He wondered if he was the man who should try.

Jack wiped the sweat off his brow and shook his head. No, he didn’t have time for such diversions. She’d make a terrible wife—everything he didn’t want, and he had no time to play games. Julianna obviously needed a rich man to bail her out of her financial crisis. Dinner conversation with someone so stiff-necked and proper would be sheer torture. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her. He pitied the poor man she set her sights on, but maybe he could do the guy a favor and loosen her up a bit.

He grinned at the thought and headed for his boat.

* * *

Julianna checked her appearance in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. The sundress was demure but a bright, happy yellow, which gave her mousy hair a bit of help. The last time she’d dared to put highlights in to jazz things up, she’d suffered with an orangey tint that wouldn’t wash out. She should have learned early on that she was not the type of woman to court style or flash. Even her makeup looked like it had faded, and she had just applied it half an hour ago.

She smoothed her topknot, grabbed her sunglasses and headed out the door.

And crashed into her newly hired gardener.

The breath left her body in a big whoosh as she rammed into a superhero-hard chest, damp with sweat. He righted her immediately with a firm grip on both her arms. Julianna jerked back as his fingers burned into her flesh, then swiped off his touch like a child not wanting to catch cooties.

Damn him. He forced the oddest reaction from her. She’d never met a man who made her so nervous. One sun-bleached brow arched at her response, and heat flooded her cheeks. She forced herself past the embarrassment and met his gaze.

“Sorry.” His badass grin said he was nothing of the sort. “Was just going to throw myself on your mercy for some water.”

“You didn’t bring any?”

His lip twitched at her outright rudeness. “Drank it all.”

Julianna glanced at her watch. “I have some bottled water inside, I’ll get you some.” She turned and opened the door. He followed her.

“Gonna be a hot one,” he said.

“Summer usually is.” She retrieved two bottles and handed them to him. He thanked her, but didn’t budge from the foyer. He motioned toward the high vaulted ceilings elaborately painted and the spiral staircase that echoed images of Gone with the Wind. The open rooms boasted formal antiques, rich wood, and polished marble. “Nice place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wolfe. Now unless you need anything else—”

“Jack.”

“Right. Jack. I must be going.”

“Looking mighty pretty and bright as the sun. Lunch date?”

He was quite the charmer. Evidently, Jack Wolfe was used to getting whoever he wanted when he wanted her. Probably with a “pretty please” from the female recipient, if that body was any indication of his stamina. She fought a smile, knowing her sex factor was pretty low on the Richter scale. Men didn’t bother with plain women like her. Unless he was bored. Julianna crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze.

“Yes, that’s correct. I have a lunch date. Will you be finished by the end of the week?”

He lifted his battered blue cap and scratched his head. “Should be, as long as the retaining wall holds. It’s pretty weak, so it might need replacing. Will let you know later this afternoon.”

“I’ll want an estimate if that’s the case.”

“Of course. What do you teach?”

“Excuse me?”

“You teach, right?”

“How did you know that?” Julianna tried not to sound accusatory, but the idea of this man knowing anything about her personal life seemed… disturbing.

“Your neighbor. Mrs. Cutter. She said you teach classes and took care of your parents.”

Her tone reflected pure ice. “I don’t approve of gossip.”

White teeth flashed as he grinned. “Not gossip if it’s the truth. Something tells me you teach… English.”

She pursed her lips. “Poetry. I have to go.” She walked straight through the door and assumed he’d follow. Thank God he did. She locked the door and jingled her keys in her hand. “Let me know about the wall.”

“Sure. Have fun with the ladies.”

Julianna hated his correct assumption. So she lied. “I’ll have fun on my date.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Hmm. Mrs. Cutter said you always have lunch with the girls on Tuesday afternoon. 1:00pm. At The Black Pearl.”

Temper made her turn on her heel. She glared at him from behind tinted lenses. “Well, she’s wrong. What else did Mrs. Cutter tell you about me?”

He obviously enjoyed her annoyance. He took his time and uncapped the bottle of water. Removed his ball cap. Dumped the water over his head.

Julianna’s breath caught. Her body slammed into overdrive at the raw sexual scene before her. Water dripped from his thick blond hair and ran down his face. Over a carved jaw. Slid down to dampen perfectly cut lips.

His t-shirt soaked up the liquid and clung to his chest like a Women’s Night gone wild. Hunger hit hard and deep as she followed the trail down to his belt buckle, where droplets slid under the denim and hid beyond. Her pussy grew tight and uncomfortable. And as wet as that bottle of water. Her mouth fell open like a guppy’s. She snapped it shut and struggled to look unaffected.

His outright laugh called her an outright liar. He shook his hair like a dog in heat and slid the baseball cap back on his head.

“She said you haven’t been on a date in months. Said you like to go to lunch, attend the historical meetings, teach your classes, and stay boarded up in the Cliff House.” He paused and his gaze raked over her, probed under her clothes, and noted her body, which refused to be ignored. “A shame, really. Something tells me you play as hard as you work. If you’d give someone the chance, that is.”

Their gazes met and locked. Seconds ticked by and neither of them wanted to lose. Julianna told herself time was the only factor that made her finally turn away. “I don’t have time to play games, Mr. Wolfe. I’m sure you’re a man who’s a master, and you wouldn’t have much fun with an amateur.”

“Jack,” he said softly. “And you’re wrong.”

She ignored him and hurried down the pathway. Absolutely ridiculous. She was living a D.H. Lawrence novel and she’d always been an Austen sort of girl. Her frikkin gardener, for God’s sakes. It didn’t get any more cliché than that. And there was one thing she hated more than anything.

Being a cliché.

She smothered the thought and drove away.

* * *

Julianna paused at her keyboard, the mouse hovered above the Send button. Nausea hit her belly, but she knew there were no other options. This wasn’t nineteenth- century England and she didn’t belong in the ton. She had already used her father’s intricate network of social contacts to begin introductions to a number of eligible men, but no one seemed interested in a mousy woman with an old estate and nothing else. Many of the men she dated locally didn’t have enough funds to support a money-suck like the Cliff House. The ones who did were past seventy, which placed them out of the running. She didn’t have the money to travel and meet new prospects. Therefore, there was one social connection she needed to use to further her plan.

The unlimited world of the Internet. Social networking circles so tight-knit and secretive, it was more closely guarded than a sex ring. Many men needed to marry in order to secure companies, or meet a mate with certain specifications in order to claim their inheritances. Others needed an heir. The thought of a child made her heart ache with longing. And hope.

Her ad would be well received by the group and guarded in a private manner. Unfortunately, she had nothing to trade for. Except her name.

Her family came from a long line of aristocrats with royalty in the blood. Her people, among the first to settle in Rhode Island, came from the old English gentry. In early American days, Newport had been a playground for the rich and famous, from the Vanderbilts to the Astors, and her family had taken a prominent place among them.

Julianna knew some people coveted all that. She counted on finding a man who liked the idea of a spouse with a family straight from The Great Gatsby. Never mind that her family was now gone. The past, she'd learned, always survived.

The site catered to men and women who needed to marry for specific purposes. Julianna’s face burned as she compared herself to a prostitute offering her services. Perhaps the man would request breeding papers as evidence of her birthright. Bitterness leaked through yet again and tempted her to consider selling the Cliff House. Walk away with her pride intact and money in her pocket.

"Promise me...."

Her father's voice echoed in her mind. Her prison was also her haven. If she sold the house, she'd have nowhere to go. In the past, the lure of the unknown had excited and tempted her to explore the world and find who she really was.

Now, the thought made her quake with terror. Here, at least, she was safe. Her family memories burned bright within its walls, and if she left the house behind, she'd have nothing left of her past. Only a broken promise to her dying father.

The noose around her neck tightened.

Julianna uploaded her ad and the photo. A plain woman looked back at her, a forced smile on her lips. The specially created email address would receive any initial inquiries or questions before securing a meeting. She took a deep breath and clicked the mouse.

Her fate was sealed.

A knock sounded on the door.