Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (25 page)

They took the food to the upstairs break room, and once they were done eating, Allison shooed them out the door. “Amy and I've got cleanup. You three, well four—” she smiled at Rocky “—have work to do.”

“Yes, go,” Rory urged them. “Emily and I want to introduce Amy to the area merchants we work with. That way if we send her on a gofer mission, she knows where to go and who to see.”

“We're out.” Drew held the door open. Kimberly stepped through, and that soft summer scent nudged him again. Pretty, like her. Vibrant, like her.

If she's a distraction, you should leave her behind. Lives are at stake.

He squared his shoulders because the internal scolding held merit. He and Daryl needed to be on top of their game, which meant no flirting. Or thinking about what might have been. Or could be.

She flashed him an over-the-shoulder look just then, one of those quick, sweet smiles that grabbed him heart and soul. He'd need God's help on this one, no doubt, because not only was his attention split, but he
liked
it being split, and that could spell trouble.

Daryl climbed into the front passenger seat of the SUV as Kimberly situated herself behind Drew. He pulled away from the curb and said, “Daryl's going to chart the course for us.”

Eyes down, she waved his comment off. “I'm reconstructing the flowers. Shelby and I decided to change things up so the florist wouldn't realize it was the same bride. I'm meeting with them at four, so if you guys could drop me off a little farther up Center Street before then, that would be great.”

“You talked with Shelby?”

“Yes.”

“On an unsecured line?” Her gaze flew up to meet his in the rearview mirror.

“I never thought of that.”

“We have to think of that,” he replied, grim. “Nothing gets said or done without—”

“You knowing about it,” she finished for him. “Which was me, telling you about it now, right? Only I never thought of a secure line, which is your fault because if you wanted me to have one, you should have provided it. I have to talk to the bride, Drew. It's like...a rule.”

He met her gaze, growled, then spoke succinctly as Daryl handed her an untraceable phone. “Our bad, Kimberly. We should have realized you'd be working evenings and mornings when we're not around. Use this one. I'll grab another from the hotel room later.”

“Thank you, Daryl.”

She made a face at Drew, a face he probably wasn't supposed to see, but he'd glanced back again as Daryl turned around. “Daryl's right. I should have equipped you. I thought telling you would be enough, but I forgot you'd probably work on your own time, not just office hours. Sorry.”

* * *

He did sound sorry, and she felt bad about that.

Being a cop's kid had taught her that top security meant silence and secrecy. She'd taken that mind-set to Nashville, but the double whammy of politics and country music's finest put this wedding in unusual and combined crosshairs. “I should have thought of it myself, too. And have you considered that Nashville insiders aren't great at maintaining silence? There are tons of name-droppers who love pretending they're invited to things, and maybe even a few on the guest list who would use this wedding invite to show they made the cut. That's a big variable right there, isn't it? Once the new date goes out?”

“We're including a vow of silence pledge that needs to be signed when they respond, but you're right. We don't have the wedding venue address on the invitations, though, and people will be picked up in limo buses and taken to the Abbey.”

“And Miss Tara and I just listed a three-day marriage and spirituality retreat on the Abbey website to cover the wedding dates,” Darryl explained. “We fed it to their Twitter feed and Facebook page. It's a full-capacity event, so they can't accept further registrations, a perfect subterfuge.”

“You do web design?”

Daryl laughed. “In my spare time.”

“The florist should deliver everything to a neutral but normal spot,” Drew added.

“Thought of that,” Kimberly replied, hoping to smooth over the unsecured phone call fiasco. “They're delivering to the East Seneca Inn and Conference Center at eleven a.m. Our team will then redeliver to the Abbey at noon.”

“Is that enough time to get things done?”

Kimberly shrugged. “It's less time for someone to figure out what's going on and mess things up, so yes.”

“Who's making the delivery?”

“We are. Me, Rory and Em. Nothing strange or unusual about bridal planners organizing flowers. We'll leave cell phones at home so they can't be tracked by GPS, and we're using an unmarked delivery van rented under an alias. Does Jo know to list the catering order as a retreat instead of a wedding on her books if we go with them for the food?”

“I did that,” Daryl told her. “I stopped by earlier, pretending to want breakfast. Of course, I did have breakfast because I can't imagine walking away from that place without enjoying a meal.”

Kimberly smiled because she was pretty sure the food was only a portion of Daryl's attraction to the Bayou Barbecue.

“You're having fun with this, aren't you?” Drew raised a brow as he pulled off into a shaded parking area along a grove of trees. Daryl stepped out and shot a series of quick pictures, using about ten seconds, total, before he was back in the car, ready to move on.

“I've had to use alternative locations and timing in Music City,” she reminded him. “Not to this extreme, but enough to ensure galas, openings and fan events are as safe as I can make them.”

“You miss it?” Daryl wondered. He met her eyes in the mirror again. “The crazy fun of Nashville, the nice folks, Music Row?”

She had, at first. But now that this wedding had taken over her life, she'd barely thought about Nashville. That was an amazing thirty-six-hour turn-around. “I did. But the more time I'm here, and being kept busy—” she exchanged a smile with Daryl “—I don't. Something about being back home feels right.”

“Even with your daddy bein' sick and all?” Daryl asked.

“Maybe more because of that,” she told him. “Knowing Dad's in a fight for his life makes me more patient with little things.”

“Like sisters?” Drew wondered. Amusement softened his voice. Did that mean she was absolved for the phone mistake? She hoped so, or it could become a long afternoon.

“Like sisters and security men,” she replied. When he smiled, she figured she'd been forgiven. “Drew, how are you handling the change of date with the musicians for the ceremony and the reception? Shelby's using some Nashville favorites and two Manhattan friends. Are they forewarned about the security and are they able to reschedule?”

“Three of them have committed to the new date. The Nashville crowd is tight.” He pulled under a shade tree in the Abbey's parking lot and gave Rocky the go-ahead whistle. “I'm more worried about the two friends from the New York City than the country music crew. But they've been visited by security personnel, so they understand the importance of keeping this quiet.”

“It can't be an easy way to live.” She made the observation softly, not directing it toward either man, but both acknowledged her words.

“It's a practiced art,” Daryl said. “Like anything else, you get used to it.”

Kimberly was pretty sure she'd never get accustomed to living with the security threats. Drew added, “Shelby's doing this for her father, just like you are. Rick's got a shot at a dream, a big dream. Shelby's willing to let his dream rank first on the list. Like you did when you came back to Grace Haven.”

“The out-of-work scenario made my decision easy,” Kimberly told him, but Drew lifted his eyes to hers once he climbed out of the car.

“A lot of people would have made that a reason not to come home, Kimber. They'd have played the out-of-work, need-to-interview cards and settled for daily updates.”

She couldn't imagine turning her back on her parents like that. “Not me.'

“Not everyone's got your philanthropic nature,” he replied. Then he redirected his attention to the perimeter of the site. “Daryl, can you photo frame the exterior? We can map out security ports later. Kimberly and I will do the inside, and then we'll all meet with Tara to touch base on what's been decided.”

“I've got it.”

Daryl moved west as Kimberly and Drew crossed the broad walkway leading to the center chapel doors. “Security ports?”

“Strategic camera stations placed so that I have eyes and ears where they're least expected.”

“You don't mean...”

“Yes, I do. Female and male agents stake everything.”

“Nothing is safe.” She scowled as she rang Tara's bell.

“On the contrary, it's ultrasafe, and, yes, we maintain a presence throughout. But not to spy on people. To ensure safety. And that's a big difference.”

Drew understood the rigidity of security better than most, because he'd lived the downside. Judging by the look on his face, risk was something Drew Slade took very seriously.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“G
ood! You're here!” Tara swung the door wide a few moments later. “Daryl and I did the setup plan yesterday. He did a wonderful job of putting my parents' concerns to rest, and he did amazing things with our website that made it look like ours, but with an overthrow that kicks in when anyone looks at it. They see the coming month's schedule as being full of retreats and an updated news feed for the missions. I don't think anyone would have a thought of the wedding being here.”

“That's the goal.” They sat around the large office table and manually took notes about supplies, deliveries and timing. About an hour in, Tara sat back and stared at them.

“What's wrong?” Drew asked.

“You okay, Tara?” Kimberly reached out a hand to her cousin's arm. “You look pale.”

“I should be pale,” Tara insisted. “And so should you. We're planning every last detail of a very important wedding, with the possible, no—make that
probable
next president of our country, and you two are plowing through like it's nothing. But what if something goes wrong? What if we miss a beat? What if there's a terrorist threat that sneaks through despite your careful planning and watchful eyes planted all over the Abbey and the grounds?”

Drew didn't hesitate. “We shoot 'em.”

Tara stopped talking, dumbstruck, but then she burst out laughing as if his solution was the most normal thing she'd heard all day. “Okay, then. Glad we've got that settled.”

She looked down to reorganize categories on her paper, but Drew touched her arm. She looked up. Mixed emotions played across her face. “First we pray,” he assured her. “Then we prepare. And then we pray again. Most likely nothing will happen. It doesn't usually, or you'd be hearing it on the news, wouldn't you?”

“Or they'd keep it a big, dark secret so we little folks wouldn't worry,” Tara scolded.

Drew burst out laughing. “Put your conspiracy theories on hold, okay? We have to be prepared—that's the simple truth of the matter. Once we've prepped everything, we rarely have to use those preparations. But how bad would it be for us to enter into an event like this unrehearsed?”

“Awful.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Can we see the kitchen setup, the coolers and freezers?”

“Of course.” She walked them into the kitchen, and while Drew took photos and measurements, Tara tugged Kimberly aside. “This isn't making you crazy?”

It wasn't, and Kimberly was more surprised than she wanted to let on. “I thought it would, but no. In fact, it's nice to have Drew and Daryl around to take charge of the security aspects. I used to have to do a lot of that myself. This time, I'm just doing what I'm told.”

Tara's eyes widened. “The Kimberly I know was never big on doing what she was told. Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?”

Kimberly's laugh brought Drew's attention their way, so she lowered her voice but kept her gaze on him, just enough so he'd know they were talking about him. “Well. He's easy on the eyes.”

Tara almost snort-laughed.

“And when he looks at me, it's like looking into the sea on a cloudy day, all grays, greens, bits of brown.”

“A swoon-worthy description,” Tara whispered.

It was, Kimberly realized. “Deservedly so.”

If Drew suspected the subject of their conversation, he gave no indication as he completed his on-site inspection. When he and Daryl had finished up, he shook Tara's hand. “You're being a great sport about all this, Tara. We're grateful.”

“My pleasure,” she told him. He moved down the wide front steps at an easy pace, then paused and turned back. “And it's never a bad thing to be called swoon-worthy, I suppose.”

Tara's eyes went wide. “How did—”

“You heard us?” Kimberly turned, met his grinning gaze and frowned. “How?”

“Secrets of the trade,” he quipped. When he tried to move, Kimberly stopped him in his tracks.

“You carry an amplifier to hear conversations at a distance.”

“Not always.” His smile went broader. “But I thought today would be a good day to test it on-site.”

“I—”

He stopped her tirade with one finger pressed against her mouth. “I had to test the system here to check for interference from kitchen equipment, sensors, Wi-Fi and so on. How did I know you'd be singing my praises? And think of it this way.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and started back down the steps. “That was pretty nice stuff to hear.”

“Maybe I knew you were wired,” Kimberly shot back. “Maybe it was a setup, to see if you were listening.”

He stopped their progress long enough to catch her gaze. Hold it. And, oh, the look in his eyes, the invitation to know him better. All there. For her. But there was too much in their pasts and a flood of uncertainty in their futures. If Kimberly had learned anything recently, it was that she craved certainty. Maybe that's why the thought of joining her friends in marriage had appealed so much. “Then I would say thank you for all the nice words,” Drew told her. “Even if you didn't mean them. But...” He opened her door for her and waited as she climbed in, then closed the door. “I'm stoked because I'm pretty sure you did.”

She had, so what was there to say? Daryl texted that he was near the base of the driveway. When they picked him up there, Kimberly looked at him and laughed. “Nice outfit.”

“Thanks. If anyone asks, I'm ornithologist Byron Ross from USC doing some fieldwork on the nesting habits of migratory East Coast birds.”

“What happens if a real birder stumbles into you while you're scoping things? Can you talk the talk?”

“I can,” Daryl assured her. “Taking on a persona you can't back up can be a suicide mission in undercover work. My daddy loved birding and he took me by his side while I was growing up. It's come in useful a time or two.”

“I'm sure it has. What's next on the agenda?”

“We make note of every garbage can, receptacle, niche, ledge or anything where someone can easily drop a backpack or duffel bag,” Drew told her. “We number them, and each area becomes the responsibility of a team member when they arrive for the presweep in four weeks. But first, we drop you at the lower end of Center Street so you can walk to the florist and make arrangements.”

“All right.” She pulled an electronic notebook out of her purse.

“No electronic footprint, remember?” Drew frowned at her through the rearview mirror.

“It's a dummy account set up because we work with this florist all the time. If I walk in there with a composition book, she's going to know something's up. If I scroll notes into this with no names or dates, I can transfer them later and I don't raise her suspicions.”

“Works for me,” Daryl said. “I have to say it's a real pleasure working with someone who's got some experience in these things.”

“Thank you, Daryl. It's nice to be appreciated by at least some of my coworkers.” She poked Drew in the back.

His laugh said he was unoffended.

“Being a cop's kid and working Music Row gave me an inkling of this. We've sent a lot of red herring cars in and out of concert venues to steer people off track. I'm actually having fun, although I probably shouldn't admit that.”

“Tell me how much fun you're having the week of the event, when every trash can and barrel and flowerpot is scoured repeatedly. Or removed from the areas.” Drew pulled over at the curb a few blocks away from the florist. “Got your cell on?”

“I do.”

“Good. I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay.” She stepped onto the curb, slung her bag over her shoulder and shut the door. He didn't pause or wave or smile. Those actions might draw attention to them, and that was the last thing they wanted to do.

But the simple words
I'll see you tonight
filled her with anticipation.

She was silly. There was nothing between her and Drew. He was leaving as soon as this wedding was completed, and she'd be working in Grace Haven for as long as her parents needed her.

But for just a moment, when he'd tossed that everyday phrase at her, she wondered what it would be like to come home to Drew and Amy every night. To laugh and tease and hang with Drew, a kid and a dog.

The all-American image warmed her, but she refocused her thoughts as she walked into the florist shop. The original order had been for colors of the season, total October.

Today's order was a complete about-face and for a different weekend. If Kimberly played her part well, she'd walk out of the shop in an hour and Priscilla Evans wouldn't be the wiser. She'd messed up by calling Shelby on her personal phone. She wanted the florist do-over to go off without a hitch.

You want Drew to be proud of you.

She did. The admission should have worried her, but the thought of seeing those camo eyes directed her way, smiling, made it all worthwhile.

* * *

Dog days of summer.

Hot and muggy had been the rule of the day late into the afternoon, so Drew brought Amy and Rocky down to the lakeshore for some cool respite.

An incoming text from Rick said he was available for a ten-minute conference call. Amy was delighting Rocky by launching a stick into the water repeatedly, and not minding when the dog gave himself a good shake-off as needed. Drew placed the call from his spot on the edge of a weathered picnic table about thirty feet away. “Rick, it's Drew. What's up?”

“I had a minute and wanted to check in,” Rick answered. “I've read the reports you've sent me, but the sound of your voice is a better indicator of whether I should be concerned or breathe easy.”

“Easy on all counts,” Drew assured him. “Mostly because your daughter and the wedding coordinator are amazingly cooperative and not throwing land mines my way. If this status changes as the date draws close, I may rethink my position.”

Rick laughed. “That's a relief. I know Shelby's putting up a good front here. She's being helpful and supportive, and, man, she's a vote getter. When she talks, the young voters listen. Of course, being engaged to Travis brings in a grassroots segment I might not have won over otherwise, so that's a bonus. Shelby seems okay with all the wedding prep. Linda is another story.”

Drew and Linda Vandeveld got along well as long as he did everything Linda's way. This time, that wasn't about to happen.

“She told me you changed almost everything they'd planned and that Shelby's going along because I'm working her too hard on the campaign trail and she just wants it over and done with.”

“First, you should buy Linda flowers more often because she has to put up with you and me,” Drew told him. “Second, she's right that we changed a lot of things because the family status is different than it was. Shelby understood that, and, according to the wedding planner, Shelby is the number one person we have to please. Third, we're running everything by Shelby so she's part of the decision-making process, but she's letting us have our way, mostly because she thinks your campaign is more important than a wedding.”

“It's not, of course.”

Drew cleared his throat. “When the guest list swells to repay political favors, it loses sheen from a bridal perspective.”

“You think I'm exploiting the occasion.”

“I think you're doing what's expected of the party candidate,” Drew told him frankly. “That doesn't make it wrong.”

“But it does make it expedient.”

“Slightly self-serving.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. What should make you feel better is that Shelby's a great young woman and she doesn't mind because she sees your candidacy as the greater good.”

“What did I do to deserve a kid like that?” Rick asked.

“You raised her to love God and her country. Not a bad combo.”

“We can secure this setting?”

Drew nodded as a familiar shape moved across the nearby intersection, heading toward the lakefront park. The sight of Kimberly in shorts and a tank top made him have to work to keep his attention focused on Rick. “Yes. We'll let the feds worry about
you
. We'll cover the venue.”

“Can we make it seem normal, Drew? Mostly?”

Rick sounded a little tired, or maybe just mad at himself for letting the campaign bump Shelby's wedding to a distant second place. “Yes. We're blessed to have a one-of-a-kind event planner in on this. Her background is in country music and police work, she's worked major events in Nashville and she's got the inside track on the country scene.”

“I can't remember you ever using glowing terms like that in the past.”

“Well, I've never done wedding security for you before.”

Rick's grunt said he wasn't exactly buying Drew's explanation, but he let it go. “Keep me updated as needed. We're stumping at the big arena here tonight, but I wanted to touch base with you and make sure I wasn't overlooking anything with this wedding.”

“We're good. I'll share concerns if there are any. You harvest votes.”

“One last thing. Did I hear you and this event planner suggested barbecue for the reception?”

“We did.”

“My wife is going to ream you. Travis is thrilled. Shelby thought it was a great idea, and all Linda could see was one of Travis's friends slurping barbecue sauce on someone's designer gown.”

“We'll stock the restrooms with stain remover sticks.”

Rick laughed and hung up as Kimberly reached Drew's side. The sight of her in everyday clothing took him back in time. Kimberly had always been the Energizer Bunny Gallagher, on the go, ready to jump into the game of the moment. A total tomboy.

She didn't look like a rough-and-tumble tomboy now, even in the casual attire. She looked...beautiful. A fact he needed to ignore no matter how hard it was. “How'd the florist appointment go?”