Abby Gaines - Her Best Friend's Wedding

After he said it, Trey stared at her lips. Energy crackled in the air. Not the kind of energy her exhausted limbs needed.

“I meant,” he clarified, “if it should become medically necessary.”

Was it her imagination, or was he a little red in the face?

“Thanks, but Daniel’s a doctor and better qualified,” she said.

His eyebrows drew together, all joking aside. “Don’t mess with me, Sadie. If you don’t keep away from Daniel, I’ll warn him and Meg you’re in love with him.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Probably because his threat had stopped her heart.

Dear Reader,

Did you ever just know you were right…and then discovered you were wrong?

It happens to me often enough that I’m no longer totally shocked by my own fallibility. But Sadie Beecham, heroine of Her Best Friend’s Wedding, is seldom wrong. So when she falls in love with a guy she’s convinced is The One, she must be right…right?

Even if he’s in love with her best friend? Yep, Sadie is determined she’ll get her man. Too bad Trey Kincaid, brother of the bride, is equally determined she won’t!

I do hope you enjoy Her Best Friend’s Wedding. To let me know what you think, please email abby@abbygaines.com. Or, to read an extra After-the-End scene, visit the For Readers page at www.abbygaines.com.

Sincerely,

Abby Gaines

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Abby Gaines wrote her first romance novel as a teenager, only to have it promptly rejected. A flirtation with a science fiction novel never really got off the ground, so Abby put aside her writing ambitions as she went to college, then began her working life at IBM. When she and her husband had their first baby, Abby worked from home as a freelance business journalist…and soon after that the urge to write romance resurfaced. It was another five long years before Abby sold her first novel to Harlequin Superromance in 2006.

Abby lives with her husband and children—and a labradoodle and a cat—in a house with enough stairs to keep her semifit and a sun-filled office with a sea view that provides inspiration for the funny, tender romances she loves to write. Visit her at www.abbygaines.com.

In memory of

Gerald van Waardenberg

(1962-2010)

A gifted musician

A talented writer

A good friend

Grace under Fire

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I MIGHT,” SADIE BEECHAM said briskly, “bring someone home with me for Nancy’s birthday party.” Silence.

Sadie shook the cordless phone. “Mom?”

“Oh, honey.” Her mother’s voice was a mere breath down the line. “Have you met The One?”

“Mom! I’ve brought guys home before.” Sadie stepped away from the beef bourguignon simmering on the stove for tonight’s celebratory dinner and patted her damp forehead with a paper towel. Her bungalow’s ancient air-conditioning wasn’t up to the challenge of keeping the kitchen cool during the heat of a Memphis summer.

“Not in the last ten years, dear,” Mary-Beth Beecham said. “The last one was that boy with the piercing in his lip.”

Sadie shuddered. She knew her mother was doing the same. That was a long time ago. A brief attempt during her sophomore year at Princeton to prove she could tread the wild side just like any other coed. A theory she’d rapidly disproved.

“Okay, I haven’t brought anyone home lately. But you’ve met guys I’ve dated. This is no big deal, Mom.”

The last thing she needed was her parents acting as if they were meeting a prospective son-in-law. Even if that’s exactly what he was.

Sadie opened the kitchen window in the hope of creating a breeze. On the back porch, her latest batch of plants—camellias and limonium—had died in their pots, despite the expensive soil nutrients she’d fed them. The neighbor’s cat must have been doing its business in them again.

“I want to know all about your young man,” Mary-Beth demanded.

Sadie turned her back on the limp, browning foliage. “He’s a doctor.”

A squawk down the phone. “A doctor! He sounds wonderful.”

Sadie couldn’t help grinning in response to her mom’s enthusiasm. “He’s very nice,” she admitted. He’s perfect.

The doorbell rang. Phew, saved from descending into girlish chitchat, a skill she’d never mastered. “Mom, I need to go. He’s just arrived. Meg gets back tonight, too, so we’re all having dinner.” Dinner for three—she couldn’t wait.

“Okay, dear, you go. Give Meg a hug for me, and tell her not to worry, we have her mom’s party well in hand. And call me soon. I can’t wait to tell people about this doctor of yours,” Mary-Beth added archly.

Sadie puffed out an exasperated breath. “Mom, no need to tell the whole world.” She was still fending off inquiries from her parents’ friends about when she was going to win the Nobel Prize. Mary-Beth had made the exaggerated claim during her last visit, boasting about Sadie’s brilliance as a seed biologist.

“Just your father, then,” her mom soothed.

“Fine.” Behind Sadie, another long trill of the doorbell suggested impatience. Then a thump on the door, and the handle rattling. Seemed Daniel was as eager to see her as she was to see him. Sadie’s irritation evaporated. “Coming,” she sang.

She set the phone back on its stand and hurried to the door. “Sorry,” she called as she unlocked the deadlock. She flung the door wide. “Come in—Meg!”

She just managed not to feel disappointed it was Meg Kincaid, her childhood next-door neighbor, best friend forever and now roommate, on the doorstep, rather than Daniel. “Welcome home! I wasn’t expecting you just yet… Why didn’t you let yourself in?”

“My key’s buried somewhere in there.” Meg indicated the trundle suitcase next to her. She hugged Sadie. “The flight landed an hour early. It’s so great to be home. Six weeks was way too long…even if it was Paris.” She stood back as Sadie maneuvered the case over the threshold for her.

Meg slipped out of the high-heeled red pumps that were part of her flight-attendant uniform and flexed her toes on the polished wooden floorboards. “Man, that feels better.” She pushed her dark bangs off her face, an endearing, reflexive gesture that never achieved anything—her hair settled right where it had been. She’d flown halfway across the world, yet she looked as fresh and pretty as if she’d stepped out of a Cosmo article titled “How to Look Your Best, 24/7.”

“I need a drink.” She padded down the hallway behind Sadie. “Something smells good.”

“I hope so. I followed the recipe exactly, so as long as Martha Stewart knows what she’s talking about…” Having missed out on the cooking lessons her mom had given her sister, Sadie wasn’t as confident as she’d like to be.

In the kitchen Meg absorbed the sparkling state of Sadie’s glass-fronted cupboards and the clear counter. Her sigh was part satisfaction, part envy. “This place is so tidy when I’m not here.”

“Boarding-school discipline,” Sadie reminded her. “My secret weapon. Besides, it’s not as if you’re here even when you are here,” she joked as she pulled a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge. She didn’t know how Meg managed to sleep at all between her party lifestyle and her job. She reached over to the counter, where three glasses were neatly lined up.