EVEN BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE!

If Caroline Coopersmith had her way, she would refuse to run the family firm. She wouldn’t put up with her sister’s bridezilla antics. She would sign on as Celebrations, Inc.’s full-time pastry chef. And just this once, she would treat herself to something better than Belgian chocolate: a night of bliss with her sister’s best man, journalist Drew Montgomery.

For Drew, the foundation of a good story is fact. And when it comes to Caroline, the facts are easy: she makes him feel electrically charged, and he can’t stop daydreaming about a future with her. Drew has never believed in love at first sight...until now. If he gives in to Caroline today, will she make room for him in her heart tomorrow?

Drew made her think and feel things she had no business thinking and feeling, because the places they led were dangerous.

He leaned in a little closer, resting his arm along the back of her chair. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body and smell the intoxicating scent of him. It made her want to breathe in a little deeper.

Drew left her breathless—or maybe it was just the physical reaction of a woman wanting a man who seemed to want her back. Why make it any more complicated than it was?

Sometimes a girl just had to say what the hell and go for broke with the gorgeous guy who’d been flirting with her since the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other.

Even if it wasn’t going to last longer than the moment...or the night.

Dear Reader,

As a romance writer, I feel very blessed to be living my dream. I sometimes work long hours and when I’m on deadline my social life seems nonexistent, but other than being a wife and mother I can’t think of anything I’d rather do with my life. In the world of romance, my heart is at home. I wish this same sense of belonging to everyone.

So does Drew Montogmery, my hero in Texas Magic. Drew is a newspaperman with an unshakable conviction that people aren’t really living unless they go after what they want in life. If not, then what’s the point? This notion is an epiphany for heroine Caroline Coopersmith. Even though Caroline seems to have it all, she is living the life that her father has sculpted for her as his heir apparent. It’s not what Caroline wants, but she feels beholden to family tradition. It’s only when Drew makes her realize that she has spent way too many years doing what’s expected of her, not what she wants, that she is able to fall in love and live her dream.

I hope you’ll enjoy Drew and Caroline’s story, which is book two in my Celebrations, Inc. series. Please be sure to look for the final book in this series, Texas Christmas, in November. And be sure to let me know what you think of them. You can reach me at nrobardsthompson@yahoo.com.

May all your dreams come true,

Nancy Robards Thompson

Texas Magic

Nancy Robards Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON

Award-winning author Nancy Robards Thompson is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.

This book is dedicated to Kathleen O’Brien

and Lori Harris.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Dark chocolate for a white wedding.

The juxtaposition brought a smile to Maya LeBlanc’s lips as she stood at the worktable in the kitchen of Maya’s Chocolaterie, threading the last sterling-silver heart charm onto the final strand of white satin ribbon. Savoring the scent of roasted cocoa beans, cinnamon and dried rose petals that lingered in the air, she tied a bow on the last box of wedding favors and placed it on the baker’s rack with the other 349 she had already put together. Each small package contained a quartet of handmade truffles—an exclusive recipe she had concocted specifically for the Coopersmith/Harris wedding, which would take place at the end of the week across the Atlantic Ocean in Celebration, Texas.

Nothing that came out of Maya’s kitchen was mass-produced. In fact, all of the chocolates she made were as exclusive as the occasions and clients for whom she designed them.

However, she wasn’t accustomed to producing her sweets on this large of a scale: fourteen hundred truffles in three days. The wedding chocolate—in addition to what she needed to sustain her shop’s daily business—was a tall order that took more manpower than Maya, in her tiny St. Michel shop, possessed. She had put in a lot of extra hours this week after she had turned over the Shop Closed sign. Now that she was finished and staring at the mountainous pile of white boxes, she wasn’t sure she would ever take on another task of such epic proportions. But she blinked away the thought, feeling like a first-time marathon runner who had just crossed the finish line and was already contemplating her next race.

Maya had done this order as a favor for her friend Caroline Coopersmith, the sister of the bride. Despite the fact that Maya had never met Caroline’s sister, Claudia, she couldn’t say no after hearing the desperation in Caroline’s voice. Apparently, Claudia was more aptly described as Bridezilla on the rampage than blushing bride to be. The Texas-based chocolatier originally procured to provide the truffles for Claudia’s wedding had gone out of business, disappearing lock, stock and bridal favors into the night with Claudia’s deposit—one week before the wedding.

While individual boxes of truffles for the guests would not make or break the wedding, Bridezilla was breathing fire and Caroline had called Maya, desperate for her to work her magic: produce an exclusive confection for the occasion and ship it to the States in a matter of days.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you sent a special box made with ingredients that will calm my sister’s nerves,” Caroline had joked.

Hmmm...not a bad idea. Some chamomile and lavender in white chocolate. That was a good start, and Maya had been stewing on it as she finished up the large order.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly two in the morning, which made it just before eight o’clock in the evening in Texas. She picked up the telephone and dialed Caroline’s cell phone number.

Caroline picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Bonjour! It’s Maya.” She settled into a chair, trying not to let the fatigue that suddenly weighed on her like an anchor show in her voice. “Fait accompli. Tell your sister to rest assured that the order will arrive in plenty of time for the wedding. I will package the truffles in foam coolers and ship them to you tomorrow. Tout de suite!”

“You’re wonderful! And you must be a mind reader, because not ten minutes ago Claudia called asking for an update on the chocolate. I told her I’d call you tomorrow since it was late in St. Michel. I hope this job hasn’t cost you too much sleep.”

“Sleep is overrated. How are your sister’s wedding plans progressing?”

As Caroline sighed, Maya sensed that her friend was even more exhausted than she was.

“At the risk of sounding like a terrible sister, I will be so glad when Saturday arrives and the wedding is over. The world will stop revolving around Claudia and we will all be able to reclaim our lives. I’m happy for her, really, I am. But just when I think she can’t possibly drain one more ounce out of the bridal party, she manages to draw blood.”

Caroline sighed again. “I’m sorry, Maya. I must sound like a miserable person.”

A note in Caroline’s Texan drawl made Maya think that perhaps the weariness was the product of more than physical exhaustion. Hmmm...a box of something special for Caroline was in order, too.

“No, you don’t sound like a misérable person. You’re a fabulous sister for doing all that you have for her. Do you have a date for the wedding?” Ever the matchmaker, Maya couldn’t resist asking.

“Are you kidding? Between work at the accounting firm, baking for the catering company and my maid-of-honor duties, I barely have time to sleep. There are no men on my horizon.”

Ahh...that explained it. Being maid of honor in a wedding when you had no love of your own was like being trapped inside a candy store and not being allowed to taste the sweets. Seeing the possibilities and imagining what it might be like, but that’s where it ended.

Alas, Caroline deserved more.

An idea swelled up inside of Maya, like a perfect chocolate soufflé rising in the oven.

Yes, it’s Caroline’s turn for love.

And Maya knew just the thing to set the wheels of love in motion.

* * *

Caroline Coopersmith helped herself to a large piece of wedding cake and carried it to the empty bridal-party table. All of the other attendants were on the dance floor. Here Caroline was, getting cozy with a plate of fat and sugar. She decided she might as well have another glass of champagne, too.

She waved over a waiter, grabbed a flute and then slipped her feet out of the four-inch stilettos that were so painful they should have carried a warning label. For the first time that evening—actually, for the first time in months—Caroline was able to inhale a full, deep breath and relax.

Her sister, Claudia, was married.

At long last.

The relief Caroline felt did not solely have to do with the fact that her aching feet had been mercifully freed from bondage. It was more to do with everyone making it through the wedding unscathed. No one had killed Claudia. Nor did the more plausible threat of Claudia killing or maiming her come to fruition.

Now, Caroline was free. And she had cake and champagne....

What more could a girl want?

Caroline’s gaze searched the room for best man Drew Montgomery. Before she could find him, something else caught her eye.

Claudia waved from the center of the crowded dance floor, motioning her to join in a group dance to the Black Eyed Peas’s “I Gotta Feeling.” Caroline’s gaze swept the dance floor, searching. When she still did not see Drew among the revelers, any motivation she might have mustered to drag herself into the fray evaporated. Living up to his job description, Drew certainly was the best man here. And probably the only thing more tempting than the wedding cake.

She and Drew had met for the first time yesterday at the rehearsal. Since he was best man to her maid of honor, the two had been paired up at the rehearsal dinner last night. It had been nice meeting him and spending time with him.

Caroline smiled but shook her head, raising her glass to her sister in a “go ahead without me” toast.

Claudia flashed a quick okay sign and turned back to her groom, Kyle, who pulled her close, folding her into their own private slow dance to the fast song. They kissed and looked so in love, as if they had not a care in the world.

And they didn’t, really. Caroline sighed and ate a bite of cake as she watched them. At least right now they didn’t have a care. The wedding had gone off without a hitch. All that was left was the bridal bouquet toss and the send-off. After that her sister and new brother-in-law would ride off into their future, and Caroline would be free to retreat to her hotel suite and enjoy a long, hot soak in the pond-sized marble Jacuzzi tub.

In the meantime, she had carrot cake with cognac-spiked hazelnut marzipan crème filling. She closed her lips around another generous bite and closed her eyes, savoring the delectable combination of flavors.

Hazelnuts...cloves...nutmeg...

If she had made this wedding cake herself, she would’ve added a dash more cinnamon...and maybe a hint of orange zest to the filling—a secret something to lend a certain je ne sais quois....

Baking was her hobby, the happy place she went to when she needed to ground herself. Given the stressful nature of her job with Coopersmith & Bales, the accounting firm her great-grandfather had founded, she found herself retreating more and more into the sweet goodness of her confectionary sanctuary. Because baking was the only thing that kept her sane. It was a wonder she did not weigh five hundred pounds.

Still, even without the flavors Caroline would add, the cake was heavenly. She opened her eyes to fork up another bite. On the dance floor, Kyle dipped Claudia and the guests cheered. The surprised delight on her sister’s face made Caroline smile, too. Claudia looked so beautiful...and in love.

Yes, all was right with the world. How could it not be when there was a living, breathing example of true love right in front of her?

Watching the love between her sister and brother-in-law renewed her faith in true love, even though her own romantic future did not seem very bright. She had had plenty of boyfriends over the years but never a serious relationship.

Why? Because Caroline was so very guarded. It was one of her flaws, and she readily admitted it. Still, it also happened that most of the men she had dated—the ones who might have had the potential to work out—always seemed to be unavailable, preoccupied or headed somewhere: off to college or internships or jobs. Or some of them just weren’t in a good place for a relationship. There always seemed to be an obstacle that stood in the way. Real or imagined, it was Caroline’s justification for keeping up the walls of self-protection.

This weekend, though, she thought she had felt a spark of mutual attraction between Drew and herself, but he’d been scarce since the wedding party and family dances had ended.

That was fine. Disappointing, but, really, what had she expected?

Well, at one point, she had actually admitted to herself that if she were the type of woman who had one-night stands, Drew Montgomery was exactly the kind of guy she would choose. He was a classic—tall, dark and handsome, with broad shoulders and a hint of irreverent bad boy that added to his allure.

It was crazy that she had even considered something so out of character. But she was a grown woman—thirty-three years old, for God’s sake. She had no prospects in sight and no time in her busy schedule to think about going out on a manhunt. And again, was it so wrong to want a taste of romance for herself...no matter how fleeting?

With all eyes on Claudia and Kyle this weekend, and delicious Drew at her side...well, it had been a tempting daydream.

Thank God, he was nowhere to be found in the dangerous hour when their wedding duties were done and the champagne was flowing like an endless river.

Wistful, Caroline turned her attention back to her plate, scraping up the last traces of icing. It was so good. She just might treat herself to seconds. There was nothing to feel guilty about, as long as she didn’t consider the calories in the small box of Maya’s truffles she had already consumed before the wedding had even started.

Along with the shipment of chocolate party favors, Maya had sent special boxes of truffles to Caroline and Claudia. She had called the treats “wedding survival kits.” She had claimed that Claudia’s chocolates contained calming herbs to help rid her of bridal jitters; observing how calm and carefree her sister seemed right now, they’d obviously worked their magic.

Caroline’s box, Maya had said, was a reward for seeing Claudia through the wedding stress. Maya’s note to Caroline had read: Eat these on the day of the wedding, and remember, my sweet, a gracious maid of honor always gets her reward. L’amour!

L’amour? Wouldn’t that be a nice reward?

Again, her gaze scanned the dance floor for Drew. Coming up empty, she found herself back at square one, contemplating the crumbs on her clean cake plate. The only l’amour coming her way was another piece of cake.

She was in the process of sliding her feet back into her shoes—the price she had to pay for indulgence—when a deep voice startled her out of her reverie.

“This seat taken?”

Drew Montgomery did not wait for an answer. He was already folding himself into the chair next to Caroline. Of course, given the fact that the table was empty, his question was probably rhetorical.

Caroline checked her posture and felt the involuntary reflex of her fingers sweeping across her lips, checking for errant crumbs and stray smudges of icing. Now, as Drew sat next to her—and just where had he materialized from? Never mind that—now that he was here, the first piece of cake she had eaten felt like a rock in her gut. She inhaled slowly to settle her nerves, and the bodice of her dress felt tight. That second piece of cake...well, now it just seemed like a bad idea.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this earlier, but nice dress.” Drew’s eyes, the same shade of dark brown as Maya’s imported chocolates, sparkled with mischief. This was another side to the sexy man who tended to make her mouth go dry and her mind go blank when he walked into the room...especially now that he was sitting next to her. Man, he looked good in that tux.

Caroline forced herself to look out at the dance floor so she wouldn’t stare at Drew. “Yeah, my sister promised us we’d get multiple uses out of it. What do you think? Is it suitable for a night on the town?”

She grabbed a fistful of pumpkin-colored taffeta and tulle underskirt and gave it a shake. It rustled like dry leaves in a trash bag.

As Drew took a long, slow draw of beer, his gaze meandered unselfconsciously from her handful of skirt, up the bodice of her dress, lingering a beat on her décolletage. She let go of the skirt and crossed her arms so that her forearm covered her cleavage and her hand rested at the base of her throat. His gaze resumed its journey, finally finding her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s kind of noisy.” Although he was nodding as if he approved. “But you wear it well, Caroline. Would be a shame to let it go to waste in the back of your closet. I say wear it and own it.”

“Own the fact that I look like someone’s Halloween pumpkin? I don’t think so, Drew.”

It wasn’t just the way he held her gaze, it was the way his dark, curly hair fell across his forehead and the teasing tilt of his sideways grin that also did her in. Suddenly she wasn’t quite so eager to retreat to that marble Jacuzzi tub...alone.

What if she asked him to join her?

Her cheeks burned at the thought.

He was her new brother-in-law’s best friend. Even though she had already dismissed the one-night-of-bliss fantasy, now that he was sitting here—so mesmerizingly close—she shouldn’t be thinking of him in the getting-naked-in-a-Jacuzzi way, either. Because if she found herself naked in a Jacuzzi with him, then that would inevitably lead to the one-night stand, which she had already dismissed. She wasn’t going to kid herself. With her workload at the firm and the extra hours she was putting in helping out her friend A. J. Sherwood-Antonelli baking desserts for Celebrations, Inc., a catering company, Caroline barely had time to sleep.

So, no, there was no time for a man in her life...well, beyond tonight, anyway. So maybe that was all the more reason she should put away her prude and just go for it.

She had to look away and bite the insides of her cheeks to rid herself of the thoughts that were ringing in her head right now. Not to mention, at this point she was surely the same shade of red as the cranberries in the table centerpieces.

What was wrong with her? Too much champagne? Sugar overload?

“Sugar,” he said.

Great. And now he was reading her mind.

“Excuse me?”

“I was thinking you looked more like a sweet sugar pumpkin in that dress rather than a carving pumpkin.” He grinned at her, relaxed and casual in his chair, obviously aware of how flustered he was making her. “There is a difference, you know? One of the reporters at the Journal just wrote an article about a pumpkin farm over in Celina. She said you should never use a big carving pumpkin for pie. It will be bitter. You have to use the small, firm sugar pumpkins. They’re much sweeter.”

Again, his eyes meandered the length of her dress.

Small, firm sugar pumpkins? Was he speaking metaphorically?

She shivered, but this time she did not cross her arms to hide herself. Instead, she blinked at him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She reached out and swatted his arm. “If that’s the best you can do, that’s pathetic.”

See, the other dangerous thing she had learned about Drew Montgomery this weekend was that he had a way of pulling her out of that awkward, tongue-tied mire she initially found herself in when she was with him, and then it was a slippery slope into the sea of longing. Tonight, it seemed, there was no life preserver to save her. No lifeboat in which she could stash the bald truth: this man made her think and feel things she had no business thinking and feeling, because the places they led were dangerous.

He motioned to a woman carrying a tray of champagne. She wasted no time appearing at his side. Drew replaced Caroline’s empty flute with a full one.

“Pathetic, huh?” he asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, I guess that means I’ll have to make it up to you. Or at least prove to you that I’m not pathetic. At least not when it counts.”

Good Lord, his smile was enough to push her over the edge of that slippery slope.

“Would you wear your sugar pumpkin dress out on the town if I wore this monkey suit? Tie and all—we match. See, pumpkin tie. Pumpkin dress.” He motioned back and forth.

She blinked, unsure of what to say. If she let herself go there, she might believe he was asking her out on a date.

“But that would mean you’d have to rent the monkey suit again, and I’d have to postpone burning this hideous dress.” She shook her head, feeling pretty clever for keeping up her end of the push-and-pull banter. “So, I don’t think it will work.”

He frowned and, oh, how she wanted to believe he really was disappointed by her pretend rebuff. This was simply casual flirting, but somehow it didn’t feel like the brand of casual they’d established this weekend.

“Well, then, if you’re turning me down for a date,” he said, “the least you can do is make it up to me some other way.”

Date? So he was asking her out on a real date? She in her hideous pumpkin-colored bridesmaid dress and he in his matching bow tie. That was a vision. Something in the mischievous look on his face hinted that he never took life seriously. She wasn’t quite sure if he was serious about this pumpkin-themed date.

Still, play along...

“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Right at this moment?” He smiled, grabbed another glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and set it in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m onto your plans for the moment. You’re trying to get me drunk. So, does that mean you plan on taking advantage of me?”

“Is that an option?” he asked. “Because if it’s not, you’re perfectly welcome to take advantage of me.”

The dance beat slowed to something soulful and their gazes locked. The air between them shifted.

“You have to admit, Caroline, there’s some serious chemistry between you and me. And I don’t think you’re going to be in any shape to catch the bride’s bouquet until we do a couple of chemistry experiments and contain all this...you know—” he motioned back and forth between the two of them again “—this energy. Otherwise, it might throw you off your flower-catching game.”

See? He’d done it again. He’d started off talking about the chemistry between them—a chemistry that was so real it was almost palpable. No one with eyes could deny that. But then he switched tracks to something light and funny, leaving the serious edge hanging between them. Still, Caroline was no dummy; she knew that when he defaulted to light and funny it was because what was happening between them was simply casual flirting.

So keep it casual, Caroline. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.

“Whoa there, Romeo, what makes you think I want to catch the bridal bouquet? And don’t you dare say all women want to catch the flowers.”

“You don’t like flowers?”

“I love flowers.”

He leaned in a little closer, resting his arm along the back of her chair. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body and smell the intoxicating scent of him. It made her want to breathe in a little deeper. Suddenly, she forgot her entire case against catching the bride’s flowers. But then again she wasn’t really going to make a case. She was keeping this light and casual.

“Then why wouldn’t you want to catch them?” He whispered the words in her ear. His breath was hot on her cheek. It was all she could do to keep from dragging him straight up to that big marble Jacuzzi and having her way with him.

Instead, she reached out and ran her finger along the edge of his bow tie. Good lord, the man looked devastating in a tux, despite the dreadful pumpkin tie. Actually, it didn’t look bad with his dark eyes and hair...and he was so close. All she would have to do was lean in a fraction of an inch and her lips would be touching his. The realization made her bite down on her lower lip.

“My philosophy,” he said, “is you have to go after what you want in life. If not, what’s the point of living?”

His words hit home and were a little sobering. Why not go for something she wanted? Why not just this once do something completely out of character and take something just for herself? Even if it was impermanent...even if she could only have Drew for one night...

She had never slept with a guy before they were solidly in a committed relationship. The thought of getting physical with Drew left her breathless—or maybe it was the way Drew was looking at her. Whatever it was, something was different tonight. Was it the wedding? The champagne? Or maybe it was just the physical reaction of a woman wanting a man who seemed to want her back. Why make it any more complicated than it was?

His words echoed in her head, in her heart. You have to go after what you want in life. If not, what’s the point of living?

She really had not been living, had she?

“There’s definitely chemistry between us, Drew. But rather than trying to figure it all out, like a science experiment, don’t you just want to enjoy the magic? You know, get lost in the fantasy? Science steals the magic because it explains too much. I happen to like fantasy even more than I like flowers.”

“Science never was my thing,” he said. “Maybe we should...dance, instead.”

Chapter Two

Sometimes a girl just had to say what the hell and go for broke with the gorgeous guy who’d been flirting with her since the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other.

Even if it wasn’t going to last longer than the moment...or the night.

Liquid courage wasn’t fully to blame for Caroline turning a moment with Drew into a night. Nope, blame wasn’t even a factor in this equation.

Although she would like to know what had come over her last night. She raised her chin as she peered at herself in the bathroom mirror, wiping away the remnants of stubborn makeup smudges that had not washed away in the shower.

They’d danced until the moment Claudia had tossed her bouquet. Claudia had looked Caroline in the eye, turned around and tossed the flowers right to her. There had been no running or lunging or fighting. With one clean toss, the bouquet had tumbled through the air in a surreal sort of slow motion, before it landed right in Caroline’s hands.

Then, her sister and Kyle had gotten into the limo and had driven off into the night.

Caroline and Drew had wasted no time finding their way up to Caroline’s hotel suite.

Yes, she had been perfectly in control of her choices. Even if nearly every move she had made since abandoning her second trip to the cake table had been out of character.

It was too late to second-guess herself. It was six o’clock in the morning and Drew had been sound asleep when she had tiptoed off to the shower. She took her time, thinking that if he awoke and wanted an easy out, he could dress and slip out while she was occupied in the other room.

No awkward morning-after dances...especially since their “dance” last night had been so perfect. She wanted the end of their tryst—God, was that what this was, a tryst? When was the last time she had used that word? Probably never. That’s why she wanted the end of whatever this was to be as easy and unforced as the beginning: They’d danced during the reception after the limo had taken Claudia and Kyle away, Caroline and Drew had ended up back in her suite with a bottle of champagne, sharing the big marble Jacuzzi. Then they’d heated up the sheets of the big bed she initially thought would swallow her up alone.

But it had not. It had proven to be quite a lovely playground, where she and Drew Montgomery had played games she never dreamed she would take part in with someone like him.

He of all people. Her brother-in-law’s best friend. Good Lord, if Claudia ever found out, her holier-than-thou sister would...well, she definitely wouldn’t approve. As if Caroline’s wedding “nightcap” might somehow sully Claudia’s fairy-tale-perfect nuptials.

Caroline inhaled sharply, refusing to feel guilty over taking a little slice of pleasure for herself for a change. The scent of the lavender bath salts they’d used in the tub last night still perfumed the air.

Never in her life had Caroline felt so drawn to someone she knew so little about. The undeniable vibe she was getting from Drew this weekend was that he was the consummate bad boy. With his charm, she imagined he was a virtuoso at wooing women. The thought sent a particular thrill coursing through her.

Maybe she was overromanticizing the situation, but if she had learned one thing about Drew Montgomery this weekend it was that he had an unshakeable conviction to live life to its fullest.

If not, what’s the point of living?

His words haunted her. Their influence had been the tipping point, and the rest was history. Granted, a very short chapter in Caroline’s romantic history. But still, it was something.

Maybe he was onto something with his “authentic living” philosophy. Maybe she should borrow a page from that philosophy and tell her father that the stuffy offices of Coopersmith & Bales weren’t where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

What would he say if she told him she wanted to put aside her Harvard Business School education and bake?

She could hear her father’s humorless laugh in the recesses of her mind. It was a stupid idea. It wouldn’t be the first time she had broached the subject. But Charles Coopersmith always seemed to go deaf when she talked about a career change.

Right now everything was in order in the Coopersmith universe: Claudia was married to a man their father had all but hand-picked, and Caroline was in line to step into her father’s role of senior partner when he retired.

A knot formed in her stomach at the mere thought. There was nothing she could do about it right now. That’s why having a one-night stand with the best man at her sainted sister’s wedding—a man of whom her father would never approve—was as close as she would come to defying him.

She tried to shrug off the inner voice calling her a coward. But it didn’t really matter, did it? She knew in her gut that when she left the sanctuary of the bathroom, she would find the bed empty. Drew would’ve taken advantage of her absence to take his leave, and she would leave the fantasy of their one night behind and step back into real life.

So buck up. One night with Drew was exactly what you signed up for. This is how you wanted it to end.

She gave her reflection one last once-over. The foggy bathroom mirror reflected back a soft-focus image of a woman who looked a bit too hopeful to return to an empty bed. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, pushing the errant chestnut strands away from her face. Tightening the sash of the bathrobe, she opened the collar just a little bit so that the right amount of cleavage showed.

She turned out the light before she opened the door, standing in the pitch-dark for a moment to gather herself. She heard a distant door slam; someone moving around in the room upstairs; the distant resonance of a toilet flushing, a shower starting. The symphony of hotel sounds set over the reverb of her own breathing.

All right, come on. You can’t stay in here forever. Slowly, she turned the doorknob and stepped into the dimly lit bedchamber.

The first thing to come into focus was her bridesmaid dress, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Next, a trail of various articles of underclothing and men’s clothing—

Her gaze zagged to the bed, where a mound in the bed verified that Drew was still there. She froze, uncertain of what to do. Should she get back in bed or get dressed?

So much for avoiding the awkward morning-after dance.

When Caroline’s gaze adjusted to the low light, the bridal bouquet, which lay on the nightstand, came into focus. Perched precariously on the edge of the table, its bloodred roses were now drooping and showing their age. However, the blunt, thorn-free stems, chopped to uniform perfection and bound tightly in virginal, white satin ribbon, were still perfectly in place.

None of those roses could possibly break free from the pack. Now, if that wasn’t a metaphor for the Coopersmith family way...

In Caroline’s mind, a vision flashed of herself growing old and used up but still toeing the line at Coopersmith & Bales. All the blood drained from her head.

Drew stirred. His hand went up to his face, and he scrubbed his eyes before he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Good morning.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. He eyed her up and down, and the last traces of bravado she had been full of last night vanished, like someone deadheading roses.

“Good morning.” Her words slipped out on a whisper.

Grasping the lapels of her robe, she held them together, as if she were all modesty and virtue.

Oh, God, help me. It was too late for that now—too late for help or for modesty and virtue.

Drew patted the empty side of the bed next to him. “Come here.”

It took a couple of beats to unstick her bare feet from the floor, but finally she forced her legs to move. She perched primly on the edge of the bed next to him, her hands in her lap. Her gaze again landed on the bridal bouquet, but she redirected it to Drew.

He looked so darn sexy lying there on his side, propped up on his elbow, the sheet pulled up to his waist, barely covering his hipbones. His biceps bulged and his broad shoulders looked a mile wide. She swallowed around the angst that was blocking her airway.

“Do you want some coffee?” she offered, finally finding her voice, then cringing at the inane question.

“No thanks.” His hand was on her back, kneading her shoulder through the soft terry of the robe. “That’s not what I’m in the mood for just now.”

Without another word, he reached out and ran a finger along her jawline, down her neck, to the collar of her robe.

In one firm motion, he pulled her on top of him. And coffee completely lost its appeal.

* * *

“Tell me everything, and don’t you dare skip a single detail,” demanded Pepper Merriweather.

Caroline and Pepper had been best friends for as far back as they both could remember. Tonight they sat at Caroline’s kitchen table, sharing a bottle of pinot noir and some to-die-for parmesan spinach dip Pepper had commandeered from the kitchen of Celebrations, Inc.

They’d settled in with a spread of crudités and crackers, and Pepper was obviously expecting the details of Caroline’s time with Drew to be the main course.

Seeing as how they always told each other everything—stories about first boyfriends, first kisses, first heartbreaks, first and last dates—Caroline was having a hard time coming up with diversionary tactics. Because Caroline wasn’t so eager to share the story of her first one-night stand.

She wasn’t embarrassed. On the contrary, she was rather proud that for once she had not bowed to fear and had taken what she wanted. Not to mention the fact that it had happened with a guy like Drew Montgomery. That they’d spent all of Sunday morning in bed. Later they’d gone to brunch and had played together all day, until he’d dropped her off at home.

When was the last time she had played?

She had shared the surface points with Pepper. It was the more intimate details she was keeping closer to her chest.

Really, the only reason she and Pepper were having this conversation was that Pepper had said she’d seen Caroline and Drew dancing at the wedding Saturday night...and then she had seen the two of them leave together. Pepper tended to have a special kind of radar for things like that.

Now here Caroline was with her friend on Monday evening, sharing a bottle of wine, Pepper getting bolder and more insistent with each sip. The vaguer the answers Caroline gave, the more Pepper demanded the details.

The truth was, Caroline felt sort of like Cinderella having been to the ball, having danced with the prince all night, and now her coach had turned back into a pumpkin. Like Cinderella, she wanted more, despite the pact that she had made with herself that it would be just one night. But one night had turned into the next day, and pretty soon that pact she had made with herself was falling through the porch cracks as Drew kissed her good-night just before midnight.

So, now pactless and wanting more, she wasn’t sure how Drew felt.

When he left, he had not promised he’d call. Caroline had convinced herself that that was a good thing. Because if he’d said it, she would’ve gotten her hopes up, only to have them dashed when he did not follow through.

Instead, he had not said it, and here she sat uncertain and vulnerable with her hopes up anyway.

Oh, God, what made me think I could have a one-night stand?

She dug her nails into her palms and reminded herself that it was what it was. She had wanted one perfect night with a guy who was perfectly imperfect for her. One night to release all the wedding stress and then she would return to her regularly scheduled life, which had no room for ongoing romance.

Because of that, she did not dare try to find her prince or hope that her prince would care enough to find her again—although Drew did know where she lived, and she already knew he made no pretense of being Prince Charming.

Well, okay, he’d earned the charming part. That was part of the reason she did not feel like dishing the details with her friend.

Pepper picked up the bottle of pinot noir and refilled Caroline’s wineglass. That was an unspoken signal, and Caroline knew that in exactly four...three...two...one...

“Never in a million years would I have picked out a guy like him for you. But good for you, honey.” She pushed Caroline’s glass toward her and then clinked it with her own. “Cheers! I mean, if I’d been paired up with him, I would’ve gone for him myself. But it was obvious that he only had eyes for you.”

Caroline smiled and shrugged as she sipped her wine, racking her brain for something—anything—to change the subject.

Too late.

“Now, I know y’all spent the night together,” Pepper said, “but the burning question is, when are you going to see him again?”

There was a sparkle in Pepper’s eyes that hinted that her doing such a thing would be pure decadence...and maybe even highly recommended.

Caroline tried to act nonchalant, despite the heat she felt rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

Pepper straightened in her chair as if Caroline had just revealed the juiciest secret of all. “So that means you would see him again?”

Pepper cocked her head to the side, holding her wineglass midair.

“Well, why wouldn’t I?”

Pepper blinked and looked little stunned. “But you want to see him again, right?”

Caroline sipped her wine, buying time. She rolled the liquid around on her tongue, savoring its cherries, plums and earthiness.

Being put on the spot by Pepper sort of had the same effect as flipping a coin for an answer—in that flash of seconds before fate decided the answer, she knew what she wanted in her heart of hearts.

Yes. She did want to see him again. They’d had a fabulous time together. A truly fabulous time. No one was more surprised by this than she was. He’d been sweet and gentle and interesting. What was more, he seemed genuinely interested in her.

He would call.

Wouldn’t he?

Oh, God, what if he didn’t call?

* * *

Drew spent way too many hours in the office, but long hours were the nature of his job as editor-in-chief of the Dallas Journal of Business and Development.

After taking three days off for the wedding and spending all day Sunday with Caroline, he faced the age-old problem when he returned to work on Monday: his head just wasn’t in the game. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Caroline since he’d left her at the door after kissing her goodbye last night.

Even so, that morning, he’d hit the ground running—albeit with a smile on his face—and had not stopped all day.

Now, his computer screen glowed in the dusk of his dimly lit office. An article that one of the reporters had written about the opening of a new credit union in the area stared back at him blankly, and all he could think about was that at this time last night, he’d been with Caroline.

Come on, damn it. Focus on work.

Drew narrowed his gaze at his screen, redoubling his effort. It was stuffy in his closed office despite the cool October weather. Too bad he couldn’t open a window and let in some fresh air. But the one window in his shoebox-size second-floor office was strictly for show and not function.

He got up and opened his office door instead. The newsroom was quiet. Since it was after eight, all the cubicles were empty, including the one that belonged to managing editor Bia Anderson. Since Bia and the staff had worked double time in his absence, he had intended to work extra hard for the next four days to pull the rest of the week’s edition together. He’d sent her home early. He was alone in the office.

The newsroom was eerily silent. The faint smell of coffee hung in the air, mingling with newsprint and something else that was unique to the office. Drew liked to think it was the smell of ambition.

He made his way to the small kitchenette, and for a moment he thought about putting on another pot of coffee, but he dismissed the idea when he saw that someone had already cleaned up the coffee station. No use in dirtying it up again today, even though he was going to be there a while. He settled on a glass of cold water from the cooler next to the coffeemaker and made his way back to his desk.

Since the Dallas Journal of Business and Development hit the stands on Friday—a strategy designed to allow the Journal a slim margin to scoop the competition—the daily paper’s special tabloid-size business section, which ran on Mondays—Drew’s week began on Friday and ended on Thursday.

That meant he worked most weekends. Technically, Monday was midweek for him. After taking off Friday, Saturday and Sunday, he should have been way behind schedule. But since Bia had done such a beautiful job handling the first three days of the week, it wasn’t so bad.

Of course, there were still things that only he could do...in addition to editing the handful of articles that were just coming across his desk.

Being the editor-in-chief of the newspaper meant he had to be disciplined and had to keep everyone else on track. He shifted in his chair, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he took a long drink of water. He opened his eyes again.

The Journal may have been a small operation, but Drew ran a tight ship and expected nothing less of everyone else.

Yet, even as he resumed editing the credit union article, his thoughts drifted to the events of the past weekend.

It had been a long time since he’d been distracted like this, and all he could think was, Damn, she was worth the wait. Even though he had no idea he’d been waiting. Or that he’d been waiting for her.

This thought helped him power through the article. He finished it, saved the changes and exited out. Pushing back from his desk, he acknowledged that it was time to take a break more substantial than getting a glass of water. He’d worked through dinner. So maybe a break would leave him better off in the long run.

He picked up the phone and dialed Caroline’s number. It rang four times. He thought it was going to voice mail when she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like heaven to his ears.

“Hi, I have this tuxedo hanging in my closet. And I have this really hideous pumpkin-colored tie hanging there with it. I understand that you might know of someone who has an outfit—preferably a dress—that might complement it or at least make it look good.”

Her laugh was low and sexy.

“I think I know just the person you have in mind.”

The sound of her voice made him smile. He leaned back in his chair, and for the first time since he’d left her at her front door last night, he felt the tension melt out of his shoulders.

“So, where besides a wedding does one wear such unsightly pumpkin getups?” he asked.

“That depends on the pumpkins involved,” she said. “Pumpkins are always welcome at the farmers’ markets. This time of year, they’re frequently spotted in the produce aisle of the grocery store. Or for the really adventurous, they’ve been known to frequent ravioli and various pies and pastries. But that’s not for the everyday pumpkin; definitely not for the faint of heart.”

“That’s very good to know,” he said. “So, you’re not faint of heart, are you?”

“Me? No. Not me. Not at all.”

“Did not think so. I didn’t take you for that sort of girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice wavered a little bit.

So she wasn’t as tough as she was pretending to be. Quick-witted, yes. But not tough.

“That’s my lame way of asking you if you’d like to go to the farmers’ market with me Thursday night. We can put on our hideous pumpkin outfits and have a scandalous night on the town.”

“The farmers’ market is only open on Saturday mornings. I don’t think we can have a night on the town there.”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“No. I’m definitely not easy, if that’s what you were thinking.”

He smiled. She wasn’t exactly what he would call bristly, but he could tell he’d struck a nerve. Of course she wasn’t easy; she was damn irresistible.

“Then how about simply going out to dinner with me Thursday night?”

After a few beats of silence, she said, “I’d like that very much.” Her voice was soft again.

He heard muffled background voices over the line.

“Is someone there with you?”

“Yes. Did you meet my friend Pepper Merriweather? She was at the wedding.”

Of course he remembered Pepper. Everyone in the Southeast knew Pepper Merriweather. “Right. Yes, I did meet her. Her dad is Texas Star Energy, right?”

Caroline laughed. “Yes, though I’d never really thought of him that way. But yes, I guess in a sense he is Texas Star Energy.”

“I’ve interviewed her father before for the paper.”

He paused, waiting for her to react. It was an interesting dynamic. With a certain set of Dallas’s business elite, the Journal had a reputation for being reckless and socially impudent, which, in common man’s terms, meant Drew published the cold, hard truth. He’d butted heads with Harris Merriweather and some of the higher-ups at Texas Star when Drew had asked questions that, for some reason, they did not want to answer.

It was his duty to inform the public. It was also his job to ensure the stories he published were true and unbiased. The only way he could achieve that goal was to talk to people in the know. People who were willing to talk and tell him the truth. When sources stonewalled, it sent up red flags. Those red flags only encouraged Drew to push harder. Still, with Texas Star, he got nowhere.

While Caroline and her friend Pepper moved in those elite Dallas society circles, Caroline seemed no more one of them than Drew was. Maybe that’s why they’d had such a strong connection. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d connected with a woman on so many levels.

“So Thursday, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

It was going to be a long three days.

Chapter Three

Drew’s distraction at work was a testament to how much Caroline had gotten to him. Apparently, his attention deficit was also obvious to his coworkers.

On Thursday morning, Bia knocked on his door and stuck her head inside his office. “What’s up, Drew?”

“Business as usual,” he said, not looking up from his computer.

“Got a minute?”

“Umm...” He finished what he was doing on the computer before he glanced up. “Sure. Come on in.”

Bia shut the office door. Tucking one leg underneath her, she settled herself on a chair across from his desk.

“How late were you here last night?” she asked.

“I left around two.” He continued typing as he talked so not to waste time.

She gasped. “Two in the morning?”

“No, I left at two yesterday afternoon.” He looked up at her and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course two in the morning.”

“All right, grouchy. Obviously someone needs a nap.”

He had not meant to bite her head off. It was already four-thirty. He’d hoped to put this week’s edition to bed by five, but thanks to some glitches, he was running behind. “Sorry, B, I’m just trying to finish up here. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Bia nodded. “Something else besides this week’s edition is on your mind. I can tell. Want to talk about it?”

She was perceptive, that was for sure. It was a quality that made her a great reporter and an even better editor. But he really did not want her digging in his personal life.

“What makes you think I have something other than work on my mind?”

She quirked a brow at him. “Maybe the way you seem to be in an extra big hurry to get the paper out this week.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“Who said there was anything wrong with it? It’s just out of character for you.”

Drew tried to keep his face neutral. When Bia got a whiff that she was onto something, she read all the signs and signals until she had enough to substantiate her hunch.

“Do you have a date tonight?” she asked.

Drew looked away and started working on his computer again. Probably the wrong move—

“You do. You have a date! Who is she, Drew?”

Oh, hell. He really didn’t want to bring his personal life to the office. He’d learned the pitfalls of that the hard way when he and the woman he’d almost married both worked at the Colorado Journal of Business and Development, before they were both promoted to posts as editors-in-chief of different papers. He got the Dallas paper. Joan got the Seattle Journal.

When it became clear that one of them would have to compromise their career, it became fodder for the office gossip mill. Everyone was speculating on which one would give up the dream job for the preservation of their relationship. In the end, they sacrificed their future together. To this day, they remained good friends and even better colleagues, calling on each other for professional advice and sharing a good-natured rivalry concerning circulation and notable scoops.

After they broke up, Drew vowed to leave his personal life at home. As the editor-in-chief, it would be unprofessional to date one of his staff. In fact, Drew had instituted a no-dating policy among the staff of his paper. It just kept things cleaner. No jealousy, no bitter breakups to add to the tension of an industry that was already stressful by nature.

“Drew? You are out of it today.” Something bounced off his temple. It only took a second to realize Bia had wadded up a piece of paper and thrown it at him.

“Seriously?” He tried to frown at her but ended up smiling in spite of himself.

“You’re always the first one here in the morning and last one to leave,” said Bia. “Go on. Get out of here. This edition is almost done. I’ll see it through until the files are emailed off to the printer.”

Drew’s smile faded. He knew he was looking at her as if she had two heads. Did she really think he would cut out early on drop day? Especially after taking a three-day weekend?

“No, thanks. I got this. I can call and let her know I’m going to be a few minutes late.

Bia whistled. “I knew it.” Her voice was triumphant.

Drew cocked a brow at her to make it clear he’d let that bit of info slip on purpose.

“The news that, yes, indeed, I have a date does not need to be leaked to the rest of the newsroom.”

“On one condition,” Bia challenged.

“No conditions,” Drew countered.

“One condition. Do not be late. That is not a way to impress her. For that matter, you don’t have to permanently block out every single Thursday on your calendar from now till the end of time,” she said. “We’re just waiting on the Sugar Hill story. If you’d trust me just a little to demonstrate that I can pull it off, which is what you’ve been training me to do, we could start switching off late Thursdays. And you could get out of here early tonight and go see whoever it is that’s had you preoccupied since you got back from the wedding.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking. She was right—in more than one way. For the better part of a year, he had been training Bia for an editorship. She could handle it. If she got into a bind, she could call him. But there wouldn’t really be a bind because almost everything was done except for the late-breaking Sugar Hill scoop. They were waiting to verify a few facts that would allow them to scoop the daily paper.

Then again, he could’ve waited one more night—or at least until after the paper was put to bed—to see Caroline again.

Hell, he had not wanted to wait. And Bia was right: being late wasn’t the best way to make a good first impression. So why rush the Sugar Hill story that Jeff Thomas was ironing out?

“Jeff just sent me the preliminary copy,” Drew said. “That’s what I was looking at before you knocked. Do you think you can edit and format it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, I’ll email it to you. He shortened it a little bit, but I think we probably need to cut it by at least a hundred and fifty words. Maybe a little more, depending on how much additional stuff he needs to add.”

Bia nodded.

Drew attached the file to an email and sent it to her. “If you could just give it a look and see where you think he could trim it that would be a lot of help.”

“Sure,” Bia said. “I was looking over the profile on George Hildebrand for next week. Soon as I put this one to bed, I’ll get right to that one.

* * *

It was close to 5:45 by the time Drew was finally able to extract himself from the office. He had an hour and fifteen minutes to go home, shower and shave before he picked up Caroline at seven. He made record time. Soon, the two of them were walking into Bistro Saint-Germain in downtown Celebration.

It was an upscale spot with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that folded open so that the dining room spilled out onto the patio and sidewalk outside the restaurant. The tables were covered with crisp white linens and sported small votive candles and vases hosting single red rosebuds.

As they approached the maitre d’ stand, soft strains of a jazz quartet and muted conversation buzzed in the air. The bistro was hopping on this fine Thursday night. The place obviously wasn’t hurting for business, as was evidenced by the small crowd that waited at the bar. Drew was glad he’d made a reservation.

As they waited for the hostess to gather menus, Caroline leaned in and asked, “Where’s your pumpkin tie?”

He looked down at his chest and feigned surprise.

“Probably the same place as your pumpkin dress,” he said.

She smiled. “Well, I hope they’re having a wonderful time. Wherever they are tonight, I’m sure they make a handsome couple.”

He gazed at her, taking in her emerald-green eyes and the striking contrast they made paired with her chestnut hair. Her lush lips—the top lip just a little fuller than the bottom—and the way her delicate jaw curved into her slender neck. “I’m sure they do.”

As the hostess seated them at a table for two in a quiet corner of the garden patio, he realized he’d never believed in love at first sight...until now.

He’d fallen in love with Caroline the moment he’d first set eyes on her.

It had not been that way with Joan. In fact, with Joan, he’d believed there was no such thing as a soul mate or destiny. His philosophy had conformed to the idea that people were too damaged or too busy or too self-absorbed to make room in their souls for one perfect mate. Love had always been about two damaged people finding each other at the precise moment in their lives when their flaws and needs were arranged in a pattern where they could mesh and a relationship could grow.

Not very romantic, he admitted.

He and Joan had fallen together in the workplace and had given the best of themselves to the job. They made no pretense of romance. Their flaws had mingled and aligned in the residual of what really mattered to them. When their needs shifted, their new patterns didn’t fit, and everything ended.

Then he met Caroline and his beliefs tipped on their axis.

The crazy part was he did not even know her beyond the ethereal, beyond the fact that she was damn good at making him feel equal parts electrically charged and at ease around her. There was something magical here.

Here was a woman he’d met a week ago, and already he found himself daydreaming about a future with her. Those daydreams seemed more real than anything in his past.

After ordering a bottle of wine, he gazed at her across the table.

“So tell me about yourself.”

He grimaced. He had not meant to make it sound so formal, and he racked his brain for a way to reframe his comment, to make it more personal, less...professional.

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m interviewing you. I just want to know you better. Because I don’t know much about you except that your sister just married my best friend, you seem to have an aversion to the color pumpkin and you seem to love champagne. Who is Caroline Coopersmith?”

* * *

She gazed at him across the table, pondering the question.

Who was she? Well, that was a loaded question.

Mercifully, the server brought the wine and went through the tasting formalities, buying her time to think.

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