The Groom Came C.o.d.

Mr. Joseph Howard.

Contents

Prologue (#u4536b266-ebbe-50d7-8c18-fd70aaec732a)

Chapter One (#u1a71924d-f807-51d8-80a7-14d9c1638e07)

Chapter Two (#u33a6b3b9-fd1b-50d7-b12e-e09f865c97ee)

Chapter Three (#u72c6dc07-96f1-5ecf-920c-46902ff2503d)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

Melinda Carey skimmed the dismal financial data on her computer screen. There was no doubt about it—the bridal shop was slowly but surely sliding into a sea of red ink.

It was the second week in June—traditionally, the most popular time for weddings. A time when romantic hearts and minds were supposed to turn to thoughts of weddings, home, hearth and family. But what should have been the shop’s busy season looked as if it were going to be the slowest month of the year.

August, the second most popular month, didn’t look as if it were going to be an improvement. And no matter how difficult it was to face, the rest of the year looked alarmingly bare.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Melinda muttered as she changed screens to check future bookings. Not in the bridal business, anyway. Things had been different before local brides had decided to shop in nearby Santa Barbara.

The screen told the story; after years of comfortable income, Bertie’s Bridal Shop and Bridal Referral Service hung precariously on the brink of bankruptcy.

Melinda gazed out the window at the small park across the street. Newly watered spring greenery sparkled under the bright morning sunshine. Red, purple and white petunias lined gravel paths. Rose bushes displayed all their glory.

She’d always loved the little walk-in park. She’d fantasized about getting married under the weeping willow tree that hung gracefully over the newly painted white gazebo. Fat chance. The way her life was headed, her dream didn’t have a chance.

It hadn’t been for the lack of a suitor, she thought sadly. She’d been engaged to the man she’d worked for in San Francisco, and they were about to set the wedding date. Luckily, she’d discovered Paul was self-centered and self-serving before it was too late.

Now there was her Aunt Bertie to consider. What man in his right mind would want to take on a thirty-something spinster and her fey aunt—Ojai’s beloved town character?

She willed the figures on the monitor to change. Instead, they remained solidly in the red. Not even the bridal referral service she’d started a few months ago managed to turn red ink into black. With no ready answers to the financial problems facing her, her thoughts wandered.

She was thirty, almost thirty-one. Single, with no prospective groom in sight. Let alone a man she was attracted to. Her biological clock was ticking loudly. Loudly enough to keep her awake at night. Almost without deliberate thought, her fingers surfed the Net, creating a dream wedding of her own.

No groom? No problem. Her bridal referral library service had access to every possible item a bride could want. After all, this was a harmless fantasy, wasn’t it?

Her fingers raced over the computer keys and clicked onto a dating service Web site. In seconds, she was looking at photographs of men available to “rent” for all occasions. Including that of a stand-in groom for wedding rehearsals. She gasped as she took a second look at a new entrant, tall, athletic, blue-eyed Ben Howard.

He was an older version of the boy she’d had a secret crush on in high school. The school’s top athlete, Ben had been the handsome hero of every young girl’s dream. Including hers.

Drawn to him in a way that still made her blush, she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. To her dismay, his eyes seemed to bore into hers with a message she found herself responding to. The faint smile that hovered at his lips sent heat rushing through her middle.

Her hormones raced as she recalled the single dance they’d shared at a high school Sadie Hawkins Day party years ago, when the girls chose their partners instead of waiting to be asked. At the time, he was the high school’s star basketball player. She had been a silent, adoring fan.

Even today, she could feel his strong arms around her as he whirled her around the dance floor. She’d been lost in a dream world—until he’d planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and told her he’d see her around.

Twelve years later, here he was again. And although he was only a photograph on a screen, he was still the man of her choice. She studied his image wistfully.

She’d heard he’d gotten married and divorced while he was still in college. Maybe that was the reason there was something about the determined look in his eyes and the edge in his body language that told her he’d turned into a no-nonsense type, definitely not given to indulging in romantic dreams. For sure, he’d changed from the laughing young boy she remembered to the sober, socially prominent and wealthy distillery owner.

What was he doing on a dating Web site?

Still, there he was. Large as life—and for hire. Since this was only a fantasy, she chose him. No one would ever know.

The date of the ceremony? The sooner the better. With an eye on the calendar, she chose a date one month away.

The location? The small walk-in park, of course.

The wedding dress? No problem there, either. A simple three-quarter-length sheer silk slip-dress with pink and pale-green hand-embroidered flowers and a matching jacket from the bridal shop. A simple wreath of pink roses for her hair.

The minister? The Reverend Charles Good, a long-time friend of Aunt Bertie’s.

Deep in her fantasy, she included a caterer to provide a picnic lunch of turkey sandwiches, fresh veggies, fruit and cookies.

Flowers? The local nursery to provide gardenia bushes.

Her excitement grew as she drafted and “sent” an announcement to the local newspaper.

The telephone rang. “Melinda!” a plaintive female voice moaned. “You’re never going to believe what’s happened! You’ve got to do something to help me!”

With her eyes on the monitor screen, Melinda asked absently, “What’s wrong, Sue Ellen? Your wedding is all taken care of. There can’t be anything left to worry about.”

“Frank is allergic to live flowers!”

Melinda’s fingers froze above the computer keys. “He can’t be! Not at a time like this! Your wedding is only two days away!”