at the moment. “Annie, there’s no way—”
“If there’s a will,” she said, “then we can make it work. You’ll simply pretend you’re Griff. We’ll get married and be off in our decorated car. Nobody has to know a thing.”
Panic seized him. She had lost her grip on reality. “I am not getting married, now or ever.”
“You are like Griff, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.” His nerves tightened with anger.
He would never promise marriage then walk away from the bride without even a word of explanation. Not that he’d ever asked a woman to marry him. He liked being single. No responsibilities. No honey-do lists. No anniversary or birthday to keep track of. Why would he want to give that up?
The crazy determined light in her eyes looked more dangerous than the curves beneath her silk robe.
“Listen to me, Annie. It’s not you.”
“Don’t tell me it’s not personal. This is very personal to me. I’m the one who’s been dumped.”
“I meant…ah, hell. This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had.” He hated to be blunt but the circumstances called for it. “You aren’t getting married today. I’m sorry. I wish I could make it different. I wish my brother hadn’t treated you this way. But you’ve got to face facts.”
“Relax. This isn’t for real, forever, or until death do us part. It’s just for the afternoon. We’ll leave like we’re going on our honeymoon and that will be the end of it. You can drop me at the airport and then you never have to see me again.”
“But—”
She grabbed his arm, her fingers crumpling the sleeve of his tuxedo with desperation. “Please.”
The plea in her voice and gaze knocked him for a loop. How could he say no?
But he had to. It was the right thing to do. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Maybe I should call a doctor. You’ve had quite a shock.”
“I’m perfectly rational. This makes sense. It will work.”
“It’s not right. What about all those people out there? You’re going to lie to your family and friends?”
She worried her bottom lip. “It’s not exactly lying. Think of it as a practical joke. They’ll just never know the punch line.”
“I don’t do practical jokes.”
She pursed her lips. “You’ve got to help me.” Tears made her eyes sparkle like sapphires. “If it wasn’t for your brother I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Oh, God! Not tears. Anything but tears.
Then an alarming question popped into his mind. “Are you pregnant?” Maybe she’d slept with his brother after all.
Her eyes widened. “No. It’s nothing like that. I—I can’t…” her voice wavered “…face them.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll handle everything. I’ll make the announcement. It’s the least I can do.”
She blinked and those tears disappeared. Her jaw hardened. “I live here. I can’t listen to remarks about poor, pitiful Annie. I refuse to be a jilted bride again.”
Her words punched him like a jab in the solar plexus. His jaw went slack before he recovered. “Again?” His hands clenched into fists. “Griffin’s done this to you before?”
She frowned and pulled away from him. As she paced the length of the room, her silk robe rustling, he remembered distinctly what she was wearing—or wasn’t wearing—beneath. Don’t lose focus. Concentrate. You can’t give in to her crazy idea. Or your libido.
“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” she told him. “Okay, it’s the first wedding-day disaster. But Griff’s not the first man to dump me. The other two left days before the big date. I never got this close to walking down the aisle.” To herself, she spoke softly. “Maybe everybody was right. Maybe I am jinxed.”
Then she swung around and faced him. He caught another brain-fogging glimpse of long, silky legs. But it was the pure intensity and determination in her bright blue eyes that melted his reservations. He didn’t pity her. In fact, he knew she’d bounce back from this disaster. He admired her buoyancy.
“I can’t face them as a deserted bride again. Please.” She took a step forward and touched his chest, reminding him of the barely suppressed intimacy they’d shared in that sizzling kiss. “Please, Grant, help me. This once.”
Damn. What else could he do? Damn Griffin. Damn himself for wanting to help.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll play along. Just for today. Then the charade will be over and we’ll go our separate ways.”
And he’d make Griffin pay for this. Next time his brother could clean up his own mess…and marry his own fiancée.
Annie’s face transformed into a dazzling smile. Before he could brace himself, she hugged him close, her body colliding with his, her curves reminding him of the dangers of her body, her kiss. His pulse jolted into high gear. Her musky scent whispered to him like a lover’s invitation. Her blue eyes beckoned to him. He felt the definite tug of desire. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he remembered how sweet and tempting she tasted.
“Thank you,” she whispered before he could dip his head for another forbidden sample. “You won’t regret this.”
But he already did.
THE WEDDING BELLS RANG through the chapel, chiming the hour, then the organist began the march. The chords roared in Annie’s head and jangled her nerves. She felt as if she’d buckled in her emotions for a wild roller-coaster ride and wasn’t exactly sure they’d stay in their seats. Her veil made everything seem blurry and surreal. It pressed in on her, imprisoning her in a shroud of lies.
She had imagined tears of joy as she walked down the aisle, not tears of frustration and defeat. She refused to give in to the threatening sobs choking her. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the happiest day of her life. Not the worst.
Feeling her mouth tremble, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and took the first step down a long white carpeted walkway. She felt as if she was walking through quicksand, each step taking every ounce of energy she possessed. She walked down the aisle toward her fake groom, who looked way too much like Griffin for her peace of mind.
She kept her eyes trained on Grant and tried to look on the bright side—if there was one. At least Griffin had a twin who could save her from total humiliation.
There was a wildness about Grant, not a silly funny bone like Griff, but an untamed side that intrigued her. He looked tall, dark and sexy in his tux, the quintessential groom, a definite prize. The stark white collar accentuated his sun-bronzed features. The ebony jacket showed off his broad-as-Texas shoulders and slim waist. She’d switched his pale pink rosebud boutonniere for the white one reserved for the groom. Somehow his metallic gaze pulled her toward him, steadied her, gave her confidence.
She
