To Catch a Husband

“Shoot,” she said, returning to the stag beetle she’d been pinning before Adam’s interruption.

“Here’s the deal…” He sat beside her, then reached for her hands. As focused as she’d just been on pinning her new acquisition, the shock of him again taking her hand so intimately jolted her to a whole ’nother place—the fantasyland she’d spun of the two of them. Her first instinct was to yank herself free, but instead she froze, like the last time he’d pulled this stunt, selfishly indulging in the decadence of being held. “In the middle of this date with a strange, high-maintenance woman I knew after being alone with her for five minutes I never wanted to see again, I had a great idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Glad you asked,” he said with a grin so potent, it took Charity a second to find her next breath. “The company shrink told me I had to date, right?”

“Yeah.” He was still massaging her hands, flooding her with tingling pleasure.

“Well, the doc didn’t say a thing about who I had to date—just that I had to go out with someone.”

“And?” Charity said, blaming trace formaldehyde fumes for the dizzying heat.

“And—you’re going to love this—so I figure, why don’t I just go out with you?”

Chapter Two

Charity hadn’t yet recovered from Adam’s first ludicrous statement, when he kept going. “The beauty of this plan,” he said, “is that not only do I get the doc off my back, but you’re not going to expect anything of me, right? We can hang here. Or have nice, cheap dinners at Ziggy’s. The way I see it, it’s a win/win for both of us, seeing as you’ll get free grub.”

Charity snatched back her hands.

“No,” she said, pushing herself up from the sofa. “I’m too busy.”

In front of the now-dark view of Mount Hood that’d been the reason she’d forked over too much for this condo, she crossed her arms and tried hard not to give in to the knot swelling at the back of her throat.

“Too busy?” Adam laughed, leaving the sofa to join her. “What do you do besides hang out with me?”

“That’s the point,” she said, good and mad not only at his presumptuousness, but at herself for letting their relationship—or lack thereof—get to this level. She was tired of being his buddy. His pal. Dammit, she wanted to at least be his girl. And if she were totally honest with herself, in her wildest dreams, what she really wanted was to someday be his wife. Have his babies. “Is it so wrong of me to want more?”

“More?” He coughed. “What’s that mean?”

“Want me to spell it out?”

“Might be nice.”

“Okay. First off, do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. Over three years. And that’s just sad. Night after night, I sit here, listening to all your problems, Adam, and never once do I saddle you with mine.”

“You could,” he said, grinning, landing a friendly slug to her upper arm. “You know I’d be here for you—anytime. Come on, give me a few. I’m all ears.”

“All right, for starters, I’m around men all the time, yet they don’t see me as a woman, but just another guy. I know I’ve got to do something to change that perception, but just the thought is overwhelming.”

“Huh?” Sitting again, he leaned against the sofa back. “Are you PMSing? You’re acting a little mental.”

“Thanks,” she said. She was really on a roll. “That helps a lot. Okay, next problem—since you mentioned PMS—I just had a physical, and my doctor asked if I plan on starting a family. Next, she launches into this speech on how if kids are something I want in my future, I might want to get on with it. She then proceeded to point out just how drastically the odds of fun stuff like birth defects increase the older women get. Geesh, I’m only thirty-five, so I ask, aren’t women having babies at fifty? But then—”

“Whoa,” Adam said, making a T with his hands. “Time out. You? Want babies? As in someone a foot tall calling you ‘Mommy’?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

He sobered. “Not at all, it’s just…Well, I never thought of you in that way.”

“What way?”

“You know…nurturing. Tucking little humanoid beings in for the night. Making sure they take their vitamins in the morning, helping with homework. When are you going to have time for you? And work? Let alone me?”

“Adam?” The laugh crinkles at the corners of his eyes had her smacking him over the head with her ladybug throw pillow. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But you’ve always been one of the guys. It never even occurred to me you’d go the family route.”

“Family route? You think a dream I cherish is some stupid route?”

“I never said that—and I sure as hell never said it was stupid. You’d make a great mom. But, babe, how do you expect guys to think of you as anything other than a guy when all you ever do is guy stuff? Play video games and watch ESPN. Slave over your bugs. I mean, if you want some dude to like you—in a baby-making way—maybe you should put on a dress. You know, let him know you’re interested. Speaking of which, got anyone special in mind for the daddy?”

Someone knocked on the door. The pizza guy?

“That was fast,” Adam said, relief in his voice at the interruption. As long as Charity had known him, he’d never been all that keen on sharing emotions. Lucky her, it looked as if he wasn’t about to change tonight. “To show how sorry I am about the baby crack, I won’t even ask you to pay half the bill.”

“Maybe it’d be best if you just left.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, expression dumb-founded. “The pizza just got here.”

“Just go,” Charity said, arms crossed, having a devil of a time trying not to cry as the realization of what she’d just done hit her. Blurting out she wanted a baby like that. Nuts. That’s what that was. “I seriously want you to leave.”

“But—”

“Please,” she said. Before I not only spill my deepest, darkest secret about loving you, but start blubbering, too. “Go.”

Adam stood, pizza in hand, in front of the open door. “Sure that’s what you want?”

Swallowing hard, Charity nodded.

For the longest time he just stood there in the chilly hall, staring. The cool air raised goose bumps on her miles of bare skin, but she didn’t care. Why, she couldn’t say, but something about her asking him to leave had been akin to drawing her own personal line in the sand.

She’d only just now realized it, but enough was enough. She couldn’t go on this way anymore. Doing the same old things. Following the same old routines. If she was ever going to make more of her life—stop being the son her father wanted and discover the woman she knew herself deep in her soul to be—now was the time.

With his free hand, using just tip of his index finger, Adam stroked heat from her shoulder to elbow, causing her to shiver both inside and out. “I’m worried about you. But if it’s space you want, you got it.”

Dying a thousand tiny deaths over his unexpected kindness, she almost called him back inside. Almost. But what would that have served other than to prolong her pain? They’d never be a couple—not the way she wanted. The sooner she got that fact through her head, the better off she’d be.

He wagged the pizza box, shot her a heart-stoppingly handsome grin, then headed down the long hall.

Closing the door, sliding the chain lock into place, lingering scents of Adam and sausage-and-mushroom pizza flavoring the air, Charity finally gave in to her tears.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, Adam was drowning his sorrows in football and a bowl of chili—he’d wanted queso, but Bug wasn’t answering her phone and he couldn’t remember the recipe—when the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, he said, “Bug?”

“Sorry,” his dad said with a chuckle, barging his way in with a bag overflowing with green stuff. “Better luck next time.”

“Yeah, right.” Adam muted the TV, then reclaimed his usual end of the sofa. His dad, a retired marshal, set his bag on the small table in what the official apartment complex guide called the dining nook, then lowered himself into the recliner. “What’s up?”

“Just curious how your trip to the head doctor went. You were supposed to call.”

“Guess I forgot.”

“Well?”

“Want chili?” Adam asked, reaching to the coffee table for his empty bowl, taking it to the kitchen for a refill.

“No, thanks. I spent the morning at the Briar Street Farmer’s Market with Cal and Victoria. You remember her? Allie’s mom.” Cal was his oldest brother Caleb’s son—the son he hadn’t met till the kid was eight! Allie was Caleb’s wife. Caleb, also a marshal, had recently discovered he’d fathered a child when assigned to protect Allie, a judge. It blew Adam’s mind to think the woman had kept Cal from his father all those years. Still, seeing how the two of them had long since worked it out, Adam wasn’t one to interfere, or to dwell on the past.

Ha! His conscience had a field day with that one. Other folks’ pasts didn’t plague him. His own, however, was a burden he feared he might always bear.

Focusing on his old man rather than his own shortcomings, Adam raised his eyebrows. “Was this a date?”

“No, no.” His dad looked away and coughed. “Just a friendly outing with our grandson. That sack over there’s packed with veggies. Victoria says us men need more antioxidants.”

Adam grinned. Who knew the old guy still had it in him to charm the ladies?

“It’s your date I’m here about,” his dad said. “How’d Saturday night go? Caleb and Beau said this Frederika was a real looker.” Count on his nosy brothers to be the ones spilling Adam’s private life to the one person he didn’t want knowing about it. His second oldest brother, Beau, was also a marshal, and carried the Logue family trait of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Should be a looker,” Adam said with a grunt. “She’s a swimsuit model.” He turned the volume back up on the game. Seahawks vs. Jets. Sadly, the Jets were ahead by three touchdowns.

“And…you going out again?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. She’s pretty high maintenance. Not my type.”

“What’s Bug say?”

“Huh?”

“You know,” his dad pressed. “About the date. Does she think you should ask Frederika out again?”

Adam turned up the TV.

AT WORK MONDAY, Charity did everything in her power to steer clear of Adam. Which was tough, seeing as how their team had just been assigned to a major drug case being tried in federal court. The defendant had been caught with more than thirty-two kilos of cocaine in his vehicle. As a statement to the jurors, the prosecution displayed the mounds of neatly packaged coke in the courtroom.

The boss wanted marshals on hand to dissuade anyone who’d calculated the drug’s street value and thought it worth the risk to steal.

All day, Charity stood at the back of the courtroom, dressed in her baggy black suit that, okay, did probably come across as a trifle masculine. But geesh, was she supposed to have shown up to guard the goods in a miniskirt? Trying to avoid eye contact with Adam, who’d been posted behind the judge, had only added to the fun.

Talk about awkward.

“Yo, Bug.” Her friend and fellow marshal, Bear, ducked into her office cubicle after court had been adjourned for the day and the defendant escorted “home” for the night. “We’re headed to Ziggy’s. Wanna go?”

“No, thanks,” she said, not looking up from the report she’d been trying to finish for the past week.

“Your loss,” Bear said. A few minutes later the giant sweetheart who shaved his head because he thought it made him look meaner, was back. “Seen Adam?”

She shook her head.

“If you do, tell him—”

“Okay,” she snapped. “Do you mind? I’m trying to work.”

“Ex-cuuu-uuse me,” he said. “What bug crawled out of your collection and up your—”

“Cut her some slack,” Adam said to Bear, barging into her cubicle, helping himself to the microwave popcorn she’d popped more to keep her mouth busy than because she’d been hungry.

“Tell her to cut me some slack,” Bear said. “All I did was ask her to hang with us at Ziggy’s and she bit my head off.”

“She’s sick, okay?” Adam said.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Um, guys? Hello?” Charity waved. “I’m sitting right here.”

“Well?” Bear asked Charity. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Now, would both of you please leave, so I can get some work done.”

“I thought you told me you had woman problems?” Adam said. “You know, all that stuff about how you want to get pregnant but—”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked Adam, shoving back her chair so hard she rammed it into the cubicle’s back wall and, in the process, managed to knock down a few thick procedural guides. “I told you that in private. Why couldn’t you keep your big mouth shut?” Standing, snatching the mini-backpack she used for a purse, she shot both men her dirtiest look, then headed for the door.

“She’s pregnant?” Bear asked Adam once Bug was out of earshot.

“Nah,” Adam said, finishing off her popcorn, wondering what he’d said to tick her off this time. “At least, I don’t think so. Guess she could be, but who could be the dad?”

“I dunno,” Bear said. “Only guy she ever hangs with is…” He looked straight at Adam and grinned. “Congratulations, man. I didn’t even know you and Bug were an item. Well, I knew you two hung together, but—”

“Cut it out,” Adam said, taking off after her.

Dammit, Bug was his best friend. What had happened between Sunday morning at her apartment and now? All he’d done was ask her to pretend to be his date. Had that really been so much to ask?

Hell, he’d helped her move—twice! Seemed to him that’d been a whole lot harder than a measly few nights out on the town.

He just couldn’t deal with going on a string of meaningless dates. Casual, he could do. But putting himself out there in a romantic way hurt too damn much—especially because no matter how hard he tried, nearly a decade later, he just couldn’t seem to work through what’d happened to Angela.

He’d met her while on assignment. Her dad was a high-powered judge, and death threats had been made against not just him, but his wife and only daughter. Adam, who was twenty-five at the time and easily blended in with her college crowd, had been assigned to be her closest contact.

Adam had always considered himself to be a man’s man, not easily swayed by batting eyelashes or pouty lips. But one look at Angela and he’d been a goner. Even though he’d known getting involved with her was against the rules, when she’d showed classic signs of interest, he’d fallen hard. They’d managed to keep things under wraps for a while, but pretty soon, with Angela wired for sound, his boss caught on to the fact that every time her mike cut out, Adam had been cutting in. Lord, but they’d had some hot make-out sessions in her sorority house attic.

He’d tried, for Angela’s safety—and his sanity—to cool things down, but that had only made her want to be with him all the more. God help him, he’d felt the same. He’d loved her. For the first time ever, he’d known what it was like to be willing to die for someone.

He’d been pulled off the case. Then, over a candlelit frozen lasagna dinner at his apartment, asked her to marry him. With an excited squeal, she’d accepted.

Adam had expected trouble from her family—he was far from her social standing—but to the contrary, her dad had been a self-made man, working two jobs to get through law school, and he’d adored Adam. He’d also loved the fact that Adam wasn’t one of Angela’s typical spoiled frat boys. Despite ever-increasing death threats, Angela’s mother had launched plans for a wedding fit for royalty. She’d been warned it wasn’t safe. But she’d said a life lived in fear wasn’t worth living. Adam had admired the hell out of her moxie, yet he’d worried.

The size of the family’s security detail doubled.

Still, Adam worried.

Worried to the point that Angela had moved in with him, because he believed with his entire being no one could keep her as safe as him. After all, no one else could have comprehended loving her as he had.

But in the end, the security hadn’t been enough.

His love? That hadn’t done squat.

On a blustery Tuesday afternoon, hustling to interview a wedding consultant, Angela had been shot outside Adam’s apartment door. He’d been right beside her. Two other marshals had flanked her. Four other marshals had covered the stairwell and parking area. The coward-ass sniper had shot through them all. Hit Angela straight through her heart. She was supposed to have been wearing a vest, but had whined it made her look fat. Yeah, well, there in his arms, she’d looked dead. And there wasn’t a damned thing—

Swallowing hard, willing himself to breathe, Adam squeezed his eyes shut.

He’d let her down. Yeah, she should’ve worn the vest, but he should’ve insisted. Made a game out of putting it on her himself.

Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve.

He could second-guess himself till the end of time, but the end result would still be the same. For all practical purposes, he’d killed the woman he’d loved. And now he would pay the consequences—for the rest of his freakin’ life.

Sure, on the outside, he came across as a happy-go-lucky guy, but inside, he knew damned well he was damaged goods. Which was why it was so important for him to keep things right between him and Bug. He didn’t deserve another chance at love, but surely even screw-ups like him deserved a best friend.

Which was exactly what Bug had become.

He caught up with her in the parking garage just as she was about to climb into her company-issued black SUV. “You’re fast,” he said.

“Why are you here?”

“My car’s parked next to yours.”

“And that’s it?”

He sighed, wiped his face with his hands. “We’re together every Sunday, right?”

“Usually. But what does that have to do with why you followed me?”

“I didn’t follow you,” he said. “I just pointed out I was parked next to you.”

“Okay. Great. See you tomorrow.” She opened her door and climbed in behind the wheel.

“Wait.”

She sighed. “Adam, I’m really tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, I know. But yesterday, having to watch football without you—or your Velveeta dip—now that was a long day.”

Lips pressed tight, she rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, with both my brothers married and most of the other guys I know either in a serious relationship or rooting for another team, Sunday afternoon I realized just how alone I really am. The game was a blow-out, so I turned off the TV and went for a long walk. Thought about a lot of stuff. About how maybe instead of constantly grieving Angela’s death, I should celebrate her life. But what I can’t figure is how I’m supposed to do that if I have to be out wasting my time with women I don’t even like.”

“Adam,” Charity said. “I’m really tired. Where are you going with this?”

“Where am I going?” He laughed. “Bug, don’t you see? When I’m with you, losing Angela doesn’t hurt half as much. But when I’m not with you, I feel…” He looked away. “I’m bad at this. Really bad.”

“How do you feel, Adam? Tell me.” Please. God knew she felt for Angela. Her too brief shining life. But were Adam to be granted the miracle of one more talk with her, Charity felt certain the woman would’ve told him to get on with things. To have a life. As he was, he just sort of wandered, not really living. Not really dying. Just being. If Angela had loved Adam even half as much as he’d loved her, she would never have wished this limbo on him. Worse yet, as much as Charity loved Adam, his limbo was now her own. “Tell me, Adam. How do you feel?”

“Okay…” He scratched his stubbled chin. “Raw. Guess that about sums it up. Is that how you are? You know, about all that baby stuff you brought up the other night?”

She didn’t answer.

“Bug?”

“That’s not my name.”

“Sorry. Charity. Is that what’s going on with you?” He stood in front of her, one hand holding the suit jacket he’d had to wear in court over his shoulder, the other tucked into the pocket of his dark slacks. He’d locked his beautiful brown gaze with hers, and though Charity wanted to look away, she couldn’t. “Well?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s exactly how I feel—not that there’s a lot I can do about it.”

“Want me to fix you up with someone?”

She shook her head. “How about you? I heard one of the clerks in Judge Baker’s office just got divorced.”

“Nah. Too much baggage. What I was really hoping is we could just hang out. You know, so things go back to the way they were.”

“How’s that going to help either of us?”

“I don’t know,” he said, breaking his stare, with his free hand, thumping her open door’s window. “Sorry I ever even brought it up.”

So was she. Because no matter how insulted she was that he obviously didn’t think of her as a woman, she couldn’t get past the idiotic craving she had to go along with his plan. But why help scam his psychiatrist? How would that help Adam? And what about her? How would it feel to only pretend to be his date, knowing she didn’t have a shot at being the real thing? Better yet, follow her original plan to remain just friends? Maybe even sever that tie in favor of finding someone else to declare her best friend? Like a woman who might actually understand some of what she was going through?

“Wanna go with the rest of the gang to Ziggy’s?” he asked.

Yes. “Thanks,” Charity said, “but I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

“Sure? It’s all-you-can-eat baby back ribs night.”

She loved ribs. Would it really hurt to pal around with Adam just one more night?

If she were truly serious about finding a husband instead of a guy friend—yes.

“HOW COME you’re not with Adam?” her big sister, Stephanie, asked that night. She sat on the foot of her bed, painting her toenails Tequila Pink.

“Since when is tequila pink?” Charity asked, reading the name on the bottom of the bottle.

“Probably since the color designers ran out of legitimate pinks. Now, nice try at changing the subject, but you never, ever come to see me on a weeknight unless you need money. So out with it. How much are you short this month and what exotic bug am I helping to import?”

“There are no bugs and can’t I come see you because I miss you?”

“Sure. I’d love it if that were the real reason you’re here.” She put the final coat on her last toe, then screwed the lid on the bottle. Holding it out to Charity, she asked, “Want to do yours?”

“No, thanks.”

“Different color?” she asked, pointing Vanna White-style at her vast array of polish.

“Steph?”

“Yes?” Duck-walking so as not to muss her toes, she headed to her closet for a dress to wear on her date with Dr. Larry, a pediatrician. This was her first real relationship since her amicable divorce with her stockbroker ex, Todd. He was East Coast, she was West, and the two never really met halfway.

“This is going to sound strange,” Charity said. “But do you think I’m pretty?”

“Of course.”

“That was weak. Like you’re just saying that because you’re my big sister. Come on, I can take it. Tell me the truth.”

“Sweetie…” Steph returned to the bed, put her hands on Charity’s knees. “If you’d let me have my way with your clothes and hair and makeup for a couple hours, you wouldn’t be just pretty, but gorgeous.”

“Now I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Wanna bet? And what brought all of this on? You’ve never given two figs about your appearance. I’ve always envied that in you. Your knack for being yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” Charity made a face. “Right about now, being me sucks. All my mixed-up feelings are thanks to Adam.” She told her sister what had transpired between her and her supposed best friend—stressing the part about how mortifying it’d been that here she’s crazy in love with him, yet he only sees her as a pal who’d be handy for duping his shrink.