The Best Man's Plan (Special Edition)

by Gina Wilkins

  He stopped directly in front of her. “I do not consider you to be a convenient substitute for Chloe,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “Don’t you?”

  “You know damned well I don’t. You’re using that as an excuse because you’re afraid to say what you really want.”

  “What I want is for you to leave. Now,” she added, pointing toward the door.

  He ignored her gesture. “I can’t believe you would imply that I would ask you to marry me just because Chloe chose Donovan. Do you really think I’m that shallow and…and idiotic?”

  He was so mad he was shaking, she realized in amazement. As much as they had been through the past few months, she had never seen him reduced to stammering. “I don’t think you’re shallow and idiotic. I think you’ve just gotten carried away. Everything’s been so hectic and Donovan is so happy with Chloe—”

  Bryan held up a hand. “You are right about one thing,” he cut in. “We need some time to calm down and get our tempers back under control. I’m going to leave now. I want you to do some hard thinking about the time you and I have spent together. And I want you to remember that I have never confused you with Chloe.”

  “Just go,” she whispered, horrified at the possibility that she might cry in front of him. “Please.”

  “I’ll go. But I will be back.”

  It sounded more like a threat than a promise. Expecting him to walk out then, she was caught by surprise when he stopped in front of her, leaned down and planted a hard kiss on her slightly parted lips. “I will be back,” he said again, staring into her eyes for a moment.

  And then he was gone, leaving Grace alone.

  She missed her sister, she thought, sinking to the floor with her face in her hands. She missed all the dreams she had once had. Most of all, she missed Bryan.

  As badly as she hurt now, she knew she had done the right thing to send him away. Not even for Bryan could she pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She wouldn’t repeat the mistake she had made with Kirk, trying to change herself to fit the image he had of the ideal woman. And unless she changed, she would never fit into Bryan’s high-profile, socially conscious world. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and she wanted no part of it.

  She was sure once Bryan had time to think about how different she was from the woman he had hoped to marry, he would agree that she’d been right to send him away.

  But, oh, it hurt—as nothing had ever hurt her before.

  Bryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so damned angry. He was known for having a coldly dangerous temper, soft-spoken and effective. Only Grace could push him into yelling.

  He tried to spend some time working at home that afternoon, but found himself unable to concentrate. Instead he paced, muttering to himself as he did so. He still couldn’t believe Grace had accused him of using her as a substitute for Chloe. He knew she was scared and uncertain about their relationship, but that had been a low blow.

  If he thought she truly believed it, he’d really be upset.

  “Um…boss?” Jason looked up from a folder containing a report of Wallace Childers’s capture at the Texas border. “Are you sure you want to discuss this today? You seem a little…agitated.”

  Bryan whirled to face his security chief. “Am I arrogant? A control freak?”

  Jason looked bemused by the questions. “Just how do you want me to answer?”

  “Honestly.”

  Clearing his throat, his subordinate drawled, “Well…if by control freak you mean someone who’s sort of obsessed with having everything just the way you want it, someone who likes all his ducks in a row and doesn’t leave anything to chance, then yeah, I guess you’re a bit of a control freak.”

  “And arrogant?”

  Jason shifted in his chair. “Well…maybe just a tad. Not in a bad way, of course.”

  “And do you also consider me an idiot?” Bryan demanded.

  Jason looked intrigued. “Grace called you an idiot? You must have really hacked her off.”

  “She didn’t actually call me an idiot. She just implied that I am one. Can you believe she accused me of thinking she was interchangeable with her sister? She implied that I’m interested in her now only because Chloe married Donovan.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “No, damn it!”

  Jason tilted his head to one side, obviously intrigued by seeing his employer and friend so agitated. “No, I see that you aren’t.”

  “What kind of man do you people think I am?” Bryan ranted, throwing up his arms as he spun to pace again.

  “I take it Grace broke up with you?”

  Bryan didn’t usually unload his personal problems on his employees, or even his friends, with the exception of Donovan. But Donovan wasn’t here, and Bryan needed someone to talk to. “I asked her to marry me.”

  “Did you?” Jason didn’t look particularly surprised.

  “She turned me down. She accused me of swapping her for her sister. And she called me an arrogant control freak.”

  Jason smiled a little. “She does have a temper, that one.”

  “Yes, she does. Entirely unlike Chloe, who is very slow to anger. Other than their appearance, they’re almost nothing alike. I certainly didn’t propose to Grace because she reminds me of her sister.”

  “Then why did you propose to her?” Jason asked mildly.

  That took him aback. Stopping in his tracks, Bryan shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jason laced his hands behind his head. “Yep. Why did you ask her to marry you?”

  “For the usual reasons, of course. I enjoy being with her. I admire and respect her. I think we’ve very compatible.”

  “She fits the list you made up?”

  “This has nothing to do with any list,” Bryan growled. “This has to do with Grace, and the way I feel about her.”

  “And how do you feel about her?” Jason asked patiently.

  “I’m in love with her,” Bryan snapped. And then he repeated it more slowly as the words sank in. “I’m in love with her.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  Grimacing, Bryan shook his head. “No.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I just told her I wanted to marry her. And that it had nothing to do with Chloe.”

  “And you expected her to accept that without question. Even though you made the newspapers less than two years ago for being engaged to that bathing-suit model. And only a few months ago you were talking to Chloe about getting married. Hell, I can’t imagine why Grace thought she was just next in line for a proposal, can you?”

  Bryan groaned. “You’re fired, Colby.”

  Jason chuckled, not without sympathy. “For answering you honestly?”

  “For making me realize that I have, indeed, been an idiot.”

  “I wouldn’t say you’ve been an idiot. A little misdirected when it comes to romance, maybe, but how many men do you know who aren’t clueless when it comes to that sort of thing? I’m divorced, myself, you know. And it wasn’t so long ago that Donovan was swearing he wasn’t ever going to get married, and now he’s off on his honeymoon. So we are capable of changing—with the right incentive.”

  Bryan sighed. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s going to make you crawl.”

  Nodding in resignation, Bryan turned toward the door. “I’ve got to do some thinking. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, sure. Um—you want me to keep going through this report, or should I be looking for another job?”

  “Go through the file. You’re hired again—until the next time you show me up for the fool I am.”

  “Nice to have job security,” Jason grumbled sarcastically, but Bryan didn’t pause to respond.

  He had to come up with a whole new plan.

  The roses arrived at the shop on Monday. Two dozen of them. They were a vivid yellow, tinged with fuchsia edges, t
he most unusual roses Grace had seen in a long while.

  Nearly hidden by the enormous bouquet, Justin carried them into her office. “Are these delicious, or what?” he demanded, looking rather enviously at the blooms. “They must have cost a fortune. That man sure has a thing for you, Grace.”

  Because Justin was one of the few people who knew the truth about why Bryan and Grace had been dating, she made a face at him. “He’ll get over it,” she muttered, watching as he set the vase carefully on Chloe’s empty desk. “Just like he did all the others.”

  “Mmm. I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve been watching the two of you.”

  “Go tend to our customers, Justin.”

  He grinned impertinently and flipped her the envelope that had been tucked among the roses. “Chicken,” he murmured as he left the office.

  Grace felt decidedly cowardly as she held the small envelope in her hands, working up the courage to open it. When she finally did, she frowned as she read the words.

  Chloe prefers pastel roses. These are much more suited to your tastes. Bryan.

  He was right, of course. Chloe would have found these colorful roses a bit gaudy. Grace adored them. So what was Bryan trying to prove? That he knew what sort of flowers she liked, just because he’d twice given her roses that she found beautiful?

  Hardly a basis for marriage, she thought with a sniff, annoyed with him all over again.

  But they really were beautiful, she thought, unable to resist leaning over just to inhale their fragrance.

  On Tuesday he sent her a two-pound box of dark chocolates. And she suspected that he was well aware that Chloe didn’t like dark chocolates. Chloe preferred milk chocolate, because she thought the dark kind was too rich. As far as Grace was concerned, the darker the better when it came to chocolate.

  So Bryan knew her tastes in flowers and candy, she thought, glowering at the beautiful gold box of sweets. So he noticed things like that. Was she supposed to be impressed?

  The gift she received Wednesday was harder to brush off.

  She carried the wrapped package to her office to open it away from her employees’ avidly curious eyes. What would it be this time? Jewels? If so, she was sending them back immediately, she decided with a scowl. Surely Bryan was aware that she couldn’t be bought.

  Lifting the lid of the small box she had unwrapped, she frowned and lifted out a beautifully carved wooden box. Not just a box, she realized, turning it over. A music box. She wound it up, then opened the lid. Two intricately detailed plastic figures inside began to twirl to the tinkling notes of “Misty.”

  It was one of the first songs they had danced to together, she remembered. She had almost forgotten. It stunned her that Bryan remembered.

  She closed the lid abruptly, stopping the music in mid-note. And then she picked up her phone and dialed his number without having to look it up.

  “This has to stop,” she said when he answered, not bothering to identify herself. “No more gifts.”

  “You haven’t liked them?”

  “That isn’t the point, and you know it. It’s over, Bryan.”

  His reply was a silky, “Not by a long shot, darling.”

  She hung up on him.

  She wasn’t at all sure what she had accomplished with that terse phone call, but something told her it hadn’t been what she’d hoped. Just hearing Bryan’s voice again had renewed the dull ache that hadn’t completely gone away since she’d all but thrown him out of her apartment last Sunday. And it had been clear from his tone that he had no intention of quietly giving up and going away.

  She groaned and buried her face in her hands. Just what had she gotten herself into when she’d agreed to that crazy plan of his? And how was she going to get out of it without having her heart shattered in the process? Or was it already too late for that?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace didn’t bother trying to hide her actions as she left her apartment Friday evening, her car keys in her hand. Now that Wallace Childers had been captured and she and Bryan weren’t seeing each other, she doubted that he was having her watched as obsessively as he had been before the wedding.

  She hadn’t seen him since last Sunday. Nor had she received any more gifts from him since she’d called him Wednesday. Maybe he’d finally gotten the message. And maybe she would survive if she never saw him again, but there were times—particularly in the middle of the long, lonely nights—when she doubted it.

  She couldn’t stand another quiet, solitary evening in her apartment, which was now haunted by his presence, especially in her bedroom. So, she had changed into an off-the-shoulder red sleeveless top and a short black skirt with chunky black sandals, tousled her hair, applied smoky makeup and sparkling jewelry, and headed for the door. There was one place she could always go when she felt trapped or depressed, and she knew she would be welcomed there with open arms and no particular expectations.

  It was exactly what she needed tonight.

  She parked between two pickup trucks outside a rustic looking establishment on the outskirts of Little Rock. Being a late summer evening, it was still light at nearly 8:00 p.m., but even in the dark she didn’t worry about entering this place alone. She spent a lot of time here, and knew she always had an escort if she wanted one. This was where she had come when she’d needed a temporary escape from the stress of pretending to be involved with Bryan, when she’d twice managed to elude his security guards for a few precious hours to herself. Several other patrons were in the parking lot, a few leaving, most just arriving. She nodded to the ones she knew and a few that she didn’t. It was that sort of place—impersonally friendly.

  Inside, the lights were bright and the noise earsplitting. The décor was a cheerfully chaotic mixture of western and primitive—wooden floors, numerous wall-mounted shelves holding pottery, antique tools and dishes, and a clutter of other curiosa, mirrors framed in ox yokes and barbed wire. Patrons sat on stools at the long bar at the back of the room or at the many tables and booths scattered in the big, open dining space. At the far side of the room was a small stage where a band performed a loud mix of rock oldies and contemporary country hits. Through a big arched opening another room was visible, that one filled with pool tables and pinball machines.

  The place was packed on this Friday night, as it usually was on weekends. The clientele here was rowdy, blue collar and proud of it. Grace felt right at home.

  Curvaceous young women in tight T-shirts and tighter jeans moved among the tables carrying trays and taking orders. One of them spotted Grace and grinned broadly, her bleached-white hair shining almost blindingly in the overhead lighting. “Hey, Sassy,” she called out. “You want a beer?”

  “Sure.” Grace moved toward the bar, where she smiled at the burly bartender. “Hey, Joe.”

  “Hey there, beautiful. Glad you could make it tonight. You gonna sing for us?”

  “I might. First I want to play some pool.”

  Joe nodded knowingly. “Stump’s back there. You bet he’ll take you on.”

  She smiled and accepted a mug from him. “Thanks. Run a tab for me. I’ll go find Stump.”

  “It ain’t like he’s easy to miss,” Joe called after her, laughing heartily at his own wit.

  Stump was definitely hard to miss, Grace mused as she entered the game room where a six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound former linebacker loomed beside a pool table, a cue stick in one ham-sized hand. He wore a faded, camouflage-patterned T-shirt that had shrunk a couple of sizes in the wash, and a pair of jeans that dipped low enough to reveal a bit too much when he leaned over the table to make his shot.

  Grace didn’t bother to modestly look away. She’d seen that particular view on more than one occasion. She waited until he’d completed his shot, winning the game, before she spoke. “Hey, Stump.”

  Having gloated at his soundly defeated opponent, Stump turned with a broad grin splitting his ruddy face. “Hey, Sassy. Ain’t you pretty tonight?”

  She lifted her face for hi
s smacking kiss. “Thanks, Stump.”

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” He searched her face with eyes that were much more perceptive than his appearance might have implied. “You okay?”

  Her lower lip quivered just a little before she could stop it. “I guess you could say I’m suffering from a broken heart tonight. I need some pool, some music, some beer and some friendship to console myself.”

  She tried to speak lightly, to downplay her pain, but she must not have done a very good job. Stump’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who’s the jerk that hurt you, Sassy? It ain’t that wannabe cowboy again, is it?”

  She shook her head. “No, I got over Kirk a long time ago. This was someone else. Another foolish mistake on my part.”

  “Me and Paul will go have a little chat with the jerk, won’t we, Paul?”

  The skeletally thin cowboy who had just been soundly defeated at pool nodded enthusiastically. “We can take him.”

  Grace smiled and shook her head. “Never mind. How about a game, instead?”

  Taking her hint to drop the subject, Stump shook his head. “You got your heart broken and now you want me to stomp on your pride?”

  She reached for Paul’s pool cue. “We’ll just see whose pride gets stomped, won’t we?”

  Stump slapped his friend on the back hard enough to rattle Paul’s prominent bones. “Rack ’em up, pard. I gotta give this sassy little lady a lesson in humility.”

  Rolling her eyes in response to the over-the-top drawl, Grace picked up a square of cue chalk and prepared to forget her troubles for just a few hours.

  She hadn’t realized that trouble had followed close on her heels.

  Bryan looked around curiously as he entered the restaurant/bar he’d been directed to by the bodyguard who had been assigned to discreetly follow Grace that evening. Funny. As well as Bryan knew Little Rock, he’d never even known this place was here.

  A busty brunette greeted him with a flirty smile. “Well, hello. I haven’t seen you here before.”

  Bryan gave her one of the smiles that rarely failed to achieve the results he wanted. “I haven’t been here before. Looks like a fun place.”