the domestic arts. When they’d spoken on the phone two days after Tyler had first seen Julie on her tape, she’d mentioned her love of cooking twice. He assumed she’d eventually become so busy with the children and her own interests, he wouldn’t need to worry about changing his life much at all. If Julie did object to his long working hours, he’d just put her straight, and, as meek as she was, she wasn’t likely to insist.

  Something told him she wouldn’t be terribly demanding in bed either.

  Maybe it was her naturally quiet nature. Her voice over the phone that night he’d called had been as sweet and shy as on the tape. He’d started to ask about her sexual history, which seemed to him a logical question for two people considering making babies together. But she became so flustered he immediately bailed out, deciding to wait until they could discuss the subject face-to-face.

  Tyler looked down at his hands and found he was gripping the Lincoln’s steering wheel as tightly as if he were maneuvering through careening traffic. Deliberately, he loosened his fingers. Women never made him nervous. Why should this little mouse?

  At last a faded red subcompact pulled up hesitantly in front of Van Gogh’s entrance. The driver seemed confused when the valet tried to open her door for her. Tyler couldn’t help smiling. After several minutes of animated conversation, the young man coaxed the woman out of her car and took her place in the driver’s seat. She stood at the curb, staring after her vehicle as it disappeared around the corner, as though expecting never to see it again.

  This could be none other than his Julie Parker.

  Her charming naïveté tugged at Tyler’s heart. He decided he couldn’t in good conscience let her walk into the restaurant alone and deal with Jean Paul. The maître d’s icy French scowl would be enough to send her scurrying home.

  Quickly, Tyler let himself out of the car and jogged across the street, punching the button on his electronic key to lock the car doors as his long legs ate up pavement. Just as Julie’s hand reached with an obvious tremor for the polished brass door handle, he caught up with her.

  “Allow me,” he said, stretching around her to open the door.

  Julie caught her breath as if she hadn’t been aware anyone was behind her. “Oh. Thank you.” She blinked up at him warily, and he was struck again by the subtle variations of colors in the irises. Her breath across his nostrils was petal-sweet. “You’re Mr. Fortune?”

  “Tyler.” Placing his free hand at the small of her back, he guided her inside. “I just arrived myself. And you’re Julie, right?”

  “Oh, well, yes,” she managed.

  “Here, let me take your coat.” It was still chilly for a Texas March. The Southwest had seen an unusually cold winter. People were wearing wool coats and scarves that hadn’t been taken out of closets in years.

  “Thank you,” she murmured again, flicking her eyes up at him for a hasty view of his face before she looked around the foyer.

  It was designed to resemble a Roman grotto—bare stone, little sprigs of green growing between the rough gray rocks. A waterfall splashed sedately at the far end, near the dining rooms. He’d chosen this restaurant because it felt like his turf. Rugged yet refined. Sophisticated…quiet…intimate. He’d flown dates to Houston for a weekend when he didn’t want the whole town of Pueblo gossiping about who their most eligible bachelor was seeing socially. The restaurant’s atmosphere was tinged with upper-class seduction. He felt his body react mildly to the suggestion, and he folded his hands in front of himself.

  “I apologize for not noticing you sooner,” Julie said softly. “I was looking for Arizona plates on the cars along the street.”

  “I picked up a rental at the airport,” he explained.

  “You flew to Houston? Oh my, that must have cost a fortune.”

  “Things were pretty busy at the job site. I didn’t want to—” He stopped himself before saying waste the time. “I didn’t want to be away too long.”

  “I see.” She smiled up at him as if impressed by his strong work ethics. “I know how that is. I hate to leave a job half done.” Her eyes widened as a woman in a long black crepe gown slit up to her thigh passed them. She wore a diamond ankle bracelet. Glancing down self-consciously at her neat wool skirt and matching sweater set, Julie grimaced. “I think I may be a little underdressed for this place.”

  Tyler shook his head. “Not at all. You look fine.”

  She stared at him for a second, as though trying to determine whether he was being honest or just hoping to make her feel better. He kept his expression blank. Sighing, she changed the subject. “Your job in construction…what exactly do you do? Run heavy equipment? Hammer nails and such?”

  He laughed. “Not ordinarily, although I can handle both.”

  Jean Paul arrived at that moment, saving him from admitting more than he chose to just yet. Tyler had intentionally skirted a full explanation of his work, as well as specifics about himself and his family. Such as the fact that the Fortunes were the wealthiest and most influential residents of southern Arizona. He’d wanted to see Julie’s reaction to him as a person before he revealed that marrying him would make her a wealthy woman.

  When they were seated, he ordered wine and suggested two specialties of the house. She eagerly agreed to the seafood. The sommelier presented the wine, a rare white merlot, opened the bottle, offered Tyler the cork then poured when he’d approved. At last, all the servers left them alone.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  Julie lifted the crystal stem to her lips and sipped cautiously. “There isn’t a lot to tell. Most everything was in the bio Soulmate gave you.” She sipped again, and grinned like a child secretly allowed a sweet between meals.

&nbs
p; He thought the guilty twinkle in her eyes charming. It brought out a wicked side of him that whispered how much fun it might be to shock her and set those fascinating, multicolored eyes afire. He attempted to undress her mentally, but her conservative outfit didn’t give his imagination much to work with.

  “Oh my, this is delicious. I sometimes treat myself to a glass of wine after work. But one bottle lasts me a month, and it never tastes this good.”

  She lifted her glass and took another delicate mouthful. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head back as she swallowed. Her elegant throat taunted him, and he suddenly ached to reach across the table and smooth his open palm down the flow of ivory flesh. “We can have a different wine with our meal if you like.”

  Julie’s eyes flew wide with alarm. “Oh, no, we mustn’t. This meal is going to be expensive enough.” She leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially to him. “One thing you should know right now, Mr. Fortune—”

  “Tyler.”

  “Tyler. One thing you should understand,” she said earnestly, “is that I can’t afford to marry a man who doesn’t know the value of a dollar. If I stay at home with my children…our children…we’ll have to live on your salary alone. A construction worker’s pay these days may be adequate for a comfortable life, but it won’t allow for many nights like this.”

  “No, I’m sure it wouldn’t.” He hadn’t intended to lead her on. However, he still needed to know a little more about Julie before admitting how little he worried about the cost of lavish dinners for his dates.

  She rested back in her chair and observed him solemnly. “I’m sorry if I’ve been too blunt. I believe in living within one’s means…that’s all.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” he replied. “I want to know exactly what you expect of me. And I’ll be very frank about what I can and can’t do for you. But first I need you to tell me who Julie Parker really is. There’s a lot more that goes into a person than a job and a few hobbies.”