Honestly?
She had no intention of shopping for that farce of an event, but she’d gone along with the other women so as not to make waves. Being alone freaked her out after that anonymous call last night.
And her picture had appeared online and in social media.
Now, seated in the viewing parlor of If Wishes Were Dresses, Valerie found herself wondering what men like Jumbo must think of this ultra-feminine place.
Located in an historic Savannah home, the shop catered to wealthy brides around the southeast. The building itself had charm, a wraparound porch on both levels with shabby-chic rocking chairs scattered along the lower porch.
Designer gowns, but also vintage gowns and even a section for used wedding dresses donated for all the proceeds to go to different charities. Was it just a year ago she’d been planning her own wedding? She’d wanted to come here for her gown, but her future mother-in-law had insisted on flying to New York City to shop. That should have been another tip off that the engagement was a mistake, destined for failure. That Erik was all wrong for her. That she was giving up some part of herself.
Valerie had caved for peace. Maybe if she’d stood her ground she might have realized sooner the wedding wasn’t meant to be and could have saved so much heartache and trouble.
Seeing the joy on the women’s faces in the shop made Valerie realize how far off the mark she’d been last year.
She glanced at the bodyguards flanking either side of a paisley pink sofa, watching over them. Melanie Webb Hollis was married to Boone’s teammate, Grady Hollis. However, theirs had been a courthouse wedding, and they were now going the whole nine yards for a vows renewal ceremony.
Valerie inspected the knots on the hardwood pine floors, steadying herself. Trying to get her pulse and heart rate to steady as she watched the light dance off the swirl of lace and tulle on the gowns.
“How serious are the two of you?” Melanie asked as she sipped the golden champagne, her delicate hand stroking the lace. Her nose wrinkled and she walked to the next dress—a gown worthy of Cinderella with a sweetheart neckline and tulle-poofed skirt.
She sighed long and hard. How to answer this. They weren’t even an item, not technically. But that would require even more explanation. “Not at all. We just happened to meet via, uhm, his unfortunate experience with my radio show.”
The media had picked up the story about Serena’s real identity as Valerie Dimitri this morning, but social media had already been alive with the news well before dawn. Valerie gave Melanie Hollis a lot of credit for not letting the hubbub overshadow her shopping day.
“And did you really use a fake name and accent for the show? You’re not even British?” Melanie picked up a lacy number with an open back. Her eyes danced, handing it to the attendant who click-clacked on her way to the fitting room—a converted old bedroom. The attendant hung the dress on a golden, embellished hook outside the Victorian style door.
“I needed to protect my identity for safety reasons.” That was such an understatement. Few people have to hide from family. But nothing about her life had ever been typical or conventional.
“Well, a girl does what she has to, right? I had this temp job once,” Melanie said with a slightly wicked grin, “and to make it more interesting, I used to change my accent when I was frustrated. Or bored.” She picked up another gown and handed it to the attendant. This one was a slinky mermaid gown with a cowl neck. Satin. Classy.
“Really?” Valerie laughed.
“Really. My best accent is French. But I think my Spanish accent is a close second. Of course, selling toner isn’t nearly as glamorous or fun as sex talk.” That wicked grin returned to Melanie’s lips.
“Well, I don’t know that it was that glamorous, but it definitely had some fun moments.” Valerie’s eyes flitted to the exchange between the shop owner, a woman with a short, springy blonde bob and a pink A-line chiffon dress and the seamstress, a thin brunette with steel gray eyes and a mint dress. The owner’s cheeks were bright red, anxiety furrowing her brow as the two whispered to each other.
“There appears to be a scheduling issue.” Emilee Jane Burgess approached the group. The shop owner had impressed Valerie right away with her business-like efficiency. Emilee had inherited the bridal business from her grandmother. While she never married, she had a reputation for treating every bride that walked through her doors the way a mother would treat a daughter. Warm and doting.
And efficient.
“What do you mean?” Melanie asked from her seat on the couch browsing through swatches.
“We didn’t know until this morning that Ms. Dimitri would be among the party. And, well, Boone Sullivan’s former fiancée Annamae Jessup is due to come here with her bridesmaid. I am so very sorry for any awkwardness that may cause since you two are now an item.”
And wasn’t this turning out to be an interesting day?
“No awkwardness. We’re not an item,” Valerie assured everyone.
“Of course. I apologize for assuming,” she said with a knowing smile. “But if you would like to step into the gardens with one of your security details to, uhm, view our lovely collection of spring flowers, please feel free.”
Zoe, the wedding planner, stepped into the room. Her patent leather heels made her stand five foot eight so the normally petite woman was eye level with Melanie. “Our florist isn’t here today, but many of our brides choose to make their bouquets from our personal clippings. Come with me.” She motioned for the girls to follow her as she slipped out the glass door onto the sun-soaked patio.
Melanie sprung excitedly forward, only a step behind Zoe. Valerie wasn’t so quick to follow though, feeling suddenly out of place as she stared at the growing collection of gowns outside Melanie’s dressing room.
All of her thoughts drifted away though, as her eyes fell on Annamae Jessup entering the room. The woman Boone was going to marry before calling into Sex Talk with Serena.
The air felt suddenly heavy as Valerie sucked it into her lungs. She forced herself to move after Melanie. All she had to do was make it to the garden. Into the fresh air.
But before she could cross the threshold, Annamae touched her arm.
“You’re Boone’s new girlfriend, right?” Annamae’s eyes danced. But there was no bitterness, no hint of anger. “Emilee told me you were here. I just want you to know, I’m actually really happy for him.”
“Annamae, it’s not like that at all…” Valerie began. How to explain her relationship with Boone? Yes, there was an attraction there. But a relationship with Boone would be…impossible.
Annamae’s blue eyes narrowed, protective reflexes edging her words, “Boone is a good man, Serena – er, Valerie. He deserves better than someone only halfway committed. Be good to him.”
Valerie forced a smile to her lips. She didn’t want Annamae to think she was using Boone. But the truth was too complicated. “I will.”
Heading out into the patio, she walked towards the garden, stepping carefully down onto the brick path that led to a grand fountain. Melanie was off to the left, ogling hydrangeas and calla lilies.
“Valerie Dimitri?” The sounds of the garden ebbed away. All Valerie could do was focus on the deep raspy voice that knew her real name. And the man that was attached to it. Instinctively, her hand went into her purse, fumbling for the mace even though a bodyguard would be mere steps behind her.
Her nerves tingled. “Who are you?”
A man with dark eyes hair stepped from the other side of the cherub lined fountain. His face was grave. “My name’s Wynn Rafferty. I was the undercover detective on your grandfather’s case. Now of course there’s the trouble with your uncle.”
“But they’re both in jail.” Her hold on the mace eased. Besides, the whole world would know her as Valerie again.
She missed her life as Serena already.
“Yes, but there’s still the matter of the suspicion that your former fiancé was involved. And of course there’s the
missing person’s report your ex-fiancé filed on you. We need to clear up the last of that paperwork, confirm it’s you and close the case. Although if you know anything that would help us put away Erik Bauder—”
“No. I had no idea he was crooked until I was ready to marry him, and even then, I just had a gut instinct, no proof. And aren’t you some kind of apple farmer now?” she asked suspiciously.
“I do detective work and I’ve been asked to follow up. And Annamae is still a little shaken from our Dimitri run-in. That’s why I’m standing outside a wedding dress shop while she’s inside shopping.”
Her mind churned with pieces of history – and suspicion. Wynn Rafferty was dating Annamae Jessup, Boone’s former fiancée. So he could well have an agenda all his own. Even if he was who he said he was.
“Mr. Rafferty, I don’t give out personal information to strangers. But clearly, I am alive and well, and if the police aren’t satisfied with my identity, I can issue a formal statement. I simply wish to live my life in peace.”
As if in defiance of that wish, squeals filled the air. She startled and turned around to look through the window and saw Melanie, Annamae and their hairdresser friend Lindsey, along with the bridal shop staff, squealing over the a lacy gown.
Bridal gowns. Ex fiancées/fiancés. Criminal relatives. Bodyguards. What a strange mix.
And sexy baseball players – one player in particular. One she was due to talk to tonight. Just her and Boone. His voice and hers with no artifice or protection of her fake identity and accent to hide behind.
Somehow her life had seemed simpler when she was on the run from mobsters while running a sex advice hotline.
*
The phone line rang and rang until Boone wondered if Valerie planned to answer. They’d spoken briefly the night before he returned to Atlanta for the game. He’d been pushing the boundaries of rest by traveling so much before game day but he’d wanted to check in, make sure she hadn’t cut out.
He couldn’t afford for her to walk away from their agreement. She needed to admit that her advice was wrong. And he needed to keep her safe from the violent people that were after her.
Tonight, the game was over. They’d won. The others were celebrating, and he could only think of finding somewhere quiet to dial his cell and talk to Valerie.
In the end, he’d settled for a corner of the players’ lounge. After a shower. He sat on the arm of a couch in a quiet corner, wrapped in a towel, trying to imagine what Valerie was up to. If she’d come around to the idea of admitting that Sex Talk with Serena was a scam. And also, his mind wandered to her subtle curves, her sharp mind. Her wild, green eyes.
What was it about this woman that mesmerized him? Heaven knew, he wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Yet, he couldn’t help but think that even after knowing Annamae for a year, he hadn’t felt anywhere near such an instant connection.
If he were being completely honest with himself, he had never believed in instant connections before Valerie. And yet, there it was—the woman that destroyed his would-be marriage was also a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.
He needed to regain focus. Too many sacrifices were made to get him to this point. His interest in Valerie had to remain…neutral.
“Hello?” Valerie’s voice floated through the airwaves and filled his ear.
Filled him.
He was still growing accustomed to the fact she didn’t speak with a British accent, but the husky timber of her voice was a total turn on, either way.
“Valerie, it’s Boone.” The words fell lamely from his lips.
“Yes, I know. The wonders of caller I.D.”
He could imagine her crooked smile on the other end of the phone. Almost picture the curves of her lips drawing upward.
He chuckled softly. “Of course.”
“How did your game go?”
“You didn’t watch?” He pressed the phone to his ear, shifting on the bed in his hotel room.
“I’m not much of a sports enthusiast.”
Ah, that almost figured.
“Blasphemy.” And he had to confess his ego pinched that she hadn’t even checked in on him. He’d spent the whole damn day thinking about her to the point of risking his focus. Boone would not make that mistake again.
“If I’m completely honest, I’ll admit to watching some replays on the news and checking the results. Congratulations.”
Her voice was husky, full of dry humor. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the instant connection between them. She had to feel it too.
“Thank you. I appreciate that, considering your disdain for the game.”
“Not disdain. Just… differing interests.”
“Yet you were interested enough to see how things went for me today.”
She half laughed. “Don’t let that go to your head. I was checking your schedule since you’re so emphatic about keeping track of me. And I should thank you for the bodyguard. That is generous of you.”
Her last sentence had felt almost like the end of the conversation. Like she was getting ready to hang up. And damn it, he didn’t want that. He wanted to keep her talking. To find out more about her. She was nothing like what he had expected.
“Did you have fun with the others shopping?”
An awkward pause filled the phone line for a few too many seconds before she spoke.
“Shopping for a wedding dress and thinking about racing away from the altar and my crime family? A total blast.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Sorry. Rotten timing.” He hadn’t even considered what that might be like. But then again, he had been more concerned for her safety rather than emotional comfort. It felt like a rookie mistake.
“It’s my family. My problem.” Valerie’s voice was tight, clipped. Guarded.
“You broke away from them. That’s admirable.” And he meant it. Family could be complicated all on its own. Add some criminal connections and that just amplified the situation. He admired her, even if it was a slightly grudging admiration. She had picked herself up, started a new life. Struggled.
And if there was one thing Boone Sullivan could appreciate it was struggling through problems. It had felt like his trademark style.
“My father offered a good example on making your own destiny. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have taken your help.” Valerie’s voice lowered. There was pain in it. And he wished that he could be there to hold her. To draw her into his arms.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want to risk danger from the family and I didn’t want to involve my father if I could avoid it.”
“But you’re close to him?”
“Very much. He’s an amazing man despite of the environment he grew up in.”
“He rose above his circumstances. That’s not easy to do.”
“According to those articles I read online, you made your own destiny as well. Working after school to pay for your own sports equipment.”
That was only the half of it. His single mom didn’t have much to offer him in the form of material items. She worked hard, made sure he was always taken care of. But there wasn’t much in the way of extras. His after-school jobs paid for his sports equipment and helped his mom with the bills.
“You really have been checking up on me. But don’t make too much of those overblown stories. Media fodder.” Some of his teammates felt attention on his origins was purely a media stunt, played up to make him a larger-than-life baseball star.
“I think you’re being humble.”
“No one else on the team would believe that.” They all thought he was a hard-nosed, driven dude, borderline jerk.
“Speaking of the team, why aren’t you off with them celebrating your win?” An innocent question, but it felt more…intrigued. Curious.
“I’m talking to you.”
“Why?” Obvious interest hedged into her voice.
Now that was a damn good question. “Just checking in to make sure Jumbo is doing what I
pay him for. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
“Good night and good luck with the next game.”
“Talk to you soon. Sleep well, Serena.”
“Valerie.” Her voice was stern as she corrected him. “Goodnight, Boone.”
The line went dead as Valerie-Serena ended the call. Valerie, the wary daughter of a crime family. Serena, the confident sex goddess. Which was she?
He suspected she was both.
Chapter Five
‡
By the time Thursday rolled around, the day of the black tie gala, Boone was very ready to see Valerie in person. He’d liked learning more about her on the phone, from quizzing her about her past to finding out how hard she’d worked to earn the degrees that gave her the courage to start her own business while she hid out from her family.
He didn’t just like learning about her.
He liked her.
There was an interesting mix of the intellectual and the mobster’s granddaughter. She was smart as hell, but she was also strong and adaptable. Driven in a quiet way. And no matter that he’d planned to use the black tie event as a way to reveal her for a fraud, he couldn’t deny that he also just wanted to see her again.
Setting his empty coffee cup in his kitchen sink, he walked barefoot toward the front of the house. Normally, he would have slept late on an off-day. Sure, he would hit the gym for a light workout. Maybe get in a run. But he’d learned early on that a body didn’t perform at optimal level without adequate rest, so he usually caught up on extra rest when the team had a night off.
But then, he didn’t usually have the incentive of a woman like Valerie Dimitri arriving at his home.
He checked out a front window of his home in Atlanta’s Buckhead community, a wealthy neighborhood that had drawn him for the mix of old architecture and new, all set among trees and greenery that made him think of his rural home in South Carolina so he could forget he lived in a sizable city. It had the added benefit of extremely private neighbors who took security as seriously as he did. He had a rock star living on one side of him and a hip hop mogul on his other, and both of them had property management teams that took care of the places when they travelled.
Bride on the Run Page 6
