An Impromptu Proposal Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Carla Cassidy

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “Please, Mr. Graves. Please find Sam for me.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he answered gruffly, oddly touched by her.

  As he watched her walk away again he noticed the shapely length of her legs beneath her dress. Definitely an attractive woman. He wondered if Sam Baker had chosen to walk away from her…

  Colleen. She was a bundle of contradictions. And those eyes, so blue and glittering with such deep emotion. They were the kind of eyes that could haunt a man. From the moment he’d gazed into them, he’d known he would take the case…

  Dear Reader,

  Take one married mom, add a surprise night of passion with her almost ex-husband, and what do you get? Welcome Home, Daddy! In Kristin Morgan’s wonderful Romance, Rachel and Ross Murdock are now blessed with a baby on the way—and a second chance at marriage. That means Ross has only nine months to show his wife he’s a FABULOUS FATHER!

  Now take an any-minute-mom-to-be whose baby decides to make an appearance while she’s snowbound at her handsome boss’s cabin. What do you get? An Unexpected Delivery by Laurie Paige—a BUNDLES OF JOY book that will bring a big smile.

  When one of THE BAKER BROOD hires a sexy detective to find her missing brother, she never expects to find herself walking down the aisle in Carla Cassidy’s An Impromptu Proposal.

  What’s a single daddy to do when he falls for a woman with no memory? What if she’s another man’s wife—or another child’s mother? Find out in Carol Grace’s The Rancher and the Lost Bride.

  Lynn Bulock’s And Mommy Makes Three tells the tale of a little boy who wants a mom—and finds one in the “Story Lady” at the local library. Problem is, Dad isn’t looking for a new Mrs.!

  In Elizabeth Krueger’s Family Mine, a very eligible bachelor returns to town, prepared to make an honest woman out of a single mother—but she has other ideas for him…

  Finally, take six irresistible, emotional love stories by six terrific authors—and what do you get? Silhouette Romance—every month!

  Enjoy every last one,

  Melissa Senate

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave. P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  An Impromptu Proposal

  Carla Cassidy

  Books by Carla Cassidy

  Silhouette Romance

  Patchwork Family #818

  Whatever Alex Wants… #856

  Fire and Spice #884

  Homespun Hearts #905

  Golden Girl #924

  Something New #942

  Pixie Dust #958

  The Littlest Matchmaker #978

  The Marriage Scheme #996

  Anything for Danny #1048

  *Deputy Daddy #1141

  *Mom in the Making #1147

  *An Impromptu Proposal #1152

  Silhouette Desire

  A Fleeting Moment #784

  Under the Boardwalk #882

  *The Baker Brood

  Silhouette Shadows

  Swamp Secrets #4

  Heart of the Beast #11

  Silent Screams #25

  Mystery Child #61

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  One of the Good Guys #531

  Try To Remember #560

  Fugitive Father #604

  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Shadows Short Stories 1993

  “Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”

  The Loop

  Getting it Right: Jessica

  CARLA CASSIDY

  is the author of ten young-adult novels, as well as many contemporary romances. She’s been a cheerleader for the Kansas City Chiefs football team and has traveled the East Coast as a singer and dancer in a band, but the greatest pleasure she’s had is in creating romance and happiness for readers.

  Chapter One

  Gideon Graves had suffered hangovers in the past, but even before opening his eyes, he knew this one was going to be the mother of all hangovers. He groaned softly, a vague memory of clams on half shells and shots of tequila filtering through his mind. Somebody had gotten married, but at the moment he couldn’t remember who it had been. He only remembered toasting the bride, the groom, the future, the past…whatever.

  Without opening his eyes, he knew it was still early. He could hear the sound of fishing boats taking off, their wakes causing his little houseboat to rock gently to and fro like an unborn baby in a womb.

  He groaned and rolled over, his hand automatically seeking a pack of cigarettes from the bedside stand. Instead his fingers closed around a package of candy, reminding him he’d quit the smoking habit a week before.

  “Damn,” he grumbled and pulled out a twist of the red licorice. Popping the end of it into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully, wondering how long it would be before the hangover headache disappeared. And how long would it be before the next job appeared? He’d finished his last assignment two weeks ago, and so far nothing new had cropped up. However, he wasn’t worried. He was good at what he did, and sooner or later somebody would need his particular skills. Besides, his head hurt too much to think too long or hard on any subject.

  What he needed was another couple of hours of sleep. He hadn’t stumbled to bed until nearly four, and it couldn’t be much later than six now.

  Finishing the licorice, he snuggled deeper beneath the blanket and fell easily into a deep, dreamless sleep. It felt as if he’d only been asleep a moment when he heard a light rapping on the door. “Go away,” he growled hoarsely, then moaned and gripped the sides of his head to keep it from rolling off his shoulders.

  The knock came again, this time louder, more persistent.

  “Damn.” Gideon cracked open his eyes, squinting at the early morning sunshine that streamed in the round porthole window. Gazing at his alarm, he saw it was just after eight o’clock. Who in the hell would be at his door at this hour?

  Groaning again, he stumbled out of bed and yanked on a pair of sweatpants. If the tenacious knocker was Fast Eddy he’d wring the kid’s scrawny little neck. “What?” he barked as he threw open his door.

  “Mr. Graves? Gideon Graves?”

  His early morning caller definitely wasn’t the teenage boy. Although the sun was at her back, making it impossible to see her features, her voice was low and musical, infinitely appealing. Even more appealing was the fact that the sun shone through her lightweight, gauzy dress, displaying the outline of distinctly feminine, shapely legs. “Yeah, what do you want?”

  There was a momentary pause. “Are you Gideon Graves? The private investigator?”

  “None other. Who are you?” There was something about the slightly arrogant edge to her voice that rankled him, but not as much as her shapely legs intrigued him.

  “My name is Colleen Jensen. I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I was on my way to work and decided to stop by. I have a private matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Do I owe you money?”

  “No.”

  Ignoring the dull thud of his headache, Gideon opened the door to allow her entrance. “Excuse the mess,” he said, sweep
ing beer bottles, pizza boxes and fast food cartons off the table and onto the floor. “I’d tell you my cleaning lady quit, but the truth is I never had one.”

  He turned around, vaguely irritated to see she hadn’t followed, but instead still stood just outside the door, as if preparing herself to enter a den of iniquity. “You coming or going, lady?” he asked, his exasperation growing. Who needed this at eight in the morning, especially on top of a monster hangover?

  The woman stepped inside, carefully picking her way around discarded clothing and trash. She made her way to the table, then sat down, the corners of her lips curled disdainfully downward.

  Gideon sat across from her, saying nothing, taking her full and total measure in a minute. Money. She smelled of it. As far as Gideon was concerned there were two types of people. The ones who had money and the ones who wanted everyone to think they had money.

  People with money wore their mink on the inside. People without money flashed it outwardly, not understanding the hundreds of little ways they gave themselves away.

  Colleen Jensen was definitely the first type. She wore expensive shoes and carried an expensive purse, two areas where pretenders normally skimped. Her short dark hair had a quality cut, although he wasn’t sure if the curls were natural or permed. Her dress was designer issue, a classical style that would stay in fashion for years.

  Even if she had been naked, he would have guessed she came from a background of wealth. It was in the haughty lift of her dark eyebrows, the way she sat patiently, obviously waiting for him to speak first. Oh, yeah, he smelled money, all right, and it intensified his headache. To Gideon Graves, money smelled like betrayal.

  She shifted uncomfortably in the folding chair, her blue eyes gazing at him somewhat dubiously. “Are you really as good as they say?”

  “It depends on who they are and which of my particular talents they were discussing.” He smiled, knowing the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been told I have many talents.”

  A pale pink blush stained her cheeks. “And I’ve been told that you’re one of the best at finding people who are missing.”

  He sat up straighter in his chair, as always a burst of adrenaline sprinting through him at the possibility of a case. “Who’s missing?”

  “His name is Sam Baker.”

  “And what is this Sam Baker to you?” Gideon asked, looking around for a notepad, a blank piece of paper, anything he could write on. He finally settled on a take-out sack from a nearby pizza place. Smoothing out the wrinkles, he wrote down the name Sam Baker, then looked at her again, aware she hadn’t answered his last question. “Your relationship to Sam Baker?” he repeated.

  The pink of her cheeks intensified. “Look, I love him and that’s all you need to know.”

  “And what makes you think he’s seriously missing rather than simply missing from your life? Did you have a lovers’ spat? Anything like that?”

  He could tell the question angered her. The blue of her eyes deepened, and her lips compressed together tightly. “No spats, no fights. If it was at all possible, Sam would have been in touch with me, and I haven’t heard from him in three months. I want to find him. I need to find him.”

  Three months. Renewed adrenaline pumped. The longer a person was missing, the more difficult the case. And Gideon thrived on challenge. Again he looked at the woman across from him, assessing, probing. Had this Sam Baker been her ticket to a nicer life-style? Was that why she wanted him found?

  “Why do you want me to find him?” He asked the question that was in his head.

  She looked at him in surprise. “I already told you. Because I love him.”

  He didn’t doubt it. The love shone from her eyes, and for a split second, Gideon envied Sam Baker, wherever he was. “When was the last time anyone saw Sam?”

  She withdrew a manila folder from her oversize purse. “Everything is in here. All the information you should need.” She held on to the folder for another moment. “How much is your fee?”

  He told her what he charged, noting she didn’t flinch. “Before I agree to take the case, I need to look over all the information you’ve provided.”

  She nodded and stood. “If you decide to take the case, I’d, uh, appreciate discretion.” Another blush stained her cheeks as she averted her gaze. “Sam is married.” She looked at him. “Can I call you this evening?”

  He got up, as well, and wrote down his number on a piece of the bag. He ripped it off and handed it to her. “If I’m not here leave your number and I’ll get back to you.”

  He walked her to the door and was suddenly aware of her perfume. It filled the air with a sweet floral scent, a welcome relief from the stale air inside the houseboat.

  When they got to the door, she turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unexpected emotion. “Please, Mr. Graves. Please find Sam for me.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he answered gruffly, oddly touched by the depth of the emotion shining from her eyes.

  As he watched her walk down the dock toward the parking area in the distance, again he noticed the shapely length of her legs beneath the cotton material of her dress. Definitely an attractive young woman. He wondered if Sam Baker had chosen to walk away from her.

  He turned and went inside, his thoughts remaining on Colleen Jensen. She’d been a bundle of contradictions, giving him the illusion of a wealthy background, yet concerned enough to ask about his fee. And those eyes, so blue and glittering with such deep emotion. They were the kind of eyes that could haunt a man. The moment he’d gazed into them, he’d known he would take the case.

  Consciously steering away from the manila envelope on the table, he instead opted to make coffee. Perhaps a cup of strong brew would dilute the headache still pounding at his temples.

  The coffee had just finished perking when another knock sounded on his door. Now what? He stifled a groan as he opened the door and saw the gangly teenager grinning widely at him. Fast Eddy.

  “Hi, Gideon, I saw the dame leaving. Is she a new customer?” Eddy followed Gideon in, his face radiating the eager friendliness of a puppy dog.

  “Client, Eddy, not customer,” Gideon replied as he poured himself a cup of the fresh brew.

  “So, what kind of work does she want you to do? Is she in trouble? Is she wanted by the mob? Is somebody blackmailing her?” Eddy pulled a kitchen chair out and straddled it, his shoulders pumped in adolescent machismo.

  “Eddy, you’ve been reading too many Mike Hammer novels. She is not a dame, and she wants me to find someone for her.” Gideon joined him at the table, vaguely wondering how he had become surrogate father and friend to the red-haired teenager.

  “So, are you gonna take her case?” He leaned forward, his features animated in the way only youth and innocence could produce. “Maybe I could help. You know, be your backup…your partner.”

  Gideon frowned. “Isn’t it September? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Nah. I graduated last May.” He paused a moment, watching as Gideon took a sip of his coffee, then continued, “I’ve been kind of thinking it would be great to work for you. You know, sort of a P.I. in training. You wouldn’t have to pay me much, and I could really be a big help.”

  It was the puppy-dog eagerness on Eddy’s face that made Gideon swallow his initial, vehement negative reply. The last thing Gideon needed was an overzealous teenager shadowing his every move, fantasizing himself the new detective extraordinaire. He took another drink of his coffee. And yet, he knew enough about Fast Eddy’s dismal home life to realize the kid had little else going for him.

  He drained his coffee, then went into the bathroom where he washed up, then pulled on a pair of soft, worn jeans and grabbed a clean shirt from the closet. He walked into the living room, aware of Eddy’s gaze on him as he fastened the shirt buttons. One part hero worship, one part studied nonchalance, Eddy observed his every move as if memorizing it to mimic later.

  He wanted to yell at the kid, tell him to find somebody els
e to bother, a real hero to emulate, not some burned-out ex-cop whose buddies had turned their backs on him.

  It irritated Gideon that he just couldn’t yell at the kid, couldn’t tell him to go away, because Gideon could feel the loneliness that radiated inside the kid. It mirrored the loneliness he tried to ignore deep within himself.

  “Look, Eddy,” he said as he pulled on socks and stepped into his shoes. “My caseload is kind of light right now, and I really don’t need that kind of help.” Gideon straightened up, looking around in disgust. “What I definitely need is a maid,” he muttered, more to himself than to his youthful companion.

  “I can do that,” Eddy exclaimed. Before Gideon could protest, Eddy jumped out of his chair and started picking up trash from the floor. “It’s sort of like starting at a lower-level entry kind of job.” Eddy gathered an armful of dirty dishes and placed them in the sink. “I’ll start here, and when you think I’m ready and your caseload gets heavier, I’ll be here to help you with the detective work.”

  Gideon had the horrifying sensation of his life suddenly out of control. He had a mental vision of a pair of blue eyes demanding he get right to work and a more horrifying mental picture of a red-haired scrawny teenager taking over his home. He grabbed the manila folder off the top of the table. “I’ve got something to check out. I’ll be back later.”

  “No problem,” Eddy said agreeably. He walked with Gideon to the door. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

  “Just lock up when you leave,” Gideon said, fighting another wave of nauseating head pounding.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll just hang around until you get back.” Eddy grinned widely. “See ya later, partner.”