May The Best Man Wed

“No, George, my brother is the lucky man who gets to marry Ms. Sweetfield. I have only come as Cupid, bringing my soon-to-be sister-in-law a message from her one and only.”

“You’re McCormick’s brother?” The question came although Savannah already knew the answer. She’d heard enough of the stories. The one repeated most often was how he’d left his bride at the altar seven years earlier. The poor girl had died in a car crash a week later, but many said it was a broken heart that had killed her.

Savannah waited for the man to answer, the clear picture of her hands wrapped around his neck keeping her calm.

“Ms. Sweetfield, if I’ve—” The security guard’s apology was already in his tone.

“Don’t give it nothing but a chuckle, George,” the man interrupted. “Ms. Sweetfield’s confusion is understandable.”

When had he become the one in charge? And she the one whose actions needed explanation?

Probably about the time she imagined herself bounding over the desk to throttle him.

She looked at the smooth column of his neck. Would it be cool beneath her touch? Or pulsing with the heat of life the man seemed to thrive on?

“You see, George, my name is only mentioned in whispers or paired with colorful expletives. Certainly not repeated in the presence of a lady such as Ms. Sweetfield.”

“Cash Walker.” Savannah’s hands released from his throat. She held only the sculpture.

“Welcome to the family, darlin’.” Full lips that were rumored to have kissed countless women curved with complete enjoyment. “Was it the whispers you heard or the profanity?”

She stared right back at him. There was none of the predominant refined Walker fairness in this brother. The strong, clean lines of his face were harsh and unrepentant as if they, like the man, didn’t give a damn. Grooves running from his handsome nose to a mouth that seemed to say sex enhanced his image. His hair, the color of tarnished gold and swept back off his face with a natural carelessness, was several inches longer than her classic bob.

Her hand lifted, almost made it to her shoulder before she reminded herself that the urge to check her hair could be perceived as a sign of insecurity…or something worse.

Keeping her gaze on her future brother-in-law, she spoke to the guard. “Yes, this is all just a silly mixup. Thank you, George.” She emphasized the name, to Cash’s amusement.

She stood and extended her hand, keeping her gaze as firm as the shake she intended to deliver. “Cash.” His name made her voice sound breathless. “When McCormick mentioned you’d be coming in early, I didn’t realize he meant literally.” She smiled a future sister-in-law’s smile. “But unusual circumstances or not, I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

He pushed back from the desk and stood. His shoulders were wide and square, his long waist tapering into an elegant V toward narrow hips and long legs. He had the lean, physically alert look of one who spent much time running. He captured her hand. She felt the thickness of his fingers, his palm’s hard fullness. A man’s hand. She fought to keep her grip solid.

“I hope you’ll excuse my somewhat inappropriate welcome, but certainly you understand my confusion,” she said.

Laughter came from between those curved, full lips, his eyes staying strong on her. And she knew all the things they said about him were true.

She was about to take her hand back when his head bent. With a soft brush of sweetness to her cheek, she was given a vague idea of what those lips had done to so many other women.

“Remind me never to play poker with you, Slick.” A wash of breath warmed her skin.

She stepped back, ending physical contact. Her Southern manners and acquired ability to control herself and any situation allowed nothing but a gracious smile on her face and a polite hospitality to her tone.

“Please.” She gestured to the circle of chairs and couch set up for conversation as well as negotiation. She waited for him to move away from her desk.

“Ladies first.” The deep, thick drawl was still the song of the South, uninfluenced by his years away and his travels all over the world.

She smiled her appreciation and though the pain from her bruised toes stabbed with each step, her posture was finishing-school admirable, her steps smart as she walked to the other side of the room. She sat, crossing her legs at the ankles this time and indicated the opposite chair with her hostess smile. “We’ve certainly had quite a beginning. Already we share a delightful story to tell at family gatherings. Let’s get to know each other further.” She would be the perfect bride, the perfect wife, and for now, the perfect sister-in-law.

He crossed his own long legs and leaned back, the tilt of his lips indicating amusement and the rest of his strong, hard features naturally offering something else.

“Normally I’d be pouring you a bourbon right now, but, of course, it’s a bit too early for that.”

“Not by my book.”

His expression gave no indication whether he was kidding or not. She suspected the latter. Still, she laughed in appreciation. Being a woman executive in a man’s world, not to mention the boss’s daughter, she’d encountered obstacles similar to Cash Walker and his obviously well-deserved wild-man reputation before. And she’d always won.

“My secretary will be here shortly. I’ll have her bring us coffee and sticky buns. In the meantime, auspicious beginnings and delightful anecdotes aside, I must say you do aim to surprise, Cash.”

“Did you expect anything else, darlin’?”

“Please do call me Savannah.” She was proud of how the honeyed hospitality in her tone never wavered. “Yes, I’ve heard the stories. I believed about half of them.”

“Believe them all.”

Her smile turned real. There was nothing she liked more and found rarely than an equal opponent. “While I’m happy to finally meet my fiancé’s infamous big brother, I must admit to curiosity over your early visit. I can’t imagine we share a mutual fondness for rising at dawn. Certainly you don’t subscribe to the early bird gets the worm theory?”

He stretched his legs out longer. “On the contrary, my fondest memories are of being in bed.”

He didn’t even have to add overtones. Obviously he enjoyed an equal contender also.

“Well then, since I can’t imagine you forfeited any fond memory merely to meet me, I’m naturally intrigued by the timing of your introduction.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“I don’t frighten.” She said it with a smile.

He smiled, too, as if enjoying himself. “It seems my brother has decided to take advantage of my role as best man as much as possible and has already pushed me into service.”

She was forced to tip her head back as he stood, revealing the vulnerable stretch of her throat. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her. Her name was written on the outside.

“This was on my nightstand with a note from McCormick asking me to give it to you as soon as possible.” The deep emerald of his eyes told her nothing.

“What is it?” She was actually still smiling.

“All I know is I woke too early this morning—still on Central time—and beside my bed was this envelope with McCormick’s instructions to deliver it to you as soon as possible.”

She tapped her fingernail against the envelope.

“He left this address, said it was the most likely place to find you. I couldn’t sleep….” He shrugged, making a simple gesture seductive.

She had several questions. Where was McCormick? Why hadn’t he just called? Yet, even asked in the most indignant of tones, such questions would expose fear, doubt. Completely unnecessary emotions when it came to her relationship with McCormick.

“How unusual,” she said, almost as if delighted.

She endured the man’s study before he said, “Seeing my duty’s done, I’ll be going.” He turned and moved toward the door. She made no attempt to stop him.

She sat, staring at the rectangle in her hand. Finally she stood and walked to her desk, even now not allowing her steps to coddle her throbbing toes. She sat down at her desk. The chair was warm from Cash’s heat. She pulled open the top drawer, removed the silver letter opener and slit the envelope. She slid out a folded sheet of good heavy bond, unfolded it, read the handwriting in straight lines across its width, folded the note exactly as it had been and slipped it back inside the envelope. Laying the envelope on the desk, she reached for the microcassette recorder she’d set on the desk earlier. She punched Record.

“Groom?”