Secret Admirer: Secret Kisses / Hidden Hearts / Dream Marriage

“Matt damn sure has a way with kids.”

No sooner had Ol’ Bill Sinclair paid for his stacks of pies than Matt left his own booth and fans. He stalked straight to the display that described her cooking services, which were to be auctioned.

Feelings of triumph turned to horror when he leaned over and studied the paper with an air of intense interest. A lock of inky hair fell across his dark eyebrow when he lifted the paper and took out a pen.

No! No! Don’t you dare!

Bending lower, he scribbled something on the paper, glanced her way and smiled wickedly before returning to his cheering horde. Soon afterward a crowd began to gather around her display. She sucked in air.

What had he done?

Soon, she was so curious and terrified to know, she was wringing her hands when Ol’ Bill patted her shoulder and said, “Don’t you fret. I’ll go check it out.”

Was she so obvious?

Ol’ Bill was back at her booth before she could blink twice. Not that she much liked the mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“Looks like your Harper’s done gone and bought himself the prettiest little cook in town.”

“He’s not my Harper.”

“Well, maybe you’re his then. He bid five thousand dollars for your cooking services.”

Her cheeks flamed. Her heart raced. She’d kill Harper for this. She would!

“With conditions,” Ol’ Bill amended softly.

“With conditions?” she parroted.

“Girl, I knew you was a cook, but he must want your services mighty bad. Ain’t nobody but a fool with money to burn gonna top that bid. You and he go back a long way, don’t cha?”

She could feel her cheeks heating now. “We don’t go back at all. And don’t you dare print a word about this in the Gazette. And don’t you dare tell my mother about this either.”

Ol’Bill chuckled. “She’s psychic, remember. She predicted you’d be born in a special way, just didn’t see how.”

“Don’t you dare go into the particulars of that event either.”

“What I’m trying to say is everybody in town already knows about you and Matt.”

“Did he write that love letter?”

Ol’ Bill winked at her. “He’s never been one to declare himself. But don’t you worry none. It’ll all come out in the wash, sweetheart.”

He had written it.

Well, that didn’t give him rights over her!

“It certainly will come out in the wash,” she said as she lifted the wooden door to her booth, slammed it down so hard the whole booth shook and strode over to the display that offered her cooking services. Sure enough, Matt’s name was a sloppy swirling scrawl of livid black ink ten times bigger than the other neatly written names. In addition, he’d penned, “Five thousand dollars. With conditions.”

As she read the enormous black letters and reread that incredible figure, the home team struck a home run, and the crowd in the bleachers began to stomp and roar again. The sound was so deafening, she covered her ears.

Suddenly Matt was beside her. When he put his arms protectively around her, she began to quiver even as she pushed him away.

“How could you bid five thousand dollars for a few meals? Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Going after what I want.” He slid his checkbook out of his hip pocket and uncapped his pen. “After all, it’s for a cause we both believe in.” His bold gaze drifted from her mouth to her neck.

She gasped, afraid they’d drift lower to her breasts. They didn’t. Instead he leaned over the table and wrote her a check for five thousand dollars.

After a moment or two she caught her breath.

He handed her the crisp blue check, which was indeed made out for five thousand dollars.

“Don’t play games, Harper. What do you mean by…er…conditions?”

“I want breakfast in bed every morning up until the Spring Fling. I’m not picky when it comes to food. Just geography, which is you serving me breakfast in my bed.”

“What?”

“Don’t look so shocked. Villains like me always prefer to lure the damsels they want to their den to seduce them.”

She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “I will not sleep with you! Or kiss you! Or…or…”

“Oh, and wear your hair down, darlin’, and lose the glasses. You’re much prettier without them—as I’m sure you know.”

“I’m blind as a bat without my glasses.”

“Your mother bought you contacts years ago.”

“You have no right to know that.”

“Everybody in Red Rock knows everything, darlin’. It’s part of the town’s charm. Lose the glasses.”

She was wondering what to do when her friend Annie, who happened to work at the bank Matt’s check had been drawn on, walked by again.

“Oh, Annie!” she cried, afraid to be alone with Matt for another second.

Annie turned and smiled. She was pretty and tall. Her lush red hair was down tonight, and her brown eyes were warm and friendly as she made her way toward them.

“I heard you two were working together on this,” she said, looking pleased. “You did a great job. Everybody’s so happy you finally made up.”

“We have not made up,” Jane said.

“Oh. I thought—”

“Yes, we have,” Matt said.

Jane handed her the check. “Is this good or not?”