How to Be a Blissful Bride Read online

  But did he really think he’d have a clue what was going through the mind of a far more complicated woman like Alexa after their single weekend together?

  Color rising in her cheeks, she finally broke the lingering glance and turned to her fiancé. “What did we agree to?” she asked quietly.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Rory asked.

  Griffin was all smiles as he shot Alexa a wink that had Chance’s hands tightening on his camera. “I thought it would be a surprise. Surprise!”

  Rory laughed and explained, “We need some pictures taken for our website and for some brochures for the hotel. We’re in a bit of a time crunch and... Anyway, I need a couple to pose with the gazebo as the romantic backdrop, and when my fiancé got called away, I thought you and Griffin would be perfect! If you don’t mind, Alexa?”

  Griffin was already guiding her toward the gazebo’s steps, his arm wrapped possessively around her slender waist. “You’re always willing to help out when someone needs a hand.”

  Chance could see she was practically dragging her feet across the damp ground. “Of course, I’d like to help but—”

  “It will only be a few shots. And Chance is a marvelous photographer.”

  Alexa drew in a deep breath and offered Rory a smile. “Just a few shots,” she agreed.

  “Perfect!” His sister clapped her hands in excitement. “Chance, are you ready?”

  Ready to see Alexa in the arms of another man? Because walking in on Lisette hadn’t been bad enough?

  Clearly the universe felt he hadn’t learned his lesson when it came to falling for the wrong woman.

  Chapter Five

  As the face of her grandmother’s charity, Alexa had learned long ago to hide behind a smile. Band canceled at the last minute? No problem. Famous couple who were presenting the charity with a check were now at war? Piece of cake. Countless minor emergencies filling her days, her nights, her weekends, her life? That’s what she was there for.

  But this...

  “If you could see your boyfriend’s face right about now...” Griffin said in a low voice as they posed on the gazebo with Chance as the photographer and Rory as artistic director. “He looks like he wants to kill me.”

  “I want to kill you right now!” Pins and needles pricked every inch of her flesh, heightening her awareness to the point when every breath seemed an effort and she could count every single beat of her heart. Suffocating beneath Chance’s impassive stare, she wanted to sink through the gazebo floor. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

  Self-consciously, she lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear only to remember her hair was already back. Held in place by the butterfly hairpin Chance had returned to her two days ago.

  She hadn’t known exactly when she’d lost the hairpin the night of the charity event. Down in the marble and gold lobby as she mingled with the other arriving guests? In the ballroom during the five-course meal? On the dance floor where Chance first held her in his arms? Or later when he’d held her in her hotel room?

  The impact of Chance returning the hairpin hadn’t immediately struck her. She’d left it behind; he’d found it and returned it. Except he couldn’t have possibly known he would see her. Not at Hillcrest House. Possibly never again, considering the way they’d left things with that last phone call.

  So why, when fate...or whatever brought them back together again all these months later, had he still been carrying her hairpin with him?

  You don’t have weekend flings, Alexa, Griffin had pointed out. Don’t you think that means something?

  She was still coming to grips with what that weekend meant to her. It was easier to believe Chance had walked away without looking back. But what if some part of him wanted to hold on to what they’d found that weekend—like he’d held on to that hairpin? What if he’d wanted to stay?

  “You’ll forgive me. You always do.” Griffin’s expression turned serious as he added, “It’s been three days, Allie. You said you were going to tell him.”

  “No, you said I should.”

  “And deep down you agree whether you’re willing to admit it or not. You just need a little push.”

  And Griffin was good at pushing her. Into the deep end of the pool when she’d been nine and too scared to jump despite months of private swimming lessons. Out from behind a curtain and onto center stage at one of the first fund-raising events she’d organized.

  And now he was pushing her to talk to Chance.

  “Griffin—”

  “Just a second.” Stepping back, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After a quick look at the screen, he shot her a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Reaching out, Alexa desperately grabbed his arm. “Griffin!”

  Leaning close, he pressed a kiss against her temple. “Talk to him,” he murmured before he backed down the stairs and walked away.

  Standing alone in the gazebo, Alexa felt ridiculously abandoned. “I’m sure he’ll be back in just a minute,” she told Chance and Rory, certain of no such thing.

  Five minutes later and even that small amount of certainty started to wane. But when Chance lifted the camera strapped over his head, she pleaded, “Can’t we wait just a few minutes longer?” She’d promised—or at least Griffin had promised—to help Rory, and Alexa didn’t want to let the other woman down. “Griffin—”

  “I’m not waiting for Griffin,” Chance stated flatly. “Here.”

  Rory’s eyes widened as she fumbled with the camera her brother handed to her. “Chance, what are you doing?”

  “Point and shoot, Rory. It’s not that hard.”

  “Not that hard? Easy for you to say! If I end up breaking this thing—”

  “You won’t.”

  But instead of turning and walking away like Alexa thought he was going to, Chance stalked toward her. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the gazebo’s railing as she felt herself swaying closer as he stomped up the steps. His gaze captured hers, and her thoughts flashed to that night four months ago.

  Chance backing her into the bedroom, his low laughter striking sparks along every inch of her exposed skin when she’d suggested turning off the lights.

  Do you always kiss with your eyes closed, Lexi?

  Maybe, she had confessed while thinking, Among other things.

  Then prepare to see all you’ve been missing, he vowed, and to say she’d had her eyes opened was a serious understatement...

  “Your fiancé’s an idiot.”

  “Excuse me?” Alexa blinked, the muttered words not the ones she’d thought she’d hear.

  “He’s an idiot to walk away from you.”

  Conscious of his sister only a few yards away, fiddling uncertainly with the camera in her hands, Alexa murmured, “Well, at least I can be sure Griffin’s coming back.”

  “You made it pretty damn clear you didn’t want me back, princess.”

  In the days that followed that magical weekend, doubts had quickly crept in. That instant connection...it couldn’t have been as strong as she remembered. The feeling of belonging she’d found in his arms...that was all part of the fantasy. None of it was real because she didn’t believe in love at first sight, did she...

  Did she?

  She couldn’t. Not with a man like Chance McClaren. A man who lived life in a lane so fast it didn’t have a speed limit, a man who would leave her time and time again before leaving her for the last time.

  So she convinced herself the connection wasn’t strong, and she had told him she didn’t want to see him again.

  “Um, are you sure about this, Chance?” Rory called out, the camera that had looked so much a part of Chance held awkwardly in her much smaller hands.

  “You wanted a couple to smile for the camera, right?” he called over his shoulder. “So com
e on, Lexi,” he said beneath his breath. “Smile.”

  Nerves carved a hole in her stomach as she inhaled the scent of his aftershave. He’d gotten a haircut since she’d seen him last and had scraped away the thick stubble coating his rugged jaw. But for all his instructions, his unsmiling features appeared carved from granite.

  “No one is going to believe we’re a couple. Not even in a photograph.”

  Bending his head low to hers in what Alexa inanely realized would make a poignant picture, Chance murmured, “Just fake it... You know, like you did in Santa Barbara.”

  * * *

  “Well—” Rory cleared her throat as she handed the camera back to Chance “—I think we got some...interesting shots.”

  Though her smile remained in place, he couldn’t possibly miss the “what the heck was that?” arch to her eyebrows. He couldn’t begin to explain to his sister what had just happened. Hell, he couldn’t explain it to himself.

  One minute he’d been photographing Alexa and Griffin, clinging to every ounce of control he possessed to keep from storming up the gazebo stairs and knocking the other man into next week, and then in the next—the guy was gone, walking off and leaving Alexa alone.

  Embarrassed color kissed her cheeks in the fading light. She’d lifted a hand to her hair, and he couldn’t help noticing once more that Griffin James had yet to put a ring on Alexa’s slender finger. In fact, the only diamonds she wore were the ones Chance had given to her. Or at least had given back to her.

  And before he could take a moment to talk himself out of it, he had climbed those steps, but the only blows had been the ones Alexa landed.

  No one is going to believe we’re a couple.

  How many times did she need to tell him? he asked himself as he shoved his camera and lenses into his bag. He didn’t belong in her world, and she’d already chosen a man who did. End of story.

  So he’d shot back that jackass comment about faking it, determined to hold on to his self-righteous anger only to lose it the moment he wrapped his arms around her. Desire thrummed through his veins and it had taken all his self-control not to pull her body tight to his until he could feel every inch of her against every inch of him.

  It was goodbye, he’d told himself, and this time when he walked away, there’d be no looking back. Just moving forward, the way he had always done. Onto the next job, onto the next shoot. His life was his work. In the field, he was known for his single-minded concentration. His ability to focus on the shot and block out all other distractions around him.

  But Alexa was a distraction unlike any he’d ever known. With her slender arms around his neck and her honey-lilac scent haunting his senses, Chance didn’t know how he was supposed to let her go.

  He’d never been one for holding on, had always been the one to leave—like he had left Alexa after their weekend together. But she’d followed him. In his thoughts, in his dreams, in the darkest moments after the explosion when her presence—imagined though it was—had pulled him through.

  “Chance.”

  “Don’t,” he’d protested gruffly, sure she was going to remind him once again of the differences in their lives.

  He might have made a name for himself as a photojournalist, but that didn’t mean he fit in Alexa’s wealthy, privileged world. So why had hearing her say the words hurt so much more than he’d expected?

  “Don’t say anything. Just...”

  “Feel?” she’d whispered back, her voice breaking on the word and on the memory.

  But that was the problem. He felt too much for a woman promised to another man. How many times had he told himself over the past months that those nights in Santa Barbara weren’t as incredible as he remembered? That the long, lonely nights spent in some godforsaken war-torn country had somehow magnified his last pleasurable experience into so much more than it was?

  Like putting the object of a crush on some untouchable pedestal, his memory elevated his experience with Alexa to a height real life could never equal.

  But after touching her again, holding her in his arms, Chance knew it was all a lie. The reality of Alexa was more than memory, more than imagination could ever offer.

  His movements were rough, impatient as he jerked the zipper on his camera bag closed. He needed to get the hell out of Clearville. He’d known coming here was a mistake, as much of one as going home had been.

  He had a studio apartment in LA he saw half a dozen times a year at most. He could stay there. The three flights of stairs would be hell on his leg but a picnic compared to what staying in Clearville was doing to the rest of him.

  Strains of music drifted out over the grounds, and Rory glanced back toward the hotel. “We have an anniversary party set for this evening. Sounds like the DJ is getting set up. Alexa, why don’t you come with me? I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing the way we’ve decorated for the event.”

  “I’ll wait here for Griffin, and we’ll join you in a minute.”

  “Oh, okay. Um, Chance, you’ll need to email the final shots over to the printer.”

  “I’ll go through and do some touch-up work and send them over. Unless you want to have final say?”

  “No, of course not. After all, you are the professional.”

  He didn’t miss the slight emphasis on the last word. A reminder that Alexa was a guest and a potential Hillcrest bride...

  “I can’t imagine what your sister is thinking,” Alexa muttered as Rory walked away.

  “You’re worried what my sister is thinking? I figured you’d be more concerned about your fiancé.”

  Her gaze cut to his, her expression a little wounded, a little guilty. “Chance, there’s something I need to tell you... About Griffin...and about our time together in Santa Barbara.”

  “You’ve said enough already, and it’s not like I haven’t heard it all before.”

  “What—what does that mean?”

  “Do you think you’re the first rich girl to go slumming?”

  Her jaw dropped. “You think—That is not what I was doing. If anyone is a fake, Chance McClaren, it’s you! You played me in Santa Barbara. You fooled me into thinking you were charming and—and sensitive—and kind.”

  “I’m still plenty charming when I want to be.”

  He advanced on her, but she held her ground. Reminding him once again that his golden goddess had a spine of steel.

  “Oh, you’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? But I’ve got news for you. You’re like the chicken pox. Now that I’ve had you, I’m immune.”

  Her head was raised to a haughty height, but that only made the pulse pounding in her long, elegant neck more noticeable. He cupped his hand around her nape, her silken hair teasing his skin as his thumb laid claim to that telltale throbbing. “You sure about that, princess? ’Cause I’m more than ready to put it to the test.”

  Alexa gasped his name when he pulled her body flush with his, but that wasn’t what held Chance in place. Instead, it was the soft strains of a familiar melody—the song they had danced to in Santa Barbara.

  They both froze, caught in the moment...in the memory.

  Anger, desire, longing—all of it charged the air around them until the hair on the back of his neck rose. Alexa’s lips parted, the slight intake of breath enough to draw him even closer, to pull him into the promise of her kiss and the memory of making love.

  Until the music cut off abruptly, putting a sudden end to something that had never truly started. The empty silence was jarring, too...loud for him to ignore all he couldn’t say to a woman engaged to another man.

  Chance ignored the sharp pain in his leg as he jerked away. “Go back to your world, Alexa, and stay out of mine.”

  The past few minutes should have sent her scurrying back to her fiancé. Hell, she was right after all. He wasn’t the man she’d met in Santa Barbara. He couldn’t blame her for not recogniz
ing him. At the moment, he barely recognized himself.

  But instead she stood her ground, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she raised her arms from her sides. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m pregnant!”

  Chapter Six

  Blinking back furious tears, Alexa couldn’t imagine a worse way to tell Chance about the baby. Shouting out the words in a fit of anger and hurt and...desire. That was as far from the calm, logical conversation she’d planned as she could get. But maybe she shouldn’t even have been surprised. From the moment she met Chance McClaren, her plans had all landed in one huge handbasket.

  “Pregnant?”

  He echoed the word blankly, a mix of consonants and vowels that held no possible meaning in his world. “How—”

  “You have to ask?”

  “How do you know it’s mine?”

  Alexa told herself she’d expected the question, that it was her own fault Chance had to ask. But it didn’t stop the hurt slicing through her. “It’s yours.” Still seeing the suspicion in his eyes, she said, “Griffin’s a friend. Just a friend.”

  “A friend you were going to marry.”

  “He asked me to marry him. I didn’t say yes.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t say no or the two of you wouldn’t be here, looking at a wedding venue.” His gaze narrowed to a thin slice of blue. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

  “About the baby? Yes.”

  “You told him, but you didn’t tell me.” His voice had a hollow sound to it as if she’d cut the heart out of him and left him empty inside.

  She forced herself to face the truth. She’d started to fall for him that weekend in Santa Barbara. She wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight, but she’d felt something. Something magical. She never would have slept with him if she hadn’t. That was why she’d been so hurt when she hadn’t heard from him. When the days of loving someone who would leave her without a backward glance had returned with a vengeance.

  And when she found out she was pregnant...