The Best Blind Date In Texas

—Insist you simply don’t have time for dating and men.

—Give in to gentle pressure and accept one blind date. Only one!

—Try to catch your breath when you open the door to see the man of your dreams on your front porch.

—Enlist his help in getting the town matchmakers off both your backs with your pretend-to-date-exclusively plan.

—Realize you want to date him exclusively—and more!

—Don’t give up when he says he cares for you more than any other woman, but just can’t say those three little words….

Dear Reader,

Heartwarming, emotional, compelling…these are all words that describe Harlequin American Romance. Check out this month’s stellar selection of love stories, which are sure to delight you.

First, Debbi Rawlins delivers the exciting conclusion of Harlequin American Romance’s continuity series, TEXAS SHEIKHS. In His Royal Prize, sparks fly immediately between dashing sheikh Sharif and Desert Rose ranch hand Olivia Smith. However, Sharif never expected their romantic tryst to be plastered all over the tabloids—or that the only way to salvage their reputations would be to make Olivia his royal bride.

Bestselling author Muriel Jensen pens another spectacular story in her WHO’S THE DADDY? miniseries with Daddy To Be Determined, in which a single gal’s ticking biological clock leads her to convince a single dad that he’s the perfect man to father her baby. In Have Husband, Need Honeymoon, the third book in Rita Herron’s THE HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS miniseries, Alison Hartwell thought her youthful marriage to an air force pilot had been annulled, but surprise! Now a forced reunion with her “husband” has her wondering if a second honeymoon couldn’t give them a second chance at forever. And Harlequin American Romance’s promotion THE WAY WE MET…AND MARRIED continues with The Best Blind Date in Texas. Don’t miss this wonderful romance from Victoria Chancellor.

It’s a great lineup, and we hope you enjoy them all!

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

The Best Blind Date in Texas

Victoria Chancellor

To George and Bonnie Arthur, the aunt and uncle of my heart.

Acknowledgment:

Special thanks to Dr. Rick Miles, former Butler High School classmate, friend and smalltown doctor, for his expertise, time and encouragement.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

While growing up in Louisville, Kentucky, Victoria Chancellor never realized her vivid imagination meant that she would someday become a writer. Now married to a Texan and settled in a suburb of Dallas, she thoroughly enjoys creating fictional worlds inhabited by characters who deserve a happy ending. When she’s not writing, Victoria cares for her “zoo” of three cats, two ferrets, two tortoises, a flock of naturalized ring-necked doves and assorted wild animals who wander onto her patio for dinner each night. She would love to receive letters at P.O. Box 852125, Richardson, TX 75085-2125. Please enclose a SASE for reply.

Books by Victoria Chancellor

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

844—THE BACHELOR PROJECT

884—THE BEST BLIND DATE IN TEXAS

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

“Amy Jo, you need a man.”

Dr. Amy Wheatley loved her dad more than anyone else in this world, but he could be the most single-minded person in all of Texas.

She clamped her teeth shut to keep from firing back a hasty, ill-advised comment. Her father’s statement wasn’t new; he’d been making similar remarks for about three years, ever since she’d finished her residency. Now that she’d moved back to Ranger Springs, Amy knew she was in for even more pressure to change her title from “Dr.” to “Mrs.”

“Dad, we’ve been over this ten-dozen times,” she said calmly, hefting another file box on top of the huge old oak desk that would be hers. “I do not need a man in my life. Especially not right now.”

She had enough to do just unpacking, opening a bank account and getting reacquainted with the people who would soon be her patients. Coming back to her hometown had been a dream, a goal she hadn’t dared voice. She’d vowed she’d stay away, allow her father to continue his medical practice until he decided to retire. But his recent fall had been the perfect excuse to quit the group practice she’d joined in Fort Worth to become her father’s partner.

He needed her more than ever before. Now she could contribute to his practice, not just his personal life. As a child she’d baked his favorite brownies and handcrafted cheerful cards when he’d had a bad day. Ever since her mother’s death, Amy had played the role of lady of the house. Now she was also a doctor, a fully qualified professional who could shoulder her share of responsibility at the Wheatley Medical Clinic.

Her dad limped into the office where he’d reviewed patient’s medical records, written prescriptions and read hundreds of journal articles over his forty years of practicing medicine. Settling into one of the two matching chairs, he gave a big sigh. “Amy Jo, I’m not talkin’ about your life, although I know you’ll be happier when you settle down with someone special.”

Her father gave another dramatic sigh. “No, girl, I’m talkin’ about that medical fund-raiser you’re goin’ to attend in Austin. The fact of the matter is you need a date.”

She stopped unpacking and narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t mention that when you had me sign up.” Apparently he’d found another way to slip a man into her life. Not that she had anything against men…but now was not a good time to start a social life.

“Heck, no. You didn’t need a date to sign up, but you’re going to be the only one sitting by herself during that big dance.”

He’d apparently thought this through, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. If she did, he’d be encouraged in his quest to find her a husband. “Daddy, maybe I don’t even need to go. I have a lot to do before I start seeing patients at the clinic a week from Monday. And the donation is the important thing, right? The food isn’t usually that great at those hotel dinners, and I don’t care much about dancing.”

His momentary silence made her look up from the stack of folders. She couldn’t miss the spark of devilment in his blue eyes. “What?”

“Maryanne Perkins Bridges is chairin’ the shindig.”

Amy groaned as she buried her head behind her hands. Maryanne, who’d competed against Amy from the time they met at a junior high track meet, throughout high school and on into college. Maryanne, who’d beaten Amy by two points on the SAT and stolen the interest of Jason Price, the Wimberley High School quarterback. Of all the people from her past, Amy didn’t want her old nemesis to see her as the only single young female physician at a charity dinner dance. Or, worse yet, see her name on the list and know she didn’t have the nerve to show up in person.

Sinking into her chair, she hid from his watchful eyes behind the box of letters and articles. Darn it, he’d known exactly what to say to make her agree to a blind date.

“But come to think of it, Amy Jo, it wouldn’t kill you to go out with some nice young man.”

Okay, he was going to be especially persistent today, even though he’d already made his point. She needed to pull out her heavy-duty argument. Amy lifted one eyebrow and challenged, “Who would that be, Dad? A farmer, a feed store employee or the new guy pumping gas at the Kash ’n’ Karry out on the state highway? What happened to your advice that I should hold out for someone successful, charming and handsome?”

Dr. Ambrose Wheatley chuckled, then pushed himself up out of the chair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got just the man in mind. The only one I know good enough to date my baby girl.”

“But just one date, Daddy. That’s all I’ll agree to.”

“You might change your mind after you meet him.”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s a real charmer.”

“One date,” she stated again.

“Owns his own business, right here in town.”

Amy snorted.

“Everybody likes him.”

Amy shook her head and went back to unpacking. “He must be a saint,” she mumbled.

“I heard that,” he said as he grasped his cane and hobbled toward the door.

“Seriously, Dad, I don’t want you to get me a date for the dance.” Having her father fix her up just seemed too bizarre. Instead, maybe she should call one of her former colleagues in Fort Worth for a favor.

“Of course you do, Amy Jo. You can’t go to the most popular medical event in central Texas all by yourself. I know you’ve been livin’ in the big city for a while, but out here in God’s country, a pretty young lady needs a date for a nice dinner and dance.”

Ranger Springs might have changed a little since she’d moved away, but she still couldn’t think of one man who would fit the profile of an impressive date—the kind of man her father had just described. She hadn’t lived here in eleven years, but she had come back to visit, and as far as she knew, most of the “good ones” were already married or had moved away. And, like most small towns, Ranger Springs didn’t automatically embrace strangers. Who could her father have in mind?

“Please,” she whispered, “not one of my old high school classmates.” If they were still single around here at thirty, chances were pretty good they had a serious flaw. She could very well find herself attending the fund-raiser arm in arm with a guy whose idea of formal wear was a baby blue tuxedo and a ruffled white shirt.

Maybe her father wouldn’t be able to find her a date, despite his assurance he knew just the man. If she were alone, she’d be able to slip away from the fund-raiser without ever having to face Maryanne Perkins Bridges and her rich, successful surgeon husband.

She raised her head and stared at the wall of photos in her father’s office. Three generations he’d brought into the world, treated, cured and sometimes eulogized. All of this was hers—her legacy. Could she live up to the legend of Dr. Ambrose Wheatley? Would the citizens of Ranger Springs accept her, as a qualified doctor instead of the teenager who’d written “I love Duran Duran” on the cinder block wall of the high school gym?

Whatever the town thought, her father wanted her to come home to practice medicine. And also to find a nice man, settle down and raise some babies. Amy smiled. She never could say no to her daddy when he really had his heart set on something.

“Just no baby blue tuxedos,” she prayed aloud in the Saturday silence of her father’s office.

“I heard that,” her father said as he shut the door.

AMBROSE WHEATLEY concentrated on negotiating the sidewalk with his cane. He had to use the darned thing for at least four more weeks, until he could remove the walking cast. He’d been darned clumsy to fall down the back stairs. At least it was his left. He could still drive with his right foot.

If a fractured ankle was what it took to get Amy back to town, it was a small price to pay.

Oh, he knew she was afraid of coming into the practice. She thought she might take charge, be a bit too bossy like she’d been when she was a youngster. Sooner or later, she’d figure out he wanted her to take the bit between her teeth. He’d had a great career here in Ranger Springs, but it was time to slow down. Time to let a new generation grab the reins.

He pushed open the door of the Four Square Café just around lunchtime, the familiar tinkling of the bell music to his ears. Now that Amy was back, he’d have plenty of time to eat lunch here whenever he pleased. Not that the food was all that great, although it was darn good most days. What he really wanted to enjoy was the company.

One particular lady.

A smile broke out as he spotted his goal. Seated at their regular table, Thelma Rogers and Joyce Winston had just gotten their coffee when he walked up to the table.

“Ladies,” he greeted as he leaned on the cane. The darned walk from his car to the café had him aching.

“Ambrose!” Thelma looked up from her menu of today’s specials. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He glanced at Joyce, who patted her pretty strawberry blond hair and hardly gave him a second look. He smiled and settled into the chair opposite the beauty store owner and operator.

“I’ve got a job for you two,” he said in a near whisper.

That got their attention. “What kind of job?” the newspaper owner and editor asked.

“A little matchmakin’.” Ambrose smiled and leaned a bit closer. “I think my baby girl and our newest eligible bachelor would make quite a strikin’ pair, don’t you think?”

Joyce smiled and nudged Thelma’s side. “I think you’re right.”

GRAYSON PHILLIPS SENSED the tension building inside of him as he made the turn onto Deer Lick Road. His destination, the modest frame home next to Ranger Springs’s medical clinic, was in sight. He had nothing against the street, the house or even the woman inside, but still, his muscles tensed for battle and his breaths came faster, more shallow. He should have become accustomed to the feeling, but instead, he’d begun to resent the experience.

Gray wasn’t confronting an enemy or embarking on a dangerous activity. No, he’d been pressured into yet another blind date by resident matchmakers Thelma and Joyce, who had made his social life their exclusive business ever since he’d moved to town last summer.

Not that he’d resisted their efforts in the past. Many of their attempts to find him the perfect woman had been earnest, if misguided, efforts. He had yet to convince the two ladies he wasn’t looking for a future Mrs. Phillips. Hell, he’d tried married life, and in his opinion, being single was infinitely more desirable. And, despite a barrage of dates that involved dinners in some of Austin and San Antonio’s finest restaurants, charity galas and sporting events, dating was still much less expensive than catering to the whims of a wife.

But mostly, he’d realized just recently, their goal wasn’t only fixing him up. No, Thelma and Joyce had targeted him as the ideal blind date for whatever single woman under forty in town had a party, reunion, dance or other social obligation to attend.

His car eased into the driveway where his current—and soon to be one-time—date for the evening awaited. Slowly, aware of each crack in the concrete and each loose piece of gravel, he rolled toward the newly painted house. Apparently Dr. Wheatley—the retiring one, not his daughter—had bought the house years ago with plans to expand his practice someday. Gray had heard in town that the modest two-bedroom dwelling had been fixed up for the new doc.

He’d learned the hard way that the grapevine in Ranger Springs was usually accurate and exceedingly prompt. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that they were using some of the high-tech listening devices his company developed and manufactured. If he kissed a woman good-night, the entire downtown area was buzzing with the implications by lunchtime the next day. Thelma and Joyce seemed to be the ring leaders, although Gray had his suspicions that some of the older men who hung out at the Four Square Café were just as guilty.

He would have felt more used if he’d believed the two women were taking advantage of him. They weren’t. They simply couldn’t believe a single man was happy in his bachelor state. The two old friends believed they had a civic duty to see him matched up with some local woman who possessed the talent, grace or beauty necessary to win his heart.

“Right,” he muttered as he killed the engine of his silver Lexus. Little did they know how resistant he was finding the ideal mate. He’d loved his ex-wife, Connie, with the passion of youth, then with the settled assurance of married life. Sure, he’d spent much of his time building his invention into a business. He’d never realized she “suffered” from his lack of attention or absences. Not until he’d discovered her affair with one of his best friends. One of his former best friends.

Much to his surprise, his heart hadn’t died when he’d discovered his ex-wife’s betrayal, but his pride had suffered a major injury—one he was unwilling to repeat. The experience had reminded him of facts he’d learned from his divorced parents: first, relationships, especially marriages, should never be taken for granted, and second, nothing lasts forever.

His focus for the past four years had been building his company, Grayson Industries, into a high-tech competitor. The move from Dallas to Ranger Springs last year had been a good one. He provided jobs for many who chose to live in the Hill Country, plus his costs were way down since the move. And he was getting settled in a house that suited him on an ideal piece of land overlooking a rugged, winding valley.

Drawing in a deep breath, he ran his hands along the leather-covered steering wheel, letting the texture and shape calm him. He concentrated on everything that was right with his life at this moment: his business, this new town, his single status.

He slipped out of the warm interior of his car, welcoming the blast of cold air that swirled around the house from the north. He ducked his head against the head wind as he followed the cracked concrete walk past the yellow chrysanthemums and orange marigolds. His imported leather shoes made no sound as he climbed the two steps to the front porch. Before ringing the doorbell, he adjusted the lapels of his tux and ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“Showtime,” he whispered as he pressed the buzzer.

AMY TOOK A DEEP BREATH, smoothed a hand down the simple lines of her ice blue, raw silk cocktail dress, and pushed out of the chair. She hadn’t heard her date arrive, despite sitting in her living room listening intently for the past ten minutes.

Not that she was anxious to meet him, or, for that matter, to even attend tonight’s function in Austin. No, she was simply curious about the man so many had praised as the perfect blind date. After her father had informed her he’d made the arrangements, Amy had gotten rave reviews on the man from everyone she’d met. She couldn’t remember any outsider who’d moved into the area who had been so totally accepted by the residents of Ranger Springs and beyond.

What could make this particular man so perfect? And why, unless he had a serious personality flaw or hygiene problem, did he need to go on so many blind dates? From her experience, good-looking, single men who were interested in women could get their own dates. She simply couldn’t imagine why everyone from Pastor Carl Schlepinger to the newest clerk at the Kash ’n’ Karry sang Grayson Phillips’s praises so highly.

Until she opened the door.

She snapped her mouth shut. Standing there gaping like a dead guppy wouldn’t give a great first impression to the tall, drop-dead gorgeous man with riveting gray eyes and dark hair liberally shot with silver. His wide shoulders more than did justice to the well-cut tuxedo and perfectly tailored white shirt.

No ruffles. No baby blue polyester.

“Miss Wheatley?” the Adonis at her door asked. “I’m Gray Phillips.”

“Dr. Wheatley,” she said automatically, her voice husky from disuse.

“Of course. My mistake,” he replied, his sculpted features and intelligent eyes giving nothing away. “I’ve met your father, and please, I mean this as no disrespect to him, but you hardly resemble my only experience with a small-town doctor.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, trying to get her brain and mouth working in sync as she stepped out of his way. “Please, come in. And call me Amy.”

As he walked past her, she noticed that he smelled as good as he looked. So much for her theory on over-thirty single men, personal hygiene and blind dates.

She led him into the living room—not that there was much leading to be done. The front door opened into the room without so much as a half wall to divide the space. New beige carpet covered the floor, and the walls had been painted a pleasing eggshell, but there was only so much a person could do in the week and a half she’d been in town. Decorating hadn’t been high on her list of priorities, so the black leather sofa and matching chair she’d moved with her, along with a couple of nondescript tables, sat abandoned against the walls.

“I’m afraid I haven’t settled in much,” she explained as she rubbed her hands against the chill of the November air that entered along with her date for the evening. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

In what she was sure was a case of extremely good manners, he barely glanced at her plain-but-tidy home. His personal scrutiny made her mildly uncomfortable, as if she wanted to check her dress for wrinkles or her shoes for an errant piece of tissue. But despite her reaction, his expression never wavered from the polite interest he’d shown from the first.

“I’ll just get my coat, then,” she said, motioning toward the tiny closet near the front door.

As she grasped the wooden hanger, she felt his presence behind her. An unexpected chill slithered up her spine. She couldn’t blame this reaction on the uncommonly cold weather.

“You’re shivering,” he said, taking the wool-and-cashmere blend coat from her hands. “Allow me.”

His warmth enveloped her as she slid her arms into the sleek, cool satin lining. Unfortunately, she still felt just as shivery. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I suppose I’m not adjusting well to autumn. Except for this cold snap, the temperatures have been above normal.”

“How can you, in Texas? Warm one day, cold the next.” He made the comment without derision, just as polite as ever. So far, he was the perfect date, even when she’d resorted to talking about the weather to hide her unexpected reaction to him.

“You’re not from the Lone Star State?” she asked as she belted her coat. She stepped around him to retrieve her purse and gloves from the living room.

“Actually, I’m from Dallas, so as a native, I can indulge in a little mild criticism.”

Amy smiled at his rationale. “I know what you mean. We can say what we want, but just let some Yankee belittle our state…”

Grayson Phillips smiled. “Shall we go? I understand you’d like to show off a bit for the folks in Austin.”

Amy stopped beside the front door, her mouth gaping once again. “Who told you that?” Her lips thinned as she frowned. “No, let me guess. You’ve been talking to my father.”

“I saw him at the bank yesterday.”

“The man talks entirely too much.”

“He’s a charmer.”

“He’s a meddling old…never mind.” Amy squared her shoulders and clasped her purse to her side. “I’m sorry if you feel railroaded into this. I’d understand if you didn’t want to go.”

“On the contrary, Dr. Amy,” he said, a flash of real amusement in his silvery eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Great looks and humor, too. As he graciously escorted her toward his luxury car, Amy realized that was why Grayson Phillips really was the best blind date in Texas.