Hometown Wedding

”Hello again.”

Eden’s breathy contralto, coming from directly behind him, jolted Travis back to the present. He swiveled in his seat to look at her, his eyes taking in the clean square planes of her face, the taffy gold mass of her hair and the chic drape of the expensive pantsuit on her slender frame. For whatever it was worth, drab little Edna Rae had grown up to be a stunner.

“Uh, hello,” he replied, caught off guard. After the way she’d gone dashing off, the last thing he’d expected was to have her show up again.

She came around the back of the settee, eyes downcast, cheeks becomingly flushed. Travis watched her in silence, liking her walk, liking, in spite of everything, the catlike way she lowered herself onto the edge of the chair that faced him across the low table. The image of her, bolting crimson-faced out of the men’s room, stole into his mind, coaxing his mouth into a bemused smile.

“I came to apologize,” she said.

In the tick of silence that followed, Travis was aware of a jet screaming down the runway outside the window.

“Apologize? For what?” he forced himself to ask.

“For today. For this whole silly mess. I was hiding out in the rest room when I realized I was being a defensive fool, and that none of what I was feeling was your fault. I’m sorry for that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry about anything.” He mouthed the words, wondering where all this was leading. A typical woman would not apologize unless she had some agenda in mind. But then, there’d never been anything typical about Edna Rae Harper.

She stared awkwardly at her hands, looking, at that instant, more like the shy Edna Rae than the polished Eden. “I realized something else, too. In the sixteen years since that awful day at school, I’ve never told you how sorry I was for the embarrassment I caused you.”

“I…never expected you to.” Travis forced himself to meet her eyes, wishing she’d chosen to talk about something else. His classmates had ribbed him mercilessly about that damn fool letter, but at least most of them had realized he was innocent. Not so the townspeople. By the time the story had circulated through the little community, Travis’s reputation had blackened to the hue of coal tar.

“You didn’t exactly have it easy yourself, did you?” he asked, shifting the burden of conversation back to her.

Eden’s gaze flickered to her lap again. She hadn’t come back to school for the rest of the year, Travis recalled. Her mother had claimed she was sick and received permission for the humiliated girl to complete her last two weeks of schoolwork by correspondence.

“That ridiculous letter was private,” she said, staring down at her manicured hands with their pale peach nails. “I never meant anyone to see it, especially you.”

“I know that,” Travis feigned a detachment he did not feel. “How were you to know that Howie Segmiller would find the letter in your looseleaf and make copies for the whole school?”

A shudder passed through Eden’s slim controlled body. “I…I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I couldn’t even think about yours. I can only imagine how much difficulty that letter must have caused you.”

Travis’s restless fingers curled the paperback into a thick roll. He’d been going steady with Cheryl McKinley, the prettiest girl in the junior class, he recalled. Three days after the letter incident, Cheryl had informed him that her parents wouldn’t let her date him anymore.

Cheryl had married a beet farmer from Sigurd and had five kids now. He had gone off to the University of Utah and met Diane.

“It’s over, Eden,” he said with a shrug. “Water under the bridge, as they say. We’re both different people now.”

“Yes…I suppose we are.” She managed a strained smile. “Whatever happened to Howie Segmiller, anyway?”

“Last time I spoke with his mother, he was running for city council in Pioche, Nevada.”

“I was hoping to hear he was doing time at Point of the Mountain!” She managed a husky little laugh—fragile but real. Travis found himself wanting to hear it again.

“Howie Segmiller a jailbird?” He shook his head, chuckling. “Oh, Howie was no angel, I’ll grant you. But he was too smart to get more than a hand slap. Perfect political material!”

Eden did laugh then, a surprisingly delicious sound, as sexy as the rustle of silk against a bare thigh. For a few seconds Travis allowed himself to bask in it, savoring the naughty little tickle it gave him.

What if he was to push the idea of giving her a ride home? He’d brought up the subject out of politeness the first time and had shrugged off her refusal with a sense of relief. But what harm would it do? The long bus trip south, with its endless string of ten-minute stops, was an ordeal nobody deserved. He could—

Forget it!

This was Edna Rae Harper, he reminded himself. He had spent years undoing the damage her dumb teenage fantasy had caused.

Some things were too hard won to risk.

Travis glanced at his watch again as a crowd of passengers spilled out of a gate and onto the concourse. Across from him, Eden stirred and reached for her briefcase.

“It’s time I was going,” she said. “My luggage will be coming in, and I can see that you’re waiting for someone.”

“I’m waiting for my daughter. But she’s not due in for a few minutes yet.” Travis realized he’d just issued an invitation for Eden to stick around. Strangely enough, he was enjoying her company more than he’d expected.

“Your daughter?” The sunlight slanted soft gold on her face as she leaned toward him. “So you’ve got a little girl!” she exclaimed with an animation that made Travis wince.

“That’s right. But Nicole’s not so little anymore. She turned fourteen last month.”

“Fourteen.” Eden hesitated, then slowly released her grip on the handle of her briefcase. “Where’s she flying from?”

“California. She lives there with her mother and stepfather. I get her every summer.” Travis’s voice carried an edge. Nine years was plenty of time to get over Diane. But losing Nicole—that part had never stopped hurting.

Well, the hurt was about to ease, he reminded himself. A few minutes from now, the plane would be touching down on the tarmac, and Nicole would be back in his life. His little pal. His hiking, camping, fishing and riding partner for the rest of the summer. It would be wonderful to feel like a father again.

Travis watched the flight of a sea gull as it skimmed past the window and veered out over the runway. His restless fingers ruffled the pages of the paperback in his lap.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

And in the meantime, there was the intriguing Miss Harper.

Eden uncrossed her legs and smoothed out a crease in her linen slacks. Now would be the smart time to get up and leave, she admonished herself. Travis’s daughter would be arriving any minute. Seeing her father with a strange woman could give the young girl a painfully wrong impression.

But Travis seemed in no hurry to have her go. He was leaning back in his seat, regarding her lazily. Was he resentful, amused or merely bored? Eden could read no clue in the smoky depths of his narrowed eyes.

She fiddled with her briefcase, her pulse clunking like a bent bicycle wheel as she grappled with this new set of realities.

Travis, divorced, with a fourteen-year-old daughter.

Travis, sitting across from her as if they had never been anything but friends.

Her restless gaze dropped to the big, sun-bronzed hand that lay across the open paperback, and she pondered his lack of wedding ring. It was impossible to believe Travis Conroy could be unattached for long. He’d had females chasing him since he was in kindergarten. All he had to do was take his pick.

Oh, what was she doing here, thinking inanities and blushing like a moron? She had to get out of here before she made a complete fool of herself.

“So tell me what you do in New York,” he said, making a stab at conversation.

“Me?” Eden blinked her mind back into focus. “Oh…I’ve just been promoted to senior editor at Parnell Books. I’ve got my eye on my boss’s job when he retires next year—that is, if some other publishing house doesn’t lure me away first.”

A smile flickered enticingly around his eyes. “So you’re an editor. I always thought you had the brains to make something of yourself.”

“Really?” The compliment had caught Eden off guard. Her heart sank as she felt the all-too-familiar flush of color creep up her throat to flood her cheeks. She groped for something to fill the excruciating silence.