The Husband Test (Contemporary Romance)

CHAPTER 1

If people had told Callie O’Donnell that her one simple little blog post would have generated three thousand angry comments, five hundred favorable remarks, one hundred marriage proposals, and four death threats she would have laughed in their faces and pointed them to the nearest psychiatric ward. Sweet, simple, live-and-let-live Callie, in other words the ‘old’ Callie, was now a hunted woman. She crossed herself while she rushed to pack her bags and hightail it out of town. And that just pissed her off royally.

It was all Colt Harrigan’s fault, the bastard. If he hadn’t gone on national television and called Callie a chauvinistic, manipulative, self-serving husband hunter this never would have happened. Besides, that was just his opinion. Callie had decided after careful consideration and extensive dating that she would stay single, and she had no intention of changing her mind now, not because of some investment banker with an ego the size of Texas, like he was God’s gift to women. As if. Briefly she wondered if he peeled his banana’s with his hands or his feet, the big ape. Oh, he was handsome, all right. She had to be honest, he had handsome, rugged features and looked dangerous in both a suit and his cowboy gear. His rich, brown hair fell slightly over his collar in soft waves. His beautiful eyes, which matched his hair, were dark brown and contained a peculiar twinkle when he smiled. His perfect white teeth glistened next to his deep dimples. A proud, straight nose pointed to his full, pink lips. Yes, he made a pretty picture. Too bad he had a black heart and a reckless spirit.

So now, instead of running her antique shop she was running away on the advice of the FBI. Apparently she hadn’t taken the death threats seriously enough for their tastes. Everything had happened because of one simple, old-fashioned Victorian-era etiquette book for women she had posted on her blog site, Single File.

That had been the beginning of the end. Frankly, Callie didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Just because she had agreed with some of the issues the leaflet had pointed out didn’t make her a chauvinist. In her humble opinion, men had taken dating to new lows once women’s liberation had kicked in. Now they just took advantage of women, which she didn’t like one bit. She had begun to chronicle her many sad experiences along with those of her two best friends. Among the three of them, they hadn’t found a respectable male in the bunch. It didn’t matter now, although she still intended to blog while she was at the ‘safe house’ the FBI had arranged for her. They’d promised her Internet access but not much more.

With a deep sigh of regret she heaved her overstuffed suitcase off the bed, pulled the handle up, and began to roll it with her into the future.

********

Colt Harrigan lobbed rolled-up socks into his suitcase. Score! He repeated the move several more times before moving to his underwear drawer, which he emptied in the same manner. He hadn’t missed once, so he took a victory lap around the bedroom before continuing to pack. As the self-appointed president of M.A.R.E., Men Against Romantic Entanglements, he saw the humor in his situation. Going into hiding at the urging of the FBI was an answer to his prayers. He’d been working eighty hours a week for the last two years and was looking forward to the time off without the usual guilt that followed him around on vacations. After all, he needed to do as the authorities advised, didn’t he? Just because a couple of nut cases had threatened his life his boss and best friend, Evan, had freaked. Colt shook his head at the memory of Evan on the phone with the police, demanding twenty-four-hour protection for him. What a nervous Nellie. Next thing you know the guy will be sticking out his pinky to drink his morning coffee.

Besides, he couldn’t let a blog post like the one Callie O’Donnell had put up go unanswered. The woman was dangerous. What woman in her right mind wanted to go back to Victorian dating rules when things were obviously so much better nowadays? Hadn’t she ever heard of Women’s Lib? He stood by his earlier statements on his M.A.R.E. blog, the woman was just too cheap to pay her own way. She was not only cheap, but too lazy to put forth the effort that was detailed in her blog. Open the door for her, pull out her chair, pay the bill, blah, blah, blah. He didn’t expect the woman to pay for everything, just her fair share of the bill. How many times had he paid a fortune for a date’s dinner, only to have her take three bites, claim to be full, and then have it packed-up for the next day’s lunch. More times than he cared to remember. Well, not anymore, bimbo. This was male liberation time!

He slammed the lid down on his suitcase, grabbed his laptop, and headed out to the waiting police car that sat in front of his house. Feeling like a VIP, he sat back in the unmarked car and let his mind wander back to Callie O’Donnell. Since she didn’t have a picture of herself on her blog site he had to assume she was a real dog. His mind created a short, obese woman with stringy red hair, bad teeth, and a pimpled face. A shiver of repulsion moved through his body at the thought. Gross. No wonder she’d had so many bad dating experiences, only thugs and slugs would ask a woman like her out. Oh well, not his problem.

He laid his head back on the seat and decided to take a little nap while he had the chance. Might as well start the vacation now.

CHAPTER 2

Colt walked into the kitchen of the small ranch, his new home away from home, only to be stunned. He watched the hind-end of a curvy brunette wiggle to some unheard tune as she washed vegetables in the sink. The only things she wore, a sports bra and form-hugging workout shorts, left nothing and everything to the imagination. His cock hardened. Shit, wouldn’t he like a few hours alone with that. It had never occurred to him that a woman FBI agent would be assigned to his case, a fact he instinctively knew to keep to himself. It totally went against his feminist persona. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, enjoying the view and a little sexual fantasy.

Before he knew what was happening he heard a loud scream. A palm smashed into his nose. A kick to the gonads put him down for the count. Pain coursed through his body, leaving him breathless. One hand held his nose, the other clutched protectively at his boys. With every beat of his heart he could feel the blood gush from his nose and ooze through his fingers. Instinctively he curled into a fetal position. Someone was yelling loudly. Oh, wait, that was his voice screaming like a little girl.

The floor vibrated with the force of running feet. When he heard more voices he mustered the courage to let his eyes open a slit. Two pairs of shiny black loafers stood in front of him. Thank God, help was here.

Mr. Harrigan, can you hear me? Just nod your head. Don’t try to talk.

He nodded once.

Sir, you need to move your hand so we can see your injuries. Colt saw a towel waiting in the man’s hand. Cautiously he removed his hand from his nose. He was sure it had been severed from his face and would flop onto the floor once he removed his hand. To his surprise it somehow still clung to his face. One thing was for sure, it was going to take a lot more persuading to get him to let go of the boys. He flinched in pain as someone placed the wet towel gingerly to his nose. Son of a bitch, that hurt. When he glanced down at the floor and saw all the blood he felt the bile rush up to his throat. When he swallowed hard he could taste the blood. Just the thought had him emptying his stomach onto the floor.

When he caught sight of a pair of small white athletic shoes he tried to scoot to a protective corner of the room. He knew without a doubt that those shoes belonged to the woman who had assaulted him. Maybe she was here to finish him off.

Get her away from me! He flinched inwardly when he realized his voice had come out several levels higher than normal. She’s a fucking animal. Look what she did to me. Where’d you guys find her? Was she the booby prize in a box of Cracker Jacks? As the pain abated somewhat anger was it. If he had his way this agent would be up on disciplinary charges before the day was over.

Could someone please tell me who this person is? Her petite form had wavered toward him. Against his will his body flinched briefly in fear, or was that surprise?

Her voice was soft and feminine. Like the fluttering of butterfly wings, it dripped of sweetness. As if she couldn’t hurt a fly.

I thought you two knew each other, since both cases are related. Agent Hunter shook his head. He was the older, no-nonsense one of the two agents.

What the hell are you talking about, Hunter? Colt could feel his temper running full speed ahead.

You’ve both received threatening letters because of the blogs you’ve been battling over. Didn’t your escort inform you that you’d be in custody together?

Colt watched the agent as he tried to formulate his next statement.

Ms. Callie O’Donnell, this is Mr. Colt Harrigan. You’ll be sharing this house while in FBI protective custody. I apologize for the lack of communication on the part of my fellow agents. I assure you it won’t happen again.

For the first time he looked into the eyes of his nemesis. The one person, in his opinion, responsible for the forced imprisonment he’d assumed was meant to keep him safe. Yeah, major backfire of that plan.

He took a deep breath, immediately sorry for the action. Even through the blood he could smell her sweet honeysuckle scent. He released the breath with the effort he expended as he moved to a sitting position. His balls would feel this for a few days, but at least the throbbing had stopped. Slowly he removed his hand from the boys, careful to not allow them to just flop down. When her feminine hand thrust an ice bag at him he flinched at the sudden movement aimed at him.

I made you this for your…um…injury. She spoke softly, but her voice held no apologetic tone.

He stared at her, taking in her appearance for the first time from a frontal aspect. She was a tiny, explosive little package. He’d guess her height at five-one, max. She was what his mother would term busty even with the cloth of the sports bra pressing tightly against her breasts.

Her long, thick braid hung almost to her waist. Even though it was tied back he could see the stunning sheen of it, knowing if he touched it it would slip through his fingers like silk. The most stunning of her facial features, her eyes, shimmered in the light, blue changing to a subtle violet, they stood out like two beacons in the night.

Her small, slightly upturned nose stood proudly below those magnificent eyes with a light smattering of freckles sprinkled over it. Adorable. Her lips, soft pink pillows of lusciousness, were full, begging to be kissed.

Whoa, boy. This is the enemy you’re talkin’ about here. Just as she did with her blog, she packed a wallop, and he’d better remember that. A jolt of pain shot through his head as a physical reminder of what this she-devil was capable of.

Now that he understood the situation he was in he wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Ever.

CHAPTER 3

Callie stood in the kitchen with her hands on her hips and her eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to comprehend the situation. Had Agent Hunter really just informed her that she’d assaulted Colt Harrigan? What the hell was he doing here? Why had he snuck up on her like a predator? She suppressed a smile as she realized that her self-defense instincts were still sharply tuned.

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