His Stolen Bride. Barbara Dunlop
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of the corner of his eye, Jackson saw two white limos pull up to the curb. The groomsmen spotted them, too, and they turned to head up the wide staircase to the cathedral entrance, their voices and laughter fading with the distance.
So, Vern was cheating on Crista. It was a coldhearted and idiotic move, but it was none of Jackson’s business. Maybe she knew and accepted it. Or maybe she wasn’t as smart as everyone seemed to think, and she was oblivious. Or maybe—and this was a real possibility—she was only marrying the guy for his money and didn’t care about his fidelity one way or the other.
The limo doors opened and a group of pretty bridesmaids spilled out of one. The driver of the other vehicle quickly hopped to the back door, helping the bride step onto the sidewalk.
Crista straightened and rose in the bright sunshine, looking absolutely stunning. Her auburn hair was swept up in braids, thick at the nape of her neck, wispy and delicate around her beautiful face. Her shoulders were bare and looked creamy smooth. The white dress was tight across her breasts and her waist, showing off an amazing figure. The lace and beading on the full skirt glittered with every little movement.
Jackson didn’t normally fantasize about brides. But if he had, they’d look exactly like her. His annoyance at Vern redoubled. What was the man’s problem? If Jackson had someone like Crista in his bed, he’d never so much as look at another woman.
The bridesmaids giggled and clustered around her while the drivers returned to their cars to move them from the busy street.
“This is it,” said one bridesmaid, fussing with Crista’s bouquet and taking a critical look at her face and hairdo.
“I’m okay?” Crista asked.
“You’re perfect.”
Crista drew in a deep breath.
The women started for the staircase that led to the cathedral’s big front doors. Jackson’s first instinct was to step forward and offer his arm, but he held back.
Crista spotted him. She looked puzzled at first, as if she was struggling to recognize him. Their gazes locked, and he felt a shot to his solar plexus.
Her eyes were green as a South Pacific sea and just as deep, flickering in the sunshine. She looked honest. She looked honorable. In that split second, he knew her father’s words had been true. She wouldn’t put up with a cheating husband, which meant she didn’t know about Vern and Gracie.
Jackson wanted to shout at her to stop, to get out of here. She might not know it, but she was making a mistake. Deep down in his gut, he knew she was making a terrible mistake.
Maybe he should tell her the truth about Vern, just call out, right here, right now. Then at least she’d know what she was getting herself into. He told himself to do it. He owed Vern absolutely nothing. He formed the words inside his head, opened his mouth and was ready to blurt it out.
But then a bridesmaid whispered to Crista. She laughed, and her gaze broke from Jackson’s, releasing him from the spell.
The women moved up the staircase, and the moment was lost.
He shook himself. It was time for him to leave. There was nothing more he could do here, nothing he could do for Trent except hope the man was wrong. The Gerhards seemed like a singularly distasteful family, and if they really were after her diamond mine, she had herself some trouble. But it wasn’t Jackson’s trouble to borrow. He’d done as he’d promised, and he’d found nothing concrete, nothing that said the Gerhards were nefarious criminals.
The bridesmaids filed in through the doorway, chattering among themselves. Crista hung back, touching each of her earrings, fingering her necklace then grasping her large bouquet in both hands and tipping up her chin.
Then, unexpectedly, she twisted her head to look back again. He felt that same rush of emotion tighten his chest cavity. He knew with an instant certainty that she deserved better than Vern. It might be none of his business, but surely she wouldn’t tolerate a husband who’d sneak off and sleep with a string of mistresses.
The heavy door swung shut behind the bridesmaids.
Just he and Crista were left outside.
Jackson glanced around and confirmed that for these short seconds, they were alone.
Before his brain could form a thought, his feet were moving. He was striding toward her.
Her green eyes went wide, and she drew her head back in obvious surprise.
“Crista Corday?” he asked.
“Are you a friend of Vern’s?” Her sexy voice seemed to strum along his nervous system.
“Not for long,” he said. He scooped her into his arms and began walking.
“What?” she squeaked, one of her hands pushing on his shoulder, the other gripping the big bouquet.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He lengthened his stride to the sidewalk.
“You’re not...what are you doing?”
“There are things you don’t know about Vern.”
“Put me down!” She started to squirm, glancing frantically around.
“I will,” he promised, speeding up his pace. “In a moment.”
He reached out and opened the driver’s door of his SUV. He shoved her across to the passenger side. Before she had a chance to react, he jumped in behind her, cranked the engine and gunned the accelerator, peeling away from the curb, narrowly missing a taxi, which responded with a long blast from its horn.
“You can’t do this,” Crista cried, twisting her neck to look back at the church.
“I only want to talk.”
“I’m getting married.”
“After you hear me out if you still want to get married, I’ll take you back to him.”
And, he would. Trent was a criminal. He could easily be lying about the Gerhards for reasons of his own. So, if Crista was okay with infidelity, Jackson would return her to Vern. It would go against every instinct inside him, but he’d do it.
“Take me back now,” Crista shouted at the stranger who seemed to be abducting her. Her mind raced to make some sense out of the situation.
“As soon as you hear me out.” His jaw was tight, his eyes straight ahead, his hands firm on the wheel as they gathered speed.
“Who are you?” She struggled not to panic.
She’d always considered herself a smart, sensible, capable woman. But in this scenario she had no idea what to do.
“Jackson Rush. I’m an investigator.”
“Investigating what?” She struggled to stay calm. What was he doing? Why had he taken her?
Then she saw a red light coming up. He’d have to stop for it. When he did, she’d jump from the vehicle. She quickly glanced at the passenger door to locate the handle.
She’d open the door, jump out and run to... She scanned the businesses along the section of the street. The Greek restaurant might be closed. The apartment building doors would be locked. But the drug store. That would be open, and it would be crowded. Surely one of the clerks would lend a bride a phone.
She realized she was still holding onto her bouquet, and she let it slip from her hand to the floor. She didn’t need it slowing her down. Vern’s mother would flip. Then again, Vern’s mother, along with everyone else, was probably flipping already. Had anyone seen this man, Jackson, take her?
She surreptitiously slanted a glance his way. He was maybe thirty. He looked tough and determined, maybe a little world-weary.