How to Be a Blissful Bride Page 5

  Alexa was certain getting pregnant following a weekend fling would fall within the “did not” constraints.

  But telling her grandmother would have to wait. First, she needed to tell Chance.

  Some wistful part of her hoped that he would be stunned, yet overjoyed by the news. Sweeping her up into his arms the same way he’d swept her off her feet in Santa Barbara.

  After confessing she’d never done something so out of character, so impetuous as to sleep with a man she’d just met, they’d teasingly come up with the list of crazy, adrenaline-fueled exploits for her to try next—all with Chance right by her side.

  How about rushing headlong into the adventures of parenthood, Chance? How do you feel about holding my hand on that wild ride?

  But after seeing him again, it was almost impossible to imagine a happily-ever-after ending. The charmingly seductive man she’d met the night of the charity ball seemed so...different now. Had the injury somehow changed him? Or had she allowed herself to start to fall for a man who didn’t even exist?

  Maybe he would even deny the baby was his. She supposed that would serve her right after foolishly pretending not to know him, and after she’d told him not to contact her in the first place, but the idea of Chance turning his back on their child made her heart ache.

  I want this baby. A child to care for, to nurture, to love. The baby might have been unexpected, but not unwanted. Never unwanted. At least not by her.

  Alexa slid the phone into the pocket of her sweater and glanced back toward the hotel. She’d walked farther than she’d realized, the Victorian turrets silhouetted by the gray autumn sky. She thought she’d taken the path that would lead to the gazebo Rory mentioned during their tour, but instead she caught a glimpse of a small cottage between the trees. She couldn’t help smiling as she recalled Griffin’s comment. If Rory was Snow White, then Alexa could certainly imagine seven dwarves living in the cute stone and wood structure.

  She was tempted to take a closer look but stopped short when the front door opened. Her breath caught in her throat as Chance stepped outside, erasing any thoughts of fantasy dwarves and replacing them instead with the reality of six feet of living, breathing male.

  Standing on the small porch, he stretched his neck from one side to the other. As his gaze swung in her direction, Alexa automatically ducked. She cringed, imagining what her grandmother would say if she could see her now, crouching behind a row of hedges before he could spot her.

  A Mayhew does not skulk in the bushes, Alexa.

  As she watched from her leafy vantage point, he ran both hands through his tousled dark hair and arched his back. Her mouth went dry as his faded T-shirt rode up above the loose waistband of his sweatpants, revealing a slice of muscled abs and tanned skin. Heat licked at her cheeks, and she wasn’t sure which flame burned brighter—her arousal or her embarrassment.

  Hiding was one thing. Spying was something else entirely!

  Really, she needed to stop. And she would...in a minute.

  Because beyond arousal and embarrassment, Alexa couldn’t help noticing that his sweatpants weren’t just loose. The elastic band threatened to slip past his hip bones.

  Her stomach clutched. How much weight had he lost? As he took a few steps, his limp was more noticeable than the day before. Was his leg worse...or with no one around and no reason to pretend everything was all right, was he allowing himself to give in to the pain?

  He would hate for her to witness even a momentary weakness, and she carefully ducked deeper into her hiding spot. She’d wait a moment or two for Chance to go inside before making her way back to the hotel.

  She hazarded another glance toward the cottage and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the porch was empty. She needed to tell Chance about the baby, but not yet. Not until she could be calm and in control, and until she was sure she could do that... Well, she’d be hiding in the bushes.

  Pushing to her feet, she swore beneath her breath as the branches caught in the loose knit of her sweater. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep voice behind her asked, “You lose something?”

  She spun around, slipping on the damp ground and stumbling against the solid, masculine wall of his chest. Chance instinctively caught her, his hands warm and roughly seductive against her upper arms. Each individual fingertip struck a pinpoint of sensation, and the back of his thumbs pressed against her overly sensitive breasts.

  She jumped back quickly, but the damage had already been done. Her body still tingled from the sudden contact, the air around them still crackled with undeniable intensity, and she knew she’d made a big mistake not leaving when she’d had the chance.

  “You scared me half to death!”

  He gave her a sardonic grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you while you were...?”

  His words drifted away, a dark brow winged upward in query, and Alexa wrapped her sweater around her waist. “I was out for a walk,” she sniffed, trying to maintain an air of dignity.

  His smirk marked her as a liar. “Next time maybe you’ll try the beach. That’s my favorite spot.”

  Alexa had a view of the rugged coastline from her suite along with the uneven, rocky pathway that led to the beach. It was not what she’d consider a leisurely stroll. As he turned, Alexa realized he hadn’t been stretching on the porch; he’d been warming up.

  Without stopping to think, she reached out and caught his arm. His skin was warm, undeniably masculine muscle beneath a dusting of dark hair, and for a moment, she forgot what it was she wanted to say.

  Forgot everything but the memory of sliding her hand down that same arm as she’d slipped the white tuxedo shirt from his broad shoulders.

  Chance froze beneath her touch, and Alexa swallowed. “Are—are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  His heated gaze dropped to where her hand still rested on his forearm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  Snatching her hand back, she said, “I meant pushing yourself so hard.”

  “Hard was being stuck in traction. You don’t have to worry about me, Alexa. I heal fast.”

  She couldn’t imagine what that had been like for him. For a man who was always on the move to not just be stuck in a hospital bed, but to be held in place, immobilized by ropes and pulleys.

  She was dying to ask him what had happened, what he’d gone through, beyond the news reports she could barely bring herself to read. After that first devastating headline, she hadn’t known what to believe. Was he truly recovering or was that information wrong, as well?

  But she knew better than to expect an honest answer. Especially not after he pinned her with a look and added, “Before long, I’ll move on like nothing ever happened.”

  The way he thought she’d moved on to Griffin? Alexa swallowed but asked, “What about your job here?”

  “You mean...wedding photographer? That isn’t my job, Alexa. That’s a favor to my sister. One I never should have agreed to,” he added beneath his breath.

  “Why? Photographing weddings will be a piece of cake compared to what you’re used to.”

  “What I’m used to—” he muttered. “What I’m used to is photographing some of the worst of humanity. I’m not sure I trust myself to still recognize the good.”

  His vulnerability grabbed hold of the secret she kept, tugging the words straight from her heart. She longed to reassure him of the good in the world, of the something great the two of them had created together. But would he see their baby that way? When he was so dead set on pushing himself to get better so that he could move on?

  So instead, she pointed out, “Your sister clearly trusts you.”

  “My sister tends to trust everyone. It’s one of her biggest failings.” Chance glanced around the towering trees and the Victorian hotel in the distance. “Rory’s always thought this place was magic.”

  With her a
rms still crossed at her waist, Alexa could feel the slight swell of her belly. She and Chance had made a baby. It might not have been magic, but as far as Alexa was concerned, it was a tiny miracle.

  A miracle she needed to share. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she whispered, “Chance...”

  He straightened abruptly. “You should go. I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

  “Chance, we need to talk—”

  “I think you said everything you needed to say during our last phone call.”

  Goodbye was pretty much all they’d said during that phone call, and so much had happened since then. Finding out that she was pregnant, the bombing, the reports of his death. “But...”

  He started to turn away, then stopped. Alexa’s heart jumped to her throat as he reached up a hand and brushed his fingers through her hair. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and she could only stare helplessly into the firestorm of emotions in his sapphire eyes.

  For a split second, she thought he was going to pull her closer, to kiss her the way he had that first night underneath the sparkling stars. To kiss her the way he had every night since in her dreams.

  His voice gravel rough, he said, “I think you must have dropped this.”

  Only after he moved away from her did she lift a hand to the spot above her ear. Her fingers brushed against a thin piece of metal. She pulled the hairpin from her hair and stared at the bejeweled butterfly clip she hadn’t seen in four months.

  Not since she wore it the night of the charity event in Santa Barbara.

  * * *

  “Doesn’t the gazebo look amazing?” Rory asked Chance, her smile almost blinding in an otherwise overcast day.

  He lifted a shoulder in a shrug as he adjusted the camera to account for the hazy morning. His sister was wearing a bright red sweater over a black-and-white polka-dot dress—an outfit that was sure to pop against the white lattice of the gazebo.

  He cringed at the thought, left over from his days of fashion photography where he’d worked behind a camera to capture fantasy rather than reality. He would have thought after seeing behind the curtain, knowing all the hours of hair and makeup and wardrobe that went into creating a picture-perfect shot, that he would have been able to tell the difference.

  And yet for months, Lisette had had him completely fooled.

  He had to give her credit for one thing, though. The first time they met she’d told him she would do anything to make it as a fashion model. She’d been up-front about that. He just hadn’t realized “anything” included lying, manipulating and finally cheating on him.

  When he confronted her, she’d pleaded, she’d cried, she’d begged him not to throw away everything they had over a “mistake.” But in that moment, he finally realized he’d witnessed that full range of emotions from behind the camera and that it was all a performance. When he refused to budge, Lisette had dropped the act.

  We’re not so different, Chance, so don’t pretend you’re better than me. We both know our careers are more important than anything...or anyone.

  Chance wasn’t so sure that was true ten years ago, but it was now.

  His hands tightened on his camera as he thought of the call from his editor the other day. “I’m sorry, Chance,” the man had added after telling him he was giving the prime assignment to another photojournalist. “You know we can’t sit on breaking stories. If there was any way to know when you’ll be back...”

  Chance had swallowed the promises he longed to make. As much as he wanted to grab his gear and go, he couldn’t. The harder he pushed his body, the harder his body was pushing back.

  Are you sure that’s a good idea?

  He’d barely been able to get out of bed after the grueling pace he’d set that day on the beach. He couldn’t even pretend work had been the only thing on his mind as he’d pounded across the hard-packed sand until his lungs were burning and his leg was on fire.

  Because hadn’t he wanted to believe he’d seen something in Alexa’s eyes when he’d run into her outside the cottage? Something that said what they’d shared had been more than a final fling before marrying her “well-suited” fiancé?

  Chance swore. Maybe that old expression was true—once a fool, always a fool.

  “Sorry, Chance, what was that?” Rory asked, breaking into his thoughts and returning his focus to where it should have been all along.

  “I was just thinking...” He waved a hand at the gazebo with its lattice trim and elegant scrollwork. “Looks the same as it always did.”

  “Right, the same as it did ten or fifteen years ago when you last saw it. You weren’t here a few months ago when it was practically falling down.” Her smile turned almost secretive as she ran a hand over the railing leading to the circular platform. “Jamison did an amazing job remodeling it in time for his best friend’s wedding. This place is...special to us.”

  Special? Combine that with the satisfied look on his sister’s face and—Chance groaned. “Okay, stop. Now! Before I have to scrub my brain out with soap.”

  “Oh, grow up! We’re both adults here.”

  “Uh, no. I’m an adult and you’re my baby sister, and if you tell me much more than you already have, I’ll have to punch your lawyer-boy fiancé in the face. Where is he, anyway?”

  His sister had asked him to take some pictures for updating the hotel’s website and for new brochures touting the place as the wedding spot. Rory and Jamison were going to pose as a happy couple with the gazebo as a romantic backdrop, but his sister’s fiancé had yet to show. “Didn’t you say you had a deadline to get these shots to the printer?”

  Rory sighed. “I do, but Jamison decided to stay in San Francisco for another day or two. His former in-laws are having a hard time with Hannah moving away.”

  Chance didn’t feel much sympathy for the older couple, knowing the problems they’d caused when Rory and Jamison first got together. “So they call, and he automatically runs home?”

  “Like I said, they’re having a hard time. Jamison is doing all he can to make the transition easier.” Rory lifted her chin to a stubborn—and familiar—angle.

  Chance knew she wouldn’t say anything against her fiancé, but he had to wonder. “Are you sure Jamison isn’t simply making it easier for his in-laws to manipulate him? And letting them use his daughter to do it?”

  “They’ve lost their daughter, and Hannah is their only grandchild. This isn’t easy on anyone. And besides, they’re her family.”

  “Family,” he echoed. “You say that as if it makes everything and anything okay. Even if—”

  We just want what’s best for you, Chance.

  Even if they didn’t know him at all.

  “Chance...”

  His sister was no fool. But whatever Rory suspected, he wasn’t going there. Not now. Probably not ever when for all he knew, Rory felt the same way.

  Maybe—maybe it would be better if his leg never healed...

  “So if Jamison’s a no-show, what are we doing here? You want some shots just of the gazebo?”

  Lingering worry and hurt swirled in his sister’s gaze. “No, I—” Her expression cleared, and she glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, perfect. Here they are now! When Jamison had to leave town, I asked another couple to step in.”

  Chance knew without looking back exactly who was standing behind him. The hair on the back of his neck rose as a familiar awareness surged through him. He didn’t need to turn around, but like some kind of polarized magnet, he couldn’t stop the sudden pull.

  As Alexa’s startled gaze locked on his, Chance’s hands tightened around the camera. He was sure heiress and philanthropist Alexa Mayhew had never given modeling a second’s thought, but she could have made a fortune at it. Wearing a soft pink sweater draped over a loose floral print dress, she looked as fashionable as ever. Her blond hair fell to her shoulde
rs in soft waves, tucked back behind one ear.

  It was all Chance could do to keep from lifting his camera and snapping the moment.

  In the months since that weekend in Santa Barbara, especially those first agonizing weeks in the hospital, he’d regretted not taking Alexa’s picture when he’d had the chance.

  Oh, with her family’s wealth and Alexa’s status as the face of her grandmother’s foundation, he could have found dozens of images online. But none that he had taken. He wanted to photograph the Alexa only he could see, the sensual side she’d revealed to him during their weekend together. He wanted to capture that part of her for himself—

  And didn’t that sound downright creepy?

  “I asked Griffin and Alexa to help out, and they agreed,” Rory was saying behind him.

  Because yes, Alexa’s fiancé was there, too, but Chance couldn’t drag his gaze away from Alexa.

  Ever since the morning outside the cottage two days ago, Chance had done his damnedest to keep his distance, but the hotel simply wasn’t big enough for both of them. There were still those unavoidable moments. A brief second when they passed each other in the lobby. When they’d seen each other across the hotel restaurant. And he’d felt it every damn time.

  The rush, the attraction, the awareness arcing between them. As powerful and elemental as a bolt of lightning, raising the hair on his arms on end and making him feel...alive.

  And as she drew closer, a flash of gold and diamond in her hair sparkled despite the cloudy skies. Her chin lifted, almost as if she were challenging him to notice, to remember...

  Chance swore beneath his breath. Like he needed the reminder. Hell, he’d given the damn thing back to her as a way to cut ties. To convince his stupid heart of what he hadn’t been able to bring himself to believe—it was over.

  She’d been more than clear in that last phone call, so why would she choose to wear the hairpin now?

  During his months together with Lisette, he hadn’t figured her out until it was too late and the damage to his career had already been done. And in hindsight, without head-over-heels lust blinding him, the attention-grabbing, spoiled beauty wasn’t that hard to pin down.