HAVE HUSBAND, NEED HONEYMOON

by Rita Herron

  "So you dated your senior year, then you went to college?"

  "Janelle—"

  Alison's mother raised a hand. "I just want to get a feel for the whole situation. A divorce is a serious issue, you know."

  "But we didn't know we were still married until two days ago," Alison protested.

  Janelle gestured toward them with uplifted hands.

  "But you loved each other when you said your vows?"

  Brady took a sip of his coffee, almost scalding his tongue. He hadn't been prepared to discuss his feelings for Alison with her, much less her mother. "Well, yes."

  Alison's mother glanced at Alison, who nodded.

  "And you pronounced those vows in a church?"

  They both nodded.

  Janelle narrowed her eyes. "Brady, Alison said you consummated the marriage?"

  Heat climbed Brady's neck. "Yes."

  "Mother, I don't understand. My goodness, you and Daddy got divorced, so why—"

  "I'm just clarifying things." Janelle picked at her salad. "Now, it's true you both thought the marriage had been annulled the day after the ceremony?"

  Again, they both nodded.

  "So you believed you were free to be with other people?"

  Brady swallowed, his jaw clenching as he looked at Alison. She squirmed and avoided eye contact.

  "True?" Alison's mother asked. "Brady?"

  "Well, yeah," Brady admitted.

  "Alison?"

  "I suppose so," Alison said quietly, staring at her water glass as if she wanted to jump in it and drown.

  "And have either of you remarried during that time?"

  "No," they both replied at once.

  "How about affairs? Have you been involved with other people?"

  Alison's eyes flickered with anger. "Mother, I don't think these questions are necessary."

  "Adultery would constitute grounds for divorce," Janelle said matter-of-factly.

  Alison squared her shoulders. "But we're going to do an uncontested—"

  "Alison's engaged," Brady said, frowning over his sandwich.

  "What?" Alison's fork clattered against the plate. "Who told you that?"

  "Vivica. She said that that Eberson guy—"

  "Emerson." Alison gave him a venomous look. "And we're not engaged."

  "But Vivica—"

  "He proposed. I told him I needed time."

  "But you've…" Brady waved his fork around. "You've been together."

  Alison leaned over the table, her voice a low hiss. "We haven't slept together!"

  Something evil unleashed itself in Brady: relief.

  Alison seemed to recognize the effect. Maybe because he was smiling.

  Retribution darkened her eyes. "So what about you, Brady?"

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you? How many women have you been with?"

  He should have known she'd turn the tables on him.

  He glanced at Janelle, surprised at the way she was watching them both, as if they were performing some kind of show and she had a front row seat.

  "Alison was honest," Janelle said. "I think you owe her that much."

  Brady threw down his napkin. "Oh, hell." He hated to admit it. Some macho, superstud Air Force pilot he was. His voice came out low, angry. "All right. I haven't been with anyone."

  Silence rasped between them.

  "Excuse me?" Alison said.

  He leaned over the table, both elbows planted firmly. Their faces were so close he could smell the lilac-scented shampoo she used. He could almost touch her mouth. "You heard me. None."

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Was she fighting a smile?

  "So, there has been no adultery involved. But you both say you want this divorce?" Alison's mother asked.

  Brady stared at Alison and hesitated. Alison stared at him. He could have sworn she was hesitating. Then a cramp suddenly seized his leg, tightening every muscle he'd worked during therapy, reminding him of his scars and the accident, driving home all the reasons they could never be together. He ground his teeth, determined to walk away without revealing the extent of his pain. Alison might have fond memories of them, but she wouldn't want the man he'd become, and he didn't want her pity.

  "Yes, we're different people than we were four years ago," he said in a gruff voice, trying to stretch his leg beneath the table so he could stand. He had to go to the rest room and massage the knot. "I want the divorce. File the papers as soon as possible."

  * * *

  Brady's words knifed through Alison. She hadn't realized she'd been hoping Brady would contest the divorce, that he would fight for her and their marriage.

  "Alison?" Her mother's voice sounded soft, her touch light as she swept a hand over her daughter's.

  Alison dragged her gaze from Brady, a quiver starting deep inside her that threatened to erupt any second. Dammit, she'd cried for months when he'd stopped writing her, then for months more when he'd started returning her letters. She refused to cry in front of him and her mother.

  "Yes, Janelle. Go ahead and start the paperwork."

  "I have a month's leave," Brady said, pushing to his feet, his expression harsh. "Hopefully, we can get everything signed before I have to report back."

  Alison nodded, afraid to speak again as he excused himself to go to the men's room. His shoulders were thrown back, his head held high, his face hard as he walked away.

  She knotted the napkin in her lap. The next month couldn't go by fast enough, she thought, feeling a wave of anguish. Then Brady Broussard would be out of her life forever.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Brady paced across the men's room, trying to walk out the cramp, but the muscles in his calf were so knotted that his leg buckled and he doubled over in pain. He knew the session with Vivi had been tough, but he hadn't been prepared for the exhaustion or the agony he'd feel afterward.

  As much as he hated to give in to it, he was going to have to go home and do as Vivi had ordered – rest.

  God, he hated it. Hated to be weak, hated this powerless feeling.

  But first, he'd have to face Alison and her mother again and say a polite goodbye.

  Tacking on his military face, he sucked in a harsh breath, pushed his body to attention in spite of the pain and headed back to the table.

  * * *

  Alison hadn't had time to recover from Brady's stark detachment when she glanced up and saw her sisters heading toward the table. They were both looking at her oddly, no doubt shocked to see her lunching with their mother.

  Good grief, what was she going to tell them?

  "Ali, what a surprise," Mimi said. She started to bend over to hug her, but her protruding stomach bumped the table and they both laughed.

  "Hey, sis. Mom." Hannah's quiet voice mirrored the wariness in her eyes.

  "Hi, girls." Janelle Hartwell's face flushed. "It's so nice to see you all here. Alison and I ran into each other and decided to eat together."

  Alison's surprised gaze swung to her mother, but Janelle simply smiled and pretended normalcy, when nothing about their meeting had been normal. Making matters worse, Brady marched toward them, looking glum and serious, as if he'd received a death sentence.

  "Actually, Brady and I were having lunch," Alison said, trying to gather her wits. "We met to discuss Vivica's wedding."

  Hannah's raised eyebrow implied disbelief, while a mischievous grin tugged at Mimi's mouth.

  "So what are you two up to?" Alison asked.

  "I just came from my checkup," Mimi said, placing a protective hand over her belly.

  "Is everything okay?" Alison asked.

  "Doing great," Mimi said. "I'm hot, but fat and happy."

  "She and the baby are in perfect health," Hannah said with a grin. "As long as she stays close by the next few weeks, we're in good shape."

  Mimi frowned. "But I have to go visit Grammy Rose before the baby comes."

  "I don't know." Worry furrowed Hannah'
s brow. "Sugar Hill doesn't have an emergency service set up to reach the mountains, and you're getting close to your due date."

  "I heard the town council discussing the emergency service last week," their mother said.

  Hannah nodded. "Mayor Stone offered his support, and so did George Frost, who runs the flying service. The county's looking into buying a helicopter and utilizing one or two of the planes for medical emergencies.

  "Sounds like a great idea." Alison turned to Brady. "With your experience, you could probably give them some advice."

  Hannah jumped on the possibility. "Oh, Brady, would you?"

  Brady stood ramrod straight, but Alison detected panic in his eyes. "I don't know. I'm not going to be here long."

  "I thought you were considering staying," Alison said.

  "I'm on temporary leave, but my enlistment time isn't up." He frowned at her. "And right now I'm helping Mother out at the print shop."

  "Well, think about it," Hannah said. "The town could use someone experienced to advise them."

  "Look, I have to go now," Brady said. "I told Mother I'd come by and help her this afternoon."

  "Sit down and finish your sandwich, Brady," Janelle suggested. "The girls can join us, too."

  "We have a table over there." Hannah pointed to the corner.

  "And I need to go. Just let me know what else I can do to help with Vivi's wedding." Brady angled his head to the side so only Alison could hear. "And let me know when the divorce is final."

  Alison clenched her napkin tightly, tempted to hurl it at him as he turned and walked away. Yeah, he probably wanted to know the moment he was free, so he could go celebrate.

  * * *

  Brady's entire body ached as he left the restaurant, his heart a throbbing muscle that might quit ticking from the pain of leaving Alison. Although he'd planned to drive home, once again he found himself sidetracked, this time taking the Thunderbird by George Frost's airline service. Brady didn't intend to get involved, he told himself, he was simply curious about the small airport. Wiley Hartwell and other small-business owners used the private planes for work-related travel. Sugar Hill might be only a small dot on the map, but slowly the town was trying to update itself to the present.

  The small airport, about thirty miles outside Sugar Hill, occupied several acres. Five planes sat in various plane ports, two smaller hangars held Cessnas – a 172 and a 182 – and at the end, two larger hangars appeared vacant. One of them could easily house a helicopter for medical flight purposes.

  He parked along the side of the dusty highway, angling the car so he could watch the runway. But business must be slow, because there was a lack of activity inside the gate. Nothing like the Columbus AFB where he'd first received his flight training and his first taste of the inside of a cockpit, or Davis Monthon AFB in Tucson where he'd trained.

  A taste he'd thought he'd never be able to live without.

  He climbed out of the car, walked to the gate and stared at one Cessna, remembering the first time he'd gotten behind the controls. His dad, who had been in the reserves, had rented a Cessna 152 and taken him up in it. Brady had been only six, hadn't even been able to see out the front window, but his dad had let him sit up front, and he'd explained the instruments to him. Brady had been so excited he'd almost wet his pants.

  He'd decided then he would be a pilot like his dad. He craved the freedom of soaring through the air, the exhilaration.

  Steady hands, his father had said. A man had to have steady hands and steady nerves to fly.

  Now Brady had neither.

  He held out his hands, and saw that they were trembling just like his insides. Josh's face flashed into his mind, the explosion, the spiraling plane, the crash, the scent of burning metal and flesh.

  No, Brady's taste for flying had changed, just as the rest of his body had changed with the accident. Bitter memories now tainted the flavor, just as sweet memories of Alison stifled his attraction to any other woman.

  * * *

  Alison struggled through the rest of the day, forcing herself to put on a cheerful facade for her customers. Finally, she closed the shop, picked up a carton of chocolate chip ice cream and headed home. She spent ten minutes in the shower cursing the heat; ten more cursing Brady Broussard; five more cursing herself for still caring about the blasted man while she tugged on boxers and an oversize T-shirt; then five more minutes staring at the hope chest. It was so beautiful, yet it had already brought so much turmoil into her life.

  It wasn't the hope chest, she told herself as she grabbed a spoon and dragged herself to the TV, it was the contents. Those insufferable annulment papers. And Brady Broussard!

  The stubborn, hardheaded, detached military man. If he was so detached, though, why had he looked so stricken at the idea of advising the town on the medical flight service?

  He hadn't, she told herself, dipping into the ice cream with a vengeance. He'd simply been stricken at the idea of spending time with her. She'd barely swallowed her first bite of ice cream when the doorbell rang. She glanced down at her sloppy clothes and messy hair and cursed again. It had better not be Brady or Thomas.

  No, her nosy sisters stood on the doorstep, looking curious and determined.

  Mimi took one look at the ice cream carton. "Okay, I knew something was up."

  Hannah lifted a plastic bag, shrugging when Alison saw a carton of her other favorite flavor, Rocky Road

  .

  "Comfort food," Mimi joked as she grabbed two more spoons from the kitchen drawer. They gathered around the coffee table, sharing both cartons.

  "Okay, what gives?" Mimi smiled in ecstasy as she inhaled her first bite.

  Alison feigned innocence. "What do you mean?"

  "Don't play dumb, Ali," Hannah said. "You, Mom, Brady? An interesting combination."

  "It was just a coincidence."

  "We're not buying that," Mimi said.

  "Too much tension," Hannah added.

  Alison saw the love and understanding in her sisters' eyes, and tears welled up in her own.

  "Oh, honey, what's wrong?" Hannah said.

  Mimi reached out her arms. "Tell us, Ali."

  Ali fought tears as memories of the past few days flashed through her mind. She wanted desperately to confide in her sisters, but both she and Brady had chosen her mother as their lawyer because they didn't want the entire town to know about the divorce. And Mimi and Hannah had a way of treating her like the kid sister. This was one problem she'd have to take care of herself. So she opted for a half-truth.

  "I'm just so confused now. Having Mother around is really weird."

  Her sisters frowned and mumbled agreement.

  "And Thomas asked me to marry him, and now Brady Broussard shows up."

  "It would be hard to choose between those two," Hannah admitted.

  Mimi grinned mischievously. "Yeah, but what a choice."

  "That's just it," Alison said. "I don't know what to do. Thomas is wonderful and sweet and so easy to get along with. And he'd make a great husband."

  "And Brady?"

  Alison shrugged and dug into the ice cream. "Brady is difficult and brooding and moody and…"

  "Sexy?" Mimi supplied.

  "That, too," Alison said, a tear trickling down her face.

  Hannah handed her a box of tissues from the end table. "You still love him, don't you?"

  "I … I can't," Alison wailed.

  "Of course, you can," Mimi said. "That's the reason you couldn't say yes to Thomas's proposal – because your heart belongs to Brady."

  "But Brady doesn't want me anymore."

  Mimi reared up like a protective mother hen. "Did he tell you that?"

  Alison nodded. What else could "file the divorce papers" mean?

  Hannah and Mimi traded knowing looks. "Love isn't always easy," Hannah commented.

  "Yeah, men can be a pain in the—"

  Hannah frowned in warning.

  "The butt," Mimi finished.

  Alison
crumpled the tissue, grabbed another and blew her nose. "Brady says we're different people, that we've changed. We're not foolish kids in love anymore."

  Hannah winced. "Sounds like he's jaded."

  "You might have to shake him up a little."

  "What?"

  Mimi giggled and wiggled her hips. "Shake him up a little. Use your sex appeal, Ali."

  Hannah pointed to Mimi's swollen stomach. "Sex appeal is what got you into that condition."

  Alison smiled. "Thanks, girls, but I'm not going to make Brady stay with me if he wants to move on."

  Mimi sighed. "Men don't know what they want. That's why they need women."

  Alison felt even more glum. "Brady knows what he wants. He just doesn't want me."

  "So, what are you going to do?" Hannah asked. Alison summoned her courage.

  "I'm going to give him exactly what he wants." A divorce. Then I'll make myself fall in love with an easygoing guy like Thomas.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  The next day Alison waved at Mimi as she and Vivica walked into Sugar Hill's Hotspot.

  Vivica sighed. "Mimi makes the best chocolate-chocolate chip muffins in the world. I could eat a dozen of them."

  Alison laughed. "I know. I'd probably weigh two hundred pounds if I worked here."

  "You're in great shape, Ali. I saw the way my brother was giving you the eye."

  Alison blinked to control her reaction. "I swim every morning to keep in shape, and your brother wasn't giving me the eye."

  "Oh, come on, Ali, I still think something's going on between you two."

  Yeah, a divorce.

  "Hey, girls, want some café mochas or a cappuccino while we go over the menu for the reception?"

  "Sounds great," Vivica said. "I'll take a mocha."

  "Decided to forget losing the five pounds, huh?"

  Vivica grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, Joe told me he hated bony women."

  "Good for him." Alison commandeered a table in a corner, away from the hubbub. The café was filled with people on their way to work, and early-morning shoppers who'd dropped by for coffee and lingered to browse through the book department. Alison spotted her cousin Rebecca talking with a customer and waved. So far, the Hotspot had done well, thanks to Mimi's desserts and Rebecca's savvy with books. And Alison couldn't forget Wiley's unique advertising.