Mills and Boon's Online Read

27/06/2011 LA Secrets - Chapter 1

08/02/2012 08:51:44

LA, Summer 2009

If Nancy Dagarro knew anything, she knew that men were simple creatures. It didn`t take much to make them believe they were the victim, and, eventually, the victim always talks.

Jimmy Hart was no exception.

`Your wife`s away so much,` she sympathised. `It`s no wonder you get lonely.`

`Hey,` he teased as they arrived at the Bel Air mansion he shared with Kate diLaurentis, `keep it down or my neighbours`ll want a piece of you next.`

The thrill was totally part of it. You could tell.

`Don`t worry,` she replied, `I`m careful.` He thought she was drunk. She wasn`t. In the past, at the beginning, she`d tried it; nervous, then, about securing what she needed and frightened at the cost at which it came. Over time, she`d learned to be strong. It had always been in her, a strength born long ago, and now she was learning to use it.

Inside, the place was as Nancy had expected. She`d read about it - Kate and her Perfect Hollywood Pad. Perfect except for a husband who was sleeping around.

`Want a drink?` he asked, fixing her one anyway. He was swaying on the spot, just a bit but enough for her to know the sex would be mercifully quick. This was the worst part: the waiting, the not knowing how much he`d take, what kind of a lover he was, the extent of his private desires. But Jimmy Hart was worth the risk: her scoop would be, at last, the evidence that broke him. He used women; it was about time a woman used him back.

How far would she have to go?

You`ve already crossed the line. On this side, there were no boundaries.

No doubt Jimmy had hit the bars in celebration of his wife`s absence. By the time Nancy had tracked him down in a joint on Venice, unshaven in a baseball cap, liquor in hand and a perky brunette bobbing on his knee, it was clear he intended to make the most of it. The club wasn`t a typical celebrity haunt - he`d been clever to source it, she cleverer to find him out. Within minutes, the invitation came. What do you say we get out of here. It was never a question. The brunette scowled at her: in all ways Nancy was superior, like a photograph sharpened into focus.

Like a lot of movie stars, he was unexceptional to look at, extremely photogenic but in real life quite ordinary. Not like her. At twenty-five, Nancy Dagarro was exotic in her beauty, with inky black eyes and hair the colour of grit-thick coffee. Sure, he preferred blondes, but the hair did it for all guys. Her trademark: a dark, untamed lash, quicker than the wind.

`Should we take this upstairs?` she purred now, touching her lips to the drink. It was potent. She wasn`t about to get wrecked - not when there was a job to do. In this kind of game, focus was everything.

Jimmy slipped his hands round her waist, squeezed her ass too hard. `That`s a little conventional for an unconventional girl.`

She hated it when they made judgements about her. They knew shit about her life, the road that had brought her here.

`What did you have in mind?` she challenged.

Roughly, he kissed her. He tasted of whisky, sweet and strong. Immediately she was aware of his hard-on - how could she miss it? She`d heard about Jimmy`s size, no wonder he imagined there was more than enough to go around.

A*****e.

They stumbled through to the kitchen, his hands buried in her hair and his tongue buried in her mouth, where he thrust her back against the breakfast bar. Things were moving quickly - just the way she liked it. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could get down to business.

Slowly, with purpose, she placed her purse on the side.

Jimmy tore her clothes, sucking and biting like a man possessed. He was tough, wanted to push her to her limits and only retreat when she called his name, told him he was too hot, too big, too much. Part of it.

`Suck me off,` he commanded, dropping his pants. His c**k sprang forth, a colossus.

Blow jobs were strictly out of bounds. Nancy had her own reasons. She found herself unable to look at it, this weapon he brandished, fierce and stiff and ready to make her gag.

`I want you in me,` she breathed, reclining and parting her legs. A decoy, and he was too thick, too overcome with desire, to notice. She stroked herself - the only act that had ever brought her pleasure, if truth were told - and watched his face slacken with wanting.

It was all the encouragement he needed. As Jimmy pounded enthusiastically into her, Nancy turned her head and blankly observed the crystal fruit bowl on Kate diLaurentis`s breakfast bar. Through quivering frames it was impossible to tell if the fruit was real or some high-priced fakery the woman had sourced from a downtown boutique. Real or fake, fake or real. Was there a difference? Did it matter?

She had underestimated him. Jimmy was an animal, his stamina undeadened by alcohol. Flipping her round, he took her from behind, slapping her ass and pulling her hair. In the window she saw his bucking reflection cut out against the night - he did too. He was raising one arm, admiring it, flexing it; now both, f***ing her and himself at the same time.

Nancy thought of the bigger picture. Always think of the bigger picture.

She was here for a reason, and that reason was to get dirt on this bastard.

Thanks to her, Star Confidential would be the only rag in town with the story. They`d keep the evidence, wait it out till the moment was right - Jimmy`s new movie, Kate`s new fashion venture, an issue over the kids - before unleashing the goods. Everybody knew Kate diLaurentis paid through the balls to keep these things quiet.

Because, of course, everybody knew that Jimmy was at it 24/7 with a string of women - girls, mostly - who weren`t his wife. Until now, there`d been nothing to back it up: Hollywood was rife with slander but it was proof that counted. Nancy was about to get it.

At last, he came. Deflating against her, he heaved and panted like he`d run for hours.

`That was incredible,` he groaned. `Was it good for you?`

Nancy suspected he couldn`t give a crap if it was good for her or not - and it hadn`t been.

`Amazing,` she lied.

Satisfied, he withdrew, expertly slipping off the condom, tying it and tossing it in the trash. He kicked the can towards the door, a reminder to take it out.

`Let me go freshen up.` Nancy threw him a coquettish glance. She pulled on her jeans. `Where`s the bathroom?`

Naked, Jimmy opened the refrigerator door. He stood surveying its contents, eventually selecting a carton of yoghurt. She prayed he was only intent on eating it.

`Hmm?`

`The bathroom,` she repeated, smoothly collecting her purse.

He must have caught on a barb in her tone, a change from the girl he`d brought home. He frowned. `Down the hall, second left, third door on the right.`

There, at the sink, Nancy washed her hands, scrubbing them thoroughly. She did the same to the rest of her body and tied back her hair. From her bag she took a toothbrush, slathered it generously in paste and brushed her teeth.

Next, the voice recorder. Concealed in the lining of her purse, it was invisible to a target - even if the worst were to happen and he went through her belongings. Listening for Jimmy, satisfied he must still be in the kitchen, she extracted it and turned the volume right down.

Rewind. Click.

The sounds of Jimmy pummelling into her, his grunts and shouts interspersed with her own muffled gasps. With some men she was forced to ask them to say her name, pretend it was a turn-on, but with Jimmy there was no need, he did it anyway. Staking his claim.

She forwarded, set the tape to begin recording once more. Detached, matter-of-fact, it was the way to get s*** achieved. Nancy met her own image in the mirror and stared down her demons: the voices that questioned her integrity.

At first, she`d paid other women to do it, hookers in need of a buck, all too happy to take the equipment and give it their best shot. Only that became too much of a risk. Some recordings got scratched; some didn`t take at all; some acted so jumpy they messed the whole thing up.

And so, six months back, she had made the decision to do it herself.

Her editor could never find out - no one could. She was a reporter, a professional.

A professional liar.

They`d never understand. Sex was no big deal. It was one of her strengths, her body an asset she was prepared to employ to secure the things she wanted. Nancy neither enjoyed nor disliked it; all it had ever been was a means to an end. She was good, she played the part, knew what to do to make them come quickly and when they came it was over. What she didn`t like was when they insisted on pleasuring her, because she found no pleasure in it.

How could she . . . after the commune? After she had learned what it meant to close her body off at the sound of approaching footsteps. After she had discovered that flesh and soul were two different things. Separate. They could take her body but that was as far as it went.

Not all leads were interested in getting her undressed. Back at the Hollywood homes they shared with their wives and kids, they wanted her to dance. They wanted to get loaded. They wanted to touch her hair. They wanted her to listen, for the one thing stars had in common was that they talked about themselves. Sometimes, they wept because riches couldn`t buy happiness. Sometimes, she held them and murmured empty assurances. Most wanting action wanted head, but not once had she obliged. Never that.

Nancy achieved results. Her position was growing at the paper; her reputation was soaring. In the thirty months she had worked for Star Confidential, she had brought to their door sensational exposés of the likes they had never seen. How had she done it? The only logical way, she told them: by going straight to the source. That was all they needed to know.

Replacing the machine, Nancy slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the bathroom.

Jimmy was in the lounge, sprawled across the couch, a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand. He was still exposed, his d*** half-hard, and she hoped he wasn`t going to want another go. She had stage one locked down - now she had to hear him seal his own fate.

`Come here,` he instructed, patting the seat next to him. His eyes were swimming now, an hour, maybe, from passing out.

She obliged, holding her bag in her lap, contained - prim, even - after their liaison. Her apparent shyness made him reach for her. Tonight she was Rachel, one of her invented girls, her fictitious backgrounds - Rachel had the picket-fence upbringing - because she sensed Jimmy Hart was a man who liked a good girl. For other men she would adapt: some liked her wild, or sad, or broken. In reality she was all of these things.

`Want me to f*** you a different way?` he growled, taking her hand and leading it to his d***. For men like Jimmy, it was about ego. Touching her body was one thing; having her touch his, an assurance he still had the magic, was entirely another.

`I want you again,` he declared. `Get on your knees.`

`Do you like all the girls as much as me?` Nancy asked, playing the innocent, the insecure. She hated the ring of obsequiousness but used it as an excuse to withdraw her hand.

Jimmy grinned - he was accustomed to women demanding his undivided attention.

`Just you,` he replied, reclaiming her fingers.

`Am I the best?` she breathed. `Tell me I`m better than the others.`

`You`re the best,` he choked.

`Am I better than your wife?`

His eyes were screwed tight, his face reddening, slipping and sliding in her grasp. He`d tell her anything right now. Who cared if it was the truth?

`Better than Kate,` he panted. `Better than anyone.`

`Do you want to see me again, Jimmy?`

`Yeah. Every f***ing day.`

`What about when your wife`s home?`

`I`ll find a way. I`ll find a—`

`You promise?`

`I promise I`ll— F**!`

He came fiercely. Nancy pulled her palm away in time and a jet of it spurted across the room and slashed across a photo of him and Kate on their wedding day.

She smiled. `That`s all I wanted to know.`

Jimmy collapsed back against the cushions, exhausted. His arm dropped down by his side and knocked over the tumbler of brandy. Promptly, he began to snore.

Back in the kitchen, before she left, Nancy helped herself to a drink from the refrigerator. She stood by the window, looking out at the black night, until she felt better.

Kate`s fruit bowl caught her eye. She reached for an apple, lifted it and saw it was made of glass. The fragility made her want to smash it.

Instead she ran her thumb across its blood-red surface before, carefully, putting it back.

There was no need to see him again. Nancy supplied the tape and her report to Star Confidential the very next morning. She had a new lead to pursue, another A-list powerhouse doing the dirty on his girl. There was work to be done.

Even if Jimmy wanted to find her, he`d never be able to. Hers was a different name, a separate identity: he`d be chasing a shadow.

It might be months; it might be years. But when the time came, Nancy Dagarro would pass the newsstand and see her article and feel that, in some small way, justice had been done.

She wasn`t afraid of Jimmy Hart. She wasn`t afraid of any man.

Revenge.

A private smile, and she would dissolve into the crowds, lonely as a ghost.

Enjoy? Let me know what you thought of it at vfoxwrites@gmail.com - I`d love to hear from you.

08/02/2012 Melting the M.D. - Chapter 5

08/02/2012 08:51:44

By the time Meg caught up to Scott's long-legged stride, he was inside the tux shop, explaining to a store employee why a change in the rental order was necessary. Meg took a seat in the waiting area and thumbed through a catalogue. But the glossy photos of grinning grooms and wedding guests only highlighted her problems.

Like Lucy—and her lack of a church for the ceremony!

Meg had been so startled by the pain and anger in Scott's gaze that she'd almost forgotten about her client. She'd rarely seen him angry. He'd remained tolerant of patients even when they disregarded his sound medical advice and further injured themselves. He'd even seemed understanding when he'd first told Meg he loved her and she couldn't quite bring herself to return the sentiment.

"No pressure," he'd told her. "I just wanted you to know how I felt." Yet once she had been able to admit that she did love him, he'd immediately started talking about marriage. How was that "no pressure"?

In retrospect, his pattern was clear. From coaxing her into staying the night after they'd made love, to seemingly casual comments that she would make a great mom someday, he'd always been subtly pushing her toward the future he wanted.

Perpetually unstable Meg, a wife and mother? Not likely. She would have been a bitter disappointment to him.

She glared down at the tuxedo brochure, where a newly married couple appeared inanely giddy with joy. "Stop looking so smug," she grumbled. "You don't know everything." Not everyone rode the honeymoon limo into the fairy-tale sunset.

But if she had anything to say about it, Lucy and Grant sure as heck would!

Meg dropped the annoying catalogue and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Bertha Hoffman, their bed-and-breakfast owner who'd grown up in this area. Why not brainstorm possible solutions before telling the bride-to-be that there was a problem?

When Bertha heard about the flooding at the church, she clucked her tongue and fretted that her own B and B was too small, but she promised to make inquiries. Meg was about to say goodbye when she was interrupted.

"Ahem."

Glancing up, Meg swallowed hard at the sight of Scott in a tuxedo. "Uh… Mrs. H? We'll talk more tonight." She ended the call abruptly.

"You didn't have to hang up," Scott said, shrugging his shoulders self-consciously. "I just wanted to get your opinion. Will this work?"

Her mouth had gone completely dry. "You look… Yeah."

He shifted his weight from side to side. "Seems like it fits okay, but I can't tell if I can move in it. Come here."

"Excuse me?"

"Please," he added. "Humor me."

She stood, not sure what to expect. Scott took her hand in his and put his other arm around her waist. Her heartbeat doubled.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"There will be dancing at the reception, right?" He shuffled his feet to music only he could hear.

Her traitorous body melted against him, instinctively following his rhythm. "Who knows? At the rate we're going, the DJ's going to run off with the florist and there won't be music or flower arrangements!" For a moment, her stress caught up with her and she rested her head against Scott's shoulder.

His body stiffened and she realized what she'd done. She had no right to nestle deeper into his embrace, but it had been so automatic. Muscle memory, she told herself. She tried to back away, unable to meet his eyes. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

He tipped her chin up with his finger. "I didn't mind."

Their gazes collided, and Meg froze. The only thought that would form was, Is he going to kiss me? And if he did…would she let him?

06/02/2012 Melting the M.D. - Chapter 4

08/02/2012 08:51:44

Scott watched in alarm as Meg went sheet-white. He hadn't seen a woman look so close to fainting since his E.R. days when a young mother had brought in a five-year-old with a head wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

Holding Meg's elbow, he steered her toward a nearby bench. She'd disconnected the phone call, her expression stricken.

"I'm going out on a limb here—that wasn't good news?" He tried for a joking tone, but it sounded flat. He remembered laughing all the time with Meg. She'd always been able to find the amusing and absurd in any situation, a welcome change from his occasionally grim shifts at the hospital. Now, he couldn't recall the last time he'd really laughed. When had joking around with other people started to feel forced and unnatural? With kids, he could still tap into just enough silliness to calm their fears, but that was more bedside manner than an indication of who he really was.

"The church cancelled," Meg said woodenly. "I can't believe this! The weather finally warmed up a couple of degrees and now the pipes burst?"

"Sometimes the worst damage comes when frozen pipes start to thaw," he told her. "Places around here, where freezes are rare, aren't as prepared as facilities up north."

She blinked. "I don't mean to sound insensitive about the damage to the church and the cleanup they're facing, but Lucy's wedding is the day after tomorrow! What am I going to do? She's already a nervous wreck. How am I supposed to tell her this on top of everything else?"

Scott sat next to her. In another lifetime, he would have put his arm around her, pulled her into a comforting embrace. The temptation was there, but…getting that close to Meg, letting her past the wall of cool reserve that protected him? It would be like those frozen pipes that had started to thaw and then crack: disaster. She'd hurt him once. Only a fool would risk becoming emotionally vulnerable to her again.

"You're really taking this hard," he observed, at a loss for what to say.

"It's my job!"

"Your latest job."

Color came back to her cheeks as she glared at him, brown eyes flashing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You do have a history of bailing when things get difficult, Meg." The anger that washed through him caught him off guard. He hadn't planned to get personal. But maybe he needed this closure, since the way she'd left him—and subsequently dodged his calls—hadn't allowed him to properly say goodbye. She'd even quit the bakery, effectively disappearing from his life. "Are you sure you're going to stick around and help Lucy through this? Wouldn't it be easier just to wash your hands of the whole mess and leave her a note wishing her well?"

"I would never do that!"

His gaze clashed with hers, challenging.

Meg ducked her head, blushing with guilt even as she insisted, "Lucy can count on me."

"Then you were right earlier. She is lucky." He got to his feet. "A lot luckier than I was."

05/02/2012 Melting the M.D. - Chapter 3

08/02/2012 08:51:44

Meg parked in front of the shopping center where the tuxedo rental place was located. After their tense car ride, she'd never been happier to reach a destination, including the time her parents had decided on a spur-of-the-moment fourteen-hour road trip to the Grand Canyon.

But she smiled at him and said, "This is it. Let's get you all James Bonded."

Scott unfastened his seat belt. "So you're in the business of cummerbunds and seating arrangements now? I ran into your old neighbor Richie Carlisle a few months ago. He seemed to think you were training to be a police officer."

"Private investigator." Had Richie volunteered the update, or had Scott specifically asked about her? "I only took a couple of classes out of curiosity." Prior to that, there'd been a brief stint as a salsa instructor. She'd lost that job when she'd socked a groping client in the shoulder.

Her lack of a career up to this point wasn't surprising. The Nichols sisters had been raised to "follow their bliss." Brooke, the younger sibling, was in her own way the family rebel. She'd always been cautiously conservative—perhaps too cautious. But who was Meg to criticize? She'd reached her mid-thirties with nothing to show for her life but a patchwork quilt of short-lived jobs and relationships. Her sister, on the other hand, was now happily married and the mother of a beautiful baby.

Meg had never expected her sister to ask her to be her niece's godmother. "Please say you will, Meg. If anything were to happen to Jake and me… "

Meg, potentially responsible for a baby? It had caused her to take a long, hard look at herself and make some changes.

Scott opened the door to the mall's main entrance. As she passed him, she tried not to notice the heat from his body or the familiar smell of his soap.

She took a steadying breath. "You said you ran into Richie. Does that mean you're still in Houston?"

"More or less. I work in a pediatric practice in one of the communities outside the city."

"Exactly as you planned," she said, glad for his success.

"Not 'exactly.'" His voice was gruff. "I'd pictured my life a little differently."

Did he mean her and the future he'd wanted them to have? Meg's chest tightened. They'd hit it off immediately, and their resulting affair had burned hot and quick. But their goals had ultimately been too different—or they would have been, if she'd had any clear goals.

Well, she did now. At the top of that list was making this weekend magical for Lucy while at the same time proving herself to be a competent wedding planner to the Houston socialites in attendance. Which meant she couldn't allow herself to be distracted by Scott.

Meg reminded herself that Lucy had chosen her for good reason. Lucy came from a very wealthy family and had feared that if she had the wedding at home, her mom would have turned it into a three-ring circus of VIPs. Lucy had wanted a more intimate affair in the Hill Country, where Grant had proposed during their vacation last year. They were getting married on the first Saturday of February so that they would be in Paris—and past their jet lag—by Valentine's Day. Très romantic.

Meg turned the corner with a sigh.

"Everything all right?" Scott asked.

"I just think Lucy and Grant are very lucky. I—" She broke off when the phone in her pants pocket began buzzing. "Better grab this. It's from the church. Meg Nichols speaking."

She frowned as the man on the other end launched into a string of apologies and garbled explanation. She was so startled by the news that it took her brain a moment to translate what she was hearing. "Wait! What do you mean they can't have the wedding at the church?"

03/02/2012 Melting the M.D. - Chapter 2

08/02/2012 08:51:44

"You two know each other?" Lucy asked.

"Y-yes." Meg bit her lip to keep from saying more. This weekend was critical to her future, and she needed to regain control of herself before she blurted something grossly unprofessional. "Or, we did. A few years ago."

Scott leaned against the doorjamb, his hazel eyes unreadable. "You haven't changed a bit."

He certainly had. His burnished gold hair, just a couple of shades darker than hers, was cut a lot closer than it had been while they'd dated. And before, he'd always had a glint in his eye, a smile nearly boyish in its charm. Now he exuded raw masculinity.

"Meg has agreed to help with your tux." Lucy scooped up her purse. "She'll drive you to the fitting."

For a fraction of a second, Scott's eyes widened, but his voice remained even. "I don't want to impose. I can take a cab."

The women joined the men in the hallway as Grant reminded his cousin, "You're not in the city. Taxis aren't exactly lined up outside the B and B."

Meg found her voice. "The rental place is on my way—I have to run into town to see the florist." The reminder of her duties as wedding coordinator steadied her. She sounded competent again when she told Lucy, "You and Grant enjoy the spa. And I'll come up with something to occupy your mother later to keep her away from you. As for your orange maid of honor, text her a reminder to exfoliate and I'll see if Mrs. Hoffman can whip up some kind of lemon-juice solution."

The bride-to-be exhaled. "I can't imagine my wedding day without you, Meg."

"Funny." Scott lowered his voice as the happy couple descended the stairs toward the coatrack. "There was a time when I would've said the same thing."

***

Scott sat rigidly in the passenger seat, reminding himself that he was a doctor. He had mastered clinical detachment. No way in hell would he give in to the maelstrom of emotions churning inside him.

Meg cleared her throat. "About what you said on the staircase—"

"Forget it. That was just the surprise talking."

When Grant had said they were meeting Lucy "and Meg," Scott hadn't thought anything of it. Meg was a common enough name…and could there be a less likely wedding coordinator than Meg Nichols? The way he remembered it, the mere mention of marriage had sent her fleeing to the nearest exit. Or maybe it was just the idea of marriage to him.

They'd met at an upscale bakery around the corner from the hospital. Meg had worked there as a pastry chef. When she'd dumped Scott—in a letter, for crying out loud—she'd almost cured his lifelong sweet tooth. To this day, he couldn't breathe in the scent of chocolate without missing her. Which annoyed the hell out of him.

"So, uh, when did you get into town?" Meg asked, filling the strained silence.

"Drove my parents in last night. I let them borrow my car today to tour a historical museum on the other side of the county." Otherwise, he'd have his own mode of transportation right now and wouldn't be dependent on the only woman who'd ever broken his heart.

You're over it, he reminded himself. Clinical detachment. That's the ticket. He was determined not to let himself pine for someone who'd walked away without a backward glance.

01/02/2012 Melting the M.D. - Chapter 1

08/02/2012 08:51:44

"Thank heavens you're here!" Lucy swung open the door to Meg Nichols's room at the bed-and-breakfast. "You'll fix everything."

Until now, Meg had only heard statements like that while standing next to her sister, Brooke, who was the reliable problem-solver in the otherwise unpredictable Nichols family.

But ever since Meg had become the godmother to her newborn niece, she'd vowed to become more responsible, more focused. After too many impulsive decisions and failed jobs, Lucy's wedding this weekend in the picturesque Texas Hill Country would help establish Meg as a career woman and prove she was a capable wedding planner.

Meg gave the bride-to-be a reassuring smile. "Do you want to talk in here or downstairs? Mrs. Hoffman is brewing tea."

"I can't go down there! You just checked in, so you don't know how seriously Mrs. H. takes her duty to feed her guests—or how amazing her brownies are. At the rate I'm stress-eating, I won't be able to zip up my gown on Saturday. I wish I was built more like you."

The two women were complete opposites. Tall, curvy Lucy had blue eyes and elegantly bobbed dark hair. Meg was short and slender with brown eyes and long, blond waves.

"But you're stunning!" Meg sat on the edge of the queen-size bed while Lucy paced. "And Grant loves you exactly as you are."

The brunette momentarily brightened, then scowled again. "Maybe Grant and I should have eloped."

"My parents eloped." Within seventy-two hours of meeting each other. "They've regretted not having the ceremony with family and friends many times." That was true, Everett and Didi Nichols often argued about their elopement, but then, the passionate couple were always arguing about something. Except for when they were just as passionately reconciling.

After growing up in such a tumultuous household, Meg had never been able to picture herself getting married. She'd been in love once, but she'd bolted when he started talking about spending the rest of their lives together.

Lucy sighed. "I do want the wedding, just not the stress. My mother is driving me insane! I'm so unhinged that I yelled at Kyra."

"You're kidding." In all the times Meg had seen Lucy with her maid of honor, the two women had gotten along perfectly.

"I was just so appalled at what she'd done! Kyra went to a spray tan place so she'd have more 'color' for the wedding pictures." Lucy shuddered. "She is now a very unnatural shade of orange.…"

"That bad?"

"Don't look directly at her if you value your eyesight. I don't know why she was worried about being a little pale. We just had the coldest January Texas has seen in years. We're all pale! But at least she's here, which is more than I can say for the best man. He called from Colorado yesterday to say he couldn't make it."

"Weather problems?" After the snow and ice that had hit several states this week, the extensive flight cancellations had been in the news. Meg was glad most of Lucy's guests only had to drive from Houston.

"No, he was skiing and broke his leg showing off for a woman. I swear, he hasn't matured since he and Grant lived in the fraternity house together. Luckily Grant's cousin agreed to fill in as his best man," Lucy said. "The cousin got here this morning but he hadn't planned on wearing a tux, so we need someone to take him for a fitting. Grant and I have that couples' spa appointment, and—"

"You go relax. I'll get the guy to his fitting."

Lucy flashed a grateful smile. "Maybe this best man switch will turn out to be a blessing. Grant's cousin is much less likely to lose the rings or do something outrageous at the bachelor party. But the man's so somber! Not the kind of guy I pictured standing with us on the happiest day of our lives."

A knock interrupted Lucy. "That should be them now." She opened the door and greeted her fiancé with a kiss. Then she moved aside to introduce the other man. "Meg, this is—"

"Scott?" Meg's pulse raced, her heartbeat so loud it drowned out Lucy's voice.

Dr. Scott Creighton was as devastatingly attractive as he'd always been, but there was a somberness in his eyes and face now, just as Lucy had described. When they'd first met three and a half years ago, Scott had been a playful hospital intern.

Though he'd been all serious intensity the night he'd told her point-blank that he planned to marry her. And she'd run the next morning.