Jack liked to fish as well as Hunter did. The gregarious Texan was a fellow who seemed to love just being alive. He was the exact opposite of Wolfe, a somber, solitary man, who seemed to carry the woes of the world on his shoulders. And then there was Matt, their movie-star-handsome buddy who had women swooning at his feet wherever they went. Hell, Risa and Rhea had been all over Matt, and the former Air Force Cowboy had been out of his league with the two nymphets. It had taken both of them working diligently to stay one step ahead of the twins and at the same time keep the girls out of their beds. If they'd been smart, they would have suggested Ellen, Dundee's CEO, take this job herself and enlist several female Dundee agents to help her.
Hunter chuckled. He hadn't been propositioned by a teenage girl since he'd been twenty-two and Perry Munroe's little sister had given him an eyeful that summer he'd been home in Dearborn on leave from the army. Her outraged grandmother, who had believed Manda's tale that Hunter had come on to her, had forbidden Hunter to set foot in the Munroe house ever again. Of course, Mr. Munroe and Perry had known the truth and assured Hunter he was always welcome.
"Supper's ready," Jack called from the kitchen. "Come and get it while it's hot."
After opening the front door, Hunter repeated Jack's invitation to Wolfe, who had escaped outside over an hour earlier. Then he walked halfway up the stairs to holler at Matt. Hunter waited for Wolfe to enter from the front porch and for Matt to emerge from the upstairs bedroom, where he'd been playing games on his laptop computer. Once the two men joined him in the living room, he followed them straight to the kitchen table. They all laughed when they saw Jack in a large floral apron, apparently left there by the last people who'd rented the cabin.
"Hey, don't laugh at my stylish attire." Jack plopped lightly breaded and browned catfish on each of the four plates. "You guys would starve if it wasn't for my culinary talents."
"Don't think you're indispensable," Matt said. "There's a steak house less than ten miles from here."
The four men gathered around the wooden table in the kitchen and quickly delved into the catfish meal. Three of them ate, talked and laughed. Wolfe just ate. Hunter couldn't figure the guy out, couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was about the man that bothered him. He had to be an okay kind of guy or he wouldn't be working for the Dundee agency. Sam Dundee, the agency's owner, had personally hired Wolfe. And no one was hired without a thorough background check. But Wolfe's former life was a mystery—to everyone at the agency, even the CEO, who usually did the hiring.
"So, are y'all interested in watching the Braves on TV tonight?" Matt asked.
"I thought we had satellite TV here," Jack said. "I wouldn't mind checking out the Playboy channel."
"Is that all you ever think about?" Hunter smiled. "If you don't slow down, Jackie boy, you're going to burn out before you're forty."
"That gives me two more years to burn the candle at both ends." Jack downed the last drops of coffee from the earthenware mug, then got up to pour himself another cup. "Anybody else want more coffee?"
"Only if you baked us an apple pie for dessert," Matt said.
The good-natured comradery between Hunter, Matt and Jack continued throughout the evening as they shared a couple of six-packs. Wolfe watched part of the Braves game with them, then excused himself to take a long walk. He returned after dark, said good-night and went upstairs to the bedroom he shared with Matt.
"What do you think it is?" Matt asked.
"Huh?" Jack stared quizzically at his buddy.
Matt nodded toward the stairs. "Wolfe. What do you think his story is? Why is he such a mystery man?"
"Who knows?" Jack shrugged.
"Whatever's going on with him, past or present, is none of our business," Hunter told them. "The guy obviously has some demons chasing him, but if he wanted us to know, he'd tell us."
"What about you Whitelaw—you got any demons on your tail?" Matt asked.
Hunter chuckled. "Sure. We all do, don't we? But it's not something any of us talk about, so why should Wolfe?"
Jack stood, stretched and then glanced at his companions. "I think I'm going to go take a dip in the river. I sort of have a date to meet up with the gals staying in the cabin down the road. Either of you want to join us?"
"How many gals did you meet?" Matt asked.
"Two," Jack replied. "A brunette and a redhead."
"I'll go." Matt stood. "You don't mind, do you, Hunter? I know you have a thing for blondes, so—"
Motioning a get-out-of-here wave, Hunter said, "Go on. I think I'll grab another beer and then read for a while."
He did just as he'd said. Got himself another beer, kicked back on the sofa and opened Tom Clancy's latest bestseller. But for some reason, he couldn't concentrate. The words on the page seemed to blur together. Hell, maybe he needed to have his eyesight checked. He was nearly forty. Bifocals were probably a part of his immediate future.
Forty in six months. Where had all the years gone? And just what did he have to show for his life? One marriage gone bad, ending in divorce ten years ago. No children. Not even a damn dog to call his own. However, he did have a job he liked and a fat bank account, and that wasn't bad for a poor Georgia boy who'd grown up on his grandparents' farm. From the age of sixteen when he'd first become friends with fellow Dearborn High football player Perry Munroe, Hunter had known that someday he wanted to be part of the privileged world in which the Munroes lived. A fine house on North Pine Street
. A sleek sports car. Entree to the country club and the best homes in Georgia. But most of all he wanted a woman from that world, a lady who possessed a pedigree back to Adam.
Eventually, he had acquired everything he'd ever wanted. As a member of the top secret Delta Force, he had lived a life of excitement and danger. With some shrewd investments, he had acquired enough money to buy that big house and the sports car. And he had married Selina Lewis, a Virginia debutante. His wife had been a spoiled heiress to whom marriage vows meant nothing. Her affair with one of his Delta Force comrades had ended their three years of trying to make their mismatched union work. In the end, he had admitted to himself that no amount of education, money or polishing could completely erase the redneck Georgia boy from his personality.
The phone rang. Hunter eyed the source of the insistent ringing, wondering who would be calling any of them during their weekend getaway. No one from the agency would dare disturb them, not after Jack had given boss-lady Ellen fair warning that they weren't to be disturbed.
In no hurry, Hunter rose languidly from the sofa and made his way across the room to the wall telephone near the staircase. He lifted the receiver and said, "Whitelaw, here. This had damn well better be important."
"Hunter, this is Perry Munroe. And this is damn important."
"Perry, how did you know where to find me?"
"I contacted the Dundee agency and told them it was a family emergency."
"I don't have any family left since Granny's death two years ago, so it must be your family emergency and not mine."
"Look, old buddy, I have a huge favor to ask of you."
"Name it." Although he and Perry hadn't seen each other in a couple of years, Hunter still considered the man one of his best friends. And if for no other reason than the good times they'd shared in the past, he would always be there for Perry, if and when his old pal ever needed him.
"I have a job offer for you," Perry said. "A bodyguard job."
"You need a bodyguard?"
"Not me."
"Your wife?"
"No, not Gwen."
"Then who?"
"Manda."
"You want to hire me as Manda's bodyguard?"
"Sort of," Perry said. "Actually, there's more to the job than just acting as her bodyguard."
"Exactly what do you want me to do?" Hunter asked.
"I want you to marry my sister."
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
Manda had no choi
ce but to attend tonight's gala celebration. After all, how would it look to Dearborn society if she didn't show up for her sister-in-law's birthday party? Throughout high school and college, she had loved parties and had given her share of them. But that had been yen ago. Before Rodney died. Before Mike was murdered. She could barely remember the person she'd been before tragedy had struck her life. Everything had been fun once. Lighthearted enjoyment. Boyfriends and parties and laughter. Manda realized that she would have been forced to grow up, sooner or later, and take on adult responsibilities. She had thought those duties would include being a wife and a mother. But the fulfillment of those long-ago dreams was as out of reach for her as grasping a distant star and holding it in the palm of her hand. As unlikely to come true as her teenage fantasy of Hunter Whitelaw loving her the way she had loved him.
"The birthday girl is beaming, isn't she?" Chris Austin came up beside Manda and slipped his arm around her waist. "Just looking at her, no one would believe she's forty."
Manda smiled at Chris, Rodney's younger brother, with whom she had tried to remain friends for Rodney's mother's sake. Chris was Claire Austin's only child now, and she doted on him, despite the fact that he disappointed her on a regular basis. Although physically similar to Rodney, with the same golden hair, hazel eyes and lanky build, Chris didn't possess the brilliance or charm that had been such an integral part of his older brother. She supposed having grown up in the shadow of an overachiever had given Chris an excuse to do absolutely nothing with his life.
"Gwen is lovely," Manda agreed. "And she doesn't look a day over thirty."
"Living the good life doesn't put wrinkles on a face, does it?"
When Chris pulled Manda closer to his side, she glared at him. Chris had been making passes at her for years, and for years, she'd been giving him the brush-off. After all this time, it had almost become a game with them. He advanced; she retreated.
"What say we ditch this boring society gig and head over to the Blues Club for some real fun," Chris said.
Manda disengaged herself from his annoying hold. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not tonight. Not ever. Go find yourself another playmate, while I go speak to my sister-in-law and wish her a happy birthday."
With a little-boy pout on his face, Chris released her. "How long are you going to fight it, honey? You know Mother would love to see us get together."
Manda laughed. "Claire would think I'd lost my mind if I even gave you the time of day. Your mother knows, better than anyone, what a womanizing rascal you are."
"If you'd be mine, I'd—"
Grady Alder, who was Perry's law partner, came up behind Chris, clamped his hand down on Chris's shoulder and said, "Austin, why the hell don't you leave Manda alone? She's been telling you no for ten years, hasn't she?"
Chris tensed and frowned, but when he glanced over his shoulder at Grady, he grinned broadly. "It seems I have several years on you, then, don't I, Grady? She's only been turning you down for how long now? Three or four years?"
Grady instantly released his hold on Chris and glowered at the younger man. "I think I heard your mother calling you. You'd better see what she wants or she might tighten the purse strings, and then where would you be?"
Chris smirked at Grady, then smiled at Manda. "I don't blame you for refusing to date this jerk."
"Will you two stop," Manda said. "There are dozens of other women here for both of you to pester, so why don't you leave me alone?"
"How does it feel, Alder, being lumped together with me?" Chris asked, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. "Both of us rejected suitors."
Manda wished both men would go away and leave her alone. She tolerated Chris for Claire's sake, because she adored Rodney's mother. And although she genuinely like Grady, she had just about reached her limit of tolerance with him, too. The man had been persistently pursuing her since his divorce several years ago.
"Sorry, Manda, sugar." Grady epitomized the old-fashioned Southern gentleman, and she knew Grams would approve of him as a husband for her. He's our kind, Grams had once told her.
In her peripheral vision, Manda caught a glimpse of Dr. Boyd Gipson heading in her direction. Another suitable beau. Great, she thought, that's all she needed—one more man vying for her attention. After Boyd's bout with food poisoning, she had politely refused to see him socially, but he, too, had difficulty accepting her refusals. He had called her almost every day. Please, Lord, help me escape, Manda prayed silently. But with the wall at her back, flanked closely on each side by Grady and Chris, and with Boyd closing in on her, she was trapped.
"Manda, honey, you look gorgeous tonight," Boyd said as he joined her other two admirers. "Would you care to dance?"
"Hey, I was here first," Chris said like the spoiled child he was, despite the fact he was thirty-two years old.
"Austin, I believe Manda had already told you to get lost, hadn't she?" Grady said.
"Remember, that request was for you as well as me," Chris reminded his rival.
Manda put her hands on her hips, huffed and glanced from one man to another, taking in all three. "If I promise a dance to each of you, will y'all stop making spectacles of yourselves and of me?"
"Sorry, sugar," Grady said again.
"Honey, I apologize if I've embarrassed you," Boyd said.
"So, who's going to get you first?" Chris asked.
She wanted to scream, Leave me alone! These men were fools. Didn't they understand that she was a dangerous woman? Any man who cared for her risked his life in doing so. Her affection was as deadly as that of a black widow spider's.
* * *
Hunter entered the house where he'd spent some happy days as a teenager. The last time he'd been in this house was eleven years ago, for a wedding reception, when Perry had married Gwen Richman and he had served as Perry's best man. And that had been the last time he'd seen Manda, who had been one of Gwen's bridesmaids. Although she'd been breathtakingly beautiful, he'd sensed the sadness in Perry's little sister and had known taking part in the wedding had been difficult for her. It had been a little over a year since she had lost her fiancé in a car crash, only days before their wedding.
Making his way through the laughing, chatting congregation of Dearborn's elite, Hunter searched the crowd for Perry, but the person who caught his eye was Perry's sister. Manda stood across the room from him, a strained smile on her face as three men formed a crescent around her, all of them talking at the same time and directing their conversation at her. Some things never changed. Now, as in the past, Manda Munroe was surrounded by admirers, each hoping she would grant him the privilege of a dance, a date or any small crumbs of attention. Who could blame these poor fools? Manda was more beautiful now than she'd ever been. So beautiful that she could easily take a man's breath away.
However, Hunter noticed that she did nothing to accentuate that beauty. The exact opposite was true. She wore her long blond hair restrained in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, had applied only a minimum of makeup and dressed conservatively in a simple black sheath. But looks like hers couldn't be disguised. She possessed a to-die-for body and a face like an angel. Just looking at her was enough to give any man a hard-on.
And this was the woman Perry wanted him to marry!
Perry had given him a brief rundown of the problem, telling him that he'd fill him in on the details once he arrived in Dearborn. But the gist of the situation was that Manda was convinced that any man she became emotionally involved with was destined to die. Apparently her bevy of suitors was either unaware of the danger or each was so enamored that he didn't care.
As he came nearer, he realized that the men were actually arguing over who was going to dance with Manda first. God help them. Didn't they know a damn thing about this woman? He hadn't seen her in eleven years, but he figured some things about Manda hadn't changed since she'd been the bane of his existence when she was a kid. With a strong-willed, stubborn woman like Manda, you didn't beg. She respected strength and decisiveness �
� and always wanted what she couldn't have.
He dove through the partygoers like Moses parting the Red Sea, and headed straight for the most popular woman at Gwen Munroe's birthday party.
* * *
Manda saw him, then blinked her eyes and looked again. She hadn't been imagining it. It was him. Hunter Whitelaw. Big, bold and towering over the other men in the room from his six-foot-four height. His shoulders were so broad, his arms so huge that she assumed the tuxedo he wore had been tailor-made for him. Except for a few lines around his eyes and mouth and just a hint of gray in his military-short hair, he had changed very little in the past eleven years. He was now, as he'd been then, totally, absolutely, devastatingly male.
She'd had the most gosh-awful crush on him when she'd been a teenager and had thrown herself at him more than once. But he had always rebuffed her—and wisely so, since he'd been a grown man and she only a sixteen-year-old girl. Of course, that last silly prank she'd pulled by the pool had curtailed Hunter's visits. Like a spoiled child, which she had most certainly been, she had lied to Grams and insisted that Hunter had made sexual advances. Although her father and Perry hadn't believed her, Grams had. Finally months later she had confessed her lie, but by then the damage had been done and Hunter seldom came to the house after that.
Suddenly she realized that Hunter was coming straight toward her, his gaze riveted to hers. An unbidden and uncontrollable fluttering began in the pit of her stomach, and the closer he came, the wilder the sensations inside her grew. She hadn't felt this crazy feminine yearning since the last time she'd seen Hunter. His presence always created the same idiotic havoc on her nerves. Even with Rodney, whom she'd loved with all her heart, the sexual stirrings had never been so strong. It was as if she related to Hunter on a purely physical level. Woman to man.
She stood there watching his approach, her gaze remaining locked with his as he cut a path between Grady and Boyd to reach her. Both men stepped back, mouths slightly agape, eyes widened in surprise, as they gazed up at the big man. Chris actually jumped back.
WHITELAW'S WEDDING Page 2
