When Honey Got Married

by Kimberly Lang

  “He called me yesterday after he met with you. He said he had this feeling he knew you from somewhere, so I told him who you were.”

  Honey’s voice had changed along with the topic, losing some of its edge-of-hysteria tone. That was a good thing, so while it really wasn’t a topic she cared to discuss, Grace didn’t have the heart to shut her down. She nodded politely instead.

  “There was definitely interest in his voice, so I gave him your work number. Don’t be surprised if you get a call from him next week.”

  Grace bit back a slightly hysterical laugh. No, Beau was an impatient, take-action guy. “Thanks for the heads-up.” Her phone beeped again. “Now, we really need to get started or else you’ll all be late for the rehearsal dinner.”

  As they walked back toward the tent Honey leaned in close. “Are you going to go?”

  She’d been checking her phone, texting responses to the florist. “Huh?”

  “If Beau asks you out? Are you going to go? Or do you have a boyfriend already?”

  Oh, dear God. Honey wanted to focus on anything other than the wedding, and Grace really needed to focus on exactly that. Too much was on the line for her. “I’ll give it some thought, okay?”

  Later, she added to herself.

  Grace couldn’t get the conversation out of her head, though. Thankfully, wrangling bridal parties into position and directing them down the aisle was familiar enough to do properly even when her brain was buzzing over something else entirely.

  Beau had wanted to ask her out—before he knew who she really was. And he’d still wanted to even after he found out. Even without Honey’s assurances, she believed that Beau really hadn’t known the full story behind that incident, and in retrospect, he really shouldn’t be held responsible for the aftermath.

  As she explained the recessional, she realized she had some really important questions to answer. One, did she want Beau Vaughn? Regardless of old grudges or new weirdness, did she want to find out if there was something there other than sexual chemistry? Two, was she ready to accept what it meant if there was? And three, was she willing to swallow her pride and apologize to Beau in the hope she might be able to undo the damage?

  It didn’t take her long to decide that the answer to all the questions was yes.

  Chapter Five

  With the wedding party gone to the rehearsal dinner at Bellefleur Country Club, Beau let his staff leave as well. They all had an early start tomorrow, and he could lock up alone. He checked the lights and the doors, set the alarm, and let himself out onto the porch.

  Grace was sitting on the stairs, staring out into the garden.

  “Is there a problem, Grace?”

  She turned and shook her head. “No. I just sat down to go over a few things and decided I liked it here. It’s quiet, and the view is beautiful. If the weather holds like it’s supposed to, Honey will have perfect evening for her wedding.”

  Oh. “Well, I’m locking up now—”

  She didn’t move. “I can’t help but notice that mine is the only car in the lot.”

  “Over there, through those trees where you see the lights, is the old overseer’s house. That’s where I live.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “I guess you don’t need a ride home, then.”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” she said brightly, but there was something forced about it. She stood and started to gather her things. “I guess I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” She took two steps down the stairs and stopped. He saw her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, and then she turned to face him. “The house and the grounds look great, I’m sure everything’s going to be fine tomorrow, I think everyone’s going to be really pleased, you were right, and I’m really sorry.”

  The words had come out in one long rush, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh. Her smile was weak, and for the first time, he saw the strain she’d been under. “Being back here was rougher than I expected. I’ve had a lot thrown at me the last few days, and it’s hard to process it all. I kinda freaked a little.”

  He was suddenly hopeful, but he didn’t want to assume anything and have it backfire again. “All things considered, that’s understandable.”

  “You know, when I left Bellefleur, I swore I’d never set foot in town again.”

  “That’s not an uncommon tale.”

  She smiled again, but it was genuine this time. “Oddly enough, I find I’m not sorry I came back.” Her smile faded a little and became cautious. “It took me a little while to figure that out, and I’m sorry I took the confusion out on you.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  …

  He’d said it so quickly that it set her back a pace. That seemed almost too easy. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “You accepted mine, so the least I can do is accept yours. I haven’t even had ten years to build the grudge.”

  “Great.” Beau didn’t say anything after that, so she had to push on through. She had to take the chance. “So… Um… Honey seems to be under the impression that you’re going to call me next week and ask me out.”

  “She’d be wrong.”

  Her heart sank into her stomach. She’d work on being mad later; right now she was dealing with the disappointment. It was amazing how quickly the humiliation could come rushing back. At least there weren’t witnesses this time. “Oh.”

  “Look, I have a really long day tomorrow. I’ve got to be up early to cook…”

  She could take the hint. “Yeah, me too. Busy day. Not cooking, of course, but…”

  Beau crossed his arms over his chest. “So I’m going to go home, get something to eat, have an early night.”

  “That seems like a sound plan. I think I’ll do the same.” Keeping her chin up, she started down the last few stairs. Just say good night, Gracie. “Good night, Beau.”

  “Hey, Grace?”

  She didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

  “You’re going to heat up some frozen crap and call it dinner, aren’t you?”

  A spark of hope lit in her chest. She faced him. “Probably. I don’t know how to cook, you know.”

  He sighed and shook his head sadly, and the spark grew stronger. “I can’t let you do that. I guess you’ll just have to come home with me. I made gumbo.”

  It seemed kind of surreal to fall into step beside him as they headed for the lights in the tree line. She’d been going about this all the wrong way, spending all that time and energy running from her past and only being frustrated when she wasn’t able to escape it. Not only could she face it now, she could embrace it—celebrate it even, because she’d come so far.

  That was something to be proud of.

  And Beau? That was something to be excited about, a completely unexpected benefit.

  She’d come full circle yet still come out ahead.

  Definitely surreal.

  A moment later, Beau reached down and took her hand. “So, there’s this wedding I’ve got to go to tomorrow…”

  She’d planned a lot of weddings, but this one… It was definitely something special.

  About the Author

  USA Today best-selling author Kimberly Lang believes that romance should have both sizzle and sass. A former ballet dancer and English teacher, Kimberly now does yoga and writes the kind of books she always loved to read. She’s a southern belle with a troublemaking streak and a great love of strong heroes and even stronger heroines. Visit her website at www.BooksByKimberly.com.

  Eve Met Her Match

  Anna Cleary

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Anna Cleary. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regard
ing subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Shannon Godwin

  Cover design by Danielle Barclay

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-092-6

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition May 2013

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: “Sophisticated Lady,” InterContinental Hotel, Sister Maria, The Sound of Music, Baron von Trapp, Ashley Wilkes, Christian Louboutin, Oscar, “Blue Bayou,” Blanche DuBois, Tennessee Williams, Sin, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

  To Ally, Kelly and Kim--with thanks for the most gorgeous fun in an age!

  Chapter One

  It was the cruelest pre-wedding dinner a woman could ever have been expected to attend. As Eve Fortescue waded through the purple twilight to the Bellefleur Country Club with her Aunt Minna, every step she took was like walking on knives.

  She was nearly able to breathe in her crimson sheath. Honey Moreau may have nailed Brent Delacroix, so far, though Eve’s guardian angel was whispering that they weren’t married yet. Brent’s blue eyes would surely be glued to his bride, but the angel had decreed Eve should sashay into the party looking as sexy as sin.

  Eve was trying her best. But looking pretty wasn’t bringing her any great joy. While crimson satin may well be kind to her dark eyes, and light up the rich chestnut in her hair and the roses in her cheeks, underneath all her New York finery, including the lacy black underwear caressing her skin as softly as a lover’s whisper, Eve’s heart was aching. The only comfort holding her together was the reflection that at least no one else knew her sad little secret.

  Imagine if it got out. Eve Fortescue, belle of the Bellefleur Theater, notorious breaker of hearts and stealer of beaus, was hopelessly in love with the groom.

  “Just remember you’re a Fortescue,” Minna said. “Our folks may have fallen on hard times as a result of a certain family’s greed, but that don’t mean we aren’t as good as those Delacroixes.”

  “Auntie,” Eve murmured, catching sight of Brent’s mother and several of their neighbors only a bare few feet away up on the veranda. She placed a restraining hand on her aunt’s sleeve. “Shh. Someone’ll hear.”

  At the same time a prickling sensation on the back of Eve’s neck warned her that someone was coming up behind them.

  Turning, she met the cool gray eyes of Brent’s cousin, Rainer Delacroix, just as Minna added in a penetrating whisper, “And I hope you aren’t intending on drooping like a broken lily every time you lay eyes on the groom. A Delacroix is not your type and never could be your type.”

  Rainer’s intelligent gray eyes sharpened. A gleam shot into them. Eve blushed all the way to her roots. Whatever Minna knew, or thought she knew, this was not the place.

  Why did some men seem to soak up all the surrounding air? Homing in on her embarrassment, Rainer, a Delacroix cousin she’d barely even met, plastered a pitying expression on his lean, rather harshly handsome face. “Ah, Miss Fortescue, and…Eve, isn’t it?”

  “Hi,” Eve mumbled, ignoring the humiliating sympathy in his tone when he said her name.

  No eye contact was the only way to go here. Let him keep his speculations to himself.

  Minna, on the other hand, had no such reservations. Show her a big, strong man with raven hair, a chiseled mouth and a sexy little cleft in his manly chin, and she forgot her feud with the Delacroix clan and cast off twenty well-lived years.

  “Well, now…,” She patted her titian hair, green eyes asparkle. “Rainer, isn’t it? Last I heard you were solving the world’s problems in some godforsaken desert. Was that you I saw on CNN smoothing over some diplomatic brouhaha with pirates?”

  “That would have been Clooney, ma’am, ” Rainer said gravely. “I only ever work behind the scenes. ” His amused gray eyes, all the more startling for their contrast with his black lashes and thick black brows, made a lazy switch to Eve, who suspected her cheeks were still the color of a Mississippi sunset. “You know, I don’t think I ever saw that shade of red look more appealing on a woman.”

  Eve didn’t delude herself that he was referring to her dress, although the glance he flickered from her mouth to her throat to her cleavage left singe marks.

  She smiled coolly, quite a feat for a person in spiritual agony. “You’re very kind, I’m sure.” Quickly she gripped Minna’s elbow and gave her a tug. “I think our hostess is waiting, Auntie.”

  Somehow Eve hauled Minna away from the mocking beast and hustled her onto the veranda and the official receiving line at the entrance to the Magnolia Room.

  “Now be careful who you kiss,” Minna warned grimly out of the side of her mouth. “A snake is still a snake, even in a tiara. And here comes one now.”

  “Auntie. Please.”

  As if Eve didn’t have enough horror on her hands.

  Sensing Rainer Delacroix’s intrusive gaze scorching through the back of her dress, she only just restrained herself from glancing at him again over her shoulder.

  That he was even aware of her name was astounding. He was older than the set she’d gone to school with. Harder, more experienced than the boys she knew. What if he spread it about that she was suffering from unrequited love?

  He might. There was something ruthless about him.

  Eve’s insides churned. At least if she and Brent had had an affair, there’d be some credit in it for her. But the way things were… She’d be a laughing stock.

  With those few minor flirtations in her past, not to mention her grossly exaggerated reputation for the careless breakage of hearts, the town gossips would love it. How her enemies would gloat.

  People would say she’d tried to snatch Brent from Honey and failed. The rejected woman.

  Worse still, would be what Brent would think. He’d be imagining she’d blabbed something about him. Some mean-spirited complaint, when he’d only ever been kind to her. In those two years she’d worked as his trusted research assistant at Delacroix Developments, she and Brent had clicked in so many ways. It had meant so much to her, those hours they’d spent talking about the things that really mattered. Like preserving the bayou ecology. Rescuing endangered species.

  In a sad irony, it was the skills she’d acquired in Brent’s employ that had helped her to land her plum job with the geographic magazine. After she’d made the decision to tear herself away from him and flee to New York.

  After all he’d done for her, she couldn’t bear for Brent to feel the tiniest prickle of guilt on her account.

  Eve was pierced by a shard of pure panic. Rainer might be capable of anything. What did she know about him, really?

  On his rare visits to his farm at Bellefleur he never bothered with socializing, as far as she knew. A guy who made his living as some kind of hotshot professional troubleshooter was hardly likely to take an interest in the Bellefleur Theatrical Society.

  Not that the women of Bellefleur hadn’t noticed him. There’d been reports a while back, of one of the Dixon women pursuing him madly to no avail, jumping off a bridge, then, after she was rescued, shaving her head and retreating to a Buddhist nunnery.

  Eve had seen him once in New York with a woman, some high-powered judge he was said to be involved with, but as far as she knew, the times he visited Bellefleur he arrived as a lone gun, cool, sexy, and maddeningly inaccessible to the kind of woman who lusted after icy mocking eyes and a ripped set of muscles.

  Eve never lusted. Flirting was more her style. Though she might surrender her body once in a while to some lust-crazed dude for pity’s sake, out of sheer politeness, it had come as a complete shock to her to discover she could actually fall hard. And for a guy with mild blue eyes who cared about the environment.

 
Who was about to marry someone else.

  She sneaked a glance about, and saw Rainer being lionized by a bunch of ladies from the church charity. She guessed the best thing would be to avoid him. Give him a chance to forget what he’d overheard. With so many folk swarming up the stairs in their pearls and satins for this “informal little get-together,” that wasn’t likely to be too hard. Seemed like most of Bellefleur had been invited.

  Most likely, Rainer had forgotten her already.

  She was starting to breathe more easily when all at once, Rainer looked over, caught her eye, and winked.

  Eve blanched. Why? What did he mean by it?

  “Eve, honey…” She felt a gentle prod at her elbow.

  Remembering her manners, Eve took her turn shaking the Delacroix hands and kissing the Delacroix cheeks. Then there was Honey’s family, the Moreaus, and their spiteful cousins the Dixons, though Minna had declared she never would kiss that snake Opaline Dixon or her poisonous daughters to save her life.

  When the moment came, Eve held her breath, but Minna did at least bring herself to kiss the air beside Opaline’s richly injected cheek.

  One thing about the Fortescues, even under pressure, they behaved with grace.

  Mouthwatering aromas were wafting from inside the club. Eve could hear the strains of a band with that distinctly New Orleans timbre. How she loved a party. Any other kind of party, that was. She was straining her ears to hear what Rainer was saying to a doddery old guy in his nineties who was clinging to his hand, when Minna was seized by a gang of her old cronies and carried into the fray.

  Eve was preparing to follow in her wake when Brent’s mother drew her aside.

  “Bellefleur sure misses you, Eve.” Marie Delacroix’s blue eyes were an older version of Brent’s. Warm and sincere, although Marie’s had the added shrewdness of womanly experience. “Our little theater will never be the same. I know Brent was disappointed you left the firm, but I guess he understood you needed to spread your wings.”

  “I hope so.” Eve smiled to conceal her pang. If only Marie knew the truth. This spreading of wings was a miserable thing. Her pride would never let her admit it, though. No way would she allow anyone here to guess how much she missed Bellefleur, every day of her life, with every atom of her being.