Page 9 of Fairy Tale Marriage

“You want a strong cup of coffee? Maybe you should try—” She’d almost suggested the Costa Rican tacita de café, but caught herself at the last minute. Bringing Costa Rica into the conversation would be a dead giveaway.

“Try...?”

“Try asking the barista,” Shayne replied instead. “I’m sure she’ll know which will offer the best jolt for the sip.”

To her relief, he appeared to accept her comment at face value. Thank goodness! She didn’t want Chaz to know who she was. Not yet. Not until she’d had a chance to spend some time with him. She wanted to discover what had happened over the past nine years and see if they could regain what they’d once shared.

It was a ridiculous dream, as foolish as it was reckless. But she couldn't help herself. Just as she'd been instantly attracted to him that infamous night so long ago, she found that attraction every bit as immediate and powerful the second time around. Afew minutes later he returned and took the seat across fromher.

“Here we are. Two coffees. Both black.” He set Shayne’s in front of her. “I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves.” He offered his hand. “I’m Chaz from Lullabye, Colorado.”

He hadn’t volunteered his last name. That would simplify matters. “My first name’s Marianna.” It was the truth. She’d only adopted her middle name, Shayne, when Rafe had rescued her from her hellish existence in Florida.

“Marianna. Pretty. And why are you here?”

She lifted a shoulder in a brief shrug. “The same reason most of the people are. I’d like to find a husband.” One special, long-lost husband. “What about you?” She struggled not to appear too anxious.

“I’m looking for a wife.”

“Why?” she couldn’t help asking. “Why here?”

He hesitated for an instant. “Someone sent me a ticket.”

Rafe! “So you came? Just because you received a ticket?”

“I had another reason.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “I recently bought a ranch.”

So the wanderlust had finally left Chaz McIntyre. “And this ranch requires a wife?”

“Yes.” Bald. Abrupt. He spoke the word in a tone that warned he wouldn’t take kindly to questions.

Too bad. She had questions and a lot of them. Did he really expect to show up at the ball and entice someone to the altar with just his good looks? He'd be satisfied married to such a shallow, undemanding woman? “Why do you want a wife, Chaz?”

He took a long drink of coffee, as though debating how much to say. She suspected it would be as little as possible. “The ranch is in need of repair. Ican handle the structural changes, but not the rest.”

“What rest?”

His mouth compressed. “It’s a bachelor’s residence. There isn’t a female within miles. The place needs a woman’s touch.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re getting married so you’ll have someone to coordinate throw pillows?”

He slammed his mug to the table. “No! Ineed someone who can create a ho—” With a muttered oath, he looked away, tension vibrating along every line of hisbody.

“A home?” she finished in a gentle voice.

“Yeah.”

He hadn’t meant to admit so much. Dusky color rode his angled cheekbones and his features compressed into taut lines, etched there by more than the sum total of thirty-one years. No doubt they’d been a hard thirty-one years, filled with disillusionment and pain, his face weather-beaten into the sort of creases women found irresistible on men and dreaded seeing in their own mirrors. He thrust a hand through his hair, combing the sun-kissed streaks on top into the crisp nut-brown strands beneath.

“I gather you prefer more than a housekeeper or interior decorator?”

“A lot more.”

“And what are you willing to give in return?”

He didn’t like the question. “What do you want?” he asked warily.

“That isn’t what I asked. Iassume you’re offering a home and basic creature comforts.”

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