Susan Mallery - Marriage On Demand

#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery brings you a fan-favorite story that smolders with intensity and passion .

According to the Glenwood rumor mill, Austin Lucas is temptation incarnate. Even the bashful, cherubic Rebecca Chambers, who runs a home for orphaned children, finds herself tempted by Austin’s sexy self-assurance. Still, with so many women vying for his attention, surely he’ll never notice such a tongue-tied wallflower.

But, after a stormy evening becomes a night of passion, gentle Rebecca has indeed captured Austin’s attention—and his desire. Has the small-town saint led the sinner to salvation? Or can Austin really be trusted with Rebecca’s heart?

Marriage on Demand

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Cover

Back Cover Text #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery brings you a fan-favorite story that smolders with intensity and passion . According to the Glenwood rumor mill, Austin Lucas is temptation incarnate. Even the bashful, cherubic Rebecca Chambers, who runs a home for orphaned children, finds herself tempted by Austin’s sexy self-assurance. Still, with so many women vying for his attention, surely he’ll never notice such a tongue-tied wallflower. But, after a stormy evening becomes a night of passion, gentle Rebecca has indeed captured Austin’s attention—and his desire. Has the small-town saint led the sinner to salvation? Or can Austin really be trusted with Rebecca’s heart?

Title Page Marriage on Demand Susan Mallery www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

She’d forgotten how good the devil looked in blue jeans.

Rebecca Chambers stood just inside the garage door, soaking wet. The sound of the storm outside blocked the steady drip-drip from her dress and hair, but she could feel the individual drops collecting on her arms and legs, then falling to the ground. No doubt her mascara had formed perfect half circles under her eyes. She didn’t normally wear much makeup, but today she’d taken special pains with her appearance. Her white T-top was silk, and washable, thank goodness. But her loose floral-print jumper was a silk blend that wouldn’t survive the drenching. Mud caked her new black flats. She probably looked like something the cat dragged in. Or worse.

She didn’t know if God was punishing her for all her ridiculous fantasies, or if the Fates were having a good laugh at her expense. She sighed softly and brushed her wet hair out of her face. Did it matter? For whatever reason, every time she was in the presence of the man in front of her, she made a complete and total fool of herself. She couldn’t stop thinking wicked and inappropriate thoughts. They muddled her brain and left her gasping for air and complete sentences. It had been going on for two years. She glanced down at her dripping self and bit back a groan.

Her gaze was drawn away from her bedraggled appearance to the man bent over a car engine and the way he filled his jeans. It wasn’t fair, she told herself, staring at the worn denim and the tight rear end that led to illegally long, lean legs. He was going to stand up, turn around and see her. She was going to look like a dripping, homeless rat, and he was going to be gorgeous. He would stare at her with his killer gray eyes and wait for her to speak. If her tongue didn’t get tied up in knots, her knees would start shaking. It didn’t matter that she was almost thirty years old and a responsible adult.

In the past two years she’d been in the same room with Austin Lucas exactly eleven times. She’d made a fool out of herself twelve times. Once she’d not only knocked over a small table containing the refreshments for the local meeting, but she’d been in such a hurry to escape from his presence that she’d turned without watching where she was going and ran smack into a wall.

She tried not to think about that. Despite the slight chill from her wet clothing and hair, her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She pressed her hands to her face and wished she had somewhere else to go. But she didn’t. He was her only hope. What on earth was he going to say when he saw her?

She glanced frantically around the garage, hoping to find a source of courage. A radio sat on the workbench lining one wall. Soft rock music filled the room. Next to the front left bumper of the car stood a red toolbox on a dingy cart. Nothing very inspiring, although the maleness of the equipment made her feel even more out of place. She was one of three girls and had little experience with guy stuff.

She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the odors of machine oil, wet cement and something that could only be the heady scent of Austin himself. She fought the urge to back up a step. Inside her belly, nerves and expectations joined hands in an uneven dance of hyperawareness. Please, God, why did it have to be him? Around town, women whispered he was as tempting as the devil himself. Heaven knows he tempted her.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Lucas?”

He chose that moment to drop a wrench and swear loudly. The curses drowned out her words. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he bent down to pick up the tool and his jeans stretched tight across his rear.

Fourteen years ago, Rod Dowell had walked into her sophomore algebra class wearing tennis whites. She’d melted into her school-issue wooden chair and had wondered if she would ever be able to breathe normally again. She finally had, but it had taken almost three years. She’d carried the secret of that crush with her all the way until graduation when she finally found the courage to wish him luck. His brief, “Yeah, you, too,” had sent her reeling with excitement.

Now, staring at Austin Lucas, or rather at his long legs and tight, rounded rear end, she could feel her tongue twisting itself into knots and her hands getting sweaty on top of already being damp. It didn’t matter that she was far too old for adolescent crushes. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be interested in a woman like her. It didn’t matter that she was completely out of her league with him—a peewee ball player trying to compete with a pro. She couldn’t resist him, and she couldn’t walk away. He was her only hope.

Rebecca squared her shoulders and told herself she had to say something before she shivered to death. She opened her mouth. He spoke before she could.

“How long are you gonna stand there dripping?”

“Not long,” she said, her voice shaky. “Another ten minutes or so.” She clamped her hand over her mouth, not able to believe she’d actually said that. Her eyes fluttered shut. She wanted to die. She prayed for the cement floor to crack and swallow her whole. The floor didn’t budge.

“You can look now,” he said, a hint of teasing deepening his already low voice.