“You agreed we wouldn’t,” Daisy muttered, chewing the cookie, “but I’ll respect your wishes as long as you fill me in on your date last night.”

Lesley smiled. “Ah, yes, my date.”

“You must’ve gotten back late. I didn’t go into work at the bar yesterday because I had to study and I wasn’t through until after midnight and I didn’t hear you come home.”

Lesley hadn’t stopped to chat with Daisy, fearing that sharing her experience would somehow diminish it. She’d gone to bed almost immediately, wanting to mull over her time with Chase, put some perspective on it, luxuriate in the memory of their kisses.

She’d intended to think about all that. Instead, she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Even now she wasn’t sure how to interpret their evening together.

“Did you have a good time?” Daisy asked.

“Wonderful. We walked along the waterfront, and then went to dinner.” She didn’t mention the ferry ride. She couldn’t. It was too special to share even with Daisy.

She didn’t know what, exactly, had happened between them, only that something had. Whatever it was, she’d allowed it. Had participated in it, and in the end couldn’t deny him or herself the pleasure of those kisses.

No one had ever kissed her the way Chase had, gently, with such infinite care, such tenderness. He’d kissed her the way a woman dreams of being kissed, dreams of being held. Trying to explain that was beyond Lesley. She had no idea where to even begin.

Daisy yawned with great exaggeration. “Sounds like a boring date if you ask me.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never had two men fight over me with switchblades the way you did.”

“Both of ’em were staggering drunk. Besides, I had no interest in dating either one. After being married to Brent for five years, why would I want to involve myself with another biker wannabe? Charlie had the police there so fast my head spun. Good thing, too.”

Personally, Lesley believed Charlie the bartender had a crush on Daisy, but she’d never said as much. He was a nice guy and he looked out for her neighbor, but in Lesley’s opinion, his feelings were more than just friendship for a fellow employee.

“Don’t sidetrack me,” Daisy insisted. “We were talking about you and Chase. That’s his name, isn’t it?” Lesley nodded. “There’s not much more to say. I already told you I had a nice time.”

“I believe you described it as wonderful. You seeing him again?”

“We’re going to a movie…at least I think we are. He mentioned it last night, but we didn’t discuss the time. And he didn’t say anything about it when he phoned a few minutes ago.”

“So he’s already called again?”

Lesley tried not to show how pleased she was. Chase had seemed distracted, but there was no disguising the warmth in his voice. She hoped he’d tell her whatever was troubling him when he picked her up that evening. He’d asked for her address and Lesley had no qualms about giving it to him.

“What’s this?” Daisy asked, reaching across the table to a stack of mail and pulling out a catalog.

“A knitting catalog,” Lesley said, putting the cookie sheets in her sink to cool.

“When did you start knitting?” Daisy asked, slowly flipping through the pages.

“A couple of months ago.”

“Aha! The nesting instinct strikes again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lesley said impatiently. She walked onto her back porch, retrieved an empty coffee can and filled it with cookies. “Here,” she said, thrusting the can toward her smart-mouthed neighbor. “For Eric and Kevin.”

Chuckling, Daisy stood and reached for the cookies. “I can take a hint. You don’t want me talking about Tony and you don’t want me saying anything about your hormones. It’s downright difficult to carry on a conversation with you, girl.”

After shooing Daisy out the door, Lesley made herself a sandwich and turned on the local noon news. She was chewing away when the billboard she’d seen earlier that week came on the screen.

Her interest was piqued, and she put her sandwich back on the plate.

The camera left the billboard to focus on the reporter who was standing below it. Lesley liked Becky Bright and the offbeat stories she reported. It was a compliment to her professionalism, as far as Lesley was concerned, that Becky Bright could cover the billboard story and keep a straight face.

“This morning I talked with the man who’s so earnestly seeking a wife,” Becky announced. “Chase Goodman agreed to an interview and…”

Chase Goodman.

Lesley didn’t hear a word after that. His face appeared on the screen and he squinted into the camera and said he only had a limited time in Seattle and wanted to be as straightforward as he could.

Straightforward. He’d misled her. Talk about being unethical; why, he’d…he’d kissed her. He’d held her in his arms and… Mortified, she raised her hands to her face. She’d so desperately wanted to believe in Chase, but he was like all the other men she’d known. He was just like her father, who’d cruelly deceived her. Just like Tony, who’d broken her heart. Never again would she make herself vulnerable. Never again would she be so naive as to trust a man.

Never again.

“Your next appointment is waiting,” Sandra Zielger, the attractive middle-aged woman Chase had hired that morning, announced. He’d been interviewing women all afternoon.

The first one who’d come was a pleasant woman a few years his senior who worked as an executive assistant for a big manufacturing company. She was congenial, well-educated and professional. When Chase asked her why she wanted to marry him and move to Alaska, she said she was ready to “get out of the rat race” and take life at a more leisurely pace. She’d been divorced twice, with no children. After ten minutes with her, Chase knew a relationship between them wouldn’t work. He wasn’t comfortable with her the way he was with Lesley.

The second interview turned out to be with a female plumber who’d been working in construction. She’d been out of work for three months and was looking for a change of scene. The first thing she asked was whether he wanted to sleep with her to sample the goods before making his decision. Even before he collected his wits enough to respond, she’d unbuttoned her blouse, claiming she didn’t mind a little kinky sex if that interested him, but she wasn’t overly fond of whips and chains. By the time he’d ushered her out the door, Chase felt shaken.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d placed the ad, but it wasn’t this. He was looking for a woman with a generous heart, one with pluck and spirit. A woman with depth and sensitivity. A woman like… Lesley.

He rubbed the back of his neck, closed his eyes and sighed.

He tried phoning Lesley just to calm his nerves, but she wasn’t home. He didn’t leave a message.

By four, Chase had talked with so many women that their names and faces and stories had all started to blend together. Not a single one had strongly appealed to him. He couldn’t meet with these women and not compare them to Lesley. They seemed shallow by contrast, frivolous and, in some cases, reckless. There were a couple he might’ve liked under other circumstances, and he’d kept their names and phone numbers, but not a single woman to compare to the one he’d met yesterday, quite by chance.

He glanced at his watch and knew he wasn’t up to interviewing another woman. The suite he’d rented at the hotel was packed with applicants. Word had gotten out that he was in the process of talking to prospective brides and they were coming in off the street now. Sandra Zielger seemed to have her hands full, and seeing that, Chase intervened, escorting the husband-seeking women from the room with promises of another day.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Sandra said, pushing her hair away from her face with both hands. “You should’ve brought some of your bachelor friends with you.”

Chase closed his eyes and expelled a weary sigh. “How many women did we see?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s all?” He felt the panic rise. He’d spent nearly an entire day meeting with women, and he’d hardly made a dent in the crowd.

“I take it you’re finished for the day?” Sandra asked.

Chase nodded. He needed space to breathe and time to reflect. What he really needed was Lesley. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day, or the kisses they’d shared. Nor could he forget how she’d felt in his arms. He wanted to hold her again, and soon.

He was halfway out the door when Sandra said, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“You mean I can’t?”

“Well, it’s just that there are a number of phone messages that need to be returned.”

“Who from?”

“The radio stations, for one. Another TV station.”

“Forget them. That last thing I need now is more publicity.”

Sandra grinned. “I’ve had several interesting jobs working for Temp Help over the years, but I’ve got to tell you, this is the most unusual. I wish you luck, young man.”

“Thanks,” Chase answered. He had the distinct feeling he was going to need it.

Lesley had been filled with nervous energy from the moment she’d seen Becky Bright stand beneath that ridiculous billboard and say Chase’s name. None of her usual methods for relieving tension had worked.

She’d gone shopping and fifteen minutes later left the store. She was too mad to appreciate a fifty-percent-off sale. That was an anger so out of the ordinary it surprised even her.

A long soak in the tub hadn’t helped, either. By the time she’d finished, she’d sloshed water all over the floor and had spilled her favorite liquid bubble bath.

Even a fitness DVD didn’t help, but then she’d stopped five minutes into the exercises and turned it off. If she was going to do anything aerobic, Lesley decided, she’d prefer to work in her yard.

She weeded the front flower beds and was watering the bright red geraniums with her hose when Daisy walked out of her town house in a pair of shorts and a Mariners T-shirt.

“You upset about something, honey?” she called, crossing the driveway that divided their properties.

“What makes you ask that?” Lesley returned in a completely reasonable voice. The fact that Daisy could easily see how upset she was fueled her already short temper.

“Could be ’cause you’re nearly drowning those poor flowers. They need to be watered like a gentle rainfall—” she made sprinkling motions with her hands “—and not with hurricane force.”

“Oh,” Lesley murmured, realizing her neighbor was right.

“The boys thank you for the cookies.”

“Tell them I’ve got a jarful they’re welcome to, as well.”

“I thought you baked those cookies for Chase.”

“I never said that.” Lesley was sure she hadn’t.

“Of course you did, maybe not in words, but it was obvious. You like this guy and you aren’t going to fool me about that. All I can say is great. It’s about time you got over that no-good jerk.”