The Groom's Stand-In

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.”