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  Copyright ©2008 by Donna Michaels

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  "Why exactly did you come on this show, Ms. Bennett?” He stepped in front of her, his presence demanding she look at him.

  Glancing up, she shrugged and tried to keep some truth in their conversation. “I wanted to meet your brother."

  "What for?"

  "To learn origami.” She smirked, lifting her hands. “Why do you think?"

  His gaze narrowed. He wasn't amused.

  She sighed. “Look, I know I can make your brother happy. Isn't that what matters?"

  "How?"

  "What do you mean, how?"

  He placed his hands on either side of her on the desk and leaned in. “By kissing him the minute you two were alone?"

  She blinked. “You saw that? Well, you're not very observant for—” Brielle stopped before she gave herself away.

  "For what?” His finger traced her jaw. “A man? That's right, Ms. Bennett. I am a man. Maybe you'd like to kiss me too?"

  Oh, you've no idea!

  Meet Your Mate

  by

  Donna Michaels

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Meet Your Mate

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2007 by Donna Michaels

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  Champagne Rose Edition, 2007

  Print ISBN 1-60154-148-1

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For the Chaos and Havoc to my Mayhem. Thanks for putting up with, and answering my blings. You girls are the best crown wearers I know. To my good friends, the Hoods—especially Kathi, thank you so much for your time. And as always, to my wonderful family, thanks for all the love and support.

  What people are saying about Donna Michaels...

  Reviews for THANKS FOR GIVING

  "Debut author Donna Michaels writes a poignant story about sacrifices and redemption. Get a hankie ready when you read this touching story. Ms. Michaels's sensitive portrayal of the everyday sacrifices made by the men and women of the armed forces and their families made me very grateful for all they have given. Thanks for Giving is so apt!"—Anne Lumm

  "This was such a heartwarming story of love and sacrifice. From the first page on, Daniel and Sara's story tugged at my heartstrings and wouldn't let them go. I loved every minute of my time with these characters and was so pleased to see them get their happily ever after. I can't wait to see what Ms. Michaels has in store for us next."—Jana Hill

  "It is a terrific story, one that will in places bring tears to your eyes. It is well written and an enjoyable read. You can just feel the conflict between the hero, heroine and his father. It is a wonderful story for a first time out, and so reflects our everyday thoughts. It helps put so much into perspective. Donna has done a terrific job with this story, and I look forward to reading more from her."—Cryna Palmiere

  Chapter One

  "You want me to what?"

  "Go undercover as a contestant on the Meet Your Mate reality TV show,” came Uncle Franco's outrageous reply. “I need you to find out who's threatening the prospective groom."

  Gabrielle Chapman didn't like it. As much as she loved her mother's brother, the man who'd raised her after her parents’ death, Brielle had to turn down this job. She'd been in a similar situation before and learned, the hard way, to avoid investigating a television show, no matter the reason.

  "Uncle Franco, it's a bad idea.” She plopped into a chair across from him, its leather groaning beneath her weight.

  Franco DeMarco, owner of DeMarco Security and her boss, had been a confirmed bachelor until she'd arrived at age fifteen. Her bubble gum chewing, blue-jeaned rocker T-shirt clad image flashed through her mind. She smiled. Uncle Franco had been great. Having lost his own father when he was nine, he'd known when to give her space and when to keep her busy.

  "What's bad about it?” His question brought her mind back to the present.

  Brielle blinked and refocused. She used to be good at her job, not just through hard work and training, but from listening to her intuition when it made itself heard.

  Like now. It screamed!

  But her one-time lapse in judgment had nearly cost her everything. What if she was wrong now? Her chin lifted. She wasn't.

  "Uncle Franco, listen.” She didn't want to disappoint her uncle but had to stick to her gut feeling. “The variables are endless Too many people have access to the groom. Between the crew, contestants and mansion staff coming and going, you can't possibly account for everyone every minute of the day or keep them from contaminating evidence. This job has the makings of a disaster."

  "Not if you do it."

  She shook her head. Would he never quit?

  Itching to toss her hands in the air, Brielle clamped them together instead. Stubborn ox. She lifted her chin. Her pigheadedness had been compared to his more than once.

  "You can pull this off.” He reached over and squeezed her clenched hands. “I know you can."

  An unladylike snort escaped her as she rose to walk to the fireplace. Accepting this case would force her to rely on her judgment. She was fine when working with others and could volley ideas, but could she manage on her own again?

  What should she do? Brielle frowned at the leaping yellow and orange flames. She'd never refused her uncle before and owed him a great deal. Could she leave him in the lurch on a job commissioned by his old friend?

  Memories of how she'd jeopardized the company in the past flashed through her mind. Her lip curled. Yes, she could back out faster than a bullet from his Beretta.

  The leather couch creaked, signaling he'd risen to his feet.

  She exhaled and turned to face him. “You know I don't mix well with reality TV."

  His gaze softened. “Oh, hon, that wasn't your fault. Quit beating yourself up about it. This time, it'll be different. You'll see.

  She snorted a second time.

  "At least hear me out,” he said when she remained silent. “Matthew, the groom, is Donald Anderson's son. I served with Don in Korea."

  Brielle pointed to a black-and-white photo on the mantle. “Him?” A young Pvt. DeMarco and Pvt. Anderson sat on the hood of a jeep smiling as they waved their hats at the camera. The picture had been taken at the start of their first tour of duty. Her heart tightened, knowing from her uncle's stories, that the following months had been anything but carefree.

  "Yes, that's Don.” Uncle Franco stopped at her side. “Surely you understand why I can't turn my back on him? Their son needs us. We must help, Brielle. Investigating is our job. We can
uncover who's making these threats and put them behind bars. And you won't be alone in this."

  Her gaze flew to his face. “What do you mean? You're going undercover on the show, too?” She smiled. “I think a dress would give you away."

  "No, not me. Their older son, Jack. He's already there, guarding his brother and tightening up the show's security while pretending to help Matthew find a mate. I've had him checked out. Jack is top notch.” Admiration sparkled in Uncle Franco's gaze. “He's a former Army Ranger and decorated veteran of the Gulf War and several other missions. Now, he's a civilian with his own security and alarm company."

  She closed her eyes and groaned. Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. Her eyes snapped open. “Uncle Franco, don't you see? That only makes it worse. Jack will despise me for interfering, and I don't blame him.” Frowning, she considered her uncle. This wasn't right. What was he thinking?

  "Aren't you exaggerating?"

  "No!” What did it take to get through to him? Staring at him, she ticked off a finger for each valid point. “Making friends with and deceiving several women, pretending to fall for the groom, doing who knows what to go along with the show, constantly being followed by a camera, intruding on Jack's investigation—they all add up to one very bad idea.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “I won't do it."

  "Excuse me, sir.” Carl, her uncle's assistant, walked into the room. “The Andersons are here."

  Brielle stiffened. Andersons?

  Her arms dropped to her sides. Oh, he didn't—he wouldn't—he did. One look at her uncle's sly smile, and she knew his visitors were there to help convince her to take the case.

  "Ah, right on time. Send them in, Carl.” Uncle Franco buttoned his suit jacket, then turned and walked to the door.

  "Franco. It's so nice to see you again, my friend!” Dressed in a charcoal Italian pinstriped suit, a handsome older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair breezed into the study with an equally stunning woman on his arm. The soft glow of the fire and lamps gleamed off her shoulder-length dark hair and humanized her Versace-clad form. Brielle watched the backslapping embrace, then the hug from the sophisticated woman at his side.

  "Ah, Sophia. As beautiful as ever, I see.” Her uncle kissed the pretty older woman on both cheeks.

  "And you, Franco, are still nothing but a big, sweet-talker.” Delivered in an Italian accent, the truth in the statement extracted a grunt from Brielle.

  "You know what they say about old habits...” Uncle Franco shrugged.

  "Yes, and I think they had you in mind when that saying was invented, my old friend,” Don said with a grin.

  Her jaw relaxed. She liked this couple, despite the fact they were here to double-team her.

  "You must be Gabrielle.” Sophia's brown gaze swept over her in swift appraisal.

  Unease flittered through her. She'd just been sized up and found acceptable—but for what?

  "Franco has told us so much about you, dear.” The woman stepped forward, hands extended. “We can't thank you enough for your help."

  She shot her uncle a look, then settled her gaze back on the approaching woman. Despite her indecision about the job, she allowed Sophia to take her hands and kiss both her cheeks.

  "Please, call me Brielle,” she invited when they pulled apart.

  "What a lovely name. It suits you."

  "Thank you.” She shifted her weight under the woman's long scrutiny. Now she knew what a horse felt like at an auction. Maybe I should open my mouth and let Sophia check my teeth.

  "This is my husband, Don."

  Mouth closed, she switched her focus to the man extending his hand. Blue eyes twinkled as he bent to lightly kiss her face.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you.” Mr. Anderson squeezed her hand. “Thank you for helping our son."

  "Yes, well, about that.” Her stomach knotted, but she believed in being honest. “I haven't exactly agreed."

  "Oh?” Mr. Anderson released her fingers, his gaze darting to her uncle. “I'm sorry, I thought—"

  "It's all right, Don,” Uncle Franco reassured, his hand cupping the man's shoulder. “Brielle has a few reservations, but I'm sure we can help her overcome them."

  A few? More like a gross, but she held her tongue and smiled at Mr. Anderson. “I was just telling my uncle there are too many variables in this case. Too many things can go wrong. Too many people have access to the set, and even if your son Jack manages to tighten the show's security—"

  "He has,” Sophia interrupted.

  "I don't see how my going on the show will help Matthew when Jack is already there doing the job.” She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “No, I think Matthew would be safer if he called in the police or left the show."

  "I've begged Matthew to do both, but he won't.” Sophia pulled in a shaky breath. “That's why Jack is there. He's guarding Matthew and has fixed the security issues, but he isn't an investigator, Brielle, you are. And besides, he's staying in the bachelor mansion. You'd be in the bachelorette mansion."

  Brielle chewed her lower lip. The woman had a point.

  "And I checked out the producers and crew. They came up clean. They didn't make the threats,” Uncle Franco informed.

  Interest sparked through her like a lighted fuse on a stick of dynamite. She had to admit, she was curious about those threats.

  You're mine! Stop the show, or else!

  Or else what? Was Matthew in danger? The contestants? Both?

  "In fact,” Uncle Franco continued, breaking into her thoughts, “we've checked everyone out and have it narrowed down to the four remaining contestants. They're now the only suspects, and you living with them in that mansion could give the investigation the break it needs."

  Her pulse quickened. She hated when he was right. “But what about Jack? How does he feel about this?” She refused to undermine him.

  The trio of gazes collided before turning to her.

  Unease returned, wrapping its fingers around her spine. What weren't they telling her?

  "What do you mean?” It was Sophia who finally spoke up.

  "Isn't Jack going to resent my investigation and my presence?"

  "No.” The older woman shook her head and smiled. “He isn't going to know."

  "What?” Her arms dropped to her sides. Maybe she'd heard wrong. Sweeping her gaze from one smug face to the next, she quickly put that theory to rest. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, but she did question their sanity. “Are you all crazy? Why in the world not?"

  "Because, my dear.” Sophia stepped closer. “I know my older son. God bless him, I love him dearly, but I fear he wouldn't be very ... nice to you if he knew."

  Lovely. She rolled her eyes. “Not that I'd blame him, but believe me, I can deal with his attitude.” Arms crossed, she waited for a better argument.

  "Sorry, dear.” Sophia shrugged. “But you, being a female in Jack's line of work, well, telling him is just not an option."

  She bristled. “What's wrong with being a female?” She'd prided herself on not prejudging people but found it difficult in this case. Was he a Neanderthal?

  "Jack would insist you leave because he would think he'd have to protect you, too,” Don said quietly.

  "Oh, I see.” She pulled in a breath and counted to ten. Jack was one of those kind. They liked to play the knight in shining armor and have the woman depend on them. Brielle exhaled. She preferred to be Lancelot over Guinevere and didn't need protecting. “I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

  "Of course you are.” Sophia touched her shoulder. “We wouldn't ask you to do this if we didn't have faith in you.” The woman paused, her composure crumbling. “Please, say you'll help my son. The threats have been showing up more often, but Matthew still insists on continuing with the show. I'm afraid for his life! This person means to destroy his chance at finding happiness. All I want is for my sons to be happy."

  A tear rolled down Sophia's face, pulling at Briell
e's heart. She clenched her teeth against the compassion that threatened. I am not going to take this case! It was full of holes, and the sooner she made that known and left the room, the better.

  Squaring her shoulders, she prepared herself to weather the storm of disappointment sure to blow from the worried mother standing before her. Drawing in a breath, she opened her mouth and said, “Okay."

  Damn! How'd that slip out?

  "Oh, thank you, Brielle.” Sophia sniffed, pulling her into a hug.

  Chiding herself for being weak, Brielle swallowed a grunt. She'd been played. And expertly, too. Like a video game in the hands of a teenager. Her spine stiffened. I might have been hoodwinked into this case, but I'll lay down the law.

  "I'll do this on one condition. I insist Matthew knows the truth.” Jaw set, she cocked her head and eyed the murmuring threesome. No way would she do it otherwise. Jack, she'd deal with, but Matthew? She wasn't about to feign an interest in a man and waste his time when he could possibly find his soul mate.

  "Actually, I agree.” Uncle Franco nodded.

  "You do?” She blinked.

  "Yes. I think Matthew should know. That way he can continue to pick you to stay on the show and keep you informed of any new threats."

  Nodding, she turned to the Andersons and gave the other son one last try. “Now, what about Jack? Are you sure we can't tell him? I really hate going in without informing him I'm there to help."

  "I'm sorry, Brielle,” Sophia said, her eyes unblinking. “But you have to trust us on this. Jack will be easier to handle if he doesn't know."

  "Fine, if you think that's best.” She sighed, taking the Andersons’ advice. Who better to know their son and steer her right? Besides, having been on reality television before, she knew how fast complications could arise. The last thing she needed was a chivalrous he-man shadowing her every move.

  "Here are copies with detailed reports of when and where the threats surfaced.” Uncle Franco handed her a folder. “Memorize everything that's in here. You'll be joining the show Monday morning."