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Project: Runaway Bride
Heidi Betts








“I’m sure you and your fiancé will work it out.


Especially now that he’s about to become a proud papa.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure Paul and I won’t be working out anything.”

Reid’s brows knit at that, but he kept his lips tightly shut. The sooner he distanced himself, the better.

“If running away from the wedding wasn’t enough to put an end to things, finding out about this baby sure as heck will be.”

He gave a snort of derision. He hadn’t meant to, it just sort of came out. “And why is that? I’d think good ole Paul would be even more eager to hustle you down the aisle now that you’re pregnant with his kid. Wouldn’t an illegitimate heir tarnish his sterling reputation?”

Juliet inhaled deeply, her chest rising as her lungs filled.

“That’s just it,” she said on a whisper of air. “It’s not his baby. It’s yours.”

* * *

Project: Runaway Bride is part of the Project: Passion series:

For these designing women, love is the latest look.


Project:

Runaway Bride

Heidi Betts






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


An avid romance reader since junior high, USA TODAY bestselling author HEIDI BETTS knew early on that she wanted to write these wonderful stories of love and adventure. It wasn’t until her freshman year of college, however, when she spent the entire night before finals reading a romance novel instead of studying, that she decided to take the road less traveled and follow her dream.

Soon after Heidi joined Romance Writers of America, her writing began to garner attention, including placing in the esteemed Golden Heart competition three years in a row. The recipient of numerous awards and stellar reviews, Heidi’s books combine believable characters with compelling plotlines, and are consistently described as “delightful,” “sizzling” and “wonderfully witty.”

For news, fun and information about upcoming books, be sure to visit Heidi online at www.heidibetts.com.


In memory of my grandmother,

Genevieve Gehrlein stock.

She absolutely hated what I do,

and this story probably would have upset her more

than most. But I like to believe that deep down,

she was still proud of me.

So like it or not, Gram, this one’s for you!


Contents

Chapter One (#u513c102c-c81e-5f29-88fd-19663226808d)

Chapter Two (#ubd9ee909-fffd-5425-bc07-5709e7260123)

Chapter Three (#u4d7e49f6-3ec4-5e7f-964a-8f695e8c1f77)

Chapter Four (#ue7d5e553-109b-5437-87da-2377d1aa0b46)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


One

Juliet Zaccaro stared down at the little plastic wand she was clutching between shaky, white-knuckled fingers.

It was one of those kits that promised 100 percent accuracy. No doubts. No second-guessing. And that was definitely a giant blue plus sign, glaring back at her like a flashing Broadway marquee.

She was pregnant.

Her stomach tightened; her lungs following suit. Knees growing weak, she took a single stumbling step sideways and sank onto the closed toilet lid in a cloud of gauzy white crepe and tulle.

A laugh verging on hysterical tickled its way up her throat, but she tamped it down. Pressed her lips together to keep it from spilling out, because she knew if she didn’t, she might never stop.

It was her wedding day. Here she was in the cramped bathroom off the small-but-serviceable room at the rear of the church where she’d been getting ready, and she was very unexpectedly, very this-is-not-good-news pregnant.

She should have taken the test days ago rather than waiting until her hair and makeup were done and she was trussed up in her one-of-a-kind fairy-princess gown designed and hand sewn by her sister Lily. Hadn’t she suspected for more than a week now that the dizziness, the headaches, the upset stomachs were more than simply prewedding jitters? But she’d been so afraid she was right, so afraid she might actually be pregnant that she couldn’t bear to find out for sure.

And then she’d looked at herself in the mirror, seen herself as a bride about to walk down the aisle and realized she wasn’t blushing, she was flushed. She wasn’t glowing with happiness; she was radiating dread. And that was just at the prospect of saying “I do.”

When she stopped to consider the fact that she might indeed be pregnant, all of her doubts, all of her fears, all of her second thoughts just grew louder and louder until they were a nearly deafening cacophony inside her head. That was when she knew she couldn’t wait any longer to take the test and find out for sure.

Now she knew...but she had no idea what to do about it. She couldn’t very well walk down the aisle and start a new life with a man who most likely wasn’t—most likely? Who was she kidding?—definitely wasn’t the father of her child.

Dear God, her child. A baby. She was really and truly pregnant. Which meant it wasn’t just about her anymore. She wasn’t going to be the only one affected by whatever decisions she made from this moment forward. She had to start thinking like a mother, putting her child’s safety and happiness ahead of her own.

A tap on the bathroom door startled her out of her deeply spiraling dark thoughts. She lifted her head as her sister’s muffled voice came from the other side.

“Juliet. We’re ready for you, sweetie,” Lily said. “It’s time to become Mrs. Paul Harris.”

Her words were happy, encouraging, meant to uplift. Instead, they made Juliet’s stomach drop.

She didn’t know if she could become Mrs. Paul Harris. Or even if she should.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she called out, “I’ll be right there. Just one more minute.”

“All right. We’ll be waiting in the vestibule.”

Juliet waited until her sister’s faint footsteps trailed off and the outer door closed. Then she pushed herself to her feet with the help of the porcelain vanity and glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Not bad, as long as everyone waiting in the pews out front was expecting a Corpse Bride. Every ounce of color had leeched out of her skin, making the eye shadow, rouge and lipstick her sister Zoe had so carefully applied look like that of a practiced geisha.

Brushing a finger beneath each of her eyes, she wiped away any lingering trace of unshed tears and made sure her eyeliner and mascara were still intact. Then she fluffed out the diaphanous folds of her gown and dropped the plastic test stick into the small wicker wastebasket beside the sink. A second later, she leaned down and shook the basket so the wand fell to the very bottom. She certainly didn’t want someone accidentally finding a positive pregnancy test in the bridal staging area and taking the time to put two and two together.

As ready as she was ever going to be, she left the bathroom and crossed the main room, slowly turning the knob and opening the outer door only a crack. The hallway was empty, thank goodness. Another moment’s reprieve.

Opening the door the rest of the way, she stepped out. The muted whispers of her sisters and father reached her from where they were waiting only a few yards away.

Turn left and she would be at the start of the aisle, stepping her way into a new life to the strains of “The Wedding March.”

Turn right toward one of the church’s side doors and she could escape. It would be a new life of sorts, too, but one about which she was much less certain.

Her chest rose and fell with her increasingly shallow breaths. Her heart began to race like a greyhound after a rabbit.

Left or right? Go through with the wedding and her promise to Paul, or throw it all away and dive headfirst into the great unknown?

Time seemed to slow as her ears filled with the hollow, echoing sound of ocean waves. And then she did the only thing she could do. She turned right...

...and ran.


Two

Three months earlier...

His intercom buzzed.

“Mr. McCormack, Juliet Zaccaro is here to see you.”

Reid’s fingers paused over the keyboard in midstroke. He tried to tell himself that the clenching of his gut and the flush of heat that washed over him were nothing more than surprise. Her visit was unscheduled and completely unexpected after all.

Pressing the return button on his multiline phone, he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, Paula. Send her in.”

Saving the document he’d been working on, he shuffled some papers off to the side of his desk, then turned his attention to the door as soon as the knob turned and it began to open.

As it had from the first time he’d met her, the sight of Juliet Zaccaro slammed him dead center. Like a race car hitting the wall at a hundred and sixty miles per hour.

She was classically, amazingly beautiful. Flawless skin covered every inch of her strong but smooth features. Her eyes were robin’s-egg blue, surrounded by long, dark lashes. And her honey-blond hair, which he suspected would fall well past her shoulders, was always swept up in a neat twist or bun or other type of regal style.

It was enough to make him want to take it down, run his fingers through the silken strands and then strip her of her perfectly tailored, dignified pantsuit, or blouse and skirt, or whatever other prim and proper outfit she might be wearing.

They’d never been anything but professional and courteous with each other, but since the moment they’d met, his fantasies had been ripe with images of having her naked and writhing beneath him. He wanted to crack through her ladylike demeanor to find the not-so-ladylike woman underneath. The one who would wrap her arms and legs around him like a vise, begging him to take her harder, faster, deeper. The one who would rake her nails down his back and scream his name when he sent her hurtling over the edge into bliss.

A wave of heat assailed him, and he prayed she wouldn’t notice his intense reaction to her presence as he rose to meet her. Staying behind his desk—flimsy protection though it was—he waited for her to cross the room before offering his hand. Not the first time they’d shaken hands. Not the first time he’d touched her.

Keep it professional, McCormack.

But as his large fingers engulfed her much smaller ones, as rough, tanned skin surrounded pale and delicate, he wanted to tug her closer, hold on a bit longer, stroke his thumb back and forth along the dip of her palm.

She’d been to his office a handful of times now, and he remembered what she’d been wearing each and every one of them. Today, it was a simple lavender dress with a scoop neckline and narrow belt of the same fabric at her waist. Matching lavender pumps and a few simple pieces of gold jewelry completed the look.

There was an air of Audrey Hepburn or Jackie O to her, something that normally held no appeal to him. Didn’t he usually go for flashier women? The kind who knew the score, who were well aware of their sexuality and used it to their advantage. The kind who didn’t mind a hot, steamy, short-lived affair.

Juliet Zaccaro, as far as he could tell, did not fall into that category.

Why, then, did he seem so preoccupied with her? He’d agreed to help her the first time she’d walked into his office, despite the fact that it was in direct opposition and a clear conflict of interest to another case he’d already been working on for her sister Lily. And from that point on, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head.

He’d called her with updates when he didn’t really have any new information to impart and was supposed to be avoiding contact because of her sister’s circumstances and the work he was actually focusing on for Lily. He’d met with her in his office—sometimes at her request, other times at his—when there was no real need.

Now here she was again, showing up without warning, for no official reason that he was aware of. Juliet’s request that he find her missing sister was moot now that Lily had returned from Los Angeles and come clean with her family about the reason she’d disappeared for several weeks to begin with. He was still working on Lily’s case—accusations that an employee from a rival clothing company had stolen her designs—but even though Juliet was part owner in Zaccaro Fashions, the investigation didn’t really require direct contact with her.

But that didn’t stop him from being oddly glad to see her again. His heart was pumping as though he’d just hopped off the treadmill after an hour-long workout, but he felt the way he used to as a kid when he got exactly the toy he wanted from the bottom of his cereal box, even though there were six different possibilities.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for Juliet to take a seat, then returned to his own. “Ms. Zaccaro. It’s nice to see you again, though I wasn’t aware we still had any outstanding business.”

Although he thought of her as Juliet in his head, he was always careful to address her as Ms. Zaccaro, keeping things as professional as possible between them, as well as giving himself the necessary reminder that she was—or had been, anyway—a client and that she was engaged to another man.

She smiled shakily and gave a small sniff. Which was when he noticed the trace of red rimming her eyes and the slight pallor of her skin beneath a light layer of makeup.

His own eyes narrowed. Was she in trouble? Was something going on again that she needed his help with?

Part of him wanted to groan—the last thing he needed was a legitimate reason to spend more time with her—while another part was almost hoping for the worst.

Licking her glossed lips, she said, “I just wanted to drop by and give you a check for the work you did on my case.”

He had the decency to flush at that. He hadn’t done any work for her. If anything, he’d fed her bad information and given her the runaround for almost a month. Only because he’d been trying to protect the confidentiality of the case he’d already been working on for her sister, but still. He didn’t deserve payment for that.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he told her roughly. In fact, he owed her the retainer she’d left with him back, and made a mental note to see that it was returned.

“Of course I do.” Her words were resolute, but her tone was still shaky. “I hired you to do a job and you did it. To the best of your ability, at any rate,” she added with a gentle half smile.

“I lied to you and wasted your time,” he said—more sharply than he’d intended out of disgust with himself.

“Only because you were already working for Lily, trying to help her save our company. If it hadn’t been for you ‘pretending’ to look for her, I probably would have taken off and tried to find her myself. And we both know I had no idea which direction she’d even gone, so I would have been running in circles, likely getting into more trouble than I imagined she was in. What you did was noble, and pretty much your only option, given the circumstances.”

He made an impolite, noncommittal noise, his mouth turning down at the sides. That wasn’t his opinion of the situation at all, and having her describe it in such a positive, almost heroic light only made him feel like that much more of a heel.

Ignoring him, Juliet went on. “And you’re still helping us, which I think shows you how much confidence we have in your ability. But those abilities don’t come cheap, and I knew that when I approached you.”

Unsnapping the small clutch purse on her lap, she pulled out a check and leaned forward to slide it across the desk toward him.

Because he suspected no amount of argument would sway her, and tearing it up in front of her would be a ruder gesture than even he was comfortable expressing in mixed company, he reached for the check with no intention of ever cashing the damn thing.

That was when he noticed the bruises. Just a few small, light discolorations dotting the inside of her forearm.

Anyone else would probably have dismissed them entirely. People bumped into things all the time, ended up with bruises of an unknown origin.

But he’d seen too much in his thirty-nine years, was unfortunately all too familiar with the signs of someone putting his hands on another person. Domestic abuse, a down-and-dirty street fight, or simply self-defense practice, there was a difference between I bumped into the armoire and somebody grabbed me by the arm with enough force to leave five perfectly formed fingertip-shaped marks on my skin.

His jaw clenched with fury at the thought of anyone—anyone—grabbing her in anger. He also hated the thought of anyone other than himself grabbing her in passion, but that was not how she’d gotten those bruises. Not there. Not in that pattern.

His first instinct was to reach out and grab her arm for a closer look. Which was about the worst idea ever. The last thing a person who was already sporting bruises from an aggressor needed was to have some other jerk manhandle her soon after.

So he settled for biting down on his rear molars so tightly they threatened to grind into dust and taking the check she was still holding out to him. Slowly, carefully, while contemplating his next best move.

“Thank you,” he murmured, setting the check aside before bringing his hands back to clasp them in front of him. If he kept them together and didn’t let go, there was less of a chance he’d end up reaching for her after all.

“Let me ask you something, Ms. Zaccaro,” he said, amazed at how calm and composed he sounded when he felt anything but.

“Of course. And call me Juliet, please.”

He didn’t, but went ahead with what he wanted to know most. “Who put his hands on you?”

He was good at reading faces, body language, all those nearly imperceptible ticks and fidgets that people didn’t realize they were making, but that were remarkably telling. Juliet’s reaction flashed like a neon sign.

She froze, her eyes widening a fraction as she held her breath. An action he identified by the lack of rise and fall to her chest.

After a minute, the silence so thick he’d have needed a machete to cut through it, she licked her lips and offered a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Sure you do. Those are fingerprints.” He pointed to her arms, which were now pulled tight to her body. “Somebody grabbed you with enough force to leave bruises. Pretty big ones, which makes me think it was most likely a man. Your fiancé, perhaps?”

Just saying the word made his stomach knot. The urge to throttle the bastard wasn’t far behind.

“So unless you’re taking Krav Maga classes at the gym or got into a nasty spat with one of your sisters over the last bolt of vermillion charmeuse in your stockroom, I’d be willing to bet somebody’s pushing you around.”

Juliet’s eyes filled with tears, and the need to punish whoever had done this to her turned into full-blown bloodlust. His fists clenched, knuckles going white. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to remain perfectly still. To not stand up, round the desk and pull her into his arms. To not march down to the artillery room and suit up with as much weaponry as he could carry.

He swallowed hard. Took a deep breath and held it to the count of ten, then twenty, before letting it out again.

“Tell me what’s going on, Juliet,” he said, keeping his voice low, level, and reassuring. “Please.”

It was the please that did it, he could tell. Despite the moisture gathering at her lashes, she’d been holding on, holding back, determined not to admit anything aloud, especially not to a near stranger.

But on a ragged inhalation of breath, the dam broke. Twin trails of tears rolled down her cheeks and her bottom lip trembled as she started to brokenly confide in him.

“It was Paul,” she admitted. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this. He’s always been so kind and considerate. But the closer it gets to the wedding, the more...”

Volatile?

“...impatient he seems to be. The tiniest thing can set him off. And whenever we discuss the future—our careers or where we’ll live—he gets so angry.”

Still maintaining a Herculean grasp on his control, Reid asked, “Why?”

She sniffed, straightened a little in her chair, a hint of color returning to her cheeks.

“He wants me to move back to Connecticut once we’re married,” she answered. “But he knows my life is here now, in New York. To be close to my sisters and the business without having to commute. From the very beginning, he was fine with that—or I thought he was, anyway. He didn’t even ask me to marry him until after I’d moved down here to work, and Zaccaro Fashions was up and running. He said he was proud of me, wanted my handbag designs to be successful. And that he could work anywhere. He’s a lawyer,” she said as an aside. “I assumed that meant he would take a job at a New York law firm and move to the city, too.”

She took a deep breath, the moisture starting to dry on her face, but leaving faint streaks through the foundation of her makeup.

“Then he was offered a partnership at the firm he’s with now, and everything changed. He still wants me to be his wife, but he wants me to be a proper attorney’s wife. A trophy wife, I think—moving back to Connecticut to be with him, at his beck and call, giving up my work with Zaccaro Fashions to host dinner parties and attend charity events that will help further his career...”

Typical. Reid had never even met this guy, but he knew a selfish bastard when he heard about one.

“So why don’t you break things off?” he suggested, hoping he didn’t sound as hopeful as he felt.

Her shoulders slumped slightly and her gaze dropped to her lap. “I keep thinking...it’s just a phase. That he’s stressed because of his promotion. Or that maybe he’s more nervous about the wedding than he lets on.”

Lifting her blue eyes to meet his, she said, “He’s never been like this before. I’ve known him for years, even before we started dating, and he’s always been extremely considerate. What if he’s just going through a rough patch, or dealing with something I don’t understand?”

Reid clamped his teeth together so hard, he was afraid they might chip. “That’s no excuse for putting your hands on a person,” he bit out. “I don’t care how angry you get or what the hell else is going on in your miserable, messed-up life.”

She shook her head just like every other woman he’d ever met who put up with more from her significant other than she deserved.

“He didn’t mean to hurt me. Not really. We were fighting and things got a little out of hand. But the minute he realized what he was doing, he stopped. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Speech number three from the Battered Woman’s Handbook. And it led directly to a life of misery and abuse, and often death—either the male’s or the female’s, sometimes both. But try telling that to a woman in love, one who wanted to believe the best of her future husband.

So just like every third party who’d ever tried to steer an abused woman in the right direction, he said, “You don’t know that. If it happened once, chances are it will happen again.” After a short pause, he added, “Would you like me to talk to him?”

Kick his ass. Break his hand so he could never touch Juliet or any other person again.

“No,” she responded quickly, shaking her head and sitting back in her seat. “No, no. I don’t want you to do that. It was a mistake, that’s all. With the wedding right around the corner, and the added pressure from our families to make it all work, everyone’s nervous and emotions are running high. Everything will be fine.”

She nodded, as though determined to believe her own words, even if she had to talk herself into it. Reid knew better, but also knew there was little point in arguing with her.

Pursing his lips, he waited until the red-tinged haze of anger faded from his vision. If he couldn’t convince her to kick the bastard to the curb or let him track the man down and beat him to a bloody pulp, then the best he could do was offer his support. Let her know he was there for her, without judgment—none that he wouldn’t tamp down and keep to himself, at any rate—in case she needed him.

Whether as someone to talk to or as personal protection once she realized her fiancé was more Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyll, he figured he was well qualified. She’d already confided in him, breaking down enough that he suspected she hadn’t mentioned Paul’s violent behavior to anyone else, including her sisters.

But he’d be even better at the personal-protection part. He was well trained and had access to a multitude of weaponry. Glancing again at the purplish bruises on her soft, pale flesh, Reid knew he would have no problem utilizing all of them. And calling in reinforcements, if he needed to.

“Where are you going from here?” he asked, catching her off guard with the sudden change of subject.

She startled slightly, giving a little sniff and swiping a knuckle delicately under each eye before licking her lips and answering, “Home.”

Reid’s eyes narrowed to snakelike slits. “Will the fiancé be there?”

Juliet looked even more surprised by that question. Or maybe it was simply a reaction to the barely banked fury Reid knew was still clear on his face.

“No,” she replied softly. “He’s on his way back to Connecticut.”

“Tell you what. Just to be safe, let me take you home.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed back his chair and stood.

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she insisted, hopping to her own feet.

Rounding the desk, he took her elbow—gently, but firmly. “Please. I’ll feel better knowing you got home safely.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, then on a gentle exhalation of breath, she nodded.

Opening the door, he let her pass before pulling it closed behind them. As a safety precaution, he kept his office locked whenever he was away. He trusted his staff, but there was a lot of sensitive material inside, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey, Paula,” he addressed his personal secretary as they passed her desk. “Cover for me for a few hours, would you, please? I’m going to see Ms. Zaccaro home.”

If Paula found that at all odd, she didn’t show it. Her expression remained friendly but neutral as she gave a sharp nod. “Yes, sir.”

With a hand resting lightly at the small of her back, Reid led Juliet down the hall to the elevator. Neither of them spoke a word as the car carried them silently down to the ground level.

“Did you bring a car?” he asked as they crossed the lobby, their footsteps—especially the click-click-click of her sharp heels—echoed in the cathedral-like space.

She shook her head briskly. “Cab.”

Applying gentle pressure to her spine, he steered her slightly to the left, toward the entrance to the underground garage. “We’ll take mine.”

Then he looked at his watch and realized it was nearly lunchtime. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone while he was out...and finagle a bit more time with Juliet while he was at it.

“How would you feel about grabbing a bite to eat?” he asked as they reached a sleek, onyx-black Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. He opened the passenger’s-side door for her and added, “My treat.”

* * *

Juliet couldn’t remember the last time she’d had Chinese carryout. There had been a time when she and her sisters had ordered in more often than anything else. Back when they’d been thick as thieves, working 24/7 to get Zaccaro Fashions off the ground. And that was after Lily had already done more than her fair share of the legwork on her own.

Once the three of them had come together, though—Lily doing the clothing line, Zoe shoes and Juliet handbags—they’d been like a bunch of sorority girls. Staying up late, walking around in pajamas all day and eating little better than rats in a restaurant Dumpster.

It was the most fun she’d ever had.

Zaccaro Fashions was much more successful now. Still not world renowned or a household name, but they were getting there. More business meant more responsibility, though, and less time for the three sisters to spend being the Three Musketeers. Or the Three Stoogettes, as they’d often joked.

Now they all tended to drift along on their own, working privately until one of their design meetings, when they compared notes and concocted future plans. Not to mention the personal lives that seemed to separate them rather than bringing them closer.

Lily had Nigel, and split her time between New York and Los Angeles, where the American branch of his family’s company was located. She was even planning a trip to England to meet Nigel’s parents.

Juliet had been planning her own wedding for what seemed like forever. So long, in fact, that she now understood why so many couples chose to elope. With trips back and forth to Connecticut, her mother’s and soon-to-be mother-in-law’s constant input and the constant feeling that she needed to have her nose buried in copies of Modern Bride magazine, she was surprised her sisters hadn’t disowned her already.

And Zoe was off just...being Zoe. She loved working for Zaccaro Fashions. Came up with some of the sexiest shoe designs anyone had ever seen. They weren’t always practical, but they sold well to people who weren’t always practical, either. But she spent just as much time out on the town, hitting clubs, maintaining her reputation as the wild child that she’d become.

So now, even though the Zaccaro sisters still technically shared the loft and the attached studio space, the takeout menus that had once gotten so much use were now tucked away in a drawer in the kitchen, all but forgotten.

Yet when Reid had invited her to lunch, offering her the choice of whatever restaurant she liked between his office and the loft, she’d found herself craving Chinese instead and suggesting they pick up something to take back to the loft with them before she even realized what she was saying.

He’d looked as startled as she felt, but then shrugged and asked if she knew a good place along the way. She’d been relieved at his easy acquiescence, and more so when he’d told her to stay in the car while he ran inside to get their order.

She knew darn well he’d double-parked as an excuse to ask her to stay with the car, since there was a legitimate space only a few vehicles ahead of them. But she was in no shape to get out and deal with the world. Her makeup was smeared from her earlier crying jag, she was sure, and frankly she felt as though she might burst into tears again at any second.

She was mortified that she’d broken down in front of Reid. Broken down only in front of Reid, when she hadn’t even confided in her sisters about Paul’s recent erratic behavior.

It had been an emotional roller coaster of a day. And not the fun kind—the kind that was rusted and rickety and threatened to fly off the rails.

But she’d felt oddly safe with him. Maybe because he was a professional who’d likely heard a million stories just like hers—and worse, she was sure—over the years. Or maybe because he’d taken on Lily’s case, and then hers, and had proved to be extremely honest and reliable. He might not think so, given the strange set of circumstances surrounding his association with the Zaccaro sisters, but she certainly did. Probably because she could tell how much it had chafed that he’d been forced to juggle both of them as clients, as well as the details of their respective cases.

Or maybe because there had been something about Reid McCormack from the very beginning that told her she could trust him. There was a core of integrity to him that even a blind person could see. He wore it like a suit of armor, surrounding him every minute, everywhere he went.

On the other hand, Paul’s integrity was growing more questionable by the minute.

Having time to herself while Reid was inside the Chinese restaurant waiting for their food to be prepared gave her the chance to compose herself. She was no longer crying, but she noticed that her chest was still tight with apprehension, and it took a few deep, even breaths for her to truly relax.

Then there was the matter of repairing her makeup so it didn’t look like she’d just come in from a rainstorm on a perfectly sunny day. Pulling down the visor and using the mirror on the back, she was relieved to see that while things were a little mussed up, they hadn’t gone into Baby Jane territory.

Her mascara and eyeliner had smeared a bit, probably made worse when she’d dabbed her eyes with a tissue and the backs of her fingers. And the light dusting of powder and blush on her cheeks needed to be reapplied to look less blotchy and uneven.

She took care of all that, plus added a fresh layer of lipstick, and finally felt better by the time Reid stepped out of the restaurant carrying a large paper sack. He got in on the driver’s side, then dropped the bag on her lap, where it taunted her with a mix of savory, tantalizing aromas all the way home.

A few twinges of misgiving about inviting Reid in to share a meal gnawed at her during the quiet drive. Something like this, she supposed, could be construed as intimate or improper while she was engaged to another man. Then again, it was only Chinese, not a clandestine, candlelit dinner in the shadowed alcove of an expensive restaurant. And Paul wasn’t exactly at the top of her Prince Charming list at the moment, either.

Reid had been kind enough to see her home after her upset; the least she could do was let him combine his lunch hour with the good deed.

She unlocked the door and let them in, heading for the kitchen while he took a seat on the sofa and unpacked their lunch on the coffee table.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked as she moved around, collecting plates and utensils. “I’d offer you a glass of wine, but you probably don’t want to drink on the job.”

Reid offered her a crooked smile, popping the top on a square white carton and taking an appreciative sniff. “I think I can handle one glass of wine. Besides, it’s not like I’m a cop on duty. The rest of my day is pretty light, and if I drink too much, I can always take a cab back to the office.”

“So that’s a yes on the wine?” she teased.

He shot her a teasing look right back. “Yes.”

“Should I ask if you prefer red or white?”

“Whatever you think goes best with Chinese takeout.”

She opted for a bottle of zinfandel that was already open and added two glasses to everything else she’d already gathered.

In the living room, she lowered herself to the sofa beside him, setting out the plates and silverware and pouring the wine. Reid doled out portions of lo mein, fried rice, General Tso’s chicken and crab rangoons for each of them, then grabbed a fork and leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch.

Kicking off her shoes, she folded her legs beneath her and did the same.

For long minutes, they ate in silence. Juliet honestly wasn’t sure what to say, given everything that had transpired already that day, but she was enjoying the flavors of food she hadn’t eaten in far too long.

“Looks like you were hungry,” Reid commented, glancing at her half-empty plate. His wasn’t much fuller, though, so she didn’t take it personally.

Moving what was left of her food around with her fork, she said, “Yeah. I’ve been a little distracted lately. Probably not eating as well as I should.”

To say the least. Between plans for a wedding and her confusion about her relationship with Paul, she’d been eating like a bird. Sometimes literally grabbing only a banana or a handful of granola on her way out the door.

“Lily and Zoe and I used to order Chinese when we pulled all-nighters,” she told him. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call Chinese takeout ‘health food,’ but it sure does hit the spot once in a while.”

“It does,” Juliet replied softly. “And this is nice. Thank you for suggesting it.”

He shrugged a shoulder, took a sip of his wine. “You’re the one who said we should grab Chinese and bring it back here. I just thought it looked like you could use a break, and figured getting something to eat while I was out of the office made more sense than trying to come up with an excuse for going out to lunch again after I get back.”

Her lips lifted in a whisper of a smile, more to herself than for him. He was just being kind, and she knew it. As owner of McCormack Investigations, he could come and go as he pleased. It was a multimillion-dollar corporation, and he employed enough other investigators and support staff that the place could probably run itself for a week or two without him, let alone a few hours.

He’d offered to bring her home to be sure she was safe. He hadn’t wanted her returning to her fiancé after the confession she’d made in his office. Then he’d wanted to be sure she was okay—not just physically, but emotionally, as well. He’d brought up the idea of lunch to keep her from locking herself in the loft and spending the rest of the day moping around.

He hadn’t said any of that, of course, he’d simply steered her in a direction that wouldn’t allow her to be alone with her jumbled thoughts or disillusionments.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she couldn’t have met Reid before Paul. Of course, she’d met Paul in college, long before she’d ever moved to New York or had the need to hire a private investigator.

But suddenly—all right, maybe not so suddenly—she’d found herself thinking about Reid much more often than she thought about Paul. Pulling away from Paul because whenever they were together, Reid’s face or voice would fill her head.

When Paul would reach for her, she’d stiffen, never knowing if his touch would be gentle or rough. Reid had only ever shaken her hand or touched the small of her back, and the memory of it could make her shiver. Day or night. For no reason at all or because she’d been concentrating too hard on what it might be like to have him touch her even more. A lot more, in a lot of other places, and for much less professional reasons.

She swallowed hard, lifting her wineglass to her mouth to hide it. And to buy herself a little time while her breathing returned to normal.

She was an engaged woman. She shouldn’t be sitting here lusting after another man. Even if the man she was engaged to had turned into a bit of a jerk.

But since he had, and since he was on his way back to Connecticut, Paul never needed to know that she was enjoying a very impromptu, very pleasant meal with a kind, handsome business associate.

There was no harm in that. And since this was the best she’d felt in quite a long while, she was going to savor it for all it was worth.


Three

Present day

It said something about his personal life that he was in the office, working, on a Saturday, Reid McCormack thought. And that he was happy to do it.

For one thing, the place was quiet for a change. As a private and corporate investigation firm taking up five floors in the center of one of Manhattan’s tallest skyscrapers, the office was always bustling. With people, with conversations, with the ring of phones and buzzing of fax machines. Sometimes even the weekends were busy, depending on their caseloads and the number of investigators putting in overtime.

This weekend, though, he’d lucked out. The offices—or the floor where his corner office was located, at any rate—was silent as a tomb. He could hear himself think. Hell, he could hear himself breathe.

Not that that was a good thing, not today. But at least here he had paperwork to keep him busy. Reports to fill out and review. Cases to follow up on. New employee applications to consider.

Some of it he’d been putting off for a while. Some he’d had to dig deep to come up with. Either way, it would eat up his day and keep him from going home too early to an empty brownstone where the silence was not only deafening but depressing as hell. With luck, it might also help to keep his mind off the thing he was trying desperately to avoid thinking about.

With a grunt, he closed one file folder, set it aside and reached for another.

He hadn’t always hated his town house. There was a time when he’d loved it. He’d bought it slightly rundown and renovated it from top to bottom until it put all of the other houses on the block of his upscale neighborhood to shame.

Then he’d taken Juliet there. It had become their secret meeting place. A clandestine lovers’ nest where they’d hidden away from the world.

Now he couldn’t sleep in his bed without missing the feel of her lying next to him. He couldn’t walk into the kitchen without picturing her standing at the center island in one of his discarded dress shirts, pouring fresh glasses of wine or nibbling on grapes from the fruit bowl.

The memory of her voice echoed off the walls.

The scent of her perfume hung in the air.

The home he’d once loved had turned into a bitter reminder of the woman who was at this very moment walking down the aisle into the arms of another man.

The pencil in his hand snapped. He hadn’t even realized he was holding the thing, and counted himself lucky it wasn’t the pen from his Montblanc set or the crystal letter opener instead.

Making a concerted effort to unlock his knuckles and loosen his grip, he blew out a breath. He might not be happy about Juliet’s decision, but it was hers to make. Her decision, her mistake.

And it was well past time that he put their ill-fated affair behind him and get his head back on business. He hadn’t built McCormack Investigations into a multimillion-dollar corporation by letting himself be distracted. Especially by a woman, no matter how beautiful or smart or refined she might be.

For the fourth or fifth time since he’d gotten to the office, the phone rang. Not his receptionist’s line or one of the others on the floor, but his direct line. Who would be calling him here, at this number, on a Saturday?

Annoyed now by more than just the ringing phone, he snatched it up and snapped, “What?”

There was a slight pause and then a deep male voice came on the line. “Mr. McCormack. It’s Glenn from the front desk.”

An image of the tall, wide-shouldered security guard from the building’s main lobby flashed into his head, and Reid immediately regretted his short tone.

“Yes, Glenn. I’m sorry, what can I do for you?”

“There are a couple young women down here insisting they need to see you. I told them you weren’t in today, but they don’t seem to believe me,” he added, a touch of humor tingeing the words.

“Who are they?” Reid asked.

“Lily and Zoe Zaccaro. They say they’ve been calling you all morning, but you didn’t answer.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Reid pinched the bridge of his nose. So that explained the incessant ringing of his private line. But if there was anything he didn’t need today, especially in his current dark mood, it was these two walking blond disasters.

Okay, so maybe “disaster” was a bit harsh. He’d never even met the youngest Zaccaro sister, Zoe, though the stories he’d heard about her led him to believe she was the wildest of the three.

But Lily was the one who’d dragged him into the crazy world of the Zaccaro trio to begin with. Theft and corporate espionage and a disappearance that had turned out to be an amateur undercover investigation, and finally his introduction to Juliet.

If Lily had never walked into his office, he’d be a happier man today, that was for damn sure. She’d brought him The Case That Wouldn’t End and led him straight down the path to personal misery.

He didn’t say that aloud, of course, and didn’t tell Glenn to send them away. Instead, he said, “Send them up” and spent the few minutes before their arrival tamping down his temper and schooling his features. When the door to his office opened and the two sisters bustled in, he was the epitome of calm professionalism.

The two women, on the other hand, were a whirlwind of yellow taffeta, blond hair and tear-streaked faces. They let out twin huffs of relief that they’d finally reached him after numerous attempts and flopped into the guest chairs directly in front of his desk.

“Thank God,” Lily sighed at the same time Zoe muttered, “It’s about time.”

Reid’s lips twitched at the younger sister’s cheekiness, but he kept his expression blank.

“Ladies,” he greeted them in a clipped voice.

It was the weekend, for heaven’s sake. There was nothing so pressing in Lily’s ongoing design theft case that they needed to show up at his office on a Saturday, and he didn’t want them thinking this sort of behavior should be repeated.

And didn’t they have a wedding to attend in their fluffy, over-the-top bridesmaid gowns? Their sister’s wedding, to be specific.

“This is rather unorthodox. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Help!” they exclaimed at exactly the same time. They weren’t twins, Reid knew, but damned if they couldn’t pass as mirror images when they acted like this.

Taking the lead, Lily leaned forward slightly. “You have to help us,” she said again. “I know it’s a weekend. I know you’ve probably had it up to your eyeballs with us by now.”

Boy, she’d hit the nail on the head with that one.

“But we don’t know what else to do.”

“About what?” he asked calmly.

“She’s missing!” This from Zoe, whose eyes were wide and glistening.

Reid’s own eyes narrowed. A niggle of foreboding began to tickle at the nape of his neck. “Who?”

“Juliet,” Lily supplied. Her voice had evened out a bit, as though she was growing calmer now that she knew she had the ear of a private investigator. Especially one who’d had dealings with their family before.

Reid didn’t know how much Juliet’s sisters knew about her involvement with him. Did they know about the affair? Had Juliet confided in them? Or had they turned to him simply because of who he was and the work he’d done for them in the past?

Taking a deep breath, Lily continued. “Juliet disappeared from the church. From her wedding. We don’t know what happened. She was in her gown. Her hair and makeup were done. I checked on her and told her everything was ready to go, and then she was just...gone. She never came out, even though we were all waiting for her at the back of the church.”

She dropped her gaze, plucking at the folds of her fluffy yellow skirt. “I went to check on her again,” Lily said softly, “but she wasn’t there.”

Tears lined her lower lashes as she raised her gaze to his. “There was no note, no hint of what might have happened to her.”

Reid’s stomach clenched. “Do you think she ran away?”

He didn’t let himself hope for that, at least not on a personal level. He’d been down that road before and ended up deeply disappointed. But if she hadn’t run off on her own, the other possibilities were too frightening to contemplate.

“We don’t know,” Lily responded.

“What about the fiancé?” He wasn’t going to use the bastard’s name. And God help him if the jerk had done anything to Juliet. Reid would hunt him down and rip him limb from limb.

Zoe tilted her head. “What about him?”

“Has he disappeared, too?”

Both women shook their heads.

“No. He’s still at the church,” Lily told him. “Or maybe he’s gone to our loft or back to his hotel by now, I don’t know.”

A slow wave of relief washed through him. “So they didn’t run off together?” he asked, just to be sure. “Maybe they decided to elope instead, and she ran home to grab an overnight bag.”

Zoe snorted. “Definitely not. Not after all of the time and money that went into planning the wedding. Our parents and his would kill them.”

“She’s right,” Lily agreed. “If they were going to do something like that, they’d have done it weeks ago.”

Reid nodded, the wheels in his head whirling with other possibilities. “Do you think she was abducted in any way? Taken against her will?”

“Oh, my God!” Zoe wailed, while the tears spilled over the edge of Lily’s lashes.

“We certainly hope not,” she said carefully, holding it together moderately better than her younger sister. “We didn’t see or hear anything, and there were no signs of a struggle. At least not that we could tell.”

“No overturned furniture? A piece of her gown that might have caught on something and torn off?”

Zoe whimpered behind the hands that covered her face. They were tough questions, Reid knew, but if they wanted him to help, he had to have the answers.

“No, nothing like that,” Lily replied weakly.

He inclined his head. “Provided she left of her own volition, do you have any idea why she took off or where she’d go?”

“No. Why would any woman run away on her wedding day? Away from the church after she’s dressed and ready and everyone’s waiting for her?”

Reid had the kernel of an idea why, but couldn’t let it cloud his mind as he focused on the job at hand. Not after the way she’d done an about-face with him not so long ago.

Normally, he’d recommend that the family of a missing person call the police and file a report. In this case, however, he suspected he would have a better chance of tracking down Juliet Zaccaro on his own. He certainly had access to better resources than the authorities, as well as an edge they would never have—a previous personal relationship with the subject.

“I take it you want me to find her,” he remarked.

Recovered from her earlier show of emotion, Zoe rolled her eyes at him. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He ignored the sharpness of her tone, responding with an edge of his own. “For real this time, right? Not like the time she asked me to find you.”

He raised a brow, his comment clearly directed at Lily, who blushed.

“Yes,” she answered evenly. “She really is missing, and we really do need you to find her. Please.”

“I’ll need more information from you and your family. Possibly permission to search your loft and access Juliet’s personal areas and assorted accounts. Banking, phone, computer, et cetera.”

“Of course. Anything that will help you find her.”

Despite his reluctance to get more deeply involved with the Zaccaro clan or go running after a woman who had already chosen another man over him, Reid found that he couldn’t deny their request.

He didn’t know where Juliet was or why she’d disappeared before she could walk down the aisle, but despite his personal feelings on the topic, he wouldn’t rest easy until he at least knew that she was safe.

* * *

Careful of her footing, Juliet wrapped the sides of her unbuttoned cardigan more tightly around her torso and followed the steep, uphill trail from the dock back to her family’s cabin. No one had been out to the Vermont lake house for quite some time, so the path was overgrown, the boat was still in storage and the inside of the house was in need a good dusting.

As far as Juliet was concerned, that made it the perfect spot to hide out for a while. She was thinking forever, but knew realistically that she could probably only stretch it out for a few days to a week, and she’d been here two days already.

She was a coward for running away for even that long. She should have walked into that vestibule and told her family there was something she needed to confide to them, just as she should have told them when she’d called things off with Paul the first time. Should have walked to the front of the church or asked Paul to come back and speak to her, then told him she’d changed her mind—again.

What was it about him, about the expectations of her family, even, that made her such a pushover and chicken?

Regardless of what anyone might have thought of her actions or mind-set, she shouldn’t have tucked tail and run. But darned if she could regret the decision. Even the thought of remaining in that church, in that gown, a moment longer than she had was enough to start her hyperventilating.

Never mind the idea of actually walking down the aisle. She was certain she would have passed out right there between the pews if she’d forced herself to go through with it. Or possibly thrown up on some of the guests, since an upset stomach had become her close and frequent companion.

The one thing she knew for sure was that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she got back. To everyone.

Already, her cell phone’s voice-mail box was filled to overflowing. According to the call log, it had started ringing only moments after she’d fled the church. As soon as her sisters had realized she was missing, she assumed.

But even though she knew her family must be worried sick, and the frequent ringing and beeping of her phone had driven her almost batty, she hadn’t bothered to check missed calls or listen to messages. She hadn’t even taken the time to turn the phone off until she’d been on the road and well away from Manhattan.

Instead, she’d hurried back to the loft she shared with her sisters, ignoring the strange looks she received from random strangers for racing around in public in her full-skirted, custom-made fairy-princess bridal gown, and grabbed her phone, money and a single change of clothes. She hadn’t known where she was going or how long she’d be gone, but even though she hadn’t wanted to take the time to slip out of the wedding dress right then and there, she’d suspected racing around in the thing would get old fast.

She’d been on the road a couple hours before deciding to head for the lake house, partly because she knew it would be well stocked with everything from food to clothing. Reception was lousy, though, so once she finally turned off her cell, it was doubtful anyone could reach her unless they sent up smoke signals or parachuted in.

And it was only for a few days, she told herself again. Just until she cleared her head and figured out what to do...about everything.

She was panting slightly as she reached the top of the hill and the end of the path that led into the clearing surrounding the cabin. It was brighter here, and warmer with the sun shining down on the house through the break in the trees.

Shading her eyes, she followed one long side of the wraparound porch railing to the front door...and came to a screeching halt at the sight of a hunter-green Range Rover parked right behind her silver-blue BMW.

Her heart lurched. Who did it belong to? Had someone followed her, or was it a complete stranger? And if it was a stranger, had he simply happened by—hard to do when the cabin was nearly impossible to find without directions—or was he, or she, up to no good?

A dozen home invasion/hostage movie-of-the-week scenarios played through her head and she swallowed nervously, wondering if she should move forward to investigate or race back the way she’d come to hide in the woods or hike into town for help.

Before she could make a decision, she heard a creak and heavy footsteps clipped across the porch floor. Her head swiveled and she found herself staring up into the dark, dangerous eyes of Reid McCormack.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless, almost feral grin. “Hey there, runaway bride.”


Four

Reid knew he shouldn’t, but he was enjoying the look of shocked dismay on Juliet’s face.

He hadn’t wanted to come here. Hadn’t wanted to see her again knowing she’d been ready to walk down the aisle and marry another man. Even after calling things off once. Even after all they’d shared. And on top of it all, she’d been ready to marry a man who hadn’t treated her right—at least not since Reid had met her.

But he’d promised her sisters. And yes, there was a part of him that needed to know she was okay.

Clearly, she was, so he could head back to New York now. Leave her to her own mysterious devices. Let her explain to her family why she’d run off in the first place. He’d said he’d find her, not that he’d provide an essay on the reasons behind her sudden disappearance.

Still, he didn’t move from where he stood on the porch of her family’s lake house, hands gripping the railing.

She licked her lips, the tendons of her throat flexing as she swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Funny thing about your family,” he replied sardonically. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of them. You Zaccaro girls seem to think I’m your personal problem solver.”

“My sisters called you?” she asked in little more than a whisper.

“No. They showed up at my office on a Saturday, less than an hour after you ran off from your own wedding. Care to explain that one?”

She threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin. “It’s none of your business what I do.”

True. She’d made that clear even while they were seeing each other, sneaking around and burning up the sheets behind everyone else’s backs because she hadn’t wanted anyone to know about their involvement. Too bad he was part rat terrier; nothing made him dig in his heels more than being told to get lost. It was what made him such an exceptional investigator.

Pushing away from the porch railing, he straightened. “Right. But since I’m here...”

He trailed off, letting her head fill with question marks over what he’d been about to say and what his intentions were. Turning on his heel, he crossed the porch and went inside, leaving her to follow.

Or not. But if she ran, on foot or by car, he would chase her down. And he’d catch her. Again.

* * *

Who did he think he was?

Juliet stood frozen in place, scared spitless and furious beyond belief both at the same time. If that was even possible.

She couldn’t believe he’d found her so quickly. Although maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised, given his skill set and how good she knew him to be at his job.

But even if her sisters had gone to him for help, she didn’t know why he’d agreed to look for her. She’d been pretty sure he hated her, given their last interaction. The one where she’d thanked him for being so nice and showing her a good time, but told him she didn’t think things would work out between them and that they shouldn’t see each other anymore.

He’d always had the softest brown eyes, like melted chocolate or a big cup of cappuccino. From the first moment she’d locked gazes with him, those eyes had told her he was strong and kind and trustworthy.

Not exactly thoughts she should have been having about a man other than her fiancé, but tell that to her heart or her gut or whatever else was screaming at her louder than her IQ.

It was why she’d broken things off with Paul the first time around. Her attraction to Reid had become too overwhelming, driving her almost inexorably into his arms. She wasn’t the type to carry on an affair while she was engaged to another man, though, and knew that she couldn’t continue to feign interest in her upcoming nuptials when her heart was no longer in it. But once she was free to explore her feelings with Reid—and he’d been all too happy to reciprocate—the intensity had scared her.

Maybe that was why she’d run away. Not from her wedding, but from him. Gone running back to Paul, pretending her time with Reid had never happened. Because he was a man she could all too easily fall in love with.

As far as everyone else was concerned, she’d still been promised to Paul all along.

She hadn’t known how to tell her parents that she’d called off the wedding after they’d put so much time, money and emotion into planning the event. Not to mention how much they’d been looking forward to having Paul as a son-in-law.

She’d never worked up the courage to tell her sisters, either. Because then she would have had to tell them about Reid, and she hadn’t quite been ready for that discussion. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Lily and Zoe with the information but simply that she didn’t yet know how to put her confusing, jumbled-up emotions into words.

Then things had gotten a bit too serious with Reid and begun to scare her. So what had she done? She’d tucked tail and run. Something she realized was becoming a nasty habit.

Or maybe she was just unlucky in love and would mess up any relationship she got into. In which case, why not stick with the status quo?

No one except Reid and Paul had known she’d broken the engagement, and Paul had never given up trying to get her to change her mind. He’d apologized again for losing his temper with her. Agreed that commuting back and forth between Connecticut and New York was a compromise he’d be willing to make, at least for the first few years of their marriage. And he’d assured her that if designing with her sisters was what she enjoyed, then of course he wanted her to continue her partnership in Zaccaro Fashions.

It was everything she’d ever wanted to hear from him, and falling back into the role of his fiancée was so easy.... Why not simply go through with it after all?

It had all made so much sense at the time.

Fate, however, seemed to be working against her.

She had turned her back on Reid with every intention of doing what everybody expected and settling down with Paul....

Boom! The stick had turned blue and she’d discovered she was pregnant with Reid’s child.

She’d run away from her wedding to avoid marrying a man who wasn’t the father of her child....

Boom! Her sisters had sent out the private-sector version of the National Guard to track her down.

She’d snuck off to her family’s lake house in Vermont to hide out for a while....

Boom! The very man she’d least wanted to deal with was the one to find her. The one she’d suddenly found herself alone with in the wilderness.

There was a message in there somewhere. A lesson. A cruel, cruel irony.

And no matter how much she might wish otherwise, she didn’t think Reid would be leaving any time soon. Never mind that he’d done his job—he’d found her, made sure she was okay. He could go back to New York now and report as much to her family.

But he wouldn’t. He would stick around and make her just a little bit miserable first. At least if his arrogant, uninvited disappearance into the cabin was anything to go by.

Juliet considered staying outside. All night, if necessary. Frankly, if the keys to her BMW hadn’t been on a hook in the kitchen—oh, so far away—she would have jumped in the car and raced at sixty or seventy miles per hour in the other direction.

With a sigh, she began to wonder if she would forever feel like running away. And if there was anywhere far enough away to truly escape the myriad problems surrounding her like quicksand.

The smart thing to do would be to face those problems head-on, but no way was she ready for that. Not yet. It was too much, happening all too fast. She still needed time to work it out for herself, let alone figuring out how to tell the rest of the world—or the few people directly involved, at least—what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, she moved the rest of the way around the house, climbing the wide plank porch steps to the front door. She didn’t know what Reid wanted, exactly. Other than finding her, as her sisters had asked, he really didn’t have any reason to stick around. But she knew him well enough to realize he wouldn’t leave until he was darn good and ready.

So she would play along. She’d become a rather good actress over the past several months.

She would simply do the same now, until Reid tired of toying with her and decided to leave her alone. Blessedly alone.

Pulling open the screen, she stepped inside, closing the heavier wood-and-beveled-glass door behind her. Across the way, Reid stood at the kitchen island, making himself at home by pouring himself a glass of orange juice—one of the few things Juliet had picked up at the small general store in town on her way to the cabin. He took a few long swallows before returning the carton to the refrigerator.

Crossing the wide-open space of the living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake, she pulled out a stool and took a seat directly across from him, keeping the width of the island between them.

She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking why he was there, what he wanted from her, why he wouldn’t leave. But she knew if she spoke first, she would lose what little solid ground she currently possessed. Better to remain silent and let him steer the direction of their conversation so she at least had a clue of what was going on in that labyrinthine mind of his.

The seconds ticked by. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Then he pulled out a stool of his own and sank down as casually as though he’d lived there all his life.

That had been something else about him that attracted her. How comfortable he seemed to be, no matter his surroundings. Of course, she supposed a man like Reid had earned that right. An ex-army ranger. A self-made millionaire. He’d been everywhere, done everything.

She didn’t think he was afraid of much, either. Which wasn’t to say that he let his guard down. If anything, he seemed to be always on the alert, hyperaware of what was going on around him. Another trait that had made her feel safe when she was with him.

When he finally spoke, his deep voice filling the quiet, yawning space of the house, Juliet jumped.

“So...you want to tell me what’s going on?”

She licked her lips, buying time while her mind raced and her pulse returned to normal. “Nothing’s going on. I just needed to get away for a while.”

One dark brow winged upward. “You needed to get away,” he repeated. “In the middle of your wedding ceremony. Isn’t that what the honeymoon is for?”

Technically, it was before the wedding, not in the middle, but she could hear the bitterness in his tone as he muttered the word honeymoon, so she decided not to split hairs.

Her own stomach roiled at the thought—of being married to Paul right now, of going off with him somewhere isolated and alone. He’d booked tickets to Fiji, but her first choice had been Paris. She’d wanted to tour the Louvre and take in the cutting-edge fashions, bring home ideas for her own line of handbags and anything Lily and Zoe might like to apply to their designs. Of course, Paul hadn’t really wanted her to continue her design work, despite his assertions when he was trying to mollify her, so he’d nixed that idea in exchange for sun, sand and skimpily clad fellow vacationers.

When she didn’t respond, Reid lifted the glass to his lips and said snidely, “Maybe you finally came to your senses and decided you didn’t want to be that jerk-off’s punching bag for the next fifty years.”

“Paul never punched me,” she muttered automatically, then wondered why the heck she was defending him. It seemed like rather a moot point now, and was none of Reid’s business either way.

But instead of being placated, Reid’s temper flared. His scowl deepened as he snapped, “Does it matter? He put his hands on you. He left bruises. He used his size and brute strength to bully you.”

He was up and off the stool now, coming around the island to face her more fully. She was sure he didn’t realize it, but he was ten times more intimidating than Paul had ever been.

His broad shoulders. His forceful manner. His dark good looks. The thunderous expression on his face was enough to have her quaking in her boots.

The problem was, he made her quake in a good way. Quake and quiver and sigh deep inside.

He closed in on her, the crisp, clean scent of his aftershave tickling her senses and making her lean back an inch. He didn’t seem to notice.

“The only time that should happen,” he ground out, “is when a man does this.”

And then he was grasping her shoulders, jerking her to her feet and smashing his mouth down on hers.

* * *

What the hell was he doing? Hadn’t he learned his lesson where this woman was concerned?

Apparently, she was the female equivalent of sugar, nicotine or black-tar heroin: highly addictive and nearly impossible to quit.

He shouldn’t be here at all. Should have turned down her sisters’ pleas for help. Should have turned around and left as soon as he knew she was alive and well. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have come inside, confronted her or rounded the island counter so that she was within easy reach. Because when was the last time she’d been within reach and he hadn’t felt compelled to touch her?

Even after everything that had passed between them—and recently, it had mostly been bad—he couldn’t resist her. She felt like heaven in his arms. Soft and plush against him, her gentle curves molding to his hard planes. Her warm lips giving beneath his own.

For long, drawn-out minutes, he kissed her, tasting the mint of her gum or toothpaste or whatever else. It was so easy to block out the rest of the world when he was with her. Especially when he was with her this way.

He didn’t think about the job he was supposed to be doing, or the duty he owed to her sisters, or the man she’d left at the altar. He didn’t even think about how she’d left him to run back to that other man or how pissed he’d been ever since.




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