Kiss the Bride (35 page)

And then he’d thrown up all over Honey’s shoes.

The next morning he’d joined AA and hadn’t had a drink since. Hadn’t even come close.

Until now.

Temptation coaxed.
Drink it. Everything’s changed. Honey’s not who you thought she was. Your marriage is a sham. Your daughter doesn’t trust you to keep her confidences. You’ve no real purpose. Come on. Slide back inside the bottle.

Hand trembling, he touched the rim of the shot glass to his lips. The smell of the whiskey was nauseating now.

He gulped, opened his mouth.

And set down the shot glass. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t cross that line, couldn’t throw away his hard-won recovery.

Just then, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, flipped it open, saw it was Honey calling.

He didn’t want to talk to her. Not when he was sitting so close to temptation.

But she wouldn’t stop ringing him. Not even when it forwarded to voice mail. She just hung up and called again. Four times, five, six.

What if it’s about Delaney?

He knew he had to answer. He pushed the talk button. “Yeah?” he said gruffly.

“Jim Bob,” Honey said, startling him by calling him by his nickname. In the whole thirty-four years of their marriage he couldn’t recall a time when she’d called him Jim Bob. The sound of her voice, desperate and scared, wrinkled his heart. “Please, you’ve got to come home right away. I just received the ransom note. My mother’s threatening to kill our daughter if we don’t pay her ten million dollars.”

W
hat do you mean my mother isn’t Honey Montgomery Cartwright?” Delaney blinked at Nick.

“We need to go someplace more private for this conversation,” he said. “It’s not the kind of thing you discuss sitting on the side of the road.”

She met his gaze. The serious look in his eyes scared her. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s probably going to rock your world.”

She considered the implications of that. “Let’s go to Galveston. Get away from the city. Sit on the beach and get rip-roaring drunk on umbrella drinks.”

They didn’t talk on the drive to the island. But Nick stretched his right arm out across the seat palm up, and Delaney rested her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers lightly, comfortingly. They held hands and watched Lalule dance and by the time they reached Galveston, Delaney was feeling somewhat better, even if anxiety over her mother’s identity was sitting squarely in the middle of her chest.

“Where to from here?” Nick asked. They couldn’t go to Lucia’s. The house was in escrow.

“I need someplace quiet where I can think.”

“I know just the place.”

He took her to a quaint little bed-and-breakfast close to the beach but a little out of the way of the usual tourist crowd. “I’ll get you a room for the night,” he said. “Until you can make up your mind what you want to do.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him.

The proprietor of the B&B, June Harmony, was a plump middle-aged lady with a mischievous smile and an unexpected mane of glorious auburn hair that curled halfway down her back. She immediately assumed they were married from the way they were dressed and showed them to the honeymoon suite. After the woman gave them the usual welcoming spiel and details about the B&B, she turned to Nick and asked, “Where’s your luggage? I’ll send my husband, Henry, to bring it up to you.”

“Luggage got lost,” Nick explained.

“Well then.” June winked. “I’ll just leave you two alone to settle in.”

“Why don’t you take a shower,” Nick said. “And try to relax while I head over to one of those souvenir shops on the seawall and pick us up shorts and T-shirts.”

It was as if he’d read her mind. “Thank you.”

He leaned over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. It was the sweetest kiss she’d ever gotten, but it upped her anxiety. If he was being so sweet, what he had to tell her must be bad indeed. “Be right back.”

Nick left and Delaney shed her bedraggled wedding dress. Just looking at it lying in a heap on the floor made her feel wistful in a way she’d never quite felt before. It was a sadness tinged with relief and regret, concern and longing. Part of her wanted to pick up the phone right now, call her mother, and tell her everything. But another part
of her, the rebellious part she’d hidden for years, needed to hear what Nick had to say before making any phone calls or drawing any conclusions.

She got out of the shower and wrapped herself in one of the thick terry-cloth robes provided by the B&B.
BRIDE
was embroidered across the pocket in maroon stitching. The matching robe said
GROOM
.

Pulling a comb through her wet hair, Delaney walked to the French doors leading to the balcony. She opened them up and a draft of sultry Gulf breeze blew back the thin white sheers. The sound of the water lured her out onto the little terrace barely large enough for two chairs and a bistro table.

On the bistro table sat two champagne flutes, a metal bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne. A note card propped against the bucket said: “To the Happy Couple, complimentary champagne to start your new life in style. Best wishes, June and Henry Harmony.”

For no good reason Delaney’s eyes misted and that sad, wistful feeling blocked up her chest again. She might not be part of a happy couple, but she was ready to start her new life in style. She pocketed the comb, picked up the bottle.

She’d just poured herself a glass of champagne when Nick returned, carrying a paper bag and wearing rubber flip-flops. She looked at his bare toes sticking out from under the cuff of his suit pants and smiled.

“Those dress shoes were killing my feet.”

“Still,” she said. “I’m betting they’re not as bad as stilettos.”

“You got me there.” He grinned. “Hey, champagne.”

“Compliments of June and Henry. I thought a drink was in order, considering the serious discussion we’re about to have. Pour yourself a glass while I change.”

She took the sack he passed to her and went into the bathroom to change out of the robe. He’d bought her a form-fitting, spaghetti-strap pink T-shirt, white denim shorts, and a pair of pink-and-white flip-flops. When she sauntered back to the balcony, she felt her cheeks warm as his eyes raked boldly over her body.

He too had changed into a T-shirt and shorts. His knee wasn’t wrapped, and for the first time she saw the network of purple-red scars. She sucked in her breath, startled by the extent of his injury.

His eyes tracked the direction of her gaze. “Ugly, huh.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not ugly. Vulnerable.”

“Great. Just what every guy wants to hear.” He plunked down onto one of the chairs and self-consciously pointed his knee away from her. She found his embarrassment touching.

“You don’t have to hide from me.”

“Better sit down.” He waved at the chair beside him and ignored her last comment. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

She drained her champagne, poured herself another glass, and slid into the chair next to him. They watched the tourists walk along the seawall for a few minutes, then Delaney took a deep breath and plunged in. “Okay,” she said. “What’s this about my mother not being my mother?”

“She’s your mother. She’s just not Honey Montgomery.”

“I don’t understand how that can be.” From the moment he’d first told her that, she’d been trying not to think about it. The idea was so ludicrous she couldn’t really wrap her head around it.

“Her real name is Fayrene Doggett. She’s been pretending to be Honey Montgomery.”

“I find that hard to believe. How can she possibly be someone else?”

“Identity theft is not indigenous to the computer age.”

“There’s got to be some kind of mistake.”

“I’m afraid not. I have proof. Birth records. Fingerprints. The real Honey Montgomery’s death certificate.”

“May I see it?”

“It’s back at my apartment. I know you told me to stop investigating, but my PI friend had already collected the information and I knew I couldn’t leave it alone.”

Delaney pushed her hand through her hair. How could her mother not be who she thought she was? What about all that high-society, blue-blood stuff Honey had drilled into her head? How could it all be a charade? “But that means she’s been living a lie for thirty-four years.”

“That’s right.”

She glanced at Nick. His eyes were full of understanding and compassion. That look, along with the second glass of champagne, caused her to feel a little dizzy. “Do you think my father knows?”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

She could barely comprehend that her mother had been living a lie. All her mother’s rules, her proper code of conduct, had been based on big fat lies. For years she’d been toeing a false line. Trying to live up to an image that was exactly that and nothing more. An image. An illusion. She felt totally betrayed. Her mind spun in turmoil.

Pushed by anxiety, fear, and confusion, she reached to pour another glass of champagne. Nick closed his hand over hers. “You don’t need any more of that. It’s not going to change things.”

His fingers rested across the knuckles of her left hand, and they both ended up staring down at Evan’s engagement ring on her finger. Delaney took it off and slipped it into her pocket, and then she raised her head and met
Nick’s eyes. “There’s no other man’s ring on my finger now.”

Desire glazed his eyes. He reached up to cup her chin in his palm. “You need time,” he said. “To sort out your feelings. I won’t take advantage of you when you’re so susceptible.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip and she shivered. “Nick,” she whispered softly. “Nick.”

He leaned in close. “Yes.”

They hung there, leaning over the table, staring into each other’s eyes, his thumb on her lip, his hand on hers, Delaney’s heart beating crazily in her chest.

If he didn’t kiss her she would come unraveled. He had to kiss her. He was the only solid thing she could trust, the only sure thing in her life right now. Everything else was quicksand under her feet.

“Nick.”

“Delaney.”

He took both his hands and interlaced them with hers on the table, his body heat radiating through her. The act of joining hands was highly underrated, she decided, as the current of possibility flowed between them, electrified.

His gaze searched her face and she searched his. Her heart just bloomed big as roses in springtime. Looking into his eyes she forgot about her parents, about her mother’s true identity, about Evan, about the wedding, about everything.

Nick had so many layers she had yet to peel back, so many things about him she did not know. The edges of his mouth were angular and unyielding, but she knew his lips were soft. The contradictions in him were exciting. She felt as if she was teetering on some great chasm and he was her only ally.

She was caught up in the moment and the sweet vortex of Nick’s dark eyes. With a groan, he pulled her to her feet, took her from the table to the balcony railing, and then his mouth was on hers, tasting of champagne and raw vulnerability.

Who was he trying to kid? Nick was as susceptible as she. Maybe even more so. He was the one who’d been hurt in so many ways. She was merely confused about her place in the world. He had a lot more at stake than she did.

His kiss was tender, almost reverential. Delaney wanted wild and impudent, but she would take whatever he was willing to give. For almost two months she’d been fighting the attraction, and now she was finally free to give in, let passion sweep her away.

Ah, yes, this was what she craved. Sexual oblivion.

His hands were at her back, smoothly sliding down her spine. She arched into him. He didn’t close his eyes and neither did Delaney. They stared into each other, searching deeply and both finding what they were looking for.

Acceptance.

Delaney couldn’t stop looking at him. She felt like the bride off a cake topper, but instead of going home with the perfect plastic groom, she’d tumbled off the cake and fallen into the arms of a very sexy bad boy. She told Nick this and he laughed.

She liked making him laugh.

“There goes the bride,” he said ruefully. “But this time it’s into my arms instead of away from them.”

He undressed them both, slowly, seductively. First came her top. Then his T-shirt. Followed by her shorts and his. Her bra was a showstopper. He groaned softly at the sight of her breasts and had to dip his head to kiss first one and then the other before he could continue with the
undressing. Delaney felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks at his careful attention.

“Ah,” he said and traced a finger over her blushing cheek. “There’s my Rosy.”

Nick kicked off his flip-flops and then knelt before her in his underwear. He kissed her navel and sent a jolt of awareness angling straight for her crotch. She fisted her fingers in his hair and gasped when he took her white lace panties between his teeth and pulled them down the length of her legs.

She shuddered against him and he buried his face in the triangle of her hair.