Mission: Irresistible Read online

  He got to his feet and so did Cassie. “I’m going to miss you when you’re off to Washington.”

  She looked at him, not certain what to say. She wanted to tell him that she wanted him, not the Smithsonian, but he was holding himself stiffly, hiding his feelings.

  “I brought you something to remember me by,” he said.

  “Oh?” She didn’t want to be a memory. She wanted to be part of his life. But what if he doesn’t want you?

  He took something from inside his jacket pocket. It was a photograph the nature guide had taken of them with Cassie the monarch at the butterfly hatchery and a copy of the brochure.

  “For your collage wall,” he said.

  Cassie bit back her tears. This was good-bye. He was giving her the big kiss-off. She’d never been dumped, but she’d done enough dumping to recognize the signs.

  “No.” She shoved the picture back at him. “I can’t accept this. I won’t put you on my wall.”

  He looked as if she’d smacked him hard across the face. Well, she wasn’t going to make this any easier for him. She wasn’t going to let him salve his ego with a paltry picture and a butterfly brochure.

  “Cassie, I—”

  “No,” she said again as the doorbell rang. Relieved to have a good excuse to end the conversation, she rushed to answer it.

  Maddie and David tumbled through the front door. “Cassie!” Maddie squealed.

  “Maddie!”

  They threw themselves into each other’s arms and hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other in four hundred years.

  “Guess what?” Maddie’s eyes danced. “I’m pregnant!”

  “With twins,” David added.

  Maddie and Cassie squealed and hugged all over again, dancing around the kitchen. Then they hugged David.

  It was only after the excitement died down that Cassie realized Harry had slipped out the door without even saying good-bye.

  CHAPTER 25

  She had turned down his gift. Apparently he wasn’t good enough for her collage wall. And the only other face that Cassie had not put up on her wall was the face of her abusive ex-husband. In Cassie’s mind, he and Duane were in the same category. They were the ones who had caused her the most pain.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as despair washed over him. He sat parked in Diana’s car outside Cassie’s apartment. He’d borrowed it from her at the hospital. He was weak-kneed and aching, suffering much more than when Big Ray had beaten him up at Bodacious Booties.

  Why should her rejection hurt so much? So she didn’t want him on the wall. What was the big deal?

  The big deal was he felt as if his insides had been ripped out. The big deal was he couldn’t conceive of the idea of not having her in his life.

  The reality of his feelings hit him harder than the lightning bolt he’d channeled with his djed. That’s when Harrison knew that in spite of all the jockeying he’d done to hide his emotions and keep his heart safe, he’d fallen hopelessly in love with Cassie Cooper.

  Everyone had returned for the reunification ceremony. The guests were there. Phyllis was there, as were Clyde and Diana and Adam, sans the mummy costume. The only one missing from the original group was Ahmose, who was cooling his heels in jail for attempting to destroy a priceless Egyptian artifact and Harry.

  She feared Harry wasn’t coming.

  To stall, Cassie had given away the prizes for the faked murder mystery. She’d planned to award first prize to the most authentic solution, but since none of the guesses could touch reality, she’d picked Lashaundra Johnson as the winner for her sheer tenacity.

  It was eight-thirty-five and still no Harry.

  Everyone was gathered around the two sarcophagi positioned in the middle of the exhibit hall. The twin sections of the amulet were in separate display cases at the head of the sarcophagi, and between the cases sat the original djed unearthed from Kiya’s tomb.

  Cassie glanced at her watch again.

  Eight-thirty-seven.

  Adam leaned in close to her. “I can stand in for Harrison.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Harry said. “I’m here.”

  Cassie looked at him and her heart leaped. He’d found his extra pair of glasses and he was wearing mismatched shoes again, but she’d never seen a more handsome sight in her life.

  His eyes met hers. “I need to speak with you in private.”

  “Now?” She glanced at the crowd, which was staring at them expectantly.

  “Now.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “No, it can’t.” Manfully, he took her elbow and hustled her into the hallway.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “This,” he said and then kissed her with more passion and need than he’d ever kissed her. “I love you, Cassie Cooper.”

  Her heart flipped. “Then why did you try to give me that picture for my collage wall? If you loved me, why were you walking out of my life?”

  “Because you don’t do commitment, remember? And besides, you turned down my picture. The only other man in your life who wasn’t on that wall was Duane. Explain that one, Cassie. Do I cause you that much pain?”

  “You silly man. I turned down the picture because I want so much more from you than a stupid photograph. I tore down my collage wall. For you. I burned everything. That’s what I was trying to tell you when Maddie and David showed up. What I would have explained to you if you hadn’t gotten afraid of your feelings and taken off.”

  “I’m not afraid of my feelings anymore.”

  “How can I believe that, Harry?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” she said.

  “Cooper.” Phyllis poked her head into the hallway. “The natives are getting restless. Let’s get this sideshow on the road. Chop-chop.”

  “We better go,” Cassie said.

  “This isn’t over.” Harry held on to her arm until she looked him in the eyes. “Mark my word.”

  “Move it,” Phyllis bellowed.

  They went back into the exhibit hall.

  Adam was retelling the legend of the star-crossed lovers. “And now,” he said, “for the reunification of the rings of the amulet.”

  As they’d rehearsed the way it was supposed to happen the first night, Cassie picked up Kiya’s half of the amulet. But instead of Adam taking Solen’s ring, Harry picked up his section.

  They came together between the two sarcophagi.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Cassie whispered. “You’re Vizier Nebamun’s descendant. Are you sure you’re willing to risk the curse?”

  “Are you?” His eyes met hers.

  She shook her head.

  Adam began to read from the scroll. When he came to the line about blood transmuting all, Diana stopped him. “Whoa, wait a minute,” she said.

  “What?” Adam looked at his mother.

  “You must have translated that wrong. Let me see it.” Diana took the scroll from him. The crowd murmured with speculation.

  “The translation is fine, Mother,” Harrison said. “I got the same thing.”

  “And you used the Math of the Sun: The Immortal Egypt to translate it?”

  “Yes, we both did,” Adam said.

  “Here’s your problem. Your sun calculations are off. The word isn’t ‘blood,’ but ‘love.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The one element that transmutes all others,” Diana read, “isn’t blood, but love. It’s not a human sacrifice that’s needed in the formula for immortality. But love. And the way it is used at the end of this passage means that love transmutes everything else. In other words, the way to lift the curse is through love.”

  Cassie’s eyes met Harry’s. “We can transmute the curse through love.”

  “I love you,” he said fiercely, and she could see the truth of it in his dark brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

  “Just join the amulet,” she said, “and find out.
If you’re willing to take the chance.”

  Harry stepped forward, slipping Solen’s section of the amulet into Kiya’s. The minute the amulet halves touched, a bolt of blue-white lightning shot from the djed and into the copper amulet.

  The crowd gasped.

  The rings melded.

  Electricity shot through Cassie and Harry. Their gazes fused as surely as the amulet.

  Cassie tumbled down, down, down into the glorious abyss of Harrison’s dark eyes, and she was awakened. She had known him always. In a bridge across time they were joined.

  Cassie was his Kiya, and he was her Solen.

  She grounded him. With her sensuality, her earthiness, her authenticity. He’d always been like a kite, mentally flying high above his body, soaring over his feelings. Nothing much touched him. Nothing physical ever really got through. Until Cassie, he’d never reveled in food, never lost himself in the pleasures of the flesh. She was his anchor, his tether, the string that kept him from floating away.

  Which was odd. Externally, he appeared to be the calm, centered one, and she was the flighty butterfly. But while her mind was mercurial, her body was not. She lived her physicality. Embraced her essential humanness.

  Harrison could not take his gaze from her. Never had he been so captivated by anyone’s face. Her eyes had such clarity, such depth. Here she was, his destiny.

  All those old misguided beliefs that had caused him so much pain disappeared in the light of her love. There was no curse. Her love for him transmuted it. He realized now the truth he’d been denying for so long.

  He’d been running from the thing he most deeply wanted. Through her love, she’d helped him realize his true self. He recognized, without any more doubts or misconceptions, his real nature. The external was transient, but that essence of who he was would live forever.

  Like Solen and Kiya, their spirits merged for eternity.

  In that moment, in his heart, Harrison realized he had believed in love all along.

  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lori Wilde has written sixty novels. She holds a bachelor’s degree in nursing from Texas Christian University and a certificate in forensics. She volunteers as a sexual assault first responder for Freedom House, a shelter for battered women. Lori is a past RITA finalist and has been nominated four times for the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award. She’s won the Colorado Award of Excellence, the Wisconsin Write Touch Award, the Lories, the More Than Maggie, the Golden Quill, the Laurel Wreath, and the Best Books of 2006 Book Award. Her books have been translated into twenty-five languages and featured in Cosmopolitan, Redbook, Complete Woman, All You, TIME, and Quick and Simple magazines. She lives in Texas with her husband, Bill.

  You can learn more at:

  LoriWilde.com

  Twitter @LoriWilde

  Facebook.com

  Also by Lori Wilde

  License to Thrill

  Charmed and Dangerous

  Mission: Irresistible

  You Only Love Twice

  There Goes the Bride

  Once Smitten, Twice Shy

  Addicted to Love

  All of Me

  Kiss the Bride (2-in-1)

  PRAISE FOR LORI WILDE’S PREVIOUS NOVELS

  LICENSE TO THRILL

  “With a sassy, in-your-face style, reminiscent of Janet Evanovich, Wilde has created an unforgettable heroine.”

  —Booklist

  “Steamy.”

  —Cosmopolitan

  “Hilarious as well as romantic.”

  —The Pilot (NC)

  CHARMED AND DANGEROUS

  “With a deft hand, Wilde blends humor and suspense, passion and mystery into a story both charming and dangerous.”

  —BookLoons.com

  “An exhilarating romantic suspense.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “A plot that is sure to win [Wilde] more readers.”

  —The Pilot (NC)

  “Fans will take immense pleasure [in] this FBI art romance.”

  —Harriet’s Book Reviews

  “Quite the exciting romp. Fans will be charmed.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKclub

  “Lovable … Wilde has a unique voice that will soar her to publishing heights.”

  —Rendezvous

  Don’t miss Kiss the Bride, a special collection of the first two Wedding Veil Wishes novels!

  Please turn this page for an excerpt.

  Prologue

  The summer issue of Society Bride declared the marriage of Houston’s hottest bachelor, Dr. Evan Van Zandt, to his childhood sweetheart, oil heiress Delaney Cartwright, a classic friends-to-lovers fairy tale.

  Texas Monthly, in its trendy yet folksy way, decreed their union the high-society equivalent of beef barbecue and mustard potato salad. Delaney and Evan simply belonged together.

  A sentimental write-up in the Houston Chronicle dubbed their romance a heartwarming Lone Star love story.

  Delaney’s mother, Honey Montgomery Cartwright, pronounced them the perfect couple. Lavish praise indeed from a Philadelphia blue blood with impossibly high standards.

  Her father grumbled, “This thing’s costing us more than her liberal arts degree from Rice,” as he wrote out a very large check to cover the nuptials.

  And her long-deceased sister Skylar, who occasionally popped up in Delaney’s dreams to offer unsolicited advice, whispered with unbridled glee that the ceremony was a glorious train wreck just waiting to happen and she insisted on front-row seating.

  Skylar, being dead, could of course sit anywhere she chose. Everyone else had to cram into the River Oaks Methodist Church.

  The cherrywood pews overflowed with five hundred invited guests, plus a dozen members of the press and a sprinkling of enterprising wedding crashers. The laboring air-conditioning system was no match for the double punch of a too-thick crowd and sweltering one-hundred-degree heat.

  “Who gets married in Houston during August?” Delaney heard a woman murmur.

  “I’m getting a heat rash in these panty hose,” another woman replied.

  Feeling chastised, Delaney ducked her head. She stood just outside the open door of the chapel waiting for the wedding march to commence, her arm looped through her father’s.

  “I heard it was originally supposed to be a Christmas ceremony, but the bride postponed it twice,” the first woman said. “Do you suppose we could have a runaway situation?”

  “Hmm, now that would make an interesting spread in tomorrow’s society pages.”

  At that comment, her father tightened his grip. No turning back now, his clench said.

  Delaney’s hopes sank. Her mind spun. A coyote would gnaw her paw off.

  The bridesmaids reached their places. Her best friend, Tish, wedding videographer extraordinaire, was filming madly. Every gaze in the place was glued to Delaney.

  Everything was perfect. It was a true celebrity-style wedding, just as her mother had planned. The purple orchids, accented with white roses, were on lavish display—in bouquets and boutonnieres, in vases and corsages. Her size-four, ten-thousand-dollar Vera Wang wedding dress fit like a fantasy. The flower girl was cute. The two-year-old ring bearer even cuter. And both children were on exemplary behavior. Delaney’s antique wedding veil fetchingly framed her face, even though her scalp had been tingling weirdly ever since she put it on.

  This was it.

  Her big day.

  The seven-piece orchestra struck the first notes of the wedding march. Dum, dum, de-dum.

  Delaney took a deep breath and glanced down the long aisle festooned with white rose petals to where Evan stood at the altar. He looked stunningly handsome in his long-tailed tux, love shining in his trusting blue eyes.

  Her father started forward.

  But Delaney’s beaded white Jimmy Choo stilettos stayed rooted to the spot. No, no, this was all wrong. It was a big mistake. She had to call it off before she embarrassed everyone. Where was her cell
phone?

  “Delaney Lynn Cartwright,” her father growled under his breath. “Don’t make me drag you.”

  A hard throb of distress surged through her temples. What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

  She forced herself to move forward. Her gaze searched for the exits. There were two on either side of the altar, and of course, the one directly behind her.

  But Daddy wasn’t letting go.

  Closer, closer, almost there.

  Evan made eye contact, smiled sweetly.

  Guilt whirled like a demon tornado in the pit of her stomach. She dragged in a ragged breath.

  Her husband-to-be held out his palm. Her father put her hand in Evan’s.

  Delaney’s gaze shifted from one corner exit to the other. Too late. It was too late to call this off. What time was it anyway?

  “Dearly beloved,” the portly minister began, but that’s as far as he got.

  A clattering erupted from behind the exit door on the left.

  And then there he loomed. Dressed head to toe in black. Wearing a ski mask. Standing out like crude oil in a cotton field.

  Thrilled, chilled, shamefaced, and greatly relieved, Delaney held her breath.

  The intruder charged the altar.

  The congregation inhaled a simultaneous gasp.

  The minister blinked, looked confused.

  “Back away from the bride,” the dark stranger growled and waved a pistol at Evan.

  Excitement burst like tiny exploding bubbles inside her head. Prop gun, Delaney thought. Nice touch.

  Evan stared at the masked intruder, but did not move. Apparently he had not yet realized what was transpiring.

  “Move it.” The interloper pointed his weapon directly at Evan’s head. “Hands up.”

  Finally, her groom got the message. He dropped Delaney’s hand, raised his arms over his head, and took a step back.

  “Don’t anyone try anything cute,” the man commanded at the same moment he wrapped the crook of his elbow around Delaney’s neck and pressed the revolver to her temple. The cold nose of it felt deadly against her skin.

  Fear catapulted into her throat, diluting the excitement. Delaney dropped her bouquet. It was a prop gun, wasn’t it?

  The crowd shot to its collective feet as the stranger dragged her toward the exit from whence he’d appeared.