The Best Man's Plan. Gina Wilkins
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“I’m aware that her association with me has caused problems for Chloe,” he acknowledged stiffly. “That’s why I wanted to take some of the pressure off her by leading the gossips away. Since she and I only dated a short time before the press found out about her—so briefly and discreetly that they were never quite sure which Pennington twin I was courting—this seemed like the ideal scheme. Now that Chloe’s engaged to Donovan and you and I are acting like an established couple, the gossips are beginning to wonder if they had it wrong at the start. If Chloe and Donovan met and fell in love because you and I were already seeing each other, rather than the other way around.”
“I hope that’s what they believe, anyway,” Grace muttered, thinking that all this trouble would be wasted if they hadn’t fooled anyone.
“Several are already beginning to speculate in print that the natural confusion that results when two best friends date identical twins is what led to Chloe and Donovan being kidnapped. They believe Wallace Childers had them snatched because he thought I would pay any amount of money to ensure the safety of my best friend and my fiancée.”
“Which was pretty much what he was thinking. He underestimated you, of course, as well as Donovan. He didn’t realize that Donovan would escape so quickly with Chloe, or that you had so many resources at your fingertips to track down the identity of the kidnappers.”
“I learned a long time ago that having a lot of money means being targeted occasionally by people who want to help themselves to some of it. That’s why I’ve made security such a priority in my organization.”
“I’m well aware of that,” she muttered, thinking of the discreet, but ever-present bodyguards who had shadowed her so frequently during the past few weeks.
“Cheer up. The wedding’s only a month away. After that, we can cut back on the number of public appearances, and eventually stop them altogether. We’ll simply imply that we’ve drifted apart—though we will, of course, decide to remain friends, since we’ll be seeing each other often through Donovan and Chloe.”
“Once we’ve ended this ridiculous playacting, there’s no reason at all we shouldn’t be friendly with each other.”
“No reason at all,” he parroted gravely.
She’d amused him again. She supposed she should be used to it by now.
She pushed herself off the chair. “It’s getting late. We’d better get some sleep.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Following her lead, he removed his feet from the table and stood. He carried his empty glass to the wet bar, stopping to take hers on the way. “I’ll just put these in the sink….”
She had just reached her bedroom doorway when Bryan made an odd sound behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then grimaced when she saw his expression. She knew immediately what must have happened. “You’ve stepped on a piece of glass, haven’t you?”
He lifted his right foot, leaving a smear of bright red on the cream-colored carpet. “I’m afraid so.”
Bryan half expected Grace to chew him out for being careless enough to step on a piece of glass. Instead she hurried toward him, a frown of concern on her face. “Let me see.”
“It’s no big deal. Just a small…”
She already had her hands on him, pushing him toward one of the two tall wooden stools that flanked the bar. “Let me see.”
A bit surprised by her vehemence, he sat and allowed her to bend over his foot. He couldn’t help inhaling rather sharply when she gingerly touched the sharp wedge of glass sticking out of the wound.
Her frown deepening, she pulled her hand back. “I have a small first-aid kit in my room. Sit still and I’ll get it.”
“I’m sure I can—”
Pointing a finger in his face, she said, “Do not move.”
He settled more comfortably on the stool. “Yes, ma’am.”
She wasn’t gone long. Returning with a small plastic box, she opened it and laid it on the bar. He could see that it held a thermometer, single dose packs of pain reliever, fever reducer and antibacterial cream, alcohol pads, tweezers, a small pair of scissors and adhesive bandages in assorted sizes. “You seem to be well equipped for emergencies.”
She had already taken his foot in her hands again. “I like to be prepared. This will probably sting when I remove the glass.”
“I can take it.” Braced for her touch this time, he didn’t even flinch when she eased the glass from his foot. He was somewhat surprised by the gentleness of her touch. Based on his past experiences with her, he might have expected her to be a bit rougher with him. Even when she cleaned the bleeding wound with an alcohol pad, she took such care that he hardly noticed the unavoidable burning. “You’re quite good at this.”
Reaching for the medicated cream and bandages, she sounded distracted when she answered. “I have some experience. My former fiancé was into rodeo. Fancied himself a cowboy. I was always patching him up after…”
She stopped in midsentence, as if she’d caught herself saying something inappropriate. When she spoke again, it was a brusque, “There. That should keep you from bleeding all over this pretty rug. The cut wasn’t very deep. I don’t think it will give you any problems.”
He waited until she had turned to close the first-aid kit before asking very casually, “Fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé.” She closed the plastic box with a snap. “And, no, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fine.”
“Fine. Can you walk on that foot?”
He stood, paying little attention to the twinge of discomfort. His concentration was focused, instead, on Grace’s flustered expression. “No problem. You’ve patched me up quite nicely.”
“Yes, well, don’t expect me to make a habit of it. I just felt bad because I was the one who broke the glass.”
He nodded, amused by her gruffly self-conscious tone. Grace was cute when she was embarrassed, though he knew better than to say so aloud. A remark like that could earn him a few more injuries—intentional on her part next time. But it seemed he liked to live dangerously. “I don’t suppose you’d like to kiss and make it better?”
She lifted an eyebrow and gave him a cool once-over. “Did you just suggest that I kiss your foot?”
He chuckled. “Darling, you can kiss any part of me you’d like.”
Keeping her chin high, she seemed to make an effort to reply nonchalantly. “Save it for the tabloids, Falcon.”
He was grinning again when she closed her bedroom door behind her with suspicious speed.
Cute, he thought. Grace Pennington was definitely cute. Even if she was very likely to drop-kick him if he told her so.
“High profile” was definitely the term to describe the lunch Bryan treated Grace to just after noon on Saturday. He’d selected a trendy restaurant known for hosting celebrities who wanted to be seen while pretending to be incognito. The owner/chef hosted his own television program and was almost as famous as the majority of his patrons. The most successful gossip columnists had their own regular tables where they could eavesdrop in undisturbed silence.
Bryan played to his audience shamelessly, treating Grace to such solicitous attention that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started spouting sonnets. He kept an arm around her as he escorted her to their cozy little table, sat very close to her, rarely looked away from her. She tried to play her part as convincingly, looking back at him with what she hoped would be perceived as an adoring gaze, but mostly she just felt self-conscious and silly.
“You’re doing fine,” Bryan murmured at one point during the