brunch at their parents’ house or helped paint Grace’s kids’ bedrooms or a hundred other things Jayne had done with them.
For them.
For Rich.
Having him betray her was one thing—but his entire family, too?
Her stomach roiled. Jayne thought she might be sick.
Self-preservation instincts kicked in. Get out. Now.
She shoved her book into her purse, ripped out a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed the money on the table. The amount was double the cost of her tea and scones, but for once she didn’t care about wasting a few dollars.
Jayne stood.
Someone called her name.
She cringed.
Not someone, but Grace, Rich’s oldest sister—the one person in his family who’d called after the breakup to see how Jayne was faring.
Torn between what she wanted to do and what she should do, she looked over to see a very pregnant Grace. The concern in her eyes—eyes the same color and shape as Rich’s—pricked Jayne’s heart. She gave her almost-sister-in-law a pained, hesitant smile. That was all she could manage at the moment.
Grace moved awkwardly through the crowded room toward her.
No!
The air rushed from Jayne’s lungs.
She had no idea what Grace wanted, but only one thing, one horrible thought, sprang to mind. No way could Jayne allow herself to be introduced to that woman. The other woman. The future Mrs. Rich Strickland.
A potent dose of anxiety fueled Jayne’s already desperate panic. She mouthed I’m sorry to the fast approaching Grace, turned and fled.
The next day, Grace Strickland Cooper stood at the sink in her parents’ kitchen after her family’s weekly get-together for Sunday brunch. “I need a favor.”
Must be his turn to wash. Tristan MacGregor stopped drying a saucepan and stared into the familiar brown eyes of his best friend’s oldest sister. “If you leave your husband and two and three-quarter kids and run away with me, I’ll do anything you ask.”
Grace motioned with wet hands to her bulging baby-filled stomach. “Oh, yes. I’m exactly what an adventurous photojournalist wants to wake up next to every morning.”
“You’re a beautiful woman. Any man would want to wake up next to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you say that to all the girls, pregnant or not.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.” He hung the saucepan on one of the pot rack’s hooks. “Though I usually try to stay away from the pregnant ones.”
She shook her head. “You never change, MacGregor.”
He flashed her his most charming grin. “But you still love me.”
“In your dreams.”
Tristan winked. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Laughing, she rinsed out a soapy pot. “I’m sure you have no problem getting whatever you want. You never did.”
That had been true. At least until recently.
He avoided serious relationships, but he liked having fun. Lately he’d found himself comparing the women he met to an unattainable ideal. That was severely limiting his fun.
He picked up the towel and dried a frying pan. “So what do you need? Want me to take over washing?”
“No.” She glanced around, as if to make sure they were still alone. “I saw Jayne Cavendish yesterday.”
Hearing the name of Rich’s ex-fiancée jolted Tristan from the inside out. He nearly dropped the pan. A big no-no, considering Mrs. Strickland’s year-old marble countertops.
Jayne. His ideal woman…
A million questions sprang to mind. Not one could he ask. “Where?”
“She was at the teahouse where we had Deidre’s shower. It was the same place we took Jayne, which must have made her feel even worse.”
For Rich’s sake Tristan had tried not to think about Jayne Cavendish, but she’d invaded his thoughts and taken over his dreams. She’d become the woman he measured all others against. He even carried her picture in his wallet.
“We were so embarrassed. I’d forgotten how much she liked the place,” Grace continued. “Anyway, Jayne made a beeline for the exit before I could reach her.”
“Do you blame her?” His words came out too harshly, given his role in the breakup.
“Not at all.” Grace frowned. “I love my brother, but he acted like a complete jerk with Jayne. Rich should have broken off the engagement, not led her on the way he did after he met Deidre.”
“I agree.”
“But he didn’t, and Jayne’s the one who’s suffered.”
“Suffered?” Tristan hung the frying pan on a hook. “She should be relieved she didn’t get married. Rich might be my best friend, but Jayne’s better off without him.”
“I call it as I see it.” Grace dried her hands with a dishtowel, rummaged through her purse and handed him a postcard. “Jayne was in such a hurry to leave she forgot this at her table. I thought you could return it and check if she’s doing okay.”
See Jayne?
Tristan’s heart pounded as if he’d stumbled across the perfect shot. No lighting or camera adjustment needed. Just point and click.
He’d wanted to see Jayne for months now, but two reasons kept him away: his travel schedule, and Rich. Speaking of which…
“Just call her,” Tristan said.
“I can’t,” Grace admitted. “Deidre’s feeling very insecure right now.”
Not his problem. Rich had been so mad at Tristan for breaking his engagement. He didn’t want to go through that again.
He returned the postcard to Grace. “Sorry, but I’m not sneaking behind Rich’s back to do this.”
“You wouldn’t be sneaking behind his back.” Grace shoved the postcard into Tristan’s hand. “I
figured there must be some kind of guy code you two follow, so I asked him about it when he arrived this morning.”
“He’s okay if I see Jayne?”
“Better you than me.”
“Because I’m not family?”
Grace flushed. “You’ve been friends with my brother
