Matchmaking Mona

She Startled Him And His Precarious Balance Was Shot To Hell. Letter to Reader Title Page DIANA MARS 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 Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Epilogue Copyright

She Startled Him And His Precarious Balance Was Shot To Hell.

Cooper flailed about, even as he spied a woman’s rounded face and sparkling green eyes. Those eyes went from shining with amusement to widening in alarm as Cooper pitched forward, and fell on their owner.

His victim took the brunt of the fall, and became almost embedded in the moist soil. Cooper lifted his upper body from the woman’s softly curved chest and leaned on his elbows.

L.J. breathed in deeply and stared upward into a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She noticed that beyond giving her some breathing room, the man did not immediately budge. As a matter of fact, from the way he was ogling her, he didn’t seem to have any intention of moving anytime soon.

Dear Reader,

A book from Joan Hohl is always a delight, so I’m thrilled that this month we have her latest MAN OF THE MONTH, A Memorable Man. Naturally, this story is chock-full of Joan’s trademark sensuality and it’s got some wonderful plot twists that are sure to please you!

Also this month, Cindy Gerard’s latest in her NORTHERN LIGHTS BRIDES series, A Bride for Crimson Falls, and Beverly Barton’s “Southern sizzle” is highlighted in A Child of Her Own. Anne Eames has the wonderful ability to combine sensuality and humor, and A Marriage Made in Joeville features this talent.

The Baby Blizzard by Caroline Cross is sure to melt your heart this month—it’s an extraordinary love story with a hero and heroine you’ll never forget! And the month is completed with a sexy romp by Diana Mars, Matchmaking Mona.

In months to come, look for spectacular Silhouette Desire books by Diana Palmer, Jennifer Greene, Lass Small and many other fantastic Desire stars! And I’m always here to listen to your thoughts and opinions about the books. You can write to me at the address below.

Enjoy! I wish you hours of happy reading!

Lucia Macro

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Matchmaking Mona

Diana Mars

DIANA MARS

feels fortunate to be a part of the Golden Age of Romance, which has seen so many exciting elements added: suspense, horror, mystery, the supernatural. Although she has worked in the fields of business, languages and anthropology, writing has proven to be the strongest, yet most satisfying challenge.

One

Cooper Channahon winced as Mona stepped on his foot. Again.

The gangly fourteen-year-old absently apologized and went on her merry way, intent on reaching the dig and its director—her idol, Dr. L. J. Livingston.

Cooper took off his expensive Nike runners and rubbed the sore big toe. He was getting too old for this!

But fraternal love always proved his undoing. His younger brother Corbett, wandering around in a fog of child-rearing confusion and helplessness since his beloved wife Lauren had died, had needed some time to himself.

Mona, Corbett’s only child, was a handful at any time, and since her mother’s death, had thrown her considerable energy into her two passions: basketball and anthropology.

So Cooper had been enlisted to escort Mona to the excavation site after her varsity game. After a hellish day of stockbrokering, he’d almost forgotten his promise to Mona. When his niece had chastised him for not having proper attire for a dig, Cooper had just stopped off at an athletic shoe store. Mona had been slightly mollified when he’d let her choose two pairs from her other idol, Air Jordan: one for him, the other for herself.

But now his dear niece, totally insensitive toward his almost forty-year-old metatarsal, plowed ahead.

And plowed was definitely the operative world, Cooper reflected as his pristine Nikes lost their virgin state and became mired in mud. Swearing, Cooper replaced his crosstrainers, almost losing his balance, and got one foot out of the soggy field.

Only to have his other shoe become even further embedded in the sticky mud.

Cooper shook his head. What on earth had possessed him to accompany Mona to this unpleasant part of Illinois? Corbett’s need for some private time to get his head together could have been served just as well if he’d taken Mona to a nice, safe mall, with a nice, clean multiplex.

As he made slow, painful progress toward Mona’s high-pitched, chattering voice, Cooper knew the answer.

He had never been able to say no to his two nieces. Of the three Channahons, Cooper was the only one who had never married. His baby sister Corliss was divorced, and the proud mother of adorable Maggie. Corbett, his widowed younger brother, was the loving if dazed father of mad, manic Mona...Cooper’s own nickname for his niece.

But Mona didn’t mind. She adored her uncle, and her uncle returned the affection tenfold.

Which was something Mona realized, and took advantage of on a regular basis.

So absorbed was Cooper in navigating the treacherous field without losing either his shoes or his balance, that he did not realize Mona had come back for him.

She startled him and his precarious balance was shot to hell. Cooper flailed about, even as he spied a woman’s rounded face and sparkling green eyes. Those eyes went from shining with amusement to widening in alarm as Cooper pitched forward and fell on their owner.

Mona’s squeals penetrated his cerebellum, but the woman he fell on did not even utter a sound as he slammed into her and drove both of them into the ground.

Even though he tried breaking his fall, Cooper knew that his two-hundred pound frame would flatten anything in its downward arc.

His victim took the brunt of the fall and became almost embedded in the moist soil. Cooper lifted his upper body from the woman’s softly curved chest, leaned on his elbows and said, “Dr. Livingston, I presume?”

L. J. Livingston breathed in deeply and stared upward into a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She noticed that beyond giving her some breathing room, the man did not immediately budge. As a matter of fact, from the way he was ogling her, he didn’t seem to have any intention of moving anytime soon.

Well, she’d certainly remedy that, LJ. told herself sternly.

“In the flesh,” she said in her most professorial voice.

She groaned inwardly when she realized that her standard answer to the inevitable comments about her name took on a new meaning.

His blue eyes brightened and he seemed intent on continuing that line of thought when his legs straddled her thighs, and he seemed almost to be looking for a more comfortable position.

But he obviously recalled himself to his surroundings, which, at the moment, were mainly her. He got up in one fluid movement, then grabbed her hand and pulled her up with a mighty tug, freeing her from the mud encasing her backside.

But not before the clasping hook she had attached to the belt of her pants caught on his.

Some extraneous noise intruded into this pleasant predicament, and Cooper realized it was Mona, asking worriedly, “Are you guys all right? Or are you two in some sort of coma? You haven’t answered me in aeons!”

Cooper did not bother answering, but LJ. did, calmly.

“Yes, we’re okay. I may not have answered before because the wind was knocked out of me, but amazingly, I still seem to be in one piece.”

Belatedly, Cooper looked over at the tall, handsome woman in front of him. Sheepishly, his eyes took in the formerly forest green blouse and slacks, as well as the smudges of mud on the woman’s soft, pink cheeks. Her golden-brown hair was a mess, and it looked as if a family of pigeons had decided to make it its nest.

“I’m really sorry, Dr. Livingston. I’m sure your intention of studying this dig did not include scrutinizing it so intimately.”

Although LJ. was sure the man did not mean anything by it, the word intimate seemed to float in the air between them, heavy with meaning and fraught with tension. LJ. knew the power of physical attraction on first sight, and after her disastrous experience in college with Nick, she zealously guarded against that type of experience.

Which was why she had to be especially careful with this man. Neither of them were teenagers, and the effect he was having on her hormones was magnified by age and experience.

“No, I can’t say it did. I like getting into my work, but not this close up and personal.” L.J. unclasped the hook bonding their belts and anatomy together, and stepping back a breathable distance, extended her hand. “I’m L. J. Livingston.”

Cooper took the strong, long-fingered hand in his, and watched it being dwarfed by his own.

“Sorry about the mud,” he apologized as their fingers made a sucking noise as they shook hands.

Mona giggled, and the innocent sound broke some of the tension between the two adults.

“No need to apologize, Mr.—”

“Channahon. But please call me Cooper.” Blue eyes twinkling. Cooper added, “After all, I feel as if I really know you.”

L.J. chuckled and said, “All right. And I’m L.J.”

Looking at Mona, who was taking in the interchange between the two adults with avid eyes, LJ. added, “Your daughter is a delight. She’s really enthusiastic about this project.”

“Oh, he’s not married,” Mona added quickly. “Are you, Dr. Livingston?”

Taken aback, L.J. answered, “No, I’m not. Unless you happen to count my work,” she added, smiling.

“I know what you mean,” Cooper said, his eyes alighting on the soft, very kissable mouth.

L.J. felt his look like a gossamer touch, and caught herself before moistening her lips. Noticing the teenager’s gaze shifting back and forth between her and her father, LJ. felt she’d better get herself together. Not only were teenage glands overactive and hyperactive at Mona’s age, but teenagers seemed to think they had a vested right in interfering in everyone’s business even while loudly proclaiming their Godgiven right to privacy.

“Oh? Are you interested in anthropology, too?” LJ. asked.

“No, I’m afraid that’s Mona’s department. She wants to be the next Margaret Mead or Dr. Leakey.”

“Yeah. He says that anyone wasting their time on old bones and garbage doesn’t have much of a life or any grip on the real world.”

LJ.’s brown eyebrows shot up, even as Cooper’s stomach plummeted.

“Oh?”

The single word was a death knell ringing loudly in Cooper’s ears.

“I don’t agree, but he thinks that anthropologists don’t have a life. They just dig up someone else’s past so they can live vicariously.”

“I’d hate to think what—Cooper, was it?—thinks about librarians and other academics.”

“Oh, they’re just as bad, according to him. They need to get their faces out of those moldy romances, and date some real men for a change.”

L.J. looked from Mona’s big blue eyes to Cooper’s, so similar to his daughter’s, and said, “I read romances.”

The teenager obviously sensed she’d said something out of place, for the tension that had decreased grew again. But for an entirely different reason.

“If you don’t mind,” LJ. added coolly, “I’d like to get to the trailer and change. My back is beginning to stiffen up.”

“Of course,” Cooper said contritely. “We shouldn’t have kept you.”

“Just because you flattened her like a pancake doesn’t mean I get to lose out. Does it, Dr. Livingston?”

The cajoling quality of Mona Channahon got to her. L.J. knew she should refuse. After all, she didn’t think much of men who did not take their responsibilities seriously. There was no way Cooper could be anything but the teenager’s father. Their resemblance, from the tall, rangy bodies to their light blue eyes and dark brown hair proclaimed their blood relation.

But the girl was not at fault if the man was an irresponsible lout. And he could not be all that bad, from the obvious affection they both shared.

At least he had not totally abandoned his child.

As others so routinely abandoned those who loved them. As her father had done. As Nick had.

Realizing both Channahons were waiting for her answer, and that her back, sore from a week spent in the field, was indeed tightening, LJ. began walking and said, “No. Of course not. You can come tomorrow and observe.”

“I want to help out!” Mona said, excitedly clapping her hands.

L.J. looked at Cooper, who nodded his head in silent assent. “Ah, L.J.—May I call you LJ.?,” he began, carefully placing his ruined Nikes on the few patches of ground that looked semidry. “About those statements Mona attributed to me—”

“Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,” LJ. answered.

Cooper noticed her voice was coated with ice, but decided now was not the time to try to explain. He’d rather get Dr. Livingston alone, and tell her—perhaps even show her—that he knew L.J. did have a life.

And one he’d like to be a part of.

“What time will be good for you?” Cooper asked.

“Well, tomorrow is Saturday, but with the weather threatening and the new system coming in, we’ll want to get some work in. I’ll be out here at 6:00 a.m.”

“Six?” Mona gasped, eyes round as saucers. “On a Saturday?”

“You have heard of that concept,” Cooper teased.

“There is life out there before noon on a weekend, Mona.”

“Oh, all right,” Mona grumbled. “Anything in the name of science.”

Two

An hour later, after a long hot soak in the tiny tub which was her one concession to luxury, LJ. was just wrapping a towel turban-style around her head when a knock sounded on the trailer door.

Thinking it was her assistant, a high school senior named Bradford Palmington whom she was mentoring, L.J. opened the door with a ready smile on her face.

The smile died on her lips and the words of greeting in her throat when LJ. saw who was on the other side.

The man a few steps below her shifted uncomfortably, apparently aware of the change in her expression and the coolness it conveyed.

“Yes, Mr. Channahon?”

“Oh, and here I thought we were on a first-name basis,” he said, flashing her a winning smile.

That smile might have melted a lesser woman, but L.J. had had practice toning down the wattage. Being the daughter of a handsome salesman and the exfiancée of the college campus heartthrob had given her at least that advantage.

“Just because I was cordial to you in front of your daughter doesn’t mean we are bosom buddies, Mr. Channahon.”

Even as she regretted her choice of words, the man was going from a knowing look to a frown. Boy, was he good-looking, LJ. silently reflected, steeling herself even further against this unwelcome physical pull.

“Oh, she’s not mine,” Cooper Channahon was saying.

“She’s not your daughter?” Now it was LJ.’s turn to frown. That girl was the spitting image of him, and the cretin was denying paternity? “She certainly looks like you.”

“Well, that’s because—” Cooper Channahon hunched his shoulders against the chilly wind. The feel and smell of rain was in the March air. “Do you mind if I come inside? It’s getting awfully cold out here.”

“I’m sorry, but yes, I do mind. As you can see, I’m getting ready to dress and go out. So, if you’ll excuse me...”

The man stood awkwardly, obviously not liking this turn of events. But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he said hesitatingly, “I realize we didn’t get off on the right foot—”

“You didn’t, Mr. Channahon. My sense of balance is perfect.”

“Yes, well, Mona is the one who has the agility of a monkey. I’m much better when I’m off solid ground.”

Oh, dear, thought LJ. And he’d seemed so normal. Was he one of the true believers who had come to attend the Aliens and other Paranormals Convention in the farm next to the field she was working on? Heaven forbid!

The APs had already dropped by to try to extract information as to whether preliminary reports of cultural diffusion among her site and the Maya and Aztec were correct.

The disappointment she felt seemed totally out of proportion with the length of time she’d known this man. He was a stranger, after all.

“Mr. Channahon,” LJ. began in her teacher’s tone.

“What I wanted to say,” he said hurriedly, obviously sensing the dismissal and verbal closing of the door in her tone. “I don’t want you to take out on Mona any disapproval you might have of me. I’m sorry if you thought I was out of line, I’m sorry I tripped and perhaps damaged some ancient burial treasure and I’m sorry if I stared too long at you. I probably violated every politically correct rule of the nineties, but please, don’t take it out on Mona. She’s just a child, and she idolizes you.”

L.J. was torn between admiration for the man’s putting his own child’s feelings above his own discomfort, and exasperation at his assumption that she would make a child suffer for the sins of an adult. She knew firsthand what that was like. And even if she hadn’t had firsthand experience, she liked children—and respected them—too much to ever use them as scapegoats.

“I meant what I said, Mr. Channahon,” LJ. said, her voice as frigid as the rising wind. “Mona is welcome here anytime. And if she’d like, I’ll have my assistant Bradford show her some techniques so she can participate in the dig. We can always use enthusiastic volunteers.”

Cooper Channahon’s eyes brightened. “Hey, that’s great! When Mona heard about your dig from her anthropology teacher, she had to visit the site. She’s a great fan of yours, and she’ll appreciate your generosity.”

“Nonsense,” LJ. said crisply. “It’s rather selfish. Grants are drying up, and funds are being cut all over in this new political climate. I can use all the help I can get.”

Obviously the man was not buying her explanation, because he gave her a knowing look. “Knowing fourteen-year-olds, Mona won’t be much help to you. But it’s nice to give her a job to make her feel important, and let her get a taste of what the field might really entail.”

“Wrong on both counts, Mr. Channahon,” LJ. said. “This is not a mere ‘Let’s give the kid some busy work to keep her happy and out of your hair’ job. While I always like to raise a child’s self-esteem, I do have a job to do. And while you may not think much of the field of anthropology and its useful applications in the modern world—” apparently another trait he shared with Nick “—I love what I do. And I also respect a teenager’s capacity for work... especially in something that obviously appeals to her so much. I’m merely killing two birds with one stone.”

LJ. did not give Cooper Channahon a chance to launch into another apology. She was cold herself, and wanted to blow-dry her hair before she went into Coal City for some groceries.

And dinner.

Her stomach growled just as she was closing the door, and L.J. experienced a momentary embarrassment before her mind moved on to everything she had to do today before she could be ready for further fieldwork tomorrow morning.

Cooper heard the sound of hunger emanating from L.J.’s stomach, and wondered why he felt so attracted to a woman he had just met.

She was not breathtakingly beautiful. She might almost be considered pleasingly plump. Except that her breasts—and he’d had pleasant firsthand knowledge—were on the small side.

His normal preference was for petite, top-heavy blondes. LJ.’s hair was a nice brown, but nonetheless what the guys at work termed “librarian brown.” And she was tall. And her green eyes totally devoid of makeup.

Hearing himself cataloguing a very vital, attractive woman’s attributes, Cooper winced. No wonder many women considered men Neanderthals.

He had just taken her apart as if she were some car, and had labeled all her advantages as if he were weighing a stock portfolio.

When had he become so jaded and insensitive? He’d beat the guy who would ever discuss Mona in such terms—or for that matter, Corliss, even though he knew full well his younger sister could take very good care of herself.

Shaking his head, Cooper headed toward the car parked on a drier section of land some yards away. He’d picked up Mona from basketball practice straight from work, and his only concession to the surroundings had been to change from his imported leather shoes into the newly purchased sneakers. His suit jacket was no match for the remaining bite of an Illinois winter.

Cooper reached his car and got in with a sigh of relief. He warmed up the car a bit before leaving the site marked DIG IN PROGRESS. Visitors Please Sign In At Trailer Office.

The sign was a rustic, homemade affair that indicated funding was indeed being cut. He’d taken part in a dig back in college to fulfill his science requirements in what he’d considered the easiest way. He’d hated science. But he’d found out anthropology was not easy, nor totally boring. But for someone like him ready to take Wall Street by storm, it had been totally irrelevant.

But even he, with his untrained eye, could see that funding was obviously tight.

Pulling away from the site, Cooper frowned. It had to be really tough having to constantly scrounge to perform one’s job. And discouraging.

Yet L. J. Livingston was obviously giving it everything she had.

Cooper could not remember when he’d last felt such enthusiasm for anything—especially his own job as a stockbroker. It no longer seemed a career choice. A highly rewarding job, financially. But a job, just the same.

Accelerating as he reached the main highway—actually, a two-laner, with maximum speed allowed of forty-five miles per hour—Cooper thought of Mona back in the hotel room. Rather than drive back to Chicago, since they had to be at the site at such an early hour, he’d called his brother and asked him if it were okay if they stayed at a hotel overnight

Corbett had gladly given his approval. He really needed to get his head together because, although he loved his daughter dearly, he’d not been much of a supportive father lately and had leaned heavily on Cooper to take up the slack.

Cooper wanted to take L. J. Livingston to dinner, but was afraid she’d dismiss the idea out of hand if he proposed it But would the severe Ms. Livingston summarily reject the offer if Mona were involved?

Cooper didn’t think so. He had not seen a ring on Ms. Livingston’s long, capable finger. And he was sure LJ. would be a stickler for the rules—including wearing a ring if she were either engaged or married.

Any significant others that were not significantly committed did not bother Cooper.

It did bother him that he was going to use Mona as a shield when asking the prickly L. J. Livingston to dinner.

But he soothed his own conscience with the knowledge that Mona would love the idea. She already liked going out to dinner with her favorite uncle—since he was an easy touch who let her order whatever her junk-addicted little heart desired.

His niece would enjoy the experience even more with her idol present.