The Wedding Deal

She climbed the wooden stairs at the side of the garage, and by the time she reached the screen door, Luke was waiting there, as if he’d watched her approach across the yard. He leaned casually against the jamb, his stance lazy, but there was enough caution in his rich brown eyes to give her the impression that he was wary of her visit.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly nervous all over again.

It wasn’t the impending conversation that had her stomach in a sudden jumble, but the man himself. While his single status, work ethic, and lack of ties to any one place declared him an unequivocal candidate for her husband hunt, he was so male, and everything feminine in her appreciated those virile qualities he possessed. Just standing there he exuded a shimmering heat and energy. And then there were his eyes, so deep and dark and potent. She shivered at the thought of him unleashing all that banked intensity, of being the recipient of all that latent sensuality.

He inclined his head, and an unruly lock of black hair fell over his forehead.

Since he didn’t seem inclined to strike up a conversation, she got down to business. “I came to apologize for the way I handled things back at the house.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he drawled in rich, soothing tones that belied the tension bunching the honed muscles across his chest and biceps. “The incident is already forgotten.”

He lied. His eyes revealed that just like her, he was remembering the lingering way he’d stroked her wrist, and the forbidden kiss that had tempted them both.

“I’d really like a fair chance to explain my proposition.”

His lips pursed in frustration. “Ms. Lowe—”

“It’s Eden,” she insisted, wanting to dispense with all formalities. “And I’m not leaving until you’ve heard me out.” To soften her forceful announcement, she smiled and opened one end of the wicker basket so the fragrant cinnamon streusel aroma wafted his way. “I brought a warm French apple pie and coffee.”

He lifted a brow, but didn’t move. “A bribe?”

“A bribe. A peace offering. The dessert I made that we didn’t get the chance to enjoy.” She shrugged as if the reasons for her bringing the pie were inconsequential. “Call it what you will as long as it gets me into your apartment, and a half hour of your time.”

Seemingly deciding that he’d lost this particular battle, resignation softened his features. He opened the door to let her enter his domain. As she passed, he said, “I never thought you were the pushy type.”

The slightest hint of amusement tinged his voice, giving her hope that she might be able to sway him to her way of thinking.

Setting her basket on the counter separating the tiny living room from the equally small kitchen, she gave the place a cursory glance. Other than the sparse furnishings that came with the apartment, there was nothing personal to indicate he’d made this place a home. No, a man like him would live life day to day, always ready to move on at any given moment.

At the end of a year, that trait would work to both of their advantages.

A startling warmth engulfed her when he came up beside her at the counter. Shaking off her awareness, she glanced his way. “I think persistent and determined are more apt descriptions for my personality type, and much more complimentary.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “And stubborn.”

His tone was serious, but there was a teasing twinkle in his eyes that put her at ease. He might try to be gruff and remote, but he obviously had some charm buried beneath that reserved exterior. Briefly, she wondered what had happened to him to make him such a solitary man, a loner who didn’t seem to need anything or anyone.

Opening the lid of her basket, she withdrew her bribe. “My mother always did say that I inherited my father’s stubborn streak. I’ve always considered it a strength.” Her husband, Bryce, however, hadn’t appreciated her backbone, and spent their six years of marriage trying to stifle her strong-willed personality.

Luke slid onto one of the cushioned bar stools as she served up two generous portions of warmed pie and pushed a plate toward him. “Where are your parents?”

“Both are gone.” She poured him a mug of fresh coffee from the thermos she’d packed, then a cup for herself. “We were traveling through Kansas when they died, on our way to Billings, Montana, where my parents planned to build a ranch and retire on some land that once belonged to my mother’s father. I was seventeen at the time, and my sister, Sarah, was twenty.”

He absorbed that while savoring a bite of pie, then asked, “Do you mind me asking what happened to them?”

“No.” Settling onto the stool next to his, she picked up her fork and recalled the events of that terrifying and life-altering day over eleven years ago. “My sister and I were in a hotel where we were staying for the night, and my mom and dad were on their way back from getting us dinner at a fast-food restaurant when they got caught in a tornado. It killed both of them.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his gaze compassionate.

“Me, too,” she said, scooping up a piece of pie. “We still miss them. They were good, honest, hardworking people, and wonderful parents. And they were all the family my sister and I had.”

Taking a bite of apples, streusel, and flaky crust, she thought about that land in Montana, and how she was going to sacrifice the only family legacy she had to ensure the Double L’s future. Her sister had sold her portion of land when she’d married her husband, Ray, but Eden had always hoped to build on her share one day. Financially, the dream wasn’t feasible. Emotionally, she couldn’t afford to start over, not with Phoebe’s welfare to consider.

And if Luke accepted her offer, what was left of her family’s legacy would belong to a stranger.

“So, if you were heading toward Montana, how did you end up coming to live in Texas?”

She watched as he picked up his mug of coffee, her gaze drawn to his hands, which were large, tanned and callused, his fingers long as they wrapped around the ceramic cup. For as much strength as those hands possessed, she knew they were also capable of great tenderness. Many times, she’d seen him gently stroke his palm along Diablo’s neck, and she’d witnessed the patient way he’d untangled a calf from a string of barbed wire, his deep voice soothing the frightened animal. She’d also seen those fingers stroke affectionately over Mouser, the pregnant female cat who lived in the barn and spent her days catching rodents.

An unexpected shiver swept through Eden. She knew from her own experience earlier that evening that Luke’s hands and voice could work magic on a woman’s senses as well.

Ducking her head back to her dessert, she banished those thoughts and considered his question. “After my parents’ death my sister and I stayed in Kansas, and that’s where Sarah met her husband, Ray. He was a bronc rider and traveled the rodeo circuit, but she managed to reform him.” Eden grinned, and Luke returned the gesture with a small smile of his own. “When they got married, he wanted to move back to Texas to be near his family, who lived in Centerville. Since I was only eighteen at the time, and Sarah didn’t want to leave me behind in Kansas, I came with her and lived with her and Ray for about a year, until I married Bryce and moved to the Double L.”

It was clear from his curious expression that Luke had more questions, but he didn’t voice any of them. She was grateful, because she had no desire to dredge up memories of her marriage and her husband’s domineering ways.

She considered turning the tables and asking Luke about his family, but figured a man like him wouldn’t have roots to speak of. But, their casual conversation had served to relax the both of them, establishing a friendly atmosphere for the topic to come.

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she set it next to her plate. “I suppose we should discuss the real reason I’m here.”

He served himself another slice of pie. “Ahh, yes, your proposition. I was hoping that slipped your mind.”

Not likely, she thought. Though he sounded skeptical, at least this time he seemed willing to listen to her. Without further preamble, she said, “Luke…I need to get married, and I think you and I could both benefit from such a union.”

Wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, he met her gaze. “Eden, I’m very flattered, but not only do we not know each other, I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Enthusiasm welled within her, and she turned on her bar stool to face him. “In fact, that’ll work out perfectly!”

Her eager response made him pause a moment. He took a long drink of coffee, subtle interest touching his expression. “All right, you’ve piqued my curiosity. Why are you looking to get married, and why someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” She tilted her head, grinning, trying to keep the conversation light. “You make it sound like you’re a bad thing.”

She was teasing him, but he didn’t respond in kind. Very slowly, he turned on the bar stool, so that his hard thighs bracketed her knees, trapping her between heat, and the male scent of him. He leaned a bit closer, invading the scant distance between them. “How do you know I’m not some depraved criminal?”

With his eyes so direct and intense, and his features shadowed with grim purpose, a distinct tingle of doubt shot through Eden, forcing her to acknowledge just how little she knew about this man she’d employed without checking past references. From the moment he’d walked onto the Double L looking for temporary work she’d liked and trusted him—pure instinct on her part—and in the weeks since hiring him he’d done nothing to diminish her high opinion of him.

If he was even an ounce as corrupted as he was suggesting, then he would have taken advantage of all the times they’d been alone on the ranch long before tonight. She’d also seen him with Phoebe, and how kind and patient he was with her daughter. If anything, Eden’s respect for Luke had increased during the past month.

He was trying to shake up her composure, attempting to make her back down and cower, just like he’d attempted up at the house earlier. But, she wasn’t one to retreat from a challenge, and he was about to learn just how deep her fortitude ran.

“You’re not some depraved criminal, Luke.”

His gaze narrowed. “But you don’t know that for sure, do you?”

She dismissed his direct provocation, and the insinuation behind his words. The only thing she knew for certain was that something in Luke’s past haunted him, made him believe he wasn’t worthy of trust and respect. “I believe it, and that’s all that matters.”

She’d given him the perfect opportunity to do something to prove the sort of man he was, but he merely released a sound of disgust and sat forward again. “Why don’t you wait until you fall in love with a man who’ll make you a suitable, proper husband?”

She chose her answer carefully. “Because I don’t care to be any man’s wife again, not in the sense that includes honoring and obeying.”