Oops...We're Married?. Susan Lute

a long gulp of his beer, relief flowing down his throat with the malt. His best friend was not setting him up to date his kid sister. The corporate workaholic Jake had said she’d become was not on his agenda. “What happened to the guy?”

      “Got married and his new wife doesn’t want him participating.”

      “What about one of the other guys?”

      “All on assignment, and I’m going to be too busy being master of ceremonies to be a contestant, so don’t ask.”

      As a U.S. Marshal, Jake took his assignments very seriously, including this one, apparently.

      “When is this important ‘event’?” Dillon asked, frowning at the delay to his own plans. He’d just have to work around it. He owed Jake too much. If it hadn’t been for his tenacious friend, he didn’t know how he would have survived Joan’s death.

      “This Saturday. I’m sorry this is so last minute, but I’m desperate. And maybe after the show is over, you and the lucky lady you choose can spend some time together.” An incurable romantic, Jake had already informed Dillon, ad nauseam, that it was about time he rejoined the singles dating scene.

      “Not likely, knowing the type of woman you usually rake up for your schemes.” For a brief moment, Dillon wondered if he was out of his mind to get mixed up in anything his good buddy was involved in.

      It’s for charity, Stone.

      “Okay. I can do it. I guess I’m not doing anything that night, anyway.”

      “Great.” Jake raised his beer in the air. “To success and to finding that perfect woman.”

      Slowly, Dillon clinked his beer glass to Jake’s, suspicion dancing along his nerves. No, Jake couldn’t possibly know he was in the market for a new wife. This was just another one his friend’s wacky do-gooder schemes.

      Finishing his beer, he idly glanced around the dimly lit room until his gaze settled on a woman just entering the lounge. For a breathless moment, with her face half hidden in shadow, she stood motionless, like a priceless porcelain sculpture.

      Without his permission and faster than a heartbeat, all Dillon’s predatory male instincts came alive. Where in the world did she come from? Interest sneaking up his spine, he couldn’t resist feasting on the vision silently taking in the occupants of the room.

      Blond hair fell straight past her shoulders like a shimmering pale waterfall, a faint layer of bangs blocked from falling into eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. Heart-shaped lips pressed tight in concentration as the woman thoroughly scanned each table, one by one.

      Dillon’s first thought, She’s looking for someone, ambushed him into sudden attention as his gaze followed the lithe line of her body. His silent touch moved slowly down her long, slender neck, past proudly held shoulders, then memorized an unforgettable figure that assaulted him with its mounds and valleys—not the least bit hidden by the high-power business suit she wore.

      Then the woman stepped farther into the low-lighted room.

      Dillon’s senses vibrated, like an overstrung guitar string, at the hint of long, lean legs enhanced to perfection by irreverent, practical shoes showcasing fantasy-producing legs and slender feet. Feeling like he’d been gut-kicked, he looked up from his frank appraisal to find the woman staring at him. For a heart-stopping moment, she stood still as if in stunned surprise, then just as quickly dismissed him and flicked her gaze to his friend.

      Unaccustomed to being ignored like yesterday’s day-old bread, and—God only knew why—not liking it, Dillon watched as the woman’s gaze turned suspicious as she started toward their table with undeniable purpose.

      His second thought, Uh-oh, here comes trouble, settled him back in his chair as he realized there was something familiar about the woman approaching them, anger barely suppressed and certainly not hidden in her smoldering expression.

      Dillon’s third thought concluded, This woman is not a Suzie Homemaker.

      “Jake.” Eleanor didn’t quite succeed in hiding the blazing temper pulsing through her temples behind the cool, even tone of voice she directed at her foster brother. She’d known the brat was up to no good. Here was the proof.

      She’d wondered how long it would take Jake to parade her in front of the man she once would have moved heaven and earth for. That childish crush had died a final death on the day he’d married Joan. Though nine years ago she hadn’t thought it could be possible, she’d gone on and made something good of her life.

      Now, in a nanosecond, she saw everything about Dillon Stone. The faded but well-fitting jeans. The casually worn brown tweed sport coat. Ruffled dark hair that annoyingly begged her fingers to run through it. The sharp, piercing gaze that she was afraid could see to her innermost secrets.

      Eleanor ignored the faint tremble in her heart as she felt again his prowling interest when she’d first entered the lounge.

      How often had she fought staring at the wedding picture Jake had given her? Each time, pushing down fierce longing for the look of love that radiated from a younger version of this man to another woman, his wife…a dainty, beautiful, dark-haired creature tucked protectively under his arm?

      Even though she knew better, for a while she’d looked to find that same love for herself. Finally, convinced she wasn’t going to be that lucky, she’d buried the picture and her dream of a true-and-lasting love for herself in the bottom of a box that contained the few mementos she’d somehow saved from her childhood and proceeded to make a successful, independent life for herself that had no room for that unpredictable emotion called love.

      “Hey, El.” Jake jumped up, his six-foot frame barely towering over her own height of five foot nine as he wrapped her in a strong hug.

      Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw Dillon stand, too. Taller than Jake by several inches, his eyes, the color of a deep forest, watched them warily. Then, as if she’d been mistaken, his strong features went carefully blank and the tension riding his hard, lean body visibly disappeared.

      Ignoring the sudden awakening of feelings she’d taken great pains to forget, Eleanor pushed at Jake’s chest. “Let me go, Jake.”

      “Fine.” Jake’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he grabbed the chair next to him in a silent invitation for her to sit. “El, you remember Dillon.”

      Eleanor shot Jake her most potent I’m-going-to-kill-you-as-soon-as-I-get-you-alone look, then held out her hand to the one man she’d thought never to see again.

      “Of course I do.” She modulated her voice to cool detachment, strongly shaken by the touch of a handshake that threatened to melt her clear to the center of her soul.

      Quickly, she snatched her hand away from his, careful to tuck it behind her back where the man couldn’t touch it again.

      Green eyes narrowed at her while the sound of Dillon’s baritone voice bombarded her with unwanted awareness. “Hi, Eleanor. It’s been a long time.”

      If the look on his face was anything to go by, she was pretty sure he wasn’t pleased by this reintroduction. That was just fine with her, Eleanor decided, sinking into the chair Jake offered, her legs not as capable of holding her up as they had been when she’d first entered the lounge. She’d faced many a boardroom piranha and come out the winner since she’d last see this man. She could certainly face down Dillon Stone, who meant nothing to her now, without a single ripple appearing in the well-ordered life she’d intentionally built for herself.

      “Jake, I’ve got to go. I have to get home to Ryan. Eleanor, it was nice to see you again.”

      Startled, Eleanor watched Dillon’s back as he turned and walked away from her, then out the lounge door.

      Disappointment pelted her like a cold rainstorm. Obviously, she was as unnoticeable today as she’d been all those years ago when she’d foolishly followed him around wearing her heart on her sleeve.

      Slowly,