Project: Runaway Bride (15 page)

Going up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed as his slipped around her waist to hug her tight, picking her right up off the ground.

“Even if I hadn’t found out I was pregnant,” she said quietly against his neck, “I couldn’t have gone through with the wedding. I don’t want to be married to a man I’m not totally and completely in love with, or one who doesn’t feel that way about me. And the only man I’m totally and completely in love with is you.”

Reid leaned back to meet her gaze, his soft chocolate eyes so warm and inviting that if she was standing on her own two feet, she was pretty sure her knees would have buckled and she’d have melted into a puddle on the floor.

“I’m glad you’re pregnant,” he told her in return. “It will give me an excuse to rush you down the aisle and make sure you’re wearing
my
ring on your finger for the rest of your life.”

“I like that idea,” she said. “Very much.”

“So do I,” he whispered against her lips before taking her mouth in a long, sultry kiss.

When they came up for air, she was boneless and very possibly mindless, as well. They were pressed together from chest to knee, and since he was the only thing keeping her upright at the moment, she hoped they stayed that way forever. Especially when having him wrapped around her like cellophane was one of her favorite pastimes.

“How would you feel about giving me a tour of your bedroom before your family realizes we’re here?” he murmured against her lips. “I’m especially interested in testing out the bed.”

She chuckled. “I think that could be arranged. But you do realize you’re going to have to sit through dinner with my parents afterward, don’t you? And we’re going to have quite a bit of explaining to do.”

Quite a bit, she thought with a silent snort. Talk about a big, fat understatement.

“Whatever it takes to win them over and make you my wife,” he said as she turned and led him by the hand into the bedroom.

Since he wasn’t actually interested in the room itself, he didn’t bother looking around. They went straight to the bed and stood at its edge, facing one another. She tipped her gaze up to his and he lifted a hand to her cheek, stroking back and forth with the pad of his thumb.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance,” he whispered, so close she could smell the last remaining hint of his cologne.

She knew he wasn’t just talking about now; he was talking about the past and the present and the future. A second chance to make right everything that had gone wrong and move forward into the best life either of them could ever have, as long as they were together.

Running her fingers through the silky hair at his temples, she held him tight and touched her forehead to his. “Thank you for not letting me get away.”

“Never,” he promised, his hands flexing at her waist. “Finding people is what I do, sweetheart. And I will
always
find my way back to you.”

Epilogue

J
uliet stood in front of the cheval glass in her bedroom at her parents’ estate. Unlike the last time she’d worn this dress and been about to walk down the aisle, she was smiling. A wide, beaming smile she couldn’t seem to dim or get under control.

She never would have imagined that she could look at the fairy-princess bridal gown her sister had designed for her and be filled with anything but bad memories. Yet here she was, dressed head to toe in the very same crepe and tulle, feeling happier than any woman had a right to be.

As usual, Lily had worked a creative miracle. Rather than ditch her original wedding dress or start from scratch to design another, she had deconstructed the gown to such a degree that pretty much the only thing the two versions had in common was the color—snowy, pristine white—and the basic materials.

She had changed the cap sleeves to narrow straps. Trimmed the skirt so that it no longer belled out but fell straight to the floor, with all of the layers of glorious tulle creating a bustle and train at the back instead. And most important, she’d turned the fitted bodice into more of an Empire waistline to accommodate Juliet’s growing pregnancy.

She wasn’t showing
that
much yet, Juliet hoped, but she was nearly three months along, and the telltale bump of her belly did tend to give her away. The magic Lily had worked with the gown, though, meant no one at the ceremony would know unless she told them, and the pregnancy wouldn’t be noticeable later on in photographs.

Behind her, the door opened. She watched in the mirror as her sisters entered the bedroom from the attached sitting room.

“Whew,” Lily said in an exaggerated tone, closing the door behind them. “She’s still here.”

“We thought you might be considering running away again.”

“Ha-ha,” Juliet replied deadpan, turning from the mirror to face them. “I have no intention of going anywhere until this knot is legally and very officially tied.”

Lily smiled, moving to the vanity to gather the sprigs of fresh flowers that would be woven into Juliet’s hair. “Glad to hear it. I think having you disappear before another one of your weddings would send Mother completely over the edge. She’s down there ordering random guests to keep an eye on all the exits just in case.”

Zoe snorted in amusement, but Juliet felt only a pang of guilt at what she’d put her parents through the last time around. And now again, with more wedding plans and the worry that she wouldn’t follow through this time, either.

She wondered if her groom-to-be might be suffering the same unease.

“What about Reid?” she asked. “Is he expecting me to make a run for it, too?”

“I don’t think so,” Lily answered.

“He’s too busy wearing a path in the study rug and checking his watch every five seconds,” Zoe supplied.

Juliet’s smile slipped a notch, her brows winging downward with a hint of worry. “Is he all right? He’s not having second thoughts, is he?”

That would certainly be an ironic turn of events—the runaway bride finally ready to walk down the aisle only to be left at the altar by a runaway groom.

“I should say not.” This from Lily as she stood at Juliet’s back, arranging the flowers in her upswept hair. “He keeps asking where you are and how much longer until we get this ‘damn show on the road.’”

Juliet chuckled at her sister’s low-throated impression of Reid’s growing impatience. As strange as it might sound, she took the description of his sour mood as encouragement. Clearly, he was as eager as she was to formalize their commitment to each other.

Her hand fell to the small rise of her abdomen, rubbing gently. Things were going to be so much different from this point on, but in the very best ways possible.

Not only were they about to join their lives as husband and wife, but soon they would be welcoming their very own little boy or girl into the world. And rounding out their happily ever after even more, Reid’s son was back in his life.

At her encouragement, he’d contacted the child’s mother. The woman hadn’t been thrilled at first by his unexpected reappearance, but after a series of phone calls, emails and text messages, she’d agreed to let Reid visit Theo. Since then, they’d managed to work out an amicable visitation schedule without getting lawyers and the court involved, and Valerie had even agreed to let Theo attend the wedding. The ten-year-old was going to be their ring bearer, and was absolutely adorable in his tiny tuxedo.

Lily patted her shoulders and turned her to once again face the full-length mirror. “There you go. You look amazing.”

“Even better than last time,” Zoe added from where she was leaning against one of the tall bedposts. She was twisting one foot back and forth on the four-inch heel of her self-designed bridesmaid shoe and idly checking her French tips.

“Thank you,” Juliet said, used to Zoe’s preoccupied manner.

“Ready to go?” Lily asked, handing her an artfully arranged bouquet of red and white roses wrapped in lace and interspersed with sparkling crystals that matched the ones on Juliet’s gown.

“Oh, yes.”

The smile was back on her face as the three of them left her suite of rooms and walked slowly through the house to the base of the winding stairwell. Lily made her stop and wait for a few minutes while Zoe ran ahead to tell their father the ceremony could start. It was his job to give Reid the go-ahead to take his place with the minister before returning to walk Juliet down the aisle.

A second later, the music began, played by a ten-piece orchestra set up in the backyard. Her mother—once she’d gotten over Juliet’s first failed wedding attempt and learned she was going to be a grandmother—had gone all out, taking over 100 percent of the wedding preparations as though she was a born event planner. She’d decided on the music and the flowers and the food for the reception, as well as converting the entire rear of the estate into a bridal tableau fit for a queen.

As stunning as it was, however, and as beautiful as she knew it would look in the pictures, Juliet didn’t particularly care about the backdrop of the ceremony. All she wanted was to become Mrs. Reid McCormack, regardless of the day or time, who was in attendance or how nice their surroundings might be.

To the lovely instrumental strains of “The Wedding March,” Juliet walked down the white fabric aisle on her father’s arm. Tears of happiness prickled her eyes as she saw Reid waiting for her at the end, standing so straight and tall in his tailored black tuxedo. The lines of his handsome face softened with love as he looked back at her.

Finally, she was there, accepting a peck on the cheek from her father as he handed her over—physically and symbolically—to her husband-to-be. Reid clasped her fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze as he smiled down at her.

“You made it,” he said softly, speaking directly to her despite the fact that the minister stood only inches away, waiting to begin, and more than a hundred guests were looking on in anticipation of the exchange of vows. “I didn’t even have to run after you this time.”

She gave a small shake of her head. “No more running,” she promised. “Not when I’m exactly where I want to be.”

If possible, his smile widened even more. And then, before the minister could say a word, before he’d gotten even close to pronouncing, “You may now kiss the bride,” Reid pulled her close and did just that.

* * * * *

If you loved this story, don’t miss a single novel in
PROJECT: PASSION
,
a series from
USA TODAY
bestselling author Heidi Betts:

PROJECT: RUNAWAY HEIRESS

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One

E
lliot Starc had faced danger his whole life. First at the hands of his heavy-fisted father. Later as a Formula One race car driver who used his world travels to feed information to Interpol.

But he’d never expected to be kidnapped. Especially not in the middle of his best friend’s bachelor party.

Mad as hell, Elliot struggled back to consciousness, only to realize his wrists were cuffed. Numb. He struggled against the restraints while trying to get his bearings, but his brain was still disoriented. Last he remembered, he’d been in Atlanta, Georgia, at a bachelor party and now he was cuffed and blindfolded, for God’s sake. What the hell? He only knew that he was in the back of a vehicle that smelled of leather and luxury. Noise offered him little to go on. Just the purr of a finely tuned engine. The pop of an opening soda can. A low hum of music so faint it must be on a headset.

“He’s awake,” a deep voice whispered softly, too softly to be identified.

“Damn it,” another voice hissed.

“Hey,” Elliot shouted, except it wasn’t a shout. More of a hoarse croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Whatever the hell is going on here, we can talk ransom—”

A long buzz sounded. Unmistakable. The closing of a privacy window. Then silence. Solitude, no chance of shouting jack to anyone in this...

A limo, perhaps? Who kidnapped someone using a limousine?

Once they stopped, he would be ready, though. The second he could see, he wouldn’t even need his hands. He was trained in seven different forms of self-defense. He could use his feet, his shoulders and his body weight.

He would be damned before he let himself ever be helpless in a fight.

They’d pulled off an interstate at least twenty minutes ago, driving into the country as best he could tell. He had no way of judging north, south or west. He could be anywhere from Florida to Mississippi to South Carolina, and God knows he had enemies in every part of the world from his work with Interpol and his triumphs over competitors in the racing world.

And he had plenty of pissed-off ex-girlfriends.... He winced at the thought of females and Carolina so close together. Home. Too many memories. Bad ones—with just a single bright spot in the form of Lucy Ann Joyner, but he’d wrecked even that.

Crap.

Back to the present. Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the blindfold, sparking behind his eyes like shards of glinting glass.

One thing was certain. This car had good shock absorbers. Otherwise the rutted road they were traveling would have rattled his teeth.

Although his teeth were clenched mighty damn tight right now.

Even now, he still couldn’t figure out how he’d been blindsided near the end of Rowan Boothe’s bachelor party in an Atlanta casino. Elliot had ducked into the back to find a vintage Scotch. Before he could wrap his hand around the neck of the bottle, someone had knocked him out.

If only he knew the motive for his kidnapping. Was someone after his money? Or had someone uncovered his secret dealings with Interpol? If so, did they plan to exploit that connection?

He’d lived his life to the fullest, determined to do better than his wrong-side-of-the-tracks upbringing. He only had one regret: how his lifelong friendship with Lucy Ann had crashed and burned more fiercely than when he’d been sideswiped at the Australian Grand Prix last year—

The car jerked to a halt. He braced his feet to keep from rolling off onto the floor. He forced himself to stay relaxed so his abductors would think he was still asleep.

His muscles tensed for action, eager for the opportunity to confront his adversaries. Ready to pay back. He was trained from his work with Interpol, with lightning-fast instincts honed in his racing career. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Since he’d left his dirt-poor roots behind, he’d been beating the odds. He’d dodged juvie by landing in a military reform school where he’d connected with a lifelong group of friends. Misfits like himself who disdained rules while living by a strict code of justice. They’d grown up to take different life paths, but stayed connected through their friendship and freelance work for Interpol. Not that they’d been much help to him while someone was nabbing him a few feet away from the bachelor party they were all attending.

The car door opened and someone leaned over him. Something tugged at the back of his brain, a sense that he should know this person. He scrambled to untangle the mystery before it was too late.

His blindfold was tugged up and off, and he took in the inside of a black limo, just as he’d suspected. His abductors, however, were a total surprise.

“Hello, Elliot, my man,” said his old high school pal Malcolm Douglas, who’d asked him to fetch that bottle of Scotch back at the bachelor party. “Waking up okay?”

Conrad Hughes—another traitorous bastard friend—patted his face. “You look plenty awake to me.”

Elliot bit back a curse. He’d been kidnapped by his own comrades from the bachelor party. “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on here?”

He eyed Conrad and Malcolm, both of whom had been living it up with him at the casino well past midnight. Morning sunshine streamed over them, oak trees sprawling behind them. The scent of Carolina jasmine carried on the breeze. Why were they taking him on this strange road trip?

“Well?” he pressed again when neither of them answered. “What the hell are you two up to?” he asked, his anger barely contained. He wanted to kick their asses. “I hope you have a good reason for taking me out to the middle of nowhere.”

Conrad clapped him on the back. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Elliot angled out of the car, hard as hell with his hands cuffed in front of him. His loafers hit the dirt road, rocks and dust shifting under his feet as he stood in the middle of nowhere in a dense forest of pines and oaks. “You’ll tell me now or I’ll beat the crap out of both of you.”

Malcolm lounged against the side of the black stretch limo. “Good luck trying with your hands cuffed. Keep talking like that and we’ll hang on to the key for a good long while.”

“Ha—funny—not.” Elliot ground his teeth in frustration. “Isn’t it supposed to be the groom who gets pranked?”

Conrad grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. Rowan should be waking up and finding his new tattoo right about now.”

Extending his cuffed wrists, Elliot asked, “And the reason for this? I’m not the one getting married.”

Ever.

Malcolm pushed away, jerking his head to the side, gesturing toward the path leading into the dense cluster of more pine trees with an occasional magnolia reaching for the sun. “Instead of telling you why, we’ll just let you look. Walk with us.”

As if he had any choice. His friends clearly had some kind of game planned and they intended to see it through regardless. Sure, he’d been in a bear of a mood since his breakup with Gianna. Hell, even before that. Since Lucy Ann had quit her job as his assistant and walked out of his life for good.

God, he really needed to pour out some frustration behind the wheel, full out, racing to...anywhere.

A few steps deeper into the woods, his blood hummed with recognition. The land was more mature than the last time he’d been here, but he knew the area well enough. Home. Or rather it used to be home, back when he was a poor kid with a drunken father. This small South Carolina farm town outside of Columbia had been called God’s land.

Elliot considered it a corner of hell.

Although hell was brimming with sunshine today.

He stepped toward a clearing and onto a familiar dirt driveway, with a ranch-style cabin and a fat oak at least a hundred years old in the middle. A tree he’d played under as a kid, wishing he could stay here forever because this little haven in hell was a lot safer than his home.

He’d hidden with Lucy Ann Joyner here at her aunt’s farmhouse. Both of them enjoying the sanctuary of this place, even if only for a few hours. Why were his buds taking him down this memory lane detour?

Branches rustled, a creaking sound carrying on the breeze, drawing his gaze. A swing dangled from a thick branch, moving back and forth as a woman swayed, her back to them. He stopped cold. Suddenly the meaning of this journey was crystal clear. His friends were forcing a confrontation eleven months in the making since he and Lucy Ann were both too stubborn to take the first step.

Did she know he was coming? He swallowed hard at the notion that maybe she wanted him here after all. That her decision to slice him out of her life had changed. But if she had, then why not just drive up to the house?

He wasn’t sure the past year could be that easily forgotten, but his gut twisted tight over just the thought of talking to her again.

His eyes soaked in the sight of her, taking her in like parched earth with water. He stared at the slim feminine back, the light brown hair swishing just past her shoulders. Damn, but it had been a long eleven months without her. His lifelong pal had bolted after one reckless— incredible—night that had ruined their friendship forever.

He’d given her space and still hadn’t heard from her. In the span of a day, the one person he’d trusted above everyone else had cut him off. He’d never let anyone get that close to him—not even his friends from the military reform school. He and Lucy Ann had a history, a shared link that went beyond a regular friendship.

Or so he’d thought.

As if drawn by a magnet, he walked closer to the swing, to the woman. His hands still linked in front of him, he moved silently, watching her. The bared lines of her throat evoked memories of her jasmine scent. The way her dress slipped ever so slightly off one shoulder reminded him of years past when she’d worn hand-me-downs from neighbors.

The rope tugged at the branch as she toe-tapped, back and forth. A gust of wind turned the swing spinning to face him.

His feet stumbled to a halt.

Yes, it was Lucy Ann, but not just her. Lucy Ann stared back at him with wide eyes, shocked eyes. She’d clearly been kept every bit as much in the dark as he had. Before he could finish processing his disappointment that she hadn’t helped arrange this, his eyes took in the biggest shocker of all.

Lucy Ann’s arms were curved around an infant swaddled in a blue plaid blanket as she breast-fed him.

* * *

Lucy Ann clutched her baby boy to her chest and stared in shock at Elliot Starc, her childhood friend, her former boss. Her onetime lover.

The father of her child.

She’d scripted the moment she would tell him about their son a million times in her mind, but never had it played out like this, with him showing up out of the blue. Handcuffed? Clearly, he hadn’t planned on coming to see her. She’d tempted fate in waiting so long to tell him, then he’d pulled one of his disappearing acts and she couldn’t find him.

Now there was no avoiding him.

Part of her ached to run to Elliot and trust in the friendship they’d once shared, a friendship built here, in the wooded farmland outside Columbia, South Carolina. But another part of her—the part that saw his two friends lurking and the handcuffs on her old pal—told her all she needed to know. Elliot hadn’t suddenly seen the light and come running to apologize for being a first-class jerk. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming.

Well, screw him. She had her pride, too.

Only the baby in her arms kept her from bolting altogether into her aunt’s cabin up the hill. Lucy Ann eased Eli from her breast and adjusted her clothes in place. Shifting her son to her shoulder, she patted his back, her eyes staying locked on Elliot, trying to gauge his mood.

The way his eyes narrowed told her loud and clear that she couldn’t delay her explanation any longer. She should have told him about Eli sooner. In the early days of her pregnancy, she’d tried and chickened out. Then she’d gotten angry over his speedy rebound engagement to the goddess Gianna, and that made it easier to keep her distance a while longer. She wouldn’t be the cause of breaking up his engagement—rat bastard. She would tell him once he was married and wouldn’t feel obligated to offer her anything. Even though the thought of him marrying that too-perfect bombshell heiress made her vaguely nauseous.

Now, Elliot was here, so damn tall and muscular, his sandy brown hair closely shorn. His shoulders filled out the black button-down shirt, his jeans slung low on his hips. His five o’clock shadow and narrowed green eyes gave him a bad-boy air he’d worked his whole life to live up to.

She knew every inch of him, down to a scar on his elbow he’d told everyone he got from falling off his bike but he’d really gotten from the buckle on his father’s belt during a beating. They shared so much history, and now they shared a child.

Standing, she pulled her gaze from him and focused on his old boarding school friends behind him, brooding Conrad Hughes and charmer Malcolm Douglas. Of course they’d dragged him here. These days both of them had sunk so deep into a pool of marital bliss, they seemed to think everyone else wanted to plunge in headfirst. No doubt they’d brought Elliot here with just that in mind.

Not a freakin’ chance.

She wasn’t even interested in dipping her toes into those waters and certainly not with Elliot, the biggest playboy in the free world.

“Gentlemen, do you think you could uncuff him, then leave so he and I can talk civilly?”

Conrad—a casino owner—fished out a key from his pocket and held it up. “Can do.” He looked at Elliot. “I trust you’re not going to do anything stupid like try to start a fight over our little prank here.”

Prank? This was her life and they were playing with it. Anger sparked in her veins.

Elliot pulled a tight smile. “Of course not. I’m outnumbered. Now just undo the handcuffs. My arms are too numb to hit either of you anyway.”

Malcolm plucked the keys from Conrad and opened the cuffs. Elliot massaged his wrists for a moment, still silent, then stretched his arms over his head.

Did he have to keep getting hotter every year? Especially not fair when she hadn’t even had time to shower since yesterday thanks to her son’s erratic sleeping schedule.

Moistening her dry mouth, Lucy Ann searched for a way to dispel the awkward air. “Malcolm, Conrad, I realize you meant well with this, but perhaps it’s time for you both to leave. Elliot and I clearly have some things to discuss.”