Never rely on physical chemistry between yourself and a man. Sexual attraction is fleeting…

Tonight, Elise was going to put her plan into action and find a husband. But then she shifted her gaze.

Goodness!

It was a new face. And a nice one at that. He looked to be mid- to late thirties. He was a natural, sun-bleached blonde with one of those bad-boy haircuts. His face was suntanned, but she doubted it came from a bottle or a tanning bed. He had a good build, but she could tell he wasn’t a gym rat. And he was wearing a well-fitted tux.

He turned and made eye contact with Elise. She was surprised to feel the warmth of a blush on her cheeks. The Adonis was looking right at her, a twitch of amusement on his sensuous lips.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Then, suddenly, he was coming her way.

Dear Reader,

April showers are bringing flowers—and a soul-stirring bouquet of dream-come-true stories from Silhouette Romance!

Red Rose needs men! And it’s up to Ellie Donahue to put the town-ladies’ plans into action—even if it means enticing her secret love to return to his former home. Inspired by classic legends, Myrna Mackenzie’s new miniseries, THE BRIDES OF RED ROSE, begins with Ellie’s tale, in The Pied Piper’s Bride (SR #1714).

Bestselling author Judy Christenberry brings you another Wild West story in her FROM THE CIRCLE K miniseries. In The Last Crawford Bachelor (SR #1715), lawyer Michael Crawford—the family’s last single son—meets his match…and is then forced to live with her on the Circle K!

And this lively bunch of spring stories wouldn’t be complete without Teresa Carpenter’s Daddy’s Little Memento (SR #1716). School nurse Samantha Dell reunites her infant nephew with his handsome father, only to learn that if she wants to retain custody then she’s got to say, “I do”! And then there’s Colleen Faulkner’s Barefoot and Pregnant? (SR #1717), in which career-woman Elise Montgomery has everything a girl could want—except the man of her dreams. Will she find a husband where she least expects him?

All the best,

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

Barefoot and Pregnant?
Colleen Faulkner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Books by Colleen Faulkner

Silhouette Romance

A Shocking Request #1573

Barefoot and Pregnant? #1717

COLLEEN FAULKNER

had romance writing encrypted in her genetic code. Her mother, Judith E. French, is also a bestselling historical romance author. Whether through genes or simply karma, Colleen began her writing career early. She published her first historical romance at the tender age of twenty-four. Since then she has sold twenty-three historical romance novels, five contemporary romances and six novellas.

Colleen resides in southern Delaware with her husband of twenty years, their four children, a Bernese Mountain dog named Duncan and a Siamese cat named Xena. When she’s not writing, Colleen enjoys playing racquetball and volleyball, coaching girls’ softball and coed soccer and, of course, reading.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

Elise Montgomery hit the print button on the copy machine in the lounge of Waterfront Realty in Southern Delaware where she worked and perched one hand on her hip to wait. As the machine clicked and whirred, she caught a glimpse of her best friend walking down the hall. “Liz, got a sec?” she called.

Liz backed up, checking her wristwatch. They were dressed similarly in gabardine skirts and jackets with white silk shells beneath. Elise’s “power suit” was a soft salmon; Liz was wearing navy.

“I’ve got ten minutes,” Liz said. “New clients coming in to look at the condos at Mallory Bay.”

Elise grabbed one of the copies the machine had spit out. “Here we go. The checklist I was telling you about that I found in that book.”

“Not another self-help book.” Liz lifted a skeptical eyebrow as she picked up a book from beside the copier and read the spine. “The Husband Finder?”

Elise shrugged. “So it has a bad title, listen to this.” She opened it to the first chapter. “According to the author… ‘Women today spend more time researching the cars they purchase than the men they marry. When an educated, career-oriented woman of the new millennium buys a car, she makes a list of the qualities she is looking for such as good value for the money, gas mileage, aesthetics, etc. Then, she test drives various cars and rates them according to her list of requirements. She purchases the car that best suits her. A woman should seek a husband in the same logical manner.”’

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Liz muttered. “Like buying a car?”

Elise set down the book. “It’s a perfectly valid observation, when you think about it, Liz. Now, I’ve made a copy of the suggested checklist for each of us.” She leaned against the copier as she indicated the high points with a pen. “There are various headings and subheadings. You fill in the qualities you’re looking for—the author makes suggestions—and then you just total up the numbers!”

Liz stared at the photocopy.

“The fact of the matter is,” Elise explained, “we don’t have time for men who aren’t good candidates for long-term relationships.”

“You mean for marriage.” Liz studied the sheet. “Let’s see, type of car—sports car, sport utility, sedan. Bonus for cars costing more than forty K. Good. I love a man who drives a nice car.”

Elise laughed. “Seems a bit much, but I guess that’s important to some people. And it can indicate a man’s education and socioeconomic status.”

“First date,” Liz continued to read. “Check one—dinner, dinner and dancing, movie and dinner. Topics of conversation—talks about you, talks about himself, knows what’s going on in the world. No clue.” She laughed looking up at Elise. “And this book said this would work? You can find a husband with this thing?”

Elise shrugged. “Well, nothing’s guaranteed of course, but this is essentially what dating services do, right? And the book is full of lots of helpful suggestions. I’ve already started highlighting some of them.” She paged through the volume to show where she had used a lavender highlighter.

Liz still looked unconvinced.

Elise poked her in the side. “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? This’ll be fun.”

Liz groaned and put out her hand. “Lay it on me.”

Elise handed her friend the checklist. “Now be sure to fill out all of your requirements, then make photocopies. Use one set of sheets per date. There’s a place to put his name right at the top.”

Liz was still chuckling as she accepted the checklist. “You’ve had some crazy ideas before, Elise, but this one—”

“Hey, checklists work in the real estate business, don’t they?” She indicated the plush office building with a sweep of her hand. “It’s how things get accomplished around here. We set goals. We check them off and we end up achieving what we set out to do. It’s good time management. The Husband Finder is nothing more than a tool to help us get what we want. To help us be happy, healthy women.”

“Now you sound like that book.” Liz clutched the sheet to her chest. “Okay, I surrender. I’ll try your checklist.” She rolled her eyes. “Nothing else has worked. Blind dates. Dating services. Personal ads. What have I got to lose?”

“That a girl.” Elise smiled as she tapped her on the back with her copies. “Just trust me. This is going to work.”

“Gotta run.” Liz waved. “Talk to you later.”

Elise watched as she disappeared down the hall, her navy pumps tapping on the hardwood floor. “Don’t forget Friday night, that benefit dinner,” she called after her friend.

“Pick you up at six.”

Elise glanced down at the photocopies cradled in her arms. A checklist for potential husbands. It was crazy…wasn’t it?

Desperate was more like it.

After years of casual dating and no long-term relationships that ever led anywhere, Elise realized she was ready to get serious. She had all the things she thought would make her happy: a well-paying job, a great condo, a good retirement plan. But it wasn’t enough.

Her father, Edwin Montgomery of the oil Montgomerys of Dallas had always told her that good hard work was the only thing a person could depend on. He had drilled into her head since she was a child that her career was what was important; personal happiness was inconsequential. So for a long time, Elise lived that life. And for a while, her career was enough. Only, over the past few months…year if she was honest with herself…her job hadn’t been enough. It just hadn’t been fulfilling in the way it once had been; she wasn’t even sure she liked the real estate business. She realized she was lonely and she didn’t want to end up like her father, alone and cantankerous. Elise ached for an intimate relationship with a man. She wanted a partner to love, a man who she could trust, who would love and trust her in return.

She glanced at the checklists cradled in her arms. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

Chapter One

Never rely on physical chemistry between yourself and a man. Sexual attraction is fleeting.

Elise lifted her glass to her lips and sipped her tonic water with a twist as she gazed at the hotel’s reception room filled with local hospital employees and benefactors. She’d dressed carefully this evening in her favorite “little black dress” and wore a new shade of lipstick called Seduction. It looked like a soft pink to her, but she supposed that when you paid $35.00 for a tube of lipstick, the manufacturers couldn’t just call it Pink.

Ordinarily, Elise hated these kinds of affairs, but Waterfront Realty had bought her the expensive ticket for the benefit. It was her job to smile, sip tonic water and shmooze, looking for potential clients. She’d been to so many of these events in the past few years that she knew the drill by heart. She would make light conversation with people she didn’t know. Then she would push dry chicken and overcooked green beans around on her plate, listen to a dull speech and then go home to have a bag of popcorn for dinner and watch a late-night talk show.

But tonight was different. She could feel it from the top of her recently foiled head to the tips of her new pumps. Tonight was going to be different. She was going to date men, fill out the form, add the scores and find a husband.

Elise spotted Liz Jefferson coming toward her in a way-too-tight black dress. She was drinking a glass of wine and probably not her first. Elise admired Liz’s ability to hold her liquor. Elise never drank in public, not because she had anything against alcohol, but because it made her act stupid. One drink and she was telling anyone who would listen how she had always wanted a puppy as a child and had never been able to have one because it might soil her father’s white carpet.

At that moment, it occurred to Elise that she had white carpet in her condo.

And no dog.

How had her life gotten so far from what she had wanted it to be? She had always sworn she wouldn’t be like her father. Was that who she was becoming?

“Hey, babe.” Liz glided over. Elise guessed her dress was too tight to allow her to walk.

“Seen anyone with potential?” Liz parked beside Elise and swirled her Chardonnay, gazing over the rim of the glass into the room.

“Same old, same old, so far,” Elise said.

There were men in tuxes everywhere. Elise knew many of them. She had dated quite a few. There was Joe Kanash, who revealed sheepishly to Elise after two dates that he was not quite divorced. Then there was Bobby Rent. He slurped his lobster bisque and whistled through his nose whenever he got nervous, which she discovered was often. Then, of course, there was Alex Bortorf the proctologist, Mark Wrung the department store owner—the list was endless. Some of the men both Elise and Liz had dated, though, thankfully, never at the same time.

Elise sighed. Now that she was here, she was beginning to get cold feet. How was this self-help book better than any other? She ought to just go home now and start popping popcorn for her usual late-night date with Letterman. Besides, her new pumps were hurting her feet.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Liz said lifting her hand to her hip to pose. “A new face at one o’clock. No ring on his finger.”

Liz was better than Elise at recognizing the married ones. Elise shifted her gaze as she raised her glass, but she didn’t drink. Goodness. It was a new face. And a nice one at that. The man taking a canapé from a waiter’s tray looked to be mid-to late-thirties. He was a natural, sun-bleached blonde with one of those bad-boy haircuts. Just a little long at the ears and the nape of the neck. His face was suntanned, but she doubted it came from a bottle or a tanning bed. He was tall, but not overly so. Maybe six foot, six-one. He had a good build, but she could tell he wasn’t a gym rat. His tux fit so well that it had to be his and not one of those rented ones that would have to be back at the dry cleaners by noon tomorrow.

The man turned and made eye contact with Elise. She was surprised to feel the warmth of a blush on her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she still could blush.

Liz elbowed her. “Hey, I had dibs. I spotted him first.”

The Adonis looked right at Elise, a twitch of amusement on his sensuous lips. She wondered if he had caught what Liz said or he was just used to single, desperate women gaping at him.

Elise couldn’t take her eyes off him. Then, suddenly he was coming her way. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run away or open her arms to him.

The blonde walked right up. “Hi,” he said, halting in front of her.

Elise gripped her glass. She’d met a million men in her life. It seemed as if she’d dated most of them. What was it about this one that suddenly left her speechless? Usually she was so good at causal conversation.

She smiled back and managed a “Hi.”

“Name’s Zane, Zane Keaton.” He offered his hand.

Liz glanced at Elise, at Zane and back at Elise again. “I can see there’s no need for me to even bother to introduce myself,” she said glibly as she glided away. “Later, babe.”

Zane still held Elise’s gaze as she shook his hand. She laughed, unable to help herself. “Okay,” she said. “I’m definitely embarrassed. I usually play a little harder to get than this.”

“Me, too.”

“I didn’t mean to stare. I’m Elise Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you. Your friends call you Ellie?”

She cocked her head. “Actually, no one ever has.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Well, you look like an Ellie to me.”

Out of any other stranger’s mouth, his words would have sounded ridiculous to Elise. At the very least, a really bad pickup line. But she was oddly flattered. She didn’t feel like an Ellie, but secretly she had always wished she could be one. To Elise, an Ellie was relaxed. Carefree. As the daughter of Edwin Montgomery, she had never felt like she was, either.

“So, you come to this kind of thing often?” Zane stood beside her, gazing out at the room.

“Way too often,” she confessed.

“Me, too. I hate ’em.” He chuckled. “I was supposed to be here with a date, but she bailed on me at the last minute.”

She noted that he said date and not girlfriend. “Flu?”

“That,” he confessed, “or an aversion to bad hors d’oeuvres, long boring speeches and dry chicken.”

Elise tipped back her head and laughed louder than she really should have. A man and a woman, both dressed in black standing nearby glanced their way.

Elise covered her mouth, embarrassed. “Everyone’s going to think I’ve had one too many,” she whispered. “Don’t make me laugh like that.”

He grinned. “What’s the point in living if you can’t have a good belly laugh every once in a while?”

She glanced at him. Was this guy for real? Good-looking, charming and funny? She eyed his left hand. Liz said there was no ring, but she double-checked to be sure there was no white telltale ring of skin where a wedding band normally rested. Negative.

“So if your date bailed, why did you still come?”

He met her gaze, his eyes sparkling. He just seemed like such a happy guy. A guy who was happy with himself. A girl didn’t see that often in the dating world.

“It was my sister, Meagan, who was supposed to come with me. Our grandfather was one of the major contributors when this hospital was being built in the sixties.” He lifted one broad shoulder. “He’s in a nursing home now and can’t get to things like this. I come for him. Bring his donation check. Say hi.”

That was so sweet that for a moment Elise didn’t know what to say. A man with family ties? A man who cared about the previous generations? Elise had never even known any of her grandparents. “It was nice of you to come in his place.”

“Yeah,” Zane sighed. “But I just told Pops I would come, not that I’d stay. I’ve been here an hour, shook hands with everyone on the board. Ate several little balls of what, I have no idea and now I’m bored. Time to hit the road. How about you?” He lifted a brow.

He was just a little cocky, but not obnoxiously so. In a world of mamby-pamby beta males, could this possibly be the last alpha wolf in the pack? She resisted a smile. “There’s still the dry chicken and the boring speech to get through.”

He nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We could go into the dining room and saw on that chicken. We could yawn through the speeches, or…” His tone changed as if he had some secret to share only with her.

“Or?” she murmured, transfixed by his gaze.

“Or, we could slip out the back and take a walk on the beach. If you’re hungry, I’ll buy you a cheeseburger when I take you home. I know a great little dive.”

Elise stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Slip out of here? She’d spent more than an hour getting ready for this affair. She’d bought new shoes and Seduction lipstick. Waterfront Realty had paid five hundred dollars for her to see and be seen here tonight. Elise couldn’t just walk out…could she?

Well, her company hadn’t really paid for the chicken, had they? Their check had been a donation to fund the new maternity wing.

A smile played on her lips. To sneak out would be totally out of character for her. Elise Montgomery always went by the book. She always followed the rules, and the rules were that if your boss paid five hundred dollars for bad chicken, you ate it. But she could already tell that Zane Keaton was not a man who played by the rules.

“Ah, you found her, Zane.” Richard Milton, a prominent local attorney, approached them.

Zane lifted a brow.

“Elise Montgomery, the real estate agent I was telling you about. You want to make a large land purchase in this county, she’s the person to know.”

Elise felt her face grow warm with embarrassment.

“You’re a real estate agent?” Zane asked looking to her, as if he didn’t quite believe the attorney.

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two kids alone. Call me if Elise finds what you’re looking for.” Richard walked away.

Elise smiled at Zane. “So you’re looking for land.”

He lifted a broad shoulder. “Maybe. So, you still game?”

“Game?” she asked.

“For getting out of here.” He pointed to the door.

“Come on, Ellie, it’ll be fun,” he whispered when she didn’t answer right away. His breath was warm in her ear. The chemistry was wicked. “And just a little naughty. Tell me you like to be naughty once in a while.”

She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise and he winked.

The man winked…it was like right out of an old black-and-white movie she liked to watch on Sunday afternoons when she should be working.

“Okay,” she exhaled, tantalized by the thought of just walking out. “But I need to tell my friend Liz that I’m going. She gave me a ride here.”

He took her empty glass from her hand and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Tell her you won’t need a ride home.” He pointed at her. “Now I’m giving you two minutes to meet me at the door. Then we make our getaway.”

Elise watched Zane walk away, feeling a little numb. Was this the night she had dreamed of since she was little girl, tucked in at night by a nameless nanny?

She found Liz at the bar. “I won’t need that ride home.”

Liz grinned. “How’s he coming on that checklist of yours?”

“Too early to say,” Elise confided. Inside her chest her heart was pounding. Her pulse fluttered. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel this way.

Liz nodded with a conspiratory look. “Call you later,” she mouthed.

Elise made a beeline for the door, her black clutch purse tucked under her arm. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She did feel naughty and she had to admit, the feeling was wonderful.

Zane was waiting for her just outside the hotel’s reception area. He offered her his elbow. His smile made her feel like a million bucks.

“I figure we’ll make a grand exit,” he said as he strode forward, his chin high as if they were royalty.

“We get out on the beach and we throw our shoes into the dunes and make a run for the water.”

Elise laughed. “I can’t really walk on the beach. I’m wearing hose.”

He opened the door that led onto the hotel’s veranda. “Hose, shmose. Take them off.”

Take them off? Elise felt as if her brain was on overload. Stand on one foot and peel her panty hose off on a public beach?

Zane led her across the hotel’s Victorian-style veranda and down the steps that led to the white sand beach. “Okay, twenty questions.”

“What?”

“Let’s play twenty questions. Well, my version.” He walked around to the back of the staircase and kicked off one shoe and then the other. “I ask a question. I give you my answer and then you give me yours.”

She gingerly removed one high-heeled leather shoe and then the other. The feel of the sand through her hose on her feet was deliciously warm. “What kind of questions?” she asked suspiciously. Usually on first dates—and she figured she could classify this as a date—she stuck to safer conversations such as where she went to college and what the NASDAQ was doing.

“Easy stuff,” Zane said. “Like your favorite color. Mine’s black.”

“Black? Black’s not a color.”

“Sorry. It’s my answer. Black is my favorite color. Let’s see, black like a moonless night. Black like the backside of a penguin. Yours?”

She laughed. “Mine’s green.” She paused. “Green like a man’s face after he’s tasted his mother-in-law’s potato salad.”

He laughed. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. Come on.” He opened and closed one hand. “Off with the hose. I swear, I don’t know how you women wear those things.”

She grabbed the rail of the step, then hesitated. Did she put her hands under her skirt, or try to wiggle the waistband down through the material of the dress?

Zane spun around, presenting his back to her. “Go ahead. Do what you have to do get them off. No one’s looking.” He made himself busy rolling up his pant legs.

Elise took a deep breath and reached under her dress and grabbed the waistband of her hose. She gave a yank, got them down around her thighs and lifted one foot. “Whoa!” She swayed as she lost her balance in the soft sand.

Zane caught her before she went down, his eyes comically squeezed shut. “Got ya.”

Using Zane’s muscular forearm to balance herself, she quickly slipped out of the hose. “Done,” she said as proud of herself as if she’d just sold a half-million dollar piece of property. She stuffed the hose into her pumps.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “Okay, question number two. “Chocolate or vanilla ice cream?”

“Soft serve?”

He grinned.

“Swirl.”

“Definitely swirl,” he agreed. “I like you already.”

As they walked across the beach toward the water, they covered questions three and four. By the time they reached the edge of the cool, frothing ocean, Elise wanted a turn at asking the questions. “Okay,” she said laughing at his last answer. “Here you go, favorite sport to watch. Mine’s baseball.”

He looked at her, with obvious surprise as they started north up the beach. “Not ice skating? All the women I’ve ever known like ice skating.”

“Orioles fan since birth, with or without Cal Ripken, Jr.”

“You want to get married?” he asked.

She laughed. He was kidding of course, but she still felt a trill of excitement. Obviously he wasn’t a man completely against the idea of the institution of marriage. “Another,” she begged.

“Cap’n Crunch cereal with or without crunch berries?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. Granola, with raisins.”

He shook his head. “That’s it. Wedding is called off.” He splashed as he walked, wetting her calves. “On to more serious matters. Name of your first grade teacher.”

The questions went on way beyond twenty. The sun was setting over their left shoulders on the bay before they finally turned around and headed south toward the hotel again. Elise couldn’t stop laughing, not just at some of Zane’s crazy answers, but the way he said things. He was so genuinely confident in himself. So self-assured. So real. As they walked back up the beach toward the hotel and their shoes, Zane caught her arm to help her through the soft sand. “I’m starving. Those quarter-size hors d’oeuvres just didn’t do anything for me.” He looked to her. “You want to grab a burger before I take you home, Ellie?”

Ellie. He called her Ellie again. She liked it. She liked the way she felt when he called her that. “A burger would be good. Of course it will have be that dive now.” She pointed to their abandoned shoes. “There’s no way I can wrestle into those hose again.”

He laughed as he grabbed her shoes and passed them to her. “My car’s just up the hill.” They took a set of steps to the parking lot as he explained to her the finer points of grilling a good hamburger. He led her toward a vintage green BMW and opened the passenger door for her.

A gentleman and driving a BMW? The man was in the triple bonus round….

Elise tossed her sandy panty hose into the hamper. “She shoots, she scores!” she announced jubilantly.

She laughed. Shooting baskets with dirty hose? Talking out loud to herself? She didn’t know what had gotten into her.

Yes, she did. Zane Keaton.

Dressed in sleek, satin pajamas, Elise padded barefoot down the hall to the spare bedroom she used as an office. She flipped a wall switch and soft light flooded the room painted in beige neutrals. From the desk, she grabbed a light blue piece of paper and a pen. She leaned over and wrote “Zane Keaton” in loopy handwriting on the top line of the Husband Finder checklist. She tucked a lock of her blond hair behind one ear and began to fill in Zane’s physical details: 6’1”, blond hair, blue eyes. She knew the worksheet was really for “official” dates, but “official” or not, her evening with Zane was the best date she had ever had. Well, maybe with the exception of the hot Texas evening she’d spent with Johnny Carlisle when a traveling carnival had passed through town, and she’d slipped out of the house. Of course she’d only been fifteen at the time, and Johnny had been her first kiss, so that probably didn’t count.

Elise grabbed the paper and pen and took them down the hall. She glanced at the Career heading and halted in the middle of the living room.

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked Zane what he did for a living. She’d spent an entire evening with the man. He was such a good listener for a man. The hours had slipped by like the seconds it took to enjoy a bite-size candy bar. And she hadn’t asked him about his work. Her father would be horrified.

Elise held the pen poised over the Career section: Professional, Business Owner, Other. She decided on “other” just so she didn’t have to leave the line blank. She hated blank lines and the way they stared accusingly at you. After all, what did it matter what he did for a living? Zane was obviously going to score high enough to warrant another date.

The phone rang and she glanced at the Irish porcelain clock on an end table. It was almost midnight. Eleven in Texas, too late for her father to call; he was an early riser. She darted for the phone. Liz had said she would call, to see how her evening went with Zane. Elise was dying to tell her friend what a wonderful evening she’d had. To tell her about the barefoot walk and the fact that Zane had convinced her to eat not just a burger, but fries, too. She had probably consumed an entire day’s worth of calories in one sitting and she didn’t care.

“Liz,” she said excitedly into the phone.

“Ellie?”

The male voice startled her….

He’d called her Ellie.

“Zane?”

He chuckled, his voice low and sexy. “I didn’t think you’d be in bed yet.”

She glanced at the clock again. She’d barely been home half an hour. He had to have walked into his house and immediately picked up the phone to call her.

She didn’t know what to say. The men she dated were never in a hurry to talk to her. They didn’t call half an hour after they dropped her off—sometimes they never called again.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, settling on the pale green damask couch. She smoothed the protective arm cover. The piece of furniture was so expensive, a gift from her father, that she barely sat on it. She preferred the old leather recliner that she’d brought from home and kept in her office in the back. She’d had the recliner in her dorm room at college, then her very first apartment. She liked the smell of the old leather.

“I was just—” She looked down at the sheet of paper on the end table and felt a stab of guilt. “Just picking up a little before I went to bed,” she lied cheerfully.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed my evening with you.”

“Well, I did, too.”

“So, I was wondering.”

She held her breath. She didn’t care what the book said about not relying on chemistry. Right now, it felt too darned good.

“Think we could get together later this week?”

“Sure,” she said trying not to sound overly eager.

“I thought I could tell you what I was looking for in the way of property, and you could look into what’s available.”

If her stomach could have literally dropped, it would have been on the floor. He wanted to talk about property? “Um, sure, that would be great.”

“I’ve got a lot going this week, but how about Friday?”

“Friday is good.”

“I’ll call you later in the week.”

“Sounds good,” she said, trying to sound equally cheery.

“’Night, Ellie,” Zane said in that same sexy voice that made her feel warm all over.

“’Night, Zane.”

Elise barely hung up the cordless phone when it rang again. This time it had to be Liz.

“That you, Liz?”

“Expecting Leonardo or Brad so late?” Liz’s voice was laced with her usual blend of amusement and sarcasm.

Elise curled up on the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath her. “You’re never going to believe what an evening I’ve had,” she said not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“That good?”

“Well, I think so. Zane just called and said he wanted to get together later in the week.”

“That’s wonderful!” Liz exclaimed.

“To talk about real estate.”

“Oh.” Liz’s voice fell.

“But I really like him,” Elise said softly. “And he’s already met several of the criteria.”

“So meet him. Talk to him about some property. Let him get to know you. Business luncheons will turn into romantic interludes before you know it. It happens all the time.”

Elise smiled. “Thanks, Liz. See you Monday.”

Chapter Two

Don’t be fooled by fairy tales; frogs do not turn into princes. Appearances can mean everything to the contemporary working woman. We are judged by what we drive and where we live.

“Hey, Pops! How are you this morning?” Zane leaned over and kissed the top of his grandfather’s bald head. “Look who I brought.”

Zane’s black Lab, Scootie, wagged his tail, sending his whole backside swinging and licked Tom Keaton’s wrinkled hands, folded neatly in his lap the way his nurse had left them.

The old man smiled vaguely and patted the dog’s head when Scootie rested his snout on Tom’s bony knee.

“I thought we’d go for a walk outside, Pops. How would that be?” Zane studied his grandfather’s face for some response, any response. There was none. “Great,” Zane said. “Here we go!” He unlocked the brake on his grandfather’s wheelchair and wheeled him out of the “Family Room” of the Alzheimer’s wing.

“Taking Pops for a walk, Katie,” Zane called cheerfully as he passed the nurse’s station.

“I’ll buzz you out,” the cute blonde answered. “Have a nice walk.”

“We always do.” With the dog trailing behind him, he pushed the wheelchair through the set of double doors that were locked to keep the patients inside. His grandfather wore a band on his wrist as an extra safety precaution. The wristband set off an alarm any time he passed through the doors of the ward. The band helped to alert the staff if he wandered away on those days when he could still walk on his own.

“I went to that benefit dinner for the hospital last night, Pops.” Zane pushed the wheelchair down the hallway, headed for the doors that exited into the garden area. “I gave Mr. Johann your check and told him how disappointed you were that you couldn’t be there yourself. And guess what else happened?” He hit a big silver pad on the wall and the doors swung open, allowing him to push the wheelchair through. Scootie burst through the door first, into the morning sunshine.

“I met a girl. You’d like her. She’s cute and she’s funny and she’s smart.”

The doors swung closed behind them.

“I really liked her,” he said thoughtfully, shaking his head. “She’s a real estate agent. A real go-getter according to Richard.”

Zane pushed his grandfather around a small circular herb garden, headed for the tomato patch. Tom Keaton had always grown some of the best tomatoes in Sussex County, and the hospital had been nice enough to give him a small flower bed to plant. Other patients would come out and pick them when they were ripe; Tom just liked to see the plants.

“You know how I feel about women like that, Pops. They just aren’t for me. They don’t care about anything but their job. No family ties. No purpose in life except work twelve hour days and make money. I’m looking for a woman who wants to be a part of my life the way grandma was a part of your life.”

Zane’s mother had been one of those women who put her career ahead of her family. She’d been so wrapped up in her advertising job that she’d never had time for him and his sister. She’d missed the only home run he ever hit playing Little League baseball, when he was ten. She’d never attended his band concerts. Never brought homemade cupcakes to school for his birthday like the other moms. His parents had finally divorced when he was twelve, and she now lived in New York City, working for a big shot ad company. He rarely saw her, and when he did, they were casual strangers.

“As soon as I found out what Ellie—that’s her name—what Ellie did for a living, I know I shouldn’t have asked her out, but I did.” He grabbed a stick and hurled it in the air. Scootie took off after it. “Well, sort of.”

He chuckled as he pushed the wheelchair up close to the small patch of tomato plants and plucked a weed that had sneaked up through the mulch. “I couldn’t help myself. She was just so nice and fun to be with.”

He looked down at his grandfather who stared at the plants. “And it wasn’t really a date I asked her out on anyway. I told her I was looking for land to buy. And that’s kind of true. I mean we’re always looking for good farmland, right?”

He paused. “I know. Even that’s a mistake. I’m just setting myself up for another fall. I can just see the whole thing with Judy happening all over again. One call and off she goes to Singapore for a job promotion. So much for the engagement ring. So much for good ol’ Zane.”

He crouched down beside the wheelchair and scooped up a little dirt. He pressed it into his grandfather’s hand and closed the old man’s fingers around it.

Somewhere in Tom’s clouded, pale blue eyes, Zane sensed some kind of recognition. Zane lifted his grandfather’s feeble hand close to his nose so that he could breathe in the scent of the warm, dark soil.

“The thing is, Pops, I really liked her. I was thinking about taking her out in the boat on Friday. Showing her your dad’s land. What do you think?”

Zane carefully loosened his grandfather’s hands and sprinkled the dirt onto the ground again. “I know, do what I think’s best. You’ll always support me.”

He sighed and sat back on the bench. Scootie dropped the stick at his feet and Zane threw it as far as he could. The dog bounded off and to Zane’s delight, his grandfather smiled.

“You like it when I bring Scootie, don’t you?” Zane leaned forward. “Here, let me get that.” He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his grandfather’s plaid shirt and gently wiped the old man’s mouth. He refolded it and tucked it back into the pocket, giving it a pat.

As if on cue, the black Lab came bounding back, stick in his mouth and he collapsed at the foot of the wheelchair.

“Hey, look who’s back, Pops!” Zane gave Scootie a scratch between the ears. “So how about a walk down the path, through the woods?” he asked, already on his feet, grabbing the wheelchair.

“Here we go.” He pushed his grandfather down the walk. The dog bounded past them, familiar with the path they took several days a week. “Think we can take him if we run?”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Zane answered for Tom. And then he took off at a run, pushing the wheelchair.

Grandfather opened his arms and tipped back his head and grinned, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face.

To Zane, that smile was worth a million dollars.

Wednesday morning, Elise headed downtown in her car to drop off some paperwork for a client. She hadn’t heard from Zane yet, but she guessed he would call her tonight. She had a women’s business league meeting right after work, but she’d skip the dinner afterward, just to be sure she was home when he called. She was trying hard not to get her hopes up. He hadn’t said he wanted a date. He’d said he wanted to talk about real estate.

Elise signaled and turned left onto a divided road that went through the middle of town. As she passed an old beat-up pickup truck, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

It couldn’t be.

She slowed down so that the dilapidated truck passed her in the right lane. The truck spat and sputtered as it chugged along, bits of straw blowing out of its bed. It didn’t even have a typical Delaware state license plate, but instead had a tag, that read Farm Vehicle in black block letters. The body of the truck was blue. Rusted blue. The original tailgate had been replaced sometime when she was a teenager with a red one. The tailgate’s rust matched the body’s quite nicely.

Elise clutched the steering wheel of her imported sedan as the driver came into view again. He had the radio blasting to some old rock station that played hits from the seventies and eighties. The song “Ballroom Blitz” blared and he sang along. His dusty ball cap was pulled down low over his brow, one muscular, tanned arm rested on the open window as he tapped to the tune.

The farmer looked like Zane.

It couldn’t be Zane, of course. Zane drove a BMW sedan. Even though she didn’t know what he did for a living, she could guess from the kind of man he was. She was certain he was working in an office somewhere right now. Wearing a gray business suit, ordering employees around. At the very least he was having lunch with a client, sipping a nice wine and ordering Caesar salad with the dressing on the side.

They say everyone has a twin, she told herself, trying not to hyperventilate as she let the truck pull away from her. She ignored the guy in the white car behind her who was tailgating in an effort to get her to speed up.

That farmer was obviously Zane’s twin. Wasn’t that a funny coincidence? Right here in their own town of Nassateague Bay.

Or maybe Zane had an identical twin brother and he just hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe the farmer was a twin brother, that was it. A black sheep of the family. Never made it to college. Worked on a potato farm. Planted and harvested soybeans for a living.

Elise forced herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. She put down the passenger side window so she could get some air.

The tailgater passed her. “It’s the pedal on the right,” he shouted as he whizzed by.

Elise slowly pressed the accelerator until she was once again doing the speed limit. The pickup turned right at the next intersection. Without thinking, she signaled and switched lanes quickly so that she could follow the imposter.

It wasn’t Zane. She knew the farmer wasn’t Zane. He couldn’t be Zane. There was no place to indicate “farmer” on The Husband Finder checklist. She had clearly stated in the career category that she was looking for a professional, a man who would understand her devotion to her profession. She tried not to panic as she followed the truck down a narrow side street.

Two blocks down, the truck made another right. She continued to follow at a safe distance.

The farmer wasn’t Zane, and she was going to prove it to herself.

The truck pulled into a gravel parking lot. She had never been on this side of town. A sign on the side of the tin-roofed cement block building read Smitty’s Seed & Feed. It was a feed store, for heaven’s sake. A store where farmers bought their…animal provisions and bird seed, she supposed.

She slowed down, watching as the old truck lurched to a halt and the door swung open. As she drove by, she saw the farmer lift his head, raise a hand and call good-naturedly to a man standing in an open door on the loading dock.

She knew that voice.

She knew that bad-boy blond hair sticking out from beneath the ball cap.

Elise drove by the store and kept going.

She was afraid she might cry.

A farmer? Zane farmed for a living? Now what? Career was a big heading on The Husband Finder checklist. It was even printed in bold. She’d already ignored the whole chemistry advice. Could she scratch out the career part, too? Would the list still work?

Elise pulled into a parking spot in front of her client’s business and picked up her cell phone to call Liz’s extension at work.

“Liz Jefferson.”

“Liz,” Elise said, feeling a little silly for even calling about this in the middle of the day. Liz was busy; personal lives were supposed to stay out of the office.

“Elise?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Elise said. “I just saw Zane in town.”

“And he canceled your date? Excuse me, your nondate?” she corrected. “Jerk.”

“No, no. I didn’t speak to him. I just saw him drive by.”

“And he had a woman with him and a baby in a car seat in the back. The man’s married. Jerk.”

“No, Liz, listen to me. I saw Zane and he…he was driving a pickup. An old pickup.” She took a deep breath. “Liz, he got out of the truck at a feed store wearing overalls.”

“Sweet Mary, mother of Joseph,” Liz swore.

“I don’t think he’s a doctor or a lawyer,” Elise said. “What do I do?”

“What do you do?” Liz shrieked. “You cancel the date, of course. You were the top seller for Waterfront Realty last month. You don’t date farmers.”

Elise gathered her client’s paperwork from the passenger’s seat. She should have known that’s what Liz would say. Liz was all about how things appeared. She didn’t even date men who were junior partners in a firm. “You think?” Elise said in a small voice.

“Look at the book, peruse the checklist,” Liz said firmly. “It’s not one of the choices, sweetie. I don’t care how fine-looking the man is.”

“I have to go,” Elise told Liz. “I’m dropping off Joe Carmine’s contracts on that warehouse.”

“Call and cancel the date,” Liz insisted. “Just call, and leave a message on Zane’s answering machine and tell him you can’t meet him, but if he wants to talk about land, he can call the office and you’ll be happy to see him.”

“Gotta go, Liz,” Elise said. “Talk to you later.”

Elise climbed out of her car and delivered her client’s contracts. Half an hour later, back in the car, she picked up her cell phone and stared at it. Was Liz right? Should she cancel now before things went any further with Zane? Just leave a message on his answering machine? He wasn’t fitting the profile she’d laid out for herself. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for a husband. Her whole attraction, so far, had been based on sheer chemistry. Right?

It was the right thing to do. Before she changed her mind, she hit the buttons on the phone, rehearsing what she would say as she waited for his answering machine to pick up.

Did farmers even have answering machines?

“Hello.”

Zane’s voice startled Elise so badly that she almost hung up. He was there? How was he there? She had just seen him at the feed store. Shouldn’t he be out riding a tractor or something?

“Hello?” Zane repeated.

“Z-Zane,” Elise said, trying to find her voice.

“Ellie.”

She could almost hear his smile over the phone. “Yes, it’s Elise.” She paused. She knew what she needed to say now. She needed to tell him that she couldn’t make it Friday night. That was all she had to say. She didn’t need to make an excuse. In business, one never made excuses.

“Hey, you’re not calling to bail out on me, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

“N-no, no of course not.” The words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He had called her Ellie. He had smiled when he said her name. He was so darned nice.

She took a deep breath. Why was she listening to other people instead of herself? The heck with Liz. The heck with her father’s voice in her head. Maybe she’d just made a mistake when she’d filled out the career part in The Husband Finder. Maybe she was supposed to be more general. “Of course I’m not canceling,” she said.

“Well, good, because I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“You have?” she said softly.

“Mmm-hmm. I actually turned down my sister’s garlic roast for you. She called last night to see if I wanted to come to dinner Friday night, and I told her I was busy.”

That was so sweet. No man had ever turned down his sister’s roast for her before.

“So,” she said. “What are you doing home this time of day? I…I thought I would get your answering machine. I was…just calling to see what I should wear Friday. You said you wanted to talk about some land, but I didn’t know if that meant drinks…dinner?” she said, hoping she didn’t come on too strong.

“Dress casual. Wear sneakers. No panty hose. I want to take you out on my boat, show you a piece of land I’m interested in. As for why I’m home, I’m here because I wanted to check my chicks before I went by the office.”

What he said about the boat went right over her head. She heard the word office and her heart buoyed. She didn’t know what the deal with the old truck and the overalls was, but he worked in an office. Farmers didn’t have offices.

Then she realized he had said “chicks.” Surely he didn’t run a topless dancing place or something. “Your chicks?” she asked.

He laughed. “Baby chicks. Peeps. You know. Gallus domesticus. Chickens. As in Kentucky Fried. I raise chickens.”

A chicken farmer? Her prince who was going to save her from a life of microwave popcorn dinners and lonely nights with Letterman was a chicken farmer? There was no way chicken farmer was going to fit on that itty bitty line on The Husband Finder checklist.

“Chickens?” she managed. “You raise chickens?”

“Actually eggs. These chicks are a new breed I’m trying out. I like to keep my eye on them myself. So how’s six?”

“Six? Six is good.” Elise felt numb to the tips of her toes and she didn’t think it was because her shoes were too tight. “I’ll be ready at six. I…I’ll meet you at the boat dock. I’ll have to come right from work.”

He gave her directions to the place on the bay where he put out his boat. Elise just kept nodding like a numb wit.

“Listen, I’d better get back to work,” Zane said.

“Me, too,” Elise answered, as if coming out of her daze.

“See you Friday on the dock?”

“See you Friday.”

She hung up and sat there in her car for a moment staring at the cell phone in her hand. A smile found its way to her face as she was filled with a strange sense of confidence. A chicken farmer? So what if he was a chicken farmer? He was still the finest looking chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.

He was the only chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.

She’d just squeeze it in on the checklist.

Smiling to himself, Zane hung up the phone on the wall by the refrigerator. He was looking forward to seeing Ellie on Friday; he was glad he had set aside his concerns about her occupation.

He opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of lemonade. Elise Montgomery wasn’t the kind of woman Zane usually dated. He tended to go for the earthy sort; flowered skirts, long, flowing hair, recycling fanatics. Kindergarten teachers. Social workers. He wished he’d asked Ellie more about her work. She had told him that she worked for a realty company. He wondered if selling real estate was just a job to her or if she was a “career woman.” He hadn’t had much luck with career women. In fact, he’d made a pact with himself to stay away from them.

First there had been his mother; she’d never been meant to have a husband, children. Then he’d dated Judy, one of his researchers for two years, and then asked her to marry him. They had actually been looking at wedding dates when she’d gotten the chance to take a job in Singapore. She had told Zane that she had deep feelings for him, but that she was at a point in her life when she had to put herself and her career first. As much as he hated to admit it, then and now, Judy had really hurt him. Now, as uncool and as backward as it sounded, he was looking for a woman ready to devote herself to a relationship. He wanted a woman to be able to devote her life to him the way he wanted to devote his life to someone he loved.

Zane finished off his lemonade and set the glass in the sink. He pushed open the screen door and crossed the back porch of the farmhouse he had grown up in. His father and his grandparents had made it a warm, welcoming home, and it was his hope that some day he would raise a family here.

Of course, first, he needed a wife. And he didn’t need a wife whose job was more important than her family. So far, the wife hunting wasn’t going so well. He was tired of casual dating however, the women he’d met just didn’t light his fire. But Ellie, there was something about Ellie that was different than all the others.

Her designer dresses and nice shoes somehow didn’t quite ring true. Didn’t quite fit. There was something innocent about her, despite her worldliness. In his mind’s eye he could see curling up by the fireplace in the front room with her in the evening, cuddled under one of Grandma’s quilts, sharing their day with each other. He could see making babies with her in the four-poster bed he now slept in alone. He could imagine sharing his dreams with her…his life.

Was he crazy? Richard had stood there at the hospital dinner and said Elise Montgomery was a high-powered broker. He might as well have looked right at Zane and said “This woman isn’t for you.”

But Zane really liked her. And their date really wasn’t a date anyway, was it? He’d just have to keep that in mind on Friday.

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