Bridegroom on Approval

by Day Leclaire

  “Do we go find a priest or minister or judge?”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Copyright

  “Do we go find a priest or minister or judge?”

  Slowly, Hanna nodded. “Just one last question. Could we...could we try a trial run first? Could we try the marriage for a few months and see if it’s working? If not, we go our separate ways, no hard feelings.”

  No hard feelings? If he lost her, hard feelings would be the least of it “How long is this probation period supposed to last?”

  “Why don’t we give it until the first of the year. Agreed?”

  Marco inclined his head. But once he’d made his vows, he fully intended to stick to them.... “So what happens next? Do we marry?”

  Next month, Day Leclaire invites you to another

  special wedding in:

  Long-Lost Bride (#3579)

  Dear Reader,

  A number of years ago, I woke from a wildly romantic dream about a Cinderella Ball. In the dream, gorgeous men and beautiful women attend a lavish party with one simple goal: to find a soul mate. They attend the ball, meet and many all in one night! It was such a fun dream, I didn’t want it to end. I suppose that’s how I feel about the stories I wrote as a result, a Harlequin Romance® series entitled FAIRYTALE WEDDINGS.

  A few years have passed since the three books that started it all were published, and I’m delighted to offer readers two new books. It won’t matter if this is the first Cinderella Ball you’ve attended, or if you’ve visited every one of them. Each book stands alone. The stories are simply born at the same place.

  So here’s a brand-new invitation to attend the Beaumonts’ Cinderella Ball, a masked ball this time. Take a break from reality and join the other guests as they dream of romance and love-at-first-sight and stories that can only end happily-ever-after.

  Meet the incredibly charming Marco Salvatore, a man who knows all about love-at-first-sight. And meet Hanna Tyler, a woman with a mission to wed, a woman who doesn’t believe in love or fairy tales, and certainty not happily-ever-after. See what happens when one gorgeous masked man seduces one wary swan princess. I hope you enjoy reading Bridegroom on Approval as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  Love

  Bridegroom on Approval

  Day Leclaire

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  Many, many thanks to Danny Bianchin and

  Roberto Fiorotto for helping me with my Italian. And

  special thanks to their special wives—Helen Bianchin

  and Lucy Gordon, lovely women and wonderful writers.

  PROLOGUE

  Hidden Harbor, Maryland

  HANNA TYLER RESTED HER HEAD against the high-backed leather chair and closed her eyes. It had been an interminably long day and she couldn’t wait for it to end. Soon, she consoled herself. Very soon. Just a few more people to see, a half dozen more papers to review and sign, five or six more family problems to settle and she’d be free to call it a day. A sense of satisfaction filled her, despite her exhaustion. It had been a good day helping the residents of Hidden Harbor, of trying, ever so slightly, to balance the scales.

  A light tapping on her office door heralded the entrance of her secretary. The gruff old woman took one step inside, her stocky body blocking admittance until she’d confirmed that Hanna was receiving. “It’s Mr. DuBerry, Mrs. Tyler. Will you see him?”

  “Of course, Pru. Send him in.”

  The secretary shifted to one side, permitting a tall, handsome man entry. “Thanks, old girl,” Dix said with a friendly smile.

  To Hanna’s amusement, her secretary’s expression rearranged itself into an even more sour state, if that were possible. “You’ve got ten minutes and I’m timing you.”

  “You people and your clocks and timetables.” DuBerry shook his head in bemusement. “I don’t know how you do it. Or why, for that matter.”

  “Hello, Dix,” Hanna interrupted, waving a hand to the chair in front of her. “Have a seat and tell me why you’ve come.”

  He waited until the door behind him closed before speaking. “I think you can guess,” he said with a stunning smile. “Today’s the day.”

  Without a word, she opened her desk drawer and removed a small jewelry box. Very gently, she set it in the middle of her painfully neat desk.

  Dix sighed. “Ah, Hanna. I’d hoped to see that diamond on your finger. I’m disappointed in you.”

  She fought to maintain a composed demeanor while inside she felt like someone chiseled away at what passed for her heart. It had been going on for a long time. Tiny fractures, little breaks, a chip here and there. If something didn’t change—and soon—it wouldn’t be too long before she had nothing left to offer a man. Even the wrong man. “Take it,” she said evenly.

  Large, blond, handsome, impressive muscles rippling across his broad shoulders and he still didn’t have the necessary power to touch her heart. But then... Maybe no one did, since she doubted she was capable of love. He flashed the smile that had melted many a woman—with one notable exception—and pocketed the jeweler’s box. “I wish it could have been different, Hanna,” he said in a woebegone voice that failed to convince her of his sincerity. Perhaps it was the choked sigh he’d incorporated into her name. Hanna with a hiccup. Just great. “I think we’d have made a fantastic pair.”

  “So did the last six men the boys introduced me to.”

  Even that didn’t dent his congenial expression. “You’re quite a woman. Smart, pretty... Smart.”

  “You mentioned that already.” Perhaps she shouldn’t be so rough on him. No doubt those two words encompassed the full extent of his list of adjectives.

  “It could have worked.”

  “Because of the boys?”

  “Despite them,” Dix said, surprising her with his momentary acuity. “They are a handful, dearest. But I’d have managed.”

  “You do have big hands,” she acknowledged.

  “More than big enough to take care of you and all your problems. Come on, Hanna. Marry me. I know you don’t like the fact that Jeb put me up to this. But that doesn’t mean we’re not right for each other.”

  Take care of her? Not a chance. As for Jeb... She was used to the boys interfering, since it had been going on ever since their father had died. The chair suddenly felt too soft, too accommodating. She straightened away from it, refusing to bend. “Thanks for stopping by, Dix.”

  “Er...Hanna?” For the first time his charming smile faltered. “I hope this won’t adversely affect our other relationship.”

  She forced her hands to remain relaxed on the desktop. “Do I strike you as a petty person?”

  He stood, his frame straining the confines of his perfectly tailored suit. “Thank you, dearest. That’s most generous.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  He must have decided he’d outstayed his welcome. Charming smile back in place, he broke for the door. It popped open just as he reached it. He stepped across the threshold, carefully avoiding Pru’s scrutiny, and lumbered down the hallway with a lack of grace that had always annoyed Hanna. It was...untidy.

  “Another disappointed suitor?” Pru asked, her gravelly voice fill
ed with disgust.

  “Oh, of course.”

  “No great loss with that one. He was all muscles and teeth without the spine to support it. He’d never have made you happy.”

  Still Hanna refused to relax against the back of her chair. “Why is it so difficult to find a man worth marrying? It’s not like there aren’t plenty to choose from. Ever since that magazine article on me broke, they’re practically lined up at my door.”

  “You know why. It’s because you can’t decide whether they want you for yourself or for your ability to quadruple their bank balance.” Pru’s smile took on a nasty edge. “That’s what you get for being so good with money. Though I’d think those boys of yours would scare them off.”

  Hanna tossed aside her reading glasses, the heavy black frames clattering against the polished wood desk. “Not likely since they’re the ones who keep dropping potential husbands off on my doorstep.”

  “That’s why you should go looking someplace where they don’t know you.”

  Go looking for a husband-to-be, when she was already knee-deep in them? No way! “What’s up, Pru? I only have seven minutes until my next appointment.”

  Her secretary sat down, setting a padded envelope on the desk in front of Hanna. “I’m serious, my girl. If you don’t open up to someone and be quick about it, soon there won’t be anything of yourself left to give. You can’t let fear rule you forever.”

  Pru’s comment was so close to her own thoughts, Hanna could only stare. “You think I should open up to someone like Dix?” she finally asked, a spark of amusement easing her earlier discomfort. “You can’t seriously believe he, or any of my other suitors for that matter, are here because they’ve fallen in love with me.”

  “No, I do not. If anything that magazine article was as good as dumping a honey pot in front of a bear’s den. They can’t come out of hibernation fast enough to scoop you up and suck you down.” The secretary was never one to coat her true opinion with sugar. If anything she tended to tart it up. The more bite, the more people paid attention, she liked to say. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone who’s right for you. I even have a possible solution.”

  “You’re going to stop the boys from matchmaking?”

  “No. You can do that for yourself.” An actual smile crossed Pru’s homely face. It was a rather wicked-looking baring of teeth, but still passed as a smile. “I’m going to send you someplace where you can have your pick of husbands. Or rather, the town of Hidden Harbor is sending you. It’s a place they don’t know you and where you can open up without worry or suspicion.”

  Hanna sat silently for a moment before shaking her head in confusion. “The whole town is sending me?”

  “Well, sort of. They don’t realize where they’re sending you or what you’re supposed to accomplish once you’re there. I used a little emotional blackmail to make everyone cough up some bucks for a birthday present. Told them you needed a break and they were going to give it to you.”

  “And they agreed?”

  Pru’s grin flashed again, even more wicked this time. “I didn’t give them much choice. You forget they have to get past me to see you. And they can’t make all those lovely—not to mention profitable—investments if they don’t see you.”

  “Oh, Pru. You didn’t.”

  “Damn right, I did. You need a companion, someone special to love and share your life with, and I aim to see you get one.”

  A companion, fine. But a lover? She shied from the idea. “Give me the details,” Hanna said warily. “What do I have to do to find this man?”

  “It’s a snap. Nothing you can’t handle.” The secretary nodded her head toward the packet on the desk. “It’s all in there.”

  Slowly Hanna drew the large, gold-embossed envelope closer and opened it. To her surprise, she found a white velvet pouch inside. “More and more intriguing,” she murmured, slipping a heavy gold wafer from the pouch. The wafer caught the sunshine streaming in the window and reflected it, throwing off shards of shimmering golden light. A card accompanied the pouch and read, The Beaumonts wish you joy and success as you embark on your search for matrimonial happiness.

  “That gold thing’s a ticket,” Pru explained. “See how it has ‘ticket’ scrawled on it in little curlicues? Makes it sort of self-explanatory. Leastwise, it would if you could read the fancy lettering.”

  Hanna fought to keep a straight face. “Sure enough.” It truly was a beautiful piece of work for a mere ticket. She fixed her secretary with an intent look. “Now for the million dollar question.... What’s it a ticket to?”

  “To a ball. If you take a peek at the other side you’ll see it has ‘Cinderella Ball’ scribbled on it.”

  Hanna frowned, flipping the gold wafer and tracing the finely etched script. “Not quite as self-explanatory. What sort of ball is that?”

  Pru hesitated, an unusual occurrence. Taking a deep breath, she confessed, “A wedding ball.”

  “A wedding—” Hanna broke off, shaking her head in amused disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

  “Not even a little. It used to be hosted by an elderly couple named Montague. Now their daughter and her husband throw it. You fill in all these ridiculous forms that give detailed information about yourself and send them in.”

  “There’s an application?”

  “Probably to weed out undesirables. Once you pass the investigative process, they send you the ticket you’re holding. It was even hand-delivered by a liveried messenger.”

  “Really?” Hanna was impressed. “That must have been expensive.”

  “So was the ticket.”

  “And this ball?” She lifted an eyebrow. “What happens there?”

  “Simple. You hand over your ticket and go husband-hunting . Since it takes place in Nevada, as soon as you find the man of your dreams, you can marry. They have a county clerk there to process marriage applications and officials who tie the knot.” Pru was chattering—a first since Hanna had known her. It had to mean she was nervous, uncertain of how her proposition would be received. “This year they’ve changed things a bit. It’s a masked ball. I guess they figure it’ll force people to get past the distraction of physical appearance and focus on personality. Asinine proposition, in my opinion, but what the hell.” She paused for a breath. “So? What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds totally insane.”

  “Oh.” Pru looked crushed. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  “Actually, I’m intrigued.” Hanna hesitated, analyzing the possibilities. “No one would know me there. Right?”

  “Not a chance, especially with your mask on. You could relax and see what happens. Let nature take its course. And if you don’t meet someone? Hell, you’d be no worse off than you are now.”

  A fierce longing seized hold, the need to be loved for herself so strong it became a physical ache. Don’t be ridiculous , she ordered herself sternly. She didn’t want love. She wanted a man who’d be the perfect companion, someone she could trust, who would offer stability and intellectual stimulus. She didn’t need emotion. It didn’t last, nor was it safe. “What if I find someone?”

  “You bring home a husband. Or you can hook up with some willing soul and bring him home to try out for a time. If nothing else, having a man in tow would stymie the boys.” Pru leaned across the desk. “But you make sure he’s a strong one, Hanna girl. Not another of those useless charmers the boys keep parading under your nose. Charm ain’t worth squat when your back’s up against the wall.”

  “Someone who can love me for me and who’s strong instead of charming.” Hanna shook her head. “That’s a tall order.”

  “I have a feeling about this. And my feelings are always right on the money. He’ll be there. All you have to do is keep looking until you find him.”

  San Francisco, California

  Marc Salvatore waited until his eldest brother, Luc, ran out of arguments. Then he offered a charming smile, along with a distinctly Latin shrug—a graceful movem
ent of his shoulders that warned his five brothers that he wouldn’t be swayed no matter how hard they might try.

  “For the last time, I’m telling you the ticket to the Cinderella Ball is a joke. Rafe and I have a meeting scheduled this week which happens to coincide with this party he and his wife are throwing. The Beaumonts are aware I’m single. You know Rafe’s sense of humor. Take it from there.”

  “No,” his twin, Stefano, cut in. “We don’t know Beaumont’s sense of humor. He’s your business contact. All we know about him is that he grows excellent coffee beans which make even more excellent coffee.”

  “Well... And he has a wife who’s clearly insane,” Luc added in a dry tone.

  “Ella isn’t crazy,” Marc objected mildly, continuing with his packing. “She’s just a dedicated matchmaker.”

  “And throws these marriage balls to prove it?”

  Marc shrugged again. “A family tradition. You should understand that, considering our Salvatore heritage.”

  “Are you attending the ball? Is that why you’re calling on Beaumont this particular weekend?” Stef demanded. “Are you planning to find yourself a wife?”

  Marc zipped his suitcase closed and turned to confront his brothers. He folded his arms across his chest and struggled to suppress the quixotic sense of humor that so often caused him trouble with his brothers. “I have about as much chance of getting married Saturday night as Luc had of becoming engaged to a beautiful preacher’s daughter disguised as a dowdy secretary in order to protect his infant niece from the clutches of the child welfare people.”

  Stef grinned, his sense of humor as skewed as his brother’s. “Now what are the odds of that happening?”