# Marriage In Six Easy Lessons

Mollie Molay

Sullivan's RulesHe Has Six Rules About MarriageLucas Sullivan is a sociologist who's come up with a set of rules that, in his opinion, will guarantee a happy marriage. Unfortunately, April Morgan, his editor, sees things quite differently.She Has Six Lessons To Teach Him– About Life, Love AndMarriageApril considers Sullivan's rules biased, out of touch and out of date. In her opinion, Sullivan has no idea how real men and women think, act or feel. So April sets out to show him…and in the process discovers that there's another side to Lucas Sullivan.This other Lucas is a man who doesn't always follow his own rules. A man who's a quick learner, too–when April Morgan's doing the teaching!

## How could any twenty-first-century man believe this stuff?

As April continued to read the manuscript, making notations in the margin, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“So, you’re working on ‘The Mating Game’ article,” a familiar voice broke in.

She looked up at Thomas Eldridge, the magazine’s publisher and editor in chief. To her chagrin, he wasn’t alone.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I was busy reading this unbelievable submission. To tell you the truth, I was trying not to laugh.”

“Laugh?” Tom said with a warning frown. “Well, if you think you can contain yourself, I’d like to introduce you to Lucas Sullivan—the author of this piece.”

Before she could apologize, Tom went on. “Sullivan here is a noted sociologist. The article you have is one I asked him to write.”

April turned to smile at Lucas Sullivan. At first glance he looked like the stereotypical absentminded professor—a thatch of unruly brown hair, clothes a little rumpled, smelling ever so slightly of musty old books.

But on second glance…Under that staid exterior was one very sexy male.

Dear Reader,

You might be interested to know that when I was plotting my trilogy SULLIVAN’S RULES I discovered I was actually incorporating my own life into the three stories.

As in this book, April Morgan’s story, my own young dream was to marry a man who would treat me as an equal.

The second book, coming in December of this year, is about April’s friend Rita Rosales. There—as in my own life—the hero turns out to be the boy next door. We had two children and twenty-three wonderful years together before I lost him.

As in the third book, Lili Soule’s story, I was given a second chance at finding the strong yet gentle man who became my husband.

Like the three women in my stories, I believe in love and a happy-ever-after. That’s why I love writing stories of home, heart and happiness for Harlequin American Romance.

I hope you enjoy reading about April, Rita and Lili as much as I enjoyed writing about them!

Mollie Molay

## Books by Mollie Molay

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

938—THE DUCHESS & HER BODYGUARD*

947—SECRET SERVICE DAD*

954—COMMANDER’S LITTLE SURPRISE*

987—MY BIG FAKE GREEN-CARD WEDDING

Marriage in Six Easy Lessons

Mollie Molay


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To newcomers Joseph Murray Fox and Luke Joseph Molé.

Welcome to the world.

Sullivan’s Rules

> 1 A happy relationship requires that a woman make her man feel masculine.

> 2 While a man is not monogamous by nature, he is more likely to see a woman as a potential girlfriend or mate if sexual intimacy doesn’t occur too soon.

> 3 A woman must rein in her own desires to promote the health of a relationship.

> 4 A woman must strive for compatibility, rather than try to be sexy.

> 5 A woman must show her man how much she likes and appreciates him. She must shower him with affection and sublimate her own daily frustrations.

> 6 A woman must be supportive, fun-loving, easygoing and generous in her praise of a man’s achievements.

## 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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

## Prologue

A few last-minute guests at the Morgan-Blair wedding hurried to take their seats in the flower-decorated nave of St. James Church-by-the-Lake. The church organist launched into the romantic and emotional “Lara’s Theme” from Dr. Zhivago, a prearranged signal that the wedding ceremony would begin in twenty minutes.

In the bride’s dressing room, the bride, April Morgan, frowned and regarded her bridal bouquet of white roses and gardenias with a growing sense of unease.

Rita Rosales, her maid of honor, tucked something borrowed, a tiny good-luck charm, in April’s shoe. “There, that should take care of the wedding ceremony.” She laughed as she adjusted the shoulder straps of her pale green dress. “The honeymoon is up to you.”

April’s face whitened.

“Now, Rita,” Lili Soulé, the matron of honor, scolded, “April doesn’t need any of your teasing. Can’t you see she’s already nervous?” She checked the basket of flowers that the little maid of honor, her daughter Paulette, was carrying to make sure the rose petals were still inside. Paul, the ring bearer and Paulette’s twin brother, clutched the satin cushion holding the wedding rings to his chest.

“I’m okay,” April murmured, although she was becoming more nervous by the minute. “Rita, why don’t you see if any of the bridesmaids need help before the ceremony?”

Rita glanced over to where the bridesmaids were busy checking their gowns in floor-length mirrors. “There doesn’t seem to be a problem. All five of them are looking good.”

April’s frown deepened. “Five? There’s supposed to be six!” She scanned the group uneasily. “Where’s Claire Dunn?” she called to them.

“Claire just stepped outside for a minute,” Joyce Humphries called back.

“Did she say she’s going to get back in here in time for the ceremony?”

Joyce shrugged and turned back to the floor-length mirror. “Claire is Claire. Who knows what she’s going to do next?”

Aware of Claire Dunn’s erratic behavior lately, April tried not to think that the bridesmaid’s disappearance was a bad omen.

She dismissed the growing hollow feeling in her middle as a case of prewedding jitters, but deep in her heart she knew there was more to her growing unease. The truth was she was having last-minute doubts about the wisdom of marrying her fiancé, Jim Blair.

Judging from the anxious look in her mother’s eyes as she straightened the wreath of orange blossoms on April’s head, April sensed she wasn’t the only one to feel uneasy.

Before she had a chance to speak to her mother, there was a commotion outside the dressing room, followed by an urgent knock at the door. A moment later, an obviously agitated usher appeared in the doorway. After apologizing to everyone for his intrusion, he beckoned to the mother of the bride. With a final pat on April’s shoulder, Eve Morgan hurried to the door.

A moment later, she hurried back to April’s side, a piece of paper in her hand. Her voice was shaking. “Oh, my dear, maybe you should sit down!”

As if one, the five bridesmaids froze.

Rita Rosales dropped her own bouquet and hurried to April’s side. Lili Soulé handed the rose-petal-filled flower basket to little Paulette and rushed over, too.

April’s heart took a dive. Even before she took the note from her mother’s hand, April sensed that something had gone seriously wrong with the wedding.

“What does the note say?” Rita asked, peering over April’s shoulder.

April read the note aloud: “‘Claire and I have eloped. Jim.’”

“He didn’t even say he was sorry,” her mother said. “Maybe it’s all for the best,” she added slowly as she glanced at the five silent bridesmaids.

Instead of collapsing on the satin-covered bench behind her, April took off her bridal veil and sighed her relief.

Something was finally right.

## Chapter One

Six months later

“A happy relationship requires that a woman make her man feel masculine.”

—The Mating Game. Lucas Sullivan, Ph.D.

April Morgan, assistant editor of Chicago’s Today’s World magazine, gazed in disbelief at the manuscript in front of her. As an editor of a magazine popular with young professionals, she’d edited a number of strange submissions, but this one beat all.

The article “The Mating Game” was apparently based on a sociological study the author did, originally published in a scientific-community newsletter. The article proposed to enlighten female readers about the behavior men expected in a potential mate. To her growing dismay, the author, an academic, actually went on to list six rules of behavior that he concluded women must follow in order to attract and keep a mate.

From her viewpoint, that of a bride jilted at the altar not too long ago, the article was ludicrous. The author was either naive or deluded. No matter how noteworthy the man’s credentials were, assuming they were real, how could any twenty-first-century man actually believe men preferred a Stepford Wife to a real woman?

More to the point, how could any man in his right mind even want a woman whose mind had been altered to turn her into a man’s idea of an ideal woman?

April frowned. She was aware of other theories that made more sense than his, in particular the one she preferred to believe: a person was driven by a biological imperative to mate with the fittest—read, strong genes—of the opposite gender. To a layperson like her, that clearly meant an innate desire to produce strong and healthy offspring. A goal that she’d been determined to reach before it was too late and that had unwisely led her to the altar.

In retrospect, April realized that accepting Jim’s proposal had been prompted by the loud ticking of her biological clock.

But according to this Lucas Sullivan, a man’s search for a mate was based solely on a woman’s social behavior! Even an academic like him, or perhaps especially an academic like him, should have known that choosing a mate was more than merely a game. It was a life-altering choice, one to be made only one time—and very carefully.

She’d learned this the hard way. A wedding fiasco that had left her at the altar at the ripe old age of thirty-two had also left her a lot wiser about men. Most men, she believed, were largely self-centered and chauvinistic like her ex, and as far as she was concerned there wasn’t a man currently around her who was worth a second look.

Not that remaining single had been her choice, April mused as she put a question mark in red pencil alongside a sentence she thought needed clarification. If all had gone as she’d planned, she would have honeymooned in Hawaii with that traitorous fiancé of hers, James Elwood Blair. He’d gone on his honeymoon all right, only not with her.

She made additional notations of questions she thought needed answers in the margins of the manuscript and read on. It only became worse.

She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“April, I’m glad to see you’re working on ‘The Mating Game’ article,” a familiar voice broke in. “April?”

It took her a moment to realize who was speaking. Ready to apologize for her rudeness, she glanced up at Thomas Eldridge, the magazine’s publisher and editor in chief. To her chagrin, he wasn’t alone.

“Sorry,” she said, gesturing to the manuscript. “I’m afraid I was caught up reading this unbelievable submission. To tell you the truth, I was trying keep from laughing.”

“Laughing?” Tom said with a warning frown. He gestured to the man standing at his side. “If you think you can contain yourself, I’d like to introduce you to Lucas Sullivan. Lucas and I went to Northwestern together and belonged to the same fraternity. Lucas, this is April Morgan. April is one of our—” he paused significantly “—top editors.”

April cringed. Damn. Of all people to have heard her flippant remark, why did it have to be the author of the piece?

Before she could apologize, Tom went on. “Sullivan here is a noted sociologist, April. The article you have there is one that I asked him to write. The original study was published last year in the National Association of Science Writers newsletter.”

Although her heart was in free fall at her faux pas, April managed to remain calm and look interested.

Tom cleared his throat. “I should tell you I’m impressed with Lucas’s conclusions, which, incidentally, concur with mine.” He cast April a quelling glance. “After you get a chance to read the piece again, I’m sure you’ll be able to work with him just fine.”

April nodded politely while she digested the subtext of his words—work with him or you’re out of a job. She’d been at the magazine long enough to know her still-single boss was a man who took his position as the magazine’s publisher and editor in chief very seriously; he wouldn’t countenance anyone making light of his decisions.

She couldn’t blame him. It was no secret that the magazine’s circulation had been falling steadily in the past six months. Or that Tom had been searching for a way to turn the circulation figures around. But with Sullivan’s article? Sure, it was controversial enough, but could such a biased and outdated article accomplish a miracle?

It had to. Her job depended on it.

“I’ve decided to use Sullivan’s article as the lead feature in the September issue,” Tom continued, filling her silence. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can do it. What do you think, April?”

Speechless, April swung her gaze to Lucas Sullivan. At first glance, the man looked like the stereotypical absentminded professor, a thatch of unruly light brown hair, clothes a little rumpled, smelling ever so slightly of musty old books.

But on second glance…The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. Under his staid exterior was one very sexy male. Early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, he had a nicely sculpted mouth and a chin that begged to be touched. As if that weren’t enough, his warm brown eyes were most definitely of the sort called bedroom eyes—heavy lidded and innately sensual. Judging from the hungry stares of the females on the other side of the glass windows of her office, she wasn’t the only one to respond to his deceiving appearance. Although to give the man some credit, he didn’t appear to be aware of it.

“April?” Tom sounded faintly annoyed. “So what do you think?” he repeated.

“Uh…” April considered the question. How could she tell him she had little good to say about the article, its conclusions or, heaven help her, about its author’s intelligence when the man was gazing at her expectantly?

If she was honest, she’d admit that her unhappy near miss at matrimony might have colored her opinion of his article. Still, a chauvinist was a chauvinist, no matter what academic credentials he carried. Now, here was a man who, if the rules he espoused in his article were to be believed, had to be the ultimate male chauvinist.

Eldridge frowned. “Something wrong, April?”

“Uh, no,” April answered.

She suddenly realized she’d been more than rude.

She rose abruptly and held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sullivan.”

He smiled slightly as he took her hand. “Call me Lucas, please,” he said with a wary glance at her desk. “Judging by all the red on these pages, you’ve been bleeding on my manuscript.”

Considering the man’s stiff body language, April sensed he felt uneasy around her. Not only because she was his editor but because she was a woman. How he’d managed to conduct a sociological study on the subject of male-female relationships if he felt this way was a puzzle.

Tom’s disapproval of her editorial opinion or not, she felt it was her job to give Sullivan the truth about his bias before he made a fool of himself and the magazine. She had to manage it diplomatically, of course.

But not just yet. First, she had some thinking to do; she needed to come up with a few ideas of her own to enlighten him.

“I was about to go to lunch, Tom. If you don’t mind coming back in an hour or two, Mr. Sull…er, Lucas, I’ll be happy to give you my comments.”

Tom’s scowl of disapproval slowly relaxed, but April sensed she wasn’t home free yet. “I was just about to invite Sullivan up to the executive dining room for lunch, April. Oh,” he added as he turned to leave, “you can come along if you like.”

If she liked? April bit back a tart reply. Although an invitation to the male-dominated executive dining room was considered a coup, it was clear the invitation had been offered as an afterthought. What else could she expect from a man who was not only a personal friend of Sullivan’s but actually agreed with his outdated views of women?

“No, thank you, Tom. I’ve already made plans for lunch.” April smiled, went to the door and pointedly waited for him and Sullivan to leave.

To her bemusement, a dozen pairs of female eyes followed Sullivan as he trailed Eldridge to the elevator. With such interest from the opposite sex, it was a puzzle how the man had missed realizing how important it was to have a woman’s point of view to help validate his study findings, let alone his ridiculous set of rules.

Once the two men were safely out of sight, April slid Sullivan’s article into a folder to share with her close friends Rita Rosales and Lili Soulé at lunch. Rita, a research librarian, and Lili, a graphic artist, both worked at the magazine.

She couldn’t wait to show them Sullivan’s manuscript. They were sure to share her opinion and appreciate her problem.

Not that Sullivan was her problem unless she made him into one, April reminded herself as she pushed the elevator’s down button. As far as she was concerned, her job was only to protect the magazine’s outstanding reputation. And herself from being fired. But if she’d known Sullivan before now, he never would have written such a biased study and its resultant article.

Aware of the probable impact on the magazine’s readership, it was obviously time for action.

THE BUILDING WHERE THE magazine had its offices was appropriately named the Riverview, since it overlooked the Chicago River. As usual, its popular cafeteria was crowded. Raised voices, the clatter of dishes and the scent of rosemary-fried chicken and garlic mashed potatoes filled the air. A hamburger station, April’s target for today, drew her attention.

A double-decker hamburger might not be the healthiest choice of the cafeteria’s mouthwatering attractions, but the price was right, April thought as she considered the buffet. She was still in the process of recovering the huge chunk of her savings she’d spent on the wedding dress that still hung in her closet. Despite feeling that the likelihood of her ever needing it was slim, she was strangely reluctant to sell it.

She made her way through the room to where Rita had staked out a corner table. Now was her chance to discuss plans for Sullivan’s enlightenment.

Rita smiled wryly as April approached the table. “I can always tell when you have an earthshaking idea on your mind. Something sinful like sex, I hope?”

April dropped her purse and the folder on the table. “Rita Rosales, is sex all you ever think about?”

“Why not?” Rita answered, her green eyes glowing with mischief. “Even if they’re not willing to admit it, sex is what everyone thinks about. At least most of the time.”

“No, not everyone.” April handed Rita the folder that contained Sullivan’s manuscript. “Certainly not the author of this article.”

Rita’s eyes widened in disbelief as she skimmed the first few pages. “You mean a man actually wrote this? How old is he, anyway? Ninety-five?”

“Yes, a man wrote this.” April laughed as she searched for her wallet. “In fact, I just met him. His name is Lucas Sullivan and, it turns out, he’s an old friend of Tom’s. He’s a rumpled academic type, the sort who looks like he could have written something like this. But I’d say he’s only in his early thirties.”

“Get outta here!” Rita pushed her salad aside, opened the folder and proceeded to read out loud. “‘While a man is not monogamous by nature, he is more likely to see a woman as a potential girlfriend or mate if sexual intimacy doesn’t occur too soon.’”

“I don’t believe this,” Rita muttered. “Sheesh, look at this—’A woman must strive for compatibility, rather than try to be sexy.’” She flipped to another page. “And what’s this crap about a woman ‘being generous in her praise of a man’s achievements’? This guy seems to think that sexual attraction doesn’t count for anything. He’s got to be joking.”

“Tom doesn’t think so. He not only suggested Sullivan write the article, he’s making it the lead feature in the September issue.”

“What doesn’t Tom think?” Lili Soulé, the petite Frenchwoman who completed the trio of friends, arrived at the table slightly out of breath. Perpetually in a rush after trying to keep up with her two lively children, Lili always seemed breathless.

April smiled at her. Lili was a widow and without a man in her life. April believed that her friend had a crush on Tom Eldridge, but was too shy to show it. To make things worse, Tom, along with the rest of the single men on the magazine’s staff, hadn’t even seemed to notice Lili at last year’s company picnic—Lili had been there with her children. Too bad men couldn’t see past a ready-made family.

“I’ll explain after I get my hamburger,” April said. “Rita, give Lili one of the pages to read until I get back.”

Rita was right on, April thought as she made her way to the hamburger station. She considered her friends’ obvious physical attractions, Rita’s generous curves and Lili’s slender beauty. If Sullivan thought that all a woman had to do to be considered a desirable mate was to flatter a man’s ego and suppress her sexual urgings, he’d not only never met two women like Rita and Lili, he had a surprise coming. There had to be something lacking in Sullivan’s psyche if he actually believed the mating game was played without an initial mutual physical attraction.

Minutes later, April made her way back to the table. “So, what do you think of Sullivan’s rules?”

In answer, Lili read aloud: “‘A woman must rein in her own desires to promote the health of a relationship.’” She shook her head. “I never would have had the twins if I hadn’t shown their father the way I felt about him,” she said wistfully. “If this man truly believes this, most women would never have children until they were too old to enjoy them.”

Rita patted her hand sympathetically. “At least you have Paul Jr. and Paulette to remember your Paul by.” Then abruptly changing gears, she snatched the page from Lili. “Just listen to this one. ‘A happy relationship requires that a woman make her man feel masculine.’”

“Without sex? No way,” Rita scoffed. “If the man doesn’t realize the mating game starts with a sexual attraction he hasn’t done his homework. As far as I’m concerned, sex ought to be rule number one.”

April laughed and almost choked on her hamburger. “To give the man some credit, Rita, I think he only means sexual attraction should be ignored at the outset of a relationship.”

“No way!” Rita said staunchly. “I still think you have to do something to straighten out this guy’s thinking. He’s definitely a man who has to be saved from himself.”

“Generally speaking, I agree,” April said as she took another bite of her hamburger. “I’m sure he has some desirable traits, but—”

“This one is so funny,” Lili broke in. She handed the manuscript page back. “‘A woman must show her man how much she likes and appreciates him. She must shower him with affection and sublimate her own daily frustrations.’”

“That’s supposed to be funny?” Rita said as she took the manuscript page and studied the rule she found offensive. “I don’t think so!”

“You’re right,” Lili agreed with a faint blush. “If I had sublimated my frustrations, I would not have had the twins.”

“This one is even nuttier,” Rita told her. “‘A woman must be supportive, fun loving, easygoing and generous in her praise of a man’s achievements.’” She snorted. “Just so long as the guy knows this rule works both ways. Especially the ‘supportive’ part. You’re not really going to let Eldridge print this garbage, are you, April?”

“Not without first suggesting some changes and additions,” April said, munching on a French fry. “I don’t think he’ll like to hear them, but after my narrow escape at the altar, I’ve come up with a few rules of my own.”

“I’d like to meet this guy to make sure he’s real,” Rita said, reaching for the discarded pickle on April’s plate.

“Oh, he’s real, all right,” April said ruefully. “That’s part of the trouble.”

“Only part of the trouble?” Rita paused in mid bite. “What’s left?”

“Well, you wouldn’t know it from his writing—” April glanced around to make sure she wasn’t going to be overheard “—but Lucas Sullivan is too sexy to be true.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Rita said happily. “Go on—what does he look like?”

“To start with, golden-brown hair, cleft chin, gorgeous brown eyes.”

Lili stopped eating the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich she’d brought from home and stared at April. “There is more?”

April grinned. “Isn’t that enough?”

Rita sighed into her salad. “So in spite of his awful views of relationships, you’d still go for him?”

“No. My head is on straighter than that.” April cleaned up the remains of her lunch, ready to leave. “I don’t intend to fall for a man who thinks the sun sets and rises on the male of the species. Or a man who believes he should be pampered in order to keep him happy.” She paused. “I’ll just have to come up with a few ideas to straighten him out.”

Lili gasped. “But how, April?”

“When Tom comes back from lunch with Sullivan, I’ll say I’m going to suggest a few minor revisions. I’m sure Tom will understand.”

Rita shrugged. “You’re taking a chance. Remember, if Tom contracted the article, he and Sullivan must think alike.”

“Probably,” April said lightly. “But I think if Sullivan spent more time in the real world, he’d—”

“What is this ‘real world’?” Lili interrupted, pulling an apple out of a brown bag and polishing it with a paper napkin before taking a bite.

“The real world where most of us working women live. Not relying just on books or questionnaires,” April explained, mentally making notes. “I have a few lessons in mind that should help take care of that. In fact, I can use your help.” She stood.

“Not me, April,” Lili said. “You’re on your own there. Good luck with your Mr. Sullivan.”

“Thank goodness he’s not mine,” April replied. “All I need to do is to try to enlighten the man and move on.” She smiled grimly. “See you two later.”

UPSTAIRS IN THE BUILDING’S executive dining room, Lucas Sullivan found himself listening with only one ear to Tom Eldridge’s praise for his article. A brief nod of his head seemed to be all Tom needed to keep talking. Even Tom’s explanation of how he would be paid couldn’t keep his attention focused on what Eldridge was saying.

What he was focused on was April Morgan. Even though she apparently found his article amusing, which it certainly wasn’t meant to be, and was probably the last woman on earth he should be attracted to, he remained fascinated by her flashing eyes and the stubborn tilt of her chin.

He made patterns on the pristine tablecloth with his knife as he half listened to the editor’s spiel. The realization he couldn’t get April out of his mind actually came as a surprise. It wasn’t like him, he mused as he gazed at the menu the waiter handed him and ordered a dessert. Sure, he’d dated a colleague or two, but their conversations had usually been about their respective research projects. Sex had entered the picture now and then, but he’d been too preoccupied with work to form any lasting relationships. Not that he lived like a monk, exactly; he preferred to think of himself as merely discriminating.

With that thought in mind, Lucas mentally measured the auburn-haired Ms. Morgan’s attractions on a scale of one to ten. Definitely a ten, he decided as he gazed at his favorite dessert, a chocolate soufflé. Maybe even a ten plus.

“So, what do you think?” Eldridge asked as he dug into a giant slice of apple pie topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Lucas took a deep swallow of ice water to cool his thoughts. This was, as Eldridge had obviously been trying to tell him for the past forty-five minutes, a business lunch. “About what?”

“April. April Morgan,” Eldridge repeated. “How do you feel about working with her?”

Lucas tried to hide his gut reaction to the question; the last thing he wanted to discuss was the way he’d found April not only interesting but infinitely appealing. Or to admit he actually looked forward to getting to know her better on a level other than as an author and his editor.

He frowned. Finding April Morgan attractive was one thing. Having her in a position to criticize and possibly alter his work was another. “Well, since you ask, not much. Don’t you have another editor I could work with?”

Eldridge’s eyebrows rose in a way that made Lucas uneasy. “No, I’m afraid not. We’re shorthanded at the moment, so April will have to do. No criticism of her intended, Sullivan, she’s one of the best. April will, of course, check for any grammar and spelling errors, and—if I know her, and I do—she’ll try to find a way to make the article a little bit more interesting and exciting. Not all the readers of our magazine are died-in-the-wool academics like yourself.”

Lucas’s soufflé suddenly tasted like mud. “Change my article to make it more exciting? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eldridge took a final swallow of coffee and sat back and smiled. “I don’t know if you intended your work to be controversial, but I believe it is. The rules you espouse for the mating game are bound to create quite a stir in our female readers.”

Warning bells rang in Lucas’s mind. “Stir? What kind of stir?”

Eldridge was beaming. “Let’s just call it a major difference of opinion. The truth is that while I happen to agree with your conclusions about a woman’s role in the mating game, I’m willing to bet there are a hell of a lot of women readers who won’t. Today’s women, especially the type of readers we attract, are sharp, independent and not necessarily interested in marriage. That’s the reason I decided to ask you to write the article in the first place. The issue is bound to sell like hotcakes!”

“You’re joking!” Now that he understood the reason behind his former fraternity brother’s interest in his study, Lucas felt betrayed.

“Nope, I’m dead serious,” Eldridge said. “It’ll do miracles for our circulation. You’ll drive the women crazy.”

## Chapter Two

April managed to run up four flights of stairs to compensate for her lunch time calorie intake before she changed her mind. This type of exercise definitely wasn’t for her. She took the elevator the rest of the way.

She should have known Lucas Sullivan would be sitting in her office waiting for her.

Outside of a raised eyebrow and a glance at his watch, he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

She tried a casual smile, slid the folder with his manuscript in it onto her desk, then dropped into her chair. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

He shot a telling glance at the pages that had slid out from the protective folder. “Did you enjoy your fries?”

Of all the things she’d expected him to say, a question about her lunch wasn’t it. “How did you know I had fries for lunch?”

“Easy.” He leaned across the desk and pointed to the top page of his manuscript.

April followed his finger to where a liberal blot of ketchup rested on one of his rules. “A happy relationship requires that a woman make her man feel masculine.”

To her private satisfaction, the ketchup stain almost obliterated what she considered to be one of his more offensive rules. A man who didn’t feel secure in his own masculinity wasn’t going to get her sympathy.

She decided to try a little humor. “It’s an editorial comment.” She reached for a tissue and tried to blot the stain away, but all she managed to accomplish was to create a wider smudge on the page, which made the rule completely illegible. “Well, actually, it’s a deletion!”

She laughed and looked up at Sullivan. He didn’t seem the in the least amused. “I can get a clean page to work with,” she said. “Give me a moment.” She picked up the phone, punched a number and spoke into the receiver rapidly, then hung up. “I’ve asked for another copy of page one.”

April tossed the stained tissue into a wastepaper basket under her desk and waited for Sullivan to explode. But outside of a raised eyebrow, he didn’t look upset. Instead, he looked watchful, grim.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Tom had assured him the article would be published as is. He’d said he agreed with Sullivan’s conclusions, after all.

She made a show of rifling through the rest of the manuscript pages. “I’m just about finished making a few suggestions in the margins I think would be helpful.”

Sullivan’s eyebrows knit a frown. “Such as?” he asked quietly, but she could see, from the pulse throbbing in his temple and the rigidity of his body, what the effort to keep from losing his cool cost him.

April smothered a sigh. She knew enough about the academic world to understand that a professor’s reputation depended on continuing to publish. After all, she had to concede, while journalism was her game, he was a noted social scientist. She should have known he wasn’t prepared to take her advice lightly.

In an attempt to soothe Sullivan’s ruffled feathers, she smiled soothingly and moved on. “I’ve never edited a submission that couldn’t use a few changes, if only to make it more appealing to our readers. I’m very aware of who our readers are, their likes and dislikes.”

“In the case of your article,” she continued when he didn’t comment, “I think we need to make a few revisions, in tone if not content. Left as is, I’m afraid the piece is bound to cause a riot among female readers.”

“Strange,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s what Tom said at lunch. “But he sounded as if it was a positive thing, not negative. But I still say no to any changes. I take every word I write seriously.”

“Of course, Mr….er Lucas,” April agreed. “As your editor, I feel it’s my job to suggest constructive changes without altering your original thesis—if for no other reason than to keep your reader’s attention.”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “My original study was published in a scientific journal. Tom asked me to write this article based on that study.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts. My conclusions aren’t just a matter of my own opinions. I interviewed a number of grad students and volunteers before I drew those conclusions.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” April said, trying for some kind of common meeting ground. “The subject of your article is quite controversial. I’m sure you’re aware of a couple of alternative theories about the mating game that are more acceptable to women.” Including to her.

“Of course, the survival of the fittest,” he agreed. “The selfish-gene theory. Frankly, I don’t think many people stop to think about finding a mate with strong genes to pass on to their offspring.”

April shifted uneasily. “There is another theory, you know.”

“You’re no doubt referring to sexual attraction,” he said with a shrug. “That, however, is merely a matter of biology.”

April could hear Rita’s derisive laughter.

Mesmerized by his disparaging assessment of what surely had to be an important aspect of the mating game, April managed to nod. “Still, a lot of people believe it to be true.”

His gaze changed suddenly. Became warm, roved over her facial features and came to rest on her lips. She almost squirmed.

“I’m a scientist, or if you prefer, a social scientist, Ms. Morgan. My work is based on an actual sociological study of relationships.” His gaze now moved down to her throat. “If you question my credentials, I would be more than happy to provide them for you.”

April raised a hand to make sure the buttons on her blouse were securely fastened. If Sullivan only knew, his credentials weren’t in question. Not his physical ones, anyway, she thought guiltily as her gaze roamed over his seated frame. How could he not know that those eyes of his could turn a marble statue into a pile of dust?

Rita had been more on target about sex than she knew. What April had hoped would be a constructive exchange of ideas suddenly seemed to have turned into a frank appraisal of a mutual sexual attraction. If Sullivan thought sex was a natural magnet between the male and female species, how in heaven’s name had he come up with a set of rules no woman in her right mind would buy into?

“It’s not your credentials I question,” she finally said. “It’s your conclusions.”

This time his eyebrows arched almost to his hairline, and the pulse in his temple increased.

Not a good omen for a compromise, April figured. Not when he managed to continue to look sexy as hell, in spite of his anger. She had to remind herself she was the man’s editor and not a potential playmate. That she wasn’t offering herself as a candidate for the mating game.

She felt compelled to add, “I can’t bring myself to believe you were serious when you wrote these rules, Mr. Sullivan—Lucas.”

This got his undivided attention. “Serious? Damn right I was serious. Still am! What I was trying to say is that sexual attraction should be resisted. At least initially.”

April took heart. What was becoming clear was that Sullivan had seldom been questioned, let alone told by anyone that his work was a subject for laughter. She wasn’t sorry she’d been the one to do it. She might have been a little too frank, but at least he was paying attention.

“Okay, let’s talk about your interpretation of your research,” April said.

Sullivan still looked annoyed, but he shrugged. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Well,” she began, “I’m afraid your interpretation is biased. How many people did you interview during the course of your original study?”

He squared his jaw. “The figures are in the original study, but there were 176.”

“And that included both men and women, right?”

“Naturally,” he replied. “How else could this have been an empirical study?”

“Of course,” April agreed. Privately, she had a strong feeling the final ratio of male to female volunteers had either been skewed in favor of males or he’d been subconsciously biased in his interpretations of the answers to his questions.

“How much did you pay the volunteers? The going rate of seven dollars an hour?”

“No.” He sat back, obviously pleased with himself. “Actually I was very generous. I paid ten.”

April sighed. “When I was a journalism major at Northwestern, for ten dollars an hour, I would have told you anything I thought you wanted to hear.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Simply that the subjects you queried were perhaps not being truthful.”

Lucas leaned across the desk, eye to eye, nose to nose, so closely she could feel the heat of his skin. “No way! My conclusions are based on actual replies to my questions.”

“Sure, and only because of the way you formed the questions,” April said. “Pardon me for saying so, but I don’t think your study was unbiased. Therefore, any article based on your original study has also to be biased. I’m just saying that we need to take a closer look at your conclusions.”

Lucas felt his temper rise, a luxury he seldom allowed himself, let alone in a professional setting. Not only at April’s opinion of his research methods, but at himself for allowing his attraction to her to influence his professional approach to the subject of the mating game. “You think so, do you?”

“Yes, I do. My job as your editor is to make constructive suggestions.”

“That may be your usual job,” he said, distracted by the way April’s eyes seemed to change from brown to shades of green flecked with gold. “But it doesn’t apply here. I repeat—not when the work in question is based on a scientific study.”

“Maybe,” April said, “although there’s science and there’s science. However, you should be aware that if your article appears in its present form, it’s bound to cause a great deal of controversy. The kind of feedback you might not like to hear.”

Determined to overlook April’s challenge to his professionalism, Lucas took a deep breath. “I still stand by my work.”

“Even if I can persuade you otherwise?”

“Careful, Ms. Morgan.” A calculating smile came over his face. “You’re treading on thin ice. What would you do if I took you up on your offer?”

April wondered if he actually realized he’d made a sexual innuendo. If so, there had to be more to Sullivan than met the eye. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should leave this discussion for tomorrow? It’ll give me time to go over your article more carefully.”

“Yes, of course.” He rose to his feet. “Not too early, please. I’m going to be up late tonight.”

“Research?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said as he turned to leave.

April wondered about the glint in his eye.

“By the way,” she said as she made a show of straightening the manuscript pages, “how was your lunch in the executive dining room?”

Lucas turned back. “Okay. What makes you ask?”

“Just okay?” April reached into her purse for a tissue. “Not if you had their chocolate soufflé for dessert.”

“How did you know?”

Ignoring the urge to wipe the bit of chocolate off his chin, April handed Lucas the tissue. “You have some chocolate on the corner of your chin. If there’s anything I recognize, it’s chocolate soufflé. It happens to be a favorite of mine.”

Lucas rubbed at his chin with the tissue and, to her surprise, winked. “I’ll have to remember that important detail—and a few other things, as well.”

April wondered what he meant by “a few other things.” She only knew that the phrase and the way he delivered it caused butterflies to flutter through her midsection.

“I’ll call you later this afternoon to make an appointment,” she said.

“Sorry,” Sullivan said, “but I won’t be home to take the call. Let’s just say I’ll try to be here as early as I can tomorrow morning and leave it at that, all right?”

He would try? Most academics would give a year’s salary to be published in Today’s World, an eclectic magazine with far more readers than any scientific journal. “What can be more important than our discussing your article?”

“I play in a small band. We’re practicing this afternoon for a performance tonight.”

“A chamber music quartet?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

The reluctance in Sullivan’s voice whetted April’s curiosity. “How, ‘not exactly’?”

“Actually, it’s a rock band and I play lead guitar.”

April didn’t believe him, but she didn’t let on. “Uh, where did you say you were performing tonight?”

“I didn’t, but we’ll be at the Roxy on the north side of town. Why?”

“Just curious.” It wasn’t easy for April to keep a straight face when laughter at the absurdity of a serious academic playing in a rock band threatened to overcome her, but she managed. She’d already laughed at one of the man’s endeavors; to laugh at another might totally alienate Sullivan, not to mention cost her her job.

There must have been something in her voice that made him turn back at the door. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do. It’s just such a surprise,” she said quickly. “You not only teach, you write. How in heaven’s name do you manage to find time to be in a rock band?”

“Call it an instinct for survival,” he said, gazing at her as if his mind were a hundred miles away. “Actually, being raised by a strict father to become a successful academic, then getting my advanced degree so I could do research and teach, hasn’t left me a lot of time to pursue music, but music, in particular rock music, is my passion. It’s the one thing I do that satisfies my soul, and I find I must make time for it.”

Fascinated by the little speech and what it revealed about the man, April tried to imagine the dry and factual world Sullivan had grown up in. Her heart wept at the thought of a child’s yearning for the freedom to express himself that had had to wait until he was a grown man.

“You must hate your father,” she said softly.

“No, not at all,” he replied. “And as I get older, I think I actually understand him better. The divorce from my mother damn near bankrupted him financially. And then her accidental death shortly after they reconciled bankrupted him emotionally.”

April made a sound of sympathy.

“The only way Dad said he could be sure I would never lose everything I had,” Sullivan continued, “was to see to it I concentrated on my education and to keep women on a back burner.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been exactly overjoyed at the way I live, but I can’t fault him for that. He meant well.”

April thought of her own childhood. She and her two older brothers had been very competitive, each trying to outdo the other in everything—school, sports and parental attention. Her growing-up years hadn’t been all fun and games, but at least she’d had two loving parents.

“And so now you have your band,” she said softly.

His face brightened. “Yeah. I picked up guitar several years back from a friend of mine. Turns out I’m pretty decent at the guitar. It was just a matter of time before two of my friends taught me the ropes and we formed a band. We trade off. They write the music, I write the lyrics. We try to practice a couple of times a week and perform about twice a month. I don’t mind saying we’re pretty good.”

“And you’re playing tonight.”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll be ready for you tomorrow morning.”

Unable to explain her reaction to Sullivan’s unexpected fall from the lofty academic perch on which she’d placed him, April waved him off. “It doesn’t really matter. Go on, have fun. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

April followed Lucas to her office door and stood watching the envious glances that followed him to the elevator. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised at his choice for recreational activities. For a man so serious, so preoccupied with sociological research, performing in a rock band had to be a harmless way of releasing emotions.

She turned back to her desk and tried to concentrate on Sullivan’s article. It would have been a lot easier to be objective if the author’s warm brown eyes, his innate masculine charm and his story about his childhood didn’t keep getting in the way.

Sullivan really did need to be introduced to a woman’s real world for more reasons than one, she mused as she scowled at an offensive phrase in the manuscript. Still, becoming too emotionally involved with him wasn’t a good idea. Not only as his editor, but as a woman. She’d have to rethink their relationship.

But not before she paid a visit to the Roxy.

“COOL!” RITA SQUEALED when April called and invited her to go with her to the Roxy to hear Sullivan play. “Are you talking about the same guy who wrote that mating game article?”

“Bingo.” April smiled at Rita’s surprised reaction. After reading his article, the idea of Lucas Sullivan playing his heart out with a guitar surprised her, too.

“I’m all yours.” Rita’s eager voice came over the phone. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up around eight.” April laughed as she hung up the phone. She could visualize her hip friend reaching for her lipstick—a bloodred hue to match the hot blood that ran in her veins.

Not that April was fooled. She knew that Rita’s frank talk was meant to shock, and that she, like herself and Lili, was waiting for the right man to come along.

Again April tried, without success, to concentrate on Sullivan’s article. She had a growing suspicion she’d been wrong about him. There were his brief flashes of sexy innuendos, the occasional glint in his eye, and now, his music. Rock, no less!

She sighed as she put a question mark alongside one of his rules. Why was she wasting time trying to figure out this man?

A secret visit to the Roxy was definitely in order.

OVER RITA’S OBJECTIONS, April led the way past the sign on the door that announced the Rocking Eagles were appearing that night. She claimed a small table in the far corner. The room was dark, except for the flashes of color coming from roaming klieg lights. A billboard by the door announced Sullivan’s band—suddenly the other patrons began to cheer and called for the band to begin.

The stage darkened. The slow, sensuous beat of a drum sounded. A bass guitar joined in, then a keyboard. An unseen voice began to sing. Pandemonium broke out. The small dance floor in front of the bandstand became a sea of swaying bodies.

“Where’s Sullivan?” Rita shouted above the noise.

April’s eyes were riveted to the stage. “I don’t see him. Maybe this isn’t his band, after all.”

April climbed onto her chair to get a better look at the musicians on the stage. The drummer wore black slacks and a black T-shirt. A red bandanna held back his long hair. The bass player wore black jeans and a red T-shirt with Rocking Eagles emblazoned across the front. The keyboard player was also in red and black, clearly the band’s colors.

But where was Sullivan?

Suddenly the drummer beat a sort of drumroll, and another band member, this one in black leather pants and an open black shirt and wielding a red guitar, leaped onto the stage. He grabbed the microphone and began to sing a song about the train being late at the station. Dazed, April took the words to mean that he’d been too late to tell his girl he loved her in time to claim her for his own.

She took a closer look. Sullivan?

April climbed down from her chair and sat. Either the man was Sullivan’s identical twin or she’d been had. How else could the man have come up with an article like his with a straight face?

“What a hottie!” Rita exclaimed admiringly. “If that’s the guy you were talking about, April, you’ve got yourself a real man!”

April’s head swam. “Save your breath, the man’s not mine. After tonight, I’m not even sure what I’d do with him if he were!”

She grabbed Rita by the wrist. “I’ve got to get out of here before the lights come on and Sullivan sees me.”

Rita hung back. “We just got here! I’m having a great time!”

“I’m not, and we’re leaving,” April said with a nervous glance at the stage. Sullivan had turned his back on the audience and was sliding sensually across the stage, his leather-clad behind eliciting cheers from female fans. She gulped. “Hurry! I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll even take you out for a hamburger on the way home.”

“A hamburger isn’t going to make up for missing Sullivan move that tush of his,” Rita said with a longing look at the stage. “Who would have thought it?”

“Not me,” April said as she realized she would never be able to look Lucas straight in the eyes again without seeing his swaying hips and naked chest.

## Chapter Three

The next morning, April made a point to be in her office early. A rock musician might be unpredictable, but the man who wrote “The Mating Game” was bound to be on time.

As she settled down at her desk, she thought about the rule “A woman must strive for compatibility, rather than try to be sexy.”

Compatibility was okay with her, she told herself. The sexy part was definitely out.

Until she glanced down at her new sea-green linen suit and the form-fitting silk blouse. Then there was her perfume, a scent that had cost her a bundle and she almost never wore. The glimpse of Sullivan performing on stage last night must have muddled her thinking. Why else would she have gone to such lengths to look so feminine today? So sexy.

Was it because she believed in the popular scientific theory that the basis for the mating game was a search for someone with the right stuff? And that she’d found it in Sullivan?

Was it because, in defiance of his conclusions in his article, she was out to show him the attraction between the sexes was more important than rational thinking?

Or because Sullivan’s sexuality had gotten to her?

Impossible!

To her dismay, Sullivan found her in the midst of her mental debate.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“Good morning.” April caught herself before something about his performance last night escaped her lips. She didn’t want him to know she’d been there. “How was last night?”

“Great!” He yawned before he sat down. “Sorry, I was up late. Couldn’t sleep. How about you?”

“I slept like a baby, thank you.” The truth was, she hadn’t slept much last night, either. “So I took a closer look at the article, and as I was saying yesterday…” Her voice trailed off. How could she focus on business when the vision of a pair of perfect buns encased in black leather kept getting in the way?

She studied Sullivan. His eyes were half closed. He didn’t appear any more interested in the business at hand than she was. “Lucas?”

He took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Yes?”

“You’re not paying attention to what I’m saying.”

“Sorry. I’m afraid I’m a little groggy after last night.” Lucas knew the lack of sleep wasn’t the only thing wrong with him today. It was April Morgan’s scent, her enchanting feminine appearance.

The lush auburn hair that fell softly around her face and the lips that begged to be kissed.

He forced himself to focus on business. “I was hoping you’ve reconsidered asking me to make changes.”

“No, actually there are still a few. That is, if you want me to take your article seriously.” She settled her glasses on her nose and picked up a red pencil. “Perhaps—”

Before she could go on, a young woman with a glint in her eye came into the office. “Is there anything I can do for you, April?”

April smothered a groan. Judging from the avid interest in the intruder’s wide blue eyes as she gazed at Sullivan, an introduction was expected.

“Lucas, this is Tiffany Waters. She’s our college intern and works for us in the summers. Tiffany, this is Lucas Sullivan. We were discussing an article Mr. Sullivan submitted for publication.”

Sullivan stood politely. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Waters.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” a breathless Tiffany said as she held out her hand for Sullivan to take. She gazed soulfully into his eyes. “Really, really nice.”

Obviously Tiffany, too, had managed to see beneath the man’s academic exterior. A man who not only was the target of a blatant sexual invitation but was returning it, if April were to judge by the way he held Tiffany’s hand a little too long and returned her gaze.

Was this the same man who, only yesterday, had appeared uncomfortable around women? Or had she been the only woman he was uncomfortable with?

“Thank you, Tiffany, but we have everything we need.” April escorted the mesmerized intern to the door. “Before you try to seduce the man,” she told her under her breath, “let me tell you that Mr. Sullivan is an academic more accustomed to books than people. Even if you were able to lure him into bed, I’m not sure he would know what to do with you.”

Doubtful, Tiffany glanced back over her shoulder. “You think, April? Gee, what a waste of good material!”

“I think,” April said as she moved Tiffany closer to the door. “Trust me, he’s definitely not the type a vibrant young woman like yourself should become involved with.”

With April occupied persuading a reluctant Tiffany to move on, Lucas turned away to look out the window at the clusters of cumulus clouds floating across Chicago’s skyline. April had a lot to learn about him, namely that there was nothing wrong with his hearing, nor with his manhood and skills in the bedroom.

He wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Tiffany? When hell froze over!

As for April, if he read the sparks in her eyes correctly, and he was damn sure he did, there was a banked fire burning inside her waiting to be ignited. Why a man hadn’t already staked out his territory was a puzzle. It just wasn’t going to be him.

Too bad, he mused as he watched April at the door with Tiffany. April might not know it, but she was all woman, the type who got under a man’s skin faster than the Tiffanys of the world.

She was tall enough to fit comfortably under his chin, he mused as he made an inventory of her shapely figure. Just the right size to cradle in his arms and to explore her chameleon eyes. Even if she didn’t fit the description of what made women desirable in his article, he was attracted to her.

After all, his article merely recapped his thesis that sexual attraction wasn’t of primary importance. His underlying thesis was that the domestic and companionship qualities of a relationship were. Was it his fault that his conclusions were being interpreted as a series of rules for a woman to get her man?

That brought him back to April.

Lucas sighed as his thoughts drifted down sensual paths he’d been too busy to visit before he’d met April. It seemed he wasn’t that busy now.

“Are you with me, Lucas?”

April’s question caught his attention. With her? Definitely, for all the good it would do him. “Sorry, why don’t you run whatever it was you said by me one more time?”

She was back at her desk, peering over her reading glasses. “I said it might be a good idea to rename your article in order to catch the attention of our readers. What do you think of calling it ‘Sullivan’s Rules’?”

Lucas thought for a moment. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly, “but please remember these aren’t really rules. What you see there are conclusions based on an empirical study.”

“So you’ve said,” April agreed with a tight smile.

“Anything else?” Lucas idly wondered if April was aware of how attractive she looked with her reading glasses slipping lower on her adorable nose. Or if she realized how charming she looked when her single dimple betrayed her inner thoughts by dancing across her right cheek?

Was she laughing at him again?

“Frankly,” April continued, “I do have a few other minor comments.”

Lucas caught himself admiring the graceful curve of her neck. “Okay. Say, how about I call you April, instead of Ms. Morgan?”

Taken by surprise, April took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “If it will make you feel more comfortable.” She pointed to a paragraph and read aloud. “‘A woman must rein in her own desires to promote the health of a relationship.’” She paused for effect. “Sounds like Victorian thinking, don’t you agree?”

“For today’s marriage, yes,” Lucas agreed. “For companionship, no. A number of my friends have live-in companions and seem happy enough. However, I’ve found that most men still prefer to take the lead in a permanent relationship.”

“Before or after the woman tries to make her man feel masculine? Or before she makes an effort not to influence him by being sexy?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” He tried not to dwell on the way the color of her eyes deepened when she was disturbed.

“Exactly,” she agreed, and put her glasses back on. “Let’s move on. How about women showering their men with affection? Shouldn’t that be left out, too? Or haven’t you considered that the close physical proximity that showering affection might entail would break your rules for a premarital relationship?”

“Not if the parties set the ground rules before they enter the relationship.” Lucas tried to ignore an inner warning voice reminding him he was letting his testosterone get in the way of rational thinking. “Intelligent people shouldn’t allow their bodies to rule their minds.”

April smothered a comment. If he actually believed that garbage, where was the man in the black leather pants? The tight black leather pants. “Mind over matter—right. An interesting theory, but you seem to have forgotten the most important factors in the search for a lasting relationship.”

Lucas shifted uneasily in his chair and glanced at the door. Things were getting a little too warm for comfort. He would have given a bundle for another interruption. “And what factors are they?”

“There’s that popular scientific theory about the subconscious instinctive desire to find a mate with strong genes.”

“Of course.” Lucas shrugged. “However, it was my intention to show the sociological aspect of the mating game, not to dwell on what amounts to little more than what I call biolust.”

Biolust! April bit her lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “Interesting theory. So tell me—how have your rules worked for you?”

“I wasn’t looking for a mate,” he answered. “I was merely making important sociological observations.”

“While we’re at it,” April continued with a hopeless glance at his article, “how about love? Or isn’t falling in love supposed to enter the picture?”

Lucas thought of haunting memories of his warring parents, their sorry relationship, a divorce, remarriage and the subsequent death of his mother.

“Love is a transitory emotion and can be controlled,” he said. “Especially since it’s what gets in the way of an intelligent choice for a marital partner. At best, love only exists in novels and movies.”

Lucas paused to admire the fascinating golden sparks in April’s eyes.

“Lucas? You’ve gone somewhere else again!”

“Sorry,” he said. “Look, you’re quarreling over a serious study, April. Tom didn’t seem to think I was off base when he called me and asked me to write the article you have there.”

“That’s because he’s a man.” Or a true chauvinist like Sullivan himself. “However, since our magazine has more female than male readers, I honestly think you should try to lighten it up before it gets published.”

He looked incredulous. “The article was drawn from an empirical study. How the hell can it be lightened up?”

“Well, maybe you need to use a tongue-in-cheek approach. Or if you don’t like that, maybe a few female opinions are needed to sway you.”

Lucas straightened. “Are you’re going to offer me yours?”

The flame in April’s eyes grew brighter. “Are you asking?”

“Sure,” Lucas said, confident that April wouldn’t be able to come up with any valid reasons to change his article. Hell, if he began to doubt his research methods or his conclusions, he might as well admit to doubting himself. “I’m game. Go ahead.”

As far as he was concerned, the gauntlet had been thrown down and he was man enough to pick it up. Between Tom Eldridge’s remark about setting the magazine’s readership on fire with the article and April’s challenge to lighten it up, he could hardly sit by and just become an amusing topic of dinner conversation.

April considered giving him the whole nine yards of her opinion. If only the mental picture of the man as he’d appeared last night on stage didn’t keep getting in the way.

On the other hand, the idea of giving Sullivan a few lessons on what went on in the real world, instead of in books, became more enticing by the minute.

Of course, educating him wasn’t going to be easy. Like most of the men she’d already dubbed a “Sullivan,” he seemed to have the ability to compartmentalize the various areas of his life. As far as she was concerned, it was nothing more than tunnel vision.

She took off her glasses again. “To tell you the truth, I’ve decided not to waste time telling you what I think. I intend to take you out and show you. Humanize you a little.”

“I’m all yours,” he replied casually. “When do we begin?”

“Hot coffee, tea or…” To April’s dismay, the young office gofer, Arthur Putnam, cheerfully rolled a refreshment cart to the office door.

“Not now, Arthur, but thanks for the offer,” April said with a careful eye on Lucas. “We’re really busy here.”

Lucas held up his hand. “Just a minute, please. I don’t know about you, April, but after last night I could use a cup of strong, black coffee.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up at the mention of last night. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Arthur,” April said hastily. “Mr. Sullivan performed in a rock and roll band last night.”

Arthur closed his mouth. After a dubious glance at Lucas, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

Lucas reached into his jacket pocket, extracted a card and wrote on the back of it. “Drop in anytime—as my guest.”

Arthur’s face lit up. “Gee, thanks!”

April gave up trying to keep Sullivan’s mind on business, but she wasn’t through with him yet. As for Arthur’s visit, she would have been annoyed if she hadn’t known that Arthur was in the throes of puppy love, with her of all people, and had only been momentarily distracted.

At least Arthur wasn’t another Tiffany hitting on Lucas, April thought wryly. Judging from the number of women who’d found a need to pass by her office this morning, word about Sullivan’s presence had spread like wildfire.

Unfortunately, the morning was still young.

Resigned to the inevitable, at least for now, April beckoned to Arthur. She couldn’t bring herself to be upset with him. Not when he was one of the few men around the office who wasn’t impressed with his maleness.

“Come on in, Arthur. By the way, Lucas, this angel of mercy is Arthur Putnam. Arthur, this is Lucas Sullivan—he’s the author of an article we’re going to publish.”

Arthur was too busy gazing adoringly at April to reply.

“Arthur! Mr. Sullivan asked for a cup of black coffee.”

“Sorry.” Unabashed, a grinning Arthur tore his gaze away. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it over. “What’s the subject of your article?”

“I call it ‘The Mating Game.’ It’s not what you think,” Lucas added hurriedly when Arthur’s eyes widened. “It’s based on an earlier publication of mine, a sociological study about what men want in a wife.”

Arthur turned his adoring gaze back to April, his meaning clear. She was his idea of the ideal woman. “Anything for you, Ms. Morgan?”

“No, thank you. Perhaps later.”

“Sure. I’ll be back. You can bet on it.” With a last soulful look at April, Arthur rolled the beverage cart out the door.

Lucas smothered a grin. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed April’s striking appearance today.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to revise his article to include something about how a woman should dress in order to please the man she was interested in?

He looked at April. “You were saying before we were interrupted?”

“That there’s a great deal more to the attraction between the sexes than what you describe in your article, and I’m going to take you out and show you,” April said as she gathered her purse and portfolio. “Shall we go?”

When, Lucas thought, had the question of protecting his research methods turned into something to do with April?

After admitting to himself he found her attractive?

After her offer to humanize him?

“Why not?” He set his half-empty cup on the desk and made a show of looking eager to learn about the real world. “I can hardly wait.”

“April, are you busy?” A lush brunette paused at the office door, leaned against the frame and frankly studied Lucas.

April swallowed a groan. After last night, she might have known Rita would show up today to get a closer look at Sullivan. She beckoned her friend into the office. “Hi, Rita. I am busy, but not as busy as we expect to be soon,” she added meaningfully.

Rita’s eyes lit up as she misinterpreted April’s answer. “Get outta here!”

April swallowed hard. “As long as you’re here, you might as well come in and meet Lucas Sullivan. Mr. Sullivan is the author of the article I told you about yesterday. Lucas, I’d like you to meet Rita Rosales. Rita is our research librarian.”

Undeterred by April’s hint to make her visit short, Rita sashayed into the office. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sullivan. Although, to be honest, I can’t say I agree with your article. I’d say that there’s a lot more important going on between the sexes than just a woman feeding a man’s ego.”

Lucas wasn’t surprised at the mini critique. Any friend of April’s was bound to disagree with him. As for Rita, she fit right in at this admittedly eclectic publication.

“I’m not surprised to hear that,” he answered wryly. “Just as I won’t be surprised to learn you’re about to enlighten me.”

“Rita, don’t you dare!” April broke in before Rita could launch into her theory that the basis for male-female relationships was purely sexual attraction. Or, as Rita often said in plain terms, good old-fashioned sex.

Undeterred, Rita grinned at Lucas. “You sure don’t look like the man who came up with that old-fashioned set of rules April showed me.”

“‘The Mating Game’ article is not just a set of rules,” Lucas corrected her automatically before he realized he’d just been given a compliment. “I’m not?”

“No. I figured you would either be elderly or a stuffed shirt. As for being old, you’re obviously not. As for stuffy…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept Lucas. “You’ve sure got what it takes to get a gal’s attention. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” She winked at April. “Don’t give up, April. With a little work, I think you can wake up your Mr. Sullivan.”

Rita’s unsolicited assessment of Sullivan’s attractions might be embarrassing, but it was dead on. April grabbed Rita by the arm and urged her to the door before her friend mentioned her visit to the Roxy. “The next time you have something important to tell me, please use the telephone.” Under her breath, she added, “I’ll be up to see you later.”

“Sure, now that I’ve met your Mr. Sullivan, I think it can wait. Just remember what I told you.” Rita grinned at him over her shoulder. “See you later.”

Lucas settled back into his chair. At the rate they’d been interrupted, there wouldn’t be enough hours left in the day for April to take him out and try to humanize him. “Interesting woman,” he commented. “I wouldn’t mind hearing her explain her version of how a man chooses the woman he’d like to spend the rest of his life with.”

“You don’t want to know,” April said, unable to imagine Rita’s raw sex talk without laughing. She pushed a few errant strands of hair away from her eyes. “Rita tends to be frank, but I assure you that it’s all talk. As for what she actually thinks on the subject, I’m not sure you’d want to hear that, either.”

Lucas smiled. “Why not? I heard the birds-and-bees talk when I was ten. I’ve even managed to teach a few classes on marriage and the family without blushing.”

“I wish it were that simple,” April muttered as heat rose to her throat. “I don’t know about you, but I’m afraid I’m not up to an X-rated conversation.”

A roguish grin spread over Lucas’s face. His brown eyes turned a deeper brown. “Try me.”

Mutely, April stared at the man whom only twenty-four hours ago she’d labeled as a stuffy academic. Now that she’d glimpsed the other side of him, she was afraid that the last thing she would be able to manage was a frank discussion of sexual attraction.

Something was definitely wrong here.

The heat continued its upward journey into her cheeks. “It’s not exactly a professional topic for us to discuss. I’m your editor, not your biology teacher.”

“Too bad.” Lucas formed his features into an exaggerated display of regret. “You would have been great.”

April managed a weak smile.

“So,” he said next, “unless you’re expecting more visitors, shall we get on with this show of yours before someone else drops in?”

As he spoke, there was gentle knock at the door.

“April? I’m sorry to interrupt you when you’re busy, but you left a page of the manuscript in the cafeteria.”

Lili? Lili, the friend who had declined to become involved in humanizing Lucas Sullivan yet couldn’t resist meeting him?

April glanced at the printed page Lili offered. A quick glance told her that Sullivan’s fame had spread so throughout the building that even the prim-and-proper Lili couldn’t ignore it.

Resigned to the inevitable, April made the introductions. “Lili works in the art department as a graphic artist, Lucas. She’s also a very good friend of mine. Please try to remember that we all try to be professional around here.”

With a wry smile, Lucas rose to his feet. “Of course. Happy to meet you, Ms. Soulé.”

“I am happy to meet you, too.” She handed April the sheet of paper and backed to the door. “I will see you later, April.”

After Lili blushed her way out of the office, Lucas chuckled. “Maybe we should put off our excursion. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the rest of your friends.”

April was really annoyed. Any notion that she may have misjudged Lucas vanished. The man was a prime example of a chauvinistic male with an ego to match. “I swear I had nothing to do with those visits. It has to be all your fault.”

“My fault?” Lucas looked affronted. “All I did was to show up here this morning. At your request, I might add.”

How could one man have such an innate male appeal and still wind up the author of such naive conclusions about relationships? April wondered. All the man seemed to know about women would fit into a thimble.

She was tempted to find Tom and tell him about Sullivan’s appearance at the Roxy, just to prove that Lucas Sullivan wasn’t the man he appeared to be. But then, if they’d attended Northwestern together, maybe Tom already knew the truth about Sullivan.

Nothing was going to keep the magazine article from creating a riot among its female readers, April was certain. The bigger problem, once the magazine hit the stands, was how to protect Sullivan from himself.