Catch of the Day

by Whitney Lyles

  Would it be enough?

  The very walls around her seemed to wait for the answer to that question.

  Her mother and father had never loved each other, not really. They’d turned marriage into misery, not only for them but for Lissy, too. How many nights had she fallen asleep to the sound of her mother’s crying and her father’s shouting?

  That wasn’t the kind of marriage Lissy wanted.

  Be honest, Lissy. You didn’t decide to stop having sex until after the wedding for the sake of romance. You did it because some part of you doubts us—doubts me!

  The sharp edge of regret pressed in on her.

  Will was right. The bet had nothing to do with romance. It was about fear. Fear that somehow she wouldn’t be enough to keep Will for a lifetime. Fear that his love would wear away with time. Fear that she’d find herself bitter and old and alone.

  I’m not that kind of man!

  She heard the desperation in his voice, saw the plea in his eyes, and the weight of her regret doubled. She owed him an apology—for not trusting him, for not being willing to face the truth inside herself, for putting them both through two weeks of unmitigated horniness. She’d just turned toward the stairs, eager to return to the park, when she heard it: an explosion.

  She whirled toward the window, glimpsed smoke and the orange glow of fire.

  The fire was a few blocks west. Near their condo.

  She ran for the stairs.

  Will stood by the fire engine, his gaze on the burning condo, an anguished cry stuck in his throat where it had died along with the rest of him the moment he’d realized he wasn’t going to be able to reach her.

  Lissy, oh, God, Lissy!

  The fire had been hot, too damned hot. Though his mind and heart had been willing, his body had not. The heat had driven him back, even as he’d told his feet to move forward. The city utility crew had done the rest, tackling him, then dragging him off to a safe distance until the fire crews arrived.

  “You crazy son of a bitch! Tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

  “My fiancée is in there!” he’d shouted at them.

  “Not anymore, she ain’t.”

  Will might have beaten the man’s face in if his words hadn’t - driven the air from Will’s lungs, sapping him of everything but grief and regret.

  He wasn’t sure why he was still standing, how he managed to say “thank you” when a fireman handed him a plastic cup of water, why he didn’t simply collapse on the ground. He’d felt this bleak only once before—on the day his mother had died. No, that had been different. He’d had months to prepare himself, months to know in his mind, if not in his heart, that the woman who’d sacrificed everything out of love for him was dying.

  Nothing could have prepared him to lose Lissy.

  Lissy ran down the creek path, the sound of sirens echoing off the houses and apartment buildings around her. She could see her friends gathered at the edge of park, watching the fire. She knew before she reached them that the condo was gone.

  “Lissy!” She heard Holly shout, saw a sea of tear-streaked faces turn her way.

  Then she was surrounded, being hugged by one person after the next, until her mother pulled her close and wouldn’t let go.

  “I thought . . . I thought you . . .” Her mother wept softly against her shoulder, bringing tears to Lissy’s eyes. “Oh, God, Lissy!”

  They’d thought she’d gone to the condo, Lissy realized. They’d thought she’d been caught in the fire. They’d thought—

  It slammed into her with the force of a fist.

  “Where’s Will?”

  “Oh, no! No, no!” Her mother stepped back, pressed her hands to her face. “He went looking for you, Lissy. We all thought you’d gone home and . . .”

  “I-I went to the house. I . . .” Lissy looked toward the condo, saw flames rolling against the sky, saw the winking lights of fire trucks and police cars. “Will?”

  The ground seemed to roll beneath her feet. She felt strong arms encircle her waist, heard Reece’s voice in her ear. “Easy, Lissy. Come sit down.”

  “He can’t be dead.” She said it as Reece led her to a chair. She said it when Devon put his hand on her shoulder. She said it when Holly sat down beside her and took her hand.

  Then she saw a potbellied cop making his way toward them. “Are you the folks who reported the man and woman missing in the fire?”

  Reece stepped forward, gestured toward Lissy. “We found the woman, officer, but her fiancé is still missing. We’re afraid he was in the building.”

  The cop nodded, his expression grave, and reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

  Lissy only half-listened as the officer spoke to dispatch, her mind colliding against the terrible possibility that Will had been badly burned or perhaps even killed going after her. If only she had stayed. If only she had spoken with him earlier. If only . . .

  The cop was speaking to her. “They’d gotten a report of a gas leak before the explosion and had evacuated the building. While it’s possible he got past someone, the city people are telling me the building was empty when it blew.”

  Hope.

  Lissy stood, her pulse racing. She was about to ask the officer if he would please, please look for Will, when a call came over his radio.

  “Did you say female? Over.”

  “Roger that,” the cop answered.

  A tinny voice crackled over the speaker. “We’ve got a male here, approximate age thirty, named William Fraser, who says his fiancée was inside. Any chance of a match? Over.”

  The cop looked to Lissy for an answer, but relief had left her unable to speak. No matter. Her friends were already cheering. “Roger, we’ve got a match.”

  Lissy would have taken off running at that moment, had the cop not stopped her.

  “They’re bringing him around the block in a squad car. Stay put, ma’am.” Then he grinned. “I just love a goddamned happy ending.”

  Tears of joy streaming down her face, Lissy hurried to the edge of the park, watched and waited. And then she saw it: a black-and-white squad car, lights flashing, slowly rounding the corner. The car hadn’t yet stopped when the passenger door flew open and Will leapt out.

  She ran.

  And then his arms were around her, lifting her off her feet, his lips kissing her hair, her cheeks, her lips, as she held him close, sobbing out her fear and happiness against his chest.

  Will couldn’t let go of her. She was the most precious thing he’d ever held, and he just couldn’t let go. “My God, Lissy, I was sure I’d lost you!”

  “Th-they told me you went in after me. I thought . . . Oh, God, Will, I’m so sorry! It’s my fault! It’s my fault!”

  “No, sugar, I’m sorry. I should have—” But he didn’t get the chance to say more because the small crowd of their friends engulfed them.

  Devon drew them both to his chest in an awkward bear hug. “Next time you scare the shit out of us like that I’m going to kick both your asses.”

  Will endured as many handshakes, weepy kisses on the cheek and hugs as he could stand. Then Lissy’s mother appeared before him, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

  “You went after my daughter, Will Fraser. I saw you run toward the fire. There aren’t many men who would do that.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, her chin wobbling just like Lissy’s did when she was on the brink of tears. “I just want you to know . . . how much that means to me.”

  Then she turned and walked away.

  Will looked down at Lissy, saw the utter surprise on her face, and wanted desperately to be alone with her. He thanked everyone and told them as politely as he could that he and Lissy were leaving. Now.

  “Let me just get my purse.” Lissy hurried toward the tent.

  Will grabbed Devon by the arm. “I want you to go back to the tux rental place and switch the cummerbunds.”

  Devon lifted his mirrored shades, his brown eyes filled with amusement. “Let me guess—pink.”

>   “Mauve. It’s what my lady wants.”

  “You got it, man.”

  Will managed to persuade the cop to drive them to their house. It took only a minute, Will sitting in the back with Lissy, holding her tightly, lost in the miracle of being beside her. They thanked the officer, and Will handed him a ten, which he refused.

  “Hey, how often do I get to carry a bride and a groom in my unit?”

  They found the door unlocked and left ajar.

  “I guess I was in a hurry.”

  No sooner had he shut and locked the door behind them than they were on each other, kissing, their hands tearing at clothing, searching for soft skin. He yanked the straps of her dress down over her arms and ripped off her bra, hungrily cupping her breasts, while she tugged at his zipper and slipped her hand inside his boxers to stroke his erection.

  She arched her soft breasts deeper into his hands. “Now, Will! Oh, God, now!”

  He shoved her back against the door, pushed her dress up above her hips and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, kissed him as if she’d been starving for him and ground her hips against him.

  He reached down, moved the irritating cloth of her panties aside, and guided his cock into her. “Jesus Christ, Lissy!”

  She was already wet, and she closed around him like a fist. He thrust into her with a desperation he’d never felt before. Two weeks of wanting her. Two weeks of needing her. Long, hellish minutes of thinking her gone.

  Already he was careening toward the edge, his balls drawing tight, his groin heavy and hot. He reached between them, sought between her slick folds for her perky little clitoris and stroked it. In a heartbeat, her breathing was ragged, her cries frantic. Her nails dug almost painfully into his shoulders, and her legs clamped around him like a vise.

  Faster, harder. She felt so damned good. Slick. Tight. Pure heaven.

  He felt her back arch, as the tension inside her peaked and shattered. Her breath caught, she cried his name. “Will!”

  He pounded into her with his cock, overcome by the fierceness of his need for her, lost in the hot rush of orgasm.

  For a moment, they stayed as they were, Will holding her up against the door, his cock still pulsing inside her, her body still contracting around him, wet and warm like molten honey. Then taking her full weight in his arms, he turned them so his back was against the door and sank to the floor so that Lissy straddled his lap.

  Lissy couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes. To be here like this with him when she’d thought him hurt or worse . . .

  “I love you, Will Fraser. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel I don’t trust—”

  He pressed his fingers against her lips. “Shhh! It’s okay. You don’t have to explain, Lissy. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

  For a while, neither of them said anything, their mingled breathing, the feel of skin against skin, the joining of their bodies more than enough.

  It was Will who broke the silence. “When my mother died, I felt so completely alone. The one person I’d known all my life was gone. But today, when I saw the condo blow and thought you were in the middle of it . . . Christ, Lissy, it nearly killed me! I never want to—”

  “—feel that way again. I know.” She’d felt the same blinding horror.

  Lissy lifted her head from his chest, brushed her lips against his, slipped her tongue between his lips to taste him. Then she pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a sexy smile, and he returned the favor by removing her dress, his hands returning to palm her breasts. Then he frowned.

  “I guess I lost the bet. I’m the one who started this.”

  “I’m the one who asked for it.” She lifted her hips, let him slide her panties down her thighs, then giggled as they awkwardly pulled them first off one leg and then the other. “I’m the one who should pay the price.”

  “We could just forget the bet.” He tossed her panties aside, lifted his ass off the floor to slide his jeans down his legs, and threw them over with the rest of their clothing.

  She straddled him again, ran her fingers through his hair, then pressed his mouth against a hot and aching nipple. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

  He licked her, tugged her puckered bud with his lips, sucked. Heat speared through her, made her shiver.

  “Do you realize that everything we own except for what’s in this house is burned to a cinder?” For some reason, the thought made her laugh.

  His fingers searched between her thighs, slipped inside her. “The only thing that matters to me is in my arms.”

  Lissy descended the stairs toward the lobby of the Tabor Mansion, Holly and Tessa in front of her, Kara and Sophie behind her, fussing with her train. From inside the main ballroom came the sweet strains of Bach’s Air on a G String, played by a string quartet. When it ended, she would enter the room, and the quartet would begin to play Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. And then she would become Will’s wife.

  Her mother waited for her at the foot of the stairs dressed in beaded lavender silk, her eyes puffy. Her gaze traveled over Lissy’s gown, her finely penciled brows lifting slightly. “You look lovely, Melisande. Truly lovely—a beautiful bride.”

  “Thanks, Mother.” Lissy shifted her bouquet of lily of the valley to one hand and gave her mother a hug.

  “I just wanted to say I might have been wrong about Will. I hope with all my heart I was.” Her chin quivered, and Lissy knew she was on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better mother to you. Maybe I’ll be a decent grandmother.”

  Then, without giving Lissy a chance to respond, her mother motioned to the usher, took his arm and entered the ballroom with the bearing of a queen.

  Lissy stood there for a moment, too stunned to speak.

  “Don’t you even think about crying, Lissy!” Holly smoothed her gown. “They haven’t invented a mascara yet that’s foolproof against tears.”

  Lissy smiled, looked into her friends’ eyes. “Thank you so much for everything.”

  “You look truly beautiful.” Sophie looked like she might cry.

  “Sophie, don’t!” Tessa plucked at the strap of the Badgley Mischka. “What made you change your mind about the gown?”

  Lissy took a deep breath, tried to put it into words. “When I thought I’d lost Will, a lot of things went through my mind. I realized that nothing really matters but having him with me. If it makes him happy to see me in this gown, then I’ll wear it. It’s such an easy way to please him. This is his wedding, too, you know.”

  Kara smiled at her. The only married woman in the group, she understood—Lissy could see it in her eyes. “He’s going to flip.”

  The song was drawing to its close. The bridesmaids got into line.

  Holly hazarded a peek through the door, her face lighting up with a smile. “Oh, wait till you see, Lissy!”

  The music ended, and for a moment there was silence, punctuated by a cough and the sound of a baby’s babble.

  “Sorry!” Kara whispered. “Caitlyn’s a chatterbox today.”

  But Lissy didn’t even hear, her mind on Will.

  The lilting sound of a violin floated through the air, the beauty of the music making Lissy’s throat tight. Ahead of her Kara walked through the door with graceful steps. Sophie went next, turning to share one last smile with Lissy.

  Then Tessa turned and stared at Lissy as if seeing her for the first time. “Good God almighty, Lissy, you’re getting married!”

  Lissy smiled, and the tightness in her throat became a lump. “I guess I am.”

  Tessa turned and walked down the aisle.

  “Oh, hell! I think I’m going to be the one to lose it!” Holly dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips, then turned and started after Tessa.

  Clutching her bouquet to keep her hands from trembling, Lissy counted to ten, drawing deep, steadying breaths, and then stepped into the doorway.

  T
here at the end of the aisle stood Will dressed in charcoal gray Armani—and a mauve cummerbund.

  She stared at him in amazement, the sweetness of his gesture making her heart constrict, leaving her only vaguely aware that the crowd had stood and was waiting for her. She smiled at him, took one slow step after the next and felt his astonishment when he realized what she was wearing. His gaze slid over her like a ray of golden sunshine.

  Then his gaze met hers, and his lips moved silently. “I love you.”

  And in that moment, any lingering doubts Lissy might have had melted away, leaving nothing but hope and joy and love.

  So Caught Up in You

  BEVERLY BRANDT

  PROLOGUE

  “I’ve heard some interesting rumors about your sister’s wedding planner.”

  Tasha O’Shaunessey grimaced as the heels of her pointy-toed black pumps sank into the lush lawn outside the Naples Country Club. She had no idea why Celie couldn’t have had her engagement party inside—away from the heat and the West Nile Virus-carrying mosquitoes here in South Florida—but she had no intention of voicing her complaints. It wasn’t every day her baby sister got engaged, so Tasha kept her concerns about heatstroke and disease to herself as she turned to the woman standing next to her and smiled.

  “Pardon me?” she asked, taking a sip of champagne.

  “Your sister’s wedding planner. Quinn Hayes. I’ve heard some troubling things about him.” Lillian Bryson, a trim woman who looked to be in her mid- to late fifties, frowned slightly as she focused her gaze on Tasha’s little sister and her fiancé, Cal Jones.

  “Like what?” Tasha asked, only half-listening as she studied the woman beside her. From what Celie had told her, Lillian had been instrumental in getting Cal to propose. Her company, Rules of Engagement, was some sort of marriage preparatory academy—a business that taught women (and a handful of men) how to play the relationship game to win that all-important “I Do.” When Celie had enrolled, five years after she and Cal had first started dating, Tasha had been concerned that her sister was allowing desperation to cloud her judgment. But after hunting down more than three dozen of Lillian’s former clients—all of whom were satisfied with the services they’d received from Rules of Engagement, and 60 percent of whom had since been joined together in matrimonial bliss—Tasha had concluded that maybe Lillian Bryson was on to something.