The Groom's Stand-In. Gina Wilkins

Ironically, it wasn’t Grace’s gloomy warnings that Bryan wasn’t serious about marriage that made Chloe so nervous; it was her own deep certainty that he was serious.

      “Something wrong?” Donovan asked, breaking into her somber introspection and making her realize how long she must have been sitting there without moving.

      She swallowed. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

      Except that she abruptly wanted to go home. Now. As much as she wanted children, as often as she had told herself that there were more sensible reasons to marry than the passionate love of fantasy and fiction, she suddenly found herself suddenly longing with all her heart for the fairy tale. She wanted it all—why was she even contemplating settling for less?

      Donovan seemed to be studying her intently through his dark glasses. “Changing your mind?”

      She lifted her chin and reached for the door handle, determined that he wouldn’t see her irrational panic. “Of course not. I was just…admiring the view.”

      He made a sound that might have expressed skepticism, but she didn’t bother to try to convince him further. Before she could change her mind, she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

      She hadn’t committed to Bryan yet, she reminded herself. He had promised not to pressure her, and she trusted him to keep his word. And who knew? Maybe she would fall in love during the next few days. Stranger things had happened.

      She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her reactions to Bryan’s Ozarks vacation home. Donovan was aware of the irony in his observation that the woman he suspected of trying to dupe his friend into a marriage-for-money didn’t appear to be a particularly skilled actor.

      Carrying her bags inside, he watched her face as she took in the professionally contracted decor. Her expressions ranged from impressed to slightly intimidated as they passed through the glass-walled great room, up a curving flight of stairs and down a long hallway to the bedroom suite Bryan had selected for her use.

      The luxurious guest suite was located at the farthest end of the hall from Bryan’s master suite. Bryan had told Donovan that he and Chloe planned to spend most of this secluded week-long retreat engaging in serious discussions about the future. But Donovan doubted that Bryan intended Chloe to remain at the far end of the hallway throughout the entire week.

      “Is, um, something wrong?”

      Chloe’s hesitant question made Donovan realize that he’d frozen in the doorway of the guest suite, his eyebrows lowered into a heavy scowl. He made a deliberate effort to smooth his expression. He didn’t know why he’d been frowning, anyway.

      “Just wanted to make sure this room’s okay with you before I set your bags down,” he bluffed.

      Standing in the center of the sitting area that led into the large bedroom, Chloe glanced around at the painstakingly selected antiques and accessories and the invitingly comfortable-looking furnishings. “This looks fine. Perfect.”

      Maybe it was only nerves that made her sound less than enthusiastic. Maybe just the awkwardness of standing in a bedroom with a near-stranger. Maybe it was that same awkwardness that had his own stomach suddenly tied into knots. “I’ll just set these bags beside the, uh, bed,” he said, then cursed himself for the uncharacteristic verbal fumble.

      Chloe nodded and tightened her grip on the bulging tote bag she was holding, as if she were afraid he might try to take it from her.

      This was stupid, he thought irritably as he deposited her luggage. While he’d never possessed Bryan’s silver-tongued charisma with the ladies, he wasn’t usually reduced to stammering. This whole situation was awkward and weird—which must account for the sense of impending catastrophe he’d been fighting ever since they’d stopped at the convenience store.

      Leaving Chloe to settle in, Donovan went downstairs to the kitchen. At home there, he opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a soft drink. Popping the top, he downed a third of it in one long guzzle. For some reason, his throat suddenly felt parched.

      He would be glad when Bryan arrived so he could get the heck out of this kooky courtship.

      As if in response to his fervent wish, the telephone rang. Out of habit, Donovan scooped up the kitchen extension before it could ring a second time. “Donovan Chance,” he said automatically—the only way he ever answered a call.

      The caller spoke without bothering to identify himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d be there yet. I tried your cell phone. Did you forget to turn it on?”

      Donovan reached automatically for his belt. “Forgot to bring it in. I left it in the car.”

      “You didn’t have any problems getting there, I hope? The weather’s good?”

      It wasn’t like Bryan to stall with small talk. “Where are you, Bryan? How long will it take you to get here?”

      The sound of a throat being cleared was the only answer, making Donovan’s frown deepen. “Bryan? What’s going on?”

      “Something’s come up, D.C. I’m not going to make it there today.”

      “Damn it, you haven’t even left New York, have you?”

      “No. The deal here started unraveling this morning and I’ve had my hands full trying to keep everything together. This is the first chance I’ve had to even give you a call. I kept hoping I could slip away late this afternoon, but noon tomorrow’s going to be the earliest I can get out. I hope to be there by early tomorrow evening.”

      “And what am I supposed to do with your house-guest in the meantime? Leave her here by herself?”

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

      Donovan sighed. “Damn it, Bryan.”

      “Look, I know you have things you’d rather be doing…”

      “Things I need to be doing. Like work. Isn’t there any way you can hop on a plane tonight and I could take care of things there?”

      “I’m afraid not. Trust me, Donovan, this isn’t my choice. I’d much rather be there making plans with Chloe than fighting it out here with Childers. I feel like a heel for bailing out on her like this after she’s made that long trip. I hope she won’t be too angry with me.”

      “I’m sure she’ll get over it,” Donovan muttered. Bryan had a way of charming women into forgiving him. Who was he kidding? Bryan’s magic even worked on Donovan. He should be steamed over being stuck here like this, but instead, he was agreeing to extend his babysitting services for another twenty-four hours or so.

      “So what do you think of Chloe? Is she everything I told you she was?”

      “Yeah. She’s nice.”

      The bland words seemed to echo through the phone lines for several long moments before Bryan spoke again. “You have a problem with Chloe?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Something’s bugging you, I can tell. What is it?”

      “Nothing. I’m just wondering how I’m supposed to entertain her until you get here. She didn’t agree to come away on a cozy vacation with me, you know.”

      “Just keep her company. Take her for a walk or a boat ride or something. Make dinner—maybe throw a couple of steaks on the grill. There’s a good selection of DVD movies in the media room, and some new books in the library. Or there’s always Scrabble or Monopoly if you get desperate, though I know you’re not much of a game player.”

      With another heavy sigh, Donovan nodded. “We’ll get by somehow.”

      “I’m sure you will. Despite your own glaring personality shortcomings, you’ll find Chloe’s great company. Maybe she was a bit nervous during the car ride—let’s face it, pal, you’ve been known to intimidate tougher souls than Chloe—but once she’s comfortable