Here Comes the Bride Read online

  “A road would only bring all kinds of strange people up here, and then it wouldn’t be very private, would it?” he answered, following behind her now that the trail had narrowed to single-file width.

  He pinned his attention on the swing of her hair. She’d pulled it back and anchored it loosely with a stretchy bow, but that hadn’t stopped its swish and bounce.

  Last night, as he tried to get to sleep, one delicious fantasy about that hair had him thumping the feathers out of his pillow until morning. “Concentrate on that squirrel over there, Killian,” he muttered.

  “Did you say something?” She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “I just said, ‘Look at that squirrel over there.’ ”

  She looked, unimpressed, at the furry creature. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve seen squirrels before. We have them back East. Lots of them.”

  “Just pointing out the sights.”

  They hiked in silence for a while. Nick trained his attention on the rocks and trees, anything but on the temptation in front of him. Spending the day with her had not been one of his better ideas. Spending it with her on the side of a mountain, in total isolation, bordered on the insane.

  “Hang a right just past that gnarled pine,” he said. They were there now, and he’d have to make the best of it. Come up with a plan fast, and get them the hell back down the mountainside.

  Fiona turned where Nick indicated. She’d gone only a few steps when she came to a lofty rock perch that jutted out of the side of the mountain. Here the pine forest receded, allowing her an unobstructed view of the desert basin, shimmering like a mirage below them.

  “What do you think?” Nick asked when she didn’t speak.

  It was easy to see why this was his favorite place to sort out life’s problems. “It’s beautiful, Nick.” The words were woefully inadequate.

  Small orange-and-yellow desert blooms eked life out of the rocks. The scent of pine was strong in the air. There was no sound except for the soft rustling of wind through the trees, an occasional bird, and Fiona’s breathing, which hadn’t yet slowed to normal from the hike up the mountain. Nick was so close beside her that she could almost hear the sure thudding of his heart and feel the heat of his skin.

  She had the strong urge to turn and fold herself into his strength, to tip her head up and beg for one more of those kisses he’d devastated her with last night. But they had family matters to deal with, and the sooner they got to it, the better.

  She picked out a spot on the rocky ledge and sat down. Nick did cooling-down exercises, stretching his gorgeous hamstrings in front of her.

  Fiona tried to look past him at the picturesque view.

  “If you’re about through, we can get down to business,” she snapped when she was finally at her wit’s end—and about ready to drool.

  “You should do some stretches so your muscles don’t tighten up on you,” he warned.

  “If they do, you can carry me down the mountain. Now, I think we’d better start planning before the bride and groom are saying their vows.”

  “You’re right.” He picked a spot beside her on the ledge and parked his sexy buns.

  “When is Camille expected to get here?” she asked, trying to gauge how much time they had to work with.

  “Possibly late tonight or early tomorrow morning. She hadn’t checked on flights yet.”

  “That soon?”

  “She’s in Bombay, not outer space.”

  Fiona frowned. Outer space would have suited their purpose better, she thought privately. “Then we’ve got to think of something fast, or the wedding will be on again before we know it.”

  Nick nodded and raised one eyebrow in thought.

  Fiona did the same. Nick came up with something first.

  “What if … Walter thought Auntie wanted him to sign those prenuptial papers?”

  Her eyes widened. “But you said Winnie refused to ask him to sign.”

  “She did.”

  “Then how—”

  “I show them to him.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not? You don’t think he’d blow up, maybe call off the whole thing?”

  “I think he’d go to Winnie about it, and when he found out this was your idea, not hers, your little trick would backfire.” Fiona didn’t mention that the idea of misleading her father and Winnie bothered her more than she cared to admit.

  “Then you come up with something, since you’re so brilliant,” he said testily.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.” Fiona jumped up from the rock and paced back and forth in front of him. “Maybe we shouldn’t be meddling in their lives,” she said, feeling a sudden sense of guilt.

  “I know. I have a few qualms about that myself,” Nick admitted.

  Fiona paced a few more lengths. “All I want is for my father to be happy, truly happy. How can he be sure about this marriage thing when they’ve only known each other—” She stopped and turned to look at Nick. “How long have they known each other?”

  “I’m not sure, really. Three weeks, maybe four.”

  “That’s all?”

  Nick nodded. “Tops.”

  Fiona frowned and resumed her pacing. “What do they have in common? How can a relationship work when two people are so … well, different? Winnie’s the flamboyant type. My father’s more quiet. Not to mention set in his ways.”

  “Auntie too,” Nick said. “It wouldn’t work out between them, never in a million years.”

  “Right,” she seconded wholeheartedly. “My father’s lived all his life in the East … Boston. It’s the only city he’s known. He’s only been out here a short while. In time he’ll find he misses the seasons, the leaves turning gold in the fall, spring and the Red Sox games.…”

  “And Auntie was raised in the West,” Nick inserted. “She loves the desert, the year-round sunshine, the mountains a short drive away. This is just some crazy attraction between them. A temporary attraction.”

  “Exactly,” Fiona agreed, then paused.

  Something about this conversation bothered her. But she wasn’t exactly sure what. She and Nick were in agreement, perfect agreement.

  That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  Of course. She shrugged and turned to him. “So, now that we have that settled, what are we going to do about it?”

  Nick dragged a hand through his hair. Fiona might have been talking about Walter and Winnie, but he was thinking in terms of Fiona and himself.

  What about their differences, not to mention this unexplainable attraction between them?

  The attraction part was dangerous, he knew that. So why did he have this overwhelming desire to find out if her lips tasted as sexy sweet as they had last night?

  She’d stopped her agitated pacing and sank down on the ledge beside him again. The haunting scent of her flowery fragrance wafted around him, taunting his senses.

  She was looking to him for an answer, her eyes wide and expectant, but he seemed to have forgotten the question. Ah, yes, the wedding. And their uncooperative relatives.

  Fiona was waiting for him to come up with some gem of a plan, and he probably could do so, if only she wasn’t sitting so close beside him, her lips pursed in a slight pout, provocative, taunting, tempting.

  Hell, he wasn’t ready to try for sainthood—and only a saint could resist the lure in front of him at this moment.

  Her lips parted and Nick sucked in a breath.

  In this situation he wouldn’t even bet on the saint.

  One taste, he thought, only one desperate taste, and then they’d get down to business.

  He leaned closer and Fiona followed. He could feel her heat, her dangerous need that matched his own. Her scent bedeviled him, her parted lips enticed. With a low groan he claimed them, claimed her. She was softness and sweetness and fire in the desert.

  But Fiona wasn’t the kind of woman you kissed and then forgot, he realized as he
r mouth melted beneath his. She was the kind who got under a man’s skin and stripped him of his sanity.

  He felt his slipping inch by delicious inch.

  Fiona could only emit a whimper as his kiss invaded her senses. She pressed her hands against his rock-solid chest, not to push him away, but to anchor herself to him before she floated off the edge of the mountain.

  His arms slid around her, drawing her tighter against him. His lips tasted hot, sensually hot, as they explored hers, slowly, thoroughly, inviting every nerve ending she had into a fevered response. A soft moan of pleasure slid up her throat and purred onto her lips.

  He murmured something, his voice a hoarse whisper, something hot and no doubt naughty. For the sake of her resolve she didn’t want to know what it was.

  His body was hard and demanding, and she didn’t seem to have a spine’s worth of willpower left in hers. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue slipped inside, stroking, parrying the movements of her tongue. His hands didn’t stay still, but caressed her back and up the sensitive sides of her rib cage, sending her body heat soaring.

  She looped her arms around his neck, soaking up the feel of him, the strong corded muscles in his neck, the crisp ends of his hair as it curled over her fingers. She wanted to tangle them in its fullness and draw him closer into this kiss that she shouldn’t be enjoying as much as she was. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  She wanted it to go on forever—and then some.

  But, with a frustrated groan, Fiona understood only too well. He drew back, only to return for one last nip of her lower lip as if he couldn’t quite leave the taste of her. Her heart thudded heavily against her ribs, and she felt like all the air had fled from her lungs.

  He trailed a finger over the tender underside of her chin. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a rasp. “I seem to have a hard time keeping to the business at hand.”

  Fiona swallowed hard against the trail of heat his fingertip blazed against her skin. “In case you didn’t notice, you weren’t alone in that kiss.”

  “I noticed.”

  He watched as she stood, trying to compose herself. She walked to the edge of the mountain and studied the view. He fought down the urge to go to her, fold her into his arms once more, devour the taste of her.

  But one kiss would never be enough to satisfy him. He knew that.

  Fiona Ames was trouble, the kind of trouble he’d vowed to steer clear of since his marriage fell apart. The kind of trouble that could make him forget what the world was really like, the kind of world he saw in court on a daily basis.

  “We’re wrong for each other,” she said so quietly he almost missed hearing her words. “As wrong for each other as Winnie and Walter.”

  She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “I agree.”

  She continued looking out over the vista, her face averted from him. “All the objections we have about their relationship go double for us.”

  “Again, you’re right.”

  “This is just some sort of … physical thing between us.… We’re going to have to get past it.”

  “Easier said than done,” he said half-aloud.

  She turned around. “What?”

  “I said, ‘We can do that.’ ”

  She studied him for a long, quiet moment, her green eyes unreadable. “Yes. Piece of cake.”

  Nick wouldn’t go so far as to say that.

  To forget Fiona he needed to stay far away from her, like two thirds of the country away. But she was here until the wedding—or until the wedding was off, whichever one came first.

  Nick had to team up with her. Because of Winnie—because he owed it to his aunt not to let her make a mistake.

  He didn’t believe in love. He didn’t believe in forevers. The world had taught him that early. When his mother died, when his father left. Left him for Winnie to raise. Winnie had been the only constant in his life. It was why he was so worried about her happiness, wanted it for her, but didn’t believe it existed.

  Fiona saw a fleeting shadow of pain in Nick’s eyes, a hardness, and wondered what—or who—had put it there. His kiss had left her shaken, reeling. If she put a finger to her lips, she’d still find them quivering from the experience.

  She didn’t need to get involved with a man like Nick. She had the feeling he could cause heartache for any woman who was foolish enough to fall in love with him.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly, “let’s start back down. Maybe we can think more clearly out of this rarefied air.”

  Fiona wasn’t certain her legs would carry her back down the steep trail, but she agreed. They’d settled nothing up there at the top of creation, only stirred up something between them they shouldn’t have.

  The kiss they’d shared had been foolhardy. He’d made her want—and that was a risk she didn’t dare take. She hadn’t forgotten how much it had hurt to love another man—only to have that love destroyed.

  She followed in Nick’s wake, careful not to trip over exposed tree roots or half-buried rocks.

  Neither of them spoke until they reached the four-wheel-drive Jeep they’d left where the road ended and the trail began.

  Then Nick turned to her. “I’ve got it,” he said. “The perfect plan.”

  Fiona raised a dubious eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”

  He helped her inside the Jeep, then slid in behind the wheel before he explained.

  Fiona listened, played the devil’s advocate for a while, then admitted she couldn’t come up with anything better. “It just might work,” she said.

  His plan had only one major flaw—it would involve spending more time with Nick.

  FOUR

  Not ever again, Nick vowed. He wasn’t riding with Walter ever again. He helped Winnie out of the backseat of the oldest living vehicle on the road as Walter discharged his passengers in front of the restaurant where the four of them were to have dinner that night.

  “We’re taking a taxi back,” he whispered in Fiona’s right ear as Walter gunned the huge sedan and peeled off to park it, a plume of blue smoke trailing from the exhaust. “I’m not setting foot in that tank again.”

  “Dad likes big cars. They make him feel secure,” Fiona defended.

  “Well, he could fight a war in that baby.”

  Fiona shot him a fierce glower. “If I remember right, this evening was your idea,” she retorted, her voice low to keep Winnie from overhearing. “In fact, I believe the entire purpose of it was to get them arguing so they’d put off the wedding. So far, the only arguing I’ve heard is between us.”

  Nick frowned. He and Fiona scrapping like a pair of mad dogs was not in the plan. But neither was tonight’s transportation snafu. How was he to know Walter would insist on doing the driving?

  Just then there was a crunch of metal as Walter’s old car came to rest against the stone retaining wall at the far end of the parking lot. Nick didn’t hold out much hope for the wall standing up to the four-wheel battering ram.

  Parking the thing himself was something else the man had insisted on; though, Nick had to admit, the valet had looked relieved when Walter refused his assistance. Nick couldn’t blame the guy, who was probably accustomed to parking Jags and Rollses, and receiving hefty tips for the privilege.

  “Nicholas, I think Walter may have hit something,” Winnie said, tugging at Nick’s arm. “Please go and check on him.”

  “I think he’s fine, Auntie,” Nick replied as Walter came loping into view a moment later.

  “That wall got a little close,” Walter said. “Knocked a chip or two of paint off the fender.”

  “Who cares about an old fender?” Winnie said. “It’s you I’m worried about.” She smoothed the lapels of his jacket and patted his chest. “Are you all right, Walter?”

  “Ah, you were worried about me, Win?” He looked pleased at the possibility.

  “I most certainly was.”

  Winnie linked her arm through his and they swept through the front d
oor of the restaurant, oblivious to everything around them.

  “So far this evening is a total failure,” Fiona said, then started into the restaurant behind the couple.

  Nick caught up to her just inside the doorway. “Have you got a better idea? If so, let’s hear it.”

  He didn’t know why he was as snappish as a crossed bear, even though the afternoon hadn’t put him in a great mood. Touching Fiona, tasting her lips, feeling the press of her body against his had left him wanting.

  Fiona had succinctly pointed out how wrong they were for each other. And they were. But that didn’t mean spending the evening with her, in the company of Walter and Winnie, close but unable to touch, would be easy.

  Unbearable. That was what it would be. Unbearable. And he had no choice but to endure it. Unless, of course, he wanted to see his aunt walk down that aisle with Walter.

  “Are you coming?” Fiona asked, apparently choosing not to answer his barbed question.

  She looked so damned tempting in that pale silk shirt and those matching pants that teased around her legs. Her hair was twisted into a French braid, a satin ribbon wound through it. Her scent was a whisper of something soft and feminine and threatening to his peace of mind.

  “I’m right behind you,” he said, and swallowed hard.

  Right behind her meant watching the jiggle of her sexy backside as she strutted across the crowded restaurant behind Walter and Winnie.

  As soon as they settled into their seats, the older couple decided they wanted a bottle of champagne to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

  When the waiter arrived with the bottle, Walter proposed a toast. “Here’s to us and our new life together,” he said, his eyes on his bride-to-be.

  Nick frowned at the pair over the rim of his glass.

  Fiona flashed him a do-something-or-else look.

  He drummed his fingers on the table and somehow avoided her pointed stares until the food arrived.

  As Walter aimed a morsel toward his mouth Nick decided he’d light the evening’s first stick of dynamite, hoping it would sizzle and explode like a bombshell.