The Groom's Stand-In. GINA WILKINS

      “I hope you like oatmeal,” he’d said. “It’s one of the few things I know how to cook.”

      “I like oatmeal,” she had answered, warily eyeing his stern expression.

      “Good.”

      She didn’t think he’d said a complete sentence since, she mused as they stacked their bowls and spoons in the dishwasher a short time later.

      She glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m. yet. “What time did Bryan say he would be here?”

      If anything, the question only seemed to make Donovan grumpier. “He didn’t know, exactly. Late afternoon—early evening, maybe.”

      The hours in between stretched ahead of her like a gaping hole she had no idea how to fill. She’d packed a couple of books, but it seemed rather rude to close herself in her room for the rest of the day. Or maybe Donovan would prefer that she do just that, freeing him from the responsibility of entertaining her.

      After closing the dishwasher door, he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a nice day out, even though it’s cloudy,” he said abruptly. “Why don’t I show you around the place? You’ll probably be spending a lot of time here. It’s Bryan’s favorite retreat when he needs to get away from the everyday grind.”

      He seemed to be again assuming that she and Bryan would be married, despite her reminders that she hadn’t made that decision yet. Since it didn’t seem to serve any purpose to continue reminding him, she merely nodded and said, “All right. I’d enjoy a tour.”

      He glanced at the thin, coral-colored T-shirt she’d donned with khakis. “You’d better grab a jacket. It’s still a little cool out.”

      For some reason, his words evoked an image of being on the balcony last night, her breath forming silvery clouds in front of her, Donovan gazing up at her from the shadows below. She took an involuntary step backward, as if she could physically move away from that oddly unsettling memory. “I’ll be right back.”

      At least a tour of the grounds would give them something to do for a little while, she reasoned as she pulled on a heavy denim shirt in lieu of a jacket. She was probably growing increasingly aware of Donovan because they had been confined to such tight quarters for so many hours—first in his car, and then in this house. Maybe it would help to be outside.

      Donovan was waiting by the back door. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, apparently thinking his long-sleeved black pullover and black pants would be warm enough. He’d shown a predilection for black clothing since they’d arrived here, she mused as she stepped outside ahead of him.

      Studying him through her eyelashes, she decided it was a good thing he hadn’t been dressed this way when he’d arrived at her door to pick her up yesterday. Her over-protective twin might have been tempted to throw herself across the doorstep to prevent Chloe from leaving with this stranger.

      Donovan Chance looked just a bit dangerous in black.

      As he’d warned her, the air was nippy—though not as cold as it had been last night. The grounds around the house were beautifully landscaped, the plantings lush and natural so that little maintenance was required. Rock and hardwood mulch had been used for pathways through the trees and beds, and several inviting seating areas offered choices of breathtaking lake views, peacefully shaded alcoves or sunbathed clearings. Fountains, waterfalls, birdbaths and feeders added more sensory input.

      Chloe was so enthralled by the sheer beauty surrounding her that she almost forgot to watch her feet. She might have taken a tumble if Donovan hadn’t reached out to catch her arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop. “Drop-off,” he said with his usual brevity.

      She glanced down to discover that she stood at the top of a series of flagstone steps that had been carved out of a rather steep hill. The steps were set to one side of the rocky bluff that overhung the lake a hundred feet below. “Do these lead down to the lake?”

      “Eventually—in a roundabout way. It takes a bit of exertion—especially coming back up—but Bryan and I go down that way fairly often. Want to check it out?”

      She looked cautiously over the edge of the bluff. It was a long way down—and she’d never been particularly fond of heights. “How steep does the path get?”

      Donovan shrugged. “Steeper in some places than others. But it’s safe. Bryan wouldn’t take any risks with his guests’ welfare.”

      She didn’t doubt that. If there was one thing she had learned about Bryan, it was that he was a stickler for details. “Then I’d like to go down to the lake.”

      “Hang on a second.” Moving around her, he walked down a couple of steps, then turned to look up at her. “The stones are still damp, so watch your step.”

      He was always so conscientious about taking care of her. Donovan really took his assignments seriously, she mused as she moved cautiously onto the first step.

      She was glad she was wearing sneakers for the extra traction they provided. Whether because of them, or because she was enjoying the scenery so much, or just because Donovan hovered so protectively nearby, she felt perfectly safe during the descent.

      The area was filled with wildlife—birds, chipmunks, rabbits, deer. Two playful squirrels chased each other across the path, oblivious to the two-legged trespassers in their playground. Laughing at their antics, and perhaps a bit overconfident in the traction of her sneakers, Chloe nearly stumbled when her foot slipped on the uneven edge of a stone step. Donovan steadied her instantly, displaying impressively swift reflexes.

      “Thanks,” she said, embarrassed by her clumsiness. “I guess I’ve lived in town for too long.”

      He didn’t immediately release her, but kept a loose grip on her arm as he guided her down another short flight of steps to the next sloping walkway. “Did you grow up in Little Rock?”

      “No, I’m from Searcy, originally. Our parents still live there, though they left two days ago for a ten-day-long Caribbean cruise. Grace and I moved to Little Rock eleven years ago—right out of high school. We worked days and attended night classes at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock until we earned degrees in business. We always wanted to go into business for ourselves, but we had to wait until the time was right. We opened our shop ten months ago.”

      It was more than he had asked, of course. Maybe in reaction to Donovan’s customary terseness, she tended to babble when he made conversational overtures.

      “You and your sister have shared an apartment for eleven years?”

      She didn’t know whether he found it hard to believe that any two people could cohabit for that long, or if anyone could live with her sister for eleven years—Grace had hardly made a positive first impression with Donovan. She quickly set him straight. “Grace and I don’t share an apartment. We did for a while when we first moved to Little Rock, but we found our own places several years ago. Grace was there yesterday to, um, see me off.”

      “To see you off…or to try one last time to talk you out of going?”

      She smiled wryly to acknowledge the hit. “Yes, well…”

      Moving ahead of her, Donovan stepped over a large boulder in the path and then turned to offer her his hand. “Careful here. It’s slippery.”

      She hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, providing support as she made her way carefully over the boulder. He did have a competent air about him. She certainly understood how Bryan had come to depend on him so much.

      As soon as Chloe reached the foot of the trail, she decided the trip down was worth the effort. A driftwood-littered gravel beach was shaded by trees that leaned out over the water. On one side of the private inlet sat a neat metal boathouse and a covered wooden deck lined with benches.

      “Oh, this is nice.” She made a slow circle, peering up the face of the bluff. The back of the house above them