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  BRIDE FOR SALE

  By Elysa Hendricks

  Copyright 2011

  Elysa Hendricks

  Cover images courtesy of Dreamstime

  Cover by Melody Simmons https://ebookindiecovers.com

  Erica Brier gave up on love a long time ago, but a chance meeting at a bridal show changes her world.

  "Well, what do you offer for this little number in white, worn by our own Erica Brier, owner of Fantasy Florals?"

  Erica gritted her teeth as George Langan, mayor of Council Falls, IL, started the bidding on the virginal white bridal gown she wore. To keep from lifting her skirts and dashing off the dais and out of gaily decorated hotel ballroom she clutched the bouquet of silk flowers she'd made up as a sample of her work for the show. Not that she'd get far, the dress had at least a twelve-foot train that weighed a ton.

  Once before she'd worn a white gown, though a much simpler one, and after that debacle she sworn she never would again, until Cara's heartfelt pleas had worn her down. Besides, Cara said, it wasn't for real and all money raised over the actual cost of the gown would go toward charity. How could she refuse? She couldn't, so here she was trussed up like a wedding Barbie doll being auctioned to the highest bidder.

  Pasting a smile on her lips, she blinked as flashes went off around her.

  "$500 dollars."

  Erica knew the first bid was ridiculously low for the beaded satin and lace dream of a gown her friend had created, but within minutes the figure rose to over $2,000. All she wanted was to have the whole thing over with. When Cara convinced her to attend Council Falls' first ever Bridal Show, Erica hadn't counted on being tricked into modeling the show's centerpiece attraction. After her own aborted nuptials, doing wedding arrangements and dealing with cooing love birds wasn't high on her list of favorite things. She hadn't really wanted to solicit more weddings, but business of any kind helped pay the monthly bills, so she grudgingly set up her booth.

  "Sold to the young lady and gentlemen in the rear for $4,750. Congratulations, sir," Mayor Langan boomed over the loud speaker.

  Relief washed through her. It was over. Now she could get out of this white nightmare and back into her normal jeans.

  The spotlight shifted to the Mayor. Blinking at the sudden darkness after the glare, she started across the dais toward the stairs.

  "Don't move." Cara hurried forward. "Just let me detach the train before you rip it. Then when the DJ starts playing you can go down on the floor and dance."

  "Dance! What are you talking about?"

  Standing at the side of the dais, Cara had the grace to blush. "Didn't I tell you? Didn't you read the show brochure?"

  No she hadn't. Bad enough she had to be here, she hadn't wanted to read about it, too. Dread started to grow in Erica's stomach. "Tell me what?"

  "Well, part of the deal is you have to dance with the customers. That's how I got the DJ to agree to play; he wants potential customers, the brides-to-be, to see what they'll look like on their wedding day dancing to his music."

  Erica threw up her hands. "You're all mad. This wedding mania is crazy. I can't do this."

  "Please, Erica. The Chicago press is here. This is my big chance to catch the eye of a major design house."

  Trapped again, Erica sighed in resignation knowing she couldn't ruin Cara's chance. "Lead me to my doom."

  "Thank you! Thank you. When I'm designing wedding gowns for the jet set I'll refer them all to you for flowers."

  "Gee thanks," Erica muttered to Cara's back. The last thing she wanted was to have to cater to a bunch of rich snobs. She'd had her fill with her ex-fiancé and his family. When her father died, leaving her and her mother deeply in debt, they'd insisted on calling off the engagement. After five years, their betrayal still stung.

  "May I have this dance?"

  Soft and smooth as well-worn denim a man's voice came out of the shadows. A sliver of unwanted awareness slid down Erica's spine as she turned and came face-to-face with the high bidder.

  Dressed in charcoal grey wool slacks and a white silk shirt, the collar open and the sleeves rolled back to his elbows exposing strong tanned arms, he was a study in contrasts. The expensive tailored clothing screamed big business, while his casual wearing of them said he valued blue-collar comfort. Dark hair, a bit too long for the average CEO, didn't quite touch his collar and a small gold hoop hung from one ear.

  Music started playing, a slow, romantic number. The man held out his hand to Erica. She placed her fingers in his palm. Warmth crept up her arm as he pulled her close and whirled her onto the dance floor.

  Five long years had passed since she'd felt a man's arms around her, a man's body against hers, since she'd been held in a strong embrace. His touch thawed the ice in her blood and it rushed through her veins like a bubbles in a shaken can of cola. His scent, a blend of crisp fall air and aftershave whispered past her nose.

  An excellent dancer, he whirled her around the floor, their movements completely in sync. She'd missed this, the ebb and flow of bodies to the sound of music, the subtle connection with another human being.

  To support herself and her mother as well as pay off her father's debts, she'd cut herself off from people, men in particular, and devoted her time to building her florist shop. In doing so, she'd entombed her joy and feminine needs in a deep, dark place, determined never again to expose herself to the hurt that caring for someone could cause.

  Now with a simple touch and dance this stranger awakened that part of Erica. And she hated him for it. He belonged to another.

  Where had that thought sprung from? She didn't want this man, this stranger. She didn't want any man.

  The music trailed to an end, but the man didn't step away.

  Both her mother and Cara told her it was a mistake to deny herself the company of men just because one man turned out to be a self-centered, social climbing jerk. But her ex's betrayal had shattered her easy trust.

  "You make a beautiful bride." The man's warm breath brushed her cheek.

  It had been a long time, but she recognized male interest when she heard it. The man was hitting on her with his fiancée standing only fifteen feet away. Oddly disappointed in him, and disgusted with herself for being attracted to him, she pulled out of his embrace and started to leave.

  "Wait." He touched her arm.

  Tempted, she hesitated, then over his shoulder she saw his fiancée approaching.

  "No!" In a swirl of silk and satin she fled the hall.

  In the ladies' room she sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Since her father's sudden death and her fiancé's desertion, Erica dammed up her tears behind hard work and denial. Now because one unavailable man expressed an interest the wall crumbled.

  The door opened and a young woman came in. Turning her face aside, Erica dashed the moisture from her cheeks and got up.

  "Here you are. Could you come out again for just one more dance? The lights were so low in the hall for that first one, I could barely see. The dress is so-o-o gorgeous. I really want to get a good look at it, 'cause at my wedding I'll be wearing it and all and won't be able to see how I look." She giggled. "We're about the same build and with your hair up, from the back we look pretty much the same. And the photographer from the paper didn't get a good shot. Besides Conlin would really like to dance with you again. I've never seen him so taken before. You're not married or anything, are you?"

  The young woman's rapid-fire conversation left Erica breathless and bemused. Without waiting for an answer the girl grabbed Erica's arm and tugged her out the door.

  "I'm Rebecca Winters, Becca for short." She continued her non-stop chatter as she pulled Erica across the hotel foyer.

  Rock music exploded from the hall. The man lea
ned against the doorframe. At their approach, he straightened. Erica felt a pang. She wished the light in his brown eyes were for her.

  "You found her," he said to Becca.

  She laughed and punched his shoulder. "It's not hard to find a woman dressed like a six-tiered wedding cake."

  "Hey, don't complain to me. You chose the thing. I told you to elope." With one hand he rubbed his shoulder, with the other he reached out and tried to ruffle Becca's hair. But she ducked under his arm and escaped into the hall.

  Erica listened to the banter between the two, increasingly confused.

  "I'd really like another dance." The light still shone in Conlin's eyes when he turned his gaze on Erica.

  She watched Becca throw herself into the small crowd on the dance floor and begin to gyrate.

  "I don't know. What about...."

  "Don't mind Becca. She suffers from a sad case of arrested development and pre-wedding nerves. I assure you her affliction isn't genetic. The rest of our family is perfectly normal." His strong fingers closed gently around hers.

  "The rest of your family?" Warmth and understanding swept through Erica.

  "Our parents and two older sisters are quite staid and respectable. Becca's the baby of the family. I'm afraid we've all spoiled her a bit rotten. Hence the outrageously expensive wedding dress. Personally, I think women should rent their dresses and the guys should buy the tux. At least the guys can wear the things again."

  The music shifted from hard driving Rock'N'Roll to a soft dreamy ballad of love lost and found.

  Erica didn't resist as Conlin drew her into his embrace and onto the dance floor.

  She looked up and smiled. "Women like to pass their bridal gowns down to their daughters."

  He held her close and whispered, "How do women feel about borrowing a dress from a future family member?"

  THE END

  COUNTERFEIT LOVE - EXCERPT

  The last thing high school teacher Jared Blake needs or wants is his attraction to his student - high school senior, Maggie McCade. The last thing computer security consultant and pretend high school student Maggie McCade needs or wants is to fall in love with her prime suspect – her teacher, Jared Blake.

  In the normal order of things Maggie McCade would be hot on the scent of the hunk standing at the front her high school math class. But in this incarnation he was off limits. Not only was Jared Blake a high school teacher - he was her teacher and her prime suspect.

  As if her first time through high school hadn't been bad enough, at twenty-nine being undercover as a high school student was pure hell for more reasons than one.

  She peered into the classroom. Good, his back was turned. She tried to ease into the room without being noticed.

  "I'm glad you could join us Miss McCade." He never even turned around. Under that thick blanket of shiny black hair the man had eyes in the back of his head.

  She groaned in defeat and dropped into her chair. Her bag slipped off her arm and crashed to the floor. The class tittered in amusement.

  Then Jared Blake did turn around. Again she considered how unfair life was. High school math teachers should be fussy middle-aged men, with thinning hair, myopic eyes, and pocket protectors. This man was gorgeous, tall and well built, with movie-star good looks.

  Somehow she made it through class without drawing further attention.

  "Homework is on the board. Page 29, problems 25 through 50. Class dismissed."

  She grabbed her bag and started to leave.

  "Ms. McCade could you stay a few minutes?"

  The bag slid with a thump back to the floor. What now? Was he getting suspicious? After four weeks, she thought she had this high school senior role nailed. "Yeah, what you need?"

  Jared – she had a hard time thinking of this hunk as Mr. Blake – leaned back against his desk at the front of the room, crossed his arms and gazed at her. His white shirt pulled taut over his broad chest revealing hard muscles he hadn't gotten by pushing chalk across a blackboard.

  Maggie felt her insides going liquid. Looks like his should be declared illegal. Nonsense. After over two years of celibacy, any man would look good. Then why wasn't she drooling over Mr. Hoffman, her squirrelly English teacher?

  She could count on one hand without using up all the fingers the number of men she'd been with, none of them memorable. So why did this man turn on the libido she thought dead and buried?

  She couldn't help track Jared as he walked over to her desk. The man moved like an athlete, his body sleek and toned. She could picture him dressed in an Armani suit controlling a corporate boardroom or better yet, dressed in a leather loincloth holding an equally scantily clad woman, preferably her. Why would a man with his looks, intelligence and innate charisma choose to teach a bunch of disinterested teenagers a plus b equals c?

  Leaning toward her, he laid a sheaf of papers on her desk. The subtle piney scent of his cologne wafted over her. His face was so close to hers she could make out each whisker on his cheek. Her mouth dried up. Why did the sight of this man's five o'clock shadow stir her?

  "You seem to be having some trouble with your assignments. You know I'm available for extra help before and after school as well as during some study periods."

  Available. God, the images his words conjured up in her mind drove out the rest of his speech. How she wished he were available to her. Then the teacher would become the student.

  "Ms. McCade? Maggie?"

  Her name on his well-shaped lips snapped her out of her daydream. "Sorry, Mr. Blake. Algebra is hard for me."

  "You're a bright young woman. You're doing well in your other classes, but you need this math credit to graduate. And right now you're on your way to failing."

  If only he knew.

  "Are you free after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays? I hold a tutoring session from three to four."

  "No, that's cheerleading practice." Who'd have ever pictured her as a cheerleader?

  "Before school?"

  She shook her head, but didn't give a reason. Some things were better off kept secret – like why she'd agreed to this ridiculous charade.

  "Well," he seemed hesitant. "Check your schedule. I'll see if I can arrange something to help you out."

  Yes! She had the man just about where she wanted him. She restrained her excitement and mumbled an affirmative before bolting out of the room. Once in the hall, she let her grin emerge. With what she knew about men in general and Jared Blake's background in specific, getting him to spill the beans should be a piece of cake. She'd seen the way he tried to keep his eyes off her, to play the part of Mr. Respectable School Teacher. She just hadn't thought it would take four weeks and failing grades to get him to move.

  Fudging her math assignments was hard. Numbers had always fascinated and amazed her. Though she loved the written word, give her the clean logic of math and computers any day. Maybe that's why Daniel Sterling, her boss, mentor, and friend, had pressed her into taking this crazy job.

  A local company, Reed Software had hired Daniel's firm, Sterling Securities to find out who'd hacked into their computers. Because an employee or family member of an employee were the prime suspects, the owner of the company wanted to keep the investigation quiet, they wanted to handle it themselves without police intervention.

  Someone had to get close to the teenage suspects. Daniel had asked or rather demanded Maggie play the part of his teenage daughter and high school student in their little charade. Though she'd like to believe he chose her because she was his best investigator, honesty forced her to admit her youthful looks got her the job. She was the only one of his crew who could pass as a teenager. Soon she'd get her chance to close this case and get on with her life. Daddy, as she teasingly referred to Daniel since the start of this job, would be so pleased.

  She hummed and did a little dance step from the latest cheerleading routine. She'd almost balked at joining the squad, but since one of the student suspects was a cheerleader, Maggie had caved in. It surprise
d her to discover she enjoyed the physical activity as well as the camaraderie of the other girls.

  As she moved through the crowded halls she answered greetings from other students. Since she'd started at Council Falls High School, student body 675, she'd been easily accepted. Her blonde, all-American good looks and friendly attitude made her popular. Of course, she thought cynically, her classic red Mustang convertible, her kick-ass wardrobe, and the generous allowance she'd insisted on, as part of the job, didn't hurt.

  Life was strange. She finally had the high school experience she'd dreamed about before. And it had only taken her twenty-nine years to get here.