The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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wasn’t sure how many songs they danced to, but it wasn’t enough. Even though her dancing skills were minimal, she did fine simply following his lead. On the slower, more romantic songs, she rested her head against his chest and listened to his heart beat.
He’d told her, after one of their many lovemaking sessions, that his heart beat only for her. Those words could have come from her mouth. Even though she’d been convinced that she’d loved him for years, the past few weeks had made her realize that what she’d felt before had been simple infatuation.
It was different now. She’d spent time with him and had gotten to know the man he’d become. It was that man—not the boy of her youth—who she loved. A man she would always love.
“You and no other,” she murmured against his shirtfront.
“What did you say?” Ryan leaned down and nuzzled her hair.
Betsy looked up, her mouth going dry at the passion in his eyes. “I, uh, the medallion is still missing.”
“The love token?”
She nodded.
“It will show up.”
“I’ve looked everywhere. I even checked Puffy’s bedding.”
Ryan’s lips curved upward in an indulgent smile. “I’m betting the puffball didn’t appreciate your messing with her stuff.”
Even though Ryan acted as if he couldn’t be bothered with the tiny scrap of a dog, she’d caught him feeding the Pomeranian bits of table food when she wasn’t looking. Lately, Puffy had become his little shadow. He always acted put out, but Betsy could see a bond being forged between them.
Yes, Betsy decided, life was indeed good. She expelled a happy breath.
The announcement that dinner was about to be served caused Betsy to reluctantly lift her head from Ryan’s chest. “I suppose we better find a table.”
He shot her a wink. “Only if we want to eat.”
“Betsy. Ryan,” Cole called out, motioning them toward a table near the raised dais.
“We saved a place for you.” His wife, Meg, smiled a warm welcome. Her gold dress was a perfect foil for her ivory complexion and auburn hair.
As Ryan pulled out her chair, Betsy returned greetings from the other couples at the table—Mary Karen and Travis Fisher, David and July Wahl, and Kate and Joel Dennes.
While they ate, conversation bounced around the table, comfortable and familiar. Even when Betsy spilled cocktail sauce on her dress, she felt more chagrined than embarrassed.
She pushed back her chair. “I’m going to run to the restroom to see if I can get this out.”
“I’ll go with you.” Kate put down her fork and started to rise.
Betsy waved her back down. “Finish eating. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The restroom was deserted except for the attendant, who gave Betsy a washcloth when she pointed to the stain, and two women refreshing their makeup in front of a long row of ornate beveled mirrors. Betsy didn’t recognize either of them.
While she worked on the spot, Betsy tried to tune out their private conversation, until she heard the name Chad Dunlop.
“The charges were filed today.” The blonde in the sparkly blue dress didn’t even bother to keep her voice low. “I feel sorry for Chad. It’s obvious the woman is out to get him because he fired her.”
“I can’t believe such a respected attorney would rape anyone.” The brunette widened her eyes and added more mascara to her already-long lashes. “I don’t know him well, but I know his wife. They’re a nice family.”
“Prominent in the community.”
“Who is the woman?” The brunette dropped the mascara in her bag, then pulled out a tube of lip gloss. She added a swipe of clear shine to the red already on her lips.
Before answering, the blonde spritzed the air with perfume, then leaned into the falling mist. “Her name hasn’t been released, but I have it on good authority she recently worked for him as a legal assistant.”
A chill traveled up Betsy’s spine.
“If she’s the one I’m thinking of, she has several kids. Never married.” The blonde’s tone was heavy with condemnation. “He gave her a chance and this is how she repays him.”
“We better get back to the party.” The brunette pushed back her chair and stood. “Our dates are going to come searching for us.”
The two laughed and left the room.
Betsy gave up on the stain and sank into one of the chintz-covered chairs they’d just vacated. Her hands began to tremble and her head spun. She forced herself to breathe. In and out. Deep breaths.
“Are you okay, miss?” The gray-haired attendant stepped forward, her face lined with worry. “Shall I get someone?”
Betsy forced a smile. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a little light-headed.”
Concern lingered in the woman’s dark eyes. “May I get you a glass of water?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
The woman bustled off, and once the door closed behind her, Betsy rested her head in her hands, blinking back tears. He’d done it. Attacked another woman. Only this time Chad had succeeded in forcing himself on her.
It’s my fault.
If she’d had the guts to go to the police and report his assault on her, maybe Chad would have received the help he needed. Even worse, her lack of action probably perpetuated his belief that he was invincible.
But there was still time to do the right thing. She had to go to the police. Telling them what had happened to her couldn’t help but add credence to his current accuser’s story. But Betsy wasn’t stupid. She knew the cost of such action. Chad and his family would seek to discredit her and everyone around her.
Thankfully the only family she had was Keenan. And her brother’s reputation was already in the toilet.
Ryan.
A knife sliced into Betsy’s chest, making breathing difficult. She recalled the puzzling satisfaction in Chad’s eyes when he’d caught her in Ryan’s arms. What had Chad said? Something about Ryan succeeding where he’d failed?
That would be his argument if she went to the police and told her story. He would say that she’d been after him, but he’d rebuffed her. Now she was carrying on an affair with her current employer. Betsy could see it now. Not only would her name be dragged through the mud, but Ryan’s reputation would suffer, as well.
The gray-haired attendant returned, opening the door and pointing to Betsy. “There she is.”
Ryan crossed the small room in two strides, his face tight with worry. If he was embarrassed to be in a women’s restroom, it didn’t show.
Betsy turned disbelieving eyes on the woman. “You went and got him?” Her voice rose, then broke. “Why did you do that?”
Ryan crouched by her chair, his eyes dark with concern. “I was waiting outside the restroom for you and saw her coming with a glass of water. When I asked if she’d seen a woman matching your description, she told me you were ill.”
“I felt light-headed.” She drew in a deep breath. “I should go home.”
“Perhaps I should ask David to check you first. He’s an E.R. physician—”
“No,” Betsy said sharply, then softened the word with a slight smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing. If I feel worse tomorrow I’ll see a doctor.”
“I’ll get the car and our coats.” His gaze shifted to the