The Best Man Takes a Bride

by Stacy Connelly

  Does anyone still believe in happily-ever-afters?

  Rory McClaren does!

  As wedding planner for Hillcrest House Hotel, she’s fully engaged with bridezillas, lace and rose petals. There’s no frown she can’t turn upside down—until she meets businessman Jamison Porter. The widowed single dad is in town to play best man for his best friend. But when his little girl falls for Rory’s charms, could Jamison be hearing wedding bells...of his own?

  “I think you’re smart and brave and amazing. Which is why I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend to be the kind of man you deserve. A good father... A good husband... A good son... Name any kind of relationship, and it’s one I’ve already failed. I don’t know what this is between us, but I don’t want it to be—I don’t want you to be one more person I fail.”

  Debbie was right, Rory realized. He really did think he was saving her from herself. His noble effort was something she might have admired if she wasn’t so tempted to smack him upside the head.

  “You only fail when you stop trying. You haven’t stopped trying with your father and you won’t stop trying with Hannah. Not because that’s the kind of man I deserve but because that’s the kind of man you are. And as for the two of us...” She sucked in a deep breath. “I know how this ends, Jamison. With you and Hannah saying goodbye. Whether we spend those days together or not, that doesn’t change. Whether you kiss me right now or not, that doesn’t change. So the only question is...why not kiss me?”

  * * *

  HILLCREST HOUSE: Destination...romance

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Hillcrest House: destination...romance!

  Who doesn’t love a happily-ever-after? It’s one of the things that has always drawn me to reading (and writing!) romance novels. Knowing that no matter how bad things get around chapter seven, by the end of the book, everything will have worked out. Life may not be perfect; there will still be struggles. But the hero and heroine will have found a lasting love and their own happy ending.

  That kind of happy ending is one Rory McClaren has believed in since she was a little girl. The chance to work as a wedding coordinator at Hillcrest House, her family’s Victorian hotel, has only strengthened her faith that she will find the man of her dreams...and she is certain that man is not corporate lawyer Jamison Porter!

  Single father Jamison Porter has serious doubts about standing up as the best man in his friend’s wedding. He’s the last person who should be giving a toast to love and marriage. He’s far too cynical and too jaded to count on happily-ever-after lasting beyond the honeymoon. So why is he having such a hard time getting bright and beautiful Rory off his mind?

  With a little help from Jamison’s daughter, who thinks Rory is a fairy-tale princess and fairy godmother all rolled into one, Rory and Jamison soon find their own (you guessed it) happily-ever-after.

  I hope you enjoy this trip to Hillcrest House and that you will watch for the next two books in the series. These couples might not be looking for love, but at a gorgeous Victorian hotel that promises romance and happily-ever-after, what else can they say but “I do”?

  Happy reading!

  Stacy Connelly

  The Best Man Takes a Bride

  Stacy Connelly

  Stacy Connelly has dreamed of publishing books since she was a kid, writing stories about a girl and her horse. Eventually, boys made it onto the pages as she discovered a love of romance and the promise of happily-ever-after. When she is not lost in the land of make-believe, Stacy lives in Arizona with her three spoiled dogs. She loves to hear from readers at stacyconnelly@cox.net or stacyconnelly.com.

  Books by Stacy Connelly

  Harlequin Special Edition

  The Pirelli Brothers

  His Secret Son

  Romancing the Rancher

  Small-Town Cinderella

  Daddy Says, “I Do!”

  Darcy and the Single Dad

  Her Fill-In Fiancé

  Temporary Boss...Forever Husband

  The Wedding She Always Wanted

  Once Upon a Wedding

  All She Wants for Christmas

  Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

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  To all my fellow romance readers out there and the ongoing search for happily-ever-after...in (and out) of the pages of a romance novel!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Forever a Father by Lynne Marshall

  Chapter One

  This was going to be a disaster.

  Jamison Porter eyed the dress shop with a sense of dread. Early-morning sunshine warmed the back of his neck and glinted off the gilded lettering on the plate glass window. Frilly dresses decorated with layer after layer of lace and ribbons and bows draped the mannequins on display, a small sample of the froth and satin inside. All of it girlie, delicate and scary as hell.

  The forecast promised a high in the low seventies, but Jamison could already feel himself breaking into a sweat.

  He swallowed hard against the sense of impending doom and fought the urge to jump in his SUV and floor it back to San Francisco. Back to his office and his black walnut barricade of a desk, matching bookshelves lined with heavy law books, and rich leather chairs. All of it masculine, substantial—the one place where Jamison never questioned his decisions, never doubted his every move—

  He felt a tug at his hand and looked down at his four-year-old daughter’s upturned face. Big brown eyes stared back at him. “I wanna go home now.”

  Never felt so useless as he did when he was with Hannah.

  His daughter’s barely brushed blond curls tilted to one side in a crooked ponytail. Her mismatched green T-shirt and pink shorts, both nearing a size too small, were testimony to the crying fit that ended their last attempt at clothes shopping. Jamison at least took some small comfort that Hannah had been the one to leave the store in tears, and not him. Because there were times...

  Like now, when he didn’t even know which home Hannah was referring to. Back to Hillcrest House, the hotel where they’d be staying for the next couple of weeks? Back to his town house in San Francisco? To her grandparents’ place? To the house where she’d been living with her mother...

  “I know, Hannah Banana,” he said, fighting another shaft of disappointment when the once-loved nickname failed to bring a smile to her face. “But we can’t go home yet,” he added as he set aside the question of where his daughter called home for another time. “We’re here to meet Lindsay, remember? She’s the lady who’s getting married to my friend Ryder, and she wants you to be her flower girl.”

  Hannah scraped the toe of a glittery tennis shoe along a crack in the sidewalk. “I don’t want to.”

  Her lack of interest in playing a role in Lindsay Brookes’s wedding to Ryder Kincaid didn’t bother Jamison as much
as her patented response did. Not because of all the things Hannah didn’t want, but because of the one thing she did.

  The bell above the shop’s frosted-glass door rang as the bride stepped outside. Dressed in gray slacks and a sleeveless peach top with her dark blond hair caught back in a loose bun, a smile lit Lindsay’s pretty face. “Hey, you made it! Not that I thought you wouldn’t.” She waved a hand, the solitaire in her engagement ring flashing in the sunlight. “I mean, it isn’t like any place around here is hard to find!”

  Ryder had told Jamison his hometown near the Northern California coastline was small, and he hadn’t exaggerated. Victorian buildings lined either side of Main Street and made up the heart of downtown. Green-and-white awnings snapped in the late-summer breeze, adding to the welcome of nodding yellow snapdragons, purple pansies and white petunias in the brick planters outside the shops. Couples strolled arm in arm, their laughing kids racing ahead to dart into the diner down the street or into the sweet-smelling café across the way.

  It was all quaint and old-fashioned, postcard perfect and roughly that same size. Jamison figured it had taken less than five minutes to see all Clearville had to offer even while obeying the slower-than-slow posted speed limit. “No trouble. Didn’t even need to use the GPS.”

  Finding the shop had been easy. Making himself step one foot inside, that was a different story.

  “Good thing,” Lindsay said with a laugh, “since cell coverage can be pretty spotty around here.”

  Jamison fought back a groan. In a true effort to focus on Hannah and leave work behind, he hadn’t brought along his laptop. But he’d been counting on being able to use his phone to read emails and download any documents too urgent to wait for his return. “How does anyone get things done around here?” he grumbled under his breath.

  She lifted a narrow shoulder in a shrug. “Disconnecting is tough at first, but before long, you find you don’t miss it at all.”

  “Can’t say I plan to be in town long enough to get used to anything,” he replied as the driver of an SUV crawling down Main Street called out to Lindsay and the two women exchanged a quick wave.

  And despite his own words, Jamison couldn’t help thinking that, back in San Francisco, had a driver shouted and stuck an arm out the window, the gesture wouldn’t have been so friendly.

  “That’s too bad. Clearville’s a great town. A wonderful place to raise a family,” she added with a warm glance at Hannah, who dropped her gaze and retreated even farther behind his back.

  So different from the adventurous toddler he remembered...

  He sucked in a deep breath as he tried to focus on whatever Lindsay was saying.

  “But why don’t we get started? I’m here for my final fitting, and I’ve picked out some of the cutest flower girl dresses. Our colors are burgundy and gold, but I think that would be too strong a palette for Hannah since she’s so fair. Instead I’ve been leaning toward a cream taffeta with a sash at the waist—”

  Catching herself, Lindsay offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Ryder’s already warned me I tend to go into wedding overload on even the most unsuspecting victim. The other day, I talked a poor waitress’s ear off and all she asked was if I wanted dessert. If there’s something else you need to do, you don’t have to stay—”

  “No! Daddy, don’t go!” Hannah’s hands tightened in a death grip around his as she pressed closer to his side.

  Lindsay’s expression morphed into one of sympathy that Jamison had seen too many times and had grown to despise over the past two months.

  But not as much as he hated the tears in his daughter’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed, disappointed but not surprised when his promise didn’t erase the worry wrinkling her pale eyebrows.

  “Pinkie promise?” she finally asked, holding out the tiny, delicate digit.

  Jamison didn’t hesitate as Hannah wrapped him around her finger. Love welled up inside him along with the painful awareness of how many times he’d let her down in her short life. His voice was gruff as he replied, “Pinkie promise.”

  “Your daddy can stay with you the whole time,” Lindsay reassured Hannah gently. “I bet he can’t wait to see you try on some pretty dresses.”

  Jamison had thought Hannah might enjoy being a flower girl, but the truth was, he didn’t have a clue what would make his little girl happy anymore. Sweat started to gather at his temples along with the pressure of an oncoming headache. “Look, Lindsay, I appreciate you thinking of Hannah and wanting her to be part of the ceremony, but I don’t—”

  “Sorry I’m late!” The cheery voice interrupted Jamison’s escape, and every muscle in his body tensed. That need to run raced through him once more, but his feet felt frozen in place. Still, he couldn’t help turning to glance over his shoulder, bracing himself for the woman he could feel drawing closer.

  The wedding coordinator.

  Ryder and Lindsay had introduced them not long after he’d checked into the sprawling Victorian hotel. He’d been exhausted from fourteen-hour workdays, worn out from the long drive from San Francisco and far more overwhelmed by the idea of taking care of Hannah on his own than he dared admit even to himself.

  That was the only logical explanation he’d been able to come up with for why that first meeting with Rory McClaren had sent a lightning bolt straight through his chest. Her smile had stopped him dead in his tracks and her touch—nothing more than a simple handshake—had shot a rush of adrenaline through his system, jump-starting his heartbeat and sending it racing for the first time in...ever, it seemed.

  But logical explanations failed him now. One look at Rory, and Jamison was blown away all over again.

  Big blue eyes sparkled in a heart-shaped face framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. A fringe of bangs, thick lashes and arched eyebrows drew him even deeper into that gaze. A sprinkling of freckles across her nose kept her fair skin from being too perfect, and cherry-red lipstick highlighted a bright smile and a sexy mouth Jamison had no business thinking about again and again.

  A white sundress stitched with red roses revealed more freckles scattered like gold dust across her delicate collarbones. The fitted bodice hugged the curves of her breasts and small waist before flaring to swish around her slender legs as she walked.

  She looked as fresh and sunny as a summer’s day, and Jamison almost had to squint when he looked at her, like he needed sunglasses to shield him from her stunning beauty.

  He sure as hell needed some form of protection, some barrier to establish a safe distance from this woman and the unexpected, unwanted way she made him feel. If his disastrous marriage had taught him one lesson, it was that he far preferred being numb.

  “Mr. Porter, nice to see you again.”

  Her smile was genuine, but Jamison couldn’t imagine her words were true. He’d been abrupt the day before, unnerved by his reaction and bordering on rude. “Ms. McClaren. I didn’t know you’d be joining us this morning.”

  “All part of Hillcrest House’s service as an all-inclusive wedding venue,” she said with a smile to Lindsay before turning that full wattage on Jamison. “But we are a hotel first and foremost, so I hope you enjoyed your first night under our roof.”

  He’d heard his share of come-ons in his lifetime. There was nothing the least bit seductive in her smile or her voice. But his imagination, as suddenly uncontrollable as his hormones, had him picturing an intimacy beyond sleeping under her roof and instead sleeping in her bed...

  Jamison didn’t know if his thoughts were written on his face, but whatever Rory saw had enough color blooming in her cheeks to rival the roses on her dress. Her lips parted on an inhaled breath, and Jamison felt drawn closer, captured by the moment as the awareness stretched between them until she dropped her gaze.

  “And Hannah!”

  That quickly, the enticing image was banished, but not the pained embarrassment linger
ing in its wake. He wasn’t some gawky teenager lusting after the high school cheerleader. He was a grown man, a father...a father with a daughter he was terrified of failing—just like he had her mother.

  “How are you this morning?” Undeterred by the lack of response, Rory’s lyrical voice rose and fell, and Jamison didn’t want to think about the slight tremor under the words. Didn’t want to think she might be as affected as he was by the chemistry between them. “Do you like your room at the hotel? You know, the Bluebell has always been my favorite.”

  The Bluebell...

  What kind of hotel designated their rooms by a type of flower?

  “It’s all part of Hillcrest’s romantic charm,” Rory had explained.

  He had no need for romance or charm or bright-eyed brunettes. He wanted logic, order. He wanted the normalcy of sequential room numbers, for God’s sake!

  But the Bluebell was one of the hotel’s few two-room suites and, while small, it offered a living space and tiny kitchenette. The comfortable room was subtly decorated in shades of blue and white.

  If only it wasn’t for the name...and the reminder of flowers that had him thinking far too often of Rory’s dark-lashed, vibrant blue eyes.

  “I like purple,” Hannah answered, surprising him too much with her willingness to talk to a virtual stranger for him to point out bluebell wasn’t a color.

  “Me, too,” Rory agreed as she caught on to his daughter’s twist in the topic.

  Hannah’s forehead wrinkled. “You said you like blue.”

  “Actually, Hannah, rainbow is my favorite color...” The wedding coordinator bent at the waist so she and Hannah were almost eye to eye as she shared that piece of nonsense with the little girl. “That way I never have to pick just one.”

  A lock of her hair slid forward like a silken ribbon and curved around her breast. The dark strands were a stark contrast against the white fabric, but it was the similarities that had Jamison sucking in a deep breath. Soft cotton, soft hair, soft skin...