Husband For Keeps. Kate Little

are you now, if I may ask?”

      “Twenty-nine,” she replied, anticipating the question that would come next.

      “And when’s your birthday?”

      She took a deep breath and sat very tall in her seat before answering. “Tomorrow.”

      A dazzling white smile flashed across his face. A deep dimple creased one cheek. She hadn’t noticed that before. “You’re kidding, right?”

      She shook her head in reply. Curly strands of her golden-brown hair fell across her face, and she carelessly swiped them back with her hand.

      “And what happens if you don’t get married by tomorrow?”

      She shrugged with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

      “I lose it all. Everything goes to my cousin, Roger Burkett.”

      “Oh.” The seriousness of her situation seemed to overtake Luke again. “You are stuck between a rock and a hard place, aren’t you, then?”

      Carey started to answer, but her throat felt thick. His sympathetic tone and soft gaze were her undoing.

      She nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes again as she felt Luke watching her. She stared down at her hands, clasped together on the table so tightly that her knuckles were white, and willed herself not to cry.

      Suddenly Luke’s large, tanned hands reached out and covered hers.

      “Hey, now.” His whisper was deep and rough, like the rustle of velvet. “Don’t cry, Carey. You seem like a hell of a sharp lady. I think you can figure this out.”

      Carey did not answer. But neither did she remove her hands from his grasp. Though his touch was featherlight, she felt the work-toughened skin of his palms and the calluses on his fingers. Some errant part of her mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to feel that strong hand making slow contact with her bare skin….

      “Carey…listen,” he said softly. He cleared his throat and she stared up into his dark eyes. “Maybe I can help you…” he suggested, his words trailing off. “Maybe I can marry you.”

      “No,” she said, pulling her hands away and shaking her head. She didn’t mean to snap at him, but the word just burst out. “I don’t think so. Thanks…but…” She dared to glance at him. He sat with his arms folded over his chest, looking a bit insulted, but as if he was trying to take the blow to his pride in stride.

      “Listen, thanks for the offer,” she added in a more conciliatory tone. “I know you’re just trying to help, but…”

      “But what? You have—” he glanced at his watch “—about ten hours to tie the knot, and you’re stuck out on this ranch in a mother of a storm, short one groom.”

      She had to agree with the logic of his argument yet tried to ignore it. “But we’re strangers. I don’t know anything about you. And you don’t know anything about me.”

      He shrugged. “I’ve got news for you. Most people who get married the so-called normal way don’t know all that much about each other, either. Though they might think they do.” His tone was tinged with a bitter note, Carey noticed, which she strongly suspected arose from experience. But she didn’t have time to question him about it.

      “Besides,” he continued. “What you’ve described isn’t a real marriage, anyway. It’s more of a business arrangement. I came here for a job interview, remember?” he reminded her. “Why don’t you just interview me, formal as you please, and see if I qualify?”

      “You’re kidding, right?”

      “I’ve rarely been more serious. Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Tell me all about…the position.”

      She coughed into her hand. “For instance?”

      “Well, what are the hours? What are the duties, responsibilities? Don’t you want to know if I have any experience?”

      “Do you?” she replied, struggling to suppress a playful grin.

      “Plenty, ma’am,” he assured her, his gaze narrowed seductively, and the small smile that tilted his full lips made Carey’s heart skip a beat. “I even have a few letters of reference handy.” He pulled some folded pages from his shirt pocket and handed them over to Carey.

      For a brief moment she was almost afraid to read them. He didn’t look like a professional gigolo…but how could a person tell such things?