Oops...We're Married?. Susan Lute

      Chapter One

      “Jake Edward Solomon. You are not my father.”

      “No, El, but a big brother is the next best thing. Now, are you going to do me this little favor or not?” Jake’s voice fairly crackled with humor.

      Pushing the phone between her ear and hunched shoulder, Eleanor settled behind her desk and swiveled her chair to gaze unseeing out her office window at the intercity park below.

      Jake knew he was going to get his way. Just once, Eleanor wished she could resist her foster brother and one of his crazy schemes. She hated being emotionally blackmailed, especially by the one and only person who came the closest to being any kind of family to her.

      “I’m not saying I’ll do it, but tell me again what you want me to do?” Eleanor was resigned to helping him out, just like she always did. But, this time, she was determined he was going to have to work hard for his victory.

      “The Marshals service is putting on this benefit dinner, and for the price of the ticket we’re going to do a dating-game theater show, with a mock marriage at the end—”

      “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Eleanor knew her voice was on the rise, but at the moment she didn’t care as she caught a glimpse of where her foster brother was heading.

      “No, I’m not, El. We’ve got it all arranged for Saturday night, and now one of the girls has backed out.”

      Eleanor ignored the begging tone Jake tried to trap her with. She’d been exposed to it more times than she cared to remember. In fact, anytime Jake wanted his way.

      “I hope you’re not suggesting that I should replace this…person in your charade. You know I don’t like to do dates…blind, for charity or otherwise,” Eleanor reminded Jake flatly, hoping to make him back off.

      Wishful thinking.

      “Come on, El. I told you I’m in a bind here. I need you. This is very important to a lot of people…and to me.”

      Eleanor hated it when Jake used his soft, nobody-loves-you-more-than-I-do voice from their teenage years. Emotional blackmail. That’s what it was. And, even though it pushed her buttons, she still caved every time.

      “Okay, Jake. I’ll do this for you. I don’t care about all those other people. They don’t mean a thing to me.”

      “Of course they don’t. Thanks, El. You’re a champ and a—”

      “Yeah, right,” Eleanor broke in, not quite ready to concede the brat his victory.

      “Listen,” Jake said, “meet me at the Harbor Room tomorrow night and we can go over the details. I’m meeting a friend at five, but we should be done by six. Love you, baby sister.”

      And then all that was left of Jake and his current mad scheme was the dial tone in Eleanor’s ear.

      Dillon Stone studied his friend suspiciously in the dim lighting of happy hour at the Harbor Room. Jake couldn’t possibly know about his plans to find a wife.

      It had been one month since his sister’s wedding and his decision to go wife-hunting. And watching Ryan trying to settle into their new home near the university had only strengthened his determination.

      Dillon remembered what it had been like after his own mother had died when he was a young teenager—how he’d felt so lost and alone. He’d missed her horribly. He didn’t want Ryan to grow up feeling that same loss.

      Tangled up in his memories, Dillon wiped away the moisture on the outside of his beer glass with his thumb. He wasn’t looking for love for himself. He’d been lucky. He’d had love once. That wasn’t something that happened twice in a man’s lifetime. The best he could hope for was someone he could respect and live comfortably with. It was doable. Many married for far less.

      Dillon thought about the two lists stashed away in his office at home. On one, he’d listed all of the qualities he required in a wife. On the other, all of the single women he thought would fill the bill. Not that the second one was long, but it was a start.

      “…so, you can see, I’m kind of in a tight spot here.”

      “What tight spot?” Dillon lifted his beer to his lips, wincing at having to admit he’d just missed a good portion of his friend’s conversation.

      “I need a favor. I need a guy Saturday night,” Jake spoke slowly as if talking to a slow-witted child, plunking his beer glass on the table between them.

      “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind. I’ve got this involved case I’m reviewing.” It wasn’t a total lie, Dillon reasoned.

      “You don’t work in the courts anymore, you’re a law professor. What case?”

      Dillon had no intention of sharing his latest project with Jake. When the man got ahold of an idea, he was like a dog with a bone. Remembering the number of failed blind dates his buddy had conned him into before he’d started going with Joan at the end of their senior year of high school, he shuddered to think what kind of woman his friend would try to scrounge up for him.

      “How’s your sister?” Dillon asked, determined to distract Jake.

      “El? She’s okay. Listen, you have to do this for me—”

      For a split second Dillon’s stomach churned. Surely, Jake didn’t want him to go out with his sister. He remembered the shy tomboy who’d followed them everywhere. If his memory was correct, not long after his marriage to Joan, she’d gone back east to college.

      “Do what for you?” he asked cautiously.

      “The department is putting on a charity dinner for the East Side Women’s Shelter. We’ll have a silent auction and some dancing, but most of the program is a mock dating-game theater show, and the guy from the department who was going to be the contestant backed out at the last minute.”

      Dillon took a long gulp of his beer, relief flowing down his throat with the malt. His best friend was not setting him up to date his kid sister. The corporate workaholic Jake had said she’d become was not on his agenda. “What happened to the guy?”

      “Got married and his new wife doesn’t want him participating.”

      “What about one of the other guys?”

      “All on assignment, and I’m going to be too busy being master of ceremonies to be a contestant, so don’t ask.”

      As a U.S. Marshal, Jake took his assignments very seriously, including this one, apparently.

      “When is this important ‘event’?” Dillon asked, frowning at the delay to his own plans. He’d just have to work around it. He owed Jake too much. If it hadn’t been for his tenacious friend, he didn’t know how he would have survived Joan’s death.

      “This