A Man In Demand Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  About the Author

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  Copyright

  Do you have a

  Matchmaking Mother from Hell?

  Take our test and find out…

  if you dare.

  Your mother thinks you should attract a man by:

  a) Being your charming, witty self.

  b) Offering to make him a home-cooked meal.

  c) Stealing his child.

  Your mother thinks the perfect man for you would be:

  a) Tom Cruise.

  b) A nineties version of Robert Young in “Father Knows Best.”

  c) Your cousin’s fiance.

  Your mother thinks family planning is:

  a) Birth control.

  b) Inviting the whole family to a huge Fourth of July picnic.

  c) Having her run your life until the day you die.

  If you chose A most often: Ever thought of hiring your mother out? You’d make a mint. She sounds like a dream come true.

  If you chose B most often: Look at the bright side—you’ll never get out of the kitchen long enough to find out if you even like the guy!

  If you chose C most often: You truly have a matchmaking mother from hell. Beware, but just in case, be sure to keep candy on hand for the kids she swipes from gorgeous divorces.

  Dear Reader,

  Several months ago we editors took a group of LOVE & LAUGHTER authors to dinner. While each and every one of these smart, funny ladies can talk and talk and talk, each and every one of us at the table had to give in to new Harlequin author Cheryl Anne Porter. She is a woman who is met with the line “Why don’t you do stand-up?” over and over again. By the end of the dinner, all we could do was sit with tears rolling down our cheeks, clutching our sides with laughter as Cheryl entertained with yet another rollicking anecdote. Cheryl also writes historical romances, but A Man in Demand is her first contemporary and another great addition to the Matchmaking Moms From Hell miniseries.

  Not to be outdone is Lisa Bingham, a relative newcomer to the Harlequin family but a huge sensation. Her Harlequin American Romance stories, including Nanny Jake and The Daddy Hunt, have been incredibly popular with readers. We’re very pleased to include her in the LOVE & LAUGHTER lineup with Runner-Up Bride.

  Next month brings a wonderful surprise: Let’s Celebrate, a special promotion running for three months. And there’s a really cool contest for you to enter. Look for all the details next month. Wishing you much love and laughter,

  Malle Vallik

  Associate Senior Editor

  A Man In Demand

  Cheryl Anne Porter

  A funny thing happened…

  I won’t come right out and say I have a Matchmaking Mama. But it’s an unspoken rule in our family that we marry the mate Mom picks for us. The penalty for noncompliance is Mom keeping our Intended and giving us the boot Lucky for me and my brother Jimmie, we fell in love with our Chosen Ones. But Mom has to keep busy, so now she’s working on my sister Paula and brother Mark.

  —Cheryl Anne Porter

  A MAN IN DEMAND is Cheryl Anne Porter’s debut into the contemporary market And what an entrance she’s made! Be sure to watch for upcoming madcap stories by this talented author.

  To my husband, Paul, whom I love dearly.

  And it’s a good thing because you were also

  Mom’s choice for me.

  To my editor, Brenda Chin, who absolutely

  refuses to allow me to say “Bless your heart” in any

  connotation with her. Brenda, you’re the best.

  To my closest friend, Christy Ruth

  (first and last name, not just her Southern name).

  You’re in my heart, girl.

  To Mom, who always—What? I am sitting up straight.

  No, I haven’t put on weight. My hair?

  What’s wrong with my hair? Hey, Mom, look—

  Paula and Mark aren’t married yet!

  1

  “OHMIGOD, MOTHER, what have you done now?” Julie kicked her own mental behind for not suspecting, before she even opened her apartment door, that Mayhem, and not Opportunity, was in the breezeway and knocking.

  For, sure enough, framed in the open doorway stood Mayhem. In all her radiant, red-haired, grandmotherly glory. In one arm, she balanced a brimming grocery bag and her huge orange purse. Holding her other hand was a dark-haired little boy who couldn’t be more than three years old.

  “Mother, where did you get this child? You are not coming in until you take him back.” Julie pointed the way toward the parking lot. “Now.”

  Her mother ignored her gesture in favor of beaming at her and then down at the boy, whose jaws worked furiously around a sucker. Then her gaze moved back to her daughter, and she crowed, “This would be perfect if it were Valentine’s Day! Because this time, I’ve found the right man. Meet your future husband!”

  Julie looked from her mother to the little boy, and back again. “Don’t you think he’s kind of young?”

  Her mother made a dismissive sound. “Not him. Him!”

  She released the boy’s hand, shifted the bag to her other arm and reached out, only to drag into Julie’s view…the Hunk. In Levi’s and a red-and-white Oklahoma Sooners T-shirt. Shock brought Julie’s hands to her face.

  The Hunk? Mother brought her the Hunk? Every woman in the apartment complex was in love with him. The complex? Heck, in all of Brandon. Maybe in all of Florida. Julie’s insides shriveled when she took a mental inventory of herself. Barefoot, cutoff shorts and a raggedy T-shirt. And no makeup. Or bra.

  “Hi. Happy a-week-early Valentine’s Day.”

  Julie knew she was staring, but she couldn’t stop herself. The man was gorgeous.

  “Say something to him, honey. It’s no wonder you’re pushing thirty and still single.”

  Julie felt the natural curl in her hair straighten out. She moved her hands about two inches away from her mouth. Oh, she’d say something, all right. “Mother, how could you?”

  “Tell him your age? Well, he’d have to know before you go for your marriage license.”

  “Mother!” Julie astounded herself by actually shrieking. She took a deep, calming breath. And started over. “Not that—well yes, that, too. But I mean, how could you—” Words suddenly failed her, so she settled for gesturing at the Hunk and his son. “Them, Mother. How could you?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t hard at all. I caught them in the parking lot when I drove in. Here, take these groceries I brought you. You wouldn’t eat if I didn’t bring you food.”

  Automatically taking the offered paper bag, Julie only dimly heard the last of her mother’s familiar harangue. She’d stopped listening at the words “caught them.” There was no huge net in her mother’s hands. So, maybe she was speaking figuratively. But with Ida Cochran, you took nothing for granted. “You.caught them how?”

  “Maybe I can shed some light here?”

  Julie transferred her attention to the captured man. “I’m not sure God could shed light where my mother is concerned, but please try.” She set the bag down inside her apartment and then straightened up, hands to her waist, ready to listen.

  But he wasn’t talking. The Hunk was, instead, openly staring at her. Pinned by the intensity of his gaze, Julie returned the compliment. Oh, boy. He was one of those men who just got better up cl
ose.

  Mercifully, he stared at her for only a moment longer before he gave a slight shake of his head, and then bent over to set down his own bags. Not so mercifully, he managed to do so in one fluid movement of toned and rippling muscles that momentarily stole Julie’s breath.

  Straightening up, he launched into his version. “Mrs. Cochran here caught us—to use her word—as we were unloading our groceries down in front of our apartment. She introduced herself and then asked me if I’d met her daughter. When I said no, she insisted that I needed to. And—” he gestured between himself and his son “—here we are.” He glanced down at his son again and did a double take. “Where’d you get that candy, Aaron?”

  The boy popped the sucker out of his mouth. “From this grandma-lady. Can I have it?”

  “Well, yeah, since it’s about half gone, I guess you can.” He turned to Julie’s mother. “You couldn’t ask?”

  Her embarrassment at her mother’s behavior finally won over Julie’s fascination with watching the Hunk speak. Julie confronted her mother. “You gave this child candy without asking his father?”

  “I asked him, and he nodded yes.” She waved her hand dismissively and smiled. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll work on teaching Aaron not to take candy from strangers. I don’t want to have to worry about my step-grandson being snatched by some loony.”

  “As if it hasn’t just happened, Mother.”

  But her mother dismissed her with another wave of her hand and began sorting through her orange purse.

  Giving up, Julie turned again to the Hunk. Seeing the poor guy’s quizzical look, she bit back a chuckle. Ten bucks said he was sifting through the events that had led him to her apartment door. He’d probably nodded fifty times on the way over. That’s all most people could do because Ida didn’t converse. She “monologued.” Still, half of Julie expected the tanned specimen of all-that-was-rightwith-men to reach for her mother’s throat. Or hoped he would.

  But he just looked befuddled. “Maybe I did say it was okay. I can’t remember.”

  When his frown intensified, Julie stepped in. “Mother, do you realize that you’ve taken advantage here? You have been completely out of control for the past month with this husband thing. I swear, you’re just lucky that he—excuse me, what’s your name?”

  “Mike.”

  “Mike here didn’t call the authorities.”

  “No need,” Mike said. “I am the authorities.”

  Julie’s gaze froze on him. Oh, Lordy. She turned to her mother. “He’s a policeman?”

  He put up a hand to capture her attention. “Worse. FBI.”

  “FBI?” she squeaked.

  “Yep. And I have to ask you, does she do this a lot?”

  They both looked at her mother. Ida was bent over the little boy and wiping his hands with a tissue.

  Despite everything, a rush of loving tolerance for her mother coursed through Julie. She shrugged at the Hunk and gave him a lopsided grin. “She just thinks I ought to be married and not so obsessed—her word—with my career. So she brings home anyone she thinks is good husband material.” Julie rolled her eyes. “I am so embarrassed right now I could happily dry up and blow away.”

  He grinned. “No harm done.” Then his expression sobered. “You’re a ‘career first’ woman, huh? I’ve had some experience with that. It can make life.interesting. But it’s none of my business.” Then he grinned again. “Yeah, it is. I am the husband-candidate du jour, right?”

  “Right. Sorry.” She shrugged her shoulders, totally undone by his smiling good humor in the face of such a bizarre situation. And she couldn’t help being a little curious about his experience with a “career-first woman.” What did that mean? Still, with nothing left to say, she could only return his dark, intense gaze that was sizzling her skin.

  Suddenly, her mother straightened up, capturing their attention. It was a good thing, too, because Julie knew she and the Hunk were in serious danger of again staring too long at each other.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Ida fussed. “You looked so perfect, Mike. But an FBI agent? You weren’t joking, were you?”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. “No, ma’am. There are laws against impersonating a federal officer.”

  “I was afraid of that” Sighing, she turned to her daughter. “Will you worry at night when he’s out on the streets?”

  Mike raised his other eyebrow. Julie jumped in. “She watches too much TV.”

  He nodded his head in understanding. Or sympathy. “We’re not all out on the.streets. Not like you’re thinking, ma’am.”

  No. Don’t encourage her. Run. Save yourself and your child Tell her you have a wife. Tell her you have a wife and a horrible, communicable disease—which is hereditary. Mike needed to know it wasn’t safe for him to have a polite, revealing conversation with her mother. Not when Ida was on a sacred quest to find a mate for her youngest child, the only one not yet married of Jack and Ida Cochran’s three kids.

  “So-o-o, you’re not on the streets?” Too late. Ida smiled, the sly one that Julie knew sent her father scurrying to the golf course. Ida opened her purse and pulled out a legal pad and a pencil.

  Oh, no. Not The Questionnaire for Prospective Husbands! Julie held up her hands in a don’t-you-even-dare gesture. “No, Mother. The nice man has a son. Therefore, he probably also has a wife.” Please don’t let him have a wife. Please don’t—

  “No, I don’t.” The big, beautiful, dumb man had just cut his own throat.

  He doesn’t have a wife. He doesn’t have a wife. Julie’s mental celebration was cut short when she saw her mother check something off her list. “I was right. No wedding ring.”

  “You should never have admitted that.” Julie turned a pitying expression on Mike, whose gaze darted from her to Ida.

  “Now,” Ida proclaimed, erasing something from her notepad. “Why don’t you have a wife?”

  A deadly silence ensued. Julie noticed that, despite the time of year, it was definitely getting warm around here. She jumped into action. “That does it.” Before the nice FBI agent could explode and kill her mother, Julie snatched Ida into her apartment and yelled “Run!” to the two males outside. Then she closed the door in their faces. Turning to her mother, she put her hands on her hips.

  Ida gestured frantically toward the closed door. “Julie! He’ll get away. He’s perfect, honey—”

  Julie held up her hand to stop the tirade she knew was coming. She then cocked an ear toward the door, listening to the faint, crackling sounds of paper bags being lifted. “Just a minute. They’re not gone yet.”

  Her mother huffed, picked up the bag of groceries she’d brought and turned to walk into the kitchen. “Oh, fine, then “I’ll just put these away. Do you have any chocolate?”

  “Go see, Mom.” Waiting until her mother rounded the corner, Julie gave in to her hunch that told her to check outside. She opened the door. Yep. Again holding their grocery bags, the sacrificial ram and his little lamb were still standing there. “If you value your freedom, Mike, you will pack up your belongings and your son and run as far as you can.”

  He chuckled. “You know what? This is funny.” Then, giving her a sidelong glance, he sobered. “I’ve been standing here thinking—why are you unattached? I mean, someone who looks like you. So, Julie, is there something you need to tell your mother? Such as, you don’t like men?”

  Julie’s eyes widened. “Of course I like men! I love men! Lots of them! No, not lots. I mean, I just haven’t—My job just—” She gave up protesting when she saw his teasing grin. Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  His grin changed to the most seductive, leering smile she’d ever seen. “The men’s, but we’ll never win the war of the sexes. We like fraternizing with the enemy too much.”

  Julie sputtered in protest, sounding embarrassingly similar to her BMW when it slipped a gear. While Mike displayed that secret man’s grin, meant to confound women, she had to settle fo
r glaring until she could mentally shift out of Park.

  Just then, a child’s voice broke the stalemate. “Where’s your grandma-lady?”

  She looked down at…Aaron, wasn’t it? He was a beautiful black-haired, black-eyed replica of his drop-dead gorgeous father. She’d forgotten he was there—that’s how rattled she was. “My grandma-lady had to go away. She’s been very, very bad—like some other people I know,” she said, staring pointedly at the boy’s father.

  “Oh.” Aaron recaptured her attention and frowned, wiping his hands, still red and grimy from the remains of his sucker, on his white T-shirt.

  Julie winced. There went the laundry.

  “What did her do that was bad?”

  How was she to answer that? She looked from Aaron to his father. And caught Mike checking her out. Again. The look in his eyes made Julie’s blood rush through her veins at a crazy pace and made her forget he’d been baiting her.

  In a husky voice, he echoed his son’s question. “Yeah, what did she do that was so bad?”

  Think, Julie. And don’t stare. “Well, she brought you here, pretty much against your will, and she gave Aaron candy—”

  “It will be Valentine’s Day soon.”

  Julie experienced a moment of terror when she realized that the longer she stood there staring, the less capable she was of completing a thought, much less a sentence. What had they been talking about?

  A movement from Aaron finally brought her out of her daze, and she looked down at him again. With a childish lack of aplomb, he’d set about digging at the seat of his shorts. “I can’t have candy from stranglers. But your grandma’s not one of them, huh?”

  Stranglers. Her grandmother. Hah. “Well, sweetie, from here—” she peeked behind the door to see her mother nibbling at a bag of chocolate chips while she read the recipes on the back “—I’d say she’s pretty strange.”

  Ida looked up. “Julie, I swear. The freshness date on these chips has come and gone. How do you expect to keep a child alive if you can’t even keep chocolate chips from expiring?”