Hired Bride

JACKIE MERRITT

is still writing, just not with the speed and constancy of years past. She and her husband are living in southern Nevada again, falling back on old habits of loving the long, warm or slightly cool winters and trying almost desperately to head north for the months of July and August, when the fiery sun bakes people and cacti alike.

 

 

 

Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Zane Fortune:
The marriage-shy executive needed a pretend fiancée to outsmart his family's matchmaking plans. Would Zane's scheme backfire and have him setting his sights on his hired bride becoming his real-life wife?

Gwen Hutton:
The single mother had her hands full raising her three young children—she didn't need her charming rogue boss reminding her how it felt to be a woman…or did she?

Baby Bryan:
His whereabouts have been a mystery for months. And law enforcement officials are hoping that some new leads they've uncovered will help them crack the case of the century.

Ryan Fortune:
The patriarch has steadfastly held the family together during their time of turmoil. Dare he hope that he will be reunited with his grandson and that he will soon marry his lady love Lily?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

“Z
ane, I'm so sorry to leave you hanging like this, but I have to fly to Fort Worth this weekend. My sister Glenda just phoned, and our mother is in the hospital again. Apparently she's had another heart attack. Glenda said Mother's doctors told her that the attack was rather mild, but Mother is frightened and wants her children around her. I know I promised to attend Mr. Malone's wedding with you this weekend, but as things stand now I have to back out. I hope you understand.”

Zane Fortune was seated behind his massive mahogany desk, and given his secretary's plaintive expression and his own compassion for anyone in danger of losing a parent, he had no choice but to say, “Heather, of course I understand. Don't give it another thought. In fact, leave today.” It was Friday afternoon, and he certainly could manage without Heather for one afternoon, even if she was his right arm at the office.

Zane was executive director of marketing at Fortune TX, Ltd. It was a title of no small importance as the corporation's ventures were so diversified—real estate development, plastics, computer manufacturing, to name a few—that marketing was a high-priority department. Zane headed a team of marketing experts
that were the best to be had, and not just in Texas, either.

Heather was a calming influence for Zane when things got hectic in his department. She was a top-notch secretary who could juggle a dozen important jobs at the same time without becoming unhinged, or even ruffled. Zane felt very fortunate to have Heather Moore for his private secretary, and he would do just about anything to keep her happy with her job. “Really, Heather, I mean it. Leave right away. And please take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Zane. I was hoping you'd say that,” Heather murmured. “I checked your calendar, and the rest of your day is relatively free.” She laid the papers she'd been holding on Zane's desk. “If you'll sign these letters, I'll put them in the mail before I leave.”

Zane scanned the letters he'd dictated that morning and scrawled his name on each of them. He handed them back with a kindly, “I sincerely hope your mother recovers, Heather.” Zane's own mother had died when he was sixteen, and every so often that awful, empty sense of loss would still sneak up on him.

“Thank you. From what Glenda told me, I'm sure she will.” Heather took the letters and added quietly, “This time.” She brightened her countenance. “I'll see you on Monday, Zane. I left a list of Fort Worth phone numbers on my desk, just in case you should need to talk to me during the weekend.”

“Thanks, Heather.” Watching his secretary hurry out, Zane sat back in his chair and frowned. He'd been counting on Heather's company during the upcoming weekend to throw his matchmaking sisters and sisters-in-law a curve. For some reason the women in his vast
family had decided it was time he settled down, and lately they had started parading their single female friends in front of him with what Zane believed was a hope that he would be struck dumb by Cupid's arrow.

It wasn't Zane's nature to tell them with unequivocal conviction to lay off so he'd come up with the idea of attending the most current get-together—the wedding of his friends Parker Malone and Hannah Cassidy—with an attractive woman on his arm. The members of his family knew that Heather was his secretary, of course, but he had explained his predicament to Heather and she had agreed to put on a little show for any of the Fortunes who might be interested in Zane's love life, to act as though their relationship had gone beyond what it really was. As attractive as Heather was, she'd had a steady boyfriend for a long time, and her relationship with Zane was strictly business.

Now he'd have to go to Parker's wedding alone, Zane thought with a put-upon sigh. He'd come up with Heather as his date because she wouldn't have read anything into his plan that he hadn't intended, whereas the ladies in his little black book might get all sorts of ideas from a weekend affair with the Fortunes. Why couldn't the females in his family just leave him be? So what if he was the only unmarried child of Ryan Fortune, the last holdout? His brothers Matthew and Dallas were married, as were his sisters Victoria and Vanessa. But was his bachelor status anyone's business but his own?

Memories suddenly assailed Zane, and his frown deepened. He had almost reached the altar himself one time, with a beautiful young woman, Melanie Wilson.
Melanie had changed her mind at the last minute—declaring with a pretty pout that she just wasn't ready to settle down—and, ever since, Zane had been very cautious with his feelings. He liked women, he enjoyed their company, but he rarely dated the same woman more than a few times.

Women liked him. Zane knew that he'd broken more than one female heart in and around San Antonio, but the second that he felt a woman was looking for more than friendship or an
affaire d'amour,
he dropped her. He wasn't particularly proud of his track record, but he simply could not bring himself to behave any other way. Commitment was a serious step; he'd taken it once and gotten badly burned. It was an experience he didn't wish to repeat.

Pulling himself out of the past, Zane made a few business calls, then decided to quit for the day. He rarely left the office early, but it had been a rough week, so today he'd go home, change into comfortable clothes and while away the rest of the day in quiet relaxation. It would be a pleasant change of pace. He might even be able to stop resenting his matchmaking family for a few hours. The weekend wedding celebration was, after all, scheduled to begin tomorrow, and now he wasn't looking forward to it at all. Damn shame too, because he
had
been, until Heather backed out.

After making one more phone call to let David Hancock—the person who acted as marketing director when Zane was out of the office—know that he was leaving for the day, Zane took his briefcase and departed.

During the elevator ride to the first floor, Zane checked his watch. It was only a little after two, and
he couldn't remember the last time he'd left that early without a darn good reason. Today he had no reason at all, merely a disquietude in his gut. He actually thought of faking illness—a bout with the flu would be enough—and calling Parker to tell his friend that even if he happened to feel a little better in the morning, he shouldn't be spreading germs at the wedding. Parker would be disappointed, of course, but Zane could almost hear him saying, “Hell, man, stay in bed and get well. If you can't make it, you can't make it.”

In the parking garage, Zane loosened his tie and walked to his car. During the drive to Kingston Estates, the upscale community where his large, beautiful home was located, he changed his mind fifty times. One minute, he knew that he had to attend the wedding; the next, he knew that he'd have such a miserable time avoiding all the traps set by his sisters and sisters-in-law that he could hardly bear thinking about the weekend.

Zane loved his big family, but sometimes they drove him up the wall. One or more of them also worried the hell out of him at times, but other than the unsolved kidnapping of his nephew Bryan, the child of Matthew and Claudia, Zane's brother and sister-in-law, things had pretty much settled down in the family. It sure had been a mess for a while, though, what with his father's fiancée, Lily Cassidy, having been charged with the murder of Ryan's second wife, Sophia, whom he'd been trying to divorce, so he could marry Lily. Zane couldn't believe they'd discovered the real murderer was his uncle—Clint Lockhart. But with Clint in custody, Lily had been exonerated, and even while her daughter Hannah had been planning her own wedding to Parker, she had been working on preparations
for Ryan and Lily's wedding as well. From what Zane had heard thus far, it was going to be a very special occasion.

So Hannah was going to be Zane's stepsister, which made her and Parker's upcoming wedding no trivial event. Zane knew he should be there, in spite of the personal misgivings that cast a dark shadow on the affair. He was only twenty-nine years old, for crying out loud, certainly not so old that Claudia and his sisters should take up a crusade to get him married. The whole thing just rubbed him wrong, no matter how he looked at it.

Disgruntled and out of sorts because he couldn't seem to reach a decision he felt he could live with, Zane finally pulled into the wide circular driveway of his home and parked at the front door. Fat lot of relaxing he'd be doing with this problem on his mind he thought cynically as he got out of the car.

Taking his mail from the mailbox, he unlocked his front door and stepped into the elegant foyer. Zane's Australian shepherd, Alamo, always greeted him at the door, no matter what time of day or night he came home. But today he wasn't there. Then Zane heard Alamo barking and running through the house, toe-nails clicking on tile, obviously a little late today, but on his way, nevertheless.

Alamo suddenly rounded a corner and, barking happily and loudly, took a flying leap at his master. Zane recoiled, because the dog was dripping water and soapsuds, and now
he
was wet and soapy, as well. Or rather, his expensive tailor-made suit was.

He had only a second to think about it before a young woman skidded and slid around the same corner, shouting, “Alamo! Darn it, what's wrong with
you today?” At the sight of Zane standing there, her eyes got big and she ground to a halt, mumbling, “Uh, you're Zane Fortune.”

Zane wasn't exactly polite. “If you count Alamo, that makes three of us who know who I am. What I'd like to know is who are you, and what in hell is going on in here?” he growled. However unnerving this little scenario was, Zane couldn't help admiring the figure defined behind the sopping wet T-shirt and old jeans. Whoever she was, she had a drop-dead body. Her face, even crimson with embarrassment, was startlingly pretty, and her long, sun-streaked light brown hair, though flying every which way, was fabulous.

The lady obviously got her wits together because she lifted her chin almost defiantly and said, “I'm Gwen Hutton. I was bathing Alamo, and he must have heard you come in because he suddenly jumped out of the tub. I tried to hold him back, which is why I'm so soggy, but he got away from me, and now you're all wet too. I hope your suit isn't ruined.”

Alamo tried to climb Zane's legs, and Zane issued a quiet command. “Down, boy.” The dog instantly obeyed and lay with his nose on his front paws.

“Let me get this straight,” Zane said. “You're the person who's been bathing my dog for the past several months?”

“Among other things, yes,” Gwen replied evenly. “Your secretary, Heather Moore, employed my company, Help-Mate, to do some of the things you apparently don't have time to do yourself.”

“Never even heard of a company called Help-Mate.”

“Yes, well, as I said, I've been dealing with your secretary.” Gwen was catching on to Zane Fortune's
interest in her wet T-shirt. Maybe more unsettling than that, though, was finally standing face-to-face with a man she'd known only through photographs, which wouldn't amount to a hill of beans if she hadn't thought him to be the best-looking guy she'd ever seen.

Actually, the photos she'd run across in his house and in the society pages of the newspaper didn't do him justice. He really was too handsome to be believed, with his perfect features, dark blond hair and electric-blue eyes. And he was taller than she'd expected, at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an athletically lean build.

Small wonder he had such a fast reputation, Gwen thought with an inner sigh. Any man who looked like this probably had to beat women off with a stick.

“And you have a key to my house?” Zane asked.

“I'm licensed and bonded, Mr. Fortune, and there is no way I could do what I do without having access to a client's home.” Gwen plucked the wet fabric of her T-shirt away from her chest, hoping it wouldn't immediately adhere to her body again. Zane Fortune couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her bosom, and she knew that her nipples were showing right through her bra and T-shirt.

“Uh, what else do you do besides bathe dogs?” Zane was getting a glimmer of an idea, but he needed to know more about Gwen Hutton before advancing it.

“For you, or for clients in general?”

“For clients in general.”

“Mr. Fortune, I'm very willing to discuss my company with you, but don't you think you should get a towel or something and at least try to save your suit?”

“Forget the suit. Tell me about your company. And let's get out of the foyer. I'd like something cold to drink, so let's continue this discussion in the kitchen.”

“I really should finish bathing Alamo.”

“Makes sense. Tell you what. I'll go and change clothes, and you finish up with Alamo. Then we'll meet in the kitchen and have a cold drink together.”

Gwen took a look at her waterproof watch. “I have another appointment in about thirty minutes, so I don't have a lot of time to spare.”

Zane grinned, and Gwen's heart actually skipped a beat at the sight of his incredible smile and snowy white teeth.

She instantly chided herself for such a foolish reaction to a simple smile.
What the heck is wrong with you? He's a client, and even if he wasn't, he is not your kind of man. He's filthy rich and probably spoiled rotten, and he is exactly the sort of man that a decent, hardworking woman should stay completely away from.

“I'm sure you can squeeze a ten-minute conversation into your busy schedule,” Zane said as he started away. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

“Come on, Alamo,” Gwen said with a frown caused by what had sounded like amusement in Fortune's comment. If he thought her dedication to duty was funny, then there was no way she could even let herself like him as a person. She was a widow with three small children to support, definitely not a laughing matter. In fact, she would bet anything that she put in more hours a day to earn a living than Zane Fortune did.