LITMIR.BIZ

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suspected Ms. Josie Williams would be nothing like any girl he’d ever dated. Callum only asked out confident career women who knew what they wanted, then went out and got it for themselves. Girls with balls, for want of a better word. Invariably beautiful, brainy and bold, they liked male company—and sex—but had no desire to marry at this stage in their lives. If ever.

      Callum had had relationships with a series of such women over the past few years, and he’d remained friends with almost all of them after he’d moved on. Only once had he chosen poorly, a New York divorcée who had seemed an assertive independent spirit on the surface, but who was secretly a shattered and needy soul, ripe and ready to create havoc in Callum’s life when the relationship ended.

      Having a firsthand experience with that kind of Fatal Attraction scenario had made Callum a once-bitten, twice shy kind of guy, partly because he never wanted to be subjected to that kind of personal harassment again. But mostly because he didn’t want to be responsible for hurting another woman like he’d obviously hurt Meg. He always made it his business these days to find out lots about a female before he asked her out, as well as keeping his eyes wide open during their first date. If there was any hint of emotional vulnerability or instability, then it was a peck on the cheek at the end of the night, and a swift adieu.

      Callum suspected Ms. Josie Williams would disqualify herself from being a regular date of his on every level.

      No, thinking of her as a regular date wasn’t going to work. He’d have to do what he really wasn’t all that good at.

      Act.

      Oh, well. He could only do his best. With a resigned sigh, Callum climbed out of his car, locked it and headed along the path which led past the garage and down some stone steps onto an L-shaped colonnaded porch.

      The front door was in a recessed alcove, not visible from the street, with an elegant lamp light overhead, stained glass windows on either side and a doorbell in its middle. Callum pressed the button and waited. No one came, despite the rather loud chime echoing through the house.

      Callum was about to press the bell again when the door was whisked open and he was confronted by a very different Josie Williams than the one he’d pictured. At least, he assumed the ravishing creature standing before him was Josie Williams, given she was around the right age and dressed to kill in a smashing red evening gown.

      Wow! he thought, as his surprised eyes took in every inch of his date from the top of her shiny dark head to the tip of her open-toed high heels. This was one great-looking girl. She had it all. Long glossy black hair. Gorgeous olive skin. Sexy cat’s eyes. Cute little turned-up nose. And a mouth to drive a man wild!

      And that was just her face and hair.

      Her figure was equally sensational, and exactly the way Callum liked a woman’s body. Tall and slender, with narrow hips and breasts that were full without being top-heavy. His gaze returned to linger on those very nice and obviously braless breasts, which were cupped sexily by the cut of the dress, the halterneck style lifting them up and together into a very eye-catching cleavage.

      Callum was certainly having trouble taking his eyes off her cleavage. Why such a hot-looking babe didn’t have a real boyfriend to take her wherever she might want to go on a Saturday night was more than a mystery. It was a crime!

      Whatever the reason, Callum’s feelings toward the evening took a definite turn for the better. Of course, his date could be a total no-no in the brains department, but spending a few hours with her sure wouldn’t be hard on his eyes. Or his ego.

      “Ms. Williams, I presume,” he said with a smile.

      She smiled back—if a little nervously.

      “Yes. That’s right. And you must be Beau Grainger? Come in for a minute.”

      Callum nodded and followed her inside, privately thinking it was going to be difficult answering to such a stupid name all evening.

      “You’re different from what I pictured,” she said, a slight frown gathering on her high forehead as she looked him up and down.

      He could have said the same about her.

      “In what way?” he asked, wondering all of a sudden if she was disappointed. Maybe the agency had described Clay to her and she’d been expecting a real pretty boy. Or maybe she’d just formed a mental picture in her head from talking to his sweet-talking brother the other night on the phone. It was as well that their voices were similar or she’d be saying he sounded different as well.

      “You look older,” she told him.

      “I’ve always looked old for my age,” he said by way of an excuse. Naturally, he did look older than Clay’s twenty-four. He was thirty, going on thirty-one.

      “Does my looking older present a problem for you?” he added, the thought crossing Callum’s mind that maybe she’d wanted a younger boyfriend on her arm. Who knew what her secret agenda might be? She certainly hadn’t hired an escort because she couldn’t get a date herself the normal way.

      “Oh, no, no, not at all,” she denied, but Callum thought he detected something in her expressive brown eyes. Guilt, perhaps? No, not guilt. Embarrassment. She was embarrassed by this situation.

      Odd, since she was the one who’d orchestrated it.

      “Better you do look older, I suppose,” she went on a bit brusquely. “I mean, given that I’m twenty-eight and you’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

      Callum frowned over the puzzle of this stunning twenty-eight-year-old. “Would you mind my asking why a girl like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend for real?”

      She laughed a small, dry laugh. “In actual fact, I did have a boyfriend. Till last weekend.”

      “What happened?”

      Her eyes flashed with remembered anger. “I found out he didn’t want what I wanted, and we came to an abrupt parting of the ways.”

      “Aah…” Callum didn’t need to ask any more questions. Relationships were not easy, and many ended badly and prematurely, especially for the girls who wanted wedding bells and baby bootees. And, let’s face it, a lot of them did.

      Most guys weren’t in any rush to get to the altar. Nowadays, the singles scene was a sexual smorgasbord and men tended to put off marriage till they themselves wanted to settle down and have a family. Most girls, however, were different.

      At twenty-eight, Josie Williams was already at that age where she’d be seriously looking for a husband, whereas it was highly likely that all her boyfriend had had in mind was more fun and games.

      “You didn’t have any other male friend you could ask to take you to your reunion?” Callum continued, wanting to put all the pieces of her puzzle together here.

      “No,” she confessed. “No one appropriate. Certainly no one as impressive as you.”

      When she looked him up and down again with admiring eyes, Callum wasn’t sure if he felt flattered or flustered. He’d never considered himself all that good-looking. He certainly wasn’t in Clay’s league.

      Admittedly, his tall, broad-shouldered frame looked pretty good in the superbly tailored tux he’d bought when he was working in Milan last year. And as Clay had said, he did have a great tan at the moment.

      Maybe his date had a yen for bronze and brawn.

      Hell, he seriously hoped not. He was here to do a job, not be seduced by some female on the rebound, no matter how gorgeous she was. Damn, but he wished she’d stop looking at him like he was a cool beer and she’d just emerged from the Sahara Desert after a six-month trek.

      As though reading his mind, she stopped the staring, but not before a quivery little shudder ran down her spine.

      Who knew what she’d been thinking. It was probably best he didn’t know. Nothing turned Callum on more than his date being turned on.

      “I suppose I should

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