7 Brides for 7 Bodies

by Bond, Stephanie

  And since he’d given her the phone and was paying for the service, there was an implied entitlement to her availability. “I’m sorry. Everyone wants a piece of me today. I had to turn off the ringer.”

  He looked hurt. “So I’m ‘everyone’?”

  “No,” she murmured, tamping down her irritation. “I was going to call you as soon as I settled in.” She touched her pinging shoulder. “I need to take another pain pill…and I didn’t get much rest last night. And—” To her horror, she burst into tears.

  “Shh,” he said, pulling her face against his chest. “You should’ve stayed with me.”

  Although if she had stayed with Peter, she wouldn’t have taken the mind-boggling trip that had given her a glimpse into what it would be like to be married to him. As it turned out, in the “other place,” Mrs. Carlotta Ashford was leading an enviable and pretty darn happy life.

  Well, except for the fact that she’d been planning to murder someone. But Carlotta had circumvented that little plot and set herself on the right path before departing, leaving that Carlotta and Peter to live happily ever after.

  As for this Carlotta and Peter…

  “Let’s get you inside,” he said, taking her keys and steering her toward the door.

  She let him take charge because it was easier than pushing back. And it felt good to turn everything over to someone else, if only for a few minutes.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carlotta spotted movement in the yard next door. She turned her head to see their neighbor Mrs. Winningham scoop up her ugly dog Toofers and sprint toward the door of her own little house. The nosy woman had been chloroformed by The Charmed Killer to keep her quiet while he’d attempted to relieve Carlotta of her life. Apparently she had recovered—thank goodness—but it appeared she had also reached the end of her patience for the abandoned Wren children, who attracted trouble to the neighborhood like bugs to a roach motel.

  Carlotta raised her hand in a guilty wave. “Hello, Mrs. Winningham!”

  The woman responded by slamming her front door shut with a force that shook the windows.

  Carlotta winced. “Okay, she officially hates us.”

  Peter scoffed. “She can’t blame you for what a madman did—you could’ve died, for God’s sake.”

  “We haven’t exactly been the best neighbors.”

  “Well, maybe you won’t have to live here much longer,” he said in a hopeful voice.

  She managed a smile, glad she hadn’t revealed to Peter that before the attack, she had decided to move in with him and give their relationship the attention it deserved. Because now everything had changed. How perfect that as soon as she’d made a decision about the direction of her life, her prodigal father had returned and upended everything.

  When Peter pushed open the door, embarrassment washed over her. The townhouse was shabby, and Wesley’s recent installation of a security system had left holes and patches in the walls. A sagging tinsel Christmas tree sat in the corner, complete with gifts underneath, just as it had been when Randolph and Valerie had taken off all those years ago. Wesley had refused to let her take it down or open the gifts until their parents returned. She wondered if Randolph had noticed the sad, tarnished little relic when he’d stormed inside to save her.

  And if that reunion Wesley dreamed of would ever happen.

  “Pardon the mess,” she said as she punched in a code on a keypad next to the door to disable the alarm. “It’s worse than usual.”

  “Glad to see Wes installed a security system,” Peter said. “When I think of what that maniac almost did to you—” His face darkened.

  “But he didn’t,” she said, moving toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks to Randolph.”

  She nodded.

  “So how was it, seeing him this morning?”

  Carlotta relayed the anticlimactic encounter as she downed a tablet for the pain in her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, picking up her hand. He glanced at her dress appreciatively. “He missed out.”

  She tried to smile, but she suddenly felt antsy with all the loose ends dangling in front of her. “Did you go into the office today?”

  He nodded.

  “I assume everyone had heard that Randolph is back?”

  Another nod. “The office was buzzing. Ray Mashburn, Walt Tully and Brody Jones barricaded themselves in Ray’s office all morning.”

  Randolph’s two former partners, and the chief legal counsel for the firm. Curious. “Wonder what that was all about.”

  “I don’t know. I ran into Walt in the men’s room and said hello, but he didn’t respond, acted like he was in a trance.”

  “You’d think they’d be celebrating since Randolph allegedly embezzled money.”

  “You would think.”

  “Will you keep your ears open?”

  “Of course. But I didn’t plan to go back to the office. I was hoping we could spend the day together. I’m supposed to be on vacation, you know.” His blue eyes shone with wry humor.

  “I know,” she murmured. “Our plans keep getting waylaid.”

  “I’m trying not to take it personally.”

  “There will be other times,” she assured him. “Under the circumstances, though, it might be helpful if you go back to the office today and keep an eye on everyone there.”

  Peter frowned. “If something underhanded is going on, I don’t think those guys are going to let down their guard when I’m around.”

  “Because of our relationship?”

  He nodded.

  Carlotta pressed her lips together. “Actually, I’ve been giving that some thought.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  She raised her hand. “Hear me out. I’m thinking that, maybe for now, we should pretend that we’re…estranged.”

  “Estranged?”

  “It’s for your protection,” she added quickly. “So the partners won’t be worried you have a conflict of interest where I’m concerned. And maybe they’ll let something slip that will help Dad’s case.” She brightened. “It’s win-win.”

  He frowned. “Except we have to pretend we’re not a couple.”

  She rearranged her mouth into a pout. “Except for that part.”

  He looked unconvinced. “What am I supposed to say prompted our breakup?”

  “Randolph’s reappearance, of course. Tell the partners you realized you had to choose between the Wren family and your work family, and you decided your loyalty lies with Mashburn & Tully.”

  He wiped his hand over his mouth. “I see you’ve given this some thought.”

  “If you mean I’ve thought about what kind of problems Randolph’s return might cause for you at the firm, then yes. You’ve worked too hard to build a reputation there for it to be jeopardized now.”

  “But what if there’s no information for the partners to let slip? What if Randolph—”

  “Really did cheat his clients and steal money from the firm?”

  He gave a curt nod.

  “Then all the more reason for you to distance yourself from the Wrens,” she said lightly.

  He shook his head slowly, but she could tell she was starting to sway him, which told her that Peter had been nursing some of the same concerns about how this turn of events might affect his career.

  Rightly so, she chided herself before she could feel offended.

  “It will look like I abandoned you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Again.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Carlotta said, reaching for his hand. “You and I will know the truth. And once this situation is resolved—one way or the other—we can resume our…relationship.”

  Frustration creased his face. “Carly, I’ve made no secret about my feelings for you, and I thought we were on a good path. In fact, I was hoping our trip to Las Vegas would cement our relationship…formally.”

  “I know, Peter. Your suitcase was open on your bed and when I went to zip it, I found the engagement ring.”

  �
�Ah. Well, I’ll take the fact that you were still willing to go as a good sign.”

  “I was looking forward to spending time with you,” she murmured, “but I’m not ready to wear your ring.”

  His eyes clouded, but he nodded in acceptance. “Then I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go along with this little breakup idea of yours, if you promise to take this time apart to consider wearing my ring.”

  Well played, she thought, her estimation of the man before her rising a notch. If she’d ever doubted that Peter had the ability to swim with the sharks of Mashburn & Tully, those fears were somewhat mitigated. Peter Ashford knew how to go after what he wanted.

  “It’s a deal,” she agreed.

  He smiled, then looked suspicious. “I hope Detective Terry isn’t going to be your beard?”

  Her eyebrows went up. “Jack…my beard?”

  “Your pretend boyfriend while I’m out of the picture.”

  She bit back a smile at the thought of Jack being anyone’s boyfriend, pretend or otherwise, then shook her head. “In fact, Jack and I agreed it was a good idea for us to establish some distance, too. He was the arresting officer, after all, and will likely be involved in investigating Randolph’s case.”

  “Right,” Peter said, seeming much relieved. “Good idea.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “And Craft?”

  “Coop is also giving me a wide berth. He feels guilty, thinks Abrams attacked me because of him.”

  “He has a point,” Peter said, his mood seeming to improve further. “Hanging around him has put you in harm’s way more than once.”

  Time to change the subject…and to get rid of Peter before he changed his mind about their plan. “Thank you, Peter, for agreeing to do this for…us.” Then she touched her forehead. “I’m sorry to cut our visit short, but I need to call Randolph’s attorney.”

  “Before the painkiller kicks in?”

  “Before it wears off.”

  He laughed and stood. “Okay, I’ll get back to the office and start spreading vicious lies about us.”

  “Remember, it’s for a good cause.” She walked him to the door. “Call me if anything interesting happens.”

  “Good to know I can at least call you,” he said, then lowered a really good kiss on her mouth.

  She leaned into him and enjoyed the sensual exchange, remembering the way they had consummated their relationship in her dream. It gave her hope that if she and Peter could get back to the emotional place they’d been at when they were younger, the physical part would rebound, too.

  He lifted his head and groaned. “And on that note, I’m off to tell everyone we’re totally wrong for each other.”

  She smiled and waved him off, then closed the door and hugged herself.

  Jack, Coop, and Peter had all retreated to their respective corners, giving her space to deal with the new man in her life: Randolph.

  Recycled tears filled her eyes…tears cried a thousand times over for parents who had simply disappeared, seemingly uncaring of the two brokenhearted children they’d left behind with a tainted last name.

  In her dream last night, no doubt triggered by years of wondering what her and Wesley’s lives would’ve been like if their parents hadn’t left, she had gotten a glimpse of what might’ve been. It wasn’t perfect, but their problems had been external…solvable.

  Carlotta shook herself—the painkillers were starting to bleed through her system, leadening her limbs. She picked up the phone, found Liz Fischer’s phone number and connected the call. Prepared to leave a voice message, she was surprised when Liz answered.

  “Hello, Carlotta.”

  “Hi, Liz. I guess you know why I’m calling.”

  “About Randolph, I assume.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “I just left USP, and yes, we talked briefly.”

  Carlotta gripped the phone harder and tried to keep her voice level. “And how is he?”

  “Physically, he looks to be fine.”

  “And otherwise?”

  “I’m afraid that’s about all I can say. But he was concerned about your injury, and asked me to tell you and Wes that he loves you very much.”

  Her throat constricted. “And did he happen to mention our mother?”

  “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “What can you tell me?”

  “Nothing,” Liz said. “We shouldn’t even be talking except I wanted to give you and Wesley some peace of mind.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from saying she knew what Liz was giving her little brother. “When can we see him?”

  “That’s…problematic.”

  Carlotta frowned. “Jack said there was some paperwork involved?”

  “Yes, but the paperwork has to be initiated by Randolph.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “He has to send a form to the person he wants to visit him, then the recipient has to fill it out and return it before being granted visitation rights.”

  She could see the red tape revolving in her head. “How long will that take?”

  “Days, maybe weeks. But the first step is up to Randolph.”

  Meaning he could stall the process indefinitely. Carlotta pushed down a rising tide of frustration. “What about phone calls? Or email?”

  “He would still have to initiate…and you should know that email and phone calls are monitored closely.”

  Meaning she had recommended her client not use them.

  Liz sighed. “Carlotta, I’m sorry I don’t have better news. Randolph is under a lot of scrutiny right now. The next several days will be consumed with interviews by different federal and state agencies. Let him get all this behind him. My best advice to you is to be patient and try to stay busy. I have another call coming in. I’ll be in touch when I can.”

  The call was disconnected. Carlotta stared at the phone, shot through with disbelief. Randolph was mere miles away, but for all intents and purposes, he might as well be on the moon.

  She stood and paced, chewing on a thumbnail, choking back sobs, alternately sad, helpless, and furious. She glanced all around the townhouse and felt the walls closing in. One thing was certain…she couldn’t simply stay here and go mad.

  Massaging her aching shoulder, she picked up the phone again to call her boss Lindy at Neiman Marcus.

  “How are you?” Lindy asked, her voice low with concern. “I read about the attack in the newspaper…and about your father.”

  Carlotta winced. “I’m fine…better. Actually, since my trip was postponed, I was wondering if I could come in tomorrow for a shift.”

  “I understood you were injured.”

  “I might have to stick to light duties,” Carlotta conceded.

  “We’re in the middle of inventory,” Lindy reminded her. “You know how strenuous that can be.”

  “I really need to be busy right now,” Carlotta said honestly. “So if there’s any area where I could be helpful, I would appreciate the distraction—er, the work.”

  A thoughtful noise came over the line. “Now that I think about it, there’s a short-term job offsite that might be a good fit for you.”

  Instantly, Carlotta’s mood bounced. “I’ll take it.” Anything to get her mind off the absent men in her life.

  Chapter Five

  WELCOME TO THE WEDDING WORLD EXPO—Your Ultimate Destination for Planning the Happiest Day of Your Life!

  At the sight of the white banner flapping over the entrance to the Georgia World Congress Center, Carlotta puffed out her cheeks in an exhale. When she’d wished for something to take her mind off the men in her life, she should’ve been more specific.

  On the other hand, seven days being surrounded by white wedding gowns, multi-tiered cakes, and china patterns would probably make her want to either embrace the inevitability of coupledom, or swear off men altogether.

  And there was one upside to attending the event: famed wedding dress designer Jarold Jett was supposed to put in an app
earance. She’d packed her autograph book in the hopes she could snag his signature.

  Carlotta checked her lanyard for the address of the display area Neiman’s had reserved in the enormous convention center, and stepped over the threshold into a flurry of activity and noise.

  The cavernous hall was jammed with booths and soaring displays as far as she could see. White was the prevailing color: curtains, table skirts, bunting, balloons, columns, and archways. Accented with lots of gold and silver and pops of pastels, the booths showcased flowers, food, makeup, photography, videography, music, housewares, travel, luggage, lingerie, tuxedos, jewelry, and gowns, gowns, gowns overflowing into the aisles.

  Everything was sparkly, spangly, shiny, and shimmery. Scents of sugary treats, fresh blossoms, and perfume rode the air. Chamber music and dance tunes boomed from different directions. Carlotta moved down a center corridor feeling as if she was under assault. Even for someone who was accustomed to the over-the-top merchandising of retail sales, it was sensory overload.

  The Atlanta location of Neiman’s didn’t feature an in-store bridal boutique like the renowned Dallas location, but they saw their share of brides in the formalwear department, in the jewelry department, and in gift registry. And the NM café was a popular venue for bridal parties and showers. It made sense they would have a presence at the Expo…but still, the spectacle put Carlotta on edge.

  Which spoke volumes about her state of mind, she realized.

  They hadn’t heard a word from Randolph, and Wesley was communicating in monosyllables. Being denied access to their father was reason enough for her brother to be surly, but she had a feeling something else was bothering him.

  And it could be so many things.

  Meanwhile, the voice mail inbox on her cell phone and their home phone continued to fill with messages from people who wanted to talk to her, check on her, interview her, or—in a couple of creepy cases—simply meet her. Between being the last intended victim of The Charmed Killer and the daughter of Randolph “The Bird” Wren, she was in demand.

  Carlotta wound her way through the exuberant exhibition until she located the expansive and unexpectedly dark-hued booth the store was cosponsoring. The theme of the exhibit was projected onto the tall background wall: Your Perfect Man.