Mystery Bride. B.J. Daniels

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Lucas had never met Cassie.

      “I know it’s been a long time—” Cassie sounded apologetic.

      The call shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the one from Lucas.

      But there was something else in Cassie’s tone that made her wary. “What’s wrong?” she asked, remembering Lucas’s cryptic message on her machine.

      “Have you heard from Lucas?” Cassie asked.

      Her heart began to pound again. “Just a short message on my machine. I tried to call him, but I didn’t get an answer.”

      “Have you talked to him lately?” Cassie asked, sounding hesitant.

      “No.” She hated to admit that she hadn’t even thought of Lucas in a long time. The great love of her life. The great loss of her life. When had she quit thinking about him every minute of every day?

      “Or received a letter or maybe a package from him?” Cassie asked, her voice taut.

      Heart racing, Sam asked, “Cassie, what’s happened?”

      “Lucas has disappeared and Zack—” Cassie’s voice broke. “Oh, Sam, I need your help.”

      Chapter Two

      Wolf Point, Montana

       Two days later

      Will Sheridan prided himself on his tenacity. Samantha’s sudden disappearance the night of the party had left him all the more eager to find her.

      But before very long he’d realized it wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. There was no Samantha Moore listed in the phone book. Nor did any of the Moores listed in Billings, Montana, know of a Samantha who fit her description.

      Worse, when he’d called his sister, she’d been distracted over the commissioner’s recent resignation.

      “He’s being investigated for corruption—corruption, mind you. And he was at my party,” she cried. “Can you imagine? A criminal at one of my parties?”

      “Alleged criminal,” he noted distractedly, then quickly asked her about Samantha Moore.

      Katherine assured him that no one by the name of Samantha Moore had been invited to the party—not as a guest or as a date of an invited guest.

      “Are you sure you didn’t just imagine this woman?”

      His sister had sounded a little peeved because he hadn’t cared for the woman she’d had in mind for him. Not that Jennifer Finley hadn’t been adequate.

      But she was no Samantha Moore. After Samantha, no other woman held any interest for him.

      There were, however, several things about her that did cause him concern. The first of which was the Sudden and Sensuous Kiss.

      And the fact that she’d literally disappeared from the party afterward. Why was that? He might have thought her shy, if not for the kiss. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted Katherine to see her, since Samantha wasn’t, it appeared, an invited guest. Another small concern.

      Neither explanation seemed to fit, but whatever the reason for her disappearance, he intended to find her. And he’d told Katherine as much.

      “I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” she’d said haughtily before hanging up.

      Did he? He’d assured himself with his usual confidence that he could handle whatever there was to learn about the woman. After all, unless he was completely wrong about her, she was going to be his wife.

      And he was seldom wrong about things.

      Two days later, on a hot, late-fall afternoon, he found her quite by accident. She was sitting in a blue Firebird in Wolf Point, Montana, her attention on something in the opposite direction from him.

      He’d literally done a double take when he saw her as he drove past. She didn’t look anything like she had at Katherine’s party. And yet, he’d have known her anywhere.

      His first impulse was to get out of his car and walk up to her driver’s window. She had it rolled down, and was leaning back in the seat as if waiting for someone in the shade of the trees lining the quiet street.

      He pulled over half a block past her car and walked back, coming up behind the Firebird. The car had plates for Silverbow County—a county clear across the state from where he’d first seen her. He wondered what she was doing in Wolf Point—sitting in a car this far from home. If her home even was in Silverbow County. And the car seemed all wrong for the woman he’d met at the party. Maybe she’d borrowed it from a friend.

      As he approached the Firebird on the passenger side, watching the side mirror as he advanced, he was even more intrigued by this woman. Strangely, he had the feeling she might bolt if she saw him. Or maybe not so strangely. After all, she had disappeared from the party without a word—and after that very intimate kiss.

      He’d almost reached her car when he heard the engine turn over. He wasn’t about to let her get away again. Impulsively, he rushed forward, grabbed the passenger side door handle and pulled. The door swung open, and he jumped in.

      SURPRISE DIDN’T EVEN come close to describing what Samantha felt when Will Sheridan leapt into the front seat of the Firebird. Her hand went for the pistol duct-taped beneath her seat—stopping just short of the weapon when she recognized him.

      “Hello,” he said, reminiscent of their first encounter. Except for the lack of champagne.

      “Will Sheridan?” She stared at him openmouthed and tried to get her heart rate back to near normal.

      He grinned. “You remembered.”

      Not likely that she’d forget. However, she’d never dreamed she’d see him again. And certainly not here. Certainly not now. What could the man possibly be doing so far from where she’d met him? Not to mention his timing, which was nothing short of amazingly bad.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

      “Looking for you.”

      Oh, no, this didn’t sound good. He must have found out that she was the one who busted the commissioner at his sister’s party.

      “Imagine running into you here in Wolf Point,” he said, his look questioning, suspicious. Not surprising under the circumstances.

      It was beyond even her imagination. She’d sized up Will Sheridan at the party and had known, even before she investigated him later, what kind of man he was. A stable, successful construction company owner with good standing in the community. Everything a woman could want. If that woman liked predictable and unimaginative. And terrible timing.

      “Why were you looking for me?” she asked, already knowing the answer, wondering how she could get rid of him—short of shooting him.

      “We didn’t get to talk the other night at the party.”

      That stopped her. “What?”

      He

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