The Wedding Secret. Janelle Denison

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      CHAPTER ONE

      THE bride had the face of an angel and the body of a goddess, all wrapped up in yards of shimmery white fabric that spilled like liquid satin all around her. The incongruity of so much lily white material in an establishment where sinful fun was a Saturday night invitation made Garrett Blackwell do a double take as he slid onto a vacant stool at the bar.

      He wasn’t the only one staring at the lone bride occupying the far corner booth, drinking, or rather gulping, dark liquid from a snifter. Leisure Pointe was rocking with loud music and rowdy as ever with good-natured arguments and boisterous laughter, but the main attraction seemed to be the lady in white. The women eyed her with curiosity and speculation, while any one of the men looked willing and eager to stand in for the nonexistent groom.

      Garrett couldn’t blame them. She was a head-turner, the kind of woman a man could make a real fool of himself over. Huge blue eyes, full lips that begged to be kissed, and flawless, satiny skin that seemed to glow with warmth. Hair the color of sun-dappled wheat was pinned on top of her head, half of which had escaped to fall in a riot of springy, spiral curls around her face and down her back. The off-the-shoulder design of her wedding gown, dazzling with pearls and sequins, dipped low enough to hint at nicely rounded breasts, then nipped in to what appeared to be a tiny waist. He imagined she had long, slender legs to match, and cut off his thoughts before they traveled to more forbidden territory. What skimpy lingerie she might be wearing beneath that dress was none of his business.

      “She’s a looker, isn’t she?”

      Garrett finally turned on his stool and faced Harlan, the burly man who tended the bar and owned the joint. Harlan wore a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows, old worn jeans, and suspenders to hold them up, though the thick girth of his belly could have done the job just as easily.

      “What she looks like is someone who made a wrong turn off of Interstate 44 coming out of St. Louis.” No one as city-polished and elegant as her would deliberately head to the small town of Danby, Missouri, unless they’d gotten lost. “Who is she, anyway?”

      “Damned if I know.” Harlan pried open a long-neck and set the bottle in front of Garrett, knowing his preferred drink. “Nobody seems to know who she is or where she came from. Never seen her around Danby before tonight, and she’s got a face and a body no healthy, red-blooded man would forget, if you know what I mean.”

      Oh, Garret knew exactly what Harlan meant. He didn’t have to turn around to remember what she looked like, to recall the wild crush of hair a man could lose his hands in, full breasts made more lush by her slim waist, or to experience that unwanted stirring of desire that had skirted the edges of his own sanity. Shifting in his seat, he lifted the bottle of beer to his lips and took a long drink of the cool, malty liquid in an attempt to banish his wayward thoughts. “So, where’s the groom?”

      Harlan cleared dirty glasses off the counter and set them in the soapy water filling the sink behind the bar. “Haven’t seen one, though she’s had a few marriage proposals from the young bucks here tonight. They’ve been swarming around her like flies on a horse’s tail, and making a general nuisance of themselves.” He shook his head, something fiercely protective lighting his brown eyes, the kind of look one would expect from the father of three teenage daughters nearing the dating age. “I finally had to tell them to back off and leave her alone. She doesn’t look like she’s interested in the kind of company they have in mind, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from sending her drinks. Five snifters of Amaretto. I just told Becky to cut her off and not to accept any more orders from her admirers, unless it’s for СКАЧАТЬ