Telling herself she looked fine, she started down the driveway, her high heels making the slope precarious. Reaching the protected alcove for the front door, she took a deep breath and rang the bell. Through the beveled glass, she saw someone approach and pasted on a friendly smile. The door opened—and her stomach dropped to her feet at the sight of a familiar-looking blond man wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt. “Oh, my God!”
“We meet again.” The man from L.A. grinned. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her while Kate’s head spun with memories of her embarrassing behavior.
“What are you doing here?” she squeaked.
“I live here.”
“I—What—How—” she stammered. He looked every inch as attractive and laid back as before, except this time his shirt sported neon shades of turquoise and yellow rather than blue and red.
“I’m glad to see you too.” His grin grew as he lounged against the doorjamb. “Kate.”
At the sound of her name, her breath rushed out of her lungs. “How did you find me?”
“Quite easily, actually.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “You dropped this in the airport.”
As she took the card, her scattered thoughts came together with a snap. He was Michael Cameron? Her first client? “No. I’m sorry, but you’ve made a mistake.”
He gave her a teasing frown. “You mean you’re not the woman who dropped her purse on my feet?”
“No! I mean, yes I am, but—” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Look, I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression. I’m usually not so…” The word “loose” came to mind, but she swallowed it down. “Forward. I apparently gave you the wrong impression. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
Panic kicked Mike into action the instant she turned to leave. “Wait a second.” He leapt forward to block her way up the drive. “Where are you going?”
“I told you, you made a mistake. Admittedly, my fault. Still—” She glared at him with the same green eyes that had teased him in L.A. “I’m not, you know… for hire. That way.”
“What?” He frowned in confusion, then gaped. “I didn’t think you were. And no, I don’t want to hire you for that .” She looked relieved but still nervous, and he sighed. “Why don’t you come inside so we can talk?”
“I don’t think so.” She glanced toward her car.
“I promise, it’s perfectly safe,” he insisted. “And my job offer is legitimate.” Well, perhaps offering her a job hadn’t been his initial reason for calling the number on the card. While talking with the owner of Wife for Hire, he’d simply decided that hiring Kate was the easiest way to get to know her. After the way she’d run from him in Dallas, he feared she’d turn him down flat if he asked her for a date. As for the rest of his plan, the name of her friend’s business had inspired that. “If you’ll come inside, I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”
“No funny stuff?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“Not even mildly amusing stuff. Besides,” he said, “your friend Linda knows you’re over here, right? I’d have to be pretty stupid to try anything.”
She gave a curt, businesslike nod. “All right. I’ll give you five minutes.”
“After you.” He waved an arm for her to precede him into the house. The moment she crossed the threshold, he breathed a sigh of relief. Five minutes wasn’t long, but it was better than nothing. He just prayed his plan worked.
Following her down the single step from the foyer into the living area, he gave thanks that the maid service he used had come while he was in L.A. Like many homes in Lakeway, his house had an upside-down floor plan. The main living space and master bedroom were on the entry level with the secondary bedrooms downstairs, everything was situated to take optimal advantage of the killer view. He ushered Kate into the great room, where a comfortable sofa and overstuffed chair sat before a big-screen TV with a theater sound system. With a subtle shake of her head, she continued walking toward the kitchen and dining area―well, it would be the dining area if he ever got around to buying a table and some chairs―until she reached the wall of windows along the back of the house that revealed an expansive deck overlooking the swimming pool, along with a barbecue grill and plenty of furniture for eating one story below.
As he followed her, he fought the urge to ask her what she thought of his place. The impulse surprised him since he normally didn’t care about such things. He had high hopes, though, that this woman would eventually share his home with him, so her opinion mattered.
She barely took a second to glance around before she turned to face him. “All right, I’m listening.”
He hesitated, realizing the plan that had struck him as so brilliant that morning now seemed a bit absurd. “It’s kind of complicated. See, I’m, uh, looking for a wife.”
Her eyes widened. Not a good sign. “Well, if you’re looking at me, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Oh no.” He held his hand up to calm her fears and lied through his teeth. “I don’t want you to be the wife, necessarily. I, um… I want you to help me find a wife.”
Her face went blank as if he’d wounded her. For a moment he wondered if the straightforward approach would have been better. Except he wanted to spend time with her too badly to risk an outright rejection. How else would he know if his first gut reaction to her had been right?
“Excuse me?” she said at last.
He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve decided it’s time I got married. Only, with my schedule I don’t have a lot of time to look around. So, I want you to help me.”
“Why me?” She looked completely baffled. “I’m not a dating service.”
He shrugged. “Your friend said Wife for Hire handles things like interviewing housekeepers and nannies, so I figure why not a wife?”
“You think finding a wife is as simple as interviewing a housekeeper?” She gaped at him. “You do realize they’re not the same thing, right?”
“Of course I do.” He scowled.
“Well, that’s good to hear!” She spread her arms in a gesture that drew her top tightly across her breasts, distracting him. He’d thought she looked stunning in red, but the orange outfit she wore now nearly brought him to his knees. “You hire help based on referrals. Marriages are supposed to be based on mutual respect, attraction, compatibility, and love.”
“Hey!” He straightened. “I plan to love my wife. Why should the fact that I ask for help finding one negate that?”
She stared at him a long time, as if trying to decide how to respond. Something shifted in her eyes, and he knew she’d changed her mind about taking the job. He felt a wave of relief followed by wariness and he wondered why.
“Okay,” she said, nodding slowly. “You want help finding a wife, and you’re too busy to look for one yourself. I guess hiring a personal assistant makes sense. If nothing else, it will free up time for you to date. So, let’s get started.” Squaring her shoulders, she glanced around, then pursed her lips. “Well, I’ll say this much. You could definitely use a wife.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned.
“Hmm…” She tapped her chin. “How do I put this delicately? Your furniture is just a bit… dated.”
“Hey!” He straightened. “My parents gave me this furniture!”
“When?”
“When I got my first apartment.”
“Let me guess.” She held up a hand as if to forestall an argument. “It was their old furniture, wasn’t it?”
Busted! He cringed. “All right, I’ll admit, it’s a little worn around the edges, but is that any reason to throw out a perfectly good sofa? It’s just broken in. Plus, I figured if I ever got married my wife would probably want to redecorate, so why do it twice?”
With a laugh, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “Because you’re trying to find a wife to live with you in Lakeway.”
“What does my neighborhood have to do with anything?�
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“Let me put it this way.” Her hand fell. “If you want a wife who will fit in here, you need to look like you fit in here. Archaic as it sounds, and may the feminists forgive me, few women at this social level want to marry a man who looks like he can’t afford to support himself, much less a family.”
“I can afford a family.” He wondered where she’d gotten the idea he was broke. Did she think he’d won the house in a lottery or something? He’d made his first million writing animation software before he’d turned twenty. Not that he’d tell her that, or she’d think he was a computer geek. Which he was, but still. “Maybe I don’t want a woman who’ll marry me for my money.”
“Personally, I agree. But initial attraction between the sexes is fairly superficial. A man asks a woman out because he likes the way she’s built. The woman says yes because he has kind eyes and seems reasonably intelligent. Of course, some decent clothes don’t hurt.” She studied him as critically as she’d studied the room.
“You don’t like my clothes?” He looked down at his bright Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants.
“Actually, I like them fine,” she assured him. “I’m just saying some women prefer a more refined package.”
“I happen to like comfortable clothes,” he grumbled.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, unless you’re trying to impress a future wife.”
“All right,” he said, feeling a bit off kilter. “As part of the job, you can pick out some new clothes and decorate the house.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. If you’re up to the challenge.”
Her gaze drifted about the room. To his delight, determination sparkled in the green depths of her eyes.
“You’re on,” she said. “First thing tomorrow, get ready for the Great Wife Hunt.”
Chapter 5
*
EXCITEMENT AND APPREHENSION played tug of war with Kate’s emotions all the way home. Once she’d recovered from her initial shock of seeing the man from L.A., she realized the potential the job offered. What better way to regain her confidence, and thus recapture her spark as Cupid, than to help Michael Cameron find a wife?
Even if a few things about the job bothered her.
Back in L.A. she’d thought she felt some serious attraction coming from him, but he’d scratched her off the list immediately, even though he didn’t seem to have anyone else in mind. Had her behavior been so forward that it put her on the list of women to lust after but not marry? Not that she wanted to be a contender, but getting scratched off so quickly pricked her ego.
Mostly, though, his matter-of-fact statement that he’d decided it was time he married hit too close for comfort. Her hand tightened on the steering wheel as she remembered the day Edward had said basically the same thing, except Edward’s admission had come in retrospect as he’d shouted in her face that the only reason he’d proposed to her was because he knew a married stockbroker would look more stable to clients. He just hadn’t realized how demanding she’d be of his time.
Demanding? She hadn’t demanded anything from him except a few minutes with their son.
She wondered if Michael Cameron had any clue that marriages took time. Probably not. He didn’t even have time to look for a wife. Or didn’t want to take the time. Jerk.
God, some days everything about the way men handled relationships made anger churn inside her!
Whoa. She blinked her eyes in surprise at her own vehemence. No wonder Gwen wanted to fire her! How in the world could she offer positive advice about love with all this negativity running through her head? Finding Michael Cameron a wife was exactly what she needed to believe in happily ever after again. Turning that man into a suitable husband, and then finding the right woman to hand him off to, would be Dear Cupid’s greatest triumph. Her spirits lifted as she sang along to an upbeat love song on the radio. Her life was about to take a turn for the better. She just knew it.
***
THE SOUND OF car doors slamming jarred Mike from a dead sleep. He squinted against the morning light that poured through the windows facing the lake. Out on the deck, a mockingbird sang a rousing ode to spring. Somewhere beyond that cacophony, he heard the murmur of voices.
Kate.
A smile washed over him but faded abruptly at the shrill sound of the doorbell. Cringing at the noise, he fumbled on the floor for some clothes and managed to come up with a pair of shorts. He abandoned his search for a shirt when the doorbell pealed again. Dragging a hand through his hair, he padded out of the bedroom, across the living area, and up the step to the cold tile foyer.
He swung open the door, and there stood Kate, looking fresh and sexy in white capris, a yellow top, and a playful necklace. Her sassy curls added a brighter dash of color, like a match tip waiting to be struck. The thought amused even his sleep-deprived brain.
A worried frown creased her brow at the sight of him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, not at all.” He yawned through the lie.
“We did agree on starting this morning, right?”
“Is it morning already?” He squinted past her toward the wide expanse of sky so blue it stung his eyes. “So it is.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her gaze drift to his bare chest, linger a moment, then jerk away. So Kate wasn’t as disinterested as she claimed! He hid his smile.
“Wild night?” she asked with an encouraging hint of jealousy.
He thought of explaining that he’d been working at his computer until four a.m. but scratched his chest and stretched a bit instead, just enough to flex his muscles. “Guess I can’t keep up with the dancing girls the way I used to.”
“I’ll be sure and put that in my notes.” She gave a slight smirk before a smile lit her face. “Now, are you ready to get started?”
“Sure,” he answered absently as his gaze lifted to the pickup truck parked at the top of his drive. “What’d you do, bring a bodyguard?”
“A building contractor,” she explained with a smile. Behind her, a large, dark-haired man ambled down the drive, fastening a tool belt about his hips. “Jim, meet Michael Cameron. Michael Cameron, this is Jim Davis, Linda’s husband.”
“So, you’re all one big team?” Mike asked.
“On this job, I guess we are.” She looked delighted.
“Call me Mike.” He offered his hand in greeting to the contractor. Jim Davis had a strong handshake, the body of a linebacker, and a directness in his gaze Mike liked right off the bat.
“If we’re ready,” Kate said, “I can’t wait to tell you my ideas.”
“By all means.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.
She sailed past him on a wave of enthusiasm. “We’ll start in here.”
With a shrug, Jim followed her through the living area to the empty dining room. Feeling the first prickle of concern, Mike did the same.
“Last night, I was thinking about your house and I had a flash of inspiration. I know you said I could redecorate, but I’d like to take things a bit further, if you’re open to the idea.”
“Which is…?”
“Open concept. I’d love to knock out this wall.” She walked toward the wall that divided the dining area from the kitchen. “It closes off the kitchen too much and completely ruins the view of the lake for whoever’s cooking.”
Jim pulled a pad and pencil from his tool belt and began taking notes.
“Which means we’ll have to redesign the kitchen, as well.” Kate moved around the wall. “Turn these cabinets into a breakfast bar. Maybe create an island in the center of the room.”
“You really think that’s necessary?” Mike followed her into the kitchen.
“Absolutely.” She turned to face him, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Let’s remember you’re trying to impress women. You can’t do that with an outdated kitchen.”
He looked around the perfectly adequate kitchen. “You’re absolutely right. I don’
t know what I was thinking.”
“Really?” Surprise flashed in her eyes, as if she’d expected an argument. “You mean I won’t have to drag you along kicking and screaming?”
“That depends on how much of my house you’re planning to demolish.”
“I don’t know yet.” Mischief tugged at her lips. “I haven’t seen the whole house.”
Seeing her expression, his concern rose several notches. He clearly needed sustenance to handle this. “If you’ll give me a second, I think I’ll scrounge some breakfast from my obviously deplorable kitchen while you two rearrange the walls.”
“I didn’t say deplorable. Just dated.” Kate’s eyes followed as he moved past her, soaking in the expanse of bare skin over nicely honed muscle. Not body-builder muscle, but very nice contours that rippled as he opened a cabinet and took down a box of cereal.
She ordered herself to focus on her job, not her sexy, half naked client. Tearing her gaze away from him, she jumped on the first distraction that came to mind. “What do you think about glass cabinet fronts?”
“No glass.” Mike opened the refrigerator.
“It’ll go with the open, airy look we want.”
“No glass.” Mike turned toward her with a gallon of milk in one hand and a box of Fruit Loops in the other. His chest appealed to her even more than his back, with a light dusting of gold hair that tapered down to his taut stomach. “If you tear out that wall, then anyone sitting in the main room will see straight into the kitchen. I don’t want people sitting on my sofa discussing my groceries.”
She glanced at the open cabinet behind him and had to stifle a laugh. He’d jammed the shelves with a jumble of crumpled-up potato chip bags, boxes of Little Debbie snacks, and cans of spaghetti. “I can see where that might be a problem. After you have a wife, though, your cabinets won’t be such an embarrassment.”
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