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“No. Remember, I told you this is just make-believe. We’ll be helping to raise money for—”
“Charity. But I thought as long as you were going to pick a pretend—”
“Pretend,” Dillon agreed firmly, wondering if he’d made a mistake including his son in this event.
“I know,” Ryan said with a child’s aggrieved sigh, then perked up. “Maybe she’ll be my pretend mom, too.”
Dillon’s heart fairly broke at the longing in his little boy’s upturned face. He hated that Ryan couldn’t remember his mother. In many ways the little guy was so much like her. He had her dark hair, her smile, her easy sense of humor. Even though Ryan had no memory of her, Dillon was aware his son wanted a living mom just like his friends had.
“It’s going to be okay, champ. Hey, do you want to help me pick out this pretend wife?” Dillon didn’t stop to think before he spoke, but he wouldn’t have taken the question back for anything once he saw the excited look that lit up Ryan’s face.
“Really?”
“Really.” Dillon hoped Jake wouldn’t mind a small change in the game plan.
“Do you think we’ll find one who really likes us?”
At the wistfulness in his son’s voice, Dillon turned them both to look in the mirror one last time.
“Of course she will like us. How could any lady resist two handsome James Bond types like us?” Dillon asked, grateful for the smile his answer put on the little guy’s face.
“James Bond.”
Dillon watched Ryan square his slight shoulders and once again tug on his tie, before adding in his best imitation James Bond voice, “I’m ready.”
That’s good, because I’m not sure I am, Dillon acknowledged as he led the way out to his pickup truck.
“This is a great idea, having father-and-son bachelors.”
Dillon followed Jake, who led them to the mocked-up booths for the game show. “You’re not supposed to see the lady contestants, so sit here and we’ll get started as soon as everyone has been served.”
“It looks like you have a full house,” Dillon observed, glad that if he had to participate in one of Jake’s schemes, at least it was for something harmless, but important.
“Yeah, we’re packed. We’ll make a huge chunk of change for the shelter tonight. I’ve got to get the ladies settled in their booths. Ryan, sit here next to your dad. You can even ask a question if you want.”
“Wow.”
Dillon watched Ryan wriggle into the offered chair, relieved that Jake had no problem including his son.
“Wow yourself, little buddy.” Ruffling Ryan’s hair, Jake pinned on the boy’s microphone, then turned laughter-filled eyes toward Dillon. “Good luck. I’m betting you’re going to find the perfect woman tonight.”
His friend’s short laugh, before disappearing around the partition that blocked Dillon’s view of the other contestants, filled Dillon with foreboding. Partly because of Jake’s recent insistence that he and Ryan needed a change of location, he’d decided to leave Seattle for the smaller, more comfortable Oregon river city of Portland.
Now, he had a familiar feeling his friend was up to no good. He watched as elegantly dressed dinner guests were shown to the tables within his field of vision. “No good” was his buddy’s speciality.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time to begin,” Jake’s voice announced. “Let me start out by thanking each of you for coming tonight to help support this very worthy cause. Remember, at the back of the room is a silent auction. All proceeds made tonight will go directly to the East Side Women’s Shelter….”
Maybe his friend was right. There were three eligible women on the other side of the wall that separated him and Ryan from them. One of the ladies could be just what he was looking for…an addition to the list he’d left safely at home.
“For a surprise addition, we have not one bachelor, but two very eligible bachelors, father and son, who will pick a very lucky bachelorette….”
Eleanor stopped squirming in the hard chair Jake had shown her to, suspicion splashing her with a cold panic that was rapidly turning to anger.
He wouldn’t. The one person in the whole world she trusted, wouldn’t do this to her, would he? Yes…he would, a small voice offered its opinion in her mind. Eleanor spit silent curses at her brother. The three-sided cubicle where she sat, unable to lay her hands on him, revealed only an excited audience, beginning their dinner as they eagerly waited for the “dating game” to begin.
“Bachelor senior. Why don’t you start with your first question. We have three lovely ladies for you to choose from. Will it be Bachelorette number one? Bachelorette number two? Or Bachelorette number three?”
“Bachelorette number three. What are your hobbies?”
Eleanor almost groaned aloud when she heard the unforgettable, familiar voice ask his first question amid cheers and catcalls from the audience. She wasn’t prepared for the deep impact of his voice that ignited undisciplined awareness like Fourth of July fireworks.
“Bachelorette number three?” Dillon’s dark, gravelly voice washed her in unexplained waves of startled sensation.
Clearing the lump suddenly lodged in her throat, Eleanor blurted without thinking, “I don’t have any hobbies.”
“I see. How about Bachelorette number two?”
What did he see? Eleanor wondered angrily, feeling both foolish and irritated. Only what she wanted him to see. Which was nothing.
The honey tones used by the other two ladies to answer the law professor’s question made Eleanor sick to her stomach. There was no way she was going to try to sell herself to this man by sugarcoating her responses just for his benefit.
“Bachelorette number three. What are your favorite foods?”
This time Eleanor was prepared. Carefully modulating her voice, she responded, “I’m a vegetarian.” Well, she was.
“And…?”
“And, I like vegetables.”
Dillon looked at Ryan, his eyebrows lifting in question. There was something familiar about that voice, even though it was masked by the microphone and her abrupt responses.
Briefly, whiskey-colored eyes flashed bright in Dillon’s mind and the last puzzle piece fell into place. So, that’s what all Jake’s meddling was about. He had three ladies to choose from. Of course, he wasn’t going to pick Eleanor just because she was Jake’s sister. The guy could be a loose cannon, but this little maneuver absolutely took the cake.
Eleanor stared out at the audience. The dinner was being catered by attendants dressed sharply in white shirts, black bow ties and black dress slacks. The tables were elegantly covered in gold tablecloths. And, without exception, every female eye in the place was focused on the left side of the stage, where she was sure Dillon sat with his little boy.
Heated with disgust, she unbuttoned the top button of the white blouse that seemed bent on choking her and renewed her earlier vow not to stoop to competing for the man’s attention. Purposely, she answered each question Dillon asked her in the most bored, disinterested way she could, discouraging any idea the man might have of picking her, while the other ladies blatantly threw themselves at him. Their sugary, come-park-your-shoes-under-my-bed responses made her stomach queasy.
When Jake stepped into her line of vision, frowning at her, Eleanor felt a small pinpoint of malicious satisfaction. She arched her eyebrows at him, smiled sweetly and wished him at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. It warmed her sense of revenge when his frown deepened.
If she could just get to him, she would really hurt Jake, Eleanor promised, finding herself perched on the edge of her seat, leaning out of the small cubicle that marked her end of the stage.
Pushing her glasses farther up her nose, she briefly glanced toward the other end of the raised platform. Three additional cubicles, undoubtedly perfect matches to hers, stretched across the stage in a half moon, the two middle ones recessed slightly away from the audience. Suddenly, Eleanor found herself traitorously wondering what it would be like to be chosen by Dillon Stone. What would it be like to be the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with?
Before she could break away from that heart-pounding thought, a solemn face peeked around the front of the bachelor cubicle. Serious eyes studied her without blinking. A sudden smile shattered the illusion of an adult packed secretly into the small boy’s body.
Ryan.
The longing in his watchful eyes assailed Eleanor with an unfamiliar urge to take the small, serious child and fold him close in her arms. Tentatively, she smiled back.
“Bachelorette number three?” Dillon’s annoyed voice broke the fragile connection she’d made with the child.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the question,” she said as she removed her glasses and winked at Ryan, who was still watching her curiously.
“Where is your favorite place to vacation?” Dillon repeated, patience struggling with the irritation lacing his voice.
“I don’t go on vacation,” Eleanor answered truthfully, her mind still on a little boy’s heartbreaking smile as she scooted back into the uncomfortable chair.
“Okay…” The increasingly frustrated voice plowed through her thoughts. For the first time since she’d started this nightmare, Eleanor relaxed. For a second, she thought she could hear the man grinding his teeth. She smiled.
“Ryan. Come sit down,” Dillon whispered to his son, amazed at how hard it was to hide his frustration with Eleanor’s answers. He didn’t really care what they were, and he certainly wasn’t planning to choose her for his “pretend” wife, but the woman could at least make some attempt at being interested in the game; for the audience’s sake if nothing else.
Pushing away the image of whiskey-colored eyes and a body that promised to be a perfect match to his in the intricate dance of love, he helped Ryan climb back into his seat. He wasn’t interested in love, and it was with irritating effort that he finally wiped the seductive image from his mind.
“Okay. Bachelor junior. You get to ask the last question.” Jake’s booming voice broke into Dillon’s annoyance.
“James Bond,” Dillon reminded his son softly.
“Bachelor three. Do you like kids?” At the small quiver in Ryan’s voice, Dillon placed his arm around his son’s shoulders.
Eleanor heard the loneliness in the child’s voice and understood it completely. She couldn’t stop herself from remembering how his grown-up study had changed so quickly to a child’s curiosity with one beautiful smile. Without further thought, she answered truthfully, from her heart, unable to cause more hurt to the little person who’d silently reached out to her.
“I think…kids are cool…especially little boys,” she said hesitantly, but simply.
Surprised at the sudden warmth in Eleanor’s voice, Dillon watched a smile spread over his son’s face. He didn’t really listen to the other two bachelorette’s responses, although chatty number two had the three of them at Chuck E. Cheese’s long before she was done.
How could the woman who’d answered so warmly to Ryan be the same woman who had been evasive, impersonal and dismissive with him all evening?
As a slow anger began to burn in his throat, Dillon flicked his finger at a piece of lint on his jacket sleeve. Even though he considered himself an average sort of guy, he wasn’t used to being treated like a pariah by women. Dillon reluctantly admitted he didn’t like it. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t planning on picking Eleanor. It was just that she could at least play nice.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time for our bachelors to choose their bachelorette.” Jake’s voice floated over the audio system, reminding Dillon that fortunately this whole nonsense would soon be over.
“Okay, Ryan. Which one do we want? Bachelorette number one or number two?” Dillon whispered to his son as if asking the boy to help him pick between his two least favorite desserts.
“We want Bachelorette three.” Ryan’s excited answer caused blaring alarms to clang loudly in Dillon’s head.
“No, Ryan. We need to pick either one or two.” There was no way he was going to pick Eleanor Rose after her obvious lack of interest throughout the whole game. It was only a benefit dinner, for God’s sake. The woman could have at least tried to pretend she wanted to participate.
“But I want Bachelorette three.” Ryan’s hands were balling into fists, his voice changing from a whisper to sharp demand.
“Ryan,” Dillon insisted firmly, pulling the resisting boy against his chest.
“But I want her to be my new mom.” The shake in Ryan’s voice and the tears flooding his eyes was more than Dillon had the strength to fight, but he tried, anyway.
“This is just pretend, son. And only for tonight. Okay?”
“Okay. But, I still want Bachelorette three.”
At that moment Jake rounded the corner into the cubicle and caught the tail end of their discussion. Dillon groaned inwardly at his buddy’s apparent amusement at his predicament.
“It appears our bachelors are having a difference of opinion over which bachelorette they want,” Jake said, playing to the expectant audience for all he was worth.
A burst of chatter erupted, forcing Dillon’s hand. Resigned to his fate, he stood, taking Ryan up in his arms, anchoring his son’s light weight on his hip. As he faced the excited audience, a breathless hush replaced the noisy chatter.
“We’ll take Bachelorette number…three,” he said on a reluctant sigh.
Thank God it was just pretend and just for the night, he told himself. He was a big boy. He could put up with Eleanor Rose for one night. The smile that spread across his son’s face and his little hands clapping gleefully amid thundering applause from the audience was all the confirmation he needed that he’d made the right choice…for his son.
Dillon thanked Bachelorettes number one and two, speculatively watching number two leave the stage. Her backward look was full of promise, if he’d only take her up on the offer. Mary Towers was her name. She was definitely the Suzie Homemaker type he was looking for and appeared to like kids just fine. Maybe he would add her to his list of possibilities.
She’s just what I’m looking for. She’d make a great mother for Ryan, he was thinking when his gaze collided with angry, storm-filled, whiskey eyes that reminded him of…
Then it was just the four of them left on the stage. Ryan, his smile big, his eyes bright with excitement. Jake, grinning with smug satisfaction. Eleanor, her face white, her lips pressed into a thin, painful-looking line, her expressive eyes swimming with an emotion he couldn’t put a name to. And himself.
Dillon didn’t like the laughter that tinted Jake’s voice when he turned to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen. May I introduce Portland’s hottest new couple, Dillon Stone and Eleanor Rose.”
Flicking his gaze from his son’s excited grin to Jake’s triumphant laughter, then to Eleanor Rose’s disbelieving stillness, Dillon couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that instead of being almost over, this night’s high jinks were only just beginning.
Chapter Three
“Ladies and gentlemen. We’re going to have a short intermission while we set up the wedding scene. Don’t forget to take a look at the silent auction at the back of the room.”
Eleanor wanted to scream at the top of her lungs at the turn Jake’s so-called “dating game” had taken. Hastily she tugged her foster brother away from Dillon’s frown and the excitement dancing in his little boy’s eyes.
“Jake. I am not going to marry that…man,” she whispered fiercely, turning her back on the tantalizing promise Dillon Stone represented.
“Of course you are. It’s perfectly safe, all make-believe. For charity, remember?”
Eleanor shook off Jake’s arm when he tried to wrap her in a smothering hug.
“He should have picked one of the others. Why didn’t he?” Eleanor didn’t like the feeling that she was losing it.
“Because you’re so sweet and wonderful? And, he couldn’t resist you?” Humor played across Jake’s face, only inching her irritation higher.
“You’re dead meat.”
“Thanks, El. I love you, too. Look out, here come the wedding props.”
Intent on getting as far away from Dillon Stone and his sweet little boy as she possibly could, Eleanor scowled her worst at Jake before moving out of the way of the stage workers who were exchanging the cubicles for an elaborate garden wedding scene.
“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Dillon told his friend evenly, while Jake fixed the bridal boutonniere in his jacket lapel. Covertly, he watched Eleanor across the stage, fidgeting tensely while a woman, presumably one of Jake’s assistants, placed a long, trailing, lacy veil over her flowing blond hair.
God, she was beautiful. She certainly wasn’t a shy tomboy anymore. Gone was the young girl he remembered. In her place was a gorgeous woman, but one who still lacked all the female graces.
“Sure, it’s going to work. The crowd loves this stuff.” Jake indicated the wedding arch that was being placed center stage.
“No. I mean Eleanor and me.” Dillon didn’t believe the picture that was being created of Eleanor as the perfect bride. Unexpectedly, a painful knot formed in his stomach at the fleeting, wistful look she cast at him. A look that was concealed behind indifference before it was ever fully formed.
Damn. Why was he even thinking about this? He wanted more children. Maybe, lots of them. And in his experience, career women did not want children. At least not right away. Anyone could see that Eleanor Rose was a dedicated career woman.
Even now, she was dressed in a gray pin-striped skirt and jacket as if she couldn’t wait to get back to the office. Surprisingly, the top button of her blouse was open, exposing a generous amount of her slender throat, slightly spoiling her perfect corporate image. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d met her type before.
“What about you and Eleanor?” Jake’s pseudo-innocent inquiry made the hairs stand at alert on the back of Dillon’s neck.
“We have absolutely nothing in common. After tonight we’ll probably never see each other again.” The ping that poked his heart at the thought of never seeing Eleanor again didn’t mean a thing. Suspiciously, Dillon watched his friend’s unchanging expression. Mary Towers was the more obvious choice for his list of possible wife candidates.
“Hey. No problem. But it wouldn’t hurt if you and El got together after this.”
Get together? With Eleanor Rose? The poster lady of corporate womanhood? No way.
“It’s not going to happen, Jake,” Dillon firmly informed his friend.
“All I’m saying—”
“Dad, how come she’s standing way over there?” Ryan pulled insistently on his hand, effectively derailing Dillon’s conversation with Jake—a conversation that had been going nowhere, anyway.
“Because the bride and groom are not supposed to see each other before the wedding ceremony, pal.” Jake answered for him, dropping on one knee to fix a matching boutonniere on Ryan’s lapel. “Everything seems to be ready. Why don’t we get your dad and El in place?”
Eleanor turned to face the man she’d worked so hard to keep out of her dreams. She couldn’t go through with this. She wasn’t going to pretend to marry the one man who had once had the power to rock her to her very soul.
“El, come stand over here.”
Jake’s instruction set her teeth on edge. Forcing stiff limbs to move, Eleanor slowly walked to the spot her foster brother indicated.
Why was she doing this? Because it was a fake ceremony…and for charity. Eleanor squared her shoulders. She had a fulfilling career and was just fine living on her own. She was not feeling sorry for herself or wishing for the impossible just because as a young woman she’d once wished she could be bound to this man for life.
A small hand nestled into hers. Unable to stop the feelings suddenly warming her, Eleanor looked down into shining green eyes and the biggest smile she’d ever seen on a child’s face.
“You’re going to be my new mom,” Ryan said, eyes twinkling at her. Eleanor’s heart sank. She didn’t need any new cracks to form in her armor.
“Remember, son, this is just make-believe.” Dillon’s determined words sealed those cracks shut with a lonely clang.
“Where’s the judge? Is there a judge in the house?” Jake demanded playfully of the audience.
In unison the audience began to loudly chant. “Judge…judge…judge…”
Keep your sense of humor. Don’t break your heart over this, Eleanor admonished herself as a sprinkle of laughter drifted through the room. Nervously, she adjusted her glasses on her nose. This mockery of a marriage was for charity. It didn’t mean anything more than that.
Taking a deep breath to settle the skittish alarm clanging in her stomach, Eleanor looked up as a new disturbance erupted at the door. Now what?
Causing the minor commotion was an elderly man in a western-style black frock and flat-brimmed black hat. Haphazardly, he was making his way toward the stage, patting his pockets as if he’d lost something. Finally, out of one deep side pocket, he pulled out wire-rimmed spectacles and pushed them onto his bulbous nose.
“So sorry I’m late,” the old man wheezed, out of breath as he stopped opposite Dillon.
Eleanor couldn’t believe her eyes. Jake couldn’t have gotten a more disreputable-looking judge if he’d tried, which he probably had, she decided, disgusted. The man looked as if he’d been pulled right out of an old-time western.
“Are you two young folks ready? I’m Jed Banta. This is my third wedding for the day and I’d like to get started,” the old man muttered as Jake attached a microphone to his once starched collar.
“Okay, young fella, what’s your name?”
Dillon couldn’t help smiling at the old man’s appearance. Where in the world had Jake found this decrepit old gent? He was perfect for the part of an old boomtown judge. Even down to the unkempt white hair poking out from beneath the wide brim of his felt hat and the thick white mustache that generously covered his lips.
“Uh…I’m Dillon Stone.” Dillon choked back a chuckle as the old man licked the end of a stubby pencil, then wrote his name on a slip of paper he’d pulled from the inside pocket of his coat.
The man’s act was perfect, Dillon realized, as the audience openly responded to his antics.
“Miss? What’s your name?”
For a moment Dillon thought Eleanor wouldn’t go along. Her face was as white as the paper the judge was poised over, and he was sure she was about to faint. What was she afraid of? Because from where he stood, Eleanor Rose was definitely afraid.
When he’d been a criminal lawyer, he’d seen the same look of sick fear on many a defendant’s face just before the verdict came down. Slowly, he laced his fingers with hers and was shocked by the bolt of electricity that raced from their touching hands clear down to curl his toes.
“Eleanor?” he prodded. Had she felt that electric zing, too?
Her pale face flushed with a pretty blush as she turned to look at him. The surprised look darkening her remarkable eyes heated the sizzle that was still blistering his fingertips.
“My name…” Finally she looked away, leaving Dillon with an uneasy feeling there was something important he was missing.
“Eleanor Rose Silks. My name is Eleanor Silks Rose.”
That brief moment of vulnerable emotion caused strange feelings of protectiveness to quicken Dillon’s heartbeat. The woman was so filled with contradictions. It didn’t make sense that he didn’t want to let her go when she pulled away from their connecting touch.
“Well, let’s get started,” the old man said. “We are gathered here…”
Eleanor was still trying to catch her breath from that moment when Dillon had held her hand. She’d been feeling so chilled, thinking about pretending to do something she would have given her right arm to do for real when she was nineteen.
But, of course, she didn’t want to marry Dillon Stone now. She’d made a perfect life for herself, resigned that her knight on a white charger had already been taken and his twin was not to be found anywhere. Then he’d intertwined his fingers with hers and consuming heat and hunger had licked at a loneliness she hadn’t known she’d lived with for too long.