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A Week Till the Wedding
Linda Winstead Jones









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“You make me break every promise to myself.

“I promise myself that I won’t like you,” Daisy continued. “I tell myself that one night with you is enough, that it’s all I need. And then … and then you ruin it all. Worse than that, you make me indecisive. I’m not indecisive, Jacob, I don’t make an important decision and then change my mind because of a kiss.”

“Are you inviting me in?” Jacob rested his forehead against hers.

“I am.”

“If I come inside, I won’t leave until morning.”

“You better not,” she said. “And I do hope you’re more prepared than you were last time.”

“I’m ever the optimist, so yes.”

Daisy pulled Jacob inside by the tie. “You and your suits,” she said as she closed and locked the door behind him. “Take it off.”


Dear Reader,

Small-town living in the South is rife with possibilities when it comes to writing romance. There are characters everywhere you turn, families who have made their mark, men and women who have chosen to make themselves a part of a community where everyone knows everyone else and secrets are hard to keep. A beauty shop and small-engine-repair business is not at all a stretch, when it comes to small towns everywhere.

Family is important to me, as it is to Daisy Bell and Jacob Tasker in this story. They’re both willing to make sacrifices for family members, to endure personal pain in order to make life easier for those they love. But after making those sacrifices for others, is it time to let the mistakes of the past go and take time for themselves? Can they find a second chance at love?

I hope you enjoy your journey into Bell Grove, Georgia, and the chance to watch Daisy and Jacob find one another all over again.

Happy reading!

Linda




About the Author


LINDA WINSTEAD JONES is a bestselling author of more than fifty romance books in several subgenres—historical, fairy tale, paranormal and, of course, romance suspense. She’s won a Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence twice. She is also a three-time RITA® Award finalist and (writing as Linda Fallon) winner of the 2004 RITA® Award for paranormal romance.

Linda lives in north Alabama with her husband of thirty-seven years. She can be reached via her website, www.lindawinsteadjones.com.




A Week Till the Wedding


Linda Winstead Jones






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


For my niece Christy, a hairstylist who keeps me

from going gray and living in ponytails. She hasn’t yet

added small-engine repair, but … maybe someday. :-)

Love you!




Chapter One


“Those women on Crime Stoppers never have good haircuts. Have you noticed? Maybe if they didn’t look so unkempt they’d make better choices. You know, get a job, marry a decent man. Just look at those bangs, bless her heart.” Sandra Miller was a talker; Daisy never had to work to make conversation when Sandra was in the chair getting her hair done.

Daisy paused, scissors in hand, and glanced over the top of her client’s head to catch a glimpse of a mug shot on the twenty-inch television that was mounted on the wall. Bell Grove, Georgia, was a small town off the beaten path, north of Atlanta. They didn’t have their own television station, but they picked up the Atlanta stations. “Yeah, those bangs are pretty bad.”

“A woman just can’t feel good about herself if her hair looks that awful.” Sandra gestured to the television. “I swear, I’d be tempted to use drugs myself if I had bangs like that. She has to have something to dull the pain.”

Another mug shot was flashed on the screen. “Oh, dear,” Sandra said softly. “Her problems go so far beyond bangs I don’t know where to start. Don’t they sell conditioner in Atlanta? And what color is that, exactly? I have never seen a box of Miss Clairol with orange or pumpkin stamped on it.” In the mirror, Sandra caught and held Daisy’s eye. “You know, you could do a lot of good, if you were of a mind to help those poor, unfortunate women. You can’t overestimate how important hairstyle is to a woman’s confidence.”

Daisy laughed. “Sorry, Sandra. My hands are full enough without adding in the occasional trip to the Atlanta jail to give beauty advice.”

Yes, her hands were more than full enough. Daisy was the sole proprietor of Bell’s Beauty Shop and Small Engine Repair. She had no employees, though her sister Mari—the youngest of the three Bell girls—came home on the weekends to help with the repair aspect of the business. Mari was in junior college, and Lily had recently started a new job in an Atlanta art gallery. Lily didn’t make it to Bell Grove as often as she had when she’d been a student. These days her weekends were taken up with the new job and new friends and settling into her new apartment.

While Daisy missed seeing her sisters on a regular basis, it wasn’t like she didn’t have enough to do. In addition to the business, which kept her busy enough since it was Bell Grove’s only beauty salon and repair shop, she did volunteer work. On Mondays, when her shop was closed, she delivered meals to a number of housebound residents in the county. Some were elderly, others were in bad health; a couple had just fallen on hard times and needed a little help. While she wasn’t keen on the idea of inspiring prisoners to change their ways by providing free haircuts, she had spent more hours than she could count spiffing up the hairstyles of those who didn’t get out much. The service—the meals, not the hair trimming and restyling—was sponsored by the Bell Grove Methodist Church, as was a food bank which Daisy also volunteered for when she could.

She gave some of these same people rides to town, when she wasn’t working and they needed to go to the doctor—there was a grand total of one in Bell Grove—or the grocery store. There was just the one grocery store, too. Bell Grove provided all the necessary services; there just wasn’t much to choose from. Anyone who wasn’t happy with their limited selection could—and did—drive into Atlanta or one of the communities between Bell Grove and the big city.

Daisy didn’t get out of Bell Grove often. Everything she needed was close at hand. She liked it here, and everything she needed was within reach. Well, almost everything.

Sandra asked about Lily and Marigold, and Daisy filled her in on all the latest news. As she did, her heart sank a little. Just a little. She tried not to let her sad reaction show. When their parents had been killed Daisy had stepped up and done what needed to be done. She’d put her life on hold, sacrificing her own plans to take care of her younger sisters. Lily and Mari had still been in school at the time, Lily in the county high school, Mari in the middle school. There had been no close relatives to take over as guardian to the younger girls, so that duty had fallen to Daisy. Now they were grown, they had lives of their own.

That was as it should be, right? But sometimes Daisy felt as if she was suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.

She never would’ve considered staying in Bell Grove and taking over her parents’ businesses if they’d lived. Her plans had been grander than that. A college degree—she’d waffled between physical therapy and elementary education and had finally decided on education—and a job in the big city. Marriage, babies, the PTA and Little League. Maybe her plans had not been grand, but they’d been hers. More than once in the past seven years she’d spent a sleepless night wondering where she’d be if that eighteen-wheeler hadn’t crossed the center line. She would’ve finished college, gotten that job, made a life of her own. Would she have been as content with that life as she was with this one? Would things have turned out as she’d planned? She’d stopped asking those questions years ago. There was no way to know what that alternate life might’ve been like; there was no upside for her in “what-if?”

She liked her life just fine, and those old plans seemed so distant they might as well have been someone else’s.

Daisy gave Sandra’s new, shorter cut a good blow-dry with a round brush, touched it up with a spritz of hair spray and whipped off the purple cape that had protected her client’s clothing. Sandra was happy with the new style, and had just begun to gush about how much slimmer her face looked with the new cut when the door to the shop opened. Daisy didn’t have anyone scheduled for another hour. She’d planned to grab a sandwich as soon as Sandra left. But she did take walk-ins, and since business wasn’t exactly booming she’d gladly skip lunch to squeeze in another haircut. Maybe someone was dropping off a small item for repair, though if that was the case …

That was as far as her thoughts wandered before the person who’d opened the door stepped inside.

Jacob Tasker, the biggest “what-if?” of them all, looked her in the eye the way he always had, with confidence in his steady gaze. Dark brown eyes, like strong black coffee, caught hers and held on. He was bigger than he’d been when she’d last seen him. Not in a bad way; he didn’t have the beginnings of a gut, or jowls, or a double chin. All through college he’d bordered on skinny. He’d been wiry, at the very least. Since then he’d put on a few pounds of muscle, filling his expensive suit well.

Not only did that suit cost more than she made in a month, but no one wore a suit in Bell Grove unless A) They were Mayor or B) It was Sunday.

His haircut was expensive, too. There wasn’t a single hair out of place, no misbehaving cowlick or split ends. He was recently well-shaven. Damned if he couldn’t’ve just stepped out of an ad for expensive cologne or a ridiculously overpriced watch. And that smile … even though she could tell it was somewhat forced, the smile hadn’t changed at all. That smile had captured her when she’d been fifteen and he’d been eighteen. She’d fallen hard. She’d doodled Mrs. Daisy Tasker on the inside cover, and numerous pages, of every notebook and journal she’d owned, with swirly hearts over the i in Daisy. At that time he’d been too old for her, and she’d never confessed her feelings to anyone, not even to her closest friends. He’d been her secret crush, her heart’s deepest desire.

Four years later, when she’d been nineteen and he’d been twenty-two, they’d attended the same college and the three-year age difference was no longer an impediment. Since he’d taken a year off between high school and college, and he’d changed his major—twice—they’d even had some classes together. The smile had done her in again, along with other attributes she hadn’t been able to even imagine at fifteen. That had been a blissfully happy time of her life; she’d lived in a fairy tale.

And a little less than two years later it had all fallen apart, and she’d been reminded that the original fairy tales always had a wicked twist at the end.

Crap. Daisy couldn’t say she hadn’t ever imagined seeing Jacob again, but in her fantasy she’d had time to put on something pretty and freshen her makeup. She’d been ridiculously happy; she hadn’t missed him at all. In her daydreams she could barely remember what he looked like. She had no regrets, there were no “what-ifs?” On the other hand he’d been miserable, so very sorry he’d let her slip away. In her imaginings he had not aged well. Maybe there was a gut, or a softening of his features. Just enough of an unflattering change to make her glad that their relationship had ended when it had. Ah, fantasy.

But in real life she was wearing a minimum of makeup and a black smock over well-worn jeans and a sadly old Brooks and Dunn T-shirt. And he looked better than she remembered, more a man, harder. Sharper. She thought about Jacob too damn often. And he didn’t look at all sorry. No, he looked as confident as always, as if he never had a single moment of doubt about any decision he’d ever made.

Not even leaving her.

He closed the door on the bright sunshine, said hello to her and to Sandra, who—thankfully—prattled about how long it had been since she’d seen Jacob, how she’d heard about his success, and how was California, anyway? She asked about his brothers and his cousins. He had plenty of relatives in the area, so that took a while. While the Bells had dwindled—only the three sisters remained of the founders of this small town—the Taskers had multiplied and flourished. You couldn’t take two steps in the county without tripping over one of Jacob’s cousins.

While Jacob and Sandra exchanged pleasantries, Daisy took a deep breath and tried to decide what she should say, when the time for her to speak arrived. Her hands fell to her thighs, where she wiped them on her jeans. Her nails weren’t painted. She had sweaty palms. Great. He couldn’t have called first? He couldn’t have given her a little warning so she could brush up on her speech? How rude!

As Jacob and Sandra talked, the television news droned on, the announcer’s words making no sense at all. Blah, blah, blah. Yada yada yada. The air conditioner whirred. Daisy was aware of every sound that filled the room, most specifically Jacob’s voice. She’d always loved his voice; the timbre, the way she felt it in her spine.

She really should pretend that seeing him again didn’t affect her at all, but it was probably too late for that. Her jaw had dropped when he’d walked in and she’d stared at him wordlessly for too long to pull off that lie. He’d probably noticed her wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans; he never had been one to miss much. She could just light into him and say all the things she sometimes wished she’d said. For a long while all the things she wished she’d said to him had kept her up at night. None of them were pleasant.

But when Sandra put cash on the front counter, waved at Daisy and left, and Daisy and Jacob were left alone, what she said was,

“What the hell do you want?”

Well, what had he expected? A parade?

Daisy hadn’t changed much at all. She still had long pale hair, cornflower-blue eyes, long legs and flawless, lightly tanned skin. On the drive over Jacob had wondered if Daisy would look older, if sacrificing for her family and giving up her own dreams, seven years ago, had drained her.

But she looked as good as ever. Better, in fact. The years had been good to her. The girl he’d loved was gone, replaced by a gorgeous woman.

“I need a favor,” he said, suspecting that her response to that simple request wouldn’t be pretty.

“A favor.” She shook her head in wonder, and her posture changed as if she were getting ready to do battle. Maybe she was. “From me? Is this a joke?”

“Just hear me out.”

Daisy threw up her hands. Her cheeks flushed pink. “Whatever this favor is, I don’t have the time.”

Bell’s Beauty Shop and Small Engine Repair was located in the heart of downtown Bell Grove, on the square across from city hall, sandwiched between an antiques shop and a family-run sandwich shop. All the buildings in the downtown area were old as dirt. The owners did their best to keep them in good repair, but there was no way to disguise the effects of a hundred years plus of use.

Bell’s was small but clean, the walls freshly painted a welcoming pale green, the magazines neatly stacked. The chairs in the shop were mismatched, probably yard sale finds, but somehow Daisy had made it all look planned. The lace curtains and live plants pulled it all together. There was a counter in the back, just past the door to the restroom, and a dark green wooden door that he knew opened onto the area where her dad had once fixed mowers and other lawn-care equipment, as well as the occasional toaster even though there were no small engines in kitchen appliances. Business didn’t exactly seem to be brisk.

“The favor is not for me,” he explained.

“Oh, really.” Her voice was cool, as if she didn’t care.

“It’s Grandma Eunice.”

Her face fell, a little. She’d always liked his dad’s mother, and Grandma Eunice had liked Daisy. Which was probably a contributing factor in this latest problem.

Like it or not, he was going to have to explain. “I came home for the big family reunion, and since I haven’t been back in a while I decided to stay for a month.” He didn’t tell her that the only reason he was here now was that his mother had told him it might be the last reunion his grandmother would see.

“Can that big company you work for survive without you for that long?” she snapped.

He’d been getting up early and staying up late to take care of business via cell phone and computer while he was here, but that detail wasn’t relevant. Might as well just get to the heart of the matter. “Grandma Eunice isn’t well.”

Daisy’s face paled a little. She couldn’t have known. The Taskers and the Bells weren’t exactly the Hatfields and the McCoys, but they didn’t run in the same circles, either.

“I’m sorry to hear Miss Eunice is not well,” Daisy said, her voice cool but not without genuine sympathy.

“Physically she doesn’t seem to be in bad shape, though she’s not getting around the way she used to. She’s been in a wheelchair for a while. But her mind …” Might as well spit it out. “Daisy, she thinks we’re engaged and she’s been asking about you.”

Daisy had never had much of a poker face. Her blue eyes widened, her mouth puckered slightly. Maybe she even paled, a bit. Her pretty mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she asked, “Is it Alzheimer’s?”

“The doctor says no.”

“Then what …”

“She doesn’t forget everything, she’s functions very well and remembers what she had for breakfast, but there are certain times when her memory just seems to malfunction. She has a terrible time remembering Ben’s wife, but most specifically, her memory malfunctions where I’m concerned.”

Daisy looked as confused as he’d been feeling for the past few days. “You’ll just have to tell her the truth,” she said.

If only it were that simple. “I did. I told her we broke up a long time ago, that we were never engaged. She got upset, I went to the kitchen to make her some hot tea, and when I got back she was completely calm. Smiling, serene, looking out her bedroom window. I thought she was fine, that she’d accepted the truth, but …” The matter still concerned him. “She’d forgotten. In just a few minutes’ time, she completely forgot what I’d told her about us.” He bit the bullet and dropped the bombshell. “She’s planning our wedding.”

Daisy reached out to steady herself by grabbing the edge of the counter. Jacob considered stepping forward to take her arm, but he quickly thought better of it.

“What do you expect me to do?” she asked, her voice rising sharply. “I can’t … we can’t … this is not my problem!”

“I don’t expect you to marry me to keep my grandmother happy,” Jacob said sharply. “But if you would play along for a while, come to the family reunion if she keeps this up, maybe hang out at the house when you can. She might wake up one morning and have forgotten all about this fantasy of hers, but at the very least once I’m gone she’ll let it go.” Out of sight, out of mind. “She’s promised to see a new doctor, but not until after the reunion.”

“Play. Along.” Ah, there was the difference in Daisy, that’s how she’d changed. Her eyes were harder, more cynical. They’d never looked at him like this before.

“It would make an old woman very happy. She adores you.”

“Give me a break. You aren’t doing this for her. No, you want me to get you off the hook so you won’t have to try again to tell her that we’re not getting married. Heaven forbid that Jacob Tasker should have to do anything that he finds unpleasant. Heaven forbid that anything that’s not in your precious plans …” She stopped, choking on her words.

Jacob took a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. He wished—not for the first time—that he was back in San Francisco, where his days and the decisions he had to make made sense. This situation was maddening. “I’ve been home four days, and I’ve told Grandma Eunice ten times that we’re not engaged and never were. She’s upset by the news, and then a few minutes later she forgets. I’m getting damn tired of upsetting her again and again.”

Daisy was already shaking her head.

“I’ll pay you.”

There were those daggers in her eyes again. Her posture changed, as if she were literally getting ready to attack. “You think you can buy me off? That I’ll do anything for money? Oh, poor Daisy Bell, she’ll do anything for a few bucks.”

He’d be glad to pay her more than a “few bucks.” And it looked as if she could use the money. Jacob had put Daisy firmly in his rearview mirror years ago, but he hated the idea that she didn’t have more. She’d sacrificed a lot for her sisters; she’d given up her own education, the career she’d planned. She’d raised Lily and Mari, put them through college, and from all he could see she’d done nothing for herself. Why in hell was she still here? She should’ve moved on years ago.

He snapped out a ridiculously high amount, a number large enough to make Daisy take a stutter-step back.

“Are you insane?” she asked.

No, he wasn’t insane; he was ridiculously rich. He worked eighty to ninety hours a week, and until now he hadn’t taken a real vacation since he’d gone to work for The Hudson-Dahlgren Corporation seven years ago. He’d become a workaholic who had no time for anything else. But all his hard work had paid off. Very well.

“I’m afraid Grandma Eunice doesn’t have much time left. She’s deteriorated so much since I last saw her. Physically, mentally … the doctor says it’s manageable, but I don’t buy it.” He’d talked to her doctor—an old codger who wasn’t much younger than she was—and according to the doc there was nothing to be done. Eunice Tasker was simply growing old. Jacob had initially offered to bring in specialists, to fly his grandmother to a decent hospital for tests and treatment, but she’d refused both offers. After the reunion, she’d said, she’d see a new doctor. Maybe her mind was slipping, but she was as stubborn as ever.

“You could help to make her final days happy ones.” And he could leave here knowing Daisy was in good financial shape. She could finish school, close this crappy shop, get out of town the way he had.

She considered his offer for a long moment, and finally said, “All right, I’ll help. A couple of visits to your grandmother, a few lies … I can do that.” She walked toward him, came close, reached out and punched him in the chest with the tip of her index finger. She didn’t look him in the eye as she poked him there, hard.

Jacob didn’t move, but he took a long, deep breath. Damn, she smelled good. The sight of Daisy brought back strong, old memories, but it was the way she smelled that triggered memories he had no right to cling to. She was the stuff of dreams, the kind of woman a man could never entirely let go of, no matter how hard he tried.

“But I won’t take a dime of your money,” she said. “I’m doing this for Miss Eunice, not for you. She was kind to me after my parents died. She’s a good woman and I’ll do this for her.” Daisy lifted her head slowly, until her eyes met his. “Not for you and not for your money.” She said the word “money” as if it was a bad thing.

He’d change her mind about the money, eventually, but he wasn’t going to argue with her now.

“Dinner tonight with the family?”

“Not wasting any time, are you?” she countered.

“Might as well not.”

After seeing her, smelling her, remembering their time together—the good and the bad—he knew the sooner they got this over with, the better off they’d both be.

Their time, their chance, had come and gone years ago. He didn’t pine for anything or anyone, but a small, reluctant part of his brain recognized that Daisy Bell disturbed him on some primitive level. He didn’t need or want to be dragged into the past, not by old memories, not by a surprisingly tantalizing scent.

Daisy was the past, and Jacob cared only about the present and the future. Only a fool would be tempted by something long gone.




Chapter Two


The Taskers had been movers and shakers in the county for as long as there’d been a county. The family home, a few miles out of Bell Grove, was stately and majestic and yet still homey. It wasn’t a showplace, it was a home. At least, it had been home years ago when Daisy had come here often with Jacob as his girlfriend. Holidays, summer vacations … for nearly two years she’d spent much of her time away from school and her part-time job with her parents right here. She’d never told anyone how much she loved this old house. And she never would.

Through the years residents had tried to give it an appropriate name, a name befitting a fine home with a rich history. Now and then a Tasker would try to call it Magnolia Whatsit or Oak Something. But what it was always called, what stuck, was Tasker House. Daisy had always thought that made the fabulous, sprawling two-story mansion sound like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story. Apparently she was not alone in that belief, and that was why Taskers kept trying to change it.

For the occasion, Daisy had chosen her outfit carefully. She wanted to look good, for the family and even for Jacob, though where he was concerned it was intended in a “this is what you threw away, look but don’t touch” kind of way. She wore a pale green sundress that hit the top of her knees, white sandals, and her hair down. Maybe she hadn’t done anything spectacular with her hair, but she’d brushed until it gleamed. Jacob had looked at her more often than was necessary on the ride from town, cutting his eyes from the road now and then to study her. It was what she’d wanted, right? She wanted him to regret giving her up, she wanted him to suffer.

So why was she determined to meet him here next time and avoid being trapped in a car with him again?

The way he stared at her made her squirm. Sitting so close to him for so long was making her seriously antsy. In trying to punish him, she had ended up punishing herself. It was absolute torture to have him so close. And he didn’t seem to be tortured at all.

The house was just as she remembered it, majestic and welcoming, perfectly positioned on a vast expanse of land that was lushly green. A portion of the land was flat and had once been farmed, but to the west there were gentle hills and ancient trees. She and Jacob had taken many a long walk in those hills …

He offered his arm at the porch steps, and she took it. She would not allow him to see how she was affected by his closeness. He couldn’t know, not ever, that he made her squirm.

“Do you sleep in a suit?” she asked coolly as they walked up the steps, neither of them in a hurry. He looked good in the dark suit and crisp white shirt, she’d admit, especially since everything he had on fit him as if it had been made for his body, but the outfit seemed wrong here at Tasker House, especially given the season. Even late in the day, the summer heat remained. And the humidity. You … could not dismiss the humidity! Besides, the stupid suit reminded her that he’d dumped her for his precious career. She didn’t want or need his success rubbed in her face.

“Not usually,” he said.

She shouldn’t have asked that question. As she recalled, he usually slept in nothing at all. At least, he had when she’d been around. So had she, come to think of it. They hadn’t lived together, though that step had been coming, but she’d spent the night at his place and he’d spent the night at hers—when roommates were away. It was a vivid memory she could do without, given the circumstances. She tried to think of other things, to push the memory of a naked Jacob out of her mind, but nothing else would stick.

Before she could wipe the image of a naked Jacob from her brain, Susan Tasker met them at the door. The screen door squealed as she opened it, and she smiled. Or tried. It was the most pathetic attempt at a smile Daisy had ever seen. Focusing on Jacob’s mother helped; it was difficult to fantasize about the man naked while the woman Daisy had once believed would one day be her mother-in-law looked on.

Susan Tasker had married into the prominent and wealthy Tasker family, but she’d soon become one of its leaders. Her husband, Jim, Miss Eunice’s only living child, was a quiet man who seemed to be happy to share the handling of the family business matters and properties with his wife. She had given him four sons and taken on an active role in the multiple Tasker concerns—there were a number of businesses across the South that were at least partially owned by the family corporation—as if she’d been born to it.

And now she cared for his mother, as well.

“Daisy,” she said softly as she backed up to allow her and Jacob to enter the house.

“Mrs. Tasker.”

The older woman—she had to be approaching sixty—turned around, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, call me Susan. You’re not a child any longer.”

Susan had put on a few pounds in the years since Daisy had seen her, and whoever was styling her hair had done a terrible job. The color was flat and lifeless, and the cut was too severe for the shape of her face. She needed layering, and some highlights to soften the color.

Which was, Daisy reminded herself as they followed Susan Tasker toward the parlor, not her problem.

From first glance, it was clear to her that the house hadn’t changed. Not a stick of furniture from the entryway had been moved, and she would swear that even the fresh flowers on the round table near the foot of the staircase were exactly the same as they’d been last time she was here. The ceilings were high, the furnishings antique, the pictures unexciting landscapes and old family portraits framed in gold. This place was a constant, never changing.

She loved this old house, even though Taskers lived in it.

Jim Tasker was in the parlor, enjoying a predinner drink. Jacob’s youngest brother Ben was there with his wife, Madison. And Eunice Tasker sat in the center of the room. She managed to look stately and dignified, even though she was seated in a wheelchair. Even though she did not look well.

It broke Daisy’s heart a little to see the elderly woman so confined, and so obviously unwell. Her color was sallow, her hands unsteady. Her face was more deeply lined than it had been the last time Daisy had seen her. Like Susan, she could use a decent haircut.

Eunice’s face lit up when she saw Daisy and Jacob. She smiled, the expression erasing years from her wrinkled face. A little color crept into her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she said, her eyes on Daisy. “We have so much to discuss!”

Daisy walked to Eunice, bent and kissed her on the cheek. The old woman smelled like baby powder and flowery perfume, and her skin was papery soft. Standing there, the last of her doubts about this ridiculous scheme fled. She’d do this, no matter how painful it might be. And she was not doing it for Jacob. “Miss Eunice, it’s been too long.”

“Yes, it’s been several weeks, hasn’t it?” Eunice said, taking Daisy’s hands in her own. “That is far too long.”

Daisy just smiled. It had been years, not weeks, but she wouldn’t distress the ill woman with inconvenient facts.

Miss Eunice squeezed Daisy’s hand. “You look even more beautiful than I remember.” Her gaze—those eyes dark, like Jacob’s—flitted past Daisy to look upon her grandson. “Doesn’t your lovely bride-to-be get more beautiful every day?”

“Yes, she does,” Jacob agreed solemnly.

“She’s going to be stunning in my wedding gown.”

The entire room went silent. Of course, everyone there but Eunice knew Daisy’s relationship with Jacob had been over for a very long time. How hard must this be for the family?

Daisy couldn’t feel too bad for them. This ruse was harder on her than it could possibly be on anyone else. She had to pretend not to hate Jacob for moving on without her, for not giving up his dreams for her the way she had given up hers for her sisters. He’d chosen his precious career over her. His determination to succeed at anything he chose to do had been one of the things she’d always admired about him, but in the end that determination had taken him away from her.

And then she looked around the room, taking in the pale faces, the thinned lips, the clasped hands. The Taskers were losing a beloved member of their family, not quickly and without warning, the way she’d lost her parents, but slowly. Painfully. And she had the power to make Miss Eunice’s final days happier. Not for them, she reminded herself, but for a woman who had been good to the Bell family for as long as Daisy could remember.

She smiled, looking at Miss Eunice and ignoring the others. “I can’t wait to see the gown. I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“Tonight, after dinner,” Miss Eunice said with barely contained glee. “You must try the gown on! We have to make sure it fits properly.”

It was as if the old woman was trying to make this as difficult as possible. Everything was happening too fast as it was! “Oh, there’s no rush,” Daisy said, making a real effort to keep her voice calm. The idea of trying on a family wedding gown, when at one time she had been so sure that one day this would be her family, was enough to give her hives.

Eunice leaned forward, gripping the armrests of her wheelchair. “No rush? What if alterations are necessary? And don’t forget, we must choose a new veil that will complement the gown and your face. So much to do, so very much to do. If the wedding is going to take place during the Tasker Reunion in less than three weeks, we haven’t a single day to waste.”

“What?” She and Jacob responded in stereo.

“Surprise!” Eunice said brightly.

Jacob held his spine straight and kept his face impassive. In a few hours Grandma Eunice would forget that Daisy had been here. She’d definitely forget about a wedding she’d planned to be held during the reunion. In two and a half weeks. The delusion had come to life when she’d seen him, and it would go away just as suddenly, when something else grabbed her attention.

Daisy looked like she’d seen a ghost, and in a way she had. For a couple of years she’d been a part of this family. For close to two years he and Daisy had been together. For almost a year of that time, they’d been damn near inseparable. Christmas and Thanksgiving, family reunions, weekends at home … she’d been here. They hadn’t discussed marriage, they had both been too young. But she’d fit in so well here, she’d become like a member of the family. Everyone had loved her. Including him.

Maybe they hadn’t discussed marriage, but he couldn’t say it hadn’t been a part of his plans. He was certain it had been a part of her plans, too.

And then her parents had been killed and everything had changed.

Jacob had tried to be there for Daisy. He’d held her while she’d cried; he’d stayed with her through the funeral arrangements and—later—the legal details of the estate and guardianship. But eventually his new job had called him away, and he’d gone. He’d truly believed that they would be able to make a long distance relationship work until the time came when Daisy—and her sisters—joined him. The job offer he’d received had been too good to turn down, it had been exciting and he’d made enough money right off the bat to support himself, Daisy and her sisters. All he had to do was get settled and send for her.

But it hadn’t worked that way. There hadn’t been any spectacular blowup, no emotional scene. They’d simply drifted apart. It had been easy to do, with him working night and day in San Francisco and Daisy caught up in raising her sisters and taking over the family businesses here in Bell Grove, Georgia. Her dad had trained the girls from the time they could walk to tune an engine. Beauty school had taken care of the rest. If she’d come to San Francisco or if he’d stayed here, maybe they’d still be together. But she hadn’t and he hadn’t. And they weren’t.

So here they were, seven years later. They’d both changed. Everything had changed. Well, perhaps not everything. Jacob was annoyed to admit that he wanted Daisy. She wasn’t like any other woman. She could look at him, and he felt it to the bone.

A long time ago he’d convinced himself he was over her, but as soon as he’d laid eyes on her he’d realized how wrong he’d been. If he was over her, the curve of her cheek and the sway of her hips when she walked wouldn’t drive him wild. If he was over her, he wouldn’t continually find himself edging closer so he could inhale her scent. Dammit, he wasn’t over her at all.

The past was coming back to bite him in the ass, even though logically he knew they were no longer the same people. If he spent a significant amount of time with Daisy he’d soon realize that they had grown apart. He wasn’t the same; neither was she. Whatever he felt was annoyingly lingering chemistry. Nothing more.

It was announced that dinner was on the table, thank goodness, ending the conversation about wedding gowns and family reunions and surprise ceremonies. Jacob took Daisy’s arm and escorted her to the dining room, hoping that the meal would serve as a distraction. He didn’t miss the slight tremble of her body, even though outwardly she did her best to remain calm. Dammit, he shouldn’t have asked her to do this. He should’ve found a way to take care of the situation without asking Daisy to torture herself.

And him.

His mom didn’t cook, but that didn’t mean the family didn’t eat well. Lurlene Preston had been in charge of the kitchen for thirty years, and no one cooked a good old-fashioned Southern meal like Lurlene. The meal that was laid out was definitely a welcome distraction. Jacob didn’t eat this way when he was in California. Not that he could’ve gotten fried chicken, turnip greens, fried okra and fried green tomatoes, served up with a mess of cornbread, in San Francisco. Even if he could’ve found those foods in a specialty restaurant, they wouldn’t have been the same. The smells and tastes transported him back to his childhood, to family dinners followed by the front porch swing or an hour or so spent working on whatever car he was remodeling at the time.

He and Caleb—they were the middle boys of the four, and Caleb was almost two years older than Jacob—had both had an interest in rebuilding cars from the age of fourteen or so on. It was something they’d enjoyed doing together, even though they didn’t have much else in common. Jacob hadn’t touched an engine since he’d moved to San Francisco. He didn’t even change the oil in his own car. No, he paid someone else to do it for him. Jacob hadn’t missed tinkering with engines at all, hadn’t even thought about that old hobby until he’d come home.

Funny how the scents of his youth were the ones plaguing him this week. Food. Engine oil. Daisy. Daisy, most of all.

For a while they enjoyed a reprieve from wedding talk. Everyone talked about the weather, the food, baseball and the upcoming football season and the relatives who were not in attendance. Daisy was quiet in the beginning, and she just picked at her food. But after a while she relaxed. She ate, participated in the conversation and completely and totally ignored him.

Which was good, in one way. He could stare at her all he wanted, and she wouldn’t realize that he studied the gentle curve of her jaw and the tempting length of her neck. He didn’t dare look any lower—not for more than a split second here and there—for fear that she’d turn in his direction and catch him with his eyes on the swell of her breasts. He knew better. He didn’t ogle women. But this was Daisy, and he might never get another chance.

Their reprieve ended as peach cobbler was served. Grandma Eunice began again to discuss her plans for the wedding. The ceremony would be held Sunday afternoon of the three-day Tasker Reunion, she’d decided. It would be the culmination of the annual event, a formal wedding to be held in the house. Family only, since space would be an issue. Besides, Grandma Eunice added with her nose in the air, family was all that mattered.

She looked at him as she added this last dig. It wasn’t a secret that she was annoyed at Jacob for throwing himself so wholeheartedly into his career, for not coming home and taking his place here. The Taskers owned interests in several successful restaurants, a department store—there were three locations, now—a steel mill and a sock factory. Jacob’s grandfather and great-uncles—three of them—had gone into business together. They’d done well. These days this branch of the family was the most prosperous, but Jacob had many cousins—close and distant—who continued to hold a portion of old family businesses.

He could’ve taken a job at any one of them, or else begun working with his mother with the objective of eventually taking the reins from her. But he was determined to make it on his own, to be independently successful. Yes, his ambition had taken him away from his family for too long, he could admit to that. Was that why when his grandmother’s mind had started to go she’d immediately honed in on this wedding business? Was she, somehow, determined to see him married to a local girl before she died so he’d be tied to Bell Grove in yet another way?

Jacob had hoped his grandmother would forget about having Daisy try on her wedding dress before the meal was done, but no such luck. No, she was anxious to see Daisy in the gown, prepared to get Lurlene to take care of any alterations that might be necessary. Daisy paled at the thought, he caught a hint of a return of that tremble that told him how hard this was for her, but she played along. The four women left the table and headed for Grandma Eunice’s suite of rooms. Years ago, when she’d first started having trouble with the stairs, they’d converted the library and sitting room on the ground floor for her.

When the women had gone, Jacob stared at his dad and his brother—one and then the other. “Why didn’t you tell me she was this bad?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

His father shrugged his shoulders. “It happened so fast. She’s had trouble remembering some things for years, but we thought it was normal, related to her aging. Then all of a sudden she’s losing whole blocks of time. Months, years. The doctor says the memory loss could be caused by any number of things, but … I don’t know.”

Ben nodded his head. “I know we don’t get here often enough, but I swear, one time when we saw her she was fine. Sharp as a tack. A couple of months later she doesn’t remember who Maddy is.”

They hadn’t been paying attention, if they thought this had come on suddenly. That wasn’t the way dementia worked, unless it was a sudden side effect of a medication or an infection. Those possibilities had been checked and rejected. Jacob couldn’t very well complain to his father and younger brother about their lack of attention to the family matriarch. He hadn’t been home in years, so he could hardly jump all over them for not understanding the small changes that had turned into big ones. But dammit, they were here.

“She needs a more competent doctor.”

“Good luck getting her to agree to that,” Jim grumbled.

“You have to make it happen,” Jacob snapped.

“She’s agreed to see someone after the reunion. She wouldn’t even agree to that much until you came home. That’s a step in the right direction.”

A step that should’ve been taken months ago. Jacob decided not to argue any longer with his father, who was maddeningly laid-back about the entire situation. Arguing was a waste of breath, apparently.

“Daisy looks great!” Ben said brightly, happy to change the subject.

“Yes, she does,” Jacob agreed sourly. Too great.

“How on earth did you get her to agree to this? I figured she’d tell you to take a hike.”

He’d love to be able to tell Ben that he’d bought Daisy’s cooperation, but she’d taken that option away from him. “She’s doing it for Grandma Eunice, not for me. They always did get along well.”

Ben snorted. “I wish she and Maddy could find a way to get along. Grandma Eunice never approved of my wife, she never liked her the way she liked Daisy. Not once did she offer to let Maddy wear her wedding dress.” He shook his head. “Not that Maddy would’ve worn the old thing.”

Ben’s wife was very pretty, but she was also very flashy. Madison had made the mistake of wearing a very short dress to the house the first time she’d had dinner here. According to Susan, Grandma Eunice had never forgiven that infraction.

The men retired to the parlor for scotch and cigars, an old tradition that had survived many, many years in this household. Jacob passed on the offered cigar but took the scotch. Just one. He had a feeling he was going to need the fortification in order to get through the rest of the evening.

Eunice watched as Daisy followed her instructions and very carefully removed the wedding gown from the wardrobe. Eunice had had the dress—more than sixty years old and as beautiful as it had been the day she’d worn it—removed from storage as soon as she’d heard that Jacob was coming home.

Daisy was a beautiful girl. More than that she was a sweet girl, and a strong woman. She’d make Jacob a good wife.

Playing at being completely off her rocker was easier than she’d imagined. And more fun. Maybe it was a little bit mean, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Jacob hadn’t been home in five years. Five years! And that time he’d flown into Atlanta one day and out the next, barely home long enough to say hello to his immediate family. Family was important. Family was everything!

Only one of her four grandsons—Ben, who had not chosen wisely—was married. Caleb and Luke were both older than Jacob, and neither of them had married. Well, Caleb had tried when he’d been a younger man, but she’d had cheese last longer than that marriage. She’d deal with the other two soon enough, but the situation with Jacob was critical.

No one knew it, except for Lurlene and Doc Porter, but Eunice had become quite good at browsing the internet with her laptop computer. The family thought she used the laptop for playing solitaire, and sometimes she did. But when no one was watching she browsed the internet with the best of them. A few weeks ago she’d run across an alarming photo that had sent warning bells off in her head. Jacob, at some highfalutin event, a skinny brunette in a tiny black dress clinging to his arm …

If she didn’t do something he would marry a woman just like the one in the picture. Maybe not her, exactly, but someone like her. Shallow. Bony. Caring about nothing but money and possessions. They’d have one or two spoiled kids who’d grow up to be totally worthless, and she’d be lucky to see Jacob again before she passed even if she lived to be a hundred and twenty.

He’d lost his way. It was up to her to help him find his way back again. Daisy Bell was a big part of the plan. Eunice didn’t believe for a minute that they weren’t still in love.

All she had to do was remind them of that fact. She had two and a half weeks to get it done.

“Try it on,” she instructed. Eunice looked at Susan and Madison. She narrowed her eyes, squinting at Madison. “Who are you? Are you the seamstress? I thought Lurlene could handle any alterations, but Susan, if you think it’s best that we hire someone …”

Madison’s lips narrowed. “Grandma Eunice, it’s me, Maddy. I’m married to Ben, remember? We’ve been married almost two years.”

Eunice had practiced her confused expression in the mirror countless times, and she called upon it now. Her eyes widened and she blinked fast several times. She puckered her mouth, very slightly before saying, “Ben isn’t married! Why, he’s much too young.” Seven years ago, when Jacob and Daisy had been together, Ben hadn’t been married. He hadn’t even known this whiny girl. Oh, if only she really could turn back the clock.

Eunice didn’t like Ben’s wife much. The girl didn’t dress properly, wore too much makeup, didn’t go to church every Sunday and couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation to save her life. The last thing she’d read had probably been the side of a cereal box.

But Daisy … Daisy was sharp as a tack. She had her priorities straight. She went to church every Sunday, and that was a plus even if she was a Methodist. She’d sacrificed for her family, and that made her the kind of woman Jacob needed. And fast.

Eunice reminded herself, not for the first time, not to get too carried away. If she seemed to have really lost it, they might decide to lock her away somewhere, or the doctors they’d threatened to call in would show up long before the reunion—and the wedding. She needed to appear to be just a little bit crazy, not entirely cuckoo.

One way or another, she would get what she wanted.

Madison stormed out of the room, near tears. Daisy stared after her. Poor girl. She was so upset about Eunice’s condition.

Daisy carefully placed the gown across Eunice’s bed. It was so old she was afraid to touch it, much less try it on! The satin was a soft ivory, and the cut of the gown was surprisingly sleek and simple.

“I want to see it on you, dear,” Eunice said in a voice that held not a hint of dementia. She was matriarch of this family, and was accustomed to being obeyed. Always.

If the old woman hadn’t been sick, Daisy never would’ve agreed to try on the wedding gown. It was painful, to be reminded of what she’d never have. It hurt, to have the past brought back in such a sharp, detailed way. She and Jacob were never going to get married. Those “Mrs. Daisy Tasker” doodles were ancient history. All the plans they’d made, the simple dreams she’d had … gone.

She should hate this house and everyone in it. For a long time she’d been so sure that these people would one day be her family, that the house would one day be her family home as well as Jacob’s. It hurt … but she couldn’t hate the house or the people. No, it couldn’t be that easy.

Daisy caressed the fabric then pulled her hand back, afraid the simple touch might damage the satin. “I can’t do it,” she whispered, and then she looked up. Jacob’s mother and grandmother were both staring at her. She tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I simply ate too much for supper. I’m not accustomed to Lurlene’s cooking, and I just know I’m two sizes bigger than I was when I sat down to dinner. Tomorrow?” she offered. “I can come by after I close the shop and try on the gown.”

She half expected an argument from Miss Eunice, but Jacob’s grandmother smiled sweetly. “Of course. You must come for supper again tomorrow night. I’ve already asked Lurlene to make chicken and dumplings. Oh, and you know what I’m in the mood for? Your dear, sweet mother’s lemon cake. Bless her soul. She used to bring it to the annual Fourth of July picnic and I always looked forward to eating a big piece. Sweet and tangy and rich … so amazingly rich. Do you have the recipe?”

“I do.” Not that she’d ever attempted to make that cake. It had taken her mother half a day to prepare!

“Lovely. Tomorrow night, chicken and dumplings and lemon cake.” It was a command that left no room for negotiation.

Daisy carefully returned the wedding gown to the wardrobe, kissed Eunice on the cheek and left the room. Once she was in the hallway, the door closed behind her, she shut her eyes and leaned against the wall. The hall was deserted, thank heavens, and she took a moment to gather her senses, as best she could. By tomorrow night Eunice would surely have forgotten about the wedding gown and the lemon cake, and Daisy could pass the evening blessedly alone, eating a frozen dinner and watching something mindless on television.

This was torture, pure and simple. Her legs were a little wobbly and her heart was beating much too hard. Daisy pushed away from the wall and headed not for the parlor where she assumed Jacob would be waiting but for the front porch. She needed a few minutes alone, a little bit of time to rein in her jumbled emotions.

She pushed the screen door open and headed for the porch swing that faced west. The days were long, in the midst of summer, and the sunsets across the expanse of Tasker land were breathtaking. This sunset was no exception. She’d seen more than a few, from this very porch swing. Normally she had not enjoyed them alone. This porch swing, Jacob, a couple glasses of iced tea, whispers, a stolen kiss or two or twenty …

Daisy sat there and vowed not to allow an old woman’s fantasies to drag her into the past. She’d moved on, made a new and good life for herself. She didn’t think about what might’ve been. Very often. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She thought about it all the time!

And her life wasn’t new at all. It was old and familiar. Bell Grove was home and she belonged here. She didn’t need or want her life to be new and exciting.

She pushed off with a toe and swung lightly, hoping the gentle movement would soothe her jangled nerves. Having the past thrown in her face without warning forced her to look long and hard at the present. The truth of the matter was, she thought about Jacob entirely too much. That’s why she hadn’t had a serious relationship since they’d broken up. That’s why she never had more than two dates with the same guy, why she found something wrong with every man who expressed an interest in her. She wasn’t as pretty as Lily, but she wasn’t exactly a troll, either. She could’ve had several serious relationships in the past few years, if she’d wanted to. She might even have found a man who’d make a good husband and father. And it took having Jacob right under her nose to allow her to see what she’d done.

Sitting in that porch swing alone, Daisy could see that she’d put her life on hold for a man who didn’t deserve it. Where romance was concerned she was marking time, stagnant, stuck in a rut. A man was really all her life lacked. A man was the only thing Bell Grove had not been able to provide. How incredibly stupid! She couldn’t give up the opportunity to build a family of her own just because her first love had disappointed her.

That’s all Jacob was; her first love. Not her last, not her only. She didn’t try to fool herself into thinking that she’d never loved him. She had. Deeply and completely. But that was then and this was now. Somehow her now had gone seriously askew. If this little charade—painful as it was—helped her to truly put Jacob in her past where he belonged, then it would be worthwhile.

He must’ve heard her leaving the house, because she hadn’t been in the swing long before Jacob stepped onto the porch. Of course he knew just where she was. The gentle squeak of the porch swing, as she pushed herself back and forth with her toe, was a dead giveaway.

“Sorry,” he said when he saw her there.

For so many things … She didn’t go there. What was the point? “Not your fault.” This time. “Bless her heart, one minute she seems just fine and the next she’s completely befuddled.”

“Yeah.” Jacob walked toward her, and for a moment she wondered if he would sit beside her on the swing. It was more than big enough for two, but she wished, very hard, that he wouldn’t make that move. She didn’t want him that close; she didn’t want that stark reminder of the old days.

The old days were gone, and there was no getting them back. Now all she had to do was convince herself that she didn’t want them back.

He stopped a few feet away, almost as if he’d had the same thought. “I didn’t know about the … the …”

“Wedding,” she said briskly, providing the word he apparently could not.

“She’ll forget about it.” It sounded like an order, as if he thought he could sway an old woman’s memory by will alone.

“And if she doesn’t?”

He didn’t have an answer for that question.

Daisy couldn’t be too angry with Jacob, much as she wanted to. He was a career-focused, ambitious workaholic who’d let her go when keeping her had become inconvenient. He’d chosen his career over her. He hadn’t loved her enough to sacrifice his grand plans for her. Family obligation had kept her here, while a job opportunity had taken him far, far away. They hadn’t been able to make her need to provide a familiar home for her sisters and his desire for a new career to work together. He’d moved on, and he hadn’t looked back, and she shouldn’t hate him because he’d managed to do what she could not.

But he loved his grandmother and would apparently do anything to make her final days good ones. Maybe he did have a heart under that expensive suit, after all. That heart just wasn’t meant for her.

“So,” she said softly. “How’s your life?”

He seemed surprised that she asked. “Good. Busy, but good. You?”

“Spectacular,” she said, her voice low. “I like my life. I love my life.” Maybe if she said it often enough she’d be able to gloss over the lack of romance in her almost-perfect life.

“Good.”

Daisy wished she was the kind of woman who could purposely hurt someone who had hurt her. She wished she could tell Jacob how ecstatically happy she was, how active her sex life was, how she’d never wanted for a man’s attention in the past seven years, how she hadn’t missed him at all. But while she could lie to protect an old woman, she couldn’t make herself lie to purposely cause pain.

As if he cared …

Jacob looked at Daisy as if he were seeing her for the first time. When she caught his eye he didn’t turn away, didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t studying her as if he could see beneath her skin. He looked at her with an intensity that was so much a part of the man she’d once loved.

“I’d forgotten,” he said.

“Forgotten what?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

“I’d forgotten how you get to me.” He looked her in the eye, shifted slightly as if suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin, though he still didn’t turn away or drop his eyes. And Daisy could see what was coming so clearly it hurt. He’d get to her; they’d end up in bed; he’d break her heart all over again.

And she could not allow that to happen.




Chapter Three


Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d let Daisy go. He hadn’t had a choice, he couldn’t see how his life could’ve unfolded in any other way, but dammit, had he made a mistake?

This was the thought that plagued Jacob as he pulled his rental car to a stop in front of Daisy’s home. He never second-guessed his decisions, never looked back and wondered.

The sooner he finished up here and got out of town, the better off he’d be.

Daisy still lived in the house she’d grown up in, a yellow cottage a mere five blocks from the shop where she worked. The house was square and wide and one-story, with a large wraparound porch complete with a pair of matching white rockers and healthy ferns. The yard was dotted with ancient trees; the branches intertwined overhead, and while he couldn’t see it from here he imagined there was still a vegetable garden out back.

Her car was parked in the driveway, but instead of pulling in behind it he stopped at the curb. A concrete sidewalk ran in front of her house, and a leg of that sidewalk shot from the street to her front porch. This was a neighborhood where the residents walked, both for exercise and for more practical reasons, where they visited one another—on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. Both sidewalks saw a lot of wear. Or at least, they once had. He imagined that hadn’t changed.

Daisy’s entire life was right here, a general store, doctor’s office, pharmacy—and her work—within easy walking distance, while he flew from one time zone to another on a regular basis. He was good at what he did, a whiz with numbers and an unshakable faith in his own instincts. The men he worked for trusted his instincts, too. They trusted him with billions of dollars in investments, and he hadn’t let them down yet. In fact, he’d made them all lots and lots of money.

In the early days they’d called him a whiz kid. These days he was a highly valued member of a company that continued to grow, in large part thanks to him. And what had it gotten him? Insomnia. An almost nonexistent social life. And a fat bank account.

The second he stopped the car at the curb Daisy threw open the door and jumped out, as if she couldn’t wait to escape. He should wave, let her go and hurry home. But instead he shut down the engine, jumped out of the car and followed her.

She glanced over her shoulder as his car door slammed. She was not happy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Walking you to the door.”

“If a man in a suit follows me around my neighbors are going to think someone is suing me for a bad haircut, or maybe the tax man is after me.”

“The tax man? Really?”

“Shoo,” she said, waving her fingers in his direction.

He ignored her dismissive order and took two long steps to catch up with her. “What’s your problem with the suit?”

She didn’t look at him. Her chin was in the air, her hair whipped as she glanced in the opposite direction. “I have no problem with what you wear. I don’t care at all what you wear.”

“Then why have you mentioned the damn suit so often?”

“It’s summertime in the Deep South,” she said. “Unless you’re headed to church or a funeral, the suit is downright unnatural.”

Daisy stopped in front of her porch steps, then spun around to face him. She was no longer trying to avoid him. No, instead she looked him in the eye, unflinching. She was stronger than he remembered. Tougher. “On second thought, wear a suit every day for all I care. It will serve as a constant reminder that you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t need a constant reminder that I don’t belong here.” No, he’d felt it every second of every day.

“Neither do I.” She took a step back and up, onto the bottom step.

Jacob matched her step, moving forward but not up. He wasn’t ready to let her move away. They were nose to nose, now, eye to eye. “Then who am I supposed to be reminding?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“You’re not making any sense at all….”

“I don’t have to make sense if I don’t want to.”

Jacob shook his head. “When did we start arguing?”

“Seven years ago,” Daisy snapped.

Jacob reached out, took her face in his hands, stepped into her space and kissed her. He wasn’t sure why, he just couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her; he had to press his mouth to hers. He’d thought her scent was maddening, but her taste … he had forgotten … how the hell had he forgotten this …

She tensed for a moment then she melted. Her lips molded to his, her eyes closed and they kissed. Long and soft and easy.

He never should’ve let her go.

She tasted so good, so warm and right. Her face in his hands was soft, and he loved holding her almost as much as he loved kissing her. She kissed him back, well and deeply. She leaned toward him, into him and when he swept his tongue just inside her mouth she gasped and moaned and deepened the kiss. The years melted away, the miles that had come between them no longer mattered.

Daisy pulled away from him sharply. Her lips were swollen and wet, her eyes wide and surprised. Was she surprised by the kiss, or by her response?

“Don’t do that again,” she ordered, backing up the front porch steps, toward the front door and escape.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a very bad idea.”

He didn’t follow her onto the porch; he’d pushed his luck enough for one day.

“Tomorrow night,” he reminded her. “Lemon cake and chicken and dumplings.”

“Surely Miss Eunice will forget all about those plans by tomorrow morning,” Daisy said as she stopped by the front door and grabbed her house keys out of her small purse. “I hope,” she added beneath her breath.

“If she doesn’t …”

“She will,” Daisy said, almost as if she was commanding it to be so.

“Maybe. Probably.” Jacob stood on the walk for several minutes after Daisy had closed the front door. When he’d heard about his grandmother’s condition and decided to come home for a long visit, he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to have the past come to life again, to look at Daisy and suffer a deep regret for what he’d lost.

He shook his head, as if he could shake off unwanted thoughts, and turned around sharply to make his escape. Coming home had been a mistake. He’d had his reasons, and it was too late to turn back now. But the truth of the matter was, his life was no longer here in Bell Grove. It hadn’t been for a very long time. Daisy and the reactions she elicited were a part of another life, and no matter how pleasant—and frustrating—it was to see her again, he had to remember to leave her in the past. Where she belonged.

Daisy didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, after everything that had happened in the past twenty hours, but after Jacob dropped her at home she slept amazingly well. She dreamed about the kiss, which was very annoying because in her dream that kiss didn’t end too soon. In her dream she got a lot more than a kiss from Jacob. She woke with a start, sweating and shaking and most of all angry with herself for allowing her badly neglected physical needs to wipe away every ounce of common sense. First the kiss, then the dream. Where was her self-control? Why couldn’t she just be angry with him and leave it at that?

She should’ve bolted when he’d moved in for a kiss. She could have. Should have. But she’d wanted that kiss so much, and at that moment the want had been a lot stronger than her sense of what she should do.

Her dad had always been philosophical. Everything happened for a reason, he’d said on numerous occasions. There was a purpose in every heartbreak, in every decision, in every coincidence. She’d dismissed that way of thinking for a long time, because she hadn’t been able to believe that her parents had died for some lofty reason that she didn’t understand.

But as she walked to work she convinced herself that Jacob had returned to Bell Grove for a specific purpose, that Miss Eunice had lost her mind to put Daisy in this very position. Why? Easy. So she could get over Jacob once and for all and move on with her life.

They’d never had it out, had never really ended their relationship. They’d simply drifted apart, fallen into lives so different there was just no way to make them mesh. If she ever wanted to move on she had to get over Jacob, once and for all. Oh, she’d insisted to anyone who would listen that she’d gotten over him years ago, she’d even convinced herself, for a while. But now she knew that was a lie. If she’d really gotten over him, the unfortunate kiss wouldn’t have affected her the way it had. Looking at Miss Eunice’s wedding dress wouldn’t have given her shivers. As well as a bout of unexpected nausea, if she were being completely honest.

She should have a few days to come up with a plan. As bad as her memory was these days, Miss Eunice had surely already forgotten about chicken and dumplings and lemon cake. What were the odds that she’d also forget that her grandson and Daisy were “engaged”? Daisy could hope, but the engagement seemed to be a thing Miss Eunice had grabbed on to, and she likely wasn’t going to let it go easily. There was such joy on her face as she planned a wedding that would never take place.

Jacob seemed to think he was humoring his grandmother by playing along—and by dragging Daisy into the family mess—but what would happen if Miss Eunice’s fantasy didn’t fade? Did he really expect that she would go through with a fake wedding ceremony at his family reunion? No, something had to break before that happened. This charade couldn’t go any further.

Much as she wanted to get Jacob out of her heart once and for all, Daisy knew very well that pretending to be his wife would shatter that heart beyond saving.

The morning was an easy one, until her eleven o’clock cut and color started talking about Jacob. She supposed it was inevitable that everyone would find out he was back, but you’d think people would have better manners! Not Amanda Williams, who had never met a silent moment she liked.

She started while Daisy was applying color to her hair.

“I hear Jacob Tasker is in town.”

Daisy made a noncommittal humming noise that sounded affirmative enough to her.

“I also heard that he was in your shop yesterday. Did he need a haircut or did he just stop by to chat? I’m sure none of the Taskers handles their own engine repair—they have people for that sort of thing. And really, why on earth would he want someone from Bell Grove to cut his hair?” She laughed, not realizing that she’d just insulted Daisy—Daisy, who had scissors and a variety of interesting hair dyes within reach. “Oh, you two were such a cute couple, back in the old days.” She barely took a breath, much less leave spaces in the conversation for Daisy to actually respond. Which was just as well, in Daisy’s opinion.

“Everyone always knew Jacob would light out of town as soon as he got the chance. He was always so smart, so driven to succeed. I didn’t think he’d go without you, though.”

Well, he did. Daisy wondered if it was too late to add some purple to the color she was putting on Amanda’s honey-blond hair. Maybe a Mohawk …

“I hear he looks good. Is he married, do you know? Still working for that same company that hired him right out of college? I haven’t heard much about him for a couple of years, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

He looks damn good, I don’t know for certain if he’s married or not but I don’t think so and last time I checked he was still working for that soulless money-hungry company that stole him out from under me. “I need you to sit under the dryer, now,” Daisy said.

Sadly the noise of the dryer didn’t shut Amanda up. She raised her voice and continued, thankfully moving on to the other Taskers. Sure, a beauty shop was a great place to gossip, but Amanda’s rambling made Daisy wonder what the residents of Bell Grove had been saying about her lately. All gossip concerning Daisy Bell probably began with “That poor girl, bless her heart …”

She didn’t want to be a poor girl, didn’t want people to bless her heart behind her back. What the hell had she done to herself? Mari and Lily didn’t need her anymore. Well, they needed her as a sister and she’d always be there for them, but her years as guardian were behind her. She loved Bell Grove, loved her job and her friends, but she no longer had her sisters as a barrier keeping her from pursuing romance. Maybe there wasn’t exactly a glut of handsome, available, appealing men in town, but not every man in the county was an ogre or a jerk. Why was she alone after all this time?

Jacob’s return was making her question everything! Just what she didn’t need: a man to screw with her head.

But she did need a man in her life. That was becoming clear. She wanted to be kissed, wanted to have sex outside of a dream, wanted to marry and have kids and make a life for herself. Maybe that would happen here in Bell Grove, and maybe it would have to happen somewhere else. She should make more trips to Atlanta, broaden her horizons.

But it wouldn’t happen at all until she ended things with Jacob once and for all and allowed herself to start over.

Jacob left his grandmother’s room with a frown on his face. Great. Just great! Her memory issues were pretty damn selective. And inconvenient. She had told Lurlene to prepare chicken and dumplings for supper, and she’d already started talking about how much she was looking forward to Daisy’s lemon cake.

Daisy couldn’t cook. She was good at a lot of things, but cooking wasn’t one of them. Maybe he could drive to Atlanta and buy a lemon cake. Not that a store-bought cake, even a spectacular one, would fool Grandma Eunice even on her worst day.

It had been seven years since he’d been with Daisy, and in that time she’d raised her sisters, taken over the family business, basically grown up. Maybe she’d learned how to cook. Maybe she did know how to make that lemon cake. He called the shop, and she answered with a sharp,

“Bell’s.”

“It’s me,” he said.

“Me? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, sir.” Her voice was sweeter, now, a little lower and calmer, but with an edge he couldn’t dismiss. “Would you like to make an appointment for a haircut? I do have an opening this afternoon.”

“Dammit, Daisy, it’s Jacob.”

“Oh, so sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “I didn’t recognize your voice. You sounded a little bit like Old Man Johnson, but I was afraid to assume …”

“We need a lemon cake,” he snapped, without arguing that he sounded nothing like Old Man Johnson, who was ninety-seven years old and had the deepest Southern drawl of any man for miles.

The moment of silence told him Daisy was as bothered as he was. “She didn’t forget?”

“No. You’re expected for supper, and you’re expected to bring a lemon cake. She’s been talking about it all morning.”

“I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes,” she said. “I have a customer.” She disconnected without a goodbye, and for a few seconds Jacob stood there with the phone in his hand, staring at it as if somehow Daisy was still there, harassing him. Driving him crazy.

Making him pay.

He hadn’t purposely left her behind, it had just happened. Like that made a difference. He’d planned to send for her, to send for them all, but the one time he’d mentioned moving, Daisy had been horrified. She wouldn’t uproot her sisters, she’d said, wouldn’t drag them away from their friends and the only home they’d ever known. He’d planned to come home for Christmas that year, to convince her face-to-face to return to California with him.

But he hadn’t made Christmas that year. There had been a business emergency—in hindsight so unimportant that right now he could not remember what it had been—and he’d canceled his travel plans.

And that had been that, though there had been a few awkward phone conversations in the early months of the new year. Not many and nothing had been said that could break through the distance between them, distance both physical and emotional. He and Daisy had no longer wanted the same things. They’d drifted apart. His life was there, her life was here. Simple. She’d faded in his memory, as he was certain he’d faded in hers. Life went on.

Dammit, that hadn’t been entirely his fault. She’d played a part, as well. Maybe he hadn’t fought for her the way he should have, but she hadn’t exactly fought for him, either.

When Daisy called back he was still holding the cordless phone in his hand, ready for her. Her words were sharp. “Grab a pen and paper. I’m going to tell you what I need, and you’re going to put on that fancy suit of yours and head to the Piggly Wiggly.”

A part of her wanted to kick Jacob out of her house and tackle this chore alone, but two things stopped her. One, she needed the help. Two, she’d never get over him if she didn’t kick this annoying habit of being downright twitchy when he was around. Not twitchy in a bad way. No, he made her squirm in a way that was annoyingly pleasant. She felt like he had literally worked his way under her skin.

He looked good in khakis and a golf shirt. She’d kidded him about his suits, but he did look sharp in them. The more casual outfit he wore this afternoon showed off the muscle he’d built up since he’d left her. Not massive muscle, thank goodness, but he did have some interesting definition.

More reminder that they weren’t the same people they’d been seven years ago. Of course they weren’t! They’d been little more than babies, untouched by the real world, unshaped by loss and hardship and responsibility.

Daisy tried to keep her mind on lemon cake, but she really wanted to touch Jacob’s forearm to see if it felt as hard as it looked. She wanted to look under that shirt—just a peek—to see what muscles he’d added there. He’d probably added some chest hair, as well. He hadn’t had much at twenty-four. Oh, she really hoped he hadn’t turned into one of those guys who worked out in a gym and waxed his chest….

Her mind could not wander there.

“Do you actually play golf?” she asked, pointing at the dark blue shirt with the little embroidered doodad on the pocket.

“No.”

“Doesn’t that make your outfit false advertising?”

He’d didn’t answer, but he did give her a frustrated look that made her smile as he unpacked everything he’d bought at the Piggly Wiggly down the road, a small grocery store that served the next town over as well as two communities that were too small to support their own. His purchases lined the counter in the Bell kitchen, a boxy room with a small table that was older than she was and appliances that weren’t much newer. They worked. And it wasn’t like she cooked all that often anyway.

He picked up a box. “I’m pretty sure your mom’s famous homemade lemon cake didn’t start with a cake mix.”

Daisy shot him a cutting glance. “No, but I don’t have time to make a homemade cake, and besides, it’s the icing that makes it special.”

“It’s a good thing you were free this afternoon.”

She glared at him. Again. Still. “I wasn’t free. I had to reschedule a regular for tomorrow afternoon. Remember Miss Hattie?”

“How could I forget. Did you tell her why you had to cancel?”

“No, I lied and told her I didn’t feel well. Do you know how much I hate lying to my clients?” She didn’t point out that she hated the idea that the facts of this charade might get out much more than she hated fibbing to her customers.

“Sorry. I’ll be happy to pay you for any income you lose because you’re helping me.”

“I still don’t want your money, Tasker.” She made sure she sounded sharp and certain. And annoyed.

He sounded pretty annoyed, himself. “I don’t want you to lose money because you’re helping me out of a tough spot.”

“I’m not helping you. I’m helping your grandmother.” He could drown in his tough spots for all she cared.

“Sorry,” he said sharply. “I forgot.”

The tension in the air was almost unbearable. It hung between them, like every unspoken word that haunted her, still. He was angry. She was antsy.

“Are you married?” She’d planned to ask, needed to know, but the question could’ve come at a better time and been delivered more graciously. Instead she’d just blurted it out, standing in the kitchen with an apron worn over a pair of denim shorts and an old red tank—she always made such a mess when she did try to cook—feet bare, a box of butter in one hand and a sack of lemons in the other. The question did diffuse the tension, a bit. Maybe because it apparently took Jacob by surprise.

He shook his head. “No.”

His answer was sadly insufficient, so Daisy pressed on. “Engaged? Dating seriously? Involved with any woman on any level?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not? I’m sure you’re quite the catch, even in California. I’ll bet the women looooove your Southern accent.”

“I lost my Southern accent years ago,” he insisted.

Daisy laughed. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Jacob’s lips thinned. His jaw twitched. Finally he asked, “Would I have kissed you last night if I was married, engaged, or involved?”




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