A Deal at the Altar: Hired by the Cowboy / SOS: Convenient Husband Required. Liz Fielding

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      “Slowly, now. You fainted.”

      Really? I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy being unconscious. She bit back the sarcastic retort when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes. He even made sure she was standing firmly on her feet before releasing her—and then stayed close, as if he didn’t quite trust her to remain steady.

      He would have fainted too, in her condition and with this heat…and the lack of air-conditioning in the convenience store hadn’t helped much either.

      “I’m so sorry,” she blustered, brushing off her pants and avoiding his eyes. It had only taken a moment, but she could even now see him completely in her mind. Not just the eyes, but thick, luscious black hair, just long enough to sink your fingers into and slightly ragged at the edges. Crisply etched lips and a large frame in a grey suit.

      Someone who looked like him was so far removed from her world it was laughable, and she avoided his eyes from simple embarrassment. She stared instead at his shoes…shiny, brown leather ones, without a smudge of dirt or a blemish. A businessman’s shoes.

      “No need to be sorry. Are you sure you’re all right?”

      She bent to retrieve her bag and purse. The first time she’d bent to pick up her dropped crackers everything had spun and then turned black. This time she gripped the bench for support, just in case. To her dismay she realized that she’d spilled her apple juice, and it was running down a crack in the sidewalk. She folded the top over on the paper bag, picked up the juice bottle and looked around for a recycling receptacle.

      “I’m fine,” she said, finally looking him in the face. Her heart skipped a beat at the worry she saw there. It had been a long time since anyone had been concerned over her. He was a complete stranger, yet his worry was clear in the wrinkle between his brows. Gratitude washed over her for his gallantry. “I haven’t even thanked you for catching me.”

      “You turned white as a sheet.”

      She chanced a quick look around. Any passers-by who had seen her little episode were gone, and now people went about their business, not paying any attention to them whatsoever. Another face in the crowd. That was all she was. Yet this man…Mr. GQ…had seen her distress and come to her assistance.

      “I’m fine. Thanks for your help. I’m just going to sit a moment.” She coolly dismissed him; his duty was discharged.

      Solicitously he stepped back to let her by, but once she’d sat, surprised her by seating himself as well. “Do you need a doctor?”

      Alex laughed. Oh, she did. But a doctor couldn’t cure what was wrong with her. “No.”

      The answer was definitive. By the way his shoulders straightened she knew he’d got the message loud and clear. Briefly she felt guilty for being blunt, so she offered a paltry, “But thanks again, Mr…?”

      “Madsen. Connor Madsen.” He held out his hand, undeterred, inviting her to introduce herself.

      She took his hand in hers. It was warm and solid and a little rough. Not a banker’s hands, as she’d thought. Working hands. Solid hands.

      “Alex.”

      “Just Alex?”

      His eyes were boring into her, and she stared straight ahead at the office building across the street.

      “Yes. Just Alex.”

      It wouldn’t do to encourage him. In the early June heat her T-shirt clung to her, the hems on the sleeves heavy on her arms and the fabric pulling uncomfortably across her breasts. And what had possessed her to wear jeans today, of all things? Apparently such a heatwave this early in summer wasn’t that uncommon, but for her the temperature only compounded the light-headedness and nausea.

      Necessity had forced her wardrobe choice, plain and simple. Her shorts weren’t comfortable any more, and at least in her jeans she could breathe. As silence fell, thick and awkward between them, the world threatened to tilt again. The feeling slowly passed as she took slow, deep breaths. “For the love of Mike…” she mumbled.

      He laughed, a full-throated masculine sound that sent strange waves through her stomach. “So, just Alex? Intriguing name. Your parents want a boy or something?”

      “Probably.” She couldn’t believe he was still here. After all, beyond the first fuzzy moment that she’d succumbed to his arms, she hadn’t encouraged him at all. His attempt at polite conversation had done nothing but awaken an all-too familiar sadness, the heavy weight of regret every time she thought of her parents. “My full name is Alexis MacKenzie Grayson.”

      “That’s quite a name for a small thing like you.” His eyes were warm on her and he twisted, angling himself toward her and bending a knee.

      “Alex for Graham Bell and MacKenzie for the prime minister, you know? You planning on using it for the paramedics later? In case I faint again?”

      He chuckled and shook his head. “You look much better, thank goodness. But you spilled your juice. Can I get you something else cool to drink?” His eyes wandered to the convenience store behind them.

      Her stomach rolled at the thought of a sugary sweet, slushy drink. Every teenager in a ten-block radius had been buying them today. The very idea of them had Alex’s tummy performing a slow, sickening lurch. She pressed her lips together.

      “Or are you hungry? There’s a hot dog cart down the street.”

      She stood, desperately trying to get some fresh air while exorcising the thought of greasy hot dogs from her mind. But she rose too quickly, her blood pressure dipped, and she saw grey and black shapes behind her eyes once again.

      His arms were there to steady her, but she dropped her paper bag to the ground, the contents falling out as they hit the concrete.

      His fingers were firm on her wrist as he helped her sit back down. “Put your head between your legs,” he demanded quietly, and for some reason she obeyed.

      Alex avoided his eyes as she sat up moments later. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, completely mortified at the awkward silence that fell between them like a ton weight. This had to be an all-time low. Blacking out not once, but twice, in front of her own personal Knight in Shining Armor. And wasn’t he annoying, this Mr. Perfect Chivalry, sitting there calm as you please?

      She expected him to mumble his apologies and hurry away. Instead he knelt and began picking up what she’d dumped on the ground in her haste.

      Oh, God. Her humiliation was complete as he paused, his hand on the plastic bottle of pre-natal vitamins. His eyes darted up, caught hers. In them she saw sudden understanding. Now, of course, it all made sense. At least it made sense to him. She was still trying to assimilate everything.

      “Congratulations.”

      Her smile was weak. He couldn’t know. Couldn’t know how her life had been turned completely upside down with a three-minute test only a few short weeks ago.

      “Thank you.”

      He watched her carefully as he sat again on the bench. “You don’t sound happy. Unplanned?”

      She should end this conversation right СКАЧАТЬ