The Stand-in Groom Page 8

  “My mistake,” Nick said. “Sorry. Here let me buy you another one.” He reached into his pocket, but the man walked away in disgust.

  “You didn’t make a friend there,” Stacy said, arching one eyebrow.

  “Guess not.” He was embarrassed, but not ready to scare her with talk of being followed. “Seen enough fish?”

  “Yes, but what was that about?” she asked.

  “Red hair.”

  He liked her too much to concoct a lie even though he didn’t want to be grouped with her overprotective family. Not that they didn’t have good reason to worry about her.

  “You got a quick look at the back of Percy’s head, and you thought that man was him?”

  “Something like that,” he grumbled, not liking the way this was going.

  To his immense relief, she laughed.

  “Hey, we may have been kidnapped by clowns, but there was nothing funny about them,” he said.

  “I’m laughing.” She sounded a little breathless. “Because I’ve been doing the same thing all week. Every time I see red hair, I start playing P.I. At the supermarket I stalked one poor man from the produce department to the checkout counter just to make sure he wasn’t stalking me. He must have thought I was coming on to him. He streaked out the door like his pants were on fire—right into a car where his wife and three kids were waiting.”

  “I never thought about Percy being married,” Nick said.

  “Believe me, the man with the cone was not our kidnapper. Percy’s probably hiding out until the heat is off.”

  “The heat is off? You’ve been watching too many old cops and robbers shows,” he said with a laugh. “Want something to drink?”

  “I’d love a lemonade, then I have to...”

  “Don’t say go. We haven’t seen the spiders yet.”

  “Yuck!”

  “You’re afraid of them?”

  He put his arm across her shoulders, but she shrugged it off.

  “Not when they’re behind glass, but maybe we should go over everything we told the police instead. See if we left out anything. That is why we came here,” she reminded him.

  “I told them Harold had a funny voice. He snorted between sentences. Did you notice that?”

  He took her hand again, and she didn’t pull away.

  “The police weren’t impressed by my description. I said if every human had an animal spirit, his was a pig—”

  “I’ve heard pigs are smart animals,” Nick said, “which eliminates Harold. I compared him to a wrestler gone to seed, only not smart enough to learn the moves. Bulk without brain.”

  “They’ll probably catch him eventually because he’s a klutz. It’s Percy who worries me.”

  “I’m more concerned about their mysterious boss,” Nick said glumly.

  “You know, I’m tired of thinking about all of them,” she said. “Let’s—”

  She stopped and let a dozen or so Cubs flow around them on either side.

  “Look behind you to the right but be sneaky about it!” she whispered. “Red hair.”

  His stomach lurched. They could joke about phantom redheads, but he was sure Percy could still be a threat.

  “Walk slowly and don’t look behind you,” he whispered back.

  They were headed toward the exit and the old casino. If the redhead with his back turned to them was Percy, he’d probably follow them to a place not overrun by kids.

  “I think I can recognize his voice if I hear it,” Stacy said in a hushed voice.

  “Is he following? Don’t look.”

  “I’ll pretend to drop something and look back between my legs.”

  There was a trick he’d like to see her pull off. In fact, he’d like to watch any antic involving her gorgeous legs, bare today from midthigh to ankle.

  “He has his nose buried in a zoo map. Maybe he thinks we’ve spotted him, and he’s using it as a cover.” With Stacy doubled over, and her shorts pulled tight over her sensational butt, it was all Nick could do not to...

  “Nick! He must have spotted me looking at him. He’s trying to get away!” She straightened and grabbed his hand. “Let’s get him!”

  Right ahead of them, two harried-looking Cub Scout mothers were trying to gather stragglers into a big pack of shuffling, wrestling, yelling boys. They blocked the entire walkway, and the only way to get past them was through the middle. That’s what the mysterious man did, and they followed.

  Nick’s shirt sleeves were rolled above his elbow, so clothing didn’t help when he connected with something cold and wet. Stacy fared even worse in their push through the unruly boys. She tripped over a rubber snake one of the hellions was trying to wrap around her ankle.

  “Get out of my way, or I’ll make you eat that fake reptile!” she threatened in an ominous voice too low for the chaperones to hear.

  “I think you’d do it, too,” Nick whispered as they broke free of the mob.

  “Are you kidding? I hate snakes. I wouldn’t even touch a rubber one.”

  “The kid believed you. He was so scared, he probably wet his pants.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  She grabbed his arm, then quickly dropped it.

  “You’re covered with pink stuff.” She held up sticky fingers.

  “Stuck my elbow in an ice cream cone.”

  “More ice cream. It’s our day for it.” She laughed while he tried to wipe it off on the edge of his shirt without slowing his pace.

  “As long as your shirt is sticky anyway...”

  She reached for the tail he’d pulled out from under his belted jeans.

  “Be my guest. I love being used as a towel.”

  The backs of her fingers rubbed against the bare skin above his waist, and he nearly forgot they were in hot pursuit of a man who could be Percy.

  “There he is! I can see him!” she cried.

  “Let’s get him!”

  Grabbing her hand, he raced toward a red-haired figure in dingy jeans, work boots, and a plaid shirt hanging out of his pants and rolled above the elbows much as Nick’s was.

  “Stop there, Percy!” Nick shouted, grabbing the guy’s shoulder.

  It was a surprisingly slim shoulder.

  Stacy stepped in front of their prey and gasped.

  “Whoops!”

  “Are you people crazy?”

  The voice was shrill but very, very feminine. Nick let go while Stacy launched into a breathless explanation to the woman they’d all but tackled.

  “Your hair is cut just like an acquaintance of ours—and we are so sorry,” she blurted out. “Please, please, please, forgive us. Believe me, my fiancé doesn’t go around accosting strange women. He is absolutely harmless, and we’re both terribly sorry.”

  “Your fiancé?” she asked angrily.

  Stacy held up the ring Nick hadn’t given her. It was an impressive rock, and it did distract the woman.

  “Maybe you’d better keep him on a leash,” she said as Nick mumbled his own apologies. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m short two Cubs, and our bus is waiting.”

  “Oh, wow,” Stacy said when the woman walked away. “I was afraid she’d scream for the police.”

  “Your fiancé?” Her explanation had shaken him up more than grabbing a strange woman had.

  “I didn’t want her to think you were just a garden-variety molester. Women never believe anything bad about a guy who gives away a diamond.”

  “Very clever,” he said dryly, trying to sound cool and disinterested.

  The shock of being called her fiancé nearly knocked him over. He was still shaky, and hot blood was pooling in sensitive areas. Was this why guys took the plunge?

  Stacy hated Friday-afternoon traffic. That was the main reason she’d agreed to leave her car in a lot in Elm Park and ride to the Belle Isle bridge and zoo with Nick. Now, even though it was slow going on the expressway, she regretted it. The outing had been a disaster, and she shouldn’t be sitting so close to a man who wasn’t her fiancé.<
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  “You should have seen your face when you saw we’d caught a woman,” she said, because silence between them was not good, not good at all. Casual friends chatted. They didn’t sit in gloomy silence with secret thoughts.

  “Glad you enjoyed it. I felt like an idiot.”

  “It was my fault, too. Funny how we saw red hair everywhere.”

  “Probably because Percy was on our minds.”

  She wished! How could she worry about a kidnapper when Nick was by her side, his soft brown hair tousled by the breeze that swept over the island from the Detroit River? How could she ignore his sun-bronzed forearm and the way his hand curled around hers?

  His dark-brown eyes made her spine tingle, and his strong square-jawed face was the stuff of erotic dreams. Good thing they were only fellow adventurers, pals, casual acquaintances.

  “Your family is right about being cautious,” he said.

  “I know. Now that it’s over, though, the whole thing doesn’t seem real.”

  They didn’t talk much on the way to where her car was parked. She felt safe with him, protected in a way her family couldn’t provide. Their well-intentioned hovering had gone beyond concern and become an annoyance.

  Nick understood the sudden shock of being abducted. He was doing a positive thing in looking out for redheaded men. He didn’t make her feel smothered.

  Of course, Jonathan had been very supportive. He didn’t understand the trauma of being kidnapped, but he was willing to walk down Lake Shore Drive on his hands if it would keep her safe. She smiled to herself remembering how cute her fiancé was.

  When he wanted to come to her place and make out, he’d invent little excuses and show up with a florist’s box or a bouquet from his Grosse Pointe garden.

  When they first got engaged, they’d agreed to make their wedding night special by not having sex before then. But sometimes she wondered if that was a mistake. If they were...compatible in that area.

  “There’s your car, hubcaps and all.” Nick stopped his car a short distance from hers in the Elm Park lot behind a row of stores.

  “Thanks, Nick. I had fun.”

  She opened the passenger door and slid out, leaning over once she was out of the car to say a few more words. “I hope you’re not in trouble with your brother for skipping work.”

  “The last time Zack got physical, I was twelve years old. I spray painted girls’ names all over his car. All he can do now is fire me, and I’m afraid Cole won’t let him.”

  “Sounds like you have great brothers.”

  “I do, but sometimes they try to be my father.”

  “Well, bye...”

  “I’m going to follow you home.”

  “Why?”

  “Just to make sure you get there okay,” he quickly said.

  “Nick, I really don’t need a bodyguard. How many redheads do you think I’ll see between here and home?”

  “Indulge me. I know I’m going overboard on this, but once I see you inside, I’m history.”

  “You’re going to follow me even if I tell you not to, aren’t you?” She grinned.

  “Yep.”

  He gave her a smile that scored too far south for comfort.

  “Maybe I should follow you home,” she said. “Redheads come in both genders.”

  “I’m well aware of that, sweetheart.”

  Okay, so maybe he was doing a Cary Grant impression, but the endearment was too much. She slammed his door and hurried over to her own car before she admitted the butterflies in her stomach weren’t from anxiety.

  7

  He was only following her home to be sure she got there safely.

  By the time Nick pulled into the parking area behind Stacy’s apartment, he almost believed that whopper himself. Then he remembered how it felt to have her hand tucked into his, her soft fingers entwined with his.

  Darn those kidnappers! If they’d been a little more efficient, he might have spent days, even weeks, in the little shack with Stacy.

  He was losing it. He liked women—always had—but he didn’t come on to other guys’ fiancées. Didn’t need to. Give him a phone, and he’d have a date in five minutes.

  Stacy parked a dozen or so spots from the back entrance of her complex. He pulled in beside her, ignoring the Residents Only sign, and got out of his car. He wouldn’t be long. Once he checked out the security in her building, he’d get out of her life.

  “You can’t park there,” she warned, confronting him with the hood of her car between them.

  “I won’t be here long, just long enough to check out your apartment.”

  “There are no red-haired men under my bed.”

  “Indulge my boyish whim.” He flashed what he hoped was a winning smile.

  “There is nothing boyish about you.”

  He knew that but was glad to hear her admit it.

  “One quick look, and I’m history,” he promised, walking to the entrance with her.

  “Residents have to open the door with a key,” she said, using hers.

  “What about visitors?”

  “We can buzz them in.”

  “So if your neighbor lets someone in, they can end up at your door?”

  “I suppose. It’s never happened.”

  “No elevator?” he asked when they entered the rear lobby.

  “By the front entrance, but the stairs are quicker. I only live on the second floor.”

  The steps were open. No one could hide under them and not be seen. He followed her up a short flight to a landing, then up to the second-floor corridor.

  “Assuming Percy or some other lowlife could talk a neighbor into letting him into the building, would you open your door for him?” he asked.

  “Be serious.” She was beginning to sound really annoyed.

  “How about a florist? Would you refuse delivery of flowers?”

  “I’d tell him—or her—to leave them outside my door. I can hear whether the person goes back down the stairs.”

  “Good.”

  “And my dad talked the landlord into letting him have a second lock installed. It’s all I can do to get into the place myself now.”

  She made slow work of unlocking the door. He knew he was pushing it, but he followed her inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Cute place.”

  He meant it. The room was light and uncluttered, just the way he liked his space.

  “Thanks. The bedroom and bathroom are through that door. You can see the kitchen. That’s all there is. Now you really should go.”

  “Don’t you want me to look under your bed or check the shower?” He was kidding but couldn’t help worrying about her.

  “The place was locked up like a fortress.”

  “There’s the sliding glass door.” He pointed at a tiny plant-filled balcony.

  “I keep a stick there so no one can slide it open from the outside. My father insisted even before the kidnapping.”

  “Good,” he said again.

  She didn’t need or want his approval, and he was running out of excuses to stay near her. He didn’t like making a nuisance of himself.

  In fact, this was an entirely new situation in his experience with women, but the prospect of leaving her appealed like ripping off adhesive tape from his neck to his knees.

  “I guess you have a date with Mercer tonight,” he said.

  “Nothing definite.”

  He caught her glancing toward her phone she had set on the kitchen counter.

  “We’re playing tennis at his club tomorrow morning,” she hastily added. “Jonathan has me signed up for a lesson, then he’ll go over the finer points with me.”

  Nick just bet he would. From what he could see of Stacy’s finer points, no normal man could keep his hands off.

  “I guess we told the police all we could,” he said, returning to a more comfortable topic.

  “Guess so.”

  “Thanks for coming to the zoo with me.”

  “I enjoyed it. Tha
nk you for asking me.”

  When she smiled, her face was radiant. Even flushed from the sun with no visible makeup, she had a fresh beauty that made his heartbeat erratic and his palms damp.

  He started toward the door with leaden feet. After all they’d been through, their parting called for some kind of gesture.

  She moved when he did, and the friendly peck he’d aimed at her cheek landed squarely on her lips.

  Bodies not quite touching, arms at their sides, their lips still collided with an impact that took his breath away. He brushed her lips with his again.

  Instead of resisting, she kissed him back. Emphatically.

  The chemistry between them nearly floored him, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his.

  He could feel a tremor in her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his waist and moaned softly, welcoming his next kiss with parted lips.

  He sensed inexperience, hesitation, and white-hot need, a combination so volatile he couldn’t think straight. He’d wanted her in his arms since she first walked into the wedding shop, and he was scared silly it was more than hormonal.

  “We shouldn’t...” she murmured.

  “No,” he agreed, but it wasn’t in him to push her out of his arms.

  “Just the excitement—chasing redheads.”

  She kissed him so hungrily he felt light-headed.

  “Danger is a powerful turn-on.”

  He didn’t believe it, but he’d swear the sky was red to keep her where she was.

  Nick was sure of one thing. Jonathan wasn’t keeping his fiancée happy. Nick should have been delighted, but he felt terrible for Stacy. He wanted to show her what passion was, but he couldn’t without hurting her. Her kisses made him feel guilty. Imagine how she’d hate herself if he let this go on.

  One more kiss, a memento...

  Her lips were soft and swollen under his, and he had to lock his hands together behind her back to keep from touching her the way he wanted to.

  Her phone rang, shrill, loud, and invasive.

  “I should answer that.” She slipped out of his grasp, raced for the phone, and made a heroic effort to make her voice sound normal when she picked up the call.