The Best Bride

by Susan Mallery

  He leaned his head back and groaned. Mandy was going to be upset that he’d left before her game had started. There was no way he could explain to the little girl that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. It had been too hard to stand there staring at Elizabeth and knowing he could never be a part of her life. Just seeing her had been difficult. How was he supposed to get through the torture of being her friend?

  Friends. He swore. She might as well just shoot him in the back and get it over with.

  He heard a car engine and straightened. A red station wagon barreled around the curve behind him and zoomed past onto the straightaway. Travis checked his radar and raised his eyebrows. Someone was going somewhere in a hurry.

  He pulled out onto the highway and hit the gas. His patrol car was gaining, but slowly. He flipped on his blue light and accelerated, then frowned when he realized the driver in the red car was going faster than he’d thought. He stared ahead, but all he could see was the person wore a baseball cap. At last the driver glanced in the rearview mirror, saw him and turned off onto the shoulder of the road.

  Travis parked behind the car and collected his ticket book and Stetson. He stepped out and walked over to the car. The window was already rolled down.

  “You were going pretty fast there.” He flipped open his ticket book, then glanced up at the driver. And about dropped his pen. “Elizabeth?”

  “Hi.” She jerked off the baseball cap and her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. “I wondered if you’d see me.”

  “You were hard to miss, especially when you hit the straightaway doing eighty.” He glanced at the unfamiliar car and frowned. “Why are you driving this?”

  “That’s not important.” She opened the car door and got out. “I was speeding. Are you going to give me a ticket?”

  He frowned. What kind of game was she playing? There was an odd flickering in her eyes, some suppressed emotion. Her mouth quivered, but he couldn’t tell if she was upset or trying not to smile. None of this made sense.

  “You were over the speed limit,” he said.

  “I know. Ask me for my story.”

  “What?”

  “Travis.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Isn’t it a tradition here in Glenwood? If I tell you a story you haven’t heard before, don’t you have to let me go?”

  He shoved the ticket book and pen into his back pocket, then folded his arms over his chest. He could feel his heart thumping. That damn hope flared to life again. This time he let it burn hot and bright. This time he dared to believe. But he wasn’t going to ask. She was going to have to tell him.

  “What’s the story?” he asked cautiously, wondering if she was about to say something he wanted to hear, or if she would deliver the death blow.

  The odd flickering in her beautiful brown eyes turned into something he could have sworn was caring. Her mouth curved up in a smile. When she leaned forward and placed her hands on his chest, it was all he could do not to pull her close.

  “I love you,” she said, then touched her lips to his.

  Fire exploded through him. His mind echoed with the wonder of her words. He grabbed her arms and held her away from him. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, Travis, I’ve been a fool. I was wrong to judge you by Sam’s actions, and wrong to let the past destroy my future.” She shook her head. “Our future. I could have lost you forever.”

  “Elizabeth.” He breathed her name. “You would never have lost me. I have nowhere else to go. No one else to love.”

  “I love you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against his chest. He kissed her once, softly, savoring the reality of knowing they were at last together. Then he angled his head and thrust his tongue into her mouth. They met in a conflagration of sensation. When they came up for air, they were both breathing heavily.

  “Does this mean I don’t get a ticket?” she asked, and smiled.

  He grinned in return. “It’s a story I haven’t heard before, so I guess not.”

  “Good. I would have been a little cranky on our wedding day if you had given me a ticket.”

  He stared at her.

  Her smile faltered. “You do want to marry me, don’t you? I mean I assumed that was the next logical step.” She bit her lower lip and blushed. “Oh, Travis, we don’t have to if you don’t—”

  He grabbed her hands and pulled them to his mouth. After kissing each palm, he stared into her eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth Abbott. Will you marry me?”

  A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Yes.”

  “We can get married when your parents are here if you’d like.” When he saw her confused frown, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Mandy told me. You’ll be a beautiful bride, darlin’.”

  He bent his head toward her mouth again. The kiss quickly heated them both. He was thinking about which of their houses was closer when a burst from a siren made them jump apart.

  Travis turned and glared at the patrol car rolling toward them. Kyle was driving, with a young girl bouncing at his side. When the car came to a stop, Mandy opened the front door and jumped out. Her smile about split her face in two and her blue eyes were shining.

  “Mommy, Mommy, Uncle Kyle says you and Travis are getting married, and we’re going to live happily ever after. Is that true?”

  Elizabeth laughed and pulled her daughter close. “Uncle Kyle has a big mouth, but yes, it’s true.”

  Kyle got out more slowly. “Sorry, Trav. I just thought the kid might want to know.”

  Travis pulled Elizabeth and Mandy into his embrace. “No problem, little brother. We are going to live happily ever after.”

  Mandy looked up at her mother. “Are you going to have a baby now?”

  Elizabeth glanced at him. He swallowed hard. “Maybe,” he said, not wanting to hope for too much.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly.

  The joy in his heart doubled.

  Kyle came forward and slapped him on the back. “Another Haynes son. You can name this one after me.”

  “Why a son?” Elizabeth asked.

  Travis touched her cheek. “There hasn’t been a daughter born to the family in four generations.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” Elizabeth looped her arm around his waist. “I just might surprise you all.”

  He held her close and felt the loving warmth of her body. “You already did, Elizabeth. You already did.” She had been, he knew then, the best surprise of all.

  * * * * *

  Part Two

  Chapter One

  Sandy Walker had come to Glenwood for old-fashioned family values and a place to raise her children. She hadn’t expected to find a tall, dark stranger riding a Harley up her driveway.

  She stood alone in front of her newly purchased house, right next to the two-year-old station wagon that had brought her and her three kids safely to the small town. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, she told herself as the man rode closer. She was…curious.

  He stopped the motorcycle about ten feet from her car, killed the engine and expertly nudged the kickstand in place. Then he stood, straddling the bike. They grow ’em big in Glenwood, she thought dryly, wondering if she should be concerned. The man was a good head taller than her own five feet seven inches.

  He reached up and removed his helmet. She’d half expected to see long hair spilling onto his shoulders, but instead he was clean-cut, with short, dark, wavy hair that would barely fall to the top of a dress-shirt collar. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes. He had a square jaw and a slight smile teasing his lips.

  “May I help you?” she asked formally, striving for her let’s-be-pleasant-but-I’m-a-little-busy tone.

  “That was my line, Sandy.” The teasing smile broadened. He had a nice mouth and white teeth. He could be in one of those toothpaste ads. He could—

  She took a step back. “You know my name?”

  He reached for the zipper on his jacket, then pulled it down in one long smooth motion. �
�It hasn’t been that long, Sandy. Have you forgotten that everyone here knows everyone’s business? Word’s been out since the day you bought the old Michaelson place. Welcome home.”

  The man spoke as if he knew her. She supposed he could have. She’d spent five years in Glenwood, from the time she was twelve until she left for college. She’d had lots of friends, although most of them had been female. Still, it wouldn’t have been difficult for this man to find out her name. The shiver of apprehension that slipped up her spine was the result of living in Los Angeles. People did things differently in Glenwood, she reminded herself. Neighbors were friendly, they cared about each other. That was why she’d moved back in the first place.

  He’d finished unzipping his jacket. Now he shrugged out of it and swung his right leg clear of the motorcycle. He folded the garment and laid it across the seat, then turned toward her.

  Sandy swallowed. Hard. It was a perfect summer afternoon, with the temperature creeping toward eighty. Bright sunlight flooded the front yard of her house, tall oak trees and a couple of pines cast long shadows on the driveway. She could smell flowers and freshly mowed grass. She could hear the chirping of birds and faint snatches of conversation from around back where her kids were exploring the property. It was all very ordinary.

  So there was no reason for her heart to start pounding in her chest, her palms to get sweaty or her mouth to drop open. She was a completely rational, thirty-two-year-old woman who had never made a fool of herself over a man. Not even when she’d been a teenager. She’d never swooned over rock stars or guys in the movies. She was far too sensible to dream for what she could never possibly have. She’d never once felt weak at the knees. Until this moment. Until a guy on a Harley took off his black leather jacket and exposed the most incredible body she’d ever seen.

  His red tank shirt emphasized the muscles in his arms and chest. He was tanned and broad, with the kind of strength that comes more from hard work than hours in a gym. Worn jeans closely fit the lower half of his body, outlining long legs and powerful thighs. Sunlight glinted off the silver tips of his cowboy boots. He looked like a male model. Better than that, he looked like a female fantasy come to life.

  Maybe there was a photo shoot somewhere in town and he’d gotten lost. But that didn’t explain how he knew her name. Or what he was doing walking purposefully toward her.

  She panicked and started backing up. “Who are you?” she demanded, clutching her car keys in her right hand and wondering if she should just make a run for it.

  The man stopped less than two feet in front of her. He reached up and pulled off his sunglasses. “You don’t remember?” he asked, obviously disappointed.

  Remember? He wasn’t the sort of man a woman would forget. Even one who didn’t consider herself the least bit romantic or given to feminine fancies.

  Her gaze focused on his. Thick lashes framed impossibly dark eyes. Lines fanned out toward his temples as if he spent a lot of time smiling. He was good-looking enough to melt butter in a snowstorm. And familiar.

  She blinked. The sense of horror started low in her belly and spread, like a rash. She’d been a widow for almost two years and in that time she’d never been tempted to look at a man twice. In all her life, she’d never been tempted to look at a man twice. Appearances weren’t that important to her. So why did she have to notice this particular man? Why now? Why him?

  “I saw that,” the man said. “You do remember me.”

  She blinked again. Lord have mercy. “Kyle Haynes,” she said softly.

  “Bingo.” Then before she could move or stop him, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Welcome back, Sandy Morgan. It’s been, what, fifteen years? You look terrific.”

  The brush of his lips against her skin forced all her nerve endings to go on alert. She hated that, so she chose to ignore the sensation. His low, sexy voice made her shiver, as if someone had run a feather across her skin.

  “It’s Sandy Walker,” she said firmly, holding out her hand.

  What was supposed to be an impersonal handshake turned into something much more when he took her hand in his. His palm was warm, his fingers long. She didn’t know whether to jerk her hand free or jump into his arms.

  He grinned. “Sensible Sandy. Walker, did you say? Is there a Mr. Walker?” He glanced around at the front yard, then bent over and stared at the interior of her car. All the while still holding on to her hand.

  Heat crept up her wrist to her forearm. Her skin began to tingle, while her heart continued its erratic dance inside her chest. She pulled free of his touch, then casually wiped her fingers against her white shorts. As if she could brush away the lingering sensation of warmth.

  “Mr. Walker was killed in a climbing accident two years ago,” she said abruptly. “I’m a widow.”

  Instantly, Kyle’s smile faded and his eyes darkened with concern. “I’m sorry.”

  He sounded as if he really meant it. “Thank you.” She paused, not sure what to say next. He was still standing close to her. Too close. She moved back a little more, until she bumped into the station wagon. “What are you doing here?”

  “In Glenwood or on your property?”

  He didn’t smile, but there was no missing the teasing glint in his eyes. Some things might have changed, apparently the Haynes brothers weren’t one of them. When she’d first arrived in town, all those years before, she’d been intrigued by the stories about the four brothers, their father and uncles. No female between the age of fourteen and seventy-five had been immune to the famous Haynes charm. Even Sandy had succumbed briefly, dating Jordan Haynes the summer she turned sixteen. It had been a short romance, not even lasting a month. In the end, she and Jordan had decided they made better friends than they did a couple. After that, she’d gotten to know each of the brothers, including Kyle, who was, if she remembered correctly, a couple of years younger than her.

  He’d grown up, she thought, eyeing his chest. He probably broke three hearts a day before lunchtime, just to stay in practice.

  “Why are you still in Glenwood?” she asked, going for the safer of his two questions. She wasn’t worried about giving in to the famous Haynes charm. A playboy bachelor was the last thing she needed in her life. Still, keeping her guard up was wise. Her body’s reaction to Kyle’s closeness told her she wasn’t quite as immune as she would like to be.

  “I work here,” he said. “I’m a deputy. My brother Travis is the sheriff.”

  “Like father, like son,” she said, remembering Kyle’s father had once been sheriff of the small town.

  Kyle’s dark eyes clouded, as if she’d brought up a painful memory. “Not exactly,” he said, then smiled slightly. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be teaching at Glenwood Junior College. Business English and Business Communications.”

  “How come my teachers never looked like you?”

  She wanted to put her hands on her hips and mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding,” but she resisted. Instead, she offered him a tight smile and wondered how long she was going to have to stand there listening to her hormones sighing in appreciation of his perfect male form.

  “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing in your driveway?” he asked.

  She would rather know what he was doing standing so close. It was getting difficult to breathe regularly. Damn it all, she thought crossly. She didn’t need this aggravation. She’d come to Glenwood to get away from her problems, not to create new ones.

  “You’re part of the local welcoming committee,” she said hopefully as a hideously awful thought occurred to her. It couldn’t be true, she told herself firmly. She wouldn’t let it be true. Fate wasn’t that unkind.

  She was wrong. Fate might not be unkind, but it had an interesting sense of humor. She knew it the moment Kyle turned and pointed back the way he’d come. She peeked around him. At the end of the long, tree-lined driveway was a small four-room gatehouse—a rental unit that she now owned. The real estate agent had told her the leasee was a
police officer. She closed her eyes briefly and prayed he hadn’t really meant a deputy.

  “I’m your tenant,” Kyle said.

  Sandy swallowed a groan. It didn’t matter, she told herself. It couldn’t matter. “You live there with your wife?” she asked, daring to have one last flash of hope.

  “Nope.” His grin broadened. “I’m not married.”

  She noticed something in his eyes as he held her gaze a second longer than was comfortable. A brief flicker of interest. Sandy folded her arms over her chest. Even as her heart continued to flutter in her chest, and her palms grew damp, she firmly squashed any romantic thoughts her foolish hormones might want to generate.

  Kyle wasn’t interested in her. She was sensible enough to know the truth about herself. She didn’t need to wear a paper bag over her head, but she’d never once stopped traffic. She was okay-looking, nothing more. Kyle was gorgeous. The kind of man who made a woman forget how to breathe. His not-so-subtle come-on was simply reflex. Not interest. She wasn’t his type. More important, he wasn’t hers.

  She nodded at him, then smiled impersonally. “It was very nice of you to welcome me back to Glenwood, but I don’t want to keep you from whatever you have planned.” She waved toward the motorcycle. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other from time to time.”

  He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he moved closer. “When the real estate agent told me you’d be arriving today, I made sure I was available. I figured you’d need some help getting the old place ready.”

  “I have everything under control. The furniture doesn’t arrive for several days. Between now and then, the children and I will be able to clean the house. I’ve made a list.” She nodded toward the front seat where she’d left her clipboard.

  Instead of glancing that way, Kyle stared at her intently. “Children?”

  Finally, Sandy felt she was gaining control of the conversation. Most single men lived in fear of a woman with children. If she couldn’t calm down her hormones, at least she could drive away the object of their desire. “Yes. Three of them. My daughter Lindsay is twelve, Blake is ten and little Nichole is eight.”