come after her. In the meantime Dev would get the full story of their relationship from Carly. If there was more to it than money—and he doubted it was love on J.R.’s part—he would soon know.
Greg waited, the phone to his ear, and turned to him. “Things didn’t work out like you’d hoped?”
“Nope. But I have it covered,” Dev said, thinking of Carly. “One more thing. As soon as Staton steps a foot through the door of this place, I want to know it.”
“I’ll alert the staff and make sure Security keeps their eyes open.”
Standing, Dev put his hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll fill you in on everything as soon as I know myself.”
He let himself out of the room while his most trusted employee followed his orders. Rotating his shoulders to ease the kinks from the long drive, he smiled. The pot was at the highest it had ever been, and the ante would soon go up. Once he had J.R. taken care of, he could return to the Triple B Ranch to face his brothers. He had a confession to make, and he didn’t know how his brothers would react. He didn’t expect it to be good. But until he could prove his worth as a member of the family by putting a stop to J.R. and the four-generation feud, he would have to wait. He could do that. With his ace sleeping soundly upstairs in his bed, he was certain he held the winning hand.
Chapter Two
Carly scratched at her neck, not yet awake but not asleep. Her fingertips recognized an unfamiliar texture, and she drowsily wondered what it was. Her flannel gown wasn’t this itchy. As her mind slowly floated out of the dreamy state, she remembered it was April, and she didn’t wear a flannel nightie in the spring. So why was there lace at her throat?
Her hand froze. Of course. She was in her wedding gown, an expensive creation of imported lace, seed pearls and creamy satin that her mother had insisted Carly must have, even though they couldn’t afford it.
The cobwebs in her mind slowly receded, and she realized she wasn’t at her wedding and she wasn’t on her honeymoon. She scrunched her eyes tight and groaned. Had she really announced that she couldn’t marry James?
Her mind whirled with images and sounds, of Prissy’s pale face and her mother’s tear-filled eyes and anguished cry. Oh, yes, she’d done it. And now she would have to deal with it. That’s what she got for not heeding pauvre défunte Mamère’s warnings.
Memories flew at her like a whirlwind, settling finally on a devilishly handsome stranger. One whose very presence had been threatening and frightening, yet protective and calming. And he had certainly made her heart race, especially when he touched her. He’d come to her rescue, and they’d driven off in his Jeep. Yes, that’s what she remembered. They’d gotten burgers and driven on, and she’d been so tired, so exhausted, that she must have fallen asleep.
But where was she now? Whose bed was she sleeping in? Like Goldilocks awakening when the three bears returned, she was afraid to open her eyes. She giggled nervously, wondering whether, if she did peek, she would see huge bears peering at her.
Feeling more than silly, she slowly opened her eyes. See? No bears, you goose. She let out a shaky sigh of relief. The room was empty. Of bears anyway and, thankfully, of people too.
Slivers of sunshine in the dusky room slipped through a slit in the drapes across from the bed. Moving carefully, Carly pushed back the blanket covering her and cautiously walked on silk-stockinged feet from the bed to the window. Her fingers trembled as she peeled the edge of the curtain aside a few inches. Bright light hit her full in the face, and she blinked, but she was determined to find out where she was. After she became accustomed to the brightness, she gazed out and then took a quick step back, the fabric slipping from her fingers. She spun around, taking in the room’s furnishings and the personal pictures on the wall. This wasn’t a motel room. This was…an apartment? And merely the bedroom.
On a large, upholstered club chair, she spotted her veil, draped across the back and trailing to the floor. She crossed the few steps to it and noticed a piece of paper atop a pile of what looked like clothing. Picking up the note, she squinted in the dim light and quickly read it.
Since you didn’t bring luggage, you can wear these until we get you something more appropriate. When you’re ready, give me a call and we’ll have some breakfast.
It was signed “Dev,” with a phone number under the name.
Carly moved the clothes aside and sank onto the chair, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. Mercy goodness, what had she gotten herself into? She’d bolted from the church without a thought as to what she was doing or what would happen to her. She hadn’t even grabbed a bag. But then, her luggage had been tucked away in James’s car so she wouldn’t have bothered if she had even thought of it. Her wardrobe was the last thing on her mind when she’d burst through the church doors and the stranger had taken her away. She’d spent a sleepless night before her wedding wondering what to do, planning exactly what she’d say and when she’d say it, and praying she could go through with it. She certainly hadn’t planned well. Then again, when it came to her personal life, she never did. Between being too impulsive and her poor judgment, she had really botched things.
All she could do now was make the best of the situation she’d managed to get herself into. As bad as it might be, it couldn’t be as bad as if she had gone ahead with the wedding.
Picking up the items she’d shoved aside, she held up one of the two and eyed it. A sweatshirt. The other piece of clothing was matching sweatpants, and both were several sizes too big. Since she didn’t have a choice—it was her wedding gown or the sweatsuit or nothing—she stood and began to struggle out of her dress. Cursing each tiny satin-covered button in the back, she finally gave up and tugged at the fabric until she heard a rip, and the fasteners popped like popcorn around her.
Once freed, she ignored the wave of guilt caused by the damage she had done and shoved the cumbersome dress to her feet. Stepping out of it, she removed her nylons and shivered, then grabbed the clothing Dev had left and quickly put it on. The legs of the pants were a good ten inches too long, and she was forced to roll the waistband over and the hems up, so she could take a step without tripping. Shoving the sleeves up as far as possible, she looked around for a mirror. Seeing none above the massive dresser along one wall, she tried a door and found a bathroom.
One look in the mirror was enough to know it was a wonder her savior hadn’t dumped her along the road. Mascara smudged beneath both eyes, and her hair looked as if it had been brushed with an egg beater. A drop of water on her finger removed the black marks, and a finger-combing tamed her hair to almost presentable.
Satisfied she could do nothing more with her appearance, she passed through the doorway and spied a cordless phone on the table next to the bed. She grabbed it and the note, and quickly punched in the number Dev had left her.
“Brannigan,” he drawled.
The man’s voice was absolutely lethal. The sound of it warmed the blood running through her veins, and she closed her eyes. She could listen to it forever.
“Carly?”
She opened her eyes and sighed softly. “Thanks for the loan of the clothes.”
He let out a whoosh of breath. “Sure. No problem. You okay?”
Was she? She really couldn’t tell, still feeling a little shell-shocked and confused. “I think so.”
“Good.
