Janelle Denison: The Wedding Secret

Too bad her dreams hadn’t come true like they did in fairy tales, Jenna thought, unable to fend off the sharp sting of disappointment she experienced. “It’s a wedding dress,” she said in a tight, achy voice.

“Did my daddy marry you?” Chelsea glanced back at Jenna, her green, guileless eyes round with hope. “Are you my new mom?”

Jenna immediately shook her head to ward off the child’s line of questioning. “No, your dad didn’t marry me, honey, and I’m not your new mom.” Gingerly sitting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and waited for her head to stop spinning. She hated bursting the little girl’s bubble of excitement, and offered the only consolation that came to mind. “But I’d like to be your friend.”

“Okay.” Seemingly satisfied with that compromise, Chelsea grinned, revealing a dimple in her right cheek. “Does that mean you’re staying here?”

Jenna honestly didn’t know what she was going to do, and hoped over the next few weeks she’d be able to figure out which direction her life would now take. No matter her decision, she doubted it encompassed staying in this house with Garrett and this adorable little girl.

Before she could formulate a response, booted steps echoed up the stairs, then her prince from last night entered the room. In the light of day, and without any alcohol to impair her brain or vision, she came to the stunning conclusion that he was even more gorgeous than she recalled. Dressed in faded jeans that molded to his lean hips and a casual shirt that was fitted to a nicely muscled chest, he exuded a rugged masculinity that was a sharp contrast to the preppie, button-down image Sheldon and his friends preferred. This man was earthy and physical, with jet-black hair that set off his striking blue eyes, and a sensually cut mouth that made him all the more breathtaking and much too appealing.

Though his demeanor was reserved and distant, his warm gaze swept over her, taking in her disheveled hair, and making her all too aware that she was wearing his shirt. His eyes lingered briefly on her bare legs, prompting restless memories of him removing her stockings, and his hands caressing her skin.

Then he glanced toward Chelsea. A smiled curved his lips, softening his expression and captivating Jenna even more.

“Hey, there you are, pup,” he said, his deep voice rich with affection. “I wondered where you’d disappeared to.”

“I came in here to make your bed and found Jenna sleeping in it.” She hurried over to her father, clasped her hands together beneath her chin, and looked up at him beseechingly. “Can she stay with us? Pretty please?”

“She’s not a stray pet for you to keep,” he said with gentle humor. “Jenna only needed a place to stay for the night, and I’m sure now that she’s rested, she’ll be heading back home.” He tapped a finger beneath Chelsea’s chin. “Why don’t you go downstairs to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a few minutes to make breakfast.”

Chelsea did as she was told, and once she was gone, the room filled with silence. Jenna’s gaze connected with Garrett’s, and her stomach fluttered, not with nausea, but an awareness that took her completely off guard. The last thing she needed to deal with was this unexpected attraction to a man she barely knew, not when she was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened yesterday, along with her uncertain future.

She drew a stabilizing breath. “I take it ‘pup’ is your daughter?”

He nodded, and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable now that they were alone. “Yeah, she’s mine,” he replied, an odd, possessive note to his voice. “I call her pup because ever since she took her first step she’s followed me around like a puppy.”

It wasn’t difficult to imagine Chelsea tagging along behind her father. Though Garrett’s parental love was unmistakable, and his daughter’s devotion just as strong, there was no physical resemblance between the two. His pitch-black hair and vivid blue eyes were an obvious contrast to Chelsea’s blond hair, green eyes, and fair, enchanting features.

“Chelsea must look like her mother,” she said, speaking her thoughts out loud and attempting to make idle conversation.

Her comment startled him, and his dark brows drew into a frown. “No, not really,” he muttered.

His curt tone didn’t invite further discussion of Chelsea’s mother, and Jenna decided the best course of action would be to steer clear of the subject, which appeared to be a touchy one. “Well, your daughter is sweet, and adorable. And very precocious. She thought you and I got married.”

He visibly winced, but remained across the room, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between them. “Chelsea’s mom died when she was barely two, so she doesn’t remember much about her, and lately she’s been asking for a mother. I suppose seeing your wedding dress and finding you in my bedroom led her to the wrong conclusion.”

“It was a very hopeful conclusion,” she said softly, understanding the little girl’s need to replace her missing parent. Jenna had grown up never knowing her father, and though her mother had been a good single parent despite their struggles, she’d never had a dependable male influence in her life, and that was a loss she still felt.

“Well, it’s best that she doesn’t entertain those kinds of thoughts, and I don’t encourage them, either,” he replied meaningfully. “How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothly and effectively changing the topic once again.

“A little fuzzy, but overall okay, all things considered.” She dragged her fingers through her tousled hair, feeling contrite for disrupting his life, even for one day. “Garrett…I’m very sorry about last night.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “You weren’t in any shape to go anywhere and I gave you a place to stay.”

“No doubt I ruined your evening. I intruded on your home life and family, and I even slept in your bed. And from the bits and pieces that I can remember, I know I made a fool of myself at the bar.”

She recalled babbling on about silly things like hating her curly hair and making wishes to marry her own prince charming and living happily ever after—not that Garrett would understand the hopes and dreams she’d carried with her since childhood.

She ducked her head, and absently toyed with the hem of the shirt she wore. “And contrary to my behavior last night, I’m not in the habit of kissing strangers.”

Except Garrett hadn’t felt like a stranger. He’d been warm and receptive, and no matter how wrong, she found it difficult to regret that sweet, tender kiss, which had made her feel so safe and secure. There had been no pretenses, no expectations, just the kind of acceptance she’d craved for so long.

And Garrett probably thought she was a brazen hussy for allowing such liberties just hours after leaving her groom at the altar.

Shaking her head of those thoughts, she lifted her gaze back to his. “I am sorry about that kiss,” she said softly.

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” Though his tone held a gruff certainty, his irises had taken on a dark, sensual shade of blue that belied his attempt at disinterest. “It won’t happen again.”

He sounded so determined, Jenna couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, possibly, he’d been just as affected by that kiss as she’d been.

The moment was shattered by the front door slamming shut, and someone bounding up the stairs. “Honey, I’m home!” a deep, masculine voice called out, his tone laced with carefree humor.

Jenna’s gaze widened in surprise, and Garrett groaned, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. A good-looking man briefly glanced inside Garrett’s room as he passed, then the heavy steps came to an abrupt stop, and he backed up, filling the doorway with his presence.