The Mummy Proposal

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“And what is that?” Nate teased, glad for the chance to have a few minutes alone with her.

Brooke turned to face him. Leaning against the fridge, she met his gaze and answered dryly, “The same thing I think when I see Cole looking at you like you’re some kind of super hero. It’s not enough reason for us to get together.”

Nate set aside what he was doing and slowly crossed the distance between them. He stopped in front of her, and braced a forearm on either side of her slender shoulders.

He hadn’t intended to make another move on her, here and now, but then he hadn’t intended a lot of things when it came to Brooke Mitchell.

“Then how about this?” Nate offered softly. He watched her marine blue eyes widen as he leaned in to kiss her.

Dear Reader,

What makes a good father? To answer that question, I have only to look as far as my own dad. He was always there for me. Or to put it in today’s slang, “He showed up.” It didn’t matter whether I had a fall from my bike or a piano recital or I was giving birth to my first child. He was always there to bandage a knee, cheer me on, or share in the most incredible joy I’ve ever felt in my life. He showed up.

Nate Hutchinson wants to show up, too, but he doesn’t have a child of his own until an old friend leaves a posthumous request that he bring up her son.

This is no baby. Landry is a fourteen-year-old boy with a mind of his own. Landry doesn’t understand why Nate would want him and he’s not much interested in sticking around to find out why.

Enter Brooke Mitchell. She loves and protects her own son, Cole, fiercely—even when scandal threatens.

With Brooke and Cole there to help, Nate and Landry begin to see what they too can have, if they dare to become a family. The question is, can they do it on their own? Do they even want to try, given the fact that the two boys have become like brothers? As for Nate and Brooke—something wonderful is happening there, too …

Happy reading!

Cathy Gillen Thacker

About the Author

CATHY GILLEN THACKER is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings, and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website at www.cathygillenthacker.com for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.

The Mummy Proposal

Cathy Gillen Thacker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter One

“I hear you work miracles,” Nate Hutchinson drawled.

“Sometimes I do.” Brooke Mitchell smiled and took the sexy financier’s hand in hers, shaking it briefly as she stepped into his downtown Fort Worth office.

“Good.” Nate looked her straight in the eye. “Because I’m in need of a home makeover—fast. The son of an old friend is coming to live with me.”

Still tingling from the feel of his warm, hard palm clasped in hers, Brooke stepped back. “Temporarily or permanently?”

“If all goes according to plan, I’ll adopt Landry by summer’s end.”

Brooke had heard the founder of Nate Hutchinson Financial Services was eligible, wealthy and generous to a fault. She hadn’t known he was in the market for a family, but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Nate’s four best buddies were all married, with kids. It made sense that as he approached his late thirties, the dark-haired, six-foot-five Texan would want to enrich his personal life, too. Brooke had just figured that a man as successful and handsome as Nate would want to do so the old-fashioned way. By finding a woman to settle down with and then have babies. Not that this was any of her business, she reminded herself sternly.

She turned her glance away from Nate’s broad shoulders and powerful chest. “So how old is this child?” she asked in a crisp, formal tone, trying not to think how the marine-blue of Nate Hutchinson’s dress shirt and striped tie deepened the hue of his eyes.

“Fourteen.”

Brooke sank into a chair and pulled out a notepad and pen. She crossed her legs at the knee and continued. “What’s he like?”

“I don’t know.” Nate circled around to sit behind his massive antique mahogany desk. He relaxed against the smooth leather of the chair. “I’ve never met him.”

“You’ve invited this kid to live with you permanently and you’ve never laid eyes on him?” Brooke blurted before she could stop herself.

Nate flashed a charming half smile, the kind car salesmen gave when they were talking about gas mileage that was less than ideal. “It’s complicated,” he murmured. “But I’m sure it’s going to work out fine.”

Obviously, Brooke thought, calling on her own experience as a parent, Nate Hutchinson knew as little about teenage boys as he did about decorating. But that wasn’t her problem. Finding a way to do the assignment and collect her commission without getting emotionally involved was. It seemed there hadn’t been a child born yet in this world who did not possess the capability to steal her heart … and that went double for a kid in any kind of trouble.

The phone on his desk buzzed. Nate picked up. “Yes. Send him in. I want Ms. Mitchell to meet him.” He rose and headed for the door.

Moments later, a tall, gangly teen sauntered through the portal of the executive suite. He wore jeans and a faded T-shirt he had clearly outgrown, and had peach fuzz on his face and shaggy dishwater-blond hair. His only nod toward propriety was the tender deference with which he treated the elderly white-haired woman beside him. She walked with a cane and looked so frail even a mild Texas breeze might blow her over.

Brooke could feel Nate’s shock, even as he resumed the perennial smooth of someone who made his living charming people into investing with his firm. “Mrs. Walker. It’s been a long time.” He moved to help her into a chair. The youth assisted from the other side.

The elderly woman gratefully accepted their help. “Yes. It has.”

“And this must be your great-grandson.” Nate moved toward the fourteen-year-old boy, genially extending his palm. “Hello, Landry.”

Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, Landry looked around the luxuriously appointed office, ignoring Nate entirely. Finally, with a disgruntled sigh, he cast a sideways glance at his great-grandmother. “Obviously, this isn’t going to work, Gran. So … can we go now?”

“Landry, dear, I explained …” Mrs. Walker replied in a feeble tone.

Landry scowled at Nate. “I don’t care how much money this dude has!” he blurted. “There’s no way he’s going to adopt me and be my dad!”

NATE COULDN’T BLAME the teen for being upset with the quick turn of events. He hadn’t seen this coming, either. Had it been anyone but Jessalyn Walker asking him to do this, he would have been on the phone to his lawyer, seeking another solution. But it was Jessalyn who was here, orphan in tow. And it had been her granddaughter Seraphina making the request, through a letter left for Nate. A letter Jessalyn had held on to until yesterday, while she, too, tried to do what was best for all concerned.

Nate dropped his hand. “I’m very sorry about your loss,” he said quietly.

“My mom died a year and a half ago.” The teen glared at him, still hovering protectively next to his great-grandmother. “If you were really my mom’s friend, where were you then? You should have been there.”

What could Nate say to that? The kid was right. “Had I known your mother was ill, I would have been,” he assured him.

Landry looked at him contemptuously.

“He’s here now, Landry, ready and willing to help us—just the way your mom wanted, when the day came that I could no longer care for you.” Jessalyn Walker reached out and put a comforting hand on her great-grandson’s forearm. “That’s all that counts.”

Landry’s chin quivered. “You don’t have to take care of me,” he declared. “I’ll take care of you.”

“That’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” Jessalyn reminded him patiently, giving his arm another beseeching pat.

Landry broke away abruptly. “I don’t mind. I want to do it!”

“Landry—” Jessalyn pleaded.

“If you don’t want me around, fine! Go ahead and move into that retirement center!” Landry huffed. “But I’m not signing on for this! And none of you can make me!” He spun around and strode toward the door.

Nate took off after him, catching up with Landry before he reached the elevators. Nate had no experience with wayward teenagers, but he was pretty certain he knew what was called for here. “If you care about your great-grandmother as much as you say you do, you’ll come back to that office and work things out like a man instead of running away.”

Landry snorted. “Whatever.” He did an about-face and marched back to the office, spine straight, attitude intact. Nate followed him.

Brooke, who had been consoling Jessalyn, gently squeezed the woman’s frail hand and met Nate’s gaze.

“I know you are furious at my failing health. So am I,” Jessalyn Walker told her great-grandson wearily. “But my doctor is right. I need more care than I can get at home. And you can’t live with me in the assisted-living home I’m moving into tomorrow. So it’s either go with Nate today, and give that a try as I’ve asked, or enter the foster care system.”

Landry’s scowl deepened.

To Nate’s surprise, Brooke stepped into the fray. She fixed Landry with a kind look. “I know this is none of my business, but I would advise you to go with Nate. I was in foster care as a kid. I got moved around a lot. It was … not fun.”

This, Nate had not known.

Landry’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the truth?”

Brooke nodded sadly. “I lost both my mom and dad when I was fourteen, but unlike you, had no relatives or old family friends to take me in.” She paused, regarding the teenager with a gaze that was as matter-of-fact as it was softly maternal. “Not having any family at all to care about you is a tough way to grow up. I really wouldn’t recommend it, honey.”

Landry’s shoulders sagged. “Can I live with you then?” he asked Brooke.

She seemed as taken aback by the request as everyone else in the room, and exhaled ruefully. “I’m sorry, Landry, but that is not an option.”

He crossed his arms in front of him. “Then I’ll take foster care,” he insisted.

Seeing a situation he had hoped would go smoothly rapidly deteriorate into emotional chaos was not part of Nate’s plan. Determined to regain control of the moment, he caught Brooke’s attention and gestured toward the door. “If you two will excuse us, I’d like to talk to Ms. Mitchell alone a moment.”

Brooke didn’t appear to want to go with him, but complied nevertheless. Her posture regal, she walked down the hall to the boardroom. Nate held the door, then followed her inside.

The room was elegantly appointed, with a long table and comfortable leather chairs backed by a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Trinity River and downtown Fort Worth. The spectacular view was nothing compared to the tall, slender woman standing in front of it.

Nate paused, taking in the glossy fall of walnut-brown hair brushing her shoulders. A sleeveless tunic showcased her shapely arms. Matching silk trousers fluidly draped her legs. But it was the inherent kindness and empathy in her golden-brown eyes he found the most captivating. It was no wonder Landry had gravitated to her. Brooke Mitchell was an intriguing mix of savvy business entrepreneur and empathetic woman. She seemed like someone who would know what to do in any situation. And right now, Nate and Landry both needed a woman like that in their lives.

She glanced out at the skyline, then turned back to him. “I understand you have a big problem,” she told him with all sincerity. “I feel for Landry. But there my involvement ends.”

Nate remained determined. “I understand you’re a single mother with a thirteen-year-old boy.”

A delicate blush silhouetted her high, sculpted cheeks. “How did you …?”

“Alexis McCabe mentioned it when she gave me your name and suggested you were the ideal person to help me make the mansion I just purchased a home.” Nate walked over to stand next to her. He glanced out at the view, too, then back at her. “I need help getting Landry situated.”

Brooke inclined her head slightly to one side. “As a single parent, you have to get used to handling these challenges by yourself.”

Again Nate followed the spill of glossy hair brushing her shoulders, and couldn’t help but notice her fair skin and toned body. She was one sexy lady, in the woman-in-the-office-across-the-hall kind of way. And due to the circumstances he and Landry were facing, totally off-limits. Nate needed to keep his thoughts trained on the issue at hand.

“I will handle these problems myself,” he promised her, “as soon as Landry adjusts to the idea of becoming my son.”

She remained silent, but gave him a look that said Lotsa luck with that!

Undeterred, he braced a shoulder against the glass. “In the meantime, you have a son close to Landry’s age, and I have a two-bedroom cottage on the property. You and your son could stay there while the makeover of the main house takes place, under your direction. The boys could swim in the pool, play on the sport court, and you could help bring me up to speed on this whole parenting thing.”

Brooke shot him a censuring glance. “You presume a lot.”

Nate countered with what experience told him would be the winning hand. “I’m also willing to pay a lot,” he said bluntly. “Double your usual rate for the next two weeks, if you’ll help me out here.”

Silence stretched between them, as palpable as the sexual sparks he’d felt when he had first taken her hand. Brooke’s services were expensive to begin with. They were talking a lot of money here. “You’re serious,” she said.

“As a heartbeat.”

Brooke sighed and then muttered something under her breath he couldn’t quite catch. “All right,” she said finally, lifting a nicely manicured hand to her hair. “I’ll do it on several conditions.”

Nate stepped closer, inhaling the soft lilac fragrance of her perfume. “And those are?”

Her fine brow arched. “When my work at your place is done, I’m done with the whole situation.”

Nate lifted his hands in surrender. “No problem.”

Her pert chin angled higher. “Two, if the boys don’t get along, they won’t be forced to hang out together.”

Nate agreed readily. “All right.”

“Three. My son, Cole, is already enrolled for the summer in a prestigious academic day camp that focuses on computer skills, and he’s going to go.”

Nate had been involved in organized activities—mostly academic—every summer when he was a kid, too, and always enjoyed them. “That might be good for Landry, as well.”

“If you can get him in, it probably would be great for him,” Brooke agreed. “And four, I make no guarantee how this will all work out. Except to say that you will be pleased with how your home looks when the redecoration is complete.”

Nate admired her confidence. Curious, and more than a little intrigued by the beautiful and accomplished woman in front of him, he asked, “How do you know that?” She hadn’t even seen the property or heard what he had in mind.

Brooke’s radiant smile lit up the room. “When it comes to my work, I never give up until the customer is completely satisfied.”

Chapter Two

“Not exactly child-friendly, is it?” Brooke observed, walking through Nate Hutchinson’s multimillion-dollar residence an hour later.

The ten-thousand-square-foot abode had a postmodern edge to it. Everything was black or white. Glass tables and lamps abounded, as did expensive statues and paintings. The overall impression she got was sleek, cold and sterile.

Nate shrugged. “It’s an investment. I bought it as is. It can all be changed.”

He glanced over at Landry and his great-grandmother. The teen was glumly inspecting the marble-floored foyer and sweeping staircase. Jessalyn was sitting wearily in the formal library, off to the left. Cane in hand, she kept a worried gaze on the boy. Probably wondering, Brooke thought, if Landry was going to be able to accept his new living arrangements.

“Obviously,” Nate continued, oblivious to the concerned nature of Brooke’s thoughts, “we’ll set a budget that is appropriate for the scope and scale of this house.” He paused, close enough now that she took in the fragrance of his soap, cologne and heady male essence. “I’m going to need it done as quickly as possible. Two weeks, at the outside.”

Brooke shook off the tantalizing fragrance of leather and spice. “That’s a tall order.”

He eyed her with lazy assurance. “I’m not worried. You have a reputation for providing your clients with the home environments they always dreamed of having, in record time.”

Brooke could not contest that. She was good at what she did. She worked hard to keep at a minimum the chaos and disarray that went along with redecorating. Usually, however, the homes were not nearly this large. A feeling of nervousness sifted through her. “It’s going to require a lot of time on your part, as well,” she warned.

He regarded her with maddening nonchalance. “I don’t move furniture.”

Famous last words, Brooke thought. No one got through a major upheaval of their personal belongings without eventually having to heft or slightly reposition something. It didn’t matter how many professionals were hired. At the end of the day, there was always something that wasn’t quite right. Something that begged the owner to reach out and touch and, in the process, claim it as his or her own. But figuring Nate wouldn’t understand the need to put his own signature on the place if it were truly to become his home, she let it go for now.

Giving him the smile she reserved for her most difficult and demanding clients, she tried again. “I meant you’re going to have to sit down with me—pronto—and talk about what kind of style you envision having here.”

Brooke turned as she saw Landry heading up the staircase.

Nate lifted a staying hand. “It’s okay. He’s going to have to explore the place sometime.”

Meanwhile, Brooke noted, the seventy-nine-year-old Jessalyn appeared to be drifting off to sleep …. “So when can we get together to do this?” she asked.

“How about tonight?”

If only that were possible, she mused, as anxious to get a head start on this task as he. “I have to pick up my son at summer camp.”

“Bring him, too. Say around seven? We’ll all have dinner. If you want, you could even move your things into the caretaker’s house at that time.”

Brooke had heard Nate moved fast. His indefatigable drive had turned his solo financial advising practice into a firm with six thousand top-notch certified financial planners, and a national reputation for excellence.

She gazed up at him. “I know you want to get this done,” she began.

“It’s important for Landry that this feel like a home instead of a museum,” Nate said.

Brooke couldn’t disagree with that. “But there’s such a thing as moving too fast. Decorating decisions made in haste are often repented in leisure.” And she had her own problems to triumph over, starting with her promise to reconfigure her priorities and bring balance back into her life.

Nate brushed off her concern with a shrug. “I’m counting on you to help me avoid that.”

The doorbell rang before she could answer him.

Nate moved to get it.

A stunning ebony-haired woman in a Marc Jacobs suit strode in, cell phone and briefcase in hand. She was in her mid-thirties, of Asian-American descent.

“Brooke Mitchell, my attorney, Mai Tanous. Mai, this is Brooke Mitchell.”

Mai nodded briefly in acknowledgment, then leaned toward Nate. “We need to talk.”

NATE HAD AN IDEA of what Mai was going to say. He also knew she would be much more circumspect if they weren’t alone. He motioned for Brooke to stay put, and regarded Mai steadily. “I presume you brought the papers?” he asked in a voice that tolerated no argument.

Mai cast an uncertain look at Brooke, as unwilling to talk business with an audience as Nate had presumed she would be. “Yes,” she said politely. “I did. But—”

He held up a hand, cutting off her protest. “Then let’s sign them so Jessalyn can go home. She’s exhausted.”

Exhaling in frustration, Mai frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He nodded. For a moment Mai seemed torn between doing her job and being his friend. Finally, she pivoted and headed for the library, where Jessalyn was seated. As Brooke and Nate entered the room, the elderly woman roused.

Mai extended a hand and introduced herself. “Mrs. Walker, are you sure you don’t want to have your own attorney present?”

Jessalyn waved off the suggestion. “I trust this man every bit as much as my late granddaughter did. If Nate says he’ll do right by Landry, then he will.”

“I would still feel better if we slowed down a bit,” Mai said. “Perhaps began the process with a simple visit.”

Nate gave his attorney a quelling glance. “I told you it wasn’t necessary,” he stated firmly. “Now, if you have the Power of Appointment papers …”

Her posture stiff, her expression deferential, Mai opened up her briefcase, extracted the documents. “Basically, this agreement states that Landry will live with Nate now. It gives Nate the power to take him to the doctor, and to school or camp while he is in Nate’s care. In the eyes of the law, however, Landry’s great-grandmother, Jessalyn Walker, will remain his legal custodian until the court transfers custodianship to Nate.”

“Why can’t we just make Nate Landry’s legal custodian now?” Jessalyn asked impatiently.

Mai regarded the elderly woman gently. “The court will need to be certain this arrangement is in the best interest of your great-grandson.”

Nate noticed Brooke visibly react to that admission.

“I don’t see why, since Nate has agreed to be the father that Landry needs.” Jessalyn appeared upset.

Mai knelt in front of her and took her hand. Looking her in the eye, then explained, “The authorities are still going to want home studies to be done by social workers, and reports given to the court, recommending placement. But that won’t happen until the petition for custodianship is filed with the court. And in fact—” the attorney gave her hand a final pat and stood, addressing all of them once again “—I would suggest that until Landry settles in a little bit and feels like this is something he wants, too, that we hold off on taking him before a judge. And instead just let him live here for a few weeks and get used to things, before we actually petition the court to begin the process to make it permanent.”