Lasso Her Heart. Anna Schmidt

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СКАЧАТЬ the security guard added when the announcement ended. He grinned. “I’d go for the sign and baggage claim.”

      Cody thanked him and ambled off.

      “Hey, buddy,” the guard called, and a number of people—assuming trouble—stopped to gawk, wondering what Cody had done. Cody turned and the guard took an empty cardboard box from the candy kiosk vendor and waved it at him. “For your sign. She’s got a marker, too,” he added, nodding at the young woman managing the stand.

      Cody grinned and retraced his steps, nodding to the gawkers on his way and causing one woman of a certain age to blush scarlet when he actually winked at her. “That’s really nice of you,” he said to the guard and candy vendor.

      “What’s her name?” The girl sat poised to write with a large red marker.

      “Bethany Taft.”

      “Better just use first initial and last name,” the guard instructed as the girl wrote the name in bold script letters. She quickly added a border of flowers and vines and handed the finished work to Cody.

      “Thanks. I really appreciate the help,” he said and continued down the corridor following the signs directing him to Baggage Claim.

      Bethany Taft was having definite second thoughts about her latest decision. She was explaining all that to her best friend, Grace Marlowe, as the plane taxied for what seemed like the approximate distance that Grace had driven taking Bethany to the airport in Washington earlier.

      “This was a mistake on so many levels,” she said, cupping one hand around the receiver of her cell phone and her mouth to keep her seatmate from overhearing and commenting on her conversation. The man had introduced himself as a lobbyist for the pork industry. Just after takeoff, he had insisted they put the center chair arm up to give them more room and then proceeded to take over every inch of space that Bethany left available as she pressed closer and closer to the wall of the plane.

      “Give it a chance,” Grace replied. “Just remember what this is going to mean to your aunt Erika.”

      Grace had always been good at finding the core of an issue and, of course, the core of this particular issue was that Bethany’s favorite aunt—a spinster for all of her sixty years—was now engaged to be married to Ian Dillard, widower and nationally known businessman. Erika had insisted that only Bethany could help her plan the wedding and the multitude of events leading up to it.

      “You did such a terrific job for me,” Grace reminded her now. “No wonder Erika wants you to move in with her for the next several months while the two of you put this thing together. Besides it’s good for you to get away—meet new people….”

      Get on with your life now that Nick’s gone.

      Grace was a professional matchmaker by trade. She—and the rest of Bethany’s circle of friends and family—had been extremely concerned about Bethany’s change in outlook this past year. They understood that the sudden and unexpected death of her fiancé, Nick, a year earlier would have been enough to stun even the sunniest of souls—which Bethany had certainly been. But lately everyone had urged Bethany to move on—Nick would want that, they assured her.

      “Did you set me up?” she asked Grace now. “Did you and Erika—”

      “You’re rambling,” Grace interrupted. “I didn’t even know your aunt, a woman I have met exactly three times, was seeing anyone, much less engaged to be married.”

      “So the fact that a couple of weeks ago you suggested that perhaps if I got away for a while—”

      “Pure coincidence,” Grace assured her. “Or perhaps God’s handiwork?”

      Bethany did not reply. God was not part of her life these days. Grace might not like it, but did not push the point. Bethany appreciated her friend’s willingness to accept for now that Bethany had chosen to cope with Nick’s tragic death on her own.

      Turning her attention back to the conversation, she was glad to note that Grace had changed the subject. “Any sign of a gate yet?”

      Bethany peered out the window. “We seem to be taking the grand tour as the pilot decides which one to choose. It’s raining,” she reported. “Another bad sign.”

      “Or it could just be raining,” Grace replied with a laugh. “Give it a chance, Bethany. It means so much to Erika and why not immerse yourself in somebody else’s life and happiness for a while?”

      “While I try to unearth a life and happiness for myself?”

      “You said it, I didn’t,” Grace said just as the plane finally stopped at a gate and the announcement came on about checking overhead bins, et cetera.

      “We’re here. I’ll call you later, okay?”

      Bethany clicked the phone off. Next to her the lobbyist had begun to stir. “What can I get you, little lady?” he asked as he struggled up from the seat and into the narrow aisle. He popped the overhead bin across from their seat. “This and the jacket, right?”

      Bethany nodded as he wrestled her overstuffed carry-on out of the tight space while she bent to retrieve the large bag disguised as her purse that she had pushed under the seat in front of her. “You carry it all with you,” he commented with a tight smile as he dropped the bag heavily to the floor with obvious relief. “Smart woman.”

      Bethany favored him with a radiant smile as she slid across the seat and stood in the space he’d made for her in the aisle. Then to forestall any further conversation, she flicked open her cell again. She had three text messages. The first from her mother—an address she wanted Bethany to be sure and give Erika. The second was from Grace. It read simply, Call any time—I’m here. The third was from her Aunt Erika.

      Change of plans, sweetie. Ian’s son, Cody, will meet your flight—probably at baggage. He’ll find you—I gave him a full description. Ciao!

      Erika had casually dropped the name of Ian’s son before in the context of his being a major hottie, not to mention a brilliant businessman just like his father, and—by the way—single. Bethany groaned, closed the phone and shouldered her purse, makeup essentials, plus everything she couldn’t stuff in the suitcase bag as the masses pushed forward up the jetway and into the chaotic terminal.

      She followed the signs, passed through the security exit and glanced around. Not a soul seemed to be waiting to meet and greet unless she wanted to count the twenty-something guy holding a huge bouquet of red roses. He was a good four inches shorter than she was without her platform espadrilles.

      “Couldn’t be,” Bethany muttered, but she made eye contact and the guy lit up like the sky over the Potomac on the Fourth of July. Bethany took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face and started forward as she considered how she would manage to get through O’Hare carrying that bouquet without looking as though she were a candidate for Miss America.

      Just then she heard an earsplitting squeal from just behind her left shoulder and a girl she recognized from her plane raced past her and into the waiting arms of the red rose guy. He swung her round and round and neither of them seemed to notice the cascade of rose petals that fell to the carpet to be trampled by the hordes as they made their way past the young couple.

      Bethany stood frozen for an instant, unable to take her eyes off the СКАЧАТЬ