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The Marriage Campaign
Michele Dunaway
Her PlatformCampaign fund-raiser Lisa Meyer has worked hard to be her own boss and will let nothing–especially romance–interfere with her success. Then fate places sexy Mark Smith back in her path and sparks begin to fly. But if she lets herself fall for Mark, will she lose all she's worked for?His OppositionTo Mark, Lisa is the perfect candidate for him to spend his life with. He's already shared one passionate kiss with her and can't resist the connection between them. Convincing her that they should treasure this second chance is another story, though. So Mark starts his own "marriage" campaign, one he's determined to win…!Sorority sisters, friends for life
“I need to clear the air.”
“Okay,” Mark said slowly, as if quite lost. “About what?”
“About this. Us. Our motivations.”
“I thought we’d done that already.” Mark frowned as he tried to comprehend the situation. “Today’s simply about having fun. I’ve got some great places in mind for tonight.”
Lisa crossed her arms over her chest. She and Mark couldn’t afford any miscommunication here. “Before I can go anywhere with you, I have to know how tonight is going to end.”
Mark shifted, planting his feet on the floor. He straightened but remained seated. The dark blue shirt set off his deep brown eyes, and his troubled gaze locked onto hers. “Tonight ends like any other night. I’ve already told you to stop worrying. We’re friends. I’m not going to seduce you.”
Adrenaline unlike any she’d ever experienced pulsed through her. “That’s the problem,” she said. “I really think you should.”
Dear Reader,
I have great friends. Three of them have been friends since high school, while others have been my friends since my college sorority days. All have been with me through thick and thin, good and bad, better and worse. My friends and I chose each other, and I’m a better person for having them in my life. Even though we all live far away from each other and our lives have taken different paths, we are always there for each other.
My AMERICAN BEAUTIES miniseries uses this concept of friendship. Lisa, Cecile and Tori are three single women who have been best friends ever since pledging the same sorority. The fourth sorority sister, Joann, is married with kids. While all are separated geographically, they know that they can always depend on each other. The bonds they have will never be broken.
I hope you enjoy Lisa’s story as much as I did writing it, and be sure to watch for Cecile’s and Tori’s stories in the future. As always, feel free to e-mail me at michele@micheledunaway.com.
Enjoy the romance,
Michele Dunaway
The Marriage Campaign
Michele Dunaway
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In first grade Michele Dunaway wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade she was determined to be both, and before her high school class reunion, she’d succeeded. In addition to writing romance, Michele is a nationally recognized high school English and journalism educator. Born and raised in a west county suburb of St. Louis, Michele has traveled extensively, with the cities and places she’s visited often becoming settings for her stories. Described as a woman who does too much but doesn’t know how to stop, Michele gardens five acres in her spare time and shares her life with two young daughters, six lazy house cats, one dwarf rabbit and two tankfuls of fish.
Michele loves to hear from readers, and you can reach her via her Web site, www.micheledunaway.com (http://www.micheledunaway.com).
Books by Michele Dunaway
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
848—A LITTLE OFFICE ROMANCE
900—TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS
921—THE SIMPLY SCANDALOUS PRINCESS
931—CATCHING THE CORPORATE PLAYBOY
963—SWEEPING THE BRIDE AWAY
988—THE PLAYBOY’S PROTÉGÉE
1008—ABOUT LAST NIGHT…
1044—UNWRAPPING MR. WRIGHT
1056—EMERGENCY ENGAGEMENT
1100—LEGALLY TENDER
1116—CAPTURING THE COP
For all the students I have taught over the years, I hope the friendships you’ve made and continue to make last a lifetime.
And to my own friends, thanks again.
You mean the world to me.
Contents
Prologue (#ubd087e3a-a113-5987-a152-3f1bd8581f1f)
Chapter One (#uf584f362-179b-58d3-8715-2ed27f4d820b)
Chapter Two (#uc37ddb1e-8afc-5025-bf1e-7252f5b20def)
Chapter Three (#u24cbeb25-27f0-5ca5-9c3b-99a5edbf7e2a)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
She shouldn’t be kissing him. Not here, not like this. But when he lowered his mouth to hers, no amount of moral fiber could keep her from tasting his forbidden lips.
Mark tasted divine—of wedding cake and champagne. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Lisa Meyer said weakly as, for one moment, they came up for air.
“We should,” he said, leaning down again for another kiss.
“You’re my best friend’s brother,” she protested in moth-to-flame futility. “Your date…”
“Is just a friend,” he insisted, his dark eyes intense. “It’s you I want. Always have. Ever since we first met.”
“You’re drunk,” she said. But weren’t they all high on champagne and wedding magic? Joann’s parents, Mary Beth and Bud, had thrown quite a bash, and since everyone was staying at the reception hotel, no one had shown much restraint.
She and Mark were young, not quite twenty-two, the world at their feet, and his words made her giddy. Made her forget his playboy reputation now that all that charm was directed at her.
In her wildest dreams she’d never imagined her crush on Mark Smith coming to fruition like this.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. “I want to get you alone.”
Oh, she was so tempted, as the heat pooling low attested. But, as wedding party members, they weren’t free. Not yet. Not until the bride and her groom said their goodbyes, which was soon. “We still have duties,” she managed, her breath a little short.
“A half hour. No more,” he said. “I want you, Lisa. I’m not waiting any longer.”
“Okay,” she heard herself say as she somehow detached herself from his arms. Happiness consumed her and, coupled with all the champagne, she felt as if she were floating as they left the off-the-beaten-path corridor and returned to the hotel ballroom where the two-hundred-plus-person reception was being held.
“Lisa, there you are!” Tori, bridesmaid and another of Lisa’s best friends, grabbed her as she entered. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s time to help Joann change. Come on.”
And with that, Lisa got sidetracked. Her last glimpse of Mark was him disappearing into the crowd. She sighed and went to help Joann, her body humming with anticipation. She missed catching the bouquet. She tossed some rice. She found her nerves taut as the moment to join him finally came. But the crowd was still thick, and she found herself going in circles.
“Have you seen Mark?” she asked Cecile, another best friend. They were all members of Rho Sigma Gamma—the Roses.
“Nope,” Cecile answered. “Why? He’s scamming on everyone here tonight. His poor date.”
“She’s just a friend.”
“That’s what they all say,” Cecile said with a knowing nod. “Wait. There he is. Going out that door. That’s not who he came with, is it?”
Lisa glanced over. Mark was leading a tall brunette out a side exit door. He had his arm around her shoulder and was holding her close. “No,” Lisa said. “That’s not who he came with.”
“Well, if you need him, you better hurry up and catch him.”
Lisa shook her head. Mark Smith had said he wasn’t waiting any longer. How badly she’d misunderstood! “No,” she said, plastering a nonchalant expression on her face so Cecile wouldn’t suspect anything. “I don’t need him. It was nothing important.”
At least, not anymore.
Chapter One
Eight years later
That was the thing about funerals. You had to attend, and they were the absolute most inappropriate places to meet men. Which was why Lisa was trying hard to avoid staring at that tall, handsome guy across the way. After all, he’d started staring at her first.
Worse, he hadn’t let up.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” As the chaplain standing by the open grave droned on, Lisa Jean Meyer decided that she hated attending funerals, hated them even more than celebrating birthdays.
Birthdays made you feel old. Funerals made you feel mortal, as if you had too many things left to do and no time in which to do them. It didn’t matter if the burial was for someone you really didn’t know that well, as this one was, for funerals simply had a way of reminding you that you were about to turn thirty this year—and worse, that you were still single, with nary a promising prospect in sight, including that annoying hot guy standing behind the crowd on the other side of the grave.
He stood taller than those in the four rows in front of him, and his six-foot-plus height gave Lisa an excellent view of a head full of dark, silky hair. His eyes were a deep brown color, and when she glanced at him again, he held her gaze for the tiniest second before blinking and casually looking away. Despite the brevity of the connection, the encounter had left her with the oddest tingle, as if he were somehow familiar to her.
But that was impossible. She didn’t know anyone in St. Louis under the age of forty, aside from her coworkers. With her promotion to Herb’s lead fund-raiser formalized last week, Lisa had recently transferred from Jefferson City, and as soon as the November election was over, she’d be going back to the state capital. Of course, she hoped that would be with Herb’s gubernatorial victory.
Right now family duty called, and Lisa put the handsome mourner and the odd sense of déjà vu out of her mind. Dating and handsome men did not rate a spot in her top five priorities. The funeral had served as an unwelcome reminder that she seriously needed to spend more time with her parents, beyond required family holidays. Unfortunately her career often interfered with any good intentions: even now, her phone vibrated in her right pocket. Her career was priority number one.
Lisa sighed and tightened her arm around her petite mother’s shoulders. Funerals, no matter for whom, were depressing. “It’s okay,” Lisa whispered as her aunt’s cousin was lowered into the cold, hard ground.
A sharp wind swirled the leaves at her feet before climbing to toy with Lisa’s hair, causing her to shiver. The gust tore some of the blond strands loose from the chignon, and Lisa used her free hand to wipe the wayward locks away from her eyes. Her glove instead further damaged the stylist’s updo.
It was hard to believe that Easter had been the previous weekend, for spring had somehow missed St. Louis. Although the April fifteenth final-frost date had also come and gone, this year the trees were late in bringing forth green buds, and a last-minute freeze had decapitated the tulips and crocuses, leaving them wilting around the gray headstones. The north wind again whipped underneath the tent erected for the burial, and the ensuing chill penetrated Lisa’s skin despite the heavy black wool coat and tan leather gloves she wore.
“How are you holding up?” her mother asked. Blue eyes, so like Lisa’s own, reflected maternal concern.
Lisa stamped her feet slightly to keep the blood circulating. Her designer pumps did little to block the cold. “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you and Dad. I didn’t really know the man.”
“Well, you haven’t seen him since you were five,” her mother said as the minister mercifully ended the service. After everyone gave a relieved amen, Lisa’s mother added, “I hate that our family is drifting apart. We only seem to get together for weddings and funerals. Hopefully this is the last of the latter.”
“A double amen to that. Come on,” Lisa said, anxious to escape the cemetery. Now that the event was over and her family duties fulfilled, she had a fund-raising dinner that desperately required her attention. She led her mother away from the grave site and toward the line of cars snaking along the crushed gravel lane.
“So, will you be coming to Jud’s house?” her mother asked, mentioning Lisa’s uncle on her dad’s side. “He and Shelia are hosting the family lunch. Everyone would love to see you.”
Lisa shook her head. “I can’t.”
Disappointment etched her mother’s features and laced her tone. “Oh. You’re working.”
“I’m always working,” Lisa stressed, for truer words had never been spoken. Because from the very moment she’d stepped into high school and won her campaign for freshman class secretary, Lisa Meyer could be described in one word: driven. She’d risen through the popularity ranks, delivered on her campaign promises and exited her senior year as class president and year-book editor.
She’d had a bit of a rude awakening in college, discovering that she might not have the qualities required to be a big-league politician. Facing failure in the arena she loved, she’d found the next best thing and become a political fund-raiser and campaign coordinator extraordinaire.
After all, someone had to run the behind-the-scenes operations, and there she’d found her niche. Now her goal was seeing Herbert Usher elected the next governor of Missouri.
“You should be at the post-funeral lunch,” her mother chided gently. “Your father’s side of the family will all be there.”
From the corner of her eye Lisa caught a glimpse of the tall, handsome man who’d been staring. He cut an impressive figure as he strode diagonally across the field toward the end of the row of cars. The crowd that had braved the weather had been thick, a solid tribute to her family.
“Mom, I did try to pencil in the family lunch, but I’ve got some important conference calls to make as soon as I get back to the hotel. Tonight’s a major fund-raiser, my first since I’ve arrived in town. And I’ll have to see if someone at the salon has time to fix my hair.”
