amused, he stepped to one side, revealing the sign on the door behind him. “There it is. I’ll wait for you.”
“No need,” she said with forced gaiety. “I know that you have best-man duties, photographs and such.”
“I’ll wait.”
Once inside, she delayed as long as she could, using cold compresses on her face, then reapplying the lipstick she’d nibbled away during the service. Finally, with no other reasonable options, she straightened her shoulders and opened the door.
A lazy smile broke over his face as his gaze scanned her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Do you know how long and hard I looked for you after you left Akron in such an all-fired hurry? Where’d you get off to?”
“I went home to Washington.”
“I mean after that. I was in D.C. by midnight, and you’d already hightailed it for parts unknown. I did everything but call out the hounds to find you.”
“I went to visit a friend in Colorado—not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Damn right it’s my concern. After that night—”
“I’d rather forget that weekend, Jackson. I…I don’t know what possessed me to— Well, I’m ordinarily much more sensible. It must have been the champagne. I’m not much of a drinker, and—” Realizing that she was blathering and that he was amused at her discomfort, she stopped and drew a deep breath. “I would appreciate it if you would be a gentleman and forget that night ever happened.”
A slow grin lifted one corner of his sensual mouth, a mouth that had haunted her for months after their encounter. She still remembered the taste of it, the feel of it on—
“Not likely, darlin’,” he said in a slow drawl as he ran a knuckle along her jawline. “Even though my mama did her best to raise a gentleman, nothing’s wrong with my memory.”
Her spine started to unravel, then Olivia caught herself and stiffened her resolve. She wasn’t going to fall into his trap again. There wasn’t room for a man in her plans. Certainly not a man like Jackson. If she hadn’t been so terrified when she’d spied her ex-husband across the dance floor, she would never have left with Jackson that night. But she’d been so shocked to realize that Thomas had found her that she’d acted impulsively, thinking only of escape and of Jackson as a heaven-sent protector.
“You might as well forget it,” she snapped. “There will never be a repeat performance. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She tried to push past him, but he blocked her way.
“Not so fast,” he said, pinning her between his arms and the wall. “Now that I’ve found you again, darlin’, I’m not about to let you get away this time.”
A door opened down the hall, and Jackson’s grandfather stuck his head out. “Jackson—” He gave a little hoot. “Might have known you’d have a pretty woman cornered somewhere. ’Scuse me, ma’am, but, Jackson, you’d better get in there or your mama’s gonna skin you alive.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Grandpa Pete.”
“Please go ahead,” Olivia said.
“I’m afraid if I leave you might cut and run.”
Jackson’s grandfather, known to everyone as Cherokee Pete, ambled toward them. Well into his eighties, he was still ramrod straight, and merriment danced in his dark eyes. With his long gray braids, he reminded Olivia of Willie Nelson in a tuxedo.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” Pete said, “if it isn’t Olivia Emory. How are you, young lady?”
She smiled and held out her hand. “It’s Olivia Moore now, and I’m fine, Mr. Beamon.”
“Moore?” Jackson said sharply. “Are you married?”
“None of that Mr. Beamon stuff,” Pete said, both he and Olivia ignoring Jackson’s question. “Despite this monkey suit, I’m still just plain Cherokee Pete. Get along, Jackson. I’ll take care of Olivia until you’re through with the picture taking.”
Jackson didn’t budge. “Are you married?”
She started to lie. Lying would have solved a multitude of problems, but something in his tone wrung the truth from her. She sighed and shook her head.
“Then why the name change?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“No, you ain’t,” Pete said. “Jackson, get going. You can jaw about this later.” After Pete shooed his grandson away, he tucked Olivia’s arm through his. “Little lady, how about you and me mosey on over to the reception? There’s plenty of room in that fancy limousine out front, and I’ll be the envy of every man in the room if I show up with such a beautiful woman on my arm. You wouldn’t deprive me of that pleasure, now would you?” He patted her hand and smiled in a manner so charming and infectious that she couldn’t help but return it.
“You’re a shameless flirt, Pete Beamon. Now I know where your grandsons get their charm.”
His grin widened and he winked. “Taught ’em everything they know. Come along, Miss Olivia. On the way to that highfalutin restaurant they reserved, you can tell me why your name is Moore now. I’m a mite curious myself. So you didn’t get remarried?”
“Not likely. Even though I’ve been divorced for three years, I just decided to take back my maiden name.” That wasn’t precisely the truth, but she’d decided that it was the simplest explanation. Actually, Moore was a name she’d picked from a phone book in Durango.
Pete nodded. “Decided to scrap the name of the sorry scoundrel you got shed of.”
“How did you know my ex-husband was a sorry scoundrel?”
“Just stands to reason. If he amounted to anything, you’d still be married to him. If you ask me, he was a blamed fool to let go of a woman like you.”
If he only would let go, Olivia thought as they neared one of the limousines waiting at the curb.
“Glad to know you’re single,” Pete said as he helped her into the car. “Seems Jackson’s taken quite a shine to you, and I’ve got a proposition to make.”
“A proposition?”
“Yep. Nothing I ever wanted more than for my four grandsons to find a good wife and settle down to raising a family. I was mighty tickled when Kyle hooked up with Irish and when Matt and Eve got together, though both of those pairs had some rough spots, let me tell you. That makes two down and two to go. Now it’s about time that Jackson, being the oldest, got himself hitched to that very particular woman he finally found. I can tell he’s ready.”
“Ready?” Olivia felt her chest clutch and her face go warm. “Who’s the very particular woman?”
“Why,” Pete said, “you are.”
“Me?” Her voice went up an octave.
He
