Dream Wedding. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ grimaced. She had done exactly that. But she couldn’t tell the truth. She just couldn’t!

      “I’m sorry,” she said and touched her sister’s arm. “It’s just a nightgown, kid. Like any other.”

      “Okay. Aunt Charity warned me the legend might just be a story, but I didn’t want to believe her. I guess I’m going to have to.” Cassie looked as if she was going to say more, then untangled herself from the covers and stood up. “I’ll go start the coffee.”

      When Chloe was alone, she collapsed back on the pillow. She felt strange inside. Off center somehow. Was it the dream?

      “There is no legend,” she said aloud. “The dream was just my subconscious’s way of telling me it’s time to start dating. I’ll take the hint. Today in the office, I’ll look around for a likely candidate.”

      But as she walked to the bathroom, instead of trying to figure out which eligible men would interest her, she found herself picturing him. She shivered...not in fear or irritation, but at the memory of what his touch had done to her.

      A hot shower went a long way to restoring her spirits. As she toweled off, she checked her arms and the tops of her breasts. Nothing. Just her regular skin. She’d half expected to see the lingering marks from his lovemaking.

      “I must remember to ask Aunt Charity if insanity runs in the family,” she said as she chose her clothes for the day.

      Fifteen minutes later, her hair was dry and she was dressed. She headed for the kitchen and that healing first cup of coffee. As she reached for the coffeepot, Cassie flipped on the small television. They usually watched one of the morning shows while they ate breakfast.

      Chloe had the pot in one hand and a mug in the other. Then a familiar voice filled the room and she froze.

      “The gem exhibit is an exciting find,” he said. “But I can’t take full credit for bringing it to the university. It takes a very large committee to pull this kind of thing together.”

      Goose bumps puckered up and down her arms. She set the coffeepot back on its burner so she wouldn’t drop it, and put the mug on the counter. Then, very slowly, she turned to face the television.

      The camera focused on the perky hostess of the local morning show. Then the picture on the screen panned right. A man came into view. A handsome man. A man who, until sometime last night, she’d never seen before. But she knew him. She knew every inch of his body. She’d touched and tasted him, she knew his scent so well, she could have found him in the dark.

      “Why do you think you’re always the one to make the great discoveries?” the woman asked.

      The man smiled. Chloe felt her heart shudder in her chest, and she began to tingle all over. She might not want to remember, but her body wouldn’t let her forget.

      The man smiled. “Just lucky, I guess.”

      The hostess practically sighed. “Unfortunately we’re out of time. Just to remind our viewers, Arizona Smith will be lecturing at the university on his fabulous gem find. There are still tickets available, but they’re going fast. The gems themselves will be on display throughout the month. Mr. Smith, it’s been my pleasure having you here this morning.”

      Chloe’s mouth twisted. The woman was practically cooing. So much for professionalism, she thought, refusing to acknowledge the white heat inside of her that some might call jealousy.

      So her mystery man had a name. Arizona Smith. Which meant he was real. She thought about the nightgown, the Bradley family legend, the dream. Oh, Lord, it couldn’t be true. He was not her destiny. He couldn’t be. She didn’t want a destiny like that. She avoided relationships.

      It doesn’t matter, she told herself fiercely. The man is in town for maybe a week. It’s not as if I’ll ever run into him.

      “I’ve got to get to work early,” she told Cassie.

      “Don’t you want your coffee?”

      Chloe was already heading out the door. “I’ll grab some on the way,” she called over her shoulder, and made her escape to freedom.

      * * *

      ARIZONA SMITH WAS everywhere, Chloe thought with dismay as she sipped her coffee at the small diner across the street from her office. His picture had been plastered on three buses and on four different billboards she’d spotted on her way to work. Even now he was staring at her from the bench directly in front of her building—or at least his picture was. She couldn’t escape the man.

      “Deep breaths,” she told herself. The trick was to keep breathing. And moving. If he couldn’t catch her, she would be safe.

      It was too weird. All of it. Maybe she’d seen his picture over the past couple of days and not really noticed. Somehow it had gotten lodged in her brain and only surfaced last night. A perfectly plausible explanation.

      If only the sex hadn’t been so good.

      “I don’t believe in destiny,” she reminded herself again as she left the diner and made her way to the foyer of her building. The magazine office was on the second floor. She stopped by reception long enough to pick up her messages.

      “Jerry wants to see you,” Paula, the receptionist-gofer called. “Something about a special assignment.”

      “Great.” That was what she needed. Something challenging to take her mind off her temporary insanity.

      She dropped her things at her desk, then headed for her editor’s office.

      Bradley Today was a small but prestigious magazine that came out twice a month. Chloe had gotten a job there when she’d graduated from U.C. Berkeley with a degree in journalism. Eventually she planned to make her way to New York, where the big magazines were published, but for now she was gathering experience and building her clippings.

      “You wanted to see me, boss?” she asked as she stepped through the open glass door.

      “Yeah, sit.” Jerry waved to the seat opposite his desk.

      It was only eight-thirty in the morning, but his long-sleeved shirt was already rumpled and his tie hung crooked. If the clothes hadn’t been different from the ones he’d worn the previous day, Chloe would have sworn he’d slept in them.

      “It’s like this,” he said, then stuck one hand into the pile of folders on his desk. He pulled one out, looked at the label, shoved it back and grabbed another. “Nancy’s pregnant.”

      Chloe nodded. Nancy was one of their most experienced writers. “She’s been that way for about seven months.”

      “Tell me about it. Babies. Who needs ’em? Anyway, she says she’s too far along to be running around for me. She wants to write stuff that lets her stay in the office. Can you believe it?”

      His outrage made Chloe smile. “Wow. How insensitive of her.”

      “Exactly. Does she give me any warning? No-o-o. She calls me at home last night and drops the bomb. So now I pass it along to you. Good luck, kid.” With that, he tossed her the folder.

      When she touched the stiff СКАЧАТЬ