To Catch a Husband

“And so you turned down his proposal?” Steph asked.

“He didn’t propose! He asked me to be his fake date!”

“I know,” her sister said. “You get what I mean. His proposal for the two of you to pretend date.”

“Of course, I turned him down,” Charity reasoned. “You think I shouldn’t have?”

“Well…” In the bathroom, Steph expertly wielded her hair-straightening iron. “Seems to me, if you’re serious about having a baby and husband, maybe you’re going about this all wrong. What if you agreed to be Adam’s date, only to show him how fantastic the two of you could be on another level?”

“Oh, please.” Playing around with her sister’s eyeliner, Charity said, “How am I going to do that when he doesn’t even see me as a woman?”

“That’s a cop-out,” Steph said. “I’ll guarantee if you doll yourself up, he’ll see you differently. And another thing, you’re scared that even if you make an effort to transform yourself into a bona fide hottie, Adam still won’t get the message. And then what?”

“I’m not scared,” Charity said. “Of anything.” Except maybe missing her window of opportunity.

She wasn’t sure why she wanted kids. Because as Adam had pointed out, raising them would take up a huge chunk of her time. Work would be logistically tough. But knowing that didn’t stop the wanting. The yearning every time some lucky woman returned from maternity leave, brandishing her newborn, passing him or her around. When Charity took her turn and felt the trusting warmth against her chest, the impossibly soft scents of lotion and powder, and cute little clothes, she wanted a baby all her own, all the more. Along with the adoring husband proudly standing nearby, lugging around baby equipment.

That was the eternal problem. Sure, in this day and age, all Charity had to do to get a baby would be to pay a visit to the local sperm bank. Surely a town the size of Portland had one, or a dozen. But what was the fun in having a baby if she didn’t have anyone to share it with? Meaning what she really wanted in her greedy heart of hearts was the total package. The perfect little family to match her already perfect job.

Charity pitched the eyeliner in the cosmetics basket and headed for the bathroom door. “I’d better get going and let you finish dressing for your big date.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Steph said. “In fact, why don’t you come with us? Larry’s been saying he’d like to meet you.”

“Thanks,” Charity said at the door to her sister’s bungalow. “But I’ve got a big night. Just got a Eupatorus gracilicornis in from Thailand that needs mounting.”

“Okay, but if you ever want to take me up on that makeover, I’ll be here. Seriously, Charity, enough’s enough where Adam’s concerned. Not that it’s any of my business, but it’s high time you gave the man a wake-up call.”

That made Charity laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“The notion of Adam ever realizing we could be so much more than friends. In fact, I set him up with someone in the hopes of him moving on. That way, maybe I could move along, as well.”

Steph rolled her eyes.

“WHO WAS THAT?” Bear asked Adam on Tuesday as they filed back into the courtroom after the noon recess.

“Oh, you mean the redhead I did lunch with?” Adam asked.

“Duh. She was hot. A scorcher.”

Adam shrugged. “True. Bug hooked us up. But truthfully, while she’s easy on the eyes, and from what I read between the lines, a closet nympho, I thought by the end of it, my ears were gonna bleed. Blah, blah, blah…If I’d had to hear one more thing about her demon ex, I’d have gnawed my hand off to get it out of her whiny clutches. What I wouldn’t have given to just do lunch with Bug.”

“What’s up with you two?” Bear asked, holding open the door while Adam stepped through.

“Long story. Don’t ask.”

All through the afternoon session, Adam was forced to stare at Bug. His best friend. Who for some unknown reason since Sunday morning had pretty much refused to speak to him—except for setting up his lunch from hell. Which, come to think of it, she might’ve done it for spite.

He didn’t get it. One minute they’d just been palling around, and the next, Bug acted as though he had the plague—at the very least a nasty flu.

Once court was out, he waited around the office until most everyone had left but her.

Enough was enough.

One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of what was bugging his Bug.

“Hey,” he said, holding out an unpopped bag of microwave popcorn. “Peace offering?”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“What are you, then?” He sat on the edge of her desk, playing with her collection of wind-up bug toys. He wound a jumping cricket, then let it go.

“What’s that supposed to mean? And quit messing with my stuff before you—aggghh!”

Crash!

The already struggling ivy she’d kept alive for two years crashed to the floor. The terra-cotta pot was in twenty pieces, mixed in with dirt and crumpled leaves, and the still-jumping mechanical cricket topped the whole mess. Adam lay alongside it, having lunged to the floor to catch the pot, ultimately making things worse.

“Oops,” he said, rubbing his aching lower back.

“Are you all right?” she asked, instantly out of her chair and on her knees beside him.

“I’ve been better. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. But you should be. I told you to quit messing with stuff.”

“Wish you’d have been more forceful about it.” Adam winced. “Well? Aren’t you going to offer to kiss my ouchie?”

“You sure you didn’t conk your head instead of your behind?”

The office’s perfect Robocop of a marshal strolled up with a smirk on his face. “Figures it was you two causing the commotion,” said the guy Adam secretly called Suck-up Sam.

“Move along,” Adam said. “Show’s over.”

“Need help?” Sam said to Bug, holding out his hand to assist her over the debris heaped at her feet.

“I’m good,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”

“You bet.” He winked at her. Winked!

Once Sam was out of earshot, Adam said, “God, that guy makes my teeth hurt. He’s such a tool.”

“I like him,” she said. “He’s always seemed nice.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’ll help clean up.”

“You’ll help?” Eyebrows raised, she said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the cause of this mess? Sam!” she called. “I need you, after all!”

Like a bad smell, Pretty Boy silently appeared, holding out his hand for Bug to take—which she did!

After he’d helped her step over the dirt and debris, he said, “I was just heading out for a bite to eat. Care to join me?”

“No, thanks,” Adam said. “We’re busy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bug said, gazing up at the guy with the smile she usually only used when downing Ziggy’s chocolate malts. “You broke it, you clean it.”

Sam said, “See ya, Adam.”

Bug didn’t say anything, just waved.

Fury didn’t begin to describe the emotion bubbling in Adam’s gut. Then again, maybe it was lingering aftereffects of too much Sunday-afternoon chili? Either way, watching Suck-up Sam mosey off with his best friend didn’t set well.

At all.

Now the only question was, what, if anything, was he going to do about it?

Chapter Three

A wolf whistle greeted Charity on her trek through the office Wednesday morning.

“Damn, Bug.” Bear abandoned his coffee to chase after her. “What’d you do to yourself?”

“Why? Do I look that bad?” she asked, self-consciously trying to shove up her thick glasses, which were no longer there due to new contacts. Maybe taking such drastic steps with her appearance hadn’t been such a hot idea? Easing into a new look might’ve been the best way to go.

“You look that good,” he said with a laugh. “Adam see you yet?”

“No? Why?” Just the mention of Adam’s name sent her pulse racing. What if he didn’t like her changes? The honey-blond, flirty flip cut that replaced her usual messy, mousy ponytail. The makeup her sister taught her to use that made her green eyes look huge. The emerald-green silk camisole and form-fitting black suit jacket and short skirt that would probably get her fired. Worst of all were the black heels she’d have to kick off should she have need to chase bad guys across the crowded courtroom.

Seeing Adam’s reaction to Sam asking her for a date had been all the impetus she’d needed to take this last step in attempting to take their relationship to a new level. Granted, she was no expert, but even she’d seen Adam hadn’t liked another man paying attention to her. Which had been her cue to once and for all make a play for him, or forever quit mooning and get on with her life.

Bear just chuckled, then went back to his coffee.

His reaction left Charity wishing for an earthquake—nothing major, just something big enough to open a hole large enough to swallow her.

“Looking good,” Adam’s brother, Beau, said on his way to the holding cell.

Adam’s brother, Caleb, winked on his way to see the boss. “Hot stuff.”

Oh, Charity felt hot all right! Hot enough to melt through the office floor without the help of a natural disaster!

“Stop,” Sam said.

“W-why?” She froze. “Is there an escapee aiming a stolen gun at me?”

He laughed. “I want you to stop so I can look at you. You’re stunning.”

“Um, thanks,” she said, cheeks blazing.

“You’ve always been pretty, but now…” He shook his head and grinned. “I’m blown away.”

“Knock it off. I don’t look that different.”

“Yeah, Bug. You do.” Adam stepped out of Caleb’s office, file folder in hand, his expression stormy and unreadable.

Charity’s breath caught in her throat. What did that face mean? Did he hate her new look? So what if he did? Why should she care? Every other guy in the office seemed to think she looked okay. Better than okay judging by Sam’s reaction.

According to her sister’s instructions, she was supposed to apologize to Adam first thing this morning, then offer to help with his dating dilemma. In retrospect, she wasn’t so sure. It was as if something between them had irrevocably changed.

They used to be best friends. Able to talk about anything, but now…

“Say, Charity?” Sam asked. “There’s a new Italian place that just opened down the street. Want to share an early supper after work?”

“Sure,” she said, never breaking Adam’s stare.

“Sounds great,” Adam said to Sam, “but Bug’s busy after work.”

“Her name is Charity,” Sam said. “And if she were busy, she wouldn’t have accepted my invitation.”

“Your invitation isn’t worth—”

“Adam!” Charity said. “Stop it. What’s wrong with you?”

Good question, Adam thought. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, dragging her by her upper arm into Caleb’s office, then shutting the door in Sam’s gaping face. “But I can’t begin to guess what’s going on with you.”

She sighed. Crossed her arms. “That was rude.”

“Oh—” He laughed. “And it wasn’t rude of old Suck-up out there to horn in on our standing Wednesday night…” What did they call their ritual Wednesday nights together? Ziggy’s had all-you-can-eat boiled shrimp, and draft beers were only a quarter. The sticky-fingered, laugh-a-minute nights weren’t dates, but sacred all the same.

“Our standing Wednesday night what, Adam? I told you I want to start a family. How am I going to do that hanging out at Ziggy’s with you and Bear?”

Sam pounded on the door. “Logue, that move wasn’t at all professional.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “If he were a real man, he’d kick the door down and claim you.”

“You know…” Shaking her head, Charity said, “I came in here today, ready to apologize. I’m sick of fighting with my best friend. I figured what the hey? Why not help with your dating problem? But seeing how you’re behaving, why should I help when you’re obviously not the slightest bit interested in helping me?”

Before Adam could stop her, or even come close to figuring out what she was upset about, she’d left him to join Sam, who’d been waiting for her out in the hall like a lost puppy.

Because he didn’t know what else to do, Adam clenched his fists. Dammit. Why had he reacted like that over nothing more than Bug changing her hair-style and wearing a dress?

So what if she went out with Sam? It wasn’t as if Adam had any claim on her. And if she was right, if he was her true friend, he’d wish her well in finding a guy who’d give her the family she all of a sudden wanted.

If he was her true friend, he’d apologize for going off on her like that. Then he’d do something grand as a follow-up. Really, spectacularly huge. Something big enough to prove he wasn’t just saying sorry, but truly meant it. And not only that he was sorry about his latest explosion, but most especially back at her condo when he’d been less than enthusiastic about her confession about wanting kids. Which, looking back on it, had been the spark that’d ignited this whole feud. If a baby was what she wanted, then he was one-hundred percent behind her decision.

Even if that meant she’d end up with some guy like Sam?

Adam groaned.

Obviously he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but for the moment anyway, he and Bug needed to at least get back on speaking terms. Then he’d broach the subject of her getting a kid via sperm bank or adoption!

AFTER COURT ADJOURNED for the day, Charity returned to her cubicle to see a dozen roses in a gorgeous crystal vase accompanied by a small white box.

Heart hammering, assuming the items were from Sam, but hoping, praying, they could be from Adam, who’d glowered at her across the crowded courtroom all through the excruciatingly long day.

First, she plucked the card from the roses, berating herself for trembling hands. Geesh, from the way she was reacting, you’d think she’d never gotten roses before—which she hadn’t.

The card read:

The heaviest insect is the African Goliath

beetle, which can weigh as much as nearly

a quarter of a pound. But then obviously

whoever made that claim hasn’t seen

the newest bug in your collection.

Sorry for being a dung beetle.

I miss you. Your friend, Adam

Tears stung Charity’s eyes.

The note was classic Adam. The flowers were not. How had he even figured out how to call a florist, let alone arrange for delivery? The gesture smacked of his sister, Gillian. Sticking with the Logue family job, she was still a part-time marshal, but also a wife and mom. And since marrying a great guy, Joe, she also happened to be loaded. Meaning, if ever there was an extravagant gift around, Gillian and Joe were usually the ones to thank.

Charity deeply inhaled the roses’ rich scent before moving on to the box. Finding flowers was one thing, but finding a rare beetle she didn’t already have was another. Had Adam found her an Indonesian Euchirus longimanus?

Lifting the lid, at first the only things she saw were mounds of pink tissue paper. Then she dug deeper to find keys and a picture of an adorable black VW convertible bug.

No way…

Heart hammering, she looked up, and there was Adam, standing at the opening to her cubicle, wearing his most heartstopping sexy-slow grin. “Don’t suppose I could catch a ride home?”

“I-Is this for real?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Real as you want it to be. I’ve been a jackass, and in order to show you how sorry I am, I kinda felt something along this scale would be appropriate.”

“B-but you can’t afford to buy me a car on your salary, Adam.”

“Yeah, well, I know a couple who give super loan rates. Gil and Joe were only too willing to help, seeing how much they’ve both always liked you. And they agree with me that when you do finally have a baby, you should have a reliable car.”

“You told them? About how I want to—”

“They won’t tell anyone else.”

“That’s not the point. You just can’t go around—”

Before she could get out further objections, he kissed her. Fast. Hard. Deliciously, surprisingly thorough. “Just say thank you, Charity.”

“Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can I have that ride?”

ZIPPING ALONG with the top down, Adam all big and rangy and beyond-belief handsome beside her, Charity wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry.

He’d kissed her.

Bought her a car.

What did it mean? Was it truly just a friendly gesture? And what about that kiss? Talk about confusing!

“Turn here,” he said, squinting against the bright fall sun.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because that’s the way to the next installment of my apology surprise.”

“I think you’ve already done way more than necessary,” she said. “And besides, I’m partially to blame, too. I could’ve just agreed to go out with you. You know, strictly to get that shrink off your back. So if you still want me to be your pretend date, I will. For medicinal purposes.”

“That sounds good,” he said. “It’ll be like a scientific thing.”

“Absolutely.”

For the next thirty minutes they rode in companionable silence—well, silence save for the Velvet Revolver CD blaring on the awesome sound system.

Autumn colors and smells were in full swing. A wake of red and gold leaves swirled behind them. The air was flavored with sweet wood smoke from hearth fires built to ward off the evening chill.

Adam kept giving directions, and she kept following until the area again grew familiar. “Are we heading for your sister-in-law’s restaurant?”

“Maybe.”

“Adam, this is too much. Her place is pricey.” Gracie Logue, Beau’s wife, was a world-renowned chef. After barely surviving a nightmare with her psycho ex-husband, she was now living the good life. Amazing job. Enchanted marriage. Plus, she’d been on dozens of TV shows and won so many awards for her culinary skills, her hubby built an addition on to their home—right alongside the new nursery—to accommodate them all.

“And you’re not worth it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said with a grin and flip of her flirty new hair. In this car, she not only felt pretty, but confident. As if maybe she really did have a shot at landing a great catch like Adam. Even better, if her luck held, she might land Adam himself.

While the sun set, they dined on black bean soup, grilled filet mignon, wilted watercress and horseradish-whipped potatoes on a patio with radiant heaters and a breathtaking view of Mount Hood. Upping the fairy-tale atmosphere were the little things. Such as their fingers brushing when she’d handed Adam the salt; the way, when she’d said her feet were cold, he’d gallantly lifted them onto his lap and used his fingers to warm her toes.

She wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but tonight had to have marked a changing point in their relationship. Sure, they’d still be great friends, but now there’d be that added spark she’d long dreamed of them sharing.

Over a dessert of cranberry-apple crumble with Irish oatmeal crust, Adam asked, “You ready to hammer out the details?”

“Of what?” Charity asked, still dreamy over the unexpected—magical—night’s course. Chez Bon was a million miles from Ziggy’s, and the fact that Adam had wanted to share the place with her made her feel like the most special woman in the world.

“You know.” Adam reached over the low candle and flower arrangement in the table’s center to steal a bite of her dessert.

“Hey!” she complained, pulling the plate closer to her and hopefully out of his reach. “I’m still eating that.”

“Sorry. I’m starving. Gracie’s a great cook and all, but I’m more a meat-and-potatoes guy.”

“We had meat and potatoes.”

“Yeah, but not enough.”

Rolling her eyes, she shoved her half-finished dessert toward him. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

“Cool. Then maybe we can stop by McDonald’s on the way home. I’d kill for a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese.”

“Thanks,” she said with a half grin.

“Sure, but for what?”

“Sucking every shred of romance from this beautiful setting.” A local guitarist sang folk tunes and some of the other couples dining on the patio had started to dance in the moonlight.

“They might be feeling romance vibes,” he said. “But not us, right? I like you—a lot. But you know what I mean. That’s why we have to work out the details of this whole pretend-dating thing, just so we don’t accidentally have a for-real date or anything along those lines.”

Charity leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Me? Kid on a topic as serious as romance?” He laughed. “When I lost Angela, I threw away the key to—” He pressed his palm to his chest. “Don’t get me wrong. I still love people. My family—even you. Just not that way.”

“Sure,” she said, suddenly nauseous from the rich food. Or maybe it was Adam’s ridiculous speech making her sick? Had he forgotten kissing her? Had he forgotten giving her a car as an apology gift? The way their fingers brushed while passing each other the salt? How he’d warmed her cold feet?

“So?” he asked. “Ready to hit the road?” Shell-shocked, she nodded.

Charity was just pushing back her chair when Gracie, Adam’s sister-in-law and Chez Bon’s head chef and half owner, bustled over. She was six months’pregnant and she looked radiant, with a contentment Gracie feared she’d never know. “How was everything?” she asked.

“I’m still hungry,” Adam complained.

Gracie swatted him over the head with a dishrag.

“It was delicious,” Charity said. “Best meal I’ve had since the last time you fed me.”

“Wonderful,” Gracie said. “I’m glad at least one of you enjoyed it. Although, Charity, Beau tells me you and Sam are getting to be quite the item. Maybe next time I’ll see you two lovebirds at my best table?”

“You all right?” Gracie asked Adam when he choked on his last swig of coffee. Patting his back, to Charity she said, “Beau said you two look darling together. You and Sam, that is. This oaf of a brother-in-law of mine you’re with tonight is strictly friend material.”

Oh, now that made Charity feel better—not!

What was she supposed to say to a thing like that? And what had given Beau the outrageous idea that she and Sam were a couple? Sure, they’d been out for a few casual lunches at the Subway down the street from the office, but those had been no big deal. Nothing like this night during which every bone in her body screamed this was it. The night Adam finally got his head out of his rear and realized how great the two of them could be as so much more than friends.

“Well,” Gracie said, again to Charity, as if Adam wasn’t even at the table. “I know you have a long drive ahead of you in that darling new car. Gillian told me all about it. Plus, I imagine you’ll want to get home early enough to call Sam to have him wish you good-night.”

“Gracie,” Charity said, placing her napkin on the table in front of her, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me and Sam. He’s just—”

“You don’t have to pretend things are casual between you on my account,” Gracie said. “Beau’s good at sniffing out interoffice romances.”

Adam snorted.

“Did you say something?” Gracie asked, hand on his shoulder.

“Bug,” Adam said. “Hand me your keys and I’ll get the car.”

“I can do it myself,” Charity said.

“But I already said I’ll do it for you.”

At the intensity behind his dark stare, Charity’s stomach did a nervous flutter. Could he have made the request to be gentlemanly? Or had Gracie’s rambling about Sam actually upset him? At the very least, sparking his competitive edge where his office rival was concerned. Just in case, she, as demurely as possible, reached into her purse for the keys, handing them across the table, trying with all her might to ignore hot tingles when their fingers brushed yet again.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes suddenly bright. “I’ve been itching to get my hands on this baby’s wheel. See how she performs on that curvy section between here and Johnson Avenue.”