She hadn’t planned to go this far …

But she didn’t want to bring the night to a close. For the first time she wasn’t thinking about the future, about the inn. This night belonged solely to them—to her—and she wasn’t ready for it to end.

Paul cleared his throat. “Maybe I should go.”

“Why?”

“I think you know why.”

She told herself he’d ask her out again and maybe they’d finish what they’d started. Or maybe they could just finish it now, she thought, nibbling his lips. She felt a quiver run through him.

“I’m a big girl, Paul. I haven’t had a vacation in three years. I have a rare few hours for myself, and a very handsome, occasionally charming man with whom to spend them. Now, I could light a candle and we could play gin rummy, or we could adjourn to my bedroom with no strings and no regrets.”

His smile flashed in the dim light. “Well, when you put it that way …”

* * *

Bride Mountain: Where a trip down the aisle is never far away …

A Proposal at the Wedding
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. 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 Mills & Boon 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 a Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of RT Book Reviews.

For my writing friends,

who commiserate the dark days, celebrate the good days, and are always there with encouragement and the occasional crack of the whip.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Excerpt

Chapter One

The farmers’ market bustled with shoppers on this warm Tuesday morning in early July. Bonnie Carmichael browsed the outdoor displays of fresh fruits, vegetables and herbs, occasionally making purchases and adding the bounty to the increasingly heavy canvas bags dangling from her arms. She should have brought her little wheeled market trolley, she thought with a shake of her head. She’d told herself that not having it with her would make her less likely to purchase too much, but instead she was simply juggling bulging bags.

She loved visiting the farmers’ market, surrounded by the bright colors of fresh produce, cut flowers, handcrafted pottery and jewelry, the scents of fresh-baked bread and pastries, the sounds of chattering shoppers and busking musicians. The market was even more active on Saturdays, but it was hard for her to get away on weekends from the bed-and-breakfast she co-owned and operated with her two older siblings. She was the chef at the inn, so shopping was both her responsibility and her pleasure. She came to the market regularly enough that most of the vendors knew her by name.

She was chatting with a local organic farmer, lifting a plump heirloom tomato for an appreciative sniff, when someone bumped hard against her arm, having been jostled by someone else in the milling crowd. The tomato fell to her feet with a squishy thump.

“I’m so sorry,” a man said immediately, his voice coming from approximately a foot above her head. “Are you okay?”

She looked up to assure him no harm was done, but felt the words freeze on her tongue when she recognized Paul Drennan.

This just couldn’t be happening again.

Twice, Bonnie had run into Paul—literally—at the inn in the Virginia Blue Ridge Highlands. The first time she’d met him, in May, she’d carried a box of stainless steel wine bottle stoppers that had scattered around her when she’d landed on the floor. He’d been with his twenty-one-year-old daughter, Cassie, who was planning an August wedding on the grounds of the inn, and Bonnie had been mortified to crash into a client. The second incident a few weeks later had been his fault; he’d been talking over his shoulder while walking and had barreled into her, though she’d managed not to fall that time.

It should have come as no surprise that the next time she encountered him, only a couple of weeks later, it would be with another collision. Or that once again she was as jarred by her immediate and powerful attraction to him as by the physical contact. Something about this man had taken her breath away the first time she’d looked up at him from the floor where she’d landed. She’d felt a spark between them when he’d offered his hand to help her to her feet, a clichéd reaction she hadn’t expected, but had seemed very real, all the same. Apparently, nothing had changed. Her pulse tripped again in response to seeing him here.

Beneath a thick shock of dark auburn hair touched with a few white strands at the temples, Paul’s jade-green eyes lit with a smile that meandered more slowly to his firm lips, drawing her attention there. “If this keeps happening, you’re going to file a protection order against me,” he said in the deep voice she remembered so well from those other two brief meetings. She’d heard it a few times in her daydreams since, she thought sheepishly. “I swear I’m not actually targeting you.”

“I believe you,” she assured him with a weak laugh. “It is getting rather funny, though, isn’t it?”

Using a paper towel given to him by the vendor, he quickly cleaned up the half-smashed tomato. “I’ll pay for that one,” he promised the good-natured farmer, who waved off the offer.

Handing some bills to the vendor, Bonnie accepted a bag of pretty little multicolored heirloom tomatoes in exchange. When she fumbled a bit with the new bag, Paul reached out to help. “Let me carry a couple of those sacks.”

He divested her of all but the smallest of the bulging bags before she could even respond. As he did, she smiled up at him—way up. She estimated him to be perhaps six feet three inches, in marked contrast to her own five feet three inches. The flat sandals she wore with her scoop neck mint top and summer print skirt gave her no extra height. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How’s business at Bride Mountain Inn?” Paul asked as he shuffled with her through the throng to the next booth.

“The past few weeks have been hectic with June weddings,” she replied. “And July hasn’t slowed down much.” Trying to focus on her reason for being here, rather than the man who’d unexpectedly become her shopping assistant, she examined a crookneck squash in a display basket.

“Being busy with weddings is a good thing, right?”

“Absolutely.” Though she’d already bought so much, she couldn’t resist picking out a few squash.

“Those look good,” Paul said, nodding toward her selections. “I like squash, but I don’t know how to prepare them.”

“Oh, they’re easy to cook,” she assured him. Her momentary self-consciousness dissipated with this subject she could discuss comfortably. “Very versatile, baked, grilled, steamed or even raw in salads.”

She didn’t know if Paul had any interest at all in cooking, but he nodded attentively. “I like them all those ways. Just haven’t tried cooking them myself. Do you have time to help me select a few? I’ll look up some recipes online.”

“Of course.” Speaking briskly and casually, as she would with just anyone who’d asked for her help, rather than a man who happened to make her toes curl in her sandals, she gave him a quick lesson on checking the stems, skin and heft-weight for ripeness and freshness. She watched as he paid for four then stuffed them into his own market bag. A price tag still hung from one strap, making her suspect he’d purchased it when he’d arrived. It appeared to be almost empty.

Seeing the direction of her attention, he chuckled. “I guess you can tell I’m new at this sort of shopping. My daughter has been lecturing me lately about eating better, so I figured this was as good a place as any to buy a few healthy ingredients. I usually just throw bags of frozen vegetables in the microwave to eat with whatever meat I’ve cooked on the grill. Or I have takeout. But Cassie’s staying with me for the next few weeks until her wedding, so I’m trying to be a little more health-conscious when it’s my turn to cook.”

“You sound like my brother. If I didn’t cook dinner for him fairly often, he’d live on spaghetti with sauce from a jar, or grilled steaks and microwaved potatoes.”

Paul’s crooked smile was undeniably charming. “I’ve eaten more than my share of both those meals.”

Someone cleared her throat rather loudly, making Bonnie aware that she was blocking access to the squash. She’d completely lost track of where she was and what she’d been doing while she’d admired Paul’s smile. Murmuring a quick apology, she moved aside, followed again by Paul.

He motioned toward a little coffee shop near the market where several outdoor tables beneath colorful umbrellas invited a leisurely chat. “May I buy you a cup of coffee? Or do you have to rush back to the inn?”

She hesitated before answering. He’d given her the perfect excuse, but she really wasn’t in a hurry to get back. Rhoda and Sandy, her full-time and part-time housekeepers, were taking care of things back at the inn. Even during this busy season, Tuesdays were typically slower-paced days, giving Bonnie a weekly opportunity to escape for a few hours.

While there were advantages to living in the inn’s private basement apartment, it gave her the feeling sometimes of being at work 24/7. She’d made a promise to herself recently that she’d start going out more, cultivating a social life away from the inn and her siblings, out of the rut she’d fallen into during the past few years. A friendly coffee with one of the inn’s clients wasn’t exactly a groundbreaking departure from the norm, but it was a start. It didn’t hurt, of course, that this particular client was so very nice to look at across a table.

“I don’t have to rush back,” she said. “Coffee sounds good. Just let me put these bags in my car.”

He followed her to the parking lot where she’d left her dependable sedan and helped her stash her purchases. Then she accompanied him to the coffee shop, claiming a recently vacated outdoor table while he went inside to order. He returned carrying a black coffee for himself and the fat-free iced latte she’d requested in deference to the building heat of the day. She’d declined his offer of a snack, but he’d bought a cookie for himself.

“It’s oatmeal raisin,” he said with an appealingly sheepish grin as he unwrapped it. “That’s healthy, right?”

Because there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his solid frame—something she had noticed more than once—she doubted his diet was as bad as he’d claimed earlier. “Sure,” she teased lightly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He chuckled and took a big bite of the cookie, washing it down with a sip of his coffee. “I’ll make up for it at dinner tonight,” he said. “I’m eating with my daughter’s other family. Holly—my daughter’s mom—always cooks something fancy and healthy.”

Bonnie had briefly met Cassie’s mother, Holly Bauer, and her husband, Larry, at that first pre-wedding meeting back in May. As she remembered, the relationship between them all had been quite cordial.

“It’s nice that you and your ex-wife get along so well,” she commented somewhat tentatively. “We’ve dealt with some very awkward situations at a couple of weddings at the inn when exes refused to be seated near each other or to even acknowledge the other parent’s presence.”

“Holly and I were never married,” Paul admitted. “I was only eighteen and Holly not even quite that when Cassie was born—she’d skipped a grade to graduate a year earlier than most. We were the stereotypical high school sweethearts who slipped up on prom night, I’m afraid. We stopped trying to be a couple during our freshman year of college, though we’ve remained good friends.”

“I see.” She’d figured Paul looked young for his age, considering he had a twenty-one-year-old daughter, but now she knew he really was younger than she’d thought. Thirty-nine? Only eleven years older than her twenty-eight, rather than the fifteen years or more she’d estimated. “And still Holly became an attorney. Good for her.”

“Yeah. She refused to let one night’s bad decision derail her dreams. She had a lot of help from her family, and from me, and from my mother during the first two years of Cassie’s life, but Holly worked her butt off to finish her education and still be a good mom. She earned her undergraduate degree in three years, then entered law school. A law school friend introduced her to Larry, and they married when Cassie was almost six. Their twins were born a year after that.”

“Holly sounds amazing. It’s nice that you’ve stayed friendly for Cassie’s sake.”

“It’s been for my sake, too,” he assured her. What might have been wistfulness momentarily clouded his eyes when he explained, “I lost both my parents fairly young. Holly and Larry have been generous enough to include me in their family so that I was able to be a big part of Cassie’s life—and of the twins’, for that matter. They call me Uncle Paul. They’ve spent almost as many weekends with me as Cassie has.

“Larry’s a really great guy,” he added quickly, “but he’s a brainy engineer who has no interest in sports or outdoor activities, so I was the one who taught Cassie and the twins how to throw a ball and cast a line and ride a horse. I guess some people would consider it an odd arrangement, but it’s worked very well for us.”

Bonnie thought it was rather charming, though she couldn’t help wondering how other women in Paul’s life felt about him remaining so close to his daughter’s mother. She could see how it might be intimidating for an outsider to try to make a place for herself in that cozy arrangement. Was there a woman in Paul’s life now? She could think of no subtle way to ask.

She really had been too narrowly focused on the inn for the past few years, she thought ruefully. It would be three years in October since she and her brother and sister had inherited the place from their late, maternal great-uncle, and the first of November would mark their second anniversary of reopening to guests after a year of renovations. Those three years had been busy and challenging, leaving little time for a social life. She’d almost forgotten how to flirt, and she could hardly remember the last time she’d gone beyond flirtation. It was definitely time to address that situation. She had even considered signing up with an online dating service.

She supposed she could consider this impromptu coffee break as practice…or maybe a possible beginning? Paul had certainly remained in her thoughts after their previous meetings.

“It sounds as though Cassie and her siblings had a close extended support system,” she said, trying to stay focused on the conversation. “That had to be good for them.”

Paul nodded, his expression suddenly hard to read. “Yeah. It’s been great. But a lot of things are changing. For Cassie and for me.”

With a slight shake of his head, he reached again for his cookie before she could decide how to respond. “I don’t usually tell my life story over coffee, but since you’ll be helping us with the wedding arrangements, I figured you’d want to know you don’t have to go out of your way to accommodate the bride’s parents. Nor do you have to worry about anything unpleasant occurring during the event. We’re cool with whatever works best for Cassie and the wedding planner.”

Bonnie chuckled. “That is very helpful. But I have little to do with the actual wedding ceremony. My sister handles the arrangements with the planner and the subcontractors. I take care of the inn itself—hosting overnight guests, preparing and serving breakfast six days a week, Sunday brunch and a light supper Sunday evening, and any special food orders not handled by an outside caterer. Our brother takes care of the grounds. He’ll hang special lights or put up torches or garland or whatever else Cassie wants for decorations.”

“You have your responsibilities well-defined.”

“When you’re dealing with siblings, that’s the best plan of action,” she said, knowing Logan and Kinley, her brother and sister, would heartily agree.

He laughed. “I can imagine.”

Kinley and Logan had been a bit hesitant about the massive undertaking of refurbishing and reopening a 1930s-era inn that had been closed to guests for eighteen years before it had been willed to them, especially considering the state of the economy at the time. Great-uncle Leo Finley had done his best to keep the place up but it had become too much for him to do more than basic maintenance. After he’d lost his dear wife, Helen, who had been his longtime partner in both life and business, he hadn’t had the heart to keep their inn running. But neither had he been able to sell the establishment his own father had built and operated for years. Leo’s will had bequeathed the inn and a sizable life insurance policy equally to his great nieces and nephew, with full permission for them to do with it as they wished—though he’d known it was Bonnie’s lifelong dream to reopen it.

Bonnie had begged and cajoled her brother and sister into investing everything they had—financially, emotionally, physically—into restoring their heritage. Or as her sister termed it, she had “bullied” them into it. Bonnie knew her petite blonde appearance could be deceptive. She might look like a pushover, but when she set her mind on something, she could be tenacious.

With her degree and experience in hotel management, Kinley’s marketing and sales background, and Logan’s computer training and eclectic interests in landscaping and construction, she had assured her siblings they had a fighting chance for success. What was the worst that could happen? she’d asked. Bankruptcy? A hard pill to swallow, but they could recover from that eventually, as long as they had each other.

Maybe that final argument had been a little cheesy, but it had worked.

“We’re pleased that Cassie chose the inn as the venue for her wedding,” she said sincerely. “I promise we’ll all do our best to make the experience everything she hopes for.”

“I’m sure you will. Cassie said she had a good feeling about the inn the first time she saw it.”

“I’m glad. She seems like a sweetheart.”

Obviously, she’d found Paul’s weakness. His jade eyes warmed as his smile softened. “I’m biased, of course, but I think she’s pretty special. Smart as a whip, like her mom. She graduated as her high school’s valedictorian, will complete her bachelor’s degree with honors in August, and is already accepted into an elite graduate program in London starting in January. She’s studying fashion design. She’s very talented.”

There was something especially appealing about a man who was so unabashedly crazy about his child. “Family man” was number one on the list of qualities she would look for in a potential partner. She’d always thought she would like to marry and perhaps start a family someday, but before she committed fully to anyone, she would have to be very sure he was completely ready to settle down, prepared to work as hard as she at making the union last. The total opposite of her own footloose father, who’d left his family when Bonnie was only four to pursue his own ever-restless dreams of traveling the world.

“I can tell you’re very proud of Cassie. With good reason, obviously.”

He grimaced good-naturedly. “I know, I’m bragging shamelessly. I’m having a hard time accepting that she’s about to marry and move to another continent. I tried to talk her into waiting a couple of years, but she and Mike are determined to get married now, so I’ve just had to accept her decision. Still, it seems like just last week I was tucking her into bed after letting her eat a forbidden fast-food burger and ice cream sundae for dinner.”

“Did you let the twins have forbidden food, too?”

He winked at her. “Why do you think they consider me their favorite uncle?”

Bonnie was enjoying this conversation. Having spent so much time lately with her reticent, taciturn older brother, it was nice to chat with a man who was comfortably talkative. “Good conversationalist” was high on that list of desirable traits in a man, followed by “good sense of humor.”

“Speaking of food…” She glanced down at the market bag at his feet, wondering if what she was about to suggest was foolish. “I don’t know if you’re interested or have time, but beginning next Tuesday, I’m teaching a few classes in cooking with seasonal produce. The classes will meet at the inn for the next three Tuesday evenings from six until eight and we’ll cover buying produce, knife skills, cooking methods and ways to preserve fresh produce for off-season use.”

Her sister had told her that Paul taught high school, which probably explained why he was free today on a summer weekday. Maybe he was looking for something else to do during his break?

His eyebrows rose, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was from surprise, interest or both. “You’re teaching cooking classes?”

She nodded. “I was sort of pressured into it by a woman who has booked several social events at the inn. She thought it would be fun if she and a few of her friends took cooking lessons, and she asked if I would consider teaching them at the inn. I have room for six in the class, but one dropped out so I have an opening.”

“I didn’t know you offered classes.”

“I have on occasion, usually during the off-season—Kinley’s idea to keep people coming into the inn even when we have few outdoor events scheduled. I’ve conducted several one-day specialty classes like cupcake decorating, or making jams, jellies and preserves, or candy-making. This will be my first multisession class. I understand, of course, if you’re not interested, but you mentioned you’d like to learn to cook fresh produce…”

“Actually, I would be interested. I just happen to have the next three Tuesday evenings free, and it would be great to spend them learning how to do something useful. Cassie would definitely approve.”

She was rather surprised by how quickly he’d jumped on her offer. She’d thought at the most, he would agree to consider it. Was he really that excited to learn to cook—or maybe he was looking for an excuse to spend more time with her? A flattering possibility. She told him the cost, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to participate. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot.”

“You teach high school, right?”

He nodded again. “I teach math. I have a few summer projects going, but I’m free on Tuesdays, fortunately. What do I have to do to sign up?”

“Just show up at the inn next Tuesday at six. I warn you, I don’t have your training in teaching, so the classes will be very informal. And you’ll be the only man in the group.”

“I can deal with that,” he said with a laugh.

She had a feeling he’d be the most popular member of the class.

She gave him her card with her cell phone number…in case he thought of any questions beforehand, she explained casually. Finishing her drink, she glanced at her watch. “I’d better get those vegetables home before they start roasting in the car. Thank you for the coffee, Paul. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Same here.” He stood as she did. “I’ll look forward to next Tuesday. I’m sure you have a lot to teach me.”

She felt her eyebrows rise a bit in response to his tone—had there been a bit of a flirtatious undertone?—but then she decided she was probably overanalyzing. Of course he referred only to cooking skills.

She had the sense that he watched her walk away, though she didn’t look back to make sure. She found herself smiling during the drive home, her pulse fluttering a little. Was she looking forward to next Tuesday just a bit too much?

She was probably too young for him. Paul didn’t know how old Bonnie Carmichael was, but she didn’t look much older than his daughter. He wasn’t quite sure if Bonnie thought of him as anything more than the father of a bride. A dad who had a lamentable habit of crashing into her.

He’d been startled enough by the physical impact with her the first time they’d met. But then he’d looked down at her and had been metaphorically jolted again. She was so pretty, in the classic sense of the word. Big blue eyes framed by long lashes, a perfect nose and chin, a fair, heart-shaped face framed by wavy blond hair. Not very tall, but nicely curved. His first thought had been a simple “Wow.”

Maybe she’d had coffee with him today only to sign him up for her class, but she’d seemed to enjoy the conversation, and the invitation to join had seemed spontaneous. He had talked an awful lot about himself, he recalled with a grimace as he dumped the four squash he’d purchased into the crisper drawer of his nearly empty fridge, hardly desirable dating etiquette. Not that having an impromptu coffee with Bonnie counted as a date, of course. But maybe she wouldn’t mind getting together again, if he hadn’t bored her senseless with his life history.

Not that he was looking for anything serious, of course. Only a few weeks away from having a grown, married daughter, free to put his desires first for the first time since he was a teenager, he certainly wasn’t eager to tie himself down to a serious relationship before the wedding even took place. Especially not with anyone looking to get married and have kids—the stage of life he figured was already in his past. Women Bonnie’s age were often thinking along those lines, but he’d gotten the impression that she was more concerned at the moment with getting the inn on a solid financial footing. Which meant maybe she would be interested in spending a little time just having fun with someone else who wasn’t looking for more?

The outside kitchen door opened and his daughter hurried in. Cassie always rushed, even when she had no place to be. He always teased that she’d bypassed crawling as a baby and had progressed straight into running. With only a few weeks remaining until her wedding and with her fiancé already spending much of his time in London, his daughter had moved in with him two weeks ago when the lease on her apartment had expired. She could have moved back in with her mother’s family, of course, but his place was closer to the university she attended, and she claimed that her mother’s place was too hectic with fourteen-year-old twins always in and out with their friends. Paul had been delighted to welcome her to his home until the wedding, giving him a chance to savor this time with her before she moved so far away.

“I hope you haven’t eaten lunch,” she said, hefting a paper bag. “I stopped for a takeout salad on the way here and I bought you one, too. Whoa, are those fresh vegetables you’re putting away? You’ve been buying produce?”

“I went to the farmers’ market,” he told her, feeling somewhat sanctimonious as he closed the fridge. “I bought peaches, tomatoes, squash and a loaf of banana nut bread made by a local bakery.”

“The banana bread is an indulgence, of course, but the fruit and veggies are a nice step forward for you. I’m proud of you,” she teased, setting the takeout bag on the central island in his tidy kitchen.

“You’re about to be thoroughly impressed,” he assured her gravely. “I’ve signed up for cooking classes. Six hours of instruction on cooking with seasonal produce.”

Cassie made a show of slapping her hands to her cheeks, her bright green eyes rounded, her rosy mouth shaped into an O of surprise. Her layered strawberry blond hair bounced around her face with her energetic movements. “You’re taking cooking lessons? What has gotten into you?”

He shrugged. “You won’t be around after August to nag me about eating healthier. I guess it’ll be up to me to take care of myself.”

“I guess you’re right.” She stood on tiptoe to brush her lips across his cheek. “But I’ll still call all the time from London to make sure you’re being good. Every day, maybe.”

“I hope so.” Despite his light tone, he still couldn’t think of her being that far away without a hollow feeling in his midsection.

“Who’s offering these classes? The community college?”

Filling two glasses with ice, he shook his head. “Bonnie Carmichael will be teaching them at Bride Mountain Inn. I ran into her—er, sort of literally—at the farmers’ market this morning and one thing led to another and before I knew it I was signed up for cooking classes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t knock her down again,” Cassie said with a groan, looking up from setting out their salads on the round oak kitchen table.

He laughed ruefully. “Just bumped her arm and knocked a tomato out of her hand. Wasn’t my fault this time. Some woman nearly ran me over trying to get to a basket of cucumbers.”

“Honestly, Dad, this woman is hosting my wedding. If you keep assaulting her, she’s going to fire me as a client.”

Though he knew Cassie was teasing, he shook his head. “She’s much too professional to take it out on you. I could tell how much pride she takes in the inn.”

“Yes, so could I. Kinley’s really ambitious for the inn too, I think, but from what I’ve seen, Bonnie is the one who just truly loves the place, you know? I get the impression that for Kinley it’s a career. One she loves, but still a job. For Bonnie, the inn is her home. Definitely where her heart is.”

From the time she was a young teen, Cassie had prided herself on being an astute observer of people. She was so good at it that her friends often consulted her about potential dates—and she boasted that she’d saved a few from making big mistakes. Paul thought she was right on the money this time. From what he’d observed of the Carmichael sisters, his daughter had just perfectly summed up their feelings about their family inn. He hadn’t spent any time with Logan Carmichael, so he couldn’t say what Bonnie’s brother felt about the place, but he’d seen the love in Bonnie’s eyes when she’d talked about the inn where she lived and worked.

He’d never really felt that connection to a place. Home to him for the past twenty-one years had been where his daughter was. Now that she was moving away he was going to have to find a new definition for himself. There was a certain freedom in the knowledge that after August there was nothing holding him here, no reason not to strike out and explore the world a bit on his own, as his predominantly married, tied-down friends had pointed out to him lately. Footloose traveling was something he’d never felt he could do—never wanted to do—while Cassie was growing up.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to take cooking classes,” Cassie commented as she stabbed a fork into her takeout grilled chicken salad. “I mean, it’s great—but funny.”

“Bonnie warned me I’ll be the only man. It’s a small class. Only six students.”

His daughter grinned. “Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting there. Someone single, nice…and a healthy cook, as a bonus.”

Cassie had been trying to fix him up with someone for quite a while, but especially since she’d become engaged. He suspected she was afraid he’d be lonely after she moved away. And maybe he would, at least at first…but he’d deal with it, he thought in dry amusement. He didn’t need his kid to find companionship for him. Nor did he see any reason to mention to her that the most intriguing part of the class for him at the moment was the fact that pretty Bonnie Carmichael was the teacher.

“So did you pick up your wedding programs yet?” he asked her, abruptly changing the subject.

Her face lit up. The one sure way to distract Cassie from any uncomfortable subject was to ask about her wedding preparations. “Yes, this morning. They’re so pretty! Exactly what I wanted to hand out at the wedding, with the poem Mike and I love so much printed at the top and very cool, stylized flowers as a border. I left them at Mom’s house, but I brought one home to show you. I think I left it in the car. I’ll run out and get it when I finish my salad. I’m so glad I decided to go with pistachio and dove-gray for my wedding colors, even though Mom was concerned about the combination. It’s going to be gorgeous, Dad. Really.”

“I have no doubt.” His design-major daughter had impeccable tastes, if not as traditional as her mother would have liked.

“And just to make Mom happy, I’m adding a few pops of coral here and there,” she confided.

“You know your mother will like anything you decide for your wedding. She just wants you to be happy. As do I.”

“I know.” She smiled somewhat mistily at him. “I’m so lucky to have you as parents, Daddy. I want you to know I’m aware that you’ve both always put my best interests ahead of your own. Someday, when Mike and I have kids, I hope we’ll be nearly as good at parenting as you two have been.”

He cleared his throat with what Cassie would probably have termed his typical male awkwardness at such a blatantly sentimental moment. “At least you and Mike are getting married and establishing your careers before diving into parenthood. Your mom and I did the best we could considering we were just dumb kids ourselves.”

“And you learned to change diapers and braid hair and kiss boo-boos while other guys your age were chilling at college keg parties,” she teased fondly. “Mom told me you never missed even one of your visitation weekends even when you spent all week juggling work and college, nor did you hesitate to babysit any time she needed a break. And you never complained about child support payments. In fact, she said you often slipped her a little extra when you had it.”

Hearing her describing his life since his late teens served as a reminder of the freedom that lay ahead for him. There were parts of it that were going to be very nice, indeed, even though he knew there would be times when he missed those earlier days. Still, he was rather intrigued by the idea of discovering what it would be like to be Paul, the bachelor, rather than just “Cassie’s dad.” But for the next few weeks he would continue to fill that role willingly and to the best of his abilities.

“Do you need a little extra, Cass? I know the wedding stuff must be getting expensive.”

Her laugh pealed musically through his functional little kitchen. “Daddy, I’m not hinting for cash. Trust me, you’ve paid enough toward the wedding. I’m just trying to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I don’t know, I guess I woke up in a sappy mood this morning. I realized that in just a little over five weeks, I’ll be getting married and moving hundreds of miles away from you for the first time in my life. And I don’t want to do that without making sure you know exactly how much I love you and how grateful I am to you for giving me such a happy childhood.”

“Your mom and Larry had a lot to do with that, too.”

“Yes. And I’m thanking both of them for their part. The three of you have been a rare and amazing team. I know it wasn’t always easy, and I know it required compromise from all of you—but you did it for me. And for the twins, by the way. They know how lucky they are to have their ‘Uncle Paul’ in their life.”

From across the table, he pointed his fork at her. “Okay, I’m going to say one thing and then I want to change the subject before I embarrass myself by bursting into unmanly tears here. Regardless of how it came about, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on you, when I was just a scared kid who’d barely started shaving. Yeah, it was hard sometimes, but I wouldn’t change one thing that brought us to where we are today. I love you and I am so proud of you. Now, change of topic, please.”

Cassie blinked rapidly and gave him a sweet, misty smile. “So, Bonnie Carmichael is really pretty, hmm? I can’t help wondering if that has anything to do with your sudden urge to learn about healthy cooking.”

Actually, he’d been wondering that, as well.

Chapter Two

At five minutes before six on the following Tuesday, Bonnie mingled politely with the five women who’d assembled for the first of the three cooking classes. She was confident her bright smile hid her foolish disappointment that Paul Drennan hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t as if she’d really expected him to take the class, despite his impulsive acceptance of her invitation last week. It had been silly to spend so much time thinking about him and hoping she’d get through the classes without making a fool of herself because of her atypical clumsiness around him.

For this first class, she had the students gather for refreshments around one of the tables in the large, sunny dining room of Bride Mountain Inn. China cups and saucers and plates of petits fours and delicate meringues sat in front of them.

Silver candlesticks graced the tables, along with white linens and colorful flowers in crystal vases. An antique silver plate and crystal chandelier gleamed overhead. Great-grandmother Finley had salvaged that piece from an old Virginia plantation when she and her husband originally opened the inn in the 1930s, and it had hung here since with only occasional refurbishing, most recently when Bonnie and her siblings had taken ownership. Bonnie had insisted on keeping as many of the original furnishings and decorations as possible during the remodel. They’d restored almost all of the beautiful old light fixtures. Given the value of these items, they limited their guests to ages twelve and older, directing callers with smaller children to nice family motels and inns nearby.

Kinley and Logan both had other part-time jobs—Kinley selling real estate, Logan consulting for business software design—but Bonnie’s whole life was here at the inn. She worked here seven days a week, and she hadn’t even taken a real vacation in the past three years. As far as she was concerned, teaching this class was just another task that went along with her responsibilities as hostess, head chef, housekeeper, decorator and concierge. Kinley called her “the heart of the inn.” Bonnie rather liked that title.

Standing beside the demonstration table she had prepared, she cleared her throat to claim the attention of the chattering group of friends. “I think we’re almost ready to start. Some of you may want to move to another table so everyone can see clearly. Before we begin, does anyone need a refill on coffee, tea, lemonade or water?”

The women gathered their snacks and arranged themselves around two tables, their noisy conversations barely abating in the process. Bonnie wondered if she could get this ebullient group quiet long enough to teach them anything. Nora Willis, the woman who’d persuaded Bonnie to offer this class for her group of thirtysomething friends, was the loudest of them all, her frequent, hearty laughter filling the room.

With one minute remaining until six o’clock, Bonnie drew a deep breath and spoke above the happy din. “If everyone is comfortable, we’ll go ahead and—”

Paul rushed into the room with a sheepish smile and an apology. “I’m sorry I’m late. Please forgive me for the interruption.”

Bonnie was glad everyone had turned to look at the newcomer rather than at her. It gave her a moment to ensure that her expression didn’t give away her pleasure at seeing him enter, all windblown, flustered and sexy male.

Teaching this class had just become considerably more difficult. Not because she didn’t know the subject matter, but because it would be all too easy for Paul Drennan to become the teacher’s pet.

Paul settled into a chair at the second table, greeting the two women there quickly with smiles and nods, all the while looking apologetically at Bonnie. She smiled to assure him she wasn’t annoyed, then addressed the group again. “Most of you know each other, but for our newcomer’s sake, why don’t you go around the tables and introduce yourselves. Nora, you start.”

Nora and her four friends took turns stating their names, looking directly at Paul as they did so. Nora, Lydia, Kathy, Jennifer and Heather were visibly pleased to have an attractive man in the group—especially Lydia and Jennifer, who were both divorced. Paul just happened to sit at the same table as the two singles, and they seemed delighted to have him there. Tall, artfully ombre-haired Jennifer, in particular, appeared to be more intrigued by her new classmate than the cooking lessons. Bonnie didn’t miss noting that Jennifer scooted her chair a bit closer to Paul’s as if to hear him better when he introduced himself.

Bonnie began the class by passing out copies of the syllabus they would follow during this and the next two sessions. Each syllabus was tucked into a bright red pocket folder which she informed them would be filled by the end of the course with useful handouts and website suggestions. Incorporating Nora’s requests, she’d divided the three two-hour classes into one-hour blocks: Introduction to Seasonal Cooking; Fresh Herbs; Knife Skills; Spring and Summer Recipes; Fall and Winter Recipes; Canning, Drying and Freezing.

“I’ll be at the farmers’ market next Tuesday morning at eight,” she added as she distributed the schedules. “For those who are free and would like to join me, we can shop together for ingredients for the dishes we’ll make that evening.”

“I can meet you there after I drop off the kids at day camp,” Jennifer said eagerly. “It sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Paul?”

“Yes, it does.” He smiled up at Bonnie when she gave him his handout, and she wondered if it was only an accident that his fingers brushed hers as he accepted it. Whether intentional or not, that fleeting contact still made her hand tingle. She flexed her fingers surreptitiously as she returned to the demo table to begin her informal lecture about the many advantages—ecologically, financially and nutritionally—of cooking with fresh, locally grown produce.

She tried very hard to divide her attention evenly among the class members. She made a point not to look at Paul too much—or too little, which could be just as noticeable. She didn’t like feeling so self-conscious, and she chided herself mentally for her schoolgirl behavior. But still she was too keenly aware of him sitting there listening so attentively, even when other members of the class called attention to themselves with blurted comments or questions or jests. Jennifer, in particular, seemed intent on making sure Paul knew she was available for extracurricular activities.

After forty minutes of lecture and discussion, Bonnie suggested a ten-minute break before the next session. “Feel free to walk in the gardens or help yourself to snacks and drinks, but please keep an eye on the time so we can begin again promptly.”

Taking advantage of the cooler temperatures as shadows lengthened in the gardens, the women decided to step outside for the break while Bonnie set up for the next session. “Come with us, Paul,” Jennifer urged. “The gardens here are just beautiful.”

“Yes, I’ve seen them and they are,” he replied with an easy smile. “But I need to speak with Bonnie for a moment before class starts again.”

Seeming unable to come up with a reason to linger with him, Jennifer went out with the others, though she looked back over her shoulder at Paul before stepping outside. Paul waited until the door had closed before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a check. “My registration fee,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

Bonnie laughed and tucked the check into a deep pocket of her floral summer skirt. “I didn’t think that.”

“I’m not really in the mood to walk the gardens right now. Is there anything I can do to help you set up for the next part?”

He was too much the gentleman to admit that he was avoiding Jennifer, but Bonnie had her suspicions. “You can bring things in from the kitchen, if you like,” she said.

Maybe he was just being polite, genuinely attempting to be helpful rather than trying to escape the attentions of an admittedly attractive woman. The awkward truth was, she hadn’t much liked seeing Jennifer flirting so blatantly with Paul, but maybe he’d liked it very much. It would certainly be unprofessional of her to flirt with him, at least while he was a participant in her class, she told herself primly.

And still she found herself smiling up at him through her lashes when he stopped close beside her in the kitchen. “You can carry one basket,” she said, motioning toward the two large picnic-style baskets on the counter. “I’ll get the other one.”

“I’d be happy to.” He reached for the closest handle. “I’m sorry again that I was so late,” he said as they carried the baskets into the dining room. “The twins needed a lift to a youth party at their church and their mom got hung up at work and everyone else was otherwise occupied, so she called me. I’d have still had plenty of time, but Jenna had to try on every pair of shoes in her closet before she decided she was ready to go. I have to admit I was pretty impatient with her by the time we finally got away, because I was really looking forward to this class.”

“You were exactly on time,” she reminded him, then asked, “Jenna is one of the twins, right?”

“Right. Jenna and Jackson.”

Setting her basket on the demo table, Bonnie glanced up at him, thinking not for the first time that he had a decidedly different relationship with his daughter’s other family. She couldn’t help wondering, though, why he’d never started a new family of his own. He seemed to enjoy fatherhood—even honorary “unclehood”—but she’d heard no evidence of a special woman in his life. Was he a commitment-phobe? Or—she couldn’t help frowning a little—was he still hung up on his remarkable ex after all these years, even though Holly had long since moved on? Not that it was any of her business, of course.

He stood back and watched as she unloaded the supplies onto the demo table. She unpacked six cute little glass jars with home-printed labels, arranging them next to a food processor. Paul picked up one of the jars and read the label. “You’re making pesto?”

“Yes. Everyone’s going home with a jar tonight and easy instructions for making it yourself.”

He chuckled and replaced the jar. “Now that would impress Cassie, if I served her pesto I made myself.”

Laughing softly, Bonnie patted his arm without thinking about it. “By the time you’ve finished this class, you can wow her with a whole meal you prepared yourself, from the salad course to dessert, all made with fresh, local produce.”

He rested his hand over hers before she could draw away and gave a little squeeze to her fingers. “She’ll think you’re a miracle worker.”

Though his gesture had been casual, teasing, as had her own, she reacted as she had before to his touch. Or rather, she overreacted with a surge of awareness and a wave of heat that were totally out of proportion to the situation. Quickly drawing her hand away on the pretext of setting out more supplies, she told herself that she really had neglected her social life for too long. Maybe she’d start working on that online dating profile this very evening, though she wondered if she would find anyone there as interesting and appealing as Paul.

Jennifer came back into the dining room, followed closely by the others. Jennifer made a beeline for Paul. “You missed a lovely walk in the garden,” she said. “It’s cooler now that the sun’s gone down a bit, and the flowers are beautiful. And that fountain…well, it’s just perfect.”

“What he really missed was the look on Heather’s face when that big dog suddenly appeared beside the fountain,” Nora said with a giggle that was too deliberately girlish for her age. “That was priceless.”

Heather scowled. “Well, you have to admit he looked scary. I couldn’t help that little gasp. Thank goodness I saw almost immediately that he was being held by his owner.”

Bonnie swallowed a groan. “That’s my brother’s dog, Ninja. I know he looks intimidating, but he’s really very gentle. And Logan keeps him on a leash when they take their walks around the property.”

Logan had learned to keep the curious rottweiler-mix dog under close supervision because of Ninja’s uncanny knack for escaping all but the most secure enclosures. Ninja was completely harmless, rarely even barked, but his size alone was enough to frighten nervous guests, so he was not allowed to freely roam the grounds. When Logan was busy, Ninja was locked into the sizeable backyard of Logan’s cottage down the hill from the inn. The two could often be seen taking long walks around the property early in the mornings and late in the day, good exercise for both of them. Logan had bonded with the former stray in a way he rarely did with people, other than his two sisters.

“You said the dog’s owner is your brother?” Lydia asked a bit too casually. “He’s a nice-looking man, isn’t he?”

Smiling a little, Bonnie said, “Yes, I think so.”

“Single?”

“Very.”

“You Carmichael siblings,” Nora said with a teasing shake of her head. “All work, all the time. At least Kinley is in a romantic relationship now, but I’m beginning to wonder if you and Logan are married to this inn.”

“Let’s just say we’ve made the inn our top priority for the past few years,” Bonnie replied lightly. “We’ll get around to other things, eventually.”

She glanced at her watch and then motioned toward the tables. “We should get started again. Who would like to volunteer to be my assistant during this next segment?”

“I volunteer Paul.” Nora shot a mischievous grin at her only male classmate. “I think he’d look especially cute in an apron.”

If Nora had hoped to see him embarrassed, her teasing gambit failed. Paul accepted the challenge with alacrity. “I’d be happy to help,” he said, moving around the table to stand beside Bonnie.

Bonnie donned a red-and-white gingham, bib-style apron embroidered on the center pocket with the Bride Mountain Inn logo. She tied a loose bow behind her back, then smiled as she picked up a matching apron for Paul. “This will be a little short for you, but it will keep you from splashing oil or pesto on your clothes.”

While the rest of the class grinned appreciatively, he bent to allow her to slip the top loop over his head. His face was very close to hers as she did so, and she couldn’t resist looking at his mouth. He had such a nice mouth. His eyes met hers for a moment and the glint in them made her wonder uncomfortably if he had read her thoughts. But then he straightened and turned so she could secure the ties behind his back. His strong, straight back. With a firm, tight…

Clearing her throat abruptly, she turned back toward the demo table. “Fresh herbs, whether grown in your own kitchen garden or purchased from the market, are a must for any home chef,” she began, greatly relieved that her voice sounded reasonably normal to her ears.

Now if only she could get through the rest of this demonstration without making an utter fool of herself. Considering how distracting she found her handsome assistant, it was going to take all her concentration.

Paul hoped the handouts Bonnie had provided contained all the information he needed to glean from her class. As hard as he’d tried to pay attention to her lectures and demonstrations, he couldn’t guarantee he’d remember half of what she’d said. Not because the class hadn’t been interesting or because Bonnie wasn’t knowledgeable about her subject. Every time he tried to pay close attention to her words, he found himself noticing how soft and musical her voice was, how much he enjoyed just listening to her. And every time he focused intently on her face, he got lost in admiring her big blue eyes, her porcelain skin, the tiny dimple just at the right corner of her mouth.

So, just how long had it been since he’d even been on a date with a woman? Obviously too long, judging by his strong and decidedly physical reactions to Bonnie Carmichael’s many charms. He’d had a brief association with Michaela Havers close to a year ago, but that had lasted only a few months. They’d had different interests, different friends, different priorities. Outside the bedroom—where they’d gotten along well enough—their interactions had become awkward and forced, until by mutual agreement they’d called it off. He’d seen her at a party recently. She’d been with a new guy and had looked very happy. They’d chatted amiably for a few minutes, parting as friendly acquaintances, if not actually friends.

He seemed to have a knack for remaining on cordial terms with his exes, he thought wryly. He didn’t want to analyze too deeply what that said about his potential for long-term commitment, something that seemed less likely with each passing year. Since Michaela, there’d been a few pleasant evenings out with other women, but nothing serious, no uncomfortable expectations on either part. But it had been a while since he’d even done that.

He wasn’t sure he had any more in common with Bonnie Carmichael than he’d had with Michaela, yet still he buzzed like a live wire every time he was close to her. He didn’t want either of them to get burned by that electricity, but from what she’d said to Nora, it didn’t sound as though Bonnie was looking for anything serious right now, either. Made sense. She was young, busy and ambitious with her plans for the inn. She had plenty of time to think about starting a family in a couple of years, perhaps, once she was satisfied the inn was secure. At this point, she was probably just wishing for a little fun away from work sometimes.

He liked having fun, too. And if he and Bonnie could share some good times together, without either of them thinking wedding bells and baby booties, all the better.

Somehow, despite his wandering thoughts about the teacher, he made it through the demonstration without chopping his fingers along with the basil, or blowing up the food processor, or breaking any of the delicate little jars she’d provided for the pesto samples. To good-natured applause from his classmates, he took a bow at the conclusion of the session.

Dismissed by Bonnie with a reminder of the farmers’ market visit next Tuesday, the women gathered their belongings and moved toward the doorway, still talking and laughing. A garrulous group, but affable, he thought. They’d made him feel quite welcome this evening.

The friendliest member of the class lingered when the others departed. Her long, lean body nicely displayed in a formfitting summer dress, Jennifer took her time storing her pesto, class folder and cell phone in her canvas tote bag. “Looks like we’re the last ones,” she said to Paul, as if that were a surprise to her. “We can walk out together to our cars.”

He supposed he should be flattered by her attention. She was certainly attractive, though he noticed only in an objective, rather detached manner. He didn’t mind her blatant flirting. He wasn’t the type of man who thought the male should always be the instigator. He actually enjoyed being asked out—unless he wasn’t interested, in which case he always felt bad about declining. He wasn’t interested now, so he hoped he was wrong about Jennifer’s intentions.

He glanced at tiny, curvy Bonnie, and his pulse rate jumped in a way it hadn’t when Jennifer smiled at him. There was the primary explanation for his lack of interest in Jennifer. His gaze met Bonnie’s, and he saw what he thought was understanding cross her face.

“Paul isn’t leaving just yet,” she said with a smile for him. “He and I need to discuss something about his daughter’s upcoming wedding.”

Jennifer blinked slowly a couple of times as she looked at Paul again. “Your, um, daughter?”

He nodded. “Cassie’s having her wedding here at the inn in just over a month. Bonnie’s been a tremendous help to us.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure that’s been keeping you very busy lately.”

Paul laughed lightly. “Cassie’s been keeping me busy for the past twenty-one years.”

“Do you have any other kids?”

“No, just the one. In just a few weeks, I’ll be a contented empty-nester.”

Jennifer looked somewhat speculatively from him to Bonnie and back again, then gave a little shrug. “I’m off, then. See you both next week. Great class tonight, Bonnie.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Bonnie waited until Jennifer had let herself out before turning to Paul. “I hope I read the look you gave me correctly. You did want an excuse to stay a few minutes longer, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he confessed. Maybe he had misinterpreted, but he thought he’d seen the expression on Jennifer’s face before—recently divorced single mom looking to fill a position he had no interest in auditioning for. He hoped she’d gotten that message, if he’d been right about her initial interest in him. “She seems very nice, but…”

Bonnie merely nodded and started gathering the supplies from the class. He knew she was much too ethical to discuss one of her other students with him. To justify staying behind, he helped her clean up.

“How are the wedding arrangements coming along?” Bonnie asked as they carried the supplies into the kitchen. “Do you know of anything Cassie needs from us at the moment?”

He wasn’t sure if she was simply making small talk or keeping him honest about his excuse to stay a bit longer. He was amused by his suspicion that it was mostly the latter. “As far as I can determine, everything’s on track. She told me her dress is almost finished and all the decisions have been made and orders have been placed. Now it’s just a matter of getting through all the showers and parties scheduled for the next few weeks—and she still has four and a half weeks of school to complete.”

The last of those showers would actually take place here at the inn, he remembered. Cassie had mentioned that her bridesmaids had met with Bonnie and Kinley and booked the dining room for the first Sunday afternoon in August, a week and six days before the big event. Somewhat late for a shower, Holly had said with typical disapproval at the lack of efficient organization, but Cassie had only laughed and said her friends were all busy young professionals and students and they’d booked the only day they could manage. Besides, she had reminded her mom, she hadn’t exactly given everyone a lot of notice. Cassie and Mike hadn’t even chosen a wedding date until mid-May, only three months before the event.

“I’m so impressed that she’s actually making her own dress from her own design,” Bonnie marveled.

“Oh, yeah, she’s a whiz with a sewing machine.”

“Sounds like a busy time for her. How’s she holding up?”

He chuckled. “My Cassie is not easy to rattle. She goes with the flow. She’d consider a wedding disaster just another great story to tell her kids someday.”

“Oh, how I wish more brides had that attitude,” Bonnie said as she closed a cabinet door.

“I suppose you’ve seen your share of meltdowns.”

Her smile was wry. “A few, and I’m sure I’ll see many more in the future.”

She was optimistic about the long-term success of her establishment, he noted. An admirable attitude, reminding him how very attached she was to the inn. How deeply she’d planted her roots here.

“Cassie made all her friends promise that if they saw even a glimmer of ‘Bridezilla’ making an appearance in her, they were to give her a swift kick in the butt.”

Bonnie laughed softly. “That’s cute. So many brides act like one little glitch in their obsessively detailed plans will ruin their lives forever.”

She bit her lip suddenly, looking as though she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped over a professional line. “Of course, we do our best here to make sure all our events go as smoothly as our clients desire,” she assured him.

Trying to hide his amusement, he nodded solemnly. “Surely you don’t get blamed for things that are out of your control.”

Forgetting herself again, she rolled her eyes. “A bride once threatened to sue us because it rained on her wedding day.”

“You’re kidding.”

Shaking her head with a pained sigh, she said, “I wish I was. She also blamed her groom, her mother and God, in that order after us, and spent an hour crying in the ladies’ room before we could coax her out after the brief rain shower ended. She ended up having a very nice, if a bit damp, wedding.”

“So that’s why you spell out in your contract that you aren’t responsible for weather or other acts of nature. Cassie thought that was funny.”

“More like a necessity. Can you put this container on that shelf, please? The top one?”

Obligingly, he slid the lidded plastic box easily onto a shelf well above Bonnie’s head.

“Thank you. You saved me from having to pull out the stepladder.”

Glancing at the high cabinets lining the no-wasted-space kitchen, he smiled. He was unable to resist patting the top of her blond head, which came just about level with his shoulder. “I have a feeling you spend a lot of time with that stepladder.”

She grinned up at him. “Are you kidding? If I ever get married, it’ll be one of my attendants.”

Even though it was only a joke, her reference to marriage made him automatically drop his hand and take a half step back from her. He tried to cover his foolish reaction by opening the second basket for unpacking. “Are there any other high shelves I can reach for you before I go?”

“As a matter of fact…” Seemingly oblivious to his awkward moment, she had him store several more items.

“I hope this gets me extra points in the class.”

Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she smiled. “You know I’m not grading the class.”

That fleeting little dimple at the corner of her mouth could make a man’s mouth go dry. He swallowed before murmuring, “Still…”

Draping the towel over a rack, she pushed back her hair and said, “I think it’s safe for you to go now. The parking lot should be empty. Thank you for your help.”

“I wasn’t afraid to go out with the class,” he said with exaggerated male dignity. “I just, uh, thought you could use a hand.”

As he’d hoped, she laughed again. She had such a pretty laugh, soft and musical. His lips quirked automatically upward in response and he bade her good-night with a smile. If he fantasized about parting with a kiss—well, he assured himself as he headed for his car, that was only natural considering his attraction to her. Because he sensed the attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided, he hoped maybe someday soon that fantasy could come true.

Darkness had settled fully over the grounds by the time Bonnie headed out of the inn that night. After class she’d checked on the guests playing board games in the shared front parlor, and did some prep for breakfast the next morning. Finally deciding to call it a day, she slipped out a back door onto the long wooden deck where an older couple who were staying a few days to celebrate their fifty-first wedding anniversary sat in rockers, sipping tea and enjoying the moonlight. She exchanged good-nights with them, but didn’t linger, leaving them to their quiet companionship.

Rather than heading straight into her half basement apartment, she turned at the foot of the stairs and walked along one of the graveled paths toward the back of the gardens. She needed a few minutes of fresh air to clear her head before turning in for the night. The lighting was sufficient to safely guide her steps, but not so bright as to dim the beauty of the star-studded sky overhead. Not that she needed lighting at all. She could walk every inch of the inn’s grounds with her eyes closed.

The gardens spreading around the gray-painted, white-trimmed Queen-Anne style inn had been designed to be inviting, peaceful and reasonably low-maintenance with well-tended pathways winding through the flower beds. A large, three-tier fountain was the central attraction, with a white-painted wedding gazebo at the east side of the grounds. The east side lawn had been leveled, providing space for tents or tables and chairs for outdoor parties and receptions. Stone steps and a wheelchair ramp led down from that lawn to the lower gardens.

As she walked, Bonnie saw both the beauty of the grounds and the many backbreaking, blister-raising, sweat-drenching hours of manual labor she and her siblings had put into the restoration. They had helped their uncle Leo as often as they could, but they’d been busy establishing careers in Tennessee, so there’d been a lot of work to do when they’d officially inherited the place. Bonnie regretted none of it, and she was confident Kinley and Logan felt the same.

She paused at the back of the grounds, just before the trailhead of a hiking path that led through dense woods to the peak of Bride Mountain. They eventually planned to do a bit more development here, hoping to create a quiet meditation garden complete with a koi pond.

Movement to her right made her turn. A massive dark shape separated from the shadows to bump against her, a low rumble issuing from its throat. The dog’s head came higher than her waist, so she didn’t even have to bend to give him an affectionate pat on the head. He growled louder when she rubbed his ears, a sound that she’d always thought of as Ninja’s version of a purr. The dog almost never barked, but he made this sound frequently, leading some wary observers to think he was growling at them.

“I thought you and Ninja had already made your rounds for the evening,” she said to her brother.

His hard-carved face mostly in shadow, Logan Carmichael would probably have appeared intimidating to anyone who didn’t love him as much as his younger sister did. “Guess we’re both restless tonight. Nothing good on TV.”

“You want to come in for cake and tea? I have a little left of that coconut cake I made for dinner last night.”

“Thanks, but not tonight. Ninja and I are just going to walk the trail a bit.”

Looking up from the dog, she raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Hiking in the dark?”

“Not a hike. Just a short walk. There’s enough moonlight to guide us. And I’ve got a flashlight if needed.”

“Still…”

He chuckled and lightly flicked the end of her nose. “Afraid your ghost will get me?”

She rolled her eyes. Her brother and sister had always teased her about being the only one in the family who believed the more-than-a-century-old legend that a ghostly bride was occasionally seen on the grounds of the inn, almost always glimpsed by couples on the verge of committing to happily-ever-after. Uncle Leo swore that he and Aunt Helen had seen the bride the night he proposed. They had enjoyed a blissfully happy marriage until her death had parted them.

Since Kinley had tumbled into love recently with travel writer Dan Phelan, she had been quieter on the subject of the ghost bride, about whom she’d once had very strong—and somewhat negative—opinions. Kinley had been concerned that having a ghost legend attached to their newly reopened inn would be a negative factor, garnering the wrong sort of attention or discouraging the wedding clientele they hoped to attract. Now she merely got a funny look on her face on the infrequent occasion when the bride was mentioned. But characteristically gruff and pragmatic Logan still managed to get in a few cynical jabs toward Bonnie’s admitted romanticism.

Refusing to take the bait this time, Bonnie simply shrugged and retorted, “I’m more concerned about you becoming the next ghost to haunt the inn. Don’t fall off any embankments and break your neck while you’re out walking off your restlessness, okay?”

“I won’t. And if I do, I promise to haunt you only on your birthdays and Christmas.”

Laughing softly at his rare joke, Bonnie pushed her hands into her skirt pockets as she watched man and dog disappear into the dark woods. Something crinkled crisply against her right hand and she pulled out the check Paul had given her. Glancing down at it, she smoothed the paper slowly between her fingers, thinking of Paul’s distinctive jade eyes and charming, slightly crooked smile.

The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. Though she’d tried to be more subtle than Jennifer, she thought she’d made it clear enough that she wouldn’t mind spending more time with him. If her recently reawakened feminine instincts could be trusted, he felt the same way about her. Maybe she’d hold off a bit on that online dating profile.

Something moved at the corner of her vision, this time in the densest part of the woods. Thinking it might be her brother and his dog, she turned, but saw nothing there but the thinnest line of late-night mist. She shook her head, deciding she must be more tired from the long day than she’d realized.

Holding Paul’s check tightly in one hand, she headed for her apartment, telling herself she should put him out of her mind for the rest of the night. As if that were possible.

Chapter Three

The woman who sat across the coffee shop table from Paul Thursday afternoon was gym-toned and impeccably styled, not a blond hair out of place, her makeup subtle but perfect. Though he knew her to be only fifteen months from turning forty, Holly Bauer looked a good half decade younger. In fact, she’d been mistaken for twenty-one-year-old Cassie’s older sister rather than her mother.

Appearing to be a polar opposite to his sleek, fashionable wife, Holly’s husband, Larry, was pudgy and habitually rumpled, with a shiny, balding head and kind, twinkling brown eyes. He had a brilliant mind, a generous heart and an infectious smile. Holly adored him, as did Cassie. Paul was fond of the guy, as well.

Holly sipped delicately from her coffee—black, no sugar—then set the cup on the table. “So, anyway,” she said, continuing the solemn conversation they’d been engaged in for the past fifteen minutes, “I thought you should be told right away. And I believed I should be the one to tell you, rather than Cassie. After all, this move will affect you, too, in a way.”

“In a rather big way,” he agreed, tugging at the open neck of his polo shirt which felt as though it had somehow tightened. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Holly had just informed him that she and her family would be relocating in August, only a week after Cassie’s wedding. Holly had accepted an offer from a law firm in Dallas and Larry was taking a faculty position teaching in the engineering department at UT Dallas. The twins were understandably nervous about changing high schools and leaving their friends, but also excited about moving to Texas. Paul had known the move was a possibility, but now Holly had confirmed that it had become a reality.

“We’ll miss you, too,” she said with a sincerity he didn’t doubt. “The first question Jenna asked when we told them was whether you’ll be moving, too.”

He supposed he could understand Jenna’s assumption. After all, twelve years ago he’d followed the family to Virginia from North Carolina, where he and Holly had both grown up, when Holly and Larry had moved here for Larry’s career. Without close family of his own, there’d been no reason for Paul to remain in North Carolina rather than settle close to his daughter. He’d found a teaching position very quickly, bought a nice little house with three extra bedrooms for when Cassie and her siblings visited overnight, and he’d been happy here as part of their extended family. But as much as he cared for them, he couldn’t see himself following them to Dallas. Not with his daughter married and living in London.

He forced a smile for Holly’s benefit, hoping it looked natural. “I won’t be moving to Dallas.”

Holly nodded as if she had expected that decision. “It’s going to be hard to say goodbye—for all of us,” she murmured, just a little tremor in her voice.

Reaching across the table, he took her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. “It won’t be forever,” he assured her. “I expect to be invited to the twins’ birthday celebrations and graduations, and I’ll try to be there if I can get away. And if they want to come back here to visit their friends during vacations and holidays, they’ll always have a room in my house.”

She squeezed his hand in return before reaching again for her coffee. “It’s going to be terribly hectic for the next few weeks, of course,” she said, her voice steady again. “Getting ready for the wedding, preparations for the move, and the twins will want to attend as many parties and get-togethers with their friends as they can manage.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

He smiled over the rim of his cup at his daughter’s mother. There’d been no romantic feelings between himself and Holly since their youthful infatuation had fizzled away in the stressful reality of teen parenthood, but they’d managed to forge a true friendship during the years. A partnership in a way, dedicated to making sure Cassie had a safe, happy, healthy childhood. It had been quite a successful venture, he mused. But now, as it should, it was coming to an end. Or at the least, it was changing radically. Cassie would always be a bond between them.

“I ran into Michaela Havers at the bank yesterday,” Holly commented after a few moments of silence, a seeming non sequitur that made him blink a couple of times before replying.

“Yeah? I saw her at a party not too long ago. She seemed to be doing well.”

“She was sporting an engagement ring roughly the size of a golf ball yesterday. A recent development, I take it.”

“First I’ve heard of it,” he agreed. “I knew she was seeing someone, but I don’t think they were engaged when I saw her last. It all happened pretty quickly, I guess.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Absolutely. Michaela and I broke up by mutual agreement. I wish her the best.”

“So…” Holly toyed with the handle of her coffee cup. “Are you seeing anyone special now?”

An image of a pretty, petite blonde popped into his mind. Bonnie wasn’t at all like Holly, he mused, other than both being blondes. Holly’s sleekly styled bob was colored by an expensive stylist, her makeup was always impeccable and her outfits were tasteful but obviously designer labeled. Bonnie’s loose golden curls looked entirely natural, she wore little makeup and her clothes were apparently chosen for comfort and convenience. And while he liked and admired both of them, it was the thought of Bonnie that made his pulse rate pick up even as he shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

He eyed Holly with sudden amusement. “Surely you aren’t worried about leaving me behind all alone and sad when you move?”

Maybe her cheeks went just a bit pink as she lifted her chin in denial. “Of course not. You’ve made a good life for yourself here. I just wondered…”

“Don’t worry about me, Holly. I’ll be fine. Actually, I guess you could say for the first time in twenty-one years, I’ll be free to follow my own whims. I’m pretty much committed to teaching another year here, but after that, maybe I’ll teach in China for a couple of years or on a reservation in North Dakota,” he said, naming random places off the top of his head. “Or maybe I’ll take a sabbatical and spend a year schlepping drinks at some bar in the Florida Keys. I make a mean margarita, you know.”

Holly smiled faintly, making no other effort to respond to his grandiose scenarios. Probably because she didn’t believe he would do any of them, no matter what he said. Had he become so predictable? He was still young, not even forty. He could have plenty of adventures, if he wanted. China, North Dakota, Florida…anywhere the wind blew him.

After all, he no longer had anything, or anyone, to hold him here.

When they’d reopened Bride Mountain Inn, Bonnie and Kinley had learned quickly that they seemed to attract an early rising clientele, eager to have breakfast and then get on with their planned activities. As a result, Monday through Saturday breakfast service began at seven and formally ended at nine, though Bonnie was well-known to serve the stragglers, anyway.

The daily schedule varied only on Sundays, when a lavish brunch was served from ten until one. Because Bride Mountain Café, an excellent little diner within walking distance of the inn, was closed on Sundays, Bonnie provided a light repast of sandwiches and dessert for her guests that evening.

The 7:00 a.m. breakfast service necessitated an early start for Bonnie and her full-time housekeeping employee, Rhoda Foley, who cheerfully cleaned, served, cooked, did laundry or whatever else was needed of her, aided by part-time maid Sandy Carr.

Free-spirited, mid-fifties Rhoda had been scrupulously on time every morning since an incident in the spring in which she had overslept, rushed to work and hit one of the front portico posts with her truck, resulting in a mad scramble to make repairs before a scheduled wedding.

With her almost compulsive need for perfection and control, Kinley had been particularly anxious about the damage, though her first reaction had been to make sure Rhoda was unharmed. Minutes after the accident occurred, travel writer Dan Phelan had arrived to profile the inn in a popular Southern-themed magazine, to Kinley’s dismay. But since Kinley and Dan had fallen in love almost at first sight and were now a happily committed couple, so Bonnie suspected her sister’s memories of that tumultuous day were pleasant ones.

At just after nine Friday morning, Bonnie and Kinley stood near the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen. The inn was fully occupied, mostly with guests for a wedding to take place in the gazebo tomorrow afternoon. Kinley had just arrived, dressed as always in tailored, professional clothing, in contrast to the loose skirts and cotton tops that better suited Bonnie’s role at the inn.

To an outside observer, Bonnie knew she and her sister didn’t appear to be related. With gold-streaked light brown hair and eyes more gray than blue, Kinley was nearly five inches taller and more athletically built than Bonnie. Both Kinley and Logan resembled their father, while Bonnie had been called the “spitting image” of their mother—perhaps one of the reasons she’d always been great-uncle Leo’s favorite. That, and her lifelong passion for the inn he’d loved so much.

Holding a cup of the herbal tea Bonnie had insisted she drink—Bonnie had recently decided that her overachieving, workaholic sister drank entirely too much coffee—Kinley looked around the well-filled dining room in satisfaction. “Your new summer veggie quiche was certainly a hit. Everyone liked it.”

Bonnie smiled. “They seemed to. I’ll add the recipe to the handouts for my class.”

“I had a taste of the quiche. It was delicious. Rosemary?”

“Yes, fresh from my herb garden.” The little herb bed Logan had helped her plant was her pride and joy. She was beginning to believe she’d inherited her great-aunt Helen’s green thumb along with the inn, even though Helen had been related to her only by marriage to Leo.

Kinley took another taste of her tea before saying, “Speaking of your class, one of your students may be coming by later today.”

Bonnie’s heart gave a funny little bump. She reminded herself that there were five members of her class in addition to the one who elicited that response. “Oh?”

Looking almost smugly amused, as if she’d sensed the direction in which Bonnie’s thoughts had automatically flown, Kinley nodded. “Cassie Drennan called earlier. She’s bringing a friend by to see the inn as a potential wedding venue for next spring. She mentioned that her dad might ride along.”

So the physical jolt had been justified, after all. It happened again with the confirmation that she would perhaps be seeing Paul that afternoon—even if he had his daughter and her friend with him.

“I’m sure you’ll have Cassie’s friend signed up for the full package even before they finish looking around,” she teased her sister lightly, trying to direct the attention away from herself.

A saleswoman to her core, Kinley grinned. “I’ll certainly try. So, you want to be in on the tour? I suspect that Paul—I mean, Cassie—would be happy to have you join us.”

“Kinley—”

With a soft laugh, Kinley held up both hands in response to Bonnie’s warning mutter. “Sorry. I just think it’s so cute the way you blush nearly every time you hear his name.”

Cursing her traitorous fair coloring, Bonnie hoped she could get that reaction under control again before Paul arrived.

She changed the subject abruptly to talk of the wedding festivities scheduled for the weekend, a topic sure to distract her sister. Proceeded by a drinks-and-snacks gathering in the dining room, rehearsal was scheduled for seven that evening. A hearty breakfast would be served tomorrow morning to the wedding party, and the big event itself would start at three tomorrow afternoon. The bride had chosen a Tuscan wedding theme, so Logan would be busy today draping rented white columns and the white-painted gazebo with ivy and clusters of artificial grapes. And muttering all the time about how foolish it was to do so, she thought with an indulgent smile, though she knew her brother would do his usual meticulous job.

One other topic was guaranteed to distract Kinley’s attention from anything else. “What time is Dan supposed to arrive?” Bonnie asked when there was nothing left to say about the upcoming wedding.

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