Have Husband, Need Honeymoon. Rita Herron
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and him alone.
Alison turned grave eyes to him and he fisted his hands by his sides. He wanted desperately to apologize for the way he’d treated her, to explain about the training exercises that had taken him away for months, the accident that had scarred him for life, his uncertain future, but that would mean explaining about his friend’s death and his part in it.
And he could never tell her or his family about that.
Of course, she’d gotten over him anyway, or she wouldn’t be seeing another man and considering marriage to him.
ALISON BIT DOWN ON her lower lip, furious with Vivica for deserting her. Although Vivica didn’t know the entire story about the wedding and annulment, she did know Alison had written Brady daily. And that he’d broken her heart.
Why would she do this to her?
One of the ladies from church nudged her in passing, and Alison forced her thoughts back to Brady. He was standing ramrod straight, military style, his expression as hard and ungiving as the dry ground beneath her feet. So different from the friendly, easygoing way Thomas looked at her. And the hungry way Brady used to look at her.
The sooner she told him about their little problem the better.
“I…we need to go somewhere and talk.”
His dark brow raised slightly. “Now?”
She could have sworn his voice quivered. “If you have time. It’s…” She twisted her hands in her skirt. “It’s important.”
“Is there a problem already concerning Vivica’s wedding?”
“No.”
He studied her, his lips pressed into an unbending line. “Can’t you say what you have to say here on the street?”
Alison glanced around at the crowd. Oh, no, she didn’t think that would be a good idea. But she might as well ask for the annulment, because Brady certainly didn’t look as if he’d come to rekindle their relationship. “Let’s go to my shop. It’s closed today, so we can speak in private.”
Chapter Three
Brady winced, feeling awkward and absurdly large, as he stepped inside Alison’s frilly bridal shop. The lacy white fabrics and pictures of bridal gowns, invitations and other paraphernalia reminded him of his own wedding to Alison—and the simplicity of their ceremony.
But the vows had still been very real to him.
His hand once again pressed over the inside pocket to make certain her letters were still there, although he knew they were safely tucked within. He checked a hundred times a day. It had become a habit.
She turned to study him, her gaze resting on his injured leg. “Vivica didn’t tell me you’d been hurt.”
He shrugged. “I’m OK. I wanted to be here for Vivi’s wedding.”
Alison’s dark eyes searched his face. For a brief second, he allowed himself to imagine her touching him.
“So you’re a bridal consultant now?”
Alison smiled and glanced around the shop. “Yeah, go figure.”
“I always thought you’d wind up teaching swimming or maybe being a counselor.”
So he remembered she’d been on the swim team and that she played referee between Mimi and Hannah. “Yeah, well, things change, don’t they?”
He nodded. “Time does that to people.”
She looked away, stared at a gold chest in the corner that resembled a treasure chest, then bit down on her lip again.
“Why did you want to talk to me in private?” he asked.
Her eyes hardened for a moment, as if he should know the reason. And he did; he just couldn’t bring himself to apologize or explain why he had stopped writing.
“There’s something I have to show you.”
He watched hungrily as she glided across the room, the blue dress brushing her bare legs as she knelt and opened the chest. She drew out an envelope and stood, then gestured toward a seating area with a low-slung white sofa and a dark green wing chair. “I think you’d better sit down.”
What the hell did she have in the envelope? “I’m fine standing.” Besides, he’d need help getting up off that sofa, and he certainly didn’t want her helping him or feeling sorry for him.
“Really, Brady. I think this might come as a shock.”
He studied her for a long moment, then finally conceded and took the chair, knowing he’d be able to get out of it easier. It took him a minute to stretch out his leg, another to look up at her without revealing the pain the movement cost him.
She was watching him when he did, a lost, soulful look that reminded him of that night at the lake. The night she’d cried because he was saying goodbye.
“I think you’d better take a look at this.”
She handed him the envelope, and he breathed in the scent of lilacs, the same fragrance she’d worn four years ago. God, this was torture.
“I want you to know I received those papers only yesterday.”
He frowned and opened the envelope, his hand shaking when he pulled out the marriage certificate. Then he removed the next set of papers and studied the text, his hands tightening around the pages.
“It’s the annulment papers,” Alison said in a low voice. “My grandmother sent them to me in the mail with my hope chest.”
So that’s what the gold chest was. Didn’t women have hope chests when they were planning on getting married? The realization hit him full force. Alison was planning to marry Emerson. “I see.” His gaze rose to meet hers, his throat thick. “But there are some missing signatures, and the papers haven’t been processed. What’s going on?”
“Apparently Dad asked Grammy Rose to file them and she forgot.”
It took a nanosecond for him to realize the implications. When he did, he jerked his gaze to her. “Then…we’re…”
“That’s right, Brady. Technically, we’re still married.”
AND WE HAVE BEEN for the last four years.
Alison let the unspoken words stretch between them. Shock settled on Brady’s face, then his eyes mellowed. With memories of the night he’d proposed, the night their young love had propelled them into each other’s arms, into consummating their love by the lake, then into marriage.
Brady suddenly stood. The papers fluttered to the floor as he slowly reached out and touched her hair. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, his hungry gaze trapped her with its heat, and she moved toward him, cupped his face with her hands and melted into his arms.
He lowered his head, his breath ragged as he captured her lips and settled his mouth on top of hers, then delved inside with his tongue to taste her passion. The years fell away, the pain, the lonely nights and days, until Alison found herself clinging to his arms.
But she’d promised herself she would never cling or beg or force him to come back to her if he didn’t want her. And she hadn’t intended for the papers to do that.
She pulled away, slowly at first, then realized she had to distance herself or she might shatter and forget those promises she’d made to herself. As easily as he’d forgotten the ones he’d made to her.
“Alison… I—”
“No, don’t.” She turned and wrapped her arms around her waist, a nervous laugh bubbling inside when she saw the wedding picture of her and Brady. She’d been in her prom dress, so young, so in love, so naive….
“Alison, I’m sorry.”
The