The Best Man's Plan. Gina Wilkins

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СКАЧАТЬ and Grace owned and operated in Little Rock’s River Market district. He and Chloe had struck up a conversation that had continued over coffee and then into several dinner dates.

      Less than a month into their friendship, he’d brought up the subject of marriage.

      He hadn’t even pretended to be in love with Chloe. He had liked her very much, admired and respected her a great deal. He’d found her attractive, but he knew the difference between simple affection and the passionate love hyped in literature and song. But after carefully observing and studying the few successful marriages among his many acquaintances, he had come to the conclusion that the most enduring basis for a lifelong partnership was genuine friendship.

      He’d tried the more popular methods of courtship, letting himself be led by his heart—and other, more primitive body parts. He’d ended up involved in several volatile relationships with beautiful, talented, famous—and usually completely self-centered—actresses and models. He’d thought women already accustomed to fame and fortune would have been more likely to value him for himself rather than what he could give them. He’d been wrong.

      Those high-profile disasters had led to embarrassment, disillusion, and the unwelcome attentions of the tabloid writers, who had been as intrigued by his dating adventures as they were fascinated by his innate flair for making fortunes.

      “I’ve been going about this courtship thing the wrong way,” he had concluded to Donovan during the last Thanksgiving holidays. “I’d never invest in a business venture on impulse or emotion. I choose my investments based on rational and carefully determined criteria, all focused on the probability of success. That’s the way I need to select a wife. Someone I like and respect and who feels the same way about me. Someone with similar values and interests, with compatible goals and dreams. Someone who wants a family as much as I do, and who’ll put the welfare of the family ahead of everything else—as I plan to do.”

      “What about love?” Donovan had asked doubtfully. “Passion? All those other things the romantics say should be part of getting married? Not that I ever intend to try it myself, but…”

      That, of course, had been before Donovan met Chloe—back when he’d been convinced that he would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life. Bryan was the one who, facing his thirty-ninth birthday, had decided he wanted to get married. Who had wanted a family. A home. And when he’d met Chloe, he believed he’d found a perfect potential mate.

      Chloe met nearly every qualification on his carefully thought-out list—and she had admitted that she, too, had been disappointed with traditional dating rituals. Though nearly ten years younger than Bryan, she had begun to wonder if she would ever have the children she’d always wanted.

      It had seemed like a match made in marriage-of-convenience heaven. According to Bryan’s calculations, an alliance between them had better than eighty percent odds of success—much better probability than the typical marriage, which stood only a fifty-fifty chance of lasting.

      What he couldn’t have predicted was that Chloe would tumble head-over-heels in love with his second in command—and vice versa—making all Bryan’s logical, practical planning moot.

      A sudden crash from the other room made him jump to his feet, muscles tensed, senses on full alert. Crossing the room in three long strides, he threw open the bedroom door, poised for battle if necessary.

       Chapter Two

       G race was crouched on the floor beside the sitting room wet bar, plucking pieces of glass from the thick cream-colored carpet, when Bryan burst through his bedroom door. Had she not seen this aspect of him before, she might have been surprised that her rather lazily graceful, studiedly charming companion of earlier had been transformed into this tightly wound, almost dangerous-looking man. Bryan had looked just this way when Chloe and Donovan were kidnapped, scaring the con artist behind the plot so badly that he’d literally feared for his life.

      “I dropped a glass,” she said quickly, realizing what had precipitated his tumultuous entrance. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

      “I wasn’t asleep.” Moving more slowly now, he crossed the room, his bare feet making no sound on the plush carpeting. “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

      “I’m fine.” She rose and dropped the shards into a plastic-lined metal wastebasket. They landed with a tinkling, almost cheerfully musical sound. Though her fuzzy blue slippers protected her own feet, she felt obligated to warn him, “I think I found all the pieces, but be careful walking around over here with bare feet.”

      He’d changed from his tuxedo into a white V-necked T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. His formerly neatly brushed hair was now tousled around his face. And he looked just as gorgeous as he had in the tailored tuxedo earlier.

      She had long since grown accustomed to the unwelcome flutter she felt every time she saw him. No matter how he was dressed, Bryan Falcon was undeniably the best-looking man Grace had ever met. Usually she could ignore the sensations, but it was a bit harder in the late-night intimacy of this private suite, with both of them dressed in their ultracasual lounging clothes.

      He leaned against one end of the bar. “Having a little trouble unwinding?”

      She shrugged and took another glass from the cabinet beside the bar. “I’m just thirsty.”

      “There’s a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I like to have a glass before bedtime.”

      “Another one of your special requests?” she asked as she opened the door to the small refrigerator built discreetly into the custom woodwork.

      “Yes.”

      “It must be nice to have everything you want at your fingertips.”

      “It is,” he agreed equably. Apparently he wasn’t going to let her push any of his buttons tonight.

      He nodded when she motioned with the pitcher, silently asking him if he wanted a glass. She filled an extra one and handed it to him.

      He carried the glass to the sofa and sat on one end. After hesitating a moment, she perched on a chair arranged in conversation-group fashion nearby. She thought their casual clothing looked incongruous against the very formal gold-and-cream upholstery, but Bryan was obviously accustomed to making himself comfortable in such rooms. He lounged back against the cushions and crossed his bare feet on the low mahogany table in front of him.

      “Are we still on for our high-profile lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “Or would you rather bail out and go home early?”

      She wondered if he suspected how tempted she was to accept that escape, but she shook her head. “You said being seen around town together would strengthen the impression that we’re a couple. That’s what we came here to do.”

      “You think you can get through an entire meal without dumping a plate of food in my lap?”

      “You think you can get through an entire meal without making me mad enough to dump a plate of food in your lap?” she countered.

      He grinned. “I can try.”

      Her lips tilted into an answered smile. “Then so will I.”

      It was so rare for them to smile at each other that the moment caught her off guard. When she realized that he was suddenly staring at her СКАЧАТЬ