Secret Agent Groom (The Bridal Circle #2)
Page 1
“I know you’ve taken on some false identity, that you’re not some mild-mannered professor.”
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Dedication
Books by Andrea Edwards
About the Author
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
Copyright
“I know you’ve taken on some false identity, that you’re not some mild-mannered professor.”
Heather knew? Alex’s mind was racing. All that work to establish his cover, and in a flash it was blown?
“Who are you working for, Alex?”
He had to remain calm. But the sight of Heather in her pajamas was almost more than he could bear. He was strong, he was tough. He was the agency’s top secret agent. He wasn’t going to let one small little wisp of a woman do him in.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s okay.” She took his hand in hers and he felt a searing heat wash over him. “You probably got into it accidentally.”
Alex shook his head. “You need to sit down. You’re obviously not thinking clearly.” He led her over to the kitchen table. Then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his gun, peeking out of the shoulder holster slung over the chair.
He had to distract her! But how?
One sure way came to mind....
Dear Reader,
As you head for your favorite vacation hideaway, don’t forget to bring along some Special Edition novels for sensational summertime reading!
This month’s THAT’S MY BABY! title commemorates Diana Whitney’s twenty-fifth Silhouette novel! I Now Pronounce You Mom & Dad, which also launches her FOR THE CHILDREN miniseries, is a poignant story about two former flames who conveniently wed for the sake of their beloved godchildren. Look for book two, A Dad of His Own. in September in the Silhouette Romance line, and book three, The Fatherhood Factor, in Special Edition m October.
Bestselling author Joan Elliott Pickart wraps up her captivating THE BACHELOR BET series with a heart-stirring love story between an amnesiac beauty and a brooding doctor in The Most Eligible M.D. The excitement continues with Beth and the Bachelor by reader favorite Susan Mallery—a romantic tale about a suburban mom who is swept off her feet by her very own Prince Charming. And fall in love with a virile Secret Agent Groom, book two in Andrea Edwards’s THE BRIDAL CIRCLE series, about a shy Plain Jane who is powerfully drawn to her mesmerizing new neighbor.
Rounding out this month, Jennifer Mikels delivers an emotional reunion romance that features a rodeo champ who returns to his hometown to make up for lost time with the woman he loves... and the son he never knew existed, in Forever Mine. And family secrets are unveiled when a sophisticated lady melts a gruff cowboy’s heart in A Family Secret by Jean Brashear.
I hope you enjoy each of these romances—where dreams come true!
Best,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
ANDREA EDWARDS
SECRET AGENT GROOM
To all the “Heathers” the world over who take in the stray, abandoned and feral cats and dogs, and give them food and shelter and most of all love.
Jamie, Tam, Sima, Marilyn, Judy, Paula, Linda and Scott, Lorrie, Margery, Denise, Debby, DeAnna, Marlise and all the countless others who never turn and look the other way—this one’s for you.
Books by Andrea Edwards
Silhouette Special Edition
Rose in Bloom #363
Say It With Flowers #428
Ghost of a Chance #490
Violets Are Blue #550
Places in the Heart #591
Make Room for Daddy #618
Home Court Advantage #706
Sweet Knight Times #740
Father. Unknown #770
Man of the Family #809
The Magic of Christmas #856
Just Hold On Tight! #883
*A Ring and a Promise #932
*A Rose and a Wedding Vow #944
*A Secret and a Bridal Pledge #956
Kisses and Kids #981
†On Mother’s Day #1029
†A Father’s Gift #1046
†One Big Happy Family #1064
Christmas Magic #1144
‡The Paternity Question #1175
‡Who Will She Wed? #1181
**If I Only Had a...Husband #1246
**Secret Agent Groom #1264
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Above Suspicion #291
Silhouette Desire
Starting Over #645
*This Time, Forever
†Great Expectations
‡Double Wedding
**The Bridal Circle
ANDREA EDWARDS
is the pseudonym of Anne and Ed Kolaczyk, a husband-and-wife writing team who have been telling their stories for more than fifteen years. Anne is a former elementary school teacher, while Ed is a refugee from corporate America. After many years in the Chicago area, they now live in a small town in northern Indiana where they are avid students of local history, family legends and ethnic myths. Recently they have both been bitten by the gardening bug, but only time will tell how serious the affliction is. Their four children are grown, but remaining at home with Anne and Ed are two dogs, four cats and one bird—not the same ones that first walked through their stories but carrying on the same tradition of chaotic rule of the household nonetheless.
To: Mrs. Angela Smith
Memorial Hospital Thrift Shop
Chesterton, Indiana
Dear Mrs. Smith,
Thank you so much for spending that envelope of personal items back to me. I had no idea it was in that carton of old clothes I cleaned out of the attic and donated to the thrift shop.
I’m afraid, however, that your congratulations are unnecessary. The papers in the envelope aren’t plans for my approaching wedding, but from a silly club called The Bridal Circle my best girlfriends and I formed way back in high school. We’d planned what we thought would be the perfect weddings, and as you saw, mine was an elopement. No fuss, no agonizing over guest lists and dresses and menus—just pure romance. Silly, wasn’t it?
And I have no idea how Alex Waterstone’s name got on that personality quiz. I’m sure I didn’t put it there. We didn’t move in the same circles back then any more than we do now. I suspect one of my friends was playing a joke on me.
Thanks again for returning the envelope—and the sweet memories. I got a good laugh at remembering how silly I was back then.
Yours truly,
Heather Mahoney
Prologue
“Let’s tell ghost stories,” Dorothy suggested, pushing aside her scrapbook and stretching out on her sleeping bag, her best childhood girlfriends scattered around her.
Ghost stories? Heather’s breath abandoned her and her mouth went dry.
“Oo, that’ll be fun.” Penny sat up quickly, like the idea was exciting, the newspaper and magazine cuttings of the royal wedding apparently forgotten
around her.
Heather just gulped back her panic. She turned around and stared out the screen door into the darkness of Penny’s family’s tree farm, then returned her gaze to the safety of the family room. It was Penny’s slumber party, Heather told herself, and her friend had a right to do what she wanted, but even so.
Karin was on her feet “We can turn out the lights and I’ll—”
The lights out? “No!”
The three girls all turned to stare at Heather. She tried to say something but her mouth was too dry. She tried to even think of something to say, but her brain didn’t seem to be working. Finally, after a deep breath, she forced a smile.
“We haven’t finished our scrapbooks,” she said.
“Oh, who cares?” Karin asked and reached for the light. “This’ll be much more fun.”
Fun? Being so scared you couldn’t sleep was fun?
By the age of eight, Heather Anne Mahoney knew some things were absolutely, positively true. If she played in the woods near Lake Palomara, she’d get bitten by rabid raccoons and bats and weasels, and would swell up and die a horrible death like that little girl Great-Aunt Millie’s cousin knew. If she left her window open at night in the summer, she’d catch a chill and get pneumonia and die from a terrible high fever like the little boy that used to live next door to old Mrs. Schubert’s mother’s best friend. And if she went outside in a storm, she would get struck by lightning and be fried to death with her hair all smoking like the man somebody who used to work with Grandpa Mahoney at the sawmill knew.
By the time she was twelve, Heather had added a few more truths to her list. Boys were always up to no good—though no one would tell her just what that meant. Nobody liked a smart aleck, or a braggart, or a Goody Two-shoes, or a party pooper. And if she made a mistake in public, no one would ever let her forget it.
And now that she was fourteen, she was well versed in all the dangers the world held—most of which the rest of the world didn’t recognize.
“You’re not scared, are you?” Karin asked.
“Why would she be scared?” Dorothy laughed at the idea. “They’re just stories. Heather knows that.”
But Penny gave her a long, knowing look. “What would you rather do instead?” she asked gently.
Heather felt a double whammy of guilt fall onto her shoulders. Penny was so nice. Heather should agree to the ghost stories; it was what Penny wanted to do, after all. But what if there really were such things as ghosts and talking about them made them wake up and then they came—
Heather’s eyes locked onto the picture of the princess in her wedding dress and she grabbed ahold of the idea. “Let’s plan our weddings,” she suggested.
“Plan our weddings?” Karin’s voice held nothing but boredom and disdain, making Heather wince. “What in the world for?”
“For fun,” Heather said. “We’ll plan our weddings and write it all out so we’ll remember it ten years from now.”
“If we don’t need the plans for ten years, we can wait a few days to make them,” Karin said, still standing by the light. “And tell ghost stories tonight.”
“We can still do both,” Dorothy pointed out. She closed her scrapbook and sat cross-legged on the sofa. “So where do we start?”
With a loud sigh, Karin plopped down on the sofa next to Penny. Heather tried not to look at the annoyance dancing clearly across Karin’s face. It would be all right. Karin would see how much fun this was once they got started.
“You probably just all want a wedding like Princess Diana’s,” Karin said. “Big ruffly dress. Rich important husband. And a horse-drawn carriage decorated with flowers. There, we’re done.”
Heather took a deep breath and hugged her pillow to her. “I don’t want a wedding like that,” she said.
“You don’t?” Dorothy sounded surprised. “I think it would be perfect.”
“With all those people watching you?” Heather asked.
“Well, maybe not half the world,” Dorothy admitted. She took a handful of popcorn and looked away with a dreamy smile on her face. “But I would love a dress like that with a long train and flowers everywhere.”
“I want to get married outside,” Penny said. “In a garden filled with flowers.”
“Your train would get all dirty,” Karin noted.
“I wouldn’t have one. Just a simple dress and a short veil.” Penny picked up her soda and sipped at it. “Maybe flowers in my hair instead of a veil.”
“You know what I think would be the most romantic thing ever?” Heather said. “To elope.”
Her three friends stared at her, surprise hovering in the air. Dorothy stopped munching on popcorn. Penny stopped drinking her soda and Karin stopped frowning.
“Elope?” Karin finally repeated.
Heather nodded. “To be so much in love that you don’t want anything but each other. Wouldn’t that be the most wonderful thing?”
“But wouldn’t you want your family and friends at your wedding?” Penny asked.
“Maybe we’d have a party later and invite everyone.”
Karin shook her head. “What about throwing the rice and tying tin cans to your car?”
“Rice is bad for the birds.”
Dorothy sat up. “But if you eloped all of Chesterton wouldn’t be at your wedding.”
“Right, so Alex Waterstone won’t be racing across the seawall.” Heather shuddered at the thought of the town daredevil. “He’s the very last person I’d want at my wedding.”
Chapter One
“Is it raining there?” Edith Mahoney’s worry came over the telephone lines loud and clear. “I saw on the TV that it was raining in northern Indiana. You’ve got your windows closed, don’t you?”
Heather leaned over the kitchen counter to look up at the evening sky. “It’s not raining, Mom. It’s not even cloudy here.”
“The weather channel doesn’t lie,” her mother said. “Maybe you should go in the basement, just in case. The middle of August is still tornado season.”
Heather straightened up. Her dinner was waiting on the kitchen table but she hated to eat while she talked. Not that she really believed that old wives’ tale about choking on your food, but there was no reason to take chances.
“Mom, I’m fine. Maybe the storm is east of us.”
“At least turn on your TV, so you’ll see the storm warnings,” her mother said, then sighed loudly. “Your father and I should never have moved out here. If we were there now, his knee would tell us if a storm was coming.”
Heather wanted to hug her mother for her concern, but wished she could actually make her stop worrying. Heather was thirty-three years old, for goodness sake, not thirteen. But this was a battle Heather was never going to win.
“It’s just that you need a man around.” Her mother launched into her favorite refrain. “What’ll you do if a tree falls on your house?”
“I’ll call Penny’s tree service.”
But her mother went on as if Heather hadn’t spoken. “What if you find a mouse in your house?”
“The cats will take care of it.”
“What if you hear a noise in the middle of the night?”
Heather always heard noises in the middle of the night, and found burrowing deep under the covers was just as effective as getting up to investigate. And if that didn’t work, her bed was high enough to hide under. Or there was the closet.
But that wasn’t what her mother needed to hear. “If someone’s breaking in, I’ll call the police,” she assured her.
“Heather!” her mother wailed. “I’m serious. You’re all alone in Chesterton and I worry about you.”
But Heather wasn’t all alone. She had lots of friends who would help her if she needed help. “Mom, if something happens and I need help right away, I could always call Alex.”
“Alex Waterstone?” Heather could feel her mother’s shiver of horror. “I’d rather Godzilla lived next door to you.”
“Mom, Alex is fine. Well, I
don’t know him very well but he seems nice enough.”
“Nice?” Her mother’s voice was practically a shriek. “I’ll never forget the nightmares you had after he raced across the seawall on his bike.”
“He doesn’t race across seawalls anymore, Mom. He’s a college professor, very dull and proper.” Though to be honest, he didn’t look all that dull and proper. She was sure his female students fell madly in love with him. “But I imagine he could catch a mouse for me if he had to.”
“I doubt it,” her mother was going on. “I saw him when I was in town last and he’s turned into the biggest namby-pamby I ever saw.”
Heather had to laugh. In spite of his hunky looks, wild child Alex had turned into a very sedate adult. “Well, either way, you don’t have to worry. Alex Waterstone and I hardly ever talk. I doubt that he’s taken his nose out of his poetry books long enough to notice my existence.”
“Hmph.” Her mother snorted. “Well, his loss.”
Heather bit back another laugh as she turned, sensing movement in the backyard. Sure enough, a small gray animal was darting across the flower bed, then disappeared into the rose bushes. That feral kitten was back.
“Mom, can I go? That kitten I’ve been trying to catch is back.”
“I just wish you would go after men the way you go after cats,” her mother said with a sigh. “Well, be careful, dear. Wear gloves.”