The Groom's Stand-In

“Go to sleep,” he said, his voice more curt than he had inte

nded. “We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

He might have expected her to be rebuffed by his tone—or at least a tad annoyed. Instead, she laughed softly and burrowed more cozily into his shoulder. “G’night, Donovan.”

Grunting a response, he stared up at the rain-pounded metal roof and prepared for another near-sleepless night.

It was early Wednesday—before 8:00 a.m.—when Bryan Falcon knocked on Grace Pennington’s door. He’d called first, so he knew she would be expecting him. But he was still a bit startled by how quickly she threw open the door.

“Good morn—” he began.

“Where’s my sister?” she cut in, glaring at him.

It always amazed him that Chloe and Grace were identical in appearance, yet so different in personality. Chloe was calm, courteous and serene, while Grace was impatient, impulsive and quick-tempered.

He wasn’t looking forward to the next few minutes.

“May I come in?”

She moved aside, then barely allowed him time to step into the converted warehouse, loft-style apartment before she asked again, “Where’s my sister?”

He motioned toward the colorful, contemporary furniture arranged invitingly around the big, airy room. “Maybe we should sit down.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” She planted her feet and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m starting to lose patience with you.”

Patience? He wasn’t aware that she possessed any.

As wary as he was of her temper, he softened when he saw the genuine fear reflected in her hazel eyes. She was doing her best to bluster and intimidate him, but, truth was, she knew something was wrong with Chloe—and she was terrified.

Because he could understand those feelings, and because he shared them, he was able to keep his expression pleasant. “We need to talk, Grace.”

Her throat moved with a hard swallow. “Just tell me,” she whispered. “Is she all right?”

He set his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently toward a bright purple couch.

“Sit,” he said, speaking more firmly now to penetrate the fog of fear that seemed to grip her. “I’ll tell you everything I know at this point.”

Donovan must have been more tired than he had realized. Though he hadn’t expected to sleep, he did. Heavily.

The dirty porthole of a window allowed enough sun to seep through that he could tell it was midmorning when he finally opened his eyes. Nine, maybe even ten o’clock, he surmised, startled by the realization. He never slept that late, no matter how tired he was.

It must have been a combination of exhaustion, pain and the dim light in the cabin that had lulled him into sleeping for so long—not to mention the pleasure of having a warm, soft body snuggled against his, he thought, turning his attention to Chloe. He felt her stir, and sensed with a touch of regret that she was waking. They would have to start hiking again soon.

Who would have thought he would find himself reluctant to leave this shabby excuse for a cabin?

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him, taking a moment to orient herself. And then she gave him a sleepy smile that brought out the little dimples at the corners of her mouth. “Good morning.”

Her voice was sleep-husky, her tone intimate. The sound of it did things to him that he was best not thinking of at the moment. He shifted his hips a bit, pulling away from her just far enough that she wouldn’t become aware of just how pleasant he found it to awaken with her.

“Good morning,” he said, making an effort to keep his own voice brusque. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm.” Still obviously half-asleep, she stretched like a lazy cat, the movement brushing her against him again.

Much more of this, he decided, and he was going to explode. He turned away from her, reaching for the stick he’d left on the floor beside the bed. “I’ll see what sort of fruit we’re having for breakfast.”

“Don’t suppose you can stir up some coffee while you’re at it?” she asked around a yawn as she, too, rose to a sitting position.

“I wish.” He’d just about break his other leg for a steaming mug of coffee, but since that wasn’t an option at the moment, he put it out of his mind and limped to the counter.