Married on Demand : The Bride Price/Husband/Bought and Paid For

by Ginna Gray; Laurie Paige

• ISBN13: 9780373217373
• ISBN10: 0373217374
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2002-12-01
• Publisher: Silhouette

Summary

Marriages of convenience are featured in these two full-length novels by two fan favorites. In Gray's "The Bride Price, " a man used to getting what he desires decides he wants a sexy small-town mechanic. But she's not for sale--or is she? And in Paige's "Husband: Bought and Paid For, " a would-be heiress stalked by greedy relatives proposes to the man she's hired to keep her safe. Reissue.

Excerpts

The first inkling of trouble occurred about twenty miles northwest of Houston on a lonely country road.

The sound was no more than a slight knock - enough to bring Wyatt Sommersby's black eyebrows together for an instant, but no great cause for concern. The highpowered Aston-Martin was notoriously temperamental. Merely keeping it tuned required almost constant attention from a master mechanic who had the fine touch of a surgeon and the hourly rates to match.

That's what came of driving a vintage, fireball car in Houston traffic. Wyatt knew it was a foolish selfindulgence, but some things were worth the price, no matter how high. From the moment he'd seen the silver antique sports car he'd known that he had to have it - and Wyatt Sommersby was a man who always got what he wanted.

One moment he was driving along the country highway, his agile mind miles away, sorting through various business matters. The next moment a loud eruption of coughs and wheezes from beneath the hood jarred him from his thoughts.

"Aw, damn. Not now," he groaned. He pumped the gas pedal, but the classy little car continued to lose speed, knocking and shuddering ominously. Wyatt pounded the leather-covered steering wheel with his fist and cursed.

"Great. Just great." He was in the middle of nowhere. On either side of the two-lane country road an impenetrable forest of tall pines grew right up to the shoulder. There wasn't a house in sight.

Since passing through the town of Tomball he had encountered few other cars. It was Saturday afternoon. Back in Houston the traffic would be bumper to bumper, but this road was empty.

His mechanic's shop was closed for the Memorial Day weekend. He wouldn't be back until Tuesday.

"Dammit to hell. Now what?" He supposed he could use the car phone and call Asa's place for assistance, but he didn't relish that idea. With preparations for the party underway, it was probably bedlam out there.

More important, where Asa Hightower was concerned it never paid to show the slightest weakness.

Most of the guests would not be arriving until much later, not even the ones who would be staying overnight. Wyatt had come early to try once again to negotiate a deal to buy into Asa's company. The wily old coot was one of the shrewdest businessmen Wyatt had ever run up against. Asa could turn any situation to his advantage, even something as minor as his opponent being stranded in a stalled car.

A sardonic half smile twitched Wyatt's mouth.

Still ... he couldn't help but admire the crusty old bastard. Hell, at times he actually liked him. Maybe, Wyatt mused ruefully, because they were so much alike.

Over the next ten minutes a few cars zoomed by. Each time, Wyatt flashed his headlights and honked, but no one so much as slowed. "Great," he muttered. "Where are the Good Samaritans when you need them?"

By the time Wyatt made it to Magnolia, the town closest to Asa's country place, and spotted the service station, the car was sputtering along at about three miles an hour and the noise coming from under the hood sounded more like a thrashing machine than a precision-made automobile.

He coaxed the car into the station and brought it to a stop. A man wearing greasy overalls and a baseball cap turned backward stood in the doorway leaning against the jamb, watching his approach. His homely face resembled a sleepy hound dog's and showed about as much animation.

On the raised area next to the door, a teenage girl with a mane of wildly curling red hair sat on an old-fashioned chest-type soft-drink machine, swinging her legs and sipping an orange soda out of a can.

Not trusting the engine to start again, Wyatt left it running and climbed out of the car. "Good afternoon. As you can see, I'm having some trouble."

"Yep. Sure sounds like it," the man said. He rolled the toothpick he held between his lips to the other side of his mouth and hooked his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. "You want me to take a look-see under the hood? I ain't never worked on one of these fancy Ass-tin Martins, but I 'spect they's pretty much like any other car."

Wyatt barely suppressed a shudder. The thought of this hick mechanic touching his vehicle made him break out in a cold sweat. But what choice did he have? "Yes. I'd appreciate it. And if you would, please hurry." Wyatt glanced at his watch. "I'm running late."

The girl perched on the soft-drink machine took in every word, her amused gaze bouncing back and forth between him and the mechanic. Wyatt ignored her.

"Sure thing." The man hitched up his overalls and ambled out to where the silver Aston-Martin sat shaking and wheezing.

Wyatt followed right on the man's heels. "You don't need to worry about doing a major overhaul. If you can just patch it together enough to last a few days, I'll take it to my mechanic on Tuesday."

"Hmm" came the laconic reply from under the hood. The sound did nothing to calm Wyatt's anxiety. Peering over the mechanic's shoulder, he watched him pump the throttle linkage. Wyatt grimaced when the car wheezed and coughed even more.

The next several minutes he stood helplessly by, while the man tinkered with the engine and muttered under his breath.

Perspiration beaded Wyatt's upper lip and forehead, and his shirt began to stick to his back. According to the large thermometer hanging in the window of the service station office, the temperature was ninety-seven. The humid air made it feel more like a hundred and ten.

A sluggish breeze wafted through the bay, swirling the sand and grit on the concrete into little dust devils and intensifying the pungent scents of gasoline, diesel fuel and motor oil.

A car whizzed by on the highway, adding a blast of hot exhaust fumes to the oppressive mugginess. Wyatt wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm and looked around. He wondered what kept Magnolia alive. As far as he could tell, the town consisted of a school, a church and a hodgepodge of small businesses and houses strung out for a few blocks, mainly along one side of the highway. On the other side, train tracks ran parallel with the paving. Whether or not they were still in use was difficult to tell.

As Wyatt finished his inspection of the little burg his gaze met that of the girl's sitting on the soft-drink chest. Instead of looking away, as he expected, she continued to study him, her bright blue eyes wide with curiosity.

He raised one eyebrow, but the imperious gesture did not intimidate her. To his astonishment, she flashed him a grin and winked, and he felt a tiny shock zing through him.

Before he could analyze the reason for the reaction, the station attendant straightened. He wiped his hands on a rag he pulled from the rear pocket of his overalls and shook his head. "Sorry, Mister, but there just ain't no way I can put a Band-Aid on that engine. What you need is a new fuel pump."

"Can you install one?"

"Yep. That is ... I could if I had one. I don't stock parts for these fancy foreign jobs."

Wyatt gritted his teeth. Patience was not one of his virtues, and he was holding on to what little he had by a thread. "I see. How long would it take you to get one and do the job?"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Married On Demand by Ginna Gray Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.