The Husband Hunt

Dear Reader,

February. Fifth-grade art class. Red construction paper, white paper doilies. Ribbons and lace and Elmer’s glue. I worked and worked and came up with a veritable masterpiece of a valentine. On the fateful day, I shyly handed it to the boy of my dreams.

He gave his valentine to someone else. I was crushed, heartbroken. I never gave another valentine to a beau— at least not until he sent me one first.

Sarah Brannan, the heroine of The Husband Hunt, would never leave it to any mere male to decide on his own to send her a valentine—not if she really wanted the card (or the man).

Here’s what she would do: Around the end of January Sarah would send him a calendar for February, with a lipstick heart drawn around the fourteenth. She’d follow up with daily valentines to him, signed Your Secret Admirer.

If the man hadn’t gotten the message by the tenth of February, she’d buy the valentine she’d picked out for him to send her. She’d put an X where his signature should go, then mail it to him, enclosing a self-addressed, stamped envelope. If the valentine came back signed, she’d know she’d gotten her man. If not, she still wouldn’t give up. There’s always next year.

I hope you enjoy meeting Sarah. I wish I’d known her when I was in the fifth grade.

Happy Reading,

Chapter One

I love you, Sarah. Will you marry me?

Sarah Brannan sent the message mentally, then watched closely as the man sitting opposite her at the dining room table took another bite of chocolate meringue pie.

Jake Logan was not getting it.

With a tiny shrug, Sarah gave up on telepathy and went back to gazing dreamily at Jake. Had any man ever been so handsome? Dark brown hair, conserva tively cut…gold-flecked brown eyes…. Resting her chin on her hand, she let her gaze drift down, past his sexy mouth and square jaw to his broad shoulders. The man was gorgeous. And he was going to be all hers. Delicious shivers ran up and down her spine at the thought.

Sarah sat up straight and chided herself for ogling. She wasn’t so shallow that she’d fallen for a handsome face and a magnificent body. She was a Brannan woman, after all, and Brannan women had standards.

Jake Logan met every one of them. He was honest, hardworking, generous and kind. Intelligent and successful, too.

But she wasn’t so smitten that she couldn’t be objective. Jake Logan did have one fault. He was a man of few words. And he tended to use those words to ask questions or give orders. That was why he knew so much more about her background than she did about his.

When she’d started working for Jake, the strong attraction she’d felt to the quiet man with the golden eyes had made her nervous. Sarah talked when she was nervous. Incessantly. When Jake had begun venturing out of the executive suite to spend more and more time personally reviewing her work, she’d talked and talked. Mostly about her family. All she knew about Jake’s family was that his parents had divorced when he was very young. He hadn’t volunteered that information. She’d asked.

In his own laconic way Jake had gotten across his intentions for tonight, even though she’d had to read between the lines. Who wanted a smooth-talking man skilled in verbal foreplay, anyway? Not her. She didn’t need words from Jake. All she needed was his love.

The perfect end to a perfect meal. Jake leaned back in his chair, every inch of his six-foot-plus frame radiating well-fed satisfaction. He frowned when he looked at her untouched pie. You didn’t eat much. Do you feel all right?

I feel fine. Except for the butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach. She couldn’t eat with that going on. No woman waiting for a marriage proposal would be calmly chewing and swallowing. Especially a woman who had waited. And waited. Lightly drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth, Sarah gave Jake an encouraging smile.

Maybe she shouldn’t have fixed such an elaborate dinner. Candlelight and four courses had seemed the right thing to do for such a momentous occasion. Now she wondered if she should have suggested McDonald’s instead. A quick Big Mac and he’d be on his knees this very moment—not eyeing the pie as if he were thinking about seconds.

Sarah stood and whisked the pie plate off the table. Coffee? she asked as she walked from the dining alcove to the kitchen.

The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach, but Jake had eaten enough for one evening. For this evening, anyway. Before he’d left town yesterday he’d told her he had something important to discuss with her when he returned. Sarah had guessed right away that he was going to ask her to marry him. She’d known for weeks what her answer would be. But at the rate Jake was going, she’d be an old maid before she ever got the chance to say yes.

Sarah put a filter in the coffee maker and spooned in the coffee. A little more patience was all she needed. She would be saying yes any minute now. She grinned. Her family would be pleased. She wasn’t going to be an old maid, after all. They thought she was well on the way to spinsterdom, and she really couldn’t blame them. Brannan women married young.

Sarah’s oldest sister, Barbara, had married Vince Hall the summer she turned eighteen, right after Vince graduated from Texas A&M. Laura, the middle sister, had been forced to wait until she was twenty-one. Colt McCauley, Laura’s beau, wouldn’t even talk about getting hitched until he quit the rodeo circuit and started law school.

Sarah was twenty-six years old and she had never been engaged. She hadn’t even dated anyone seriously—except Rusty, and he hardly counted—until Jake. Not that she and Jake had dated, exactly. Dates meant dinners at restaurants, dancing, going to the movies. They hadn’t gone out much. Granny Brannan would say they’d been keeping company. Sarah liked the sound of that.

She and Jake had mostly stayed in, at her apartment or his condominium, keeping each other company. They hadn’t needed distractions or entertainment. More often than not, she had cooked dinner for the two of them. Cooking was the only feminine wile Sarah was willing to use to get her man—unlike her sisters, who’d used every female snare in the Brannan women’s bag of tricks to get theirs.

Feeling smug and virtuous, Sarah took two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with freshly brewed coffee. The transition from courtship to marriage wouldn’t be difficult. She and Jake were acting like a happily married couple already. Except for sex, of course. Jake hadn’t tried to hustle her into bed at the first opportunity. That was both a blessing and a curse. She appreciated his gentlemanly restraint, but by now she was more than ready for him to propose.

She wouldn’t object if he wanted to anticipate the wedding night, either. She’d been fantasizing about making love with him for weeks now. Virtue might be its own reward, but it was getting darn uncomfortable. Hopefully, Jake didn’t believe in long engagements. Sarah filled the cream pitcher and dreamed of a Christmas wedding.

Jake appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Sarah had everything ready. Resting one shoulder against the doorframe, he said, Coffee smells good. Let’s have it on the patio.

Quickly, Sarah took a tray from the cabinet and arranged the mugs, cream pitcher and sugar bowl on it. The patio was perfect—the big Texas sky filled with stars, moonbeams dancing on the waters of Lake Austin. Sarah sighed happily. Jake had a romantic streak, after all. She had wondered about that. He was a great kisser, but—that little flaw, again—he wasn’t verbally demonstrative. He’d never told her he loved her. But he would tonight.

Jake took the tray from her and led the way out the sliding glass door. He put the tray on the low table in front of the padded redwood love seat. When they were sitting side by side, he slid one arm around her shoulders and looked up at the moon.

Nice night for late November, isn’t it? I’ve been in Austin for more than ten years and I still haven’t gotten used to the vagaries of Texas weather.

He must be nervous, too. Why else would he be talking about the weather? Jake never made small talk. Usually, she talked enough for both of them, but tonight her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Sarah leaned forward, splashed cream into the two mugs, handed one to Jake, then reached for the sugar bowl.

Thanks. Sarah?

She looked at him expectantly, her breath trapped in her chest. Yes? she squeaked.

You’ve put four spoons of sugar in your coffee. Won’t it be too sweet?

Her breath came out in a whoosh. No. I like it sweet. She took a sip and almost gagged.

Jake took the mug from her and dumped the contents into the flower bed. I’ll fix you another cup. He started to get up.

Sarah grabbed him by the arm. No, that’s okay.

Don’t you want coffee?

She shook her head, tongue-tied again.

What do you want, Sarah? His voice was husky. His arms came around her. She tensed. This was it.

Nothing to say? That’s not like you. Jake began dropping soft kisses from her temple to her chin, pausing now and then to whisper outrageous things in her ear. All very enjoyable, but she was going to die if he didn’t pop the question. Soon.

Before his mouth could cover hers in one of his mind-clouding kisses, she asked abruptly, Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?

Jake drew back, a surprised look on his face.

You said there was, before you left for San Antonio yesterday. Why did you go to San Antonio, anyway? It wasn’t planned. I know because Leslie said you had a meeting with the programmers scheduled for yesterday, and you canceled it at the last minute. You never do things without a plan, so—

Jake held up a hand, chuckling. That’s my Sarah. You’ve been so quiet all evening, I thought something was wrong. You could have caught the mystery virus that’s been striking every other employee at Loganetics.

I never get sick.

Neither do I. We have that in common.

Good. Sarah nodded. Having things in common is good. But differences are good, too. Granny Brannan always said differences were what make things interesting. We are different in some ways. You’re very organized. Neat. I’m not.

No. I saw my kitchen.

Contrite, Sarah promised, I’ll clean it up.

We’ll clean it up together. Or we’ll leave it for the maid. His arm came around her shoulders again. He gave her a suggestive squeeze. If we think of something we’d rather do tonight.

Sarah shivered in delight. He must have been doing a little fantasizing, too. You don’t mind that I came here to cook dinner, do you? Your kitchen is so much bigger than mine. I used the key from under the flowerpot. I put it back.

I don’t mind your being in my home. That’s why I told you about the key. He pulled her closer. And, as a matter of fact, that’s what I wanted to discuss with you.

Me being in your home? Sarah rested her head on his shoulder, grinning giddily.

Exactly. Jake turned her around so she was facing him, keeping his hands on her shoulders. His grip was almost painful, but Sarah barely felt it. She slid her arms around his waist and looked deeply into his golden brown eyes. The intensity she saw there made her pulse race.

I want you to live with me. For six months.

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. She stared at him. What? He couldn’t have said what she thought he had.

I want us to live together.

What? she repeated stupidly.

Jake’s brows snapped together. I said—

She jerked out of his arms. I heard you. I didn’t understand at first. I wasn’t expecting a… Proposition. Sarah’s eyes widened as what Jake had said finally made sense. She’d just been propositioned by the man she loved.

Jake slid off the love seat and knelt in front of her. Taking both her hands in his, he said, I’ve given this a lot of thought, Sarah. It will work. I know it will. Let me list the reasons….

He was on his knees, but he didn’t want to marry her. Hot tears began to sting the backs of Sarah’s eyes. She blinked them away. She was not going to cry. Although it would serve him right if she did. According to Sarah’s grandmother, a Brannan woman’s tears could melt a heart of stone. Sarah was tempted to bawl her eyes out, but she had vowed not to use feminine tricks to trap Jake into a permanent relationship. A modern woman shouldn’t need tricks—no matter what Granny Brannan said.

She swallowed the hysterical giggle bubbling in the back of her throat, and tried to stand. I’ve got to go home now, she said.

Jake wouldn’t let her get up. Sarah, I’m sorry if I surprised you. But hear me out.

Right now, she said, not as forcefully as she’d intended. She sank back down. She began taking deep breaths. Intent on calming her riotous emotions, she only half listened as her