by Rita Herron
How could he have ever had any doubts about the two of them? About this marriage?
Jenna was perfect...
She reached the end of the aisle, the preacher spoke, then her father handed her to him. The moment Jenna took his hand, Zack's throat clogged with emotions.
He had found the woman he would love the rest of his life.
The room grew hushed as they recited their vows.
"Will you, Zack, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." Zack repeated the rest of the vows in a throaty voice, his hand gripping Jenna's in a silent pledge of solidarity.
Finally, it was time to kiss the bride. Zack slowly lifted the veil from Jenna's face. Tears glittered in her gorgeous green eyes as he captured her mouth with a soul-deep kiss that promised her all the passion in the world.
Then a small humming sound erupted with the song, "Here Comes the Bride."
Zack threw his head back and laughed. The day before he'd sent Jenna a wedding gift, the his-and-hers bridal underwear from her store.
Jenna was obviously wearing hers.
He remembered his slogan with a chuckle, "It's What's Underneath That Counts."
His body hummed with arousal. He couldn't wait to show her what he was wearing beneath his tux. Something he'd custom ordered just for her.
Then she kissed him again, and he forgot about everything but holding her in his arms, and loving her, and that she was finally his wife.
And for once, he didn't even feel nauseated at the thought.
The End
Page forward for more from Rita Herron
Here Comes the Bride
The Special Author's Cut Edition
by
Rita Herron
Dedication
To my own mirror image twin, Reba—the sweet one!
For all those twin switches we pulled,
and for the ones we didn't.
Love, Rita
Chapter 1
"He's paying you two thousand dollars to do what?" Kimberly Turner tapped her cell phone to make sure the connection was solid, then pressed the phone back to her ear. What had her identical twin gotten herself into this time?
Marci's soft laughter echoed over the line. "To be his fiancée for the weekend. But Kim, something's come up and I need you to switch. Go pack."
"His fiancée? Switch?" Kimberly took a deep breath while her sister's words registered.
"Yeah," Marci rattled on. "See, this great guy named Tank's taking me to Vegas—"
"What?" Kimberly massaged her temples as a headache threatened. "Marci, slow down. My mind's still on the fact that you accepted two thousand dollars to spend a weekend with a man. What kind of kook would pay you to pretend to be his fiancée?"
"He's not a kook," Marci said. "Actually he's pretty handsome, in a stodgy sort of way. You know, a business type." She paused as if in thought. "Actually, Kim, you might like him."
"Marci, you're not making any sense."
Marci's earrings tinkled in the background. Kimberly pictured her sister standing with her hip hitched out in the too-tight, too-short jean shorts she wore at her waitressing job while she examined her long red nails. "It's a long story, sis. I'm sure he'll fill you in—"
"Look, Marci, I haven't agreed to anything."
"But you have to do it," Marci pleaded. "This is a chance of a lifetime for me. And Tank's waiting right here!"
Kimberly's heart felt like a balloon about to explode. "Marci, you can't expect me to spend a weekend with a man I've never even met. And pretend to be engaged to him."
"You said you needed money to fix up the children's center. This will solve your problem." Marci went silent as if there were nothing else to say.
Kimberly dug her neatly trimmed fingernails into her palms. "I know we've switched before, but you're twenty-four years old, you've got to learn to be responsible. You made the deal, you keep it."
Marci sighed dramatically. "Listen, Kimmie, if you're worried about sex, I think—"
"I am not worried about sex." Was she? Should she be?
"He's one of those workaholic types. I doubt he even thinks about it. He probably sleeps with his laptop."
"Marci, I can't do it. I'm exhausted. I was up all last night at the children's center."
"Kim, please, think about the money," Marci begged. "You can redo the kids' game room, even buy a computer."
Kimberly could use the money for lots of things for the center. The repairs needed to bring the building up to code were endless. "You're not playing fair, sis."
She couldn't let Marci blindside her this time. The last date she'd agreed to serve as Marci's fill-in had been horrible. The guy had shown up with a tattoo of a snake on his arm, and he'd taken her to a strip show and wanted her to dance for tips to pay their bar bill.
"Marci, this guy might be some kind of weirdo—a mass murderer or a pervert."
Marci laughed. "Tank's not a pervert."
"I don't mean Tank," Kimberly said in frustration. "I mean the guy who's paying you to be his girlfriend."
"Don't be ridiculous," Marci said. "He's one of my regular customers, a great tipper. I think he's some kind of architect. In fact, now that I think about it, he hasn't come onto me once. Maybe he’s gay."
Kimberly hedged. If he was gay, that might explain the reason he was hiring a fiancée. And she would be safe.
Tank's voice echoed in the background, then Marci piped up, "I gotta go, Kim."
"Wait—" Kimberly said in a panic.
Marci giggled, and Kimberly rolled her eyes, disgusted with her sister when she heard smooching sounds in the background. "He'll pick you up at the apartment—"
"You gave a stranger directions to my apartment? Are you crazy?"
"He's not a stranger. I told you he's a regular customer of mine. He'll be there at five."
"Five o'clock tonight?" Kimberly pressed her hand against her chest, certain she was having heart palpitations.
"Yeah, it's a long drive to Virginia."
"Virginia! You didn't say we'd be leaving the state." No one would even know where he dumped her body.
Marci sighed impatiently. "Don't worry. You're going to be staying with his parents; you're attending his best friend's wedding. He wants everyone to think he's happily engaged."
"But, Marci—"
"Thanks, sis. I owe you. Now I gotta go." Then Marci disconnected and Kimberly sat in stunned silence.
Not only had she let her sister rope her into switching and playing fiancée to a man she'd never met, but she suddenly realized Marci had forgotten to tell her the man's name.
* * *
Austin McDane was desperate.
He veered his gray Lexus into Marci's apartment complex, fighting a sudden case of nerves. Marci was perfect as a fake fiancée. Well, sort of...
Actually his plan was insane. He'd never thought Marci would agree. And now she had, he realized they'd never pull it off. She was too wild, too flirty, too uncouth for his parents.
On second thought, she was too wild, too flirty, too uncouth for him.
Still, she had legs that could wrap around a man and bring him to ecstasy. If he had to have a pretend fiancée, at least he'd chosen a gorgeous one, and his best friend Josh would be impressed.
But what would his parents think when they met her?
Austin walked up the sidewalk to her apartment, his heart pounding. He'd never seen Marci in anything but the skimpy outfit she wore as a waitress. She looked fantastic in it, but maybe he should have told her to dress conservatively for his parents. If she walked in with her pierced bellybutton shining and those shorts that barely covered her rear, flashing that dainty little butterfly tattoo on her upper thigh, his mother would have a heart attack.
At least he'd have a few hours in the car to brief her. He wiped his sweaty palms on his khakis, then reached up with shaky fingers and rang the doorbell.
* * *
At the insistent ringing, Kimber
ly suddenly felt nauseous. She'd never be able to pull off being Marci for a whole weekend. If this anonymous no-name stodgy old man liked Marci, then he would have nothing in common with her. She and Marci might look identical, but they were as different as day and night.
The weekend would be a disaster.
The doorbell rang again. Kimberly sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe she should tell him the truth up front. If all he wanted was a pretend fiancée, perhaps he wouldn't care if it was her or Marci. And come Monday, she would have the cash to use for the children's center.
No, she decided, she would remain anonymous. She wouldn't want this stunt to get back to her boss. Someone might misconstrue the situation and the resulting gossip would reflect badly on her position as director.
The bell rang again. "Marci, it's me. Aren't you going to let me in?"
Kimberly froze. The stodgy old man's voice sounded impatient. Great. She was going to spend the weekend with a hothead.
She turned the knob, then opened the door. Her breath whooshed out—the stodgy old man was a young, handsome hunk.
"Marci?" His voice was no longer impatient, but husky and soft.
"Ki... yes." Kimberly winced at herself for almost correcting him. She'd never make it through a whole weekend without slipping up.
"Are you ready?"
"Sure, but why don't you call me Kimberly," she suggested.
His thick brows arched in question.
"Marci's my middle name; I use it at the restaurant in case any strange guys decide to look me up." She smiled, hoping she sounded convincing. "But my friends call me Kimberly."
"Ahh, kind of like using a fake name when you meet someone in a bar." His dark gaze moved over her appreciatively and a slow smile broadened his sexy mouth.
"Exactly," Kimberly said guiltily.
Lord help her. Her heart was thumping like wild just at the sight of him—he stood about six feet with broad shoulders and a muscular frame that radiated masculinity. His black hair was neat, as if it had just been trimmed, a slight shadow of a beard darkened his olive skin, and high cheekbones accentuated his prominent nose. Marci gave up a weekend with this sexy, handsome man to go off with a guy named Tank?
Her sister must have been crazy.
"You look great." His appreciative gaze took in her slinky black pants and silk tee, and Kimberly wondered what he'd expected—a leather mini skirt and tube top?
The truth lingered on the tip of her tongue. Tell him the truth and get it over with. Perhaps you and this guy might even hit it off.
Then he picked up her leather bag and grinned again, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. "Not that I don't like your work outfit better, but my folks will be much more receptive to what you're wearing."
Kimberly bit her tongue. He did want Marci.
Darn. All the men wanted Marci, fun-loving, sexy, witty Marci. Not boring, child-centered, hearth and home Kim.
"Well, let's go," he said, ushering her toward the door. "We've got a long trip ahead of us."
Kimberly nodded. It certainly would be. She only hoped that sometime during the drive from Atlanta to Virginia she could find out his name.
* * *
"Tell me about your family," Kimberly said once they'd settled in the car and gotten on the freeway. And you can throw in your name, too, she didn't say.
She glanced around the car for any odd papers or magazines that might have his address on them. Zilch. Maybe she could sneak a peek in his wallet later.
His dark sexy eyes twinkled back at her. "Don't worry. My family's pretty normal."
Normal? For her that had been a single mom, and as far as the kids at the center... well, after some of the home situations she'd seen, she had no idea what constituted a normal family.
"Mom's a bit of a meddler but she means well."
"Is that the reason you wanted a fiancée?"
"Yeah," he finally said. "With Josh's wedding, I figured she'd give me a hard time. She's always throwing some girl my way, but I'm too busy with work for marriage. Besides, Mom chooses these homebodies that aren't my type, if you know what I mean."
Like me? Kimberly bit back the comment, wondering if he considered any woman who enjoyed being at home instead of out partying a bore. "And your dad?"
"Used to work in the tobacco plant, but he's retired."
He held up his right hand. "There are five of us kids."
And your name? Kimberly wanted to pry it from his mouth.
"Rebecca's the oldest, then Rob, me, and April. Philip's the baby. He turned twenty-two in May."
Great. Now she knew everyone's name in his entire family except his.
"Did any of them have kids?" And name them after you?
He laughed. "Rob has four, April one. Philip's not married. He's the wild one."
Sounds like Marci. Kimberly's mind drifted to his siblings. He obviously came from a big happy family. Why would he deceive them? And he was too good-looking not to have a woman in his life.
Unless he was... gay.
"If you don't mind me asking, why did you choose me to play your fiancée? Don't you have a girlfriend who would have played the part?"
He shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I don't exactly have a girlfriend. I've been working day and night to get my architectural firm off the ground so I haven't had much time for dating."
She understood that. It sounded a lot like her life.
"And besides, I only needed a date for the weekend and I figured you'd be perfect."
"Why me?" Kimberly asked, knowing he meant Marci.
His wolfish smile made Kimberly tingle all over. "No strings. I knew you wouldn't badger me for a commitment or anything. I've seen you with the other guys. You just like to have fun."
Kimberly's throat closed. Her protective instincts for Marci kicked in. What kind of fun did he have in mind?
* * *
Austin struggled to keep his hands to himself as he parked at the restaurant, climbed out and opened Marci’s car door. He hoped he wasn't acting like a lust-struck fool, but sitting so close to the sex-siren of a woman made him break out in a sweat.
The past few months of being married to his job and work-induced celibacy must have caught up with him. He'd thought Marci looked sexy in her shorts and low-cut work outfit, but she was downright tantalizing in those silky pants and sheer top. It molded over her voluptuous bosom, leaving very little to his imagination.
When he'd told her he needed a fiancée for the weekend, he'd left out that he wanted her, but sex definitely wouldn't be a part of the deal—they would be staying with his parents. Besides, Marci wasn't the type of woman who would want him. She was friendly and he tipped her well, but she'd always looked through him as if he were nothing more than a piece of furniture. A lumpy chair or wooden bench.
No sexual reaction at all.
The two thousand dollars he'd had to pay her to be his escort proved it. He'd seen her freely leave the restaurant with bikers and thugs; yet he still had to cough up cash.
Marci slipped through the crowded corridor, and he followed, his eyes glued to the gentle sway of her hips. The two of them settled into a corner booth, and he studied the menu, forcing himself to concentrate on food as he reminded himself of all the reasons he and Marci were unsuited.
And then all the reasons they were perfectly suited for this farce of an engagement.
He couldn't picture her settling down and getting married—a major plus in his book. The last thing he wanted was to have some woman decide she wanted to fill the role of fiancée for real and try to tie him down.
Now that would be a disaster.
"I bet you get sick of restaurant food, Marci," Austin said.
"Kimberly," she said softly.
"Oh, sorry, Kimberly." He nodded approvingly. "That's a pretty name."
"Thanks." Her cheeks turned a soft pink and he shifted uncomfortably. He liked this new side of Marci-Kimberly.
A heavyset waitress wearing black pants, a white shirt
and a ridiculous little bow tie ambled over, removed the pencil stuck in her stiff brown hair and jotted down their orders.
A soft country ballad played in the background, and Austin decided to tell Kimberly a little more about his family just to prepare her in case the family drilled them.
Her blue eyes twinkled back at him as she listened intently. Damn. Her chestnut hair and pale complexion were the same beautiful shade he'd seen a dozen or so times.
But tonight she seemed different.
Quieter somehow, not as flirty, but sweet. Her voice even sounded a tad huskier. Maybe changing her name had something to do with the change in her personality.
At the restaurant she enjoyed showing off her assets, but now... well, she was more subdued. Still, her intoxicating perfume was driving him crazy and a frightening thought hit him.
He was actually starting to like her.
By the time they climbed back in the car, she’d lapsed into silence. He grimaced and started the engine. Hell, he was probably boring her to death with tales of his family.
As they drove away, he kept ordering himself to think of blueprints to keep his mind off the way she was built, while she was probably thinking of other, more exciting men.
"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Kimberly asked, finally breaking the strained silence.
"Of course not." Although she would no doubt roll on the floor laughing at his choice of music.
But Kimberly popped in his favorite selection—Kenny G, Unplugged—and he was so surprised he hit a pothole and almost swerved off the road.
Then she laid her head against the headrest, making her long curly hair tumble softly around her shoulders, and his lungs tightened. She looked classier and sexier than he'd ever thought Marci Turner, no, Kimberly, could look.
"Um, Kimberly, I've been thinking. I'm not sure my parents will believe I fell in love with a waitress. Do you think we could make up a new line of work for you? Maybe a nurse or librarian?"
Her blue eyes darkened suddenly. "Of course," she agreed readily. "Why don't you tell them I work in a children's center?"