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The Hand-Picked Bride
“How Did I End Up With You In My Arms?” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Copyright
“How Did I End Up With You In My Arms?”
Grant asked her wonderingly.
Jolene stretched luxuriously beneath his hands. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Maybe it was just meant to be.”
He stared down at her, shaking his head. “This isn’t right.”
Jolene looked at him as he rose from the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your space.”
He turned back to face her. “No, it’s not that, it’s just...” He started to reach for her again, drawn inexorably and relentlessly toward her by something he couldn’t explain—and couldn’t let happen. How could he tell her that the man she was really meant to be with was his brother?
He pulled her into his arms again. Just one more kiss, he thought irrationally. Just one.
Dear Reader,
Hello! For the past few months I’m sure you’ve noticed the new (but probably familiar) name at the bottom of this letter I was previously the senior editor of the Silhouette Romance line, and now, as senior editor of Silhouette Desire, I’m thrilled to bring you six sensuous, deeply emotional Silhouette Desire novels every month by some of the bestselling—and most beloved—authors in the genre.
January begins with The Cowboy Steals a Lady, January’s MAN OF THE MONTH title and the latest book in bestselling author Anne McAllister’s CODE OF THE WEST series. You should see the look on Shane Nichols’s handsome face when he realizes he’s stolen the wrong woman ..especially when she doesn’t mind being stolen or trapped with Mr January one bit....
Wife for a Night by Carol Grace is a sexy tale of a woman who’d been too young for her handsome groom-to-be years ago, but is all grown up now.... And in Raye Morgan’s The Hand-Picked Bride, what’s a man to do when he craves the lady he’d hand-picked to be his brother’s bride?
Plus, we have Tall, Dark and Temporary by Susan Connell, the latest in THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO.. miniseries; The Love Twin by ultrasensuous writer Patty Salier; and Judith McWilliams’s The Boss, the Beauty and the Bargain. All as irresistible as they sound!
I hope you enjoy January’s selections, and here’s to a very happy New Year (with promises of many more Silhouette Desire novels you won’t want to miss)!
Regards,
Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S. 3010 Walden Ave., PO Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian P.O. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont. L2A 5X3
The Hand-Picked Bride
Raye Morgan
www.millsandboon.co.uk
RAYE MORGAN
favors settings in the West, which is where she has spent most of her life. She admits to a penchant for Western heroes, believing that whether he’s a rugged outdoorsman or a smooth city sophisticate, he tends to have a streak of wildness that the romantic heroine can’t resist taming. She’s been married to one of those Western men for twenty years and is busy raising four more in her Southern California home.
One
“Kevin?” Jolene Campbell whirled and stared at the empty playpen in disbelief. For half a second, the facts failed to register. It couldn’t be. She’d just put him down a minute ago. She’d been talking to a customer and she’d glanced over and he’d been there. He’d been there!
But he was gone now.
One side of the soft foam playpen was smashed down and she knew right away her adventurous eighteen-month-old had found a way to escape. He’d been working hard on the project lately, but she’d thought she would notice if he...
Her heart was beating quickly, like a bird flapping in her chest, but she still wasn’t panicked. He had to be close by. She’d seen him only a minute ago.
The customer tried to hand her his money to pay for the German Chocolate cake she’d boxed for him, but she didn’t even notice, brushing right past him, leaving her booth along the side of the street unattended without a second thought. She had to find Kevin.
The Thursday San Rey Farmers’ Market was popular and people filled the closed-off street, milling back and forth in clumps, making it very hard to see a pint-size child wandering between the legs of the adults.
“Have you seen Kevin?” Jolene called to her friend and roommate Mandy Jensen who ran the soft pretzel machine.
“Kevin?” Mandy looked up and down the banner-filled streets. Booths selling everything from freshly picked arugula to wildly painted garden elves met her gaze, but no little boy. “No, I thought you had him in the playpen.”
“I thought so, too,” Jolene called back, but she was already hurrying, rushing, and panic was beginning to lap at the edges of her sense of control. Her long, blond braid hit her back as she went, bouncing off one shoulder and then another as she turned her head to search out every cranny she came upon.
“Have you seen a little blond boy coming by here?” she asked a complete stranger, not waiting for an answer when the woman looked at her blankly. Turning, she ran to the other side of the street. “Have you seen a little boy?” she called out. “My little boy is missing. Please, please, have you seen him?”
Someone grabbed her arm and she turned to see that it was Mandy.
“I’ll take this end of the street,” her friend told her, waving back toward the center of town. “You go the way you’re going. We’ll find him, Jolene. Don’t you worry.”
“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry.” The words pounded in her head but she couldn’t quite grasp what they meant, because worried was all she was right now. Kevin, his sweet little face, his huge blue eyes, his devilish smile, his fat little legs...
“He’s wearing blue overalls and a red checkered shirt,” she called out to anyone who would listen as she began to run. “He’s got to be here somewhere. Have you seen a little boy?”
People looked up, surprised, as she passed, at first not understanding, but looking sympathetic once they realized what was going on. But no one had seen him. How could that be? She wanted to shake someone. Someone had to have seen him. He didn’t just disappear. How could he have come down this entire street and no one notice?
“Kevin!” she called out, her voice almost breaking with despair. “Kevin, where are you?” There was a frantic fear growing in the pit of her stomach, a feeling only a mother could know. My God, where was he?
If asked, Grant Fargo would have admitted he didn’t know much about little kids. The only child he’d been close to at all was his brother’s little girl, Allison, and she was eleven now. He could hardly remember when she’d been a toddler. At any rate, though he was no expert, as he watched the little blond boy approach, he had a pretty good idea that a child this size shouldn’t be wandering the streets by himself. There must be someone nearby attached to him, he reasoned. Some mother or baby-sitter would show up at any moment. So he didn’t pay too much attention as the kid climbed up on the stone bench beside him and began eyeing the cookie he was eating.
“Hi,” he said to him at last, brushing a few dry crumbs from the fine Italian fabric of his suit pants leg. “What’s your name?”
No response. But there was a glint in the blue eyes.
“You want one of these cookies, don’t you?” Grant said conversationally. He patted the waxed paper bag beside him, tempted to offer a snack to the child, but then thought twice and hesitated. “Listen, I’d give you one, but I don’t think your mom would like it.” He held up the cookie he’d had a bite of and studied it. “You see, moms have this thing about their kids taking food from strangers....”
Too late he learned a lesson about eighteen-month-old baby boys. They have no manners and they seldom wait to be invited to take a snack that appeals to them. One chubby little arm shot out and four fingers and a thumb plunged into the bag, grabbed hold of a cookie and shot out again. The boy gave Grant a triumphant grin and clamped down on the cookie with all four teeth.
“Hey.” Grant glared at him, his straight, dark brows adding a stern look to his classically handsome face. He didn’t remember Allison ever acting like this. “You’d better not eat that. Before you know it, we’ll have your mother coming after me with a lawsuit for poisoning her son.” He reached out and tried to pry the cookie from the child. “Come on,” he ordered in a tone that indicated he was used to having orders obeyed. “Give it back.”
It was surprising that a kid could let out such a loud shriek when his mouth was clamped down tightly around a cookie. But that was exactly what happened. A siren from a passing fire engine couldn’t have caused more commotion. People stopped dead and turned to look.
“Why, look at that man,” declared a short, redheaded woman, frowning. “He’s taking a cookie away from that poor child.”
Hearing her, Grant looked up and attempted a smile, though he was still tugging on the cookie. He tried to explain.
“No, listen, it’s my cookie. I mean, it’s not his. I mean...”
The redheaded woman would have none of it. She stood before the two of them with her hands on her hips. “Why, the selfishness. I never heard of such a thing before.”
The cookie crumbled, as cookies are wont to do, and Grant drew back a handful of crumbs. More crumbs covered the bright red little face of the still shrieking child and Grant hesitated, wanting to stop the noise but wanting to explain himself to the redheaded woman and her silver-haired companion who had just arrived on the scene at the same time.
“Look, I don’t know this child,” he began, waving his hand to try to get rid of the crumbs. “I never saw him before in my life and...”
“Then why were you forcing him to eat that cookie?” the silver-haired woman demanded. Having come upon the scene late and noting the crumbs on the boy’s face, she’d made a quick assumption. She turned, surveying the still-gathering crowd. “Force-feeding a child. Outrageous.” Her glare was ferocious. “I think it’s time to go to the police,” she informed her friend.
Grant blinked and shook his head as though he could clear it of this nightmare if he only shook hard enough. “No, wait. I’m trying to explain...”
But before he could, Jolene Campbell emerged from a knot of people, saw her son and cried out, rushing to him.
“Oh, Kevin!” she cried, grabbing him up into her arms and holding him tightly. “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” she muttered, tears welling in her eyes and relief making her dizzy. “Baby, baby.”
“See, here’s his mom,” Grant said, gesturing for the benefit of the two women who still seemed to hold him in contempt of some detail of social etiquette he hadn’t quite figured out yet. “Now everything will be okay.”
But the silver-haired woman seemed to think her duty as monitor of what went on in the streets of her town was not yet fulfilled. Stepping forward, she tapped Jolene on the shoulder.
“My dear, is this your child?” she said still glaring at Grant. “I just think you should know. That man was forcing him to eat cookies just now. I don’t know what he thought he was doing, but the boy was struggling like anything. Honest.”
Grant rose, clutching his bag of cookies, hoping to make a quick getaway, but Jolene whirled and stared at him, her silver eyes huge in wonder. “Why would you do that?” she asked him.
Grant met her gaze and paused, startled by her beautiful eyes. At first glance, they seemed too silver to be real, filled with shooting stars that were only emphasized by the thick golden lashes that framed them. “What is she, a witch?” his mind whispered to him, but that was hardly relevant to the situation and he shook the thought away. Instead he eyed his escape route and tried to answer at the same time.
“No, I wasn’t trying to make him eat it. You don’t understand. I was trying to get the cookie away from him.”
“You see?” crowed the redhead, rolling her eyes. “Talk about taking candy from the mouths of babes. And look. He’s got a whole bag of them. You’d think he could have spared just one for the kid. Really, some people.”
Grant groaned and Jolene frowned, looking from the woman to Grant and back again, not sure what to make of these claims. Her child was hugging her neck with both arms, but his head was turned and he was watching Grant as well. Grant caught the look. There was something about the glint in his round baby eyes....
“Here,” Grant muttered, thrusting the bag of cookies into Jolene’s hand. This was a no-win situation and he’d had enough of it. “Take them. Throw them away or eat them, I don’t care.” He began to back away, holding his hands up as though someone had a gun up against his spine. “I didn’t try to force him to eat a cookie. I was trying to take it away because I thought you wouldn’t want him taking food from a stranger. That was it, lady. Honest.”
“Wait,” she said, taking a step toward him. “I wasn’t accusing you...”
But he didn’t wait. Instead he turned on his heel and melted into the crowd.
Jolene stared after him, more confused than ever. But she had her baby in her arms, and that was all she really cared about. “Come on, Kev,” she said, kissing his fat baby cheek, even though crumbs of cookie still remained. “Let’s go back to the booth.”
People made way for her and she smiled her gratitude, full of relief that everything was turning out fine after all. It wasn’t until she was back at her pastry booth, dropping her son into his playpen once again and looking for a way to fortify its security, that she realized she still had the bag of cookies clutched in her hand. That made her think of the handsome man who’d given them to her, but she pushed the thought away. Whatever the man had been up to, she would never see him again, so it hardly mattered. She had Kevin back, safe and sound, and that was all she cared about.
Two
The Farmers’ Market was held every Thursday and Jolene never missed one. Selling her baked goods here was her main means of support. Driving in from the apartment she shared with Mandy, a week after the runaway incident, this time she came prepared with a borrowed old-fashioned wooden playpen that was sure to keep Kevin in one spot.
“Okay my little caged bird,” she muttered as she gave him a last hug before getting to work, stroking the downy blond pelt that covered his round little head. “You’ve got twenty-five toys in here with you. Plenty to do. No running away. You hear?”
He cooed happily, but as she drew back, she noticed that his gaze was on something over her shoulder and his mouth had fallen open in a perfect O.
“Cookie!” he cried, thrusting out his fat little fist.
Rising, she turned to find the man from the week before standing at the counter watching her exchange with her son.
“You again,” she said, gazing at him curiously.
“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled at her a bit ruefully, then waved at Kevin. “Hi, kid,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”
Kevin made a sound that bore a strong resemblance to a Bronx cheer, but Jolene didn’t notice. Her bright eyes narrowed as she looked Grant over, taking his measure. He was a handsome man with a sense of humor shining in his eyes. The smile he gave her was infectious, a fact that immediately made her wary. She didn’t trust men who smiled too easily.
Behind the smile, beware the guile. That had been one of her grandmother’s favorite sayings, and Jolene had once ignored it and paid the price.
But she had to admit, this man didn’t look threatening. He was probably in his thirties, but his face had a boyish look that was immediately endearing. His nicely tailored suit was just saved from looking too formal for this scene by the casual air of assurance he wore with it, and she was suddenly aware of the contrast she made in her crisp jeans and plaid shirt, the tails tied into a knot just above the waist. The Daisy Mae braids didn’t do much to help her look sophisticated, either.
Dogpatch meets Madison Avenue, she thought, laughing at herself.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, hanging back a bit. She had no reason to think badly of him, but what had happened last week had been a little strange. He smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming in the morning sunlight, making her blink.
Women usually melt when he smiles like that, she thought to herself. That’s what he does it for. But she wouldn’t. No way. She’d been through the fires and come out stronger than most.
“I came by to make sure the child was all right,” he told her. It sounded nice, sounded caring, but it was a complete lie.
He often came by the Farmers’ Market on Thursdays to search out something unusual the gourmet farmers might have brought to town. As owner and manager of a restaurant that prided itself on being ahead of the trends, he liked to be on the lookout for what was developing, poised to be the first to notice, and this was a good place to explore for possibilities. He’d been walking down the street, checking out the marketplace as he usually did on Thursdays, and suddenly there she’d been. It hadn’t occurred to him before that she might be a vendor here. He couldn’t imagine how he could have avoided noticing her on previous visits.
But in the moment he’d seen her, his first impulse had been to turn and go another way. If it hadn’t been for those strange and beautiful eyes, he probably would have done exactly that. Anything to avoid another encounter with the child from...well, maybe hell was a bit strong. The child from mischief-land, at least.
But he smiled and went on with the masquerade. “I felt badly about what happened last week and I wanted to make sure you understood I didn’t do anything to the boy.”
She nodded slowly. “He’s fine. There’s no need for you to worry.”
“Uh, good. I’m glad to hear that.” Grant hesitated, then held out his hand. “My name’s Grant Fargo,” he told her. “And yours is...?”
She really didn’t want to tell him, but there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it. “Jolene Campbell,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Jolene.”
She nodded solemnly, not conceding anything.
His attention was centered on her eyes and she looked away with a gesture of impatience, denying them to him, turning to the side. It always started this way. She was going to have to start wearing sunglasses so that she could get on with her life without all these interruptions. There were things to do and she meant to get them done.
Ignoring his presence, she began to pry open the large cardboard boxes she’d used to cart her wares in from the parking lot to her booth. The boxes were filled with pastries she’d been up most of the night baking. She began to take them out one by one, filling the display case with the ones that didn’t need refrigeration. But all the time, she could see him out of the corner of her gaze and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
“You know, your eyes—they’re really strange.”
He said it as though he’d just discovered something he was sure no one else had ever noticed before. As though it would be news to her. She paused and drummed her fingers on the counter. Talk about her eyes was old hat. She’d heard it all before. Too many times.
But he wasn’t going to let it go. “Your eyes. They’re just so...so...”
She raised her gaze to meet his, giving him the full treatment and watching him react with a wonder mixed with impatience. It was odd what her eyes sometimes did to people. They felt like normal eyes to her, but most passersby did a double take when they noticed them. She’d gone through periods where she’d cursed having such attention getters, and gone through periods where she’d been downright proud she was different in some way. Lately she’d just been bored with the whole thing. She had a life to live and attention to her unique eyes got in the way.
She watched as he struggled for words to describe them. “All-seeing?” she suggested, only slightly sarcastic. “All-knowing?”
He frowned, his face quite serious as he studied her. “No, that’s not it.”
Her wide mouth quirked at the corners. At least he wasn’t merely pandering. “Eerie? Outlandish? Creepy?” This was actually starting to be fun as his expressive face reacted to each word she threw out. “Otherworldly?”
“No. Not exactly.” He was shaking his head, his straight, dark brows drawn together in concentration.
She widened her eyes dramatically and batted the lashes. “Spooky?” she guessed.
He shook his head. “No, not at all. They’re quite beautiful. They...they give me shivers.”
He wasn’t kidding. There was something in his tone, something in the light in his eyes, that caught her up short. He had the look of someone who’d just seen something that had touched him, found a chord in his soul and elicited a response, like someone who’d heard a beautiful piece of classical music that had surprised him by sending emotion slicing through him.
Their gazes seemed to lock, and things on the street behind them seemed to fade and run like watercolors. She felt funny, light-headed, and she shook herself, as though to bring back reality.
“What?” he said, looking at her strangely.
“I didn’t say anything,” she told him, trying very hard to frown. She stared at him for a beat too long, then recovered her senses and made an impatient gesture meant to encourage him to move on.
“Look, I’m really going to be busy here in a few minutes, and I need to get things ready. So if you don’t mind...”
“No, I don’t mind,” he murmured, but his words didn’t really make any sense.
She hesitated, then turned from him and set up her cash box, determined to ignore him if he wouldn’t go away. And for the first time, he seemed to rouse himself from his trance, to take in the booth and the baked items she’d been arranging on her counter.
“What’s all this?” he asked, blinking as though he’d just woken up.
She put her hands on her hips and swept the counter with an evaluating glance and began a catalog. “Bear claws. German Chocolate cake. Almond cookies...”
“I know, I know.” He gave the items another look, then met her gaze. “What I mean is, where did you get these pastries? They look great.”
She shrugged and said simply, “I made them.”
He frowned. “You?”
That certainly set her teeth on edge. This was what she hated about men. It happened every time. Just because she had what many considered a pretty face and a pleasing figure and those startling eyes—just because she was a blonde—it always seemed to come as a total surprise to men that she might have a talent or two up her sleeve. Sometimes she thought they actually resented it—as though she were supposed to concentrate on being attractive and leave the hard work to the homely chicks. Her jaw set. For a moment she’d thought he might be different. Wrong again.
“Yes, me,” she said, barely holding back the impulse to snap. “All by myself in my own little apartment kitchen.”
“You’re kidding.” He gazed at the wares before him and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “If you can do this in a little kitchen,” he murmured almost to himself. “Imagine what you could do with commercial ovens at your disposal.”
