Husband Wanted: Will Train

She started the car with a growing feeling of anticipa tion. Something was going to happen tonight. Good or bad, it couldn't be stopped now. She was racing toward destiny.

Destiny wasn't a concept that took up much of Ross's thinking time. He usually dealt with the more immediate and mundane. Right now his biggest worry was finding a bar of soap.

Charity's shower was nice and roomy. The hot, sting ing water hit his tanned flesh with just enough force to take his breath away, which he liked. But when he felt in the soap dish, there was nothing, not even the tail ends of a well-used bar. And after helping to move furniture all af ternoon, he needed some.

He shut off the water and stepped out of the tub, mak ing immediate puddles on her tiled floor. He tried first one cabinet, then another, and then he looked through every drawer, but with no luck.

"Damn," he breathed, looking around the little room, noting the yellow-billed geese dancing across her wall. "Where the hell do women store their soap?"

The kitchen seemed a likely place to look. He didn't bother with a robe. His plan was to dash to the kitchen, grab some dish detergent if there was nothing else and dash back before his skin even had time to register a hint of cold.

Plans were one thing, carrying them through another. The bright kitchen was clean and tidy, but soap was scarce, and the dish detergent wasn't underneath the sink where he'd expected to find it. Shaking his head with exaspera tion, he decided to return to the bathroom, but before he'd taken more than two steps, someone knocked on the front door.

"Ross?"

It was Charity, back much sooner than he'd expected. Ross looked down at his naked body. "Just a minute," he called, turning toward the bathroom.

"I can't wait! I'm dropping everything! Hurry up and open the door."

The bathroom was all the way on the other side of the apartment. The front door was only a few steps away. Ross hesitated, looking about quickly. Shrugging, he grabbed a dish towel that hung on a rack by the kitchen door. "Coming," he called as he tried to pull the little cloth around his hips.

The day before, Charity had found Ross awfully attrac tive. She expected to find him so again. She expected to find him handsome and appealing and utterly charming. She did not expect to find him naked. So when the door opened and revealed Ross, tall and tan, dark hair curling tightly around smooth nipples and tapering down to the flattest, most muscular stomach she'd ever seen, she gasped and did, in fact, drop everything she'd held in her arms.