Third Time's the Bride!

by Merline Lovelace

  He nodded, his expression genuinely sincere. “I’ll try.”

  * * *

  After a last-minute check with Callie, Brian hustled his bride into the big black SUV. Forty minutes later, he escorted her into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport’s executive terminal.

  As promised Ed Donahue had the Gulfstream fueled and his flight plan filed. He and the thin, ultraserious, young female aviator he’d tagged as copilot for the trip were waiting beside the stairs when their passengers walked out to the plane.

  “Good to see you again.” A smile on his weathered face, Donahue held out a hand to Dawn. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you and the boss. Real happy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May I add my congratulations?” the intense young copilot said. “I’m very happy to meet you, Mrs. Ellis.”

  Dawn almost did a double take. This was the first time she’d been addressed as Mrs. Anything. She caught herself in time and beamed at the young woman.

  “Please, call me Dawn. And you are?”

  “Leslie.”

  “Have you flown into Rome before, Leslie?”

  “This is my first time in Italy.”

  “Ahhh. Prepare to fall in love.” Her glance slanted sideways. “I did.”

  * * *

  A half hour after takeoff Brian popped the cork on a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Instead of pouring out the champagne, though, he nested the bottle in a crystal ice bucket and strolled out of the galley carrying both it and two, long-stemmed flutes.

  He paused beside Dawn’s seat, a glint in his eyes. “Remember when Tommy showed you the beds in the aft cabin?”

  “I do. I also remember they’re twin beds.”

  “Never underestimate the ingenuity of executive aircraft outfitters. Follow me.”

  She did, and gave a trill of delight when he worked the control panel that lowered the twin beds from the rear bulkhead then slid them together to form a comfy, queen-size platform.

  “Handy,” Dawn commented. “Very handy. But I think I’d rather not know how many times you put them in this configuration.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “You’ve never invited other women aboard?”

  She believed him. She really did. She just couldn’t imagine any unattached female passing up the chance to zip off into the wild blue yonder with Brian Ellis.

  “Of course I have,” he returned, tipping champagne into a flute. “Business associates. Reps from other companies EAS has contracts with. LauraBeth. Tommy’s nanny. I’ve just never wanted to share this cabin with them.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Do you?”

  He filled the second glass and waited for the fizz to subside.

  “Think about it,” he said, passing her the shimmery crystal flute. “We’re cruising at thirty-thousand feet. I’ve told Ed to filter all satellite calls. If it’s not an emergency, he has instructions to take a message. So...”

  He tipped his glass to hers.

  “Here’s to you, my darling, and no interruptions until we’re wheels down in Rome.”

  * * *

  They came up for air three hours later. And stayed up just long enough for Brian to yank on some sweatpants, raid the galley and return with a selection of microwaved gourmet dishes that could put a high-priced restaurant to shame.

  The cabin windows darkened while they ate. Stars filled the night sky. When they made love again, Dawn barely registered those thousand million pinpoints of light. Her husband filled her eyes and her arms and her heart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The transatlantic flight provided an erotic and mildly exhausting start to the honeymoon. Rome made it magical. Even the drive into the city revved up Dawn’s energy. Blocking out the traffic snarls and exhaust fumes, she sat back and enjoyed the tall, narrow cypresses lining the Appian Way, the Vespas and bicycles vying for the right of way, the noise and color and confusion that was Rome.

  Reenergized, she was ready to roll five minutes after they’d checked into a gorgeously appointed boutique hotel on Via Veneto.

  “Let’s go out. I need air. And spaghetti. And vino.”

  And a shiny new euro to toss in the Trevi Fountain. The crowds were as thick as ever at the famous landmark, but Dawn didn’t care.

  “You first,” she instructed Brian. “Make a wish and let fly.”

  “Why? I’ve got everything I want.”

  “If nothing else,” she replied, laughing, “you could wish Callie has Buster housebroken by the time we get home.”

  “Good thinking.”

  His high, arcing toss won Dawn’s instant approval.

  “Great arm! Now... What time is it back home?”

  He checked his watch and made a quick calculation. “Not quite 5:00 a.m.”

  “Close enough.” Reaching into her purse, she extracted her iPhone. “Do you have two more euros?”

  “Sure. Why...? Oh, I get it. Three girls, three wishes. Right?

  “Right.”

  She FaceTimed Kate first. Her friend shoved her tangled blond hair out of her eyes and squinted owlishly at the screen. “Is that...? Is that the Trevi Fountain behind you?”

  “It is. Hang on. I’m going to get Callie on the line.”

  Callie’s equally sleepy face appeared on the split screen moments later. When was awake enough to understand Dawn’s proposal, she shook her head.

  “It doesn’t work that way. You know that. We don’t make a wish. Just tossing the coin means you’ll return to Rome someday.”

  “Maybe, but it seems to me we’ve done pretty good with our wishes so far. Remember what Kate wished our first day in Rome? That the bitch-whore who had an affair with Travis would break out in boils?”

  “The bitch-whore who claimed she had an affair with Travis,” Kate corrected with a sideways glance at the blanket-covered mound beside her.

  “And the second time?” Dawn persisted. “When Kate and Travis renewed their vows here at the fountain? We all three tossed coins in then, too.”

  She cut away from the screen long enough to beam a radiant smile at the man standing patiently at her side.

  “I got exactly what I wished for. And you know what they say, Callie. Third time’s a charm. So you two close your eyes and make a wish, and I’ll do the honors long-distance for all three of us.”

  Kate grinned and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Callie hesitated for four heartbeats. Five. Then her lids fluttered down on a wish she had no business making and knew could never come true.

  * * * * *

  Look for Callie and Joe’s story, the final book in USA TODAY bestselling author Merline Lovelace’s THREE COINS IN A FOUNTAIN miniseries, coming soon from Harlequin Special Edition!

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  Officer Wyn Bailey has found herself wanting more from her boss—and older brother’s best friend—for a while now. Will sexy police chief Cade Emmett let his guard down long enough to embrace the love he secretly craves?

  Read on for a sneak peek at the newest book

  in New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne’s HAVEN POINT series, RIVERBEND ROAD, available soon from HQN Books.

  Riverbend Road

  by RaeAnne Thayne

  CHAPTER ONE

  “THIS WAS YOUR dire emergen
cy? Seriously?”

  Officer Wynona Bailey leaned against her Haven Point Police Department squad car, not sure whether to laugh or pull out her hair. “That frantic phone call made it sound like you were at death’s door!” she exclaimed to her great-aunt Jenny. “You mean to tell me I drove here with full lights and sirens, afraid I would stumble over you bleeding on the ground, only to find you in a standoff with a baby moose?”

  The gangly-looking creature had planted himself in the middle of the driveway while he browsed from the shrubbery that bordered it. He paused in his chewing to watch the two of them out of long-lashed dark eyes.

  He was actually really cute, with big ears and a curious face. She thought about pulling out her phone to take a picture that her sister could hang on the local wildlife bulletin board in her classroom but decided Jenny probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

  “It’s not the calf I’m worried about,” her great-aunt said. “It’s his mama over there.”

  She followed her aunt’s gaze and saw a female moose on the other side of the willow shrubs, watching them with much more caution than her baby was showing.

  While the creature might look docile on the outside, Wyn knew from experience a thousand-pound cow could move at thirty-five miles an hour and wouldn’t hesitate to take on anything she perceived as a threat to her offspring.

  “I need to get into my garage, that’s all,” Jenny practically wailed. “If Baby Bullwinkle there would just move two feet onto the lawn, I could squeeze around him, but he won’t budge for anything.”

  She had to ask the logical question. “Did you try honking your horn?”

  Aunt Jenny glared at her, looking as fierce and stern as she used to when Wynona was late turning in an assignment in her aunt’s high school history class.

  “Of course I tried honking my horn! And hollering at the stupid thing and even driving right up to him, as close as I could get, which only made the mama come over to investigate. I had to back up again.”

  Wyn’s blood ran cold, imagining the scene. That big cow could easily charge the sporty little convertible her diminutive great-aunt had bought herself on her seventy-fifth birthday.

  What would make them move along? Wynona sighed, not quite sure what trick might disperse a couple of stubborn moose. Sure, she was trained in Krav Maga martial arts, but somehow none of those lessons seemed to apply in this situation.

  The pair hadn’t budged when she pulled up with her lights and sirens blaring in answer to her aunt’s desperate phone call. Even if she could get them to move, scaring them out of Aunt Jenny’s driveway would probably only migrate the problem to the neighbor’s yard.

  She was going to have to call in backup from the state wildlife division.

  “Oh, no!” her aunt suddenly wailed. “He’s starting on the honeysuckle! He’s going to ruin it. Stop! Move it. Go on now.” Jenny started to climb out of her car again, raising and lowering her arms like a football referee calling a touchdown.

  “Aunt Jenny, get back inside your vehicle!” Wyn exclaimed.

  “But the honeysuckle! Your dad planted that for me the summer before he...well, you know.”

  Wyn’s heart gave a sharp little spasm. Yes. She did know. She pictured the sturdy, robust man who had once watched over his aunt, along with everybody else in town. He wouldn’t have hesitated for a second here, would have known exactly how to handle the situation.

  Wynnie, anytime you’re up against something bigger than you, just stare ’em down. More often than not, that will do the trick.

  Some days, she almost felt like he was riding shotgun next to her.

  “Stay in your car, Jenny,” she said again. “Just wait there while I call Idaho Fish and Game to handle things. They probably need to move them to higher ground.”

  “I don’t have time to wait for some yahoo to load up his tranq gun and hitch up his horse trailer, then drive over from Shelter Springs! Besides that honeysuckle, which is priceless to me, I have seventy-eight dollars’ worth of groceries in the trunk of my car that will be ruined if I can’t get into the house. That includes four pints of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia that’s going to be melted red goo if I don’t get it in the freezer fast—and that stuff is not exactly cheap, you know.”

  Her great-aunt looked at her with every expectation that she would fix the problem and Wyn sighed again. Small-town police work was mostly about problem solving—and when she happened to have been born and raised in that small town, too many people treated her like their own private security force.

  “I get it. But I’m calling Fish and Game.”

  “You’ve got a piece. Can’t you just fire it into the air or something?”

  Yeah, unfortunately, her great-aunt—like everybody else in town—watched far too many cop dramas on TV and thought that was how things were done.

  “Give me two minutes to call Fish and Game, then I’ll see if I can get him to move aside enough that you can pull into your driveway. Wait in your car,” she ordered for the fourth time as she kept an eye on Mama Moose. “Do not, I repeat, do not get out again. Promise?”

  Aunt Jenny slumped back into her seat, clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to have front row seats to some kind of moose-cop shoot-out. “I suppose.”

  To Wyn’s relief, local game warden Moose Porter—who, as far as she knew, was no relation to the current troublemakers—picked up on the first ring. She explained the situation to him and gave him the address.

  “You’re in luck. We just got back from relocating a female brown bear and her cub away from that campground on Dry Creek Road. I’ve still got the trailer hitched up.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “How about that dinner we’ve been talking about?” he asked.

  She had not been talking about dinner. Moose had been pretty relentless in asking her out for months and she always managed to deflect. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the guy. He was nice and funny and good-looking in a burly, outdoorsy, flannel-shirt-and-gun-rack sort of way, but she didn’t feel so much as an ember around him. Not like, well, someone else she preferred not to think about.

  Maybe she would stop thinking about that someone else if she ever bothered to go on a date. “Sure,” she said on impulse. “I’m pretty busy until after Lake Haven Days, but let’s plan something in a couple of weeks. Meantime, how soon can you be here?”

  “Great! I’ll definitely call you. And I’ve got an ETA of about seven minutes now.”

  The obvious delight left her squirming and wishing she had deflected his invitation again.

  Fish or cut line, her father would have said.

  “Make it five, if you can. My great-aunt’s favorite honeysuckle bush is in peril here.”

  “On it.”

  She ended the phone call just as Jenny groaned, “Oh. Not the butterfly bush, too! Shoo. Go on, move!”

  While she was on the phone, the cow had moved around the shrubs nearer her calf and was nibbling on the large showy blossoms on the other side of the driveway.

  Wyn thought about waiting for the game warden to handle the situation, but Jenny was counting on her. She couldn’t let a couple of moose get the better of her. Wondering idly if a Kevlar vest would protect her in the event she was charged, she climbed out of her patrol vehicle and edged around to the front bumper. “Come on. Move along. That’s it.”

  She opted to move toward the calf, figuring the cow would follow her baby. Mindful to keep the vehicle between her and the bigger animal, she waved her arms like she was directing traffic in a big-city intersection. “Go. Get out of here.”

  Something in her firm tone or maybe her rapid-fire movements finally must have convinced the calf she wasn’t messing around this time. He paused for just a second, then lurched through a break in the shrubs to the other side, leaving just enough room for Gre
at-Aunt Jenny to squeeze past and head for her garage to unload her groceries.

  “Thank you, Wynnie. You’re the best,” her aunt called. “Come by one of these Sundays for dinner. I’ll make my fried chicken and biscuits and my Better-Than-Sex cake.”

  Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled, reminding her quite forcefully that she hadn’t eaten anything since her shift started that morning.

  Her great-aunt’s Sunday dinners were pure decadence. Wyn could almost feel her arteries clog in anticipation.

  “I’ll check my schedule.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Jenny drove her flashy little convertible into the garage and quickly closed the door behind her.

  Of all things, the sudden action of the door seemed to startle the big cow moose where all other efforts—including a honking horn and Wyn’s yelling and arm-peddling—had failed. The moose shied away from the activity, heading in Wyn’s direction.

  Crap.

  Heart pounding, she managed to jump into her vehicle and yank the door closed behind her seconds before the moose charged past her toward the calf.

  The two big animals picked their way across the lawn and settled in to nibble Jenny’s pretty red-twig dogwoods.

  Crisis managed—or at least her part in it—she turned around and drove back to the street just as a pickup pulling a trailer with the Idaho Fish and Game logo came into view over the hill.

  She pushed the button to roll down her window and Moose did the same. Beside him sat a game warden she didn’t know. Moose beamed at her and she squirmed, wishing she had shut him down again instead of giving him unrealistic expectations.

  “It’s a cow and her calf,” she said, forcing her tone into a brisk, businesslike one and addressing both men in the vehicle. “They’re now on the south side of the house.”

  “Thanks for running recon for us,” Moose said.

  “Yeah. Pretty sure we managed to save the Ben & Jerry’s, so I guess my work here is done.”

  The warden grinned at her and she waved and pulled onto the road, leaving her window down for the sweet-smelling June breezes to float in.