Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (19 page)

He made a face of acceptance. “Life in the fast lane of vote grooming. So.” He stood and kept his eyes on hers. “Shall we go see what she and your mother planned? And then we'll adjust as needed.”

Kimberly bit back the scolding she longed to give. When the Finger Lakes became a go-to spot for weddings and events, her mother had created a business that flourished. The downside was there were few alternative sites at this late date. Every elegant winery, hotel, inn, church and lakeside view had been booked for months if not years. Picturesque autumn in the Finger Lakes drew crowds from all over.

She bit her tongue, stood, lifted the thin portfolio and moved to the door. “Let's go.”

* * *

Beautiful, bright and still blaming him for Dave's death. If Drew could rewind the hands of time, he'd have fixed that dreadful night, hundreds of times.

God's timing. Not yours.

He knew that. He'd finally come to accept it. But seeing the hollowness in Kimber's gaze when she looked at him brought the loss rushing back.

And now they'd be working side by side on a wedding that couldn't have been more poorly timed. He followed her through the door, trying not to notice how gracefully she moved. The fitted sundress made that an impossible task and her long blond hair shifted with each step forward.

He shifted his gaze to the floor. Spiky bright yellow heels thwarted that strategy.

Just admit it. She's gorgeous. She hates you. You've got no choice but to work together. You're doomed.

Rocky paused. Barked. Then barked again.

“Kimberly, hold up.” Drew put his hand over the ever-present weapon at his hip.

She stopped and turned. “Because?”

He shook his head. “I'm not sure. Stay here.” He ignored the impatient look she shot to the receptionist as he studied the layout.

Rocky barked again, but he didn't aim forward, toward the entrance facing the town square. He turned right, then left as if zeroing in, then moved toward the back of the offices. “What's down that hall?”

“Restrooms and the back door to the parking lot.”

“Is it unlocked?”

Kimberly nodded. “Of course.”

He frowned, but they'd talk about security changes later. Right now—

He gave Rocky a hand sign.

The broad-shouldered shepherd rushed down the hall, paused, then turned in a half circle. He whined softly, sat, then whined again, like he did when—

Drew stopped that train of thought instantly, because his beautiful eleven-year-old daughter was nearly six hours away at an exclusive Connecticut girls' camp, a gift from her maternal grandparents. She couldn't possibly be...

He turned the corner into the recessed alcove.

Amy Sue Slade looked up at him from a seat on the floor, and she had the nerve to smile. “Um... Hi.”

“Hi?” He stared at his daughter, then the door, then her again. “Where did you come from, how did you get here and do you have any last wishes to make before I initiate your death sentence?”

She blanched and stood, but she didn't look nearly as worried as she should have when her life was on the line. “I told you I hated it there.”

“Telling me you're unhappy and running away from camp are distinctively different things.”

“It was literally like four turns to get from there to here, a straight shot across Interstate 90,” she protested. “Connecticut and New York share a lot of latitude lines. Not even the least bit dangerous.”

Kimberly came up alongside him, which meant this might not be the best moment for a family brawl. But eleven-year-olds should do what they were told. Always. “You took a train—”

“A bus, actually,” she corrected him. “The nearest trains don't stop until Rochester and the cab ride back here would have wiped out my debit card.”

“You got on a bus with who knows what kind of people and rode it here?”

“Yes.”

“You are grounded forever.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Amy Sue. Forever.”

“I know, Dad. You always mean everything you say.” She let her backpack slide to the floor and held out her arms. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“More.” He opened his arms. She fell into them, and the feel of holding his precious daughter tipped some of his world back on course. Rick's eighteen-month campaign had taken too big a toll on their time together. Once this election was done, so was he. He'd take his delightful daughter and find a quiet, cozy place to settle down and be the family they'd never had a chance to be. “Whose idea was it to send you to camp in the first place? What were we thinking, splitting up Team Slade?”

“It was Grandma's idea because you don't have time to watch me right now.”

“And that hasn't changed one bit.” He sighed, held her close, felt her tears and couldn't suppress the feeling that things just got a little more right in his world.

The back door swung open. Daryl Jackson, his security point man, strode in and smiled. “She found you.”

“So it seems.”

“I saw her edging around back.”

“You could have radioed.”

Daryl's grin flashed in his bronzed face. “More fun this way. So, Miss Amy, before he kills you dead, sweet thing, do you have a hug for me because now I'm going to have to listen to him complain about what to do with you while we're working. A hug is downright necessary in that case.”

“Uncle Daryl!” She grinned and launched herself into Daryl's arms, then turned toward Kimberly.

Drew turned also. He wasn't sure what he expected to see on Kimberly's face, but compassion hadn't made the short list. “Kimberly.”

She looked up and arched a brow that hinted amusement.

“Yes?”

He hauled in a breath and drew Amy forward. “My daughter, Amy Slade.”

Kimberly squatted, and in that formfitting dress and three-inch heels, he was pretty sure squatting was no easy task. And then she smiled right at Amy, and that smile took him a long ways back. Emily might have been the beauty queen of the family, but in Drew's eyes, Kimberly had always been the beauty. And still was.

“You look just like your dad did when he was your age.”

“For real?” Amy made a cute face and looked up. “No one's ever told me that before, but then I've never met anyone who knew Dad when he was young.”

Kimberly graciously ignored the whys and wherefores of his hometown absence. “Now you have, and I assure you, you're a chip off the old block, and I'd venture to say that your little adventure today is the kind of thing your dad would have done.”

Amy grasped his hand. “I don't like being away from Dad for even a little while. Three weeks was way too long, and then I was going to be shipped off to boarding school for the rest of the campaign. If I can't handle three weeks apart, I can't even think about months. That would be like the most awful, ever. And I'm not exactly like the other girls at the camp.”

“Rich? Cultured? Well educated?” Drew listed the attributes in a wry voice.

She slanted her father a look that said he was being too generous. “I was going straight to unathletic, boring and pretentious, but we can add rich to the list. Now that doesn't matter.” She hugged her father's arm, clearly delighted. “As long as I'm with Dad, everything's okay.”

“Except it's not,” Drew reminded her. “I'm working. Daryl's working. Your grandparents are touring Australia. We have to focus, Amy, and there's something about a daredevil kid hanging around that splits my attention. The perils of being a single dad,” he added, for Kimberly's benefit.

“She can ride with us today, can't she?” Kimberly turned slightly. “And by the way, Daryl?” She reached across Amy to shake Daryl's hand. “I'm Kimberly.”

“A pleasure, ma'am.”

“You won't mind?” Drew asked. Shelby's wedding was a seriously priced six-figure deal, and having a kid ride along wasn't professional.

“Do you like to talk, Amy?” Kimberly looked down again.

The girl grinned. “Far too much, my dad says.”

“Perfect.” Kimberly moved toward the reception area. “An instant cure for grown-up awkward silence. She's absolutely welcome to come along.”

“Sweet!” Amy squeezed his hand, grinning, before she hurried ahead to catch up with Kimberly.

This wasn't sweet, Drew decided. It was uncomfortable and problematic, because as much as he loved his daughter, he was committed to making sure Shelby's wedding went off without a hitch. International terrorists and domestic unrest didn't allow a margin of error. His focus needed to be strictly on this upcoming event, but walking in front of him, side by side, were two reasons that wasn't going to happen, and he wasn't at all sure what to do about it.

He paused and called the camp to withdraw Amy's name from their registry and reassured the camp director that he didn't intend to sue. He put the necessary call to Eve's parents on hold. Explaining Amy's actions to them would take more time than he had right now. Their probable indignation over the lost funds would be completely understandable, and the time difference between Grace Haven and Adelaide iced the cake. Best to leave that until later.

He hung up the phone to rejoin the diverse group waiting for him. He'd have decisions to make soon, major ones, but right now strategizing this wedding took precedence. With Amy underfoot and Kimberly's tightly wound emotions, he wasn't sure how they were going to manage it, but if something went wrong at this beautiful, heartfelt affair, the guilt would fall on him. He'd left police work because of gut-wrenching guilt. It wasn't something he wanted to face, ever again.

CHAPTER TWO

“T
his can be immediately scrapped from the list of possible venues,” Drew told Kimberly as she directed him up the sloping drive of the rose-trellis-backed vineyard.

“It's a beautiful fall wedding venue,” she argued. But from his point of view, she saw the problems immediately.

“Too open, too visible, one exit and entrance.” Drew shook his head.

“It is her wedding day,” Kimberly reminded him softly.

“And my goal is to get her to the honeymoon safely.” His grim look drew worry lines in his forehead. The Drew she remembered didn't worry about anything, ever. Decisive and sure, he took everything in stride.

This Drew was different. “This is vulnerable. There's no way we can have the future president of the United States sitting here in the open with so many unprotected vantage points. The Secret Service would have a field day with this, Kimber.” He used the childhood nickname as if they were still old friends. They weren't. So why did it sound so nice when he said it? That was something Kimberly would examine more closely later. Or not at all.

“If they swoop in and change everything last minute, we'll have wedding-day chaos. Let's avoid that, okay?”

A man moved up, out of the vineyard area, and started to approach the car.

Rocky went ballistic in the rear of the SUV. Front paws braced, barking and snarling. Kimberly's heart and nerves landed somewhere in the area of her feet when the big dog went into his protective maneuvers.

Drew uttered a one-word command in a foreign language. German, maybe?

The dog desisted, but stood at high alert, hackles raised, nose pointed forward, legs apart. He might be quiet, but his posture said he was ready to do whatever proved necessary to get the job done.

“Kimberly, you've never seen Rocky in action.” Sympathy laced Amy's voice. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Maybe. Somewhat.”

“Sorry.” Drew darted a quick look of apology her way as he steered the SUV down the exit driveway. “I should have explained that Rocky's trained to react to uninvited guests. My bad. We weren't scheduled to meet with anyone there, were we?”

“No. I expect that's a vineyard worker, coming to see what we are doing or if we need anything.”

“The hill's angle and the height of the grapevines combined so we didn't see him until the last possible minute.” Drew pulled out onto the road and headed south. “There's no way we can have enough people to keep that venue safe, not to mention the photography session at the historic grotto and then around the tip of the lake to the reception site at the inn. There just aren't numbers enough to make that feasible when you're talking political dignitaries, country music stars and a European royal family, half of whom come equipped with their own security teams that will, most likely, get in our way.”

“Excuse me for asking,” Kimberly began, and when Drew's frown said she probably shouldn't ask, she did anyway. “But wouldn't this wedding be easier to pull off after the elections?”

“It would have been easier a year ago when Rick was just testing the waters of candidacy,” he replied as he turned south. “But now that he looks like the probable winner, there is no good time for eight years, assuming reelection. Which means we make do with the best we can do here, now. Why didn't they pick one of those gracious old churches in town? Don't people get married in sweet, historic churches anymore?”

Kimberly tapped her mother's notebook. “Shelby made the very good point that by doing it in town, the regular fall traffic, paparazzi and fans would clog the roads, and they'd never get to the photo ops or the reception site, which is true. A bottleneck around The Square is a logistical nightmare during festivals. They'd have to block off roads, and that would cut into sales revenue for local small businesses. It was really nice of her to see it that way.” Their quaint, historic shopping area drew three-season tourist traffic, but major events challenged mobility, and that wasn't something to be shrugged off for a wedding like Shelby's.

“There aren't any festivals the weekend they picked, are there?”

“No, but leaf peepers will be out in full force.”

“Good point.” He sighed and started to turn toward the gracious nineteenth-century gardens Kate had booked for a post-ceremony photo session, but he paused when Kimberly put her hand on his arm. “Turn right instead.”

“Because?”

“I just thought of something. If it works, we might be able to give Shelby the wedding she wants and deserves and you some peace of mind.”

* * *

Peace of mind?

With her hand on his arm, and the luminescent pearl polish glinting softly in the sun?

The scent of tropical fruit and flowers surprised him. At the office, he'd breathed in sugar and spice, but that must have been her mother's lingering preference.

Her proximity and the hand on his arm as he swung the wheel wafted the scent of tropical fruit salad with a hint of floral, just enough to say “feminine and proud of it” and fun enough to say she liked summer.

So did he.

“Turn left at the top of this hill.”

He did what she asked, then nodded, remembering. “The Abbey.”

“Gorgeous, right?”

“Magnificent building.” Daryl peered out and whistled lightly. “Not much easy ingress or egress, plenty of parking, clear view on three sides. This is a wedding venue? How was it overlooked before?”

Kimberly climbed out and opened the back door for Amy. “Weddings, yes, on a limited basis, but no receptions. The friars sold the main building years ago, with certain stipulations to avoid commercialization. It's run by an area mission church, and they're fairly strict about usage in accordance with the friars' wishes, but renting the building for weddings and retreats and conferences allows them money to fund their work.”

“So you're thinking we could do the ceremony here...”

“Let's check availability,” Kimberly advised. “Uncle Steve is the church pastor. His daughter Tara oversees the calendar. Hopefully she's home.”

“I remember Tara. She was like...twelve.”

“Time marches on,” Kimberly noted softly.

“Someone lives here?” Amy's eyes went wide as she eyed the broad, beautiful stone building with the impressive domed middle. “This would be like living in a castle.”

“Which would be perfect because then I could put you in the dungeon,” Drew agreed. “That way I'd know where you were, 24/7.”

She laughed and clasped his hand as she exchanged a grin with Kimberly, and that brief moment made the sun seem brighter and the breeze sweeter.

“That view is amazing.” Daryl waved east as he released Rocky from the back of the SUV. The terraced hillside gave way to the long, slim shoreline of Canandaigua Lake.

“Fabulous, right?” Kimberly smiled at Daryl's surprise, and when he looked over his shoulder at Drew and gave him a thumbs-up, she hoped the date was available. She climbed the steps and rang the bell outside the office door.

Almost instantly the window above them was pushed open. “Kimberly!”

“Tara, hey.” She took a step back and looked up, but she was closer to the step's edge than she thought. When her three-inch heel missed concrete, she expected to crash to the pavement.

Two hands caught her waist, steadying her. And then for the sweetest of moments, they didn't let go. “You okay?”

That voice. Deep. Low. Caring. Always looking out for others. The combination of his grip, the tone and the whisper of his breath against her neck took her back to a time when life and love seemed simple. How much had changed since then.

“Yes. Thank you.” She turned and looked straight into concerned, desert camo eyes, flecks of green, gold and brown vying for attention. Warrior eyes. “I'm glad you were there.”

“Me, too.”

Her heart did a physiologically impossible dance in her chest. She chalked it up to an adrenaline rush from the near fall and looked at him again.

“Don't fall!” Tara's face mixed joy and concern over Kimberly's lack of grace. “I'm coming right down. Kimberly, it's been forever!”

“Friendly little thing.” Drew kept his tone low. “A bit out of step with the dignity of the surroundings, isn't she?”

“Whereas I would say she was happy to see her cousin after several years away and leave it at that.”

Tara didn't come to the side door and open it for them. She stepped through the main doors leading into the friary, waited while they came across the tapered steps, then grabbed Kimberly in a hug. “Oh, I miss you! You look marvelous, and I was totally hoping you were planning to have the wedding in Grace Haven and would pick the Abbey. Kimberly, it will be beautiful!”

Drew paused inside the door. So did Daryl. They exchanged looks; then Drew turned, one brow hiked. “You're getting married?”

Right about then having the floor open up and swallow her whole would have gotten a preferential nod.

Didn't happen.

Kimberly shook her head and waved off Tara's words as she realized with her parents' current circumstances, word of her broken engagement hadn't been forwarded to the extended family. “Clearly I should have signed into social media last month and changed my status update.” She held out a ringless left hand for Tara to see. “I won't be looking for a personal wedding venue anytime soon.”

Tara winced. “Kimberly, I'm sorry. I had no idea.”

Kimberly shrugged it off. “It's not a big deal. It's actually for the best, but thanks.” She nodded toward Drew, Daryl and Amy. “Tara, this is Drew Slade, his daughter, Amy, and his security partner, Daryl Jackson. We're helping a client prepare for her wedding, and our first venue doesn't allow for the level of security we need. Then I thought of the Abbey.”

“And I'm glad you did,” Tara declared. “Drew, good to see you again,” she continued in an easy tone. “It's been a long time,” she added, then motioned toward the office wing. “Shall we check dates first or tour the building?”

“Tour.” Drew's ease at taking charge said he did it often. Would that take-charge attitude extend to overthrowing all the bride's decisions? Kimberly aimed a frown his way.

He ignored it completely.

“Come this way.” Tara moved down the spacious entry hall. Daryl and Amy fell in behind Tara, and somehow Drew ended up alongside Kimberly. He turned her way as they walked and kept his voice low. “Who broke it off?”

He did not just ask that, did he? As if it was his business? Because it wasn't. Remembering the price tag on this gig and the cost of her father's experimental treatment in Houston made her smile and play nice when she longed to tell Drew Slade to mind his own business. She couldn't do that, so she shrugged lightly. “He did.”

Drew studied her for long, thick seconds, long enough for her heart to do that step-toe dance again. Then he leaned closer. “He's a moron, Kimber, but I might just send him a thank-you note.”

Kimberly was pretty sure her breathing paused as their eyes met. “For?”

He winked.

Her heart stuttered, or was that her lungs? Maybe both, because Drew Slade had just flirted with her. Sure, he was just trying to ease an awkward moment, but that one brief exchange was enough to stir up those old schoolgirl feelings.

But that was then and this was now, and a whole lot of ugly had passed under their respective bridges.

Tara waited for them to catch up. “Exactly whose wedding are we planning?”

“Shelby Vandeveld's,” Kimberly replied.

“That's a name that raises the stakes somewhat, doesn't it?” Tara moved toward the chapel area. “As you can see, we have adequate space and generous surroundings to host events up to three hundred people. But the core of our allure lies in the chapel, of course.”

Daryl jotted notes as they walked.

Drew didn't. In contrast, he studied the venue from top to bottom as they toured the gracious old building. When Tara ended with the domed chapel, Drew paused just inside the door. “Stunning.”

“One of the best kept secrets of the Finger Lakes,” Tara agreed.

Drew shoulder-nudged Kimberly. “You're brilliant.”

“Save the praise until we mesh dates. I'm sure they have several fall retreats scheduled.”

“We do, so let's move to my office and see what we've got,” Tara suggested.

They moved to the office, where Tara drew up an electronic calendar on her desktop. When Drew gave her the date, she shook her head quickly. “Not available for that weekend or the one before. We have a Sunday open the second week of October...”

“Just Sunday?”

She met Drew's eye and nodded.

“We need a seventy-two-hour clean date.”

If asking for a three-day security window on popular venues mere weeks ahead of time surprised Tara, she covered it well. “Nothing in October.”

Kimberly had expected that answer, so when Tara paged back to September, she was surprised.

“We had a retreat cancellation,” Tara explained, and she tapped the calendar in front of her. “We actually have a four-day window in September as a result. Would your reception venue be available then?”

Drew frowned. “Most likely not.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I should have anticipated Rick's candidacy and been here at the first meeting between your mother and Shelby. The blame for this is coming straight to my door.”

Kimberly looked at Tara. “How many people were supposed to be at the canceled retreat?”

“Just shy of three hundred.” She studied Kimberly's face and cringed as if reading her mind. “You know the rules, Kim.”

“How many Indonesian missions is Holy Name Church supporting right now?”

“Three.”

“A price tag like this could double that option and fulfill a patriotic duty. If we don't figure this out, I've got a very nice bride who's being robbed of her wedding day because she had the nerve to fall in love at a politically incorrect time. Where's Uncle Steve?”