The Stand-in Groom Read online

“Jonathan, I just got home.”

  Nick heard a harsh, barking response but not the words.

  “I am breathless,” she said. “I was outside on the stairway with my hands full when I heard the phone start to ring.”

  If Mercer believed she could open two locks in probably three rings, he was an even bigger idiot than Nick thought.

  “Darling, I’ll need at least an hour to get ready. No, make that an hour and a half,” she said.

  They negotiated a time for their date, and Nick told himself he should leave.

  “I can hardly wait to see you, too,” Stacy cooed into the phone.

  The hell of it was, Nick believed she meant it.

  She hung up, and he felt frozen to the spot.

  “I’m so embarrassed.” She didn’t look at him.

  “Don’t be.” He tried to sound kind, but his voice was hoarse with disappointment.

  “Please, never kiss me again.”

  He nodded. She read the promise she wanted in his silence.

  “That was terrible of me—it’s all my fault. I don’t know what got into me. I am so sorry, Nick.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Chemistry happens.”

  “I don’t think we’d better see each other again.”

  “I didn’t intend to see you today. It was an accidental meeting.” He had to resist touching her flushed cheeks.

  There was nothing accidental about the way she’d clung to him and kissed him. And kissed him. He knew foreplay when it hit him like a ton of bricks, but he wasn’t sure she did.

  “It was all my fault,” she went on, running her hands through her mussed hair. “I’m really sorry. I’ve never been a tease.”

  She called it teasing. He called it torture. Did she think he was made of stone?

  “Well, have a nice date,” he said.

  He wanted to say have a nice life, but he didn’t have it in him to be sarcastic to Stacy. They never should’ve met. He wished they hadn’t. But one thing was damn sure. It was time he was out of there.

  Stacy limped into the preschool Monday morning, her ankle still wrapped from a trip to the emergency room. The sprain wasn’t serious, but her reason for stumbling was. Jonathan had been teaching her to charge the net after her tennis lesson, but her mind hadn’t been on the game.

  The fact that Jonathan had been so darn sweet the rest of the weekend, waiting on her and indulging her every whim, only made her feel more guilty. She couldn’t count the number of times she missed the ball, or hit it out of bounds, all because she couldn’t get Nick out of her mind.

  “You should take the day off,” Tanya, her boss and good friend at the learning center, said. “I can call Granny Beth to substitute.”

  “The kids run her ragged,” Stacy said.

  “That’s true, but she’s good at reading to them.”

  “Really, I’m fine. I want to be here.”

  Before Tanya could insist, she spotted a child getting into mischief.

  “Randy, the vacuum cleaner isn’t a toy. That’s why we keep it in the supply room. Why don’t you play with the fire engine?”

  Tanya raced over to intercept the little boy who lived to take apart vacuums. The center’s director was dark-haired, slender, and sophisticated, but she had a gift with kids and taught Stacy something new every day.

  Stacy loved being here, adored the kids, and counted herself extremely lucky to work for Tanya. Even though her boss was nearly fifteen years older with a husband and two girls in middle school, Stacy enjoyed her company immensely. She missed their weekend junkets to flea markets and country auctions now that tennis lessons occupied her Saturdays.

  “You can stay in when the kids go out,” Tanya called over to her. “I need someone to count out Popsicle sticks and pom-poms for our afternoon project. Use the berry baskets in the bottom of the craft cupboard.”

  A half hour later Stacy was doing shapes and colors when she was so startled she nearly fell off her little chair. She’d just gotten Kaitlin to identify a blue circle for the first time when she looked up at a pair of muscular thighs packed into faded jeans standing next to her.

  “Nick!”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Not now. I’m doing shapes and colors.” She tried to go on with the activity, holding up a piece of colored cardboard. “Colin, can you tell me what shape and color this is?”

  “I already told you it’s a blue circle,” Kaitlin said, her ponytail hobbling in annoyance.

  “Of course, and you did a great job, Kaitlin. I meant to hold up this one, Colin.” She picked up a red triangle.

  “It’s red.”

  “What shape?”

  “Kaitlin pushed me.”

  “Kaitlin, do you need a time-out?” That question belonged in a book of dumb things teachers say. The precocious four-year-old would challenge a lion tamer.

  “You can see I’m busy,” Stacy said beseechingly to Nick, exaggerating the behavioral crisis which, in fact, was business as usual.

  “Are you going to kiss Miss Stacy?” Kaitlin asked, looking up wide-eyed at Nick.

  “No, he is not!” Stacy hastily assured her.

  “Not that it isn’t a good idea, Kaitlin.” Nick grinned.

  She’d never been so glad to hear the signal for recess. The three-year-olds were tramping into their separate room, and Debi, the youngest of the four women who worked with the four-year-olds, was energetically ringing the bell to line up for outdoor play.

  “I have to go outside,” Stacy told Nick.

  “Don’t even think of it,” Tanya called over to her. “You have craft baskets to get ready.”

  “What happened to your ankle?” Nick asked as she limped into the supply room to get what she needed.

  “I sprained it.”

  He was wearing a black T-shirt that made him look even sexier—and more dangerous—than usual.

  “The tennis lesson?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Mercer’s instructions on the finer points of the game?”

  “Why are you here, Nick?”

  “Did you play show-and-tell with your fiancé and tell him how we locked lips?”

  “How can you be so—so...”

  “Crass, crude, unfeeling?”

  “Facetious.” Darned if she’d use one of his words.

  She picked up a stack of plastic berry baskets and the supplies she was supposed to count out. Carrying them to one of the low tables in the main room, she sat on one of the kid’s chairs to do her job.

  “About last Friday,” he began, towering over her so all she saw was his knees.

  She was used to little chairs, but she’d like to see him try to sit on one.

  “If you must talk to me, at least get down to my level.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  He cautiously lowered his rear and managed to plant it on one of the hard plastic seats so he was facing her and the window overlooking the playground.

  “Playground stuff has changed a lot since my day,” he said, looking beyond her at the sturdy, bright-colored outdoor equipment.

  “You didn’t come here to discuss tube slides and swings,” she said, having a hard time counting sticks with him watching.

  “How do you sit on these chairs?” He wiggled to demonstrate how uncomfortable he was but stayed put.

  “Nick, don’t you ever go to work?”

  “I always do—usually. I’m on my way to pick up some stuff at a building supply place.”

  She dumped a bag of fluffy little yellow-and-green pom-poms on the table, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate in separating them to count, not with Nick’s dark, unreadable eyes scanning her every move.

  “I only need to know one thing.” His voice was so serious it gave her chills. “Was that some kind of pre-wedding test?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She was afraid she did. Would this recess last forever?

  “Kissing me. Were you trying to find out if you’d be missing anything b
y getting married?”

  “I’ve kissed men before.” No way would she tell him how few. “Anyway, you kissed me first.”

  “And I deserved to have my face slapped.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” She also couldn’t look him in the eyes, which made for a very uncomfortable conversation.

  “Why kiss me back the way you did?”

  He was relentless. If Kaitlin were older, they’d deserve each other.

  “I don’t know.”

  That was at least partially true. She was too confused to understand her own motives. She’d loved Jonathan when she agreed to marry him. She was pretty sure she still did, but Nick was unlike anyone she’d ever known. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  “It wasn’t just a test?” he pressed.

  “No! Maybe it was the excitement. Chasing possible suspects. All the sugar in the ice cream. The aquarium.”

  “Can’t beat a tank of electric eels for a romantic atmosphere.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I still don’t know if you were kissing me or just experimenting.”

  “I don’t experiment! I haven’t even done it with Jonathan!” she cried out, her temper flaring.

  Oh, boy. She immediately wanted to take that back. She felt guilty enough without betraying her relationship with Jonathan.

  Nick raised one eyebrow and looked so skeptical she did want to smack him.

  “Never?”

  “My fiancé is a gentleman. Our honeymoon will be so special...”

  “No one, ever?”

  Her face felt hot enough to singe her fingertips. She wanted to run out and hide in one of the kids’ sliding tubes.

  “You act like I’m a freak or something.” She was also as close to tears as she’d been in ages.

  “Mercer must be made of dry ice! I’d go nuts if I couldn’t make love to you—if you were my fiancée.”

  “I can’t talk about this.”

  Trouble was, she already had. Did Nick pity her? He certainly had an odd expression. Or maybe he thought she was cold and unfeeling. She didn’t know which was worse.

  “The children will be coming inside soon. I can’t talk anymore.”

  “I have to get back to the site. We’re finishing a new bank on Davis Road at Twenty Mile. But I don’t want to leave things hanging between us.”

  “Nothing is hanging.”

  He stood, knocking the little chair aside, and she wished she hadn’t said those exact words. She couldn’t let herself think about how well-hung this man appeared to be—not that she’d studied the evidence. All in all, she seemed to have foot-in-the-mouth disease.

  “We can’t see each other anymore,” she insisted.

  “We’re not seeing each other now.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “That’s the trouble! I don’t. The message I got when you kissed me contradicts the happily-ever-after scenario you’re planning with Mercer. Or did you use me like a cat uses a scratching pole?”

  “Can’t you accept a spontaneous gesture of gratitude?”

  “Gratitude? Was that your idea of gratitude? I had lip burn all weekend. Gratitude is a handshake or a pat on the head.”

  “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of this. Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed!”

  He sat on the edge of the table and leaned within inches of her face.

  “I’ve never been kissed that way without ending up in bed. That’s why I want to know what your game is.”

  “I don’t have a game!” She tried to look beyond him to see if the children were ready to come inside, but there was no help there.

  “No, you have a fiancé. So why so hot with me?”

  “You’re accusing me of being a tease, and I’m not!”

  She’d asked herself the same question a thousand times since Friday, but there wasn’t any answer. She wanted to marry Jonathan. He’d be a kind, loving, thoughtful husband, and she didn’t doubt she loved him.

  He had saved her on the island. Add gratitude to the mix, and she couldn’t help responding to him. It was only temporary insanity.

  “You did kiss me first,” she said, knowing it sounded like an alibi.

  “I planned a peck on the cheek. You moved.”

  “Oh.” That made her overly enthusiastic response even worse. “Well, I won’t be ambiguous anymore. I’m going to marry Jonathan because I want to be his wife. I’m sorry if I made you doubt it.”

  She sounded uncomfortably like Aunt Lucille when she got her dander up.

  “Okay.”

  He said it blandly, matter-of-factly, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.

  “I won’t be seeing you around then.” He walked out without another word.

  8

  Nick was so intent on installing a saw blade, he didn’t even look up when Zack came into the unfinished main lobby of the new suburban bank. One thing Nick did a whole lot better than the twins was keep his tools in good shape.

  “You’ve got company.”

  Nick could tell his brother was smirking without looking up.

  “Send him in.”

  “Her. She wants you to come out.”

  He stood, wondering if this was one of Zack’s practical jokes. No, probably not, since Nick was still on the clock. Now that his brother was happily married, he took the business a lot more seriously.

  “I wouldn’t keep this one waiting,” Zack warned, grinning as he left.

  The spring mud had baked into deep furrows under the hot June sun, and Stacy picked her way carefully toward Nick the moment he came out. He froze, surprised to see her after the big brush-off she’d given him that morning.

  “I bet that’s your brother,” she said, nodding at Zack as he retreated into the trailer that served as an on-site office. “His hair is darker, but I can see a family resemblance.”

  “You’re imagining it. We’re half-brothers. I look like my dad.”

  He wasn’t pleased to see her. It was going to be hard enough forgetting her without little surprise visits.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  He kept his distance, not trusting himself to keep his hands off her.

  “We really shouldn’t see each other again.” She fiddled with the belt on the jumper she’d worn that morning and didn’t meet his eyes.

  “You found out where I was working and drove all the way out here to tell me again we shouldn’t see each other? You have a funny way of hammering home your point.”

  “You mentioned you were building a bank here.”

  “Did I?” he said.

  She blushed and avoided meeting his gaze.

  “I feel bad about the way things ended this morning. I didn’t intend to be cranky. I’m so grateful for the way you came to my rescue.”

  “Before or after I got conked with a six-pack?” he said jokingly.

  “The whole time. It would have been much, much scarier without you.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, waiting to hear where this was going.

  “I didn’t even ask about your head. Did you get checked by a doctor?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Even though we can’t see each other again, I don’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate what you did,” she said.

  “You want my good opinion?” But you don’t want me, he added to himself.

  “Yes.” She didn’t sound very sure.

  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  One of the plumbers came out of the building and gave Stacy an X-rated look. Good thing she wasn’t his girlfriend. He’d have to do something about a leer like that.

  “I should leave,” she said.

  “It took you what, half an hour to get here? I won’t take much more of your time.”

  A couple of carpenters strolled out, their voices loud and joking until they saw Stacy.

  “It’s quitting time. Let’s go sit in my car where it’s not so public.”


  “Public is fine,” she quickly said.

  “Well, at least let’s sit. You’re still hobbling on that ankle.”

  He glanced toward the trailer but rejected it. Zack and Cole were both inside.

  “Over here,” he said, walking to a stack of lumber covered by a tarp. “You can sit here, but the car would be more comfortable.”

  “No, this is fine.” She gingerly perched on the none-too-clean waterproof covering.

  He’d been stewing all day about never seeing her again, but he’d rather wear a Kick Me sign than let her know it.

  “Just because we got a little carried away doesn’t mean we can’t compromise,” he said.

  She was remembering their kisses. He could see it in her body language as she squirmed uncomfortably on the sharp-edged stack of two-by-fours.

  “Why can’t we just be friends?” he asked.

  “Friends?”

  Was that relief on her face?

  “If we stay on friendly terms, it will be a lot less awkward if we meet by accident,” he explained.

  “Meet by accident?”

  He knew how improbable that was in the huge metropolitan sprawl, but he wasn’t ready to let her disappear from his life, not while her kisses were still branded on his mouth.

  “There could be a police lineup and a trial,” he said. “We’d have to meet then.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Hey, you and my mom are both brides-to-be with gimpy ankles. We met once at a wedding shop. We could do it again. Or maybe at a florist or...” He shrugged.

  Where else did brides congregate? He was pretty sure his superefficient mother had taken care of everything by now even though her wedding wasn’t until fall.

  “We could even meet at a party,” he suggested. “My grandfather gets invited to the same places as the Mercers. He’s a regular social butterfly. Sometimes I go along for kicks.” Considering the situation, he forgave himself a slight distortion of the truth.

  “Jonathan goes to a lot of parties, too. His law firm is giving us a pre-wedding party the first Saturday in July. But I don’t suppose your grandfather is one of their clients.”

  “Could be. He’s a pit bull with attitude when it comes to protecting his company’s patents. He probably knows every Wayne County lawyer who’s passed the bar in the last fifty years.”