Fake Engagement, Real Temptation

Why the hell did she choose December in Colorado to get married?

“Yeah.” He clapped his buddy’s back. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” Lane said.

Now Blake just had to prepare himself to face Carrie with the fact that he’d be her spotter.

“Do whatever it takes,” Lane said. “No matter what, you stay by her side. The last thing she needs is to be alone out of the state. Just keep her safe. And don’t you dare leave her once you get to her.”

Blake nodded. He cared about Carrie, had always had a protective instinct toward her. He hadn’t talked to her since the year before she’d gotten engaged, back when she’d been finishing her master’s degree and had first begun dating her scumbag ex-fiancé. She’d looked lovely. More than lovely, in a cute sweater and glasses. Of course he wouldn’t leave her.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Blake said to Lane, and he headed out of the church, his newest guide mission set.

But when he returned to Carrie’s suite, she didn’t answer the door. The cleaning woman did. He frowned and peeked around the obviously confused housekeeper.

“I was looking for the woman who was just here. Carrie Morgan?”

The housekeeper shook her head. “She checked out a half hour ago. I have to get this cleaned by tonight for the next guest.”

“Wait,” he said. “Checked out?”

He peeked in the room again. All signs of her were gone.

She wouldn’t…

He bolted down the hall and out into the parking lot. He sped over to Carrie’s place and…

She wasn’t there, either. No sign of her.

Yeah. She wouldn’t? She had. He could only hope he got to the airport before her plane took off.

Chapter Two

The heavy, oversized suitcase Carrie was dragging through the airport kept snagging on the bottom of her dress, and the rip sound was getting louder. Or maybe that was the ringing in her ears still blaring strong from her aunt screeching when she’d found out Carrie had been stranded in the bridal suite earlier with no groom.

“Come on, you stupid”—rip—“piece of”—riiiippppp—“crap!” She cursed and kicked her bag, which should be rolling, but one of the wheels had busted somewhere between hauling ass out of that suite and the cab dropping her off at departures ten minutes ago.

She hadn’t bothered to change into anything beyond her “honeymoon” dress. Who cared? This was her honeymoon, and by God, she was going to wear this dress.

She would have her fantasy. Or at least try to. In between wiping away angry tears.

She finally made her way to the endless line at the ticketing counter and rifled through her purse.

Two tickets.

Two honeymoon tickets to Hawaii.

She and Kevin were supposed to leave tonight after the reception, but that wasn’t going to happen anymore. And it was the only escape Carrie could get. Funny that the idea had come from her older brother’s best friend, who’d barely ever shown her any attention except to tease her.

She just had to book it before her brother actually tried to tag along. He was relentless in his protectiveness. Christ, the only person who could potentially smother her even more than Lane was Blake. Imagine if it had been him coming along with her.

She had already taken time off from work. However, she worked at the gallery that sold her ex-fiancé’s artwork, so “time off” was a term she’d have to redefine now that Kevin had stood her up.

But she had the tickets to Hawaii. She might not have a job to go back to, but the prepaid, all-inclusive island trip was a consolation prize after the most humiliating afternoon of her life. She might as well go. It was better than staying in town while the nonstop casserole train came around her place with pity pies.

Not that she could be surprised. She should have known this was a bad idea. Between Kevin always needing “his space” and Carrie being little more than inconvenient over this past year, she’d told herself that the 371 days of celibacy was due to planning a wedding and stress. But it turned out Kevin had been with someone else the whole time.

A mistress for a year, and she’d had no idea.