Have Gown, Need Groom

by Rita Herron

  Hannah ran a hand through her tangled hair and smiled, accepting the drink from her sister. “Sure, it’s been a hell of a day so far.”

  “You and Dad were awesome,” Alison exclaimed. “What a scene, the two of you and all those cops and reporters.”

  Hannah grimaced, grateful they hadn’t seen Joey with the gun pressed to her throat.

  “It was all over the news. Are you all right?”

  Hannah smiled, touched by the concern in their eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry about Joey, Mimi.”

  Mimi shrugged, then held out her arms and Hannah gave her a hug. “He’s a jerk. I was about to dump him anyway.”

  Hannah laughed, realizing she’d never loved her sisters more. “It looks as if our dad can’t stay out of the limelight.”

  “He’s so cool,” Alison said. “I can’t believe he’d already figured out what Joey was up to. And I know Dad didn’t like him but I thought it was because he suspected Joey of two-timing you.”

  “Dad told you Joey was two-timing me?” Mimi asked.

  “No, I told him I suspected he was. Dad said he’d keep an eye on him.” A smile tipped her lips. “Dad is pretty protective of us, you know.”

  Mimi laughed and she and Hannah mumbled agreement. “I had no idea Joey was into that stuff,” Mimi said. “The little sneak. Using Dad’s place to fence stolen merchandise. I must have been blinded by lust not to have noticed.”

  “I know the feeling,” Hannah said.

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until both her sisters’ mouths dropped open.

  “You slept with the cop, didn’t you?” Mimi asked.

  Hannah winced and sipped her drink. “Afraid so.”

  Alison draped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I thought he was a hottie myself.”

  “Was he good in bed?” Mimi asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Mimi!”

  “He must not have been,” Alison said. “What a disappointment.”

  “No, he was great in bed,” Hannah mumbled. Her face flamed when she realized what she’d admitted.

  Mimi and Alison laughed. “I never suspected he was a cop, Hannah,” Alison said. “Did you know?”

  Hannah picked at a thread on her sweater. “No, of course not.”

  “What kind of gun does he carry?” Mimi asked.

  Hannah shook her head. “A big-caliber one, Mimi.”

  Mimi’s eyes crinkled as she burst into laughter.

  Hannah realized the double entendre and laughed herself, grateful to dispel the tension.

  “So, you weren’t in on the sting from the beginning?” Alison asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. Leave it to her sisters to romanticize the entire disaster. Maybe they had a little of Wiley’s character embedded in their personalities. She actually considered lying so no one would know what a fool she’d been, then again, she was talking to her sisters. And one lie would lead to another.

  She stood and poured herself another mimosa, grateful she wasn’t on call. And hoping she still had a job. “He was only using me to find out about Dad.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Mimi said.

  Alison stood and paced the length of the room. “And I thought he was the perfect guy for you!”

  “Did he say he was just using you?” Mimi asked, her voice rising with anger.

  Hannah shook her head. “Not exactly. But it’s true. He dated me to investigate Dad. I caught him looking at some of Dad’s files this morning after…” She closed her eyes, realizing she’d given herself away.

  “He slept with you last night and arrested Joey this morning!” Alison pounded her hand in her fist. “The slimeball.”

  “We’ll kill him,” Mimi said. “Just name the day and time, sis.”

  Hannah laughed again, the pain in her chest easing a little at her sisters’ support. “He’s not worth it.”

  “Don’t let him get you down, Hannah,” Alison said.

  “Yeah, you’re better than him,” Mimi said.

  Hannah wagged a finger at Mimi. “And you’re better than Joey.”

  “Men are scum,” Mimi muttered.

  “Dogs,” Alison added. “Dirty, slimy, mangy dogs.”

  “Right and we deserve someone better, someone really hot like Brad Pitt or Matt Damon or…”

  “Or Christian Slater,” Alison added.

  Mimi’s eyes lit up. “Or Ben Affleck.”

  “Or Mel Gibson,” Hannah added with a giggle. Only Jake’s face flashed into her mind, and, as handsome as the actors were, they didn’t melt her heart or make her body yearn the way the lying detective had.

  THE NEXT DAY Jake decided he had to see Hannah. He drove toward the hospital, thinking about the past twenty-four hours. The case had tied up nicely. Wiley had been cleared of suspicion, the bookkeeper had been questioned and had admitted to fudging some numbers for DeLito for a hefty payment, and DeLito had confessed. He also claimed Mimi was totally unaware of his actions. DeLito had sung the names of his contacts in the other cities, hoping to cut a deal for a lighter sentence.

  Jake felt as if he’d been sentenced himself—as if he’d lost something vital to him, some part of himself that could never be replaced.

  He still couldn’t shake the memory of the hurt in Hannah’s eyes. He realized now that he’d reacted so angrily to finding the files in her house because he’d been afraid. Their lovemaking had been so intense and emotional he’d panicked when he’d felt himself falling in love and contemplating becoming a part of a couple—something he knew nothing about.

  But he could learn. After all, Muldoon had a family.

  What had Grammy Rose said about parenting? You learn as you go along. Maybe he and Hannah could learn about this relationship thing as they went along.

  He parked his Jeep and walked up the steps to the hospital, barely limping, but desperate to see her before he headed back to the city. She knew about families, not him. Maybe they could talk. Maybe she could help him find a way to make this relationship work. If she could forgive him….

  The ER seemed unusually quiet when he entered. He scanned the hallway and nurses’ station but didn’t see Hannah anywhere. Two nurses hovered over the paperwork, a tall gangly doctor conferred with a patient in a wheelchair, then he spotted the big nurse who’d first helped him when he’d been shot. He made his way over to her.

  “Well, hello, there, Mr. Tippins. How’s the hip doing?”

  “Fine, Tiffany.” He leaned against the nurses’ desk. “I need to have the stitches removed. Is Dr. Hartwell in?”

  She arched a brow. “I think so. You sure you want to see her?”

  He nodded, grimacing at the wary look the nurse shot him. Apparently she knew about his undercover work—did she know he’d slept with Hannah?

  Surely not.

  “I’ll see if I can find her.” She ambled off down the hall, her wide hips shaking as she walked. Paramedics rushed through the door and the ER came alive as the tall doctor and a group of nurses rushed toward the incoming patient. This time, instead of seeing the differences between him and Hannah, he saw the similarities. They’d both chosen professions to help people, only Hannah’s had far more of a personal touch. They both were dedicated to their jobs, both dealt with life-and-death situations, both had to drop their personal lives sometimes to meet duty. Wouldn’t that factor help them understand one another? Support each other? He’d heard Muldoon talk about those kinds of things before. Maybe he and Hannah could make a marriage work.

  Whoa—marriage?

  “Jake, what do you want?”

  He hadn’t heard Hannah approach. But he heard the anger still hard in her voice. Shaken by the thought of marriage, he faced her. “I need to have my stitches removed.”

  She folded her arms across her slender waist. “I thought you were going to find another doctor.”

  “I changed my mind. I want you.”

  Her lips pressed into a tight line. “Then follow me.
”

  He cleared his throat and did as she said, glancing around the small exam room, remembering the first time they’d met. He’d thought she looked like an angel.

  Now, she was looking at him as if she would murder him.

  “Lie down on the table.”

  He nodded. “I—I’d like to talk to you if you have time.”

  “Lower your pants, please.”

  Judging from the icy tone of her voice, not exactly an invitation, he thought ruefully.

  She slipped on plastic gloves and searched the medical tray for an instrument while he humbled himself on the paper-draped exam table. When he was settled, she walked toward him, no hint of emotion or personal feelings evident.

  “This shouldn’t take long. You may feel a slight sting but it shouldn’t hurt.” With that said, she pressed a gloved hand on his hip and began to yank out the stitches, none too gently.

  He gritted his teeth, knowing he deserved her anger. “Hannah—”

  “It’s Dr. Hartwell.”

  “Hannah,” he said between clenched teeth, “I want you to know how sorry I am if I hurt you.”

  The tweezers pressed into his skin as she yanked another stitch. “I’m assuming you’re leaving town.”

  This wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. “I’m heading back to Atlanta, yes.” He tried to prop on his hand and angle himself to look at her. “But I don’t want to leave with things so rocky between us.”

  “Rocky?”

  “Tense,” he said. “I really want to see you again.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” She pulled out the last stitch, wiped his healed wound with a gauze pad and stepped away. “Your injury is healed. I can’t think of any reason you’d return to Sugar Hill.”

  “To see you.”

  She gave him a scathing look. He rolled farther to his side and reached for her hand, but she crossed her arms and simply stared at him. “Hannah, please. Can we go someplace and talk? Have some coffee maybe?”

  “We have nothing to talk about.” Her eyes narrowed. “That is, unless you have to ask me more questions about my dad—”

  “No, I want to talk about us.”

  “There is no us.” Her beautiful blue eyes stared at him, emotionless. “So go back to Atlanta, Mr. Tippins, where you belong.” She gave him one last cutting look. “You know I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you for being alone. Now I understand why you are.”

  Jake’s heart cracked as she turned and walked out the door. She closed it behind her as if she’d closed the door permanently on any hope for a future between them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A week later, Jake roamed the streets of Atlanta, trying to put the Hartwell family out of his mind. Especially Hannah.

  The case was solved, all the stolen cars accounted for, DeLito and his accomplice Buffy were both in jail awaiting trial. Things were back to normal.

  Quiet, dull, lonely normal.

  Only Jake had never been lonely before. Alone yes. But never lonely.

  Not the deep sort of lonely that had kept him awake at night, had made him think about the Hartwell Thanksgiving, all the silly traditions they had at Christmas, the freshly cut tree trimmed in homemade ornaments, the woman who’d tried to make him homemade rolls then lied to impress him.

  A hundred stars twinkled above him in the inky sky, reminding him of the Christmas star Hannah had given him. He found the North Star, then searched the sky for other constellations, desperately trying to erase her from his mind. Snow clouds were nowhere in sight, although record cold temperatures ranged throughout the south. The coldest December Atlanta had ever seen, the coldest Jake had ever felt in his life.

  Christmas decorations glittered from the shops, music drifted from speakers, inviting people in to warm their hands and browse. Cars and holiday shoppers ripped past, everyone in a holiday frenzy.

  But Jake had nowhere to go. And no one waiting for him when he arrived home.

  He’d wanted the anonymity of the crowd, the isolation, yet now that he had it, even in the midst of the busy street, the emptiness echoed around him. Hannah hadn’t wanted him.

  She’d walked out of the hospital room that day and no matter how many times he’d called over the next few days she hadn’t answered. She’d left him as easily as his mother had.

  No, he reminded himself. Hannah was nothing like his mother. Her hesitancy to make love for one thing. She’d even told him she didn’t give herself freely, yet she’d given herself to him. Because she loved him—that would be the only reason for a woman like Hannah to finally let herself be taken by a man.

  Hope flickered briefly, sparking his determination to win her back again. An antique shop drew his eye, reminding him of the furnishings in Hannah’s house. Old lace doilies, period pieces of rich oak and mahogany, a tapestry rug that might have fitted in her foyer. Next door, he spied another shop. A toy shop—no, a specialty shop, a shop full of dolls.

  He vividly recalled the collection in Hannah’s bedroom—he’d briefly paused to study them that morning when he’d risen, before he’d read those blasted files.

  Maybe his guilt would leave him if he had some closure, if he bought her a gift of apology, a little something to prove that he hadn’t just used her, that his feelings for her were real.

  Hunching his shoulders against the wind, he dug his hands into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket and threaded his way through the crowd until he could slide through the doorway. The smell of apple cider and cinnamon warmed the air, the sounds of children’s laughter and Christmas music drifting through the crowded shop. Rows and rows of frilly dolls filled the store—soft sculptured dolls, antiques, replicas of movie stars, characters from movies, baby dolls, Cabbage Patch Kids dolls, dolls unlike any he’d ever seen. A beautiful bride doll stood enclosed in a case, similar to the one Hannah had perched on that gold chest at the foot of her bed. Then his gaze found the storybook dolls Hannah collected. He wandered past, grinning at a little girl hugging a Raggedy Ann to her chest, and stopped at the shelves, mentally ticking away the ones Hannah already owned. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Goldilocks, Dorothy.

  The Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion stood beside Dorothy and he suddenly grinned, thinking how he’d loved the characters as a child. If he had the courage to risk rejection, the heart to tell her how he really felt, could he and Hannah make a marriage work? Even though he knew nothing at all about families, could they be a family, the way she and her wacky father and her sisters were?

  Without thinking twice, he made his selections and headed to the front. He’d box them up and send them to Hannah with a note, an apology that would let her know he hadn’t forgotten her. He glanced up at the Christmas tree in the corner and saw the gleaming star radiating its light—and he thought of the star Hannah had given him, of the North Star he’d been taught to use to guide him home.

  He suddenly, desperately, wanted a home with Hannah.

  HANNAH CRAWLED into bed, exhausted and alone. Memories of Jake lingered in her house, in her heart, in her mind, keeping her awake long into the night. When she finally slept, she dreamt Jake was lying beside her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, telling her to take a chance, not to be afraid.

  She jerked awake and sat up, staring into the darkness, shivering with the cool temperature in the house. She hugged her arms around her chest, wishing she could get warm, but she’d been chilled to the bone ever since Jake had walked away. Disgusted with herself, she slipped from bed, dragged on her thick terry cloth robe and stared at the bride doll sitting perched on the hope chest—the beautiful heirloom piece which her grandmother had meant to bring happiness.

  But the legend associated with the pearl ring had brought her nothing but heartache.

  She pulled the ring from her finger, stared at the tiny diamonds, the intricate setting, frowning at her earlier thoughts. Had the ring and the legend really brought her heartache or had it been her own fault? Her own insecurity? She had been afraid to
take a chance, to branch out and try a relationship with someone who didn’t fit the picture-perfect mold. But look what had happened when she’d taken the chance. When she had followed her heart. She’d been hurt, used, abandoned.

  She quickly placed the ring back inside the small velvet box and packed it into the hope chest with the blue garter. She wrapped the bride doll carefully back inside, then enclosed her grandmother’s bridal gown within the velvet-lined walls. She hoped that Jake’s memory would be locked away as well.

  JAKE WAS GOING CRAZY. His old apartment seemed even more bare and lonely than his place in Sugar Hill had. He couldn’t stop thinking of Hannah for more than five seconds at a time. He’d even gotten himself a dog.

  A roly-poly overactive little puppy from his partner’s chocolate labrador’s latest litter. He’d named him Toby after Toby Tyler, a little boy he’d seen in an old movie on cable when he’d stayed up watching the late show because he couldn’t sleep.

  The fat pup nipped at his feet and Jake picked him up, laughing when the dog licked his face. What would Hannah think about the furball? What would a little boy, maybe his own son, think of the pet? Would Hannah take it as a sign he was ready to settle down?

  No way to find out but to call. For the third time that day, he picked up the phone and punched in her number.

  HANNAH LAY stretched across her bed, exhausted, fighting a headache. The ER had been crazy all day and she hadn’t slept the night before for thinking about Jake. She’d been hard on him that last day when he’d come to have his stitches removed. And she’d refused his calls all week. Was she wrong not to give him a chance? Should they try and talk things through?

  The phone rang. Her head was pounding so hard she couldn’t bear to answer it and talk to anyone, especially her overconcerned family. But, knowing it might be the ER, she rolled sideways and reached for the handset. The answering machine clicked on, and she paused when she heard Jake’s voice.

  “Hannah, it’s me again.” A pause. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days and…I guess you’re still upset.” Another pause. His breath filled the line, a little unsteady. “I just wanted you to know I still want to talk, that I’m sorry. And…oh, I got a dog. A little chocolate lab pup. His name is Toby.”