Free Trouble in High Heels by Leanne Banks Page B

him. Her determination to keep it secret grabbed at him. In elementary school, he remembered that a history teacher had said that what a person did in secret said a lot more about what they were made of than what they did in public.
    In public, Lori wore designer clothes and donated her money to crazy charities. In private, she clung fiercely to her independence at the same time she looked to her dog for acceptance while she tried to take care of the world.
    Jackson felt oddly protective of her. He still wanted to talk her out of the marriage deal, but he was starting to understand her point of view, her impatience with her father’s manipulation.
    He picked up the file of prospects again. One of these men was going to go through six years of heaven and hell. Heaven to be close to her. Hell not to have her.
    Lori had a case of cold feet. After being around her sisters for the last several days and overhearing their lovey-dovey phone conversations with their husbands, she couldn’t help rethinking her decision to marry for access to her money. If only it wasn’t necessary, she thought, frustration zooming through her as her chauffeur negotiated the heavy traffic.
    But it was, and Jackson had left a message that he wanted to meet with her tonight to show her the dossiers on five prospective husbands.
    She felt another chill run through her-all the way to her feet.
    It was temporary, she told herself as a doorman allowed her into the exclusive nightclub charity party. A band played in a back room while servers floated through the space with trays of champagne and food. A barrage of children’s paintings and baskets loaded with giveaways were arranged on tables for a silent auction. Lori’s friend Chloe was chairing a fund drive for children’s art programs. Lori had promised to attend, and she always tried to keep her promises.
    In the back of her mind, she imagined Jackson James frowning in disapproval at her. He didn’t want her to spend a dime until she was married.
    Lori made a face and wrote a bid for one of the children’s paintings. “It’s for a good cause,” she murmured.
    Someone jostled her from behind, and her pen went flying.
    “Bloody hell, do watch where you’re going,” a male voice said in a British accent. “Excuse me, Miss.”
    The sound was so different from the Texas twang she was accustomed to hearing that it immediately caught her attention. She glanced around to find a tall man with floppy brown hair accepting a napkin and an apology from a server. He mopped at his damp jacket.
    “Good start,” he muttered. “Spend the rest of the night smelling like a wino.” He glanced up at her. “Did he get any on you?”
    She patted her hands over her black dress and shook her head. “No. I think you got the worst of it. Sorry,” she said, feeling pity for him. He looked so frazzled. Cute in a lost-puppy-dog sort of way.
    “Par for the day. I should have gone to bed after that flight from London, but I promised a relative I would attend this function for her.”
    “Would you like some champagne to drink? Would that help a little?” she asked, waving at a waiter.
    “A bottle of scotch would be better,” he muttered. “But thank you. Champagne will be fine. What is this party for, anyway? My stepmother told me, but I forgot.”
    “Development of the arts for children.”
    He narrowed his eyes at the painting she’d just bid on. “Good cause. Definitely needs development,” he said and tossed back the champagne in two gulps.
    Lori frowned. “That’s not very nice. A child painted it. You shouldn’t expect perfection. Unless you’re a snob,” she added.
    Chagrin crossed his face. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have come tonight. I’ve been sent to do something I don’t want to do. It’s put me in a bad mood.” He glanced at the painting again. “You like it?” he asked doubtfully.
    “I like the colors. They’re bright and cheerful.”
    “Where the devil would you hang