MisTAKEN Identities Paranormal Romance

by Allan, Sydney

  “No, just a little.”

  Jenny glanced down at the magazine, this time really seeing the picture. The clothes were fancy, the flowers, the wedding gown… “And I can tell you’re planning the wedding of the century. What if I pick the wrong flowers? Or contract the wrong band? Or sit Aunt LouLou next to Uncle Hank, the man she’s hated all her life?”

  “Those aren’t your jobs, silly.”

  “See? I told you. I don’t know anything about being maid of honor. Or even about planning a wedding.”

  Monica sat and bent to the right to reach down for something under her desk. “That’s okay. I’m hiring a wedding planner. She’s the best in the Midwest.”

  “Midwest what?”

  “States, silly!” Monica slid a piece of paper across the desk toward Jenny.

  Jenny skimmed the contents, a printout of a website. “You’re hiring a wedding planner from out of state? Is that wise?”

  “Sure it is! Don’t you see? She planned Oprah’s wedding for God’s sake! How could I go wrong?”

  “Oprah who?” Jenny looked at the web printout again, wondering what she’d missed.

  “Winfrey. You know. The woman on TV, you silly goof!”

  “Is she married?”

  “Yep. And my wedding planner did her wedding. It was on her website. See there?” Monica pointed at the paper.

  “This website? Where?” Jenny read over the contents of the website again but found no reference to Oprah Winfrey. Was her eyesight failing or was Monica imagining things again?

  “Yes. I know it’s there.” Monica took the piece of paper from Jenny and skimmed it before continuing, “Oh. I guess I missed that page. It’s on another one. She’s planned hundreds of weddings, including the weddings of celebrities like Oprah.”

  “I swear last week I read Oprah’s still single.”

  “You probably read it in an outdated article somewhere or in one of those celebrity trash rags. They’re not exactly known for accuracy.”

  “Maybe. But if I were you, I’d check her references. She did provide a list of references, didn’t she?”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not going to ask her that.”

  “Why not? This is going to be the most important day of your life. Don’t you think you should check her out?”

  Shaking her head, Monica returned the paper to whatever file she’d fished it from. “And risk insulting her? No way! I already gave her a retainer. I’ll lose it if I don’t hire her now.”

  “A retainer? Like for an attorney? Is that standard practice?”

  Monica shrugged. “She said it is.”

  Jenny could sense this wedding planner was not all she claimed to be. The word “rip-off” was echoing sharply in her head and even though she knew Monica wouldn’t listen, she felt compelled to try to talk some sense into her anyway. She was stubborn like that, or foolish, depending upon how she looked at it. “Okay. Forget about the whole Oprah thing for a moment and think about this. How can a woman from another state possibly know where the best locations, caterers and bands are here in Michigan? Where’s she located anyway?”

  “Idaho.”

  “Idaho? Your top-notch celebrity wedding planner lives in Idaho? Where they grow potatoes?”

  “That’s not all they do there. Besides, if you think about it, Idaho is centrally located—”

  “Centrally located between what? Two potato fields?”

  Monica sneered. “Very funny.”

  “Seriously, I see disaster looming.”

  “Don’t say that! You’re going to jinx me.” Monica spun around in her chair, facing the credenza behind her. “Anyway, I won’t take no for an answer. So like it or not, you’re my maid of honor. And as chosen maid of honor, it’s your job to go check out this location this Friday night.” She snatched up a business card and turning, thrust it at Jenny.

  Jenny waved her hands. “Oh no. Don’t leave this to me. The last party I planned—a simple outdoor barbeque—was a complete disaster. The food burned, there was a tornado…half the attendees ended up being blown into the lake… Anyway, I thought this was the wedding planner’s job. I’m sure you’re paying her good money. Don’t you think she should earn it?”

  “She’s busy this weekend with another wedding and I need to secure a location pronto. It can’t wait.” She stood and shuffled around the desk then dropped to her knees. It was a very dramatic gesture and if it wasn’t for the genuine expression on Monica’s face, Jenny would have assumed it was merely a manipulation tactic. Long fingers tipped with perfectly manicured, red-painted nails curled around the metal arm of Jenny’s chair. “Please. I’m begging you. I know I’ve been a total snot to you in the past and I don’t deserve your help, but I honestly need it. You know I’ve learned a lot, thanks to our little switch, and I appreciate where you’re coming from now. I swear I won’t take you for granted again.”

  Gosh, darn it, Jenny felt the urge to say yes welling up inside. When Monica was humble, like this particular moment, she was charming.

  It was easy to say no to a selfish, annoying Monica. It wasn’t easy to say no to a nice one.

  “Honestly, you might not believe this but you’re my only true friend,” Monica admitted in a soft voice. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

  Jenny knew this was true and that made her feel guilty. Still, she wasn’t thrilled about going on Friday. For some reason she suspected it would come back to bite her somehow. “Couldn’t you go check out the location yourself?”

  “I have to interview the woman I’m considering to perform the ceremony. No one else can do that. She’ll want to talk to me as well, I’m sure.”

  That was probably true. Jenny glanced down at the card. The location wasn’t far from her home. It wouldn’t take long to take a quick tour. “Okay,” she acquiesced on a sigh.

  Monica jumped up and clapped her hands with glee. “Thank you! I’m so grateful!” She bent over and gave Jenny a strangling hug. Then returned to her seat behind her desk and looking more sober said, “Now, on to business. What projects are we brainstorming today?”

  * * * * *

  By Friday evening, Jenny hadn’t exactly grown comfortable with the idea of Monica marrying Jason, but at least she didn’t feel like upchucking every time she thought about it.

  Some progress was better than none.

  As she drove to the reception hall, she vowed to help make Monica’s wedding as special as she could, nausea or not. Despite her feelings for Jason, or perhaps because of them, she knew Monica and Jason deserved the wedding of their dreams.

  It was still semi-light outside when she pulled into the driveway but sundown was quickly approaching. The western sky was covered with brilliant shades of purple, salmony-pink and gold. The eastern sky was already a deep, dusk-blue. A glance at the clock on her dash revealed what she’d already known—she was late. She parked the car and headed inside.

  Crisp leaves crunched under her feet. More, bright red and orange, clung to the tree branches arcing overhead from a row of maples lining each side of the walkway. A gentle breeze smelled fresh and earthy as it whirled around her, throwing her hair about her face. She regretted having to go inside, especially since the day had been unseasonably warm. But there was no time to dilly-dally.

  She entered the building, marveling at the plush interior, white marble floor, humongous crystal chandelier that looked like it belonged in a Beverly Hills mansion, and followed the signs indicating where the office was located. The door was ajar and she could hear male voices inside. One of them sounded familiar.

  Jason?

  “My fiancée said she may not make it tonight,” she heard him say. “But if she doesn’t, I believe a friend of hers is supposed to come in her place, her maid of honor.”

  She reached up to knock but before her knuckles made contact with the door, it swung open, revealing Jason’s very handsome, very surprised face. His lips curled into a smile and she found herself staring, breathless and dizzy. Their
gazes locked. “Hi,” she murmured, feeling totally out of place. She forced her gaze from Jason’s brilliant eyes, so familiar, so warm, and sought out the other inhabitant of the room beyond.

  A white-haired gentleman stepped up behind Jason and extended a hand and a friendly smile, “My, my. Is this your blushing bride?” he asked in a deep bass voice. “I’m George Harrington. Nice to meet you.”

  She almost forgot which body she was in and hence didn’t deny his assumption right away. Luckily, she remembered before introducing herself as Monica. She leaned forward and reached beyond Jason to shake the gentleman’s hand. “Hello, I’m Jenny. Jenny Brown, Monica’s maid of honor. Monica couldn’t make it today. She asked me to come in her place.”

  As she glanced at Jason, she caught the spark of recognition in his eyes and knew he had remembered her name.

  “Jenny Brown?” Jason said, offering a handshake.

  She accepted, curling her fingers around his wide hand. “Yep, that’s me all right.”

  He reached with his second one and fully enclosed her smaller hand between his. His grip was firm yet gentle. His voice was low and husky, unearthing all sorts of naughty memories of when she’d last heard him speak in such a voice. After a kiss. “I’m glad to meet you. I was beginning to think you were a figment of Monica’s imagination.”

  Her whole body tingled. She held back a shudder. “I can see why you’d wonder that. She does have an active imagination, that girl.” Jenny felt her face heating as Jason’s gaze paused at each of her features.

  He chuckled and she relished the sound, willing it to permeate her pores and soak into her soul. She knew she’d missed him but until this moment hadn’t realized how much. Her entire body ached with the need to be closer to him.

  Just a little closer. A hug would be nice.

  When he released her hand, she wanted to cry.

  “I didn’t expect you to be here. I figured you’d be with Monica,” Jenny said.

  “Oh, damn—darn! Sorry. Should watch my language.” He glanced at the reception hall’s manager. “I forgot I was supposed to go meet with some reverend tonight.”

  “You honestly forgot?” Jenny asked, not believing his claim. For one, he didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

  “No,” he admitted. “You got me. I confess. I had to meet the woman who’d single-handedly accomplished the impossible.”

  “I didn’t…” She sensed he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if she wanted him to continue or not. It was a rather precarious position she’d found herself in, considering her feelings for both Monica and Jason. Being in the middle was getting more complicated by the second.

  “You know you did. I just want to say I owe you a thank you,” he said, stuffing both hands in his pants pockets. “I figured if I didn’t say it today it might never be said.”

  “Really, you don’t owe me a thing.” She tried to look casual as she shrugged her shoulders. “It was my pleasure.” Wasn’t that the truth! “Monica’s life was…a bit of a mess and she knew it. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

  “She rarely listens to anyone,” Jason admitted, his blatant honesty surprising her. Was he looking for an ally? Had Monica changed back to the manipulator she’d once been? He glanced back at the banquet hall manager again. Clearly the gentleman was anxious to get going. “Looks like we need to attend to some other matters at the moment, but promise me we’ll talk later?”

  “Sure.” About what? I can’t wait. Well, maybe I can. What I really wish is we could do more than talk, share another one of those kisses…no, I can’t think like that! Bad Jenny, bad! Shit, shit, shit!

  The banquet hall’s manager urged them forward, leading them down the hallway and through the spacious foyer to a wide staircase. “This way, please.” At the top of the stairs, he paused before a set of double doors. “This is our largest suite. It seats four hundred fifty. Linens, chairs and tables are included in the price.” He pushed open the doors, revealing the room’s posh interior.

  It was dazzling. The décor was elegant, fancy without being too garish. But the part Jenny liked the best was the wide expanse of windows running the length of one entire wall. Damask draperies framed a breathtaking view of the gold, orange and red fall foliage outside.

  “Wow,” was all Jenny could manage to utter.

  “In the winter we decorate those trees with thousands of white lights. It’s truly magnificent,” the manager said.

  “Is it available New Year’s Eve?” Jenny asked.

  “At the moment, yes. All the other rooms have been booked. This is the only one available.”

  “The price?” Jason sounded less than impressed.

  “Total, including the meal would be in the twenty-thousand range, depending upon your choice of entrée.”

  Jason and Jenny both coughed.

  Their host didn’t look pleased by their reaction. “You’re talking about four hundred plates, sir. Surely you don’t expect to pay less than forty per plate.”

  “Silly me. Will that be a cash bar?” Jason asked.

  “Yes, but for another five thousand, I can offer a free bar with wine, beer, liquors and soft drinks.”

  Jason, looking a little green around the gills, shook his head. “We’ll be in touch.” He headed toward the exit.

  Jenny did the same.

  “I expect the room will be booked by the end of the week,” the manager said, following them.

  “We’ll take our chances,” Jason responded over his shoulder as he shuffled down the staircase. He waited at the exit for Jenny and pushed the door open for her.

  She waited until she got outside before she spoke a word. “It was gorgeous but that price!”

  He paused in the front courtyard and turned to face the building. “I refuse to pay that. She’ll just have to understand.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  He shook his head and started following a path that bent around the side of the building. “I don’t know about that. She had her heart set on this place.”

  “There are others,” Jenny followed him. The grounds were absolutely gorgeous and the weather was perfect. They wandered into a cozy, romantic clearing nestled in the center of colorful trees, shrubs and flowers. Private, beautiful, it was the perfect place to steal a kiss.

  Too bad she was walking with her friend’s fiancé and not her own.

  “I couldn’t get her to even consider anywhere else. This is the only place she’s mentioned since we first started talking about getting married.”

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Lie. Tell her it isn’t available.”

  “No. I can’t do that. Besides, she’d be determined enough to call and check. Then she’d know I was lying.”

  “Yeah. I can see her doing that.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face Jenny, his eyes searching hers. “Maybe I have no business asking this but how did you do it? How’d you get her to listen? I need to know. Heck, my future marriage may count on it.”

  How would she explain it without taking sides or making Monica look bad? “It’s a secret. I… Uh, she was in a position where she had no choice.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned back against a tree trunk and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “So tell me, Jenny Brown, what’s your secret?”

  You don’t really want to know my secrets, Jason Foxx! Do you?

  There was something in her eyes that enchanted him. For some reason, as he stole as many minutes with her as he could, making whatever excuses necessary to keep her here with him, he didn’t feel like he should—guilty as hell. He was engaged after all, planning his wedding with Monica. But I’m beginning to believe I don’t love her. She’s not the woman I fell in love with.

  At the moment all he could think about was listening to Jenny speak. He didn’t care about anything else.

  Who was Jenny Brown?

  In a deep, down-in-the-gut sense, he felt like he knew her from somewhere, but he could find nothing familiar about her fa
ce, hair, or features. They were soft, feminine, pretty, but not as stunning as Monica’s. Not as flashy or polished. Even so, he found her incredibly attractive. She was like the crisp fall air whirling around them and tossing the leaves about. Fresh, earthy, sensual.

  She was nervous, had been since the minute they’d met outside the manager’s office. He could tell by the flush on her face, the way her gaze hopped around.

  Why? He sensed she was hiding something, a secret. What could it be?

  Her cheeks were deep red now, having stained the charming shade when he’d right-out asked her what her secret was. Her brown eyes, the color of the earth, hid her secret well but occasionally little sparks of something shimmered in their depths. Would she tell him the truth?

  “I don’t have any secrets,” she lied.

  He wanted to smile, to let her know he couldn’t be so easily fooled, but he didn’t. For one thing, it would draw out the game. He had all night. Monica had told him she had plans with some girlfriends.

  He felt her drawing closer before she moved, almost like her spirit had reached toward him before her body did. She shuffled closer, closing the distance between them to less than a foot. Her arms hanging at her sides, she stared down at his feet for several heartbeats before looking up into his eyes again.

  Her lower lip trembled and she bit it, making it stain a deep cherry red. He licked his mouth, wishing he could taste her.

  “I can’t tell you my secrets.” Her hushed voice barely rose above the sound of the rustling leaves.

  “Why not?”

  One side of her mouth quirked up into a playful half-smile. “Then they wouldn’t be secrets anymore,” she said as she took a single step backward.

  A retreat.

  He wasn’t about to let her get away that easily. He unfolded his arms and moved forward, diminishing the distance between them to mere inches. He still wasn’t close enough, but for now he would have to be content. “They’re in your eyes, you know.”

  “What?”

  He reached forward and stroked the side of her face with his index finger. Her skin was satin smooth and warm. His gaze fixed on her eyes. “Your secrets. I can read them there.”