had begun the search for a house. No doubt, hired help would do the housekeeping, lawn and pool care so that the busy attorneys’ time and energy could be channeled into their careers. Neither wanted children—too much of a distraction.
They were perfect for each other.
Jessie couldn’t imagine a more empty existence, but this wasn’t about her. After a shower, she’d race the twenty or so miles from Plano to downtown Dallas. She’d take the tollway, the quickest route. Still, she’d be hard-pressed to make the drive to the bridal shop in an hour.
Jenna was going to owe big-time for this favor.
Jessie hurried through the front door of Brennan’s Bridal Boutique and her eyes immediately began to burn from the battle of heavy perfumes.
Women of all shapes and sizes decked out in Prada, Gucci and big hair milled about the room. A few customers even carried pets in designer totes.
Jessie suddenly felt self-conscious in her lightweight jogging suit, ponytail and no makeup, but at least she was clean.
Conversation competed with soft jazz that flowed from hidden speakers as she scanned the room for a glimpse of “the pearl lady,” Jenna’s description of her bridal consultant.
A petite woman in pearls seemed to appear out of nowhere and appraised Jessie over reading glasses. “Ms. Taggert, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
The woman’s scrutiny left Jessie squirming in her no-brand tennis shoes. “I had something come up at the last minute, so I either had to reschedule or come like this.”
“These things happen, I suppose. And since your wedding is next week, you made the right decision. I have a changing room all ready for you, so follow me.”
The consultant stepped into a short hallway that boasted thick cream carpet and white walls adorned with wedding portraits of local celebrities. “I double-checked that the fitter made the tucks in the waist just as you requested. I hope it meets with your approval, because we really are running out of time.”
Jessie smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
The consultant stopped in front of the first door, gave Jessie a puzzled look, then motioned her inside.
Jessie entered a spacious room furnished with a couch, a huge trifold mirror and a circular raised platform in front of it.
A gown that screamed “Look at me” hung next to a plush white robe. Nestled below was a pair of off-white satin pumps dyed to match the dress.
Jessie frowned. Whatever happened to simple and elegant?
“Ms. Taggert, is something wrong with the dress?”
Jessie forced a smile. “No. Of course not.” Her opinion of the gown didn’t matter. “I’ll try this on and be out of your hair in no time.”
“Wonderful. Here, let me help—”
“Thanks, but I can manage.”
After another strange look, and obvious reluctance, the consultant left.
Jessie stepped into the fussy gown. The dress hugged and flared in all the right places, as far as she could tell. She checked the time. With any luck, ten minutes, fifteen tops, she’d be out of there and on her way home to play in her garden.
“Jenna, are you in there? I need to talk to you.”
Mac! She’d only met her sister’s fiancé once, but his deep, sexy voice was easily recognizable. “I’m sort of busy right now, Mac.” What was he doing at a bridal shop? “Later works better for me,” she offered. Much later.
“This is important.”
Oh, God. Mac didn’t sound as if he’d take no for an answer. What was she going to do? “But you can’t see me in my dress before the wedding.”
“Now I know something is wrong.” His voice sounded closer. “I saw you in it months ago. What’s going on?”
Why couldn’t her sister have been a more conventional, superstitious bride-to-be? “But that was before changes were made. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Forget about the dress. We need to talk. Now.”
An all-too-familiar queasiness erupted in Jessie’s sensitive stomach, her body’s typical reaction to stress. She had to come up with some reason to keep Mac out. Jenna never went anywhere without makeup and every hair in place.
“You’ve ignored my calls, Jenna. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since yesterday when you missed your appointment to take the deposition for the Grant case. I had to send Adam to cover for you.”
Panic gave way to worry. Jenna always put work first. Something really must be wrong, but Jessie couldn’t ask Mac about it, since she’d promised to keep her sister’s absence a secret.
She needed to talk to Jenna, but first she would have to deal with the tenacious lawyer who would know she wasn’t his fiancée after one look at her fresh-scrubbed face. “Okay, Mac, but I need to see the consultant first. Will you find her and send her in?”
Silence followed Jessie’s request. What would she do if he just barged in? After all, she didn’t really know her sister’s fiancé, having met him the first and only time at the couples shower she’d hosted several weeks ago at the Green Room.
He had arrived at the popular Deep Ellum restaurant with Jenna on his arm. Every coal-black hair was in place, his manners polished, as he worked the room like a seasoned politician and flashed his winning smile.
Of course, a man that attractive, that perfect, would choose a woman like Jenna.
He’d kept his arm around Jenna’s waist or shoulders the entire time, an obvious sign of affection, but Jessie hadn’t been won over. Something wasn’t quite right about them as a couple, but she couldn’t define what it was and that bothered her.
“Don’t take too long, Jenna,” Mac warned.
The consultant rushed inside and Jessie shut the door. “I need your help.”
“Is something wrong with the dress?”
Jessie shook her head. “The dress is great. But I can’t let my fiancé see me like this. Do you have any makeup around here that I can use? I’ll be glad to pay you.”
The woman’s knowing smile might as well have been an “I told you so.” No self-respecting woman ever left the house not looking her best. “No need for that. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
While waiting for the cosmetics, Jessie arranged her hair into an elegant knot. As kids, the sisters had often traded places to cover for each other when the need arose. While fooling others entertained Jenna, the charades usually left Jessie reaching for the closest bottle of antacid to calm her nervous digestive system.
Now that she was an adult, deception proved even more difficult to stomach.
“She’ll just be a minute, Mr. McKenna,” the consultant
