The Bridesmaid's Gifts

As proof, Joel had pointed to an accident Nic had been involved in while spending a few days in Alabama for Joel’s high school reunion. It had been eight months ago, the weekend when Ethan had first met Nic. Aislinn had called Nic’s cell phone several times during those few days with vague warnings of impending disaster.

As far as Ethan was concerned, it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that Nic had, indeed, been injured that weekend in an incident that had narrowly missed being tragic. There was no way Aislinn could have known a balcony would collapse beneath Nic’s feet, sending her plunging twenty feet to the ground below.

If Aislinn had been psychic, she’d have been a lot more specific than saying something “bad” was going to happen, right? Even if so-called precognition existed, what good was it if she hadn’t been able to stop her friend from being hurt? So far, all she’d done this evening was guess that he liked Chivas and hated whipped cream. Big deal.

Her alleged extrasensory abilities weren’t the only thing about Aislinn Flaherty that made him uncomfortable, he had to concede. Joel had told him that she was very pretty, but that had been a major understatement. Aislinn was gorgeous.

He didn’t know why she felt the need to pretend to have supernatural abilities. Surely it wasn’t an attention-seeking ploy, since a woman who looked like that could attract all the notice she wanted. She certainly didn’t dress for attention; she wore a modest beige knit top and brown pants that were rather plain in themselves but didn’t at all detract from her own natural beauty.

As far as he knew, she hadn’t asked for any money for her “services” from Nic or Joel—which didn’t mean she wasn’t conning other people. Perhaps it simply amused her to see how gullible others could be. Or maybe she sort of believed it herself, which was even more pathetic.

Reaching for his coffee, he hoped he would be able to make an escape as soon as dinner was over. He’d been sociable for about as long as he could manage.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

The woman who called herself Cassandra looked up from her knitting with a smile and an instinctive little preen. She simply couldn’t help reacting that way to young Dr. Thomas, with his warm green eyes and roguish smile. Even though she was old enough to be his mother, there was still enough of the flirt in her to respond to a good-looking man. And besides, this one was special.

“Hello, handsome.”

Walking with a rolling gait that was deceptively lazy, he crossed the room and propped one hip on the windowsill near her chair. She liked to sit here in the afternoons, where she could look out at the beautifully manicured grounds and watch the birds nesting in the trees outside her second-story room. She had always loved spring, with its whispered promises of fresh starts and new lives. Even if those promises inevitably died in the cold darkness of winter.

“I’ve been told you had a difficult night.”

Her smile faded in response to his gentle words. She looked down at her knitting, hiding her expression from him as she nodded. “Nightmares.”

“They’re getting worse again?”

“Not all the time. Just occasionally.”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

Her needles clicked in the silence that followed the invitation. After a moment she said simply, “I don’t remember.”

“Cassandra.”

She could tell by his tone that he was disappointed she had chosen to lie to him. While she was sorry about that, she didn’t want to talk about the dreams. About the faces that haunted her days as well as her nights. The memories that were simply too painful to dwell upon, much less to share.

“You have a date tonight,” she said instead. “She’s pretty, but she isn’t the one. You’re wasting your time.”

Though she could tell he wanted to focus on her nightmares, he indulged her with a slightly strained smile. “You’ve been listening to the nurses gossip again, haven’t you? I swear, you can hardly sneeze in this place without everyone knowing about it.”

She merely smiled and continued to work her needles.

“That’s what I get, I suppose, for going out with someone on staff here,” he added conversationally. “Hard to keep it a secret. Not that I’m trying. But enough about me. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to talk to me about your dreams? It just might help, you know.”

She lifted her eyes then, studying him sadly. He was so young. So confident that he had all the answers. About her. About his other patients. About himself. Poor, sweet sap.

“It wouldn’t help me,” she told him quietly. “But thank you for caring, Dr. Thomas. You have a kind heart.”

He didn’t seem to know how to respond except to stand and murmur, “Thank you. I’ll prescribe a new sleep aid for you to try tonight. Maybe it will help you rest more peacefully.”

“Whatever you think best, Doctor.”

“I’ll see you in a few days, okay? If you need anything at all, you be sure and let someone know. I or one of the other doctors will take good care of you.”

“I know.” She waited until he had reached her door before saying, “Try to have a nice time this evening, Doctor. Despite everything.”

He chuckled quizzically. “You’re something else, Cassandra.”

“You have no idea,” she murmured after he’d let himself out. And then she turned her attention back to the garment taking shape in her lap.

Chapter Two

Four days after the dinner party at Nic’s house, Aislinn stood at the front of a small church, a bouquet of spring flowers clutched in her hands. As the traditional wedding ceremony began, she glanced toward the best man. A strange sensation coursed down her spine when she saw that he was studying her in return.

She looked quickly away, trying to focus on the minister as he spoke about the joys and responsibilities of marriage. But the uplifting message couldn’t hold her attention. Her gaze turned again to Ethan, handsome and remote in his stark black tuxedo.

He wasn’t looking at her now, but she sensed that he was still aware of her. Probably wondering why she kept looking at him.

She couldn’t have explained. She was simply having a hard time looking away, for some reason.

“Do you take this man…?” the minister intoned, and Aislinn forced her attention back to the ceremony. Her part was coming up.

“I do.” Nic’s voice was strong and steady as she gazed into her groom’s eyes. Eyes, Aislinn noted, that looked exactly like those of the best man—a thought that almost made her look his way again. She restrained herself with an effort, focusing almost fiercely on the bride and groom.

“I do.” This time it was Joel who spoke, proudly and confidently. Joel was almost amusingly impatient to begin his new life with Nic and he made no attempt to hide his feelings.

It was time for the exchanging of the rings. As maid of honor, Aislinn had been responsible for holding the groom’s gold band. She took Nic’s bouquet, passing the ring to her at the same time. For just a moment they smiled at each other, their long years of friendship forming a bond that let them say a great deal to each other without words.

And then Nic turned to her new husband, and Aislinn was aware of the faintest pang of regret, almost as if an era were ending. She and Nic would always be close, she knew—but it would be different now. Nic and Joel would share a long, happy life together, one that would eventually include a child. A boy who would look exactly like Joel.

Though she had known for a few weeks now, Aislinn hadn’t shared that tidbit with her friend. After all, it was only a feeling. A guess, really. And even though Aislinn’s “feelings” had an impressive record of accuracy, there were times when it seemed best to keep them to herself.

She glanced once again toward Ethan, who was watching Joel and Nic now. Strange how she’d had so few insights about him since she had met him. As well as she usually read people, she’d gotten very little from Ethan—primarily that he seemed suspicious of her and had from the start. She still wondered what he had been told about her.

Ethan took great pride in being a realist and a skeptic. He didn’t believe in mind readers, mediums, poltergeists, UFOs, vampires, Santa Claus or love at first sight. If he couldn’t see it, feel it, touch it or prove it, he had no use for it.

And yet—every time he looked into Aislinn’s exotically shaped near-black eyes, he felt something shift inside him. He couldn’t explain it any better than that, but something definitely happened. And he had been on edge ever since he’d met her.

Lust, he told himself. Nothing more complicated than that. And who could blame him? On a scale of one to ten, this woman was a twelve. A perfect heart-shaped face framed by long, glossy black hair. Eyes as dark as still water on a cloudless night. A full, soft mouth that could make a man want to believe anything she might tell him.

As for the rest of her, well, he had to remind himself that he was in a church just to keep his eyes from lingering too long on curves that made his mouth go dry and his palms itch.

Realizing the fanciful direction his thoughts had taken, he had to force himself not to scowl. He didn’t need to be standing up here glowering during the ceremony or people might get the idea he had a problem with the bride rather than the maid of honor.

It was too bad, really. Under normal circumstances, he might have been happy to spend some time with a beautiful woman like Aislinn while he was visiting the area.

It seemed appropriate that her bridesmaid dress was a bold, bright red. The color of danger.