Only Bachelors Need Apply

“No!” In lieu of eating anything, Joanna Greer was going to string up her mother by her conniving, matchmaking thumbs.

Chapter Two

He judged that the natural sway of Joanna’s long hair would be the equivalent of a fifteen-degree pendulum swinging across her slender shoulders. But she was embarrassed now, and in her hurried retreat across the street, her silken curls bounced as if they were spring-loaded.

Leaning back against the car, Kris smiled to himself. His new landlady was a very attractive package. Each individual module—eyes that looked to be a light blue, a pert nose, full lips and determined chin—combined as though a skilled artist had had a hand in the design phase. He could see Joanna’s resemblance to her mother and her son, but she was put together with gentler, youthfully feminine curves that were quite appealing.

Odd he’d never before taken such special note of a woman. But then he was the sort of man who usually concentrated on one task at a time, often to the exclusion of all others. Until now he’d never had the inclination to find a wife and start a family of his own. It seemed like an appropriate challenge for a man who had achieved just about everything else he’d set his mind to.

The problem was, though he had learned the intricacies of computer programming by the age of twelve, he had rarely delved into the techniques required for courtship. Except for a torrid affair with a college professor, who had been more brilliant than beautiful—and considerably more experienced than he had been—his contacts with women had typically been either professional or very brief.

From the spark of independence in Joanna’s eyes and the determined lift of her chin, Kris sensed he would need a good deal of skill in a game where he barely knew the rules and had never learned to speak the language. He might not even have an aptitude, he thought with a frown. Although by age twenty he had mastered certain pleasant sexual techniques, courtesy of the professor, neither she or his parents had taught him much about love or affection.

That might leave him at a decided disadvantage with Joanna Greer.

His impulsive announcement that he was an inventor wasn’t likely to have earned him a whole lot of points, either. Although he was looking forward to their first ride together.

At the sound of tires crunching on the gravel parking lot, Kris shifted his attention to the arriving car. A sleek Porsche convertible slid to a stop beside him.

“I’m looking for Joanna Greer,” the man said as he got out of the car. Tall and well built, he looked as if he had just stepped off the pages of an upscale mens wear catalog. Not a single wrinkle marred his silk shirt, and though he drove a convertible with the top down not a hair on his head was out of place. His toothy smile was equally unbelievable.

Kris felt a sharp and unfamiliar surge of aggressiveness and instantly wanted to eliminate the competition. “She’s not around right now,” he said, feigning ignorance.

“You come here about that ad, too?”

“Could be,” he acknowledged, already plotting ways to discourage the intruder.

“Is she a real dog, or what?”

“Dog?”

“Yeah, you know. Women who run ads in newspapers to get a date are usually desperate. At least this one owns a little property. If she isn’t too bad, I figure I’ll let her support me for a while.” He shrugged as if he’d run this scam before and cared nothing about the women he had undoubtedly hurt. “Till I get bored, anyway.”

Kris’s hands clenched into fists. Normally he wasn’t a violent man, but he had to consciously suppress the urge to punch this guy’s lights out. Given the surprising amount of adrenaline surging through his veins, he didn’t think it would be all that hard to do. “Then it looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree. You wouldn’t want to hang around for more than five minutes with Ms. Greer.” Kris would see to it he didn’t last even that long.

The stranger eyed him suspiciously. “You sure you’re not trying to run me off so you can have her all to yourself?”

“Not me,” Kris lied, knowing full well the way to douse a man’s overactive testosterone was to avoid being perceived as a rival. No doubt the masculine urge to compete for a woman was an instinctive throwback to caveman days, one he had sublimated until now. “I’ve already seen her. Soon as I get an oil leak fixed under this old clunker, I’m outta here. You’re welcome to the lady, if you think she’s worth the effort.”

“Naw, I’ll take your word for it.” The stranger slid back into the car. “Maybe I’ll head on down to Bakersfield. There’s always a lot of action in the singles’ bars. I’ll find somebody to hit on.”

“Good luck.” The sleek engine purred to life and Kris waved the driver off, knowing it was the women this jerk planned to hit on who he’d rather be wishing good luck.

“Don’t you realize you have put me in an absolutely untenable position?” Face still flaming with mortification, Joanna railed at her mother, who appeared frustratingly unconcerned as she fried chicken for dinner. Sometimes Agnes carried her bizarre behavior too far. Much too far, and at Joanna’s expense.

“It seems to me the important thing is to get the property rented. I’m sure that’s what Alexander would have wanted.”

“My father would not have wanted me portrayed as a lonely old maid who has to advertise in order to meet a man.” Joanna didn’t know how she would ever be able to face Kris Slavik again, much less the next prospective renter who showed up at the property.

“Well, you certainly haven’t met very many interesting men in the usual way.” Agnes made a disparaging snort, ignoring the potatoes boiling away on the stove and in jeopardy of burning. “The last young man who asked you out seemed quite strange. Didn’t he believe in shaving?”

Joanna switched off the burner and moved the pot to a cooler spot on the stove. That episode had occurred five years ago and wasn’t worth comment. She’d dated a fellow teacher’s brother as a favor, nothing more. And Joanna had been more than happy to see the end of an incredibly boring evening spent in his company.

“Hey, Mom, you gonna go out with that new guy?” Tyler slipped a couple of cookies from the cookie jar and stuffed one in his mouth. “Bet he could afford to take you to the City Hotel over at Columbia for dinner. That’s where Pete’s mom always makes his dad take her for anniversaries ’n stuff like that.”

“I’m not planning to go anywhere with Mr. Slavik. Or with any other man who rents the property because of that ridiculous ad your grandmother wrote.”

“Tyler, dear, don’t spoil your supper,” Agnes said, ignoring Joanna’s distress along with the potatoes. “It’s almost ready.”

“But, Grandma, I’m starved. All I had after football practice was a sandwich.”

Agnes smiled benignly and turned the chicken one more time. “It won’t be long now, dear.”

They weren’t paying any attention to her. Both Joanna’s mother and son were far more interested in dinner than in how on earth she was going to handle a man who expected her to be available for who knew what kind of a relationship.

Her mother had pulled some dumb stunts in her life—like the time she’d tied Tyler’s sack lunch to his belt so tightly for a third-grade field trip that he couldn’t get it off and had to beg his friends for handouts so he wouldn’t go hungry. But this stunt took the cake!

First thing in the morning Joanna was going to cancel that damn ad!

But before that, right after dinner, she was going to make her position quite clear to Mr. Slavik. If he decided to stick around, he’d do so as a tenant. If that didn’t suit him, she’d be more that happy to refund his money.

As night stole the blue from the sky, the sharp taste of embarrassment still filled Joanna’s throat. She swallowed the unpleasant flavor and headed across the road to face Kris Slavik again. It wasn’t her fault her mother had rewritten the ad. Joanna simply had to make clear to her would-be tenant that she was not available for the marriage mart. She’d refund his money, and that would be that.

She sighed. Except she would still have an empty office building to rent and no prospects in sight— including the guy who had promised to show up that evening.

From inside one of the offices a rectangle of light spilled through the open door onto the parking lot. On the porch, a silhouetted figure sat on a redwood bench in the shadows beside the door.

“Mr. Slavik?”

“I’m here.” He unfolded himself, and she was struck again by his tall, lean figure as he stood.

“I’ve come to apologize.”

“There’s no need. Assuming you’ll start calling me Kris. I always get the feeling someone is looking for my father when they call me Mr. Slavik.”

She smiled. He did have a nice voice, one that made her think of quiet winter evenings in front of a fire. Or soft pillow talk.

Mentally, she pushed the thought aside. “My mother did something nearly unforgivable by changing the ad I’d written for the newspaper. I’m truly sorry if she misled you, and I’d be happy to refund all of your money and tear up the lease you’ve signed.”

As Joanna spoke, he strolled lazily off the porch and stood close to her. There was a clean, masculine scent about him. Not artificial, like a shaving lotion, but natural, with a slight touch of musk. In the warm September air it seemed to hover about her in a tempting caress.

“Your eyes are blue, aren’t they?” he asked, his voice a low murmur that didn’t disturb the soft sounds of the night.

“Yes.” It was too dark for him to see that now. With a good deal of pleasure, she realized he must have remembered her eye color from their earlier meeting.

“Did you know your eyes each have about a hundred and thirty million light-sensitive cells in them?”

She blinked at the unexpected comment. “No, I guess that piece of information hasn’t ever come my way before.”

“I’m afraid I’m addicted to bits of trivia that are not necessarily useful.”

“Not everything we learn has to have a practical application,” she assured him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure my parents would agree with you.”

“There are the great poets—Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Longfellow, to mention just a few. Knowing their words isn’t exactly useful, but our lives are richer for them. The same thing is true for great works of art.”

The way he looked at her was very intense, as though he wanted to identify every single cell he’d talked about, as well as hear her words with exceptional clarity. “I can see the reflection of the stars in your eyes, like diamonds sparkling in deep pools. Did you know that the light I see has to travel hundreds of thousands of miles before it can reflect back to me?”

She swallowed thickly. “I’ve never thought about it before.” Nor had the knowledge seemed quite so important.

“Neither had I.”

She felt herself leaning toward him, impossibly closer, when she knew she should be running as fast as her feet could take her in the opposite direction. She was mesmerized by the compelling note in his voice, the insistent timbre that vibrated not only in her ears but also in a heart that had been lonely for a good many years.

Calling upon a wealth of willpower, she said, “About the rental—”

“I’d like to stay. If you don’t mind.”

She minded, all right. Instinctively she knew this man, who couldn’t seem to find a matching pair of socks and who paid his bills in cash, was a threat to her comfortable status quo. She didn’t want him disrupting her life. But that was exactly what he was going to do.

And because she desperately needed his rent money, she could do nothing to change the fates that were bearing down on her like a high mountain avalanche. In her heart, she knew she’d need more than luck to escape without serious injury. Or heartbreak.

“This is the smaller of the two remaining offices, five hundred square feet,” Joanna explained to the prospective tenant. She’d managed to avoid being anywhere near her rental property—and Kris Slavik—for two days. But she couldn’t allow the space to remain vacant forever, not with bills to pay and a roof to replace. “You’ll notice the office is arranged very nicely, with plenty of storage space in the back and a private rest room.”

Percival Carter glanced nervously around the office, as if making a decision caused him a great deal of anxiety. A narrow-faced man in his forties, he combed lank strands of hair over his balding head in a failed effort to disguise his receding hairline. His double-breasted brown suit, which matched his prominent eyes, looked as though it had been purchased in another era. “I’m sure my mother would think this is very nice.”

“Your mother? Does she work with you?” Joanna asked.

“Oh, no. At least, not regularly, though she does help me with the filing occasionally. I don’t have a large-enough accounting practice to warrant a staff. There isn’t that much call for a CPA up here in the mountains. But Mother did, ah, encourage me to rent one of your offices.”

“Well, that’s very nice of her. I hope you’ll be happy here.”

“Oh, I think so, Ms. Greer. You see, I’m a bachelor.”

Joanna’s spirits plummeted. “Mr. Carter, I’m afraid the ad you saw—”

“Oh, it was my mother who—”

“It’s very misleading.”

The familiar tall figure of a man filled the doorway, and Joanna drew a quick breath.

“Permit me to disagree. As the advertisement promised, the landlady is indeed attractive, marriageable and has a son who is bright, intelligent and inquisitive.” A slow, seductive, smug smile tugged at the corners of Kris Slavik’s mouth.

Joanna wanted to throw something at him. Or crawl into a hole. “Excuse me. I’m trying to conduct some business here.”

“That’s okay.” Kris looped his arm over the older man’s shoulders, demonstrating the fact that he was at least six inches taller than the would-be tenant. “Since Percy and I are going to be neighbors, so to speak, I can bring him up to speed on the property. You know, stuff like which trees not to park under. The birds can wipe out your car’s finish in fifteen minutes if they’ve been munching on some of those late-ripening berries.”

“Kris! Will you stop—”

“It’s all right, Ms. Greer.” Percy smiled at her with endearing shyness. “Since I’ve met you, there’s no way he can discourage me from renting the office. Besides, my mother would be apoplectic if she thought I’d missed this chance. She’s quite anxious that I marry and produce a grandchild for her before she passes on. Though I doubt I’ll provide much competition for this gentleman. The two of you make a very attractive couple.”

“Thank you,” Kris said. “I quite agree.”

Joanna rolled her eyes, then glared daggers at Kris. “We are not a couple! He has paid a years’ worth of rent in advance, so I’m stuck with him. But we are definitely not a couple.”

Glancing up at Kris, Percy said, “I would appreciate it if you’d point out those trees to me. I wouldn’t want my vehicle to suffer any irreparable damage.”

“You got it, buddy.”

“But wait!” Joanna protested as the two men started to go outside. “Are you going to rent the office, Mr. Carter?”

“Of course. If you’ll prepare the lease forms, I’ll have a check cut and brought around for you first thing in the morning.”

Shoulders sagging, Joanna exhaled a long breath. Kris Slavik was definitely trouble. Not only had he acted possessive of her in front of a possible tenant, her heart had leaped into her throat when he’d appeared in the doorway. Normally she was immune to men, even those she found quite attractive, albeit in Kris’s case a little rough around the edges. Aware she wasn’t a candidate for marriage, much less an affair, she made it a point never to lead men on. They generally got the message without too much effort.

Kris was different. He appeared to have a serious case of selective deafness.

He was doing it again.

Joanna clenched her teeth as she showed another prospective tenant around the premises. A newly licensed real-estate broker, Larry Smythe was tall, dark, handsome and far too smooth a talker.

Kris Slavik shadowed their every move. He had on a different pair of jeans today. Not new, exactly— still faded and with a worn zipper—but ones without any holes in the knees. Joanna couldn’t be sure, but she thought he had on one blue sock and one brown. Apparently he put on whichever socks he happened to pick up.

With a critical eye, Larry examined the outside of the building and the window frames. “Of course, I’ll have to install an air filter. This close to the highway the fumes could be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Joanna questioned.

“It hasn’t bothered me any,” Kris muttered.

Larry’s perfect teeth flashed in a smile. “Not everyone understands that even what appears to be clean air needs to be filtered in order to avoid contaminates like pollen and lead. It always pays to be health conscious.” He sucked in his stomach and stood a little straighter. “I’ll put in my own water purifier, too.”

“If that’s what you think you need,” Joanna agreed.

“Looks to me like a real-estate broker would want to locate right in town,” Kris said, kicking at the old concrete on the back step of the remaining unrented unit. A piece crumbled away.

“I plan to catch the eye of folks who are just arriving in town,” Larry countered. “Besides, word-of-mouth advertising is the best you can get. And I intend to be the very best.”

“Naturally,” Kris grumbled. He jammed his fingers in his back pockets. This guy reminded him of all those superjocks in school who had given him such a hard time. Their shoulders were a little too broad, their guts too flat and their brains too small. But the girls went for them. Particularly goodlooking girls like Joanna, who Tyler had told him had been a cheerleader in high school.

Larry was the kind who was hard to discourage, too. He was confident of his sexual appeal as well as his business acumen and wasn’t about to give up easily. But everyone had a weakness.

In his own defense, Kris had learned as a kid how to outsmart someone instead of trying to outmuscle him. If he was going to have any chance with Joanna, he’d have to keep several steps ahead of good-ol’-boy Larry Smythe. It might not be an easy task, but Kris was both determined and confident.

Chapter Three

Kris flipped his visor down to protect his eyes and brought the welding rod close to the bicycle frame. With a sharp snap, the electric current arced into a brilliant spot of blue-white light. Carefully he laid down a bead that would join metal to metal. The transformer hummed behind him, pumping electricity through the line, and the air in the garage filled with the biting smell of burning aluminum.

From the corner of his eye Kris caught sight of a pair of slender legs and shapely, feminine ankles. Momentarily distracted, he struggled to keep his hand steady as he finished circling the bar with the bead, then lifted the rod away.

“Hi. School out already?” He raised his visor and smiled at Joanna. He’d been so engrossed in his project he hadn’t been aware of the time. “Always nice to have my landlady drop by for a visit.”

“I heard that humming noise.” She indicated the transformer. “I was afraid something was wrong. The electrical wiring in this building is a little old.”

“I haven’t had any problem so far.”

“Good. With only a volunteer fire department in town, everybody worries about fires.” She eyed his project curiously. “That’s the dual bike you’re inventing?”

“The prototype. I figured I’d start with aluminum, then when I get the kinks worked out I’ll switch to carbon-fiber bikes. They’re a lot lighter.”

“They’re also the most expensive.”

“True,” he conceded.

She gave him an incredulous shake of her head. “Your money, I guess.”

“But remember, if this invention flies,” he teased, pulling off his heavy welding gloves, “I’m likely to be a millionaire. You know, the Alexander Graham Bell of pedal power.”

That brought the tiniest suggestion of a smile to her lips, and he noted how full they were and how perfectly shaped. He wondered idly if they would taste as good as they looked and decided that would be a subject worth pursuing in infinite detail.

“Have you done much mountain-bike riding, Kris?”

“A little. I entered the races at Mammoth this summer.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

“I placed in the top twenty in my age group. If I’d had more time to train, I probably would have done better.”

“I’m impressed.” Her smile told Kris he’d won her approval. “But I have to tell you, if you had a day job I’d recommend you not give it up just yet. I’m having a real problem seeing how this new bike of yours will be any better than a regular tandem bike.”

“If nothing else, it’s a hundred times more romantic. If you’re out with your favorite girl, you’ll be riding side by side and can talk better.”

“An inventor who’s a romantic?” Her smile broadened. “You definitely don’t fit the mold.”

“I never have,” he confessed. In fact, he’d always been the odd man out—far younger than his academic peers, never allowed by his parents to participate in sports with boys his own age and often at a social disadvantage with the women he met. Being different was a burden that had rested uneasily on his shoulders as long as he could remember. At the moment, he’d give every dime he’d ever earned—something over twenty million dollars worth—to have this one particular woman see him as just an ordinary guy. He supposed that was too much to hope for and hated that in the romantic arena he lacked the selfconfidence that had been his mainstay in every other aspect of his life.

Joanna fidgeted self-consciously under his intense scrutiny. Kris had the most unsettling way about him, as though he was determined to slip past her defenses by the sheer power of his intellect. And he was intelligent, she was sure. Beyond that, she was having a great deal of trouble calibrating the man. That meant he always had her a little off balance. She wasn’t at all sure she liked the unfamiliar feeling. Normally, she placed a high value on being in control.

“Well, if the building isn’t burning down,” she said, “I guess I’d better be on my way and let you get on with your inventing.” She turned to leave, only to discover Tyler coming in the wide-open door. She frowned. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Aw, the coaches canceled practice. I think they had another one of their fights. Man, they’re always arguing ’n’ stuff.” He spun the football he perpetually carried up into the air and caught it again. “Mrs. Scala brought me home.”

“Thank goodness someone gave you a lift.” Imagine the coaches leaving the kids unsupervised, Joanna thought, fuming. Paul and Isabel Currant had become increasingly irresponsible about their volunteer duties. It seemed unlikely the team would make it through the season intact, and football was a sport Tyler dearly loved. She’d hate to see him lose out because of a marital riff between his coaches.

Tyler circled the bike Kris had been working on, touching the newly welded section.

Kris didn’t offer any objection, but allowed him free access. The two of them seemed to have developed a comfortable relationship, man-to-man.

“I wish you’d coach us, Mom.”

Her gaze whipped toward her son. “Me? What do I know about football?”

“A heck of a lot more than Mrs. Currant does. She doesn’t even know what an end around is.”

Joanna remembered. Vaguely. Tyler’s father had been the star high-school quarterback. She’d helped him memorize the playbook his senior year, no minor accomplishment. “I’m a little rusty these days, tiger. I think it would be best if I left the coaching to someone else.”

“What about you, Kris?” Tyler tossed him the football. “You wanna take a shot at coaching?”