Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

Stop asking him personal questions. “Have you gotten to know Courtney’s family?”

He looked away and cleared his throat. “No. Since I moved Courtney out of her mother’s house, we’ve had no contact with her family.”

Her heart constricted. “You…you’re living together?”

“We are living in the same house, yes.”

Anguish choked her, and she struggled for breath. She stuffed the magazines into her bag. “You must not have read the entire contract. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to resign as your wedding planner. The morals clause states that unless the wedding is to be immediate, I don’t plan weddings for couples living together.” Standing, she flung the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder.

“Wait—let me explain.” He jumped up from the sofa, panic edging his voice.

Grabbing her empty cup from the floor, she stuffed her unused napkins into it, unable to meet his gaze. If she looked at him, the moisture burning her eyes would turn into full-fledged tears.

“I had to get her out of her mother’s house. You’ve met Mrs. Landry, yes?”

Anne nodded.

“Then you understand why I couldn’t leave Courtney there. But you must believe me—there is nothing untoward happening. She is staying in a room on the third floor, while my suite is in the basement—right beside the housekeeper’s room.”

“Right beside…?”

“The housekeeper’s room. So you see, even if Courtney weren’t currently in Paris, we have a chaperone. There is no need for you to resign. I would—I know Courtney would be most distraught if she discovered my decision to get her away from the negative influence of her mother caused you to break the contract.”

He’d thought of everything, hadn’t he? Could he be a more perfect gentleman? She swallowed hard. “I see. Well, in that case, I suppose we should set a time to meet this week and finalize the plans for the engagement party, since it’s only two weeks away.”

Based on several bids still out, she scheduled George for Wednesday afternoon, at which time she planned to have her presentation for the engagement party finalized. She just hoped the plan wasn’t too ambitious to pull off in less than fourteen days.

She had to get out of here. “Oh, wow, look at the time.” She rummaged for her keys. “I’ve got to run.” Keys found, she extended her right hand. “George, it was good to see you. I’ll see you Wednesday. Don’t forget you can park in the alley and come in the back door.”

His warm, smooth hand wrapped around hers. “I’m glad I ran into you. Cheerio.”

Anne tried not to look back as she exited the store but did take a peek over her shoulder as she reached the door. He’d sat down again, his back to her.

She wanted so badly to go back, to sit and talk to him as if they were the only two people in the world…like they had for the last hour. Walk away. Don’t give in to temptation. Lord, give me strength.

She opened the exterior door and got a face full of rain. She’d left her umbrella on the floor beside the armchair. Unable to face him, she ran to her car. She didn’t start the engine but leaned forward and rested her dripping head against the steering wheel.

“God, why are You torturing me like this? Please, please take away these feelings I have for him. Why is it that the only men I’ve ever been attracted to haven’t felt the same way for me? Lord, what have I done wrong? I do the best I can—every task You’ve ever put before me, I’ve poured myself into one hundred and ten percent. Why are You asking me to plan a wedding for a man I’m falling in love with? What are You trying to teach me?”

A tear burned down her cheek as she visualized George standing under a floral-bedecked arbor, awaiting his bride…and it wasn’t her.

Forcing himself to stay seated and not run after Anne was the hardest thing George had ever done in his life. He’d nearly blown his cover this afternoon by revealing more of his feelings than he should.

He gave her a few minutes to drive away, shoved the copy of the latest spy thriller from his favorite author back into the bag, and edged around the coffee table. He tripped and looked down to see her red and black University of Louisiana umbrella tangled between his feet.

Grabbing the umbrella, he headed for the exit. He pulled out his phone, scrolled to the entry for Forbes Guidry, and selected his mobile number. Anne’s umbrella came in handy as he splashed through the parking lot to the car.

Thunder nearly drowned out Forbes’s baritone voice. “George? Is everything all right?”

“I need to speak with you. About Anne.”

Leaden silence transmitted through the phone for a moment. “I had a feeling. Come on over to my place, and we can sit down and figure this out.”

Since George couldn’t stop to write down the directions, Forbes stayed on the phone with him until he pulled into the driveway of the redbrick row house not too far from Town Square.

The front door opened to reveal the man who could be either George’s enemy or his ally in sorting out the mess he’d gotten himself into with Anne. He dashed up the front steps, glad to take the thick green towel Forbes held toward him.

Forbes led him down the shiny, dark wood–floored hall into a masculine leather and wood–furnished study. “Make yourself comfortable. I can put on some water for hot tea. Or coffee, if you’d prefer.”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” George spread the towel over the leather club chair before sitting. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. Now here, he didn’t know how to start the conversation.

Forbes sat in a stiff-looking blue Queen Anne wing chair.

Queen Anne. Yes, she had all the makings of royalty.

“I was afraid when I first met you that things between you and Anne might get complicated.” Forbes templed his fingers, looking as if this were a casual Sunday call rather than one of the most important meetings of George’s life.

“Complicated? Bit of an understatement. I—” He glanced down at his clenched hands. “I cannot continue being dishonest with her. I respect her too much to continue the charade.”

“And that’s how I know you’re perfect for her.”

Surprise rushed through George. “Excuse me?”

The younger man nodded. “You’ll find that I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you, George. You see, I wanted to be able to observe you for a while. I’m very protective of my cousin. She’s been through a lot in her life.”

George bolted out of the chair and paced the perimeter of the room. “Yes, she’s told me some of what she’s been through.”

“Such as?”

“Her parents’ deaths, having to quit graduate school for financial reasons, the decision to start her business…” George stopped pacing and braced his hands against the frame of one of the tall windows. “Do you think she’ll be affronted when she learns I’ve been deceiving her?”

“Probably. But she’ll get over it quickly. She’s not one to hold a grudge. Well, in one case, but otherwise I’ve never known her to be unforgiving. And I think she has good reason to want to forgive you quickly.” Forbes’s voice took on an amused tone.

George studied the pattern of the rain washing down the paned glass, his emotions in turmoil. Fear balled in the pit of his stomach. “If I tell her I am not getting married, I’ll be in breach of contract.”

“I’ll handle that part. By this time tomorrow, that part of the contract will be null and void.”

“How?”

Forbes held his hands up in front of him. “I’ve known your employer a very long time. Suffice it to say I do have some measure of influence with him.”

A glimmer of hope burned in George’s soul. “I’m unsure of how to tell her.”

Forbes rose and crossed to join him at the window. “Don’t worry. When the time’s right, you’ll know.”

“What if I blow it? What if the time isn’t right?”

“Tulips. Purple ones. Lots of them.”

With a couple of hours before the meeting with George Wednesday afternoon, Anne headed upstairs to what used to be bedrooms in her converted Town Square row house. She sang along with Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” while she rearranged supplies in the larger of the two storage rooms. She loved having music piped through the building over the stereo system her cousin Jason had installed last year. And the five-disc CD changer she’d bought on his recommendation kept her from having to change them but once or twice a day.

The machine cycled to a new track. “I’ve got you under my skin,” she sang along with Frank Sinatra. She stopped singing. The lyrics fit exactly how she felt about George. She clamped her lips shut and refused to let the words affect her. Was she going to have to stop listening to everything because it reminded her of George Laurence?

She kicked off her black pumps and got up on the stepladder to move her Christmas decorations on the top shelf. Last Christmas had been her first in the Town Square Merchant Association, and she had joined with the rest of the members in decorating her storefront in the Victorian Christmas theme. With her love of literature, she’d tried to make hers as Dickensian as possible.

Would George have liked it?

No! She couldn’t allow herself to think about him, nor be worried about his likes and dislikes.

Sinatra faded out to be replaced by Dean Martin crooning “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love.” Anne tossed a wreath onto the top shelf, jumped off the ladder, and ran downstairs. She yanked the CDs out of the changer and replaced them with more innocuous classical music. Hopefully that would help keep her mind from wandering down treacherous paths.