Nobody But You B&N (2 page)

"If you don't mind," Emma replied.

As the other bridesmaids picked up their bouquets and bags, she took one last look at herself in the mirror.

"You're gorgeous, Emma," Ria said, coming up behind her.

"Thanks." She gave Ria a sheepish smile. "I feel a little vain. I haven't looked at myself this much in years, if ever."

"You're entitled. You're the bride."

"I can only use that excuse for a few more hours."

"So where are you going on your honeymoon?" Ria asked as they headed toward the door.

"Max is surprising me. He wouldn't even let me pack my own suitcase. He had Nicole do it."

"Then you must know where they're going, Nicole," Ria said.

"Not really. I only know what clothes she's taking," Nicole replied. "Max was afraid Emma would use her interrogation skills to break me, so he only told me as much as I needed to know."

"I don't care where we go," Emma said. "And I'm not even worried about what's in my suitcase, because I'm not planning on wearing too many clothes, if you know what I mean."

Nicole laughed. "Let's go get you married."

"Finally," she said.

As she followed her sister out the door, she tried to ignore the anxious flutter in her stomach and the goose bumps running down her arms. Everything was going to be fine. It was her wedding day. What could go wrong?

"So where are you going on the honeymoon?" Spencer Harrison asked his brother, Max as they entered the bank. "You can tell me now. I won't see Emma until she meets you at the altar, so there's no way I can accidentally tell her."

Max gave him a smug smile. "I'm taking her to Paris. That's why we're here. I want to get some euros so I don't have to worry about changing money at the airport."

"Paris—nice. I'm impressed."

"Emma has never been out of the country, so we're going to do five days in Paris and five days in London. We'll be back on Christmas Eve."

"You should have stayed in Europe for Christmas."

Max shook his head. "Emma wouldn't dream of missing a Callaway family Christmas. She didn't grow up like we did, Spence. Holidays are big, joyful occasions with lots of food, family and presents. She's been shopping for cousins I've never even met. It's going to be crazy, certainly nothing like I've ever experienced."

Spencer nodded in understanding. Their parents had divorced when they were kids, and for years the holidays had been a battleground of who was supposed to go where and with which parent. His mother had usually ended up in tears at some point. Both he and Max had come to dread the season. There had been a short time in his early twenties when he'd had a different feeling about Christmas, when he'd been in love, and dreaming about a future, a family of his own, but those dreams had been crushed, too.

The last thing he was looking forward to was another holiday to remind him of how empty his life was, how much he'd lost, and how far he had to go to get any of it back. He wished he could move the calendar to January second and skip straight to the next year without having to live through holiday carols, mistletoe, and even worse, another New Year's Eve. Whoever had invented that holiday should be shot. Instead of New Year's Eve, it could have been called the night of high expectations followed by massive disappointment.

Max frowned. "You look suddenly grim. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He didn't want to put his bad mood on Max, not today.

"Liar," Max said, as they got into line. "What's wrong? Is it the wedding? Are you thinking about Stephanie?"

Stephanie had been the love of his life and his fiancé, but his love for her had sent him to prison. In attempting to defend her from a stalker, he'd accidentally killed a man. In his mind, he'd acted to protect his girlfriend, but a clever and aggressive prosecutor, egged on by the wealthy family of the victim, had portrayed him as an angry, jealous boyfriend who'd been paranoid about anyone talking to Stephanie. And Stephanie hadn't been as much help as she should have been.

"Please tell me you're not still thinking about her," Max added, an irritated note in his voice. "She let you down, Spence. She's a big reason why you went to prison for seven years. I don't want to see you waste any more time thinking about her."

"I was only thinking about her because you mentioned her name. I'm not in love with her anymore. That's over."

"Seriously?" Max challenged.

"Yes. She's moved on with her life, and so have I. I have no interest in going backwards."

"I'm glad to hear that. So what's on your mind? Is it the job? You mentioned earlier that you're thinking about a change."

"I'm thinking about something," he said vaguely, not sure he was ready to talk about his plans yet.

"What?" Max asked curiously.

"I don't want to say."

"Why are you being so mysterious?"

"Because you'll probably laugh."

"Try me."

Spencer shifted his feet and dug his hands into his pockets. "Fine. You know the deli job was just supposed to be short-term, a way to make some cash while I decided what I wanted to do for a career."

"Right, so…"

"So, Gus has been letting me help in the kitchen. We don't make much at the deli beyond sandwiches, soups and the occasional pasta special, but I've discovered that I like cooking. It's creative and doesn't involve dealing with the customers, which I don't care for as much. I've been experimenting with dishes at home and toying with the idea of becoming a chef. I know it's ridiculous," he added quickly, sure he was taking the words right out of Max's mouth.

"Why do you say that? It sounds like a great idea to me, Spencer."

"I'm probably too old."

"You're thirty-seven."

"That's old for a career change."

"No, it's not. What do you need to do? Cooking school?"

"I could definitely use some training. I saw some classes I could take, and Gus has some connections in the city. He thought he could get me a job as a sous chef if I learn a few more things."

Max nodded, an approving light in his eyes. "You should do it."

"I'm thinking about it." He was already regretting sharing the plan with Max, because he could see the excitement in Max's gaze. His brother was itching to fix his life in some way, because that was Max. He liked to fix things, save people, make everything better. It's what made him a good cop. But Spencer had to find his own way to his future.

"What's to think about?" Max asked.

"It will take me years to make even a tenth of what I was making as a commodities trader."

"It's not about money. It's about doing something that makes you happy. And you just said you don't want to go backwards. So go forward. You have to start somewhere. It sucks, but it is what it is."

Max was always pragmatic, and in this instance, Spencer appreciated the lack of bullshit. "Yeah, it is what it is," he echoed. He shifted his feet and tugged at his tie. "At least I won't have to wear suits as a chef. It's been a long time since I wore a tie. I forgot how constricting they are."

"It wasn't my idea. Emma told me the tuxes were non-negotiable."

"Emma is going to keep you on your toes."

"Agreed. She's beautiful but stubborn."

He grinned at the love in his brother's eyes. "I knew it would take someone like Emma to break down that wall around your heart. You fell hard for her."

"I tried not to, but how could I resist? She's one of a kind. You should see her in action, Spence. She charges into burning buildings like it's nothing. She's fearless and determined and a really good investigator. And you know she's taken a lot of shit being a female firefighter, but she doesn't get down when people try to put her down. She just proves them wrong."

"She's tough."

"She always tries to be, but she has a softness about her, too. Sometimes she cares too much about her cases, about the people involved." He shrugged. "But I like that about her as well. She's just the whole package."

"You're lucky you found her."

"I am lucky." He checked his watch. "I'm also late."

"You still have a few minutes. There's only one more person in front of us. How long could it take?"

Max pulled out his phone as it began to vibrate. He looked down at the screen and muttered, "Damn."

"What's wrong?"

"A case I'm working on. I need to take this. Hold my place."

"No problem."

As Max moved a few feet away to take his call, Spencer glanced at the woman standing in front of him. Her wavy, dark red hair fell halfway down her back. She wore a black wool coat over a gray sweater, with blue jeans and black boots completing the outfit. A colorful scarf was draped around her neck. As she impatiently shifted her feet, he caught a glimpse of her profile, beautiful pale skin with a few freckles on the bridge of her nose, full pink lips, and green eyes set off by dark lashes. She was pretty. If she weren't scowling, she'd probably be even more beautiful.

His gut tightened. It was stupid as hell to feel a spark of attraction for a complete stranger. However, the fact that he could feel any spark at all was surprising. He'd been deliberately numb for a long time, because if he couldn't feel anything, then he wouldn't feel pain, and he'd had enough hurt in his life. So he'd tried to stay detached from everyone. It had been fairly easy to do. There hadn't been anyone around he wanted to attach to.

But now he was feeling hot and cold at the same time and a little off-balance. It was crazy. He didn't even know her, but he want to know her.

He'd once been good at talking to women. In high school and college he'd had more dates than he could remember, but that had been a really long time ago. He was out of practice.

But he had to start somewhere…

Giving in to impulse, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She jumped and gave him a startled look.

"What?" she demanded, anger in her eyes.

He cleared his throat, her green eyes so dazzling he couldn't think of what he wanted to say. "I was just wondering how long you've been waiting. And if this is the only line to exchange money?"

Real smooth, he thought, feeling like a complete idiot with his inane questions.

"This is it, and I've been waiting almost twenty minutes," she replied. "I didn't think there would be a line this close to the end of the day, especially on a Saturday. I can't miss my flight."

"Are you going somewhere exciting?"

She shook her head. "Excitement is the last thing I'm looking for. I just want a wide, sandy beach, a beautiful blue sea, and a lot of rum."

"Sounds like the perfect vacation," he murmured, wondering what her story was and where the shadows in her eyes had come from. "How long will you be gone?"

"As long as it takes to forget."

"Forget what?"

A shutter came down over her eyes. "Everything."

"That's a lot."

"I just want to go where no one knows me and start over. Ever have that feeling?"

"Many times," he said, meeting her gaze. "Unfortunately, it's not easy to outrun the past or ourselves. Believe me—I know."

She tilted her head, giving him a speculative look. "You don't look like a man who has anything to outrun. Unless, maybe it's your wedding…"

"I'm the best man. My brother, Max, is the groom. He's getting married in an hour and taking his bride to Paris later tonight."

"Very romantic. I hope their marriage is everything they want it to be."

"That's cryptic."

"Is it?" She shrugged. "I'm not very good at finding words these days."

"Why not?"

"That's way too long a story."

"Maybe not for this line," he said lightly.

Her frown deepened. "True. I think the man at the counter must be going around the world. He keeps asking questions about every kind of currency, some I've never even heard of." She paused as she glanced back toward the counter. "I think he's finally done. She's putting his money into an envelope."

Spencer felt an unexpected wave of disappointment that in a moment this beautiful woman would be gone, and this oddly random conversation would be over. "What's your name?" he said, feeling a need to know something more about her before she disappeared.

She hesitated. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I do."

"Hallie Cooper. You?"

"Spencer Harrison. We should get a drink sometime."

"Do you always try to pick up women at the bank?"

He smiled at her comment. "I never pick up women at the bank—or anywhere else for that matter. It's been a while."

"Yeah? So why me?"

"You have a mirror, don't you?"

A sparkle flashed in her eyes. "You're direct."

"I sense that time is running out. What do you say—Hallie Cooper? When you come back from your trip, we could get coffee, or something with rum, in case you didn't get enough on your island. All I need is your phone number." He pulled out his phone.

"I don't know if I'm ever coming back."

"You can't lie on a beach forever."

"I'd sure like to try," she said with a sigh. "My turn," she said as the man at the counter walked away.

"Seven digits, that's all I need," he said, feeling a little desperate.

"You don't want to call me. Trust me."

"Why should I do that?"

She turned away, then flung a quick glance over her shoulder. "The last person I gave my number to ended up dead."

And with that unsettling comment, she stepped up to the counter.

He stared at her back, at the six feet of space separating them. He'd wait until she finished her money exchange, then he'd tell her he wasn't scared of ending up dead. In fact, there had been many times in the past seven years when he'd wished he were dead. Dying was sometimes easier than living. But he couldn't tell her any of that. He didn't want to scare her away.

Although, hadn't she already made it clear she wasn't interested?

Actually, he thought she was interested. She was just scared.

Scared of what he wondered? What had happened to make her want to run to the other end of the world and never come back?