Chloe made Donovan feel special—almost like a man who deserved a woman like her.

No way could he resist the temptation of her kiss. Just for a moment, he promised himself.

But with one taste, he was lost.

He tried to remind himself that Chloe was endowing him with qualities he didn’t possess. That she was turning him into some kind of hero because they had grown to depend on each other during their kidnapping ordeal. Yet with her kiss, he found it all too easy to believe she wanted him for exactly who he was, flaws and all.

That sort of self-deception was dangerous. He’d never indulged in it before.

But everything was different with Chloe. She tempted him in ways he’d never been tempted before.

She almost tempted him to forget she was the woman his best friend planned to marry….

Dear Reader,

April may bring showers, but it also brings in a fabulous new batch of books from Silhouette Special Edition! This month treat yourself to the beginning of a brand-new exciting royal continuity, CROWN AND GLORY. We get the regal ball rolling with Laurie Paige’s delightful tale The Princess Is Pregnant! This romance is fair to bursting with passion and other temptations.

I’m pleased to offer The Groom’s Stand-In by Gina Wilkins—a fascinating story that is sure to keep readers on the edge of their seats…and warm their hearts in the process. Peggy Webb is no stranger herself to heartwarming romance with the next installment of her miniseries THE WESTMORELAND DIARIES. In Force of Nature, a beautiful photojournalist encounters a primitive man in the wilderness and must find a way to tame his oh-so-wild heart.

In The Man in Charge, Judith Lyons gives us a tender reunion romance where an endangered chancellor’s daughter finds herself being guarded by the man she’s never been able to forget—a rugged mercenary who’s about to learn he’s the father of their child! And in Wendy Warren’s new sensation Dakota Bride, readers will relish the theme of learning to love again, as a young widow dreams of love and marriage with a handsome stranger. In addition, you’ll find an intriguing case of mistaken identity in Jane Toombs’s Trouble in Tourmaline, where a world-weary lawyer takes a breather from his fast-paced life and finds his sights brightened by a lovely psychologist, who takes him for a gardener. You won’t want to put this story down!

So kick back and enjoy the fantasy of falling in love, and be sure to return next month for another winning selection of emotionally satisfying and uplifting stories of love, life and family!

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

The Groom’s Stand-In
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA Today bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Donovan Chance had done a lot of favors for his friend and employer, Bryan Falcon—some involving actual risk to life and limb—but he had never served as a babysitter. While that wasn’t exactly what he was doing on this Sunday afternoon in early April, the description felt uncomfortably accurate.

He had reluctantly agreed to escort Chloe Pennington—Bryan’s current girlfriend—from her Little Rock, Arkansas, apartment to Bryan’s vacation home on Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri. It would be a little more than three hours in the car with a total stranger, a trip Donovan wasn’t anticipating with any enthusiasm.

With a sigh, he reached for the door handle. He owed Bryan a lot more than a few favors—regardless of his personal feelings about this one in particular.

The apartment he’d been directed to was on the ground floor, opening onto a covered sidewalk. Rain was in the forecast—lots of it—and the air was nippy. Hunching a little against a brisk breeze, he rang the doorbell.

From the photograph Bryan had shown him, he immediately recognized the woman who opened the door. Medium-brown hair cut in a smooth bob to her collar. Large, long-lashed hazel eyes set in a fair-skinned oval face. Straight, smallish nose. Soft mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top. More pretty than beautiful. Dressed very casually in jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt.

He wouldn’t have thought she was Bryan’s type—but then, this whole situation had been a surprise to him. He wished he could say it had been a pleasant one.

He was quite sure no emotions were revealed in his expression when he introduced himself. “Ms. Pennington? I’m Donovan Chance, Bryan Falcon’s associate.”

Rather than make him feel welcome, as he’d expected, she gave him a cool once-over that left him feeling like something she’d spotted floating in her soup. “Associate?” she asked. “Don’t you mean flunky?”

His eyes narrowed in response to the unveiled insult. This was the woman Bryan wanted to marry? The one he’d described as sweet, warm, funny, a little old-fashioned? If Donovan hadn’t seen a photograph, he would be certain he’d come to the wrong apartment. “You are Ms. Pennington, aren’t you?” he asked just to be sure.

“Yes. May I call you Donnie?” Her honeyed tone was pure insolence this time. Donovan had always believed that no one could deliver an insult more effectively than a woman of the South.

“Not if you want me to answer.” He hadn’t been prepared to like her particularly, but he’d thought she’d at least make a show of being pleasant. He’d bet she never talked this way in front of Bryan. He’d had a great deal of experience dealing with difficult people, so he was able to keep his voice blandly polite. “I suppose we should get on the road. May I carry your bags for you?”

From babysitter to bellhop. Bryan could well owe him a few favors after this. Especially if Ms. Pennington’s attitude didn’t improve significantly. Soon.

“If it were up to me, no one would be getting in a car with you,” she said, and her expression now seemed to be an odd mixture of frustration and disapproval. “Then your rich boss could go shopping elsewhere for a suitable partner for his ridiculous marriage of convenience.”

Now he was confused. He’d thought Chloe Pennington was a willing participant in this whirlwind courtship—too willing, actually. He’d been certain she was as attracted to Bryan’s money and power as to Bryan himself—as too many other women had been during the past few years. But this woman wasn’t even pretending to be looking forward to the week she would be spending with the man who had been courting her so persistently. Did she really think it didn’t matter how she spoke to Bryan’s closest associate, as long as she behaved properly in front of Bryan himself?

Because he’d long since appointed himself Bryan’s protector, he spoke sharply, “Look, if that’s the way you really feel about this, let’s just forget it. Bryan doesn’t have time for a vacation now, anyway, especially with someone who would rather be elsewhere. And to be honest, I have plenty more important things to do than babysit a…”

“Grace? I saw Mrs. Callahan in the laundry room, and she asked me to tell you…” The woman who had entered the room, wearing khaki slacks and a mint-green sweater and carrying a load of folded laundry in a round plastic basket, came to an abrupt stop when she saw Donovan standing in the open doorway. “Oh,” she said, looking suddenly flustered. “You must be Donovan Chance. You’re early.”

Donovan wasn’t usually caught completely off guard, but it took him a moment to respond. “Actually, I’m exactly on time.”

The woman set the laundry basket on the couch and approached the door. “I’m so sorry. My watch must have stopped again. It’s been doing that lately.”

Though their appearance was almost identical—the only difference being that this woman wore her brown hair slightly longer and straighter—the newcomer’s voice was warmer than the one who had opened the door to him, her expression friendlier. “Grace, haven’t you even invited Mr. Chance inside?”

“Actually, I had almost convinced him to leave without you.” Her face resigned, Grace stepped out of Donovan’s way.

Sighing, Chloe stepped forward to extend her hand in Donovan’s direction. “I’m sorry if my sister was rude. Perhaps we should start from the beginning. I’m Chloe Pennington, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Chance. Bryan has often spoken of you.”

Donovan remembered now that Bryan had mentioned that Chloe owned a business with her sister. He had neglected to add that the sisters were identical twins. Donovan would have to discuss that with his friend later.

He shook Chloe’s hand briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Pennington,” he said, because etiquette demanded it of him.

“Please call me Chloe. And you’ve already met my sister, Grace.”

Meeting Grace’s glittering hazel eyes, Donovan nodded. “Yes, I’ve had that pleasure.”

She flashed him a challenging smile.

Looking suspiciously from one to the other, Chloe shook her head. “Now I’m even more convinced that an apology for my sister’s behavior must be in order.”

Turning his back on Grace, Donovan looked at Chloe—the woman Bryan had chosen, he reminded himself. “Are you ready to leave?”

Chloe glanced at her watch, shook her wrist, then slipped it off and tossed it to her sister. “See if you can have that repaired while I’m gone, will you?”

Catching it easily, Grace replied, “You could always stay and see to it yourself.”

“Don’t start with me again.” Chloe picked up the laundry basket and turned toward the doorway that led to the back of the apartment. “Five minutes,” she promised Donovan. “Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

He nodded, watching Grace a bit warily out of the corner of his eye.

Maybe Chloe sensed his uneasiness. “Grace, why don’t you come help me get everything ready,” she said, and her tone made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’m sure Mr. Chance won’t mind waiting by himself for a few minutes.”

“Not at all,” he assured her.

Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “You can handle everything in there. I’ll keep Falcon’s chauffeur company.”

Donovan was going to let it pass, but Chloe spoke sharply on his behalf. “Mr. Chance isn’t a chauffeur, he’s an executive in Bryan’s company. He’s doing Bryan a big favor by giving me a lift today because Bryan was detained in New York.”

“An executive. Is that what they’re calling errand boys these days?”

“Grace!”

Holding up a hand toward Chloe, Donovan focused on her sister. “You might as well get it off your chest. What other insults would you like to throw at me before I leave?”

He was a bit surprised to see her blush. She kept her chin high, defiance overcoming embarrassment. “I suppose I should apologize for the things I’ve said to you. You’re only doing your job, I guess. It’s my sister who needs some sense knocked into her.”

“You don’t approve of the engagement?”

“Bryan and I aren’t engaged,” Chloe said quickly. “We’re still in the preliminary stage of our relationship. That’s why we’re taking some private time at his vacation home this week—to discuss the future in private. We were both disturbed when the press got wind of our friendship and started dropping hints about a possible marriage.”

Grace whirled toward Donovan. “Do you approve of this ridiculous arrangement?”

He shrugged. No way, of course, was he going to admit that he agreed with Grace Pennington—about anything. “It’s none of my business.”

“So you are just an employee and not a real friend of Bryan Falcon.”

His eyes narrowed at that. “Bryan Falcon is the best friend I’ve ever had. But I don’t tell him how to run his personal life.”

Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his opinion when asked, of course. And if Bryan asked him, Donovan was going to suggest that his friend think a lot longer before making himself a part of this family.

“I wish you would teach that trick to my sister,” Chloe said. “Not getting involved in other people’s business, I mean.”

Donovan doubted that there was anything Grace Pennington would be willing to learn from him. “We’d better get going,” he said to Chloe, looking pointedly at his own efficiently accurate watch.

“I’ll hurry,” she replied. “Come on, Grace.”

With a show of reluctance, Grace followed her twin from the room, leaving Donovan to exhale slowly and wonder what on earth Bryan had gotten the two of them into this time.

Strapped into a luxuriously soft and comfortable leather seat, Chloe looked through her lashes at the man behind the wheel of the expensive sedan. The passing scenery was lovely. Though it was a bit chilly due to a midnight rainstorm the night before, the past couple of weeks had been quite warm, coaxing new leaves from trees and bringing out daffodils, Bradford pear blossoms, and a few early azaleas. As much as she enjoyed the first signs of spring, Chloe found herself unable to stop surreptitiously studying her driver.

Bryan had described his second-in-command as the classic “strong, silent type”—tough, blunt-spoken, ruthless when necessary. He had then added that Donovan Chance was the most honest, loyal, reliable friend he’d ever had. Chloe had expected to be a little awkward with Donovan. She hadn’t anticipated that she would be totally intimidated by him.

He wasn’t as handsome as Bryan—not in the traditional sense, anyway. Donovan’s features were more rugged than Bryan’s. She would bet he’d had his nose broken in his youth; just enough to keep it from being perfectly straight. His jaw was square, his cheekbones broad, and his unsmiling eyes were such a pale, cool green they looked almost metallic. Nice mouth—but she doubted those firm, intriguingly etched lips curved into a smile very often.

He wore “business-casual” clothing—a thin, V-necked cream-colored sweater over a navy-and-cream checked shirt with navy chinos and loafers—but he looked as though he’d be more at home in a denim shirt, jeans and a pair of boots. He’d apparently made an effort to comb his medium-length, chestnut-brown hair into a conservative style, but it showed a tendency to tumble rebelliously onto his forehead.

On anyone else, she might have referred to that errant lock as “boyish.” But not this guy. There was nothing boyish about Donovan Chance.

Because she knew that Donovan was Bryan’s best friend as well as his employee, and since she figured she’d be spending a lot of time around him in the future if she and Bryan did marry, she decided that now was as good a time as any to try to get to know him. After all, that had been Bryan’s intention when he’d sent Donovan to escort her to the resort, though she had assured him she was perfectly capable of traveling alone.

“Bryan told me you and he have known each other since high school,” she said to kick off the conversation.

Donovan replied without taking his eyes off the road ahead. “Yeah.”

“Were you neighbors?”

“No.”

Okay, no more questions that could be answered in monosyllables, she decided. Whether he was just naturally averse to small talk, or was still smarting from Grace’s rudeness, she didn’t know, but they would never get anywhere this way. “How did you and Bryan meet?”

After a rather lengthy pause, he said, “Four guys were doing their best to beat me to a pulp. Bryan jumped in to help me.”

Chloe felt her eyebrows rise as she tried to picture always-immaculate, elegant Bryan Falcon engaged in a vicious fist fight. On the other hand, she had no trouble at all imagining Donovan taking on four challengers. “Did you and Bryan win the fight?”

“Actually, they beat us both to a pulp.”

Chloe was startled into a laugh. “That’s terrible.”

What might have been a smile—it was hard to tell with this man—quirked one corner of his mouth. “We recovered.”

“So you and Bryan have been friends ever since?”

Another long pause—followed by another monosyllable. “Yeah.”

Chloe stifled a sigh and sat back in her seat. Looked as though this was going to be a long, quiet trip. She might as well enjoy the view.

It was with effort that Donovan kept his gaze focused on the road ahead instead of the woman sitting in the passenger seat. Something about her kept drawing his attention her way.

A sideways glance let him see that she was gazing out the side window at the passing landscape, a somber look on her face. Her fingers were twisted in her lap so tightly that her knuckles gleamed. She didn’t give the appearance of a woman on her way to a romantic getaway with the man she was planning to marry. Which made him wonder again why she was going along with this very businesslike courtship.

The most logical answer, of course, was that she had several million reasons—all green.

He was lousy at small talk, but he searched for something to say, a way to get her talking again so he could try to figure her out. “Bryan told me you’re in the retail business.”

She seemed relieved to be drawn out of her thoughts, even with such a lame conversational gambit. “Yes, Grace and I own a shop in Little Rock’s River Market district. We call it Mirror Images—a shameless play on our being twins, I’ll admit. We specialize in decorating accessories—unusual mirrors, mostly, but also pottery and sculpture, candleholders, carved boxes, blown-glass pieces. Many of the items are handmade and one-of-a-kind.”

Hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, he could tell her heart was in her work. Bryan had always said that no business could be successful if the owner had no passion. It was probably Chloe’s enthusiasm for her shop that had drawn Bryan to her in the first place. And maybe her smile…

He cleared his throat rather forcefully. “How’s business? Making a profit?”

Her eyebrows rose. “We’re doing all right,” she said, her tone a bit cool now.

Did she think he’d gotten too nosy? Or did she simply not want to admit that the shop wasn’t making money? He knew how difficult it was for a small business to survive. More than half folded within their first year of operation. It required a good deal of startup capital to acquire stock, hire competent employees, purchase enough advertising to catch the buying public’s attention….

He shrugged. “You’ll do better once Bryan’s involved.”

Everyone knew that Bryan Falcon had an almost magical way of making every business he backed turn a sizeable profit. Donovan was sure Chloe was well aware of her new boyfriend’s business talents—not to mention his notorious talent for charming women.

When she spoke this time, her tone was almost cool enough to deposit ice on his eyelashes. “I don’t expect Bryan to be involved with my business in any way. My sister and I are perfectly capable of running it on our own.”

“I see,” he said—which didn’t mean he believed her, of course. There was no way he’d accept that the financial advantages of marriage to one of the most successful venture capitalists in the country had never crossed her mind.

She frowned at him. “You think I’m only interested in Bryan’s money?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—you didn’t say it.” But apparently, she’d interpreted his words that way anyway. She sat back in her seat, her face turned away from him, her posture stiff enough to let him know she’d taken offense.

He thought about trying to apologize, but decided to let it go. For one thing, he was lousy at apologies—hadn’t made enough of them to get good at it. For another—well, hell, of course he figured she was interested in Bryan’s money. He’d met few women—or men, for that matter—who weren’t. And since her own sister had made it clear she didn’t consider this a love match, then Chloe had to have more prosaic reasons for considering marriage to Bryan.

An eminently practical man himself, Donovan supposed he couldn’t blame Chloe for keeping her eyes on the bottom line, but he still didn’t approve of this whole arrangement. Bryan deserved better than to be married for his money.

Donovan believed his friend was overreacting to his last failed romantic relationship. Bryan had been burned by a woman who had convinced him that she wanted him for himself, not his money. The truth of that ruse had been revealed when she’d gone ballistic at the first mention of the rather strict prenuptial agreement that Bryan’s team of attorneys had drafted years earlier. She hadn’t been a good enough actress to convince anyone that the extent of her outrage couldn’t be measured in dollar signs.

Because it hadn’t been the first time Bryan had been deceived, he had come to the conclusion that the only way he could be certain of a potential mate’s motives was to have everything spelled out from the beginning. He wanted children, and he wanted to raise them in a conventional two-parent family. He’d decided he should approach marriage the same way he started a new business—with legal contracts, long-term planning, calculated risks and clearly defined benefits.

Donovan had tried to point out that one didn’t choose a wife the same way one hired a financial officer, but Bryan had shrugged off the admonition. To him, it had seemed like a perfectly logical plan.

He’d told Donovan about the day in February when he had wandered into Chloe’s shop while on a break from a day-long meeting being held nearby. They’d started talking, then had somehow ended up having coffee together at the popular River Market pavilion. Bryan claimed to have known very quickly that Chloe was exactly the sort of woman he’d been searching for since he’d made the decision a few months earlier to enter into a practical marriage.

Donovan had never been accused of being even remotely romantic, but Bryan’s plan seemed too cold and calculated even for him. He couldn’t help wondering if someday Bryan was going to feel that he’d settled for less than he could have had, if he would always be aware that something important was missing.

Since he himself had no strong desire to reproduce, Donovan figured his way was easier—he didn’t plan to marry anyone. Any relationships he entered into were strictly short-term and no-strings, so motives didn’t really matter.

He was convinced that his strategy was the most practical of all.

They’d been on the road for almost an hour when Donovan realized that Chloe’s posture was still unnaturally rigid. Her hands were still laced tightly together, her short pink nails digging into skin.

“Are you okay?” he couldn’t resist asking. “My driving isn’t making you nervous or anything, is it?”

His question brought her head around. “Of course not. You seem to be an excellent driver. I’m not nervous about anything at all.”

Definitely a lie, he decided, glancing again at her telltale hands. “You just seemed a little tense.”

“I’m fine.” She looked straight ahead again as she spoke. “What is it you do in Bryan’s organization, exactly?”

He shrugged. “Whatever he needs me to do.”

“Such as escorting me today?”

Since the answer to that seemed obvious, he allowed it to pass.

“You’ve been out of the country for the past few months,” she tried again. “In…Italy?”

“Venice. I was there for almost three months.”

“That must have been very nice.”

“It was business.”

She twisted in her seat, tugging at the seat belt to allow her to look at him more closely. “Surely you took some time off for sightseeing.”

“Not much,” he admitted. “I was only supposed to be over there a couple of weeks. Problems kept cropping up to detain me. I was just trying to get everything settled so I could get back to the States.”

“You must have missed your family.”

“I don’t have family. I had a lot of work piling up here that I needed to attend to.”

“I see.” She settled back into her seat again.

Because he knew Bryan wanted him to keep Chloe entertained, Donovan tried to think of something interesting to say about his weeks in Venice. “The food was good.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“And the sunrises were nice,” he added. “I had a balcony, and I would sit out there and have coffee early in the mornings while I read through paperwork.”

The enthusiasm of her response to that made him glad he’d gone to the extra conversational effort. “That must have been spectacular!” She lifted her clasped hands to her chest as she apparently tried to visualize the scene he’d described so sparingly. “I’ve always wanted to travel. To see some of the places I’ve only read about until now.”

“When you marry Bryan, you’ll be able to travel as much as you want.” As he was sure she was aware.

She lowered her hands slowly to her lap. “If I marry Bryan,” she corrected him, her voice a bit cool again.

“The gossip columnists seem to think it’s all been decided.” And he imagined the rumors were correct. Despite her affront at implications that she would marry Bryan for his money, why wouldn’t she want to marry a multimillionaire who could take her to all those places she’d always wanted to visit?

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s something I’m still having trouble getting used to—being in the gossip columns, I mean.”

He shrugged again. “You’d better get used to it. For some reason, people seem to be fascinated with Bryan. Everything he does makes the papers.”

Money, he thought, had a way of drawing attention. Combine a lot of money with Bryan’s good looks, impressive family background, unerringly shrewd business decisions, personal charisma and single status, and the result was that he was included on every Most Eligible Bachelor list published in North America.

Just the hint that Bryan’s name might soon be removed from those lists had the gossips all abuzz with curiosity, despite Bryan’s efforts to keep his personal life private. Someone had apparently tipped off the tabloids about his interest in Chloe, much to Bryan’s displeasure.

That was another reason Bryan had asked Donovan to play escort on this trip. He’d been concerned that Chloe might find herself annoyed by reporters. Donovan rarely had that problem. For some reason, they took one look at him and quietly put away their notebooks.

“One of the so-called reporters called me Zoe,” Chloe muttered, “and another said it was Grace that Bryan’s been seeing.”

Donovan wondered if her disgruntled tone was because she’d been in the papers at all—or because they hadn’t gotten her name right. “The way your sister was talking earlier, I doubt that she appreciated seeing her name linked with Bryan’s,” was all he said.

Chloe winced. “No, she didn’t.”

“What does she have against Bryan, anyway?” Maybe Grace was jealous that she wasn’t the one poised to marry a multimillionaire.

“It isn’t Bryan, exactly. She’s just worried that I’m making a mistake. Grace has a little trouble trusting people—especially wealthy, powerful men. She’s convinced herself I’m going to end up bitter and humiliated. Unlike some people,” she added pointedly, “my sister knows I want more from a marriage than financial security, and she doesn’t believe I can find those things with Bryan.”

“And why is that?”

“She suspects that Bryan is playing me for a fool, and that he has no intention of settling down and raising a family.”

“Bryan does what he says he’ll do.”

“You’re very loyal to him.”

Because she could never understand how much he owed Bryan—and because it wasn’t any of her concern, anyway—he let the comment pass without remark.

They fell quiet again then. Donovan had run out of things to say, and Chloe seemed to have relaxed, if only marginally. Or perhaps even riding in uneasy silence seemed preferable to making stilted conversation with him.

He supposed he couldn’t blame her for that.

Chapter Two

They’d been on the road for almost two hours when Donovan nodded toward a small convenience store ahead. “We’re just past the halfway point of our trip. I could use a cold drink. How about you?”

“A cold drink sounds good.”

He flipped on his turn signal, automatically glancing in the rearview mirror as he did so. A big, extended-cab pickup was right on his back bumper, followed by a blue, soccer-mom minivan. The van had its signal on, too—no surprise, since there wasn’t another convenient place to stop for several miles ahead.

Because his gas tank was still more than half full, he drove into a parking space on one side of the small store. The only open space available, it lay in deep shadow. Though it wasn’t a particularly cold day, Donovan felt a chill go through him when he turned off the motor. He’d learned to trust feelings like that; he looked around before opening his door. Everything looked fine—a couple of older-model vehicles, several work-weary pickup trucks, and the soccer-mom van, which was parked at one of the three gas pumps.

Chloe eyed him quizzically. “Are you supposed to be my bodyguard?”

That whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “What makes you ask that?”

“Something about the way you checked out the place just now—all tense and alert, like a Hollywood version of a secret service agent.”

His reply was more curt than he had intended. “I’m no bodyguard. Do you want to go in with me or wait out here?”

She reached for her door handle. “I’ll go in.”

He followed close on her heels as they stepped out of the shadows and around to the front of the store. She glanced over her shoulder at him when they entered. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said, motioning in the general direction of the restrooms.

He nodded and turned to a wall-size cooler filled with soft drinks. He found himself watching the restroom doors during the brief time Chloe was out of his sight, though he couldn’t imagine why he was suddenly so antsy.

This whole situation probably had him unnerved. Bryan was supposed to be making this trip, but he’d been detained in New York and had arranged to meet them at his Ozarks vacation home. He’d asked Donovan to make sure Chloe got there safely. In a couple of hours, Bryan would become Chloe’s companion, and Donovan could get back to his own life—which, admittedly, consisted mostly of work.

Chloe joined him at the cooler, reached inside and selected a diet cola. They carried their selections to the register, setting them side by side on the counter. Chloe started to open her purse, but Donovan already had his money in hand. “I’ve got them.”

She looked as though she wanted to argue, but his expression must have let her know there would be no point. The purchases paid for, he handed her the diet cola and motioned toward the door.

A cloud passed in front of the sun just as they stepped outside, plunging the parking lot into even deeper shadow and making the brisk breeze that skipped around them feel suddenly colder. Once again, Donovan found himself moving closer to Chloe’s side.

Chloe looked at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

He was being foolish, of course. This wasn’t one of the rare operations during which he had to flinch at every sound, search every shadow, or suspect every bystander of being armed and dangerous. All he was doing was escorting Bryan’s girlfriend for a few hours. Not an assignment he would have chosen for himself, but certainly not a hazardous duty.

Chloe found herself sneaking glances at Donovan again during the remainder of the quiet ride. She regretted that he had slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses when they’d left the convenience store. His face had been difficult enough to read when she could see his eyes, as little as they revealed. Now, all she could see was the hard line of his jaw—which wasn’t encouraging conversation.

He would probably be perfectly happy if they completed the rest of the trip in silence. Even when he’d tried to make small talk, he hadn’t been particularly friendly. Maybe she shouldn’t take it personally. Maybe he was this way with everyone, although she found it hard to believe that charming, congenial Bryan Falcon’s closest friend had the personality of granite.

She couldn’t say this trip was starting out promisingly. But, at least, she had never had any trouble talking to Bryan, she reminded herself. Just the opposite, in fact; they’d chatted almost like old friends from the first time they’d met.

If Bryan felt more like a good friend than a potential lover—well, that was something she was hoping to overcome during the next few days. Bryan was handsome, personable, intelligent, amusing, attentive—everything a woman could want. She was quite sure that once they were alone, away from the pressure of public scrutiny, their relationship would progress naturally.

She wasn’t looking for blazing passion in a marriage, she reminded herself. She wasn’t expecting to fall desperately in love—nor to be blindly adored in return. She’d sought those romantic myths before, only to be repeatedly disappointed. She would be content now with security, respect, affection and, most of all, children—and Bryan had almost convinced her he wanted exactly the same things.

Why couldn’t Grace understand how appealing his offer sounded?

As for Donovan—Chloe risked a glance at the stern-faced man behind the wheel. He’d made his disapproval clear enough. Did he really think of her as a scheming gold digger, or was he, like Grace, completely turned off by the businesslike way Bryan and Chloe were going about this courtship? She doubted that Donovan harbored any romantic illusions about love and marriage. She would bet he was convinced she was only after Bryan’s money, that Bryan was the one being used.

Well, that was Donovan’s problem. She wouldn’t waste her breath trying to explain her motives to him. For one thing, it was none of his business. For another, he would never believe her anyway, not if he already had his mind made up about her.

“How much farther is it to Bryan’s vacation house?” she asked.

“About another hour.”

She nodded and adjusted her seat belt, mentally preparing for another awkward hour. “Will Bryan be waiting for us there?”

“He hoped to arrive about the same time we do—maybe an hour or so afterward if he got held up in New York.”

“And will you be staying with us?”

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes through his dark glasses, she felt the dry humor in the glance he shot her way. “Don’t worry, I won’t interfere with your plans. I’ll be on my way as soon as you and Bryan are settled in.”

She didn’t know why his words embarrassed her. There was nothing overtly suggestive about them. But still she found herself averting her face to hide her expression, gazing fixedly out the passenger-side window.

She was an adult, she reminded herself—closing in fast on her thirtieth birthday. She didn’t owe Donovan, Grace or anyone else explanations or justifications for her actions. She didn’t have to tell them that Bryan had promised not to rush her, that they had agreed they would spend the next few days talking in private about what they both wanted for their futures.

She’d tried to convince Grace that this was the primary purpose for this intimate retreat, but Grace hadn’t accepted it. She was convinced that Bryan was going to pressure Chloe into sleeping with him for a few days. Then, when he grew bored with her, he was going to announce that he’d changed his mind about marriage, leaving Chloe feeling used, betrayed and deeply disappointed.

Chloe suspected that Donovan harbored similar unflattering suspicions about her.

She was relieved when Donovan turned off the main highway onto a winding lane that he said led to Bryan’s Table Rock Lake vacation home. The sooner this uncomfortable journey was over, the better, as far as she was concerned. She much preferred Bryan’s easy charm to Donovan’s brooding disapproval.

He made several more winding turns, seemingly taking them miles from anywhere. It occurred to her suddenly that she was being awfully trusting, going blindly into the wilderness with this taciturn man she hadn’t met before today. But Bryan had told her she would be safe with Donovan, and she trusted Bryan implicitly. She wouldn’t have agreed to spend the next week with him if she didn’t.

She had expected Bryan’s vacation house to be nice. She already knew he wasn’t the type to settle for less.

She hadn’t expected anything quite like this.

Looking more like a lodge than a private vacation home, the sprawling structure was built of rock and redwood. Big windows and roomy decks allowed for the enjoyment of the beautiful surroundings—the thick woods, the rolling hills, the glistening lake that lay in the distance behind the house, which perched at the top of a tall bluff. Though tasteful and inviting, there was no question that this place belonged to someone with a great deal of money.

Chloe’s family had never been poor, but they would definitely have been categorized as “working class.” She’d never been to a place like this that wasn’t a public resort.

“Looks like we’ve arrived before Bryan,” Donovan commented, parking in front of the house. “He should be here soon. I’ll help you get settled in.”

Now that she was actually here, Chloe was unexpectedly hesitant about going inside. Maybe it was because the house was so much more impressive than she had expected, emphasizing the differences between her lifestyle and Bryan’s. Or maybe it was a result of the uncomfortable hours she had just spent with Bryan’s associate. Or maybe it was because the full magnitude of what she was doing was just hitting her.

This wasn’t dinner and a movie, or a night at the symphony—the type of outing she’d shared with Bryan until now. This was a full week with him. Days…and nights. That was enough to daunt her, since going away with a man wasn’t something she had done very often. But she couldn’t even mark this off as an impulsive fling; the primary purpose of the next few days was to discuss the future. Marriage. The rest of her life.

All the lectures Grace had given her during the past ten days or so suddenly replayed in her mind. Ironically, it wasn’t Grace’s gloomy warnings that Bryan wasn’t serious about marriage that made Chloe so nervous; it was her own deep certainty that he was serious.

“Something wrong?” Donovan asked, breaking into her somber introspection and making her realize how long she must have been sitting there without moving.

She swallowed. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

Except that she abruptly wanted to go home. Now. As much as she wanted children, as often as she had told herself that there were more sensible reasons to marry than the passionate love of fantasy and fiction, she suddenly found herself suddenly longing with all her heart for the fairy tale. She wanted it all—why was she even contemplating settling for less?

Donovan seemed to be studying her intently through his dark glasses. “Changing your mind?”

She lifted her chin and reached for the door handle, determined that he wouldn’t see her irrational panic. “Of course not. I was just…admiring the view.”

He made a sound that might have expressed skepticism, but she didn’t bother to try to convince him further. Before she could change her mind, she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

She hadn’t committed to Bryan yet, she reminded herself. He had promised not to pressure her, and she trusted him to keep his word. And who knew? Maybe she would fall in love during the next few days. Stranger things had happened.

She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her reactions to Bryan’s Ozarks vacation home. Donovan was aware of the irony in his observation that the woman he suspected of trying to dupe his friend into a marriage-for-money didn’t appear to be a particularly skilled actor.

Carrying her bags inside, he watched her face as she took in the professionally contracted decor. Her expressions ranged from impressed to slightly intimidated as they passed through the glass-walled great room, up a curving flight of stairs and down a long hallway to the bedroom suite Bryan had selected for her use.

The luxurious guest suite was located at the farthest end of the hall from Bryan’s master suite. Bryan had told Donovan that he and Chloe planned to spend most of this secluded week-long retreat engaging in serious discussions about the future. But Donovan doubted that Bryan intended Chloe to remain at the far end of the hallway throughout the entire week.

“Is, um, something wrong?”

Chloe’s hesitant question made Donovan realize that he’d frozen in the doorway of the guest suite, his eyebrows lowered into a heavy scowl. He made a deliberate effort to smooth his expression. He didn’t know why he’d been frowning, anyway.

“Just wanted to make sure this room’s okay with you before I set your bags down,” he bluffed.

Standing in the center of the sitting area that led into the large bedroom, Chloe glanced around at the painstakingly selected antiques and accessories and the invitingly comfortable-looking furnishings. “This looks fine. Perfect.”

Maybe it was only nerves that made her sound less than enthusiastic. Maybe just the awkwardness of standing in a bedroom with a near-stranger. Maybe it was that same awkwardness that had his own stomach suddenly tied into knots. “I’ll just set these bags beside the, uh, bed,” he said, then cursed himself for the uncharacteristic verbal fumble.

Chloe nodded and tightened her grip on the bulging tote bag she was holding, as if she were afraid he might try to take it from her.

This was stupid, he thought irritably as he deposited her luggage. While he’d never possessed Bryan’s silver-tongued charisma with the ladies, he wasn’t usually reduced to stammering. This whole situation was awkward and weird—which must account for the sense of impending catastrophe he’d been fighting ever since they’d stopped at the convenience store.

Leaving Chloe to settle in, Donovan went downstairs to the kitchen. At home there, he opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a soft drink. Popping the top, he downed a third of it in one long guzzle. For some reason, his throat suddenly felt parched.

He would be glad when Bryan arrived so he could get the heck out of this kooky courtship.

As if in response to his fervent wish, the telephone rang. Out of habit, Donovan scooped up the kitchen extension before it could ring a second time. “Donovan Chance,” he said automatically—the only way he ever answered a call.

The caller spoke without bothering to identify himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d be there yet. I tried your cell phone. Did you forget to turn it on?”

Donovan reached automatically for his belt. “Forgot to bring it in. I left it in the car.”

“You didn’t have any problems getting there, I hope? The weather’s good?”

It wasn’t like Bryan to stall with small talk. “Where are you, Bryan? How long will it take you to get here?”

The sound of a throat being cleared was the only answer, making Donovan’s frown deepen. “Bryan? What’s going on?”

“Something’s come up, D.C. I’m not going to make it there today.”

“Damn it, you haven’t even left New York, have you?”

“No. The deal here started unraveling this morning and I’ve had my hands full trying to keep everything together. This is the first chance I’ve had to even give you a call. I kept hoping I could slip away late this afternoon, but noon tomorrow’s going to be the earliest I can get out. I hope to be there by early tomorrow evening.”

“And what am I supposed to do with your house-guest in the meantime? Leave her here by herself?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

Donovan sighed. “Damn it, Bryan.”

“Look, I know you have things you’d rather be doing…”

“Things I need to be doing. Like work. Isn’t there any way you can hop on a plane tonight and I could take care of things there?”

“I’m afraid not. Trust me, Donovan, this isn’t my choice. I’d much rather be there making plans with Chloe than fighting it out here with Childers. I feel like a heel for bailing out on her like this after she’s made that long trip. I hope she won’t be too angry with me.”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it,” Donovan muttered. Bryan had a way of charming women into forgiving him. Who was he kidding? Bryan’s magic even worked on Donovan. He should be steamed over being stuck here like this, but instead, he was agreeing to extend his babysitting services for another twenty-four hours or so.

“So what do you think of Chloe? Is she everything I told you she was?”

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

The bland words seemed to echo through the phone lines for several long moments before Bryan spoke again. “You have a problem with Chloe?”

“Of course not.”

“Something’s bugging you, I can tell. What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering how I’m supposed to entertain her until you get here. She didn’t agree to come away on a cozy vacation with me, you know.”

“Just keep her company. Take her for a walk or a boat ride or something. Make dinner—maybe throw a couple of steaks on the grill. There’s a good selection of DVD movies in the media room, and some new books in the library. Or there’s always Scrabble or Monopoly if you get desperate, though I know you’re not much of a game player.”

With another heavy sigh, Donovan nodded. “We’ll get by somehow.”

“I’m sure you will. Despite your own glaring personality shortcomings, you’ll find Chloe’s great company. Maybe she was a bit nervous during the car ride—let’s face it, pal, you’ve been known to intimidate tougher souls than Chloe—but once she’s comfortable with you, you’ll see how interesting and amusing she can be. Just keep in mind that she’s already taken.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Donovan hadn’t forgotten for one moment that Chloe planned to marry his boss.

“I guess I’d better break it to Chloe that I won’t be there tonight.”

“She’s in her room, unpacking. I’ll get her for you.”

“Thanks, D.C. I owe you for this.”

“You sure do,” Donovan muttered, setting the receiver on the counter. “Big time.”

She really should have listened to her sister.

Wearing a green satin nightgown and a matching robe, Chloe stood outside on the balcony of the dauntingly elegant guest room. It was a beautiful night—clear, mild, gilded by a bright, nearly full moon—but chilly. Her breath hung in front of her as she leaned against the railing and gazed somberly at the landscape of mysteriously shadowed hills and the glittering lake in the distance. It was a night made for romance and intrigue.

Yet she was spending it alone, wishing she was back in her simple Little Rock apartment.

Grace had warned her that this was a bad idea. She had predicted from the beginning that it wouldn’t work out the way Chloe hoped. Little could she have known just how right she would be.

From the moment Bryan had gracefully and effusively apologized for standing her up this evening, Chloe had sensed the plans she’d made disintegrating around her. Or maybe it had all started crumbling even before that—maybe when she’d walked into her living room and found Donovan Chance and her sister glaring at each other.

She wanted to believe she would feel differently now if Bryan had been available to pick her up at her apartment and drive her here himself. If he had been the one to spend the day with her, to dine with her, to bid her goodnight. Instead, she found herself trying to summon a clear mental picture of him. For some strange reason, his image kept metamorphosing in her mind—his thick, glossy black hair and brilliant blue eyes changing to rebellious chestnut-brown strands and metallic-green eyes.

It was obvious that she kept thinking of Donovan because she’d spent so much time with him today. It certainly wasn’t anything more than that; she couldn’t even say that she liked the man very much. It had been all she could do to make conversation with him during dinner, since he still showed that irritating tendency to answer with a monosyllable any time he could.

The main problem was that at this point, she couldn’t say that she particularly wanted to be with Bryan, either, no matter how much more articulate and entertaining he could be than his friend.

She sighed.

“Dreaming of anyone in particular?” a gravelly voice drawled from somewhere beneath her, making her start.

Her heart pounding, she peered tentatively over the balcony. “Donovan?”

On the ground below her, a figure stepped out of the shadows of a bushy tree and into the range of a motion-triggered security light. The resulting yellowish illumination exaggerated the angles and planes of Donovan’s firmly carved face, making him appear even more a stranger than he had before. He’d changed from his conservative clothing into a black pullover and black jeans, and he looked very much at home in the darkness.

“What are you doing down there?” She hadn’t even realized he was outside, having assumed he was asleep in one of the other bedrooms.

“Just patrolling the grounds.”

“So security guard is also on your job description?”

She wasn’t surprised when he responded with one of his laconic shrugs, then changed the subject. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Leaning her arms against the railing, she looked down at him. “I guess I wasn’t as tired as I thought I was.”

After a slight pause, he asked, “Want to come outside for a walk?”

“Thanks, but entertaining me isn’t on your job description.”

“Actually, it is. I promised Bryan I’d make sure you aren’t bored until he gets here.”

Because he made her sound like a cranky toddler he was endeavoring to humor, she replied a bit coolly. “I’m not at all bored.”

Bryan had commented often on his second-in-command’s commitment; when Donovan Chance took on an assignment, he gave it his full attention. Apparently, he considered her his latest assignment. He was grimly determined to keep her entertained until he could hand her over to his employer. A depressing thought, she discovered, though she didn’t care to analyze why.

“I believe I’ll turn in now,” she said, taking a step back from the rail. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded. “Call out if you need anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t imagine any reason she would be calling for Donovan Chance during the night.

A shiver went through her as she reentered her bedroom and locked the balcony door. It felt strangely like a premonition—which only reinforced her belief that she was stressed-out about being here at all.

She really should have listened to her sister.

Chapter Three

Donovan didn’t require much sleep, but he managed even less than usual during that night. He kept being awakened by the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Or that there was something he should be doing. Because his instincts were so often right, he’d tested all the locks—twice—and he’d patrolled the grounds. He could find nothing wrong, nothing pressing he needed to attend to before morning.

He had to assume he was simply overreacting to the unusual situation he found himself in that evening.

He would be glad when Bryan arrived and he could turn Chloe Pennington over to him—or at least, he should be glad. After spending several hours with Chloe, he could understand what had attracted Bryan to her. Had she not already been claimed by his best friend, Donovan might have considered making a move on her, but since Bryan was involved, that, of course, was a line he would never cross.

As for this marriage plan…he still couldn’t approve. While he wasn’t quite as certain now that Chloe was only after Bryan’s money, he still doubted that she had any deep feelings for his friend. There had been some warmth in her voice when she’d talked about Bryan during dinner, but it was almost as if she’d been speaking of a distant acquaintance that she rather liked, rather than someone who should be far more important to her.

He didn’t know what her motives were, exactly—whether they were money, security or social connections—but he would bet Chloe wasn’t planning to marry Bryan for love. And while Bryan might insist that he wasn’t looking for that sort of bond—just as Donovan wasn’t interested in falling under some romantic spell—it still seemed that there should be something more to a marriage than amiable companionship.

Shifting restlessly in the bed he usually occupied during his frequent stays here, Donovan told himself he really should mind his own business when it came to Bryan’s matrimonial plans. What did he know about marriage, anyway? His own parents had probably considered themselves in love when they married, and that had been a disaster. Bryan’s parents could hardly stand each other, but they were still together, apparently content with the arrangement they’d come to during the past forty years.

If Bryan wanted the same sort of cool, convenient alliance, who was he to interfere, even if Bryan would allow him to do so?

Donovan rolled over again in the bed, telling himself to go to sleep and stop fretting about things that were beyond his control. And then he found himself remembering the sight of Chloe standing on that balcony in the moonlight, wearing her floaty nightclothes and looking pretty enough to make a man almost forget how to think.

Donovan was not in a good mood.

Chloe didn’t know if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep or if he was just bored, but he’d been all but snarling at her ever since she’d joined him in the kitchen. She’d risen early, but he’d already had coffee made and breakfast cooked.

“I hope you like oatmeal,” he’d said. “It’s one of the few things I know how to cook.”

“I like oatmeal,” she had answered, warily eyeing his stern expression.

“Good.”

She didn’t think he’d said a complete sentence since, she mused as they stacked their bowls and spoons in the dishwasher a short time later.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m. yet. “What time did Bryan say he would be here?”

If anything, the question only seemed to make Donovan grumpier. “He didn’t know, exactly. Late afternoon—early evening, maybe.”

The hours in between stretched ahead of her like a gaping hole she had no idea how to fill. She’d packed a couple of books, but it seemed rather rude to close herself in her room for the rest of the day. Or maybe Donovan would prefer that she do just that, freeing him from the responsibility of entertaining her.

After closing the dishwasher door, he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a nice day out, even though it’s cloudy,” he said abruptly. “Why don’t I show you around the place? You’ll probably be spending a lot of time here. It’s Bryan’s favorite retreat when he needs to get away from the everyday grind.”

He seemed to be again assuming that she and Bryan would be married, despite her reminders that she hadn’t made that decision yet. Since it didn’t seem to serve any purpose to continue reminding him, she merely nodded and said, “All right. I’d enjoy a tour.”

He glanced at the thin, coral-colored T-shirt she’d donned with khakis. “You’d better grab a jacket. It’s still a little cool out.”

For some reason, his words evoked an image of being on the balcony last night, her breath forming silvery clouds in front of her, Donovan gazing up at her from the shadows below. She took an involuntary step backward, as if she could physically move away from that oddly unsettling memory. “I’ll be right back.”

At least a tour of the grounds would give them something to do for a little while, she reasoned as she pulled on a heavy denim shirt in lieu of a jacket. She was probably growing increasingly aware of Donovan because they had been confined to such tight quarters for so many hours—first in his car, and then in this house. Maybe it would help to be outside.

Donovan was waiting by the back door. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, apparently thinking his long-sleeved black pullover and black pants would be warm enough. He’d shown a predilection for black clothing since they’d arrived here, she mused as she stepped outside ahead of him.

Studying him through her eyelashes, she decided it was a good thing he hadn’t been dressed this way when he’d arrived at her door to pick her up yesterday. Her over-protective twin might have been tempted to throw herself across the doorstep to prevent Chloe from leaving with this stranger.

Donovan Chance looked just a bit dangerous in black.

As he’d warned her, the air was nippy—though not as cold as it had been last night. The grounds around the house were beautifully landscaped, the plantings lush and natural so that little maintenance was required. Rock and hardwood mulch had been used for pathways through the trees and beds, and several inviting seating areas offered choices of breathtaking lake views, peacefully shaded alcoves or sunbathed clearings. Fountains, waterfalls, birdbaths and feeders added more sensory input.

Chloe was so enthralled by the sheer beauty surrounding her that she almost forgot to watch her feet. She might have taken a tumble if Donovan hadn’t reached out to catch her arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop. “Drop-off,” he said with his usual brevity.

She glanced down to discover that she stood at the top of a series of flagstone steps that had been carved out of a rather steep hill. The steps were set to one side of the rocky bluff that overhung the lake a hundred feet below. “Do these lead down to the lake?”

“Eventually—in a roundabout way. It takes a bit of exertion—especially coming back up—but Bryan and I go down that way fairly often. Want to check it out?”

She looked cautiously over the edge of the bluff. It was a long way down—and she’d never been particularly fond of heights. “How steep does the path get?”

Donovan shrugged. “Steeper in some places than others. But it’s safe. Bryan wouldn’t take any risks with his guests’ welfare.”

She didn’t doubt that. If there was one thing she had learned about Bryan, it was that he was a stickler for details. “Then I’d like to go down to the lake.”

“Hang on a second.” Moving around her, he walked down a couple of steps, then turned to look up at her. “The stones are still damp, so watch your step.”

He was always so conscientious about taking care of her. Donovan really took his assignments seriously, she mused as she moved cautiously onto the first step.

She was glad she was wearing sneakers for the extra traction they provided. Whether because of them, or because she was enjoying the scenery so much, or just because Donovan hovered so protectively nearby, she felt perfectly safe during the descent.

The area was filled with wildlife—birds, chipmunks, rabbits, deer. Two playful squirrels chased each other across the path, oblivious to the two-legged trespassers in their playground. Laughing at their antics, and perhaps a bit overconfident in the traction of her sneakers, Chloe nearly stumbled when her foot slipped on the uneven edge of a stone step. Donovan steadied her instantly, displaying impressively swift reflexes.

“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed by her clumsiness. “I guess I’ve lived in town for too long.”

He didn’t immediately release her, but kept a loose grip on her arm as he guided her down another short flight of steps to the next sloping walkway. “Did you grow up in Little Rock?”

“No, I’m from Searcy, originally. Our parents still live there, though they left two days ago for a ten-day-long Caribbean cruise. Grace and I moved to Little Rock eleven years ago—right out of high school. We worked days and attended night classes at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock until we earned degrees in business. We always wanted to go into business for ourselves, but we had to wait until the time was right. We opened our shop ten months ago.”

It was more than he had asked, of course. Maybe in reaction to Donovan’s customary terseness, she tended to babble when he made conversational overtures.

“You and your sister have shared an apartment for eleven years?”

She didn’t know whether he found it hard to believe that any two people could cohabit for that long, or if anyone could live with her sister for eleven years—Grace had hardly made a positive first impression with Donovan. She quickly set him straight. “Grace and I don’t share an apartment. We did for a while when we first moved to Little Rock, but we found our own places several years ago. Grace was there yesterday to, um, see me off.”

“To see you off…or to try one last time to talk you out of going?”

She smiled wryly to acknowledge the hit. “Yes, well…”

Moving ahead of her, Donovan stepped over a large boulder in the path and then turned to offer her his hand. “Careful here. It’s slippery.”

She hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, providing support as she made her way carefully over the boulder. He did have a competent air about him. She certainly understood how Bryan had come to depend on him so much.

As soon as Chloe reached the foot of the trail, she decided the trip down was worth the effort. A driftwood-littered gravel beach was shaded by trees that leaned out over the water. On one side of the private inlet sat a neat metal boathouse and a covered wooden deck lined with benches.

“Oh, this is nice.” She made a slow circle, peering up the face of the bluff. The back of the house above them was just visible from where she stood. The sun glinted off the many big windows that overlooked the lake. She turned again to study the boathouse and dock. “I suppose Bryan keeps a boat here.”

“Two—a ski boat and a pontoon boat. Would you like to go for a ride?”

“Not now, thank you.”

“Saving yourself for Bryan?”

The apparent double entendre made her turn to look at him in surprise. Had that actually been a lame joke? If so, it was the first time she’d heard Donovan even attempt to be amusing. Now, how was she supposed to respond? Had she been with Bryan, she would have shot back some similar wisecrack, but with Donovan, her usual wit seemed to get tangled around her tongue.

He didn’t wait for her to come up with something to say. Instead, he turned, reached down to scoop up a pebble, and sent it skipping frenetically over the surface of the water.

“Very impressive.” She feigned applause. “I could never do that. Grace, now, is a champion rock skipper.”

He looked skeptical. “You can’t skip a rock?”

“Nope,” she replied cheerfully. “I’ve tried since I was seven, and I’ve never managed more than a sorry bounce or two before my rock sank straight to the bottom. My dad was convinced I just wasn’t trying, but I really did try—until I finally gave up in sheer frustration.”

“Everyone can skip a rock.”

“I can’t,” she said with a shrug. “Just never figured out the trajectories or whatever.”

“Everyone can skip a rock,” he repeated, looking down at the ground.

“Not everyone.”

He bent to pluck several stones from the ground, then rattled them in his palm as he straightened. “Here. Give it a try.”

“I’m telling you, Donovan, it’s a lost cause. I cannot skip rocks.”

“Of course you can.” He placed a flat stone in her hand. “Now, just skim it over the water’s surface.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered, then obligingly tossed the rock at the water. As she’d expected, it sank with a splash.

“No, you threw it into the water, not across it.” Donovan handed her another stone. “Think of the water as a solid surface and let the rock hit it at a glancing angle.”

“Oh, sure. No problem.” She sighed and threw the second rock, watching in resignation when it immediately disappeared beneath the surface. “Okay. Have I convinced you yet?”

“You’re not trying.”

“If only you knew how many times I’ve heard that—in exactly that same tone.”

He gave her another stone. “Try again. And remember, your object is to skip the rock, not sink it.”

That rock made a half-hearted attempt to bounce before it was devoured by a hungry ripple. Chloe turned with a disgusted shake of her head. “I told you. I can’t—”

He folded her fingers around another rock. “Try again.”

She frowned a little. She didn’t quite like the grimly determined look on Donovan’s face. He had decided, for some reason, to teach her how to skip a rock—and he didn’t seem inclined to give up until she had learned to do so. Because she had a sudden mental picture of herself standing there throwing rocks until sundown, she shook her head. “I’d really rather not. I just can’t—”

Her words stumbled to a halt when he moved behind her and covered her hand with his own.

“Like this,” he said, pulling her arm back and tilting her hand to a position that satisfied him. “Bring your arm forward and release the rock exactly at that angle.”

She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You’re not going to give up until I learn this, are you?”

His low voice rumbled unnervingly close to her ear. “It’s just a matter of convincing you that you want it.”

“It’s, um, not that important a skill to learn.”

Without releasing her, he shrugged. “I don’t like hearing anyone say, ‘I can’t.’”

There had to be some significance to that statement, she mused, trying to distract herself from how closely he stood to her. Something in his past or his psyche made him doggedly stick to a task until it was completed to his satisfaction.

The distraction technique wasn’t helping much. She was entirely too aware of the warmth that seemed to radiate from him, and the strength of the hand that held hers. She was definitely spending too much time alone with this man.

She tossed the rock quickly, hoping it would skip so he would move away. It sort of bounced once before sinking.

Sighing, she turned her head to look at him, intending to tell him to forget it. To mark this project off as a lost cause. She couldn’t skip rocks, didn’t even want to skip rocks, and she saw no reason to waste any more time trying. She was simply going to politely, but firmly, tell him….

Her gaze locked with his cool green eyes…and whatever she had intended to say fled from her mind. His arm was still partially around her, and he stood so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. A quiver of reaction rippled somewhere deep inside her.

It was no longer possible to deny a fact she’d been trying to ignore since she’d first met Donovan Chance. She was very strongly attracted to him. She still couldn’t say she liked him—but she was physically drawn to him in a way that worried her.

Though she had tried to tell herself the attraction was simply circumstantial, the rationalization just didn’t ring true anymore. She certainly didn’t fall for every interesting man with whom she spent time. Which made it even more perplexing that, for the second time in a short period, she found himself intrigued by a strange man.

She moistened her suddenly dry mouth. “Um…”

So abruptly she nearly stumbled, Donovan released her and backed away, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Maybe Bryan’s the one who should help you with this,” he said.

It demonstrated exactly how far her thoughts had wandered when she gaped at him and asked, “What do you mean?”

His left eyebrow lifted fractionally, “Bryan’s better at teaching things than I am. He explains things more clearly. He could probably show you how to skip a rock halfway across the lake.”

She managed a weak, decidedly fake smile. “I doubt that.”

Motioning toward the path they had come down, he moved another step backward. “Ready to head back up to the house?”

“Sure. Bryan could be trying to call us.”

His face could have been carved from the same hard rock that made up the bluff behind him. “I have my cell phone. He’d call that number if he wanted to reach us.”

Nodding, she made a sign for him to proceed her. “I’ll follow you.”

“It would probably be better if you go first. Just in case you slip or anything.”

She stepped onto the path, but asked over her shoulder, “Still playing bodyguard?”

“I told you. I’m not a bodyguard.”

The word always seemed to annoy him. Something else from his past, perhaps. Another little psychological quirk she would probably never understand because she didn’t expect to get to know him that well.

She started up the path with as much speed as she could safely manage. She had no intention of falling into his arms, or making a fool of herself in some other way with him.

It seemed the best thing for her to do when she reached the top was to lock herself in her room with a book—rude or not—and try to put Donovan Chance out of her mind. While she was in there, it wouldn’t hurt her to do some thinking about her true feelings for Bryan. After all, she’d come here to consider marrying him—only to find herself inordinately fascinated by his best friend.

Definitely something wrong with that picture. Something she should consider very seriously before she made any commitments—to anyone.

It was beginning to look more and more as if Grace had been right all along, she thought somberly, and then winced at the thought of her twin saying, “I told you so.”

Donovan hesitated outside Chloe’s bedroom door, his hand half raised to knock. For some reason, he was having a little trouble following through with that motion.

After making her way up the path with a speed that had left him almost breathless, she’d closed herself in her room for the remainder of the morning. She’d murmured something about having brought some paperwork along. Rather unexpected, considering this was supposed to be a romantic getaway for her and Bryan—but then, it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Bryan brought a briefcase full of paperwork with him. Maybe Chloe and Bryan really were two of a kind.

Scowling, Donovan rapped on the door more sharply than he had intended.

Chloe opened it quickly. “What is it?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock. I thought you might be hungry.”

She looked surprised, as if the morning had slipped away from her. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I hope you’ve already eaten.”

“No.”

“Then you must be starving. Since you cooked breakfast, I’ll fix something for lunch.”

“Too late. I’ve already prepared lunch. I hope grilled chicken and vegetables sound good to you.”

“That sounds fine, but you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I let the time get away, but I certainly don’t expect you to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “I had to eat, anyway. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

“I’ll wash my hands and be right down.”

He really hadn’t minded preparing lunch; it had given him something to do other than think about Chloe. He had the table set and the food ready to serve when she joined him.

“This looks delicious,” she said, taking her seat. “Don’t even think about doing dishes after we’ve eaten. Cleaning up is the least I can do.”

He wouldn’t argue with her. If doing dishes made her feel like she was pulling her weight, then he wouldn’t try to stop her.

“You’re a very good cook,” she said a few minutes later.

“I get by as long as I’ve got a grill and a microwave.”

Glancing toward the state-of-the-art, chef’s dream kitchen attached to the sunny nook in which they were eating, she replied, “You have a lot more than that here.”

Following her glance, he nodded. “Bryan always goes top-of-the-line.”

“Does Bryan like to cook?”

“He knows how, of course. Even though he’s always been able to pay for services, he believes everyone should know ordinary living skills like cooking, doing laundry and basic home and car maintenance.”

“That’s a very practical point of view. If he ever loses his fortune, at least he’ll be able to take care of himself.”

Donovan knew she was joking. He knew she doubted—as did he—that Bryan Falcon would ever have to count his pennies.

Donovan had no doubt that he would still be there if Bryan lost everything. His loyalty to Bryan had nothing to do with fortune or social position. He wasn’t confident that Chloe could say the same. If her relationship with Bryan wasn’t based on love but on the promise of financial security, then bankruptcy would certainly put an end to that connection.

When he failed to respond to her quip, Chloe changed the subject. “You told me a little about your recent trip to Venice. Has your work with Bryan involved a lot of travel?”

“At times.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“My work or the travel?”

“Either.”

“I like the work. I tolerate the travel because it’s part of the job.”

She looked vaguely dismayed, reminding him that she’d told him she dreamed of travel.

“I didn’t say I dislike the travel,” he said, feeling almost as if should apologize for disappointing her. “I enjoy it sometimes.”

He must not have convinced her. She changed the subject again. “Have you worked with Bryan since you finished college?”

He stabbed his fork into a cauliflower floret. “I never went to college, actually. I went into the army after high school.”

“I didn’t realize that. Bryan said you’d been with him since the beginning.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time. Stayed in touch while he went off to college and I went into the military. When he broke away from his father’s company a few years ago to start Bryan Falcon Enterprises, he brought me on board.”

“Were you still in the army then?”

“No. I’d been out for a while.”

“What did you do in the interim?”

“This and that.” He didn’t want to talk about those years in between.

He knew she was only trying to keep the conversation flowing, trying to avoid those awkward lapses between them. Lapses during which they both became self-conscious and tongue-tied, when stray glances tended to lock and hold for long moments—until Chloe looked away, her cheeks turning pink and her voice becoming a little breathless. He didn’t try to convince himself that she was fighting the same inappropriate attraction he was, but there was definitely an awareness between them.

They’d spent entirely too many hours alone together. It would be better for everyone involved if Bryan arrived soon.

Leaving Chloe to clean up, as she had insisted, he went into the smaller of the two offices in the house, the one he always used here. He turned on his computer and spent an hour replying to the most urgent of his e-mails, trying to keep himself occupied. When the phone rang, he answered it absently.

“How’s it going there?”

Bryan’s voice brought Donovan’s attention away from the computer monitor. “Tell me you’re in transit.”

“Problems there? You and Chloe are getting along okay, aren’t you?”

“Well enough. But she didn’t come here to spend time with me. Right now she’s probably wishing she’d stayed home.”

“What have you been doing today?”

“I’ve been working most of the day. Parker in L.A. wants an answer by tomorrow morning. And Hamilton’s got a proposal she wants us to look over soon.”

“You can take care of those things later. I’d rather you keep Chloe entertained now. I don’t like to think of her bored and lonely while I’m stuck here for the rest of the afternoon. I know you can be entertaining company when you make the effort, so give it a try, will you?”

Donovan made certain his exaggerated sigh carried clearly through the phone lines. “I really do have more important things to do than to babysit your girlfriend du jour, you know.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he happened to glance toward the open doorway. Chloe stood there holding a steaming mug. Her face was completely expressionless, but Donovan knew she had heard his cranky complaint. The set of her shoulders let him know she hadn’t liked it.

He cleared his throat. “Er…”

“Let me guess,” Bryan drawled, as eerily perceptive as always, “Chloe just walked in.”

“Yeah.”

“Put her on the line, will you? And, Donovan—after you pry your foot out of your mouth and apologize, be nice to her, okay?”

“Bryan wants to talk to you,” Donovan said, holding the receiver toward Chloe without bothering to respond to his friend.

She nodded coolly. “I brought you some coffee. I just made it.”

“Thanks. I’ll drink it out on the deck while you talk to Bryan.”

After swapping the mug for the phone, Chloe turned away from him. Pointedly.

Wincing, Donovan carried his coffee out of the room. It wasn’t easy walking with both his feet in his mouth, he decided wryly.

Chapter Four

Though Chloe wasn’t watching him, she knew Donovan had left the room by the time she spoke into the receiver. “Hello, Bryan.”

“I’m glad you’re still speaking to me.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t help being detained there.”

“No. Believe me, I’ve done everything I can to resolve this mess in a hurry so I can join you there, but it’s taking longer than I expected. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Does this mean you won’t be here tonight, after all?”

“No. I still believe I can get away in time to be there this evening. It could be very late, but we can start our vacation first thing tomorrow morning.”

It seemed oddly apropos that a cloud crossed in front of the sun at that moment, darkening the room for a moment. What might have been a frisson of premonition coursed through her. Maybe because the week had started so badly, she had a sudden feeling that she really should suggest to Bryan that he stay in New York.

She’d always believed that when something kept going wrong, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. Grace had said repeatedly that Chloe was making a mistake coming here this week. And then Bryan had been detained. Now Chloe’s reactions to Donovan were getting all jumbled and confused—and he thought of her as a gold digger.

Things were definitely going wrong.

It was only her hesitation to ask Donovan to take her home, her reluctance to look wishy-washy or petulant to him, that kept her from canceling everything with Bryan.

“Chloe—about Donovan,” Bryan said, as if he’d sensed the direction her thoughts had taken.

“What about him?”

“Don’t take him too personally. He doesn’t mean to come across the way he sometimes does.”

“You’re not going to try to convince me his bark is worse than his bite, are you?”

Bryan laughed softly. “No, I’m not going to try to tell you that. But he doesn’t bite very often—and never without provocation.”

His words weren’t particularly reassuring.

Still, she didn’t want to seem ungracious, especially since Donovan had been going out of his way to entertain her. His comment about babysitting Bryan’s “girlfriend du jour” still stung, though. She hated the idea that he thought of her that way.

She and Bryan chatted for another few minutes, and then Bryan said he had to go. “The sooner I get back to work, the sooner I can get away,” he added.

Chloe hung up the phone, then glanced toward the open doorway. She wasn’t looking forward to rejoining Donovan after the crack he’d made to Bryan. She was sure he’d try to apologize, and then they’d get all awkward and embarrassed. It was a scene she would rather avoid, if possible.

She found Donovan in the kitchen, rinsing out his empty coffee mug. “The coffee was good,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I was making some for myself, anyway.”

He set his mug in the dishwasher, then turned to face her. Braced for the awkward apology she expected, she was surprised when he said, instead, “I’m going into town for a few supplies. Want to come along?”

She would like to get out of the house, actually, but there was still that irritating comment hanging between them. “I’m sure you’d like to spend some time by yourself. I have some more paperwork to keep me busy here while you’re gone.”

“Actually, I’d like you to come along, if you don’t mind. I need to buy some groceries, and it will be easier if you’re there to help with the selections.”

If this was his idea of an apology—or an olive branch, perhaps—it was a strange one. But then, Donovan was definitely a different sort of man from anyone she’d met before.

She still resented being called Bryan’s “girlfriend du jour.” And she still suspected that Donovan questioned her motives for getting involved with Bryan—and she didn’t like him seeing non-existent dollar signs in her eyes. But he had given up two days of his busy life to spend time with her in Bryan’s absence. He had cooked for her and had done his best to entertain her, she supposed, even though there were things he would admittedly rather be doing. The least she could do was try to be gracious in return, especially since he’d placed her in the position of doing him a favor by going with him.

She kept her reply just a bit cool, because she wasn’t going to forget that babysitting crack too easily. “Then of course I’ll come with you. Just let me get my purse.”

She felt him watching her as she left the room, so she kept her chin raised to a regal angle, her back very straight. She intended to make it quite clear to him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t need a “babysitter”—and that certainly wasn’t the way she wanted Donovan to think of her.

Donovan was relieved when Chloe agreed to his plan. He’d concluded that it might be easier to control his thoughts about her if they got out of the house. Out in public with other people.

He probably should have apologized about that babysitting remark. He was fully aware that it still rankled with her. But, damn it, he did feel as if he were babysitting—or bodyguarding, which was even worse.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him today—since yesterday, actually. Specifically, since he and Chloe had left her apartment. First there was that itchy sense of impending disaster that had been bugging him for no reason. And then there was his growing physical awareness of Chloe.

It wasn’t so strange that he would notice her attributes, of course. She was attractive, if not as stunningly beautiful as most of Bryan’s women. Donovan was a normal, healthy male. They’d spent several hours close together. He could still almost feel her slender body brushing lightly against his when he’d stupidly attempted to teach her how to skip a rock. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—something she might consider fun—but he’d quickly realized his mistake.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.