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  THE PROVOCATIVE PROPOSAL

  Day Leclaire

  The Provocative Proposal

  (Wedded Blitz Book 1)

  Fiance on loan!

  Hiring a man wasn't something Tess Lonigan had ever done before. But in her fast-track career, business functions were simply easier with a partner at her side! Dating for real was complicated — far easier to employ a pretend fiance!

  Only when her appointed candidate reported to Tess's office to commence fiance duties, she had the distinct impression he was controlling her! Tess had no idea she was the secret victim of a matchmaking plot... nor that this gorgeous, mysterious man had plans for her himself!

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  PROLOGUE

  “PLEASE address the Committee.”

  Tess Lonigan stepped into the splash of light that broke the darkness of the room. “Is this the matchmak­ing committee?”

  Her question prompted a rustle of papers and a num­ber of whispered comments. Finally a voice she recog­nized replied. “It is. You have a request to make?”

  She struggled to keep a straight face. Her brother was doing his best to disguise his voice with a phony Southern accent-not that it was working. All it did was make her want to laugh. “I have two friends I’d like you to match. The first is Emma Palmer from San Francisco. The other is Raine Featherstone, a Texan.”

  “They want this match?” he questioned.

  “No. But I’ve been authorized to make it for them.”

  “Okay, we’ll bite.” Thank goodness Seth had finally dropped the ridiculous accent. “How have you been au­thorized if they’re not interested in a match?”

  “The three of us made an agreement years ago. If any of us reached age thirty and hadn’t found our soul mate, the others were assigned to find him.”

  More rustle of papers and more conversation. She wished she could see who the various members of this committee were, but they’d arranged the lighting to pre­vent that. Great. She’d stepped into a film noir, complete with spotlighted interrogation, a secret committee and a redheaded damsel in distress. She bit back another grin. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t really a damsel in distress, but it sounded good. Now all she needed was a tough­-guy protagonist and the cast would be complete.

  Right on cue a new voice spoke up. “Interesting agreement. Are you sure it wasn’t a joke on their part?”

  She didn’t recognize the speaker, but his words grated, the intonation far gruffer than her brother’s. “It might have been,” she admitted with a shrug.

  “So why should we turn this joke against them?”

  “Against them?” Tess folded her arms across her chest. “Is that what you think marriage is, a joke be­tween two combatants? What gives? I thought you guys were a bunch of modern day Cupids.”

  “We match only those ready for marriage.”

  “In that case, my friends are perfect choices. Not only are they ready for marriage—whether they realize it or not—but at least one of them has the perfect man sitting on her doorstep.”

  “Then why does she need us?”

  “Because she can’t see how perfect this man is. To be honest, both my friends require a little nudge from some helpful Cupids. It should be a snap for you guys. All you have to do is send in your—” Her brow wrin­kled as she struggled to come up with the appropriate word. “Oh, right. Your Instigator. It shouldn’t take him any time at all to get the job done.”

  Seth groaned.

  “How do you know about the Instigator?” Mr. Tough Guy demanded.

  She assumed her most innocent expression. Of course, having reached the ripe age of thirty, herself, playing the dewy-eyed ingenue was a bit of a stretch. “Gee, was that a secret?”

  “Dammit, Tess!” Seth interrupted. “Of course, it was a secret.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Then I guess big brothers shouldn’t have private conversations where their little sisters can overhear them.”

  “Enough.” With that one word, Mr. Tough Guy achieved instant silence. Tess was impressed. She wouldn’t mind having that effect on people at work. “We’ll grant your request on one condition.”

  Uh-oh. “Which is?”

  “This Committee operates in secret. We prefer to keep it that way.”

  “That might be wise,” she muttered. “The idea of a bunch of crazy Cupids running around instigating love affairs is a little tough to swallow.”

  “You might be interested to know that we have a perfect record,” Seth retorted. “Three hundred and twenty-two perfectly matched couples enjoying wedded bliss. Why. we’ve instigated more marriages than... Than...”

  “Then those Cinderella Ball people and their Fairytale Weddings,” another voice inserted.

  Mr. Tough Guy cleared his throat. “To be honest, I believe we’re currently tied with them.”

  “I get the idea,” Tess interrupted. Typical committee. They couldn’t even agree among themselves. “How’s this? You ensure wedded bliss for my two friends and I’ll keep quiet about your little organization. Is it a deal?”

  “It’s a deal,” Seth concurred.

  Apparently, no further discussion was necessary. The door behind Tess opened and the circle of light sur­rounding her vanished. Okay, she could take a hint. They wanted her to leave? She’d leave. Only one thing gave her pause as she walked out the door. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake.

  “Well?” Seth asked the minute she’d left the room.

  Shadoe stepped from the darkness. “How much does she know?” His rumbly voice sat well with both his name and appearance.

  “About our plans to match her? Nothing. Her visit today is purely coincidental. My fault I’m afraid. She overheard a phone conversation and decided to take ad­vantage of the situation in order to help her friends.”

  “But she knows of the Instigator.”

  “She doesn’t know Shayde’s name or that he’s been assigned to find her a husband.”

  “How will she react when she finds out what we’ve done?”

  “She won’t take it well. Not well at all.” Seth grinned. “But by then I’m hoping it’ll be far too late. She’s going to get happily-ever-after whether she wants it or not.”

  Shadoe nodded. “In that case, we’ll proceed. I’ll call my brother and set events in motion. Once we have Tess settled we can turn our attention to her friends.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE CAME with the night, embodying its most visceral qualities and stirring something deeply feminine within her.

  Tess Lonigan sat behind her safe, practical desk and fought to remain rational in the face of a man who could only be described as dark, mysterious and dangerous. Very dangerous. He stood on the far side of the room and for a long moment they simply stared at each other. The feeble light cast from the lamp on her desk failed to penetrate his cloak of shadows, allowing him to melt into his surroundings. Of course, his all-black attire and ebony hair didn’t help, nor the stillness with which he held himself. Worse were his eyes. She couldn’t make out the precise color, but they were the only thing about him that escaped his mask of darkness. They flickered like starlight, the power of his gaze and unwavering di­rectness more disconcerting than anything she’d ever seen before.

  Dark, mysterious and dangerous.

 
The words repeated in a nerve-racking refrain and a small frown pulled her brows together. They weren’t qualities she admired. How could Jeanne at the employ­ment agency think this man would be appropriate for what she had in mind? Realizing she was on the verge of snapping her pen in half, she carefully returned it to the crisp white blotter protecting her desk and reached an instant decision. No. This man would never do.

  Desperate to end the silent battle of wills, she gestured for him to approach. Normally, she’d have stood and shook hands, offering a warm smile of welcome. But instinct warned that would be a mistake. Her worst mis­take, though, had been scheduling this meeting for after­hours. Everything felt more intense and exaggerated when wrapped within night’s powerful embrace. Not that she’d had any other choice than to schedule the appoint­ment for this late. She didn’t dare let anyone know the reason she’d decided to hire outside help.

  He moved forward, not quite slipping free of the shad­ows. They continued to drape him like the wispy ves­tiges of some princely mantle. “You requested my ser­vices?” he asked.

  Even his voice struck her as wrong. Instead of smooth and polished, it rasped, his every word snagging her full attention whether she wanted to give it to him or not. It reminded her vaguely of Mr. Tough Guy from the Cupid Committee. Only this man’s voice was slightly deeper and far rougher. “You were sent by the employment agency?” she demanded.

  He inclined his head and the subdued lighting caught in his dark hair. It fell to his collar in rebellious waves, no doubt an outward expression of the persona he con­cealed behind an impenetrable mask. “Jeanne chose me. I’m the most suitable candidate for what you have in mind.”

  An intense wave of vulnerability caught her by sur­prise and prompted a cold briskness completely out of character. “She couldn’t have looked very hard.”

  He took the criticism without comment, though she noted a spark of amusement gleam in his eyes. They truly were odd eyes, almost silver in color and discon­certing in their directness. “Try checking my qualifica­tions before making assumptions.”

  She forced her lips into a smile of agreement. “Ex­cellent point. Though considering one of the qualifica­tions is how well we get along, that may not take much time.”

  He didn’t respond, turning an assessing gaze on both her and the office. If he was hoping to read her character by analyzing her appearance or surroundings, he’d fail miserably. She’d designed her office in a color and style meant to relax her clients, while dressing in a manner intended to come across as friendly and nonthreatening. Both were carefully calculated and had nothing what­soever to do with her true nature.

  “Do you always make snap judgments about peo­ple?” he asked as soon as he’d completed his appraisal.

  She matched his uncompromising bluntness. “No.”

  His full attention fell on her and it took every ounce of self-possession to keep from reacting to the acuteness of that look. “But in my case...?” He allowed the state­ment to trail off and waited.

  To her surprise she found herself answering, which only annoyed her all the more. She preferred keeping her own council, explaining herself and justifying her opinions as little as possible. But there was something about this man, something that forced a response. “You’re not the sort of man I’d marry.”

  Silence reigned for an uncomfortable moment. “Per­haps we should start over,” he suggested mildly. “You’re Tess Lonigan?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m Shayde. I’m here for a job interview.” He stressed the word “job.”

  “Shayde?” she managed to get out. “Is that your first name or last?”

  “It’s all of my name.”

  He stated it with such quiet conviction that there was nothing left for her to say. It was an odd name, and yet it suited him. He looked like a man of shade and shadow. “Please sit down, Mr.—”

  “Just Shayde,” came the gentle reminder. “Right. Please have a seat.”

  Out of sheer desperation, she shifted some papers from one side of her desk to the other. It gave her a moment to conceal her reaction to him. This was ridic­ulous. She’d never had trouble interviewing potential employees before. Why should this time be any differ­ent? And yet, it was. He was. She sensed a dangerously masculine quality enveloping him, a dark ambience that offered a subtle threat she perceived on an instinctive level. It called to everything female within her, humming through her in persistent waves, a forbidden temptation she shouldn’t recognize, let alone respond to. And yet, she wanted to respond, to answer this most primitive of calls. Male pursuing female. Push battling pull. Woman yielding to man.

  Don’t forget what’s at stake, came the pointed re­minder. The single thought proved a sobering influence. After an endless minute, Tess looked up, able to meet Shayde’s regard with something approaching equanim­ity. “What details has Jeanne given you about the job?”

  “She said you needed an escort to accompany you to business functions.”

  “I’m not interested in a professional escort,” she ex­plained.

  Something ominous flashed in his eyes. “That’s good since I have nothing in common with that breed of man.”

  “Then what are you?” The question escaped before she could prevent it. It was a painfully honest demand, one that cut straight to the heart of the matter. It was also a dead giveaway, the sort of question a woman would ask, rather than an employer. A single knowing look from Shayde had Tess scrambling to alter the slant of her query. “I mean, what’s your professional back­ground?”

  “I have a resume, if that’ll reassure you. It’ll show that I have an eclectic business background, varied enough to hold my own in most conversations. And Jeanne has checked my references. They’re impeccable.”

  “She wouldn’t have sent you if they weren’t.”

  “You might keep that in mind during the selection process.” He leaned back in the chair. He moved with a lazy grace that conflicted dramatically with the under­lying tension of a man poised to react to the least prov­ocation. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your requirements for the job. In fact, why don’t you explain what you need and why.”

  She hadn’t planned to go into so much detail, not until she’d selected the right candidate for the job. But some­thing about the sheer force of Shayde’s personality com­pelled a response. “The company I work for is called Altruistics, Inc. Ever hear of us?”

  “You solicit money on behalf of various charitable organizations, don’t you?”

  “Right. We’re a privately owned business that has successfully raised millions for cancer research, home­less shelters, drug abuse programs. You name a good cause and we’ve found people with nice, deep pockets who can be persuaded to dip into them and help out.”

  “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

  She smiled. “Maybe because there is one. Ready?”

  “Hit me.”

  “I’m up for a promotion.”

  He took a minute to assess her comment before asking the next logical question. “A promotion you’ll receive depending on ...what?”

  “Depending on my business success over the next two weeks.”

  “Intriguing.” He regarded her with intense interest. “How is your success determined?”

  She might as well explain it all. Something told her that Shayde wouldn’t accept anything less than absolute frankness. “We have potential benefactors that we refer to as the ‘Impossibles.’ In the past they’ve always been thought impossible to successfully solicit.”

  “In other words, they have their own favorite charities and aren’t interested in funneling any of their spare cash in your direction.”

  She nodded. “That doesn’t stop us from trying.”

  “I assume you have two weeks in which to turn one of the Impossibles.”

  His shrewdness impressed her. “You’ve got it. Next week we’re throwing a huge cancer benefit. That eve­ning, the president of the company will assi
gn me a cli­ent. “

  A small smile touched his mouth. “And the challenge begins.”

  “Right. Unfortunately, I have three strikes against me before I even begin.” She picked up the pen once more and tapped the pristine blotter with it. “At thirty, I’m considered on the young side for this promotion. I sus­pect that’s why I’ve been asked to turn an Impossible.”

  “Should I assume that the second strike is that you have competition for the job?”

  “Yes.” She kept her voice as neutral as possible. “There’s another woman who’s approached my boss about it. She’s a bit older. Her children have all left the nest and she’s hungry to advance her career. Very hun­gry.”

  “You said there were three strikes. What’s the final one?”

  She hesitated. “I’m not married.”

  “I gather Mr. Lonigan is no longer in the picture?”

  “He died nine years ago.”

  Was that compassion she read in his gaze? With his skill at concealing his reactions, she had trouble telling. But she thought she caught a softening in his silvery regard. “I gather we’ve gotten to the reason I’m sitting here.”

  He didn’t phrase it as a question and she acknowledged his accurate assessment of the situation with a quick nod­. “Yes.”

  “Tell me why your marital status is a factor in the promotion.”

  Time for a little tiptoeing around some of the more distressing complications she faced. “My job requires a lot of social interaction. If I get this promotion, it’ll re­quire even more. I can usually handle it without any problem.”

  “Let me guess... That changed recently.”

  Tess formulated her answer with care. “I’ve discov­ered the advantage of having an escort on the odd oc­casion.”

  Shayde’s eyebrow flicked upward. “That’s it? That’s all you’re willing to say?”