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“Which night?” Corrie heard herself asking.
She’d never been a coward, but having Nick over for supper would perhaps be the greatest act of courage in her life.
“If not tomorrow night,” Nick said, “then the next night. Or the next.” He gave her a smile that slanted a little. “It’s rude to invite myself, but I hope you’ll overlook the bad manners.”
Now his smile widened and her heart fluttered wildly. “My, my, Corrie. You look like you think I might be up to no good.”
“Are you?” she dared softly. “Up to no good?”
“If I am, I’m confident you’ll set me straight.”
Susan Fox lives in Des Moines, Iowa. A lifelong fan of Westerns, cowboys and love stories with guaranteed happy endings, she tends to think of romantic heroes in terms of Stetsons and boots.
Fans may visit her Web site at www.susanfox.org
Books by Susan Fox
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3740—THE PRODIGAL WIFE
3764—CONTRACT BRIDE
3777—THE MARRIAGE COMMAND
3788—BRIDE OF CONVENIENCE
3796—A MARRIAGE WORTH WAITING FOR
The Bride Prize
Susan Fox
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
THE land was brutal and big, and her small ranch sat like a postage stamp in the vastness. The work was hard, the hours long. Dirt and sweat and sometimes blood made for a less than aesthetic or antiseptic environment. It wasn’t a safe environment either. The animals were large and even the best-behaved and best-trained could be dangerous on a bad day. Accidents happened, both to the unwary and to the vigilant. Things fouled up and broke down. Trouble could blow in from the west in a fierce storm or slither from beneath a rock.
Not the place for a lady, but Corrie Davis had given up on being a lady. There’d been a brief time at eighteen when she’d tried to rise above her plain-Jane, mostly tomboy life; a time when she’d gone out of her way to adapt to things like panty hose and makeup. She’d devoured books on etiquette from the local library, bought more than a few women’s magazines, and she’d spent a whole weekend in San Antonio to buy some extra dressy, extra feminine things.
Things which now hung, with tags still attached, in her closet, while the frilly unmentionables from that modest shopping spree languished in a drawer, unworn.
The man who’d inspired her brief rush toward femininity had unknowingly crushed the impulse with a few solemn words.
You’re bright, Corrie, and you’re sensible. I reckon you’ve figured out by now that you aren’t the girl for my brother. Our daddy has plans for Shane, plans for college, plans for him to take on his share of Merrick business. These next months and years, he’ll be testing his limits, finding his place…
Nick Merrick had paused then and given her a level look, his dark gaze impacting hers in a way that had made her heart pound with dread and shame, because she’d already sensed what he’d say next.
You won’t fit into that, Corrie. I’d hate to see you break your heart trying.
Much as hearing Nick Merrick say those things had hurt, he’d been right. She wouldn’t have fit into his father’s plans for his younger brother’s life. And she certainly wasn’t the woman Shane Merrick should marry. But that was because she’d had no wish to fit into Shane’s life and even fewer intentions of marrying him. Not then, not ever.
Corrie would ever be grateful that Nick had never figured out the truth: that he’d been the man she’d been in love with back then, not Shane. It had been Nick she’d hoped to attract with those pretty dresses and prissy manners. Letting her know so straightforwardly that he considered her unsuitable for his brother had seemed to confirm Nick’s personal opinion of her. He might as well have been speaking about himself.
And of course, since she’d hardly been the kind of girl men flocked around or
