Male Order Bride (7 page)

It was his looks, she always quickly answered. Dominick
had been the envy of the college crowd. Dominick was always the one to
try out for football or baseball or track and make the first team.
Dominick was the one the cheerleaders bounced up and down for. Dominick
was the one the girls tore down pictures of Burt Reynolds for, to
replace them with his varsity clippings from the school newspaper.

Lacey had tried not to get caught in that hero worship,
but the day Dominick had turned around in social science class and
noticed her was the day she had fallen in love. The first time he had
asked her out she had refused him, out of confusion. How would she act
with the school hero when all the other girls on campus would pay him
to take them out?

Refusing him, Lacey now realized, had been her downfall.
No one had ever said no to him before. No one had ever done anything
but take his masculinity for granted. He set out to conquer Lacey and
won in six short weeks—short for Lacey, who had held out for
twenty years until a man like Dominick had come along; but long for
Dominick, who never had trouble taking a girl to bed on the first date.

They dated steadily for the remainder of college
—at least that was how Lacey remembered it. Looking back, she
realized how inconsistent he had been with her even during the new and
exciting phase of their relationship. His excuses for eyeing other
women and spending hours over drinks with them were that he and Lacey
weren't married. They had no legal ties to one another.

That had continued to be his excuse even after he proposed
marriage to her, after they lived together for a trial year that
dragged into two and then three. His excuse for delaying the marriage
had been that he hadn't wanted to fail. He wanted his marriage to be
perfect, unlike those of all the couples divorcing around them. And the
best way to test permanency in the Marriage Manual According to
Dominick was to live together first. It had all the pluses of marriage
without all the promises.

Lacey sighed now, wondering why he continued to call her
when she gave him no encouragement. Quickly she answered her own
question: for the same reason he had chased and conquered her in the
first place. Because she had said no.

The break from Dominick and her subsequent independence
had taught Lacey a lot. She didn't think she'd ever try living with a
man again. It was marriage or nothing, and she wasn't even certain
marriage was what she was looking for anymore. Her "trial marriage"
with Dominick had been only a label for their relationship as
roommates. He had shared none of the responsibilities she now felt
should go with marriage.

In the end, when she clearly saw how little they had had
in common, she had walked away. That solid relationship she thought
they could base a marriage on had consisted only of yeses and nos.
Whenever Lacey had tried to make the break or had told him no, he had
reeled her closer to him again with affection and attention, confusing
her with kindness. Once he had her satisfied, he became bored and
strayed to other women again.

Because of him, Lacey was still questioning her appeal to
other men. If she couldn't hold Dominick and give him everything he
needed from a woman, could she satisfy any man?

"What have you been doing lately?" Lacey asked, anxious to
get this conversation over with so that she could hang up and wait for
Rafe's call.

"Spent last weekend deep-sea fishing in the Gulf."

"I didn't think you liked to fish," Lacey said, wondering
what female he had lured aboard for the trip and what the bait had
been. "Or was it something other than fish you were after?"

"As a rule, I
don't
like fishing,
but this was a party boat with a fellow I met at the country club. It
was one of those everything-goes weekends."

He didn't need to say any more. She had the picture
clearly in mind—nude sunbathing, an ice chest filled with
liquor instead of fish, and several girls for the weekend. "Sounds like
your kind of weekend," she commented, sighing again. How much longer
was this conversation going to take?

"Strange thing that you should mention that," Dominick
said, and paused. "I used to think that was an exciting way to waste a
weekend. But I was actually bored the first day. Guess it's a sign of
old age creeping in."

"Poor baby," Lacey said, not at all sympathetic. "I guess
you'll have to start looking around for some other hobby if you're
going out to pasture."

"How about dinner together tomorrow evening?" he asked.

There, it was out: the purpose of his call. She should be
able to end this in a hurry now. "Sorry, Dominick, I have plans." She
crossed her fingers. If Rafe didn't call and make that statement true,
she'd create plans for tomorrow, even if it meant bringing work home
with her. She didn't want to get started with Dominick again; it might
be harder to leave him a second time.

"The new man with the flowers?" Dominick asked, probing
the reason she couldn't have dinner with him.

"Something like that," Lacey admitted, glancing at the
clock and wondering how many times in the last fifteen minutes Rafe had
tried to phone.

"Do you want to tell me about him?" Dominick asked, taking
on his big-brother-out-to-protect-Lacey role.

"No."

There was a long pause at the other end. Lacey could tell
she had offended him with the shortness of her reply. Sulking was a
game he played to make her feel guilty so that she would then supply
him with whatever information he wanted from her. This time Lacey felt
strong. She didn't have anything to tell him about Rafe Chancellor at
this point. But if she had, she wouldn't want to share any information
with him.

"Oh. Well. I guess I'll hang up, then," Dominick said,
sulkiness still heavy in his voice.

Not a bad idea, Lacey thought, and put as much
cheerfulness as she could stomach into her voice. "If you must, fine.
It's been great talking with you, Dominick." It
was
great, she silently added to herself. She'd barely said anything to
him, when in the past he had managed to extract detailed information
from her. Later she always regretted being so revealing. "Take care of
yourself." She hung up before he could say something else to keep the
phone tied up even longer.

Why does he keep calling me
? she
moaned to herself as she went back to the table and the last bite of
the bagel. Why did some men never get the hint that she wasn't
interested?

Lacey crumpled the napkin onto her plate and stared out
the back window at the fading light. She smiled, thinking how she
really was free of Dominick. He didn't interest her any longer. She was
no longer curious about the women he was seeing while she sat home
alone and kept up with her business. There were no more pangs of regret.

When she finished the bagel, Lacey picked up her plate and
took it to the sink to wash. It might even be fun, she thought, just as
an observer more than a participant, to go out with Dominick one last
time, just to see how completely she was over him. But there was no
reason to inflict indigestion on herself.

She set the plate in the rack to drain and wiped her hands
on the dishcloth. How much longer was Rafe Chancellor going to take
before he called her tonight?

Lacey woke up feeling groggy and grouchy the next morning.
It didn't take long to remember why she was listless. She had stayed up
until very late the night before waiting for Rafe Chancellor's call,
which never came. What shocked her was the realization of how much she
had looked forward to hearing his voice after receiving the multiple
letters. What kind of game was he playing?

Reluctantly she rolled out of bed and shuffled to the
bathroom. Her morning shower usually revived her from this kind of
dreary state. She would prop herself into a corner and concentrate on
creative ideas. By the time the hot water started to run out, she was
usually fired up with new ideas and eager for work at the boutique.

But that happened on most days. This wasn't one of them.

She took the long way to work along the sandy Gulf Coast
past Six Gun Junction and the Deer Ranch, hoping the scenic views of
the fishing boats, yachts and spring sunbathers might boost her spirits
and rejuvenate her enthusiasm. It didn't.

Even seeing the blushing bride's reactions at the fitting
of her trousseau didn't help Lacey's mood much. In fact, it pulled her
spirits lower. This was the largest single order Lacey had ever been
asked to do. It promised a large degree of professional success and had
given her the fullest range of creativity. The girl's delight would
spread to her friends in wealthy circles, and Lacey's reputation would
mushroom. Except for the final alterations, the job was completed.

When the Bride-To-Be had driven away, Jane turned to Lacey
and said, "She's really happy. All brides should be so lucky."

The words only increased Lacey's melancholy. Tears welled
in her eyes and she hurriedly directed her attention to putting the
clothes on hangers so Jane wouldn't see how the words had affected her.
That was partly what was bothering Lacey this morning. She wanted to be
that happy. She wanted to be a blushing bride. She wanted an indulgent
husband who loved her.

But as she put the last outfit on a hanger to return to
the seamstress for the finishing touches, she asked herself: Is that
what I really want?

It was safe living as a single career woman. It was
predictable having no one but herself to answer for. There was pride in
seeing her accomplishments taking giant leaps of success in the
business world and knowing she had done it all on her own, without a
man's help or hindrance.

No, she sniffed, forcing a smile onto her face. She was
happy just the way she was, without the complications of a man. It
would be nice to have a companion, which was what she had begun to look
forward to with the unknown Rafe Chancellor. But when it came right
down to it, she wanted the relationship on her terms. She didn't want
to get serious with any man or have any man get serious with her.

When she drove home at lunch, she saw there was another
note from Rafe in her mail. She smiled, wondering how the new message
would entice her to return the self-addressed, stamped postcard. It
apparently had gotten lost in the mail yesterday. Today must be the day
he would receive it and call her.

Anxious to read the message she hurried into the house and
tore open the envelope. Another postcard fell out. Lacey picked it up.
It was blank on the back, but addressed to Rafe on the front, the same
as the original postcard had been.

She unfolded the accompanying note, expecting a reminder
notice to go with the follow-up card. Instead, she read:

Dear Miss Lacey Adams,

You don't follow instructions very well. All I asked was
that you write in your own handwriting, "Give me a call sometime." No
signature is necessary.

Rafe

"What nerve!" Lacey tossed down the note and stared at it.
If he expected her to come calling like a puppy dog whenever he snapped
his fingers, he had another think coming.

She should just rip up the letter and postcard and write
him off. But the defiance of his short note brought out a spitefulness
in her mood.

She picked up a pen and wrote:

Dear Sir:

Until I know who and what I'm dealing with, I never go
into anything except on my own terms. You now have the option with the
original card of taking it or leaving it! I believe you did mention no
signature was necessary!

She snatched up the card, pulled an apple from the
refrigerator and climbed back into the car. She was going to drive
downtown to the post office now.

Hang Rafe Chancellor
, Lacey thought,
trying to keep him out of her mind the rest of that day and the next.
When she arrived home at lunch the following day, she found a new note
from Rafe.

Dear Miss Lacey Adams,

I accept your invitation to meet you. Unfortunately,
business is taking me out of town today and for most of the coming
week. On Saturday evening of next week, a car and driver will arrive at
your door to pick you up for a very exciting date beginning at seven P.M.

Your newfound gentleman friend,

Rafe

The nerve
, Lacey thought, reading the
latest note. The absolute nerve of the man—leaving town just
when he had her curiosity at a fever pitch. She ought not to go, she
thought, tapping the latest missive against her thumb.

But she knew she would, just out of curiosity. Besides,
she shouldn't complain when she had been going to have to tell him she
had business herself in Atlanta on Monday. Damn him for being two jumps
ahead of her at every turn—and they still hadn't even met.

Rafe Chancellor strode through the Atlanta airport with
his saddlebags slung over his shoulder and his Stetson low over his
eyes. The contacts he had made the last three days would set the tone
for his business for the next six months to a year, possibly longer,
depending on how serious the Georgia investors were about the
marketability of a cruise line based on their coast.

He pulled his ticket for the flight home to Biloxi out of
the pocket of his denim vest and handed them to the airline
representative for his boarding pass and seat assignment.

"Good morning, sir," the girl said, looking up at his
six-foot-two frame, made taller with the toe-capped suede boots he wore.

" 'Morning, ma'am," he responded, smiling at her pert,
attractive appearance. "Beautiful day for flying, isn't it?"

She smiled and turned to look out the wide windows behind
the desk. "It looks that way. I hope the weather holds."

"Do you have a forecast?" he asked, thinking she would
still look attractive, but not nearly as polished, without the heavy
makeup. It looked like makeup—just a little too unnatural.