Free Nancy Herkness by Shower Of Stars

you use your hair?” Isabelle asked pointedly.
    “Not enough, obviously,” Charlie said with a grim laugh. “I can’t tell if he has real intentions along those lines, or if he’s just trying to distract me.”
    “Call his bluff.”
    “What? You mean jump into bed with him? I’m not that desperate for the book.” The telephone rang. “I’d better get that in case it’s my agent,” Charlie said, pushing back her chair.
    “May I please speak with Charlotte Berglund?” Jack’s voice seemed to slide through the phone like melted butter.
    “Hello, Jack. Have you changed your mind about the book?” Charlie’s brisk tone counterattacked his seductive drawl.
    “Maybe. I have to do a little more thinking first. Will you be free to talk tomorrow at about four o’clock?”
    “Four o’clock? Sure, call me here,” she said, quickly flipping her calendar open to double-check. Fortunately, nothing had to be canceled.
    “I’ll talk with you then, sugar.” He hung up.
    “Right.” She walked slowly back to the kitchen trying to absorb the sudden about-face. And trying to ignore the little frisson of pleasure she felt every time he called her “sugar.”
    “He’s phoning tomorrow at four to talk about the book,” she told Isabelle.
    “The hair worked!”

Six

    When Charlie drove into Winter Circle the next afternoon, she noticed a big, boxy green Land Rover with Wyoming license plates parked halfway around the cul-de-sac. As she carried her purchases into her house, she wondered who had visitors from so far away. Major was lying in the swath of sun by the back French doors and stood up to greet her. Twinkle watched from atop the refrigerator.
    “Have you guys given up on the fireplace rug?” she asked, giving the dog a pat. Inspired by the glorious spring day, she had bought a pink geranium in a plastic pot for the back porch and walked out to put it on the tile-topped table.
    “Nice view you have here.”
    She yelped and dropped the pot, making Major jump out of the way.
    “My apologies,” Jack said, rising from the rocking chair he had been sitting in. He bent down to scoop up the pot and hand it back to her with a slight bow. “We did have an appointment.”
    “You’re early, and I thought you were going to call me.” Charlie hugged the pot to her chest in an attempt to subdue her racing heartbeat.
    His smile didn’t help her. The dimple was out in full force, and he was wearing a polo shirt faded to the exact shade of his eyes. Even his short sleeves bothered her because they drew attention to the play of muscle in his forearms.
    “Oh no, sugar. A proposal needs to be presented in person.”
    “What kind of proposal is that?” she asked as she pretended to inspect the geranium for damage.
    “The usual sort: a proposal of marriage.”
    “Right,” she snorted, centering the pot on the table with great precision.
    As she turned, he reached out and took both of her hands in his. “Ms. Berglund, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
    She stared at him for a moment. “Has radiation from your space rocks scrambled your brain waves?”
    “I see gallantry is wasted on you.” He released her hands.
    “It was a pretty bad Rhett Butler impersonation.” She crossed her arms and tucked her hands safely out of his reach. “What did you really come to talk about?”
    “Marriage.”
    “Right. And then you’ll tell me you were abducted by aliens who experimented on your mind—”
    “Charlie, I need and intend to keep your pretty nose out of my private affairs. I figure the best way to do that is to provide you with a reliable income to show your caseworker. The easiest way to do that is to marry you.”
    “You have a very odd view of marriage if you think a wife keeps her nose out of her husband’s affairs,” she replied lightly, although she was beginning to think he wasn’t joking.
    “This is merely a convenience for both of us; a mutually beneficial business partnership, if you