Undercover Pursuit. Susan May Warren
Читать онлайн книгу.
way they looked at Bridgett—not even their parents—but she thought she’d become used to that.
Until Duncan did it.
Yes, she knew what it felt like to be an afterthought, to disappear. So maybe she’d even enjoy having a man as handsome as Luke on her arm, even if it wasn’t for real. Bridgett would be thrilled if Scarlett showed up on Luke’s arm, her smile tucked into place. And this weekend was all about Bridgett, right? Besides, she could enjoy pretending, as long as she knew it was just a game. She’d been a theater major, after all.
Thankfully, the charade didn’t have to start until tomorrow, according to the note her sister had left in her room inviting her to the dinner cruise, which she’d already missed. Scarlett left her a voice mail message in case her absence worried Bridgett.
She wouldn’t hold her breath.
She stood on the balcony of her cottage, watching the sea hit the reef, break into a thousand shimmering pieces and crash onto the rocks.
She knew how that felt, to shatter into so many pieces you couldn’t find them all. It happened the day Bridgett showed up on Duncan’s arm to the church singles group. And the day she told Scarlett that she “just might stick around Rochester.”
Duncan is a dentist! Scarlett wanted to scream as Bridgett climbed into her BMW, leaving her standing in the parking lot beside her rusty Sunbird. But Bridgett probably already knew that, because she introduced him to their Aunt Gretchen as Dr. Browne.
And then came the day when Bridgett moved off Scarlett’s sofa and found her own condo.
Just over six months later, she and Duncan announced their engagement.
A seagull cried, dipping into the ocean for a morsel.
Scarlett should probably breathe in these few moments of peace before Bridgett and her bridal party—the ones who the bride really wanted to attend—returned.
If she’d had Bridgett’s wedding dress in her possession, she might be tempted to simply hang it on her sister’s door and take the midnight ferry back to the mainland. Bridgett didn’t really want her anyway—just her organizational services. Scarlett replayed the voice mail in her mind. Scarlett, my new maid of honor broke her leg in Vail. She can’t attend the wedding. Is there any way you could fill in?
Her new maid of honor. Scarlett had been the old maid of honor—with the big mouth.
There is so much left to do—organize the bachelorette day and bring my dress and the maid-of-honor dress, not to mention work with the wedding planner at the resort. Besides, I’m sorry. Really, I want you there. Please come.
Really. Scarlett must have been some sort of chump to call her back for details, let alone say yes.
Sure, Bridgett, I’ll be glad to help. Let me just board my cat, take a leave of absence, drive to Minneapolis in a blizzard to pick up your dress and while I’m at it, maybe I can also plan your honeymoon—
Everyone just needs to calm down. Her own words. She breathed them in as she stood at her balcony in the warm air. She could get used to the ocean, so many shades of blue. On the ferry, she’d watched the mainland shrink, turning her gaze to the ocean floor as it slid by. The coral reefs, ledges and ripples seemed so close she wanted to dip her feet in. She’d pushed up her sleeves, letting her white skin see the sun for the first time in months.
She’d get a tan here, no matter what it took.
Sitting on the bed, she toed off her Uggs. The tile floor cooled her boiling feet. She probably needed a nap.
Or a shower.
She picked up the cute towel swan on her bed, holding it in her hand. She could get used to this place. Maybe she could find a job here—after all, after ten years of temping, she knew how to fit in, make things happen quickly.
A skill, apparently, that had netted her this fun-filled weekend.
And no matter what anyone else said, she wouldn’t call her reluctance to get a “real” job an inability to commit. She just liked change, that was all. And, well, she’d never found the one thing that she truly loved to do.
The shower cleaned from her the grime of the last sixteen hours. She found a blue sundress, one she’d worn maybe once and grabbed in a hurry, crumpled at the bottom of her carry-on. Maybe she could order room service. Or better, she’d venture out, under the glow of the stars, to the all-inclusive seafood dinner at the cabana. Then she’d park herself under one of those grass-covered umbrellas by the shore, under a tiki lamp, and lose herself in a book. Again.
She didn’t even want to think about what Luke, her overachieving plus-one, might be doing.
Off her balcony, twilight had just begun to darken the ocean to an inky blue. Unseen seagulls cried against the surf. The smell of the sea drifted inside.
A night made for romance. Of course, her novel was the only romance she could count on. Not that she really wanted romance, but wouldn’t it be nice if she could have a happily-ever-after? With a real-life hero, the kind she might find in her novel? Someone charming and strong, who saw her for the girl she wanted to be—if she could ever figure who that was?
The sultry air had clearly overheated her brain.
She put on a little makeup and was tying up her still-damp hair when she heard the knock.
Maybe Bridgett had returned and gotten her message.
As she opened the door her breath stopped, right there, caught in her chest.
So. Luke didn’t play fair.
He stood under the glow of her porch light, looking freshly showered, his burnished golden-brown hair still wet, clean shaven and wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white silk shirt open at the neck. And he even smelled good.
“What?” Oh, she had a nicer side, really. She softened her tone. “Sorry. I mean, can I help you?”
He grinned, as if she should be expecting him. “Hey. I know you probably thought we weren’t on for tonight, but I got a note from the bride. She wants us to meet her on the boat.”
“She does? I called and left her a message—the cruise already left.”
“I know, but I found us a ride out to the yacht.” He held out his arm. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me to dinner, Miss Scarlett?”
THREE
Scarlett sat in the back of the motorboat Luke had hired to take them out to sea, his words lingering like a song she couldn’t get out of her mind.
Would you be so kind as to accompany me to dinner, Miss Scarlett?
He’d turned on the charm, and for a second there, she’d just about let his voice go right to her head.
Yes, Luke. Thank you. Had she really taken his arm? She’d walked an entire ten feet before she came to her senses.
This wasn’t a date. She wasn’t living in her romance novel, having met a mysterious man at a destination wedding who would sweep her off her feet and into a new life.
Instead, this was the man her sister had finagled into wooing her for the weekend, a man who had no real interest in her. After three days her name would stir nothing more than indigestion, so she’d better keep that in the forefront of her brain.
A game. She was just playing a game.
Sometimes her ability to fling herself into her fantasies just made her want to roll her eyes.
She turned into the wind. Her hair lashed her cheeks in the salty air, and although she huddled in her ski jacket—she didn’t care that she looked like a frumpy Minnesotan—her bare legs had turned to blocks of ice. Her sister had better be happy to see her after all this.
Luke sat across from her, outlined by the moonlight as the boat motored through waves toward the sprinkling of yacht