LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter One

      Merlyn Forrest Steele’s eyes were the same shade of green as her father’s, but Jared Steele’s had a twinkle that, at the moment, she was too angry to match. She glared at him from the plush white depths of the horseshoe-shaped sofa, its covering emphasizing the jet blackness of her long hair.

      “It’s all your fault,” she told him shortly.

      His eyebrows arched. “What is?”

      “Adam.”

      He gave a world-weary sigh and stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his charcoal gray suit pants. His silver mustache twitched as he frowned. “I see what you mean,” he confessed. “I meant well.”

      “I didn’t mean your matchmaking attempts,” she explained. Her hand smoothed a wrinkle in her green silk slacks. “I meant the fact that you’re so rich.”

      “I often think of donating my fortune to charity and throwing myself on the mercy of strangers,” he murmured, tongue-in-cheek.

      She glared at him again. “I never know if it’s me or your money that men want,” she said. “Adam seemed to be head over heels in love with me, and I was…warming to him. Then I found out that he only got engaged to me because he had dreams of becoming your business partner! Now where in the world did he get an idea like that? Especially since he works for a rival computer company!”

      Her father turned away and looked out the window. “Look at that sun,” he said with enthusiasm. “Imagine, it’s spring already!”

      “Evading the issue, huh?” she challenged.

      He hunched his shoulders and glanced at her. “Well, darling, you aren’t ugly,” he reminded her.

      “I’m not poor, either—that’s the trouble.”

      “He seemed like a good prospect,” her father murmured defensively.

      So he had, Merlyn thought. Her father had introduced her to Adam James at a party. Jared Steele felt that, at twenty-six, his only child was ripe for the joys of wedded bliss. So for the past year he’d been flinging unsuspecting males at Merlyn’s feet in what she considered a pathetically obvious way. If her mother had still been alive, perhaps her father would have been too occupied to bother Merlyn. But, as it was, he was determined to marry her off, and no eligible bachelor of reasonable means escaped his eagle eye.

      Adam James had seemed to be a prize catch. A minor executive in a rival computer company, he had come to Jared’s attention at a computer conference. Her father had dragged him home to Merlyn as proudly as a hunting dog carrying a duck in its mouth.

      Adam, for his part, had seemed immediately smitten and had pursued Merlyn with considerable enthusiasm. Right up until the very end, she’d been fooled by his persuasive charm, despite the fact that only her mind agreed to the liaison. Her body had been ice-cold in his arms; somehow, he’d never managed to stir her. No man had managed that in her virginal life, although she was certain she had passion in her. She loved fast cars and excitement and all sorts of hobbies that her father had predicted would be the death of her.

      She hadn’t gotten over Adam in the month since their engagement had been broken. She’d gone off to France for two weeks and come back with a suntan, a sour disposition, and a grudge against her disappointed parent. Now she was bored again, and nagging him had become a rather satisfying diversion for her.

      “I want to be loved for myself,” she muttered.

      His eyebrows arched again. “I love you.”

      “Prove it,” she challenged. “Stop throwing men at me!”

      He threw up his hands. “My God, all I want is a few grandchildren!”

      “Adopt!”

      He glowered at her. “Shame on you, moaning over being rich. Plenty of women would love to walk in your shoes.”

      “Maybe I’d like to be poor for a change!” she shot back, rising from the sofa. “And have a chance to be liked for myself alone.”

      “So, do it,” he dared her, with narrowed eyes. “I dare you. If you think it’s so wonderful being poor, you go try it. I grew up with nothing, but you’ve always had the advantages. Let’s see you get along without them. For, say, a month.” His eyes twinkled mischievously and he wiggled his mustache, which had more hair in it than he had on his head. “Live without money. Work for your keep. And if you can manage that for a month, without telling anyone who you are or what you’re worth, I’ll swear off matchmaking for life. Cross my heart.”

      She pursed her lips, and her own green eyes began to twinkle. “A month, huh?”

      “A month.”

      “What kind of work could I do?”

      “You’ve got a degree in history,” he reminded her.

      “Lots of people have.”

      He looked thoughtful. “Yes, but I think I know a way you could use it.”

      She cocked her head warily.

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