he’d take the dollhouse over his childhood bedroom. And it was only for a month—maybe two. His leg was getting stronger every day, and Chance refused to think he wouldn’t make it back to 100 percent.
And after a few days of consideration, he’d even agreed to fill in as wedding photographer—which he still couldn’t quite believe. But he needed something to keep his mind active, to keep moving.
He’d traveled to some of the most desperate, poverty-stricken, war-torn areas in the world and yet nothing—nothing—was quite as scary as walking into a room filled with marriage-minded women riding high on romance.
Shuddering, he shifted his weight to his right side, testing his leg without the help of the crutches he’d only recently left behind. Sharp shards of pain sliced through muscle and bone. He’d pushed himself too hard, the packed sand more of a challenge than he’d expected. He had a long walk back to the hotel in front of him.
He pulled in a breath before taking that first step, beads of sweat popping up along his hairline and instantly cooling in the ocean breeze. The stormy blue-gray water was nearly the same color as the stormy blue-gray sky. Nearly the same color as a pair of stormy blue-gray eyes that had haunted him for months.
Alexa Mayhew had been draped in gold the night they met. Beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier, she’d glittered with the grace and elegance of a goddess. She was tall and slender, with a poise and prestige that allowed her to move in elite circles where most mortals wouldn’t be welcomed. And yet he’d sensed a restlessness inside her the moment their gazes met across the ballroom, a need to throw aside the fake smiles and polite facade and grab hold of something real...
Or so he’d thought until she made herself clear. She’d been slumming their weekend together. Different worlds, different lives...different bank accounts.
Reaching into the pocket of his baggy khakis, he fingered the small jeweled hairpin he’d been carrying with him since that weekend. In his line of work, he’d learned to travel light. No extra baggage allowed. And yet, he hadn’t been able to leave the small reminder behind any more than he could convince himself to return it to the woman it belonged to. Such a small thing, he hadn’t thought carrying it with him could hurt.
He’d certainly never imagined it would save his life.
He wasn’t superstitious and he wasn’t sentimental. He certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, so why was he having such a hard time letting Alexa go?
* * *
“Welcome to Hillcrest. And I understand congratulations are in order?”
Standing in the elegant lobby of the Victorian hotel, Alexa Mayhew hoped she managed a smile to fool the bright-eyed wedding coordinator.
“It’s not official yet,” she murmured, trying to somewhat inconspicuously hide her left hand in the folds of her wide-legged gray trousers. Her naked left hand, unlike the woman in front of her who sported a sparkling rock on her own third finger.
“But we’d still like a tour of the grounds while we’re staying here if that’s possible.” Griffin James wrapped an arm around Alexa’s shoulders and pulled her tight to his side. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
Alexa stumbled slightly at the sudden move before regaining her balance. She and Griffin had checked in earlier that day after a long drive from Los Angeles. Worn out from hours in the car and feeling more than a little nauseous from the twists and turns on the mountain roads leading into the small Northern California town, she had lain down for a short rest while Griffin had—
Alexa tried to withhold a sigh. Who knows what Griffin had done? Announced their impending engagement from the top turret of the towering Victorian mansion, for all she knew.
She shot her could-be fiancé a glare he returned with a wink and a grin, knowing she could never stay mad at him. He’d been her best friend since childhood, the one person she could turn to when times got tough. The one person who could always make her laugh—which was pretty much what she’d done when he proposed.
“Griffin,” she started to protest.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. A good chance to take a look around.” His eyebrows rose pointedly, reminding her why he had chosen this particular hotel.
Alexa hadn’t really cared where they stayed, too eager to accept his offer of a break away from the demands of her grandmother’s charity foundation. And from the demands of her grandmother.
From the time she’d gone to live with Virginia Mayhew, the wealthy philanthropist had instilled in Alexa a sense of responsibility. In the past decade or so, she had become the face of the foundation. She spent countless hours fund-raising, overseeing charity events, speaking with the media, all in an effort to give back.
But for the first time in her life, Alexa had something she wanted to hold on to...just for herself. She needed to get away, and though she was aware of the faint and almost constant vibrations coming from the cell phone tucked in her purse, she refused to check the barrage of emails and text messages.
Understanding Griffin’s unspoken professional interest in looking around the hotel, she said, “We’d love a tour.”
“I have some time free now if you’re not too tired from traveling,” the woman offered. “And I’m Rory, by the way. Rory Mc—”
A high-pitched whistle sounded, and she glanced at the phone in her own hand. A dreamy smile lit her already beautiful face at the text flashing across the screen. The moment lasted only a split second before she appeared to snap back to reality. A slight blush rose to her cheeks as she slipped the phone into a hidden pocket in the folds of her full skirt. “Sorry about that. That was my fiancé and... Well—” she shot a woman-to-woman look at Alexa “—you know how it is, right?”
“Of course.” Even as happy as the other woman looked, Alexa would bet Rory hadn’t laughed out loud when her fiancé proposed.
“Let’s start inside, and then I can show you around the grounds. We remodeled the gazebo over the summer, and it’s always a popular spot—depending on the time of year for the ceremony. Have the two of you picked a date yet?” Rory asked.
Griffin shot Alexa a questioning look, calling her out on dragging her feet—literally across the richly patterned carpet and in giving a definitive answer to the question he’d asked.
Fall decorations highlighted the elegant lobby—a cornucopia on the concierge desk; red, yellow and orange leaf garland wrapped the deep walnut carved columns, and a huge grapevine wreath dotted with tiny pumpkins and squash hung above the river-stone fireplace in the sitting area. Scents of cinnamon and cloves filled the air.
All signs of how quickly time was flying by. Hard to believe Thanksgiving was only three weeks away. Especially when every time Alexa closed her eyes, her thoughts drifted back to the end of summer.
“Sometime before April, I’m thinking,” Griffin answered wryly when Alexa stayed silent.
“Hmm, that’s not much time,” the wedding coordinator warned before holding up a hand. “Not that we couldn’t pull it off.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a...predetermined time frame.”
As Rory started talking about the history of the hotel, Alexa jabbed
