Susan Crosby - Bride Candidate #9

Each name was followed by the details he thought important. They represented a spectrum of professions—Realtor, two lawyers, orthopedic surgeon, physical therapist, actress, loan officer and television sportscaster. Five of them already had children—a definite advantage in his book—but it also meant an ex-husband to deal with forever because of kids being involved. Of the three childless women, he could conjure up the image of only one, the sportscaster for a San Francisco station, whom he’d met last year. He supposed he remembered her face because he’d seen her on television since.

Names. They were just names.

His plan suddenly seemed idiotic. Juvenile. And yet, how else could he get what he wanted? He had to start somewhere.

He let the paper drift back onto the desk, the sound as it landed seeming to whisper a word. He glanced out his window at the darkening sky. A moment later he picked up a pencil and scrawled an addition to the list—the name that had been in his head trying to get out all afternoon:

9. Ariel Minx—

He hesitated. What did she do for a living? Did she have any children? He realized how little he knew about her.

Finally, he added: professional do-gooder. That made him smile.

He took the paper with him as he returned to the couch and stretched out again. He drew on his cigar, contemplating Ariel. He admired that she hadn’t asked for help for selfish reasons. Had she begged his assistance for herself alone, he might have agreed without learning whether it made sense for Titan She hadn’t used that leverage.

Because she’d been so adamant about his not contacting her after the cruise, he hadn’t considered her before, but he could see that she would make a good wife. A great hostess. A phenomenal mother She wouldn’t care that they’d have to adopt, either. She’d love those kids just the same as if she’d given birth to them.

The scent of her perfume drifted over him before he realized how impossible that was. He’d already filled the air with cigar smoke. Wait. There it was again. Soft and flowery. He turned his head toward the back of the couch and sniffed. The leather seemed to breathe her fragrance.

He smiled. That all-business suit and hairstyle had thrown him at first, not looking like his recollection of her. But the fire in her eyes hadn’t changed. That she’d rebuffed him once before didn’t matter. He had a clean slate, he figured, since she’d come to him.

He tried to recall their kiss, but he’d been in so much pain, he hadn’t really been able to concentrate on it at the time. Without being able to put much weight on one leg, it was all he could do to stay upright. Still, if the lust had been strong enough, it would’ve wrestled the pain out of his mind, wouldn’t it? Yeah. He was sure of that. He’d had plenty of experience with lust. He’d only kissed Ariel because she’d all but challenged him to.

Yeah, right. Got some other fairy tale on your mind, Luke?

He stared at her name before folding the paper carefully and sliding it into his shirt pocket. He could make his own rules this time—and there was no rule saying he had to start his search at the top of the list.

Three

Ariel hung up the phone and flopped back on her bed, covering her eyes with her arm What a stubborn man Lucas Walker was. He hadn’t succumbed to any carrot she’d dangled in front of him Yes, Titan was going to save the Couch Potatoes event, but, no, Luke wouldn’t make a personal appearance. She’d thought for sure she’d be able to convince him. Ha!

A week had flown past, with phone calls back and forth, faxes sent and received. In the end, Titan would not only be the largest sponsor of the event but would also provide each participant with a new pair of athletic shoes, as well as T-shirts not available to the public yet. Luke had lined up a ton of autographed sports paraphernalia, not just from football players, but from most other pro sports as well. The ticket sales for the dinner-dance and silent auction were twice what her committee had anticipated during the initial planning, three times what they were a mere week ago.

Sold out. She couldn’t ask for more.

She was asking, however. She wanted him there, in person.

The thought curled around her like a drift of his cigar smoke, stinging her eyes. As long as she was being so honest with herself, she might as well take the truth the whole way—she wanted to dance with him again, to be in his arms again, maybe even kiss him again.

A memory of their last evening on the cruise had surfaced during the past week. She’d gone for a swim, enjoying the empty pool as everyone else partied. When she’d finally emerged, Luke had materialized out of the shadows, wrapping a towel around her from behind, his arms enfolding her, drawing her against him. Even through the fabric she’d felt the warmth of his body all the way down to her toes.

They’d stayed like that a minute or two, awareness sizzling. It was then that he’d asked to see her again.

She’d almost said yes. The truth was, she’d almost invited him to her cabin. Then someone walked by, calling his name, and she’d remembered his place in the world. Remembered the stack of Sports Illustrated magazines with him as the Super Bowl MVP on the cover that he’d autographed for the fans who’d donated big money just to be on the same cruise ship with him.

She’d found the strength to turn him down because of it. He didn’t have a clue about how hard it had been for her to give up the chance to see him again, when, in fact, she’d found him charming, appealing, exciting and very, very tempting.

Luke seemed to have all the determination this time around, however. He had no intention of being in San Francisco while his team played in the Super Bowl. The pain of not playing was more than he could bear.

Oh, he hadn’t said so, but she knew it.

The phone rang. She shoved herself up to answer it.

“Hi. It’s me again. I know you’re probably ticked off at me.”

“I won’t ask you again, Lucas. I promise. You’re not coming. I accept it.”

“Actually, I changed my mind”

“You did?”

“Under one condition. If I do your event, you do mine.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t seem to get the Dusters’ owner to take no for an answer. Everyone expects me in the box for the game. I’m asking you to go with me.”

Ariel clutched the receiver closer. He didn’t know what he was asking of her, of course. Didn’t know that she shunned the spotlight—and why. Could she risk a public appearance with him?

Sacrifice. The word bound them together. They would both be sacrificing something. Hers was greater—

“Ariel? You there?”

“I’m here.” She swallowed “And you’ve got yourself a deal. Where will you stay, though? I heard on the news that every hotel is booked.”

“Darlin’, darlin’ You don’t really think I’d have any trouble linin’ up a room, do you? Celebrity has its perks.”

The teasing tone didn’t completely cover some emotion she couldn’t quite name, but that she could hear, beneath the surface of the words. If he stayed in a hotel, he’d be hounded by the media. How many times could he answer the question of how it felt not being able to be part of history? She knew how intrusive the media could be.

She sighed at the inevitability of what she was destined to ask him next. First, sacrifice, now risk. “If you don’t mind not having room service or the media camped outside your door, Lucas, why don’t you just stay with me at my apartment?”

Unearthly silence followed. She filled it. “It’d sure make it easier all the way around. We’ve got to get to and from the Center, then the dinner-dance, and then the game. I think we know each other well enough to coexist for a few days. You have to leave the cigars at home, though.”