Читать книгу The Groom's Stand-In - Gina Wilkins - Страница 9

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

“A cold drink sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About another hour.”

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

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

“And will you be staying with us?”

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

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

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

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

Chloe suspected that Donovan harbored similar unflattering suspicions about her.

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

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

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

She hadn’t expected anything quite like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She swallowed. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is, um, something wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donovan sighed. “Damn it, Bryan.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

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

“Of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, D.C. I owe you for this.”

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

She really should have listened to her sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed.

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

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

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

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

“Just patrolling the grounds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She really should have listened to her sister.