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Jilt Trip
Heather MacAllister
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
1
THE ORGAN PLAYED softly. Gardenias scented the air. The sunlight of a warm Galveston June day filtered through the stained-glass windows. Bridesmaids gathered in the vestibule of the church. Guests murmured in anticipation.
And the groom’s pager beeped. Again.
“Damn!” Carter Belden slapped the button in annoyance, then remembered the somber presence of the Reverend Royer waiting to lead him toward the altar. “I beg your pardon.”
Reverend Royer’s eyebrows knit together. “Perhaps you could, er, turn off the sound for the duration of the ceremony?”
“Of course,” Carter murmured. Glancing at the number on the pager’s display, he exhaled. “It’s my office. I’ll have to call in.”
“Mr. Belden!”
“My best man isn’t here yet,” he reminded the open-mouthed minister. “This could be from him.”
Reverend Royer shook back the sleeve of his robe and checked his watch. “He’d better hurry or he’ll miss the ceremony!”
“We’ve got a few more minutes, don’t we?”
“Y-yes, but—”
“Stall, if you have to.” Carter was already striding through the groom’s anteroom toward the church’s administration area.
Robe flapping, Reverend Royer hurried after him. “But what shall I tell the bride?”
His hand on the doorknob, Carter paused. “Tell Dee Ann it’s business. She’ll understand.”
Dee Ann might understand, but Carter didn’t. He’d always known he had a loyal and dedicated staff of fellow workaholics, but did they really expect him to conduct business moments before he took his place at the altar?
This had to be an emergency, but that’s what he’d thought the four other times they’d paged him this morning. He knew they weren’t thrilled about his marriage to the daughter of a business competitor, but they should come to the wedding anyway, damn it.
Saunders, at least, should be here. He was Carter’s lawyer, good friend and supposedly the best man.
Where was he?
Probably trying to persuade Nikki Morrison to come.
Slowing his pace, Carter visualized his petite dynamo of a comptroller, with her green eyes and the freckles that showed no matter how she tried to cover them up.
Ah, Nikki…Carter smiled. Well, maybe he could understand if Nikki didn’t want to come, though she’d seemed to accept his approaching nuptials with her usual calm professionalism.
Closing the glass door to the church reception area, Carter reached for the phone on the desk and quickly punched out the number. Through the intercom system, he could hear the organ music. It didn’t sound like the bridal march yet.
“Carter?”
It was Nikki’s voice, tense and breathless.
His collar suddenly felt tight. “What’s going on, Nikki? Where’s Saunders?”
“Are we too late?”
Carter exhaled through his teeth. “In three minutes, I’m supposed to be standing at the altar with Saunders. Where in the hell is he?” He winced and looked around to see if anyone had overheard. Apainting of an unknown saint stared at him reprovingly. Carter turned his back.
“Carter?” A different voice.
“Saunders? Where in the…world are you?”
“We’re in the car.” The lawyer sounded weary.
“Don’t start without us.” His chuckle fell flat.
At least Saunders hadn’t been in an accident. Yet. “It would serve you right if you did miss my wedding.”
“No!”
The chorus of no’s startled him. “Are Julian and Bob in the car with you?”
“Yes.” Nikki’s voice came through the wires again.
“But I saw Bob’s wife and kids here.” What was going on?
“Carter, wait for us. You’ve got to listen to what we’ve found.”
“This isn’t about your takeover—”
“Shh! We’re on the cellular.”
Carter clamped together his lips in frustration. Cellular phone conversations could be overheard by anyone with a radio and they all knew not to discuss business on one. It wasn’t like him to forget.
“Just wait until we get there,” Nikki pleaded. “I’ve got to talk with you before you marry Dee Ann.”
“She’s right,” Saunders broke in. “Don’t do anything before hearing us out.”
“This is unbelievable.”
Behind him, he heard a tapping sound on the glass windows. Turning, Carter saw Reverend Royer and Miss Hicks, the wedding coordinator. Both wore identical expressions of alarmed urgency.
Carter shrugged and pointed to the telephone. Miss Hicks opened the door. “Mr. Belden, we’re behind schedule.”
“Just a moment,” he murmured into the receiver. Mustering a soothing smile, Carter said to the coordinator, “Tell everyone I’ll pay for overtime.”
“Money isn’t the point, Mr. Belden. Time is.”
The corners of Carter’s smile drooped cynically. In his experience, money was usually
