“You should at least have one last fling before settling down.”

“A fling?” she repeated suspiciously. “I don’t have flings.”

“What? Never?”

“You mean like a one-night stand with a complete stranger? No. No way.”

“Not a one-night stand with a stranger. Just a fling with someone you’re attracted to—without attaching forever after, babies and a fiftieth wedding anniversary to the package.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Can’t I have a fling with someone I’m attracted to—and attach the whole package, too?”

“Sure. If you find one.”

“Good. Let’s just work on that, then.”

“Okay. You’re the boss. But I still think a fling is just what you need.”

Interesting suggestion, Tom, his conscience taunted. And just who did you have in mind for her “last fling”?

Shut up, he told himself.

Dear Reader,

We’re constantly striving to bring you the best romance fiction by the most exciting authors…and in Harlequin Romance® we’re especially keen to feature fresh, sparkling, warmly emotional novels. Modern love stories to suit your every mood: poignant, deeply moving stories; lively, upbeat romances with sparks flying; or sophisticated, edgy novels with an international flavor.

All our authors are special, and we hope you continue to enjoy each month’s new selection of Harlequin Romance® novels. This month, we’re delighted to feature another story in our TANGO miniseries. Mission: Marriage by Hannah Bernard fizzes with energy, warmth and wit, and is Hannah’s third book!

We hope you enjoy this book by Hannah Bernard—and look out for future sparkling stories in Harlequin Romance®. If you’d like to share your thoughts and comments with us, do please write to:

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Happy reading!

The Editors

Mission: Marriage
Hannah Bernard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

BABIES are obnoxious, Lea decided, balancing her friend’s eleven-month-old on her lap. Yes. Totally obnoxious. Not only did bringing them into this world involve hours—if not nine months—of suffering, but once they were there, they were loud, filthy, demanding, and never gave a moment’s peace from cleaning and feeding and everything else that needed to be done. They consumed their parents’ lives, swallowed them up whole, leaving no time or energy for anything else. Then they grew up to be sullen, ungrateful, troublesome teenagers, who after years of turning their parents’ hair gray, finally became adults, left the nest, and never bothered to call or visit with their own little brats.

Yes. Babies were obnoxious.

And, God, how she wanted one.

Unexpected moisture in her eyes blurred the sight of obnoxious little Danny, and the bowl of food she was currently try to get on the inside of him. What was wrong with her? She ripped a tissue out of her purse and managed to get rid of the tears under the pretext of cleaning some of the mashed bananas from the tip of Danny’s snubby little nose.

“Everything okay?” Anne chirped from where she was loading the fridge with groceries.

“Why shouldn’t everything be okay?” Lea snapped back, nerves suddenly too fragile to deal with her friend’s inquisitions. Anne raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Danny isn’t always fond of bananas,” she said. “Sometimes he spits everything out. I was just wondering if he was behaving.”

Lea shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Yeah, he’s eating.” Eating was one way of putting it. The mashed banana was on his face, in his downy black hair, on his chest—not to mention all over her own shirt—but she did believe some of it had made it into his mouth. From there, some of it had probably followed the standard path down to his stomach, but percentage wise, it wasn’t a lot of the original product. She added another negative thing to her I’m-better-off-without-a-baby list: inefficient eating habits.

“He tends to eat more when strangers feed him, actually,” Anne said. “Gives him something to think about other than finding new ways to make us tear our hair out in frustration.”

Lea tilted another spoonful of banana into Danny’s mouth and watched half of it slide down his chin and drop onto his colorful terry bib. The child slapped the glob with his fist, splashing some on the wall and on Lea’s face. For a moment she wondered about the status of the floor, but decided not to look down. Ignorance really was bliss. “He’s a lot of work, isn’t he?”

“Endless,” Anne sighed with a smile and plopped down in a chair on the other side of the table. “And will be even more work once he’s moving around on his own. But he’s sleeping through the night now, did I tell you?” Excitement made her nearly bounce in her seat. “Last Saturday night was the first night in a whole year that I got whole seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I couldn’t believe it when he finally woke me up and I saw what time it was.”

“Yes, I know, you told me.” Anne had called at seven o’clock on Sunday morning with this exciting news, nearly incoherent with exhilaration—or maybe it was sleep overdose. She’d woken Lea up, who in her sleepy state had committed the nearly unforgivable crime of failing to register the importance of this event. Another vote against babies: lack of sleep at night, no weekend lie-ins. For years.

Yup. Better off without one. Definitely. Are you listening, biological clock?

“I’m sorry,” Anne laughed, looking embarrassed. “The universe shrinks after you have a baby and are staying at home. Suddenly the tiny everyday miracles are such a big deal, and you automatically assume everyone else is interested in them.” She smiled wryly. “You also tend to assume the rest of the world gets up at six o’clock, weekend or not.”

“I’m interested,” Lea protested. “And it was fine. I shouldn’t waste my weekends sleeping away the mornings, anyway.”

“You can put Danny in the chair, if you like. You’d get less food on you that way.”

“It’s okay. I like holding him.”

In fact, she didn’t want to let go. When she’d picked up Danny this afternoon, she’d suddenly identified the stark feeling of emptiness that had invaded her life recently.

She wanted a baby. She needed a baby.

It made no sense. She wasn’t married, didn’t even have a boyfriend, had a busy and fulfilling career, and no reason in the world to want a baby in her life at this time.

Yet she did. Nature was making her wishes clear. Logic didn’t stand a chance against the devious lady, who’d obviously been counting up the years, tallying each of the wasted eggs that vanished one by one each month.

The intensity of the longing was almost frightening. She must have hit the snooze button on her biological clock one time too many. It was now ringing with a vengeance.

It was that birthday, she thought with a silent sigh. The dreaded, looming thirtieth birthday was approaching rapidly with all its connotations. Add to that the gruesome fact that this week also happened to mark one year since she’d kicked Harry out of her life. Her Prince Charming who’d turned out to be the biggest toad of all. She’d wasted years on Mr. Wrong, and what did she have to show for it? Yup, a distrust of human nature and a bottomed-out self-esteem. Not to mention a butchered CD collection.

But her year of wallowing in self-pity, nursing her broken heart, was up. It was time to move on. Meet new people.

Meet new men.

If only she could figure out the basics. How did one even go about meeting men these days? Meeting the right men? They certainly weren’t showing up out of the blue.

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

Anne the mind reader. Lea shrugged. “No one special.” She didn’t know what it was, a matter of pride or dignity, perhaps, but she felt uncomfortable, sharing her feelings with her settled friends, who had their future all figured out with their husbands and their babies. It felt awkward.

“No one at all, isn’t it?”

Lea shrugged again. “I’ve been busy.”

“It’s been forever since you broke up with the rat. Isn’t it about time you started dating again?” Now her friend’s voice was reproachful. Not a first, either. Emancipation be damned, apparently it was still the single woman’s sacred duty to keep husband-hunting until she found one.

Danny snuggled up to her and yawned.

Husbands did have their advantages. She wouldn’t be getting an obnoxious brat of her own without one, would she?

But the very words “start dating” sent shivers down her back. “Again? What do you mean again? I met Harry my first week in college. Unless you count high school, I’ve never dated in my life.”

“Well, it can’t be that difficult. Everybody’s doing it.”

Lea shook her head. “I’d screw it up. Have you read the women’s magazines lately? They’re writing ten-page articles just on the anatomy of first kisses, let alone anything….” She covered Danny’s ears, just in case what she was about to say would warp him for life. “I glanced at one article at the dentist’s last week. There are rules for what kind of things you can do with a guy your first time together. Can you believe it? You can’t do this, unless he does that, and then only if you’ve done this previously…” She groaned and allowed Danny to twist his head out of her grasp. He waved his fists around, then settled down to sucking his thumb, grumbling quietly to himself, no doubt about the injustice of having been cut off from this educational conversation.

“Rules? Really?” Anne looked fascinated. “I haven’t read those magazines for ages. What kind of things can’t you do unless he does what? Who made up those rules? How do you even know they’re for real? How can you be sure the guy knows about them? What happens if one of you breaks them?”

Lea refused to grin at her friend’s teasing, and took her questions at face value instead. “I don’t know. I barely glanced at the headlines.”

“Did it come with some kind of a flowchart? You know, something like ‘If male does A, do B, else C, unless he does D, in which case go straight to XXX’? Or maybe a checklist to put in your bedside drawer?”

“I don’t know,” Lea repeated, feeling grumpy. This wasn’t funny. Well, maybe it was funny to people to whom it wasn’t relevant, but it was deadly serious to her, who might have to deal with these situations. “I wasn’t interested.”

“You don’t have to be interested. Look at it as homework for dating school.”

Lea rested her head on top of Danny’s head. “I don’t want to learn. It’s scary. Somehow dating has evolved into this intricate game with all kinds of subtle rules and scripts.” She shuddered. “Just thinking about it frightens the hell out of me.”

“Well, if you want to meet guys, you’ll have to,” Anne said rationally. “Mr. Rights don’t show up on their own. You have to go find them.” She snapped her fingers. “Tell you what, I’ll ask Brian if there isn’t someone at work we can set you up with. He works with literally hundreds of guys, after all—there has to be one there for you.”

“No!” Oh, God no, not a blind date. “Anne, I’m not ready. I haven’t even read the first-kiss articles! I’ll have to do some serious research before I dive in.”

“You’ll never be ‘ready,’ Lea. It doesn’t work that way. You just have to do it. Why not give it a chance? One date won’t kill you.” She smiled and held her hands out for her child. Danny squealed with pleasure, squirming to push himself into his mother’s arms.

Lea felt bereft, her arms empty without the child.

“One date?” Anne pushed. “Just to get your toes wet. Look at it as practice.”

Lea began to shake her head, but Danny chose that exact moment to look up at his mother and laugh, then wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a wet, banana kiss on her chin. Lea felt her heart liquefy and head straight for her ovaries with instructions to prepare for immediate procreation.

If she were planned on ever having children, a man was kind of a necessary evil in the whole process, not only making the child, but caring for it. Being a single mother was not something she had a desire for. A child needed two parents.

Anne was right. It was time. It wasn’t about just grabbing anyone for procreation, but if she had hopes for a future with a family, now was the time to start looking. Who knew how many years that would take? She didn’t have all the time in the world any more. It was time to test the waters.

“Okay,” she conceded. “Just as a practice date. But you better pick someone…not dreadful.”

Anne hesitated. “What’s your definition of dreadful?”

Uh, oh.

Could this be any worse?

Lea groaned under her breath as her date tried for another footsie. She sat up straighter and tucked her feet under her chair. It hadn’t looked too bad at first, not compared to some of the blind dates horror stories she’d read. James was presentable, didn’t pick his nose over the appetizer, and was even a semi-interesting conversationalist, even though his topics of choice all seemed rather similar.

But that was it, as far as the good side went.

For one, he yelled at the waiters and waitresses. Not even in an impolite way—yet—but just as a routine way of getting their attention, his shrill voice echoing from the dark wooden walls of the cozy restaurant. Lea had nearly jumped out of her too-tight heels the first time. The second time, when every single eye in the restaurant had turned on them, a couple of people out of eyeshot even standing up to check what the ruckus was all about, she’d almost slid all the way under the table in an effort to pretend she wasn’t with that man. Her foot had accidentally brushed his—which was when the footsie had started.

Things had gone downhill from there, and they weren’t even halfway through the appetizer yet. Thank God for cocktails.

Anne and Brian would be hearing about this for a long, long time, Lea thought grimly.

There was another couple just two tables away, also on their first date, judging from the snatches of conversation that drifted over. They too were making their way through the appetizer. As James called the waiter over for the fourth time, Lea occupied herself by concentrating on the other couple. The guy was probably in his early thirties, and didn’t yell at the waiters, which currently made him a dream date in her book. Not that his looks hurt any either. The woman was several years younger, her hair long and blond, her laughter loud, and she seemed to have a black belt in flirting.

The blonde obviously knew all the rules, all the in and outs of this mysterious dating culture, Lea thought enviously. She should be taking notes. The show was fascinating. Flip hair, lean forward, show cleavage, tilt head sideways and smile coyly.

Hmm. Only, it didn’t seem to be working. The guy leaned back and seemed rather bored, although his smile was polite enough. He picked up his fork and speared his shrimp, his attention wandering to James who was waving the menu in front of the waiter.

The blonde made another attempt to draw her date’s attention with the flip hair, coy smile routine. The man seemed to realize what was expected of him. He put his fork down, leaned forward and talked for a bit, seemingly answering a question.

Meanwhile, his date was scouting the restaurant, and then stood up, and headed for the rest room.

Maybe she should follow the blonde to the rest room for some girl talk. That girl looked like she knew a thing or two. She could drill her about all the details that were nagging at her. Like, was she expected to kiss her date tonight? Would she be breaking all the rules if she didn’t? Would James charge her with violations of dating ethics if she made do with a handshake and then escaped into her apartment?

She glanced at her date and decided she really, really didn’t want to kiss him if there was any way out of it.

He was bashing the poor waiter again, but at least that activity was distracting him from the footsie game. Apparently there was a typo on the menu. His monologue was drawing more and more attention from the neighboring tables, not the least from the blonde’s date, who was looking at her with certain sympathy in his gaze and a weak smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.

Oh, Lord. Not only was she on her first date since high school, she had strangers pitying her.

Blind date, she mouthed at the stranger on an impulse, shrugging helplessly.

The man raised his eyebrows, then grimaced. Me too, he mouthed back, sending her a sympathetic grin and a rueful shake of his head.

That one, she might not mind kissing at the end of the evening, she conceded. Gorgeous eyes—dark blue, from what she could tell from here—and the smile was even better. The blonde had nothing to complain about. Some girls had all the luck.

The third waiter incident was over at last. Lea tried to catch the waiter’s eye for an apologetic look, but the harassed young man was hurrying away from the table, and she didn’t blame him. Worse, James’s toes were digging into her foot again. She pulled her legs under the chair once more, but he seemed to consider that a coy game of playing hard to get, and his foot was now on her calf.

What the hell was he thinking?

Once again she cursed her inexperience at this thing. Was this a normal part of whatever activities were involved in a first date in today’s world, or would she be justified in being insulted enough to throw down her napkin and stalk out of the restaurant?

She didn’t want to make a scene. She hated making scenes but that man wasn’t taking a hint, was he?

She’d try an unsubtle one.

“I’m sorry, but your foot keeps bumping into me,” she said with a polite laugh, once again moving her legs. “Not a lot of room under these tables, is there?”

Doggone it, it worked. James’s face froze in astonished shock, then his feet were mercifully withdrawn.

So was conversation. So were smiles.

Which only left arguments with the waiter, didn’t it?

Lea groaned under her breath after making several attempts to start a conversation, all met with an icy yes, no, or noncommittal grunts if she asked open-ended questions.

What a guy.

She gave up for the time being, and instead went for another glass of wine. She picked at the smoked salmon, but there was no way anything could have a taste in these circumstances. This was dreadful. If she clicked her heels three times, would she be transported out of here? Anywhere, anytime, would be better than right here, right now. She was being ignored by her date, who’d obviously been insulted by her refusal to be toe-groped under the table. For all she knew, she was being terribly unfair. Maybe there was even something she should be doing in return. Like scratching behind his ears with her fork.

She might as well have stepped onto another planet.

Their next-table neighbors weren’t doing much better, although she could see under their table and at least the blue-eyed guy didn’t seem to belong to the Footsie Cult. He seemed, however, to have lost his appetite and was leaning back in his seat, looking with a bit of a terror at the blonde, who had finished her appetizer and was now blowing green bubble gum bubbles in between her energetic chatting. Her voice was loud, and her favorite subject matter seemed to be celebrity gossip. Then she stuck her gum on her plate and jumped to her feet, heading for the rest room for the second time in twenty minutes.

Mr. Blue Eyes slumped in relief and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with both hands. He then picked up his fork and started pushing his food around his plate. He met Lea’s gaze again, and they sighed silently in unison.

James started hollering for the waiter again, and Lea stood up so quickly that the heavy wooden chair almost toppled. “I’ll just…” she waved a hand in the direction of the rest room. “I’ll be right back…” she murmured. She’d probably be able to hear the one-sided argument in there. Hopefully she could just stay locked in there until everything was silent again.

“Darling…I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Lea almost flew up the wall in shock. The blue-eyed stranger was all of a sudden at her side, his hand on her shoulder, intense regret in his voice, She nearly panicked. Two psychos in one night, what were the odds?

Then she noticed him winking at her.

“Can you forgive me?” he continued, the look in his eyes beseeching, and behind the playacting, a wicked glint of humor. And they were blue. Very blue, she noticed vaguely, before she was distracted by a warm kiss pressed to the back of her hand. “I’ve missed you so much, darling,” he said, his voice low and intimate, but just loud enough to make sure James would hear. “I’ve been going out of my mind. When I saw you again, I knew we’d been so wrong to break up.”

Lea hesitated, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden galloping of her heart. What’s a girl to do?

She glanced once at Mr. Footsie and made up her mind. Sometimes, the devil you didn’t know was the better choice. “I’m sorry too,” she said, throwing her arms around the stranger’s neck. “It was a such a mistake,” she mumbled into his chest, feeling exhilarated by her uncharacteristic behavior. The man’s arms came around her in a tight hug and she felt his breath against her hair as her nose squashed against his shoulder.

Oh, wow. This was interesting. No wonder people went out on dates if this sort of thing happened to them on a regular basis.

“What’s going on?” a familiar whiny voice demanded. Lea pulled away from the stranger, who kept his arm around her shoulders, and tried to look contrite and deliriously happy at the same time. Good thing she’d taken those acting lessons back in high school, but then again, the prospect of escaping Mr. Footsie the Sulk was indeed occasion for delirious happiness. That last glass of wine hadn’t hurt either.

“I’m sorry, James, but this is my…fiancé,” she told him. “We recently broke up…but…” she tightened her hold of her savior’s arm and smiled up at him. “It was a mistake. We belong together.”

The blonde, back from the rest room, joined them, looking furious at seeing her date with another woman in his arms. “What the hell is going on? Who’s that?”

“I’m sorry, Beth,” he said. “I’m in love with her. I always was. I thought we were over, but when I saw her again…” The stranger smiled down at Lea, and once again the look in his eyes was so loving and passionate that she was almost fooled herself.

He was good.

“Beth…” He looked at the blonde. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready to date again, but when I saw her again, I just knew…I’m sorry to cut our date so short. Can you understand?”

“Of course. It’s okay,” the blonde said, her eyes widening. “Oh, this is so romantic…I’m so happy for you.” Lea was astonished to see tears fill the blonde’s eyes. “So romantic,” she sniffed. “Just like on Rendezvous with Romance. I haven’t missed an episode since I was sixteen. This could be Pierre and Paradise, realizing they’re still in love despite everything.” She jumped at them, wrapping one arm around each of their necks, giving Lea a constructive lesson in perfumes-to-wear-on-first-dates. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Beth.” Blue Eyes kissed the blonde on the cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Lea sneaked a peek at James. She imagined he wouldn’t be quite so understanding. More likely that he was on the verge of another tantrum.

James’s jaw was working, his face flushed in anger, but he seemed to be working on a way to save his wounded pride. He stared at Beth for a while and took a deep breath, collecting his dignity. Then he stood up, gave a small bow and gestured toward Lea’s abandoned chair, ignoring Lea and Blue Eyes completely. “Why don’t you join me?” he offered. “It looks like we’re both getting dumped, so we might as well finish our meals together, don’t you think?”

Beth’s cherubic face lit up and she wasted no time in claiming her seat. “Absolutely. Thank you!”

Lea stuttered some hurried goodbyes as her savior insisting on leaving money on the table to pay for all four meals, then put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her toward the exit. She made a mental note of remembering to pay him back, but then everything was drowned in cheerful applause from every corner of the restaurant. Blue Eyes turned around and bowed, his arm still tight around her. Lea felt her face catch fire. She glanced up at him, and he grinned back. Was this something he did every day? All in a dating day’s work?

She waved weakly to their audience, shrugged his arm from her shoulder and grabbed his hand. She’d do the leading. She wanted out of here. Now.

Her motives for the sudden escape got the predictable interpretation, and laughter and a few wolf whistles slid through the door as it closed behind them.

What an evening.

This was it. Hand kisses from hunky strangers or not—dating was definitely not for her. Too risky. Too dangerous. Too unsettling.

She glanced sideways to the man holding her hand.

Too…exciting?

“Wow,” she breathed as soon as they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the restaurant windows. She stopped, almost stumbling on her heels, and glanced back toward the restaurant, relieved despite everything. She wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the evening. The kissing dilemma had mercifully vanished. “Did that really happen, or am I having a very surreal dream?”

“It happened, believe it or not.” The stranger grinned as he released her hand. “We’re off the hook. Thank you for the rescue.”

“Thank you.” She shuddered. “What was happening to me was infinitely worse than green bubble gum.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the cat and mouse game under the table. Not exactly a gentleman, is he?”

Lea shrugged. “You tell me. That’s not a part of the regular dating ritual?”

The man frowned in confusion. “Ritual? Uh, no. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“I don’t do this a lot, you see. It’s good to hear that’s not the standard. He…Oh! Poor Beth!” Lea groaned. “No, we can’t do this. We can’t leave her like this.”

“Don’t worry about Beth. She’s a bit of a man-eater. A sentimental, cries at the drop of a hat, man-eater. If that guy goes out of line, he’s likely to find himself with a lapful of gravy.” He held out a hand. “I’m Thomas Carlisle.”

“Lea Rhodes.”

Thomas smiled. “Nice to meet you. Can I call you a taxi? Walk you to your car? Give you a ride home?”

“Taxi would be good. I just want to get home, curl up with my cat and cry my mascara off.”

“Was it that bad?”

“I believe I’ve got the imprint of his toes on my ankle.”

He winced. “Ouch. My sympathies. Some guys have no class.”

“Dating sucks,” she muttered. “And I’m no good at it.”

“It’s an art form,” he agreed. “An acquired skill, definitely. Acquired taste, too. Not for everybody.”

“You sound like an expert.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, when you’re not interested in wedding bells and not looking to settle down, you get an extended run at the dating part. As they say, practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”

“Practice makes perfect?” She stared at him, wheels struggling to churn in her head. She wasn’t drunk yet,—but after a cocktail and two glasses of Chardonnay on an empty stomach she was damn close.

Practice? Hmm…Here she had run into someone not interested in commitment, just in casual dating. A serial dater. Someone with plenty of experience in this, someone who knew all about what, when and how when it came to the dating game.

He was right. He was perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

HE’D rescued the cutest damsel in distress from her own dragon’s claws—a creep who thought he could grope his way to a woman’s heart. He wasn’t sure why his intervention had been needed—why the lady hadn’t simply thrown her drink in the guy’s face and fled the restaurant.

He wasn’t sure either what had possessed him to stage such an elaborate play to rescue her. That hadn’t been a part of the deal. He was just supposed to call Anne on his cell phone and she’d handle the rest—probably phone Lea and stage a fake emergency to get her out of there.

But something—he wasn’t sure if it was the tediousness of his own blind date, or the fascinating twinkle in Lea’s eyes when they’d communicated silently across the room in their parallel dilemmas—had compelled him to intervene.

And here they were, and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Anne had threatened bodily harm if he let Lea know she’d gotten a stranger to chaperone her date. Observe, she’d instructed him. Lea’s not used to dating, and you know what blind dates can be like. If she runs into trouble, call me, and I’ll take it from there.

She’d left out the fact that her “spinster” friend was someone she really should have introduced him to a long time ago. Lovely dark hair and expressive green eyes that he’d seen radiate all sorts of emotion in the half-hour he’d been watching her at the restaurant. Maybe he could turn this around to his advantage, he mused.

Yeah. Why not? He’d see if they could continue this date somewhere else.

He’d opened his mouth to say something when the look in Lea’s eyes stopped him. The gratitude in her eyes didn’t really surprise him, considering the action he’d witnessed under their table, but it had quickly been replaced with another expression. He tried smiling at her, and her eyes narrowed in a calculating look.

He forgot all about his plans for an impromptu date, and found himself wanting to take a step back.

Why was she all of a sudden looking at him much like he imagined the big bad wolf had looked at Little Red Riding Hood?

“Practice makes perfect, you say?” she said slowly, her cheeks still red from the excitement of the last few minutes—and perhaps from one drink too many. Then her voice rose in exhilaration. “This is terrific. You’re just what I need. Finally fate decides to be on my side. It’s about time, too.”

“I’m just what you need?” Thomas asked.

“Yes!”

“And what is it that you need?” Judging by the wild look in her eyes, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but it was probably safer to ask, before she went right ahead and helped herself to…whatever she needed.

“A guy like you. You know. A serial dater. A playboy.”

“A playboy?” Thomas gave in to his instincts and took that cautious step back. Magical green eyes or not, had he rescued a slightly nuts—as well as tipsy—damsel in distress? “I’m definitely not a ‘playboy.’ I’m not even sure they make those outside of Hollywood.”

She shrugged. “Okay, a playboy probably isn’t the right word. I don’t have the terminology quite straight. I took a crash course online last night. Amazing, the things you’ll learn if you type ‘dating’ into a search engine. A player, that’s what you’re called, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Players,” she repeated patiently. “Single men, playing the field for all it’s worth, you’re called players, aren’t you?”

“Uh…I don’t know. We are? They are?”

She didn’t seem to have heard him, and she still had the big bad wolf look on her face. “Listen…” she said slowly. “We missed out on the main course and I don’t think either of us ate much of our appetizer. I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am. Can I buy you dinner somewhere? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry—I’m sounding a bit crazy, aren’t I?”

Thomas laughed, feeling a bit relieved. Nuts usually didn’t realize they were sounding nuts. There might be an explanation for her weird ramblings. She might even be okay after all, which would be a definite plus to the evening since the damsel intrigued him a whole lot more than Beth had. “I won’t deny that the thought crossed my mind.”

“Sorry. But I have a problem, and I think you could help me solve it…” She paused and looked around. “There is a point to this, I promise. But it’s a bit of a long story. What do you say about dinner? We need to eat anyway.”

“Sounds great,” he said. “And I really am starving. You don’t stick gum on your plate, do you?”

She had a great smile, one that hadn’t been much in evidence during her date with the footsie guy, except in her silent exchanges with him. “I promise. My chewing gum doesn’t come in that shade of green, either.” She glanced around again. “Where can we eat? Do you know this neighborhood?”

“Not really. But I think I know of a place that might have tables available. My car is here, we could drive there. It’s maybe fifteen minutes away.” He hesitated, realizing they were complete strangers. “On second thoughts, you probably prefer that we take a taxi, don’t you?”

“Your car is fine,” she said, which annoyed him. She should know better than to get into a car with someone she’d never met before, and here she was, walking with him toward the darkened parking lot without any qualms at all. He wasn’t a psycho, but she didn’t know that, did she? She shouldn’t trust him at all.

But it was none of his business, was it? Wouldn’t hurt to mention it to her later tonight, though. Or tell Anne to warn her friend not to be so trusting of strangers.

“You’re sure Beth will be okay?” she asked, while fastening her seat belt. “I’m still feeling guilty about leaving them together.”

“I’m positive. I never met her before tonight, but I’ve heard stories about her for a while. She won’t take any crap from him. She might even teach him a thing or two on how to treat ladies.”

“You didn’t seem too happy on your date with her.”

He chuckled. “Beth is okay. She’s a sweet kid, really. Just young. Very young.” He grimaced as he twisted the key in the ignition. “Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting old. She made me feel every one of my thirty-two years. All she talked about were celebrities, and I’d never even heard of half these people.”

“How come you were out with her in the first place if you’re so mismatched?”

“Same as you, blind date. My stepsister set us up. I never go on blind dates anymore, but she whined until I gave in.” It was as much truth as he could tell her right now. He’d promised Anne, but the fact remained that he was feeling rather guilty.

“And Beth is a friend of hers?”

“Not quite—little sister of her husband’s friend, I believe. Something like that. She exhausted all the friends a long time ago.”

“I see,” Lea said thoughtfully. “So…You’re a confirmed bachelor, are you, resisting all attempts at matchmaking?”

“Not really…” A playboy, a player and a confirmed bachelor. She had a lot of neat little boxes for him, didn’t she? He shrugged. “My only crime is being single and happy to stay that way. That seems to make me fair game for anyone’s matchmaking hobby.”

“And why is it that you want to stay single?” She canceled the question with a gesture. “Sorry, none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” He didn’t mind giving out his standard response. “I simply like my life the way it is. Of course, if you ask my stepsister or the other match-making experts, they’d tell you it’s just that I haven’t met the right woman yet.”

Lea was staring out into the night when he glanced toward her. “That’s not a valid reason for being single, when you think about it,” she finally said. “At our age, most people seem to have settled down with someone, even if they haven’t met anyone right.”

“That’s a rather cynical thing to say, isn’t it?”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is. And some of those people have been divorced once or twice too. You know what they say about marrying in haste.”

“Repent at leisure,” she murmured. “Or in today’s world: Divorce in equal haste, isn’t it?”

There was a pause in the conversation as they parked outside a restaurant and were seated, but once they were there, Lea picked up where they’d left off, propping her chin on her hands and targeting him with a laser-sharp look. Her eyes were very green, he noticed again. Turning darker when she was excited about something. He liked them that shadowy shade of emerald.

“So,” she said. “Are you saying that you think one should hold out for the perfect partner, rather than settling for someone—less perfect?”

“I don’t know if I would put it like that…” Thomas grinned at her. “That would make me a soppy romantic, wouldn’t it? Not exactly macho.”

She smiled back. “On the contrary. I’m pretty sure romantic men are every woman’s fantasy.” Despite the words, there wasn’t anything flirty in her voice, which was slightly confusing. Then her smile vanished and she lowered her head to stare down at the menu. “Well, it’s mine, anyway. But it’s tricky, isn’t it? Knowing what’s right. I bet a lot of those divorced people thought they’d be together forever.”

“Well. People change. Life happens.”

“Then there are people like my friend Anne and her husband. I don’t think even continental rift could tear those two apart, ever.”

“Some people are lucky.”

“And some aren’t.” She took a deep breath and let it out in an even bigger sigh. “That’s just life too, isn’t it? Luck of the draw.”

Thomas shifted in his chair and tried to read her face. What was behind that depressed expression and those strange questions? “I get the feeling there’s a story behind that sigh. Is that the long one you were going to tell me?”

She nodded. “The short version: I thought someone was it. But it turned out he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “We broke up a while ago. I took a year out to get over him, and now he’s in the past. So, now I’m trying to figure out how to date for the first time in my life.” She grimaced. “Based on tonight, it’s not fun.”

He chuckled. “It can be fun. A lot of fun. It can also be dreadful—very dreadful. The good thing is that the dreadful bits make for excellent stories later on.”

For some reason, this news seem to be music to Lea’s ears. She perked up and gestured randomly, her cheeks flushed as her voice rose in excitement. “See? This is exactly why I need you!”

“Huh?” It seemed he was being unusually dense tonight. Maybe it was malnourishment. She’d drunk too much and he hadn’t eaten enough. All in all, not a good basis for lucid communication. They needed food. Now. “You need me to tell you my dating horror stories?”

“Not quite—” She stopped talking when the waiter approached their table, and took their order.

Once the waiter had walked away, Lea took a deep breath and glanced around. They’d gotten a semiprivate table, and didn’t have to worry much about other people overhearing their conversation, but she still leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “This is going to sound pretty strange, I guess I better tell you that up front.”

Thomas grinned, feeling more and more intrigued by the minute. What was she up to? “Don’t worry. I’m used to strange females.”

“Good.”

She put her hands on the table, palms up and stared down at them as if trying to read her story from there. “I’ll be honest.” She looked up. “Essentially, what all this is about, is that I’d like to hire you for a job, Thomas.”

“A job?” he asked cautiously. “What do you mean, a job?”

“A confidential job. Very confidential. That’s an additional reason why you’re perfect for it. We’re complete strangers. We don’t know any of the same people, which makes everything a whole lot easier.”

Guilt tapped him on the shoulder again. So did apprehension. He should tell her about Anne now, before this went any further.

“You see, my friends don’t really understand. They want to set me up, send me on blind dates, introduce me to friends of their friends’ friends—that was how I ended up with James in the first place. I know they mean well, but I’m getting so tired of their interference, well-meaning though it is.”

Damn it. He couldn’t tell her, not without Anne’s permission. Anne had said Lea would be furious to find out she’d been chaperoned. He could damage the friendship between the two women—and he had a feeling that would mean his head on a stake in Anne’s front yard.

Yep, he had a problem.

Oblivious to his inner tug of war, Lea continued. “They’d probably think I was nuts for suggesting this—but I don’t see another way.”

Whoa. Earth to Thomas. Just what was he about to be drafted into here? She had paused and was looking at him as if waiting for something. He nodded. “I’m listening.”

Lea took a deep breath and held it for the longest time. “Do you promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone?”

Thomas nodded. “I promise.” Her gaze searched his face, anxious, worried. It made him even more curious.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” she said after a while. There was hopelessness in her voice that all of a sudden made it imperative for him to let her know she could trust him. Why, he didn’t know. She was a stranger.

A stranger who all of a sudden was pillaging her purse, for a tissue to hide her tears in. She was crying?

Cripes. What was a gentleman to do?

“Lea…” For just a second, he put his hand on hers as she nervously fiddled with the candle at the center of the table while blotting tears from her eyes with her other hand. “I know you don’t know me, but if it’s worth anything to you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“I’m sorry,” she said after a while, having gained control of herself. She stuffed the tissue pack back into her purse and her smile was wavering, but brave. Her eyes were very dark now. “This is absurd. I’m a bit emotional these days. It’s probably hormonal.”

Emotional. Hormonal.

“I see,” he said, leaning back in sudden shock. Of course. She was pregnant. Why hadn’t Anne mentioned that little detail? Perhaps she didn’t know. Maybe that was the big secret. He glance around the room, trying to temper his disappointment with philosophy. He’d just met the woman, for heaven’s sake. Plenty more fish in the sea. But she’d been on a first date, so obviously she wasn’t with the father of her child. Maybe this job Lea wanted him to do had something to do with getting the father of her baby back.

Lea’s laugh was low and embarrassed. “This isn’t like me. I probably shouldn’t have gulped down all that wine with the appetizer. I’m afraid I’ve almost crossed the line between tipsy and drunk.”

Wine? No, she shouldn’t have. Thomas took her wine glass and moved it to the side. “You’re right. You shouldn’t be drinking at all. What would you like? Mineral water? Soda?”

She was looking at him strangely. “I’m not that drunk,” she protested. “I just meant that I might be a bit more than just tipsy, or I wouldn’t have been quite so…forward.” She reached for her glass, but he was faster and moved it out of her reach.

“No more. Alcohol isn’t good for your baby,” he said firmly.

“My baby?”

“Even in small doses, it can be risky. No need to tempt fate. It’s only for nine months, not a great sacrifice when everything’s taken into account.”

Green eyes turned darker. Dangerously darker. “What are you talking about, Thomas?”

“Your baby…” He hesitated, and wondered if he should be sliding under the table in utter embarrassment. One of her eyebrows rose, and his suspicions were confirmed. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“You’re not pregnant at all, are you?”

Lea glanced down at herself and put her hand against her stomach. “I knew I’d gained weight. I haven’t had time to go to the gym lately. But I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“No! You’re not…I’m sorry. When you said you were hormonal…” Thomas groaned. “I’m sorry. But you said you were emotional and it was probably hormonal, so I assumed you had to be pregnant.”

“I’m not. I’m just hormonal. Women are. All the time. Always. As a player, you should know that.”

“Okay.” He pushed the wine glass her way. “Sorry. If we hadn’t already attracted our share of attention for today, I’d go down on my knees and grovel. But have a drink.” He pushed his own glass over to her side of the table. “In fact, have mine too. I’ll just go straight to the strong stuff.”

She grinned at last, her eyes brightening. He had the feeling his own mortification was what had cheered her up. “Don’t worry, Thomas. I suppose it was a natural assumption from what I said.” She shook her head. “But this isn’t like me at all. Not crying in public, and not attacking strange men with weird propositions.”

Finally they were back to the weird proposition. About time—and a chance to get the conversation away from his blunder. “You were going to ask me something,” he said. “We’ve come this far—why don’t you go ahead?”

“You’ve got a point,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve already made a fool of myself.” She sent him another slow grin. “And so have you. I suppose we might as well go all the way.”

Thomas waited for her to continue. Her gaze searched his face for the longest time, as if trying to determine how trustworthy he was.

“I don’t know you, do I?” she said at last, in a low voice. “The idea of putting my entire future in your hands is a bit…risky. I don’t think this was a good idea.”

“Your entire future?” What on earth could she have in mind? Thomas leaned toward her again, intrigued—and a bit nervous. “I’m becoming really curious here. What are you talking about?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

The request was childish enough to pull a smile out of him. “Yeah, I promise.”

“I want a baby,” she stated, and he nearly fell off his chair in shock. She didn’t elaborate, just looked at him steadily.

Maybe he hadn’t heard right. “You want what?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with the look that reminded him of the big bad wolf.

He’d heard right the first time, hadn’t he?

“You want a baby,” he said, fighting back an impulse to check if the path to the exit was clear. This couldn’t be what he thought it was. She couldn’t be approaching a stranger, asking him to father her child. Women didn’t do that, even after too many drinks. It was impossible. So impossible that there was no need for him to panic. “Okay.” He nodded at her. “You want a baby. I’m with you so far.”

And he wasn’t laughing. This wasn’t a laughing matter at all. If he did anything at all, it would be hyper-ventilating.

“I want a baby so bad,” she blurted out. “It’s crazy. I don’t know where this came from, it must be biological, but it’s about all I can think about. And you see, I’ve finally grown up. I no longer believe in romance, in Mr. Right. If he exists at all, he obviously gave up waiting and settled down with Ms. Wrong a long time ago. He’s not showing. I need to be practical about this. If I want children, a family, I can’t afford to wait much longer.”

“I see.”

“I’m thirty. Almost thirty,” she amended. “Last year I ended a relationship, the only real relationship I’ve ever been in. Since then, my entire track record consists of the date you just witnessed.”

Thomas nodded. “What have I got to do with this?” He’d just say no. She couldn’t force him to…donate sperm, or whatever it was she had in mind. No problem. He’d just hear her question and say a polite no thank you. No big deal.

He leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting for the ax to fall. The things he got himself involved in.

His fear was obviously written all over him, as Lea’s worried face turned surprised for a moment, and then she started laughing. “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head so hard that her dark hair swirled around her face. “Absolutely not. That’s not it.”

“What?” he asked, unwilling to allow her to read his mind. “What’s not it?”

She was still laughing. “Relax, Thomas, it’s okay. I promise that I’m not about to ask you to father my baby.”

“You’re not?”

Her eyes sparkled, but she bit her lip and her laughter came to a hiccupy end. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or make you think I was completely crazy—again. Oh, God…no. I’d never ask a stranger. And certainly not someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re a multidater, remember? Practice makes perfect and all that? You’re a player. Right? You’re not looking to settle down any time soon, if ever?”

“Oh. That. Yes. Right.”

She nodded. “Exactly. And I don’t want anything to do with men like that. So you’re quite safe from me. What I want is a family, so I want to find someone stable, responsible, someone who wants the same thing. You’re entirely unsuitable.” She grinned at him in a way that despite his apprehension spiked his nervous interest even more.

“Let me get this straight: you want to find someone to have children with?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But not just that. I want what everybody has—a family. Not much to ask, is it? Everybody’s doing it without much effort. I’m talking about getting involved in a serious, stable relationship that eventually might involve having a family. Not just finding someone to impregnate me.”

She said the last sentence as if it were something totally unthinkable, but he wasn’t convinced. It certainly didn’t sound like she was looking for a love match.

“Okay.” He leaned back, not feeling much more comfortable knowing he was “unsuitable.” “And if I’m neither genetic material nor husband material, how is it that I come into this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, impatient. “You know everything about this. I have to go through the dating process to find someone. You can help me cut down on the dreadful part.”

“I’m not following. How would I help you through it all?”

She leaned toward him again, her eyes sincere. “It’s simple. I’ve never really dated in my life. I want you to teach me how to. What the rules are, how to behave, what to do when, how to read men, what they want and what they mean…it’s all a mystery to me. Additionally, I don’t trust my own judgment anymore. Men aren’t the same on a first date and two years into a marriage. Maybe there are hints. Clues. You know.”

“I see,” he managed to get out.

“You’re probably thinking about what’s in it for you. I’d hire you, as a consultant. We hire consultants all the time at work. I’ll pay you what they’re being paid. Which is a small fortune, by the way. And I suppose you could look at this as a learning experience too. You’d get to see things from the woman’s point of view.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“If you agree to do this, I will pay you. I’m not asking for a favor, I’m asking to hire you. I need your expertise. This is serious business to me, not a game.”

He shook his head, feeling disoriented. “Why me?”

She was leaning toward him, excitement in her voice and her face. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You know the dating scene, what’s done and what’s not done. You have insight into the male mind that I lack.” She fell silent for a moment before adding: “Will you do it?”

He was pretty close to speechless. “I…don’t know.”

She shrugged, but there was disappointment in her eyes that he didn’t like seeing. “You don’t have to make up your mind right this minute, of course. You can think about it for a while if you want.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re asking me. Why you think I’m the perfect man for this job. I’m sure you know some single men who could give you hints. Any men, for that matter, they all were single once. Husbands of your friends, perhaps?”

Her gaze traveled over him, and he felt himself still wriggling on her hook. “Well, you are perfect for this, aren’t you? It’s kind of written all over you. And the way you had the nerve to pull that stunt on our blind dates—a perfect example of supreme confidence. I was impressed.” She suddenly laughed. “It was touch and go for a while if I would scream the house down, but I was impressed. And you look like the perfect example of the serial dater—handsome, smooth, suave…”

“Thank you,” he tried to interrupt her, very much aware that the tone of her voice was not conveying any positivism toward these supposedly positive traits, and not really up to hearing more.

She continued. “Commitment-phobic, right? Not even looking for the right woman? Right?”

He nodded reluctantly. She had him pegged pretty well.

“See, you’re a player, even if you don’t know that word. Perfect for me. I bet you’re a businessman, aren’t you? Wheeler and dealer, right? The Dow index gets your blood pressure rising, doesn’t it?”

“The Dow index…?”

“I’m sorry.” Lea lowered her voice. “I don’t know you at all. I shouldn’t judge you. My ex was all these things. And, I admit again, I may have drunk one too many glasses of wine during the footsie session.”

“If you were with your ex for years, he can hardly have been much of a commitment-phobic or a serial dater.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared into her glass. “That’s what you think. All that time, and he was never ready to move in together. Oh, he moved into my apartment, more or less, but he kept his and I wasn’t allowed to move so much as a toothbrush in there.” She swirled the wine reflectively, staring into the dark red liquid, then looked up at him with a faint smile. “I made a mistake. Or on second thoughts, maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all. Anyway—I started pushing. I started mentioning settling down to one place, that there was no point in wasting rent on two apartments when we only used one.”

This sounded familiar. “Did you mention having children? That sends a lot of men fleeing in the other direction if they aren’t ready.” It had once sent him halfway across the world. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he remembered the feeling of panic and dread at the thought of getting trapped in a relationship. He could sympathize with her ex in that area.

She shook her head. “I thought about mentioning having a family, but I never did. But he may have read my mind. He had an affair, that he knew I would find out about, and was extremely relieved when I told him to get the hell out of my life.” She drew patterns on the outside of the wineglass with a fingernail. “I’m guessing he’d been wanting to dump me for a while but never had the guts. So he did something that was guaranteed to make me dump him.”

“What a jerk,” Thomas said, disgusted. Even he would never have stooped to a lousy trick like that. “That’s pretty low. I’m sorry.”

There was a flash of cynicism in her eyes. “You wouldn’t do the same in his situation?”

“No. If I wanted out of a relationship, I’d make a clean break before jumping beds.”

She shrugged, and he had the feeling she didn’t believe him. “Anyway, I’m not telling you all this to get pity, Thomas. I’m over him. I guess the only thing I’m not over is my own stupidity, to have clung to him for so long.”

“Well, there’s a reason love is associated with the heart and not the brain.”

“I don’t think we’d been in love for a long time,” she mused. “If ever. We were just used to each other. In hindsight, we probably stayed together so long because it was the simplest thing, not because we were particularly happy together.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he was a stockbroker. For years, my emotional well-being hinged on the Dow index. I could check the Net before going home from work, and know what kind of an evening was ahead. But you’re not him—I’m sorry I made that crack.”

“It’s okay.”

“So, what’s your answer? Will you be my consultant?”

Thomas leaned forward to see her face better, wondering why he hadn’t already said no. “First tell me, in practical terms—what exactly is it that you want me to do?”

“There are a few things. First, help me find suitable men. I’d like to avoid more blind dates like tonight, and I’m not really sure how to go about it, how to screen them to avoid the worst riff-raff. I’d also like you to help me get through the first few dates, sort of give me hints on what to do, what not to do.” She shrugged. “Be there for me to ask stupid questions that my girlfriends can’t answer. Just help me get confident. Get my dating legs.”

“Dating legs?” He had sudden visions he had no business seeing. “What are dating legs?”

“You know, like sea legs.”

“Oh.” Dizziness again. The effect the woman was having on his balance system was remarkable, and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of too much alcohol.

“Like, tonight. I didn’t even know what to do when James started acting like an eight-footed octopus. I was busy enough worrying about having to kiss him at the end of the evening.”

“Maybe you worry too much about how things are supposed to be. Just let it come naturally.”

“That’s the point!” she said. “I don’t know what comes naturally. It doesn’t come naturally to me. I know that may be hard for you to understand, since this is all probably just second nature to you, but it’s a complete mystery to me.”

He nodded. “I see.”

“Will you help me?” she asked. “Just say yes or no, I’m not pushing. No explanation needed if you don’t feel like it.”

She expected him to say no. It was obvious from the way her shoulders had slumped when she’d asked the question.

And of course he would say no. What else could he do? If nothing else, she would skin both him and Anne if she found out he’d been sent to chaperone her—and then kept his identity from her while she told him some of her deepest secrets and innermost feelings, thinking she was safe confiding in a stranger what she could not confide in friends.

He would say no—and with luck they’d never see each other again and the problem would be solved.

“Yes,” he heard himself say instead. “I’ll help you.”

What had she done?

After showering and putting on one of the oversized T-shirts she liked to wear to bed, Lea grabbed the sleeping cat from the sofa and carried her to the bedroom. She needed the companionship. The satisfied sound of the cat purring always made her feel better. It calmed her down. Most of the time, it also helped her think more clearly. There was probably a medical explanation for this. If not, there should be.

Uruk hardly woke up during the transfer, just opened her mouth and yawned once, before curling up again at the foot of the bed in an identical position from the one she’d just been removed from. Lea checked the Caller ID on the phone sitting on the bedside table, and saw that Anne had called several times. It was too late to call her back now. She’d drop by tomorrow and tell her matchmaking friend all about the updated definition of “dreadful.”

Feeling too jittery to go straight to bed, Lea walked barefoot to the window and rested her forehead against the cool pane. Tonight really had happened, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, now that the exhilarating effects of having been rescued from a horror date had worn off.

She’d asked a stranger—a very attractive stranger—to teach her to date.

The effects of the wine were also wearing off—and already she wasn’t sure she’d be very pleased with herself in the morning. Apart from everything else, she must have come across like a pruny old spinster, desperate to find a man. She whimpered and knocked her head softly against the window a few times. Why had he agreed, anyway? Out of amusement? He must have better things to do with his time.

He seemed nice. Very nice, she admitted. She’d felt an instant attraction to him, attraction of the kind she had been determined to ignore since he was way outside the parameters she’d set up for what she wanted.

But he’d agreed to help her. And she needed help. That much she’d learned from half an hour with James the Footsie.

She pulled the cat from the foot of the bed and settled her on the second pillow. Uruk was about the only single female she knew—so she’d have to suffer through the single-girl-talk that Lea’s girlfriends no longer seemed to comprehend.

“You know, Uruk, if my plan succeeds, you’ll be exiled from the bedroom again,” she told the cat. “As it is, I’m just adding to my growing spinster image by talking to my cat, but since nobody is here to hear it, it’s fine.”

Uruk blinked a few times, then her eyes stayed wide open as she glared at her mistress. “I know,” Lea said, bribing the cat with a tummy rub. “You don’t like being moved around in the middle of the night when you’re fast asleep. I’m sorry. But I needed to talk.”

The apology was sufficient. Uruk’s eyes closed and purring commenced again. She squirmed around to better accommodate the tummy rub and stretched out a paw to gently draw a claw over Lea’s wrist.

“Did I do the right thing, do you think?” Lea whispered. “It’s pretty unlike me to approach a stranger like that. He probably thinks I’m nuts. I mean, I think I’m nuts to have done that.”

What had induced her to be so impulsive? Excitement of the moment, probably. Compared to the stunt Thomas had pulled in the restaurant, it hadn’t seemed so far out to enlist his help. Not until she’d seen the astonished—and alarmed—look on his face when she’d told him what she needed.

She could feel Uruk’s body vibrate with the purring. The fluffy white fur on her belly was softer than anything in the world. Except perhaps a baby’s downy hair.

“Sometimes, Uruk,” she whispered, “a woman has to do what a woman has to do. We have a mission, and we’re going to get there. And anyway, it doesn’t matter what Thomas thinks of me, does it? Not at all. He doesn’t matter at all, does he? He’s just the means to an end.”

The cat purred on and refused to take sides. Lea sighed and rolled on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

If only his eyes weren’t quite so blue.

CHAPTER THREE

“DON’T ask,” were the first words out of Lea’s mouth when Anne yanked the front door open the following afternoon. She’d promised her friend to drop by after work and give a report on how last night’s date had been. She’d be needing an apology instead. Where had they found that guy? Thanks to them, she’d had to do all of today’s calculations at the office through the depressing mist of a hangover.

Then she noticed that Anne’s brow was thunderous, an aura of disapproval radiating from her. She was even tapping her foot. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’re scowling at me.”