The Bride's Choice. Sara Orwig

When he looked at her that way, her heart- beat became a drumroll drowning out other noises. And she didn’t want to have an intense physical reaction to Caleb Duncan. She didn’t understand how she could react that way to a man she actively disliked.

      “Do you faint often?”

      The question added more kindling to her fiery anger. “Maybe you should run a check on that, too. It wasn’t a performance for your benefit, I can promise you that. I don’t care what you think!”

      “You better start caring,” he remarked quietly, “be- cause there’s a fortune at stake.”

      “Elnora’s will is absurd!”

      “Calm down.” Caleb touched her collar and shifted one inch closer. She felt as if the sun had dropped closer to earth, her temperature rising. It was hot, difficult to breathe, damnable to gaze into dark brown eyes with black pupils that seemed to pull on her senses. “How come there’s no boyfriend in the picture?”

      His fingers touched her collarbone and he stood far too close and he asked personal questions. She felt her pulse race. She wasn’t accustomed to this kind of reaction around men. But then, she wasn’t accustomed to men like Caleb Duncan.

      “There isn’t anyone because I have three boys, and that scares men away. And I lead a busy life. I own Child’s World Preschool. I work with little children all day and the only men I see are mostly married fathers. The ones who aren’t married don’t want to go out with a woman who already has three boys that aren’t her own. They get a funny look when I tell them.” Why was she rattling on and on as if he had dropped a nickel in a slot in her brain?

      “That wouldn’t scare me away.”

      “I’m sure it wouldn’t. I can’t imagine anything that would scare you, Mr. Duncan. Will you step back!”

      He arched his eyebrows and looked amused. “I’m dis- turbing you? Here I was all set to dislike you, Juliana Al- drich,” he remarked, rolling her name across his tongue, again sending little warm currents dancing through her, “and now I’m curious. We’re going to get to know each other well.”

      “But not that well,” she stated, taking his hand and re- moving it from her collar, feeling another mild jolt the mo- ment she made contact with him. His skin was warm, his hand large in hers, and tingles continued in an alarming manner. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She turned and walked away from him, rushing to climb into her battered ten-year-old van.

      It felt three hundred degrees inside the vehicle, but part of it was her temper. If Caleb Duncan was considering marriage, he wanted money desperately. She knew he was already well-fixed. He had accused her of thinking only of money, yet he had to be incredibly greedy to give Elnora’s bequest a second’s thought.

      Caleb Duncan was no harpy. He couldn’t be—he was the wrong gender. A sexy hunk with no heart was more accu- rate. Hard-hearted bastard would fit better. And she had a dinner date with him tomorrow night. He couldn’t seri- ously be thinking about marriage. But why else would he want to discuss Elnora’s will?

       Two

      On Thursday evening at one minute before seven, Cal parked in front of the Aldrich home. He knew Juliana rented the small, three-bedroom frame house in a modest area of town and lived there with her grandmother and nephews. What a change to go from this to Green Oaks. He glanced over the neat flower beds that held no weeds. Seven boys played ball in the front yard, while another little boy stood and watched.

      Cal climbed the front steps and punched the doorbell, feeling nervous. When the door swung open, Juliana ap- peared and he caught his breath.

      She was wearing a short, simple black dress that revealed what the suit had hidden, full breasts and a tiny waist. The dark material clung to her figure and was striking with her golden hair. Looking at her, Cal felt better about the eve- ning, and the tension that gripped him eased slightly.

      “Want to come in?”

      “Sure,” he answered casually. She stepped back as he entered, and the faint scent of roses made him more aware of her. He followed her from the tiny entryway into a small living area and took his gaze from her hips a moment be- fore she turned around to catch him studying her.

      His feelings seesawed as he surveyed the living room’s clutter and disarray, with books and baseball mitts and model airplanes on the tables. Nondescript chairs and ta- bles lined the walls and filled the corners. His tension level rose again at the disorder, yet at the same time the clutter reassured him that this was not the room of a woman who put money above all else. The ancient shag carpet was threadbare. The stuffed chairs had worn spots on the arms and there was a crack in the glass-topped coffee table. A petite woman with white hair smiled at him from a rocker.

      “Grandmother, this is Elnora’s attorney, Caleb Duncan. Mr. Duncan, this is my grandmother, Mimi Gibson.”

      “Evening, Mrs. Gibson.”

      “Juliana told me about Miz Siever’s will,” Mrs. Gibson said slyly, smiling at him with a gleam that made him feel like a chocolate morsel about to be consumed.

      “It’s unusual,” he said uneasily.

      “We won’t be late, Grandmother,” Juliana said.

      “Do you like crossword puzzles?” the old woman asked, pushing her glasses higher on her nose and shifting the pa- per spread on her lap.

      “Yes, I like to figure things out,” he replied, looking into Juliana’s cool blue eyes.

      “Maybe you can tell me,” Mrs. Gibson said, poising her pencil over the puzzle, “airplane-wing parts that have eight letters.”

      “Could be ailerons or spoilers,” he answered, mentally counting the letters.

      “The aileron word fits perfectly.” She smiled at him again. “I told Juliana that Miz Siever would never pick a bum to inherit her money.”

      “Thanks,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling uncomfortable. It was obvious that Juliana Al- drich’s grandmother felt just the same as Elnora about Ju- liana’s future.

      “Mimi, we better be going. The boys are still outside playing ball,” Juliana said, conscious of Cal Duncan’s scrutiny and Mimi’s blatant approval.

      “Have a nice evening,” Mimi said, smiling at Cal.

      “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Gibson.”

      “Oh, please, call me Mimi, like the rest of the family does.”

      “Sure, Mimi,” Cal complied, feeling as if a noose were closing around his neck—the rest of the family… The woman already had them married.

      As they stepped outside, one of the kids yelled. The baseball flew toward Juliana. Stretching out a long arm, Cal caught it and tossed it back to the boys.

      “Way to go!” the tall boy yelled, throwing it to a friend.

      “I’m terribly impressed,” she said, too aware of Caleb Duncan’s fitness, of his dark, handsome looks. The char- coal suit and white shirt gave him the same successful, ap- pealing appearance that he’d had in the lawyer’s office three days ago. And a close look still made her feel as if she was gazing at someone who was strong, determined and accus- tomed to getting his way. “Very good catch.”

      “I’ve played ball, and those boys aren’t college-age or pros. That was easy enough.”

      “I’ll have to admit, I don’t catch very well,” she said. “They’d just as soon I didn’t try. The tallest boy is my nephew Chris. I can call them over to introduce you.”

      “I don’t think you’ll have to call Chris over. Here he comes,” Cal said.

      The gangly boy