The Best Man's Plan (Special Edition)

by Gina Wilkins

  Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had vowed to get along today. Studying him over the top of the roses, she noted that his smile didn’t quite reach his glittering blue eyes. It was the practiced smile that pushed faint dimples into his lean cheeks and revealed a lot of gleaming white teeth. A smile most people instinctively responded to, even though it revealed absolutely nothing of the thoughts that lay behind it.

  She’d always thought of it as the sort of smile a shark would wear when it invited someone to join it for a little swim.

  “Thanks. I’ll go put these in water.” She turned toward the kitchen.

  “Nice shorts,” he said from behind her.

  Now was the time for one of those nonencouraging stares or chilly half smiles. Instead she blushed, stumbled over her own feet and fled to the kitchen.

  She seemed to need another quick pep talk.

  Her composure reestablished, Grace carried the roses, now arranged in a clear glass vase, back into the living room a few minutes later, setting them prominently in the center of her glass-topped coffee table. “Have you decided yet what we’re doing today? I assume you want to go out in public so we’ll be seen together.”

  “Of course. I thought we’d spend the day in Hot Springs, if that sounds okay to you.”

  “Hot Springs?”

  “Where better to be publicly seen than in a town full of tourists?”

  She couldn’t argue with that. An hour’s drive south of Little Rock, the sidewalks of Hot Springs National Park were often crowded with tourists on nice summer weekends. Even dressed in jeans and sneakers rather than one of his expensive tailored business suits, Bryan would draw more than his share of attention. He always did.

  It sounded like an innocuous enough day. They would wander cozily among the other tourists, pretending to be two lovers on a Sunday outing, giving Chloe and Donovan privacy to make their plans and enjoy their time together. All in all, it wasn’t going to be such a hardship for Grace. Because he seemed to be feeling somewhat remorseful about his middle-of-the-night temper tantrum, Bryan would probably be extra charming today, making sure she had a good time.

  All she had to do was play her role—and keep in mind that it was only make-believe.

  Chapter Seven

  Among his many other talents, Bryan seemed to have a special aptitude for drawing the attention of the media. There should have been nothing particularly newsworthy about a couple spending a summer afternoon strolling the sidewalks of a tourist town. Grace was enjoying the relative anonymity—until they were suddenly thrust once again into the spotlight.

  After having a delicious brunch at a local hotel, they wandered through the town on foot for a while. They had just stepped out of one of the many delightful little galleries and were arguing the merits of the featured artist whose works they had just studied in detail. Grace liked them; Bryan thought they were too derivative.

  A smattering of other tourists moved slowly around them, pausing to gaze at the eclectic merchandise displayed in shop windows. The high heat and humidity made the air feel a bit thick, as if it required a bit of effort to push through it. Grace was accustomed to Arkansas summer temperatures, of course, but she could spot the tourists who were having a bit more difficulty ignoring the broil-factor.

  “So what would you like to do next?” Bryan asked. “A bath house tour? The wax museum? Or we could rent a boat and take it out on Lake Ouachita or…”

  “Magic Springs,” Grace cut in, because it could take him a while to list all the possibilities available to them.

  Bryan’s eyebrows rose. “The amusement park?”

  She nodded. “I like to eat park junk food and ride the roller coaster.”

  “In that order?” He chuckled. “Sounds a little risky.”

  “Only for someone with a weakling’s stomach,” she scoffed.

  “Okay, if you want junk food and thrill rides, then that’s what you’ll have. Never say I don’t…”

  The rest of his words were lost in a crash so loud it reverberated through Grace’s body. One minute Bryan was standing at her side, and the next he was gone. Spinning toward the street to look for him, she gasped in dismay at the sight of a twisted pile of metal in the four-lane intersection.

  It looked as though a big SUV had run a red light and slammed into the passenger side of a smaller car. The smell of gasoline was heavy in the air, along with another, more insidious odor—smoke.

  And Bryan was right in the middle of it.

  Only vaguely aware of the shouts and cries around her, Grace ran forward to see if she could help. She had just reached the crumpled car when Bryan thrust a crying child into her arms. “Take him and get back on the sidewalk,” Bryan shouted over the pandemonium.

  Someone else pushed her out of the way as two strong-looking young men hurried over to assist Bryan. Other spectators hovered in the background, afraid to get close to the mounting heat and smell of fuel.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Everything’s going to be all right,” Grace murmured automatically to the little boy clinging to her neck and sobbing. She guessed that he was about four years old; she had seen Bryan pull him out of the left side of the car. Bryan was now fully inside the car, and she couldn’t see him for the smoke and movement surrounding them.

  Everyone seemed to be talking at once around her. Snatches of their words drifted toward her.

  “It’s going to blow up!”

  “I called 9-1-1.”

  “The SUV driver’s okay. That’s him over there. Hardly looks old enough to drive, does he?”

  “Sure hope that car doesn’t go up in flames while those people are still in there.”

  Grace swallowed hard and tightened her hold on the child, maybe seeking comfort as much as offering it. The boy’s face was buried in her throat; she could feel wet tears against her skin. “I want my…mama,” he whimpered.

  Grace patted him again. “Hang in there a minute, kid,” she murmured, her attention still focused on that car, from which flames could now be seen quite clearly climbing up the left side from underneath.

  The driver was out, being supported by one of the men who had rushed to help Bryan. The woman, whom Grace assumed to be the child’s mother, was crying and trying to get back to her burning car. The young man had his hands full restraining her. Someone stepped up to help him. Other people were yelling, some motioning for bystanders to stay back, some running around in seemingly aimless circles. In the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard growing louder as they moved closer.

  Grace tried to remind herself that Bryan hadn’t been in the car very long. Scant minutes had passed since he’d disappeared inside. It only seemed much longer.

  A couple of loud pops were followed by a new spurt of flames from beneath the car. A collective gasp came from the crowd around her, and Grace felt her heart stutter. What was Bryan doing? Why wasn’t he coming out?

  Her vivid imagination conjured a picture of the car exploding into a fireball with Bryan trapped inside. She flinched from the awful image, telling herself fiercely that it wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. Bryan wouldn’t allow it.

  Her knees nearly buckled in relief when he finally emerged from the vehicle. He was immediately pulled away from the car and then surrounded by people. She’d seen that he was holding something, but the bodies between them kept her from seeing what it was. The woman who had been driving the car gave a cry and broke away from the hands that had been holding her back.

  A moment later, the car was fully engulfed in flames, despite the efforts of a couple of shop owners who had appeared with fire extinguishers that they were emptying on the vehicles. Bryan would have been in that fire if he’d hesitated even a little longer, Grace realized sickly.

  The frantic mother was now holding a tiny bundle in her arms. She turned, searching the crowds around her. “Cody? Cody? Has anyone seen my son?”

  The child in Grace’s arms responded immediately to the call. “Mama?”

  G
race hurried toward the woman. “I have your son. He’s fine.”

  “Thank God.” The woman began to cry again.

  Bryan put his right hand on the woman’s shoulder. “There’s a bench beside that shop door. You should sit until the ambulance arrives.”

  He spoke quietly, but Grace noted that his words carried easily through the babbling of the crowd and the wails of the woman’s children. A police car came to a stop in the intersection, and a fire truck wasn’t far behind. Settling Cody more securely on her hip, Grace stayed close to his mother while Bryan escorted her and the baby to the bench. The crowd automatically made way for them, of course, after only a glance from Bryan.

  What was it about him? Even in jeans and sneakers, his hair all tousled, and his face smudged, he still wore an air of competence and authority that people seemed to instinctively recognize and respond to.

  “Aren’t you Bryan Falcon?” an older man who had been hovering in the background inquired.

  Still focused on the family he’d assisted, Bryan nodded.

  “I work at Regions Bank in Little Rock,” the man volunteered. “I see you in there sometimes.”

  Bryan murmured something that was lost in the chaos. Grace heard his name repeated several times around her, and then the police and emergency workers took over. The crowd was efficiently dispersed, the fire was extinguished, and the badly shaken woman and her children were loaded into an ambulance and taken away for observation.

  A reporter from the local newspaper arrived, and someone mentioned Bryan’s role in the rescue. Grace could hear details being embroidered as she stood there. She was greatly relieved when Bryan had given his statement to the police, answered a few questions from the reporter—downplaying his own part in the rescue, of course—and then turned to Grace to say, “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  The fervency of her reply drew a wry smile from him. “Sorry. I know how you hate being the center of attention.”

  Aware of all the eyes still focused on them, she cleared her throat and fell into quick step at his side. “Let’s just find your car.”

  Bryan was unusually quiet as they made their way to the parking lot, leaving the noisy gossip and street cleanup behind them. Grace was startled when he turned to her at the car and said, “Would you like to drive?”

  “You’re offering to let me drive the ’vette?” She frowned at him, studying his face to determine if he was simply making a nice gesture—knowing that she wanted a car like this of her own someday—or if there was something more to the offer. The paleness of his face and the sheen of moisture on his upper lip gave her the answer. “Where are you hurt?”

  Looking him over, she saw that he was holding his left arm, which was tucked close to his side; she realized now that he’d kept it there since emerging from the vehicle with the baby girl. “Let me see your arm,” she demanded.

  He winced when she grabbed his wrist. “Careful.”

  “Bryan!” She stared in dismay at the outside of his left forearm, which was obviously burned, the skin an angry red with small blisters just becoming visible. “When did this happen?”

  “I was having trouble unsnapping the buckles on the baby’s car seat. A lick of flame came up the inside of the door, and I shielded her with my arm while I struggled with the buckles.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, making it sound like no big deal that he’d used his own arm as a barrier between a spreading fire and a helpless infant. And he hadn’t mentioned the injury since, even though his arm had to hurt like hell.

  “Why didn’t you show this to the paramedics?” she scolded. “These burns need to be treated immediately. Do you want to get an infection? It’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed, diving into that car like that.”

  “I saw the baby in the car seat and I knew the car was starting to burn. Would you have had me leave her in there?”

  His calm question didn’t soothe her frayed nerves. “Get in the car,” she snapped. “I’m taking you to the nearest emergency room.”

  “Maybe we should drive into Little Rock to get away from the attention here.”

  “Little Rock is too far. You’re just going to have to deal with the attention.”

  “I really think I…”

  “Bryan, get in the damned car!”

  He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The sheer pleasure of driving Bryan’s car was lost in her urgency to find treatment for his arm. She chewed him out almost continuously during the brief drive, and he meekly allowed her to do so. She didn’t know if he was being so agreeable because he knew she needed an emotional release from the intensity of the ordeal, or because he was in too much pain to argue with her. Nor was she sure if she was so upset because the whole incident had been so frightening—or because Bryan had been hurt, and could have been killed.

  Because it seemed safer to continue lecturing him than to give much thought to her feelings for him, she started in on him again for not immediately reporting his injuries.

  “I can’t believe that reporter was the first person we saw when we went into the emergency room,” Bryan muttered, not for the first time.

  “He said he’d driven straight there to check on the condition of the woman and her children. Apparently it was a slow news day.” Grace adjusted the rearview mirror of the Corvette and guided the car into the left lane to pass a slower-moving vehicle. Now that Bryan’s injuries had been treated and she knew he was going to be all right, she could enjoy the novelty of driving the gleaming silver sports car.

  Bryan rested his head against the high back of his black leather seat. “Maybe the story will be confined to the local paper he works for. It probably won’t be picked up by the wire services.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but she wasn’t particularly optimistic. Bryan’s name alone would be enough to propel the story into national news. Add his heroic rescue of a baby to the mix, risking his own life and sustaining injuries in the process, and she could almost guarantee headlines.

  He just seemed to have a special talent…

  Bryan plucked irritably at the bandages on his left arm. “I don’t know why they had to truss me up like this. The doctor even said I wasn’t burned that badly.”

  She could hear the effects of the medications that had been pumped into him; his words were just a bit slurred, his tone uncharacteristically petulant. “The doctor said you were lucky you didn’t end up with third-degree burns.”

  Bryan had been instructed to see his own doctor on Monday, and to take very good care of his burns to keep them from becoming infected. He’d been given painkillers and a list of instructions before being released into Grace’s care.

  “Sorry about the amusement park,” Bryan murmured, his eyes closed. “I know you wanted to ride the roller coaster.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Rain check?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I’d like to take a wild ride with you.”

  Because she wasn’t sure if that was him or the medicine speaking, she let the comment pass. “I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt in that wreck—including you,” she commented. “As violent as the impact was, I was afraid someone had been killed.”

  “Might have been, if the woman and her kids hadn’t been properly restrained. She was wearing her seat belt and both the kids were buckled into safety seats. They were all bruised and shaken, but not hurt. The SUV’s driver—as inattentive as he was to the traffic signals—was at least smart enough to wear his seat belt.”

  Bryan still hadn’t opened his eyes. He was so still that she might have thought he was sleeping had he not been talking. “Rest awhile,” she said. “I’ll let you know when we’re home.”

  “How can I relax when you’re driving my baby? Someone has to make sure you’re careful with her.”

  She sniffed. “Go to sleep, Falcon. The meds are making you delirious.”

  He chuckled. “Just be careful.”

  A minute later
, he was asleep.

  Reaching over to make sure his belt was securely fastened, Grace lightly patted his knee. “Sweet dreams, hot shot,” she murmured.

  She suspected he needed his rest. She would bet that his heroic deeds that day would draw more attention than he expected.

  Because she had no intention of leaving Bryan alone on painkillers, Grace drove him to her own apartment so she could keep an eye on him for a few hours. He was still asleep when she parked his car next to her own in the garage. Apparently the medication he’d been given had been quite strong.

  “Bryan?” she said, touching his shoulder. She hoped she could rouse him; she couldn’t see herself carrying him to her apartment.

  His eyes opened. “Mmm?”

  “Let’s go up to my apartment, okay?”

  Blinking, he glanced around, taking in their surroundings. “We’re at your place?”

  “Yes. I’ll come around and help you out.”

  “I can manage.” He reached for his door handle, but didn’t get very far since he had forgotten to unbuckle his seat belt.

  Shaking her head, Grace rounded the front of his car and reached for his door. She decided she’d made a good call bringing him home with her. He was still pretty loopy.

  She stayed close when he stood, in case he was dizzy, but he seemed steady enough. He hissed a curse between his teeth when his left arm bumped against the car door, proving the painkillers hadn’t taken all the sensation from his wounds.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just sore.”

  Neither of them said anything else on the way up to her apartment. Grace ushered him inside and closed the door behind them. “Would you like to lie down on my bed?”

  “Only if you’re offering to lie down beside me.”

  She gave him one of those chilly smiles she’d been practicing. “Apparently you’re still delirious from the medication.”