“Nothing critical. I was just going to get paint and wallpaper samples.”
“How about if the girls and I meet you in town for lunch and we go dress shopping? No taffeta or chiffon, but something practical we can all wear again.”
Dress shopping with other women. That was something she’d never gotten to do in the convent. Or before. She agreed calmly as they walked out into the compound, knowing Colette probably wouldn’t understand a leap into the air and a click of her heels. The simple pleasure of shopping would be no big deal to anyone else.
“Where’s your car?” Colette asked.
Veronica pointed to the B-and-B. “I parked on the other side. I guess that’s why Mike didn’t see it when he went into the house.”
Colette put an arm around her shoulders. “That was good for him. Men are so sure of what they know. I think they need to be shocked every once in a while. I’ve got to get to work. See you this afternoon.”
Veronica walked across the sunny compound with a spring in her step. She did a full circuit of the fountain that stood in the middle surrounded by colorful pansies, then continued on her way, excited by ideas for the day care center. This was what she’d wanted for so long. She couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
Then, before she could feel too secure about her future, she spotted a tall, lean man propped against the trunk of her old, light blue compact, arms folded, ankles crossed. Mike.
She resumed her purposeful stride, unwilling to let him see he made her anxious. First, he was a man, and as a nun she’d had very little experience with them. She’d known priests, of course, as well as fathers of students and repairmen, but she hadn’t known men on an equal footing. Her veil had placed her on an untouchable level. Still, she’d experienced an attraction to him that was unlike anything she’d felt before. She’d found it both exciting and unsettling.
Second, she knew he didn’t want her here, and that was a major threat to her burgeoning self-confidence. And to the new life she was trying. to establish for herself. The life that might one day—if she was really lucky and determined—banish the loneliness forever.
He straightened away from the car as she approached, and she noticed things about him that her previous life had conditioned her to ignore. Broad shoulders stretching his Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt, formidable biceps, long, strong legs in old jeans. She remembered in vivid detail what it had felt like to be sprawled on top of him. Despite her inexperience, she hadn’t felt endangered—at least not physically.
“Hi,” she said. “I thought you were out of the business of giving parking tickets.”
He met her gaze, but didn’t smile. “I am,” he said finally. “I’m here to apologize.”
“That isn’t necessary. Your suspicions were understandable.”
He agreed with one perfunctory nod. “But I didn’t realize that you...”
She looked into his eyes and knew what had brought about this sudden and careful remoteness. Someone had told him about her. Though his apology was chivalrous, she regretted that it placed even more distance between them.
She went past him to put her key in the lock. “Well, it was either let me land on you or let me fall on my backside. I’m glad you chose the former.”
He held the door for her while she tossed her purse in. “I’m sorry I was rude.”
She was determined to put an end to this now. “There’s no need to keep apologizing. I was a nun, but I’m not that delicate.” She spread her arms, forcing him to look at her. “I’ve survived. If we’re going to be crossing paths, you’ll have to stop envisioning me in a black dress and a veil. All right?”
If she’d surprised him, it didn’t show. She guessed there probably wasn’t much that surprised a former cop.
“All right,” he said finally. “When does your day care open?”
“In about a month. Tate’s going to have some partitions put up, and the floor carpeted. Colette thought they’d be finished with that by the wedding. Then I have to paint and paper and move in some furniture.”
“You know, with Tate gone, I’ll be too busy to help you. Will you be able to manage on your own?”
She gave him smile that had nothing to do with mirth. “That’s my specialty. Anything else?”
“Get in,” he said. “I’ll close your door.”
Veronica couldn’t decide if that was courtesy on his part, or an eagerness to get rid of her. In any case, she reversed expertly into the compound, then drove away without a backward glance.
Except one in her rearview mirror, where Mike Delancey was nicely framed, a tall figure standing in front of the beautiful Victorian-style home.
He was not at all what her nicely developing future needed.
“TUXEDOS?” MIKE LOOKED at the sign above the rental shop as Tate, Shea and Armand walked in. “I thought we were wearing suits.”
Tate beckoned him inside. “Changed my mind. Colette was talking about her, Veronica, Rachel and the girls getting dresses they could wear again, and I decided we were being too casual about this. A wedding should be special—particularly a second one, where you get to apply all the lessons you learned during the first. So the ceremony should be bigger, better.”
Shea frowned over a pink cummerbund on a mannequin torso placed on a glass counter. “But there were eight hundred people at your first wedding. This is little country church.”
Tate gave Shea an impatient look.
“He means bigger and better in spirit,” Armand explained, paternally cuffing his shoulder. “In the approach to it.” Then he grinned at Tate. “A man after my own heart. It’s good to astonish women with your sensitivity once in a while. It prevents them from thinking they have the upper hand.”
Shea raised an eyebrow at Mike, as though asking if he understood what Armand was talking about. But Mike returned his attention to something else Tate had said. “Colette talked about her and Veronica getting dresses?”
Tate leaned over the counter, looking at the ties and ascots displayed inside. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Veronica’s her maid of honor.”
As Tate’s best man, Mike was less than delighted with that news. There seemed to be no escape from the woman he was certain would be a problem.
“I didn’t realize she knew her that well.”
“They’ve become good friends in a short time. She’s moving into the loft in the barn.”
Before Mike could comment, a small round man with a tape measure around his neck appeared from behind a curtain at the back of the shop. He eyed the four of them in a clinical way. “No pink or lavender accessories, and no ruffles, am I right?”
“You’re right,” Tate said,
