Rita Herron - Have Gown, Need Groom

Ridiculous.

She tugged off the ring and laid it on the table, the diamonds glittering beneath the light. Silly folktales didn’t come true. And she wouldn’t allow it to affect her rational judgment any more than it already had.

She should wear the ring, she thought, with a twinge of nerves gnawing at her. She’d never been a defiant person, but she’d defy the legend.

Determination filling her, she picked up the ring and slid it back on her left hand. There. The room didn’t spin, dishes didn’t start flying off the shelves, no genies suddenly appeared from any bottles.

Feeling relieved, she decided she must be having some kind of temporary meltdown. She’d heard residents, especially ER physicians, suffered from stress. The doorbell rang, and Hannah jumped, confirming her diagnosis.

Mimi rushed in. “Dad’s on his way. I just thought I’d warn you.”

Hannah gripped the door. “Thanks. Was he upset?”

“Not upset, really. Just worried about you, sis. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think so.” Hannah’s mind reeled with all the miscellaneous wedding details she’d left for her father to straighten out. How could she have been so irresponsible? Not that she thought she’d made the wrong decision in calling off her wedding, but why couldn’t she have seen the truth sooner? “What…what did Dad do about all the food, the cake…”

“You know Dad,” Mimi said with a light laugh. “He invited all the guests to have refreshments anyway.”

“Oh, God. What did Seth’s parents do?”

“They left in a huff,” Mimi said. “Dad said he planned to take the rest of the cake and punch to the car dealership for a commercial, then serve it to his customers. The reporters loved the idea. Josephine—that lady from the Gazette—promised she’d stop by and grab some pictures.”

Hannah laughed in spite of her misery. “Leave it to Dad to find an advertising venue for wedding cake.”

“I suggested he freeze some of the leftovers for Thanksgiving.”

“You’re kidding?”

“It would save us some cooking,” Mimi said, her tone serious.

“I’d rather have one of your specialty desserts from the coffee shop, Mimi. I don’t think I want reminders of today’s events on Thanksgiving. Hey, did you take Alison back to school?”

“I just got back. She—”

The doorbell rang and Hannah tensed. “That’s probably Dad.”

“Good luck, Hannah.” Mimi paused. “And, sis?”

“Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing today. You and Seth…well, he seems like a nice guy, but you two just didn’t seem suited.”

Hannah brushed a tear from her cheek, thanked her sister, then followed her to the door. She honestly thought she’d done the right thing, too. For both her and Seth.

So why did her spontaneity and newfound freedom suddenly scare the bejeebies out of her? And why had her grandmother sounded so confident, as if the legend was bound to come true?

JAKE CLUTCHED the covers in his fist as he awakened, the sharp sting of his nightmares still fresh on his mind. The drugs maybe?

No. Not this time.

Darkness draped the hospital room in a cloak of loneliness.

He fought off the familiar anger, focusing on the present. Why had the dreams returned from his childhood to haunt him now? Because he was alone?

Hell, he’d always been alone. He liked being alone.

Jake Tippins was a die-hard cop who didn’t need anyone. He’d been on his own since he’d turned fourteen and his father had stalked off in a drunken fit and never returned. Oh, his mother hadn’t been too devastated. She’d been a beautiful blond temptress who hadn’t gotten her kicks from raising a kid. And she didn’t like to be alone.

Ever.

She’d entertained one man after another until Jake had grown sick of being invisible and abandoned and had found his own way—into a life of crime. Stealing cars.

How ironic—now he was a cop assigned to uncover a major car-theft ring, probably based at Wiley Hartwell’s used-car lot. And Wiley’s daughter, the woman he’d decided to use to speed up his investigation, was a beautiful blond princess.

No, not a princess. A beautiful blond temptress. Hell, the woman was sexy enough to make him want to strip off his clothes, with or without a medical exam.

She’d jilted one man today—would she move on to another target tomorrow? The answer had better be yes or his plan would fail.

Jake grimaced as he recalled Wiley’s earlier visit. His boss had stopped by to thank him for being a hero, but Jake had pretended to fall asleep while the man expounded on his heroics. He didn’t want thanks for doing his job, especially when he lied to the man repeatedly. Not only lied, but investigated him.

Sometimes undercover work sucked.

He rolled to his side, groaning, half in pain, half in frustration as he remembered the gentle way Wiley’s daughter had tended to his wounds, the sweet honeyed scent of her shampoo, those pale gold eyelashes fluttering like a curtain over her remarkable blue eyes. For the first time in his life, he felt a nudge of something like hope stir to life.

If everything Wiley Hartwell said about his daughter proved true, her sprint from the altar today had been out of character. He half hoped the good doctor would prove the rest of his theory wrong too, about her and her father. But he knew she helped her father with his books sometimes, giving her the perfect opportunity to manipulate the numbers. And her sister Mimi was so tight with Joey, she might be his accomplice.

If he discovered Wiley was running a car-theft ring, he’d have to arrest him. And if Wiley’s beautiful daughter Hannah or her sister Mimi were involved…

HANNAH STIRRED sugar into her father’s coffee and handed him the mug, aware he’d been watching her ever since he’d walked through the door. She only wished he’d changed from his garish gray tux. Simply looking at his pink ruffled shirt and white patent leather shoes reminded her of her earlier debacle. He’d even managed a manicure, she noted, spying a thin coat of clear polish on his blunt nails.

“Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” Wiley studied her intently over the rim of his cup.

“I’m fine, Dad. So, please stop staring at me like I’m going to break apart any minute.”

Wiley shoved stubby fingers through his curly brown hair, sending the unmanageable strands into disarray. His hair gel had no doubt worn off hours ago, a sign he’d repeatedly done the gesture several times today, a testament to the stress she’d inflicted on him.

Hannah sipped her own hot tea and perched on the armchair beside the fire, wondering if she should take off for a couple of weeks and let publicity die down. Only, with Wiley’s latest statewide ads and her wedding disaster airing on TV, she wouldn’t be able to escape the notoriety of being Wiley’s daughter anywhere she went.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Unaccustomed as she was to sharing her personal feelings with her father, she couldn’t offer an explanation.

He frowned. “You want to talk about the breakup?”

She shook her head.

“Honey, I…” Her father stared into his mug as if the rich dark coffee held the answers. “I know you don’t like to confide in me. I’m not sure why….”

The anguish in his voice startled her. “Dad—”

He held up his hand. “It’s okay, Hannah. I’m not trying to pressure you. And you didn’t embarrass me.” He rubbed at his trouser leg awkwardly. “Heaven knows though, that I embarrass you sometimes, but I don’t mean to. I love you girls. I always have.”

“I know that, Dad.” Tears burned Hannah’s eyes. If only all the kids she’d grown up with could have seen the real man beneath her father’s showy exterior, not the flamboyant TV salesman, maybe they wouldn’t have teased her unmercifully. And if only she could forget the fact that his stunts had embarrassed her, that her mother had deserted the family because of them…