A Bachelor For The Bride (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #2)

by Mindy Neff

  “You and I know that, but Mother and Daddy don’t.”

  He tried to put himself in her shoes, couldn’t quite stretch his imagination that far. He’d never had anyone who gave a damn whether or not he came home—other than Mr. B. But he wasn’t a blood relation.

  Surprising himself, he went against every instinct he possessed. “If you want to call, I won’t stop you. I’m still advising against it, though.”

  “I have to. I can’t put my parents through this. Daddy’s still distraught over what happened to Kate Bingham—and she’s not his daughter.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a connection between Maynard and Katie.”

  “Daddy’s head of the school board. Since Kate’s parents are gone, she asked him to walk her down the aisle at her wedding.”

  “The botched wedding,” he reminded her. “Interesting that two weekends in a row disaster struck at events where Maynard held center stage.” He felt a niggling of distrust. Probably just his own emotions cluttering up his mind.

  When Jordan drew in a sharp breath, Tanner was sorry he’d voiced the thought.

  “Are you suggesting my father had something to do with all this?” Her tone was indignant, hurt.

  He felt like a heel. “Sorry, that was uncalled-for. I was just talking off the top of my head, grabbing at straws.”

  “You definitely came up with the short one.”

  Her steady gaze made him feel hot under the collar—and in other places.

  “Look, Jordan, there’s no law in Grazer’s Corners at the moment. I’m your best bet for safety, and I have an annoying habit of liking things done my way.”

  “Then I imagine we’re going to butt heads. I’m fairly big on control myself.”

  “That so? Seems to me a woman in control wouldn’t be marrying some guy she doesn’t want to.”

  “I never said I didn’t want to marry Randall.”

  “Didn’t have to. It’s pitifully obvious you don’t even have the hots for the guy.”

  She fairly bristled with indignation. “I don’t see how you can say such a thing.”

  “I just did.” He barely controlled the smile that tugged at his lips. He folded his arms, leaned against the counter, prepared to enjoy the show.

  She didn’t disappoint him.

  “What’s this?” She hooked her hands at her waist. “Mr. Easy Rider’s into psychoanalyzing?”

  “Doesn’t take a shrink to read you, duchess.” He winked at her, enjoying the icy fire that lit her green eyes. “I might not have all the details yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “Like hell,” she muttered.

  “I always did enjoy a challenge,” he mused aloud. “If you’re set on making that call, I’ll get the cell phone out of my duffel.”

  “This one’s not hooked up?” Distracted, she glanced at the portable resting on the countertop.

  “Nope. Dead as ashes. Even if it was, the line’s traceable. Granted, those two goons didn’t look like they could find their way out of a paper bag, but I’ve never been one to underestimate my opponent. Appearances are often deceiving.” Like Jordan Grazer’s. He’d been half prepared for an uppity debutante. But she was as down-to-earth as the next woman, only falling back on snootiness as a smoke screen when she felt threatened.

  He was damned well looking forward to shaking up that peaceful world of hers a little more. He wasn’t usually wrong about people. And if Jordan Grazer was in love with uptown Randall Latrobe, Tanner would eat his favorite leather jacket.

  Though her present situation wasn’t a joking matter, Tanner suddenly felt buoyant. The race wasn’t in the bag just yet with regard to Jordan’s affections.

  “Marrying someone you didn’t love,” he muttered in disgust as he went to retrieve the mobile phone. If ever a woman needed saving from herself, it was Jordan.

  And Tanner figured he just might be the man to do it.

  If he got a broken heart in the bargain, what the hell. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stepped off the deep end and fallen flat on his face.

  With the tiny phone cupped in his hand, he went back into the house. Security was his business, so he’d made sure this little honey couldn’t be breached by the Pentagon itself.

  He saw her jerk when he closed the door. For all her bravado, she was a bundle of nerves. He didn’t blame her.

  “Easy,” he said softly. “Just me.”

  She didn’t hold his gaze. Beneath her nerves was fire. And that wasn’t masculine pride talking. He knew it because he felt it himself.

  Before he could get any more sidetracked, he flipped open the phone, punched in a series of numbers to scramble the signal, then handed it to her.

  “Make it brief, Blackie.”

  “What should I say?”

  “Just tell him you’re fine. Don’t mention me or where we are.”

  “What if he gets a ransom note? The kidnappers could still send one. I don’t want Daddy putting out money when I’m perfectly fine.”

  This phone call was about to open a can of worms Tanner didn’t want to set loose. “I changed my mind.” He took the phone back from her. “We’ll hold off for a bit.”

  She made a grab for the instrument. “But I need to give him instructions for my horses.” As an obvious afterthought, she added in a rush, “I have to make sure he tells Randall not to worry. I need to—”

  He touched a finger to her lips, watching as her eyes went wide, then darkened to emerald. He knew where her priorities lay. With her animals. And that was what he would concentrate on. To hell with the wimpy fiancé.

  “Let me get the ball rolling on the investigation. I’ve got someone in mind who can care for your stables until we get back.”

  “Who?” she demanded. “I don’t trust strangers around my horses. Bleu’s a sweetheart, but he can be ornery, especially if he doesn’t know you.”

  “Sonny’s a good man. He’ll have that stallion eating out of his hand within minutes.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, worry knitting her brow. “It makes me nervous. One look at Honor Bleu and you know he’s Kentucky Derby stock. He loves to run. It’s in his blood. But if you handle him wrong—”

  “Blackie?”

  “What?”

  “Trust me.”

  She closed her eyes, let out a weary breath. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Everybody has a choice. At the moment, I’m trying to make sure yours isn’t taken from you.”

  She nodded. “Go ahead and make the call. I’ve got a killer headache, and the thought of being bound and gagged and stuffed in somebody’s trunk doesn’t appeal.” She started to turn away, then stopped. “Tanner?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you for rescuing me. Contrary to what you might think, I’m really not spoiled and ungrateful.”

  It took everything he possessed not to reach for her, to soothe, to press her against his heart and hold on. “I know that, baby,” he said, emotion tightening his throat.

  He turned his back and punched in Samuel Bartholomew’s number. If he kept looking at Jordan, he’d do something he’d be sorry for. He’d push. God knew, he was no gentleman. But still...”

  The line engaged.

  “Samuel, here.”

  “Mr. B.,” Tanner said, feeling steadier just hearing his friend’s voice.

  “Tanner, my boy,” the man boomed. “How’s the lake?”

  “Serene as ever. I’ve run into a little snag, though, and could use your help.” He told his friend about Jordan and the kidnapping attempt. “I doubt that anyone will find us out here, but it’s not feasible for me to go snooping around town.”

  “I see your problem. Especially since the good folks in town saw you whisking the bride away.” Mr. B. chuckled. “How can I help?”

  “I thought maybe you could send Sonny to poke around.”

  “Ah, an investigation. I’d be tickled to spearhead it for you. Always did fancy myself a bit of a sleuth.”

 
“Now don’t go getting carried away.” He had visions of Jessica in “Murder She Wrote,” undergoing a gender change. Mr. B. delighted in sticking his fingers in every pie around. And like Midas, everything he touched turned to gold.

  But this particular moneymaking scheme wasn’t to their benefit. The pockets waiting to be padded belonged to a couple of yokels he’d yet to put a name to.

  But he would.

  “Just give me a sketchy outline of your plan, son, and I’ll run with it.”

  “I’d thought to have Sonny run with it,” Tanner said, grinning to himself. He could just picture Samuel Bartholomew, sitting in his burgundy leather chair, tipped back, puffing on a cigar. He heard the creak of springs, knew the exact minute his friend’s feet came off the polished mahogany desk and hit the floor.

  “I’m no spring chicken, but I’ve got a few miles left in this old body,” Samuel reminded. “Wouldn’t take nothing for me to zip down there and have a look-see. The Rolls is due for a road trip—blow the cobwebs off her.”

  Tanner chuckled. “In Grazer’s Corners? A Rolls will stand out like a bull in a dish shop.”

  “Oh. Good point. I’ll buy an American-made economy job. That new little Mustang with the 5.0 under the hood’s a sweet machine.”

  That was the thing about money. If one of your possessions wouldn’t do, just pick up another. Tanner was in a position to make frivolous purchases like that himself. But years of living in poverty made his instincts lean toward the frugal.

  “A 5.0’s not exactly economy. If you’ve got a yen, though, go ahead and buy it—provided it’s a convertible,” he added. He appreciated a cool car as much as the next man. “But stay close to home with it. I need a contact point, Mr. B.”

  “Yes, of course. You’d know best.” A tinge of disappointment colored his voice. “How shall I direct Sonny?”

  “Send him to Grazer’s Corners to hang around, see if anyone’s talking. I figure the best place for a home base would be Maynard Grazer’s place.”

  “The girl’s family?”

  “Yeah. If the perps are watching for her, that’s where they’ll look. And it’ll serve two purposes.” He explained about Jordan’s horses, her worry. “I need somebody in there that I can trust. Sonny’s the best man I know.”

  “Definitely qualified. He’s done an excellent job with my stables, and I’m probably more persnickety about my animals than your Jordan is.”

  “Neck and neck.” With Jordan edging into the lead.

  “Hmm. Sounds like a lady I’d like to meet.”

  “She’s a little young,” Tanner said, the smile in his voice holding no censure.

  “Mr. B. laughed. ”Young or old. No matter. You know how I love women.”

  Tanner grinned, not bothering to call the man’s bluff. Samuel Bartholomew was a handsome, eccentric millionaire. He loved a good adventure, romance novels and a well-told joke. As for his teasing statement about women, Mr. B.’s one true love had died thirty years ago, before they’d even had a chance to marry. And in all those years, there’d never been anyone to replace Samuel’s Ellie.

  “I’ll leave the cell phone on. Keep me posted.”

  He ended the call, turned and nearly bumped into Jordan.

  Her eyes held a spark of defiance.

  “Don’t say it, Tanner. It’s not eavesdropping when it involves my life.”

  “And your horses.”

  “Well?” she prompted.

  With Jordan around, Tanner couldn’t keep his mind on business as usual. He had a hard time holding a train of thought. Damn, she smelled good. Something sweet, delicate, springtime fresh. He pulled his thoughts back to her question. “Sonny should be there first thing in the morning.”

  “Can I call home now?”

  He cleared the code, punched in another and handed her the phone. “Keep it short and vague.”

  “Should I tell him to expect your man? Daddy’s funny about outsiders. He won’t let somebody just take up residence.”

  “You’ve got a bunkhouse in the barn, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then Sonny will talk his way into it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said and dialed the phone.

  Tanner stayed close, just in case she got too chatty and he was forced to end the call.

  “Daddy? It’s Jordan.... I’m fine.... No, really, just listen. I’m safe.... I’m with—”

  Tanner touched her shoulder, shook his head.

  “I’m with a friend. If you get a demand for money, disregard it. It’s a hoax.... I can’t come home just now. Don’t worry about me. Take care of my horses, Daddy, and tell Mother—” her gaze darted to Tanner’s “—and Randall that I’m fine.”

  She paused, and Tanner held out his hand, signaling it was time to end the call.

  “I’m sorry about the wedding and the money,” she said in a rush. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll call again soon, but I’ve got to go now. Don’t worry.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling the press of tears, and handed him the phone.

  “You did good, Blackie.”

  “He had so many questions. I felt awful not answering them.”

  “At least he knows you’re safe.”

  THE WORST OF HER headache had subsided, but she still felt out of sorts, ungrounded. Tanner had gone out to put the motorcycle in the garage—hiding the getaway vehicle, she guessed.

  Sitting on the end of the dock, she glanced at the sleek powerboat bobbing gently in the wooden boat slip. She wondered who used the sporty pleasure craft, and why it had been left in the water. Had Tanner been here for a while?

  She found it odd that he’d suddenly turn up in town—the day before her wedding.

  So many questions, she thought. Up until today, her life had been fairly normal. Now it had turned into some crazy adventure... with a handsome hero in the starring role.

  Unwilling to dwell on that scenario, she glanced at her surroundings. It was hard to believe they were actually so close to Grazer’s Corners. This place seemed another world away. So serene.

  Sprawling acres of grass and oaks surrounded the freshwater lake. Automatically, she pictured where horse stables should be. And a barn, she decided, to the west, with pristine whitewashed fences to enclose an exercise pen.

  The handicapped kids would love it here. The place begged for the sound of children, voices raised in excitement as they frolicked with the animals or splashed in the cool water of the lake.

  Little Annie would love the boat, would be thrilled to ride with the wind whipping her wiry pigtails.

  Feeling silly for getting swept away with the vision, Jordan inhaled, letting the clean, loamy smell of earth and lake water clear the last of her headache.

  She heard the weatherworn boards of the dock creak, felt the heat of Tanner’s body as he eased down beside her. He’d taken his hair out of the ponytail she’d fashioned. With a slight curl, it hung thick past his shoulders. She nearly reached out to touch, but controlled the impulse, sparing a thought for the bridegroom she’d left behind—though not deliberately.

  Randall wouldn’t appreciate her thoughts or her impulses toward another man.

  “Your eyes aren’t looking quite so pinched,” Tanner commented. “Headache gone?”

  “Pretty much. The fresh air’s helped.” Not to mention Tanner’s massage. “This is a really restful place. I can see why your Mr. B. would choose it.”

  “He bought the place years ago. For the woman he was in love with.”

  “What happened?”

  “She died before they could marry.”

  “Oh, that’s sad.” Their shoulders bumped as he sent a rock skipping over the water’s surface.

  “It was a long time before he could bear to come here, before he decided to build.”

  “He built this place for her? Even after she was gone?”

  “He built it for love. His Ellie loved water and horses and wide-open spaces.”

  “A man who bel
ieves in romance,” she said softly.

  “Russell’s not the romantic type?”

  “Randall,” she corrected, suspecting he kept getting the name wrong on purpose. “And we were discussing your friend. Which is funny, actually, because I was just thinking this land fairly begged for horses and stables.”

  “That was the intention. I think it’s still too painful for him to spend a lot of time here. He keeps the stables in Fresno.”

  “Sounds like he’s pretty well-off to have several residences.”

  “The man’s got money to burn.”

  “So how did you meet him?”

  He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “You mean, what’s poor white trash like me doing with a moneybags like Mr. B.?”

  Jordan ground her teeth, which made her aware that the dull ache was still lurking at her temples after all. “It’s taking all of my good breeding not to push you off this dock for a statement like that.”

  His mouth kicked up in a slight grin. “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “Make the effort,” she advised. “I’ve never once considered you poor white trash.”

  “So you’ve considered me?”

  There was a trap here. Jordan was sure of it. Especially when she noticed the spark of amusement in his whiskey eyes. She walked into it anyway. “Now and again.”

  “That’s something, since we never moved in the same circles.”

  She sent him another warning look.

  “That’s not a put-down, duchess. It’s fact.”

  “Well, here’s another fact, ace. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, with a couple of throwbacks from the sixties very likely lurking in the shadows and bent on my abduction. There are no invitations to cotillions sitting on the hall table, no country-club couples to watch our every move.” She shoved a flyaway strand of hair off her face. “Nor are there any migrant farmworkers hunkered around a fire.”

  She was almost sorry she’d made that last reference; she saw the way his jaw tightened.

  His father had been one of those farmworkers—drunk more often than sober.

  But she was too irritated by his attitude to quit now. “There’s just you and me, Tanner. And like it or not, opposite backgrounds or not, we need to get along.”