Wanted: Husband, Will Train Page 2

  The Tamberlaines and the Calhouns were both represented by the same firm. “He is also the family lawyer,” Mandy reminded her pointedly. “Daddy says he’s unreproachable.” It was why her own family dealt exclusively with the wizened lawyer and why, Mandy knew, Courtney’s father had, as well.

  It had taken Courtney time to reconcile herself to the fact that her father had meant well. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe that she could actually be all but disinherited, except for a small yearly allowance, if she didn’t follow the letter of the clause. It all sounded far too medieval.

  But Mandy was right. Time was growing short. She needed to be assured that everything would be all right if she wasn’t standing in front of an altar within the next four weeks, saying words no one meant anymore.

  She set her mouth. “Every man can be bought.”

  Mandy’s eyes widened as she straightened on the sofa. “You’d try to bribe him?”

  Bribery had such an ugly sound to it. Courtney didn’t want to think in terms of ugly. Not when the matter was connected to something that had to do with her father. He’d been a stubborn old man, but she’d loved no one more and she missed him dearly.

  Courtney gave a short, noncommittal nod. “Only as a last measure.”

  “With what?” Mandy hooted. “In case you’ve forgotten, most of your money is locked up in a trust. And Eddie Parsons has the keys, so to speak.” She grinned. No one would have dared call the lawyer Eddie to his face, except maybe Courtney. “No, if you don’t want your money scattered to the winds and five hundred charities, you’d better find yourself a man, Courtney. And quick.”

  Courtney was acutely aware of the fact that at almost thirty she still wasn’t allowed to manage the sum total of her wealth, thanks to her father and what he deemed was his wisdom. “Finding a man isn’t the problem.” She knew a great many men, all of whom would have loved to be associated with the Tamberlaine money. Hammering out an acceptable prenuptial agreement would probably take longer than the allotted time she supposedly had. Besides, none met her father’s requirement: a hard-working man from a working-class background. “It’s the marrying part I don’t like. No one can dictate to me.”

  Mandy grinned. Something beyond the French doors caught her eye and she turned her head to get a better look. “Your father obviously can, even if it is from the Great Beyond.”

  That was true enough, although she didn’t like it. “I suppose he thought it was a good thing when he did it.” She knew better. It was a hopelessly outdated idea. “But just because Mother was a waitress before he married her doesn’t mean that I have to go to a local thrift shop to pick out a husband.”

  “Why not advertise?” Humor twisted Mandy’s lips as she spread her hands in the air, as if to frame the ad. “Wanted: Husband, Will Train.” She winked. “That’s in case. his ‘rough’ background proves to be too rough for your tastes.”

  The humor in the situation escaped Courtney. “I don’t like being forced into anything.”

  There was a man by Courtney’s guest house, Mandy realized. A gorgeous half-naked man who, if he had any pity on the world at large, wouldn’t have stopped at shedding his clothing when he removed his shirt.

  “Things could always be worse,” Mandy mumbled, only half listening to Courtney’s response. She rose to her knees, watching the man bend over as he took measure of something or other. Mandy almost swallowed her tongue. Eyes bright, she looked at Courtney. “Hey, who is that gorgeous hunk?”

  “Hmm?” Preoccupied, Courtney stepped over to see what Mandy was staring at. She might have known. “Oh, him.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Sloan hired him to fix up the guest house.”

  Leaning against the back of the sofa, Mandy propped her head up against her hands and continued staring. “Wow. Can Sloan get him for me?”

  An uneasiness was beginning to set in. Courtney was getting a strong feeling that maybe Mandy was right for a change. Maybe Parsons wouldn’t relent.

  “You don’t have a guest house,” she murmured, distracted. She crossed to the desk and pulled the telephone closer. No time like the present.

  “What guest house?” Mandy spared Courtney one quick look over her shoulder before she returned her gaze to the man beyond the pool. “I mean for me. He’s absolutely beautiful.”

  Mandy had exhaled the last word as if she were uttering a prayer. Courtney glanced up and took another look at Gabriel. She shrugged. “In a raw sort of way.”

  Mandy looked up at her friend, obviously puzzled. “And that would be a bad thing because…?”

  Mandy always went for the ones without depth. Courtney shook her head, terminating the discussion.

  “Never mind.” She tapped out the number to Parsons’s office. It was a small firm, with only two other partners, both junior, and Parsons at the head. He was at a place in his life now where he could pick and choose who he represented. “Mr. Parsons, please.” Courtney sighed as the woman on the other end tried to put her off. “No, I won’t leave a message. This is Courtney Tamberlaine. I need to speak to him. Now. Thank you.”

  Courtney waited for Parsons to come on the line. She toyed with the wire and looked toward Mandy. The woman looked as if she was in a trance. Curious, Courtney followed her transfixed gaze. Gabriel had just moved into view again. Because of the way the sun hit, she was aware more than ever of the sheen of perspiration on his body.

  As was Mandy. She sighed, looking up at Courtney. “Glows, doesn’t he?”

  Courtney moved away from the view. “That’s sweat.”

  “Yeah.” Mandy wiggled farther into her cushion, as if in her mind she had already found a way to share that dampened state with him. “I know.”

  “You’re hopeless,” Courtney murmured. Although, she could see what the attraction was this time, she added silently. He was good-looking, if somewhat rude.

  Courtney’s mind snapped to attention as the gentle classical music abruptly stopped on the other end of the line. “Mr. Parsons? Yes, this is Courtney Tamberlaine. About my father’s will—” Courtney was prepared to roll right over him until she stated—and got—what she wanted.

  The Oxford-educated voice broke in as if she wasn’t speaking. “Yes, Miss Tamberlaine?”

  From the steely tone, Courtney knew this was going to.be an uphill fight. Well, so be it. She was up to the challenge. There was a hell of a prize at stake, one she wanted without having to expand her family of one.

  Damn it, it was her heritage, her due. When he was alive, her father had lavished her with attention and gifts far beyond anything she could imagine. Why, in death, had he made life so difficult for her?

  There was no room for idle chitchat. Taking a breath, she plunged into the heart of it. “You’re not seriously going to hold me to that clause, are you?”

  She could have sworn she heard mild amusement on the other end. Parsons might have even smiled. Now there would have been a rare sight, she thought dourly.

  “The one that states if you’re not married by your thirtieth birthday to a hard-working man of the middle class your money, except for a generous allowance, reverts to a number of charities your father enumerated?”

  It was hard not to grit her teeth together. “Yes, that one.”

  “I most certainly am.”

  Yes, he was definitely smiling. Perhaps even grinning. Courtney addressed him in her most formidable tone. “Mr. Parsons—”

  There was no indication that it fazed him the way it did others when she used it. “It’s not my will, Miss Tamberlaine, it’s your father’s, and it is my sworn duty as his lawyer to uphold it.”

  There had to be a way around this. “If I could have an extension—”

  There was a pause and a rustle of paper, as if he was perusing the will to double-check details. As if it wasn’t indelibly etched into his brain, the way every other scrap of paper he’d ever put a pen to seemed to be, she thought, annoyed.

  Finally, he answered. “There was no mention of exte
nsions.”

  She wanted to be indulged, not patronized. Courtney tried again, attempting to appeal to his sense of fair play. “You can’t expect me to run out and many the first laborer I find, do you?”

  Courtney saw the wide grin on Mandy’s face as the other woman pointed toward the French doors. Courtney turned her back on Mandy.

  “I haven’t the right to expect anything, Miss Tamberlaine,” Parsons’s accented voice carefully enunciated in her ear. “Your father, however, having made you aware of the terms of the will before he died, did have the right to expect you to have found someone by now. It isn’t as if this could come as a surprise to you at this point.”

  The pompous bastard. Courtney struggled to bridle her frustration. “No, but I thought you would be reasonable about this.”

  She might as well have been arguing with a wall for all the impression she made. “I am the soul of reasonableness, Miss Tamberlaine. However, it states here in black and white—”

  She knew damn well what it stated and didn’t need to have it read to her. “Fine.”

  With an uncustomary display of temper, Courtney slammed the receiver down into the cradle. It bounced off. Muttering, she replaced it a second time.

  Now what?

  “No luck?” Mandy guessed, tongue in cheek. With regret, she forced herself to tear her eyes away from the view. Her neck was beginning to ache. Watching Courtney pace around the room, Mandy slowly rotated her head from side to side.

  Courtney slanted her a look to see if Mandy was attempting to be funny. It didn’t matter. Courtney waved a hand at the telephone.

  “He’s an unmovable old bastard.” Granted, she hadn’t tried to bribe him, but Mandy was right. That wouldn’t have worked, anyway.

  What would it have cost the old grump to let her slide for a while?

  Mandy settled back against the cushions. “He’s only carrying out your father’s wishes.”

  Courtney frowned. She knew that. But it didn’t make things any easier to cope with. And she had to blame someone. She didn’t like the thought of railing against her father.

  “You’re no help.” She spun around on her heel, bringing the challenge to Mandy’s feet. “How am I supposed to find the love of my life in twenty-eight days?” She threw up her hands. “Where am I supposed to look? In the Yellow Pages under L?”

  Mandy suddenly smiled. “How about in your own backyard?”

  She was having a crisis and Mandy was still salivating over the help! Courtney blew out a breath. “His name is John Gage or Gabriel or something like that. You want a date?”

  Mandy spared the man one last look, but he had moved out of view again. “I wish. No, I meant for you.”

  Courtney stopped pacing and looked at Mandy. “For me, what?” Courtney asked slowly. She couldn’t imagine that Mandy actually meant….

  Sometimes Courtney could be positively obtuse, Mandy thought. Excited, she got off the sofa. “Your working man.” Gripping Courtney by the arms, she turned her friend toward the French doors. “The kind of guy your father wanted you to find.”

  Courtney pulled away as she rolled her eyes. “Oh please—besides, he’s married.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment fairly dripped from the single word. Mandy cast a last hopeful look toward the object of the conversation. “You’re sure?”

  “He has a daughter,” Courtney informed her tersely. “As a matter of fact, she just asked me to be her mommy.” Courtney replayed the scene at the pool in her mind. Her eyes shifted to Mandy. “Why would she ask me to be her mommy?”

  Mandy shrugged. “She doesn’t like the one she has?”

  That wasn’t it. Courtney drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, thinking. “No, she said something about my looking like her. Like her picture.”

  It was all the clue Mandy needed. “That means she doesn’t have the genuine article!” Eyes bright with excitement, she grasped Courtney’s arm again. “Which means Mr. Tool-Belt-with-the-gorgeous-hips is either divorced or widowed.” She snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

  Sometimes she didn’t think there were any planes landing in Mandy’s airport. “What bingo?”

  Courtney was like a horse that had to be led to water and then splashed with it. Mandy curbed her impatience. “As in you win the prize.” She gestured toward the French doors and what she clearly regarded as the perfect specimen of manhood just beyond. “Him.”

  Frozen in place, Courtney felt numb. “You’re not seriously suggesting—?”

  “Yes, I am. Very seriously,” Mandy insisted. Her exession bore her out. “He’s the answer to your dilemma, not to mention most women’s dreams.” She eyed her best friend. “Unless you have any better ideas?”

  Courtney turned away from the view of the backyard. And Gabriel. She refused to look at Mandy. Feeling suddenly weary and at a loss, she headed toward the bar. She normally didn’t drink, and then only after five. But all rules were broken sometimes.

  “Mandy, we’ve been friends since childhood. Otherwise, I’d seriously suggest to your father that he have you committed.” Courtney took out a glass, her hand on a crystal decanter. It remained poised there.

  Mandy laid her hand over her friend’s. When Courtney looked into her eyes, she saw only compassion there. “C’mon, Court, you’re not thinking. It’ll be a business proposition. An arranged marriage. A guy like that’s got to have needs—”

  Courtney laughed shortly, but there was no humor in the sound. When it came down to it, she was sure that John Gabriel was just like any other man she’d met. Just out for himself and his own pleasures. “Yes, I know.”

  For a second, a foolish grin crossed Mandy’s mouth. Then she roused herself. “No, I mean monetary ones. He’s a single father working odd jobs. These are expensive times. Maybe he’d like to give the kid a few more things than he can afford—like college.” She shrugged. “Make him a deal. Look, you’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose.”.

  Courtney rolled the idea over in her mind. It was absolutely insane, and yet…what choice did she have? And at least here, if she made up the terms, she would be in the driver’s seat.

  “In a crazy way, I suppose you do have a point. I’m certainly not going to find true love in twenty-eight days and I resent being painted into a corner like that.” Hands braced on the knob of both doors, she pulled them open. A ripple of excitement telegraphed itself through her. “Okay. Here goes.”

  Mandy stopped her before she could get any further.

  “What?” Courtney paused, puzzled. Wasn’t this what Mandy wanted her to do?

  “Take off the coverup,” Mandy urged. “Let him see what he’ll be getting.”

  He had already seen her without the robe and hadn’t thought her worth a second look, Courtney thought, a little petulantly. She lifted her chin. His loss—although it actually would make things less complicated.

  “He’s not going to be getting anything except a check,” she told Mandy.

  But she did manage to undo the knot at her waist as she sauntered out. A corner of robe slipped from her shoulder before she reached him.

  “Mr. Gabriel.” When he didn’t respond, Courtney raised her voice. He was hammering too loud to hear. But the little girl came running over to her. That caught his attention and he turned around.

  His eyes were amazingly green, she thought. Even at this distance. For the first time, Courtney felt a little less confident than she was comfortable with. “Mr. Gabriel?”

  John hooked the hammer on his belt as if he were a gunfighter putting away his weapon. “Yes?”

  She was unaware of moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue before she answered. But he wasn’t.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Katie furrowed her brow until her bright blue eyes became tiny glittering slits outlined in dark velvet lashes. Confused, she turned toward her foremost authority on absolutely everything. “What’s a ‘pop-o-zshion,’ Daddy?”

&n
bsp; John smiled at his little girl. Like a sponge, he thought with pride. Katie wanted to know everything, understand everything. There were times when he just had to stop, stand back and focus on the thought that this precious being had been placed into his life, given to him like a gift. And he had done absolutely nothing to deserve her. The very thought left him in a state of awe.

  He placed a firm, gentling hand on the small shoulder, as if to anchor his daughter in place. His gaze had the same effect on Courtney. It all but mortared her to the gray-blue and pink pavers that had been so painstakingly laid into the patio.

  What was he thinking? she wondered. There was no way to tell. His expression was chiseled out of stone. Only his eyes testified to his human state. They became warmer whenever he turned them toward his daughter.

  John took assessment of the woman before him, only mildly curious about what she had in mind. It was his experience that people who didn’t work for a living, who didn’t have to worry about bills piling up, had way too much time on their hands. What they found interesting, he rarely did.

  “A proposition is what people call suggestions they feel other people can’t refuse,” he explained to his daughter.

  He was almost mocking her as he said it, Courtney realized. Now she could see what he was thinking. Those gorgeous, wide, bronzed shoulders had a chip on them. She couldn’t begin to guess at its origin, but it almost seemed to have something to do with her. She thought of abandoning the whole ridiculous idea, but then she thought of her other options.

  There weren’t any.

  She was in a corner—never mind that it was partially of her own cavalier doing. Unless something better occurred to her between now and her birthday, this was it.

  And “it” didn’t look very flexible.

  Courtney could feel her spine stiffening, her body girding up for a challenge. Damn you, Daddy, is this what you wanted? To have me grabbing hold of some sweaty laborer with a drill bit just because you thought that someone who worked for a living would have the right values for me? I have all the right values, Daddy. I don’t need that firm hand guiding me that you were always talking about.