The Corporate Marriage Campaign. Leigh Michaels

the ad space and time have already been scheduled, the merchandise which will be featured has all been selected, and the photographers are booked to take the pictures. In fact, they started two days ago.”

      “I begin to see the dimensions of the problem,” Darcy murmured. “You’ve got all the pieces of a campaign and now the stars have winked out on you.”

      “That’s about the size of it.”

      Darcy sipped her coffee. “I don’t suppose you could be lucky enough that the fight between Caroline and her fiancé was over another man? Then you could just blot out the current guy from the photos and substitute the head of the new one.”

      “No,” he said. “We’ll have to start over.”

      “Of course you’ll have Caroline’s split lip to contend with—though I suppose you could photograph her only in profile, until she heals…”

      “Are you always this irreverent?”

      “Generally, yes,” Darcy admitted. “Though perhaps I should point out that it isn’t my intention to be disrespectful to Caroline and the trouble she’s having.” Only to you. Why are you telling me all this, anyway—Mr. Smith who wanted so badly to be anonymous?

      “Dave suggested we use someone else.”

      “You know,” Darcy murmured, “I’m always amazed when it’s the expensive attorney who comes up with the obvious answer and thinks it’s brand-new and original.”

      “Yes, I’d already considered the possibility of making a switch. The question, of course, is who to use instead.”

      Darcy shrugged. “Doesn’t the store have a bridal registry? You could call up the couples who are already listed and ask if they’d like some free stuff in return for using their pictures.”

      “Those people are already well into the process. They’ve made most of their decisions already. The whole point of the campaign is the excitement when a bride and groom look at all the options the store makes available to them.”

      “And then they’re going to choose exactly the merchandise you’ve already decided to feature? Sorry, I suppose I’m being irreverent again.”

      “Plus we need to start shooting again tomorrow—we’re already well behind schedule—and that doesn’t leave time to do background checks on the people who are already listed in the bridal registry.”

      “Investigate them? Whatever for?”

      “Considering why I’m here this morning, I’m surprised you have to ask. We narrowly escaped putting a batterer into a prominent spot in our advertising. I’d hate to find out after the fact that we chose a bigamist or a sex offender instead.”

      “You’re just about as big a cynic as Dave is. Okay, how about Dave?”

      “Dave?”

      “Salt of the earth. He wouldn’t exactly be royal wedding material, but the ads would have the advantage of looking like real people.”

      “Real people?”

      “Yes. Pardon me for saying it, but I think the average customer of your department store is likely to have a little trouble picturing herself in Caroline’s size three bikini. Your sister’s gorgeous—or she would be without the bruises. But she looks like a model. Whereas if you had a normal-size, normal-looking bride and groom—”

      “Someone like Dave.”

      “Sure. Why not ask him how he feels about it?”

      “I did. He said he was more accustomed to dealing with mopping up the other end of a marriage.”

      “How long have you known him, anyway? Surely it doesn’t surprise you that he’s a bit jaded after all the divorces he’s handled. Maybe he just needs a little encouragement to settle down. Give him a nice gift package, a little publicity for the law practice…”

      “He also said he wasn’t dating anyone.”

      “Now, that’s malarkey. He’s always dating someone. The current girlfriend called here last night, as a matter of fact. Which reminds me—I forgot to tell him that Ginger phoned.”

      “Yes,” Trey said dryly. “I see now why you said you’re good at keeping a secret.”

      Darcy made a face at him. “The point is, if he told you he wasn’t dating anyone, he was pulling your leg.”

      “You didn’t let me finish. Actually, what he said was that he wasn’t dating anyone he would consider for an instant in connection with the word ‘bride.”’

      Darcy blinked in surprise. “Now that makes me feel a little crazy. He harped at me all the way through college about how I should never even go out for a slice of pizza with a guy I wouldn’t consider marrying. Now he’s dating someone he himself thinks is inappropriate—”

      “I thought you said you’d talked to her. She must not be so bad if you think she’s all right.”

      “Well, I’ve only been back in town for a week, so I haven’t actually met her. Now I can’t wait to see what he means.”

      He shifted restlessly against the cabinets. “If we could stay on topic, Darcy.”

      “Oh. Sure. Well, if you can’t find a bride and groom, you could always turn the whole thing into a public service campaign to promote awareness of domestic violence.” Belatedly, Darcy remembered the picture hat, the veil, the alias. “Though I guess Caroline wouldn’t want to go quite that public, right?”

      “There would also be a little matter of slander if her ex-fiancé’s name came into it.”

      “Technically, slander doesn’t apply—not if you’re telling the truth. At least, I think that’s the case, but maybe you should ask Dave about slander and libel.”

      “I don’t need to. After the trial is over, Caroline can be the poster child for battered women if she chooses—but in the meantime, I still have a problem.”

      “Well, Dave’s very resourceful. I’m sure he’ll think of something.”

      “He has thought of something. Me.”

      Darcy wondered why that particular solution hadn’t occurred to her. Not because she’d assumed someone like Trey Kent was already taken, because that possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind. There was an air of independence around him which said that no woman—other than perhaps Caroline—had a say in what he did. But it was odd how she’d known that without even stopping to think about it.

      “Well, it’s not exactly a unique solution,” Darcy mused, “but it works. Marry off the prince instead of the princess. After all, one royal wedding is pretty much like another. And for the good of the store, surely a little thing like getting married probably wouldn’t be any big deal to you at all. Problem solved. More coffee?”

      “I have no intention of getting married.”

      “Oh? What have you got against marriage?”

      “Nothing in particular. I just wasn’t planning to walk down the aisle anytime soon.”

      “So you’re just going to play the part? If that’s all it takes, then why not hire actors?”

      “You said yourself it would be much more believable if the models were real people.”

      “Well, yes, it would. But isn’t it a little shady to pretend?”

      “Who does it hurt?” Trey asked coolly. “The only difference is that on the last page, the happy couple will ride off into the sunset separately instead of together.”

      “You’ll keep up the fiction all the way?”

      “Right up to the end of the campaign—and then cut, stop the action. It won’t matter to the customer