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One Perfect Man
Lynda Sandoval
THE PERFECT NIGHT…Single-minded events planner Erica Goncalves was stuck on maintaining her independence–even if it meant turning down a job to keep a sexy single father away. But after he made an offer she couldn't refuse, Miss Independence learned that passionate love could smolder but not smother.COULD IT LEAD TO A LIFETIME OF MORE?Tomas Garza needed Erica's help turning his daughter Hope's quinceañera into the perfect night. And though he was immediately drawn to Erica, Tomas wouldn't risk having his daughter's heart broken–or his own–by getting involved with a woman who swore home and hearth were not for her. Still, he found Erica irresistible. Could he convince this career woman to turn in her single status for the family plan?
What in the hell had he been thinking?
After fourteen years of avoiding even the remote possibility of entanglements that might put his daughter in a vulnerable position, he’d willingly brought a beautiful woman into his house, into all their lives, even if only for business reasons. She was here, and the memory of her, he knew, would linger even when she’d left.
His daughter liked her. His grandmother liked her.
He even liked her, maybe a little too much.
He avoided entanglements, sure, but he’d never claimed to be celibate, and right now his libido was in rage mode. Damn. What had he been thinking, indeed?
Dear Reader,
Well, June may be the traditional month for weddings, but we here at Silhouette find June is busting out all over—with babies! We begin with Christine Rimmer’s Fifty Ways To Say I’m Pregnant. When bound-for-the-big-city Starr Bravo shares a night of passion with the rancher she’s always loved, she finds herself in the family way. But how to tell him? Fifty Ways is a continuation of Christine’s Bravo Family saga, so look for the BRAVO FAMILY TIES flash. And for those of you who remember Christine’s JONES GANG series, you’ll be delighted with the cameo appearance of an old friend….
Next, Joan Elliott Pickart continues her miniseries THE BABY BET: MACALLISTER’S GIFTS with Accidental Family, the story of a day-care center worker and a single dad with amnesia who find themselves falling for each other as she cares for their children together. And there’s another CAVANAUGH JUSTICE offering in Special Edition from Marie Ferrarella: in Cavanaugh’s Woman, an actress researching a film role needs a top cop—and Shaw Cavanaugh fits the bill nicely. Hot August Nights by Christine Flynn continues THE KENDRICKS OF CAMELOT miniseries, in which the reserved, poised Kendrick daughter finds her one-night stand with the town playboy coming back to haunt her in a big way. Janis Reams Hudson begins MEN OF CHEROKEE ROSE with The Daddy Survey, in which two little girls go all out to get their mother a new husband. And don’t miss One Perfect Man, in which almost-new author Lynda Sandoval tells the story of a career-minded events planner who has never had time for romance until she gets roped into planning a party for the daughter of a devastatingly handsome single father. So enjoy the rising temperatures, all six of these wonderful romances…and don’t forget to come back next month for six more, in Silhouette Special Edition.
Happy Reading!
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
One Perfect Man
Lynda Sandoval
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For two of my biggest supporters, my uncles Arsenio Sandoval and Ray Sandoval.
Thanks for making me feel like what I do is important.
Big thanks to the following people for the help and support they gave me while I wrote this
book: Amy Sandrin, Terri Clark and LaRita Heet, my venerable writing pals and critiquers.
Patricia McLinn—for keeping me honest, Nicole Burnham—for the chats and confidences,
Karen Templeton, for the nod! (You rule.) Gail Chasan, my editor. I’m so thrilled to be
“one of yours.” Jenny Bent, my agent, friend and wise adviser. A million times, thanks (dude).
My mom, Neva Sandoval. My biggest fan! I love you. And to Trent, for all the ongoing
support, and my best dog-pal, Smidgey, with much love. I swear I’ll change out of my
fleece footie pajamas more often as I write the next book. <g>
LYNDA SANDOVAL
is a former police officer who exchanged the excitement of that career for blissfully isolated days creating stories she hopes readers will love. Though she’s also worked as a youth mental health and runaway crisis counselor, a television extra, a trade-show art salesperson, a European tour guide and a bookkeeper for an exotic bird and reptile company—among other weird jobs—Lynda’s favorite career, by far, is writing books. In addition to romance, Lynda writes women’s fiction and young-adult novels, and in her spare time, she loves to travel, quilt, bid on eBay, hike, read and spend time with her dog. Lynda also works part-time as an emergency fire/medical dispatcher for the fire department. Readers are invited to visit Lynda on the Web at www.LyndaLynda.com, or to send mail with a SASE for reply to P.O. Box 1018, Conifer, CO 80433-1018.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
There are two lasting bequests we can give our children:
One is roots. The other is wings.
—Hodding Carter, Jr.
Erica Gonçalves clutched her cell phone between ear and shoulder—no small feat considering the contraption was about the size of her palm and flat as a compact. The side of her head felt superglued to her shoulder, and the opposite side of her neck had stretched to the point where she’d likely need alternating heat and ice tomorrow just to function. She paid only scant attention to her mother’s voice on the other end of the line as she moved around the soon-to-be-full hotel meeting room with purposeful strides, assuring every minute detail had been attended to before everyone arrived.
Nothing annoyed her more than a poorly planned meeting, and seeing as how this was her dog-and-pony show, she wouldn’t stand for anything less than efficient structure, smooth flow and a high degree of productivity. Time was money, after all, and she never seemed to have enough of either. If she did, she’d be running her own event-planning company instead of working for someone else. Not that she didn’t love her job. She did. But as far as she was concerned, the more freedom and control she had in all aspects of her life, the better.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said, m’ija?”
Oops. “Yes, Mama,” she fibbed. “I’m sorry. I’m doing a million things at once.”
“You should slow down, honey. Take a breath.”
“No time.” She flicked her wrist over and checked the sleek black face of the Saint Honoré watch she’d splurged on during her last vacation—a solo trip to Paris last summer. Had it really been almost a year since she’d had a break? “My meeting starts in—ugh! Too soon. I need to go over the agenda one more time.” A subtle hint. She waited. Unfortunately Mama didn’t pick up on it. Erica stifled a sigh. “What was it you were saying?”
“Just wondering why that boss of yours always makes you travel alone. A woman alone. It makes no sense to me.”
Erica couldn’t manage to stifle the sigh a second time, not when faced with this dead horse of a topic her mother insisted upon beating. How many times could they go around about this? “He doesn’t make me travel, Mama. I’ve told you before. I enjoy this part of my career. I like the freedom.”
“Freedom.” Erica heard the inelegant snort across the line, a sure sign her mother was going to launch into the familiar refrain. “Don’t get used to that so-called freedom, baby—”
Erica began to mouth the words along with her mother, words to a speech she’d heard hundreds of times. She even pantomimed the finger wag she was sure her mother had going on the other end of the line.
“Once you marry and have children, your place is at home with them, not—”
“—gallivanting around the globe,” Erica finished, her tone droll. The sixty-some-odd-mile drive from Santa Fe to Las Vegas, New Mexico didn’t count as globe-trotting in most people’s books, but Susana Gonçalves’s book told another story altogether. If she could keep her children within the city limits of Santa Fe until she ascended to the pearly gates, her life would be considered a success.
“Exactly,” the older woman said. “A husband and children will nip all this travel in the bud, so no sense getting accustomed to it. That’s all.”
Annoyance pricked at the calm reserve Erica tried so hard to cultivate prior to meeting with colleagues. She took a moment to line up the dry-erase markers in front of the whiteboard and straighten the projector screen. And breathe.
“Did you hear me?”
“Oh yeah, I heard you.” The cell phone slipped from its precarious shoulder clutch, but Erica caught it in midair and held it back to her ear. “Which is exactly why a husband and children aren’t in my future, Mother, a fact you well know.”
“Oh, honey, you talk, but—”
“Are you listening to me?” Erica pronounced each word with crisp, controlled clarity. “Do you ever hear what I’m saying?”
“I just don’t want you to give up hope.”
A fireball of frustration ignited in Erica’s chest. Hot blood pounded in her ears. “Hope! Hope?” She smacked her palm to her forehead, all attempts to stay calm and cool rendered instantly futile. “Listen to yourself, Mama. Why does it always come back to this? What you fail to acknowledge is that some women have no desire to fulfill the roles of wife and mother, and your daughter is one of those women.”
“But, it’s important, honey, and I worry—”
“Why is it so damn important? I take perfectly good care of myself. You always seem to ‘worry’ just when I need to be focused before an important presentation or meeting.” She lowered her voice to a rasp, glancing at the door to make sure no one had showed up early to catch her in mid-rant. She had a business reputation to uphold, after all. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost think you were trying to sabotage my career.”
“Don’t be silly. You do know me better.”
True. But, still. Erica closed her eyes and counted to ten in English, then in Spanish. “Mama, listen to me. Six very important words. I don’t want marriage and family. I have no desire to raise human beings, and there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. I can’t even keep plants alive. Not to mention—do you remember what happened to my hamster, Morton?”
“Hamsters don’t live forever. You were only twelve.”
“Old enough to know better.”
“Hmph.”
Erica sighed. “I am simply not suited to your role. You need to accept the facts.”
“You can learn.”
“Sure, if I wanted to. The point is, I don’t want to.” She clenched her fist against her chest with fervor, though her mother couldn’t see her. “I love my career and my independence, and I love to travel. Alone. I want my life exactly the way it is. Why can’t you respect that?”
Susana uttered an unhappy sound. “Was it so bad, Erica? Growing up with a full-time mother in the home? So bad that the very thought of walking in your mother’s footsteps makes you speak to her with such disrespect?”
“I’m—” Erica bit her lip as defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders. She furrowed her fingers slowly through her hair and willed the bite from her tone. “I don’t mean to disrespect you, Mama. You know that. And, of course I don’t regret growing up in a traditional family. I loved having you there.” She struggled for words. How could she explain? “But living that way, putting the family first, was your choice, right?”
“Of course.”
As much as Erica doubted the veracity of her mother’s answer, she nevertheless went with it. “Well, all I’m asking for is my choice, as well. I am walking in your footsteps, Mama,” Erica said, feeling like a liar. In truth, her mother gave up too much of herself for the life she led. Erica was trying to avoid her mother’s footsteps—at least those she took after marriage. “Can’t you see?” She paused, hoping this time it would sink in. “I’m trying to live the life of my choosing. That’s all. Just like you did. My choice is simply different from yours.”
“Don’t you want love, m’ija?”
Erica eased out a breath. Sure, it would be great to have the love of a lifetime yadda, yadda, yadda. Who wouldn’t want that? Unfortunately, that type of love was an empty Hollywood concept. Real love came with strings and ties and required sacrifices she wasn’t willing to make. Real love grabbed you and took up camp in your world, like an occupying force. Real love twisted your life around and left you with the one thing she absolutely refused to have: regrets.
So, she wouldn’t experience marital love in her life, but that didn’t matter to her. She’d find companionship and sex along the way, with men who wouldn’t compromise her goals, men with their own goals, and she’d have her independence. Not a whole lot sounded better than that.
“I love my career,” she said, finally, knowing she could never adequately explain it to her mother. “That’s enough.”
Silence hung between them like a tug-of-war rope. Erica was tired of all the yanking and balancing. “But I really have to go. The artisans will be here soon and I want to be composed.”
“You’re always composed, little one. Too composed for your own good.” Mama laughed, but sounded tired. “You’re a regular Mona Lisa, don’t you know that?”
“Ha.” A grudging smile twitched Erica’s mouth.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, m’ija.”
“You didn’t,” Erica lied, to keep the peace. “Look, I’ll call you tonight. Okay?” She really did love her mother.
“Okay. Is your hotel room safe?”
Erica rolled her eyes. No, she didn’t know any better, so she’d taken a room in the local crack house. “Of course, Mama. It’s a small town, remember? Only sixty miles from home. I’m fine. The hotel is beautiful. Nothing to worry about.”
“So you claim. The optimism of youth.” Another unsettled sigh came through the line. “Well, then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say.”
“Okay, then.” Erica rolled her hand. Get to the goodbye. C’mon, Mama, please.
“Good luck with your meeting. Be careful, and use the dead bolt and the chain when you’re in the room.”
“Always do,” Erica sang, in an overly patient voice.
“And keep your eyes out for available men,” Susana said in a rush. “Be open-minded. That’s all I’m saying. Life is all about options, baby.”
“Mama!”
“Bueno, bye.”
