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Just Say Yes!
Leanna Wilson


ALWAYS A BRIDE!Twice-jilted Annie Baxter is finally getting married. That is, until the best man comes to tell her that her groom has hightailed it out of town! What is she going to do? After the pity party everyone threw her the last time she got left at the altar, she has to leave town as a married woman! And eyeing hunky Grant Stevens, her erstwhile groom's twin brother, she decides she's going to….NEVER A GROOM!There is no way Grant Stevens is going through with this wedding–even if he is only pretending to be his brother! But Annie is so desperate, so determined–and so irresistibly sexy! Before he knows it, Grant finds himself a happily married man–sort of. And while he hadn't planned to play such an active role in the wedding, he fully intends to enjoy his honeymoon….









“You can’t get married without a groom,” Grant said, shaking his head


Annie grabbed his arm, her fingers crumpling the sleeve of his tuxedo with desperation. “Please. You’ve got to help me. All you have to do is pretend to go through the ceremony as your brother. Then you can just drop me off at the airport and that will be the end of it.” She paused and looked pleadingly up at him. “I just can’t face this town as a deserted bride again.”

Taking a step closer, she touched his chest, reminding him of the sizzling kiss they’d just shared. A kiss that struck Grant as far from brotherly.

Damn. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll play along.”

Annie’s face transformed into a dazzling smile. Before he could brace himself, she hugged him close, her body colliding with his, her curves reminding him how good it felt to hold her. Her musky scent whispered to him like a lover’s invitation, and he felt the tug of desire. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he remembered how sweet and tempting she tasted.

“Thank you,” she whispered before he could dip his head for another forbidden sample. “You won’t regret this.”

But he already did.


Dear Reader,

When I was a small child, my mother gave me a precious gift—the love of reading. While she sewed dresses for me, she read aloud my favorite stories, like Go Dog Go, over and over again as I turned the pages. When I became an adult, my sister suggested I should turn that “gift” into a profession—writing. And it’s changed my life. Now that I’m a mother and a writer, I spend nap time and late night hours weaving stories. At all other waking moments, I am trying to pass the “gift” on to my two toddlers. I can’t imagine a better life!

I’m especially thrilled to be part of the Get Caught Reading campaign, a national promotion created by North American publishers to encourage reading for the sheer pleasure of it. I’m sure my heroine, Annie Baxter, wouldn’t mind being caught reading…but as the book opens, she’s more worried about being caught without a groom! I hope you enjoy Annie’s amorous adventures. And I hope even more that I’ve passed the “gift”—the love of reading—on to you.

Enjoy,

Leanna Wilson




Books by Leanna Wilson


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

763—BACHELOR BLUES

SILHOUETTE ROMANCE

1305—HIS TOMBOY BRIDE

1378—BABIES, RATTLES AND CRIBS, OH MY!

1430—THE DOUBLE HEART RANCH

1484—THE THIRD KISS


Just Say Yes!

Leanna Wilson






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


For Kathy, Frank, Jacob & Laura.

Thanks for all the love and support.




Contents


Chapter 1 (#uf4326363-a3f7-57be-bcfc-3ec789d24875)

Chapter 2 (#ue8511279-ff6b-5a3e-a890-481550444d2b)

Chapter 3 (#u35cadf5f-5a2c-5d4a-b1fe-8804dca7ed70)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)




1


“YOU SAW HIM?” Annie Baxter worried her bottom lip. “You’re sure? Positive? No mistake?” She knew she sounded paranoid, but she’d earned the right.

“All tuxed out and ready to marry you.” Aunt Maudie grinned, revealing a smear of hot-pink lipstick across her front tooth. She stuck one final bobby pin into Annie’s blond hair to secure her veil then stepped back with a “Voila!”

Surveying the effects of the cascading veil, Annie felt a pinch in her chest. Would it really happen this time? Without a hitch? Maybe today she’d finally wed and be off to her new life.

Aunt Maudie fingered the satin trim along the veil and read Annie’s expression in the mirror. “You don’t like what I did with your hair?”

“No, no.” She touched her wispy bangs and smoothed a lock behind her ear. She’d worn her hair in a pixie cut for years. There wasn’t much that you could do to mess it up. Taking a tissue, she erased the lipstick off her aunt’s enamel. “My hair’s fine. This is simply…unbelievable.” She took a steadying breath. “I can’t believe it’s really happening this time.”

“Of course it’s happening. Now quit your worrying. You need to stop listening to those old windbags in town. You should know it’s only idle gossip.”

But their words had prickly points that jabbed and wounded. She’d been the headliner for the past three years.

Unfortunately, she’d given her nosy neighbors grist for their rumor mills. After all, she’d been jilted twice. Folks called her jinxed, and she’d been on the verge of believing them—until today.

Her groom was here. Griffin Thomas Stevens had arrived, ready and willing to marry her, to take her away from this dull town and insipid life!

It was her turn to have the last laugh. And she would, as she and her new husband peeled out of town on their way to their fabulous honeymoon in some romantic city—hopefully Paris or Rome. She wouldn’t look in the rearview mirror at her hometown or the sad and humiliating memories that had trapped her here for too long.

“You are not the jinxed bride-to-be that everyone says.” Maudie gave a curt nod, making her dyed platinum-blond hair bob around her flamboyant earrings. “That’s pure nonsense.”

Annie sank onto a velveteen chair in the corner of the bridal room at the Second Baptist Church of Lockett. She crossed her arms over the Hawaiian-print shirt she’d worn while her hair was being coiffed. She had a nightmare vision of living here the rest of her life in her parents’ house as an old-maid schoolteacher. Kids would ask their folks why Miss Baxter was so tart, so irritable. “It’s because she couldn’t catch herself a husband,” they’d say with a mixture of pity and sympathy.

Well, just watch!

One month ago when Griff had popped the question, she’d only half believed this day would arrive with church bells ringing and the organ playing the wedding march. The rock of a ring he’d given her hadn’t convinced her of his intentions at first. She’d guarded her heart, protected herself from what she considered the inevitable—a man who’d get ice-cold feet. When he’d insisted they shop for her trousseau and pick out a china pattern, she’d begun to realize he was serious. With trepidation, she’d pulled her wedding dress out of storage.

Now here she was half dressed for the big event. Only an hour to go and she’d be Mrs. Griffin Stevens. It had only taken her thirty years and three grooms to get to this moment.

“Now,” Aunt Maudie said, eyeing her gaudy watch that had more fake diamonds than a pawnshop, “let’s get you into that fancy wedding gown.”

Annie’s stomach fluttered with sudden nerves and her mind spun with questions and doubts. She shoved them away. This was what she wanted; Griffin was the man for her. Wasn’t he? How could a woman be sure?

No, no, no. She shook loose those thoughts. I’m sure. I’m positive. I’m confident this is the right thing to do.

She grabbed her aunt’s hand. “What if something happens between now and the wedding?”

“What could happen?”

Annie laughed. “Anything! An earthquake could hit.”

“In Texas?”

“There could be a flood.”

“We’re in the middle of a drought, sugar.”

“Lightning could strike Griffin and kill him.”

Maudie glanced out the window. “The sky’s as blue as your eyes today.”

“He could trip and get a concussion and forget all about me.”

“Not likely.”

Her real fear surfaced. “He could change his mind.”

“You know what you need?” Aunt Maudie gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

“What?”

“French fries.”

She laughed. “Now?”

“Not a better time. I’ll run to the D-Q Palace and be right back. Nothing better than comfort food to get your mind off your worries. Then we’ll get you all trussed up in that fancy gown.”

Annie caught her aunt’s mischievous grin. “That does sound tempting.”

“It’ll settle your stomach and calm your nerves.” She scooped up her purse that resembled a city slicker’s saddle and headed for the door. “This will be your last chance for the D-Q’s finest greasiest fries. Nothing better.”

“There are fast-food places in Dallas.” In fact, the thought of one on every street corner made her almost giddy with excitement.

“Not the same.” Aunt Maudie skimmed her hand down her curvaceous figure. “When you get to Dallas, you better be careful of eating too much fast food. Keep your figure, sugar. Men like a good bod.”

“I’ll remember that.” Annie grinned, feeling lighthearted now and more optimistic that her wedding might actually take place.

“Remember, sugar, when you get a man, you have to keep him happy.” She gave a lascivious wink. “Know what I mean?”

Boy, did she! That’s why she hadn’t given in and had sex with Griffin before now. Her mother had always said, “Why buy the cow if you get the milk for free?” Convinced that having sex too early had been her mistake with her first two fiancés, Annie had tried a new tactic with Griffin. Now, tonight, she’d release all those natural urges and knock Griff’s socks—and the rest of his clothes—off. It would be one heckuva night that would keep him grinning for weeks.

“I’ll get into that fancy underwear you gave me while you’re gone.”

“It’s called a garter and silk stockings, sugar.” Her aunt gave a wink. “And trust me, men love ’em. Especially husbands!”

Aunt Maudie should know. She’d had six of her own. And reportedly a few that weren’t hers in between.

But Annie planned to marry only once, for all eternity.

“WHO’S GOING to tell the bride the bad news?” Grant Stevens studied the other three groomsmen with slow deliberation, hoping one of them would be man enough to step forward.

Each of them wore the prescribed black tuxes for the supposedly joyous occasion, but from their deepening frowns they might as well have been at a funeral. All of them avoided Grant’s hard stare. Beads of sweat dotted their foreheads. Grant’s bow tie suddenly felt like a hangman’s noose chafing his Adam’s apple.

He’d been in the same situation twice before and it didn’t get any easier. If there was one positive thing about his parents being out of the country, it was that they weren’t witnessing another Griffin debacle.

Thank God being a best man wasn’t like acting as a second in a duel. He didn’t have to step in and take the groom’s place. No, dammit, he’d just get to shatter another bride’s dream.

It was enough to reinforce Grant’s determination to stay single. Hadn’t he given the bad news to his brother’s first fiancée and received a soggy, mascara-stained shirt in return? Then he’d delivered the blow to Griffin’s second fiancée and received a broken nose for his trouble. Now his brother had jilted number three and Grant wanted to wipe his hands clean of the whole matrimonial farce. What was wrong with being a bachelor, with playing the field? It was his preference.

Like a pipe organ’s chords silence resonated in the foyer of the church as Grant waited for a volunteer. The heat of the west Texas sun filtered through the stained-glass windows. Red, blue and green sunspots dotted the marble floor like confetti. Eager guests were filing into the chapel. Grant had called the three groomsmen over to a secluded corner for a huddle. A decision had to be made. Soon, before the wedding march began.

John Cummings shuffled his feet and scratched his receding hairline. “I wouldn’t know what the hell to say.”

Peter Rawlins ducked his head and mumbled, “Me, neither.”

Eric Simmons crossed his arms over his chest. “The groom’s your brother, Grant. Don’t you think you should handle it?”

“Diplomatically, of course,” John offered, nodding his agreement.

“Cut right to the point and get it over with quick.” Peter clapped Grant on the shoulder.

“Remind her she can keep the ring. That should alleviate some of the pain—” Eric cleared his throat “—and humiliation.”

That had never worked before. Maybe Eric’s perm had fried his brain. Grant clearly remembered the scar Griffin’s last fiancée had pinned on the bridge of his nose with the engagement ring she’d kept.

He ground his teeth in anger. He wanted to wring his brother’s neck for running out on his bride-to-be…again. Part of him understood. He had the same affliction—ice-cold feet—when it came to saying I do. But why did Griffin have to get himself in this predicament? Why couldn’t he tell a woman on the first date that he wasn’t interested in marriage?

“What are you? Chicken?” he asked the three groomsmen.

“Hell, yes,” they responded in unison.

“You haven’t met the bride.” Peter’s gaze cut toward the door at the end of the hallway. “She’s a knockout, but a…a…”

John combed his fingers through the memory of his hair as if searching for the right description of the bride. “A real pistol.”

Eric nodded. “She’s something to look at, all right. But I wouldn’t want to set her off.”

Grant’s forehead creased. Maybe that’s why Griffin had run back to Dallas like a bull was chasing him.

Squaring his shoulders, Grant prepared to burst the bride’s blissful bubble. He would simply handle her the way he dealt with clients whose investments had plummeted on Wall Street. He’d say it straight out. No beating around the bush. If that didn’t work then he’d treat her the way he once handled green fillies on his folks’ Oklahoma ranch—very carefully. Rotating his neck from side to side, he felt the bow tie tighten its hold on him.

“You’ll do fine.” John gave a fingertip salute.

“Better than Griffin could.” Peter flashed a relieved grin. “He’d probably end up with a black eye or worse.”

“You’re more diplomatic.” Eric rubbed the nape of his neck, as if removing the burden of being the deliverer of bad news. Slowly, he shook his head. “Doesn’t seem possible, you and Griffin being brothers. Even though you two look identical, you’re like night and day.”

“We don’t look like each other,” Grant growled, but his protest fell on deaf ears.

All of his thirty-five years others had confused him with his twin. And he was damn tired of it. They weren’t alike—in looks or deeds. That’s why he’d settled down in New York, established a career, built something with his life, and Griffin traveled the countryside selling fertilizer, playing footloose and single, then skipping from woman to woman, fiancée to fiancée, wedding to wedding and town to town. Once again, Grant would prove the difference by cleaning up another one of Griffin’s messes.

He walked swiftly to the bride’s room. No need to postpone the inevitable. Not when there was only half an hour until the wedding was scheduled to begin. The pristine white-painted wooden door, however, put a halt to his determination. The glistening crystal knob unnerved him. He imagined the room decorated for bridal fantasies. Didn’t all women daydream about their weddings? Griffin’s fiancée probably stood beyond the entrance donning her veil, smiling into a mirror with tears of joy sparkling in her eyes. God help me.

He wondered what kind of a woman Annie Baxter was. A real looker? Of course. Griffin wouldn’t have agreed to marry someone who looked like a farm animal on one of the nearby ranches. A pistol, eh? Grant rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. Maybe that was the kind of woman his irresponsible brother needed. Griffin liked his women to be seen and not heard. Again, that’s where he and his brother differed. Grant preferred a woman with spunk. If he was looking. Which he wasn’t. Then he wondered if Annie had a hard right hook.

Cursing under his breath he gave a swift rap on the door and waited until he heard a muffled, “Come on in.”

With a deep breath he turned the crystal knob and entered the room. A slight gasp stopped him cold.

An older woman who looked as if she was trying her best to hold back time with a truckload of makeup wagged her finger at him. “You shouldn’t be in here.” Wearing a hot-pink dress, she looked like a tidal wave of Pepto-Bismol coming toward him. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for you to see the bride?”

Hell, the bride’s luck couldn’t get much worse. Grant scowled at her. “I need to talk to Annie. Give us a few minutes alone.”

“You’ll have plenty of time after the wedding.”

“Thank God.” Another voice drew his attention. “You were right, Aunt Maudie. He’s here.” Excitement lilted the husky voice to a fever pitch.

The bride-not-to-be sat on a velveteen chair, her silk-covered legs propped on a table. His gaze traveled up those long, shapely legs to an equally shapely, scantily clad body that had his mouth watering as though he was a teenager gawking at his first centerfold. A lacy garter embraced her hips and thighs like an intimate caress. A matching bra covered her pert breasts. Barely.

Heaven help me!

“It’s okay.” The half-naked bride waved to her aunt. “Give us a few minutes alone.” Her seductive drawl had Grant wishing the older woman would stay and chaperone.

With a huff, Aunt Maudie clomped in her high heels around Grant and ducked out the door while muttering, “You’re just asking for trouble.”

He barely heard the click of the door as it closed behind him. He couldn’t concentrate on anything or anyone but Annie.

She lazily swirled a French fry through a ketchup puddle. The hunger in her eyes as she stared at him stirred an automatic, inappropriate response inside him. Slowly, erotically, she tilted back her head and wrapped the French fry around the tip of her tongue. With a half smile, her gaze still holding his, she licked a dollop of ketchup off her bottom lip. With deliberate, self-assured confidence, she uncrossed her legs and stood. He heard the whisper of her stockings as if they were calling to him, inviting him closer.

“I was starving.” Her mouth curved into a saucy smile. “Want a bite?”

Grant felt the air sucked out of his lungs. He doubted she was offering her fries. His insides pulled tight with desire and cut off the circulation to his brain. Good God! He was in trouble. He wanted to taste every inch of her delectable body, starting with that tempting swanlike neck, lingering along her curves and planes then working his way down to her petite toes. Trying to shake loose the cloud filling his head with wild ideas, he wondered why Griffin would run hell-bent away from this woman.

She was a pistol all right—with enough gunpowder to blow away a man’s good sense. And he felt his senses scattering with each prolonged second.

As she moved, her long legs gliding toward him with a whispering temptation of sex and sin, the only part of her that reminded him of his purpose was the veil crowning her sassy blond tresses. She was his brother’s fiancée! Ex-fiancée, he reminded himself.

And he had to break the news to her. Now.

“Annie.” He took an unsure step backward trying to cork his steam-heated reaction to her.

He had a job to do. He wished he’d prepared what he was going to say before he’d entered the room. At least then he could recite it and not have to rely on his coherent thoughts, which were no longer so coherent.

“I’m—”

“Oh, Griff! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Before he could blink, protest or correct her mistake, she wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his mouth. Her lips were warm, moist and open. Irresistible. Stunned, he did what came naturally—he kissed her back.

His nerve endings exploded. Her warm, seductive body aligned with his and tilted his stable world precariously.

Push her away, you jerk! he admonished himself. But damn if he could find the strength or the desire. Her hot kiss had somehow debilitated him.

Suddenly, he knew exactly how Griffin had gotten himself backed into this matrimonial corner. Irritated at his own weakness, he placed his hands firmly on her narrow waist and set her away from him. But she locked her arms securely around his neck and drew her leg slowly up along his. Powerful explosions went off in his head and ricocheted through his body, silencing the alarm bells warning him this was a mistake.

She gave a husky sigh that made his insides clench with raw need. He tried to draw a breath, to regain his equilibrium but he failed, miserably.

She started nibbling on his ear and his brain turned to mush. Slanting him a seductive glance, she said, “So, darlin’, where are we going on our honeymoon? Which suitcase should I take? The cold- or warm-weather one? Or should we just forget about clothes altogether?”

He swallowed hard.

“Paris? The Swiss Alps? Or did you book a Caribbean cruise?”

Stop this insanity!

Her hand inched downward and cupped his backside. He choked and grabbed her wrist. Her tiny bones felt as fragile as winter twigs. Would his news snap her in two? “Annie—”

“I know. You want it to be a surprise.” Raising on tiptoe, she nuzzled his neck and sent shock waves along his spine. “Boy, do I have some surprises in store for you!”

Dammit! I’ve got a whopper for you, too, lady. Now, get yourself under control, Stevens! She’s a woman, just like any other. But why was telling this bride proving to be so much more difficult than the last two?

“I’m anxious for us to be there, for us to finally make love. This waiting is about to kill me.” She pressed her breasts against his chest, which somehow suddenly made the room as hot as a Fourth of July firecracker.

His mind spun with the news that his brother had never made love to this bride. Maybe she’d insisted they wait. Maybe that’s why Griffin had been so eager to get to the altar.

Gazing up at him, her eyelids drooped lazily…seductively. “Want to start now? The wedding can’t start without us.”

“Whoa, lady!” Grant cleared his throat, choking on his desire, his deception. “Ah, Annie, I—I’m not who you think I am.”

“None of us are.” She gave him a smile that scrambled his thoughts like fresh eggs.

How the hell had Griffin ever managed to propose with her gabbing and grabbing? Grant couldn’t get a word in edgewise or keep his thoughts straight, much less tell her he wasn’t Griffin—and that her groom wasn’t coming to the wedding! He moved his hands away from her warm, satiny-smooth waist and up to her shoulders. “Annie—”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said in a voice as smooth as warm honey. “This is all so sudden. We didn’t date long. We hardly know each other. I think it’s sweet that you want to make sure I’m making the right decision.” Her hand caressed his jaw. She drew a sensual line from his ear to his chin with her thumb, making his knees as weak as a newborn colt’s. “You simply swept me off my feet. What choice did I have but to agree to marry you?”

“Uh…” Disentangling himself from her arms, he stepped away and was finally able to draw a more coherent thought and deeper breath. “I’m Grant.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Grant Stevens.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Griff’s…” He shook his head, clearing out the confusion in his own mind. “Griffin’s brother.”

Her gaze swept over him, narrowing with confusion and disbelief. “Aunt Maudie said…she saw you…that Griff’s here.” Her hands clenched. “He is here.”

“No, she must have seen me. You got me confused with Griffin, too.”

“But you look just like—”

“We’re twins.” He bit the words out. “We do not look alike. His eyes are hazel. Mine are gray.”

She leaned toward him, resting her hand on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to gaze into his eyes. This time he couldn’t avoid her blue hypnotic gaze. “They look the same to me.”

Her warm exotic fragrance wrapped around him as seductively and possessively as her arms had earlier. His gaze was drawn to her parted, moist lips. He tightened his hold on his overblown response to her. An urgent need to prove to her that he was different from his brother rolled over him. “Griffin has freckles across his nose. And I have this scar.” He pointed to the bridge of his nose where bride number two had punched him, clipping him with the one-carat diamond Griffin had bought for her with a maxed-out credit card. “See? If you can’t tell us apart, then you obviously don’t know my brother well enough to marry him.”

Her feathery eyebrows slanted down into a frown. She started to touch his scar then their gazes collided. Awareness sparked between them, rekindling the desire deep inside him. She pulled away at the same moment he stepped back. Her eyes widened with dismay. “You kissed me!”

“You kissed me,” he countered.

“Maybe at first, but I thought you were Griff and I distinctly remember—”

“Griffin’s not coming,” he cut her off, not wanting his mistake thrown back into his face. He was well aware of the way he’d kissed her. He could still taste her sweetness on his lips, feel her softness and his hardness.

“What? Why?” As quickly as she’d challenged him about the kiss, her expression switched to horror. “What’s happened? Is he hurt?”

“Not yet.” But when Grant got hold of him…

One of her finely arched eyebrows lifted. “If you’re trying to be funny, Gri…Gr…” She gave a slight shake of her head, making the veil caress her bare shoulders. “Uh…Mr. Stevens, it’s not working.”

“Grant.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Grant.”

“Where is Griff?”

“I can’t say.” That didn’t sound right so he tried again. “I don’t know.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she reached for him. “I don’t like this practical joke, Griff.”

“I’m Grant.”

She withdrew as if he’d slapped her.

He gestured toward a nearby blue velveteen chair. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I don’t believe you…any of this.” She crossed her arms over her middle, pushing her breasts higher, straining the edges of her lacy bra.

He averted his gaze and tried to remain a gentleman when he’d already failed. “Do you have a…a…”

He spotted a robe flung across the back of a suitcase and retrieved it. He held it out for her to take but she simply stared at him, as if she’d lost all sense.

“Griffin has—” He broke off. The stark pain in her vivid blue eyes reached right into his chest and twisted his heart in a cinch knot. Damn his brother. “Ah, hell, he’s backed out of the wedding, Annie. I’m sorry. Sorry he didn’t tell you himself.” Sorry he’s my lousy brother.

He watched her carefully, ready to wrap his arms around her if she needed support and just as ready to duck if she threw something at him. Her silence divided his loyalties like a stock split. He searched for something, anything, to say. How could he help her understand? How could he make it easier? Drawing on what she’d told him earlier, he said, “Griffin decided it was too soon…that…uh, you didn’t know what you were getting into…marrying him.” Yeah, that’s it! “He was trying to protect you.”

Her features contorted and she bent forward.

Damn, she was going to faint. He stepped forward. “Annie?”

Her shoulders started to shake.

Wanting to take away the pain she must be feeling, he reached for her, but the sound of her sobs suddenly became clear. She wasn’t crying or wailing with anger or grief. She was laughing! Doubled over with laughter!

He jerked his hand back. “What the hell?”

She laughed until her face turned red. At least his tux wouldn’t end up damp from a teary bride. Maybe this time he wouldn’t land in the emergency room with a broken nose. Or maybe he should call for reinforcements. Maybe she’d gone off the deep end. Feeling as awkward as Jed Clampett visiting Tiffany’s he let out a confused chuckle, then gave in to relief.

“So you’re not upset?” He sat on the velveteen chair, tension having zapped his strength. “I can’t tell you what a relief—”

She took a deep breath then started to choke. Once she had control of herself, she wasn’t laughing anymore. “Oh, God. I can’t believe this is happening again!”




2


ANGUISH SWELLED inside Annie, but it couldn’t get past the sense of hysteria she was feeling. She swallowed the pain and locked it away with the rest she’d endured over the past few years. “This really takes the cake.”

Still laughing, not sensing her precarious state of mind, Griffin’s brother slapped his knee. “That’s a good one. Takes the cake. The wedding cake, right? You’ve got the right attitude, and a good sense of humor.”

Boy, she wished she had the cake with her at the moment. She’d show Griffin. And his twin! She’d dump it first on her fiancé’s—ex-fiancé’s—head, then she’d…she’d…What?

She wouldn’t give in to the tirade that threatened to erupt inside her. She clenched her fists. Not again. She’d made a fool of herself twice before over two men she’d thought she loved. Not this time. Nor would she allow tears to fall. She’d cried enough buckets of tears in the past few years to end the drought here in west Texas. It was time to shut down her emotions and figure out what she would do now.

She grabbed her robe from Grant and with jerky motions shoved her numb arms into the silk sleeves. Somehow with her trembling fingers she managed to tie a knot at her waist.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well,” Grant said. “I confess I was worried. Especially the way you kissed me…” This man, this stranger who looked too much like her fiancé for her own comfort and peace of mind, cleared his throat. “The way you kissed me…” He coughed. “I mean…Griffin, uh, earlier. I thought you were really in love.”

A heated blush suddenly engulfed her from her toes clear up to her hairline. A rush of blood blocked out his words. Oh, God! What have I done?

She wished she could collapse inside her voluminous bridal dress hanging in the corner and disappear. She’d kissed this man, thinking it was her fiancé! And worse, she’d felt her toes curl in a way she’d never experienced before. Not with Griffin, and certainly not with any of her previous fiancés.

She pushed away that nightmare and faced a new one—one that frightened and horrified her more than facing the crowd of expectant family and friends in the chapel. Shouldn’t she have realized with that kiss that Grant wasn’t her fiancé? Looking back, she realized Grant had made her feel things she’d only wished for with Griff. She bit her lip and refused to contemplate it.

Her head started to pound. She looked at this man claiming to be Griff’s brother and searched for some clue she must have missed. He had the same dark brown, almost black, hair that had tiny waves running through it and made her fingers itch to comb it back and tame it…tame him. His eyes did seem similar, yet different. Griffin’s had been wild with mischief. This man’s were somber, steady, penetrating. Come to think of it, remembering the feel of his body against hers, he had a hard, unrelenting frame, one that could have been an advertisement for any health club, whereas her fiancé’s—her ex-fiancé’s—had been slender and not as well honed.

The backs of her eyes burned as realization settled inside her. She felt her knees go weak. The fact that this man’s kiss had made her feel wobbly, more so than any she’d shared with her runaway fiancé, annoyed the heck out of her. “I need to sit down.”

Immediately Grant jumped to his feet. “Here.”

He helped her into the chair he’d vacated. With one hand on her arm and the other around her waist, she felt a fissure of awareness ripple through her, but it quickly turned to anger. She gazed into her fiancé’s face. No, not Griffin. This is Grant, Griffin’s twin.

Strange how she had the urge to slap his sudden concern right out the door. But she’d save that much effort for when she saw Griff again. If she ever saw her ex-fiancé again.

She didn’t want Grant’s pity or sympathy. She imagined she’d receive enough humiliating helpings of that from family and friends in the next few weeks and months. She cringed remembering how family, friends and busybody neighbors had made her cakes, roast beef and tuna casseroles to show their concern. They’d spoken in funereal tones around her, told her she’d find another man and tried to set her up with any male able to suck in air and stand on two feet. But the whispers behind her back, the knowing, pity-filled glances had told her what they really believed—she was jinxed.

“What do you want me to do?” Grant asked, his voice soft and soothing in that irritating sympathetic tone she knew all too well.

“Can I get somone? Your bridesmaids?”

Annie shook her head, relieved she hadn’t asked any friends to stand by her today. She hadn’t wasted any money on useless gowns, either.

“Would water help?” Grant asked.

She stared at him. “Only if I can drown your brother in it.”

“I don’t blame you for that. In fact, I’d be glad to help. I understand how you feel.”

She shook her head. “You can’t possibly understand. No one could.”

Three’s a charm, she thought. Or a curse. How could she have been duped again? She must truly be jinxed when it came to marriage. What was that darn saying? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride? Or maybe she was doomed to always be a bride-to-be, never a full-fledged wife.

That was the story of her life. Her neighbors and friends had probably laid bets to see if this would happen again. She wondered what the odds had been this time.

At least her other two weddings hadn’t been canceled at the altar. No, this wedding won that whopping prize. She could shoot Griffin for dumping her this way, for letting her think it was really going to happen, for giving her hope. Why couldn’t she have seen it coming? What was wrong with her? Or was it the men she picked?

Neither question soothed her. None of the possible answers quieted her jumbled nerves. Her hands clenched in her lap. Well, by God, she wasn’t going to let it happen again! Not in her lifetime.

With renewed spirit, she stood. She was going through with her plans. She was leaving behind the sad memories that had haunted her since her parents’ deaths so many years ago and the humiliating ones of her past fiancés. She was going to start over, to see the world. She didn’t need a husband or a marriage to do that. She wouldn’t stay here and let her life pass her by. No sirree!

But a swift thought took the wind out of her veil. As pathetic and old-fashioned as it sounded, she couldn’t leave with folks thinking she couldn’t hold on to her man. She stuffed a soggy French fry into her mouth. The salty flavor made it hard to swallow. She wasn’t leaving town with her tail—or wedding train—tucked between her legs. Not if she could help it.

“I’m getting married,” she spoke the words out loud, surprising herself as much as Grant. “Today.”

“You don’t seem to understand.” He kept his hand firmly on her arm as if she’d lost her grip on reality. “Griffin left. You can’t get married without a groom.”

She gritted her teeth and shrugged off his hand. “I am getting married.”

She’d lived here her whole life. Instead of going off to college, she’d stayed home and commuted to class so she could help her ill mother. She’d wanted to move to a big city to teach, but she’d taken a job at the elementary school she’d attended as a child—all to help her parents.

Then her mother had passed away, leaving her with a last request—that Annie find a good man to marry. She’d tried! Boy, had she tried.

Not long after her mother’s death, her father had died of a broken heart. She’d stayed, living in their house, trapped by the fond and sad memories.

Then Rodney came along, swooped her off her feet, made her laugh again. By the time she agreed to marry him, his feet had grown cold. And she’d been left with enormous bills for their wedding that wouldn’t be.

Next, Travis strolled into her life. But her second fiancé had a change of heart, this time leaving her with more debt and more reasons to stay in Lockett.

She clenched her hands. “I’m leaving this one-stoplight town if it’s the last thing I do.”

Grant crossed his arms over his wide chest. “How do you propose to do that?”

“You’re going to help me. You offered to help me drown your rotten brother.”

“I did. But I was—”

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning anything illegal.”

“Look, Annie, I regret I had to be the one to tell you, but believe me it’s best you found out now how irresponsible Griffin is. He’s been like that his whole life. You don’t want him.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Her gaze narrowed on him. Then she smiled as her new plan emerged. “I want you.”

“What?”

“You’re going to marry me…Grant, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Oh, no. I can’t help you. I’m not the marrying kind.”

“What is this? A family trait? A dominant gene? A birth defect?” She propped her hands on her hips and glared at Grant Stevens. “You’re going to marry me. And that’s final.”

“YOU’RE CRAZY.” Stunned, Grant stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. Had she completely lost touch with reality?

“Possibly.” She walked around him, studying him, analyzing him, sizing him up as if he were a prize steer—or maybe not so prized. Not if she saw him being the same as Griffin, the jerk who’d left her at the altar. For some crazy reason, he wanted her to see the differences between him and his irresponsible brother.

“You and Griff really are identical twins. I mean, he told me he had a brother and that y’all were twins, but I assumed you’d only have a familial resemblance. This is truly amazing.”

From the fire in her electric-blue eyes, he could tell whatever resemblance he shared with Griffin was not desirable to her at the moment. He’d always hated being compared to his brother. Now he hated it more than ever. “We do not look alike,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Griffin’s got a mole on his back, just under his shoulder blade. And I’ve got—”

Suddenly she grinned, disarming him with that wink of a dimple in her cheek. “This is perfect! Nobody has to know a thing.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re Grant instead of Griffin.” Her forehead creased with concern. “You didn’t tell anyone that Griff wasn’t coming, did you?”

Relief poured through him. “The groomsmen. So it’s too late for whatever it is you’re cooking up.”

“Drat.” Frowning, she paced another minute then stopped, the skirt of her robe giving him a glimpse of a sexy calf. “You can tell them you were wrong. Or better yet, that you were playing a practical joke. Griff loved to play practical jokes.”

She spoke of his brother as if he were dead. Maybe in her heart he already was. Grant well remembered his brother’s infamous practical jokes. He didn’t wait for an excuse like April Fool’s. He’d always been the class clown. Grant had been the serious, responsible one.

And that worked well for him now. This woman needed his common sense at the moment. “Annie, there’s no way—”

“If there’s a will,” she said, “then we can make it work. You’ll simply pretend you’re Griff. We’ll get married and be off in our decorated car. Nobody has to know a thing.”

Panic seized him. She had lost her grip on reality. “I am not getting married, now or ever.”

“You are like Griff, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” His nerves tightened with anger.

He would never promise marriage then walk away from the bride without even a word of explanation. Not that he’d ever asked a woman to marry him. He liked being single. No responsibilities. No honey-do lists. No anniversary or birthday to keep track of. Why would he want to give that up?

The crazy determined light in her eyes looked more dangerous than the curves beneath her silk robe.

“Listen to me, Annie. It’s not you.”

“Don’t tell me it’s not personal. This is very personal to me. I’m the one who’s been dumped.”

“I meant…ah, hell. This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had.” He hated to be blunt but the circumstances called for it. “You aren’t getting married today. I’m sorry. I wish I could make it different. I wish my brother hadn’t treated you this way. But you’ve got to face facts.”

“Relax. This isn’t for real, forever, or until death do us part. It’s just for the afternoon. We’ll leave like we’re going on our honeymoon and that will be the end of it. You can drop me at the airport and then you never have to see me again.”

“But—”

She grabbed his arm, her fingers crumpling the sleeve of his tuxedo with desperation. “Please.”

The plea in her voice and gaze knocked him for a loop. How could he say no?

But he had to. It was the right thing to do. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Maybe I should call a doctor. You’ve had quite a shock.”

“I’m perfectly rational. This makes sense. It will work.”

“It’s not right. What about all those people out there? You’re going to lie to your family and friends?”

She worried her bottom lip. “It’s not exactly lying. Think of it as a practical joke. They’ll just never know the punch line.”

“I don’t do practical jokes.”

She pursed her lips. “You’ve got to help me.” Tears made her eyes sparkle like sapphires. “If it wasn’t for your brother I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Oh, God! Not tears. Anything but tears.

Then an alarming question popped into his mind. “Are you pregnant?” Maybe she’d slept with his brother after all.

Her eyes widened. “No. It’s nothing like that. I—I can’t…” her voice wavered “…face them.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll handle everything. I’ll make the announcement. It’s the least I can do.”

She blinked and those tears disappeared. Her jaw hardened. “I live here. I can’t listen to remarks about poor, pitiful Annie. I refuse to be a jilted bride again.”

Her words punched him like a jab in the solar plexus. His jaw went slack before he recovered. “Again?” His hands clenched into fists. “Griffin’s done this to you before?”

She frowned and pulled away from him. As she paced the length of the room, her silk robe rustling, he remembered distinctly what she was wearing—or wasn’t wearing—beneath. Don’t lose focus. Concentrate. You can’t give in to her crazy idea. Or your libido.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” she told him. “Okay, it’s the first wedding-day disaster. But Griff’s not the first man to dump me. The other two left days before the big date. I never got this close to walking down the aisle.” To herself, she spoke softly. “Maybe everybody was right. Maybe I am jinxed.”

Then she swung around and faced him. He caught another brain-fogging glimpse of long, silky legs. But it was the pure intensity and determination in her bright blue eyes that melted his reservations. He didn’t pity her. In fact, he knew she’d bounce back from this disaster. He admired her buoyancy.

“I can’t face them as a deserted bride again. Please.” She took a step forward and touched his chest, reminding him of the barely suppressed intimacy they’d shared in that sizzling kiss. “Please, Grant, help me. This once.”

Damn. What else could he do? Damn Griffin. Damn himself for wanting to help.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll play along. Just for today. Then the charade will be over and we’ll go our separate ways.”

And he’d make Griffin pay for this. Next time his brother could clean up his own mess…and marry his own fiancée.

Annie’s face transformed into a dazzling smile. Before he could brace himself, she hugged him close, her body colliding with his, her curves reminding him of the dangers of her body, her kiss. His pulse jolted into high gear. Her musky scent whispered to him like a lover’s invitation. Her blue eyes beckoned to him. He felt the definite tug of desire. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he remembered how sweet and tempting she tasted.

“Thank you,” she whispered before he could dip his head for another forbidden sample. “You won’t regret this.”

But he already did.

THE WEDDING BELLS RANG through the chapel, chiming the hour, then the organist began the march. The chords roared in Annie’s head and jangled her nerves. She felt as if she’d buckled in her emotions for a wild roller-coaster ride and wasn’t exactly sure they’d stay in their seats. Her veil made everything seem blurry and surreal. It pressed in on her, imprisoning her in a shroud of lies.

She had imagined tears of joy as she walked down the aisle, not tears of frustration and defeat. She refused to give in to the threatening sobs choking her. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the happiest day of her life. Not the worst.

Feeling her mouth tremble, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and took the first step down a long white carpeted walkway. She felt as if she was walking through quicksand, each step taking every ounce of energy she possessed. She walked down the aisle toward her fake groom, who looked way too much like Griffin for her peace of mind.

She kept her eyes trained on Grant and tried to look on the bright side—if there was one. At least Griffin had a twin who could save her from total humiliation.

There was a wildness about Grant, not a silly funny bone like Griff, but an untamed side that intrigued her. He looked tall, dark and sexy in his tux, the quintessential groom, a definite prize. The stark white collar accentuated his sun-bronzed features. The ebony jacket showed off his broad-as-Texas shoulders and slim waist. She’d switched his pale pink rosebud boutonniere for the white one reserved for the groom. Somehow his metallic gaze pulled her toward him, steadied her, gave her confidence.

She should have been reminded of her ex-fiancé when she looked at him, but now she could see the subtle differences in the two men. Grant’s eyes were a silvery-gray, compassionate yet hard-edged. His features were tanned, making the tiny white scar on the bridge of his nose stand out. And his body…well, she remembered the hard feel of him against her, his hands at her waist, his mouth on hers. She felt a surge of heat from her satin-covered toes to her veil.

Annie! You shouldn’t be having thoughts like that—at a time like this.

Feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable playing the part of a bride, she refused to look at the smiling, curious and surprised faces of family and friends sitting along the wooden pews. She figured most had simply come to see if the twice-dumped bride would finally get to say “I do,” or to see what catastrophe would keep the wedding from taking place. If only they knew!

Her jaw clenched. They wouldn’t know. Not if she could help it. And Grant Stevens better not slip up and let the cat out of the proverbial bag. Damn Griff! The least he could have done was tell her himself.

Actually, she wouldn’t have taken that well, either. But at least then she could have pretended the decision was hers. That she’d dumped him! Oh, how she would like to drop-kick him all the way to Dallas.

Her hand tightened around the cascading bouquet of white roses, Casablanca lilies and stephanotis blooms. Once again, she felt the sharp bee sting of rejection. A burning ache resonated outward from her heart and throbbed in her veins. Why, oh why, had this happened again?

Grant gave her a cautious, if not worried, smile. He held out his arm for her and she put her hand in the crook. Suddenly she felt safe. It was an odd time to feel that way as she stood at the front of the chapel about to take false vows with a stranger, knowing it was a big lie to her family and friends. Still a calm settled over her.

She’d never been able to lie. Never fibbed. How could anyone get away with something like that in a small town anyway? Someone always tattled or gossiped.

But not this time. There’d be no one here to reveal her secret once she’d left with a handsome groom on her arm and her hopes and dreams packed in her suitcases. For the first time in the past seven years, she felt relieved that her parents weren’t alive to see this farce, this fiasco!

She’d always tried to do the right thing, always been the Goody Two-shoes, always toed the line. What had she done to deserve this? Well, she wasn’t going to sit back and take what life handed out anymore. This time she was taking her life in her own hands, making her own way, pushing the limits. And boy was she pushing the boundaries today.

This time she wasn’t a poor, defenseless victim, a romantic sap who’d fallen in love with the wrong man—again. This was her way out of a humdrum life stuck in a nothing-happening town. By this evening, she’d be on her own…free.

Heck, she decided suddenly, it was better than getting married. Why, she could do anything her heart desired. Freedom would be fulfilling, exciting, an adventure. She could go anywhere, do anything. And she would.

The only thing she wouldn’t be getting was a lovely romantic, sexy honeymoon.

She felt Grant’s muscles shift and tighten beneath the fine cloth. He seemed as steady and solid as a rock, where Griff had been slender as a reed, obviously bending and swaying to his own whims. When she thought of her ex-fiancé, anger swirled inside her. So she kept her focus on Grant, on the way his gaze warmed her, on his generous mouth, on the memory of his kiss.

Just the recollection had her insides twitching with need. Her skin burned as she remembered all she’d said to him, even though she hadn’t known he wasn’t her fiancé.

But he had! Still he hadn’t stopped the kiss. He’d deepened it, held her intimately against him. She couldn’t be mistaken about that. But why?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. He was her temporary groom. End of story—or so it would be when he dropped her at the airport.

“Annie,” he whispered.

Her gaze lifted to his, and she saw concern darkening his eyes to a deep, somber gray. “Huh?”

He gave a nod toward the preacher.

“Oh, uh, I do.”

The man who’d married her parents, baptized her as a child and eulogized her parents at their funerals gave a slight shake of his head. Reverend Sarks offered her a sympathetic smile as a murmur of laughter rippled through the congregation. Embarrassment burned inside her. What had she done now?

“Let me repeat,” the preacher said, “and then you copy what I say, Annie. Okay?”

She gave a slight nod of understanding. Pay attention or you’ll blow this.

“I, Annie Meredith Baxter,” she repeated Reverend Sarks’s words, her throat tight, her heart pounding, “take this man, Gra…uh, Griffin Thomas Stevens, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

Reluctantly she felt her gaze drawn back to Grant. What kind of husband would he make? Was he really as different from Griff as he declared?

It doesn’t matter, Annie! Good grief, you’re not marrying him anyway. Distinctly she remembered that his aversion to marriage matched his brother’s. And now she shared that same aversion.

“To have and to hold from this day forward.” She waited for Reverend Sarks’s next cue. “For better or worse.” Couldn’t get much worse than today. “For richer for poorer. In sickness and health.” If I ever run into Griff, he’s dead meat.

She’d tried the marriage route three times now and that was enough. From now on, she was on her own. She didn’t need a man. Not even one as devastatingly handsome as Grant Stevens.

It disturbed her that she wasn’t more upset about Griff’s desertion. Anger dominated her feelings more than grief. Her one regret was that she wouldn’t be leaving today on a romantic honeymoon. Maybe she was in shock.

Dangerously, her mind skipped back to that kiss she’d shared with Grant. Her tongue tripped over itself and she flubbed the last words of her vows, “Till kiss us do part.”

Her gaze flew to Grant and a flame flared deep inside her. Laughter sifted through the congregation.

“Till death, darlin’,” Grant said, his mouth pulling to the side in a semblance of humor. “Our kiss is just the beginning.”

His words gripped her heart. If only!

No, no. She didn’t want Grant or his brother or any other man. She’d do just fine on her own. After today, that is. She’d be grateful to Grant for his help and support through this difficult day, but gratitude was where it would end. And the upcoming kiss would be their last.

“Right, padre?” Grant slanted his gaze toward Reverend Sarks.

“It’s nice to see such an eager groom.” He gave an official nod. “By the power vested in me by the state of Texas I pronounce you husband and wife. Kiss your bride.”

Annie should have been prepared. She should have been numb with shock and grief or trembling with anger. But when Grant lifted her veil and looked at her with that mercurial gaze, she felt her temperature rising.




3


NEVER IN HIS WILDEST imaginings had Grant ever thought he’d utter the words I do. He prided himself on being the practical brother, the responsible one. Why did this seem like the dumbest mistake he’d ever made? This was something Griffin would do. And Grant would have been the one to sit back, shake his head and laugh at his younger-by-two-minutes twin.

His mind tripped over the phrase “Kiss your bride.” She wasn’t his. And he certainly didn’t want a bride. But hell, what was he supposed to do? Ignore the time-honored tradition? He had to kiss her.

Remembering all too well the passion her first kiss had fired inside him, he made a conscious decision to make this kiss brief and chaste. There wasn’t a rule book on wedding kisses that said it had to be deeply intimate or even very long. Any old kiss would do. Wouldn’t it?

Cupping her jaw, feeling her tremble beneath his touch, he wondered what she was thinking. Was she remembering their first kiss, too? Or was she wishing he was Griffin? And that she was truly married?

He felt awkward as a schoolboy about to kiss his first girl. But this time he had an audience. What did they expect? Something tender and sweet? Bells and whistles? Firecrackers?

Then he remembered that Annie wanted to impress the socks off her hometown crowd. She wanted them to think she was good and married, forever and ever, amen. All thoughts of a chaste kiss evaporated.

His gaze shifted toward Annie’s pink mouth. He noticed the generous curve along the bottom lip, the bowlike shape of the top, and his focus narrowed, blocking out the chapel full of witnesses, erasing every thought but one: He wanted to kiss Annie again.

That frightening thought made a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. Ignoring the pounding of his heart and the warning bells in his head, he leaned forward, took her shoulders between his hands and slanted his mouth across hers. He felt her melt into him, her bones turning pliable, her back arching toward him. He deepened the kiss, tasted her warmth, her passion. Something inside him shifted, a powerful need gripped him.

What the hell was he doing?

And what was Annie doing? Just making a show? Or was she believing this? Was she loco? Did she believe they were really and truly married?

Panic arced through him and he pulled away. A roar sounded in his ears. He tried to give himself a mental shake to clear the cobwebs she’d caused. Then he realized the crowd behind them was cheering.

“Hey, Griffin!” Eric—who’d stepped in to be the best man when Grant had told the groomsmen it had all been a practical joke and that his twin from New York had missed his flight—clapped him on the back. “Save your energy for the honeymoon.”

Grant cringed at being called his brother’s name but swallowed his irritation and tried to look like the exuberant bridegroom.

John, the next groomsman in line, gave a sheepish grin. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Sure did fool us before the wedding, pretending to be your brother and calling off the wedding,” Peter, the last groomsman, mumbled and slanted his gaze toward Annie. “Who wouldn’t want to go on a honeymoon with that babe?”

Grant’s spine stiffened. “Are you referring to my wife?”

“Uh, yeah, uh, I mean…what isn’t there to love about Annie?”

“That’s better.” Satisfied, Grant wrapped his arm around Annie’s waist. Why did he feel so protective of this woman? Maybe because his brother had treated her like a bad blind date.

By the time all the pictures were taken, Grant had a headache from the camera flashes. It had to be the lights, not that Annie’s hand was linked with his and her warm body pressed against his side.

“This way, Griffin!” Eric called, leading the wedding party to the reception. “Make way, folks, for the bride and groom.”

Being called his brother’s name made Grant’s cummerbund feel constricting. Instead of gritting his teeth and giving his usual response that he wasn’t his brother, he let it pass and managed a tight smile.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of repetitious words of congratulations. Had everyone in this entire town turned out for the event? The receiving line looked long enough to wrap around a city block. He told himself that putting up with the charade was the least he could do for Annie and promised himself Griffin would suffer someday soon.

Sticking out his hand, he greeted the next guest. “Thanks for coming.”

The man pumped Grant’s hand like an oil rig. “Good to know you. Henry Norton. Grew up here with Annie’s papa. Smoked a cigar with Ralph Baxter—God rest his soul—the day she was born.”

Grant smiled at the image of Annie’s father celebrating the birth of his daughter. He wondered what she’d looked like as a baby, if there’d been even a hint of the beauty that he saw now. “Grant Ste—”

Annie dug her fingers into his arm.

He froze. Good God! What had he done?

Then Annie laughed. “Oh, Griff! What a card you are. But you’re starting to bore us with that old joke, pretending to be your twin brother.”

“Old habit,” he managed to say.

The older gentleman eyed him carefully then gave a quick nod and moved on down the line.

By the time they’d cut the cake, Annie’s smile had congealed. He kept close to her side, hoping she’d point out anyone in the throng of guests that he was supposed to know so she’d cover any of his gaffes. After a while, he realized Griffin had been a phantom fiancé. Most folks here thought Annie had just made him up out of thin air.

If only they knew the truth!

“Well, sugar—” the Pepto-Bismol lady approached and embraced Annie “—you’re a married woman. Your mama can rest in her grave now.”

Grant noticed a tear well at the corner of Annie’s eye but she blinked it away. He reached for her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Annie met his gaze, and her mouth curved in a tremulous smile. His chest tightened with a strange set of emotions that he couldn’t decipher.

“And you, young fellow!” The bleached blonde snapped her arms around him like a banker’s clip. “Don’t let word get back to Annie’s aunt Maudie that you done her wrong. You hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ending her hug with a loud clap to his back, she gave him a jab in the ribs with her elbow and looped arms with the bride and groom. “Now, let me give y’all the recipe for honeymoon salad.”

“Aunt Maudie…” Annie began.

“Listen up, sugar. I should know about these things. I’ve been married almost more times than there are days of the week. For the perfect honeymoon salad, there’s no dressing required.” She tipped back her head and roared with laughter.

Annie’s cheeks turned a bright pink that matched her aunt’s dress. Grant felt a cord of desire yank tight inside him. Too bad there wouldn’t be a honeymoon for Annie and him.

What the hell was he thinking?

“Here comes the champagne,” Aunt Maudie announced. “And not too soon.”

First she handed a flute to both the bride and groom then reached for her own. Tapping a gaudy ring on the crystal, she gained the attention of the crowd that circled them like eager vultures. Grant wondered what they’d do if they knew the truth, if they learned that his brother had stood Annie up and that he himself would be dumping her at the airport. Would they tar and feather him and ride him out of town on a rail? From the look of a group of ranchers eyeing him closely, he wouldn’t put it past them.

“I’d like to make a toast,” Aunt Maudie said, lifting her voice above the din. “To my beautiful niece. May you two live and love like there is no tomorrow. And may the smile that starts on your wedding night never fade.”

Looping his arm around Annie’s, Grant gulped down his embarrassment and tasted the champagne. His bride leaned forward and put her mouth along the lip of the flute and tasted the fruity, bubbly wine. He couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away. He remembered her kisses and wanted more. Hell, she was more intoxicating than the wine.

Dipping his head, he couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss her once more. This time the kiss was brief. But the impact was as powerful as the others.

She smiled at him…or at Griffin. Damn!

Who did she see when she looked at him? It grated on his nerves that this beautiful woman, who was holding his hand and sharing champagne kisses with him, loved his brother. What had she seen in his twin?

This crazy wedding was getting to him, too. Maybe there was something in the water…or champagne. What was wrong with him? Annie was not his bride, not even a potential date. Hell, she should have been his sister-in-law. And that would have been a damn shame.

For one insane moment, he wished her smiles and kisses were for him. That was his most dangerous thought yet.

He disentangled himself from her and took a step away. He still couldn’t draw a full breath though. What was in that champagne? Or was it Annie’s kisses that had drugged him?

Whatever it was, he knew he needed to get away from her. And fast!

BENEATH A CASCADE of rose petals, they raced toward the decorated car parked in front of the church. The velvety aroma embraced Annie just as Grant’s solid arm held her firmly against his side. She caught a glimpse of a few suggestive sayings shoe-polished onto the car windows along with a string of balloons attached to the side mirrors. She gave a self-satisfied smile. The wedding and reception couldn’t have gone better—except if she’d actually gotten married.

But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—think of that now. Even a sexy fake groom was better than none, especially when her old school chums and fellow teachers had drooled all over Grant.

Grant…not Griffin. She figured her ex-fiancé, if he’d shown up for their wedding, would have charmed them the way he’d dazzled her with slick talk and Casanova grins—but not with the same sincerity and savoir faire Grant seemed to possess. A peculiar feeling tightened her stomach. This charade was about to end.

Then she wouldn’t have Grant’s strong shoulder to lean against, his warm smile encouraging her or his kisses tempting her to forget her recent heartache. Why that should bother her, she wasn’t sure. She certainly didn’t want to analyze the reasons.

With her friends and family cheering and engulfing the car, Grant held the door open for her. Bunching her skirt around her, she slid into the passenger seat, but her train and veil trailed out the door. Grant gathered the material and settled it across her legs. His hand brushed her calf, making her skin tingle and sending tiny electric sparks along her spine.

But he didn’t seem to notice his effect on her. He didn’t pause or meet her startled gaze. He slammed the door closed and darted around the car.

Well, why should he notice anything? He wasn’t her groom. He was supposed to have been her brother-in-law. But why did he make her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling with a stranger on her wedding day?

Simple. He looked too much like her fiancé, almost making her forget he wasn’t Griffin. Almost, but not quite. That in itself was a risky acknowledgment.

Grant had a different type of charisma, a quiet charm that unsettled her. Griffin had been boisterous and entertaining, but he’d never made her feel emotionally vulnerable. And that had given her a false sense of security, she realized now, looking back. But Grant made her feel as if she was on the verge of something, teetering on the edge of a cliff. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel exposed, as if he could see through her defenses right into her soul. His touch ignited her. And his kisses! Oh, Lord, she didn’t need to think about his kisses.

Maybe it was best if they parted ways—and soon.

“We’re off,” Grant said, gunning the engine of his rental car. The sedan took off with a jolt and peeled out of the parking lot.

Annie resisted the temptation to look back, to second-guess her decision to leave her hometown. This was for the best. She’d said her goodbyes. Now it was time to move on to her new life. Still, she felt a tiny catch of sadness mixed with remorse in her chest.

Being alone for the past few years had been difficult enough in a small town where she knew her neighbors as well as she knew herself. She’d missed her parents. Their deaths had shaken her to the core, left her all alone without anyone but Aunt Maudie to call family. Living in her parents’ house had only made her pain and isolation more acute. But being all alone in a big city suddenly seemed more bleak. She’d be truly alone, with no one to turn to for comfort or even a shared memory.

Her stomach rolled, waves of doubt crashing through her. What if she was making another mistake? If she was, then at least she’d suffer the consequences anonymously. No one would ever have to know. Besides, it was already too late. She’d already burned the proverbial bridge to her hometown. There was no going back now—not unless she wanted to confess her wedding had been a charade. And be the laughingstock of Lockett? No way!

A clanking noise startled her. Oh, great. Just what they needed—car trouble. Would this interfere with their clean getaway?

“What’s that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Cans,” Grant answered, looking calm and collected. “The groomsmen tied them onto the bumper.”

“Oh.” She slumped back into her seat, exhaustion from the long, traumatic day settling into her bones. “They really went all out, what with shoe polish and balloons.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh-huh,” he said, smirking.

Annie glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He seemed to stop fighting it and broke into a grin.

She felt her insides dissolve like ice cream in July. But it couldn’t be his dazzling smile, she reasoned. It had to be the summer sun beating down on them. “Tell me.”

He shot her a glance. “Are you that innocent?”

“What?” Confused, she tried to figure out what piece of the conversation she’d missed. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed his jaw. “You and Griffin didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” Drained of patience, she heard the defensiveness in her own voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. It’s none of my business.” He cast a glance toward the balloons flapping and turning in the wind. “Those aren’t balloons, Annie.”

She leaned toward him, squinting to look out his window. The balloons weren’t a normal shape for the helium-filled variety. The color was a neutral shade not a vibrant color, as you’d expect to see at a circus. Realization dawned. She felt her hairline burn with embarrassment. “Oh my.”

That’s why he’d thought she was an innocent! She hadn’t recognized—hadn’t even thought about—the balloons being condoms. Worse than that, he knew she and Griffin hadn’t had sex. Why that should be so awful she wasn’t sure. But it was.

Did he think she was a virgin? That she couldn’t satisfy her man? That Griff had gotten cold feet because she’d given him a cold shoulder in bed? She jerked her chin. It didn’t matter what Grant thought.

Still, her skin blazed. She tried to remember back to what else she’d said to him when they’d first met, when she’d believed he was Griff, when she’d practically thrown herself at him. Her head pounded. She didn’t want to think about that.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his tone a mixture of reassurance and good humor. “I’m sure they’ll pop or something before we get to the airport.”

“Right. The airport.” Where they’d say goodbye.

Why did that thought disconcert her? Probably because she’d depended on Grant all day. And he’d actually come through for her, shown her he was dependable, whereas other men—especially her fiancés—had proven the opposite. When they reached the airport, she’d be on her own. For good.

But that was fine with her, she assured herself. She wanted freedom, not some man.

Grant reached toward the rearview mirror and adjusted it. She noticed his strong, tanned hands and remembered the feel of them touching her waist, grasping her hand, caressing her face just before he’d kissed her at the altar. Something stirred inside her. Irritated, she worked on straightening out her veil, smoothing out the wrinkles.

How she wished she’d changed into something else before heading to the airport. But a few days ago Griff had told her he wanted to show off his bride to all the world. Also, he’d said they wouldn’t have time before their flight. Maybe he’d simply wanted to humiliate her even more.

Feeling her body tense with questions that she’d probably never know the answers to, she needed something to take her mind off Griff. “So—” she focused on Grant “—I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you before the wedding. You live in New York. Is that right?”




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