To Become A Bride

“Have you ever been married?”

“Have you?” he came back smoothly.

“Certainly not,” she snapped.

“Why not?”

Danie frowned at his persistence. “Why haven’t you?”

He shrugged broad shoulders. “Simple enough. I haven’t found the right woman yet.”

“The right woman?” she repeated dazedly.

“Of course,” Jonas replied.

Danie stared at him. The right woman! Was he serious?

Jonas chuckled. “Don’t look so horrified, Danie,” he grinned. “I’m one of an old-fashioned breed, I’m afraid. One man, one woman. As long as—”

“She’s the right one,” Danie finished for him huskily.

Some women are meant to wed!

Meet the Summer sisters:

Harriet, Danielle and Andrea (or Harrie, Danie and Andie to their friends!). All three are beautiful, intelligent and successful, but they’ve always found their careers more satisfying than their love lives…. Until now!

None of the sisters are looking for love—but then destiny causes Quinn, Jonas and Adam to cross their paths.

Will these exceptional men pop the question?

Don’t miss any of the fabulous BACHELOR SISTERS stories by popular Harlequin Presents® author

CAROLE MORTIMER!

Harrie’s story:

To Have a Husband

Danie’s story:

To Become a Bride

Andie’s story:

To Make a Marriage

To Become a Bride

Carole Mortimer

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

‘MR NOBLE?’

He slowly opened one sleepy eyelid above an even sleepier, bloodshot eye. Only to raise the other eyelid, above an equally bloodshot eye, and find himself looking into the most amazing green eyes he had ever seen.

They weren’t the green he usually associated with eye colour, that faded colour that could look a hazelly grey, but the deep, deep green of a clear-cut emerald. High cheekbones sided a pert nose, the skin was clear and smooth, the mouth had a mischievous quirk to it even though it was unsmiling at this moment, and the chin pointed and raised determinedly.

The rest of the woman was harder to distinguish, Jonas realised a little irritably. A black baseball cap was pulled low over those amazing green eyes, her hair tucked neatly inside it, although the lashes that surrounded her eyes were dark and long. Black combat trousers were worn beneath a black fleece top, the latter zipped up to her creamy throat.

Obviously a young woman who liked to be taken seriously, he noted with amusement.

‘Is something funny?’ the woman prompted sharply.

‘Not at all,’ Jonas drawled dismissively, swinging long legs from over the arm of his chair to the floor before straightening in his seat.

‘Then I take it you are Mr Noble?’ the woman repeated abruptly.

He looked around the luxurious but otherwise deserted private lounge before glancing back up at the young woman with mocking brown eyes. ‘I would think that’s a pretty sure bet,’ he finally drawled caustically; he didn’t suffer fools any more gladly than this young woman appeared to!

Anger flared briefly in those dark green eyes, but was quickly brought back under control. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee—’ she looked down pointedly at the empty cup on the table in front of him ‘—your flight is ready to leave any time.’

He wasn’t sure he was going to be ready, in the full sense of the word, any time today. Despite the pint of strong coffee he had consumed since his arrival fifteen minutes ago! It had been a long night, involving no sleep, and flying off to God-knew-where, to meet a man he didn’t even know, was not high on his list of priorities at this particular moment.

But he had agreed—under pressure!—to today’s meeting yesterday when he’d received the telephone call from Jerome Summer, and he was a man of his word. So, despite the change of circumstances which meant he hadn’t actually been to bed yet, he had duly presented himself at this private lounge situated within the much larger complex of the airport. But that didn’t mean he had to like it!

He stood up, flexing tired muscles. ‘That’s some uniform you have there,’ he murmured derisively. If he had expected to be pampered by a sexy flight attendant on this short, but, his host considered, necessary flight, then he was obviously in for a disappointment!

‘Uniform?’ the woman repeated abruptly, looking down frowningly at her dark clothing. ‘These are my own clothes, Mr Noble,’ she told him coldly.

Obviously Jerome Summer ran a relaxed ship, Jonas acknowledged. It was none of his business how the other man dealt with his staff, but Jonas’s own experience had taught him that familiarity bred contempt; become too relaxed with someone who worked for you, and you were heading for disaster. His own secretary, Dorothy, was prime proof of that!

At almost fifty, over ten years his senior, Dorothy had taken on a motherly role in his life. And like most mothers with a grown-up son, she treated him with bullying affection.

However, this young woman didn’t quite fit into that category! Jerome Summer was in his early fifties, and the young lady was probably only in her late twenties. Which begged the question, what role did she have in Jerome Summer’s life that led to such familiarity…?

‘I’ll have to mention to Jerome that a flight attendant in a short skirt and silky blouse is much more conducive to comfortable travel,’ Jonas said silkily.

Dark brows rose over icy green eyes as his meaning obviously became clear. ‘For whom, Mr Noble?’

‘Why, me, of course.’ He grinned, some of the strong coffee at last seeming to kick into gear as he felt a rush of adrenaline. It would only be a temporary thing, of course, he acknowledged ruefully, but hopefully it would be long enough to get him through his meeting. ‘And if, as you say, the flight is ready, where is Mr Summer?’ he added frowningly. ‘Or is he already on the plane?’

‘Rome is at the estate, of course,’ the young woman replied caustically. ‘What would be the point of flying you there if Rome were already in town?’ she scorned.

‘Rome’, was it? Jonas acknowledged sceptically. Obviously very familiar! ‘I meant Danny Summer, of course,’ he corrected briskly. ‘I was told he would be meeting me here. He’s some sort of relative, I gather?’ he added hardly as the annoyance seemed to be increasing in the young woman’s expression.

The mischievously slanting mouth curved. ‘You gather correctly, Mr Noble,’ the woman drawled. ‘Do you have any luggage?’

‘Only this small case.’ Jonas bent down to pick up the compact black case that stood beside the chair he had been sitting in. ‘I’m not expecting to stay longer than a few hours,’ he added with grim determination. ‘Just until my—business with Mr Summer is completed.’

Especially if all the Summer staff turned out to be as arrogantly self-assured as this young woman! He simply wasn’t in the mood to bother dealing with such aggressive attitudes with any of the usual tact and diplomacy usually necessary in his work!

The young woman shot him a sidelong glance as they walked outside and in the direction of a small private jet that stood on the tarmac a few yards away. ‘Exactly what line of business is it that you’re in, Mr Noble?’ she voiced casually.

Too casually, Jonas decided. From the little conversation they had had so far, this woman did not strike him as the sort to indulge in politeness for its own sake—which meant there had been a reason behind her question…?

‘Nothing illegal, I can assure you,’ he returned noncommittally.

She looked down the length of her upturned nose at him. ‘You wouldn’t be on your way to see Rome if it were,’ she told him with disdainful certainty.

From the little he had read and heard of Jerome Summer, she was right; the man was a business legend in his own lifetime, a doctor’s son who had worked his way to the top in every business enterprise he had ever been involved in.

But even so, Jonas had no intention of discussing his business with the other man with this less-than-polite young woman!

‘I’m glad about that,’ he answered dismissively, grinning as he preceded her up the steps of the jet and found himself surrounded by the type of luxury he had only ever seen on celluloid before.

His own lifestyle was far from spartan, he ruefully acknowledged, but the inside of this jet was something else. It was more like a beautifully furnished sitting-room, with a comfortable cream sofa and chairs, a tan-coloured carpet on the floor, a well-equipped bar towards the cockpit. Any woodwork visible beside the doe-skin leather looked like well-polished mahogany. The only difference that he could see was that there were seat belts tucked neatly away inside the sofa and chairs.

‘The bar is well stocked with food as well as drink.’ The woman stood slightly behind him now, having secured the door behind them. ‘Please help yourself to whatever you would like, once we have taken off, though there’s a little turbulence up there today so I would advise you to wait until we’ve flown above it,’ she added dryly as she stepped past him.

Jonas raised enquiring brows. ‘And exactly what are you going to be doing while I’m helping myself to the food and drink?’ he asked.

She turned in the open doorway to the cockpit, arching mischievous brows. ‘Why, flying the plane, of course, Mr Noble,’ she replied innocently.

She was the pilot?

To say he was surprised was an understatement—he was stunned. It had never occurred to him that—

Careful, Jonas, he inwardly taunted himself, your male chauvinism is starting to show!

But it wasn’t really a question of that, he instantly defended. A male chauvinist was the last thing he was. Hell, he knew, better than most, that women were much stronger, in some senses, than men!

But this young woman had realised exactly the assumption he had made earlier in the lounge—and she had chosen to let him go on thinking it! In fact, she was still smiling her satisfaction at his mistake…

Why…?

She hadn’t even known who he was when she’d come into the lounge, it had only been the fact that he’d been the only person there that had given away his identity. What had he done in the few minutes of their acquaintance to bring about such animosity?

Nothing that he was aware of. Unless…?

‘Was Danny Summer not able to make the flight this morning?’ he enquired lightly, looking for some sort of answer there. If this woman had been asked to pilot this flight on short notice, that could account for some of her attitude. Some of it…

Her smile faded, her mouth tight now, green eyes sparkling challengingly. ‘I’m Danie Summer, Mr Noble,’ she informed him coldly. ‘Jerome Summer is my father. And, to put your mind at rest,’ she continued hardly as he simply stared at her, ‘I’m licensed to pilot all of his private aircraft for him.’

Not just a distant relative, but the man’s daughter, Jonas realised dumbfoundedly. Although how he was supposed to have realised that Danie Summer would be a woman, or indeed this particular woman, he had no idea.

He couldn’t have done, he accepted, irritable at having been disconcerted in this way. And this woman—Danie Summer—had enjoyed herself enough at his expense for one day, he decided hardly.

‘Then I would advise you to start piloting this one,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Because my time is short, and, I believe, as valuable as your father’s!’

She looked ready to pass comment on the statement, and then thought better of it, drawing in a hissing breath before going through to the cockpit, slamming the door firmly shut behind her.

Damn! Damn, damn, damn. Jonas groaned as he dropped down into one of the armchairs. He was tired, regretted ever agreeing to this appointment, especially on a Saturday, and the last thing he felt like dealing with was a woman who enjoyed nothing more than flaunting her equality, an equality that he wasn’t even aware he had questioned—apart from the assumption that she had to be the flight attendant, a nagging little voice infuriatingly reminded him!—before he had even had time to indulge in a much-needed, and so far denied, late breakfast!

‘Would you fasten your seat belt, Mr Noble?’ her voice came coolly over the internal intercom. ‘We’re about to taxi for take-off.’

Jonas did as he was asked, but it did not give him a sense of well-being to know that his life was now—literally—in the hands of Danie Summer—a woman who had shown him nothing but condescending contempt so far during their acquaintance!

CHAPTER ONE

WHO was Jonas Noble?

More to the point, what was he?

Until a couple of hours ago, Danie had believed she had a free Saturday, had planned on having lunch with her elder sister Harrie, and Harrie’s husband, Quinn McBride, before going into town to do some leisurely shopping.

But then her father had telephoned, and, despite her half-hearted objections, had managed, with his usual charming diplomacy, to talk her into flying Jonas Noble to his country estate instead.

But Rome had been less than forthcoming about his visitor, refused—again, charmingly—to be drawn as to the reason for Jonas Noble’s visit.

One thing Danie hated was a mystery. And Jonas Noble himself had been no help in explaining his reason for visiting her father’s home, either. He had proved just as closed-mouthed as her father when she had questioned him a few minutes ago, and his appearance was no help whatsoever in pinning down who or what he could be.

The man didn’t have the look of a businessman for one thing; his dark hair was a little too long. His casual clothing—black denims teamed with a black silk shirt and grey fitted jacket—exuded none of the formal efficiency that businessmen who dealt with her father liked to adopt. Her father excluded, of course. But then, Rome was way past the stage of caring what sort of image he presented—to anyone! Perhaps Jonas Noble was in that kind of position, too…?

Danie shook her head even as she went through the mechanics of flying; she had never heard of Jonas Noble before, and if his photograph had ever appeared in any of the business journals her father subscribed to, then Danie knew she would have remembered him. His was not a face it would be easy to forget!

It wasn’t strictly a handsome face, was too angular for that; his jaw was square and determined, with a firmly sculptured mouth, and slightly aquiline nose. It was his eyes that were so arresting, Danie realised: a deep dark brown, filled with a warmth that softened all those other hard edges.

Careful, Danie, she chided herself, or you might actually start to consider Jonas Noble as an attractive man!

Well, possibly he was, she conceded, but she wasn’t fooled by a man’s good looks. She knew those looks invariably hid a calculating selfishness. Her experience with Ben had more than shown her—

Damn it, where had that come from? She never thought of Ben any more, considered him a part of her life that was firmly shut away from prying eyes—and prying minds. Jonas Noble was the subject under question here, not someone from her past who had cured her of wanting any romantic involvement for the last two years!

Her passenger had one piece of luggage with him, a small case, too small for a suitcase, too large to be a briefcase. So what did it contain?

Well, she wasn’t going to get any answers from the man himself, she conceded wryly, so she might as well put away her curiosity until she saw her father.

She reached up to press a button above her head. ‘We’re levelling out now, Mr Noble,’ she told him coolly over the intercom. ‘This is a non-smoking flight, but please help yourself to the refreshments,’ she added mockingly, a smile curving her lips as she recalled the expression on the man’s face when she’d informed him she wasn’t the flight attendant but the pilot! Not exactly speechless, but close enough. Obviously women didn’t step too far out of their expected roles in Jonas Noble’s world, Danie thought tauntingly.

But planes, and flying, had been loves of hers since she’d been a child, having travelled all over the world with her parents by the time she was five. Instead of dolls, she had had models of planes in her bedroom as she’d been growing up, rapidly progressing to ones that had worked by remote control, taking them outside and flying them for hours. Her father’s pilot at the time, an older man called Edward, had been quite happy for her to accompany him in the cockpit on flights, even found a pair of overalls for her to wear so that she’d been able to help him when he’d looked in the engines.

By the time she was eighteen she had already decided exactly what she was going to do with her life. There had been a little opposition from her father, of course. But as they had recently lost her mother to cancer, those objections had been only half-hearted. Rome was so devastated by the loss. If he had thought about it at all, he would have probably expected Danie would tire of the pursuit during the months it had taken her to get her full pilot’s licence, but he would have been wrong. She loved flying, it was as simple as that.

Men like Jonas Noble were a prime example of the prejudice she had come up against during the time it had taken to attain her licence! Playing at it, seemed to be most men’s opinion of her chosen career, backed up, no doubt, by what they considered to be Daddy’s money.

Well, she had taken enough of that over the years, Danie reflected; if she were playing at anything, it was being polite in the face of the chauvinistic intolerance she had encountered towards her chosen career from men over the last seven or eight years!

Including Ben.

Not again, she told herself impatiently. She hadn’t given the man a thought for months and now she had thought of him twice in half an hour. Unacceptable!

And it was all Jonas Noble’s fault, she considered. There was something about him that brought Ben to mind. She could well do without it, thank you!

She pressed the button above her head a second time. ‘We will be landing in ten minutes, Mr Noble,’ she told him abruptly. ‘I advise you to place any debris from your food and drink in the container provided, and to fasten your seat belt.’ With any luck, his visit with her father would, as he had said, be a short one, and once she had flown him back to town she might just be able to go shopping, after all!

Her father had sent Charles out in the Rolls, and not the Range Rover, to collect his guest from the private airstrip on the estate, Danie noted with some surprise as she brought the jet in to land. Curiouser and curiouser. Rome rarely used the Rolls Royce, had bought it a couple of years ago on a whim, and now considered it a little too ostentatious for his tastes. But it had been brought out of mothballs today in Jonas Noble’s honour. Which again posed the question: who was he?

‘Please remain in your seat until I’ve completely brought the aircraft to a stop, Mr Noble,’ she told him brusquely over the intercom. ‘I will then come back through to the cabin and open the door for you.’

She had done this trip dozens of times before, but, she had to admit, today was the first time she had found it slightly irritating to have a conversation—one way, at that!—with an unseen person. The only consolation was that Jonas Noble probably found it just as frustrating!

Not that any frustration on Jonas’s part was apparent when, a few minutes later, the plane parked on the end of the runway, she went back into the cabin area. Jonas Noble was fast asleep! From the totally relaxed look of him, he probably had been from the moment they’d taken off, Danie realised crossly.

He was still sitting in the chair he had dropped into as she’d gone through to the cockpit, although at least his seat belt was fastened. But there was no sign of him having had any of the food or drink provided, and he seemed completely unaware that they had actually landed at their destination, his lids closed, his breathing deep and even.

He looked younger in sleep than the forty or so Danie had thought him to be earlier, long dark lashes fanning out across the hardness of his cheeks, his face appearing almost boyishly handsome now that slightly mocking expression had melted from his face.

His clothes, she could see as she took her time to look at him, were tailor-made, and the black shirt was probably Indian silk. A wealthy man then?

He was really something of an enigma, Danie realised with an emotion akin to shock. Men, she had decided after her few attempts at relationships—which, for one reason or another, had always ended disastrously!—were a complete waste of her time. And she now resented having given Jonas Noble even a little of it!

She reached down and shook his arm vigorously. ‘Mr Noble, we’ve landed—’

‘I sincerely hope so,’ he murmured as he opened his eyes and looked directly up into her face. ‘Otherwise there would be no one flying the plane!’

For someone who had been fast asleep seconds ago, he was a little too much awake now for Danie’s liking, and she stepped back from him as if stung, putting her hands behind her back. ‘There is such a thing as autopilot, Mr Noble,’ she bit out in reply.

He straightened in his chair, looking out of the window beside him. ‘Not when you’re on the ground,’ he derided, releasing his seat belt to stretch languidly.

Danie’s mouth twisted even as she registered the tightening and relaxing of muscles. ‘Are we keeping you up, Mr Noble?’ she scorned.

He turned to look at her with brown eyes. ‘As a matter of fact—yes!’ He stood up. ‘That half an hour is the only sleep I’ve had in the last twenty-four,’ he explained.

Danie’s eyes widened at this disclosure, her expression disapproving. ‘I hope she was worth it!’ It wasn’t too difficult to guess that a woman would have been the reason for his lack of sleep the previous night. Those warm brown eyes hinted at a certain sensuality about Jonas Noble!

His expression softened. ‘She was.’ He gave an inclination of his head by way of acknowledgement. ‘Now do you intend keeping me locked in here?’ he enquired. ‘Or do you plan on taking me to see your father some time today?’

At the taunt angry colour heightened her cheeks, and she moved to release the door, the steps sliding automatically to the tarmacked ground. ‘Can you manage your luggage, or would you like me to carry it for you?’ Danie did some taunting of her own.

His mouth quirked into a half-smile as he bent to retrieve the oversized briefcase from the carpeted floor. ‘I can manage, thanks. And thanks, too, for a good flight,’ he added lightly.

‘How would you know it was good? You slept all the way through it!’ she came back tartly.

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Not until I knew we were safely up in the air,’ he rejoined. ‘I heard the bit about “non-smoking flight” before I zonked out. I’m afraid my earlier years spent as a junior doctor have meant I can usually sleep anywhere, at any time,’ he explained apologetically.

Danie didn’t hear any more of what he said after ‘junior doctor’—this man was a doctor? And he was here to see her father? Was Rome sick?