Wife by Wednesday (2 page)

It wasn’t often that Blake was kicked back a few notches. Yet with only a couple of words, the woman in front of him had done so. He reached out and took her hand in his and a wave of heat surged over him. Her penetrating stare and knowing smile wavered when they shook hands. Her palm was cool, even if her demeanor was one of complete control.

“You’re not a man.” Blake wanted to groan. That had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever said to a woman in his life.

Ms. Elliot however, was nonplused. “Never have been.” She offered him a smile and exposed perfect teeth as she removed her hand from his. He missed it instantly.

“I was expecting a man.”

“I get that a lot. Most of the time it works to my advantage.” She indicated the chair across from her. “Would you like to sit so we can get started?”

He hesitated, not sure if he should continue this “interview” or insist on the woman’s gender to change. He didn’t consider himself sexist, but musing over the woman who was taking her seat and crossing her slacks-covered legs drew his attention away from his goal, and placed it squarely on her. Sam Elliot could be the poster child for contradiction and Blake hadn’t learned anything about the woman… yet.

Ten minutes was what he would give her to prove she could meet his needs. If she didn’t, he’d move on and explore other options.

Blake unbuttoned the top button on his suit jacket before taking his place at the table. “Is Sam short for Samantha?”

“Yes.” Samantha didn’t meet his eyes as she removed a stack of papers from a small case she’d placed against the side of her chair. The brief smile she’d given him was gone and replaced with a thin line between her lips that didn’t reveal her thoughts.

“Do you use Sam to fool your clients?”

Her hand stalled as she pushed the stack of papers in his direction. “Would you have come if you knew I was a woman?”

Probably not.

Without voicing his words, Samantha tilted her head to the side and continued. “You make my case, Mr. Harrison. Let me see if I’m reading your intentions. In your mind, you’ve set a time limit for me to prove myself. What was it… twenty minutes?”

“Ten,” he blurted out, not meaning to. What was it about this woman with the bedroom voice that stole his ability to hold his tongue?

She smiled again and his stomach knotted with a shot of unexpected and unwanted desire.

“Ten minutes,” she repeated. “To outline exactly how I plan on finding you the perfect wife for your short-term goals. A businessman like yourself expects quick efficiency and no emotional baggage to complicate matters. Am I right so far?” She watched him now. Her green eyes never wavering, her freckled nose pert over pink lips that moved to usher her erotic 900-number toned voice.

“Completely.”

“Women are emotional, which is why your assistant looked into my service to begin with. My guess is, there are many women who would sell their souls to marry you, Mr. Harrison, but you don’t trust them enough to give them the title.”

Most of the time, it was him outlining his needs. Having the tables reversed should have left him feeling exposed. Somehow listening to Sam Elliot, who was definitely not a man, spelling out his dilemma didn’t strip him bare, but rather blanketed him with comfort. He’d come to the right place to fix his problem.

“How do I know I can trust a woman you come up with?”

“I prescreen every lady in my directory just as thoroughly as I do the men. Background checks, financial obligations, family skeletons hiding in their closets, personal habits.”

“You sound like a private investigator.”

“Not hardly. But I can understand why you’d think that. Matching people is what I do.”

Blake sat back and crossed his hands over his chest. He liked her, he decided, mentally adding another ten minutes to his predetermined time.

“Shall we continue?”

He reached for his coffee and nodded.

Sam grasped onto a pen and twisted the papers she’d pushed in front of him her way. “I have a few questions for you before
I allow
this to move forward.”

Blake’s brow rose with her words. Interesting. “How long do I have to prove myself to you, Ms. Elliot?”

She glanced up through long lashes. “Five minutes.”

He sat forward, thoroughly intrigued with what she was going to determine about him in that amount of time.

“Have you ever been arrested?”

His record was clear, but that wasn’t the question.

He knew if he lied to Sam, she’d pack up her things and walk out the door. “I was seventeen and the kid I punched was hitting on my sister. The record was buried.” As all records of kids from his station in life were.

“Have you ever hit a woman?”

His jaw tightened. “Never.”

“Ever wanted to?” She watched him now, eyes sharp.

“No.” Violence didn’t play into his personality.

“I need the name of your closest friend.”

“Carter Billings.”

She scribbled the name down.

“Worst enemy?”

He didn’t see that question coming. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Let me rephrase it, then. Who in your life would like to see you come to harm?”

His first thoughts scanned his list of business associates who might have felt slighted over the years. None would be better off if he were gone at this point. There was only one person who might see things differently.

“Whose image are you thinking of, Mr. Harrison?”

Blake took a drink of his coffee and felt it hit the bottom of his stomach with a thump. “Only one.”

Samantha lifted her eyes to his, waiting.

“My cousin, Howard Walker.”

A tiny slack in her jaw, a slump in her shoulders, these were the only things that indicated the impact of his words. Much to Blake’s surprise, Samantha Elliot wrote down the information and didn’t question further.

She removed the top sheet of her papers and handed him the others. “I’m going to need you to fill these out. You can fax them to me at the number on the bottom of page eight.”

“Did I pass your test, Ms. Elliot?”

“Honesty needs to be maintained throughout this process. So far, everything is working for me.”

It was Blake’s turn to smile. “I could have lied about the assault charge.”

Samantha started to pack up her things as she spoke. “His name was Drew Falsworth. You were two months past your seventeenth birthday when you broke his nose at a polo match at the prep school you both attended. Drew had a reputation for dating girls long enough to get them into bed before dumping and moving onto the next. Your sister was smart to stay away and if you hadn’t hit the bastard to protect your sister, and I’d found out about it, this interview would have been over before you even sat down.”

“How the hell—”

“I have a very extensive list of contacts. Most of which I’m sure you’ll know about before this day is out.”

Damn right.
He’d be on the phone with his assistant before he reached the car.

“What’s this going to cost me, Ms. Elliot?”

“Consider me an agent. When your lawyer draws up the prenuptial agreement bear in mind that twenty percent of what you offer your future wife will be paid to me up front.”

“And if I only offer her a small stipend?”

“The women I work with have a minimum spelled out in that stack of papers.”

“And if the woman doesn’t hold to her end of the deal? If she fights the contract after a year?”

Samantha stood, giving Blake no choice but to stand beside her.

“She won’t.”

“You sound so certain.”

“The predetermined amount of money, her share, goes into an account. If the woman fights for more, that money pays your attorneys to squelch her. Anything left over is yours to keep. The only time this would change is if a child was brought into the picture and paternity tests proved it was yours. Family courts with kids aren’t something I agree to deal with. It will be up to you to keep it in your pants, Mr. Harrison. That is of course if you intend to end the marriage after the agreed upon year. If not, then enjoy your happily ever after and name your child after me.”

She’d thought of everything. To say he was impressed was an understatement.

“I need those papers by three this afternoon. I’ll be in touch by five with a list of prospective women. We’ll set up meetings as soon as tomorrow if your schedule allows.”

Blake reached down, lifted her bag, and handed it to her.

She shoved a lock of unruly hair from her eyes and swung the handle over her shoulder. “Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Harrison? Or should I be calling you, Your Grace?”

The slow way she rolled his title off her tongue with her hypnotic voice was something he could get used to. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again, over the phone… “How about Blake?”

****

As soon as Sam knew she wasn’t being watched, she slid behind the wheel of her car and allowed the Cheshire cat grin she’d been feeling deep inside her to spread over her face. An undignified Snoopy dance had her wiggling her butt in the soft leather. “About friggin’ time,” she whispered to herself.

The dashing Duke was her ticket to the big leagues. From the inception of
Alliance
, she’d pictured clients like Blake Harrison lining up for her services, rich men in need of finding a wife to check off their bucket list. She’d found wives for men who didn’t have time, or the desire to go through the dating game. They weren’t looking for love, but companionship. Some men wanted to claim a wife so that their lovers would stop bugging them for a ring. To date, she’d kept a steady income and personal referrals that built her business to sustain her.

With
Harrison
, and his estimated profit potential, she’d be able to pay her largest expense for a good two to three years, or so she hoped.

A millionaire on his own,
Harrison
didn’t need his late father’s money. But to allow a bank account that could buy out small countries to disappear into the melting pot of charity, or to the cousin Blake had mentioned, would be a shame. Especially with all the corruption and scandal associated with charities. There was no telling where that money would end up and whose pocket it would fatten.

Sam knew first hand how do-good money often fell into greedy hands.

Harrison
’s situation would bring up distractions she’d not faced before. His title might be the biggest problem to overcome. She’d have to screen the prospective women to make sure they didn’t have fairytale dreams of being a Duchess. Years of Disney videos were hard to combat. Combine that with
Harrison
’s over-the-top good looks, and the women she’d introduce him to would have to be blind not to want more from the man than his money.

The pictures she’d seen of him didn’t do him justice. She’d always looked up to men, had to with her five foot five frame, but Blake was six one on a bad day with shoulders rippling with muscles. She’d seen tabloid pictures of him on a beach in
Tahiti
that hinted at the physique he hid under his suit. When he’d walked into the coffee shop, all eyes turned to him yet he didn’t even notice. He simply scanned the room looking for her. With any other client, she’d have taken to her feet the second he hit the door, but with Blake, she needed a minute to compose herself. His firm, rugged jaw and striking grey eyes penetrated her normally calm disposition and made her heart leap.

His looks would be a distraction. It would be best for all involved if the woman he picked to be his wife lived in one country while he lived in another. Spending long amounts of time with him would tempt any woman with a pulse to sleep with him.

Sam removed her cell phone from her purse and called her assistant.

“
Alliance
, this is Eliza.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“How did it go?” Eliza jumped right in with her query.

“Perfectly. Did you pull the files and make the calls?”

“I did. Joanne was the only woman not available at this time.”

Sam pictured the tall brunette. “Really, why?”

“Has a boyfriend, apparently.”

That did tend to mess up marriage to another man. Without Joanne, there were three other perfect candidates. Unless Blake had a problem with beautiful women, she’d have the man a wife by Wednesday. It was only Monday.

“Her loss.”

“Are you coming in?”

“I have an errand to run and then I’ll be there.”

“Bring lunch.”

Eliza and Sam had been friends for some time, long before their business relationship had taken off. “As your boss, shouldn’t you be picking me up lunch?” she teased.

“Not when my slave-driving employer isn’t in the office long enough to man the phones.” The office, what a joke. Sam used the spare bedroom in the townhouse.

Laughing, Sam said, “I’ll be there in a half an hour.”

“You might want to call Moonlight first.”