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More than a Convenient Bride
Michelle Celmer


A story of friends…with marriage benefits by USA TODAY bestselling author Michelle CelmerAfter all they’ve been through following the tornado that hit their Texas town, there’s no way Dr. Lucas Wakefield will let his best friend, Julie Kingston, leave because of a green card snafu. The only solution is to propose marriage. But what starts as a platonic arrangement quickly blooms into red-hot desire—until Luc’s ex-fiancée returns to reclaim her man and Julie questions whether happily ever after is in the cards. Good thing Luc has no intention of giving up his passionate new bride without a fight!







“We’re married now,” Julie said. “I figured you would at least hug me good-night or something.”

“You don’t want me to do that,” Luc replied. “Suffice it to say, I’m a little…overstimulated.”

“So you’re turned on.”

She looked in his eyes and—Whoa. The heat smoldering in their dark depths could have burned a hole through her dress. Her heart flip-flopped, making her pulse race and her mouth go dry.

“You want the truth?” he said.

She nodded.

He leaned in just a little closer. “I wanted everyone to leave the reception so I could lock the door, strip you naked and lick wedding cake off every inch of your body.”

Oh, boy. “Every inch?”

He grinned. “Every inch. However,” he added, “friends don’t do that.”

“Some friends do. And I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that we have to consummate the marriage to make it official and legally binding.”

* * *

More Than a Convenient Bride is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: After the Storm—As a Texas town rebuilds, love heals all wounds…


More Than A Convenient Bride

Michelle Celmer






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


MICHELLE CELMER is a bestselling author of more than thirty books. When she’s not writing, she likes to spend time with her husband, kids, grandchildren and a menagerie of animals.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, michellecelmer.com (http://michellecelmer.com), like her on Facebook or write her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.


To Best Friends


Contents

Cover (#u50981bb9-6987-5a29-bd26-0e907b75c434)

Introduction (#u5180c056-3613-5e8d-9738-9e7d18016382)

Title Page (#uf94724f2-0dd7-5f29-8112-91732e95de7f)

About the Author (#u1b29059b-26ef-5211-9700-3c2e0cb00449)

Dedication (#u506bc108-218f-58af-8bdc-f34987431c89)

One (#ulink_821e4cea-ea78-56fc-b784-13e64c9e700f)

Two (#ulink_0efe8bf9-9b72-5387-9500-d4d4128d1aef)

Three (#ulink_43581de7-7b8f-5414-8d81-96bddeff50d4)

Four (#ulink_f69f5311-b5ca-5815-b4c4-b614a99e17f1)

Five (#ulink_df463c89-9abc-5493-be78-535a717b4e76)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_b49fa765-36e7-5783-8fcc-946bbf6022b7)

Julie Kingston stood and waited in the crowd, her heart overflowing with pride as her best friend and colleague, Lucas Wakefield, prepared to cut the ribbon marking the opening of the new, state-of-the-art Wakefield Clinic. It seemed as though the entire town of Royal, Texas, had shown up to mark the occasion.

The town’s original free clinic once stood directly in the path of the F5 tornado that had ripped through Royal last October. In the blink of an eye, all that had remained of the structure was the concrete foundation. Patients from all over the surrounding counties had lost an important lifeline in the community.

Lucas, who had been a regular volunteer there despite his duties as chief of surgery at Royal Memorial Hospital, hadn’t hesitated to donate the money to rebuild, using some of the proceeds from the sales and licensing of surgical equipment he’d invented several years ago.

Humble as he was for a multimillionaire, he’d intended to keep his identity as the donor a secret, but someone leaked the truth, and the news spread through Royal like wildfire. The town council had immediately wanted to rename the clinic in his honor. But of course Luc had protested when he’d heard about plans for the Lucas Wakefield Clinic.

“This clinic doesn’t belong to me,” he’d told Julie when she’d tried to convince him that he was being ridiculous. “It belongs to the people.”

“This is a huge deal,” she’d argued time and again. “You donated millions of dollars.”

He gave her his usual, what’s-your-point shrug, as if he truly didn’t understand the scope of his own good will. For a man of his wealth and breeding he lived a fairly simple life. “It was the right thing to do.”

And that was Luc in a nutshell. He always did the right thing, constantly putting the well-being of others first. But finally, after much debate, and a whole lot of coercing from his mother, Elizabeth, Julie and his colleagues in the Texas Cattleman’s Club, he relented, allowing the use of his last name only.

Julie smiled and shook her head as she thought back on it. Lucas was the most philanthropic, humble man she had ever known. And at times, the most stubborn, as well.

Luc looked out over the crowd, and when his eyes snagged on hers she flashed him a reassuring smile. Despite his dynamic presence, and easy way with his patients and coworkers, he despised being the center of attention.

To his left stood Stella Daniels, the town’s acting mayor. To his right, Stella’s new husband, Aaron Nichols, whose company R&N Builders rebuilt the clinic. In the six months since the storm, the town’s recovery had been slow but steady, and now it seemed as if every week a new business would reopen or a family would move back into their home.

“I’m so proud,” Elizabeth Wakefield said, dabbing away a tear with the corner of a handkerchief. Julie knelt beside the wheelchair Elizabeth had been forced to use since a botched surgery a decade ago left her paralyzed from the waist down. In the months since Julie came to Royal last October, Elizabeth had contracted a multitude of infections that led to numerous hospital stays, and she now required permanent, round-the-clock care from a registered nurse. Though she was a beautiful and proud woman, she looked every one of her sixty-eight years, and a recent hospital stay for viral pneumonia had left her weak and vulnerable. Originally Luc forbade her from attending the ribbon cutting, but she insisted she be there. After much debate, he eventually caved, and it was more than clear to Julie where he inherited his stubborn streak.

“You have every reason to be proud,” Julie said, patting Elizabeth’s frail arm. “You’ve raised your son to be an amazing man.”

“I wish his father could be here. From the day Luc was born he insisted that his son was destined for great things. It still breaks my heart that he didn’t live to see how right he was.”

Julie took her trembling hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He knows.”

The mayor completed her brief speech and handed Luc a pair of gold-plated scissors. With a quick swish of the blades the ribbon drifted to the freshly laid grass, and a round of applause erupted from the crowd. Luc’s club brothers crowded around him to congratulate him and shake his hand, but Julie hung back, still clutching his mother’s hand. Elizabeth looked proud but tired. The simplest of activities exhausted her.

“We should get you home,” her nurse, Theresa, said.

Too sleepy to argue, Elizabeth nodded.

“Shall I call Luc over?” Julie asked. “So you can say goodbye?”

“Oh no, don’t bother him. I’ll see him at home later tonight.”

Julie kissed her papery cheek and said goodbye, then joined her friends Beth Andrews and Megan Maguire several feet away.

“She doesn’t look so good,” Beth said as Theresa wheeled Luc’s mother toward the parking lot to the van Luc had custom-built for her. When it came to taking care of his mother, he spared no expense.

A stab of sadness pierced Julie’s heart. In the six months since she’d moved to Royal, Julie had come to consider Elizabeth a dear friend. She was the closest thing Julie had had to a mother since her own mother died giving birth to her sister, Jennifer. Her father waited to remarry until after she and her sister had left home, and though he dated, he’d never brought a woman home to meet his daughters. He traveled extensively, so they were raised by nannies and the other house staff. Homeschooled by tutors.

And when he was home? Well, she didn’t like to think about that.

“I don’t suppose you’ll have any free time to volunteer this week,” Megan said. “Just an hour or two? Someone left a cardboard box of three-week-old puppies on the doorstep. They need to be bottle-fed every hour or so and I’m ridiculously understaffed this week.” Manager of the local animal shelter, she was known for taking in strays. Animals and humans alike. She had certainly gone out of her way to make Julie feel welcome when she arrived in Royal. Her significant other, as well as Beth’s, were members of the Cattleman’s Club with Luc.

It was shaping up to be a very busy week, but Julie could always make time to help a friend. And sadly, this would probably be the last time. “Of course,” Julie said. “Just let me know when you need me.”

Megan sighed with relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”

They stood chatting for several minutes, before Julie heard a familiar voice say, “Good afternoon, ladies.”

She turned as Luc joined them, smiling brightly to hide the deep feeling of sadness that seemed to radiate from the center of her bones. She could tell by the way he tugged at his tie that he was already irritable. No sense in making him feel even worse.

“It’s a wonderful thing you’ve done,” Megan told him, and Beth nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, pouring on the Texas charm. Though he was her boss, and they had never been more than friends—best friends, but just friends—that drawl sometimes gave her a warm feeling inside her bones.

“Can I give you a lift home?” he asked Julie. Her apartment was within walking distance from the clinic, and it was a sunny and pleasant day for a stroll, but she suspected he was looking for any excuse to leave.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said, playing along, noticing a look pass between Megan and Beth, as if they knew Luc was eager to escape.

“Good to see you ladies,” he said, nodding cordially, that hint of Texas twang boosting his charm somewhere into the stratosphere.

Julie followed him to his car, his stride so much longer than hers she practically had to run to keep up.

“What’s your rush,” she said, though she already knew the answer.

“Damn,” Luc muttered, pulling at his tie as if it were a noose. “Why does everyone have to make such a big deal about it?”

Seriously? “Because it is a big deal, doofus. You’re a hero.”

“It’s not as if I built it with my own two hands,” he said, using his key fob to unlock his Mercedes. “I just wrote out a check.”

“A ridiculously enormous check,” she reminded him as he opened the door for her. He’d also remained involved through the design stage and the construction process, to be sure that everything was built to his exact specifications. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this was, in many ways, his clinic.

As they drove through town, sadness and regret leaked from every pore. In the six months she’d been here, Royal had become her haven. The US felt like more of a home to her now than her native South Africa, and now she had to leave. She had no idea where she would go, or what she would do, and she had little time to figure it out.

Silence filled the car, and as they pulled into the gated community where she was currently staying, Luc said, “You’re awfully quiet. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” she asked, dreading the inevitable conversation. But Luc could always tell when she was upset. She could swear that sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself.

“Whatever is bothering you.” He parked outside her condo and turned to her. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, of course not.” She’d hoped to put this off a little while longer, so as not to dampen his special day, but there was so much concern in the depths of his eyes, it seemed only fair to tell him now.

“So, what is it?”

As her brain worked to find the appropriate words, tears burned the backs of her eyes. Maybe the parking lot wasn’t the best place to do this.

“Can you come inside for a few minutes? We need to talk.”

His brow furrowed, he killed the engine. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

No, not at all. “Let’s talk inside.”

Gentleman that he was, Luc took her keys as they reached her door and unlocked it for her. He didn’t even do it consciously. It was just his way. His mother, born and bred in Georgia, was old-fashioned when it came to matters of social grace. He claimed that from the day he was born, she’d drilled him with proper Southern manners.

Whatever she’d done, it had worked. He was one of the most courteous men Julie had ever known. In all the time they had been friends and worked together, he’d never said a harsh word, or once raised his voice to her. Or to anyone else, for that matter. He had such a commanding presence, he never had to. People took one look at those piercing hazel eyes and that GQ-worthy physique, heard the deep baritone voice, and spontaneously bent to his will. Women especially.

As they stepped inside the apartment, afternoon sunshine and fresh spring air poured in through the partially open window in the living room. Luc shrugged out of his suit jacket and dropped like a lead weight onto the sofa, looking far too masculine for the floral printed chintz. The furniture, which was too formal and froofy for her taste, and not all that comfortable, either, came with the apartment. Expecting good news when she’d filed to renew her visa, she’d been tentatively window-shopping in her spare time for furniture more suited to her. She wouldn’t be needing it now. Not here, anyway.

She wasn’t even sure where she would live. Other than a few distant aunts and uncles, she had no family left in her hometown. And when her father had passed away, his wife, whom Julie never had the pleasure of meeting, sold off the entire estate before the body was cold.

Julie had so much to plan, and so little time to do it.

She set her purse on the coffee table and sat beside Luc, fisting her hands in her lap. There was nothing she hated more than giving good people bad news.

Luc unknotted his tie, tugged it off and tossed it over the sofa arm on top of his jacket. Relaxing back against the cushions he undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

She took a deep breath, working up the nerve to tell him. “I heard back from immigration yesterday.”

One brow rose in anticipation. “And?”

Just say it, Jules. “My application to renew my visa again was denied.”

In a blur of navy blue Italian silk and white Egyptian cotton, Luc was on his feet. “Denied? You can’t be serious.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Now was not the time for a messy emotional display. She’d learned years ago that crying only made things worse. “According to your government I’ve overstayed my welcome. I have two weeks to pack up my things and get out of the US.”

“How is that possible? You’re on a humanitarian mission.”

“Technically I’m on a work visa.”

“I still don’t see the problem. You’re still my research assistant. Gainfully employed. What changed?”

“Remember how I told you that in college I attended several protests.”

“I remember.”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you is that I was arrested a few times.“

“Were you convicted?”

“No, but I was afraid that if I put it down on my application I would be denied.”

“So you left it out?”

She bit her lip and nodded, feeling juvenile and ashamed for having lied in the first place. But she would have done almost anything to come to the US and help her best friend. Now that one serious lapse in judgment was coming back to bite her in the rear. “I screwed up. I thought that because the charges were dropped, and it was a peaceful political protest, it wouldn’t matter anyway. I was wrong.”

“There has to be something we can do,” he said, pacing the oriental rug, brow deeply furrowed. “Maybe I could talk to someone. Pull some strings.”

“The decision is final.”

His chin tilted upward. “I can’t accept that.”

She rose from the sofa, touching his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “You don’t have a choice. It’s done.”

He muttered a curse, one he wouldn’t normally use in the presence of a female, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She rested her head against his chest, breathed in the scent of his aftershave. It wasn’t often that they embraced this way, and she found herself dreading the moment he let go.

The stubble on his chin brushed her forehead as he spoke. “There has to be something we can do.”

There was one thing, but it was too much to ask. Even of him. Especially of him. “At this point all I can do is accept it. And move on.”

He held her at arm’s length, and she could see the wheels in his head spinning. But this was one situation all his money and influence couldn’t fix. “Where will you go?”

“South Africa for a while, until I can find another research assistant position. Maybe in Europe, or even Asia.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help. I’ll write such a glowing recommendation people will be clamoring to hire you.”

The problem was, she didn’t want to work for anyone else. She used to love moving from place to place, meeting new people and learning new cultures and customs. Now the only place she could imagine living was right here in Royal. It was the first place in her travels that had genuinely felt like home. The first place in her life really.

There had to be something she could do.


Two (#ulink_81faefae-607e-5bf5-8443-647f63a21261)

Luc sat at the bar at the Cattleman’s Club swirling a double Scotch, watching the amber liquid tornado along the sides of a crystal tumbler, still reeling from Julie’s news. And wracking his brain for a way to fix this, to keep her here in Royal where she belonged. Where she wanted to be.

She was the only person in his life—aside from his mother—who truly understood him. Who knew what made him tick. In fact, there were times when he wondered if she knew him better than he knew himself. These past few months, with the stress of seeing his hometown devastated, she was the anchor that had kept him grounded. She had been there to support him during his mother’s past two hospital stays, which seemed to stretch longer each time she was admitted. Julie sat with her on her breaks, read to her when she was too weak to hold a book in her own two hands. He never even had to ask for her help. She just seemed to sense when he needed her, and she was there.

Drew Farrell, a fellow club member, and the owner of Willowbrook Farms, slid onto the stool beside him at the bar. In blue jeans, worn boots and a dusty cowboy hat, he looked more like a ranch hand than a man responsible for breeding multiple Triple Crown–winning horses. And though he dealt regularly with an elite and prestigious clientele, he couldn’t be more down-to-earth. He was that guy in town everyone liked. Well, everyone but his neighbor Beth Andrews, who, up until the storm, had it in for Drew. But now, by some strange twist of fate, they were engaged to be married.

The complicated nature of relationships never ceased to amaze Luc.

Drew gestured to the bartender for a drink, and within seconds a bottle of his favorite brew sat on the bar in front of him. “What’s the score?” he asked Luc.

It took Luc a few seconds to realize Drew was referring to the game playing on the television behind the bar. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed it was on. “No idea,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m sorry I missed the ribbon cutting at the clinic. I had a client in town looking to buy one of my mares.”

“No apology necessary. If there was any way I could have gotten out of it, I would have.”

“Is that why you look so down?”

Luc ran his thumb around the brim of his glass. “Nope.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Maybe it would be better if I left you alone,” his friend said, grabbing his beer and making a move to get up.

“No,” Luc said, realizing that he was being unnecessarily rude. And frankly, he could use the company. “I’m sorry. I just got some bad news today.”

“It must have been pretty bad to put you in such a foul mood.”

“Julie’s request to extend her visa was denied.”

Drew’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “No way.”

“I couldn’t believe it, either.” Nor was he willing to accept it. But when it came to plausible ideas to stop this from happening, he was coming up short.

Drew shook his head, expression solemn. “After all she’s done for this town since the storm, they should be giving her a medal, not kickin’ her to the curb.”

Luc’s thoughts exactly.

“What are you going to do?” Drew asked.

At this point there wasn’t much Luc could do. Despite her objection he’d made a call to his lawyer, who had confirmed what Julie had told him. It was a done deal. “Let her go, I guess.”

“Dude, you can’t do that. You can’t give up on her.”

“I’m out of options.”

“I’ll bet there’s one thing you haven’t considered,” Drew said.

“What’s that?”

“You could marry her.”

Marry Julie? His best friend? Drew was right, he hadn’t considered that, because it was a ridiculous notion.

“Julie is like me,” he told Drew. “She’s very focused on her work. Neither of us has any plans to marry.”

Drew rolled his eyes, as if Luc was a moron. “It wouldn’t have to be a real marriage, genius. But it would be enough to keep her in the country.”

A pretend marriage? “Not only is that a preposterous idea, it’s illegal. We could both get in serious trouble. We could go to prison.”

Drew grinned. “Only if you get caught.”

Luc could hardly believe that Drew of all people was suggesting he break the law. “And if we do get caught, what then?”

He shrugged. “Volunteer in the prison infirmary?”

Luc glared at him and Drew laughed.

“I’m kidding. Besides, it would never come to that. No one in this town would ever question the validity of your marriage.”

Confused, Luc asked, “Why is that?”

“Are you kidding? You two are inseparable. Or at least, as inseparable as two workaholics can be. Most married couples don’t spend as much time together as you two do.”

“We’re colleagues. It’s part of the job description.”

“It’s more than that. You just...I don’t know, fit.”

“Fit?”

“People have been waiting for you guys to hook up. And there are others who think that you must already be knocking boots.”

Annoyed that anyone would make that assumption, Luc said, “People should mind their own damn business.”

Drew shrugged. “Small towns.”

That didn’t make it any less irritating. He and Julie didn’t have that kind of relationship, nor would they ever. Yeah, he may have had the hots for her when they first met, but he had been reeling from his ex-fiancée, Amelia, abruptly calling off their engagement, and Julie had just come out of an emotionally rocky relationship herself. Before they’d had a chance to get over their former significant others and explore a physical relationship together, they had become pals instead. She was his buddy, his confidante. He would never do anything to jeopardize that. “We’re just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Looking exasperated, Drew said, “Dude, it doesn’t matter. You would be married in name only. Consider the alternative.”

He had, a million times since she’d hit him with the bad news. Although the term bad news didn’t quite measure the depth of his feelings when he imagined her leaving. Living thousands of miles away. Who would he talk to? Who would remind him to pick up his dry cleaning, or share late-night Indian takeout with him in the break room on those evenings when they were both too jammed to leave the hospital?

There had been nights like that for weeks after the storm, performing surgery after surgery. Some successful, some not. While volunteering for Doctors Without Borders, he had seen his share of heartbreaking situations and managed to stay detached and objective for the most part. A disaster in his hometown was a completely different story. Without Julie to lean on, to keep him grounded, he would have been a wreck. She was his anchor, his voice of reason.

Did he love her? Absolutely. But that was very different from being in love. And finding a new research assistant would be a nightmare. Julie knew his work inside and out. Training someone new would take more time and energy than he cared to expend.

“I obviously don’t want her to leave,” Luc said. “But if we were caught and something happened to her, I would never forgive myself.”

After she was gone they could keep in touch through email and social media. They could even video chat on their computers or phones, though it wouldn’t be the same as having her there. But was defrauding the government and risking both her freedom and his the answer?

“I’m telling you, no one is ever going to know,” Drew insisted. “Even if the truth comes out, you’re a local hero. Can you name one person in town who would turn you in?”

He made a good point. And even if there was an investigation, he and Julie knew each other as well as any married couple. He had no doubt they would pass any test with flying colors. The question was: How would Julie feel about it? She was the one with the most to lose.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to bring it up and see what she thinks,” he told Drew.

“Great. I suggest a small-to moderate-sized ceremony and reception at the club and a long relaxing honeymoon somewhere tropical.”

A wedding was one thing, but leaving Royal? That was out of the question. “I wouldn’t have time for a honeymoon. I’m needed here.”

Drew laughed and slapped him on the back. “Dude, you’re a brilliant and devoted physician and, yes, this town needs you, but everyone needs a break now and then. No one will blame you for wanting a honeymoon. When was the last time you took time off? And I mean real time.”

Luc tried to recall, and came up blank. It had definitely been before the storm. And probably quite some time before that. A year, maybe two. Or three. He’d traveled all over the world volunteering with Doctors Without Borders. That was how he’d met Julie. Their duties had taken them to many exotic and unfamiliar destinations, but it had been no vacation. Maybe they could use a break...

Luc shook his head. He and Julie married and taking a honeymoon? Until today the thought had never even crossed his mind. And it wasn’t that he didn’t find her appealing, both mentally and physically. Any man would be lucky to win her heart. He’d found her so appealing when they first met, it had been a little difficult to be objective. Practicing medicine in a developing country, the accommodations weren’t exactly lavish. It wasn’t uncommon for all the volunteers, male and female alike, to share living quarters, where modesty took a backseat to practicality. He was used to seeing his colleagues in various stages of undress. But in the case of Julie, he would often find his gaze lingering just a little longer than most would consider appropriate. But if she’d noticed, or cared, she’d never called him out on it. The issue was exacerbated by the fact that Julie didn’t have a bashful bone in her body. In his first week working with her he’d seen more skin than the first two months he’d been dating Amelia, his college sweetheart and ex-fiancée. She’d had enough body hang-ups for half a dozen women.

But he would never forget the day he’d met Julie. He had just arrived at the camp and was directed to the tent where he would sleep and store his gear. He stepped inside and there she was, sitting on her cot, wearing only panties and her bra, a sheen of sweat glistening on her golden skin, her long, reddish-brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He froze, unsure of what to do or say, thinking that his presence there would offend her. But Julie hadn’t batted an eyelash.

“You must be Lucas,” she said, unfazed, rising from her cot to shake his hand while he stood there, caught somewhere between embarrassment and arousal. It was the first of many times he’d seen her without her clothes on, but that particular memory stood out in his mind.

He and Julie had seen each other at their best, inventing surgical tools and techniques that they knew would change the face of modern surgery, and at their worst, unwashed and unshaven for weeks on end covered in bug bites from every critter imaginable. They had been to hell and back together, and they always, under any circumstance, had each other’s back. Was this situation any different? Didn’t he owe it to her?

It was becoming less of a question of why, and more of a question of why not. “You really think this could work?” he asked Drew, feeling a glimmer of hope.

“You would have to make it convincing,” Drew said.

“Convincing how?”

“Well, she would have to move in with you.”

Of course as a married couple they would have to live together. He and his mother had more than enough space, and four spare bedrooms for her to choose from. “What else?”

“In public you would have to look as if you’re in love. You know, hold hands, kiss...stuff like that.”

There was a time when he’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Julie. A real kiss, not her usual peck on the cheek when she hugged him goodbye. How would her lips feel pressed against his? How would she taste?

The tug of lust in his boxers caught him completely off guard. What the hell was wrong with him?

He cleared his throat and took a deep swallow of Scotch. “I could do that.”

“No one else can know it’s not real. We keep it right here, between us,” Drew said. “You know you can trust me.”

Trusting Drew wasn’t the issue. He knew that any one of his club brothers would lay down their life for him. The whole idea hinged on Julie’s willingness to break the law and play house with him for heaven only knew how long. And her willingness to play the part convincingly.

It was something he would have to investigate thoroughly on his own before bringing it up to her. Talk to his attorney about the legalities. Make a list of the pros and cons.

“I’ll talk to her,” he told Drew.

“Who knows,” Drew said with a sly grin, “you two might actually fall in love.”

That’s where Drew was wrong. If Luc and Julie were meant to fall in love, meant to be a couple, it would have happened a long time ago.

* * *

Julie sat in her office the next day, eyes darting nervously from the work on her desk to the clock on the wall. She was due to meet Luc in the atrium for a late lunch in fifteen minutes. Seeing her best friend had never been cause for a case of the jitters, but this was different: this had her heart thumping, her hands trembling and her stomach tied in knots. She was planning to ask Luc a favor, the biggest and most important favor she had ever asked him. Ever asked anyone. But if there was a single person on the planet she could count on to come through for her, it was Luc. More so than her own sister, who could be flighty at best. It sometimes took her days or even a week to answer a text or email. Sometimes she didn’t answer at all.

Luc was truly the only person in her life who she could count on unconditionally. And if everything went as she hoped, she would be able to stay in the country indefinitely. Worst case, Luc would laugh in her face, and she would be on her way back to her native home, where she had only distant family left and no friends to speak of.

In the event that Luc said no, she would spend the rest of her time in the US tying up loose ends regarding the research on Luc’s latest invention. She had reports to file and interviews to transcribe so that the switch to his new assistant would be a smooth one. Though the idea of someone else finishing her work left an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The sudden rap on her office door startled her out of her musings. She looked up and was surprised to see Luc standing there. She checked the clock. She still had ten minutes to spare.

“Can I come in?” he asked. He wore scrubs under his lab coat, meaning he must have had a surgery scheduled that morning.

“Of course,” she said, gesturing him in. “I thought we were meeting in the atrium. Did I get the time wrong?”

“Nope.” He stepped into her office, which wasn’t much larger than a small walk-in closet, and as he did, she felt as if all the breathable air disappeared from the room. It would explain the dizzy feeling in her head, the frantic beat of her heart.

What was wrong with her? She’d never been nervous around Luc. The truth is, she never got nervous about much of anything. Especially Luc. Everything about him, from his slow, easy grin and low, patient voice to his dark, compassionate eyes, naturally put people at ease. He could be intimidating as hell when he wanted to be. She’d seen it. But unless the situation warranted it, he chose not to be.

“I wanted a minute to talk in private,” he said, snapping the door closed behind him. He crossed the two steps to her desk and sat on the edge. She could be mistaken, but he looked a little uneasy, which wasn’t like him at all.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” he said.

What a coincidence. “There’s something I need to ask you, too.”

“Why don’t I go first,” he said.

Now that she’d worked up the nerve, she couldn’t back down. “I think I should go first.”

“What I have to say might impact what you have to say.”

All the more reason to say it right now. The last thing she wanted was to make a huge deal about this. If she made a fool of herself, so be it.

It sure wouldn’t be the first time.


Three (#ulink_21f06fd3-c929-5ab2-8c98-53a106a85667)

Luc was watching her expectantly, and she knew that the longer she dragged this out, the harder it would be. What she was about to ask him was no small favor. She wouldn’t blame him at all if he said no.

Okay, Jules, you can do this.

Hoping he didn’t hear the slight quiver in her voice, notice her unsteady hands or the erratic flutter of her pulse, she said, “I may have come up with a way to stay in the country. But I need your help.”

His brow rose expectantly. “What kind of help?”

Her heart lodged in her throat, so when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. For several seconds she sat there like a fool, the words frozen in her vocal cords.

Wearing a quirky smile, Luc asked, “Are you okay?”

Yes and no.

She was being silly. He was her best friend. Even if he said no, it wouldn’t change anything. Hopefully it would only be slightly humiliating.

Come on, Jules, just say it.

Gathering her courage, she said, “You know that I really don’t want to leave the US.”

“And I don’t want you to leave,” he said.

“Royal has become my home. I feel like I belong here.”

“You do belong here.” He said it as if there were no question in his mind. “And you know that I’ll do anything I can to help. As a matter of fact—”

“Please, let me finish.” Earnest as he appeared, he might want to take that back when she told him her plan. “I’ve looked into every possible avenue, but there’s only one way I’ve come up with that will assure I can stay.”

She paused taking a deep, empowering breath. Then another.

“Are you going to tell me,” he asked, looking mildly amused. “Or do you want me to guess?”

Oh, for Pete’s sake, just say it, Jules. “We could get married. Temporarily of course,” she added swiftly. “Just until I can earn my citizenship. Then we can get a quickie divorce and pretend it never happened. I’ll sign a contract or a prenup. Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

Luc blinked, then blinked again, and then he burst out laughing.

Wow. There it was. Her worst nightmare realized.

“You’re right,” she said, quickly backtracking. “It was a ridiculous idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She shot to her feet, when what she really wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and wallow in shame. “Let’s forget I said anything and go have lunch.”

She tried to duck past him, and he wrapped a very large but gentle hand around the upper part of her left arm.

“Just hold on a minute,” he said in that firm but patient way of his. From anyone else it would have come off as condescending. “It is not ridiculous. Not at all. I’m laughing because I came here to suggest the exact same thing.”

It was her turn to blink in surprise. Did he mean that, or was he just trying to make her feel less stupid. “Seriously?”

“But it is a legally and morally gray area. I wasn’t sure if you would be willing to risk breaking the law.”

Desperate times required desperate measures. “I’m willing if you are.”

“We can’t risk anyone else knowing the truth.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Drew knows. He’s the one who suggested it. But we can trust him. And I won’t lie to my mother.”

Julie had never known Drew to be anything but a stand-up guy. If Luc trusted him, so would she. And she would never expect Luc to lie to Elizabeth, nor would she want him to.

Julie had no one else to tell, except her sister, Jennifer, who probably wouldn’t care anyway. When she married her husband, an older, wealthy man she’d met on a trip to New York, he became the center of her life. She quit college and set her sights on being the perfect trophy wife. Between charity balls and country club brunches with the other trophy wives in her elite social circle, she had little time for her nomadic, unsophisticated sister.

Though she had never actually met Jennifer’s husband—nor did she care to—her sister’s description of him gave Julie a bad feeling. He sounded very controlling, like their father. But now was not the time to dredge up those old memories. She had promised herself a long time ago that she would never look back in regret, but instead learn from her past and always move forward. Always strive to better herself. Marrying Luc, though completely unexpected, would be just another leg of her journey.

“Having second thoughts already?” Luc asked, and she realized she was frowning.

“No, of course not. Just wondering what happens next.”

“Drew suggested we have the ceremony and reception at the club and we have to do it soon.”

“How soon?”

“How’s this Saturday afternoon looking for you?”

This Saturday? That was only five days away. She knew absolutely zero about planning a wedding, but less than a week sounded ridiculously fast. “Is it even possible to put a wedding together that quickly? And what about immigration? Don’t we have to have an interview or something?”

“My attorney is taking care of all of that. And as for the wedding, we’ll keep it simple. Close friends only. Very informal.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“All you need to do is find a dress. And a maid of honor. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Of all her friends in Royal, Lark Taylor was the closest. They’d met during the first few weeks of the cleanup efforts and became fast friends. She was a nurse in the intensive care unit at the hospital. They often took coffee breaks together, and sometimes went out for drinks after work. She was planning her own wedding to Keaton Holt, a longtime Cattleman’s Club member, so perhaps she could give Julie a few pointers.

“We’ll have to kiss,” she heard Luc say, and it took her brain a second to catch up with her ears.

“Kiss?”

“During the ceremony,” he said.

“Oh...right.” She hadn’t considered that. She thought about kissing Luc and a peculiar little shiver cascaded down the length of her spine. Back when she first met him, she used to think about the two of them doing a lot more than just kissing, but he had been too hung up on Amelia and their recently broken engagement to even think about another woman. So hung up that he left his life in Royal behind and traveled halfway around the world with Doctors Without Borders.

A recent dumpee herself, she’d been just as confused and vulnerable at the time, and she knew there was nothing worse for the ego than a rebound relationship. They were, and always would be, better off as friends. In her experience, it was usually one or the other. Mixing sex and friendship would only end in disaster.

“Is that a problem?” Luc asked.

She blinked. “Problem?”

“Us kissing. You got an odd look on your face.”

Had she? “It’s no problem at all,” she assured him, but if that was true, why did her stomach bottom out when she imagined his lips on hers. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed by anyone. Maybe too long.

“We’ll have to start acting like a married couple,” he said.

“In what way?”

“You’ll have to move in with me.”

She hadn’t really considered that, but of course a married couple would live together. Having separate residences would raise a very bright red flag. Since Julie left home, when she wasn’t volunteering abroad, she’d lived alone. She liked the freedom of answering to no one but herself, of doing what she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it. That would be hard to give up.

As if Luc read her mind, he added, “Nothing in our relationship is going to change. We only have to make it look as if it has.”

But by pretending that it changed, by making it look that way to everyone else, wasn’t that in itself a change?

Ugh. She never realized how complicated this could be. She could already feel the walls closing in on her.

“Look,” he said, and this time he was the one frowning. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it. I want you to stay in the US, and I’ll do whatever I can to help make that happen, but if it’s going to cause a rift in our friendship, maybe it’s not worth it.”

“I’m just used to living on my own. The idea of changing that is a little intimidating. But it is worth it. And I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful. I am.”

“I know you are.” He smiled and laid a hand on her forearm, and the feel of his skin against hers gave her that little shiver again. What the heck was going on? She never used to shiver like that when he touched her. She was sure it was due only to the stress of her situation.

What else could it possibly be?

* * *

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Julie looked up at Lark, her maid of honor, in the dressing room mirror at the Cattleman’s Club. Julie was on her third attempt of giving herself “smoky eyes.” But she looked more like a cheap street walker than a bride.

“When it comes to eyeliner and shadow, especially for someone as naturally pretty as you, I think less is more,” Lark said, which was her kind way of telling Julie to give it up.

“Oh my God, what a mess,” Julie said, swiping at her eyes with a damp cloth. It had looked pretty simple in the instructional video she’d found online, but her technique lacked a certain...finesse. Which is why she never wore the stuff.

Her father had lived by very traditional values and as teens, Julie and her sister had been forbidden to use makeup of any kind. Or wear pants. Dresses and skirts were the only acceptable attire for a female in her father’s home, and Julie had played the role of obedient daughter very well. It was easier not to make waves. She concentrated on her studies and getting into a good college. She never did develop the desire to wear makeup, but after eighteen years of wearing only skirts and dresses, she swore she would never wear anything but pants. Yet here she was now in a newly purchased, off-white, silk shift dress, which she had to admit hung nicely on her athletic frame. But with her raccoon eyes Luc was going to take one look at her and run in the opposite direction.

Her sister, the queen of all things girly and impractical, would have been a big help right about now but she wasn’t answering calls or texts. If it was anyone but Jennifer, Julie might have worried, but that was typical for her sister. She was either completely distant and unreliable, or smothering Julie with her sisterly love. There was no middle ground.

“I suck at this,” she said.

“Maybe just a little mascara and liner,” Lark suggested, with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like me to help?”

Julie looked up at her with pleading, raccoon eyes. “Yes, please.”

Lark worked her magic and she was right. Julie was lucky to have been blessed with smooth, clear skin, and just a touch of liner and mascara and a little clear gloss on her lips subtly enhanced her features.

“You’re a genius,” she told Lark.

“And you look beautiful,” Lark said, smiling and stepping back to admire her work. “Lucas is a lucky man. And forgive me for saying, but it’s about darned time you two tied the knot.”

Julie had heard that same remark from a dozen people since she and Luc made the announcement earlier that week. “It doesn’t seem...sudden?”

“I always suspected you and Luc had something going—I think everyone has—but you’re a very private person, so I didn’t want to ask. I figured that if you wanted me to know, or needed to talk about it, you would tell me.”

If there had been anything to tell, Julie probably would have.

There was a rap on the dressing room door and Lark’s sister Skye stepped into the dressing room. She looked surprisingly healthy for someone still recovering from a near-fatal car crash during the tornado. Luc had performed an emergency cesarean to save her unborn child, and her injuries had been so severe she’d been in a coma for four months. Until Skye was well enough to care for her daughter, Lark had taken responsibility for Baby Grace, who was the sweetest most adorable infant Julie had ever seen.

“It’s time,” Skye said, then sighed wistfully. “You look beautiful. Luc is a lucky guy.”

Julie took a good look at herself in the mirror, spinning in a circle to get every angle. Not half-bad.

Though she usually kept her hair pulled up into a ponytail, she’d worn it down today, in loose, soft curls that tumbled across her shoulders. She’d even put on her mother’s diamond earrings. It was the only thing of her mother’s that she had left. In his grief after she died, Julie’s father had removed every trace of his wife from their home. Photos, personal items, anything that reminded him of her. Julie had only been four at the time, but she remembered sitting on her parents’ bed, crying as she watched their housekeeper clear out her mother’s closet, shoving her clothes into black trash bags.

Between his wife’s death and having a newborn infant to care for, her father seemed to forget that he had another child who was mixed up and lonely and desperate for the unconditional love and affection her mother had always given so freely. Within weeks of her death he’d hired a nanny and began traveling extensively. He had never been what anyone would consider an attentive father, but after her mother’s death he had become virtually nonexistent.

Julie breathed deep to ease the knot of sadness in her chest, the burn of tears behind her eyes. Now was not the time to think about her less than ideal childhood. God forbid she start crying and ruin her makeup.

“How are you doing?” Lark asked. “You nervous?”

Julie shook her head. This wasn’t going to be a real marriage, so what reason did she have to be nervous?

Though they wouldn’t be married for long, she had insisted on a prenup. To protect not just his interests, but her own, as well. She’d never been the type to flaunt her wealth, but with the inheritance her father had left her and her sister, and a little savvy investing, Julie was pretty much set for life. A simple, no frills life, but that was fine with her. She didn’t need much.

“So, are you ready?” Lark asked, and Julie turned to find her and Skye watching her expectantly.

After one more quick glance in the mirror, she nodded and told her friends, “Let’s do this.”


Four (#ulink_50d00c83-932e-53ab-81b9-93d6e4fb12a3)

With so little time to plan the wedding, Drew had volunteered to put a guest list together for Luc. But now, as Luc stood with Drew at his side, waiting for the ceremony to begin, scanning row upon row of guests idly chatting, he was beginning to think that had been a bad idea. It seemed as if half the town was there.

He leaned in close to Drew and said in a harsh whisper, “This is your idea of small and intimate?”

“Just helping to make it convincing,” Drew said with a wry smile. It was obvious to Luc that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course not.” What reason did he have to be? This was nothing more than a business arrangement between friends. In fact, he felt exceedingly calm. A little bored even.

“All grooms get nervous,” Drew persisted.

“But I’m not a real groom, am I?”

“Look around you. This sure looks real to me. Besides, you can’t argue with a marriage license.”

Okay, so maybe he was a real groom, but not in the traditional sense. They would be married, but not really married. Together, but not really together.

Luc glanced over at his mother, who sat in her wheelchair in the front row, an encouraging smile on her face. When he told her about the marriage she was beside herself excited, even when he explained the true nature of the situation.

“It’s just a way to keep Julie in the States,” he’d explained.

“Of course it is,” she’d said with a twinkle in her eyes, as if she knew something he didn’t. If she believed it to be anything more than a friend helping out another friend, if she had her heart set on Luc and Julie falling in love, she would be sorely disappointed.

Stella Daniels, who was officiating, touched Luc’s shoulder and said softly, “Words cannot express how happy I am for the two of you. And forgive me for saying this, but it’s about damned time.”

He kept a smile planted firmly on his lips, but he felt a distinct twinge of guilt. He’d heard many similar remarks this past week, and as much as he hated the idea of lying to everyone, he and Julie had no choice.

The music started and everyone turned to the doorway where Lark stood, carrying a small bouquet of miniature yellow roses—Julie’s favorite color.

Here we go, Luc thought, his stomach bottoming out.

Okay, so, maybe he was a little nervous.

Lark made her trip down the aisle, but Luc’s attention remained fixed on the doorway, anticipation tying his stomach into knots. Then the “Wedding March” started and Julie appeared in the doorway, and all Luc could think was wow.

Rarely did he see Julie with her hair down, and in all the time he’d known her he couldn’t recall ever seeing her in a dress. Cut several inches above the knee, it was just long enough to be tasteful, but short enough to showcase her toned, suntanned calves and a little bit of thigh...

Whoa, he thought, as his pulse picked up speed. This was Julie he was gawking at, his best friend. But damn, who could blame him? She looked stunning and sexy and as his eyes met and locked on hers, he experienced a distinct tug of sexual attraction. Bordering on red-hot lust.

Talk about getting caught up in the moment. If this kept up he was going to need a serious attitude adjustment.

Everyone stood and she started down the aisle, walking alone, holding a single long-stemmed yellow rose, looking cool and composed, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. This may have been a “pretend” wedding, but in that moment it couldn’t have felt more real to him, and despite her cool exterior, when Julie faced him and he took her hands, they were trembling.

Stella began the ceremony, but he was so focused on Julie, the mayor’s words all seemed to run together. It was almost as if he was really seeing Julie for the first time. And though he’d been to more weddings than he could count, as they recited their vows, he realized he’d never really grasped the gravity of the words. Real marriage or not, as he slid the platinum band on her ring finger—she’d balked at the idea of a diamond—he pledged to himself that as long as they were married, he would honor those vows.

Then came the part he’d been most anticipating. The kiss to seal the deal. They had to make it look convincing. Too chaste or formal and it might make people suspicious; too passionate and Julie might crack him one. Probably not here at the wedding, but later, when they were alone.

There was another possibility. One he hadn’t truly considered until just now. What if he kissed her, and he liked it? So much so that he wanted to do it again. And even more intriguing was the possibility that she might like it, too.

* * *

“You may kiss the bride,” Stella said, and Julie’s pulse jumped as Luc, seemingly in ultra slow motion, bent his head. The entire ceremony had been a bit surreal, as if she were standing outside of her body watching herself. But this? This was very real.

Her chin lifted in anticipation, and she began to wonder if this was something they should have rehearsed ahead of time. No one’s first kiss should have an audience, yet here they stood with dozens of pairs of eyes planted firmly on them.

Oh boy, what had they gotten themselves into?

Luc reached up, his hand gently cupping her cheek, and her knees went weak. His lips brushed softly across hers, seeming to linger undecidedly between obligation and curiosity, and a sound, like a soft moan, slipped unexpectedly from her lips. Without realizing she’d even moved, her hands were on his chest and curling into the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer. If it hadn’t been for the sudden round of applause, and the hoots and howls from their guests, she would have gone right on kissing him. As their lips parted and she looked up into his eyes, she could see that he was equally perplexed. And as lame and juvenile as it sounded, she heard herself saying softly, “Wow, you’re really good at that.”

A wry grin tipped up the corners of his lips. “So are you.”

Her kissing skills, and his, were irrelevant. So why the shiver of pleasure? The weak-kneed feeling of anticipation? There was nothing to anticipate. They were married and she was a legal resident. As devious plans go, this one was playing out exactly as they’d expected. The hard part was over.

With all the handshaking and hugs, the walk back down the aisle took so long that when they finally made it to the room where the reception was being held, people were already sipping very expensive champagne and nibbling on the appetizers catered by a restaurant in town that had reopened its doors just last week. Though she distinctly remembered Luc saying it would be small and intimate, it looked to Julie as if nearly every member of the Cattleman’s Club and their significant others were in attendance.

She looked up at Luc. “Small and intimate, huh?”

“I put Drew in charge of the guest list,” he said, nabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to her. “So if you have a bone to pick, it’s with him. And forgive me for saying it, but you look positively stunning.”

Forgive him? His words made her feel dizzy with pleasure. “If it wasn’t for Lark’s help, you would have married a raccoon.”

He regarded her with a curious expression.

She laughed and shook her head. “Never mind.”

Somewhere behind her Julie heard the sharp tink of metal on glass and turned to see Skye tapping her champagne flute with the tines of her fork. Her husband, Jake, mirrored her actions, then several other guests joined in, all turning to look at Julie and Luc as if they were waiting for them to do or say something.

She heard Luc mumble something under his breath, and asked him in a hushed voice, “What are they doing?”

“They want us to kiss.”

Julie blinked. “Kiss?”

Luc shrugged. “It’s tradition.”

And he couldn’t have warned her about this? So she could at least prepare herself. “I’ve never been to an American wedding. You’re saying we have to kiss? Right now? In front of all these people?”

“If we want them to stop.”

Considering the rising decibel level, if she and Luc didn’t kiss, someone was bound to shatter something. Besides, it had been so nice kissing him the first time. One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Who was she to question the tradition.

“Well, if we have to,” she said.

Luc bent his head and brushed a very brief and chaste kiss across her lips, but the tinking didn’t stop.

“You can do better than that,” someone shouted.

Her heart did a back-and-forth shimmy in her chest. Oh boy, this could wind up being a very long evening.

Luc gazed at her questioningly, his eyes saying it would be best if they appeased the crowd. Julie shrugged, whispering, “We have to make it look real, I guess.”

She tried to play it cool, but on the inside she was trembling as Luc cupped the back of her head, his hand sliding through her hair, fingers tangling in the curls. And if that didn’t feel nice enough, his kiss nearly did her in. When his tongue swept across her lower lip she felt it like an electrical charge, as if every cell in her body came alive all at once. But then it was over and she had to fight the urge to toss her champagne glass aside, grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him in for more.

It must have been sufficient for the guests, because the tinking faded out, only to start up again a few minutes later, instigated this time by Paige Richardson, who stood beside her brother-in-law Colby.

Colby was Aaron Nichols’s partner in R&N Builders, which was almost single-handedly responsible for rebuilding the town after the tornado. And though Julie knew him to be a friendly and outgoing, all-around nice guy, the deep furrow in Colby’s brow said something was troubling him.

The tinking rose to an unreasonable level and Julie could swear that every single guest had joined in.

She looked up at Luc, who appeared as amused as he was apologetic. “I have the feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of kissing today.”

“So do I.” And what a hardship that would be. Not. And even if he was the worst kisser on the planet, her citizenship depended on it. It was her obligation to make this marriage look as real as possible. Because if she were to be discovered, and someone proved the marriage was a sham, she would go down hard and take Luc with her. That was not an option.

Before he could make a move, to change things up a bit, she set her empty champagne flute down, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him first. A no-holds-barred, knock-him-on-his-butt kiss that jump-started her pulse and made her tingle in places she didn’t even know she could tingle. His arms went around her and he tugged her against him. He cupped her behind and rocked his pelvis against her stomach. She gasped against his lips when she felt the thick ridge behind his zipper. Obviously he was just as into this as she was, and not at all shy about letting her know it. If not for his suit jacket, everyone else would probably know, too.

This time when they parted he was wearing a wry, sexy smile, and whispered, without a trace of contrition, “What can I say. I’m a guy.”

This was a side of him she’d never seen before. Playfully sexy and a little risqué. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with him, and at the same time felt thankful for their guests. Until they both had time to settle down, being alone together might be a bad idea.

No, not might, it would be.

As the evening progressed, each subsequent kiss was more brazen and more ardent than the last, his touch as bold as it was scandalous.

It went on like that for a good hour before, to Julie’s disappointment, the kiss requests finally began to taper off until they stopped altogether. People began to leave, until only their core group of friends remained.

Though Julie had already had far too much champagne, she headed to the bar for another drink and Beth followed her. “This has been so much fun,” she told Julie.

“I think so, too.”

“Your sister couldn’t make it?”

Julie had texted her, called her and sent her a detailed email about the situation, but still no reply. Her husband traveled extensively for business and Jennifer often accompanied him, occasionally for weeks at a time. “I couldn’t get ahold of her. They’re probably out of the country.”

“That’s too bad.”

Julie shrugged. “It was awfully last-minute.”

“It certainly was. Which brings me to my next question. What was it like making out with your best friend?”

Julie just stood there, mouth agape. Did she mean—?

“Drew told me. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Now Drew, Beth, Luc’s mother and her sister all knew the truth?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul,” Beth assured her. “And for what it’s worth, you gave a very convincing performance.”

And Julie had relished every moment. Much more than she meant to, or should have. “He’s a good kisser.”

Beth grinned. “So I gathered. I’ll bet he’s good at a lot of things.”

Her suggestive grin left no question as to what she was implying. And Julie knew she was probably right. She was dying to know how it would feel, their bodies intertwined, his weight pushing her into the mattress...

A ripple of heat coursed through her veins and she could feel her cheeks growing hot. Definitely not something she should be thinking about. “I’m sure he is,” she told Beth. “But I’ll never find out.”

“The way Luc looks at you, I get the feeling you won’t have a choice.”

No choice? “What is it you think he’ll do? Tie me down and make passionate love to me?”

Beth’s smile widened. “One can hope.”

Oh God, she was right. If Luc wanted Julie in his bed, restraining her wouldn’t be necessary.

Ugh, no. She was not going to sleep with him. The combination of champagne and all that kissing was screwing with her brain, flooding it with hormones, or pheromones, or some other kind of mones. They were friends and that’s all they would ever be.

“Where are you two going for your honeymoon?” Beth asked.

“Nowhere. Luc has a new patient to evaluate this week. A little boy who needs spinal surgery. Besides, you know how he is about leaving the hospital for any extended amount of time. Or his mother. She’s still weak from her last hospital stay.”

“Most new brides would expect to be put first.”

Julie shrugged. “I guess I’m not like most new brides. I can’t expect him to rearrange his whole life just because we’re married. I wouldn’t want him to.”

Luc’s ex-fiancée had been one of those women. Like any young resident, Luc had been required to work insane hours. It was part of the job. Amelia demanded more attention than he was able to give, which was what ultimately caused their split. The way Luc described her, she was spoiled and snotty, always wanting things her way. Even if she had married him, Julie doubted it would have lasted.

“A lot of women go into a marriage thinking they can change their spouse,” Beth said.

“That’s ridiculous. If you don’t love the person for who they are, why marry them in the first place?”

Beth grinned. “Luc is a lucky man.”

Julie wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and she didn’t ask. Drinks in hand, they rejoined the others. Luc, Colby and Whit Daltry, owner of Daltry Property Management, were discussing the hospital, and how much money it would take to rebuild the damaged portion. Stella and her husband, Aaron, were discussing baby formula options with Lark and Skye, who both had plenty of information on all things baby. Paige, who Julie noticed had been avoiding her brother-in-law like the plague all evening and pretending not to see the looks he kept shooting her way, sat silently.

Beth took her seat at the table where they had all congregated, and for a minute Julie stood there watching everyone, soaking it all in, a feeling of peace and happiness warming her heart. The town, the people...they were so familiar to her now and so accepting. This was, without question, home.

“Come sit down,” Luc said, holding out his hand for her to take. She twined her fingers through his, intending to sit in the empty chair beside him, but Luc had other ideas. He tugged her down onto his lap instead, and up went her heart, right into her throat. He slipped one arm around her and settled his palm against her stomach, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast as he did, and the other hand came to rest on her bare knee. What if that hand were to slide up the inside of her thigh under her dress? Would she stop him? Could she?

She glanced over at Beth, whose smile seemed to say, I told you so.

She realized just then, with no small amount of anticipation, that if Luc decided he wanted her, there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.


Five (#ulink_0c7d1a00-eb6c-554b-9f40-69f06f3d5b2f)

They didn’t get home until eleven—it was a little weird to think of Luc’s house as home—and they were both bushed. It had been a long and exhausting evening spent in a near-constant state of arousal, but now it was time to shut it down. The wedding was over and they were back to being friends.

Luc walked her to her bedroom door, which was directly across the hall from his own. She expected a hug and a kiss, even if it was just on her cheek, but she got neither.

“Well, good night,” he said, shutting the door to his room firmly behind him.

She stood in the hallway alone, wondering what just happened. After having his hands on her all evening, that was the best he could do? He could just walk away without even acknowledging it?

What if he was having second thoughts? What if he realized he didn’t want to be married? He’d been exceedingly quiet on the drive home—there was that word again...home




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