Fiance Wanted

“Well, I just came from—”

“Hang around and you can take me home.” She looped an arm around his waist and squeezed meaningfully.

Dylan felt the breath of doom on the back of his neck. “I’d like to, Brandee, but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” Her blue eyes challenged him.

“Uhh…because…ahh…” He thought fast, or rather his thoughts tumbled fast. “Because…I’m taken.”

That stopped her, at least momentarily. “Taken?”

“You know, I’ve got a girl.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Would I kid you?”

She laughed. “If you thought you could get away with it. Who is this mysterious ‘girl’ you say you’ve got?”

He strove to look hurt. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

She considered, then nodded. “Exactly. I’ve known you too long to fall for your line. I’ll have to see her for myself.”

Dylan sucked in a deep breath. His back to the wall, he grasped at straws. “Drop by here Friday night and you’ll see her, all right.”

And even after you do, he added silently, you may not believe it.

I sure as hell don’t.

CHAPTER TWO

KATY PUT THE FINAL POLISH on an advance story for a city planning commission meeting, pushed the “send” button on her computer, and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Now she’d have time to think about what she’d been putting off since the phone call from her mother last night.

Which was, how to maneuver Dylan into thinking it was his idea to give their “engagement” another shot. Because no way did she want to grovel to get him to give it another try. On the other hand, she couldn’t bear to face another of her mother’s ill-conceived matchmaking attempts. In the past, she’d been “fixed up with” an aspiring professional wrestler, an accountant, and a college professor.

To say none of these efforts had worked out was an understatement. At least with Dylan, she knew what she’d be getting into. As her father used to say, “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know.”

So how was she going to get Dylan to do her bidding? She called Laura and explained her dilemma.

Laura didn’t mince words. “Couldn’t you just level with him? I don’t see what’s wrong with telling the truth.”

“Easy for you to say, now that you’re married and above the fray,” Katy said indignantly. “I’ve got to get him to play along with this but I don’t dare give him the upper hand by letting him know how important it is to me. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

“Why?” Laura sounded completely unperturbed. “I’ve never understood why you and Dylan treat each other like enemies. Just because he pulled your hair in third grade doesn’t seem sufficiently sinister to keep this feud alive.”

Great, Katy thought, hanging up. Even her best friend didn’t understand. Now what was she going to—

“Got a minute?”

She started and looked around to find Dylan standing just behind her desk in the newsroom. She swallowed hard and tried not to look or sound guilty. “Sure.”

He glanced around somewhat furtively. Katy was the last staff writer to get off deadline so the newsroom was empty except for the sports editor, who looked up with a grin and a wave for the popular Dylan.

“Can we get out of here?” he asked abruptly.

“Look, I’ve got a lot to do. I have phone calls out all over the county and—” She stopped speaking abruptly. After all, she wanted something from him and this wasn’t the way to get it. “Never mind. You can buy me lunch, if you want.”

“Big whoopee.” His mouth curved down at the corners unhappily. “I guess I could do that.”

“If you’re short of cash, I could buy you lunch.” She snatched up her shoulder bag from beneath her desk.

“That’ll be the day! You think John Wayne let women buy him lunch?”

“Why, you big—!” And then she saw he was laughing at her and she had to laugh herself.

Why was she so darned quick to jump on every word he said? She’d have to watch that if she was going to finagle him into doing her bidding.

Katy dropped the paper napkin on her lap and glanced around the Rawhide Café. “Looks like we’re giving the locals plenty to talk about,” she said dryly.

“Looks like.” Dylan resisted the almost unbearable impulse to fidget. If he was going to get Katy to take another shot at togetherness, however phony, he couldn’t let her know it mattered that much to him.

The silence stretched out. “Well?” she finally said impatiently. “I know you’ve got an ulterior motive for luring me here, so out with it.”

He toyed with his fork. “I just…I just wanted to make up for being a grouch last night.”

“Dylan, you’re always a grouch. This is, however, the first time you’ve apologized for it.”

“Am I?” He frowned.

“You certainly are.” She hesitated and the belligerence of her manner softened. “To tell the truth, I guess I’m usually a grouch with you, too. Apparently I just rub you the wrong way.”

If she ever rubbed him the right way—he yanked his thoughts up short, wondering what had come over him. This was Katy Andrews, after all, not just any good-lookin’ woman. “Then you accept my apology?” His voice sounded uncharacteristically rough.

She considered, her green eyes narrowing. “Sure,” she said finally, “why not?”

He felt a load lifting from his shoulders. “Great. Then how about we put our plan in motion by going to happy hour at the Painted Pony Friday night?”

“Going to—you mean, together? Like a date?” Those remarkably long-lashed eyes widened.

“I mean, like we planned. Remember, engagement? Make the grandma happy, scare off my legions of admirers?”

For a moment she stared at him, and then she leaned back in her chair, stifling laughter. “You’re suggesting that we reinstate Plan A?”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “I guess I am. What do you say, Katy? If we both make a real effort—”

“Burgers and fries, coming up.” The skinny kid waiter plunked two overflowing platters before them, and Dylan was forced to wait for her answer through the obligatory checklist: mustard, catsup, mayonnaise, extra pickles and lettuce, toasted bun. The woman made a production out of eating a lousy hamburger!

By the time the waiter withdrew, Dylan had lost any slight degree of patience he might have had. “Well, what’s your answer?”