One Winter Wedding. Barbara Hannay
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He glanced back over his shoulder. Kelsey Wilson stood in the middle of the corridor, her brown eyes wide, her lips adorably parted in shock. She didn’t look anything like the other Wilsons, and curiosity stirred inside him. He couldn’t picture her at the elegant country-club settings the status-conscious family enjoyed any more than he’d imagined himself there.
A Wilson misfit, he thought, on the outside looking in. Their gazes locked, and the momentary connection rocked him. Shaking off the feeling, he circled back around and asked, “You coming?”
The flush of color on her cheeks nearly blotted out her freckles. “You don’t actually think you can come back here after ten years and expect to take up where you left off?You weren’t right for Emily back then, and you aren’t right for her now!”
As far as insults went, the words were pretty tame, especially coming from a Wilson. And it wasn’t as if he had any intention of taking up where he and Emily had left off. He’d made his share of mistakes, and some—like thinking he and Emily had a chance—didn’t bear repeating. Emily had been looking for someone to rescue her from the life her parents had planned for her, and he’d been young enough to think of himself as a hero.
Connor knew better now. He was nobody’s hero.
Still, Kelsey’s reminder stirred long-buried resentment. Worthless. Good for nothing. Troublemaker. Gordon Wilson had shouted them all when he’d discovered his younger daughter sneaking out to meet Connor. After being knocked around by his old man during his childhood, he knew a thing or two about male aggression and had arrogantly faced down the older man.
But Charlene Wilson’s clipped, controlled words had managed to pierce his cocky facade. “From the moment Emily was born, she has had nothing but the best,” Charlene told him with ice practically hanging from her words. “We have given her the world. What could you possibly give her?”
He’d tried to give her her freedom, the chance to live her life without bowing to her family’s expectations. If someone had given his mother that same chance, things would have been different, and maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive. But when Emily made her choice, she didn’t choose him. She took the easy way out—and in the end, so did he, Connor thought, guilt from the past and present mixing. But he wasn’t going to fail this time. He was here to help Emily, no matter what the redhead standing in front of him like a curvaceous barricade thought.
“Look, whoever you are,” he said, since she’d never explained her relationship to the Wilsons, “you didn’t know me then, and you don’t know me now. You don’t have a clue what I’m good for.”
He ducked his head and lowered his voice, not wanting to attract attention, but the words came out like a seductive challenge. He stood close enough to catch a hint of cinnamon coming from her skin. The color faded from her complexion, and her freckles stood out clearly enough to play a game of connect-the-dots. He shoved his hands into his pockets rather than give into the urge to trace a five-point star over one cheek. He tried to imagine Kelsey’s reaction if he touched her. Would she recoil in shock? Or would he see an answering awareness in her chocolate eyes?
Right now, sparks of annoyance lit her gaze. “I know all I need to know. You’re no good for Emily. You never were—What are you doing?” she demanded when Connor leaned around to look over her shoulder.
“Amazing. You can’t even see the strings.”
“What strings?”
“The ones Charlene Wilson uses to control you.”
“Aunt Charlene does not control me.”
Aunt Charlene, was it? He didn’t remember Emily talking about a cousin, but they hadn’t spent time discussing genealogy. “Funny, ’cause you sure sound like her.”
“That’s because we both want to protect Emily.”
Protecting Emily was exactly why he was there. Adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, he started toward the parking garage. “So do I.”
“Right.” Kelsey struggled to keep up with him, and Connor shortened his stride. “Who do you think you have to protect her from?”
“From Charlene. From you.” Before Kelsey could voice the protest he read in her stubborn expression, he added, “Mostly from Todd.”
“From Todd? That’s ridiculous. Todd loves Emily.”
Yeah, well, Connor had seen what a man could do to a woman in the name of love. Seen it and had been helpless to stop it from happening…Shoving the dark memories of his mother and Cara Mitchell aside, Connor said, “Todd’s not the golden boy the Wilsons think he is. The guy’s bad news.”
“How would you know?” Kelsey challenged as they stepped out the automatic doors and into the midday sunshine. Exhaust and honking horns rode the waves of heat. “My car’s this way.”
Connor followed Kelsey across the street to the short-term parking, where the fumes and noise faded slightly in the dimly lit garage. “I could tell from the second we met.”
She stopped so suddenly he almost crashed into her back. When she turned, he was close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest, and the inane thought that she would fit perfectly in his arms crossed his mind.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’ve never met Todd.”
“How do you know?”
“Be-because,” she sputtered. “Emily would have told me.”
Despite her words, Connor saw the doubt written in her furrowed brow as she walked over to a gray sedan. The car nearly blended into the concrete floor and pylons. Between her plain vehicle and sedate clothes, he had the feeling Kelsey Wilson was a woman who liked to fade into the background.
But he was trained to notice details. He’d bet the brilliant hair she kept coiled at the back of her neck was longer and wilder than it looked, and try as they might, the shapeless clothes did little to hide some amazing curves.
“If Emily tells you everything, then you know she and Dunworthy spent a weekend in San Diego a few weeks ago, right?” At Kelsey’s nod, Connor added, “Well, I drove there to meet them, and we had dinner.” Keeping his voice deceptively innocent, he asked, “Emily didn’t mention that?”
“Um, no,” Kelsey grudgingly confessed.
“I wonder why. Don’t you?” he pressed.
Not that there was much to tell, although he wasn’t about to admit that to Kelsey. When he left town, he never thought he’d see Emily again. But after hearing through the long-distance grapevine that she was getting married, calling to congratulate her seemed like a good way to put the past behind him. The last thing he expected was Emily’s invitation to have dinner with her and her fiancé while they were vacationing in California. But he’d agreed, thinking the meeting might ease his guilt. After all, if Emily had found Mr. Right, maybe that would finally justify his reasons for leaving Scottsdale.
But when Connor went to dinner with Emily, he didn’t see a woman who’d grown and matured and found her place in life. Instead, he saw in Emily’s eyes the same trapped look as when they’d first met—a look he could not, would not ignore.
Kelsey kept both hands on the wheel and her gaze focused on the road, but she was far too aware of Connor McClane to pay much attention to the buildings, billboards and exit signs speeding by. The air-conditioning blew his aftershave toward her heated face, a scent reminiscent of surf, sand and sea. His big body barely fit in the passenger seat. Twice now, his arm brushed against hers, sending her pulse racing, and she nearly swerved out of her lane.
She’d been right in thinking the man was dangerous, and not just to Emily’s future or her own peace of mind, but to passing motorists, as well.
“I can’t believe how much the city has grown. All these new freeways and houses.…” He leaned forward to study a sign.