Towson, Maryland

WYNNE SOMMERS sat on the floor of her apartment and cupped her chin, her pale brows drawn together in thought. “Do you know what I really need, Laura?”

Her friend snorted, folding clothes into a large moving box. “Sure I know. You need to have your head examined if you still intend to go through with this ridiculous idea.”

“No…What I really need is a knight in shining armor. A protector.”

Laura shoved the box to one side and glared. “Oh, for crying out loud! Why don’t you just wish for Prince Charming, a palace and a million dollars while you’re at it? It’s just as realistic.” She threw up her hands in despair. “Listen to me talking about realism, and to you of all people. A woman planning to marry a complete stranger wouldn’t recognize reality if it bit her on the—”

“Yes?” Wynne questioned, amusement clear in her voice. “Bit me where?”

“Oh, forget it,” Laura muttered. “Why do I bother?”

Wynne smiled, not in the least offended by her friend’s bluntness. “Because you care. And in case you’ve forgotten, I know all about reality and being realistic. It hasn’t worked for me, which is why I’m willing to give the alternative a try.”

“I know,” Laura said, contritely. “But to marry a complete stranger—”

“My point exactly. Since I am going to marry a complete stranger, why not pick one with all the qualities I need?”

“Because it’s crazy. It’s just asking for trouble.” Laura’s gaze grew concerned. “Please, don’t do this. There has to be another solution.”

“You know there isn’t,” Wynne said with calm finality. “I’ve lost my job, my apartment and I’m out of money. This is the only option left. It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

Laura frowned. “What do you mean you’re out of money?” she demanded. “What happened to your savings?”

“I spent every last penny on my ticket to the ball. I had to. It was the only way to find a husband by the end of the month.”

A long silence stretched between them. Wynne knew she’d upset her friend, but she had no choice. From the moment she’d found out about the Cinderella Ball, she’d known it was the answer to her prayers. It had been a fluke that she’d seen the advertisement at all—a newspaper left at the restaurant where she’d worked, a gust of wind from an open doorway, pages of newsprint blowing to the floor and…And there it was. A small, elegant ad that had caught her eye and offered a chance of a lifetime.

The Cinderella Ball, it had read. Find romance. Find your Prince Charming. Find the woman of your dreams. The Cinderella Ball offers the opportunity for immediate matrimony. Come to the ball single and leave happily wed. And it had given a phone number, a number she’d called that very night. A ticket to the ball had been exorbitant,

the application form detailed and thorough. But she’d apparently passed whatever investigative process they required and been accepted as a guest to the ball.

Unable to resist, Wynne crossed to the scarred dining table at the far end of the room and stared down at the thick gold-embossed envelope she’d placed on her best remaining china plate. It had arrived earlier that day, hand-delivered by a liveried messenger along with a card that read, “The Montagues wish you joy and success as you embark on your search for matrimonial happiness. ”Taking a deep breath, she opened the envelope again, removing the white velvet pouch inside.

Reverently she ran a callused fingertip over the pouch, then slid the surprisingly heavy gilt “ticket” from its nest. The metallic wafer caught the light from the overhead bulb and shimmered as though alive, flooding the drab room with a brilliant, golden promise. She’d done the right thing, she assured herself, made, the only possible decision. Just holding the engraved ticket filled her with that certainty.

Laura came to stand behind her. “I’m sorry, Wynne,” she said. “I didn’t mean to criticize. It’s just…I worry about you. You don’t always see people the way they really are, and I’m afraid one of these days someone will take advantage of you.”

“I guess that’s all the more reason I should get married. My husband can make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“What if he takes advantage of you?”

Wynne laughed. “I wouldn’t marry a man like that. That’s why I’m going to the Cinderella Ball. The man I find will be special.” She smiled with dreamy certainty. “He’ll be good and kind, patient and loving. Strong. Fair.”

“Yeah, right. A knight in shining armor. A protector.”

A small frown creased Wynne’s brow. “I know women aren’t supposed to need protection. They’re not even supposed to want it anymore. Do you think he’ll mind? It won’t be for long. Just until Mrs. Marsh is taken care of.”

“You aren’t going to tell him, are you?” Laura demanded bluntly. “Not everything?”

“It’s only fair.”

Laura planted her hands on Wynne’s shoulders and turned her around. “Listen, my friend. I ’ll go along with this crazy scheme, I’ll even help in any way I can. But there’s one condition.”

“Only one?” Wynne teased.

“Just one. You aren’t to tell him the truth until after you’re married.”

“But—”

“Look what happened when Brett found out. He ended your engagement.” Wynne grimaced. “He obviously wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

“Nor was Jerry. Nor was Kevin. The minute they found out, they both dumped you, too.”

“All that means is that knights are in scarce supply these days,” Wynne insisted.

“My point exactly. So if you take my advice, you’ll pick out your knight, wed him, bed him, then tell him the truth. That way he won’t have any choice but to help you.”

Reluctantly Wynne shook her head. “I can’t lie, Laura. You know I can’t.”

“Fine. Just don’t give him all the details. Be vague.” Laura glared. “You can be vague, I know you can. I’ve seen you do it often enough.”

Wynne peeked up at her friend. “I believe that’s thoughtful, not vague,” she offered.

“Trust me. I know vague when I see it and you’re vague.”

“Okay, but I can’t lie.”

“I’m not asking you to lie. Just be selective in what you tell him. I’m not joking, Wynne. I want your promise. I know how seriously you take promises. Swear to me that you’ll keep your mouth shut until the ring’s on your finger.”

Wynne frowned, hesitant to commit to something so contrary to her nature. “I promise I won’t tell him until after we’re married…unless he asks.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that good enough?”

“I guess it’ll have to do.” Laura sighed. “Let’s just hope he’s so enthralled by big green eyes and white-blond hair he doesn’t think to ask too many questions.”

“It’ll work out, you’ll see,” Wynne consoled. “Why, with any luck at all, he’ll be vague, too.”

Chesterfield, Texas

Jake Hondo glared at his attorney—even though said attorney was also his best friend. Correction. His only friend. “You told me you could get that stipulation in the will overturned,” he said in a furious undertone, yanking open a massive oak door reading, Dodson, Dodson and Bryant, Attorneys at Law.

Peter Bryant shrugged, practically jogging to keep up with his client. “I didn’t expect your cousin to contest it. If it hadn’t been for Randolph the judge might have let the condition slide. But that’s not possible now. I’m sorry, Jake. I did my best.”

“Your best, huh? Well, your best means that I have seven’ days to find myself a wife or I lose my inheritance.” He thrust a hand through pitch-black hair and gritted his teeth, struggling to control his anger. “Marriage. What a joke.”

“It’s not a dirty word. Marriage can be quite pleasant.”

“It’s a state of pleasantness I’ve managed to avoid for thirty-five years. Why spoil a perfect record at this late date?”

“Come into my office where we can discuss it in private,” Peter suggested, opening a doorway leading off the plush corridor. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, dropping his briefcase onto his desk.

“Only if it’s a hundred proof. Dammit, Peter. What the hell am I supposed to do now? What about a temporary deal? You know, one of those marriage of convenience things?”

Peter poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass tumbler and handed it to Jake. “Assuming you could find someone agreeable, there’s still one other detail you should keep in mind.”

Jake swallowed the whiskey and lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“I believe your grandfather ’s exact wording is…‘wedded and bedded,’” Peter ventured to clarify as he crossed to sit behind the desk.

“I know his exact—” Jake ground to a halt, slamming his empty glass onto the oak table top. “You can’t be serious! Tell me you don’t mean what I think you do.”

“’Fraid so. I gather your grandfather must have anticipated you’d try to create a loophole with a temporary arrangement. He hoped for a real marriage with a real wife and real kids.”

Jake waved an impatient hand. “I don’t give a damn what he hoped. Just explain the specifics. How the hell are they going to prove the marriage is consummated? Don’t tell me they’re going to have a doctor—”

“No, no,” Peter hastened to assure. “Though if your cousin had his way it might have come to that. The lady’s word will be sufficient.”

Jake balled his hands into fists, wishing he were still young and impetuous enough to give physical expression to his fury. “Any other details I should know about?”

“Not as far as the will is concerned, no. But I did suspect Randolph might try something devious, underhanded and unfortunately legal. So I devised a counter measure.” Peter smiled expansively as he pulled a thick, gold-embossed envelope from his desk drawer. “I believe this will help you find a temporary bride.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What is it? A list of candidates?”

“Close.” Peter patted the envelope. “I took the liberty of arranging for this the minute Randolph fired off his first salvo.”

“Get to the point, Bryant.”

“Sit down and I’ll explain.” He waited until Jake had complied before continuing. “Have you ever heard of the Cinderella Ball?”

“No. Nor am I in the mood for fairy tales.”

“This isn’t a fairy tale. Not exactly.” Peter grinned. “Though it is sort of sweet.”

“Please. Spare me.”

“You’re such a cynic,” the attorney observed, then held up his hands as though hoping to calm a threatening storm. “Relax. Since you’re not in the mood for a lengthy explanation, I’ll give you the short version.”

“Smart move.”

“I heard about this ball back in my college days. It would seem a couple by the name of Montague throws one of these affairs every five years because that’s how they first met—at a ball. One look and they fell madly in love. They were married by dawn the next day and have,,according to them, lived in wedded bliss ever since. By holding this Cinderella Ball, they’re hoping to give other couples a similar opportunity.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bull,” Jake stated bluntly. “I find it hard to believe anyone would be interested in attending something so ridiculous.”

“You’d be surprised,” Peter replied. “There are a lot of lonely people in the world. They want marriage and they want a partner who shares the same mind-set. All the ‘guests’ who request a ticket are investigated by a security company to weed out the psychos and weirdos. Those that pass scrutiny pay a hefty fee to attend. That alone culls the mix even further.”

“So you sent in my name?”

Peter nodded. “If we hit a snag with the will, I thought this might be a viable alternative.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Jake stood and crossed to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself another drink. “There has to be some other way. Find it.”

“As your lawyer, I’m telling you this is the only alternative. As your friend, I suggest you walk away. Forget the inheritance. Let Randolph have it.”

Jake’s expression hardened. “Not a chance.”

“Then you must marry.”

The words hung between them for a long moment. With a sigh, Jake nodded and sat down again. “Give me the details.”

“By attending this ball, you’re able to cut through all the usual first meeting nonsense and get right to the basics. Everyone who attends wants to marry, so it’s just a matter of finding a compatible spouse, one who shares your interests. In just a few minutes you can discuss and settle all sorts of issues, from finances to children. And no one is offended by such frankness.”

“They don’t have time to be,” Jake inserted.

Peter nodded. “Exactly.”

“So I wander around this place canvasing women to see who’d be willing to marry me, sleep with me and then walk away. Is that it?”

“That’s it, though I think I should warn you. The odds of finding someone who’s agreeable are next to nil.”

Privately Jake agreed. “And if I don’t find myself a wife?”

Peter shrugged. “Then I won’t make you reimburse me for the ticket.”

Jake actually smiled. “Fair enough. But what about a prenuptial agreement? There’s not much point in gaining my inheritance if some greedy little viper ’s going to snatch it away again.”

“I can draw up a document. Getting her to sign it will be your problem.”

A cold light entered Jake’s eyes. “She’ll sign it,” he assured curtly. “Or she’ll look elsewhere for a husband.”

“Then let me also warn you that without her having a lawyer representing her interests, the legality of the document may be at issue. She could contest it.”

“She won’t,” Jake stated with absolute certainty. “Otherwise she’ll find herself grabbing hold of more trouble than she can handle. The woman I marry won’t be some starry-eyed dreamer with visions of Prince Charming and fairy castles and happily-ever- afters dancing in her head. She’s going to be plain, practical and levelheaded. And once the terms of the will are met, she’s going to walk away without a backward glance. I guarantee it.”