He wanted Jill. Badly

The thought of being cast in the role of her fiancé, with all those unconscious touches and secret smiles between lovers held a lot of appeal.

“Morgan?” Jill touched his arm.

He frowned. “Yeah?”

“Mind if I take off my shoes?” she asked. “It’s been a long day.”

Nodding, his smile was strained as she slipped off her navy pumps, her toes curling into the plush carpet. Her toenails were painted, and he was a sucker for that.

He looked closer and almost groaned. Red. A startling, deep, sensual red.

He was an even bigger sucker for anything red on a woman. An image of Jill lying before him in a red satin teddy had him nearly losing control.

“I have to kiss you,” he murmured. Rules be damned….

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” she answered breathlessly.

“It is,” he replied, reaching for her. “It’s real bad.”

“Bad can be very good, you know,” she said in a voice that had his temperature skyrocketing.

Dear Reader,

We’re surrounded by rules every single day of our lives. We have rules that tell us to follow the law, rules of the road and rules of conduct. There are even rules on how to clean the coffeemaker!

Jill Cassidy knows all about rules. She’s an attorney. Rules are her business. But when she approaches a sexy stranger and asks him to pretend to be her fiancé, she finds herself with a new set to learn—Rules of Engagement.

As far as Morgan Price is concerned, the only rule he plans to adhere to is keeping his heart safe from the sweet, sassy lawyer. Little does he know that Jill has every intention of bending that rule to the breaking point.

I enjoyed my time with Jill and Morgan and hope you do as well. And if you’re up for a little rule breaking, look for Jill’s sister Carly, in my next Temptation—#797 Breaking the Rules—out in September 2000.

I love to hear from readers. You can write to me at P.O. Box 224, Mohall, ND 58761 or via e-mail at jamiedenton@weluvromance.com.

Happy reading!

Jamie Denton

Books by Jamie Denton

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

708—FLIRTING WITH DANGER

748—THE SEDUCTION OF SYDNEY

767—VALENTINE FANTASY

Rules of Engagement

Jamie Denton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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You said only I could make my dreams come true.

You said I could do anything.

You said only those who never tried, never succeeded.

As always, Mom, you were right.

This one is for you, with all my love.

Jamie

Contents

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

1

HE HAD TO BE the most gorgeous man on the face of the earth, his well-honed athletic body nothing short of a virtuoso’s work of art. Faded jeans hugged strong thighs and a knit polo shirt stretched over a wide chest and lean belly. Raisin-colored sleeves molded and emphasized sculpted, muscular biceps capable of making a girl’s heart go all fluttery.

He was also extremely irritated.

Jill Cassidy considered closing the door to her office, but with Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous raising his voice at her boss right outside, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself and perhaps embarrass her boss.

“I do apologize, Morgan,” her boss said calmly. “But calendar conflicts make it impossible. I just have no one available to handle such a minor offense.”

The Adonis glanced her way. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her mouth suddenly felt drier than the California desert. Hair as black as midnight highlighted eyes the color of thunderclouds, holding her spellbound. High cheekbones and a firm, square jaw added to the sculpted magnificence of his appearance. Even though his features were hardened by his obvious frustration, masculine appeal still radiated from him in waves.

Her feminine senses went on red alert.

Jill’s gaze dipped to his mouth, zeroing in on the sensuality of his full lower lip. Forbidden images of touching her lips to his sent a surge of heat racing through her.

Shocked by her reaction to a complete stranger, no matter how gorgeous, she shifted her attention back to the open book on her desk and the case law she needed for a motion to suppress evidence she’d been researching most of the afternoon. Before she looked away, she caught a glimpse of something else in his eyes, something that touched her deep inside. A hint of desperation—an emotion she was far too acquainted with to discount.

“There has to be something you can do,” Mr. Wonderful said, his tone calmer. “Someone you can spare.”

“It’s only a minor offense. Just let the public defender’s office handle it if this guy can’t afford an attorney,” Nick offered. “You can’t save them all, Morgan.”

Jill shook her head. A public defender was a sure guarantee of a conviction. She knew, since she’d spent six months in the PD’s office before landing a job in Lowell and Montgomery’s criminal department two years ago. From her experience in the government office, she’d quickly learned that most of the once bright-eyed lawyers were overworked, underpaid and jaded by the revolving-door policy of the criminal justice system.

“He’s a good kid, Nick, and I want him to have a good lawyer,” Morgan insisted. “He doesn’t need one mistake haunting him for the rest of his life.”

Jill agreed, even if she had no idea who needed an attorney or what crime had been committed. Everyone deserved a good lawyer.

“He’s my best foreman,” he added, shoving a large hand through his jet-black hair, “and I need him back on the job site as soon as possible. It’s important.”

Nick shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Morgan,” he said. “I wish I could help, but we just don’t have anyone to spare. If it was a bigger case, I could see about shifting some things around to make room on the calendar. Look, if the final decision was mine, you know we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but I do have other senior partners to answer to.”

Jill sensed Morgan’s frustration when he shook hands with her boss, then said something she couldn’t hear before spinning on his booted heel and heading down the corridor. Which was just as well, she decided. She had her own personal problem for which she still hadn’t found a resolution, and panting after a handsome stranger was hardly a way to solve it.

Or was it?

Jill bit her lip as Nick walked into her small, windowless office, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his trousers. “How’s the motion coming along?” he asked, stopping in front of her desk.

“Good,” she said, her mind whirring with possibilities she couldn’t seem to shake. She dropped her pen on the desk, certain she was truly desperate to even consider propositioning a perfect stranger. “What was that all about?”

Nick shook his head again, compassion lighting his distinguished features. “One of his employees tied one on for his twenty-first birthday, got a little out of hand and now he’s facing a drunk-and-disorderly charge,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite her desk. “I’d like to help, but…well, you heard. Montgomery’s been on a rampage lately because he’s had more beans in the debt column and less in the income column. If I shifted a bigger case for something small like this, I’d be wearing his wing tips in a very uncomfortable place.”

She suppressed a grin and settled back into the hunter-green executive chair. “Can’t you take on his case pro bono, and not involve the firm?”

Nick propped his foot over his knee. “I wish I could, but with the Simmons trial in two days and the Martinez trial in another week…. Well, you know what’s it been like around here. How many billable hours have you put in the past month on those two cases alone? Montgomery’s managing partner for a reason,” he said with a heartfelt chuckle.

Jill did understand. Just that morning all of the associates had been called into a meeting with Mr. Montgomery for the semiannual “billable hours are down again” lecture. The firm was in business to make a profit, but the softer side of her, which wasn’t completely jaded by the legal system, wanted desperately to reach out to the most stunning man she’d ever laid eyes on and do something to help him.

And it had nothing to do with her physical reaction to Mr. Drop-Dead Gorgeous, she told herself firmly, or the ludicrous idea that had taken hold and wouldn’t let go.

Jill quashed the silly notion flirting on the edges of her mind as not only insane, but certifiable. She leaned forward again, bracing her elbows on the desk. “The firm can’t take on his case, right?”

Nick shook his head. “Not unless I want to send Montgomery into an apoplectic fit.”

The idea wouldn’t be nudged, shoved or quashed. “But if you took on his case pro bono, you’d have to assign it to another associate, right?”

Nick’s brows pulled together in a frown. “No, Jill,” he said firmly, knowing exactly where she was headed with her line of questioning. “Morgan Price is a friend. I want to help him, but there’s no way the firm can afford to spare you right now. We’ve got two tough cases—”

“I can handle this case for him.”

She probably should have her head examined. Not for offering to handle a simple drunk-and-disorderly charge, but for the direction her thoughts had taken. Morgan Price was the perfect solution to her problem. She needed a favor, and he wanted a criminal lawyer for his employee. Who said the barter system wasn’t alive and well, even if this was Los Angeles?

“The firm won’t allow it.”

She wasn’t about to be dissuaded. Not when she finally had a plan capable of resolving her own problem. All she had to do was convince the guy who stirred her senses to agree with her terms. “I’m not talking about the firm, Nick. Me. I could do it.”

“Were you not in the associates’ meeting this morning?” he asked rhetorically. “You can’t take on another case and still manage your current caseload, especially since I need you to second-chair two big trials.”

Undaunted, she stood and circled the desk. “I can do it, Nick,” she said again, propping her hip against the elegant mahogany. “It’s a simple case. It won’t take me but a morning or an afternoon out of the office.”

Nick regarded her speculatively. “What’s in it for you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just feel for the guy, that’s all,” she hedged, wondering if what she was seriously considering breached the wall of ethical legal practices.

Nick stood and looked at her, a slight grin tugging his lips. “Okay, you win. One day, Jill. That’s all. And the firm is not to be associated with this case whatsoever. You’ll have to do whatever prep work is necessary on your own time.”

She smiled, hoping her plan worked. “Thanks, Nick.”

His grin was rueful at best. “Don’t thank me yet. You wrap this up, and quick.”

“I can handle it,” she said again, straightening.

“I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, Jill. Morgan is a good friend, but he’s got a serious problem.”

Oh great, she thought and frowned. She was about to proposition a lunatic. “Problem?”

Nick nodded. “Morgan’s the quintessential nice guy. He can’t say no to anyone in need.”

Her frown quickly faded. She’d finally found a solution to her own problem, and in time to fly home to Homer, Illinois for her little sister’s wedding at the end of the month.

Morgan Price needed a criminal lawyer.

She needed a fiancé.

And her intended was a guy who couldn’t say no.

As far as she was concerned, it was a match made in heaven.

MORGAN COULDN’T get those big sapphire eyes out of his mind. Or that honey-blond hair, swept up into a complicated style that he’d itched to touch and let slide through his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted so strongly to a woman. Especially one he didn’t know and doubted he’d ever see again.

He strode through the doors of Price Construction, unable to shake the image of the blue-eyed angel from his mind. She was pretty, he thought, in a cute way. And damned if he couldn’t help wondering if she was petite and curvy or long and lithesome. About the only things he did know were there’d been no ring proclaiming her as another’s territory, and she’d certainly snagged his attention to the point of heavenly distraction.

Morgan frowned. He had more immediate concerns. Like finding a lawyer for his employee. He’d been called out to another job site and had been in the neighborhood, so driving into downtown Los Angeles to see if his friend Nick could help, hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

You’re wasting it now, thinking about a woman you’ll probably never see again.

Sylvia, his all-around right arm, hung up the phone when he stopped in front of her desk. “Thank heavens you’re back,” she said, her usually calm voice tinged with exasperation.

“What’s wrong now?” Morgan slid a stack of pink slips from the holder, forcing himself to concentrate on business instead of wondering if the angel had long hair that teased her waist.

He flipped through the messages, frowning when he saw “urgent” marked on one from his sister, Raina. Right behind it was one from the business office of the college she attended. Fortunately, a check for her summer tuition and one for her dorm and living expenses had been mailed—something he’d finally taken care of that morning.

Sylvia slipped her pencil behind her ear and looked up at him, her dark brown eyes filled with concern. “The superintendent on the MasCon job has called four times in the past three hours. The guys never came back after lunch, and Dan Castle is fuming, threatening to pull us off the job for good this time if there isn’t a stable crew on site first thing in the morning.”

Morgan’s frown deepened. He didn’t need this, not with the huge bonus at stake that MasCon would pay if the job was completed early. Not only could he reward his men for all their hard work, but the extra cash would go a long way toward helping with his brother and sister’s college expenses. “Do you know where they are?”

The frown tugging her peppery brows together expressed her own irritation. “They went to see if they could bail Eddie out of jail.”

Morgan shoved his hand through his hair and blew out a stream of breath that did little to ebb his growing annoyance. “I told Steve this morning when he called that I was taking care of it.”

“When Eddie didn’t show up for work by lunch, the guys decided to take matters into their own hands.” Sylvia shrugged. “I tried to talk them into waiting, but they feel responsible for what happened to Eddie last night and they wanted to help.”

“Son of a—”

The phone rang and Sylvia grabbed it. “Price Construction.” Her professional tone conveyed none of her earlier frustration. “Yes, Mr. Castle, he just arrived. One moment please.”

She tapped the hold button and gave him a sympathetic grin. “It’s Dan Castle. Again.”

For all of two seconds, Morgan thought about asking Sylvia to tell Castle the problem would be resolved immediately, but he’d never been one to shirk his responsibilities, and he wasn’t about to start now with something as important as the future of his company at stake.

He nodded abruptly and crossed the open space to the small office in the back. Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he took in a deep breath and lifted the receiver, hoping he could placate the job superintendent enough to salvage his company’s reputation.

“Hello, Dan,” he said, slipping a pen from the drawer. “I just found out about the crew, and I apologize. I’ll have the men on site first thing tomorrow.”

“Because your guys left, we’re now a day and a half behind schedule,” Dan Castle roared into the phone. “How do you expect the ceiling crew to install grid or the electricians to do their job if I don’t have any walls for them to work with?”

Morgan checked his watch and nearly groaned. It was after five, so offering to send a new crew was useless. “They’ll be there, Dan.”

“They’d better be. I’ve got an uptight safety inspector threatening to red-tag the site because some cub installer wore tennis shoes to the job, and this guy’s coming back tomorrow. I don’t need this kind of aggravation, Price.”

“Dan, I promise you, the men will be on the job tomorrow. Six o’clock sharp.” And he’d personally ensure they were up to every safety code in the book before they left the shop and headed out to the site. The last thing he needed was for his men to be responsible for a red-tag shutdown. “We’ll bring the job in on time. You have my word on it.”

“Right now your word doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot,” Dan complained.

Morgan cringed. MasCon was an important contract, not only because of the money he’d make on the current project, but he had a half-dozen more big jobs lined up with the general contractor, which would provide his men with steady work well into the following year. If they were pulled from the job and their future contracts canceled, word would spread that Price Construction was unreliable. That was something he couldn’t afford, especially with the construction industry in a major slump.

“They’ll be there,” Morgan said. If he had to personally man the job, he’d do it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d put his tool belt back on to bring a job in on time.

“They’d better be,” Dan threatened, “or don’t bother coming back. And for every day the job is in the hole, you can bet you’ll be hit with the penalties.”

Before Morgan could offer a reply, the line went dead. He hung up the phone and scrubbed a hand down his face. God, he didn’t need this now.

Sylvia walked into his sparsely furnished office and set another phone message on his desk, this one from a supplier promising to have material delivered to another job site the following day. “Steve just called,” she told him, planting her hands on her ample hips. “They managed to bail Eddie out of jail, but the kid’s got an arraignment at ten tomorrow morning.”

Morgan reached for the phone. He had to call the guys and let them know they needed to be in the shop early. Then he’d let them know that he wasn’t happy with the stunt they’d pulled today.

“Don’t bother,” she said as he flipped through the Rolodex file for Steve’s number. “Steve said the four of them won’t be at work tomorrow.”

“What? I need them on that job, Sylvia.” If he had no crew on site as promised, he could kiss the future of Price Construction, and that of his kid brother and sister, goodbye. People were depending on him—not only the family he’d taken care of for as long as he could remember, but there were other drywall carpenters banking on him to keep them from the unemployment lines.

“I told Steve they’d better show,” she said. “They’re on their way in now to talk to you. Steve said since you didn’t get Eddie the lawyer like you promised, the guys are planning to go to court with him in the morning.”

“And do what? Plead stupidity for getting Eddie drunk on his twenty-first birthday?” he complained irritably.

Sylvia shrugged, her gaze filled with sympathy. “They feel responsible, Morgan.”

“How responsible are they going to feel if we don’t have any work?” he muttered, retrieving the telephone book from the bottom desk drawer. How he was going to find a lawyer at this time of the evening, he didn’t know.

Twenty minutes later, he shoved the phone book away in disgust. He still hadn’t found an attorney willing to take a minor drunk and disorderly charge at the last minute. And he’d only been able to find two lawyers in their offices past five o’clock.

Visions of expressive sapphire eyes and honey-blond hair drifted through his mind unbidden. He needed a miracle. And he couldn’t find one if he kept thinking about the blue-eyed angel and wondering if the rest of her was just as inspirational.

MIRACLES CAME in all shapes and sizes, her great-grandmother, Ethel Cassidy, used to tell her great-granddaughters. Jill was convinced her miracle was six foot two with fierce gray eyes and a body made for sin.

She pulled over to the curb to study the guide map again. Most of her time was spent in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, so she was unfamiliar with the Inland Empire and having serious doubts of ever finding Morgan Price’s home.

Unwilling to give up hope, she flipped off the overhead light and continued farther up Canyon Crest Boulevard, finally locating the street she’d been searching for for the better part of an hour. After a series of twists and turns on curving and hilly side streets and a couple of cul-de-sacs, she found the house.

Malibu lights illuminated a concrete path from the driveway to the front door of a modest, single-story tract house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a few newly planted evergreens that would eventually grow into decent sized shrubbery. An older model Ford Explorer parked in the driveway in front of a two-car garage and a light shining in the living room window convinced her that her miracle was home. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t driven for two and a half hours through a sea of red taillights for nothing, and cut the engine of her Dodge Intrepid. Pulling her briefcase from the passenger seat, she gathered her courage and marched to the door before she could change her mind.

Jill rang the bell and waited. She had no guarantee that he’d even agree to her terms, and hoped that hint of desperation she’d detected in his eyes had been for real. Mostly, she hoped that Nick was right—that Morgan Price was indeed a guy who couldn’t say no to someone in need.

The door swung open and her heart stuttered behind her ribs, followed by an odd unfurling of heat in her middle. The man was simply too handsome for words.

She stared at him like a starstruck fool, paying silent homage to his astonishing good looks. Light spilled onto the porch, and he looked like an avenging angel. His raven-black hair was mussed, giving him a lived-in look she found far too sexy for her peace of mind. Her gaze slipped over him, down the wide chest that tapered to a slim waist she was convinced was as hard as granite, past lean hips and long legs she imagined were powerful and muscular, to bare feet.

Good grief, even his feet were sexy!

“Can I help you?” he asked after her moment of silence.

Her gaze drifted lazily back to his, and she prayed he hadn’t seen her reverent inspection of his masculine perfection. Since he hadn’t flipped on the porch light, she was hopeful.

“Mr. Price, I’m Jill Cassidy. I’m an attorney from Lowell and Montgomery.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, towering well over her five-foot-six height. “Nick have a change of heart?”

He had a pleasant voice, deep and soothing. The kind that would no doubt whisper seductively in a woman’s ear and send her pulse careening out of control.

“Not exactly,” she said, concentrating on her purpose for coming to see him. “May I come in?”

Relief swept through her when he stepped back to let her into the house. He showed her into a small living room, tastefully but inexpensively furnished.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, ushering her toward a blue plaid sofa.

“A glass of water would be nice,” she said, smiling up at him.

He nodded absently, then strolled out of the living room, giving her an opportunity to take in her surroundings. A plant in desperate need of attention sat atop an oval end table beside a tall brass lamp. More plants, also lacking tender loving care, were placed on the mantel above a small brick fireplace. Newspapers cluttered the edge of the coffee table, and a collection of magazines were strewn haphazardly beside a worn leather recliner with a remote control resting on the arm.

She eased out a puff of breath. The gods were smiling on her, because her miracle was single. The plants said there might have been a woman in his life at some point. She wasn’t planning to have an affair with him; she just needed him to pretend to be her fiancé for a brief period of time.

He returned with her water, then moved to sit across from her on the matching love seat. “So what’s this all about? If Nick didn’t change his mind, what are you doing here?”

“I can help you, Mr. Price—”

“Morgan,” he interrupted, his storm-cloud eyes dipping to her mouth, making her heart beat just a tad faster. “Isn’t this a little unusual? I didn’t know the partners at Lowell and Montgomery allowed their associates to moonlight.”

She smoothed her moist palms down her navy linen skirt. “They don’t,” she said, offering him a brief smile. “Not as a rule, anyway. I’m not here on behalf of the firm.”

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, giving her a level stare. “Then what are you doing here?”

She set the glass on the coffee table. “Mr. Pr—Morgan. I was hoping we could help each other.”

He regarded her skeptically, but the hopeful light in his eyes boosted her waning confidence slightly. “I’m listening,” he prompted, his brows pulling into a frown.

“In exchange for my providing legal services for your employee, I’d like something in return.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her with those piercing gray eyes.

“I need…”

Oh, why was this suddenly so difficult? She’d planned her speech down to the last detail during her two-hour drive in evening traffic.

“I need a few days of your time,” she hedged.

His brows pulled deeper together. “When?”

“The end of the month. My sister is getting married and I need…a…date.”

“For a few days?”

She let out a breath that did little to calm her case of nerves. “The wedding is in Illinois. In the town where I grew up.”

Regret filled his eyes and her heart sank. “I have to be honest with you, Ms. Cassidy, I’m not sure I can afford—”

“Jill,” she said. “And don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay for everything.”

“I’m not sure I can afford to be out of town,” he said, leaning back on the love seat and crossing his arms over that gloriously wide chest. He propped his foot on his knee. “I have a business to run.”

“Five days,” she said, feeling her only hope slipping away. If Morgan Price didn’t agree, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d been evading the issue with her family for months, coming up with one excuse after another as to why her fiancé hadn’t been able to come with her on her last two trips back to Homer, Illinois. She hadn’t meant to lie to them, but everything had spun out of control and now she was backed into a corner and desperate enough to use whatever means at her disposal to convince Mr. Sinfully Sexy to compound her fabrication.

“A few in exchange for decent legal representation for your employee?” she asked, hating the hesitancy in her voice, but under his piercing stare she was lucky her voice worked properly.

He regarded her with a great deal of caution, and she really couldn’t blame him. Her plan was more than ludicrous, it was insane.

“This is blackmail, you know,” he said after a moment, his gaze softened by a slight quirk of his mouth.

Relief, combined with a stirring of something much more elemental, rippled through her. “I was thinking more in terms of the medieval economic system. You need a lawyer and I need something in return.”

“How do I know you’re any good?”

Why did that perfectly innocent question cause gooseflesh to break out all over her skin? “I’m very good. You won’t be disappointed.”

The grin that transformed his granite features was filled with sin. “You don’t leave me much choice.”

She smiled and used every ounce of self-control she possessed not to jump up and squeal with delight. “I was hoping you’d say that. So we have a deal?”

“Tell me something. Why resort to blackmailing for a date to a wedding?”

She reached for the water, taking a drink in hopes of putting out the slow burn in her tummy caused by her precedent-setting case of nerves. “Actually,” she said, setting the glass back on the table, “I need a little more than just a date.”

At his silence, she summoned her nerve and blurted, “I need you to be my fiancé.”

2

JILL’S WORDS registered and hung between them, dimming the brightness of his angel’s halo. Fool’s gold, he thought. And he was an even bigger fool for allowing himself to feel desperate enough that he was seriously considering her outrageous proposal. “You’re kidding, right?”

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head slowly. “It’s really a very long and boring story,” she said, leaning over to pull a yellow pad from her briefcase. She slipped the cap off an expensive pen. “Let’s start with the charges against your employee. What’s his name?”

“Eddie Burton,” he said, then shook his head. “But I haven’t agreed yet.”

Delicately arched golden brows shot up and her big blue eyes rounded in surprise. “But I thought you needed an attorney?”

“At the cost of selling my soul to get one?” he countered dryly. He didn’t have a choice. Of course he’d do whatever she asked, even if it meant he did have to sell his soul to keep the MasCon contracts. When the guys had come into the shop earlier that evening, he’d promised them he’d look out for Eddie so long as they showed up for work the next morning.

Confidence and amusement mingled within the depths of her gaze. Only the quick, rhythmic drumming of her long slender fingers against the legal pad betrayed her nervousness. He found her slight case of anxiety endearing.

“I’m not asking for your soul, Mr. Pr—Morgan. You’re not really going to be my fiancé, just provide a convincing facsimile. Your time in exchange for competent legal representation. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

He wasn’t so sure. Time away from the company could cost him a lot more than shelling out a few bucks for a lawyer. Not that spending a few days with her would be a hardship. Quite the opposite, considering his immediate physical reaction when he’d found her on his doorstep.

Therein lay his problem. He was attracted to her, damn attracted when he couldn’t afford the distraction, no matter how much awareness rumbled through him whenever she flashed those baby blues his way.

He propped his feet on the edge of the old coffee table and leaned back into the love seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s assume I agree to do this. What exactly are you expecting?”

She set the pad and pen on the table, wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward. “We need to be a real couple, one convincing enough that my family doesn’t become suspicious.”

The ramifications of that statement slammed into him. His imagination tripped through a few dozen ways he’d like to be coupled with her. “Mind telling me why?” he asked, attempting to focus on the conversation and not what she’d look like with her hair down and those delicate hands moving over his body.

Her gaze shifted toward the fireplace, then back again. When she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a despair that nearly had him coming off his seat to offer her comfort.

Not a good sign, he thought with a frown. The last thing he needed to do was get involved with a woman, no matter how enticing. Between running the company, the problems on the MasCon job, and taking care of his kid brother and sister, his cup runneth over.

A light blush stained her cheeks. “So they won’t know I’ve been lying to them for the last seven months,” she said quietly.

“Isn’t that just a little unethical, even for a lawyer?”

She gave him a wry grin. “I take it you haven’t heard that lawyers are notorious for twisting the truth,” she said with a quirk of her pink mouth. “Let’s just say I’m trying to avoid a complication at home. Your presence will go a long way in helping me achieve that goal.”

His frown deepened. “Complication how?”

She blew out a stream of breath that ruffled her wispy honey-gold bangs. “I’m not a bad person,” she said, a note of defiance in her tone. “I never meant to lie to my family. It was just easier to let them believe there was someone important in my life. I’m a preacher’s daughter, which probably means I’ll have to spend eternity somewhere hot and sweaty for lying to them. I’m also the first and only Cassidy to ever leave the family fold for the ‘wickedness of greener pastures,’ as my father says. Another one of my many sins, I’m sure.

“I’m nothing like my sisters,” she added, making him wonder if this was another black mark against her. Her words painted a picture of a stern, fire-and-brimstone preacher, more condemning than forgiving.

“That’s not so unusual in families,” he offered. His sister and brother were more like their intellectual father, while Morgan preferred to work with his hands. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, considering the three of them were raised by the same absentee mother. As much as he’d resented his mother’s choice of a career over her children when he was growing up, at least he’d inherited her work ethic.

“I’m the sixth of seven daughters, all married except Carly, who’s changing her marital status in three weeks.” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, drawing his gaze to her legs. Legs that had his hands itching, wanting to see if they were as silky smooth as they looked.

“I’m also the only one unattached, serious or otherwise. That alone is an even greater sin according to the residents of Homer,” she added, a rueful smile lurking around her mouth when he looked at her again. “My family has been trying to convince me to return to the fold and exchange my career for a husband and my briefcase for a diaper bag. That’s not who I am.”

Maybe if you took a little more interest—

That’s not who I am.

He shut down the memory before it had a chance to fully surface. He had more immediate concerns than dwelling on a past he couldn’t change.

“You haven’t thought of telling them what you just told me?” he suggested.

“I’ve tried. I thought I was making progress until my sister Alison married a year ago. The pressure really started then, but since Carly’s gotten engaged, it’s been unbelievable. My father is determined to see each of his daughters married to a ‘respectable pillar of the community,”’ she said, her last words spoken in a mock baritone.

Jill as a rebellious teen, anxious to spread her wings and experience life on her own terms, wasn’t difficult to imagine. She had a quick, witty sense of humor, something her fire-and-brimstone father no doubt resented and attempted to oppress.

“What about your mother?” he asked, sensing there was a softer influence somewhere in her past. When he’d been in her office that afternoon venting his frustration on his friend, he’d seen a compassion in her gaze that was unfeigned.

“My mother wouldn’t dare offer an opinion contrary to Dad,” she said, a hint of distaste in her voice. “She’s so…1950s.”

“You need to tell them how you feel.”

Her expression lined with worry, and she smoothed her hands over her skirt again. “It’s not that easy. When I went home for Ali’s wedding, all I heard about was how my sisters were all living good, respectable lives. I, on the other hand, am probably seen as one step away from damnation for my wicked, independent ways.”

He’d been having some pretty wicked thoughts himself, from the moment he’d first caught a glimpse of her. Against his will, she’d drifted in and out of his thoughts for the better part of the afternoon. Now that she was seated across from him, the wickedness had escalated to erotic proportions. His angel had propositioned him and he was powerless to resist, thanks to his latest battle with the alligators nipping at his heels. By asking him to pretend to be in love with her, she’d innocently created a dangerous situation. As far as he was concerned, shifting the pretense of lust into passionate reality held enormous appeal, something he wasn’t altogether certain the independent lady lawyer would appreciate.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, drawing his attention back to their conversation. “I love my family, but I don’t think I can stand to go through another family gathering with the town parading their single men in front of me like it was a cattle auction. And I don’t need to hear how I should settle down and have a passel of kids, or—”

“That still doesn’t explain why you told them you were engaged.”

“I didn’t tell them I was engaged,” she said, her brows pulling together in a frown. She let out another sigh, this one filled with frustration. “My parents are very traditional, so when Carly and Dean got engaged, my folks hosted an engagement party. I couldn’t send my regrets without disappointing my baby sister, but when my own grandmother attempted to fix me up with the grandson of one of her oldest friends, that was enough.”

He hid a smile at the outrage tingeing her voice. She obviously perceived the fix-up as a betrayal by her grandmother. “So then you told them you were engaged.”

“No. I told Luther that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I fudged the truth and told him I was already involved, but I meant with my career.”

“The demanding mistress,” he said, unable to keep the hardness out of his voice.

“One thing led to another,” she continued, unaware of his bitterness, “and I couldn’t say anything without hurting Luther and possibly damaging a fifty-year friendship between our grandmothers. And then my family assumed…” She let out another frustration-filled puff of breath and leaned back against the cushions. “Suffice it to say, this has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.”

“Tell them the truth,” he said. Wasn’t the truth always the best path? At least that’s what he’d taught Raina and Will.

She dropped her head against the back of the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. “God, I wish I could.”

Two things struck him, hard. Jill Cassidy wasn’t a liar condemned to purgatory for all eternity, as she believed. He could tell by the simple fact that she had no trouble opening up to him, a virtual stranger. The other was more difficult to face.

He wanted her. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t need to rationalize, analyze or otherwise examine his attraction to her. He’d never been one to dissect his feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now. If he wanted something, he went after it, and more often than not, he got exactly what he wanted. The thought of being cast in the role as her fiancé, with all those unconscious touches, secret smiles and the unspoken dialogue between lovers connecting on their own level, held a lot of appeal.

She turned her head slightly to the side and looked at him with those big, clear sapphire eyes he wanted to see filled with heat and need. “I hate lying to my family. Don’t get me wrong, I do love them, and the last thing I’d ever want is to hurt them, but to be honest…it’s been a relief going home recently without having to worry about the bachelor parade.”

He shifted on the love seat and leaned forward. “Have you eaten?”

She glanced at her watch. “I had a pasta salad over eight hours ago. Since we still need to go over Eddie’s case, I could do the food thing.”

“I don’t have anything fancy,” he said, rising. “Leftover stew okay with you?”

She stood and smiled. “Lead the way. My stomach’s been demanding attention for the past twenty minutes.”

He waited while she bent to retrieve her pad and pen. The sight of her very feminine posterior pressing provocatively against her navy linen skirt had his heart ricocheting around in his chest. He looked away before he started drooling like a starving mutt.

“Morgan?”

He dragged his gaze back to her face. Still bent over the table, her delicate hand resting on the legal pad, she looked up at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

He frowned. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind terribly if I took off my shoes?” she asked, straightening. “It’s been a long day.”

He shrugged. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, figuring her odd request was probably one of those midwestern nuances about a lady in the presence of a gentleman—something his casual, Southern California upbringing couldn’t hope to understand.

His smile was strained at best as she slipped off a pair of stylish navy pumps and sighed, curling her toes into the carpet. Her toenails were painted, and he was a sucker for painted toenails. He looked closer and nearly groaned.

Red.

A startling, deep, sensual red.

He was an even bigger sucker for anything red on a woman. Red like fire, representative of the sensual heat women generated when fired up just right.

He blew out a slow stream of breath that did nothing to quell the image of Jill lying before him in a red satin teddy awaiting his pleasure. “This way,” he said, then headed into the kitchen, hoping to rein in his runaway erotic fantasies along the way.

She followed and perched on the thin cushion of a bar stool with her legal pad in front of her. “Okay, tell me about Eddie. I’m assuming he’s still in custody.”

He pulled a large pot from the cabinet. “In a minute,” he said, crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator to retrieve the leftover beef stew. No matter how selfish, the last thing he wanted to discuss right now was Eddie’s legal problems. He wanted to know more about Jill. Considering the headaches and the frustration Eddie’s twenty-first birthday party had cost the company, and him, another few minutes of conversation that would no doubt reveal more about his blackmailing, resourceful angel wouldn’t cause a bit more damage.

He dumped the stew into the pot, then set the burner to low. “There’s still something I don’t understand,” he said, crossing back to the refrigerator. He pulled out two sodas, lifting them for her inspection.

She shook her head and tapped her half-full glass of water. “What’s that?”

Unspoken dialogue between lovers…

He shook the thought from his mind and concentrated on their verbal communication. “Couldn’t you fabricate some reason as to why your fiancé can’t make it?”

She started tapping her fingers on the pad again. “Since this entire mess started, I’ve been home twice, both times with a convenient excuse as to why my intended had to stay behind.”

“So what’s one more excuse?” he asked, pulling out the bar stool across from her.

“Because the good reverend made it crystal-clear he expected to ‘meet my young man.’ An auspicious occasion such as Carly’s wedding is no doubt the perfect time to inspect and interrogate his future son-in-law.”

Morgan knew he was playing with fire by agreeing to her terms, but he really didn’t have much choice. He’d promised his men he’d take care of the problem, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. “All right,” he said, a reluctant grin tugging his lips when hope filled her gaze. “Eddie’s being arraigned in the morning. I guess you’ve got yourself a fiancé.”

Her smile was perilous to his central nervous system, and brighter than California sunshine.

She reached across the Formica countertop and settled her hand over his forearm. A current of electricity sparked and sizzled between them. “Thank you, Morgan,” she said quietly, a light frown creasing her brow.

Did she feel it, too? he wondered as her fingers slowly slid from his arm. Had she been experiencing that same sensual pull that had been plaguing him since he’d first set eyes on her?

“Yes, well.” She looked away and gently cleared her throat. The moment passed, but the truth remained. There was a definite sexual attraction at work. Whether or not they explored the possibilities was another matter altogether. Regardless of how much he wanted the angel with the heavenly body and red polished toenails, one simple fact remained: any carnal liaison they might take pleasure in would be temporary. Jill Cassidy was a career woman, and he’d made the firm resolution years ago to never have a serious, lasting relationship with corporate ladder types.

“About Eddie,” she said, her tone and persona shifting from personal to more efficient and businesslike. “It’s my understanding he’s been charged with three misdemeanors. Drunk in public, disorderly conduct, and destruction of private property. Nick also mentioned the property damage is a couple of thousand dollars. Do you know if Eddie has the means to pay the property damage tomorrow?”

Morgan stood to check the stew, providing her with the sketchy details of the impromptu birthday celebration gone awry. “I’ve already paid the damages,” he said, snagging a wooden spoon from the drawer. “This is his first offense. He’s a good kid and my best foreman. I’d hate to see one night of poor judgment haunt him for the rest of his life.”

She dropped her pen on the pad. “That was extremely generous of you,” she said, a gentle smile curving her lips. “Since you’ve already paid it, there’s a good chance I can get the two remaining charges reduced to municipal ordinance violations and a small fine, if not dropped completely. I really need to talk to Eddie, though, since he’s my client. Would you mind arranging a meeting for me?”

Morgan returned to the bar and sat. “Tonight? Out of the question.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the back of the bar stool. “Why?”

“He told me he was going to his folks’ place for the night, and I don’t have their number. I’m meeting him at the courthouse tomorrow morning.”

She shrugged, then moved again, shifting in her seat so she could prop her feet on the stool next to her. “Well, unless you have more details for me, I guess that’s about it for business until tomorrow morning.”

Why that simple statement ignited his imagination, he couldn’t be sure, but he moved away from the bar and served up two bowls of stew to gain some distance. After setting one in front of her, he sat, wondering why he didn’t feel a greater sense of relief. He’d solved one of his problems by keeping the promise to his men that he’d make sure Eddie had a good lawyer. The men would arrive on the job site at six o’clock sharp, as he’d promised Dan Castle. Yet, instead of the relief he’d expected, another more dangerous emotion continued to jockey for his attention.

Lust for the lady lawyer with the red toenails.

And he was a sucker for a lady in red.

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