The Stand-in Groom Read online

  “You couldn’t even pick out a dress to be married in. You were indifferent to our plans...”

  “Your plans. And your mother’s.” She wanted to set the record straight on that.

  “Is it too much to ask, having a wedding as nice as my parents’? Most women would be grateful for a fiancé who’s hands-on.”

  She would have said overbearing, selfish, or obnoxious, but she let it pass.

  “Anyway, it would be a disaster to my career if the wedding got canceled.”

  She was stunned by Jonathan’s admission. Was their engagement only a way to improve his image? His chance to make partner?

  “Please, don’t make this any harder for me. The point is, I was sure you would back out of the wedding, so I did something rash, ill-conceived, inadvisable. Something I regret more than I can possibly tell you.”

  “Is there someone else? That woman in your office who calls you Jon?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” he snapped. “It just didn’t go as planned.”

  “Tell me everything.” Before I strangle you with my veil!

  “Remember, I had a panic attack...”

  “So you said.”

  “Your kidnapping was a hoax.”

  “A hoax? It certainly wasn’t. They threw me into the van and knocked Nick out with a six-pack when he tried to stop them. They tied me up and put nasty, horrible duct tape over my mouth. It was real, Jonathan, very, very real.”

  “They weren’t supposed to hurt you! How could we know that idiot would interfere?”

  “We?”

  She wanted to punch him for calling Nick an idiot, but the truth was slowly sinking in.

  “I hired them.”

  She opened her mouth, but words wouldn’t come out.

  “I wanted to be your knight in shining armor. I wanted to rescue you so you’d never want to break up with me.”

  “Are you crazy? They snatched me, abducted me, kidnapped me! You had them do that? What were you thinking?”

  “I was out of my head with worry, afraid you weren’t going to marry me.”

  He was a phony knight in tarnished armor, a fraud. How could he do that to her?

  “You’re a manipulative creep! Everything has to be your way! How could you do something like that and still pretend to love me? Just when did you plan to ‘rescue’ me?”

  “The next day, but by then you’d gotten away on your own.”

  “Thanks to Nick.”

  “He ruined the plan. I was supposed to make a ransom drop, but I couldn’t be expected to get cash in the middle of the night.”

  “The next day was Sunday. Banks are closed on Sunday. Maybe you should’ve waited until Monday. I would have been good and scared by then.”

  “No, I could pull strings and get the money on Sunday.”

  “Why tell me now? We’re supposed to get married in...”

  She looked at her wrist, but her watch was home on her dresser. Brides didn’t wear wristwatches.

  “Percy asked for me as his attorney, never mind that I practice corporate law and have never taken a criminal case to court. If I can’t get him off, he’ll implicate me.”

  “He’ll tell the whole sordid truth about you hiring him to kidnap your fiancée, who was wavering on her commitment to marry you.”

  “No one will believe him if you stand by me.”

  “First you want to marry me because your firm likes married attorneys. Now you want to make sure you won’t be charged with kidnapping! How could you? You put me in danger!”

  “No, those idiots are harmless—except to me. Fortunately, Harold is long gone. Somewhere up in Canada, maybe. He’s too dumb to keep his mouth shut.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Her arms were trembling, and she felt light-headed. “I just cannot believe you’d do something so nasty and horrible and criminal. To me!”

  “Please, Stacy.”

  He dropped to his knees on the floor and reached up to capture her hands. She was so stunned by what he’d done she didn’t think to pull away.

  “I love you, darling. I adore you. I worship you. You’re my soul mate. I’ll love you through all eternity. I’ll do anything if you’ll only forgive me.”

  “Stop,” she said.

  Who was the real Jonathan? The conniving slimebag or this, this...

  “I know you don’t love me as much as I love you. You’ve never felt the same way I do, but you’re too sweet and honest and kind to want me just for my money.”

  “Jonathan!” Hadn’t he hurt her enough? How could he even suggest she might... “I agreed to marry you because I thought I loved you.”

  “You still do. I’m sure of it. We were meant for each other. Darling, when we’re together, really together, I’ll make you happier than you’ve ever dreamed.”

  “Oh, oh...darn.” She didn’t know how to feel, what to say, what to do. They were supposed to get married in less than half an hour, and she couldn’t think straight.

  “Please, darling,” he pleaded, still on his knees. “I’ll be devastated if you won’t go through with the wedding. I’ll never forgive myself. I don’t know how I can go on living without you.”

  She stared down in horror at the tears in his eyes. Jonathan crying? He was practically crumbling in front of her. She couldn’t take this. Jonathan, a pillar of strength and emotional stability, was on his knees crying and begging for a second chance. She pulled her hand away and flopped down on the closest chair.

  “You’re not going to cancel the wedding, are you?” he whispered.

  Was she? Jonathan looked so pathetic, she didn’t feel at all vengeful or mad, which was extremely odd. She wanted advice, needed it desperately, but this was a problem she had to solve alone.

  Nick didn’t want her.

  Jonathan wanted her so much he went a little nuts— maybe a lot nuts—and had her kidnapped.

  She couldn’t decide now. She needed time to think.

  Jonathan stood, looking pale and scared. Maybe this crisis would make him a better person. Maybe he’d learned his lesson.

  Yeah, Stacy, she thought, but he isn’t a four-year-old who has to learn to play fair at recess. This was her whole life, and she didn’t know what to do.

  Time was the one thing she didn’t have.

  The church was filling up, and everyone she loved would be there waiting to see her begin a wonderful new life. How could she disappoint them?

  Once she’d been absolutely sure she loved Jonathan. How could she be indifferent to him now?

  Her parents would be devastated if she didn’t get married. She hated what Jonathan had done, but he was so guilt-stricken, she couldn’t help but feel something for him.

  This wasn’t about Jonathan. Nick was out of her life forever, so Jonathan’s terrible scheme didn’t seem to matter much. She didn’t hate him. She just felt stunned and empty. This was about her and deciding what she wanted from life and from a mate. This was about setting firm boundaries and letting people know how she expected to be treated—with dignity, respect, and civility.

  Maybe it had been partly her fault. She’d let the Mercers take over and hadn’t been honest with Jonathan about her indifference to the wedding plans. She’d genuinely wanted to be his wife.

  Then she met Nick...

  Someday her heart would stop aching for him. Until then, why not go through with the wedding? Her parents would go ballistic if she didn’t. The guests were there, and the organist was playing. There was all the rented formal wear and the dresses her friends had bought. The church was loaded with flowers, and at the country club the chefs were cooking enough food to feed a small village for a month.

  The band had come across the border from Windsor, and her little neighbor was sure to be heartbroken if she didn’t get to scatter the flower petals in her basket.

  She couldn’t march out and stop the wedding now. It had a life of its own.

  “I guess we can still get married,” she whispered.

  Jon
athan sighed so hard his bow tie popped open. He did look handsome in a black morning coat with a pearly gray cummerbund and tie. He started brushing lint from the carpet off the knees of his trousers.

  “But we need to settle a few things first,” she said.

  She felt a foot taller. Was this what it meant to be empowered? Jonathan looked worried but didn’t say a word.

  “Number one, I’m going to keep my job after we’re married. I love what I do.”

  His eyes said no, but he nodded in agreement.

  “And I want a family, at least two kids, maybe three. Not until we have a couple of years to get used to each other, but I say when it’s time. This isn’t negotiable.”

  “All right.”

  “Also, I don’t want to live in a house your mother decorated.”

  “She has very good taste.” He looked stricken.

  “Yes, but so do I. I don’t want to live in Grosse Pointe. We should look for a home that will be both of ours. I don’t care if it’s a little apartment or a townhouse or...”

  “I agree.”

  “Really?”

  “Wholeheartedly.”

  “But do you promise?”

  “I promise. An oral contract is binding if both parties enter into it in good faith.”

  “Okay. We’ll get married.”

  “I’ll see you in a little while, darling. You’ll never regret it.”

  He turned and opened the door.

  She felt more like herself when she had to resist an urge to give him a good hard kick under his expensively tailored tails.

  12

  Nick kicked the tire of his car so hard his toe throbbed, but he hardly noticed. In his entire life, there’d never been a worse time for a car to conk out.

  Where the hell was Cole? It was only a twenty-minute drive from his house to the duplex, and there was no rush-hour traffic on Saturday afternoon. He’d called him—Nick checked his watch—at least seventeen minutes ago.

  Why was he wearing a suit? It was so hot standing out on the pavement he was going to melt. He remembered his reason for trying to look his best and patted the pocket of his suit coat, not trusting the little velvet box to stay where he’d put it.

  Eighteen minutes! Cole never let him down, so where was he? Using his cell phone, he punched in his brother’s number.

  “Where are you?”

  “Two blocks away. Calm down, I’m coming as fast as I can.”

  He should’ve called Zack. He lived farther away but could burn rubber with the pros.

  Cole finally pulled up to the curb.

  “You brought the truck!”

  “Tess is coming in the car. I’ll need a ride home, you know. She had to run next door and get the neighbor to babysit, but she can’t be more than ten minutes behind me.”

  “I don’t have ten minutes.” Nick didn’t need to look at his watch. The seconds were ticking away in his brain. “I’ll have to take the truck.”

  Cole shrugged and tossed him the keys. “It’s low on gas.”

  “I’ll buy gas. Thanks for bringing it.”

  “Why don’t you phone ahead? Say you’ll be late.”

  Nick was in the truck and didn’t have time to answer. If he blew it now, he might as well sign on as a deckhand again.

  The tank was running on fumes, so he stopped at the first service station he saw. He pumped in ten bucks worth and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter without waiting his turn to pay. No time for change.

  When he hit the expressway, he tried not to look at his watch every ten seconds. He wanted to go ninety but being stopped by a cop would waste more time than he could gain by speeding.

  He thought he knew where the church was. If he was wrong, he might have to ask someone. What real man stopped for directions? He’d have to make an exception this time.

  He didn’t let himself think about what would happen if he didn’t set a crosstown speed record getting there.

  Below the vaulted nave of the historic old church, her mother was being seated by Kirk. Stacy’s spike heels were muted by the long white aisle runner just rolled out by two other groomsmen. She couldn’t hear what her brother said to make Mom laugh aloud.

  It was good to see her so happy, though. Kirk had a new job, better than the old one and only two suburbs away. He wouldn’t have to go north to Saginaw, and in a matter of minutes, her only daughter would be Mrs. Jonathan Mercer.

  Stacy was happy for her.

  “I guess it’s nearly our turn, dumpling,” her father said, using a pet name she hadn’t heard in years.

  The flower girl conscientiously scattered her basket of petals, and the first of her attendants started down the aisle doing the hesitation march. Stacy had wanted them to walk normally, but Rebecca Mercer had nearly swooned at such a flagrant break from tradition. Jonathan had better like long commutes to the city because they were going to live far from her in-laws.

  Their turn came, and she tucked her hand on her father’s arm, surprised to feel a tremor. She was immensely proud of her tall, dignified dad, handsome in a way that wasn’t affected by thinning salt-and-pepper hair or deep laugh lines by his eyes.

  “I hope you’ll be very happy, Stacy,” he whispered.

  Was that doubt in his voice? Please, no! She had enough reservations without worrying about her father’s.

  Just as she’d expected, Jonathan’s side of the church was nearly full while her guests were huddled in the front third of the pews. Now that she’d confirmed this suspicion, it didn’t matter in the least. She loved every single person who had given up a beautiful Saturday afternoon to honor her by being there. She doubted whether Jonathan even knew everyone on his side.

  “I had a terrible time learning to skip when I was little,” her father said under his breath when they were halfway down the aisle. “This reminds me of it.”

  She giggled softly, grateful to Dad for distracting her. A bride could get downright nervous walking past all those standing and staring guests.

  Then she saw Jonathan flanked by his army of groomsmen. Stained-glass windows played tricks with the light, giving his pale hair a burnished effect, and she remembered their first meeting. He was nothing if not handsome. Maybe all her old feelings would come flooding back when they were man and wife.

  She hoped.

  The strains of the wedding march faded away as her father handed her over to the groom. She felt like the baton in a relay race, but that was only her nerves squawking.

  At the rehearsal, the wedding planner had promised the ceremony to be short. Who knew a Santa Claus look-alike would deliver a full-blown sermon while she stood woodenly beside Jonathan, unable to take in a single word.

  The minister had a booming voice meant to be heard at the back of the church, and the longer he talked, the more edgy she got. The hand holding her bouquet was slippery with very unbridelike sweat, and moisture was beading on her nose. Pretty soon she’d be one shiny mess, and the professional makeup job on her face would slide off.

  She was about to sign away her future. Why was her mind full of mundane thoughts?

  She knew the answer to that. Trivial musings kept her from thinking about Nick.

  For a moment, she thought she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. But no, the minister was going into an archaic part of the ceremony that seemed as purposeless as it was dated. What possible reason could anyone have for objecting to a marriage at this point?

  “Any reason why this man and this woman should not be joined...?”

  “I do!”

  She jerked her head around and saw Nick racing down the aisle. Nick in a suit of all things. Nick objecting to her marriage.

  “Young man,” the white-bearded minister said with the resignation of a man who’s seen everything, “usually that line is reserved for the bride and groom.”

  “You asked if anyone objected.”

  Nick was at the bottom of the three steps leading up to the altar railing.

  “If you have a p
roblem, maybe we could discuss it after...” Santa wasn’t used to being interrupted. His frown wasn’t consoling.

  “After it’s too late? I don’t think so.”

  Nick bounded up the steps and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “I love you, Stacy. I want you to marry me. I was a fool not to tell you when you came to my place.”

  “Why did you wait till the last minute?” Her heart was pounding. “Practically the last second!”

  “My car broke down.”

  “Get out of here, or I’ll have you thrown out!” Jonathan said in a low, furious voice.

  She’d almost forgotten him in the shock of hearing Nick say he loved her and wanted to marry her.

  “Stacy, tell this fool to get lost,” Jonathan ordered.

  She looked at her husband-to-be, not quite comprehending this sudden development. Some of the guests were commenting from the pews, including Jonathan’s mother who was screeching directions to her son, the groomsmen, and especially the minister.

  “Oh, sit down and shut up, you old biddy.” Aunt Lucille made herself heard to the back pew. “The girl’s got a better offer.”

  “Stacy, you’re humiliating me in front of my firm’s senior partners,” Jonathan said in a venomous whisper, pulling her aside to avoid being heard by anyone. “Get rid of him before my career is in shambles.”

  His career? He was worried about his career?

  “What would be worse, Jon? Being jilted at the altar or going to jail for kidnapping?” She spoke as softly as she could so only Jonathan could hear. This was no time for Nick to find out he was the “mastermind” behind their abduction.

  She’d just called him Jon! Did that mean the last bit of her respect for him had eroded away?

  “You can’t do this!” Jonathan kept his voice low, but his eyes were riveted on the guests.

  The church was silent now, everyone watching to see how this would play out.

  “Yes, I can,” she said.

  “You brat! I would’ve dumped you a long time ago if I didn’t need a nice, placid wife to make partner.”

  It was a cheap shot, but it erased the last iota of her hesitation.

  “Talk to them,” she ordered, gesturing at the guests. “Or they’ll hear the truth from me. I don’t think your precious partners want kidnappers in the firm.”