The Wedding Secret. Janelle Denison

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      CHAPTER TWO

      FOR the first time in six years, Garrett was taking a woman home. He found it more than ironic that the woman in question had been someone else’s intended bride, and was currently passed out on the front bench seat of his truck, her frothy, satiny wedding gown enveloping her like a shimmering cloud.

      Minutes after he’d pulled out of Leisure Pointe’s parking lot, without compunction or any serious thought to what she was doing, she’d stretched out, rested her head in his lap, and promptly fell asleep. Obviously, the long day she’d had, and the Amaretto she’d consumed had finally caught up to her.

      That she trusted him to take care of her unsettled him. He was a complete stranger, after all. Though he’d never take advantage of a woman, he was sure if Jenna Phillips was sober and thinking clearly she never would have left Leisure Pointe with him so willingly. But considering the way she’d chosen to drown her sorrows, she’d had little choice. And as Harlan well knew, Jenna was safer with him than Beau, or even at the local motel.

      The ten-minute drive to Garrett’s place seemed to take thirty, and every inch of the way he tried not to think about the woman with her cheek pressed intimately against his tense thigh, but discovered he could think about little else. Her slender hand was curled just above his knee, and with every deep breath she exhaled his skin heated through the heavy denim of his jeans, electrifying his nerves. And then there was all that wild, curly hair spilling all over his lap like rich, luscious honey.

      Unable to resist the temptation, he touched one of those golden strands, rubbed it between his fingers, not at all surprised to find it silky-soft, and warm as sunshine. The impulse to sink his fingers deeper into all that warmth was strong, but he didn’t dare take that liberty.

      Finally arriving at his two-story house, he turned into the drive and parked his truck near the front porch. A hush fell over the cab, except for Jenna’s deep, even breathing. Hating to disturb her, but knowing she’d be far more comfortable once he had her in a bed, he lightly touched her bare shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

      “Jenna?” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to startle her. “C’mon, you need to get up.”

      Murmuring something about princes in her sleep, she rubbed her cheek against his thigh, snuggled closer to him, and sighed contentedly. He gritted his teeth as his body responded to her cuddling, ruthlessly reminding him that he’d been too long without a woman.

      More determined to awaken this sleeping beauty, he gave her a firm jostling she couldn’t ignore. “Wake up, Jenna.”

      With a groan, her lashes fluttered open, and she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. Brushing her hair from her face, she blinked to clear her vision, then glanced from him, to the darkened house in front of them.

      She frowned in confusion. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice sleep-husky, and incredibly sexy to Garrett’s ears.

      Taking advantage of the reprieve, he opened his door and stepped out into the moonlit night. “We’re home,” he said, retrieving her one paisley-print suitcase from the bed of the truck.

      He offered his hand to help her out of the vehicle, but she didn’t move. Instead, she shook her head, her expression heartbreakingly bereft and desolate. “I don’t have a home anymore,” she whispered.

      Surely she was kidding, or being extremely emotional—the latter of which made the most sense. Even if she hadn’t married her fiancé, she had to live somewhere, have friends and family who would miss her, and a life she needed to return to soon.

      “Since you can’t think of anyone we can call to pick you up, you can stay here for the night. We can sort everything out in the morning, when you’re feeling better.” He had the sudden thought that she might be a bit apprehensive about staying at his house with him. “Are you okay with that?”

      Nodding, she drew a shuddering breath and secured her hand in his, allowing him to assist her, and that mile-long train of her wedding dress out of the truck. She wobbled when both satiny shoes hit the pavement, and he automatically wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, then ushered her toward the porch.

      He helped her into his house, thankful that Chelsea had stayed at his sister’s place, and that his brother had most likely found other accommodations for the night, as well. Both would be home early in the morning though, and he’d explain their extra guest then. With luck, she’d be gone before Sunday’s sun set over the horizon.

      He flicked on the living room lamp, giving him the illumination he needed to guide them up the stairs. Even before they arrived on the second landing, he was debating where to put her. After a quick grappling with his conscience, he decided on the most logical choice—his master bedroom, which had an adjoining bathroom just in case her stomach decided to rebel during the night. As for him, he’d sleep in Chelsea’s bed next door.

      Thanks to Chelsea, his bed was neatly made, and the clothes he normally tossed over the chair in the corner had been dropped into the hamper, giving his room a semblance of order. His little imp of a daughter was only eight, but took her chores seriously since she’d dubbed herself the “woman” of the house, though that didn’t stop her from reminding him that he needed a wife, and she wanted a mom.

      Unfortunately, he had no intention of marrying again. One wife had been more than enough for him and taught him a lesson he wouldn’t be repeating with any woman, including this one, as enticing as she may be. As for a mom, his sister, Lisa, was a fine substitute for that maternal influence Chelsea needed.

      Jenna’s gaze took in his masculine furnishings without a hint of worry over whose room she might be occupying. Once she was seated on the four-poster with her wedding dress pouffed around her, he put her suitcase next to the dresser, figuring she could handle everything else on her own.

      “The bathroom is right through that door,” he said, dragging his fingers through the thick, dark strands of his hair. “And if you need anything, just call for me. I’ll be in the room right next to this one.” He turned to go.

      “Garrett?” she called softly, halting him before he could make a quick escape.

      He exhaled heavily and glanced back at her, instantly steeling himself against that lost look in her eyes. “Yeah?”

      Her satiny pumps hit the floor as she toed them off one at a time. “I…I can’t undo the buttons on my dress by myself.”

      She slid back to her feet, turned around, and gathered her luxurious hair over her shoulder, presenting him with a row of at least two dozen pearl buttons that started between her shoulder blades and marched all the way down to the curve of her bottom.

      He stood there, paralyzed by the thought of helping her to undress. His first instinct was to tell her to sleep in the gown, but knew that suggestion was ridiculous. She had to be extremely uncomfortable, and she had to get out of the gown sooner or later.

      Resigned to the inevitable, he came up behind her. With hands that were none too steady, he fumbled with the small, СКАЧАТЬ