Wanted: Wife Read online

  “I don’t want a perfect woman,”

  Lucas said, moving closer to Jenny. “I just want her to be perfect for me.”

  Jenny stared at him, unable to say anything.

  “I’m looking for a strong woman. Someone who won’t crumble if the going gets rough. I want her to be able to stand up and tell me to go to hell if I’m wrong, or kiss me and tell me I’m wonderful if I’m right. And I want her to love and need children the same way I do.”

  Jenny didn’t say anything and after a moment Lucas said, “You think I’m asking too much, Jenny? Or do you know a woman like that?”

  Dear Reader,

  Spring is on the way—and love is blooming in Silhouette Romance this month. To keep his little girl, FABULOUS FATHER Jace McCall needs a pretend bride—fast. Luckily he “proposes” to a woman who doesn’t have to pretend to love him in Sandra Steffen’s A Father For Always.

  Favorite author Annette Broadrick continues her bestselling DAUGHTERS OF TEXAS miniseries with Instant Mommy, this month’s BUNDLES OF JOY selection. Widowed dad Deke Crandall was an expert at raising cattle, but a greenhorn at raising his baby daughter. So when he asked Mollie O’Brien for her help, the marriage-shy rancher had no idea he’d soon be asking for her hand!

  In Wanted: Wife by Stella Bagwell, handsome Lucas Lowrimore is all set to say “I do,” but his number one candidate for a bride has very cold feet. Can he convince reluctant Jenny Prescott to walk those cold feet down the aisle?

  Carla Cassidy starts off her new miniseries THE BAKER BROOD with Deputy Daddy. Carolyn Baker has to save her infant godchildren from their bachelor guardian. Beau Randolph. After all, what could he know about babies? But then she experienced some of his tender loving care….

  And don’t miss our other two wonderful books— Almost Married by Carol Grace and The Groom Wore Blue Suede Shoes by debut author Jessica Travis.

  Happy Reading!

  Melissa Senate,

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  WANTED: WIFE

  Stella Bagwell

  To my mother, Lucille, for all the love and joy she’s given to me.

  Books by Stella Bagwell

  Silhouette Romance

  Golden Glory #469

  Moonlight Bandit #485

  A Mist on the Mountain #510

  Madeleine’s Song #543

  The Outsider #560

  The New Kid in Town #587

  Cactus Rose #621

  Hillbilly Heart #634

  Teach Me #657

  The White Night #674

  No Horsing Around #699

  That Southern Touch #723

  Gentle as a Lamb #748

  A Practical Man #789

  Precious Pretender #812

  Done to Perfection #836

  Rodeo Rider #878

  *Their First Thanksgiving #903

  *The Best Christmas Ever #909

  *New Year’s Baby #915

  Hero in Disguise #954

  Corporate Cowgirl #991

  Daniel’s Daddy #1020

  A Cowboy for Christmas #1052

  Daddy Lessons #1085

  Wanted: Wife #1140

  *Heartland Holidays Trilogy

  STELLA BAGWELL

  lives with her husband and son in southeastern Oklahoma, where she says the weather is extreme and the people friendly. When she isn’t writing romances, she enjoys horse racing and touring the countryside on a motorcycle.

  Stella is very proud to know that she can give joy to others through her books. And now, thanks to the Oklahoma Library for the Blind in Oklahoma City, she is able to reach an even bigger audience. The library has transcribed her novels onto cassette tapes so that blind people across the state can also enjoy them.

  Chapter One

  Lucas Lowrimore cursed as he glanced in the rearview mirror. A patrol car was right on his tail, and from the look of its flashing lights, the officer inside expected him to stop.

  Great! Just great! He was already late for the game. Now the kids were bound to think he wasn’t going to show at all!

  Lucas pulled his black sports car alongside the curb and rolled down his window. While he waited for an officer to approach him, he dug his driver’s license out of his wallet.

  Moments later footsteps on the concrete street alerted him. Quickly Lucas poked his head out the open window and was immediately surprised to see a tall redheaded woman in a police uniform standing a couple of feet from his door.

  “Please get out of the car, sir,” she ordered.

  “Is there a problem, Officer?” he asked, wondering how it had been his luck, or perhaps misfortune, to be stopped by a woman police officer. Not that a woman officer was something unique in the city. He’d seen many of them patrolling the streets, he’d just never been this close to one before.

  “I’ll tell you what the problem is when you get out of the car,” she said, her deep voice carrying a note of warning.

  Seeing no way to avoid the inevitable, Lucas unfolded his long frame from the sleek little car and stepped out on the concrete beside the redhead. “I know I was probably going a little fast through here,” he started, “but—”

  “I’d call fifteen miles past the limit more than a little fast,” she said, then extended her palm toward him. “Let me see your license, sir.”

  Lucas handed her the plastic card while trying not to stare at her. but that was impossible not to do. Lucas had never seen a woman with a pistol strapped to her hips. And what hips they were, he thought, his brows unconsciously lifting with male appreciation as his eyes traveled down the long length of her.

  “I’m—well, I’m in a hurry,” he attempted to explain.

  “You were in a hurry,” she corrected, her full lips compressed to a disapproving line. “Did you know you ran a stop sign two blocks back?”

  A stop sign? He’d never seen a stop sign! Still, that wasn’t any reason not to get a ticket. “No. I wasn’t aware of it. As I said, I’m late—”

  “You should have started earlier,” she said, her husky voice unyielding as she began scribbling on the clipboard resting against the crook of her arm. “Just where is this fire you’re going to, Mr. Lowrimore?”

  Lucas gritted his teeth and reminded himself it wouldn’t help his cause if he pointed out to her that her mouth was just a little too smart for his taste.

  “I’m going to a football game. And I’ve got less than twenty minutes to get there.”

  Jenny Prescott looked up from her clipboard and ran her eyes up and down his charcoal gray suit and maroon patterned tie. “Must be a new kind of football. I thought the players were the only ones who wore suits, not the spectators.”

  Who in hell did this woman think she was? So maybe he had been speeding a little and maybe he had missed a stop sign. That didn’t mean he deserved a whiplashing with her spiked tongue.

  “I’m not a spectator, I’m the coach.”

  Her eyes lifted to his face, and for the first time since she’d approached the sinfully expensive sports car, she allowed herself to really look at the driver’s face. It was as impressive as his car and his clothes. Dark, nearly black hair was slicked back from his forehead. His eyes were brown, deep set and fringed with thick black lashes. His brows were equally black and at the moment pulled together in a frustrated frown. His lips were tugged downward at the corners, but Jenny got the impression they usually had a smile on them. A flirtatious one, she’d guess.

  “That’s too bad,” she said.

  Lucas’s brows lifted higher, and Jenny noticed
one of them had a faint white scar running through the middle of it.

  “Why? Are you arresting me?”

  Keeping her expression unreadable on the job had never been hard for Jenny to do. Until now. For some reason she had the insane urge to give this man a catty, taunting smile. He was obviously one of those men who thought his money gave him the right to break traffic regulations any time or any place. Well, this was one time she was certainly going to see that he paid for it.

  “Give me a minute or two and I’ll let you know,” she said.

  Jenny walked to the patrol car and leaned her head in the driver’s window.

  “Run this name and and number, Orville. He says he’s on his way to a football game, but I want to make sure he hasn’t just stolen that car.”

  The thin, mouse-brown-haired man reached for the twoway mike on the dash. “He looks like he could easily afford it, Jenny, but we’ll make sure. Hey, this is—” He stopped reading the license to glance at Jenny. “This guy is Lucas T. Lowrimore!”

  “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  “Jenny, that’s Lucas T. Lowrimore!” Orville gushed as though he’d just stumbled onto a movie star. “You know, L.L. Freight. I’ve heard he was a young guy. Made all his money the old-fashioned way.”

  “You mean he inherited it?” Jenny muttered the question as she continued to write out the ticket.

  “No. Like the commercial says. He earned it. Boy, what an entrepreneur. I’ll bet women are always following him around!”

  “Well, they’ll not likely catch him if he continues to drive this fast,” Jenny replied with obvious disgust.

  “Well, you did,” Orville pointed out.

  Jenny gave her partner a droll look. “Run the license, Orville. It’s hot as he—heck out here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just a minute and we’ll know the goods on Mr. Lucas Lowrimore!” Orville assured her with his usual zest.

  After the dispatcher came on the radio with the information Jenny needed, she walked over to the tall, dark trucking tycoon.

  “Looks like everything checks out, Mr. Lowrimore. You won’t be making a trip down to the station after all. But you will be making one to the courthouse.”

  “You’re giving me a ticket?”

  The surprise in his voice irked Jenny even more. Was she simply supposed to let him violate traffic laws and endanger people’s lives because he was rich?

  She handed him the slip of paper. “I hope in the future, Mr. Lowrimore, that you’ll take into account the danger you’re imposing on others when you speed down a residential street. If a child—”

  Lucas was normally a laid-back man, and when he made mistakes he was always the first one to admit it, but something about this redhead with a gun on her hip and a badge on her breast stirred his blood. In more ways than one.

  “I wasn’t racing through here, Officer—” He glanced more closely at her badge. “Officer Prescott. I was, in spite of what you think, watching where I was going. And I would never intentionally endanger a child’s life!”

  She folded her arms across her breasts and gave him a just-keep-it-up look.

  Angry now, Lucas said, “If you’re through with me, I’ll write you a check for the damages I’ve done and be on my way.”

  Jenny watched him reach inside his suit jacket for a checkbook. Jade cuff links glinted at his wrist while an onyx ring circled the fourth finger on his right hand. There was no ring on his left hand, and Jenny surmised he wasn’t married, or if he was, he didn’t want anyone knowing it.

  “Sorry, I can’t take your check,” she told him. “It has to be cash.”

  His brown eyes turned to twin daggers. This woman obviously knew who he was. Or at least she had easy access to the information. Still, she insisted on treating him as if he was a potential criminal. “I don’t normally carry—” he cast a disgusted eye at the ticket in his hand “—this sort of cash around with me.”

  Jenny gave him a purely professional smile. “I’m glad to see you follow some safety precautions, Mr. Lowrimore. Perhaps you’ll include proper driving habits with them from now on.”

  The more she spoke, the more his eyes were drawn to her lips. They were dusky pink, soft and full. The kind Lucas would normally find extremely kissable. The thought had his gaze gliding up her straight nose and into her hazel green eyes. What would it be like to kiss Officer Prescott? he wondered dryly. About the same as trying to stroke a mountain lion, he figured.

  “I’ll do my best,” he told her.

  There was a glint of devilry shining in his brown eyes, and Jenny felt her hackles rise even higher. “See that you pay that fine on time, Mr. Lowrimore. And in the future, I suggest you keep a careful eye for traffic signs.”

  He smiled at her, a full-fledged smile that creased both his cheeks and lowered his thick black lashes. “Oh, rest assured, Officer Prescott, every time I look at one, I’ll think of you.”

  For a moment, Jenny tried to think of some legal excuse to write him up again. But she couldn’t think of a one, so she simply said, “See that you do.”

  Moments later, she slid into the patrol car. Orville took one look at her face and whistled under his breath.

  “Boy, you look as mad as a hornet. What did he do? Get smart? Try to bribe you?”

  Orville was frighteningly close to Mayberry’s Barney Fife. He was skinny, homely and overeager. Jenny had never figured out how he’d managed to make it through the police academy. But somehow he had, and she’d had the incredible luck of being assigned his partner.

  Yet there were good sides to working with Orville. He’d never consider making a pass at her, and he had a deepseated kindness that made her overlook all his annoying habits.

  Sighing, Jenny wiped her hand across her damp brow. “He didn’t do anything. He was just—” She stopped, shook her head, then tried again. “I don’t know, Orville. It was just the lazy way he got out of that car and then those clothes—”

  “Sharp-looking, huh? I’ll bet he didn’t buy those off a rack.”

  Jenny’s frown deepened, drawing her auburn brows close together. “He says he’s on his way to coach a football game and he’s late. I don’t think we’ve ever heard that one, have we?”

  Orville made a tsking noise with his tongue. “Now Jenny, you’ve been at this job long enough to learn you’ll hear all sorts of stories when a person knows he’s about to get a ticket.”

  That was true enough, Jenny thought. And what did it matter if he really wasn’t going to a football game? As long as he didn’t break the law, it was no concern of hers. Still, Jenny didn’t like the idea of a well-to-do man like Lucas Lowrimore insulting her intelligence.

  “Besides,” Orville went on, “that suit of his might be his coaching clothes.”

  Jenny let out a snort as she watched the black, low-slung car pull slowly away from the curb. “When pigs fly.”

  Orville cut off the patrol car’s flashing lights and pulled onto the street. “What do you say we go get something cold to drink? We’ve still got two more hours of duty, and nothing has been called in on the radio.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jenny told him. She needed something to cool her off.

  Face it, Jenny, you need more than a cold drink to fix what ails you, she told herself as she stared out the window of the black and white patrol car. For the past month, ever since Savanna had told her she was pregnant, Jenny had felt restless, even forlorn. And that wasn’t like her.

  Her mood didn’t make any sense at all. Savanna was her best friend, and she wanted her to be happy with her new family. But seeing her friend so much in love with her new husband had reminded Jenny of what her own life had become. She was thirty-three, almost thirty-four, and she had no one but herself.

  Oh, she’d had a husband once, but Marcus hadn’t been worth the paper their marriage license had been printed on. It had taken her five years to figure that out. Jenny had endured five years of mental, and sometimes physical, abuse before she�
�d finally realized that Marcus would never change, nor would he ever love her.

  Nearly six years had passed since she’d kicked Marcus out of her house and her life. She’d never regretted it. He’d been bad for her, and to do anything else would have been to commit slow suicide. She knew that. She also knew that somewhere out there she could probably find a man who would be kind to her, who might even love her. But Marcus had made her too afraid to look. If she lived to be eighty she believed she’d still be afraid.

  “Ya know, I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be rich and famous like Lucas Lowrimore,” Orville said a few moments later, after they’d purchased cold drinks and carried them to the patrol car. “Do you really think that sort of life is all it’s cracked up to be?”

  “I wouldn’t know what sort of life Lucas Lowrimore has. An easy one, from the looks of it,” Jenny told him.

  After buckling her seat belt, she jammed the foam cup between her knees, then picked up the clipboard holding the ticket she’d written the man. Lucas T. Lowrimore, she read. Age thirty-five. Six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds. Black hair, brown eyes. Address five minutes away from their present location.

  “Looks like he lives just off North Pennsylvania,” she murmured thoughtfully. “That’s in our area. Want to drive by and take a look?”

  “Do you?”

  From the eager look on her partner’s face, she knew anything but yes would be the wrong answer. The closest to fame that Orville would ever get was arresting a liquor store robber or a drunk down on Reno. Cops rarely became well-known or rich like Lucas Lowrimore, though that was all right with Jenny. She was proud of her job and the people she served. But since Orville liked to fantasize, it would give him a kick to see where trucking tycoon Lucas Lowrimore resided. And if Jenny was honest with herself, she was a little bit curious to see where the man lived, too. He hadn’t been a routine traffic stop. At least not where she was concerned. She could still remember every little thing about the man. And all of it continued to nettle her.