Читать книгу A Proposal at the Wedding - Gina Wilkins - Страница 9

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.