Page 110 of Vengeful Vows
“It’s possible the attraction would develop after you meet someone. Her choice of conversation, the way she moves or looks at you.” She shifted. “Pheromones.”
Those, he was starting to believe in. Keeping his mind on the folders, he said, “I see. My mother hopes I will select a bride, whether I want to fuck her or not?”
Hot pink scorched Hope’s cheekbones before she recovered. “So, you would rather have a spine-tingling attraction to someone who consumes you?”
“No.” He’d had that. Once. With Emma, in college. He’d been crazy enough about her that he’d bought her a stunning ring.
He had been invited to join her family for Christmas brunch, and he’d intended to propose then. Unbeknownst to him, Emma had been so intent on getting married that she’d been juggling dates with three different men. One of them had popped the question on Christmas Eve in front of the tree’s twinkling lights.
When she’d called to let him know, she wasn’t apologetic. She reminded him she wanted a wedding as a college graduation present, and Aaron had offered her just that. It was nothing personal. She would have been happy marrying any of them.
Rafe had hit the local bar near a shopping center. When he left, there’d been a red kettle set up outside. A man nearby was ringing a bell and asking for charitable donations. Rafe stuffed her ring through the slot and accepted the candy the bell ringer offered as thanks.
A sucker.If there’d ever been a more appropriate gesture, he didn’t recall it.
Rafe had spent every day until the new year in an alcohol-induced stupor, calling her at all hours, sending desperate text messages, even driving to her home in a stupid and embarrassing attempt to get her to change her mind.
“Mr. Sterling?” Hope’s questioning voice cut through the morose memories.
He flipped the folder closed without reading any of the pages. He refused to be out of control over a woman ever again. But if he was expected to marry and produce an heir or two, he should at least want to go to bed with her.
“Perhaps of the three C’s, compatibility and commitment are more important than chemistry?”
How much longer until he could dismiss her?
When he didn’t answer, she filled the silence. “Can you tell me what it was about the first two candidates that didn’t suit your needs? It will help me refine the search.”
“Ms. Malloy…” He struggled to leash his raging impatience. “Show some fucking mercy, will you? Until ten minutes ago, I didn’t know I needed acandidate.”
She edged the third folder toward him.
With great reluctance but with a sudden urge to get through this, he thumbed it open. Another blonde. Another perfect smile. Another impeccable pedigree. “Since I didn’t fill in your forms, I assume it was my mother who decided what college degrees and background were important?”
“Your sister rounded it out as far as activities you enjoy.”
“Yet I don’t see any of them who like to ride a mountain bike.”
“Not a huge demand in this part of Texas.”
“Kayaking?”
“I’ll add that to the next search.”
He gave in to curiosity. “Was Celeste consulted?”
“I invited her to be part of process. She declined.”
If Celeste had been involved, perhaps there would have been a redhead or a brunette. Even someone with pink toenails in peekaboo shoes.
For the second time, he resisted the impulse to hurl the files in the trash. Instead, he opened his top drawer and swept the offensive lot inside, then slammed it shut.
Hope uncrossed her legs and leaned toward him. Then, evidently thinking better of it, she sat back and recrossed them.
He swore her skin whispered like the promise of sin.
“Perhaps you should consider the options at a more convenient time,” she suggested.
“I’ll see you receive full payment.” He stood.