“Your money can’t buy me, Mr. O’Brien,” the waitress said sharply. “I’m not for sale.”

Cameron leaned back. So that was it. Being poor, she disliked the infinitely wealthy. “I don’t need to buy women, Darci. That’s the least of my problems.”

She glared at him “You’re a pig.”

“Give me a chance to prove you wrong. Come see the sunrise with me.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Why should I?”

He leaned forward and took one of her hands—and a wanton shock coursed through him, burning him. It wasn’t easy to maintain his composure. “Because you intrigue me.” He caressed her fingers. “I simply want to get to know you.”

“Oh.” She detached her hand from his. “I’m off in fifteen minutes, but—”

“Perfect. I’ll wait.” As she moved off, he smiled to himself and sipped his coffee. When it really came down to it, who could resist him…?

Dear Reader,

Heartwarming, emotional, compelling…these are all words that describe Harlequin American Romance. Check out this month’s stellar selection of love stories, which are sure to please.

First, the BRIDES OF THE DESERT ROSE continuity series continues with At the Rancher’s Bidding by Charlotte Maclay. In the delightful story, a princess masquerades as her lady-in-waiting to save herself from an arranged marriage—and ends up falling for a rugged rancher.

Also available this month, bestselling author Judy Christenberry’s Randall Honor resumes her successful BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series about the Randall family of Wyoming. Although they’d shared a night of passion, Victoria Randall wasn’t in the market for a husband…and Dr. Jon Wilson had some serious romancing to do if he was going to get this Randall woman to love and honor him!

Next, when an heiress-in-disguise overhears a handsome executive bet his friend that he could win any woman—including her—she’s determined to teach him a lesson. Don’t miss Catching the Corporate Playboy by Michele Dunaway. And rounding out the month is Stranded at Cupid’s Hideaway, a wonderful reunion romance story from talented author Connie Lane, making her series romance debut.

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Catching the Corporate Playboy

Michele Dunaway

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

For Charlie Thompson for telling me to always be true to my vision, and to Julie Beard for encouraging me to be true to my voice.

And to Dave Brinkmann, whose attitude and actions have always provided me with hours of inspiration.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In first grade Michele Dunaway knew she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade she was determined to be both. Born and raised in a west-county suburb of St. Louis, Michele recently moved to five acres in the rolling hills of Labadie. She’s traveled extensively, with the cities and places she visits often becoming settings for her stories.

Michele currently teaches high school English, raises her two young daughters and describes herself as a woman who does too much but doesn’t want to stop.

Michele loves to hear from readers, and you can write to her at P.O. Box 45, Labadie, MO 63055. Please enclose a SASE.

Books by Michele Dunaway

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

848—A LITTLE OFFICE ROMANCE

900—TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS

921—THE SIMPLY SCANDALOUS PRINCESS

931—CATCHING THE CORPORATE PLAYBOY

To: LeeRein@obrien.com

From: JulieRein@lovingwife.com

Re: Your Playboy Best Friend

Dear Husband,

Say it isn’t so. Cameron O’Brien is coming to St. Louis? Tell me you two aren’t going to get involved in one of your stupid bets. The city—and its debutantes—aren’t safe when he’s in town.

See you tonight, Sailor

XOX Julie

To: JulieRein@lovingwife.com

From: LeeRein@obrien.com

Re: Your Playboy Best Friend

Dear Wife,

It’s true. Cameron’s due to arrive any minute in St. Louis. I have a devious plan in mind that will set my best friend on his ear. If all goes well, Cameron O’Brien will be as happy as I am. In other words, he will find the woman of his dreams and marry her.

See you at six,

XOX Lee

Prologue

Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo

From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO

To: Darlene C. Sanders

CC: Andrew Sanders, President

Re: Job placement

Congratulations on your successful completion of your first assignment. Reorganizing the mailroom to make it more efficient is a good idea and a committee will study your report.

As for the next two weeks, you will report to Val at Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. She will fill you in on the specifics of your assignment Monday at 4:00 p.m.

J.J.

Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo

From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO

To: Andrew Sanders, President

Re: Job placement

As you can see from my previous memo, Darci is at Grandpa Joe’s for the next two weeks. Shall we up our wager regarding her success?

J.J.

Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo

From: Andrew Sanders, President

To: Joe Jacobsen, CEO

Re: Job placement

You’re on. I still say you don’t know your granddaughter like you think you do. Prepare to lose.

A.S.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

It took only three days, but that was all she needed. Darci Sanders now knew that she absolutely, positively hated grease.

Surely some man had invented it, she rationalized. That had to be the reason why it was so obnoxious, and why she was literally up to her elbows in the slimy, oily stuff.

Sure, when the family cook had allowed, Darci had occasionally dipped into the blue tub of Crisco shortening and greased a cake pan. She’d even once been allowed to drain fried bacon. But none of her “cooking lessons” had prepared her for the amount of grease she’d wiped up and/or been splattered with during her short tenure at Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats.

And if she didn’t love her dear old Grandpa Joe so much, she would have told him exactly where he could put the hideous white congealing substance that filmed over her every pore. Not even scrubbing with a loofah sponge could get rid of it.

“I can’t believe I’m thinking about grease!” Darci chastised herself aloud before adjusting the apron covering her ruined uniform. It was trashed worse than burnt toast.

“Don’t let all this get you down, Darci,” Val said. Grandpa Joe’s manager for the past twenty years blew a big pink bubble, the gum making a crackling sound as it popped and went back beneath her chewing teeth.

Darci pushed a wayward blond hair back up underneath her pink cap. She began moving to fetch the plates of food currently being shoved out the opening from the restaurant’s kitchen.

Get her down? She was down. There was no way she could be any lower. Except for washing dishes, this was it.

Grandpa Joe’s grand plan to indoctrinate his granddaughter into the family corporation started at the bottom. Of course, her brother, Harry, expected her to give up, and he’d bet her a thousand bucks she wouldn’t make it.

But what he hadn’t counted on was Darci’s determination and grit, qualities even she hadn’t realized she possessed in such abundance. No way was she giving her brother any satisfaction. She wouldn’t fail. Jacobsen Enterprises was her legacy, her future. And she wanted it badly enough that she’d agreed to Grandpa Joe’s outrageous rite-of-initiation demand: working at a restaurant he kept for sentimental reasons—and because it not only made a profit, but the land became more valuable every day.

After Darci finished putting the plates on the brown tray, she shot Val a reassuring smile. “Now don’t you worry about me, too. My mother’s doing that enough for all of us. Besides, I may have given up on my nails, my hair and my clothes, but I’m not giving up on my grandpa’s challenge. No way. I want to work at the corporation and eventually take my father’s spot when he retires, and I’m going to.”

Val scratched her ash-white skin. “You go girl. That’s what I like to hear. You’ll make a darn fine businesswoman.”

“Yeah, but I would have thought my previous work experience and my MBA from Harvard would have been enough. But not for Grandpa.” Darci rolled her blue eyes as the smell from Grandpa Joe’s famous chili and eggs assaulted her nose. She tried to ignore the odor as she added some soda crackers to the tray.

St. Louisans had nicknamed the combination of chili and eggs “pellers,” for the way the concoction propelled its way down one’s throat, but how anyone could actually eat the stuff was beyond Darci’s comprehension. Personally she couldn’t stand the lethal combination that had launched her grandfather’s now multi-million-dollar restaurant conglomerate.

Seeing Darci’s disgusted expression, Val clucked like a mother hen and opened her mouth in a wide toothy grin. “Now, sweetie. You don’t have to eat it. Just serve it. And after seeing your grandpa take this company from nothing, I know he knows best.”

“Yeah. So you say.” Darci grimaced and studied her last remaining fingernail. Hopeless. Disgusted, she ripped off the barely attached nail fragment and tossed it in the trashcan.

If she didn’t love Grandpa Joe…She savored that thought. Hands that used to play concert piano for the youth orchestra now served food. That’s what political correctness called it these days. Even her own mother couldn’t bring herself to call Darci’s current employment for what it really was— “waitressing.”

Her mother still clung to Grandpa Joe’s semantics, of calling it “exploring all avenues of the company.” Darci bit back a groan. She would succeed, but it sure wasn’t fair. “So why didn’t he make Harry do this?”

She realized she’d spoken the words aloud when Val answered her.

“Because your older brother is too stupid to take over running a billion-dollar corporation. You ain’t, and your grandpa wants you to prove yourself. Now you best serve that food before it ices over.”

Darci lifted up the tray. Despite the fact she played a mean game of tennis, lately she’d been discovering muscles she never knew she had. A slimy film on the underside of the tray coated her skin as she moved out from behind the counter. Great. More grease.

VAL SHOOK HER HEAD as she watched Darci weave slowly through the tables. Darn if that girl didn’t have gumption. She’d pushed that pretty blond hair up under her cap and gotten down to work. It didn’t matter that she could just live off her trust fund.

No, she’d broken every nail and put up with every obscene pat on her bottom. Darci’s cute face, with the nose turned up just so, beaded with sweat, but she hadn’t really complained. That impressed sixty-two-year-old Val the most.

Darci was night and day from that whiny twenty-eight-year-old brother of hers. Three years older than Darci, he’d lasted less than a day before begging Grandpa Joe to get him out. But Darci didn’t need to know that. Val didn’t want her to quit. Not when she knew Darci would succeed.

Val turned her attention away from her protégé and to the customer waiting to pay his bill.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Great,” the guy slurred slightly.

Val smiled and hoped the girl clinging to his arm was his designated driver. “Of course it was,” she told him matter-of-factly. Grandpa Joe knew what he was doing when he made his pellers, and he knew what he was doing with Darci. There was a method to his madness and eccentricities, and Darci would learn that soon enough.

CAMERON O’BRIEN sat on the red vinyl bench of Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats and frowned at the man seated across from him. “You swear this place is good?”

Lee Reinhart, whom Cameron considered his best friend, grinned. “Would I steer you wrong? This is one of those authentic places, all family-owned.”

“Mmm,” Cameron said noncommittally. From the various ethnic appearances of the people the restaurant employed, it didn’t look too family-operated.

“Although I hear the man who owns it ventured out into a whole bunch of other areas,” Lee added.

Cameron gazed around. Despite the fact it was three in the morning, a crowd of people mingled. “There are a lot of people here for it being so late.”

“It’s Saturday night, well, early Sunday morning, and the bars on Laclede’s Landing have just closed.”

Great, Cameron thought with a pucker of his lips. Lee had taken him somewhere where drunken patrons headed to detox. That didn’t say much for the quality of the food.

Grandpa Joe’s obviously catered to the eclectic. Cameron had never seen an odder assortment of people gathered in one place, which intrigued him, considering the condo where he made his home was on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. New York, famous for its variety of people, had nothing on Grandpa Joe’s.

Cameron focused on his friend and shrugged in resignation. “I hope the owner’s other ventures were more successful. This place is a dump. It looks like a truck stop that hasn’t been updated since the fifties.” He shifted his six-foot bulk, and, to his dismay, found his legs sticking to the red vinyl seat. Given it was July he would have thought it was safe to wear shorts. “Good grief. What possessed you to bring us here?”

Much to Cameron’s chagrin, his best friend chuckled. Lee leaned forward and put his elbows on the yellowing white Formica tabletop. “If the press could only see you now. New York City’s most eligible bachelor at Grandpa Joe’s.”

The dirty look Cameron shot Lee didn’t have any impact. Disgusted, Cameron raked his left hand through his short blond hair. “If I hadn’t gone to college with you, I’d fire you for bringing me here and risking another exposé.”

Lee laughed, and Cameron knew his former roommate didn’t feel in the least bit threatened.

“I’m absolutely sick and tired of being that stupid tabloid’s front cover just so they can sell papers,” Cameron said.

Lee took a sip of water. “Must suck to be you. Thirty-four years old and women are still throwing themselves at you, begging for sex. Heck, I’m sure being named one of America’s one hundred most eligible bachelors really hurt your feelings.”

Hardly, but Cameron wasn’t about to admit it. “Shut up, married man. You don’t know anything anymore.”

Lee laughed. “That’s right, and I like it that way. You should try it, you know. Marriage might suit you.”

Cameron scowled. Marriage was the last thing on his mind, even though it seemed as if everyone else around him was trying it. He drummed well-manicured fingers on the yellowing tabletop. “You’re just a sore loser. It still pains you that you had to fork over the cash when I won our bet.”

“It was an unfair bet.”

Cameron arched an eyebrow. To this day, he and Lee always had some bet going, from their yearly Superbowl and Final Four bets to the more outrageous ones that became more a matter of male pride and principle than of money to win.

A prime example of male pride had been their bet involving that M word. He tried staring Lee down. “It’s not my fault you tied the knot first.”

Lee simply shrugged. “Yes, but my bed’s warm and I don’t have to worry about her turning psycho the next morning. Unlike some people I know.”

Cameron deliberately ignored his friend’s jibe. He’d long ago purged that memory. “Oh look, here’s our food. Finally. I’d about given up.”

He swept the feathered layer falling in his eyes away from his face and managed a tight smile as the waitress came forward. His blue eyes narrowed, missing nothing. She balanced the tray cautiously, a strand of her own blond hair plastered to the side of her face.

The tray wobbled as she transferred it to only one hand. A bit of some unnameable brownish substance flowed over the rim of a plate, and Cameron jumped to avoid being hit with the drips that instead splattered on the vinyl seat right next to his leg.

“Oops,” she said, catching the tray before it completely upended. She placed it on the tray caddy and grinned, as if proud of her accomplishment. Finding her perfect white teeth an odd contrast to her grease-shiny face, Cameron busied himself with wiping up the spill. He emptied the napkin holder before he was through.

“Let’s see,” she said, her voice making a nervous tinkling sound. “You both ordered the special. That makes it easy.” She placed a plate of something he couldn’t describe in front of him.

“Anything else right now?” She barely waited for him to answer as she tossed packages of soda crackers on the table. Already she was inching away, ignoring the used napkins he’d piled up. “No? Great. Ketchup’s on the table. Pay the cashier before you leave.”

And with that she walked off, her pink uniform flaring behind her. A strange smell assaulted his nose, and he looked at the source of the odor, the plate in front of him. Was that grease floating on top?

He glanced up to find Lee choking back another laugh. Cameron practically groaned aloud with exasperation. “Now what? I’ve been in town less than five hours and I think you’re over your quotient of gotchas for the next five years.”

“I can’t help it. The look on your face is priceless. Haven’t you ever eaten anywhere that wasn’t chic or five-star?”

“If chic means somewhere the waitresses pick up dirty napkins, then no, I haven’t.” Cameron frowned.

“You are so cloistered.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped open and he managed not to sputter. He ran a hand across his three a.m. shadow. “I’m cloistered? Are you kidding? Are you really suggesting that I should have checked out some dump like this in New York?”

As if in disbelief, Lee shook his head, sending his brown hair forward. He pushed it back. “How did I miss this side of you when we were at Yale? You’re such a snob.”

“No, I’m not. I just expect not to wear my food. Geez, now I know I’m in a cow town. Come on. You know me. I’m not snobby, just picky.”

Lee ignored that and feigned indignation instead. “So St. Louis is a cow town?”

“Compared to New York, yes, this is a secondary market, which is why I’m buying your excuse for a weekly newspaper in the first place. Remember?”

“I remember. It’s a good purchase, but just relax a little. This isn’t New York.”

“That’s for sure, and you’ve never lived there.”

“Thank the gods for that.” Laugh lines surrounded Lee’s mouth. He leaned forward. “St. Louis is just fine for me. I’ll take it over New York any day.”

“Hmph.” Cameron snorted as Lee spooned some of the chili and eggs into his mouth.

“Pellers are really good,” Lee said with a wave of his empty spoon. “Eat.”

Cameron rolled his eyes heavenward. As his blue-eyed gaze returned to earth, their waitress again came into view. From a distance he could tell she had decent legs. At least she had one point in her favor. The way he figured it, if the only job she could get was working in a diner in the middle of the night then she needed all the breaks she could get.

“So, honestly, what do you think?”

Cameron snapped to attention and returned his gaze to meet Lee’s. After years of being friends, he knew Lee wasn’t referring to their errant waitress, but rather the Mound City Monitor.

“I’m pleased,” Cameron said. “It’s a great newspaper, and the acquisition is going well. It impressed me the way you put the issue to bed tonight. I’ll admit, I had my doubts when you first planted the idea about buying the paper.”

“I assume O’Brien Publications is pretty picky on what they purchase?” Lee’s brown eyes danced with mirth as he teased Cameron. Once Cameron had delayed making a deal, ending up losing the next “hot” magazine. While he hadn’t lost any money, his learning experience at twenty-two was still a sore spot.

“You know, one day you’ll go too far,” Cameron threatened with a wave of his finger.

“And then what?” Lee continued to rib his best friend. It had been too long since they’d simply hung out as they were now. “You New Yorkers call your lawyers. Out here in the cow towns we take it out back and settle it like real men.”

Cameron choked on the last of his cola. “Now I know that wife of yours is an alien. You’re brain-dead.”

“I’ll tell Julie you said that. She’ll be pleased. One more success in husbandly indoctrination besides me putting down the toilet seat.”

Cameron suddenly grinned. His former roommate had always been the life of the party, the one who made everyone laugh and feel right at home. “You know, I’ve missed bantering with you.”

For a moment Lee became serious. “Me, too. I’m glad you decided to supervise the sale personally. It’ll give us some time to play golf.”

Golf. In guy-speak this meant spending some quality time together. “Well, you need a way to win some of our bets. In the overall scheme of things, I’m still way in the lead.”

“Ha. Dreamer.”

“Besides,” Cameron ignored Lee’s jibe, “I knew this arrangement had to have other merits besides you being an editor of the paper.”

“Mainly your escape.”

Despite his jovial side, his friend’s brain was razor-sharp. “How well you know me. Kit’s married now and pregnant—”

“And now that your sister’s settled, your dad’s on your case again.” Lee waved a spoon, motioning that he understood. “Time to get him an heir with the surname O’Brien.”

“Exactly.” Cameron nodded. Michael O’Brien wasn’t known as a fiery Irishman for nothing. “Ever since that bachelor list appeared he’s repeated his mantra quite a bit.”

Lee looked pleased. “Ah, so you finally admit it! The real reason for your sojourn comes forth.”

Cameron twisted his straw, jabbing it between the ice cubes. He could use a refill, but their errant waitress was paying no attention to their table. “Yeah. Well, you try having your Irish father breathing down your neck. Hell, he’s made me his new quest. So I figured I’d come out here, supervise my very expensive newspaper purchase, see you and the wife, and get away from dear old dad and my hormonally unbalanced sister.”

“Who, while you love both of them, are still on your case to find the right woman and settle down.”

“That about sums it up.” Cameron pushed his untouched plate aside, too keyed up to eat whatever the greasy substance was in front of him. It had been satisfying seeing the presses run on the local alternative weekly he purchased for O’Brien Publications. The Mound City Monitor marked O’Brien’s first newspaper venture into a smaller secondary market such as St. Louis.

The first issue after the sale announcement currently ran on the presses, and that meant everything was falling into place. People were calming down, adapting to the changes, and returning to normal now that the dust had settled.

Running a publications conglomerate was what Cameron did, and he was good at it. He’d know when it was time to settle down and marry, and right now was not that time. Sure, kids were cute, but other people’s kids could be returned to their parents. He shuddered a bit. No, he wasn’t ready for a wife or baby drool.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” Lee pointed to Cameron’s plate. Lee’s own plate appeared licked clean.

Cameron grimaced at the thought of how Lee’s stomach must feel. “Are you sure you didn’t miss some?”

“Yep. Like Ted Drewes concretes, this is late-night tradition. Some of us are always here each week after the presses run. I can’t believe you didn’t at least try it.”

“I’m only going to be here two weeks. I’ll pass on St. Louis’s traditions. What’s a concrete?”

“Ye of little faith. Why do you think Bob Costas lives here? This is a great city. Find yourself the right girl and you’ll never want to leave. And a concrete is a type of ice cream that stays in the cup if you turn it upside down.”

“That’s it? That’s what you gave up when you rejected the big-city job I offered you? I think I’ll keep my hotel suite for two weeks, thank you, and then I’m going home.”

“Man, you’ve been cloistered too long. You really need to get out and experience life.”

“What? To this?” Cameron bristled and gestured around. Not another one trying to get him married. And now it was his best friend. “Please. Give anyone in here a chance to live in my world and they’d snap it up. Why do you think lottery tickets sell so well?”

“So it’s not ingrained?” One of Lee’s eyebrows arched.

Cameron lifted the spoon and held the brown substance up to his nose. He could smell the overpowering odor of garlic. “You really are brain-dead. What are you talking about? What’s not ingrained?”

“Your New York snobbery. Your aloofness and disdain.”

“Of course not.” Cameron tentatively held the bite to his lips. As much as he didn’t want to, he needed to eat the stuff or forever live with the consequences of Lee calling him a chicken, afraid to try new things. Lee would never let Cameron live this down if he didn’t try it. The orange-tinged grease pooled around the edges of the spoon. With a shudder he said, “I bet I could make anyone fit into my world.”

“A bet.” Lee’s eyes gleamed at the challenge Cameron had just unknowingly tossed out. “Sort of like My Fair Lady?”

Cameron thought a moment and tried to remember the movie. He caught the spoon before it dripped. He shrugged. “I guess. I’ve never seen it.”

“Now I know you need a life. Julie and I watched it one Sunday afternoon.”

That just about summed up who needed a life, in Cameron’s opinion, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Lee had only been married two years, so Cameron guessed his friend was still in the honeymoon phase. “So what’s it about? Isn’t it a musical of some sort?”

“And from you who sees all the Broadway shows.”

“Women like them, and I like women. It’s a small price to pay.”

Lee groaned. “In a nutshell, a man takes a beggar woman off the streets and turns her into the cream of society. You’re saying you could do that? You could make some woman acceptable?”

Cameron did some quick thinking. There was that redhead, oh, what was her name again? She’d gotten a modeling contract after being photographed at a charity ball with him. That counted, right? She’d now made quite a name for herself.

Oh well. Cameron shrugged. He wasn’t going to let Lee best him in this challenge. It was bad enough he had to eat the stuff congealing in front of him. “Sure I could do it. I could make her fit right in. It’s easy. The right clothes and makeup and anyone can pretend to be rich. I see enough of the hangers-on all the time as they try to snare a rich guy.”

He ignored Lee’s arched eyebrow and closed his mouth over the spoon. Despite the fact the weird mixture was now cold, the hot sauce instantly hit his tastebuds. Chili and eggs assaulted him, bounced along his tongue and fired their way down his throat. Wow. “Hey, this stuff isn’t half-bad.”

Lee tossed his hands up in the air. “The man’s a rocket scientist.”

“I think I will fire you just for the hell of it. You’ll go from big-city editor to the breadline. Maybe then you’d learn some respect for your superiors.” Cameron took another bite, understanding now why the concoction was called pellers. It just shot its way down the throat.

Lee didn’t look scared, more like amused. “Ha. You wouldn’t dare. I’ll send Julie after you. She’s pregnant you know.”

Cameron groaned, doing the manly thing of hiding his happiness for his friend. “Great. Another pregnant woman. You win.”

“I’m planning on it.” Lee shot him a satisfied smile that told Cameron he was in trouble. “Shall we discuss the terms?”

Cameron’s stomach plummeted. From Lee’s tone, and the history between the two men, he knew his friend wasn’t referring to Julie’s baby.

“Let’s see,” Lee mused aloud. “What shall we say? One thousand this time? Oh, and a really nice baby gift for my wife. Maybe one of those really expensive strollers that the rich and famous have. You live in New York. I’m sure you could find out what they are.”

Darn, Cameron thought. No way to back out now. Of course, how many of their bets had he actually lost? Not many. He was ahead on Lee probably five to one. “You’re cocky. My new purchase must be paying you too much if you can afford losing this big. What are the terms?”

“I want you to turn the person of my choosing into the cream of society. And I don’t just mean dressing her up in fancy clothes or working on her speech. It’ll be like Pretty Woman and My Fair Lady all rolled into one.”

Cameron couldn’t miss the opportunity to jerk Lee’s chain. “You’re hiring me a hooker? What will Julie think?”

“Get the concierge in that fancy hotel of yours to find the My Fair Lady video. Sit down and watch it. And no, you aren’t getting a hooker. I’ll pick someone that I feel is suitable.”

“Will she still look like Julia Roberts?”

“One day I’m going to have to teach you how to settle things out back.”

With well-manicured fingers, Cameron thumbed his empty glass. His mouth still burned from the fiery concoction, and now even the ice in his glass was gone. “The service in this place is unreal. Where did she go anyway?”

“So are we agreed?”

Cameron scanned the room for their terrible waitress. “Yeah, why not? You’re gonna lose, you know. Just do me a favor and don’t get me a real dog.”

Lee looked extremely smug. “Oh, don’t worry.”

Right. Cameron had heard that enough times. Even the flour bomb Lee had insisted they make in college had backfired. They’d been the ones doused in white powder, not the annoying people on the balcony of the apartment above.

Cameron stilled his tapping finger. “So how will I know I’ve succeeded?”

“She passes two tests.”

Because of Lee’s now very wide grin, Cameron immediately became wary. Suspicion laced his tone. “What are they?”

“She spends a week in New York, with you and everything it entails. The society pages, the whole works. If she can retain her poise through that, well, she passes the first test. But she has to stay for the full week. No less.”

Cameron shrugged. “Easy enough. What’s the other one?”

“The ultimate test,” Lee paused for dramatic effect, “will be your father and your sister. They have to adore her, and you know how difficult that is.”

Cameron’s gut clenched. He hoped it was from eating Grandpa Joe’s food. He steadied his voice and tried to appear nonchalant at Lee’s upping of the stakes. “Yeah, right, Lee. As if they’d be a good litmus test. Despite their wish to see me wed, they run off anyone unsuitable. If I bring someone suitable home they’ll book the church before I even get in the door.”

“You don’t have to marry her, just prove her suitable. Then just subtly tell her it’s over.”

Cameron shrugged; bravado returned. He could do that. He was an expert at worming his way gracefully out of entanglements. He’d been doing it for years.

“Refill?”

Hearing the female voice, Cameron jumped and his head shot around. How long had the waitress been standing there? He gaped at her. There she stood, frowning at him. Was that venom in her blue eyes? She certainly disapproved of something.

He bristled at her vicious glare. What had he ever done to her? He couldn’t help it that she looked as if she could have stepped right out of a fifties diner. A white frilly apron covered her candy-pink dress. Of course, both were splattered with grease.

Still, he had to admit the overall effect was interesting, especially the way her bosom peeked over the scooped neckline. In this case less was more. She had another point in her favor. He blinked, finding himself rather surprised that he’d been checking her out.

And she sure didn’t look too pleased to be standing next to him.

He gave her his trademark grin, the one that melted hearts for miles. Her expression didn’t change; in fact, she now appeared even more ticked off. Sensing Lee’s glee at his obvious failure to charm the waitress, Cameron decided to try again. He couldn’t let this situation end in failure unless he wanted to give Lee more ammunition to use at a future date.

Just what did the locals call soda in St. Louis? People in Indiana and Michigan called it pop, while people in the southern states called everything Coke and then specified what flavor. He stuck with the Midwest guess. “I’d like more pop.”

By the look on her face, he’d guessed wrong.

“Pop? In St. Louis it’s called soda.” She reached forward and grabbed his glass. Cameron had the direct impression that she now thought him some sort of a country bumpkin. “I’ll be right back with a refill of soda.” She emphasized the last word and walked off, having still not cleared away the pile of napkins.

“Of all the insolent…” Cameron began, but he stopped upon seeing the laugh lines etching Lee’s face.

“I think I’ve found your girl.”

Cameron bristled, and his knuckles whitened. “Absolutely not. I’m not taking some girl from a diner, who can’t even get a decent job, and making her into a pillar of society.”

Lee grinned. “Yeah, I think you are. She’s absolutely perfect.”

Cameron turned, studying the waitress behind the counter. She looked up from the soda machine and sent him a hostile glare. He shuddered and turned back to face Lee.

“Julie’s going to love the stroller,” was all his friend said.

Chapter Two

“Ugh!” Darci jerked her hand back as soda cascaded over the edge of the cup. “Of all the snobby jerks.”

“Calm down, girl. It’s only a glass.”

Darci wiped up the cola mess on the counter. “I wasn’t talking about the machine, Val. I meant that guy over there. Do you see him?” She pressed on, not waiting for the older woman to take a peek. “Do you know who he is? He’s Cameron O’Brien. You know, the one who just bought the Monitor?”

Val was unabashed in her stare. “Ooh. Look at that blond hair. And those forearms. Yum. Hey, wasn’t he named one of America’s Most Eligible Bachelors?”

Darci gritted her teeth. “I don’t know. Was he?”

“You should know. It was that magazine with all those beautiful bachelors. You bought it yesterday ’cuz the sexy firefighter was in it.”

“Oh, all right. So he’s good-looking. But he’s a snob with no redeemable qualities. You should hear what they’re talking about. They’re taking some poor girl and making her into a society brat. Like in My Fair Lady.”

“I’d be his fair lady.”

Darci wanted to pull her hair out, but that would mean removing her cap, a violation of Grandpa Joe’s sanitation policy. She again reminded herself she loved Grandpa Joe. “I can’t believe you, Val!”

“Oh, come on. I’ve been married for forty-five years, but I ain’t dead. I get to look.”

“You’re no help. Think of that poor girl!”

“Child, you’ve got to learn not to worry about those things that don’t affect you. Now go serve that hunk of man his soda. He’s thirsty, and you’re wearing it.”

Darci looked down in dismay. Cola-brown had destroyed the last hope of her semi-white apron. “Great.” Because of Cameron O’Brien and her grandfather’s sexism, she’d now need to assault her nose with the smell of bleach. She hoped that at least would get her uniform clean.

With an angry jolt she placed the offending glass of soda on a tray and headed back to serve the hotshot Cameron O’Brien. He’d be lucky if she didn’t dump it on his head.

CAMERON WATCHED HER walk toward him. She’d even had trouble pouring his soda. And yes, Miss Waitress-from-Hell, they did call it soda in New York City.

Whatever. It was either Pepsi or Coke. He’d never been one to tell the difference or care. And St. Louis, in his opinion, was still a cow town. Even more so now that he’d met firsthand a product who’d probably grown up drinking the water.

“No, I think she’s perfect,” Lee said. “I saw her name tag. It’s Darci.”

“Darci,” Cameron repeated, damning his fate. “Sounds flighty to me.”

“Yeah, well, you have to admit she’s not a dog.”

“No, that she isn’t.” He could at least admit that without losing ground to his friend. Besides her legs, Darci’s backside held promise. Her face was a mite bit plain, but makeup would help that.

And Cameron could tell that her body was in shape. That was a big plus. A good salon would do wonders with her hair and her face. Hell, they did makeovers on those talk shows all the time.

“One soda.” Darci made a point of setting the drink down in front of him. Blue eyes with a rim of dark blue glared at him. “Finished?”

Cameron glanced at his plate. After a few bites he’d stopped eating the fiery concoction. “You can take it. Lee?”

“I’m done. So, Darci, are you from St. Louis?”

“I am,” she replied in a tone that said she didn’t favor any further questions.

She shot Cameron a nasty look as she placed the plates on the tray. She didn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance. “You didn’t like it?”

“I’m not hungry.” He offered her a smile, but she didn’t even appear to see it.

She tossed her head. “Your loss.”

No, the tip would be her loss, Cameron thought, trying to gain some satisfaction from this irritating situation. Then he checked his negative thoughts. He had to make this abrasive woman the cream of society, and worse, make his father and his sister think she was the cat’s meow. And all without telling her. That, according to Lee after they’d discussed the bet further, would have been too easy.

“So, you live here, Darci?” Cameron began with his best charm, but she’d already moved off, the plates in her hands.

He turned back to see Lee laughing. His friend gestured, and made a sound like an airplane crashing and burning. For a moment Cameron felt every bit of his thirty-four years.

“You know, Cameron, this is going to be great. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Come on, let’s pay our bill. You can come back tomorrow once you figure out what you’re going to do. I sure hope you’ve got some ideas. You’re going to need them.”

Cameron’s vexation mounted as Lee had the audacity to whistle all the way to the cashier. Cameron snagged the bill from Lee’s outstretched fingers. “My treat.”

“Everything fine?” The older woman in front of him smiled. Her bright-red hair clashed with the pink cap on her head.

Cameron read her name tag. “Everything was fine, Val.”

He felt her green eyes size him up. “That’s good. You’re Mr. O’Brien, right?”

After having his picture splashed all over the local St. Louis papers, her question didn’t faze him. “Yes, I bought the Monitor.”

“I like that paper,” Val said as she handed him his change. “Now don’t forget to give Darci a good tip. It’s only her third day.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” He walked back over to the table. Only her third day. That figured. He wondered how old she was. Early twenty-something, he’d wager. She looked a lot younger than his sister did, and Kit turned thirty in a few months.

He dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. That ought to soften her up. He’d prefer to give Darci his two cents worth instead, but that would have to wait. No, he had lots of other tips for her, and she’d get those life lessons soon enough. And then he’d get the satisfaction of besting Lee once again.

It had better be worth it.

As he turned from the table he caught her staring at him. She boldly held his gaze for a moment before turning around.

Her haughty action surprised him. Tip number one, Cameron thought as he strode out the door. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

DARCI SLAMMED the dishes down on the counter. The nerve! The gall! Didn’t they know she had ears and that she had heard every word of their insulting conversation? Were they that stupid?

She drew a breath and counted to ten before exhaling again. Of course they were. They were men. If men were smart she wouldn’t be propelling pellers in front of drunks and second-shift employees. No, she’d be sitting in a corporate office at Jacobsen Enterprises doing a job that required her MBA and her brain.

Of all the nerve. Of all the gall. Just who did Cameron O’Brien think he was? He’d made a bet with his friend, and it involved her! He didn’t even know her! Didn’t he know people had feelings?

And the look on his face when he walked out. Well, she didn’t care if he thought he was God. What gave him the right to think that she, Darlene Cecelia Sanders, was a lowlife because she worked in a diner? What gave him the right to judge her on her appearance and think that he could turn her into a member of society? Why would she want to meet his father and sister anyway? She’d been to New York once, and she didn’t like it.

“Darci, I cleared your table. Those hot guys gave you a fifty-dollar tip.” Wanda held the money out to Darci.

Cameron O’Brien had left her fifty dollars. Anger filled Darci. As if she could be bought. She had a million-dollar trust fund. He thought her so pathetic he’d left her fifty dollars.

Well, she didn’t need his money. But Wanda did. The single mom struggled to make ends meet by working two jobs. “You take it, Wanda.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open. “It’s a fifty-dollar tip, Darci.”

Darci retrenched for a moment. No one working in the diner, with the exception of Val, knew she was Joe Jacobsen’s granddaughter. While they might suspect she was a disowned heiress because of her Porsche, no one knew the truth.

Darci attempted to convince Wanda to take the money. “Seriously, Wanda. The guy was a jerk and treated me like a tramp. It’s a matter of principle. Besides, I won some money in the lottery.”

The last part was a stretch, but if being born counted as a lottery then Darci figured she’d won by being a member of the rich Jacobsen family. She just hoped Wanda didn’t ask, “Then whatcha doin here?”

But Wanda still appeared stunned as she shoved the cash into her pocket. “Gee, thanks, Darci. I need to renew my license plates and this will really help.”

“No problem,” Darci said. She glanced at the clock. Only one more hour before quitting time. Sighing, she reached for the plates being shoved out from the kitchen.

After serving the order she returned behind the counter. “Wanda told me what you did,” Val said.

“I wasn’t taking his money,” Darci snapped. “I’d give Wanda all my tips if she’d take them.”

“Nah. She’s no charity case, that girl. But when I told him to give you a good tip I didn’t think you’d get one that good.”

Darci’s anger flared. She blew out her breath. “Do you know why? He’s trying to butter me up! You know that bet he made? His friend picked me! Me!”

Val’s mouth puckered. “You get to be his fair lady? Ooh.”

Darci paced a little. “No way. Who does he think he is? God? He wants to make me a member of society? Well, the joke’s going to be on him. I’m not playing. Then there’s no way he can win his stupid bet.”

Val made a clucking noise and Darci whirled to face her. “Girl, you need to hop on the clue train. If you don’t play he’ll just get someone else. You want to make him pay? You need to play.”

Darci gritted her teeth. Darn. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

What Val said was true. Cameron O’Brien didn’t have a clue who she really was. He didn’t know she had grown up with dance lessons, etiquette lessons, garden parties, and that she had earned two degrees from Harvard.

No, he was just like those boys in high school. Mr. Super Stud O’Brien was the one needing to be moved down a peg or two. Determination flashed in her eyes.

“You’re absolutely right, Val. Cameron O’Brien needs some comeuppance and I’m going to deliver it, right over his playboy head.”

“That’s the spirit. Then I get to look at him again. He sure is fine.”

“Oh, please. He’s a pig.” Exactly like those guys in her senior year of high school. That humiliating incident would never go away, so permanently was it etched in her memory.

She gazed at her hands, finding she’d clenched them in determination. Fury still filled her. No, Mr. I’m-More-Beautiful-than-God O’Brien had a think coming if he thought he was going to win this bet. The only person who was going to win this time around was Darci. Watching Mr. Super Snob lose would not only make her day, but if she played her cards right maybe she could finally get rid of her personal demons once and for all.

Well, that and finishing this greasy job at Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. She’d had just about enough of people not thinking she was qualified and that she had to prove herself.

The issue thus resolved, she thrust her chin forward in determination. She moved out of Wanda’s way and turned around to walk out from behind the counter.

She gasped and caught herself before she crashed into him. She now stood nose-to-nose with Cameron O’Brien.

AFTER WALKING with Lee to their respective cars, Cameron had changed his mind about returning to the hotel. Heck, the sun would be up in only about another hour or so, and therefore he might as well watch it rise over the Muddy Mississippi.

So, after Lee had pulled out and driven away, Cameron had closed the door on the rental Mercedes convertible, and he had walked the short distance back to Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. Cameron planned to be in St. Louis only two more weeks, so if he intended to win this god-awful bet he’d just been suckered into, he didn’t have a minute to lose.

Darci’s blue eyes blazed. “Don’t you even think about asking for change or telling me you made a mistake,” she snapped.

He chuckled, amused at her defense tactics. She was a spitfire, reminding him of the tabby cat his sister had found near their Long Island summer home. The cat had finally warmed up, but it had taken a while before its claws weren’t the first things out every time someone approached.

“Steady,” he said, stepping back slightly to give her space. “I’m not here for change. I knew what bill I put down on the table.”

She eyed him suspiciously and jutted her cute chin. “Health complaints go to Val, not that we’ve ever had any.”

“I’m not here to complain.” He tried his endearing smile again, the one society pages had made famous, but she just clenched her jaw. Stubborn little thing, he thought.

Now that he was even closer to her he could tell her eyes had pale blue lines moving from the iris to the outer rim. Almost like starbursts. Wow. Her eyes were beautiful.

“So why are you back? Did you just want to stare at me, or do you actually really need something?”

He blinked. Had he been staring? “Sorry. I came back because, because…” Now, after stepping inside the restaurant again, this didn’t seem like a good idea after all. Never before had he ever had to pursue a woman. And he definitely wouldn’t have pursued one who radiated the impression that she thought him less than dirt.

“Because?” she prompted, again stepping out of Wanda’s way.

His frustration built. Never had he been so at a loss with a situation involving a woman. He didn’t like it one darn bit. “Look, could we talk for a minute? It’s clearing out, and—”

“I’m working,” she snapped, effectively cutting him off.

His sharpness in business saved him. “Then I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“Work the counter, Darci,” Val said walking by. She gave Cameron a wink, and taking her hint he settled onto an empty stool.

Darci brought him an aged white porcelain cup and saucer and slopped black coffee into it. One of the first things he would have to teach her was how to pour correctly. Coffee hit the bottom of the cup, bounced back out and slopped over the edge before making a ring on the saucer. Definitely not the best way to serve it.

“Cream and sugar are on the counter.”

“Thanks,” he told her, “but I take it black.”

“Suit yourself.” She scrunched up her face into an irritated smile and walked away. He watched her move, studying her figure and everything about her. Darci had a basic grace to her, he decided as he sipped the strong black brew. She could be molded. He’d have to watch that movie. Maybe it had some ideas for him to try.

“Darci,” he called. “Do you like musicals?”

“No,” she replied, and poured another customer some coffee. Cameron noted that this time she managed not to spill one drop.

“What about boating?”

“Water makes me sick.”

Well, he’d gone from a one-word answer to a four-word answer. He could tell progress with Darci would be measured in little steps.

“What about the symphony or the theater?”

“Closed for the summer,” she shot back.

“What about the Muny, the outdoor theater in Forest Park?”

“The Muny gets hot. Any other questions? I’m sorry I didn’t bring my bio for you. Let me know before you come in next time and I’ll be sure to have it prepared for your arrival.”

She walked by and splashed more coffee into his cup. He jerked away to avoid the stray cascading droplets. “Darci.” He said her name slowly, cajoling it off his tongue. “Darci, why do you hate me so much? What have I done?”

Her nostrils flared slightly, and those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed. Her full lips thinned. “Hate you? I don’t even know you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Ah, he thought. More reaction, more words. A little more cajoling and she’d start to cave in and realize her outbursts were actually the opposite of what she wanted. Something had ticked her off, and she wanted to let him know it. She just wasn’t going to come right out and say it, whatever it happened to be.

“Darci,” he tried again. He had to convince her to trust him or he’d have no chance of winning the bet. “You don’t know me. You’ve judged me unfairly. Could we change that? Once you get to know me you’ll discover that I’m really a nice guy.”

She looked like a high-strung filly he’d purchased a stake in once. Spirited and oh, so beautiful. “Your money can’t buy me, Mr. O’Brien. I’m not for sale.”

Cameron leaned back. So she knew who he was. That was it. Being poor herself, she probably had a dislike and distrust for the infinitely wealthy. “Ah. I understand now. You think the tip was just a calling card. You think I’m trying to offer you more.”

“I’m not for sale,” she repeated, the tone of her voice a bit more forceful this time.

He began to chuckle. Whenever he knew the enemy, the enemy never stood a chance. “No, my dear misguided Darci, let’s clear up this misunderstanding. Val told me to leave you a nice tip. That’s all I did. I have no need to buy female services, believe me. Finding a female companion has always been the least of my problems.”

She glared at him for that brazen assertion, and she pushed wayward blond hair up under her pink cap. “You’re a pig.”

Suddenly he had an urge to free her hair from the tight confines of the cap and see what those blond locks really looked like. “Darci, Darci. You’ve prejudged me. Give me a chance to prove you wrong. Come see the sunrise with me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I really am a nice guy.” Well, at least he thought he was.

As she planted her hands on her hips, he leaned forward and pulled one of her hands away. As he did, a wanton shock coursed through him, burning him. Despite his internal signals suddenly going haywire, he managed to maintain his composure. It wasn’t easy. “Come with me,” he repeated.

Like a doe caught in the headlights, Darci stared at him wide-eyed. “Why? Why me?” she whispered, and he wondered if she was as affected as he was by the oh-so-sexy skin-on-skin contact of their hands.

“Because you’ve intrigued me, Darci.” He massaged her fingers with his. “I want to get to know you, and by that I don’t mean let’s just hop into bed.”

“Oh.” She gently detached her hand from his and dropped it to her side. “I’m off in fifteen minutes, but really you shouldn’t—”

“Perfect. I’ll wait.” He planted himself firmly onto the ratty old stool. As she moved off he smiled to himself and sipped his coffee. When it really came down to it, who could resist him?

AS DARCI MOVED out of earshot of Cameron, Val pulled her into the kitchen. “Well?”

“I gave a pretty good performance, didn’t I? I had him eating out of my hand. All I forgot was the quivering lip of submission.”

“If that was acting, girl, then you get an Oscar.”

Darci laughed. Then, for a moment, uncertainty crept in. When Cameron O’Brien had grabbed her hand a sensation had ricocheted through her, and it wasn’t one she was familiar with. But Cameron’s type was one she’d learned to handle, so at that thought her confidence bolstered again.

“So,” Val said, “what’s the scoop?”

“I’m leaving with him to go watch the sunrise.”

“Ooh-ee.”

Darci bristled. “Stop saying that. It’s not like that at all. I’ve got to convince him I’m an uncultured hick, and then pretend I don’t know he’s trying to culture me. And I have to do it all without him figuring it out. So forgive me if I pretend to fall at his feet just a little bit. He’d find it strange if I didn’t. He thinks he’s irresistible, as if he’s God’s gift to women. My actions are only for show, believe me.”

“Oh, I do, girl. I’m glad you’re not going after me. You’re a mean one. Anyway, your shift’s over. Enjoy the sunrise.”

Darci nodded. “That’ll be the best part of all this I’m sure.” She reached into her apron and handed all of her tips to Val. “Leave this where Wanda won’t suspect.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” With that Darci strode out to face her new nemesis. She dropped her eyes to her feet and then looked up at him, her smile wary. “Look, this isn’t really necessary.”

He glanced up from his coffee. “Yes, it is.” When he smiled at her Darci had to calm her fluttering heart. Boy, he could probably charm snakes out of the grass. She bit back her anger at that thought. She could control this. He was using her to win a bet, and he didn’t know that she knew. Piece of cake.

“Really.” Darci made her voice shake with uncertainty. “I should just go home.”

“Not an option.” Cameron stood suddenly, topping her five-foot-six figure by only four inches. No, definitely not her type. She liked them tall, dark, and handsome. Cameron didn’t fit the bill. Not at less than six feet with sandy-blond hair and the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

At obvious ease in his polo shirt and khaki shorts, he brushed some lint off his shoulder. “Do you need to change clothes?”

“This is all I have with me.” She smoothed the food-covered apron. “I had planned on going home. Look, Mr. O’Brien, I’m not dressed to be seen with you. This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a good idea, and please call me Cameron. Mr. O’Brien makes me sound like my father.” He gestured toward the restaurant door, and with a slight bow of her head she acknowledged his gesture and led the way.

Surprisingly, Cameron didn’t say anything about her unsightly appearance as he followed her from the restaurant. “Val told me you’d only been working three days. How’s it been getting accustomed to the graveyard shift?”

“Fine.” Being a night owl she actually preferred to sleep longer during the day and work longer at night. Of course, that would change when she moved back to the corporate office in some position much higher than a clerk in the mailroom.

“Great,” he replied. “Would it sound presumptuous if I asked you back to my hotel? It’s a suite, complete with a living area that has a fantastic balcony. I’ve got a great view of not only the Arch, but also the river.”

Play along, Darci, she told herself. “Um, I don’t know about that.” The hesitation in her voice added a bit of a breathless quality to it. Boy, was she good.

“It’ll be innocent. Trust me. If not, the press would hang me out to dry.”

“You get a lot of press?”

“Nah.” He sounded so innocent, but Darci knew he’d just lied outright. One of America’s most eligible bachelors didn’t get any press. Yeah, right. Mr. I’m-Really-a-Nice-Guy probably graced the New York tabloids on a daily basis.

“So, my suite?” One of his blond eyebrows arched up with his query.

Boy, was he smooth. At least she knew he didn’t want to take her to bed, unlike those popular boys in her senior year of high school. That made it slightly better, but despite that, it hurt to know that he was using her because he did want something. He wanted to win his bet.

“Okay, but just for the sunrise,” she told him. “If you even attempt anything else I’m going to knee you in the groin and have you arrested. Comprende?”

His eyes widened at her vicious verbal assault. “Got it.”

“Good.” Darci paused and scanned the restaurant’s parking lot. “Where’s your car?”

“Over here.” He led her to a jet-black convertible. “Do you have one?”

“A Mercedes? No.”

She had to admit he was handsome when he laughed. Dimples formed and his eyes twinkled. “I meant a car. Parked somewhere near here.”

“Oh.” She fought for control and smiled vaguely. He didn’t know that her Porsche Boxter was safely ensconced behind Grandpa Joe’s in the private lot. Being that Grandpa Joe’s remained open twenty-four hours a day, her one indulgence wouldn’t be bothered behind the locked security gate.

“No. I don’t have a car,” she lied brightly. Two could play the lying game. “I usually take the bus. They start running pretty early. I never have to wait too long.”

“Well, I’m old-fashioned enough to see my dates to their door so I’ll take you directly home afterward. No bus for you today.”

He didn’t add “and won’t that be a rare treat” although Darci knew it had to have crossed his mind. The man infuriated her. In order to control her temper, she clenched her fist. “Okay,” she gave him a bright smile as she began the next lie. “I’ll let you drive me home.”

She slid into his car and waited while he closed her door. As he got in she ventured brightly, “Does the top go down?”

Somehow she managed to suppress her laughter when a look of sheer panic and disbelief crossed his face before he masked it. “You want the top down? I’m at the Adam’s Mark. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“I’ve never been in a Mercedes before. Put the top down and let’s go for a drive! I’ll take you to the best place to watch the sunrise. It’s a park on the south side. Take 55 South. Besides, I’d feel much safer if we went there. I’m not dressed for the Adam’s Mark. Is it nice? I’ve never been inside.”

“It’s great, as is your idea to go to a park.” The car roared to life and Darci leaned back against the seat and bit back another grin. She’d always been one to figure out the solutions to problems, and right now the solution was to play Cameron O’Brien like a piano concerto. Given his ego, it was turning out to be easier than she’d ever have thought.

He now had her pegged as a stereotypical blond bimbo. Dumber than a stump, nothing but fluff upstairs, and too idiotic to do much else besides wait tables in a diner.

She chuckled. “Oh, how wrong you are.”

“Did you say something?”

“No.” She shrugged and smiled.

He put the top down and began backing up. Darci stuck her hands straight up and waved at a passerby. The man waved back. “Wow! This is great. I’ve never been in a convertible.”

“Really?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the road.

“Really. Ma always had junk heaps, if her car ran at all.”

His voice sounded noncommittal. “I see.”

They were passing the domed football stadium and Darci studied the billboards circling the top in order to hide her grin. She hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick. She didn’t want to overdo her story too much. They passed the exit for the Adam’s Mark, and drove past the hotel itself.

“Ma wasn’t big on knowing about cars. One time the man at the garage told her she’d ruined the engine by not changing her oil for over two years. She told him she didn’t know you were supposed to do that.”

“Really,” he replied, concentrating on maneuvering through where Highway 55 divided from Highway 44.

“Yeah. She said she should have kept Dave around. He at least knew how to fix cars. He only lived with us a few months though. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“So, do you still live at home?”

“No. I’ve got my own place. Ma moved to Cape, and as I got older she couldn’t entertain her boyfriends. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen.”

Oh the webs we weave, Darci thought as she took in Cameron’s horrified reaction. She’d have to remember this story. Personally, she thought it pretty good. She silently said a little prayer asking her mother’s forgiveness. A former vice president of the Junior League, her mother would die of mortification if she’d just heard her daughter’s outrageous lies.

He slanted a gaze at her. “So how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five.” That much was true. “Oops! It’s this exit. Sorry, I never drive, you know.”

Cameron, driving over the speed limit in the fast lane, jerked the wheel quickly. Much to the annoyance of the other drivers that he cut off, he made it to the exit. Darci waved at a man who flipped them off.

“Boy, you’re a great driver. You know, I think you might be an okay guy after all.”

“Thanks. As for the driving, I’m from New York. The stories about the cab drivers are true.”

“The big apple?”

Cameron cringed. “Native New Yorkers don’t call it that.”

“Really? Why do people call it that? Does it look like an apple?” Darci bit her lip to check her laughter when he refused to answer her.

Instead, she pointed out where to turn by flinging her hand in front of his face. Using gestures she directed him to the riverside park, and its parking lot. “We’ll need to walk,” she told him.

“Walk?” Cameron looked shocked. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the Adam’s Mark?”

“Yeah.” Darci hiked her skirt up and hopped over the car door. She giggled as she righted herself. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

He looked absolutely aghast. “Well, you just did.”

“Yep.” She flashed him a childish smile to cover her internal satisfaction. Poor Cameron. You thought this bet would be easy, didn’t you? Still, she had to admit he was being a sport for being such a fish out of water.

“Come on, slowpoke. I think the path’s over here. Oh, here it is. It’s a bit overgrown, but not too bad.” She turned and studied his shoes. Custom-made loafers. Too bad it had rained yesterday. She gave him a beguiling smile.

What was a little mud between friends?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.