Книга - Carried Away

Carried Away
Donna Kauffman


SHE WAS THE WRONG WOMAN…Former Special Ops commander Trevor McQuillen isn't used to making mistakes. But when he drags sleepy, luscious Christy Russell out of bed thinking she's someone else, even he has to admit he got the right bed, but the wrong woman. Or is she? Christy isn't at all what he bargained for, but as the heat escalates between them, Trevor is determined to prove to the cautious Christy that he's the right man for her.…IN THE RIGHT PLACE!All Christy wanted was to get some sleep when Trevor arrived to turn her life upside down–literally. But despite the bungled recon mission, she can't help rumpling the sheets with the sexy soldier! Christy has no intention of complicating her life with a serious relationship, but Trevor's devastating charm and passionate kisses are wearing down her resistance. How can she trust herself not to get carried away?









“What on earth…?” Christy shrieked


She was awakened from her erotic dream to find herself being dragged from the bed and slung upside down fireman-style over Trevor’s shoulder. She blinked furiously, trying to clear the cobwebs.

“What are you doing?” This demand was delivered to the very hard, very broad back of…Wait a minute. Her dream man wasn’t real, was he? No, she reasoned, she must still be asleep after all. But with the well-muscled arm strapped across the backs of her thighs, she realized her predicament was definitely real.

The breath she’d planned to use to inform him of his mistake was oomphed out of her as he stepped off the porch and headed toward his car. She was outside—in her underwear. “Oh, my God! I don’t have any clothes on!”

“I’ve got them. You can dress at the church. Save the excuses—” Trevor cut her off “—whatever they are.”

Christy was dumped in the front seat of the car and was just winding up to deliver a blistering speech to this Neanderthal. But as she turned to confront him, the words died in her throat. He was the most gorgeous Neanderthal she’d ever laid eyes on….


Dear Reader,

I’ve enjoyed mistaken identity stories ever since Hayley Mills appeared as twins in the Disney movie The Parent Trap. Of course, now I’ve grown up a little, and my fantasies have grown up along with me. When my editor called and asked me to take part in THE WRONG BED series, I thought here was the perfect time to fulfill that particular fantasy!

I had the best time torturing my characters Trevor and Christy during their initial meeting (though I don’t let the mistaken part go on for very long). But by then they are irrevocably involved with each other. I hope you enjoy watching what starts out as a mistake turn into love.

Happy reading!

Donna Kauffman




Books by Donna Kauffman


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

828—WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

846—HEAT OF THE NIGHT

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

18—HER SECRET THRILL


Carried Away

Donna Kauffman






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to the guys at Crucible.

Thanks for making this world a little bit safer for those in need.




Contents


Prologue (#uf96b084a-57f9-536d-85c2-67861c55cd03)

Chapter 1 (#u2c098696-ec83-5e87-9e4c-74b5278fd2de)

Chapter 2 (#uc7dcd184-a19e-59c6-b463-e303f22b65b1)

Chapter 3 (#ub6038fde-23e0-51fe-a10a-d6a1084cc18c)

Chapter 4 (#u2be10930-0f81-5512-b26c-c011fe549ebf)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


“SHE’S NOT COMING. I knew it!”

Trevor McQuillen shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing more terrifying than being alone with an unhappy bride on her wedding day. Except perhaps a crying unhappy bride. When tears pooled in Kate’s eyes, Trevor knew he had to take action. “Listen, maybe she just got caught up—”

“No, she’s not here because someone told her Eric was going to be at the reception. She told me not to invite him and I swore I wouldn’t, but I—I just had to do something!” Her bottom lip began to quaver. “I just wanted her to be happy. Like I am with Mike. Viv and Eric belong together and I thought once she was here, with all the sentimentality of the wedding—” She broke off on a gulp of air and a noisy sniff.

Okay, Trevor schooled himself, don’t panic. Five minutes, that’s all Mike had asked. Keep her company for five minutes until her dad arrived. Trevor had commanded sensitive covert operations in four different countries over the past five years. Surely he could handle one crying woman. Mike would never forgive him if he handed over a blubbering bride.

So he did what Lieutenant Commander Trevor McQuillen did best. He assessed the situation and took command of the operation. Kate wanted Vivian to be in her wedding party. If Trevor could fly halfway around the world to stand up for his best buddy, this Vivian could certainly get over herself and whatever problems she’d had with Eric to do the same for her best friend. “Do you know where she is?”

Kate was rubbing her nose with a wad of tissues, and his barked order made her jump. “Wha—? Where Viv is?”

Trevor clamped his jaw tight and willed the tic under his right eye to stop jumping. For once he was happy he was an only child. In a gentler tone, he said, “Yes, ma’am. If you’ll direct me to where she is, I’ll go and get her. Bring her here.”

Kate was already shaking her head, but the way her watery blue eyes lit up with hope, Trevor knew he was going to do this, even if he had to personally put this Viv into her bridesmaid’s dress and truss her into the back seat of his rental sedan.

“She’s—she’s probably at home. I got Tricia to call her, but she didn’t pick up.”

Trevor had no idea who Tricia was—probably one of the dozen or so bridesmaids presently dressing and chattering in the room above the alcove they were standing in. “But you think she’s there?”

She hiccuped and nodded. “I don’t know where else she’d go.” Fresh tears threatened as she gulped in a deep breath. “What was I thinking to play matchmaker on my wedding day?”

Trevor wondered the same thing, but time was of the essence here.

“I just thought it would be so romantic, you know?” She tried to smile as her breath hitched. “I know they still love each other. What better place to realize that than at a wedding?”

“But you believe she’s at home now?” Trevor silently begged her to focus on the solution, not the problem. He’d been risking his life for too long making solutions happen despite people’s refusal to focus. Apparently turning civilian wasn’t going to end that job description. At least not yet. “How far away is it?”

“Five, maybe ten minutes tops.”

He handed her his handkerchief when her tissue finally gave out, trying not to wince when she used it noisily. He shook his head when she offered it back to him and searched the alcove for something to write with. He took the wedding program from the pocket of his dress uniform and scooped up the little half pencil from a box filled with tithe envelopes. “Directions?”

Kate looked uncertain. “What if she—? I mean, I…don’t want to—”

“This is your wedding day and you want her to be here to witness your vows to Mike, right?”

She nodded, dabbing at her pink nose.

“She will probably be upset with herself later if she misses it, so you’re really doing her a favor. If it will make you feel better, I’ll make sure she knows she can leave right after the ceremony and avoid…whatshisname.”

“Eric. He’s her husband. Or was,” she corrected immediately when he frowned. “They got divorced eighteen months ago, but they’re both miserable,” she rushed to add.

Trevor really didn’t want to know about all that. Right now his mission was to make sure his buddy’s wife-to-be was happy and ready to get married. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was meddling in anyone else’s life, much less their love life. He’d personally guarantee Viv a ride home after the ceremony. Everyone would be happy.

He pushed the pencil and paper at Kate. She smiled through a fresh rush of tears. “Mike was right. You really are hero material. Thanks for saving my day.” Her lip was trembling again. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Trevor nodded, silently praying for her to hurry with the directions so he could make his escape. When she handed the paper back, fingers trembling, he scanned the directions to make sure he could understand them. He’d lived in the area as a child and had been back when he could to see his grandmother, but she’d passed away years ago and his job with the Special Forces hadn’t allowed him to come back very often since then. Things seemed to change every time he came back to this small suburb of Richmond, Virginia.

He gave Kate what he hoped was a reassuring nod. “Have your father tell the reverend to give me twenty minutes. I’ll have her here ready to go.”




1


CHRISTY RUSSELL was not a morning person. Or an afternoon, or middle-of-the-night person, either, depending on what shift she was working. She’d worked so many in a row now she’d totally lost track. All she knew was that she had no shifts of any kind for the next seventy-two hours. No pager, no cell phone, no emergency call ins. The world could come to an end and probably would given her luck, but she was not gracing the hallways of the Richmond General Hospital’s ICU until Monday afternoon at four.

Three days. And she planned to remain unconscious for as much of the first one as possible.

And she would if they’d just stop that banging. Whoever “they” were. She grumbled in her sleep. Banging, banging, banging. She tossed one way, then yanked the covers over her head as she turned the other. Pound, pound and yelling. She wasn’t going to listen to any yelling. Uh-uh. She was unconscious. Off work. Not available.

She sunk deeper into dreamland. Still, the noise followed. Someone calling for Viv. Ah, she thought hazily. Viv, not Christy. Good. She smiled and nestled into her pillow. No Viv. Viv gone, she remembered dreamily, then blocked the disturbance out once and for all by tugging her pillow over her head and sinking fully into the waiting arms of the Sandman.

“Get up, Vivian.”

Mmm. The Sandman had a deep, sexy voice. She burrowed deeper under her pillows and blankets. Maybe he’d crawl into her dreams with her and bring that sexy voice with him. What else would go with such a sexy voice? she wondered dreamily.

“You’re late for a very important date.”

Date. Yeah. She’d go on a date with that voice. He sounded so real, so close. “C’mere,” she murmured, mentally reaching for her dream man.

“Come on, wake up.”

Strong hands. Yeah, they went very nicely with that voice. Strong, warm hands. A little rough, but then she could handle a demanding lover. Lord knew, it had been so long, she had a few demands of her own.

“Vivian, time to wake up. Now.”

She frowned. “Viv?” she mumbled. Why did her dream man want Viv? That wasn’t very nice. After all, she’d conjured him up, shouldn’t he be wanting her? What kind of dream was this anyway?

“Vivian.” Her dream man was becoming demanding, but not the way she’d like him to.

“Go ’way.” She’d think up another dream man. It was bad enough she wasn’t getting any action in real life, but she’d be damned if she’d put up with her own dream man choosing someone else over her.

And then her dream man was using those nice, strong hands to pull her covers off and yank her pillow away. How rude! Consciousness tugged at her, only her brain and most of her body weren’t really willing to catch up. Which wasn’t surprising given she was probably the world’s heaviest sleeper.

“There’s going to be a wedding in fifteen minutes and you’re going to stand up for your best friend.”

“Huh?” She had no idea what sort of whack dream this was, but she was really beginning to hate it. She flopped back on the bed and once again swore off convenience-store microwave tamales. Well, right before bed, anyway. They were one of her major food groups and she wasn’t going to be so hasty as to swear off them forever. Food. Maybe she should dream about that….

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

She was being hauled upright again. This really must stop. She was sure she was telling him, but the words were all fuzzed up in her brain. All she wanted to do was sleep, dammit. Couldn’t they just leave her alone to sleep? And just who the hell were they anyway?

She tried to struggle, but her arms were all sleep-gimpy and the Sandman was much stronger at any rate. “Whas going on? Hey!” This last came out much more clearly as she was unceremoniously dragged from her nice warm bed, or Viv’s nice warm bed. Maybe that’s why her dream man wanted Viv; it was her bed after all. Hmm…She began to drift again.

Then was awakened by her own shriek when she found herself turned almost upside down. “What the hell?” She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to clear the cobwebs. “What are you doing?” This demand was delivered directly to the very hard, very broad back of…Wait a minute. Her dream man wasn’t real. Was he?

No, she must still be asleep after all. Okay, so no tamales or frozen cheesecake treats. Sheesh.

But she swiftly realized her predicament had nothing to do with sugar-and-spice overload. Because the warm, well-muscled forearm strapped across the back of her thighs was definitely real.

She began to struggle in earnest now as full consciousness was rudely and irrevocably thrust upon her. “Who the hell are you? Put me down!”

“Your best friend is crying her eyes out in a church on what should be the happiest day of her life and so you’re going to put aside whatever personal problems you might have and go make her happy.”

They were already heading down Viv’s stairs and she grabbed his waist to keep her head from banging against his back. She couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together, much less make any sense of what was happening to her. But one thing would certainly help. “Put. Me. Down.”

But the hard body presently manhandling her wasn’t remotely intimidated by her best ICU nurse voice. Okay, okay, she told herself. Calm down, wake up, think, think. What was he talking about? A wedding. Wedding.

“Oh! You must mean Kate Winchell.”

“Nice of you to remember.”

She finally put it together. He thought she was Vivian and Kate had sent him here to bring her matron of honor to the ceremony.

But the breath she’d planned to use to inform him of his dire mistake was oomphed out of her when he stepped off the front porch and headed toward a silver sedan. She forgot all about warning him when warm, humid air brushed her legs. Her very bare legs. Oh my God! “Wait just a damn minute! I don’t have any clothes on!”

She heard a rustle of plastic. “I’ve got them. You can dress at the church.”

“But I’m not—”

“Save the excuses. Whatever they are, you can swallow them for the twenty minutes it’s going to take for my buddy to marry the love of his life.” He shifted her as easily as a sack of potatoes so he could open the door. “A woman with apparently lousy taste in best friends,” he added, clearly disgusted. “But she deserves a nice wedding day and I’m going to make sure she gets it.”

Christy was dumped in the front seat of the car, quite rudely she thought, and was just winding up to deliver a blistering speech to enlighten this…this Neanderthal Kate had apparently sent to get Vivian. But all the words and a goodly amount of the venom she’d been building since the moment he tossed her over his shoulder died in her throat the instant she came face-to-face with him.

He was very possibly the most gorgeous Neanderthal she’d ever laid eyes on.

And speaking of eyes. At the moment, his were mere inches away from hers as he leaned in to get the seat-belt harness. They were blue. Lord, were they ever. All the poetic words ever used on a greeting card couldn’t describe just how blue those eyes were.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Better not to speak until she was sure she wouldn’t drool. Not that she could be any more humiliated at this point. No makeup, puffy eyes, bed hair…and wearing white cotton underwear. Oh, yeah, she was a real temptress. Not that she wanted to tempt the guy. But her body didn’t seem willing to register that reality. Oh, no, her body was exceedingly aware that white cotton or not, she wasn’t wearing very much of it. And his hands were hovering close to…well, close to places she really shouldn’t want a stranger’s hands to hover. But she wanted them to anyway.

God, she was tired. That had to be the reason she waited until the last possible second before smacking his hands away and taking the seat belt from him. One second later and his knuckles would have grazed…well, she didn’t want to think about what those knuckles would have been grazing against. Her nipples were thinking about it far too much already, thank you very much.

“Buckle up,” he said tersely and stepped back, apparently oblivious to the near riot he’d created with her hormones.

Sleep deprivation—she was sure that was the only reason they were all in a dither. That and a severe lack of love life. Tough combination, and after the eyeful she got watching him as he straightened, she decided she couldn’t really blame her nipples one bit.

He locked her door and shut it tightly, making her flinch. Venom buildup returning, she thought, scowling as she watched him walk with a rigid preciseness that made the military uniform he wore seem redundant. But damn, if he didn’t fill that uniform out. And men in uniform didn’t even make the top ten on her list of things to fantasize about. “Well, that could change,” she murmured, mind wandering. Of course, in her fantasies the man in uniform wouldn’t be a rude, Neanderthal, hormone-inducing jerk. Well, except for the hormone-inducing part. That would probably be okay. And those eyes, those would work.

God, she was punchy. How had she let this happen anyway? Yawning fiercely, she let her head drop back on the headrest. She knew Kate Winchell, but only through Viv. Christy had met her fiancé, Mike, at a July Fourth picnic once. He was a former Special Forces guy, she couldn’t remember with what part of the military, but given the uniform, she guessed this was one of his pals. Her eyelids drooped and her mind was tugged back toward dreamland as she vaguely wondered if she and her blue-eyed Neanderthal Man would have hit it off if they’d met at a picnic. Maybe he’d wear that uniform…and let her take it off later, alone. Somewhere where they could have their own private display of fireworks. Oh, yeah, that would be great….

She almost leaped out of her skin when he slammed his door shut. Which put him inside the car. Right next to her. Her and her rioting, fantasizing hormones. And her barely clad body. She hunched down a little and shifted toward the door, not that he hadn’t already seen everything. And it didn’t make a bit of difference, nor did the fact that her brain knew she’d never give this guy the time of day after the way he’d treated her. Her body was still back at her fantasy picnic, getting ready to explode a few fireworks.

Okay, so she’d been pulling too many double shifts. She had school loans to pay off and a fixer-upper condo that was turning into a money pit of nightmare proportions. She had priorities. And they didn’t include fireworks. In or out of uniform.

But her gaze slid over to him anyway. Along his thighs, so nicely outlined in his crisp dress pants, to the belted jacket that covered…well, things she didn’t need to be visualizing as she was overstimulated enough at the moment. But she didn’t look away. No, she had to look at his hands…and oh, Lord, what hands they were.

She might not have men-in-uniform fantasies, but she definitely had a thing about hands. And his were…perfect. Wide palms, long fingers, blunt nails, all capable and strong as they gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel. They’d be just as strong and capable gripping her hips. She tried not to squirm, tried not to imagine. But perhaps, just maybe, her priorities needed readjusting a tiny bit.

The man just kidnapped you from your own bed for chrissakes!

She jerked her gaze back to the passenger window. She had no right fantasizing about this guy. So what if he thought she was someone else? Breaking and entering, kidnapping…all those things were still against the law. And just because Kate was sniffling, well, she shouldn’t have set Viv up to begin with! Christy should be furious, not fantasizing!

The headache she’d almost medicated away earlier crawled back inside her head with renewed force. She needed to be in bed and there was a perfectly good one not fifty yards away. So what in the hell was she doing letting this guy drag her to an event she hadn’t even been invited to?

She turned to face Mr. Gorgeous Neanderthal Man and tell him just that, but just as abruptly decided against it. Oh, no, there was a much better way for him to learn of his giant faux pas. Swallowing a smile, she leaned back in the plush leather seat, deciding to just enjoy the short ride to the chapel. He’d learn soon enough that he’d plundered the wrong bed. Or the wrong woman anyway. She let her eyes drift shut as she imagined the humiliation payback that was going to be his when they pulled up in front of the chapel and— “Oh my God!” Her eyes flew open.

He hit the brakes. “What?”

“I’m not wearing anything!” Which she already knew. What she hadn’t factored in was that they were heading to a church where everyone else would find out she was only wearing her underwear.

He scowled and resumed his race to the church. “If you’d been here with everyone else, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

Christy didn’t waste breath explaining the mix-up to him. Being a nurse, she’d worked with her share of arrogant men in her life. The man next to her was the military equivalent. He’d already assessed the situation, made his diagnosis—and nothing this lowly nurse had to say was going to change his decided method of treatment.

So she attacked the one part of the problem that dealt directly with her own well-being. “You are not depositing me on a street corner in my underwear. Nor will you be hauling me into a church in front of anyone in my underwear.”

“Then I suggest you haul your fanny over the seat and start getting dressed.” He didn’t even look at her. Or her fanny.

Not that she wanted him to, of course.

“Better get a move on. We’ll be there in three minutes.”

She had to curl her fingers against the very real urge to smack his chiseled, too-damn-good-looking profile. You’re a nurse. You heal, not hurt. At that particular moment, she really wanted to make an exception to that rule.

However, as she was faced with an extremely embarrassing situation, she didn’t waste any more time. She scrambled over the seat, swallowing her mortification as various parts of her body brushed far too close to various parts of his body, namely his face. All he had to do was turn his head and—

She made an ungraceful dive for the back seat, landing in a most unladylike sprawl. Not that he’d noticed any of it. Or any of her. Coldhearted bastard. She’d certainly noticed. Her pulse was pounding and not entirely in frustration. She gave in to the impulse to stick her tongue out at the back of his head, then looked with great trepidation at the melon-colored, sequin-and-chiffon creation that awaited her. Dear God, she thought. What on earth had Viv’s friend been thinking? It looked for all the world like an overpriced Las Vegas fruit salad.

But it was either dress like a glazed melon ball or face Kate, the assembled wedding party and every rubbernecker on the road in front of the church in her underwear.

Someday you’ll laugh about all this, she told herself, tearing the plastic bag off the dress. But as she squeezed her curvy size-twelve body into Viv’s narrow, size-ten dress, she had an increasingly hard time believing anything about this day would ever remotely amuse her.




2


TREVOR GRIPPED the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road and not the mirrored reflection of what was taking place in the back seat of his rental sedan.

Dear Lord, but that woman had curves on top of curves. He felt sweat bead up on his forehead and knew it had nothing to do with the summer humidity. What had he been thinking making her climb over that seat? She’d all but smothered his ear with…with body parts that hadn’t been rubbed against his ear in…well, maybe never. Not that he wasn’t an adventurous lover, or willing to be, but—Jesus, his ear felt like it was on fire. Good damn thing she hadn’t brushed up against anything else.

He still remembered the silky smooth feel of her legs under his hands. Of course, he’d been busy trying to ignore the combustible reaction she’d set off inside him when he’d pulled her half-naked, very warm and pliable body out of that bed. She’d draped herself over him like a warm blanket. Okay, so she’d been unconscious, but his body didn’t care about that!

Damn Kate and her stupid reunion scheme. He made the last turn and glanced in the rearview mirror as the church loomed into view. He was lucky he didn’t put the car in a ditch. Did she have any idea what she looked like in that dress? It fit like a second skin, and there was cleavage…everywhere.

This was a wedding, not Hugh Hefner’s latest bunny roundup. Had Kate really okayed that getup? Weren’t all eyes supposed to be on the bride? Because with all that exposed flesh in the front and her well-rounded backside being showcased just as outrageously, no warm-blooded male in his right mind was going to be looking anywhere else for the duration of the ceremony. Her shoulder-length hair was a wild swirl of brunette curls that would be a rat’s nest on any other woman, but coupled with those pouty lips and heavy-lidded, dark chocolate eyes…and that dress, she looked like sex incarnate.

Why in the hell would Kate allow herself to be upstaged like this? Or had she okayed the dress in hopes her pal would use hormone overload to win her ex-husband back? Of course, at the moment Trevor thought the man had been insane to let her get away in the first place.

“I just want you to know you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,” she said, eyes flashing, smile a tad smug.

Okay, so maybe this Eric had been wiser than he gave him credit for. Vivian conjured all kinds of slinky, feline comparisons…including the sharp claws and teeth.

“Don’t pull any fast ones,” he warned, not that she could in that dress. He wasn’t sure how she was going to walk in it, much less run away.

He pulled up right in front of the church, parking behind the limo with Just Married painted on the rear window. The bridesmaids were probably already lined up, so she could just slip into the front and no one would know she was making a forced appearance. Kate could take it from there and he’d thankfully head to his place at the head of the chapel next to his buddy. He said a silent prayer for the pile of trouble Mike was about to marry. And a silent apology to Eric, as well. He’d never met the man, but he didn’t relish the reunion he was in for.

He patted his pocket as he unbuckled and got out, breathing a sigh of relief. Ring box was still there. An hour from now he’d be toasting the bride and groom and this whole ordeal would be over.

He went to open the back door, but Vivian had already swung it open and was trying to maneuver her way out. However, the snug fit of the dress was restricting her movement to the point that getting out without assistance would be mission impossible. He pushed her hands away—twice—and hauled her out.

“I can manage,” she ground out.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She made a face and he found himself stifling a smile. Definitely a handful. Several handfuls, in fact, he thought as he carefully set her on her tottering heels. His actions had caused her dress to roll dangerously high, well past her knees. The cut was so low in the front that she didn’t dare lean down to fix the hem for fear of spilling out of it.

Glaring at him, she simply motioned him to fix it. For some reason her autocratic, silent demand tweaked at him. “Do you require further assistance, ma’am?”

“You know damn well I do. It’s all your fault I’m even here, so the least you can do is make this horrid outfit as presentable as possible.”

Only years of intensive training saved him from laughing out loud. “So you didn’t pick this out yourself?”

She bared her teeth into what might pass for a smile. On a tiger. “Pull the hem down. Please.” This last was added as if under extreme duress.

And looking at the way her curves were strapped into way too little fabric, he realized she probably was. “Yes, ma’am.” He knelt in front of her and tried, really tried, not to notice the smooth expanse of leg in front of him, or how it had felt beneath his fingertips.

She twitched as he gingerly took hold of the thin fabric and tugged. She twitched again and made a strange gargling sound. No way was he lifting his head to check on her, however. “Be still. This thing isn’t giving.”

She snorted again, then snickered and finally swatted at him to stop. “Stop, stop, you’re killing me here.”

He did look up then. Big mistake. “Beg—” He had to clear his throat…and his vision of the bounty of cleavage in front of him. “Beg your pardon?”

“I’m ticklish, okay? And you’re being awfully damn polite for a kidnapper.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she talked over him. “Just leave the dress alone. It’s not like I’m going to have it on for very long.”

Perfectly happy to follow orders this go around, Trevor stood and eyed her, but thought it best not to respond to that last comment. But, oh, the lucky man who got to peel that dress off of her, he couldn’t help thinking. Providing he could find a way to keep her mouth shut, that is.

“Well, best to get this over with,” she said, but when she went to take a step, they both realized the dress wasn’t that flexible. Nor were the spiky heels that appeared wedged on her feet.

Trevor sighed, but time was wasting and Mike was probably getting a bit worried about his best man. He didn’t even want to think what shape Kate was in. So he did what he had to do. He scooped her up in his arms, ignored her squeal of protest—and the way her breasts all but heaved out of the front of the dress—and carried her up the stairs of the church.

“You are so going to regret this,” she said. “And if I weren’t so busy trying to breathe, I’d probably enjoy it.”

Trevor tapped the door of the church with his shoe and focused straight ahead. He really must have been overseas too long, because just the sweet pressure of her sequin-clad fanny against the front of his body was enough to make him very glad his dress uniform included a long jacket. He tapped the door with a bit more force.

Finally it cracked open, revealing a sea of melon sequins, teased hair and flower bouquets. Trevor was tempted to just shove her inside and make a run for it, but Kate emerged through the throng like a white-chiffon swan.

“Thank goodness! I was worried I’d lost my matron of honor and Mike’s best man!” She sounded giddy bordering on hysterical as the sequin-and-satin sea parted to allow him to enter. Kate’s giddiness dissolved the instant she spied the woman in his arms. “Who is that? Christy?” She raised glassy eyes to Trevor. “What’s going on here?”

“Christy?” Trevor repeated helplessly.

The woman in his arms smiled sweetly at him, and bent her fingers in a little wave. “That would be me.”

“But—Holy—” Trevor bit off the oath, conscious of his surroundings. He was usually able to control his temper; in fact his job demanded he keep his cool under the most trying circumstances. But his special ops training hadn’t prepared him for neurotic brides, AWOL bridesmaids…and sleeping beauties.

He set his jaw and carefully placed the woman in his arms on her feet. “I went to the address you provided and picked up—”

“Kidnapped,” Christy corrected.

“Picked up,” he repeated, “the one and only female resident, whom I naturally presumed to be Vivian, and brought her here as you requested.”

Kate immediately swung her tear-filled gaze to the woman wobbling next to him. He reached out to help steady her, but was glared into withdrawing his offer of assistance. Fine, he’d just leave them to it, then. Except he couldn’t. He’d brought her here and had refused to listen to any explanations on her part. At the very least he owed it to her to stand by until the situation was resolved.

“Why didn’t you tell him you weren’t Vivian?” Kate demanded, her bevy of bridesmaids watching the exchange as avidly as fans at a tennis match.

Christy folded her arms, then thought better of it when her chest came dangerously close to spilling forth. “I tried, believe me.”

But Kate was losing it completely and didn’t seem to hear. “And why are you wearing Vivian’s dress? I can’t let you go into the chapel dressed like that.”

Trevor had to bite off the surprising urge to smile when he saw Christy’s hackles all but rise off the back of her neck. Well, this should be good. He was guilty as all hell in this matter, but he’d make his apologies after the firestorm died down. In the meantime, Christy looked fully capable of delivering the speech about what happens when people intrude on other people’s lives. A lesson he needed to learn only once.

“Oh, I have no intention of going into that chapel. But your hired hound didn’t allow me the luxury of getting dressed before he kidnapped me from my bed. Or Vivian’s bed.” She waved a dismissive hand, making him duck or get smacked. “So I put on the only thing available.”

“Well, I’m very sorry you were dragged here unnecessarily, but I had no idea you were at Viv’s house. Where is Viv?” she demanded.

Now Christy’s eyes narrowed. “You must be crazy if you think I’m telling you that. If she wanted to be here and let you manipulate her life after you swore you wouldn’t, she’d be here. Trust me, it cost her plenty to walk away from her obligation to you, but when you went back on your word, I didn’t see any reason for her to keep her word.”

“You didn’t?” Kate took a step forward, but her dress prevented her from coming any closer. “You told her about Eric? How did you find out?”

“Eric happened to make the unfortunate assumption that I would back your little scheme and wanted me to help make sure Viv went to the reception. I, on the other hand, totally championed her desire to get away from the whole affair.” Christy immediately calmed down when Kate began to cry in earnest.

Trevor watched her exhale a weary sigh and for the first time noticed the fatigue clear in the depths of her dark eyes. The heavy-lidded eyes and puffy lips he’d attributed to a sort of exotic beauty were in fact signs of a bone-deep weariness, which made him feel like a complete heel. She had been sound asleep in the middle of the day for a good reason apparently. He, on the other hand, had no good reason for handling things as poorly as he had.

Christy took a wobbling step forward and placed a hand on Kate’s arm. “Listen, I know your heart was in the right place,” she said gently, “but you shouldn’t have interfered. I’m really sorry. I’m sure you two can patch this up when you get back from your honeymoon.” She rubbed Kate’s arm, surprising Trevor with her sincerity considering her own treatment today. “You have a man in there who loves you and wants to marry you,” she went on. “That’s what this day is all about. There will be time later to sort the rest out. Trust me.”

Kate sniffled. “You think she’ll forgive me?”

Christy nodded confidently and gave her a little nudge, almost falling over when Kate smiled and moved away from her toward the door to the chapel at the same moment.

Trevor’s quick reflexes saved Christy from diving facefirst into Kate’s train.

“I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding,” Kate called out over her shoulder.

Christy just waved her off, her smile evaporating as soon as she turned to face Trevor. “Shouldn’t you be inside helping your buddy get married?” She eyed his hand on her arm, then looked up at him.

“That was nice, what you just did for her. She didn’t deserve the kindness and neither do I. But I’d like to try and—”

“Listen, save the apologies until after the ceremony. You can grovel when you drive me home on your way to the reception, okay?”

Trevor didn’t know whether to laugh or swear. She’d handled this a lot better than most women would, and though he felt like a total ass and planned to tell her so, he suddenly found himself in no hurry to leave her. “Where will you be?”

She smiled dryly. “Leaning on whatever wall you prop me up against.”

“Maybe I can find you something more suitable to wear?”

The organ music paused, then made them both jump as it suddenly resumed with the thundering opening strains of the bridal march. “No time for that. Get in there and do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

Trevor felt even worse that she was being such a good sport about this. She must have read his mind, because her smile brought back those feline comparisons…the ones with bared teeth and claws.

“However, if you come back to find me sleeping standing up, it’s on your head if you wake me again. And you already have quite enough on your head at the moment, if you know what I mean. I hope you grovel as well as you kidnap.”

“I’ve never had to grovel before, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.” He helped her away from the throng of bridesmaids queuing up to go inside the chapel, over to a far corner, away from the front door, as well. “Are you sure—”

“I’m sure,” she cut in, eyes already drooping shut.

“What if you took off the shoes? Would that—”

“They’re strapped on. Just go,” she said, not bothering to open her eyes.

He should. He knew that. But he really didn’t want to. “Christy—”

“Please,” she ordered.

He had no idea where the impulse came from, or why he gave in to it. God knew his impulses had already caused enough problems today. And he’d thought civilian life would be easier! But he was already reaching for the loose tendrils of hair that clung to her cheeks and pushing them back.

Her eyes flew open at the feel of his fingers brushing against her cheek. “What are you doing?”

He grinned then and enjoyed the way her pupils shot wide and her throat worked. “Wishing we’d met under just about any other circumstances.” Before she could say anything to make him regret that little announcement, he gave her a sharp salute. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” And headed down the side hallway toward the altar door.




3


CHRISTY TRIED to doze, but she couldn’t get those blue eyes out of her mind. Why did he have to go and touch her like that anyway? Despite what her hormones thought, she was really fully prepared to not like the guy. After what he’d put her through, how hard should that be?

She squirmed and shifted her weight what little she could without tipping over. This dress was a pain to be sure, but the heels were instruments of torture that would make the Marquis de Sade weep with pleasure. She, on the other hand, just wanted to weep. She wished now she’d agreed to let—She realized she didn’t even know his name!

The organ came to life again, making her wince. But it was only when the chapel doors were pushed wide to allow the newly married couple to emerge that she thought about exactly what would happen next. The bridesmaids and groomsmen would follow…and then every single person in the church would come out behind them. Right past her. In this dress.

She looked frantically around for some sort of camouflage, but knew one step would send her sprawling. Why hadn’t she thought this through before letting whatever his name was leave her here, propped against the wall like some party favor blow-up doll? Maybe he’d realize it and as soon as he came through the door with the maid of honor—Except there was no maid of honor. So she had no idea where he was in the ensemble at this point.

Kate and Mike emerged through the doors just then in a cloud of white chiffon and flowers. They only had eyes for each other, and even as Christy did her best to become one with the wall, she couldn’t ignore the lump that rose in her throat. She was happy for them, just as she’d been happy for Vivian three years before.

And look where that had ended up, her inner voice mocked. She only hoped Mike had the fortitude to put up with Kate. God, did she sound like a cynical old maid or what? She wasn’t that bad, was she? She was only twenty-eight for heaven’s sake. Hardly over the hill. How can you ever marry if you never date? Her mother’s oft-repeated words echoed inside her head. She’d never paid attention to them, knowing her mother would only go from wanting weddings to wanting grandbabies, and she was in no hurry to do either.

But she was twenty-eight. With thirty on the horizon. And no prospects. The bridesmaids started out the door and Christy shrank even farther back, knowing the assembled guests were next, praying they’d keep their eyes straight ahead. She didn’t want prospects, she told herself. She had a demanding job she loved and if someone came along who demanded her attention in the same way, fine. But that hadn’t happened. So what if logic dictated she had to actually be looking in order to meet someone? She certainly wasn’t going to hunt down a guy just because all her friends were getting married.

They were also getting divorced, she reminded herself. Well, Vivian had anyway. And if there had ever been a couple who seemed meant for one another, it was those two. And yet, there they were, miserable and alone. Why should she be in any hurry to become another statistic?

She was actually doing the wise thing, focusing on her own life, her career and not searching for love. If love wanted her attention, it would just have to find her.

“You ready to go?”

His deep voice vibrated just behind her ear, so low and sexy it sent shivers of awareness throughout her entire, shrink-wrapped body. Okay, so she wasn’t looking for love, but an afternoon of mindless sex was sure sounding pretty good at the moment. And oh, did he sound good. Better than good. He sounded like—

Horrified at the sudden direction of her thoughts, she stiffened, which immediately lost her the support of the wall…and pitched her directly into the support of his lean, hard body.

He immediately folded her against him, steadying them both, but rather than stand her back upright, he scooped her into his arms.

“No!” she rasped, looking frantically about, certain they were drawing stares. But the crowd was pushing as one out the front doors, and before she could protest further, she was being whisked away, down the side hallway, mercifully out of sight. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, if a bit breathlessly. That last part was due to the dress cutting off her air supply, not because of the feel of his body pressed against her. She was certain of it.

He put her down near the door to the rear parking lot of the church. “Wait here.”

He was so close, his body felt so nice and hard against hers…she all but swooned against him.

“Steady,” was all he said, then carefully propped her in a corner and disappeared behind a white paneled door without another glance.

Well, she thought, scowling at the now-vacant spot beside her. Apparently she was the only one suffering from hormone shock. She definitely had to forget those blue eyes looking into hers while he told her he wished they’d met under different circumstances. They hadn’t. And even if she was willing to forgive him—and she wasn’t saying she was—the rental car made it clear he was not a permanent fixture around here, or anywhere if the uniform meant anything. She let her eyes slide shut. And Lord, he was a man meant to wear a uniform. Protecting lives and making the world a safer place. A bubble of laughter pushed up her throat. Unless of course you were a bridesmaid ditching your pal’s wedding. Then he was a dangerous man.

She thought about the way he’d taken her out of the house. Yes, he might be charming and polite when he wanted to be, but there was no doubt that he was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

The door popped open again and he was back, taking up way too much of her personal space and invading her emotional comfort zone just as effortlessly. She, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t made the least little dent in his. He handed her what looked like a long white gown.

“Choir robe,” he said. “I thought you might want to get out of that dress before we left.”

Visions of him doing just that came right into her mind without even asking permission. She shoved them aside and hugged the robe to her chest. “Thank you.” Then she realized she hadn’t completed her descent into Bridesmaid Hell. “Um…apparently I’m going to need some help getting this thing off.”

Where other men might have drooled openly at the opportunity to help any woman out of her clothes, he actually looked uncomfortable. She could almost like him for that.

“You didn’t seem to have the least compunction in carrying me out of my house in my underwear,” she reminded him, even as her little voice told her it wasn’t wise to goad the man. What did her little voice know anyway? It hadn’t kept her out of this mess in the first place, now had it?

“Is there a…zipper or something?” he asked, looking her over as if her dress was some sort of secret military weapon.

If she hadn’t been so tired and uncomfortable, she might have enjoyed making him sweat a little. It was the least he deserved. “I rolled it on basically.”

He just stared at her. Now it was her turn to feel a bit uncomfortable. Okay, more than a little. Having his hands on her, pulling this dress off—You’re in a church, for heaven’s sake, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat. “We should probably hurry up. Don’t you have to be in the pictures or something?”

“They’re taking the group photos at the country club.”

“Well, then let’s get this over with so you can drop me off and be on your way.”

He knelt in front of her, lifted his hands to the hem that was still scrunched up around her knees, then dropped them again. “I’m, uh, not sure where to begin.”

She carefully held her arms out and delivered her best smile. Maybe making him sweat was going to be more fun than she thought. “I think the Band-Aid approach is best. Just yank.”

He looked up at her then and she felt her stomach drop and her heart begin to pound. Here she was, standing in a church, in a fancy dress, with a gorgeous man on one knee in front of her. Scowling. She couldn’t get anything right.

“Hold on to my shoulders,” he directed. “If I can roll this up a bit, maybe then you can, you know, take it from there.”

His hands, with those long fingers…all up and down her thighs. Jesus, she’d never survive it without disgracing herself. But then, that wasn’t much of a stretch at the moment, was it? “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, or as deep a one as the dress would allow. “But close your eyes.”

He grabbed hold of the hem and shoved upward, but the fabric stopped just below crotch level, bound tightly around her hips. She wobbled and came dangerously close to pitching forward, which would have pressed his face…well, right where no man should have his face when inside a church. “Stop, stop,” she said breathlessly. “Get me out of these shoes.” She should have done that first anyway.

He did, all warm fingertips brushing at her skin, sending a tingling sensation all the way up to…well, where his face had almost been moments ago. Who knew ankles were erogenous zones?

She came dangerously close to moaning when she felt his warm breath on her skin as his fingers slid around her ankle to unbuckle one shoe, then the other. As it was, she had to sink her nails more deeply into his uniformed shoulders just to remain upright.

“Hold on, one more buckle. Got it.” He stood carefully, apparently oblivious to the near orgasm he’d just given her.

She really did need to get to bed. Alone, she quickly amended as she stepped gingerly and oh-so-very thankfully out of the instruments of death. She’d never been so glad to feel the ground so firm and cold beneath her toes. “Okay, here’s the plan,” she said, trying hard to focus on just getting out of the shrink-wrap with as little touching on his part as possible. “I’m going to put the robe on and pull the shoulder straps off and roll the dress down to my waist. Then I’ll push and you pull and the whole thing should drop off, right?”

He looked dubious.

“It’s that or cut the damn thing off. I’d rather not do that to Viv’s dress. Who knows, maybe she can get a refund or…or something. Let’s just try, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great. And stop ma’aming me. Makes me feel like an old granny or something.”

He grinned then, just before dropping the robe over her head. “Trust me,” he said, his voice muffled by the voluminous folds of white cotton. “You’re nothing like any grandmother I’ve ever seen. It’s just habit. Military.”

She wisely said nothing as she squirmed out of the dress straps, keeping her arms inside the robe. She’d shrugged out of her tank top straps when she’d put this monstrosity on, and tucked them inside the dress. But she couldn’t untuck them now. Why should that surprise her? She tried to tug the top part down, but while the front part was willing—her boobs were thrilled to finally be free—the sides and back were all hung up with the cotton of her undershirt.

“Should I tug now?”

“Just a minute.” She tugged a scrap of tank top from the front and held on tight to it. “Close your eyes.”

She felt his fingertips brush her thighs again. “Eyes closed,” he said.

She realized hers were, too. “On three. One, two—now!”

She gripped, he yanked…and the dress gave way and fell to the floor. Right along with her panties.

“Just, uh, just turn around, okay? I can take it from here.”

She opened her eyes as he stood, gulping a little when he seemed suddenly so much taller than before. The heels, she realized. She was not a small woman and it was odd to feel so…petite. Well, not that she’d ever be described as petite, but maybe it was all relative.

“You okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Oxygen deprivation,” she quipped, not bothering to tell him that he, and not the dress, was more to blame for that little problem. She shifted and stood over the pool of sequins…and her panties. “I…um…” Damn, but his eyes were piercing. “Could you…turn around?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

She made a face at his back. It was that or smile. And was that uniform padded, or were his shoulders really that broad? They filled her entire line of vision. But she’d had her hands on those shoulders. They were all his.

She hastily pulled on her panties and scooped up the pile of sequins and silk, along with the strappy heels. Clutching the billowy robe against her, she said, “I’m ready.” He turned to face her and all she could think was, Boy, am I ever. Sleep. She desperately needed sleep.

He held out an arm, all spit and polish and blazing baby blues. “I had someone bring my car around back. It’s right outside the door here. I’ll take you directly home.”

She wasn’t sure she should touch any part of him. She wanted to, though. So much so that she gestured in front of them instead. “Lead on.”

He moved to open her door, but she scooted in front of him, climbed in and all but lunged for the seat belt. “I got it.” She reached for the door handle and yanked the door shut in his face. She didn’t even care if it seemed rude. Lord knows he deserved worse, she told herself, no matter how charming and polite he was being now. But no way was he going to touch her again. Sleep. That was what she was going to focus on.

She let her head drop on the back of the seat and closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t know he’d climbed in beside her, all big and warm, with those long fingers wrapped around that steering wheel.

“Listen, I really do want to apologize.”

“Just get me in bed and all is forgiven.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how they sounded. Her eyes popped open and she sat up straight. “I mean—”

He glanced at her and smiled. “I know what you meant.”

She opened her mouth, realized saying anything right now would just make it worse, and let her head drop back again.

He remained mercifully silent on the short ride back to Vivian’s. She was drifting off to sleep when he pulled into the driveway.

“Christy?”

She stifled a yawn and blinked her eyes open. “Here already?” She was so tired she wasn’t sure she’d make it to the bed. Of course, no way was she letting him know that.

“You did want to come back here, right?”

She nodded. “I’m having the floors redone at my place and they didn’t get the sanding done on time, so they were still staining and sealing them when I got home…whatever day it was. I’ve lost track. Vivian let me bunk here.”

“You’re obviously beat and it’s my fault I’ve kept you from catching up on your sleep. I am sincerely sorry.”

She smiled to herself. She was daydreaming about him carrying her off in his arms…and he was telling her she looked about as delectable as day-old bread. Ah, reality. “I know Kate can make even the sanest person go a little nuts when she gets a plan in her head. She should be the one apologizing. To all of us.”

“Let me help you inside.”

“No!” At his surprised look, she calmed down and smiled. “I can take it from here.” She put her hand on the door. “Just how did you get in anyway? Or is that just part of military training?”

“Back door was unlocked. You’d better tell your friend Viv to be more careful about that.”

“She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly when she cut out of here.” She sighed then. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Can’t you call her and tell her the coast is clear?”

“She’s up at her parent’s lake house. She’s planning on staying the weekend and it’s probably just as well. If Eric flew in for the reception then he’s likely staying through tomorrow anyway.”

Just then there was a light tap on a horn and they both turned in time to see a car pull into the drive behind them.

“Oh, great. And here I thought the day couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“Who is that?”

A tall, blond man climbed out from the car. Dressed in an impeccably cut suit, his hair just as impeccably trimmed. He went directly toward the house, a sense of purpose clear on his handsome face.

Trevor was already opening his door. Christy swore and leaped out of the car first. “Eric, wait.”




4


ERIC SPUN AROUND. “Christy. Don’t try and stop me. I have to talk to Vivian.”

Christy almost tripped over her robe as she scooted between Eric and—She realized she still had no idea what her abductor’s name was. She looked at him. “What is your name anyway?”

He came to a halt. “What?”

“Where’s Vivian?” Eric demanded. “And why are you dressed like that?”

She looked back to Eric. “It’s a long story. But I don’t—”

“I never told you my—?” Trevor broke off with a smile and shake of his head, then grinned and saluted her. “Former Lieutenant Commander Trevor McQuillen, at your service.”

“I don’t care who the hell you are,” Eric interjected.

“Well, perhaps you should care,” Trevor said, pushing past Christy, who grabbed hold of his arm at the last second.

“Wait a minute!” she shouted, her head pounding in earnest now. “Just stop, both of you.”

She turned to Trevor. “Thank you for bringing me home. You should probably get to the reception. They’ll be wondering.” She swung back to Eric, well aware that Trevor hadn’t so much as budged. “Vivian isn’t here.”

“I was at the church when the wedding party came out,” he said. “She wasn’t there. I thought I asked you to help me out, make sure she didn’t run.”

“No, you told me what I was supposed to do. Just like you told Vivian she was supposed to leave her friends and family, sell the house you’d just bought, give up her job and move halfway around the world because you thought you had an exciting job offer. No promise of stability, no thought of what she wanted or what was important to her. Oh nooo, you were Mr. Breadwinner. She trusted you to treat her as an equal, Eric, to love her and respect her as much as she did you. And you blew it. So you think you’d have learned by now that the world doesn’t revolve around what Eric wants.”

Eric swore, then raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to put Christy in the middle of this,” Trevor offered, then rolled his eyes and backed off when they both glared at him. “Fine, fine. Just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and we all know how successful you are at helping,” Christy said.

Trevor smiled. “Okay, I deserved that. But believe it or not, I’ve actually run many successful operations in my career.”

“This isn’t a military operation, it’s a wedding.”

“Yes, and I’m learning that some of our military leaders might learn a thing or two about battle strategy from America’s brides.”

“Very funny.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Christy tried not to smile, really she did. But when he wasn’t dragging unsuspecting women from their beds, he could actually be somewhat charming.

And still dangerous. Because the instant she let her guard down, he was moving closer. And she was having a hard time remembering why that wasn’t a good thing. Charmed and dangerous, that was Trevor McQuillen.

He stood right in front of her, blocking her vision of everything but him. “I am sorry about this, Christy.”

“You said that already.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Somehow.”

Her heart sped up. “I—you’ll be leaving soon.”

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Says who?”

She all but shuddered in pleasure as his fingertips grazed her cheek. “Your uniform. Your rental car.”

“I—”

“Listen, I just want to know where my wife is,” Eric said, stepping between them.

“Ex-wife,” Christy snapped at him, then stepped back herself. Her emotions were all in a whirl. She was too tired to deal with all this.

Trevor turned and subtly maneuvered Eric several steps away as he spoke. “Why don’t you follow me over to the reception? This is Kate’s and Mike’s day. I’m sure you can come to some solution with Vivian after this is over.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Christy said mutinously.

Eric turned back to her, even as Trevor took his arm in a firm grip. “Where is she, Christy?” Eric begged. “I just want to talk to her. If she tells me to take a hike, I will.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll be making a long one if you want to see her again.”

Eric’s eyes lit up and Christy could have kicked herself for the slip.

“She’s gone to the lake, hasn’t she?”

Christy kept her lips firmly shut, but she knew it was too late. The only good thing was that Eric had never been to the cabin. It belonged to Vivian’s parents. They’d just finished building it right when Eric and Viv split up. Viv had gone up to the lake because she knew he couldn’t contact her there.

“Christy—”

“Eric, come on, man,” Trevor said, his tone genial enough, but his expression implacable. “Let’s go to the reception.”

Eric started to argue, then decided better of it. “Okay, okay.” He pulled his arm free. “You’re right.”

Christy was instantly suspicious. Eric was nothing if not determined. It was why he was so successful in his career—and why he’d failed so miserably in marriage. Some things can’t be achieved with bull determination.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” Eric told her. “But…I was desperate.”

He looked it, she had to admit. In fact, despite his perfect hair, perfect clothes and perfect face…there was no mistaking the misery in his eyes. She didn’t doubt he was sorry he’d lost Viv. It was the only thing he’d ever failed at and it was simply unacceptable for Eric Swenson to fail at anything.

“Please, when you talk to her, just tell her that all I want is the chance to talk, to explain. I’ve changed, Christy.”

“Not from where I’m standing,” she said, but with more sadness than anger. She felt bad for both of them, but she also knew her friend had been devastated by the failure of her marriage and she didn’t want to see Viv put through any more hell.

“Christy, I—”

“I think we’d better leave,” Trevor interjected.

Eric looked as if he was going to resist, but he sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry, Christy,” he said again and walked back toward his car.

She turned to Trevor. “Thank you.”

“He seems pretty sincere. Are you sure—?” He broke off when Christy folded her arms and glared at him. “Right, right. I think I’ve butted in enough for one day.” He laughed. “Civilian life was supposed to be easier.”

“You’re out of the military now?”

He nodded. “The uniform is for the wedding only. I’m starting my own defensive training facility just north of here.”

“Here?” He wasn’t leaving. He was going to be…around. Christy wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her body, however, knew exactly how it felt.

“I used to live here.” He looked around and sighed. “Feels like a million years ago.”

Christy was undeniably intrigued. He couldn’t be much past thirty, if that, and yet he spoke like a man who’d done and seen more things than a man twice his age. She rubbed her arms. Looking at him right now, she believed he had.

The sound of Eric’s car starting got Trevor’s attention. “I guess I’d better be going.”

“I guess you’d better.” She smiled, then saluted him.

He grinned and shot her one back, then opened the car door…but didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get in.

“Oh, Viv’s dress!” Christy really wasn’t making up excuses for him to stay. Really she wasn’t.

Trevor scooped them up and handed them over. “I am—”

“I know. You’re formally excused from groveling. You’d better go before Eric implodes.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, baby blues piercing like lasers.

Eric backed out and tapped his horn.

Christy glanced over at him, thinking again that he was giving up too easily. Then she realized why. Dammit. Eric might not know how to get to the lake house, but…

“What’s wrong?”

“Eric. He doesn’t give up easily. Not when he wants something. And he wants Viv.” She debated running in the house and changing and going with Trevor to the reception. But she was the walking dead at this point. Then she eyed Trevor. Hmm. He did owe her one. A giant one. “If you want to repay me for this morning, do me a favor and don’t let Kate tell him how to get to the lake house.”

“Do you think she’ll tell him after everything that’s happened?”

Christy just looked at him.

“Right. What was I thinking? I only just met the woman, but I have a feeling Mike’s life will never be boring.”

Christy more than agreed. “Promise me you won’t let him go up there.”

“I’ll do my best.” He climbed in the car, then leaned out the window. “Maybe you should call her anyway. Just in case he finds out from someone else.”

There wasn’t anyone else who knew—not that Christy was aware of anyway. Viv worked with Christy in ICU and their grueling shift schedule had made it easier to head up to the cabin during the week, making it almost impossible for her other friends to come up. As far she knew, Kate had been the only other one.

“I can’t call her,” Christy said. “No phones up there yet. Just cell phones, and the service is spotty at best. She probably turned hers off anyway. But I’ll try.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t move. And neither did she.

Eric tapped his horn again and Christy narrowed her gaze at him, knowing his impatience did not stem from a strong desire for wedding cake. He wanted to get to Kate.

“Keep an eye on him.”

He merely grinned and gave her a final salute.

Christy was still clutching the sequin dress and robe to her chest when Trevor pulled out. She watched until the car disappeared, then realized she was actually weaving on her feet she was so tired.

It was only when she went up the porch steps that she realized she had no purse. Which meant she also did not have Viv’s spare key. And Mr. Military had surely locked the back door.

Perfect. Just perfect. She was too exhausted to work up a good panic. She rooted around the door and porch, but found nothing. Too tired to cry, she simply dumped the dress and shoes on the porch rocker and curled up in the padded porch swing. She’d deal with this much better after she’d had some sleep.

She would have sworn she’d just closed her eyes when someone—gently this time—tried to wake her up.

“Christy, I really hate to do this.”

“Then don’t,” she growled. Her bed was swaying. Why was her bed swaying? She was hallucinating, that was it. It was a dream brought on by an overload of stress and sleep deprivation. She tried to snuggle more deeply under her covers…then realized vaguely that there didn’t seem to be any covers. No pillows, either.

“Christy. It’s Eric. He’s gone. And I don’t think it’s to the airport.”

On the best of days it took at least three of her six alarm clocks to wake her up. Right now it would take an atomic bomb. “Go ’way.”

He was shaking her shoulder again. “I know you’re going to kill me for this and I deserve a full court-martial. I don’t know how Eric found out. I stuck by Kate until she and Mike left for their honeymoon. But one of the bridesmaids said she saw him leave in a hurry. I’m betting he’s headed for the lake house.”

That penetrated the fog. “Wha? Lake house? Eric?” She sat bolt upright, then groaned and held her head as the swing rocked. “Someone just shoot me now.”

Then there were strong arms around her and she simply didn’t have it in her to fight.

“Come on. I’m taking you inside.”





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