Agreement to Love

Agreement to Love

by

Sandra Noble

Smashwords Edition

© 2014 Sandra Noble

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

Dedicated to Chad and Brandy, Travis and Nicole, Corrie and Joe, and Lance.

Special thanks to Randy ‘Boss’ Nelson for the A-Kleen experience, and for information needed to write about the laundry business.

Chapter One

Claire Catherwood stood at the window and watched as Amanda walked to her car. She’ll never find a man on her own, she muttered.

Her husband looked up from the contract he’d been studying. What’s that you say, dear?

Claire dropped the curtain and, turning from the window smoothed the tasteful slim-line skirt across her lean stomach. Mason, she said. Please put the papers aside. We need to talk.

Sounds serious, Mason said. He gathered his work, leaned back, and turned his large handsome head toward his wife.

Claire sat in the wing-backed chair nearest Mason’s desk, folded her well-manicured hands into her lap, and leaned forward. Your niece is the best thing in our lives. I feel responsible for the girl.

Amanda’s thirty-five, Mason countered. At that age I’d say she’s responsible for herself. Besides, she’s doing just fine. She certainly takes after me when it comes to business. She’s a natural.

I’m not talking about her business acumen. I’m talking about her personal happiness. She needs a husband.

Mason opened his eyes wide. I thought Amanda came to drop off a contract. I didn’t hear her say a single word about looking for a husband. Maybe I should get my hearing checked.

Claire smiled in spite of herself. I won’t be sidetracked, Mason.

Mason threw his hands in the air. If she wants a husband it’s fine with me. I’m not stopping her, he said. If fact, if she wants to take a few weeks off to go husband hunting I’ll give her paid leave. Do you think she’ll need a special license?

Don’t be facetious. Claire rose from her chair and took her station at the window to consider how best to express her thoughts. The buds on the huge maple tree in the front yard were green and fat, ready to unfold and face the warm spring sunshine. Encircling the base, nestled between the thick roots of the old tree, yellow and purple crocuses added color to an already brilliant day.

She turned to her husband again. "I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’m just going to say it. Amanda has some lovely features, gorgeous blue eyes, and that thick honey-colored hair of hers is to die for. But she hasn’t a clue as to how to dress or wear her makeup or what hairstyle suits her. And she works so many hours she never gets a chance to meet anyone. If she’s ever going to be married she’ll need some help.

Well, for heaven’s sake, Claire. I think Amanda looks just fine, and even if she wanted a husband I don’t know what I could do about it.

Claire crossed to her husband’s desk. When I was in college I knew a girl who was in the same boat as Amanda, only she was too skinny and had a terrible complexion. Amanda has great skin, even if she is slightly on the hefty side.

Get to the point, woman.

Her father bought her a husband. Claire sat back in her chair with smug satisfaction.

Mason’s jaw dropped. He stared at his comely wife in disbelief. You’ve got to be kidding.

Not at all. You’re a rich man. You can afford it.

That’s hardly the point.

It wouldn’t be much different than an arranged marriage, she explained. Would we have ever met if our parents hadn’t been friends? They practically threw us at one another.

I like to think that we fell in love.

We did! But not until we’d been forced to spend an entire summer together with our parents, at the lake cabin. Besides, I’ve read that arranged marriages have a better chance of success than when you choose your own partner.

An arranged marriage is not the same as buying a husband, Mason said.

Claire leaned forward. Consider dowries, Mason. And since when do wealthy people relish their sons marrying into poor families? Money always talks, and never more clearly than when marriage is concerned.

Mason sat for a moment, letting his wife’s words sink in. Finally he stirred and raised his eyes to Claire. Even if I did agree to this preposterous scheme of yours, I wouldn’t know how to choose a husband.

Claire rose to kiss his cheek. Choose a kind man, a man with intelligence, a man like you, dear. And remember, Amanda’s children will be the closest thing to grandchildren that we’ll ever have, so be sure he’s good-looking. I don’t want my purse full of ugly grandchild pictures.

Mason laughed. I doubt we’d realize it if they were ugly. People always think their grandkids are beautiful.

I know, dear, but Angela Montgomery would know the difference and would be laughing behind my back and I simply won’t have that.

Mason laughed. Don’t act as if I’ve agreed to this absurd plan.

Claire gave her husband a Mona Lisa smile. I’ll leave it up to you.

#

Amanda was late. After dropping the contract off at her uncle’s on her way to work, she decided on an impromptu drive through the park. Sunshine, green grass, early tulips and daffodils renewed her spirits after the long Iowa winter.

At the office, she read through her messages and returned calls, but spring fever had struck and she had to push herself to read the monthly report. Finally she set it aside and opened the business section of the Des Moines Register, the city’s daily newspaper.

She was interested in an article on the Freedom Inn Motel chain. They were holding a grand opening for a new property on the west side of Des Moines, and the CEO, Michael Branson, would be in town for the ceremony.

Amanda had tried more than once to make an appointment to see Mr. Branson, but he’d always pleaded that he was too busy. The Freedom Inns were a Midwest chain, and so was Sparkle Laundry. There were several Freedom Inn motels in easy range of a Sparkle Laundry plant. A contract with them would be a perfect business marriage.

She buzzed her secretary, Lacey Roberts. Will you see if you can get Michael Branson on the line?

Certainly, and should I ask Mr. Connors to wait until after the call?

Amanda sighed. Nick Connors had called a week ago and she’d reluctantly agreed to meet with him to discuss his commercial laundry products. I’d forgotten about him, she said. No, don’t make him wait any longer. I’ll see him now. She checked her watch. It’s getting close to noon. Give Mr. Branson a try after the lunch hour.

Reluctance faded when Mr. Connors walked in the door. He was gorgeous, just under six feet with a muscular build that could have been used to advertise a fitness club. His dark hair was cut short, accentuating the masculine cut of his face, and his deep-toned voice was as smooth as a radio DJ.

Amanda came around from her desk to greet him with a handshake, and Nick Connor’s warm smile seemed to communicate approval of her appearance. She was pleased. Spring is certainly in the air, she thought. Amanda seldom had a chance to meet men her own age. Most of the men she did business with were old enough to be her father, or they were married. Nick wasn’t wearing a ring.

He’d barely started his sales pitch when Lacey entered with fresh coffee. Amanda was impressed. Her secretary had always proclaimed coffee-fetching to be beneath her profession. Lacey crossed the room with a graceful stride; the short skirt and high heels emphasized her long legs. She smiled with parted ripe red lips and made sure Mr. Connors got a flash of her breast when she leaned over to set the coffee on the desk. Amanda made a mental note to discuss Sparkle’s dress code with her.

While she enjoyed the salesman’s charm, Amanda’s business sense wasn’t swayed. Nick Connor’s Faultless Laundry Supplies had a few products that interested her, but his detergents and additives were priced higher than the brand she was using. After what she deemed a fair amount of time, she stood to signal the end of the meeting.

Thanks for coming, she said. I think you have some fine products but I haven’t seen any advantage in—

Nick stood. Ms. Catherwood, I’d like to leave samples so you can give them a try and actually compare the job our laundry soap does to the product you’re using now. He gave her a coaxing smile.

Amanda was ashamed when, for just a moment, she considered accepting the offer to use the samples just to stay in contact with the amiable man. She shook off temptation and stood a little taller. I’m sorry, Mr. Connors, but nothing you’ve told me makes me willing to change suppliers at this time.

Nick Connors was sweet, a man Amanda would enjoy knowing. She was working up the nerve to put things on a friendship level by asking the sales rep to lunch, but before she could gather her courage Lacey tapped at the office door.

Are the two of you about finished with business? I’m starving and Nick said he’d buy me lunch. We’re going to the Chinese place around the corner. Lacey directed a pleased smile at her boss. Would you like me to bring you something?

Nick Connors shook hands with Amanda. Thanks for the opportunity to talk to you, Ms. Catherwood. I’m not giving up. I’ll talk to my boss about some special pricing for you and stop by again in a few weeks.

Amanda forced herself to smile. It was good to meet you. She turned to Lacey. If you need extra time for lunch, take it. I won’t need you much this afternoon."

After Nick and Lacey left, Amanda sat at her desk chewing on her thumbnail. I nearly made a fool of myself, she thought. I love the laundry business, but I’ve got to get a life. I was ready to pounce on that poor unsuspecting sales rep when all he had on his mind was making a living. Well, that, and of course Lacey.

She sat back, sagging in the chair like a sack of potatoes. Naturally, he smiled at me. Of course he seemed interested in what I had to say. He wouldn’t make many sales if he ignored potential customers and sat around with a long face. And let’s face it, I’m not exactly hot stuff.

Slowly, she stood and went to her bathroom, where a full-length mirror was mounted on the back of the door. She tried to assess her appearance objectively. She was short, only five foot four. Nothing I can do about that, she told herself. Drab blonde hair, but maybe a few highlights would give it some shine. She stepped closer to her reflection and gave herself an exaggerated smile. Good teeth, nicely shaped lips, and healthy skin. She turned to catch a glimpse of her butt and sighed. At least pear shapes were supposed to be healthy.

I’m not all that hopeless, she thought as she returned to her desk. Aunt Claire’s always nagging me to update my wardrobe. Maybe I should think about it. I keep telling myself I don’t need a man in my life, but considering my reaction to Neal Connors, that is obviously not the case.

Amanda shivered. Just thinking about making an effort to meet a man brought out her deepest insecurities. Most of her attempts had been disasters, including the last man in her life. They’d dated for several months before Amanda discovered he was married and had two kids. Oh yeah, a real winner in the man department.

Amanda?

I’m here, Uncle Mason.

I came early. I thought I’d take you to lunch.

Amanda sat at her desk and propped her head in her hands.

You’re distracted. Is something wrong, dear?

She searched her uncle’s kind face. Do you think I’m pretty, Uncle Mason? As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth she was sorry. She waved a hand in front of her face, trying to erase the words.

How pathetic can I get?

Chapter Two

John Southerly was still in a daze when he walked out of the lawyer’s office. Nothing was as he’d expected where his mother’s estate was concerned. Alice Southerly had always told him that, as her executor, John was to dissolve her assets and put everything into a trust for his younger brother Trent, who was mentally challenged. The trouble was there were no assets.

Money had never been a problem in the Southerly family. His father had been a cardiologist, and John had grown up with plenty of extras: a car for his sixteenth birthday, nice clothes, his college expenses paid. He was stunned to find his mother’s estate barren.

After his father’s death, John knew his mother had made a couple of bad investments and her finances weren’t as plentiful as they once were, but he’d had no idea