Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  “What are you doing here?” Rory asked again, sidestepping, for now, the fact that he was going to give his little brother a good talking to the next time he saw him back in Marigold. How dare Connor use that tone of voice with him?

  “I’m working,” Connor said, fairly hissing the words. “Now hang up the phone and don’t call me again.”

  “Working?” Rory repeated. “You’re a police detective. And a brand-new one, at that. Why would you be working here?”

  “Shhh,” his brother cautioned him. “Will you pipe down? Don’t say another word about me to anyone. And hang up the damned phone, will you?”

  Connor immediately followed his own instructions, slamming his receiver back down in place. Rory gazed in silence at his receiver for a moment, then, feeling more than a little puzzled, replaced it.

  “Your brother is here?” Miriam asked. She began looking around the room. “Where is he? I’d love to meet him. I want you to meet Winona, too, before we leave.”

  Rory shook his head lightly. “Well, I thought it was my brother,” he said. “He certainly didn’t sound like himself, though. Perhaps I was wrong.”

  She shrugged her—deliciously bare—shoulders, and a thrill of something warm and dangerous shot through Rory. “They say everyone has a double in the world,” she remarked. “Maybe it’s just someone who looks like your brother.”

  “Actually, Connor does have a double in the world,” Rory said. “His twin brother, Cullen. But that didn’t sound like Cullen, either.”

  Because it wasn’t Cullen, Rory told himself. It was Connor. Still, he’d respect his brother’s wishes—or, rather, his brother’s edict—and not divulge his identity. The nature of Connor’s work as a detective—however new he was at the job—often called for such discretion. Nevertheless, Rory couldn’t help wondering what his brother, a Marigold, Indiana, police detective, would be doing working here in Bloomington.

  Oh, yes. He would definitely be having a talk with Connor the next time he saw him at home.

  Six

  Miriam still couldn’t believe she was sitting in a four-star restaurant, in a town forty-five minutes away from her home, with Rory Monahan. She couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to ask him out in the first place, and she couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to suggest a restaurant this far away. Most of all, though, she couldn’t believe she’d donned the dress she had for the occasion, regardless of how insistent Metropolitan magazine had been about her attire.

  But she had followed the magazine’s instructions to the letter tonight. Because tonight, one way or another, she was determined to capture Rory’s interest. And keep it.

  She couldn’t believe she’d managed to keep her wits about her this long, either—not to mention keep up reasonably intelligent chitchat, not to mention keep from flinging a coat on over her dress—as they’d made the long drive together alone.

  Although, considering the heightened state of her nerves, Miriam supposed she should be grateful that she’d been able to stop talking long enough to catch a few breaths along the way. Otherwise, she might have passed out from oxygen deprivation. And it would have been frightfully embarrassing to have had to make the bulk of the trip with her head lolling awkwardly against her shoulder and—horror of horrors—drooling.

  But she was here with Rory now—fully conscious and drool-free—and her nerves did seem to be settling down. A little. Of course, when she noted again just how yummy he looked in his navy-blue suit, how the color made his eyes seem even bluer and more expressive than usual behind his wire-rimmed glasses, how it brought out blue-black highlights in his hair…

  She bit back an involuntary sigh. Even Winona was impressed, she thought. Because Miriam had seen the look in her sister’s eyes when she and Rory had first entered the restaurant, and Winona most definitely approved. Now Miriam just hoped she could carry off the rest of the evening as well as she had so far.

  Their server had come and gone and returned with a bottle of white wine, which Rory had selected from the extensive wine list, assuring Miriam that she would enjoy it and that it would go beautifully with the pecan-encrusted chicken dish that she had ordered. Honestly, though, she could be drinking lighter fluid as an accompaniment to a rubber chicken, and as long as Rory Monahan was her dinner partner, the meal would taste like ambrosia.

  Nevertheless, she thought, after an experimental sip of the pale yellow wine, it was a very choice good. Clearly, his store of knowledge did indeed extend to things other than historical facts. Somehow she was relieved to discover that.

  And somehow, before she could stop herself, she found herself wondering, as a warm rush of anticipation washed through her, that she couldn’t wait to find out what else, precisely, he was knowledgeable about. Perhaps, she thought further, if she was very, very lucky, then later in the evening she might possibly find out.

  Oh, my, she immediately thought, shocked by the new avenue down which her thoughts had just turned. Where on earth had that idea come from? She hoped her Inner Temptress wasn’t awakening. She had hoped her Inner Temptress needed her beauty sleep. That could only lead to trouble. Because Miriam was quite certain she could handle Rory perfectly well tonight without her Inner Temptress’s interference.

  Oh, boy, could she handle Rory tonight. And she couldn’t wait to do it.

  Hush, Miriam told the Temptress inside her. Go back to sleep. Ro-o-ock-a-bye, Temp-tress, in the tree to-o-ops…

  Lovely, Miriam thought. This was just lovely. It was going to be all she could do now to restrain the little vixen for the next few hours. Surprisingly, though, she did manage to keep her Inner Temptress unconscious for the duration of their meal. In fact, she and Rory dined quite companionably for the next hour or so, their conversation never once straying into dangerous waters.

  More was the pity, Miriam couldn’t help thinking, in spite of her efforts to keep her Inner Temptress at bay. Though, once or twice, she couldn’t help but think that her and Rory’s gazes did connect in a way that might be construed as, oh, perilous, perhaps.

  A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  And a girl could not only dream, Miriam realized some time later, but a girl might actually realize those dreams, too. Because after bidding goodbye to Winona—with their compliments to the chef, of course—Miriam and Rory spent another hour strolling through the neighborhood where the restaurant was located. It was a charming little historic area in Bloomington, filled with tiny boutiques and antique and curio shops, canopied by mature trees and lined by old brick town houses and wrought-iron railings and cobbled sidewalks.

  And at one point, as she and Rory strode side by side under the twilit sky, their hands and arms occasionally bumping, it occurred to Miriam that she was indeed realizing one of her dreams where Rory Monahan was concerned. Not that she had taken him home and fed him, as she often thought about doing, but she had taken him out and fed him—even if he had insisted, quite vehemently, on paying for that meal himself. And now they were walking—almost hand in hand—through the neighborhood, even if it wasn’t her own neighborhood. And she discovered, not much to her surprise, that the reality of the dream was even better than the dream itself.

  And then she wondered if maybe some other dreams might turn to reality soon.

  “It’s lovely here,” Rory observed at one point. “Although I’ve been to Bloomington on several occasions, I’ve never seen much of the town.” Hastily, he added, “Outside the IU library, of course.”

  Miriam nodded. Of course, she thought. “This part of Bloomington is a lot like Marigold,” she said. “Winona and I grew up in Indianapolis, but we both attended IU and fell in love with the place. She decided to stay here after she graduated, oh…fifteen years ago, I guess. In fact, I lived with her while I attended college. Winona just loves it here. Almost,” Miriam added, glancing over at Rory now, “as much as I love Marigold.”

  “But you haven’t lived in Marigold very long, have you?” he asked.

 
“Six months,” she told him. “Before that I worked and lived in Indianapolis.”

  “You’ve been in Marigold that long?” he asked, seeming surprised by the information. “Funny, but it doesn’t seem as if any time at all has passed since you came to town.”

  She smiled as she asked, “You noticed when I came to town?”

  He colored faintly and glanced away. “Yes, well…I, um, I couldn’t tell you the exact date of course, but, ah, actually…Yes,” he finally confessed. “I noticed when you came to town.” He continued to gaze straight ahead when he finished his admission, as if he would be uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “It was snowing that first day I saw you in the library, and you hadn’t yet shed your coat when I came down to the circulation desk looking for Mr. Amberson.”

  Suddenly he stopped walking and then, surprisingly, turned his body to face her. Miriam, too, halted beside him and likewise turned to face him. Her breath caught in her chest as she studied him, because he had fixed his gaze on hers, his blue eyes piercing and intense. She watched, stunned, as he began to lift a hand toward her hair, but when he realized what he was doing, he must have reconsidered, because he hastily dropped it back to his side. Nevertheless he continued to hold her gaze steady as he spoke.

  Very softly he said, “Snow had melted in your hair, and it looked like little fairy crystals scattered about your head. And I thought your eyes were the most unusual shade of gray. And they seemed to be filled with intelligence and kindness and gentleness. I couldn’t help but notice you.”

  His confession set off little detonations of heat throughout Miriam’s midsection. She realized suddenly that she was still holding her breath, so, slowly she released it and slowly she filled her lungs again. But she had no idea what to say to him now. Not unless she told him the truth. Which, ultimately, was precisely what she decided to do.

  “I, um, I noticed you, too,” she said. “That first day at the library, I mean.” But she couldn’t think of a single thing to add to the statement.

  Rory continued to gaze at her for a moment, as if he were mesmerized by something in her eyes. Then his gaze fell to her mouth, and he swallowed visibly. He parted his lips, presumably to say something in reply to her own confession, but not a word emerged to identify his thoughts. Instead he leaned forward and, after only one small, eloquent hesitation, covered her mouth lightly with his. He kissed her gently, tenderly, very nearly chastely. And then, a breathless moment later, he withdrew.

  When he pulled back, Miriam realized her eyes were closed and her heart was racing and the entire world was spinning out of control. Then she opened her eyes again to find that Rory was watching her, smiling softly, and…blushing.

  He said nothing to explain his action, simply turned forward to stare straight ahead again. And then he started walking, very slowly, and all Miriam could do was follow. Amazingly, in spite of her muzzy-headedness, her steps never faltered. She scrambled for something to say, then worried that speaking might somehow spoil the magic of the moment. Rory seemed to share her sentiments, because he, too, remained silent.

  Miriam, optimist that she was, decided to take it as a good sign. She’d left him speechless, after all. That had to be good, didn’t it?

  Eventually they both found their voices again, even found the wherewithal to make chitchat as they completed their evening constitutional, making a full circle back to Winona’s parking lot and Rory’s car. For some reason Miriam found herself both looking forward to and dreading the ride back to Marigold. Although the trip guaranteed they would have a little more time together alone, she wasn’t sure what awaited them at the end of it. Tonight had been full of uncommon revelations and unexpected surprises, but she feared the enchantment would end once they returned home.

  Worse, she worried that by tomorrow Rory would have forgotten everything he’d said and done—everything she’d said and done—tonight. Or, worse still, she would awaken in her bed in the morning, only to discover the whole evening had been nothing but a dream.

  But dreams came true sometimes, she reminded herself. One of her fondest had come true tonight, only moments ago. Rory Monahan had kissed her. Of his own free will. And although it hadn’t been the kind of passionate embrace she often found her self fantasizing about, it had certainly been very pleasant and very promising.

  And the evening wasn’t even over yet, she reminded herself. They still had the long drive home….

  They were almost exactly midway between Bloomington and Marigold—traveling on a deserted two-lane state road that was infrequently used after work hours during the week—when a loud gust of sound alerted them to the fact that there was something terribly wrong with Rory’s car.

  Well, the loud, gust of sound alerted them to that, along with the way the car suddenly jolted and jerked and slipped and swerved and then nearly ran right off the road. That, Miriam concluded as the car fishtailed dangerously and its tires squealed ominously, was most definitely a key clue that something was amiss.

  “Damn,” Rory muttered, once he had the vehicle under control again and crawling to a stop on the narrow shoulder of the road. “I do believe I have a flat tire. Again.”

  “This happens to you often?” Miriam asked, her heart still pounding, thanks to the rush of adrenaline that had shot through her during the momentary vehicular commotion.

  “No, not often,” Rory told her. “But I had another flat tire not long ago. About, oh…Let me think…Well, I forget now. I’m not sure exactly how long ago it was, but it wasn’t very long ago. Certainly it was long enough to give me time to buy a new tire and stop driving on the spare.”

  Miriam breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Well, thank goodness for that,” she said.

  He glanced over at her, and even in the dim, bluish light that emanated from the car’s dashboard, she could see that his expression was…sheepish? Oh, dear.

  “I, um, I said it was long enough to give me time to buy a new tire and stop driving on the spare,” he repeated. “I, ah, I didn’t say that was what I had actually done.”

  “Oh, dear,” Miriam said aloud this time.

  “Because what’s lying in the spare compartment right now, is I’m afraid,” Rory said, “my old tire.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said again.

  “My old tire with a whopping great hole in it.”

  “Oh. Oh, dear.”

  “I rather forgot to buy a new one.”

  “Oh. Dear.” With a good, swift, mental kick, Miriam roused herself off that riff, and tried to look on the bright side. “Well, then,” she said. “We’ll just call Triple-A. You are a member of Triple-A, aren’t you?”

  Rory hesitated a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I’ve always meant to join, but I, um…I keep forgetting.”

  “Not to worry,” she reassured him. “I’ve been a member since I first got my driver’s license. They’re wonderfully efficient and should be here in no time at all. Do you mind if I use your cell phone?”

  Again Rory looked worried. “Well, of course I wouldn’t mind you using my cell phone,” he said. “If, that is, I had a cell phone for you to use.”

  She gazed at him blankly. “You haven’t a cell phone?”

  He shook his head again. “I’ve always meant to get one. They do seem like they’d be so convenient. Especially in circumstances such as these. But I just—” he shrugged again “—I keep forget ting to get around to it.”

  This time Miriam wasn’t quite so reassuring. Because although she did normally carry a cell phone, tonight, her tiny little handbag—the one Metropolitan magazine had promised her she absolutely must have to carry off this particular dress with any amount of success—was far too small for necessities like cell phones. Oh, there was room enough for necessities like identification, lipstick, hanky, money, Triple-A card, breath mints and um…a condom, she recalled with a blush—well, she was a Metro Girl now, wasn’t she, and Metro insisted that she always carry one, just in case, didn’t it?—but no room for anything a
s practical and important as a cell phone.

  Not that Miriam had any desire to diminish the importance of fresh breath, mind you. Or of safe sex, either. But at the moment if she’d had a choice between good oral hygiene, sexual preparedness or a link to the outside world on a dark, isolated, potentially dangerous stretch of road, she was fairly certain she would opt for the last. Especially since it was looking like the sexual preparedness wasn’t going to be an issue with Rory Monahan for quite some time.

  “Well then,” she said again, striving for an optimistic tone, even as her optimistic attitude bit the dust. “I guess we’ll just have to make the best of a bad situation, won’t we? Surely some Good Samaritan will come by and render aid soon, if you turn on the emergency flashers. Besides,” she added with an—albeit forced—smile, “it could be worse, you know.”

  “Could it?” Rory asked wearily, sounding nowhere near convinced of that.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. It could definitely be worse. It could be raining.”

  And then, as if cued by her remark, a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

  “Oh, dear,” Miriam said—yet again—when she heard the inauspicious echo.

  “Then again…” Rory muttered at the same time.

  And as if by speaking as one, they’d uttered a magical incantation, the dark skies opened up above them, dumping what sounded like buckets of water over the midsize sedan. Rain sheeted the windows and windshield, completely obscuring the view—what little view there had been, anyway, considering the fact that it had been pitch-dark on the road when they’d been forced to stop.

  For long moments neither Rory nor Miriam said a word, only sat there waiting to see if maybe, just maybe, this was nothing but a bad dream. Then, just when it seemed as if those long moments—not to mention the rain—might go on interminably, Rory had to go and ruin it.