Lori Wilde - There Goes The Bride (12 page)

“That’s lovely. My fiancé is away helping poor children to have a better life, and you want me to screw around on him with some cocky cop.”

“I didn’t say screw around on him.”

“It’s what you meant.” Delaney glared at her.

“I’m going to go now. You’re upset and need time to think. Besides, your alarm clock is about to go off.” Skylar started fading away, getting smaller and smaller, dimmer and dimmer.

She lay there, watching Skylar go until her glass slippers were all that remained.

Her sister was right. She couldn’t back out of the job. Lucia was counting on her. She was such a sweet woman, and she’d just lost her husband. It would be wrong to go back on her word now.

Delaney blew out a breath. One way or the other, she would just have to suck it up and learn to suppress her lusty feelings for the sexy Mr. Nick Vinetti.

Chapter 6

H
oney Montgomery Cartwright ran a lint roller over her peach-colored Italian silk suit even though she’d just taken it from the dry cleaner’s bag. She checked the sticky roller paper and spied a hint of fuzz. Hmm. She made a mental note to change dry cleaners. Clearly, they were not doing the job she’d paid them to do.

Squaring her shoulders, she double-checked her teeth in the bathroom mirror. She’d already flossed and brushed twice this morning, but she wanted to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She was having lunch with Delaney’s future mother-in-law, Lenore Van Zandt, to discuss preparations for the wedding rehearsal dinner. Lenore, a noisy chatterbox, made Honey nervous, but she’d be damned if she would show it.

She scrutinized her reflection. Fifty-three, but none of her friends would ever guess it. Honey considered herself both smart and lucky. She religiously avoided the sun, worked out two hours a day, six days a week, spent a small annual fortune on antiaging potions and creams, and she had her dermatologist programmed on speed-dial.

When they were dating, James Robert had said that with Honey’s platinum blond hair, high cheekbones, flawless complexion, well-toned body, and rigorous self-discipline, she was like Princess Grace in boot camp. These days, he no longer commented on her looks, just grunted and asked her how much her spa treatments had set him back. As if he didn’t clear twenty million a year. What was it about the ultrarich that made them such tightwads?

Resolutely pushing thoughts of her husband aside, Honey snugged the clasp of a three-carat diamond and emerald necklace around her neck, added matching earrings, and then bestowed her mirror image with her most brilliant, practiced smile.

There. Everything was perfect.

No one, especially not her husband of thirty-four years, would ever guess the real truth.

With a regal toss of her head, she walked like a runway model down the stairs of the sweeping Colonial-style mansion that had been in James Robert’s family for three generations. Her four-inch heels clicked smartly against the granite tile. She might be over fifty, but she wasn’t over the hill. Honey refused to trade in her Manolo Blahniks for Birkenstocks. She would rather break a hip first.

She grabbed a bottle of Evian on her way out the door. Honey carried bottled water wherever she went. She was convinced that was one of the reasons she had such a youthful complexion. Sauntering out to the garage, she paused a moment to smooth down her skirt before sliding across the Cadillac’s plush leather seats. Once outside the security gate, she stopped to pick up the mail. Leaving the engine running with the air-conditioning blasting, she minced to the mailbox, collected the day’s correspondence, and got back inside.

Quickly she leafed through the pile. Bills, a sales circular, a party invitation, a couple of catalogs, a fitness magazine.

And then she found it.

A plain white envelope with no return address or postmark. Her name was printed in block letters with a primitive hand.

It hadn’t been mailed. Someone had placed it in their mailbox.

Honey sucked in her breath, flipped the letter over, and tentatively slipped a fingernail underneath the envelope flap. She opened it up and pulled out the sheet of notepaper.

I KNOW YOUR SECRET. IF YOU DON’T WANT YOUR HUSBAND TO FIND OUT THE TRUTH, COME TO THE ENTRANCE TO THE GALVESTON ISLAND AMUSEMENT PARK ON SEAWALL BOULEVARD. NOON TOMORROW. BRING TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN CASH.

That was it. No signature. Nothing else.

Feeling fragile as a dried-up autumn leaf, Honey stared at the note, not wanting to understand what she was reading. Someone had learned her terrible truth.

The past had caught up with her at last.

Air left her lungs. She gasped, felt the color drain from her face.

The deception had started out as nothing more than a little white lie, but it had become Honey’s entire life. Day by day, for thirty-four years, she’d steeped in her secret until it eventually permeated every corner of her soul.

Hand over her mouth, Honey flung open the car door and, contrary to the ladylike delicacy she’d perfected over the years, vomited in the gravel.

When she was finished, she rinsed her mouth with the Evian and in a great inhalation of breath calmly drove to her luncheon date with Lenore. The blackmail note she crumpled and stuffed in the glove compartment.

She didn’t want to go, but if she didn’t show up, Lenore would wonder why. And Honey had spent a lifetime doing her best to keep people from wondering about her. As she searched for a parking place, dark questions plagued.

Who had sent the letter? Why had this person only asked for twenty thousand? And after all these years, how had he or she managed to track her down?

She could guess the answer to the last question. The blackmailer must have seen her picture with Delaney in the recent
Society Bride
article on society weddings. Why, oh, why had she allowed herself to be photographed for a national magazine?

Her stomach roiled again and she closed her eyes, fighting back the nausea. So much time had passed, she’d foolishly thought she was safe.

Idiot. You can never, ever let down your guard. There’s no room for mistakes. Not now, not ever.

Not with the secret she harbored.

But here was this letter, threatening to ruin the life she’d built. Threatening to destroy not only her marriage, but her daughter’s chance at happiness. Honey simply could not allow that to happen.

She would meet with the blackmailer and she would pay.

What other choice did she have?

The following day, Delaney took Tish with her to video Lucia’s house.

Luckily, Tish had been able to rearrange her schedule so she could film the “before” video of the house so Delaney and Lucia’s family could get started on the renovations as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence, both for Lucia’s financial situation and for entry in the
American Home Design
contest. They had four weeks to get the house renovated and decorated before the July 9 deadline.

When they arrived at Lucia’s house, Delaney was surprised to find so many cars in the driveway. She parked along the curb behind Nick’s red pickup truck, and her stomach did a loopy little swoon.

She spun her engagement ring on her finger.
Remember what you swore to yourself last night? Get over your attraction to the guy. You’re taken.

“This house totally rocks,” Tish exclaimed. “I can see why you’re so excited. It’s got such great potential.”

“I know,” Delaney breathed.

Tish collected her equipment while Delaney gathered up the briefcase chock-full of plans, computer printouts, and sketches she’d prepared after she’d returned home the night before. Tish filmed everything as they went up the walkway. The tiled roof, the palm trees, the pink flamingos on the lawn.

Delaney rang the doorbell and a gorgeous black-haired woman in her late twenties, with coltishly long legs, answered the door. She looked a lot like Nick, possessing the same intelligent brown eyes and long, thick, dark lashes.

“Hi,” she said, greeting them. “You must be Delaney. I’m Gina, Nick’s baby sister; come on in. Most everyone is in the kitchen waiting for you to film the house before we start packing up Nana’s things.”

“Packing?” Delaney asked.

“Nana’s moving over to Trudie’s while the renovations are going on. She put a retainer down on the condo this morning, and Nick’s taking her to apply for a bank loan tomorrow afternoon. With any luck, you guys will be finished renovating this house before she has to close on the condo.”

Feeling concerned that Gina had unrealistic expectations about what she could achieve, Delaney touched the other woman’s arm. “You do understand that the house might not sell immediately.”

“Don’t be modest. Nana and Trudie swear you’re a miracle worker. Our family has complete faith in you.”

Did that include Nick? she wondered. Yesterday, he hadn’t struck her as being very trusting.

“That’s more than you can say about your own mother,” Tish whispered to Delaney as they followed Gina into the kitchen.

They found the place pleasantly chaotic with a dozen people all talking, teasing, and laughing at once.

“This is Delaney, everyone,” Gina introduced her.

They all applauded.

Delaney blushed.

Gina introduced her to everyone. Cousins and siblings, aunts and uncles, plus Gina’s own identical twin seven-year-old boys, Zack and Jack.

There were too many Vinettis for Delaney to keep straight. But she was happy to meet Nick’s dad. Vincent Vinetti was a big bear of a man who owned his own shrimp boat and was still handsome in middle age. He clapped her on the shoulder. “We appreciate so much what you’re doing for my mother.”

Some of the relatives hugged her. Some shook her hand. They all told her how much they valued her help. Oddly, she felt more welcome in this roomful of strangers than she did in her own home.

That wasn’t fair. By nature her family just weren’t huggers and touchers. They didn’t get together in big groups, although her father’s brothers and their children lived in the Houston area. She should not compare the phlegmatic Cartwrights to the lively Vinettis. It was apples and persimmons.

Delaney introduced Tish, and she also received a rousing welcome.

“Jeez.” Tish pulled Delaney aside. “You didn’t tell me you’d formed your own fan club.”

“What can I say? They’re an affectionate group.”

“Apparently. Can you keep the fan club entertained while I start filming the house unencumbered by onlookers?” Tish asked.

“I’ll handle it.”

With her camera rolling, Tish disappeared back the way they’d come in.

“Where’s Nick?” Delaney found herself asking Gina, then cringed inwardly. Why had she asked about him?

“He went with my husband, Chuck, to rent a moving van.”

Well, that was a relief. She had a little extra time to compose herself before she saw Nick again.

Delaney’s eyes found Lucia’s in the crowded room and she held up her briefcase. “I’ve got the renovation plans with me to show everyone.”

“Tony, get up, please,” Lucia instructed the lanky young man in his late teens sitting to her right. “Let Delaney sit here.”

Tony popped up and Lucia patted the chair beside her. “Sit, sit.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Gina asked Delaney as she settled in next to Lucia.

“A cannoli?” someone else offered.

Delaney smiled and nodded. Who wouldn’t be happy around this bunch?

“Coffee, tea, soda, water?” Gina offered.

“Whatever you’ve got on hand will be fine.”

“We’ve got it all on hand.”

“Coffee would be nice, and one of those cannoli does sound delicious.”

“They’re to die for,” Gina said. “Nana baked them fresh this morning.”

Delaney tried to remember the last time her mother had baked anything from scratch and came up with that disloyal feeling again. To distract herself, she took the plans from her briefcase and spread them on the table.

Everyone crowded around for a look. It was a bit disconcerting to have a dozen pairs of eyes peering over her shoulder. But as she explained what needed to be done to the property in order to achieve top dollar, everyone seemed to approve of her plans. Consensus by committee, just the way she liked doing things. Heartened by the unanimous acceptance, she looked up to see tears shining in Lucia’s eyes.

Anxiety had her fingering the papers. “Oh, my goodness, there’s something you don’t like. Please, if you don’t agree with my proposal, tell me and I’ll change it.”

Lucia shook her head, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and dabbed at her eyes. “Your proposal is wonderful. That’s not why I’m crying.”

“The reality of leaving your home is finally hitting you.”

“Yes.” Lucia pressed her lips together in an attempt to stay the tears from spilling down her cheeks. “Leo and I had such wonderful memories here. I can’t believe it’s over.”

“Are you sure selling the house is really what you want to do?” Delaney had to ask.

Lucia nodded. “I have to let go in order to move on. It’s the right thing to do.”