The swing was empty now. She wasn’t there.
Megan Hamilton. Auburn hair, green eyes, a smile that always seemed soft and genuine to everyone else but him.
He drew in a breath, aware of a sharp little twinge of hunger deep in his gut.
When he booked the cottage, he hadn’t really thought things through. He should have remembered that Megan and the Inn at Haven Point were a package deal. She owned the inn along with these picturesque little guest cottages on Silver Beach.
In his defense, he had no idea she actually lived in one herself, though. If he had ever heard that little fact, he had forgotten it. Should he have remembered, he would have looked a little harder for a short-term rental property, rather than picking the most convenient lakeshore unit he had found in his web search.
Usually, Elliot did his best to avoid her. Megan always left him...unsettled. It had been that way for ages, since long before he learned she and his younger brother had started dating.
He could still remember his shock when he came home for some event or other and saw her and Wyatt together. As in, together, together. Holding hands, sneaking the occasional kiss, giving each other secret smiles. Elliot had felt as if Wyatt had peppered him with buckshot.
He had tried to be happy for his younger brother, one of the most generous, helpful, loving people he’d ever known. Wyatt had been a genuinely good person and deserved to be happy with someone special.
Elliot had felt small and selfish for wishing that someone hadn’t been Megan Hamilton.
Watching their glowing happiness together had been tough. He mostly had managed to stay away for the four or five months they had been dating, though he tried to convince himself it hadn’t been on purpose. Work had been demanding and he had been busy carving out his place in the Bureau. He had also started the research that would become his first book, looking into a long-forgotten Montana case from a century earlier where a man had wooed, then married, then killed three spinster schoolteachers from New England for their life insurance money before finally being apprehended by a savvy local sheriff and the sister of one of the dead women.
The few times Elliot returned home during the time Megan had been dating his brother, he had been forced to endure family gatherings knowing she would be there, upsetting his equilibrium and stealing any peace he usually found here.
He couldn’t let her do it to him this time.
Her porch light switched off a moment later and Elliot finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He would only be here three weeks. Twenty-one days. Despite the proximity of his cabin to hers, he likely wouldn’t even see her much, other than at Katrina’s reception.
She would be busy with the inn, with her photography, with her wide circle of friends, while he should be focused on finishing his manuscript and allowing his shoulder to heal—not to mention figuring out whether he would still have a career at the end of that time.
Don’t miss THE COTTAGES ON SILVER BEACH
by RaeAnne Thayne,
available July 2018
wherever HQN books and ebooks are sold!
Copyright © 2018 by RaeAnne Thayne
How to Romance a Runaway Bride
by Teri Wilson
“You dance secretly inside my heart, where no one else can see.”
—Rumi
Chapter One
Zander Wilde was seeing things. It was the only explanation. He was hallucinating. Or having a stroke. Anything. Because the woman in a frothy white wedding gown who’d just burst through the door of his birthday party at the Bennington Hotel couldn’t possibly be real. Not when she looked so very much like Allegra had all those years ago.
“Let’s make a deal. If neither of us is married by the time we turn thirty, we’ll marry each other,” Zander had said. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Allegra had replied.
Zander’s throat grew tight. He hadn’t thought about that conversation in a long time. A very long time. Unless the past week or so counted. But it was normal to remember such things under the circumstances, wasn’t it? He was turning thirty, and that impulsive little arrangement was a childhood memory. Nothing more. Nothing less. It didn’t actually mean anything.
Except here she was, almost a decade and a half later, dressed from head to toe in bridal white.
No one else seemed to notice her sudden appearance, so maybe she was indeed a figment of his imagination. Either that, or the party guests had been distracted by the arrival of his enormous birthday cake. With any luck, it was the former.
He tore his gaze away from her and focused instead on the cake sitting on the table in front of him. The blaze from its thirty candles warmed his face. Someone started to sing the lyrics to “Happy Birthday to You”—maybe one of his sisters or another of the Wildes. He didn’t even know. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on the very real people and the very real celebration going on around him.
He glanced back up. She was still there—the woman in white—looking even more like Allegra. Same honey-colored hair tumbling about her shoulders in waves. Same petite frame. She pressed a hand to her abdomen and took a few deep breaths, nodding to herself the way she’d always done backstage before a dance competition when she was a teenager. Zander had witnessed this private ceremony of nerves on many occasions. He’d just never seen it performed when Allegra looked like she’d recently climbed down from atop a wedding cake.
Zander blinked. Hard. This was one realistic daydream.
He cleared his throat and fixed his attention on the candles melting all over the thick frosting of the chocolate-bourbon masterpiece the hotel’s pastry chef had created. The pâtissier had really gone all out. It was just another perk that came with being CEO of one of New York’s most legendary hotels, Zander supposed. He forced himself to smile—or tried, at least—and realized the singing had stopped.
“You going to blow those out?” Ryan Wilde asked.
Everyone around the table looked at Zander. His sister Tessa and her fiancé, Julian. His mother, Emily, along with about four dozen or so other party guests. All of Zander’s staff and closest friends, including his date, whose name he couldn’t quite recall at the moment.
Susan. Or Stacy. Something that began with an S. They weren’t serious, obviously. Zander’s dalliances never were.
And now you’re seeing imaginary brides.
He was losing it.
No. No, he wasn’t. He was perfectly competent. He was at the peak of his career. Two months ago, GQ had named him one of Manhattan’s “Top Thirty Under Thirty.” He was one of the most eligible bachelors in New York, and he had every intention of staying that way.
The ancient deal he’d made with Allegra was messing with his head, that’s all. Which was more than a little irritating. Not to mention absurd on every level. Zander hadn’t set eyes on Allegra Clark in over a decade, and he was certain it had been even longer than that since she’d given him a passing thought. She’d left Manhattan without even saying goodbye.
Enough reminiscing. Some things were best left forgotten, and whatever had—or more accurately, hadn’t—gone on between him and Allegra was definitely one of those things. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath and readied himself to blow out his candles. In the second before he exhaled, he heard something. A voice from his past, as breathy and velvety soft as he remembered.
“Oh, my,” the voice said.
Zander looked up.
“It seems I’m interrupting something.” The woman standing with her back pressed to the ballroom door offered a tentative smile. “I’m sorry.”
Allegra Clark. Not a figment of his overactive imagination, but real. As real as her floor-length white gown and the bouquet of blush-pink roses in her hand.
Zander opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t seem to form words. What in the hell was going
on?
“It’s nothing. Just a little birthday party,” Zander’s mother said. She shot a questioning glance at Zander and he stared back at her, paralyzed by shock.
Emily cleared her throat. “Join us. The more the merrier, and all that.”
She jumped up from her chair, scurried toward Allegra and gathered her into a welcoming hug. His sister Chloe followed suit, and Zander began to wonder if anyone was going to mention Allegra’s unusual attire or if they were going to keep pretending anything about this scenario was remotely normal.
“Thank you,” Allegra said. She cast a panicked glance at the closed door behind her. Then her chin wobbled in a way that brought about a sudden, intense ache in Zander’s chest.
He looked past Allegra, hoping with every fiber of his being that there was a groom standing somewhere nearby. Surely there was.
No such luck. There was no husband, apparently. A growing sense of panic welled in Zander’s chest, which did nothing to improve his mood. He’d single-handedly restored the Bennington Hotel to its glory days. He was one of the most powerful CEOs in the city. He could snap his fingers and in an instant, a team of security officers would materialize and discreetly escort Allegra from the building. Under no circumstances should he be losing his cool over the sight of a woman in a wedding gown.
But this wasn’t just any woman.
“Hey.” Beside Zander, Tessa frowned. “Isn’t that...”
“Yes. It is.” Since Tessa was hearing impaired, Zander signed the words in addition to speaking them in a voice that sounded angrier than he intended.
He actually hadn’t realized he was angry. Surprised? Yes. Confused? Absolutely. But angry? At Allegra? He wouldn’t have admitted as much back in the day. But he supposed he was. In reality, he’d probably been angry at Allegra for a very long time.
“Allegra Clark. Wow,” Tessa muttered. “After all this time.”
“Yep,” Zander said and drained his glass of Veuve Clicquot. He should probably do something. Or at least speak to her. But he was at a complete loss. He just sat there like an idiot, staring as his other sister and his mother made a big fuss over Allegra. They hurried her over to the bar, oohing and aahing all the way across the expanse of the ballroom.
“Let’s get you something to drink. A brandy, perhaps. You seem rattled,” his mother said.
Chloe beamed at Allegra. “Isn’t that a lovely dress, though? You look beautiful.”
She did, actually. Quite beautiful. Far prettier than Zander remembered, which was something of a shock. Even when they’d been at odds, Allegra had never failed to take his breath away.
He could remember with perfect clarity the first time it had happened—a simmering summer evening in early August. He and Allegra couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven. They’d taken advantage of her father’s place on the board of the Museum of Natural History and spent the day wandering among the dinosaurs in the building’s cool air-conditioning. Allegra had been running ahead of him, like she always did, while he struggled to catch up. Then she’d stopped suddenly to turn and say something. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what she’d said. But he remembered everything else about that moment—the swirl of starlight in the windows overhead, the massive T. rex skeleton looming behind her in the darkness, strange and beautiful.
Most of all, he remembered the way his heart had stopped when she’d smiled. It was as if he’d seen her for the very first time, this girl he’d known for as long as he’d been alive.
Allegra’s pretty, he’d thought. The realization had struck him like a physical force. He remembered clutching at the front of his T-shirt, not unlike the time a basketball had hit him hard in the back at recess and knocked the wind right out of him.
But they’d been kids back then, Allegra no more than a girl. The woman who’d just interrupted his birthday party was all grown-up, and to Zander’s great dismay, she was very possibly the most stunning creature he’d ever set eyes on. She had impossibly full lips, eyes that glittered like sapphires and an arch in her left eyebrow that gave him the impression she’d accumulated more than her fair share of secrets over the course of the past decade.
“What do you suppose she’s doing here?” Tessa turned to look at Zander.
Zander coughed and tore his gaze from the long row of tiny white buttons that ran the full length of Allegra’s spine, stopping just above the curve of her lush bottom. “How should I know?”
Tessa’s gaze narrowed. “Hey, didn’t you ask her to marry you once?”
Zander clenched his jaw. “No.”
Because he hadn’t. Not technically. They’d had a deal. A stupid, childish deal. They’d been thick as thieves back then. Either one of them could have suggested it.
It had been Zander’s idea, though.
That much he couldn’t deny.
* * *
Allegra took the glass one of the women thrust at her and cleared her throat. “Thank you, um...”
Both of the women peering back at her looked familiar.
She took a swig of the amber liquid and nearly choked. Allegra never drank alcohol straight up. Then again, she’d never run out on a wedding before. Today was a day of firsts, it seemed.
She stared into her glass. “What is this again?”
“Brandy,” the older woman said. “Neat.”
Allegra let out a snort. Neat. What a joke. There was nothing neat about her current situation. She couldn’t have made a bigger mess if she’d tried.
She took another swallow, a smaller one this time. Her head spun a little. She was vaguely aware of her bridal bouquet slipping from her grasp and falling onto the ballroom floor with a thud.
The older of the two women bent to pick it up, and when Allegra took in her straight spine and the fluid grace of her movements, reality dawned. “Mrs. Wilde?”
“Yes, dear,” she said, and Allegra blinked back tears.
Emily Wilde had been her childhood dance teacher. More than that, really. She’d been Zander’s mother. Allegra had spent more time at the Wilde home than she had her own.
Her gaze flitted to the younger woman standing beside Emily. “Chloe, is that you?”
“It is.” Chloe smiled. “It’s so good to see you, Allegra.”
What was happening? She hadn’t seen any of the Wildes in years, not since she’d left Manhattan. Now here they were, at her wedding.
No. You fled from your wedding, remember?
That’s right. Allegra probably shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach. Emily and Chloe weren’t at her wedding. Rather, they were in the room next door at some kind of fancy celebration. Allegra’s gaze drifted from one end of the dazzling ballroom to the other. There were people everywhere. In her haste to escape her nuptials, she’d dashed into the first door she’d seen. It led to an adjoining ballroom apparently.
She’d crashed a party.
In a wedding dress.
Wonderful.
Allegra closed her eyes and took another fortifying gulp of her brandy. Somewhere close by, a throat cleared. A very masculine throat.
She opened her eyes and found a dashing man dressed in what could only be called a power suit parting the crowd and charging straight toward her with a few hotel staff members trailing behind him. Everything about the man exuded confidence, from his peaked lapels and slicked-back hair to the bold Windsor knot in his tie. But beneath his arrogant exterior, there was something undeniably familiar.
Allegra’s knees went wobbly.
Zander. Zander Wilde. Her Zander.
Not that he’d ever actually been hers. They’d never dated or anything. He hadn’t taken her to prom or the homecoming dance. They’d just been friends. Best friends. And for some reason, that had made Allegra feel even closer to him than if she’d been his girlfriend. Girlfriends came and went. Zander had known her.
But that was yesterday. Now she could only stand there and try to make sense of the fact that he was wearing a three-piece suit just like the one her father had always worn. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Not one bit. And he looked so...so...serious. Angry, even.
Allegra cast a glance over her shoulder in search of the object of his wrath, but there was no one there. She swiveled to face Zander again. Sure enough, his glare appeared to be aimed directly at her.
Her heart started pounding again. Her tummy did a little flip. But she didn’t feel panicky. No, this was something different. Something not as frightening as a panic attack. In fact, it almost felt like attraction.
Odd.
And wrong. So very wrong. This was Zander. Her friend. Or at least he’d been her friend. Now he was just...nothing. And Allegra was still wearing the dress she’d chosen to wear to her wedding. To another man. So there was nothing remotely appropriate about the butterflies swarming in her belly.
She swallowed and decided they weren’t butterflies at all. She was overwhelmed. Period. It had been quite a day. A lump formed in her throat, and she suddenly had to blink back tears.
Zander came to a stop directly in front of her. A furious knot tensed in his jaw. His very square, very manly jaw. Zander Wilde had done quite a bit of growing up since she’d seen him last.
“Allegra.” He gave her a businesslike nod, as if she was a total stranger.
Why on earth was he acting so ridiculous?
“Zander.” She threw her arms around him in a bear hug. Maybe it was a little presumptuous since they hadn’t seen each other in so many years. But gosh, it was good to see him. Better than she would ever have imagined. The lump in her throat grew threefold.
Zander stiffened and promptly peeled her arms away from him. “Could everyone let us have a word for a minute, please? In private.”
Chloe smiled at Allegra over Zander’s shoulder, then wandered to the far side of the ballroom along with the others. Emily, however, lingered.
Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets Page 19
