“I’m okay,” April murmured, although she was becoming more nervous by the minute. “Rita, why don’t you see if any of the bridesmaids need help before the ceremony?”
Rita glanced over to where the bridesmaids were busy checking their gowns in floor-length mirrors. “There doesn’t seem to be a problem. All five of them are looking good.”
April’s frown deepened. “Five? There’s supposed to be six!” She scanned the group uneasily. “Where’s Claire Dunn?” she called to them.
“Claire just stepped outside for a minute,” Joyce Humphries called back.
“Did she say she’s going to get back in here in time for the ceremony?”
Joyce shrugged and turned back to the floor-length mirror. “Claire is Claire. Who knows what she’s going to do next?”
Aware of Claire Dunn’s erratic behavior lately, April tried not to think that the bridesmaid’s disappearance was a bad omen.
She dismissed the growing hollow feeling in her middle as a case of prewedding jitters, but deep in her heart she knew there was more to her growing unease. The truth was she was having last-minute doubts about the wisdom of marrying her fiancé, Jim Blair.
Judging from the anxious look in her mother’s eyes as she straightened the wreath of orange blossoms on April’s head, April sensed she wasn’t the only one to feel uneasy.
Before she had a chance to speak to her mother, there was a commotion outside the dressing room, followed by an urgent knock at the door. A moment later, an obviously agitated usher appeared in the doorway. After apologizing to everyone for his intrusion, he beckoned to the mother of the bride. With a final pat on April’s shoulder, Eve Morgan hurried to the door.
A moment later, she hurried back to April’s side, a piece of paper in her hand. Her voice was shaking. “Oh, my dear, maybe you should sit down!”
As if one, the five bridesmaids froze.
Rita Rosales dropped her own bouquet and hurried to April’s side. Lili Soulé handed the rose-petal-filled flower basket to little Paulette and rushed over, too.
April’s heart took a dive. Even before she took the note from her mother’s hand, April sensed that something had gone seriously wrong with the wedding.
“What does the note say?” Rita asked, peering over April’s shoulder.
April read the note aloud: “‘Claire and I have eloped. Jim.’”
“He didn’t even say he was sorry,” her mother said. “Maybe it’s all for the best,” she added slowly as she glanced at the five silent bridesmaids.
Instead of collapsing on the satin-covered bench behind her, April took off her bridal veil and sighed her relief.
Something was finally right.
Chapter One
Six months later
“A happy relationship requires that a woman make her man feel masculine.”
—The Mating Game. Lucas Sullivan, Ph.D.
April Morgan, assistant editor of Chicago’s Today’s World magazine, gazed in disbelief at the manuscript in front of her. As an editor of a magazine popular with young professionals, she’d edited a number of strange submissions, but this one beat all.
The article “The Mating Game” was apparently based on a sociological study the author did, originally published in a scientific-community newsletter. The article proposed to enlighten female readers about the behavior men expected in a potential mate. To her growing dismay, the author, an academic, actually went on to list six rules of behavior that he concluded women must follow in order to attract and keep a mate.
From her viewpoint, that of a bride jilted at the altar not too long ago, the article was ludicrous. The author was either naive or deluded. No matter how noteworthy the man’s credentials were, assuming they were real, how could any twenty-first-century man actually believe men preferred a Stepford Wife to a real woman?
More to the point, how could any man in his right mind even want a woman whose mind had been altered to turn her into a man’s idea of an ideal woman?
April frowned. She was aware of other theories that made more sense than his, in particular the one she preferred to believe: a person was driven by a biological imperative to mate with the fittest—read, strong genes—of the opposite gender. To a layperson like her, that clearly meant an innate desire to produce strong and healthy offspring. A goal that she’d been determined to reach before it was too late and that had unwisely led her to the altar.
In retrospect, April realized that accepting Jim’s proposal had been prompted by the loud ticking of her biological clock.
But according to this Lucas Sullivan, a man’s search for a mate was based solely on a woman’s social behavior! Even an academic like him, or perhaps especially an academic like him, should have known that choosing a mate was more than merely a game. It was a life-altering choice, one to be made only one time—and very carefully.
She’d learned this the hard way. A wedding fiasco that had left her at the altar at the ripe old age of thirty-two had also left her a lot wiser about men. Most men, she believed, were largely self-centered and chauvinistic like her ex, and as far as she was concerned there wasn’t a man currently around her who was worth a second look.
Not that remaining single had been her choice, April mused as she put a question mark in red pencil alongside a sentence she thought needed clarification. If all had gone as she’d planned, she would have honeymooned in Hawaii with that traitorous fiancé of hers, James Elwood Blair. He’d gone on his honeymoon all right, only not with her.
She made additional notations of questions she thought needed answers in the margins of the manuscript and read on. It only became worse.
She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“April, I’m glad to see you’re working on ‘The Mating Game’ article,” a familiar voice broke in. “April?”
It took her a moment to realize who was speaking. Ready to apologize for her rudeness, she glanced up at Thomas Eldridge, the magazine’s publisher and editor in chief. To her chagrin, he wasn’t alone.
“Sorry,” she said, gesturing to the manuscript. “I’m afraid I was caught up reading this unbelievable submission. To tell you the truth, I was trying keep from laughing.”
“Laughing?” Tom said with a warning frown. He gestured to the man standing at his side. “If you think you can contain yourself, I’d like to introduce you to Lucas Sullivan. Lucas and I went to Northwestern together and belonged to the same fraternity. Lucas, this is April Morgan. April is one of our—” he paused significantly “—top editors.”
April cringed. Damn. Of all people to have heard her flippant remark, why did it have to be the author of the piece?
Before she could apologize, Tom went on. “Sullivan here is a noted sociologist, April. The article you have there is one that I asked him to write. The original study was published last year in the National Association of Science Writers newsletter.”
Although her heart was in free fall at her faux pas, April managed to remain calm and look interested.
Tom cleared his throat. “I should tell you I’m impressed with Lucas’s conclusions, which, incidentally, concur with mine.” He cast April a quelling glance. “After you get a chance to read the piece again, I’m sure you’ll be able to work with him just fine.”
April nodded politely while she digested the subtext of his words—work with him or you’re out of a job. She’d been at the magazine long enough to know her still-single boss was a man who took