Susan Fox - The Bride Prize

She’d never been a coward, but having Nick over for supper would perhaps be the greatest act of courage in her life.

“If not tomorrow night,” Nick said, “then the next night. Or the next.” He gave her a smile that slanted a little. “It’s rude to invite myself, but I hope you’ll overlook the bad manners.”

Now his smile widened and her heart fluttered wildly. “My, my, Corrie. You look like you think I might be up to no good.”

“Are you?” she dared softly. “Up to no good?”

“If I am, I’m confident you’ll set me straight.”

Susan Fox lives in Des Moines, Iowa. A lifelong fan of Westerns, cowboys and love stories with guaranteed happy endings, she tends to think of romantic heroes in terms of Stetsons and boots.

Fans may visit her Web site at www.susanfox.org

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3740—THE PRODIGAL WIFE

3764—CONTRACT BRIDE

3777—THE MARRIAGE COMMAND

3788—BRIDE OF CONVENIENCE

3796—A MARRIAGE WORTH WAITING FOR

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE land was brutal and big, and her small ranch sat like a postage stamp in the vastness. The work was hard, the hours long. Dirt and sweat and sometimes blood made for a less than aesthetic or antiseptic environment. It wasn’t a safe environment either. The animals were large and even the best-behaved and best-trained could be dangerous on a bad day. Accidents happened, both to the unwary and to the vigilant. Things fouled up and broke down. Trouble could blow in from the west in a fierce storm or slither from beneath a rock.

Not the place for a lady, but Corrie Davis had given up on being a lady. There’d been a brief time at eighteen when she’d tried to rise above her plain-Jane, mostly tomboy life; a time when she’d gone out of her way to adapt to things like panty hose and makeup. She’d devoured books on etiquette from the local library, bought more than a few women’s magazines, and she’d spent a whole weekend in San Antonio to buy some extra dressy, extra feminine things.

Things which now hung, with tags still attached, in her closet, while the frilly unmentionables from that modest shopping spree languished in a drawer, unworn.

The man who’d inspired her brief rush toward femininity had unknowingly crushed the impulse with a few solemn words.

You’re bright, Corrie, and you’re sensible. I reckon you’ve figured out by now that you aren’t the girl for my brother. Our daddy has plans for Shane, plans for college, plans for him to take on his share of Merrick business. These next months and years, he’ll be testing his limits, finding his place…

Nick Merrick had paused then and given her a level look, his dark gaze impacting hers in a way that had made her heart pound with dread and shame, because she’d already sensed what he’d say next.

You won’t fit into that, Corrie. I’d hate to see you break your heart trying.

Much as hearing Nick Merrick say those things had hurt, he’d been right. She wouldn’t have fit into his father’s plans for his younger brother’s life. And she certainly wasn’t the woman Shane Merrick should marry. But that was because she’d had no wish to fit into Shane’s life and even fewer intentions of marrying him. Not then, not ever.

Corrie would ever be grateful that Nick had never figured out the truth: that he’d been the man she’d been in love with back then, not Shane. It had been Nick she’d hoped to attract with those pretty dresses and prissy manners. Letting her know so straightforwardly that he considered her unsuitable for his brother had seemed to confirm Nick’s personal opinion of her. He might as well have been speaking about himself.

And of course, since she’d hardly been the kind of girl men flocked around or tried to date anyway—and still wasn’t—what he’d said seemed to also confirm the dismal knowledge that she might never appeal to a man other than as a friend. In fact it had been her “just one of the boys” appeal that had won Shane’s friendship in the first place.

It still amazed her that Nick Merrick had thought there’d been anything more than friendship involved, but the idea that he’d thought either she or Shane had been contemplating marriage had been a shock.

Corrie hadn’t recalled that embarrassing conversation for years now. Once she’d got past the hurt, she’d pushed it all behind her and managed to go on as if nothing had happened. Her father had passed away shortly before she’d turned twenty, so she’d had more than enough to fill her days and crowd out any lingering interest in either of the Merrick brothers.

Aside from the fact that Merrick Ranch bordered hers, there hadn’t been much cause for social contact, so she’d rarely had to deal with Nick again. Shane had gone off to college, as planned, but he’d left after the first semester to pursue his rodeo dream. So much for the life Nick and their late father had mapped out for him.

In truth, Corrie had heard from Shane so infrequently in the past six years that she hardly ever thought about him anymore. Until yesterday when Nick had left a message on her answering machine. Since then, her memories of that time had come drifting back.

Nick had obviously taken for granted that she’d had contact with his brother. When you see Shane, would you have him give me a call?

The out-of-the-blue message had taken her completely by surprise. She hadn’t planned to call Nick back because the message had led her to believe she’d soon see Shane and would be able to pass on the request.

Now it had been over twenty-four hours and there’d been no sign of him. Surely Nick had heard from Shane himself by now, so there was still no reason to phone him unless he’d left a second message asking her to.

The walk from the stable to the house seemed particularly long after the tiring morning she’d put in. She was a hot, filthy mess, with grease stains on her hands and beneath her short fingernails, probably some in her hair, a torn sleeve and a layer of dust over the rest of her. Visual proof of a frustrating tinker with a windmill and a bruising fall from the colt she’d been working. Both had been extra chores she wished now she’d put off until she’d been less distracted.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, she’d get a cold lunch then make a pass at paperwork and take care of a few things around the house. Safe enough pursuits while she tried again to banish the Merrick brothers from her mind and put the past back in the past, where it belonged.

As she walked along, she was inspecting the torn shirtsleeve and debating whether to sew it or cut it off, when a laughing male voice drew her gaze to the back porch.