The Bridal Quest

The Bewitching Hour #551

JENNIFER MIKELS

is from Chicago, Illinois, but now resides in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband, two sons and a shepherd-collie. She enjoys reading, sports, antiques, yard sales and long walks. Though she’s done technical writing in public relations, she loves writing romances and happy endings.

You are cordially invited

to the double wedding of

Jessica walker

&

Sam Dawson

AND

Sarah Daniels

&

Ryan Noble

Reception hosted by Stuart Walker

at the Walker mansion,

Willow Springs, Nevada

Contents

Chapter One (#u56197186-2bc6-5988-a89b-34e699f0d93f)

Chapter Two (#u5067399d-fb71-5af7-b7ac-7859ab89fadd)

Chapter Three (#u93f8849d-8bec-5aa0-9f66-b1951616a405)

Chapter Four (#uf6d38400-6710-53d3-866e-b7b34dfdb49e)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

“Lady, what are you doing there?”

Jessica Walker spun around and away from the handwritten Help Wanted sign she’d been reading. Standing in the shadowed light of the moon, she shrank against the window of the local diner behind her. Her heart pounding, she fought panic, and peered at the man approaching her from his car. If only she could see his face.

Darkness shadowed the stairs, but while he climbed them, she gathered an impression. He was tall and broad-shouldered, not old, maybe in his thirties. She saw no more. A beam of light flashed in her eyes, blinding her. She squinted, then looked away from the flashlight he held. “Who are you?” she demanded back to veil fear. It skittered up her spine as he took another step closer.

“The sheriff. Sam Dawson.”

Almost on top of her, he lowered the flashlight. She stared hard, saw it now, the badge pinned to a pale, maybe khaki-colored shirt. He was the last person she wanted to see.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing out here.”

She drew a shaky, but calmer breath. She got an image of a good-looking man. Great-looking, she realized when he stepped into the faint light from the diner’s sign. He had a face of angles, from the sharp cheekbones and the bridge of the long, straight nose to the strongly defined jaw. Briefly her eyes stopped on his lips, on the full bottom one. “I saw the Help Wanted sign on the window when the bus drove by the diner,” she finally answered.

“You came by bus?”

“Yes.” She’d thought Thunder Lake, Nevada might be a good place to hide when she’d left her Ferrari in a parking lot blocks from the bus station. Earlier, while riding by, a neon sign for Herb’s Diner had caught her eye. By the time she’d gotten off the bus, the diner had closed, and darkness shielded a view of the inside.

“Step over here,” he said, urging her out of the shadows and toward the diner’s door and the light.

Her heart beat harder as she followed his suggestion and plastered her back to the door.

“Where did you come from?”

Panic rushed her again. What if he asked for identification? “West of here.”

“West? That’s pretty vague.” A thread of annoy ance entered his voice. “West of Thunder Lake? West of Hoover Dam?” He inclined his head as if trying to see her eyes. “West of what, mystery lady?”

“I’m not.” Her fingers tightened on her purse strap.

“Not what?”

“A mystery lady.” Nerves. She could hear them in the stiffness of her voice.

“What’s your name?”

“Scott. Jessica Scott.” Oh, please don’t ask for identification. How dumb not to have thought of this problem before she’d taken off. She’d left, deciding to use a maid’s last name. She’d reasoned that using Walker, her real name, bordered on idiotic if she didn’t want anyone to find her. But her only identification carried the name Walker. She hurried words to steer conversation her way. “I wanted to read the sign, see if there was a time on the door. I planned to get here early, be the first one applying for the job.”