Every Woman's Fantasy. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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“You’ve never had bad sex?” Charlie asked incredulously.
“No. No, I haven’t,” Mark said as they walked into the elevator. He sounded surprised that she’d even ask. “Why, have you?”
“Of course. I thought everyone had.”
“Not me. How could you? I mean, everything about it is so wonderful. It doesn’t matter if you’re cramped, or the temperature’s not right, or you don’t have a lot of time. It’s still…” Mark’s eyes glowed as he gazed into hers. “Making love is great,” he finished softly. “And this will be the best.”
Charlie looked away from him. “Now I’m really intimidated. I could be your first disaster.”
“No way. After all, women are designed for pleasure. How could you end up with anything else?” He took her hand and pulled her closer. “Hold on, let me show you what I mean.”
As he brought his lips down to hers in a kiss that set her pulses racing, Charlie moaned her appreciation. Apparently she’d stumbled onto a man who was an artist when it came to making love, and tonight he planned to create a masterpiece.
Who was she to argue with that?
Dear Reader,
I’m a catalog shopper, so the MAIL ORDER MEN series makes perfect sense to me. It must make sense to you, too, because it’s been so popular the first and second time out that we’re offering a third batch of cuties, just in time for spring! So set aside your Neiman-Marcus catalog for a minute and imagine that a copy of Texas Men has just landed in your mailbox. Hey, who wants to look at clothes and shoes when you can admire the likes of Mark O’Grady, Texas Men’s Bachelor of the Month?
Watching bachelors become husbands is a favorite part of my job as romance writer, but this time the familiar story held special significance for me. As I recorded Mark’s progress toward the altar, my son Nathan was making a similar journey. He married his dream girl, Lauri, shortly after I provided Mark with his happy ending. But for Nathan and Lauri, this is only the beginning of the story they will write together. And I wish them a lifetime of happiness…without end.
Best wishes from the mother of the groom,
Vicki Lewis Thompson
P.S. In June look for my novella “Mystery Lover” in Midnight Fantasies, the 2001 Blaze collection. And in August don’t miss Notorious, one of the launch books in Harlequin’s sizzling new series BLAZE.
Every Woman’s Fantasy
Vicki Lewis Thompson
For Nathan and Lauri—
Your courage and belief in each other inspires me.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you did it again.”
Mark O’Grady glanced across the table littered with peanut shells and a couple of half-empty beer bottles. His very pissed-off best man Sam Cavanaugh, who’d uttered those words of disgust, sat across from him, still dressed in his tux. So was Mark. Going back to his apartment to change had seemed too risky.
Fortunately he and Sam were the only ones of their crowd who patronized this little bar in downtown Houston. Their friends considered it too shabby, which was fine with Sam and Mark, who had designated it their special hidey-hole ever since they’d been old enough to drink legally. And Mark needed a place to hide…again.
He tried to come up with something to say to Sam, but he couldn’t think of a damned thing. He was slime. Somebody should just shoot him.
“Ten minutes before the processional! Ten friggin’ minutes. How could you do that?”
“It was her cell phone,” Mark said.
“What do you mean, her cell phone? I fail to see how anything about a cell phone could cause you to back out of your wedding ten minutes before the ceremony. If Deborah hadn’t smashed her wedding bouquet in your face, I would have done it for her!”
Mark gazed at his long-suffering friend. “You’re right. It was horrible, and I should have figured it out sooner. We’d had some big arguments about how much she used that phone. She took it everywhere, and I mean everywhere, and it’s not like the calls were critical or anything. Most of them sounded like a lot of gossip to me. But I kept thinking it was a small issue. I could deal.”
“It is a small issue. The woman has friends. She likes to talk to them on the phone. If you love somebody, you put up with a few things that aren’t perfect about them.” Sam gave him another disgusted look before taking a swallow of his beer and setting it on the table with a clunk. “God knows you’re a long way from being perfect.”
“You’ve got that right.” Mark turned his beer bottle around and around in his hands. “And I told myself all that. I thought I was fine with her cell phone habit. Then, remember how we were going up to the altar to take our places, and we passed by that room where Deb and her bridesmaids were waiting, and the door was open?”
“Yeah, I most certainly do. Because that’s when you lost it and called the whole thing off.”
“There she was, in her wedding dress, looking gorgeous, and she had that damned cell phone to her ear, jabbering away to somebody. I couldn’t even imagine who she’d find to talk to! Every person she knew was sitting in the church!”
“That is kind of amazing, when you think about it,” Sam conceded. “Maybe she was talking to somebody who was in the church, someone who also had their cell phone turned on.”
“No doubt! And I don’t want any part of that! I saw our whole married life dominated by that thing. The wedding night, the honeymoon, the delivery room when we had a kid, the family vacations, the visits to the folks. I mean, if she had to talk on the phone ten minutes before we were about to say our vows, then nothing was sacred.”
Sam blew out a breath. “Okay, I can see your point. I wouldn’t like that prospect myself, but I sure as hell wish you’d figured all this out sooner.”
“So do I.”
Leaning both arms on the table, Sam trained his no-nonsense look, the one he used to intimidate juries, on Mark. “In case you’ve lost count, this is the fifth time this has happened. None of your friends except yours truly will show up anymore. Even your mother refuses the invitations. Is it possible you don’t want to get married?”
Mark had given that considerable thought himself. He’d been raised by a single mother who’d divorced his father when Mark was two. She’d never remarried, and when he was old enough to ask about that, she’d told him she found marriage too confining and time-consuming.
Because she was all he had, he’d tried to see things her way. But he couldn’t help envying kids like Sam, who had a cozy family with two parents and a bunch of noisy siblings. Finally he’d decided he couldn’t agree with his mother. Although the single