Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

He took another long drink from the can and let the silence and sanity seep inside him. He took a deep breath and felt his muscles loosen. Grabbing a notepad, he began to scribble notes, questions. Within twenty minutes, he formulated a plan for how to help Lori Jean Granger find a suitable husband, all the while trying to drown out the sound of the theme song from Mission: Impossible in his mind.

The following morning, Lori made sure she was ready early for Jackson, since he’d called her assistant and told her to expect him at 10:00 a.m. sharp. She was still stinging from the fact that he’d caught her in such an embarrassing position the morning before. She had no doubt that Jackson was mentally tough and she would have to stay on her toes at all times to keep up with him. He’d already let her know he was no pushover.

Grimacing at the prospect of meeting with him again, she checked her watch: 9:55 a.m. The doorbell rang. What an anal man, she thought, at the same time conceding that most good accountants probably were detail-oriented. It was a necessary trait for the job. She wrinkled her nose. The fact didn’t make working with him any easier.

She opened the door and caught a look of surprise on his face. “What?” she asked, immediately feeling defensive. “You expected me to have another hangover? I’m not a drunk.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say you were a drunk. I was surprised Mabel didn’t answer the door,” he said and entered the foyer.

“Oh.” She felt as if someone had pricked her balloon. She met his level gaze and felt unsettled. “I’m assuming you’ve decided to work with me on my husband hunt.”

He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Against my better judgment.” He jerked his head impatiently. “If you’re dead set on it, let’s get on with it.”

“I’m definitely dead set,” she said, sensing his supreme disapproval of her and trying not to feel on edge because of it. Walking with him toward the study, she told herself she didn’t care what Jackson thought of her as long as he helped her accomplish her goal.

He held the door open for her, then waited for her to sit before he took his seat across from her. Pulling out a pad of paper and a pen, he sighed and scratched his head. “I have some questions I need you to answer. Do you have an age preference for your husband?”

She blinked. “I hadn’t really thought about it. If he were going to be a real husband, I don’t think I would want to marry someone too old. Older than me, though.” She shrugged. “But since I’m only going to be married to him for a few years, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Unless he dies,” Jackson muttered.

“Which would make me a very young widow-” Lori broke off. “I wonder what the requirements are if I’m widowed. If I married someone really old, maybe-”

Jackson groaned. “If you married someone really old, you’d have to contend with his heirs.”

Lori made a face. “Oh, well, scratch that idea.”

“Age preference,” Jackson repeated.

“Twenty-eight to forty,” she said.

He scratched her answer on his pad of paper. “What about education?”

“What about it?”

“Do you care if this guy has a college degree or not?”

Lori sighed. The truth was that she didn’t want to overthink this. She just wanted to do it so she could get it over with and have it interrupt her life as little as possible. “I suppose so.”

Jackson nodded and made another note on his paper. “Do you have a preference about his physical appearance? Height, weight, body type, hair color, that kind of thing.”

Lori gnawed her lip. “I’m not sure you’re getting this. I don’t really want to have to be married. I don’t want to spend much time with this man. Any time,” she added. “I want this to be a strictly business arrangement.”

“And you don’t care what the press will say about it?” Jackson asked, his gaze level.

Lori opened her mouth to answer no.

“You don’t care what your friends will say behind your back. You don’t care what kind of impact this may have on a future real marriage.”

Lori felt her stomach twist. “I may not want to get married.”

“What if you do? What if you have children?”

She bit her lip hard. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He obviously didn’t know that she probably couldn’t ever have children because of the terrible horseback riding accident. “I don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood,” she managed in an airy voice, ignoring the stabbing sensation inside her.

He gave her a long, considering glance, as if he were weighing his opinion of her. His gaze swept to the pad of paper, and Lori experienced that old, familiar feeling of not measuring up.

She felt naked and vulnerable, but not for long. Self-righteous anger burned to the surface. She clenched her fingers into a fist to keep from throwing something at him.

“No children,” he said. “Does that mean no sex?”

The question took her off guard. The whole discussion unnerved her, but Jackson ’s tone was deep and rich, edged with a tinge of huskiness that teased something inside her. She met his dark gaze and felt an odd tugging sensation in her belly. She wondered what kind of lover he would be. Passionate, she decided. Whether a little rough or a little tender, he would be passionate when he made love to a woman. She wondered how he chose his lovers.

Lori caught herself. What was she thinking?

He was so anal he probably had some sort of numerical rating system and checklist.

“I already told you this is supposed to be a business arrangement,” she said.

“So is it okay if this guy gets taken care of on an extracurricular basis, or does the poor sap have to sign a chastity agreement?” He paused. “For that matter, what about you?”

“No, he doesn’t have to sign a chastity agreement,” she said, feeling more huffy by the moment. “He just needs to be discreet.”

“Discreet as in down the street, out of town, or out of the country?”

Lori frowned. “I’m sure we can work out the details later.”

Jackson shook his head. “You can get in a lot of trouble not taking care of details.”

“Spoken just like an accountant,” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard you,” he said. “Just remember, you asked an accountant to find your husband for you.”

Lori bit her tongue to keep from sticking it out at him. “Okay. Discreet means in a different city and not in view of the press.”

“For you, too.”

She looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean, me, too?”

“You’ll be discreet, too, by going to a different city when you have your affairs.”

Lori wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound slimy.”

He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Aloud, anyway. His expression said he thought the whole thing was slimy. Lori couldn’t stand his censure another moment. “I’m not slimy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You might as well have.” She pointed at his face. “Your eyebrow said it.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “I didn’t know eyebrows could talk.”

“Well, yours can,” she said, her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think you’re slimy. I think you’re desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”

Her anger kicked up another notch. “I’m not stupid, either.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Close enough,” she said, cutting him off. “You know, you don’t understand because you’re a guy and you don’t know what it’s like to be female when your father was a wonderful man but he was also sexist, chauvinistic, and controlling.” She sighed. “This is my way of taking control of my life.”

He shrugged. “As long as you’re sure living on a budget wouldn’t be easier than getting a husband.”

“I have people counting on me. You obviously don’t understand. You must be free as a bird with no responsibilities, don’t have to answer to anyone…”

She blinked, and he was looming over her. Her heart slammed in her chest at the dark expression on his face.

“You make a lot of assumptions about me,” he said in a quiet, too-controlled voice.

She refused to be intimidated. Even if her legs felt a little shaky. “You haven’t presented yourself as particularly compassionate.”

He was silent for a long moment. Lori felt some kind of weird energy zinging between them. If the humidity and outdoor temperature hadn’t been ninety percent and ninety degrees, then she would have thought it was static electricity.

“It’s not my job to be compassionate. It’s my job to help you learn to live within your means.”

“Tilly was nicer than you are.”

“No,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Mr. Till was a pushover.”

“And you’re not,” she said. “Darn shame.”

“You need-”

“Don’t you dare say I need a firm hand,” she interjected.

“You need someone who will tell you the truth. I think you know that I’ll do that. That’s the reason you want me in charge of your harebrained scheme to get a husband. Because you know I’ll tell you the truth.”

Lori tried not to squirm, but his words felt razor sharp. Even though Jackson lacked charm, she did feel she could trust him.

“Stop making assumptions,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, still feeling dissatisfied. “As long as you stop making assumptions about me. Yes, I’ve been overprotected. Yes, I’ve lived a privileged life. But I’m not selfish. I’m not stupid. And another thing,” she added. “People sometimes make assumptions based on lack of information. If you want to change my impression of you, give me different information.”

“Deal,” he said and glanced down at his pad of paper. “I have one other question regarding your prospective husband. What did you have in mind for his annual salary?”

Lori resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. Despite the fact that she’d decided this was a business arrangement, the idea of paying a man to be her husband was one more thing that made the whole plan feel icky. “I haven’t thought of a figure. Have you?”

He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. “I think it’s going to have to be seven figures.”

Stunned and a little insulted, Lori gaped at him. “I can’t believe it’s going to be that much of a horrible job.” She lifted her shoulders. “What is this guy going to have to do? Pretend to like me, marry me, then go away with a settlement.”

“You’re a beautiful, generous woman, but this kind of thing would drive a lot of men crazy. Think about it. No sex and putting your future on hold for years.”

“I didn’t say no sex,” she insisted.

“Just no sex with you or with anyone in the same town as you. Most heterosexual men can’t handle that kind of you-can-look-but-you-can’t-touch policy for a night, let alone years.”

Something about the way he said sex got under her skin.

“You’re just not going to be great wife material.”

“You’re headstrong and you won’t compromise,” Jackson continued, infuriating her even further.

“What you mean to say is I won’t cave to instructions just because they’re given to me by a man. I’m trying to remember the last time someone working for me said something so rude to me.”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t pull rank, Lori. You’ve turned this into a circus, and I’m just trying to keep it within three rings. Part of the success of my assignment will be based on your expectations. If you don’t know what your expectations are, then you need to figure them out and tell me.”

But that was the problem, she thought, balling one of her fists and swallowing the urge to shriek. She’d already figured out she didn’t want to overthink this. She just wanted to do it. “I want a polite, discreet, and clean man who will sign an agreement to be married to me for six years, who will accept a settlement of divorce and then get out of my life.” She refused to talk about it anymore. The intense discussion was upsetting her stomach, or maybe it was the expression in Jackson ’s eyes. “And stop judging me. You’ve never walked in my shoes.”

He glanced down her legs at her high heels and his lips twitched. “I can’t disagree with that.”

“Hallelujah, have we actually found something we agree on?” she said more to herself than him. He unnerved her. She’d been in his presence only a little longer than ten minutes, and she was already feeling restless. “Okay, I think you have enough to get started. Let me know when you have some prospects for me.” She bit back the urge to say Now shoo. Jackson didn’t strike her as the kind of man to accept shoo-ing.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, reluctantly extending her hand but figuring it was the most polite way to dismiss him.