“The other girls have flirted with me and fluttered their eyelashes. A couple of the women gave me good views of their best assets.” His gaze dropped to her chest. Tiny wrinkles fanned from the corners of his eyes in another display of humor.
“I flashed my butt at the viewing audience.” Susan shot a glare at the cameraman. “I think I’ve shown more than my fair share of assets.”
“I didn’t see,” he pointed out.
“Not my fault.”
“You have two more minutes,” the cameraman said.
“What do you expect from a wife?” Susan asked again.
“I want a woman who attracts me sexually, someone who enjoys sex. I’d expect my wife to work alongside me, taking an active part in running the farm and socializing within the community. I want someone to share my life. In return, I’ll do my best to make my wife happy too.”
His words were unexpected and warmed her heart. A partner. He wanted someone to stand alongside him.Be still my heart. That was exactly what she wanted from a man—someone to share good times and bad.
“I want a man who is attractive and attentive, one who will treat me as an equal and share life in all its different facets. Our needs are similar.”
He scratched his chin, the faint abrasion of fingertip and the beginnings of stubble a rasp in the expectant pause. “Maybe.”
“Time,” the cameraman said.
Nolan unfolded his long limbs and stood before extending his hand. “I’ll carry you to the gravel.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said hastily. “I’ll go barefoot.” She slid her hand free and offered him a dazzling smile. “Thank you for chatting with me. It was nice to meet you.”
“Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”
“Sure. Why not?” At least she could tell her friends she’d scored a kiss from a sexy farmer. She lifted her head, expecting a quick, polite peck on the mouth.
Instead, he framed her face with his hands, holding her firmly. He grinned as he lowered his lips. Her heartbeat stalled on seeing his intent. Then he was kissing her, slowly. Thoroughly. Not exactly the kiss for a first meeting, but she guessed the circumstances warranted different. His scent wrapped through her senses, and her knees went weak, only his strength holding her upright.
“Ahem.”
The loud interruption came from behind Susan.
Nolan pulled back and grinned over her shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Time for the next prospective wife.” He glanced down at her, his expression softening and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Beneath the quick mind and sass, you’re very sensual. I like it.”
He released her hand and stepped back, leaving her reeling. Only the chuckle of the cameraman—his face once again concealed by his camera—jerked back her composure.
“Goodbye, Susan,” Nolan said.
“Goodbye.” Susan paused to yank the spike heels from the ground and padded to the edge of the gravel before slipping them on her feet. She replayed their conversation and came up with the conclusion.
She’d blown her speed date.
Nolan watched Susan retreat, intrigue warring with his need for retribution. His mother had to accept he was capable of choosing a wife. A thirty-year-old man wasn’t a kid, damn it. Aware of his loosening grip on his temper, he sucked in a breath, let it ease out and scanned his list of dates.
The next woman was one of his choosing and satisfaction brought a grim smile. Judging by her photo, she was an attractive blonde and her hobbies shadowed his interests. And the bonus—she’d grown up on a farm, so she’d know the ins and outs better than most of the girls his mother had chosen for this debacle.
His grandfather had suggested he refuse to participate in the reality show, but his grandmother, in her wise way, searched for the profits. If he played things right, businesses in their community might benefit. The film crew and the people involved in the project would bring spending power and maybe a few nosy visitors. This promotion was good for the town of Clare, and his grandmother had pointed out, he might have fun and make new friends along the way.
He thought fleetingly of Yvonne and her two kids. He already knew how to have fun…
Yeah, mind on the job.
Whittling the group of twenty women down to eight wasn’t gonna be easy. Blast his mother for putting him in this position, entering him without seeking his permission.
“I know my son,” she’d said, her shoulders square and chin raised in the face of his fury. “You’ll make a good husband, but you won’t meet anyone if you insist on spending your time at the farm. You need to get out, meet suitable women.”
