The Husband Campaign

by Barbara McMahon

  Let the man do the chasing—just don’t run so fast he can’t catch you!

  —Megan Madacy’s journal, spring 1923.

  “What are you doing for dinner?” Jake asked.

  “Going out with Sally.”

  “Tomorrow night?” he persisted.

  “Don’t you ever give up?” Kerry asked. “I have a date.”

  “How about Sunday afternoon?”

  “I have plans for this Sunday.”

  “Skip dinner with Sally tonight. Have it with me,” he coaxed.

  “I can’t.”

  Unexpectedly Jake pulled her up against the length of his hard body. Hot and demanding, his lips crushed against hers. Then he pulled back. “Maybe you can’t break your other dates, but at least you can think about me during them.”

  Barbara McMahon was born and raised in the South, but settled in California after spending a year flying around the world for an international airline. Settling down to raise a family and work for a computer firm, she began writing when her children started school. Now, feeling fortunate in being able to realize a long-held dream of quitting her “day job” and writing full-time, she and her husband recently moved to California’s Sierra Nevada, where she finds her desire to write is stronger than ever. With the beauty of the mountains visible from her windows, and the pace of life slower than the hectic San Franciso Bay Area where they previously resided, she finds more time than ever to think up stories and characters and share them with others through writing. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at P.O. Box 977, Pioneer, CA 95666-0977, U.S.A.

  Books by Barbara McMahon

  HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

  3612—MARRYING MARGOT*

  3616—A MOTHER FOR MOLLIE*

  3620—GEORGIA’S GROOM*

  3649—TEMPORARY FATHER

  THE HUSBAND CAMPAIGN

  Barbara McMahon

  To Charles Mitchell, love from your western cousin.

  To Kathy Stone: in honor of your new home state!

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Let the man do the chasing—just don’t run so fast he can’t catch you.

  —Megan Madacy’s journal, Spring 1923

  KERRY KINCAID TURNED onto the wide street and slowed for the long driveway. Ancient oaks lined the avenue, meeting overhead in a lush green canopy. Dappled sunlight spotted the asphalt and the scent of roses filled the air. She turned her car into the drive and headed straight to the back of the house.

  Though she had visited Uncle Philip and Aunt Peggy every summer from the time she turned ten until her last year of college, she was surprised at the sense of homecoming that filled her. Her visits had only been for the long school breaks while her own parents, both anthropologists, used the months to go abroad to participate in archeological digs. She had been back for a few Christmas visits, but the unexpected welcome today warmed her.

  The old house looked as familiar as ever, its dark green shutters and pristine white clapboard newly painted that spring, according to Aunt Peggy’s most recent letter. The wide front porch still carried the comfortable old wicker rockers, though she thought the colorful cushions looked new. The yard needed work, the grass to be cut, the flower beds weeded. They’d been neglected since her aunt and uncle’s departure on their longed-for cruise a couple of weeks ago. Her cousin obviously put off the yard care as long as possible. It seemed nothing had changed.

  Kerry stopped the car near the small back porch. She leaned back in her seat, exhausted. Hoping she had enough energy to make it into the house, she idly contemplated the flagstone walkway. The grass growing between the flat stones needed trimming. Maybe in a couple of days she’d have enough energy to get out the mower and take care of the yard. It would be a small return for staying in the house while her aunt and uncle were gone. But in the meantime, she felt as if she could close her eyes and sleep for a week right where she was.

  The key word was energy. And inclination. She sighed. She didn’t expect to find either sitting in the car.

  Movement to her right caught her attention. Slowly she turned her head. Her aunt’s next-door neighbor, Jake Mitchell, strode across the yard, heading in her direction. Tall and well-built, he was barefoot, snug cutoff jeans his only attire. It was obvious from the wet black Trans Am and the water running from the hose lying near the car what he’d been doing. His dark hair looked tousled. The cool mocking gray of his eyes was not yet visible. But she knew what to expect. Her heart lurched, then raced as she stared through the windshield at the approaching man. As a teenager, she’d had a huge crush on Jake.

  And he’d never once looked her way.

  Taking a deep breath of resignation, she withdrew the key and grabbed her overnight case. Time enough later to unpack the car and dream over long-ago days. The things in the small bag would tide her over until morning. After a solid night’s sleep, she’d have the energy she needed for the task of unpacking. Or so she hoped.

  Climbing out of the car, she stretched and once again wondered why people rarely used the front door to her aunt’s house. It had to do with parking, she supposed. Though visitors were fond enough of sitting on the front porch once they arrived, almost everyone used the back door. Including family.

  “Kerry?” Jake asked as he drew close. For a moment his gaze ran from the top of her head to her feet. Then the familiar, mocking smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. “Kerry Kincaid.”

  Kerry’s heart pumped hard against her chest, her hands grew damp and every nerve ending tingled. Just from his look. She swallowed hard and nodded. Had nothing changed in the years since she’d last seen him? The old, remembered feelings swept through her, tingling and magical. For one second she wished that he’d whisk her into his arms and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. Of course she’d wished that every summer while she was growing up. Wishes that never came true.

  “Well, well, little Kerry Elizabeth Kincaid, all grown up. And you did it so well,” he drawled, folding his arms across that wide expanse of chest and leaning against the hood of her car. His gaze made a leisurely trek over the feminine curves and valleys of her body. From the glint that appeared, Kerry knew he approved.

  Anger flared at his arrogant perusal, his mocking tone. She was in no mood to deal with this. Ignoring the tantalizing expanse of bronze chest, she glared at him, holding her own. All grown up and not about to make a fool of herself over this man ever again.

  “Well, well, John Charles Mitchell, still obnoxious as ever,” she returned, refusing to be intimidated. She’d dueled with champs these last few years. She was no longer the shy teenager with a monstrous crush. She could hold her own these days—time her cocky neighbor realized that. Start as you mean to go on, her aunt had always said.

  A glint of appreciation lit his dark eyes as they met hers. Slowly he nodded. “I try to please.”

  And she bet he pleased any woman who gained his attention. He was as gorgeous as ever. Thirty-four years old and he still looked good enough to eat. She’d known him over half her life. Had once tried everything she knew to entice him to see her as an available, interested female when she’d been younger. And failed miserably. The differences in their ages had worked against her. And that bad experience he’d had in college, combined with the example of his own mother, had made him extremely wary around women. Fine for casual dates, Jake was a perpetual playboy. Good for as long as he was interested, but commitment had become an an
athema to him. Love ’em and leave ’em had been his motto when she’d last seen him and she suspected nothing had changed.

  It wasn’t fair, she thought, as her gaze wandered over him. Shouldn’t he start looking a bit worn around the edges instead of drop-dead gorgeous? He was approaching middle age, after all. Yet his shoulders and muscular chest gleamed in the late afternoon sun, tanned and sleek. Muscles moved when he uncrossed his arms and she noticed he looked as fit as a teenager. His long legs were spread as he leaned arrogantly against her car. Just looking at him made her knees weak.

  She sighed, too tired to even muster up a flirtatious smile for the man. What was the point? She recognized lost causes when she saw them—at least recently, she acknowledged. He’d ignored her most of her life. It was past time she gave up any hopes of a relationship between them. He was Jake, forever unattainable. And she was tired. Very, very tired.

  “Here for a visit?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You must need it, you look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks, Jake. I’m always a sucker for honey words. Careful, you’ll turn my head.”

  “I deal in facts.”

  “Ha, as long as they suit whatever client you’re defending. Otherwise, you change them to suit your needs.” Kerry swayed a bit. She had to get inside.

  “Whatever works. And I don’t change the facts, though I have been known to suggest a different way to look at them.” He shrugged and tilted his head to better study her.

  “What works for me right now is bed. See you around.” Turning, she started for the house.

  “Staying long?” Jake called after her.

  She shrugged and kept walking. She was too tired to banter with him today. Too tired after the long drive to do anything but find a bed and crash. Maybe if she slept a week she’d feel better.

  The air inside the old house felt fresh and cool. Smiling at the welcome that seemed to seep into her with every step, Kerry wandered through the lower floor to the wide stairs leading to the second story. It was seven o’clock on a late spring evening. Too tired to even think, she quickly climbed the stairs, entered the room that had always been hers, stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed—grateful to find someone had made it fresh for her arrival. Probably Aunt Peggy, or maybe her cousin Sally. She was too tired to even consider who might have been more likely.

  Job burnout. She’d always scoffed at the concept before. But the reality proved all too true—and frightening. If she had half a brain, she would have seen the writing on the wall. But she’d been too busy trying to prove to the world that she was invincible. And it had caught up with her. Big time.

  Tomorrow she’d begin to make plans for the future. But not tonight. The trip had been long, boring and endless. She craved oblivion as never before. Even the thought of seeing Jake again couldn’t keep her awake.

  In only seconds, she fell sound asleep.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” A familiar voice woke Kerry the next morning. Opening one eye a slit, she frowned at her cousin standing in the doorway. Sally had always been cheery in the morning. A trait Kerry did not share.

  “Go away.” She pulled the pillow over her head and tried to block out the soft rustling as Sally moved into the room. She heard the soft clink of china. Even beneath the pillow she could smell the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

  Slowly she eased the pillow back a couple of inches and peered out.

  “I may forgive you if that’s coffee,” she grumbled.

  Sally sat on the edge of the bed with a bounce and grinned at her cousin. “You look like something the cat dragged in. When did you arrive? I expected you to call me. If I hadn’t stopped by last night I still wouldn’t know you were here.”

  “Last night I was too tired to do anything but sleep. Isn’t it awfully early for you to be visiting?” Kerry gave up thoughts of going back to sleep and pushed herself up against the headboard. She reached for the delicate china cup. Her aunt had a flair for the romantic and all her china was delicate and fragile.

  “I waited until ten,” Sally said virtuously.

  “It’s after ten?” Kerry hadn’t slept that late since college days. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and then sipped the hot brew. “Ummm, all’s forgiven. This is delicious.”

  Sally smiled smugly.

  Kerry looked at her cousin and tried to hate her. Sally was beautiful, always had been and always would be. Her dark glossy hair glowed with health. While Kerry’s own mousy hair gained golden highlights in the sun, it now hung in waves around her shoulders in a plain dull brown. She hadn’t spent any time in the sun for months.

  Where Sally looked great without a speck of makeup, if Kerry didn’t wear mascara on her light eyelashes, they were lost. She did think her own dark chocolate-brown eyes were striking, where Sally’s eyes were a nondescript hazel.

  “Are you all right?” Sally asked, tilting her head as she studied her cousin.

  “Just taking inventory. Why are you so darn beautiful and I got stuck with average looks?”

  Sally laughed. It was an old familiar complaint. “Kerry, you’re pretty, you just don’t take time to make the most of what you’ve got. Take your eyes, for instance, they’re your best feature. A bit of the right makeup and they’d be the focus of your entire face.”

  “Yes, I know. Old story. Maybe I’ll play around with makeup this trip. We can do dress-ups. So why are you here? Don’t you have a job?”

  “Of course I have a job. I’m just taking today off. When I stopped last night, Jake said he’d seen you come in but hadn’t seen any sign of life since. I came upstairs looking for you, but you were fast asleep. Tough drive down?”

  “It’s a long way from New York City to West Bend, North Carolina.”

  “You didn’t have to drive it all in a day. If you’d taken your time, it would have been easier.”

  “I wanted to get home,” Kerry said softly, sipping her coffee.

  “I guess. How are you doing, really? I know it couldn’t have been easy to give up your job.”

  “I didn’t precisely give it up. When the company was sold, it became a matter of time until most of us lost our jobs. Restructuring is the official term these days.”

  “But you worked so hard.”

  “Right. Dumb move on my part. I should have seen no matter what I did, the new company had its own agenda. So the long hours and all the stress didn’t pay in the end. I’m so tired now I can hardly think. Having more time on my hands than I know what to do with, I decided to take up your mom’s offer to visit for a while. Regroup until I decide my next move. I’m due some down time. The new company was generous in their severance money, so I’m not in dire straits. After I rest up, I’ll plan for the future. Maybe I’ll get a job in Charlotte. Or go back to New York. I have a lot of friends there.”

  Kerry wasn’t sure what she would do for the future. And right now, it was too much effort to even begin to decide. She felt lonely, adrift as never before.

  “You have friends here. And family,” Sally reminded her gently.

  “There is that,” Kerry acknowledged. She’d been so excited when she first moved to New York after college. Now the thought of living closer to home—or the only place she considered home—held a huge appeal. Was it backlash, or was she due for a change?

  “Oh, speaking of family, guess what I found! Wait a minute.” Sally jumped up and rushed from the room. Ruefully, Kerry reached for a napkin to mop up the spilled coffee. Another trait Sally had, unbounded energy. Kerry thought she envied her cousin for that right now more than her looks. She hated the lethargy that seemed to invade every cell. When would she bounce back?

  Kerry finished the coffee and snuggled down in the covers. She’d always had enough energy to suit her until recently. She’d recoup, it would just take some time. The thought of doing nothing all day except maybe dabbling at gardening or just lying in the sun, sounded like heaven. And it felt good to be home.

 
Her parents were in the Aegean this summer. And for the last two years had taught at a university in California. Prior to that they’d done stints at numerous colleges and universities across the country. She wondered how the only child of nomads could so strongly yearn for a permanent home and roots. Often she felt closer to her mother’s sister than her own parents.

  “Look what I found when Mom and I cleaned out the attic a couple of months ago. It’s hilarious.” Sally held out a leather-bound journal. “I haven’t read that much, but what I did was funny.”

  Kerry took the book and brushed her fingers across the cover. The rich leather felt soft and supple, though it looked old.

  “What is it?”

  “Great-grandmother Megan’s diary. She started it the day she turned eighteen. The journal was a birthday gift from her father. And Mom said she wrote in it up to the birth of her first baby, great-uncle Lloyd. You have to read it. She has a recipe for getting the right man for a perfect marriage.”

  “A recipe for getting a man?”

  “Yes, ingredients she calls them for how to entice a man, how to get his interest and hold it. It’s so funny and old-fashioned. You can read it while you rest up. I bet it cheers you up. Then I’ll read it. Do you remember her?”

  “Vaguely. She died when I was ten. The year I first started coming here for summer vacation. Wasn’t she old?”

  “To us at ten she sure seemed to be, but I think she was only in her mid-seventies when she died. This book is almost an antique.”

  “How much did you read?” Kerry asked, turning to the first page, fascinated. Her great-grandmother Megan had written this, a bit of family history that she had never expected to see. Megan had beautiful handwriting, clear and perfectly formed. Kerry began to read the first paragraph.

  “Read it when you’re alone. I’m here to visit,” Sally took it from her cousin. “I only read the first few pages. Mom said she got first dibs. I think she finished it before they left. What do you want to do today? I thought we could go to the country club for lunch. They have a wonderful salad bar during the week. Maybe lie by the pool for a while. I want to do lots of fun things on my day off.” She slipped the book onto the table beside the bed.