Once Upon a Diamond (39 page)

She
forced the corners of her mouth to curl upwards. His silver gaze was
trance-like, and she almost gave in to his request.

“So,
you want my phone number to ask me out on a date?” 

That
irresistible dimple almost made her forget where and who she was.

“That’s
usually how it goes. I know it seems a bit crazy, but I’d like to give you a
call some time. It seems fate was with me tonight.”

Crazy?
He got that right. The nerve of the man asking her for a date in the middle of
the night. And fate, she knew all about that. At twenty-eight, she had known
enough men like Mr. Limo to last a lifetime. Why couldn’t they just be nice for
the heck of it and not ask for anything in return?

She
dropped her gaze and searched through her purse for a pen and paper. “And this
has nothing to do with paying you back?” She wanted to make sure she understood
his intentions.

“Hannah,
Hannah, Hannah.” Despite the unorthodox situation, the way he said her name
sent goosebumps down her arm. This man was more dangerous than she had first
thought.

“I
already told you, I’m not going to ask you for anything, but your phone
number.”

Hannah
pulled out her three-inch day planner and threw it on her lap. It was loaded
with more receipts, grocery lists, and medical bills. Finally, she found what
she was looking for, a small flyer from her landlord with all the information
she needed for emergency and non-emergency information. She found a hotel pen
in her cup holder and wrote down a phone number on another scrap of paper, handing
it to him.

“To
tell you the truth,” she said, batting her eyelids. “I thought I remembered
your face from somewhere too, but I just can’t place where.” 

He
took the paper and touched her fingers at the same time. “Hannah...I like that
name.”

She
gave him a sweet smile and watched him leave, sighing as his long legs
swaggered back to the limousine. He may have been a Good Samaritan, and her
mother’s dream may have been somewhat true, but no dream was perfect.

Hannah
really did appreciate his help. But someone should let this man know that not
all women were going to fall at his feet because he gave a finger to help. It
was common decency to do the right thing. Too bad he was so full of himself
because he did seem like a kind man, however skewed his intentions. And though
she might run into him in such a small town, she wouldn’t worry. He would
probably forget about her and move on to the next woman.

She
felt bad about doing what she did, but he hadn’t given her much choice. Of
course she could always have said no. But then where would she be?

Frowning,
she realized she was probably the tenth in a long line of Hannahs. Her phone
number was unlisted, but if he wanted it, he could obviously get it. This man
could probably get anything he wanted. Anything but her.

With
a small sense of regret she wondered how long it would take for him to figure
out that the phone number he had in his pocket was the direct line to the
Clearbrook Valley Police Department.

John
Tanner Clearbrook pressed the cell phone harder against his ear as he walked
toward the Chicago terminal for his flight back to Colorado. Drained from the
string of trade shows he’d attended and multiple late night dinners, the last
thing he needed was his father’s help in finding a tutor for his eight-year-old
son.

“Found
the perfect one,” Fritz said. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

Tanner
groaned. He should have cut his trip short, knowing his father was going to
pull something like this. He didn’t need his father’s matchmaking skills, nor
did he need any gold-digging women walking about his house, the very creatures
his father seemed to be securing lately. After Julie had died, Tanner hadn’t
been truly interested in any woman until the night on that mountain road. And
that had been a total disaster.

 “It’s
not your job to find a tutor, Dad. Jeremy’s my responsibility. I forbid you to
hire anyone before I return. Is that clear?” 

“What’d
ya say? All I can hear is a crackling sound.”

Tanner
glared out the terminal window where the jet sat waiting to be filled with
passengers. “I’m warning you, Dad. I choose the tutor this time. I want the
best for my son.”

“Dang
it, I always get the best.”

Best
floozies, Tanner thought with a scowl. At thirty-two, he still had his father
interfering in his life, and there wasn’t a darn thing he could do about it. “I
want a disciplined tutor. A man with some backbone. Jeremy’s grades have been
diving for too long. I want the best this time.” 

Something
in Tanner’s heart twisted. He didn’t say his son’s declining marks at school
were probably a result of his mother’s unexpected death, but he didn’t have to.
It wasn’t the grades that bothered Tanner so much. It was his relationship with
the boy. For two years Jeremy had been slowly drifting away from him, and the
boy’s attitude toward learning seemed to be a direct correlation.

“Think
you could buy a tutor like everything else?” Fritz countered back. “Your
ancestors settled this town and this territory. They had brains and grit. The
duke—”

Tanner
closed his eyes, trying to tame his temper. “This is not England, Dad. And I
may be a descendant of some grand peer, but I am not a duke!”

Tanner
tried to inhale a calming breath. Why his father had to talk about their family
lineage all the time was beyond him. “And this isn’t about money. It’s about me
hiring a good tutor. Not you.”

“You
ain’t knowing a thing about hiring tutors,” Fritz said. “And you dang well know
it. All you do is fiddle with that phone of yours, readying for your next
deal.”

“We
can talk about this tonight.”

“You
can’t come home tonight, I...” 

A
bad connection slowly drowned out the conversation and Tanner frowned. He loved
his father, but he had no intention of entering into that argument again.

Pushing
the older man to the back of his mind, Tanner stepped into the first class
section of the plane and took his seat.

When
the announcement allowing the elderly and families with small children to
board, Tanner noticed a young mother, probably no older than twenty-five,
carrying an occupied baby seat in one hand and an overloaded diaper bag in the
other. The poor woman was barely able to maneuver her way passed first class as
she headed toward the back of the plane and stumbled. Sweat beaded along her
brow, and her muscles strained under the weight. 

At
that moment a pang of sympathy shot through Tanner. He instantly recalled the
long nights when Jeremy had kept Julie and him up until dawn.

“Ma’am,”
Tanner said, rising from his seat. “Can I help?”

The
young mother looked at him hesitantly, then looked back at the flight attendant
who seemed to be having trouble with one of the passengers.

“I
have a son of my own,” Tanner said, catching the wary look she gave him.

Her
shoulders sagged with relief, and she rested the baby carrier on the seat
behind him. “Thank you, yes, I could use help with my bag, if you don’t mind.
My husband is waiting for us in Denver, and this is my first trip with my baby
alone.” 

She
looked about ready to cry, and Tanner felt a moment of pure panic.    

“I
think I can do more than carry your bag. Why don’t you sit right here.” He
pointed to the seat next to the baby.

Her
eyes grew wide. “Oh, no. I have a seat back there, not here in first class.”  

Tanner
smiled. “I happen to have an extra ticket for my wife, but she couldn’t make
the trip. The ticket was nonrefundable. It seems we were the only ones in first
class, so take a seat and relax. I’ll see what I can do.”

The
lady burst out crying, and fifteen minutes after takeoff, Tanner asked himself
whatever made him tell that whopper of a lie about his wife and the nonexistent
ticket. But the answer to his question was soon answered as he peeked over his
shoulder, eyeing the lady and her babe fast asleep.

The
flight attendant passed, and Tanner gave her a knowing wink. They had worked together
to get the young mother situated in first class. Tanner didn’t mind paying for
the lady’s first class ticket, as long as it was without her knowledge. He
didn’t want to embarrass the lady. But to Tanner, any loving mother was
priceless.

However,
after a minute, Tanner’s satisfied grin turned upside down as soon as he opened
his briefcase, catching sight of the scrap of paper he’d received weeks ago
when he’d taken the back roads to the airport to drop off the limo for his
friend Jimmy. The crumpled paper stuck out of the pocket beside his laptop.

Hannah.

He
couldn’t seem to forget her. The green-eyed beauty had certainly pulled the
wool over his eyes.

Before
helping her with her car, he’d seen the lady walking down Main Street. Golden
hair the color of wheat. Long legs that went on forever. A willowy body that
moved with a cat-like grace. She was a pretty package any man would notice.
He’d even seen her leaving the parking lot of the hospital where his brother
worked, and more to the point, he didn’t see a ring on her finger.

No
doubt he could find her if he wanted.

Not
that he needed her address or phone number now. She’d made a fool of him and
good riddance. The Clearbrook police had a good laugh at his expense, and he
was sure Hannah had, too. Maybe he had been a little forward that evening, but
with women like her, he had been out of practice.

His
bold attitude toward her that night had surprised even him. But there had been
something about that woman.

The
vulnerability and gentleness he’d seen in her eyes that night had pulled him in
like some kind of spell, and without a second thought, he’d asked her out like
a stupid schoolboy.

Everyone
in town knew who he was, at least he thought they did. Did she really think he
was a limo driver? Not that a limo driver would be bad, but being rich and
eligible, he had to admit, he was used to women falling at his feet, but not
this lady.

A
baby cooed behind him, invoking memories of yesterday. But yesterday was gone
and so was his gentle Julie, his high school sweetheart, his dead wife, the
only woman he had ever loved.

Scowling,
he jerked the paper from his briefcase and crushed it in his hands for the
umpteenth time. What the hell had he been thinking? Vulnerability and
gentleness were a dangerous combination. Luckily for him the date had never
become a reality.

THE
REJECTED SUITOR

(The
Clearbrook series, Book 1)

Excerpt

Copyright
© Teresa McCarthy, 2004

All
rights reserved

Chapter
One

H
ow
dare they do this! If they thought to dictate whom she would marry without a
word from her, as if she were a mere child toddling about their knees, then
they had better think again. This was intolerable!

Seated
at the lavish dining table of Elbourne Hall, Lady Emily Clearbrook clenched the
folds of her gown and leveled a withering gaze toward her four older brothers.
"Did it ever occur to you, gentlemen, that I should have been consulted
about this monumental decision?"

Without
a word, her eldest brother, Roderick, the twenty-seven-year-old Duke of
Elbourne, finally looked her way, blinked lazily, and lifted his wineglass to
his lips. 

Emily
bristled. Guardian, indeed! That indolent look said it all. Roderick would not
be moved. Advancement was impossible. Yet retreat was unthinkable. His
guardianship of her was maddening.

Moreover,
Clayton, Marcus, and Stephen were following his lead as if they always went
along with his dictates, a ludicrous assumption to say the least. As for
Roderick including all her brothers in this decision, it was a cunning move
worthy of Wellington himself. They were acting as if she had four guardians now
instead of one.

She
softened her gaze, trying to conceal her turbulent emotions. "This entire
arrangement is quite intolerable. If any of you had consulted me first—"

"Consulted
you?" Roderick said abruptly, raising his right brow in censure. "And
pray, why the devil would we be consulting you? You are our baby sister. There
is no consulting to be done. The four of us will take care of the matter
entirely. We are merely informing you of our decision."

"But
Father would have let me choose," she said, impatiently.

Roderick's
lips thinned. "Father died three years ago, leaving your future in our
hands. Count yourself fortunate that all your brothers have returned home from
the war intact."

Oh,
she loved her brothers. Indeed, she did. But Roderick seemed to be using her
vulnerability to his advantage, and she would not have it. "I am well
aware that we have been blessed with a healthy homecoming, and I realize that
you are doing what you think proper, but believe me, I am clearly able to look
after myself and my future."

Her
four brothers stared back at her with open mouths as if she had just pronounced
her loyalty to Napoleon.

Inwardly
she fumed. Though her siblings were all powerfully built men, and challenging
them was a feat in itself, she would fight for her freedom. Never again would
she be at the mercy of a man.

"I
am merely seeking a compromise on this," she added impulsively.

"Compromise?"
Roderick's dark eyes turned menacing. "There is no compromising to be
done. We have made a decision. You must leave all the details to us. In fact,
you should be happy that we are to partake in your choice in a husband."
His tone suddenly became gentle. "It is for your protection and comfort,
Em. We think only of you."

Emily
knew her brothers loved her, but at that moment, all she wanted to do was box
their ears, especially Roderick's. She would have laughed out loud if the
situation had not been so vexing. But she did not need their help in setting on
the path to disaster—certainly not since she had been there already.

"Let
me understand, then. You believe that the four of you should partake in the
choice of husband for me?" she asked calmly, her gaze sweeping over
Clayton, Marcus, and Stephen as well. "Is this not correct?"

Four
relieved smiles shot her way.

She
clasped her hands tightly together. They had no idea that she could take care
of herself. She had been on her own for three years. The scar beside her
shoulder blade was proof of that. But without a doubt, informing them about a
pistol ball ripping through her back while she had secretly worked for
Whitehall would not only propel her brothers into a more frenzied state, but
would also do nothing to further her cause.

"Daresay,
Em, you understand perfectly." Marcus toasted his glass her way.
"Knew you were not the kind of female to take offense."

At
this point Emily's anger outweighed any patience she had left. "I will
tell you this, dear brothers, that there is no choice to be made ... by any of
you."

Marcus
clanked his glass against his plate. Roderick let out a low growl. Clayton
stared back in confusion, and Stephen pursed his lips as if waiting for the
final cannon shot.

Emily
did not disappoint him. "You must be insane. I am twenty! I believe that
is old enough to know my own mind. So why in the name of King George should I
be happy about you four simpletons choosing a husband for me?"

"Simpletons?"
the brothers replied in unison, four dark heads snapping to attention.

"We
are not simpletons," Clayton finally replied with a sigh, leaning forward
as he helped himself to another slice of beef. "We are the most devoted of
brothers concerned only for your welfare. Come now, Em, do not jest with us.
This is an important matter."

So
they seemed to think she was teasing them, did they? She doubted they had even
heard her announce her age. Did they believe her just out of the school room?
The ninnies. Perhaps they had not come back from the war intact at all. Well,
they would be shocked to know that she could play their game, too.

Girding
her resolve, she gave them a halfhearted smile. "Believe me, I understand
your concern and am deeply touched. Though I have missed all of you since you
took your stand against the Little Corsican, I cannot sit by and let you make
this important decision for me. I am a full-grown woman, capable of making
choices according to my own needs and wants, and I believe that it would be
best for all concerned that you leave this most important choice to me."

"This
is not a punishment, Em," Marcus said gently, "but a rite of passage
so to speak. Important decisions should not be left to the weaker sex. You must
leave these types of decisions to us wiser men."

Emily
almost choked. Save her from the male mind. With a sense of the inevitable, she
tilted her head toward Stephen. Her youngest brother had let out a muffled
laugh at Marcus's pompous words. Though Stephen had avoided her gaze before,
she knew that he would be her last hope. He had always given her the benefit of
the doubt, but at the sight of his brown eyes growing wide with guilt, her
chest tightened with dread.

"Peagoose,"
she muttered, narrowing her eyes on him.

Roderick
leaned back in his chair and dabbed a white napkin to the corner of his mouth,
setting the cloth down in neat, decisive folds beside his plate. "I will
refrain from comment on your last retort, Em, because peagoose is debatable
here."

Stephen's
brows snapped together at Roderick's comment. "Peagoose? If you
think—"

Roderick
palmed his hand in the air, aborting Stephen’s rebuttal. "See here,
Em," the duke went on, "we are not simpletons. We are your brothers
and will only choose a suitable gentleman. You must see that."

Emily
wanted to roll her eyes. Roderick's words were said in kindness, but they were
also etched in stone as if he were some pharaoh making a momentous decree. But
the problem was, in most circles in London, his proclamations wielded as much
power as an Egyptian god. The mere thought of him choosing a husband for her
sent a ripple of uneasiness down her spine.

"Indeed,
we are not peageese or simpletons, Em," Stephen put in hotly, staring at
Roderick, then back at Emily as if waiting for a reply.

Emily
sat silently, her heart pounding. "Forgive me. The use of the word
simpletons may have been the wrong choice."

Four
sets of well-formed shoulders visibly relaxed. But she would not let them
decide for her. No. She would think of something. She would never again be at
the mercy of a man and have her heart dangling like a target for hunting
season. She had learned her lesson all too well.

"Indeed,
simpletons was a poor choice to describe such thoughtful brothers."

Curling
her fingers around the seat of her chair, she was determined to set them
straight. She paused, waiting to see that she had their attention. Oh, they
were a handsome lot, with their hair colors ranging from blue-black to rich
brown. They had been blessed with twinkling eyes of sky blue or chestnut brown
as well. Healthy male specimens, they could send the most callous of women
drooling like hungry puppies at their feet.

They
also had no inkling that their baby sister had information about many of their
escapades in Town, and they would turn quite pink with embarrassment if they
knew she had knowledge of the London ladies who ran circles around them at the
Assemblies and routs—among other places. Inwardly she smiled. Indeed, they had
yet to realize that she was not one of those silly women to be led on a leash.

"So
we are not simpletons in your opinion?" The question came from Stephen,
whose lips quirked upward. He seemed to think himself cleared from the field of
fire—and him, a commissioned officer, Emily thought wide-eyed. No wonder
Napoleon made such a comeback.

"No,
no." Emily raised a delicate brow, her eyes gleaming. "Not simpletons
exactly. I believe fools and half-wits would be more appropriate."