My Best Friend's Bride (16 page)

Cassandra pulled down a couple of branches between them to view his face more fully. It actually wasn’t a bad face, given his name and all. While it was thin, he had square cheekbones and a relatively firm jaw. “I am none of your business,” she answered smartly.

He studied her a moment, then recognition sparked in eyes. “Cassandra Evans. Yes, of course.”

She gave him a suspicious perusal. “How do you know who I am?”

“You’re with
Tempo Beat
magazine. You’ve got your own column and I read it.” Cassandra stared at him in surprise. “I’ve got to say, it’s quite good. What’s the new piece you’re working on, I wonder?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss it.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

The movers closed the back of their truck with a loud bang and Mauve glanced over his shoulder, surreptitiously raising his camera and snapping a shot. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here, exactly? Don’t tell me you’re a naturalist?”

He laughed roughly, almost like someone on the verge of bronchitis. “Hardly that. I’m much more comfortable indoors.”

“My question stands.” Cassandra inched closer, trying to get a better view of him through the leaves and branches, but all she came up with was a poorly dressed man with a camera and bland brown hair. Then the obvious answer occurred to her. “You’re trying to scoop me, aren’t you?”

A puzzled look passed over his face. “Scoop you?”

“You’re a writer. All right. Come on, spill. Who do you work for?”

“Now it’s my turn to say, none of your business.”

Cassandra fumed. “I’ll report you, you know.”

“For what offense?”

“Spying on Hunter’s apartment.”

“Then I’ll report you back.” This guy was highly annoying. Cassandra could practically feel the steam blowing out of her ears. She couldn’t afford to have anyone scoop her on this story. At the moment, it was the biggest thing she had. They were making cutbacks at
Tempo Beat
and even the regular columnists no longer felt their jobs were secure. Many had already been let go and had been reduced to becoming freelancers, having to eke out a living piecemeal by taking work here and there and patching assignments together.

The moving van pulled away and Mauve tucked his camera in his pocket. “If you’re not trying to scoop me,” Cassandra asked, “then why not share what your interest is in Hunter Delaney?”

Mauve shrugged mildly, apparently deciding telling Cassandra this much didn’t make any difference. “Let’s just say someone at Abrams Advertising has an interest in knowing how this marriage is going.”

Cassandra sucked in a gasp. “You’re a private investigator?”

“One of Sugar Hollow’s finest.” Well, that didn’t say a lot, but Cassandra decided not to mention it, thinking it best not to offend this guy. You never knew when someone like him might prove useful.

Cassandra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and batted her big eyes at Mauve. “Where are you headed next?”

He flushed brightly and took a step back, removing himself from the shelter of the foliage. In the full morning light, he cut a slightly better form that he had while shrouded in leaves. He wasn’t great-looking, but then again he wasn’t terrible-looking either. Perhaps he had a good personality. “I…” Mauve glanced around uncertainly before continuing. “I was headed to the moving destination, of course.”

“What a
co-ink-ee-dink
!” Cassandra grinned brightly. “I’m headed to Jill’s house too. The only thing is…” She paused to set her teeth against her crimson-colored thumbnail. “My car’s running very low on gas.”

Mauve stared at her and blinked. “Well, um… That’s really too bad. I wish I could—”

“Why, thank you!” Cassandra yelped, startling him. “I’d love to ride with you!”

“But I didn’t say—”

“No need to look at it as a date or anything!”

“A da…date?” Mauve’s Adam’s apple rose and fell. The poor guy probably hadn’t had one in a decade.

“No worries, Mauve. I’m sure you wouldn’t try anything improper.” Cassandra sashayed out from behind the bushes, revealing her full, feminine figure. Thank goodness she’d dressed well today in a miniskirt and flats with a cute matching T-shirt.
I mean, seriously. What guy could resist me?
She linked her arm through his, steering him in the direction of what was apparently his car: an old-model clunker. Oh well, one couldn’t have everything. Mauve ambled along beside her as if in a daze.
 

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” he said.

“Sure it is!” she replied with confidence. “You and I go and see what’s up at Jill’s, then I’ll ask you out for coffee.”

His chin quivered. “But not on a da—?”

Cassandra swatted his arm with her hand. “Of course not, you silly man. But we could call it a little get-together.” She shot him a saucy wink. “An opportunity to compare notes?”

Mauve nodded and said something barely intelligible like, “I g…guess that would be all right,” his face hot pink. Oh, this was going to be easy, Cassandra thought. Way too easy. Like taking candy from a baby.

Morgan rolled off the floor and positioned herself on all fours when she heard the moving van pull into the drive. “You’ve been a good girl,” she said patting Fifi on the head. She reached for Mimi, but the cat had scampered away the moment he’d heard tires crunch on gravel. Morgan had been playing with the pets by pretending to be one of them, lying belly down on the carpet and swatting a tennis ball around with the dog and the cat.
If the folks in New York could see me now.
Morgan got to her feet and dusted off her sweats just as the doorbell rang. She opened the door, expecting to see the movers. Instead, Brad and some other man stood on the stoop. Another man who was—whoa!—
very good-looking.
He stood just under six feet with a nicely toned frame outlined by a T-shirt and jeans. His face was suntanned and his hair was tawny. He studied her curiously with gorgeous green eyes, and for a split second Morgan felt faint.

“Morgan,” Brad said in a friendly tone. “This is Susan’s older brother, Owen. I don’t believe the two of you’ve met?”

Morgan self-consciously adjusted her bandanna headband. “No.” She quickly extended her hand, noticing that the sleeve of her sweatshirt was coated in dog hair. “Not yet!”

Owen shook her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Morgan.”

“Same,” she somehow managed to say. Susan had a brother? Since when? Morgan was sure she’d managed to avoid every man in this town. Every man that Jill said lived here.

“Owen offered to lend a hand, in case there’s anything here that needs rearranging once Hunter’s stuff gets moved in.”

“That’s very nice of you, Owen.”

Owen smiled and Morgan had to steady herself against the back of the couch. “Anything for a friend.”

Brad thumbed out the door toward the moving van. The movers had climbed out of the cab and were opening the back of the truck. Was it Morgan’s imagination, or had a clunky old car just pulled into the drive of the house next door? Jill’s house was set back from the road and the neighbor’s house was quite a ways over, so it wasn’t too easy to see. Still, Morgan thought that was strange. Jill had told her the neighbors used that house as a country home and were rarely there, except for during the months of July and August. “They’ve got quite a lot to bring inside,” Brad told her. “Where should we tell them to put the stuff?”

Morgan glanced around, unsure of the answer. “Why not say to put it all in here initially. With you and Owen around to help…” She paused to smile sweetly at Owen before realizing with humiliation she was acting like a giddy teenager. “Um… We can divide everything up among the appropriate rooms once they’ve gone.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Brad said. “We’re only dealing with boxes anyway.”

“That and a few suitcases,” Owen added.

“Yep,” Brad agreed mysteriously. “There are a few of those.”

Forty-five minutes later, Morgan stared aghast at the jam-packed living room with boxes stacked floor to ceiling. “What was Hunter thinking?” she pondered aloud.

Brad shrugged. “I guess that he was moving in. Just be glad he didn’t bring any furniture.”

“Then what do you call that?” Morgan asked, pointing to the enormous wide-screen TV that practically dwarfed the room.

“An appliance?” Brad ventured.

Owen rumbled a laugh. “Why don’t we haul some of these suitcases into the room where Hunter’s staying? That should clear up some space in here.”

That was another thing, Morgan thought, grabbing two separate hanging bags and leading the way. Why in the world did Hunter have so many clothes? Poor Jill had no idea what she’d be coming home to.

“Don’t worry,” Owen said, trying to reassure her. “The boxes on the porch aren’t nearly as large.”

“On the porch?” Morgan’s voice rose in a shriek. “You mean there’s
more
?” Fifi trailed eagerly behind her, hugging her heels every step of the way. The cat hadn’t been seen for a while. Presumably, he was hiding.

Brad passed her in the hall as he headed back to the living room for more luggage. “And they say women have baggage,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Hey!” Morgan shouted over her shoulder.
 

Owen set down his load, then took the hanging bags from Morgan’s hands. “Should I hang these in the closet?”

“If you can find room.”

Owen pulled back the pint-size door and surveyed the very tight space. “I see what you mean.” He hung one bag easily, then had to jimmy the second one in to wedge it in place.

“Do you have that many clothes?” Morgan asked him blithely.

“Most days I don’t wear much at all.”

A picture of that flashed through Morgan’s mind and her face burned hot.

“What I mean is…” he said in a rush, “I’m fairly casual.” He motioned to his T-shirt and jeans. “What you see is what you get.”

“You’re not a teacher like Susan and Brad?”

“Actually, I’m in publishing.”

“Publishing?” Morgan echoed in a whisper, that odd sensation of vertigo overtaking her again. Perhaps skipping breakfast had been a bad idea. “In Sugar Hollow?”

“Manhattan,” he said with a grin. “I’m just here visiting family.”

Morgan collected herself enough to say just as casually as she could, “My, isn’t it a small world?”

His green eyes twinkled. “How small?”

“You guys just about done in—?” Brad fell silent when he saw Morgan and Owen staring at each other. “Oh!” Then he studied the situation more carefully and repeated, but with a different, knowing
intonation, “
Oh
…”
 

Owen attempted to sound casual. “We were just discussing publishing.”

“Yeah,” Brad said, his eyes lighting with mischief. “How interesting is that? Both you and Morgan being in the same profession?”

“What?” Owen asked. He viewed Morgan with renewed admiration, apparently pleased. “Is that a fact?

“I’m an agent,” Morgan said. “Jill’s agent. That’s how we met. Now, we’re also very good friends.”

“You live in Sugar Hollow?” Owen asked, evidently surprised. “What made you leave New York?”

Morgan waved her hand in the air. “Oh, this and that. Nothing terribly important.”

“Perhaps she wanted a more bucolic lifestyle?” Brad offered. “A pace a little less hurried?”

“Yes, exactly!” Morgan said, latching on to Brad’s brilliant summation.

Owen grinned in her direction. “I never imagined meeting anyone in my field here. We probably have some contacts in common.”

Brad nodded, liking the sound of this. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, Owen.”

“What is?” he asked, turning to Brad in surprise.

“Having Morgan join us and Susan for lunch. We were going to that new Mexican cantina,” he told Morgan. “You do like Mexican?”

“Love it, but…” She glanced at her clothes with an embarrassed flush. “What time were you thinking of going?”

“We were going to give Susan a call when we finished up here. Once we leave, why don’t you take a moment to clean up and join us when you’re ready?”

“If you’re sure…” She peeked uncertainly at Owen. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude on Owen’s time with his sister.”

“Honestly, Morgan,” Owen told her. “It would be a relief to have your company. It can get pretty overwhelming being with those lovebirds sometimes.” When he said the word
lovebirds
, Owen rolled his eyes at Brad and Morgan giggled.

“Well, all right,” Morgan said cheerily. “If you gentlemen insist.”

Mauve called to Cassandra as they scampered toward his car. “Hurry! The van is about to pull away.”

They scrambled back into their seats and fastened their seatbelts. Both were panting and slightly out of breath. A heady sense of euphoria overtook Cassandra. Somehow the hunt seemed a tad more thrilling with a companion along. Cassandra had always worked solo and had never had a partner. Not that Mauve was her partner or anything like that. He was merely an acquaintance, a private eye investigating none other than Hunter Delaney. Once they’d hunkered down in the hedges together, recording the unloading of Hunter’s things, Mauve had been all-too-happy to spill. Perhaps his line of work got a little lonely too. “So, are you satisfied?” he asked her.

“Satisfied that Hunter moved quite a bit of stuff into Jill’s house, yes.”

“Then why do you still look unconvinced about their union?”

“It came up very quickly,” Cassandra said.

“There was another man in place before,” Mauve answered.

“Jill’s childhood friend Brad. I always wondered about that one. Somehow it didn’t seem right.” Cassandra pulled a tissue from her purse to dab her neck and hairline, hoping she was perspiring lightly rather than sweating profusely. Not that Mauve seemed the type to mind. His brow was soaked completely. He was viewing her in a funny way, but Cassandra couldn’t quite read it.
 

“I say we forget the coffee,” Mauve said, “and go for something cooler.”

“Smoothies?” she suggested.

Mauve surprised her with a quirky grin. “I was thinking more like margaritas.”

For some reason his sudden invitation pleased her. “Why, Mauve!” she fake protested. “In the middle of the day?”