Three Brides, No Groom

by Debbie Macomber

  “Yup. I had one class with him and it was love at first sight. I worked my butt off to gain his attention, and then we started seeing each other on the sly.”

  “Oh, Maddie.”

  “I knew it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but I was in love. What can I say? He wanted to marry me—or so he claimed—and like a fool I believed him. After I graduated it was a different story. He couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

  “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  Pain flashed in Maddie’s eyes. “Yes, I won’t lie about that. He did hurt me, more than I thought it was possible for any man to hurt me. Eventually I got back at him.”

  “You did? How?” Maddie had Carol’s full attention.

  “You sure you want to hear this?”

  “I’m sure,” Gretchen said.

  “Me too.” Carol wouldn’t miss this for the world. Professor Theda had given her a C on a paper she’d written in order to get out of the final. Eddie had handed in the exact same paper the following quarter—she’d let him copy hers—and had been given an A. She would love hearing how the professor got what he deserved.

  Maddie’s Story

  Chapter 1

  Maddie Coolidge enjoyed her bad-girl image. She thrived on letting others believe she was a sexual tigress on the prowl, changing bed partners as often as she changed her underwear. Her clothes and hair were outrageous. Her thick auburn curls plunged all the way down her back, bouncing against her shapely buttocks. Her skintight pants and thigh-high leather boots attracted plenty of attention, along with her more-than-adequate bustline. That she had ended up at a classy private college was a fluke, a gift from a rich uncle, although she let her classmates assume otherwise.

  Maddie was thrilled by her notoriety. Men paid attention to her, women envied her, and she lapped it up, becoming more and more outrageous. That was until she met her Waterloo. Who would have believed that an advanced-mathematics class would change her life? To be accurate, it wasn’t the class but the man who taught it. John Theda. For the first time in her life Maddie fell head over heels in love. Her college career had been marked with average grades. She wasn’t stupid, but good grades conflicted with her image; therefore she tended to downplay her brains.

  Until she met John.

  It hadn’t been easy to grab his attention. At first she’d done everything but drape herself naked over the top of his desk. He wasn’t like the other professors she’d known. They seemed old and stuffy. Not John. He was only thirty, and handsome as sin. Half the females in class were in love with him, and the ones who weren’t were either brain-dead or blind. It was a wonder any of them managed to keep their minds focused on the subject matter.

  Because he was outgoing and friendly, John flirted effortlessly with his students, refusing to play favorites. After class the women would flock around his desk like bees seeking nectar. Unlike the others, Maddie realized such obvious tactics wouldn’t work, so she bided her time and found far more subtle methods of calling attention to herself. Instead of revealing her interest in John, she cozied up to the subject matter itself. Clearly mathematics was a subject near and dear to his heart. If she was going to have any success with the man himself, she had to play his game. And play she did, as if her very life depended on it.

  She studied as she never had before, poring over books, memorizing everything she could. She’d always been good with numbers and mathematical theories and concepts. To her, mathematics was poetry without words. Numbers were precise, rational and real, much easier to understand than people. Numbers she understood. Numbers weren’t unreasonable. Numbers were fun.

  Before long she had top marks. Still John Theda didn’t reveal an iota of interest in her. By the middle of the term, she was convinced nothing she said or did could attract him.

  But she was wrong.

  Her final plan of action was to dazzle him with how well she did on the midterm exam, the biggest test of the year so far. She studied half the night, falling asleep at her desk in the early-morning hours. To her horror she overslept and then had to race around like a madwoman, arriving late for the test. Breathless, her hair a mass of curls, wearing the same clothes she’d worn the previous day, she crashed into the classroom convinced she’d blown it. Everyone else was sitting at their desks huddled protectively over the exam sheets. Their heads swiveled to her as if she’d purposely disrupted them. She even thought she heard someone whisper about her being up half the night with some guy. Her own fault, she thought, for going out of her way to give people that impression of her behavior.

  Standing in the doorway of the classroom, she looked to John for guidance. He smiled sweetly, told her to sit down and handed her a test. The first page was easy. Kid stuff. She whizzed through that, and the second sheet, as well. Then she hit a wall. The last page consisted of one problem.

  She read it once. Twice. Three times, and then felt herself starting to panic. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind and focused all her energy and reasoning abilities on the problem. By the time the period was nearly over, she was the only student left in the room.

  With one eye on the clock and another on the empty sheet in front of her, she bit into her lower lip, hating to turn in an incomplete test. The others had gotten it, obviously—and easily, too, apparently.

  Then it came to her. The method, the answer, the theory. Scribbling as fast as her fingers would allow, she worked out the problem, then handed the completed test to John with a full thirty seconds to spare.

  To her delight and—after that last problem—complete surprise, her plan worked. John sought her out a few days later, complimented her on her impeccable work and on passing the midterm, and invited her to coffee at an out-of-the-way café. They saw each other frequently from that point forward.

  Because he wasn’t a full professor yet, and because the school would have frowned on any professor dating a student, they kept their growing relationship a secret. He claimed to hate it as much as she did. Meeting on the sly, pretending they meant nothing to each other, was hell for them both, especially once he asked her to marry him. As graduation grew nearer, she found it impossible to hold the news of their engagement inside her any longer. The rumors had been running rampant for weeks, anyway.

  She told Janice Hailey, a sorority sister. After that, the news spread like wildfire across campus. People she hadn’t spoken to in all four years stopped and asked her if it was true. Maddie refused to lie, so she only smiled mysteriously. Her sorority sisters were less surprised. They had already guessed she was in love; they said she glowed with happiness. And she was happy, blissfully so. Although John had never said anything to her about the way she dressed, she knew that as a professor’s wife she would need to tone down her flamboyant style. She was willing to do whatever was necessary to be the kind of wife who would make him proud. That knowledge alone told her how much she loved him.

  John, however, wasn’t pleased when he learned what she’d done. They routinely met at his place when he was finished with his classes for the day. She hurried there and found him pacing the kitchen, waiting for her.

  “You couldn’t have waited until after graduation?” he demanded, slapping his hand on the table. He hit it hard enough to upset the napkin holder.

  She flinched, and then, because she realized she should have talked it over with him first, she apologized. “I’m sorry, but I only told Janice.” Of course, she had knowingly chosen the one person in her sorority house who didn’t know how to keep a secret. But in her defense, after months of sneaking around on the sly, she was tired of games. Tired of excuses.

  “You could get me fired,” he said, walking to the kitchen sink and staring out the window.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed the side of her face against his back. “Don’t be mad, Honeybun.” He loved her nickname for him. If anything would get him out of his bad mood, it was a little baby talk and some tender loving attention.

  “What am I supposed to do
if Dean Williams hears about this?”

  It didn’t sound like much of a problem to Maddie. “Marry me sooner.” She wrapped her calf around his thigh and slid her bare foot down the inside of his leg. She felt him tense, and she knew he was fighting the strong physical attraction between them. If past experience was any indication, it wouldn’t be long before he forgave her. She decided to make it easy for him to absolve her of her sins. It took some doing, but she managed to get him out of his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Then she spread moist kisses across his naked chest. He smelled of cologne, but tasted salty and sweaty. His hands bit into her shoulders.

  He kissed her hard, and she kissed him back, arching against him. This was better, much much better.

  Then, without warning, he pushed her up against the wall so hard she could hardly breathe. But she didn’t care, giving herself over to his masterful lovemaking. But that, too, had changed. His mouth was hard, angry, painfully so.

  “Johnny,” she whimpered, twisting her face away from his. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Good.”

  His response shocked her into stillness. Her arms fell limply at her sides as she attempted to convince herself she’d misunderstood him.

  “You’re a fool. Did you know that?” He laughed harshly, the sound echoing in her ear like distant thunder.

  “What’s wrong?” she pleaded. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

  “You. That’s what’s wrong. Get out.”

  If he’d stunned her before, this last comment paralyzed her with shock and disbelief. This was John, her Honeybun. He’d never talked to her like this, never raised his voice to her, never said or done anything to hurt her.

  Backing away, he rammed his fingers through his hair. He surveyed her, and his gaze held undisguised contempt, as if merely having her in his home was more than he could tolerate.

  “What is it?” she asked, fighting back tears. “Tell me what I’ve done that’s so wrong.”

  “Everything,” he answered with a sneer. “Now get out.”

  Pride rescued her. “Fine,” she said, reaching for her boots. Before long she was outside. Hardly aware of the fresh sweet air, scented with cherry blossoms and sunshine, she walked back to campus as quickly as she could.

  Instead of returning to the sorority house, she found an isolated shady spot under a fir tree and sat, hoping to collect her chaotic thoughts. John’s behavior made no sense. Until now, he’d been loving, gentle and good-natured.

  True, she’d broken her word by letting Janice know they were engaged, but graduation was less than three days away. It shouldn’t matter if anyone knew they were in love. Especially now. For all intents and purposes, classes were over. Graduation was a formality.

  She closed her eyes. He had made her feel dirty and ugly. The cool grass and the gentle breeze off Puget Sound helped ease the ache in her heart.

  Three seniors strolled past, and she defiantly raised her chin. She knew one of them. Steve Malcom had made numerous attempts to date her. Because she was involved with John, she hadn’t been interested. Even if she hadn’t been dating John, Steve wouldn’t have interested her.

  Unfortunately he couldn’t take no for an answer. He had a reputation as a ladies’ man, and her rejection had tarnished his image. A friend had warned her recently that he had promised to make her his final college conquest.

  The last thing she needed just then was to deal with his wounded libido. Despite her lack of welcome, Steve broke away from his friends and headed in her direction.

  She groaned inwardly, but rather than lower her gaze, she met his in open defiance. He had an irritating way about him, but, she silently promised herself, she wouldn’t allow him to dent her composure, even though she was vulnerable and confused.

  His gaze slid over her appreciatively. His look made her uneasy, but she said nothing.

  “Sweetie pie, what are you doing here all by yourself?” he asked.

  “Enjoying the solitude.”

  “I’ve come to help you,” he said, leaning against the tree trunk, his hands buried in his pockets. He crossed his ankles in the practiced pose of someone modeling for a catalog.

  If she hadn’t been so miserable, she might have laughed, but her head and heart ached, and she needed to reason out what had happened with John.

  “Is it true?” Steve asked.

  She looked at him and blinked, her thoughts racing like a hamster on an exercise wheel. “Is what true?”

  “That you and John Theda are engaged?”

  In light of what had happened earlier, she wasn’t sure how to answer. She neither confirmed nor denied the rumor. “It could be,” she returned.

  “Either you are or you aren’t,” he pressed.

  “Let’s put it in terms you can understand, then,” she offered. “It’s none of your business.”

  He laughed sharply. “That’s what I thought. A mathematics professor isn’t your type. Oh, he might let you think so, seeing the benefits you offer,” he added, snickering. “But you’re not the marrying kind, and Theda knows it.”

  That did it. She roared to her feet, knotting her hands into fists at her sides, forgetting her resolve to not allow him to rile her. “I love John, and he loves me. We’re going to be married as soon as I graduate.”

  “Really?” He made it sound like one big joke.

  “Really!” Her tone held an equal measure of confidence.

  “You and a math professor.” He laughed and shook his head.

  “I don’t need your approval, and neither does John.” Anger burned inside her, but she wasn’t going to let Steve know that. Her composure was partially back, and she pretended he was nothing more than a pest she was forced to endure. Fortunately he would soon be gone.

  He rubbed the side of his jaw as if giving the idea serious consideration. “You know, you’ve got me curious.”

  She had no intention of asking him what had piqued his interest. She’d endured quite enough of this mindless conversation, and she turned away.

  To her surprise, he captured her arm and pulled her toward him. Her own momentum sent her body colliding against his. Without giving her a chance to recover, he kissed her, rubbing his unpleasantly moist lips against hers.

  It required one swiftly delivered jab to the right area to convince Steve Malcom to release her. Unwilling to wait and give him an opportunity to repeat his assault, she reeled away from him and hurried across the campus.

  She hadn’t gone far, head down and walking as fast as her feet would carry her, when she literally ran into Brent Holliday, another senior. Mumbling an apology, she hurriedly crossed the lawn toward the sorority house. As she walked, she felt his disapproval burning a hole in her back.

  Once inside the safety and familiarity of her room, she sat on her bed, her back against the headboard, legs bent, her face buried against her knees. It didn’t take her long to convince herself that she would hear from John that night at the latest. He might even be so anxious to apologize that he would come for her, although he never had before. Until that afternoon he’d always been loving and generous with her. They’d spent as much time together as possible. In fact, because he’d taken up so much of her free time, her grades had slipped since midterms, at least in classes other than math.

  When she still hadn’t heard from him by the next morning, she mulled over what to do. He had been angry with her, angrier than she’d ever seen him, but when they married, they would face difficult situations again and again. It was important that they learn to resolve their problems. By noon she’d decided that if he wouldn’t seek her out, she would confront him.

  Her guess was that he was embarrassed by the things he’d said and done. He would appreciate the fact she loved him enough to come to him and settle things once and for all.

  As for her part in their disagreement, she wasn’t blameless. He was right—she shouldn’t have told Janice about the engagement. But John needed to realize that his behavior had been unacceptable. He owed he
r an apology. Having made the decision to seek him out, Maddie felt worlds better.

  Unfortunately, before she could confront him, she was required to attend the graduation rehearsal. As luck would have it, she was paired up with Brent Holliday. He’d never liked her, and judging from their brief encounter the afternoon before, that hadn’t changed.

  He didn’t look pleased to be assigned to be her partner. She wasn’t exactly overjoyed, either.

  “You can always request a change,” she said as they lined up two by two, a male graduate on the left and a female on the right.

  “I already tried.”

  Despite her hard outer edge, Maddie flinched, surprised that his words had the power to hurt her. She didn’t know him well and had no desire to. From what she’d heard, his degree was in criminology. He’d already been accepted into the Seattle Police Academy. An interesting occupation for the son of one of Seattle’s best-known pastors. The Reverend Earl Holliday faithfully preached fire and brimstone every Sunday morning at eleven. Not that Maddie was interested in attending church services.

  “I would expect a preacher’s son to have a more charitable heart,” Maddie said, favoring him with a saccharine-sweet smile.

  He chuckled softly as the processional music blared from the speakers set up on the stage. “Don’t make the mistake of confusing me with my father,” he warned.

  “I don’t think there’s much to worry about there.”

  They marched silently up the aisle. With someone else Maddie would have joked and teased. Not with Brent. He’d made no attempt to be friendly, and she couldn’t help wondering what she’d ever done to him. He didn’t know her any better than she knew him.

  As sophomores they’d had a couple of classes together, but her degree was in history, so she’d rarely seen him once she’d declared her major. She’d chosen history for her Uncle Alfie, because it was his passion.

  It was because of him that she’d enrolled at Queen Anne University. Although she’d made jokes about her rich uncle, she loved him dearly. Her father had died when she was seven, and she could barely remember him. Alfie was her father’s oldest brother, and he’d taken it upon himself to see that his brother’s two children were properly cared for and educated.