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Rocky Mountain Legacy
Lois Richer
How better to stop his sister from eloping than to arrange the wedding?That way, Cade Porter's only family member will stay put on his Colorado ranch. He hires the best wedding planner in Denver, but Samantha Woodward, of the famed "Weddings by Woodwards" empire, thinks Cade is mighty arrogant.Shouldn't the bride have a say in the most important day of her life? As they work together, Cade assures the lovely and independent Sam that she can plan their wedding right down to the day.




“What’s your passion?” Sara asked.
Family. Cade longed for a circle of loved ones gathered around him. He wanted the hugs and tears, the teasing, the laughter, even the disagreements that happened between people who had confidence that no matter what, the ones who mattered would always be there for him.
His worst fear was that his sister would marry and want to live somewhere other than the ranch. That his dream of a family nearby would die. But as he smiled into Sara’s wide, glowing eyes, Cade knew he couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t understand why family was so important to him, not without hearing a lot of back history.
She was smiling at him. “I should warn you, Cade, that some of my ideas for wedding planning are usually, er, off the wall.”
He tucked a ringlet behind her ear. “It’s the off-the-wall ideas that usually turn out best, Sara Woodward,” he told her quietly.

LOIS RICHER
Lois Richer likes variety. From her time in human resources management to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises.
She says, “Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding ‘Then what, Mom?’”
The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

Rocky Mountain Legacy
Lois Richer


For I am persuaded beyond doubt that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things impending and threatening, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
—Romans 8:38–39

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Questions for Discussion

Chapter One
“Catch us, Auntie Sara!”
Giggles overrode romantic flute music flowing from overhead speakers as Sara Woodward reached for, and missed, her two squirming nephews. Brett and Brady slipped past her and through a narrow door that led into the display windows of Weddings by Woodwards bridal shop.
A door Sara had left ajar.
“You’re not allowed in here, guys,” she whispered. She followed only after she’d checked to be sure none of the family was nearby. “Come out of there right now.”
But the mischievous pair would not emerge, and their impromptu game of tag was wreaking havoc with her grandmother’s bridal displays. Italian silk wasn’t meant for three-year-old boys with dirty sneakers.
Sara tried negotiation, to no avail.
Now what?
“If those two are someone’s ring bearers, you’ll have your hands full getting them down the aisle.”
Startled by the masculine voice behind her, Sara yelped and jerked upright. The back of her head bumped the arm of a groom mannequin, dislodging its top hat and cane. The brass-tipped ebony stick pinged against the display window with a clatter.
It seemed the entire building fell silent, including the two causes of this mayhem. Brady’s face wrinkled. He was going to start crying. Judging by the droop of his twin’s bottom lip, Brett wouldn’t be far behind.
Sara knew exactly how they felt. Nothing about today was going right.
“Sorry I scared you.” Amusement laced the man’s voice the way a drop of rich cream mellows coffee. “Maybe I can help. Grab the one in blue and pass him to me, then you can haul out the red-shirted one. Okay?”
“I’ll try. Thanks.” Sara didn’t dare take her eyes off the twins. “Come on, Brett. Out you go.”
“No.” It was his favorite word.
Sara desperately wished she’d been late this morning and therefore unavailable to watch her brother’s kids while he took an important call. Coming home to help out the family was one thing, but babysitting in a bridal store was asking for trouble.
A wicker basket hit the floor, scattering rose petals everywhere.
“Come on, Brett. We’ll play with your toys,” she wheedled.
“No.”
“No,” Brady copied.
“Auntie will get you a new toy.” Sara clung to her smile, feeling a fool in front of the stranger. Ordinarily she deplored bribery, but this situation called for desperate measures. “Don’t you want a new toy?”
“No.”
“Yes!” Exasperated, Sara extended her fingertips to snag a belt loop on Brett’s tiny blue jeans just as the voice behind her inquired:
“I don’t suppose either of them likes candy?”
“Candy?” Brett surged up so fast his head hit Sara’s chin, knocking her teeth together. He dropped the tulle he’d pulled down, almost forcing her off balance as he launched himself through the narrow passage. “I like candy. Candy’s good.”
“Sometimes it’s very good.” The voice behind Sara sounded amused by the bundle of nonstop energy. “Gotcha. But we can’t have candy without your brother. Can you sit very still and wait for him?”
“Brett’s a good boy.”
“You sure are,” the visitor agreed. “I wonder how good your brother is.”
The man knew kids. Brady’s frown deepened. He glared at Sara as if she’d maligned his character. Or tried to steal his treat.
“Brady’s good, too!” He dropped to all fours, crawled between Sara’s feet and out the door.
“Got him, too,” the masculine voice triumphed. “You can come out now.”
Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to. Not if it meant another half hour of trying to pry grimy fingers off the pristine bridal dresses displayed all over the foyer.
“I assure you, it’s safe.” Laughter colored the edge of their visitor’s low-throated rumble. “For now, anyway.”
“I’m coming.” She rubbed one finger against her throbbing skull and found her way blocked. “Would you step back? It’s very narrow here.”
“Sure is.” He jostled the door against a tulle-covered arch laced with nodding sunflowers. The arch jiggled, then shifted. That knocked off the bride’s arm. It clattered to the floor along with her bouquet of dried autumn wildflowers.
The resulting mess was a far cry from Woodward’s usually chichi displays, but fixing it now was out of the question. Sara could only hope she’d get time to rectify matters before the family noticed.
Dream on. When had the family not noticed anything that affected Weddings by Woodwards?
“Something wrong? Need help?”
“I can manage.”
There was no point wishing their visitor wouldn’t witness her backward, very uncool duckwalk out of the passage. Free at last, Sara clicked the lock closed, frustrated and fed up with the way her life wasn’t going.
“Winifred Woodward?”
Did she look almost eighty?
“No.” Sara bent to straighten her black skirt, buying time to regain the composure Denver’s hottest wedding store and its employees were known for. “But if you need help with a wedding, you’re in the right place. Weddings by Woodwards takes pride in planning weddings that are unique to every bride and groom we serve.”
The stock phrase slipped easily to her lips. Good thing, because when Sara glanced up at the owner of that coffee-and-cream voice, her throat jammed closed.
“Kidding.” He winked at her. “I was kidding. I could tell when I walked past the windows that you aren’t Mrs. Woodward.”
Meaning he knew her grandmother?
Sara took stock of her visitor. Slightly older than the usual Woodwards’ groom, he stood nearly six feet tall. The mass of unruly mahogany curls cut close against his scalp could have given him a rakish look—except for the plump baby fingers threading through them.
“I’ll take him.” She reached out for Brady who glared at her and clutched his rescuer all the tighter. “Or not.”
“He’s fine.” The visitor wore black tooled-leather boots, fitted jeans and a battered leather jacket that almost screamed “wild west.” Evidently her nephew thought the same.
“Cowboy,” Brady said, trailing his grubby paws against the leather. “Horsie?”
“Not here, pal.” The man chuckled as he tousled Brady’s hair. “But I have some at home on my ranch.”
“Horsies are good. Candy’s good.”
Sara’s rescuer burst into deep-throated laughter that filled the two-story foyer.
“Not very subtle, are you, son?”
This cowboy was movie-star material. Substitute his leather and jeans for a wedding tux, and any bride would race down the aisle. On closer scrutiny, Sara glimpsed an indefinable quality to those blue eyes that branded this man as more substantial than a mere movie star. The twins recognized it, too, because they remained perfectly still, staring at him.
“Thank you for helping. They’re a bit of a handful.”
“I can imagine.” His face was all sharp angles. Etched lines carved out the corners of his eyes, as if he’d known sadness and grief too often. His sapphire stare captivated Sara, pushed past her barriers and peered inside, as if to expose the secrets she kept hidden from the world.
Or maybe it was all in her mind.
“I have an appointment to speak with Winifred Woodward.” He eased Brady’s grip from his hair and lowered the boy so his feet rested on the floor. “There you go, buddy.”
An icon in the wedding-planning business, Grandma Winnie was always fielding so-called appointments of people who simply wanted to meet the matriarch of Weddings by Woodwards. Winnie, sweet woman that she was, would never refuse them. That’s why Sara had come home.
Recent exhaustion had lowered Winnie’s ability to fight a cold and, according to the family, her grandmother needed complete rest to recover. Sara’s job was to fill in wherever she was needed at Woodwards.
Today that meant manning the reception desk.
And babysitting.
“Your name?”
“Cade Porter.”
“You weren’t in her appointment book, Mr. Porter.” Sara knew because she’d canceled or rebooked all Winnie’s appointments last week, the day after she’d returned to Denver.
“Nevertheless, I do have an appointment.” Dark brows climbed, daring her to dispute it. “Would you direct me to her office please?”
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible.”
The eyebrows elevated a millimeter higher. Jutting cheekbones and a forceful chin told Sara that Cade Porter wouldn’t give up easily.
“Candy?” Brady reminded.
“You have to wait a moment, sweetie.”
“’Kay.”
“Good boy.” Sara savored his winsome smile before returning to her customer. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk about planning a wedding, Mr. Porter. If you can wait, I’ll find you a planner as soon as I get these two settled. I have to watch them until my brother returns. As you’ve noticed, they take a lot of watching.”
“I did notice.” Cade Porter’s lips lifted in a grin. He squatted down and spoke quietly to the twins, showing them two wrapped peppermints, identical to the ones filling a crystal bowl on the counter. He glanced at her belatedly. “Okay with you?”
She nodded.
“Anything to keep them busy.” She ignored the inner warning that said sugar wasn’t the best choice. One candy couldn’t hurt.
“Here are the rules, guys.” Mr. Porter waited until their attention was focused on him. “You have to sit here until you’re finished. Then we’ll wash your hands. After that, maybe I’ll tell you about my horses. Is it a deal?”
Enthralled, the twins nodded, received their candy and began unwrapping. Mr. Porter rose. His face lost the soft amusement as he studied Sara.
“Look, I’m sure you employ good people here, but I want Mrs. Woodward. I confirmed with her eight days ago. Surely Weddings by Woodwards doesn’t promise their clients one thing and then…”
Sara might not want to be part of the family business, but nobody disparaged it and got away unchallenged.
“My grandmother was taken ill a week ago. I regret that you weren’t informed.” She bent to pick up the wrappers the boys had tossed on the pale pink carpet. “And I’m very sorry that you’ve been inconvenienced. But because Winnie won’t be back at work for at least a month, I’m afraid you’ll have to make a new appointment. Or accept help from someone else.”
His heavily lashed eyes darkened.
“I’m sorry she’s ill. Maybe—” He stopped, frowned as if reconsidering.
Red flags soared in Sara’s brain. If she lost a potential client, her sister Katie would be on her case all afternoon.
“If you’ll—” Sara almost choked when Brett’s sticky fingers grabbed Mr. Porter at the knee. She eased Brady’s hand away. What was taking Reese so long? “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, trying to recall who might be free to deal with Mr. Porter.
“They’re just jeans. They won’t melt. Can you get a wet cloth?”
“A cloth?” His generous smile confused her usually functioning brain.
“To wipe off the kids. I don’t think those pretty dresses on display will look quite as nice with peppermint smeared all over them.” He brushed Brady’s hair with a big capable hand. “We’ll get this pair busy drawing a horse. Then maybe you and I can get started.”
Sara frowned. Started—doing what?
“Cloth?” he reminded her as he kept Brett’s hand from touching a length of veiling.
“Right.” She fetched a damp washcloth and tried to wipe Brett’s fingers, but her nephew veered away, clinging to Mr. Porter.
“Let me.” He took the cloth and with gentle thoroughness wiped down two faces and four hands, teasing the boys as he did. Her nephews had never behaved so well.
“Don’t look so surprised. Kids usually like me.” Mr. Porter grinned as he handed back the cloth.
“I’m sure they do. I’ve just never seen these two so quiet.” Sara got rid of the sticky cloth. “Except maybe when they’re asleep.”
Mr. Porter’s lips twitched. He hunkered down next to the boys who were arguing over the crayons and paper pads scattered across the coffee table. He told them a little about his ranch, then promised a special treat for whoever could draw the best horse.
How did he know competition was the best way to get them focused?
“Okay, now can we talk about my wedding?” Cade Porter rose, folded his arms across his wide chest, charm oozing from the lopsided smile he flashed at her. “Unless Woodward Weddings can’t handle it.”
“Weddings by Woodwards,” she corrected.
“Yeah, that.” His gaze slid to the wall above the counter. “I assume that array of diplomas includes you as one of the wedding planners?”
Sara followed his gaze, noticed a silver framed certificate she’d earned four years ago hanging among the rest of the family’s. Trust her sister to dig it out and display it, as if Sara was permanently back on staff.
“I—um—”
“My mistake.” His mouth tightened. “I’d prefer Mrs. Woodward to handle things, but because that’s out, perhaps you’ll summon whoever’s handling her cases.”
Offended, Sara bristled to her own defense.
“I am a certified wedding planner, Mr. Porter. I’ve planned about forty weddings and I am quite capable of handling your needs.” Even if her family always interfered.
“I need someone who can deal with the unusual.” He studied her for several moments, his gaze dark and inscrutable.
“Then you need me.” The words slipped out without a second thought. Sara almost groaned. She was as bad as the twins, taking the bait faster than they’d latched on to his promise of candy.
“Do I?” Cade Porter blinked.
His dubious demeanor underscored her own growing doubts. Like her siblings, Sara had begun learning about the wedding business shortly after she learned to walk. But she hadn’t planned a wedding since she’d walked out of Weddings by Woodwards two years ago to escape her loving, but constantly meddling family.
Which did not mean she’d forgotten everything she’d learned here.
“What kind of a wedding do you want, Mr. Porter?”
“That’s an odd question.” He scratched his shaven chin, seemingly stymied. “How many kinds are there?”
“Many.” Obviously Cade Porter was a complete innocent.
“Horsie.” Brett held up his scribble.
“Hmm. Not bad. But he needs legs.”
While Cade and the boys discussed horse anatomy, Sara found a notepad and pen. She’d come home to help. Might as well do her best.
“What are my choices?” he asked, twisting his head to study her.
“When are you to be married?”
“I’m not.” He frowned at her. “It’s not my wedding.”
“So you’re not getting married—but you want to plan a wedding?” Sara’s headache amplified.
“Exactly.” Humor twinkled in the depths of his blue eyes. “I want to plan a wedding for my sister.”
“Ah.” While her brother Reese probably wouldn’t plan a wedding for her, Sara was pretty sure the rest of the family certainly would. They’d find her a groom, arrange the ceremony and take over every detail without asking for her input—if she let them.
Sara loved her family dearly, but they refused to acknowledge that she was an adult who could think and choose her own course in life.
“Those two tornadoes aren’t going to color for long,” Cade reminded.
“Sorry. I was thinking.” She had to find out about Mr. Porter’s sister. Having experienced prying too often herself, Sara decided on tact. “Weddings should be personal. If your sister prefers an outdoor location, spring or summer events work best. Is she thinking of a large event? Sit-down reception? Church wedding or—”
“Yes!”
“Yes?” Pulling teeth would be easier. “Yes—what, exactly?”
“Church wedding. I think.” He glanced around the reception area. His nose wrinkled when his glance landed on delicate white wrought iron chairs with their tufted white silk cushions. “The reception can’t be stuffy. Not like—”
Mr. Porter cut himself off, but the glare he shot toward tiny Victorian chairs her grandmother favored made Sara smile. Tact indeed.
“Not stuffy—like this. Is that what you mean?” she asked, tongue in cheek.
“Well…yes.” He shied away from meeting her stare.
“I see. It would be helpful for the bride to be present for her wedding plans.” That wasn’t being nosy. “If your sister could—”
“She can’t. You’ll have to manage with me. Unless…”
He let his voice trail away, but Sara got the message. Unless she had a problem. And Weddings by Woodwards did not have problems with clients.
Ever.
“Perhaps something less—er,” Cade Porter’s aquiline nose twitched as he glanced at the very girlish frilly bridal gown on the main pedestal display.
“I understand.” Sara swallowed her laughter. “Don’t worry. We’re not only about froufrou. We cater to many tastes.” She checked the wall, scanned the work board. “To prove it, I’d show you a very masculine area, but at the moment it’s being used by two men being fitted for tuxedos.”
“Awkward.” His lazy smile was a dentist’s dream.
“Slightly. A tour of Weddings by Woodwards would illustrate the variety we offer. But I have to look after the boys and…”
“It doesn’t matter.” The look on his face said Cade Porter understood that none of the rooms would be suitable for Brett and Brady. “We’ll go on to something else.”
That was generous of him. Sara also noted how he praised both boys’ drawings, then promised he’d choose a winner after they added a few more details.
“You’re good with kids,” she said when he straightened.
“I love them. Kids are amazing.” Was that a hint of longing in his voice? “Families are so much fun.”
Fun wasn’t exactly how Sara would describe her relatives.
“Maybe you should tell me your ideas for this wedding.” Sara waited. Seconds stretched to minutes of unbearable tension. She frowned. “You don’t have any ideas?”
He shrugged. A hint of—embarrassment?—shadowed his eyes.
“My ideas include a minister, flowers, some music. I thought planning a wedding would be a simple matter of my telling you and you doing it.” He glanced around the room. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Horsie all done.” Brady held up his picture in triumph.
“Good boy—”
“I was on the phone, and I heard a racket. You didn’t let the boys ruin anything, did you, Sara?” Katie stepped through the back door, caught sight of their visitor and immediately thrust out one perfectly manicured hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt. You must be Mr. Porter.”
“I am.”
“Katie Woodward. I’m afraid I found a notation about your appointment with Winnie only a few moments ago. I tried to call, but you’d already left home.”
Sara glanced at Cade, found his gaze on her. See, his eyes chided.
“More candy?” Brett asked hopefully, peering upward at the cowboy.
Cade turned his attention to the twins as he debated the winner of their coloring contest.
“Sara?” Katie hissed. “Problem?”
“Mr. Porter is interested in a church wedding. With the twins present, it’s difficult for us to carry on a discussion. Perhaps you could help him while I babysit?” Keeping her back toward the man in question, Sara silently begged her sister to intervene.
“I’m booked with consults all day, sorry. But Reese will be down in a few minutes. Apparently the agency is sending him a new nanny to replace the one who quit this morning. He’ll take the twins when he goes to meet her.” Katie leaned closer and whispered, “Is there some reason why you don’t want to handle Mr. Porter’s wedding?”
“Aside from the fact that I haven’t done one in two years?”
“You’ll do fine. Your weddings were always the most unique.”
Sara made a face. During her previous employment at Woodwards, her family had meddled with every wedding plan she’d organized—just like they interfered in everything else in her life.
Which was why she’d left.
Reese chose that moment to thunder down the stairs, calling to his sons. He stopped when he saw Cade. Sara introduced the two men.
“Congratulations. You have two creative artists in the making.” Cade showed him the pictures. “They’re horses,” he hinted as Reese tilted his head sideways.
“They’re fantastic horses.” Reese ruffled the boys’ hair. “Good job, guys.”
From his speculative look, Sara knew her brother was taking stock of their client. Reese had to notice the way his sons refused to release Cade’s pant leg even after the cowboy awarded a tie for first place, but her brother made no effort to free their client.
“Brady, Brett, let go of Mr. Porter.” Embarrassed, Sara tried to shift the chubby fingers, with no success. “I’m afraid they come by their stubbornness honestly,” she apologized. “Reese was just as determined when we were kids.”
“And so was I.” He grinned at Reese. “Could I invite you and your boys for a horse ride at my ranch—in the interest of adding perspective to their artistic endeavors? And because they both won first prize?”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Reese asked after shushing the boys’ begging pleas. “How long have you had with them? Obviously not long enough to recognize the devastation they bring.”
“I have a rough idea of their capabilities.” Cade winked at Sara. “There’s nothing they can wreck on the ranch.”
“I doubt your horses will think so after they leave.”
“Please, I’d love to have you bring them. Is Saturday okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Cade scooped both boys in his arms for a goodbye hug. He thanked them for drawing him the pictures and promised to hang them up at home.
To the twins’ delight, Reese agreed they could visit the ranch on Saturday. Once a time was chosen, Reese hurried the kids out to his car, trying to hush their loud and prolonged goodbye calls to Cade.
“So, Sara, you’re now free to discuss Mr. Porter’s wedding.”
Sara struggled to smile, remembering the windows.
“Would it be okay if we talked at that coffee shop around the corner?” Cade asked. “I haven’t had my quota of java yet, and I wouldn’t mind something to eat. I think I’ll need my energy to make all these decisions you’re talking about.”
“It’s—”
“A wonderful idea!” Katie’s smile resembled that of an obsequious slave. “Take as long as you like, Sara. We want to do our best for Mr. Porter.”
“Please, call me Cade.”
Sara frowned at Katie. Earlier her sister had bawled her out for redoing the display mannequin’s makeup instead of attending to the massive files stacked behind the reception desk. Now suddenly Katie was all smiles and pleasantness at the prospect of having Sara leave the building?
Something was fishy.
“The desk will be unattended,” she reminded softly. “I could be gone a while.”
“I’ll find someone else.” Katie’s smile never wavered.
Cade cleared his throat. “If the arrangement isn’t to your liking, Ms.—”
“Her name is Sara. Sara Woodward.” Katie’s Cheshire cat smile widened.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sara,” Cade said softly, his smile charming. “But I repeat, if the arrangement isn’t to Sara’s liking…”
Nothing about her current circumstances was to Sara’s liking. Her “liking” would be to work with Gideon Glen—a special-effects genius whose work Sara had admired for years. Sara’s biggest “liking” would be for her family to accept her independence and stop trying to coax her back into the family business.
But she could hardly say that in front of a client. Instead Sara leaned forward, grasped her sister’s arm and excused herself.
“We’ll just be a moment, Mr. Porter.”
“It’s Cade.”
“Of course it is.” Sara dragged Katie around the corner.
“Sara!” Katie struggled to free her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Consulting. Katie, this guy doesn’t have the first clue about a wedding.” She kept her voice subdued through rigid control.
“You’ll figure it out. Work with him. And take your time,” Katie said sweetly. Too sweetly.
Warning bells chimed a second time, but all Sara could do was ignore their caution and follow her sister back into Woodwards’ reception area.
“Enjoy your coffee, you two.” Katie made it sound like a date.
Sara ached to refuse. But with Cade Porter watching—
You’re home to help, remember. So help.
“Mr. Porter, how do like your coffee?”
“Strong and black.” He flashed his smile and Sara’s knees softened.
Those blue irises are only colored contacts.
Her knees didn’t seem to care.
“Bye.” Katie waggled her fingers at them before picking up the phone.
Cade opened the big glass entry door. Sara walked through, wondering if she’d imagined the smug look on Katie’s face.
“Autumn’s such a refreshing season, isn’t it?” Mr. Porter grinned as he clapped a hand on his Stetson so the wind couldn’t take it.
“I guess.”
It was obvious from his deep breaths that he’d found the store confining and enjoyed the freedom of outside. Sara struggled to match her step to his. Not an easy feat wearing the needle-thin heels Katie insisted were the only appropriate footwear for a fashion-conscious house like Woodwards’. Her best effort was a mincing half jog.
When they finally arrived at the coffee shop, Sara collapsed into a chair and brushed the mass of damp tumbling curls off her face. Her look, reflected in the pastry case mirror across the room, was so not the image of a pulled-together career woman out for coffee with a client.
“Makeup artist, cure thyself,” she muttered, patting a napkin against her damp forehead.
“Excuse me?”
“Talking to myself. Often happens after a round with the twins.” Hiding facial flaws on others was Sara’s passion. Hiding her own was a losing battle, so she ignored her reflection. “Somehow those two little kids always leave me feeling like I need time to recoup. Happy but drained. The way you looked before we left the store.”
“I wasn’t drained,” he said.
“Right.” He’d been chafing to get away. Sara wondered why.
“Because I invited you, I’m buying. What will you have?” Cade leaned one shoulder against the wall, his face all sharply defined planes and angles in the dimmer interior.
“Just coffee, thanks. Double cream.”
Cade’s shadowed gaze raked her face, then his swift assessment moved slowly from her untamed curls to the pearly sheen of polish Katie had painted on her toenails. He nodded once, then walked to the counter.
Sara leaned back against the banquette. Because Cade wasn’t volunteering any information, she’d have to come out and ask about his sister, and risk sounding like a snoop. She hadn’t come up with a way to begin when her client returned, grinning as he set a gigantic cup in front of her.
“Thank you. Is something amusing you, Mr. Porter?”
“Cade.” He studied her hair, frizzy now from the outside humidity. “You don’t look old enough to drink that.”
Sara’s molars met. Tomorrow she’d cut off her curls. Perhaps then—
“I assure you I am perfectly capable of functioning as your wedding planner. I do have the necessary credentials.” Later she’d ask Katie how that certificate had gone from the trunk in her room at their parents’ home to hanging on Woodwards’ wall.
“I’m sure you do.” He sat down across from her, stretched his long legs to one side. His eyes turned a moody shade of blue.
“Is the coffee bad?” She sipped her own.
“Coffee’s fine.” The granite jaw softened slightly.
Sara liked the effect. “So—?”
“I wanted to do something really special for my sister. I didn’t realize planning her wedding would be so complicated.”
“And now you’re thinking more along the lines of elopement?” she teased.
“No way.” Not a morsel of doubt crept into his low, firm tone. “I specifically chose Weddings by Woodwards because they’re supposed to be the best in the business. And I want the very best.”
“Woodwards is top of the heap.” Sara studied him. “You need the best because—?”
“Because this wedding has to be absolutely perfect. She deserves it.”
As he said the words, something in Cade Porter’s demeanor changed. The intensity of his voice, the love underlying his words, the blaze of pride in his blue irises—all of it told Sara how much he loved his sister.
“Your sister is lucky to have a brother like you.” For a tiny second a soft brush of yearning feathered across her heart. Then reality returned.
Cade Porter was planning this wedding without the bride! It was exactly the kind of thing her lovable family would do, the kind of overbearing, know-it-all action that Sara constantly fought against.
“Tell me what your sister would want.” That didn’t sound nosy. Sara held her pen above the pad and waited.
Cade leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes. His deep, assured tone compelled her attention.
“She’s a perfectionist. She’d want every detail to be taken care of. So do I. I don’t want any surprises on that day. I want it beautiful, elegant but not stuffy. I want the guests to enjoy themselves, to feel welcome. I particularly don’t want ordinary.” He opened his eyes. “I want memorable. Does that help?”
“It’s a place to start. Any idea when she’ll hold her wedding?”
His eyes flickered open. “For now, the date’s up in the air.”
Another glitch.
“When will she know?”
“Probably not until a few days before it’s to be held.”
Sara frowned. This was getting weirder by the moment.
“Mr. Porter, we need your sister present for at least one consultation.”
“Not possible.”
“But it sounds like you want to have everything planned without having a set date.”
“That’s exactly what I want. A church ceremony seems obvious.”
“Unless the wedding comes during a busy season like Christmas when we would have to book ages ahead.” Sara set her cup aside, troubled by his plan.
She was pretty sure she could do this—on her own, without help. She had the skill, the ability. It was simply a matter of applying her brain to the problem and then coming up with a solution. But was it right to do it all without the bride’s involvement?
“What about a park setting? Then we wouldn’t need to book ahead.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer.
“Weddings in a place that holds meaning for the couple can also be charming. Is there some place special to your sister and her fiancé?”
Cade seemed not to hear her because he suddenly leaned forward, holding her gaze with his own.
“If it was you, would a church wedding be your choice?”
“No.” She avoided his gaze.
“Why not?”
“I’m not the church-wedding type.” Sara wasn’t about to tell him how long it had been since she’d stopped talking to God. “Listen, Mr. Porter—”
“Can we please agree that you’ll call me Cade?” He was doing that charm bit again, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Cade,” she complied, pretending a coolness she didn’t feel. “My preferences are not the issue here. I must talk to the bride to get her feelings on things.”
“She’s leaving it all to me.”
His fast response ramped up Sara’s inner warning system to red alert. She looked him straight in the eye, just the way Winnie had taught her.
“Does your sister even know you’re planning this wedding?”
“Not yet.” Cade’s smile dimmed. “It’s a surprise.”
Sara squeezed her eyes closed, barely stifling her groan.
“I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a terrible idea. I have never known a bride who didn’t want to play an active part in her own wedding.” Sara glanced away, counted to five. When she looked back, his eyes waited for her. Their gazes locked. “Tell me the truth.”
“She wants to elope,” he rasped, his voice drained of its rich timbre. “To go somewhere no one knows her and take the most important step of her life.”
“Then surely—”
“She’s so fixated on getting married she can’t see how much she’ll regret her decision later. But I know exactly how much she might need those memories in the future.” His ominous tone told Sara Cade’s own personal reasons were figuring into his decision to organize this wedding.
She recognized that he was probably smarting from his sister’s decision. Maybe he felt left out. Maybe he’d been goaded into circumventing what she wanted by their parents.
Whatever his reason, Sara was the last person to help Cade Porter plan something his sister didn’t want. She had too much experience with interfering families and the pain that came from resisting their strong wills.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Porter. I can’t help you with this wedding.” Sara rose, picked up her purse. “If you still want Weddings by Woodwards, I’ll select another planner. But my advice is to talk to your sister, really listen to what she tells you. Then abide by her decision.”
“But—”
Sara ignored his frown, determined to make him understand.
“You want your sister to treasure happy memories of her wedding day?”
“Of course!”
“That won’t happen if every anniversary she’s reminded that you forced something she didn’t want. She’s entitled to have her own dream—even if it isn’t your dream.”
He couldn’t know she was speaking from experience.
“But—”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Goodbye.”
For a fraction of a second, one thought held Sara immobile.
She was going to disappoint the family.
Again.

Chapter Two
“Wait!”
Cade ignored the curious stares of the other coffee-shop patrons. He needed Sara Woodward. He needed Weddings by Woodwards, needed their expertise and their clout. But more than that, he found himself not wanting this small delicate woman to think badly of him.
And she did.
Her prickly tone, the frost edging her voice, the sharp snap of her consonants—Sara Woodward had pegged him as an overbearing ogre, forcing his sister to bend to his demands.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Will you please hear me out before judging me any further?”
Sara debated for a moment, nodded once then took her seat.
Cade smiled.
“Thank you. I can imagine what you think, Sara. But if I couldn’t, your face gives it away.” Relieved she was still listening, he hurried on. “I apologize. I should have started at the beginning. I’ve lived alone so long, I expect people to read my mind.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I still won’t do it.” The jut of her chin emphasized her determination.
“Give me five minutes?”
She studied him, lips pursed. Finally she nodded.
“I’ll listen. But it’s really a moot point.”
“Why?”
“Unless the wedding takes place very quickly, I won’t be around. I’d have to hand you over to someone else eventually anyway.”
Someone else? But he’d connected with her. Or thought he had.
“I understood that once Weddings by Woodwards took on an event, their planner stayed until the event was over.”
“Usually that’s true.” Her lids drooped, shielding her eyes.
“So?” What was she hiding? Cade leaned in to study her closed-up face.
“I won’t be staying. I returned to Woodwards to help out only while my grandmother is ill.”
“Returned from?”
“Los Angeles.” Sara studied her notepad. “We can go back to the store now. Katie will help you.”
“She said she’s booked today.” Cade dismissed that. “You don’t know when you’re leaving Denver?”
“Not exactly.” Sara avoided his gaze. “But the moment Winnie is back at Woodwards full-time, I’m off to L.A. Working at Weddings by Woodwards is temporary for me.”
Her voice, sheathed in steely determination, gave the impression it wasn’t the first time she’d said that. Cade didn’t argue. Instead he signaled to their server to refill their cups and offered her one of the croissants he’d ordered.
“You said you’d explain,” Sara prodded.
“I’m not sure where to start.” Cade stirred his coffee, then decided it wasn’t going to get easier. “Karen, my sister, is overseas, in the military.”
“Oh?”
“She and her fiancé are in a special tactical force. I hear from her sporadically. In her last e-mail Karen told me she and Trent had just become engaged and that they wanted to be married as soon as they return, at the end of their mission, which is secret. See why I can’t specify a date and time?”
“Yes, I understand.” Interest lit her expressive face.
“Karen’s twenty-three,” he continued. “She and Trent were high-school sweethearts. I want to give her the kind of wedding our parents would have. A celebration.”
“But she wants to elope.”
“Because Karen thinks it will be easier on me, that it won’t cost me anything, won’t make a fuss I’ll have to endure.” Publicizing personal details wasn’t his forte, but Cade could tell by Sara’s dubious expression that he was going to have to open up if he wanted her help. “You see, I was supposed to be married right before Karen went overseas the first time. My fiancée died two weeks before the wedding.”
He heard her soft gasp.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” Cade hated this part, wanted to get past it fast. “Marnie died of an aneurysm. It was totally unexpected.”
“And then your sister left.” Her face softened. “That was a hard time for you.”
“Yes.” He could see Sara didn’t understand. Yet. He’d have to give her more details. “Karen felt guilty for leaving right after I’d lost Marnie. She wanted to ask the Army for leave, but I persuaded her to go.”
“Because?” Sara’s brown velvet eyes missed nothing.
“Because she deserves to build her own life. There was nothing she could do for me. I’m older, I’m stronger. I could get through it on my own.”
“You wanted to protect her.”
Cade smiled at the accuracy of her assessment and the skill with which she cut through his prevarication.
“It’s what I do,” he admitted.
“You protect your sister—because you think Karen isn’t capable of looking after herself?” Disbelief emphasized the arch of one sculpted eyebrow. “At twenty-three?”
“You remind me of her.” Cade recalled the many times his sister had cut through his excuses and demanded the truth. “Karen doesn’t mince words, either.”
The petite blond wedding planner tightened her lips.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with how old she is, Sara.” Cade let the story pour out. “Our parents died when I was eighteen. Karen was ten. I raised her. I was her father, mother and her brother. She’s my only family. That’s why this wedding has to be special.”
“Even if she doesn’t want it?” Sara’s brows furrowed.
“She does! She just doesn’t want to let on she does because Karen thinks another wedding will bring back the pain of losing Marnie.”
“Will it?”
“Probably some,” he acknowledged. “But my experiencing a little pain isn’t a good enough reason not to have a wedding for Karen.”
“I see.”
She didn’t.
“My sister used to constantly talk about what she’d do for her own wedding. She had more bride dolls than any of her friends. In her room at home there’s a big fat album full of wedding pictures she’s been cutting out of magazines for as long as I can remember.” Cade met her stare. “Karen’s wedding has been a dream she’s had forever. I am not going to let her give it up because of me.”
“Generous of you. The album might come in handy.” Sara’s wise-owl eyes never left his face. “But surely you understand what’s involved? You were about to be married. You must have consulted with your fiancée, made joint decisions.”
That made him laugh.
“If you’d known Marnie, you wouldn’t have said that. She was the ultimate organizer and she did not like her plans interfered with. That was fine by me. Some stuff was going on at the ranch at the time and I was glad to let her handle all the details. I didn’t care how, as long as we got married.” He made a face. “I wish now I’d paid more attention.”
“You’ve known a lot of loss.”
“I’ve known a lot of happiness,” he corrected. “I thank God for that every day.”
Sara’s face closed up like a clam, her eyes dropped to her worksheet. Cade wondered what he’d said wrong.
“It isn’t possible to ask Karen’s preferences on anything?”
Cade shook his head.
“She and Trent were leaving base for a new mission the day she e-mailed me. I can leave messages, but I can’t contact her directly. Even if I could, there wouldn’t be any point.”
“Because?”
“Because all Karen and Trent care about is getting married as soon as they get home. That’s why I want everything in place.” He wouldn’t give up, not yet. “I don’t want my sister to elope because it’s easier. I want her to come home, to walk her down the aisle of the church we grew up in. I want to hand her care over to her husband.”
Not strictly accurate, but Cade pushed past the half truth to continue.
“I want her to have precious memories of her wedding day that she can take out and treasure when the tough patches come.”
At last Sara lifted her head and met his gaze.
“It’s going to be a lot of work.”
Cade’s heart bumped with relief. That meant she was going to help, didn’t it?
“Life is a lot of work. But family matters, and when you do something for them, the payoff on their faces makes the work seem like play.” He studied her. “You must know that yourself.”
“I must, mustn’t I?” Sara agreed dourly, her concentration on the scribbles she placed on her notepad.
The chagrin tingeing her voice surprised Cade. He studied her profile, followed one of her golden ringlets to its resting place on her narrow shoulder. Sara Woodward had the kind of soft, wistful beautiful many women tried to erase.
Perhaps she—
A movement outside caught Cade’s attention and he blinked at the man who peered through the glass.
“Isn’t that your brother, Reese, father of the infamous twins?”
Sara’s head jerked up. She twisted to get a better look. When she turned back, her almost-black eyes glittered with indignation.
“Yes, it’s Reese.” Sara squished her napkin into a ball. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left L.A.”
Her whisper shocked Cade. Fairly certain she hadn’t been talking to him, he didn’t press because her face looked as if she’d lost her best friend.
Sara’s narrow shoulders drooped. The soft cream silk blouse shifted, revealing her slim neck and the delicate silk scarf she’d tucked in there. Cade didn’t know much about fashion, but he was fairly certain that particular hue of Caribbean orange wasn’t in vogue at the moment. Yet on Sara it looked exactly right—vibrant, warm, full of potential.
He wondered why she’d chosen the shade. Actually he had a thousand questions about his wedding planner.
“What do you do when you’re in L.A., Sara?”
She blinked. Big innocent doe eyes, an unusual combination with that blond hair, widened.
“Do?” Her cheekbones turned a richer pink. “Um…”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He’d only just met the woman and now he was prying? Loneliness wasn’t an excuse. “I’m getting too personal. Sorry.”
“It’s not a secret. I’m a makeup artist for a movie studio. I’m trying to break into special effects, though.” She said it defiantly, as if she expected him to offer some negative remark on her choice of career.
“Cool.” Cade asked the first thing he thought of. “Ever worked with the stars?”
“Once or twice.” Her eyelids drooped, shielding her thoughts. One short oval nail tapped against the tabletop.
Sara might not like his questions, but at least she hadn’t told him to mind his own business. Cade pressed on.
“I’m guessing it’s a challenging field.”
“It can be.” She lifted her chin and her face transformed, skin glowing, eyes shining with excitement. “That’s what I like about it. It’s a chance to prove you can change things, make them into what you want. I never tire of that.”
The hint of defiance underlying her words reminded him of Karen on the day she’d announced she’d enlisted. Determination. Grit. Challenge.
Sara’s fingertips tightened around her cup of barely touched coffee.
“I’m going to get into special effects. As soon as I can figure out how.”
“I’m sure you will.” He remembered an earlier comment. “It was nice of you to put your dream on hold to help out while your grandmother recuperates.”
“I didn’t want to.” Soft pink deepened to a rose blush.
“But you came anyway. That’s true commitment.” Cade studied the pure clear shape of her face. “Surely there must be a call for your kind of work in Denver?”
“For makeup. But I’m trying to get into special effects. That means Hollywood.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Sara Woodward’s velvet brown eyes challenged him to understand.
And Cade didn’t, though he wished he could.
For him, family came right behind his love for God. Although his parents had been gone for fifteen years, he still treasured the family moments he could recall, happy, laughing moments when it seemed as if they’d always be there, providing the love and security he’d taken for granted.
The same love he’d showered on Karen as he tried to protect her.
He’d compared them, but Cade now realized Sara Woodward was nothing like his sister. Karen was a product of her environment, strong and tough like the land abutting the Rockies. Sara, with her dainty figure, exotic scarf and that mass of bouncing golden curls, was more like one of Karen’s delicate porcelain wedding dolls, the ones that belonged in a glass box on a high shelf where the hard knocks of life could not reach.
And yet, in the depths of Sara’s eyes he caught a glimpse of a woman with inner fire and determination. But she was not comfortable with her world.
Cade couldn’t make the pieces fit. Sara had family here, guaranteed job security in the family business. She had at least one sister and one brother that he knew of, and a grandmother who could be called upon if needed. Everything he longed for.
So why did she seem so desperate to run away from them?
“Families are precious. They should be treasured,” he said, and wished he hadn’t when she tossed a glare toward the window and her brother.
“I do treasure my family. Very much.” Her jaw thrust out an inch farther. “But sometimes I have to escape them.”
“Why?”
“Let’s get back to your wedding.” Sara ignored the question, tapped her notepad. “Are we settled on a church for the ceremony?”
Cade kept his focus on her, wishing she’d explain.
“Or you could wait till my grandmother is back.”
“I don’t want to wait.” It took about ten seconds to reach a decision. Cade sat up straight, pushed his shoulders back. “I’ll think about a location. In the meantime, what else do I need to decide to get this thing rolling?”
“Without a firm date it’s difficult to plan a lot, but you could begin to consider invitations, color schemes.” Sara raised one eyebrow. “I’m guessing you won’t choose the bride’s dress?”
“Given your current job, I guess that question is understandable.” He grinned, leaned back in his seat, senses enmeshed in the spicy fragrance of her perfume. “Think more ‘big picture,’ Sara.”
“What? Most brides think clothes are a very important part of wedding. Wedding gowns, tuxedos.” She chuckled at his huff of distaste and continued.
But the more she listed, the more Cade felt like a man drowning. Sara must have noticed because she finally paused.
“It’s a lot to handle,” she said, her voice softening. “Maybe you need to rethink this idea.”
Maybe he did. Nothing about organizing Karen’s wedding seemed as simple as it had back on the ranch. But that didn’t mean Cade was giving up.
“I need a little time to wrap my mind around the details, that’s all.”
“Take all the time you need. I better get back to work.”
While Sara dabbed her lips on a napkin, Cade tossed some money on the table, then led the way outside, holding her arm until she pulled it away.
He checked the sidewalk, expecting to see Reese.
“I guess your brother had to leave.”
“Yeah. Probably to give his report.”
“Report?” He didn’t understand that comment, or what had drained the sparkle from her eyes, but the Woodward family wasn’t his business. “Because Reese isn’t here, I’ll walk you back to the store.”
“Thanks, but I can manage without you or my brother to guide me. I’ve been finding my own way around L.A. for a while now.” Hostility leeched through the sour words.
“I don’t doubt you can.” Cade hadn’t sensed tension between sister and brother earlier, which made him even more curious about the Woodwards, especially about Sara. “I have to walk there anyway. My car’s parked across from the store.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She walked beside him in a mincing pace, almost falling flat on her face when her heel caught in a sidewalk crack. She recovered quickly, tossed him a smile. “I thought all cowboys drove trucks?”
“I don’t bring my truck into town unless I’m hauling something. Too many bad drivers ready to dent it. And, yes, all the stories about ranchers treating their trucks like babies are true. Hey!” Cade grabbed her just in time and held on until Sara had regained her balance again. “Are those things comfortable?”
“Not in the least,” Sara told him, fingers pressing into his arm as she righted herself. “But Katie insists they’re the only appropriate footwear for my work at Woodwards. I usually work in sneakers and jeans.”
“I imagine you look very nice in those, too.” A sense of loss suffused him when her arm slid out from his. “Oh, we’re here already.”
“Whenever you want to talk again, stop in.” Sara’s eyes lost their brooding, lightened to a rich cocoa. “We’ll do our best to help. But I think you should wait and talk to Karen. Then listen. She might have other reasons for wanting to elope.”
“Like what?” Cade resented the inference that he didn’t know exactly how Karen thought. His baby sister was an open book to him.
“Talk to her. She’ll tell you.”
“Will you be here if I come back?”
“I don’t know.” An internal struggle turned her eyes a shade of bittersweet. “Probably.”
The expressionless gaze she’d first assumed at the store, the “mask” look that hid her emotions, slid into place. He disliked it intensely.
“Well, thanks for coffee and the croissants.” Sara’s clear natural glow reminded Cade of the foothills of his ranch where mountain springs tumbled down in a rush of sparkling droplets chased by sunbeams. Her orange scarf was like a mountain lily.
Cade blinked. Loneliness was definitely affecting him.
“You’ve given me a lot of wedding details to think about. What if we meet tomorrow?”
Sara’s eyes widened with surprise.
“You mean, you still want me to work with you, even though I’m not staying?”
“You have an original perspective. Karen would like that.” His sister’s penchant for the uncommon had often been a source of contention between them.
“You must miss her a lot.”
Cade hadn’t realized how much until he met Sara.
“Karen hasn’t lived at home full-time for ages, but when she did, life was good. With my sister around there was always something going on. She enriched my life, made it fun. I miss that. I miss her.”
Sara went very still. Her face tilted upward as she studied him. Cade stood immobile under her scrutiny, waiting for the question he saw reflected in her eyes. But she didn’t ask.
So suddenly it made him catch his breath, her face altered, her voice emerged warm and generous.
“I’m just the substitute at Woodwards, so I don’t have any regular clients, which means I have a lot of free time. I could meet you whenever you like to brainstorm something wonderful for Karen’s wedding.”
Cade wasn’t about to waste his opportunity.
“I have to be in town tomorrow morning for some business. Could you meet me at Cartier’s Café at noon?”
“Cartier’s? Sure. But Woodwards has lots of—” Sara blinked, then waggled a finger at him, eyes twinkling. “You’re trying to avoid going back into the store, aren’t you?”
“If at all possible,” he admitted honestly. “How did you guess?”
“Your face. Lots of men find the environment a little—overpowering. The family has been trying to get Winnie to scale back, at least in reception.”
“But?”
Sara shrugged.
“Granny Winnie is an incurable romantic, that’s how she got started in this business. Yards of tulle, tons of hearts and flowers—it’s been a part of her world for so long I doubt she could envision Woodwards any other way now.”
“Why should she?” Cade tilted his head back to study the ivory stone facade of the building. “Her way obviously works. I was told Weddings by Woodwards assisted with more than four hundred weddings last year.”
“And each of them was absolutely perfect. That’s my family.” There it was again, that proud but irritated tone. “How did you choose Woodwards, Cade?”
“I talked to some friends of Karen who told me that if I wanted a spectacular wedding, Weddings by Woodwards was the only way.”
“I see.” Sara’s eyes narrowed. She made a notation on her pad, then lifted her head, brown eyes narrowed. “These friends—are they good friends? The kind of friends your sister would ask to be her attendants if she were planning her own wedding?”
Cade slowly nodded. Sara Woodward may have been out of the family business for a while, but she caught on to his line of thinking faster than the ranch foreman who’d been working for him for ten years.
“Exactly that kind of friend,” he told her.
She grinned, her eyes dancing.
“Now we’re cooking. Tonight I want you to write down everything you can think of about Karen. Bring your notes and her album tomorrow. That will give us a place to start.”
“Okay.”
Sara was easy to talk to. Cade surprised himself by prattling on and on about how much he wanted his sister to come home, how he worried about her safety, fussed about her future happiness.
When Sara’s attention slipped from him, Cade turned, saw a diminutive figure in black in the display window, writing in big brown letters.
Do you want your wedding to look like this?
“That’s Winnie!”
“But I thought—” Cade trailed behind Sara into the store, right up to the narrow door from which she’d first emerged. He halted, knowing how tight the fit was.
Sara slipped through.
“Winnie? What are you doing here?”
He heard a forced cough, then a familiar voice that didn’t sound the least bit ill.
“Hello, darling. I thought I’d stop by to check on things. I figured the twins must have rearranged the window, so I—”
“Never mind the twins,” Sara scolded. “You’re supposed to be at home. Resting. Come on, out you go.”
Cade stepped back as Sara emerged, leading her grandmother. He’d only seen photographs of Winifred Woodward, but she looked exactly like the elegant duchess in her publicity photos. Today she wore a black sheath dress with silver jewelry and high heels. She looked significantly younger than her rumored age. Her silver white curls were swept up into a regal style that enhanced merry brown eyes and rose-tinted cheekbones.
“You’re Cade Porter, I think.” She thrusted out a tiny blue-veined hand to grasp his. “Winifred Woodward. I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep our appointment.”
“I’m sorry you’re not well.” Except she looked the picture of health.
“It’s just a cold. My family is overreacting.” Winnie patted Sara’s cheek. “I’m getting better every day.”
“You don’t sound better. Your voice is scratchy.” Sara frowned. “How did you get here, Grandmother?”
“A cab.” She brushed her fingers against Sara’s golden curls. “Don’t be angry, dear. I couldn’t sit around that house a moment longer. I’m used to being busy.”
“Katie said the doctors ordered rest. You’re to follow their advice, Granny. That’s why I came.” She grasped the old lady’s arm as Winifred tried to stem a bout of coughing. “Now you’ve tired yourself out. Home you go.”
“I never thought you’d try to tell me what to do.” Winifred’s perfectly made-up face wore a sly look. “You, of all people, Sara. Aren’t you the one who’s always championing your right to live your life your own way?”
“I’m not sick. And my doctor didn’t tell me to stay in bed.”
“I thought I heard—Grandmother?” Katie rushed into the room and, seizing the older woman’s arm, seated her in one of the fussy chairs that littered the foyer. “Look at you. Your face is as white as a calla lily. You’ll probably faint any moment.”
Cade thought Katie’s concern was exaggerated considering Winifred hadn’t exhibited any sign of fainting. But it was nice to see the old lady was cherished.
“I’m fine,” Winifred repeated. Her smile looked slightly forced now.
“You’re not. Your hand is too warm and you’re sniffling.”
“She’s going home, Katie. I’ll take her.” Sara shuffled papers on the desktop, obviously searching for something. “Do you know where my car keys are? I’m sure I left them beside the phone.”
“Oh, dear.”
Katie fluttered her eyelashes at him, then pressed her fingertips against her lips. In Cade’s opinion this was the sister who belonged in Hollywood, except Katie’s acting was too forced. And why was she looking at him like that?
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, you see, Reese’s car wouldn’t start,” Katie said. “He had to get to another appointment, so I gave him Sara’s car keys. I didn’t think she’d need them and he promised he wouldn’t be long.”
“Then I’ll take yours, Katie.” Sara held out her hand.
“No! You can’t have them.” Katie’s shrill voice broke on a nervous laugh at their stares of surprise. “I mean, that’s the problem. I put my car in the shop this morning for an oil change. If I’d known we’d need it—”
Something about Katie’s quick response bothered him, but Cade wasn’t going to speculate. He needed to get back to the ranch. But when Mrs. Woodward’s thin form shuddered and another cough rattled her tiny figure, he put his own plans aside.
“I’ll be happy to drive you home, ma’am. My car’s just across the street.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll call a cab.” She wheezed out the words, her handkerchief muffling something he didn’t quite catch.
“It’s not a problem. Please, allow me.” Cade held out his arm, surprised by the weakness of her grip when she rose. The old lady must be sicker than she looked. “I could bring the car around to the front door if it’s too difficult for you to walk.”
“I’m fine. Sara, where’s my coat? Oh, good. Now you come here on the other side where I can hold on to you. All of a sudden I’ve gone a bit wobbly.”
Sara obeyed immediately, casting him an apologetic look behind her grandmother’s back.
Cade told himself to mind his own business when it seemed Winifred fussed needlessly. To her credit, Sara kept softly reassuring her as they crossed the street to his car. Winifred insisted on sitting in the back. Alone.
“I can spread out then,” she husked, her voice significantly worse than it had been moments earlier. She closed her eyes. “I’ll rest a few moments. I’m a bit tired. I gave Vivian the day off, so I’ll need Sara to help me to bed. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting to drive her back here, Cade. It would be so kind of you.”
“No.” Sara glanced at him. “It’s not necessary, Grandmother.”
“No worries.” Cade held open her door, waited until Sara was seated. As he closed the door, he noted Winifred’s sparkling eyes and the funny smile lifting her lips. When she saw him watching, she quickly shut her eyes.
He got in the driver’s seat, curiosity rampant.
“If you turn right at the next corner, we’ll go that way. Winnie lives in Cherry Creek.” Sara glanced over one shoulder as if she worried about disturbing her grandmother.
Cherry Creek was the “old money” side of town, filled with posh houses and beautiful landscapes. Cade drove toward it silently, content to watch the exchanges between the two.
Her affectionate care of her grandmother was admirable, but Cade didn’t think this was the real Sara. She was hiding her true feelings. Personally, he far preferred the honest, open woman with whom he’d shared croissants at the coffee shop to this dutiful person who slavishly agreed with every demand her grandmother made. But he kept silent as Sara handed the old woman out of the car and ushered her into the house.
“It’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll stay here,” she said five minutes later when she returned. They were alone and the real Sara was back.
“You want me to disobey her edict that I drive you back to the store?”
“Yes. I want to make sure Granny goes right to bed.”
“Okay. What time is good for tomorrow?” He saw she’d forgotten.
“Tomor—Oh, lunch.” Sara frowned. “When I agreed to help out in the store, I told Katie I’d take a noon lunch hour. Does that work for you?” She tried to step backward and lost her balance.
“Perfect.” Cade steadied her with a grin. “But in case you change shoes between now and then, I better make sure I know exactly who I’m meeting. How tall are you—without the stilts?” He enjoyed the flush of color dotting her cheekbones.
“Never mind,” was all she said, making it obvious she had height issues.
“Ah. What other secrets are you hiding? A glass eye? Wooden leg?”
Sara lifted one eyebrow. “I’ll never tell.”
“That’s an invitation I can’t resist.” Cade pulled open his car door. “Tomorrow, twelve noon at Cartier’s. Bring your ideas.”
“I should probably warn you, some of my ideas have been called a little, um, off the wall.” Sara tilted her head to one side, studying his reaction.
A wayward ringlet danced in the breeze, then settled against her cheek in a gentle caress. Cade swallowed.
“It’s the off-the-wall ideas that usually turn out best, Sara Woodward,” he said softly so the old woman leaning out the window above them wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you know that yet?”
“I know. I wasn’t sure you did.” She grinned. “Cade Porter, this might be fun.”
He got into the car, his knees as weak as if he just climbed off his horse after a four-day trail ride. “I believe it will be.”
He drove back to the ranch slowly, savoring the memory of Sara’s smile, a picture that stuck with him long after he should have been immersed in the mundane duties of his day.
But later that night, staring up at the stars, Cade knew daydreaming about a woman like Sara Woodward was pointless. He’d lost his chance for love and family the day Marnie died. That’s when he’d known that God’s will for him didn’t include his cherished dream of a wife and family of his own.
So Cade would ignore his emotional draw to Sara Woodward. He’d concentrate on throwing Karen the best wedding he could. He’d continue to hope and pray his sister would choose to live at the ranch or at least nearby. Most of all, he’d accept that his future was to be a solitary one. He had to. He’d learned his lesson too well.
When God made up His mind, He didn’t change it.

Chapter Three
“You’re spending a lot of time in front of the mirror this morning, sis. Any special reason?”
“If you had to cart those musty old wedding catalogs out of the storeroom, you’d be checking yourself for dust, too.” Sara avoided Katie’s quizzical gaze. “I’m not sure why you chose me for that crummy job, but I sure got filthy. I’m glad you forgot you’d left this suit from the cleaners here. I needed a change.”
“You look great in it.”
“Thanks. I worked up an appetite, too. I can hardly wait for lunch.”
“Hmm.” Katie turned away, checked the clock. “It’s early, but you might as well go now, while it’s quiet. Who knows what the afternoon will bring?”
“As long as it’s not more dust.” She paused, chose her words carefully. “I’m meeting someone for lunch, so I probably won’t be back early.”
Sara had expected her sister to start asking questions. Yet Katie seemed oddly uninterested in anything except the computer in front of her.
“Fine.”
“Okay, then, see you later.”
“Uh-huh.” Katie didn’t even glance at her. That was odd.
Sara stepped through the door and lifted her face, reveling in the sun’s warmth. Even L.A. weather couldn’t match the startling clarity of an October morning in Denver. Crisp leaves hung in shimmering burned umber against the cerulean sky. Tiny gusts of wind danced several fallen ones across the sidewalk in front of her. They crackled when she stepped on them.
God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world.
Adam Woodward, Sara’s grandfather, had penned Robert Browning’s famous poem in his diary many times in the last months of his life. In her senior year of high school, when Sara had discovered the leather-bound volume, she’d read it. There she’d felt more kinship with a man she’d never met than she’d ever known with her family.
She’d begged Winnie to provide other journals and poured over them, too, identifying with her grandfather’s yearning to leave Europe and the family pottery business to make his own mark in America. The porcelain doll faces Winnie kept in a special glass case proved Grandpa Adam’s talent. They also whetted Sara’s creative itch.
Her grandfather’s faith was the one thing Sara couldn’t share. She’d never felt the close bond with God that her grandfather wrote about, never felt accepted or approved of by God. Never felt she fit into the image the minister described. Her family’s easy faith made Sara uncomfortable in church, as if she didn’t measure up. As if she didn’t have the right to be there, to pretend she belonged where she so clearly didn’t.
Years later not a lot had changed in her faith journey.
Sara quashed an inner voice that asked her why and instead concentrated on the beautiful day.
The nonlethal shoes Sara borrowed from Abby Franklin, Woodwards’ chief jeweler, made the two-block walk to Cartier’s fly past. Sara wouldn’t admit her light heart had a thing to do with the fact that she would see Cade Porter in a few minutes. Of course not. He was a client, a very nice one, but only a client. But she couldn’t dislodge a tiny tremor of anticipation quaking in her midsection.
Until reality hit.
“Mother?” Sara flopped against the entrance column in a rush of disbelief. Her parents were in Italy. That was why she’d had to come home to help out.
“Hello, darling!” Fiona Woodward enveloped Sara in a cloud of expensive perfume. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” After a moment she drew away. “Love that suit.”
“Thanks.” Sara knew from experience how easily her mother could evade questions. “What are you doing here, Mom? I thought you were—”
“In Italy. We were.” Fiona preened a little, flashing an anniversary ring Sara had never seen before. “Your father and I flew home this morning, a few days early so we could help with the big society wedding on Saturday. We decided to stop for lunch before going to the store. Are you home for a while?”
A quick scan of the restaurant showed Sara that Cade had not yet arrived. Given her mother’s insatiable curiosity about every detail of her life, Sara considered that a definite blessing.
“Honey?” Her mother twisted to survey the area. “Are you meeting someone?”
There was no point prevaricating. Her mother would find out. She always did. Then the questions would be nonstop.
“I am meeting a friend for lunch.” Sara opened her eyes wide and smiled innocently. “But I want to hear all about your trip.”
“Meaning you’ll be in town for a few days?” Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “How lovely. We’ll have time to talk. I must run now, though. Your father went to snag a cab.”
Grandma Winnie!
“Mom, there’s something you should—”
“No time now, darling. Later. After work.” With a quick buss cheek to cheek, Fiona rushed away, high heels tapping against the concrete.
Sara raised her hand to call her back, but her mother closed the door on a cab and it was too late to say anything to prepare them for Winnie’s illness. Well, maybe it was better if Katie did it. They’d listen to her.
Good thing Cade wasn’t here yet. No telling how long her mother would have stayed if she’d known about him. Why hadn’t she refused to help him? Getting involved in his sister’s wedding would only give the family more leverage. Now her parents were back, maybe she could return to L.A., although she’d go without having done any of the special-effects work she’d hoped to begin.
A hand brushed her arm.
“Hello.” Cade’s blue eyes sparkled in the sunshine. “Been waiting long?”
“Actually I just arrived.”
“Bad morning?” His hand rested against her waist as he escorted her to the maître d’s desk.
Sara pretended nonchalance while her heart leaped at the contact.
“My mother was here.”
“I’m sorry I missed her.”
I’m not.
“She and my father have been in Italy, celebrating their anniversary. I had no idea they were coming back today. I don’t think anyone else does, either.” In fact, judging by Katie’s plan to clear out storerooms, Sara was certain her parents were supposed to be gone for at least another week.
Fiona mentioned a big society wedding, but no one had told Sara. She ignored the tiny twinge of hurt she felt at being left out. How silly to feel hurt. She wasn’t a real employee at Woodwards. She didn’t want to be.
“Your parents came home because of your grandmother?”
“I don’t think they know about her yet. I thought the family was keeping it a secret so my parents could enjoy their well-deserved vacation.”
“Maybe someone decided it was better if they knew the truth.”
“I guess.” But no one had told her that, either, which bugged Sara.
They were seated at a window table overlooking Cartier’s delightful garden. Outside, golden sheaves of mature grasses waved in the breeze. A few flowers, unscathed from last night’s frost, still bloomed.
“I haven’t been here before. Thanks for asking me.” Sara accepted from the waiter the heavy white card with the day’s menu on it. “I’ll look, but after those buttery croissants yesterday, I’m on salad for a while.”
“Aw, come on. You can’t expect me to enjoy my meal while you’re nibbling rabbit food.” Cade’s white teeth flashed.
“I guess soup would be okay.” With those blue eyes staring, Sara wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow a thing.
“The kind of soup should make a difference.” Cade grinned.
“Why?” She couldn’t quite interpret his smug tone.
“I was told mushroom is your favorite.” He lifted the card from her hands and handed it, with his own, to the waiter. Then he ordered for both of them. “I think you’ll enjoy this meal, Sara.”
“Will I?”
The waiter brought their soup and set it down while she fumed. Cade Porter was a human bulldozer. Just like her family. Sara itched to point out his peremptory attitude, but that wasn’t the way one treated a client.
Cade must have caught on.
“That wasn’t very bright of me. I’m sorry, Sara. Karen would bawl me out for ordering for her without even asking. I apologize. Should I call the waiter back?”
“Never mind.”
“Thank you. Shall I say grace?”
She nodded, waited until he’d finished. The word charming had obviously been created to describe Cade Porter. He waited for her to pick up her spoon.
That’s when his words sank in.
“Who told you mushroom soup is my favorite?”
“Your sister.”
“Katie.” Sara closed her eyes as she smothered a groan. “When?”
“I phoned you this morning to confirm. You were out, so I spoke to her. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have a problem with the food here. She clarified things.” He frowned at her inelegant sniff.
“Oh, I’m sure she did,” Sara grated. No wonder her sister had given her the dirtiest job in the building, “found” a fresh outfit and almost pushed her out the door. “What else did Katie tell you?”
“Does it matter? Why don’t you taste the soup?”
She’d lost her appetite, but that wasn’t his fault. Cade couldn’t know, would have no idea of the lengths her family would go to keep her at Woodwards. But Katie’s questions about Cade now made sense. Her sister had manipulated her hoping she’d get busy with Cade’s wedding and stick around.
“I’ll send it back.”
“No, please. It’s fine.” Sara swallowed her frustration, picked up her spoon and tasted the soup. “Delicious.”
“I know. This place has the best food you’ll find in town.” Cade made no attempt to smother his satisfaction. “You can’t deny that.”
“No, I can’t. I apologize for my bad humor.” His steady scrutiny made her nervous, so she concentrated on eating.
Silence stretched long and tense. Finally Cade pressed back in his chair and sighed.
“You would have preferred if I hadn’t spoken about you to Katie.” His frown turned into a quizzical ruffle. “I get that, okay?”
“Great.” Her spirit groaned. Her parents were back in town. By now Katie had probably told them all about this meeting and they were all hatching another scheme.
“I promise I won’t do it again.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your discretion.”
“I can be very discreet,” Cade assured her. But his eyes wouldn’t release hers and a frown now marred the smooth perfection of his forehead. “Only—”
“Yes?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She had to explain. Otherwise he’d get tricked into their manipulations and maybe expect more—Sara shoved a mass of unruly ringlets behind her ear and dived in.
“Cade, I understand that you love your sister.”
“As, I’m sure, you love your family.” He said it casually, with the assurance of someone completely confident in his family’s love.
“I do love them. Very much. But—” she waited until the salads were served and they were alone again “—my family is a pain.”
It sounded horrible, but it was the truth.
Cade laughed.
“All families are at some time or another, I suppose.” A small smile played around his firm lips. “It’s the nature of the beast.”
Sara’s stomach clenched. She looked through the window, bending her head so the ringlets swung forward, offering him no opportunity to read her expression.
“It’s a little more than that in my case,” she said quietly. “My family believes my move to Los Angeles to pursue my career is a terrible mistake. They’ve tried, over and over, to get me to give it up, to stick with Weddings by Woodwards. They even try to change my ideas. I think they feel I’ve somehow diminished their work because I chose to leave, to pursue something else.”
“I see.”
He didn’t, but he would soon.
“The other Woodwards, my brothers Reese and Donovan, and my sister, Katie, all are a part of the company. So are my parents and, of course, my grandmother. If she’d had more than one son, he’d be part of it, too. And be happy to be there.”

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