Oops...We're Married?. Susan LuteЧитать онлайн книгу.
and irritated. Only what she wanted him to see. Which was nothing.
The honey tones used by the other two ladies to answer the law professor’s question made Eleanor sick to her stomach. There was no way she was going to try to sell herself to this man by sugarcoating her responses just for his benefit.
“Bachelorette number three. What are your favorite foods?”
This time Eleanor was prepared. Carefully modulating her voice, she responded, “I’m a vegetarian.” Well, she was.
“And…?”
“And, I like vegetables.”
Dillon looked at Ryan, his eyebrows lifting in question. There was something familiar about that voice, even though it was masked by the microphone and her abrupt responses.
Briefly, whiskey-colored eyes flashed bright in Dillon’s mind and the last puzzle piece fell into place. So, that’s what all Jake’s meddling was about. He had three ladies to choose from. Of course, he wasn’t going to pick Eleanor just because she was Jake’s sister. The guy could be a loose cannon, but this little maneuver absolutely took the cake.
Eleanor stared out at the audience. The dinner was being catered by attendants dressed sharply in white shirts, black bow ties and black dress slacks. The tables were elegantly covered in gold tablecloths. And, without exception, every female eye in the place was focused on the left side of the stage, where she was sure Dillon sat with his little boy.
Heated with disgust, she unbuttoned the top button of the white blouse that seemed bent on choking her and renewed her earlier vow not to stoop to competing for the man’s attention. Purposely, she answered each question Dillon asked her in the most bored, disinterested way she could, discouraging any idea the man might have of picking her, while the other ladies blatantly threw themselves at him. Their sugary, come-park-your-shoes-under-my-bed responses made her stomach queasy.
When Jake stepped into her line of vision, frowning at her, Eleanor felt a small pinpoint of malicious satisfaction. She arched her eyebrows at him, smiled sweetly and wished him at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. It warmed her sense of revenge when his frown deepened.
If she could just get to him, she would really hurt Jake, Eleanor promised, finding herself perched on the edge of her seat, leaning out of the small cubicle that marked her end of the stage.
Pushing her glasses farther up her nose, she briefly glanced toward the other end of the raised platform. Three additional cubicles, undoubtedly perfect matches to hers, stretched across the stage in a half moon, the two middle ones recessed slightly away from the audience. Suddenly, Eleanor found herself traitorously wondering what it would be like to be chosen by Dillon Stone. What would it be like to be the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with?
Before she could break away from that heart-pounding thought, a solemn face peeked around the front of the bachelor cubicle. Serious eyes studied her without blinking. A sudden smile shattered the illusion of an adult packed secretly into the small boy’s body.
Ryan.
The longing in his watchful eyes assailed Eleanor with an unfamiliar urge to take the small, serious child and fold him close in her arms. Tentatively, she smiled back.
“Bachelorette number three?” Dillon’s annoyed voice broke the fragile connection she’d made with the child.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the question,” she said as she removed her glasses and winked at Ryan, who was still watching her curiously.
“Where is your favorite place to vacation?” Dillon repeated, patience struggling with the irritation lacing his voice.
“I don’t go on vacation,” Eleanor answered truthfully, her mind still on a little boy’s heartbreaking smile as she scooted back into the uncomfortable chair.
“Okay…” The increasingly frustrated voice plowed through her thoughts. For the first time since she’d started this nightmare, Eleanor relaxed. For a second, she thought she could hear the man grinding his teeth. She smiled.
“Ryan. Come sit down,” Dillon whispered to his son, amazed at how hard it was to hide his frustration with Eleanor’s answers. He didn’t really care what they were, and he certainly wasn’t planning to choose her for his “pretend” wife, but the woman could at least make some attempt at being interested in the game; for the audience’s sake if nothing else.
Pushing away the image of whiskey-colored eyes and a body that promised to be a perfect match to his in the intricate dance of love, he helped Ryan climb back into his seat. He wasn’t interested in love, and it was with irritating effort that he finally wiped the seductive image from his mind.
“Okay. Bachelor junior. You get to ask the last question.” Jake’s booming voice broke into Dillon’s annoyance.
“James Bond,” Dillon reminded his son softly.
“Bachelor three. Do you like kids?” At the small quiver in Ryan’s voice, Dillon placed his arm around his son’s shoulders.
Eleanor heard the loneliness in the child’s voice and understood it completely. She couldn’t stop herself from remembering how his grown-up study had changed so quickly to a child’s curiosity with one beautiful smile. Without further thought, she answered truthfully, from her heart, unable to cause more hurt to the little person who’d silently reached out to her.
“I think…kids are cool…especially little boys,” she said hesitantly, but simply.
Surprised at the sudden warmth in Eleanor’s voice, Dillon watched a smile spread over his son’s face. He didn’t really listen to the other two bachelorette’s responses, although chatty number two had the three of them at Chuck E. Cheese’s long before she was done.
How could the woman who’d answered so warmly to Ryan be the same woman who had been evasive, impersonal and dismissive with him all evening?
As a slow anger began to burn in his throat, Dillon flicked his finger at a piece of lint on his jacket sleeve. Even though he considered himself an average sort of guy, he wasn’t used to being treated like a pariah by women. Dillon reluctantly admitted he didn’t like it. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t planning on picking Eleanor. It was just that she could at least play nice.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time for our bachelors to choose their bachelorette.” Jake’s voice floated over the audio system, reminding Dillon that fortunately this whole nonsense would soon be over.
“Okay, Ryan. Which one do we want? Bachelorette number one or number two?” Dillon whispered to his son as if asking the boy to help him pick between his two least favorite desserts.
“We want Bachelorette three.” Ryan’s excited answer caused blaring alarms to clang loudly in Dillon’s head.
“No, Ryan. We need to pick either one or two.” There was no way he was going to pick Eleanor Rose after her obvious lack of interest throughout the whole game. It was only a benefit dinner, for God’s sake. The woman could have at least tried to pretend she wanted to participate.
“But I want Bachelorette three.” Ryan’s hands were balling into fists, his voice changing from a whisper to sharp demand.
“Ryan,” Dillon insisted firmly, pulling the resisting boy against his chest.
“But I want her to be my new mom.” The shake in Ryan’s voice and the tears flooding his eyes was more than Dillon had the strength to fight, but he tried, anyway.
“This is just pretend, son. And only for tonight. Okay?”
“Okay. But, I still want Bachelorette three.”
At that moment Jake rounded the corner into the cubicle and caught the tail end of their discussion. Dillon groaned inwardly at his buddy’s apparent amusement at his predicament.
“It appears our bachelors are having a difference of opinion over which bachelorette