The Bridal Chronicles. Lissa Manley

him a wry smile. “I know changing my mind might seem silly. But when you showed up…well, you weren’t what I was expecting.”

      He leaned his forearms on the table and lifted a quizzical brow. “How so?”

      “Oh, come on,” she said, smiling. “You must know that you’re an attractive man. I didn’t want to risk winning Best Couple and having to take part in any more…stuff.” Being in front of a camera had always terrified her. Or, rather, the results terrified her.

      “Oh, so I’m a dangerous guy, then?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes. His dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth. “I’m wounded.”

      Anna felt herself heating up, reacting to his teasing tone and appealing, lazy grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” She took a long swig of water, hoping to cool down. “You, Mr. Cavanaugh, are the kind of man who is inherently dangerous.”

      His expression sobered. “You’re serious.”

      “Absolutely. I’ve known men like you.” Men who made you trust, convinced you to believe, then broke your heart. “All flash and charisma. Nothing more.”

      He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Thanks a lot. And maybe I should mention that the wedding pictures were going to be fake, remember? You weren’t really marrying me, you know.”

      No, she wasn’t. She was never going to have the kind of fairy-tale wedding she designed gowns for. She doubted she’d ever be marrying anyone or that she would ever be able to trust another man again. And that had to be fine. If she succeeded in meeting her father’s terms, her design business would be enough and, more importantly, would prove she had worth beyond her cash value or her banking skills.

      She inclined her head. “You have a point, and I realize I may have…overreacted. But in my opinion, with you as my groom, winning Best Couple would have been a given.”

      He glanced down and almost looked embarrassed by her compliment. “Well, I don’t know about that…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “So you think you overreacted?” he asked, blatantly directing the subject away from himself.

      She took a whole wheat roll from the basket on the table and eyed Ryan thoughtfully, wondering about the incongruity between his extreme good looks and polish and his almost blushing discomfiture over her flattering remark. “Maybe,” she hedged, hardly able to tell him that what other men had put her through had left a wound that affected all of the decisions she made. “Why all the questions?”

      He rubbed his neck and looked sideways at her. “Other than the fact that you’re running around like a secret agent with a floppy hat and dark glasses on?” He opened one side of his jacket, cocked his head toward his shoulder and said, “Come in Double-O-Seven, come in.”

      She grinned and held up her hands, liking this teasing, lighthearted side of him. “All right, all right,” she said, laughing. “I get the picture.” She sat for a long moment, gradually sobering. She had to remember why her disguise was so important—she wanted to succeed on her own. “I admit, what I’m doing seems strange, and maybe a little comical, but, trust me, I have a good reason, all right?”

      He gazed at her for a moment, his expression turning serious, then nodded. “All right. And for the record, I was also asking questions because I’m curious about why you backed out. As I said, my charity is in the middle of a fund-raising campaign, and could really use the publicity the article would have generated. Seeing as how the Mentor A Child Foundation will suffer, I wanted to know what your reasons were.”

      A bothersome sensation rolled around inside of her. Mentor A Child helped little kids and she might be keeping that from happening. “Are my admittedly nebulous reasons good enough for you?”

      He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I guess, although I was hoping maybe you’d reconsider.”

      A heavy load of guilt for not helping him smothered her. “Isn’t there any other way to get the publicity you need?” she asked, hoping to appease her guilt. She’d always been a pleaser, just like her mom, and it went against her natural instincts to do something that might hurt someone else—especially needy children.

      “Maybe. But this article would reach a lot of readers and would be a great way to raise awareness for the Mentor A Child Foundation.” He paused and took a roll and put it on his bread plate. “Although there is a bungee-jumping stunt I was considering.”

      Horror shot through her. “Bungee jumping? Are you crazy?”

      “No, just driven to support this charity,” he said seriously. “Mentor A Child helps little kids who have nobody else in their lives.”

      She was surprised that a flashy guy like him would care about little kids. Most didn’t. “Why don’t you just pay to run ads on TV or in the newspaper then? I’m sure you could afford to do that, right?”

      He looked away. “I could,” he said, inclining his head, a new shadow lurking in his eyes. “And I will if I have to. But…this way the publicity wouldn’t seem so self-serving. You know what I mean?”

      She nodded, studying him, sensing that there was more to this than he was letting on. But she wouldn’t press; she had her little secret, too, and the less said, the better.

      The waiter arrived. Anna ordered, knowing she needed to eat, but the guilt and apprehension roiling around in her stomach like acid had killed her appetite. Was she overreacting and being selfish by saying no to the article? Or was she just being smart by keeping her distance from a man who seemed so much like the other men who’d scorched her, not to mention that she would be ensuring the success of her business? She’d never had something that she could call her own, something that wasn’t somehow given to her because of her connection to the Sinclair name. It was important for her dream to succeed on her own merits.

      On the other hand, it was exceedingly difficult to ignore the fact that she was disappointing a lot of people, and possibly damaging Ryan’s charity, by backing out now. Should she reconsider? It had always been tough for her to put herself first, to stand up to other people, usually her dad, to get what she wanted.

      Feeling torn, she eyed Ryan. “I feel really bad about all of this.”

      He pinned her with his sapphire eyes. “Bad enough to change your mind?”

      She let out a heavy breath. How had this become so complicated? Ever since she’d attended a fairy-tale wedding when she was a young girl, all she’d ever wanted to do was design wedding dresses. The fantasy of weddings had always appealed to her. To be able to do that, however, she had to meet her father’s terms, and that meant concealing her identity long enough to succeed on her own.

      It didn’t help that, just like her dear mother, Anna had a soft streak a mile wide and a deep sense of altruism she was proud of. Her mother had always supported numerous charities.

      Thinking of her wonderfully philanthropic mother clinched it. Anna simply couldn’t, in good conscience, ignore his charitable efforts. “Oh, all right,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the table, hoping she didn’t regret this decision. “I’ll sign the release.”

      He reached over and put his hand on hers, then gently rubbed his fingers over the back of her hand. The contact made her jump, but she didn’t retract her hand. Warmth spread into every cell in her body, and she wanted to curl her fingers around his big, solid hand. She didn’t. Ryan was the wrong man for her to hold on to. She knew now that any man was.

      “Thank you,” he said, his eyes warm with gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

      She tugged her hand from his, needing to sever the connection between them. She might have overreacted to “The Bridal Chronicles,” but she wasn’t overreacting to Ryan. He was dangerous, everything she’d learned to avoid.

      She reached for her water glass again and gulped some down. When she’d arrived at the restaurant, she hadn’t thought having lunch with Ryan would be a problem. But she’d been dead wrong. Not only had he talked