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“Use my first name,” he told her. He didn’t want this woman calling him Doctor. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, but she didn’t say a thing. She just stared up at him, those deep eyes so fathomless they were impossible to read. Did she really not know his name? Maybe she didn’t. He hadn’t known hers, either. “Nick.”
“Nick,” she repeated, her voice breathless as her gaze held his.
His heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through his veins with the heat of desire. All she had to do was say his name and he nearly forgot his anger at the way her sister had treated Josh.
“Nick.” She said his name again. “You were going to tell me something.”
That was before he’d been overcome with the urge to kiss her. He drew in a deep breath, remembering his decision. “Since Josh is staying in Cloverville, so am I.”
COLLEEN REACHED FOR THE glass of punch she’d left on the head table next to her purse. She hadn’t had time to take a sip, for the mingling and the desperate calls she’d been placing to Molly’s turned-off cell. And the dancing. She shouldn’t have danced with the best man.
Fortunately, the slow song had ended just as he’d told her of his intention to stay in town. She’d been able to pull away without drawing attention to them. Then she’d lost him in the crowd of dancers. Or maybe he hadn’t tried to follow her. Why would he? Just because a couple of times he’d leaned forward as if he’d been about to kiss her?
She’d probably only imagined seeing desire in his eyes because she’d had a crush on him for so long. While he didn’t have Josh’s bedside manner, he was a brilliant surgeon. But more than his medical expertise or his fair-haired good looks, she’d been drawn to the sense of sadness that surrounded him, as if he, too, had experienced loss. In him, she’d felt as if she’d recognized a kindred spirit. But she’d probably only imagined that, too. She and Dr. Nick Jameson were nothing alike, and she needed to get a trip on those feelings she had for him.
She’d impulsively acted on one other crush, a long time ago. But the object of her affection hadn’t really wanted her. The arrogant high school jock had only been interested in bragging rights. She’d vowed then to never give herself away again. But why did she suspect that acting impulsively with a man such as Nick Jameson would be infinitely more enjoyable than her youthful experience with a clumsy boy?
Heat, as hot as what she thought she’d glimpsed in Nick’s eyes, flashed through her, leaving her parched. Hand shaking, she lifted the plastic cup to her lips. She gulped the red punch, then sputtered and coughed as alcohol burned her throat. Who’d spiked it?
Rory. Blinking tears from her eyes, she scanned the reception hall for her teenage brother. Where was the little jerk? Probably outside smoking.
She headed toward the door, where Abby and Brenna stood, deep in conversation. Guilt ate at Colleen as she took in the distraught brightness of Abby’s eyes, the way she nibbled on her bottom lip. Abby hated being back in Cloverville. The whole time she’d been growing up, she couldn’t wait to leave. Was Colleen being selfish in still wanting her to move home? Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to help her mother convince her friend to stay. If only Abby and Clayton would stop fighting their feelings for each other…
“Blame it on the wedding,” Abby said.
“The wedding-that-wasn’t,” Colleen murmured. “That’s what everyone’s calling it.” Someone opened the door behind Abby, and cool night air rushed in, soothing Colleen’s overheated skin. Her head cleared slightly, but her emotions grew more muddled. Clayton wasn’t the only McClintock who was determined to fight his feelings. Maybe Molly had been as afraid to give herself to someone as Colleen was, and that was why she’d bolted before saying her vows.
“So you think Molly’s really okay?” Colleen asked, needing Brenna and Abby’s reassurance. Molly must have been really afraid to back out on such an important promise. “That she just needs time like her note said?”
Abby reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking for voice mail. “No messages.”
Brenna shook her head, tumbling locks of brilliant red hair around her shoulders. “I think she meant that she needed more than a few hours.”
Colleen sighed. “She also said she wanted time alone. Do you really believe she’s alone? When I called Eric, he said he hadn’t seen her, but…”
Could they believe Eric, after the way he’d backed out of the wedding party at the last minute? After Molly went out the window, each of the bridesmaids had called him, but he’d sworn he hadn’t seen Molly.
“Eric would lie for her,” Brenna said.
“He’d do more than lie,” Abby reminded them.
Jealousy caused the sweet spiked punch to swirl in Colleen’s stomach. Her first crush hadn’t been on the high school jerk but on Eric South. Yet years ago, during her adolescence, she’d buried that unrequited crush on Eric, as well as her resentment of her brilliant, beautiful older sister. Molly couldn’t help being Molly, the one everyone adored. Colleen had long ago accepted that she would never be Molly, and like everyone else, she adored her older sister. She didn’t resent her. Not anymore.
But just once, would it be too much to ask for someone to adore her? Feeling a penetrating stare, she lifted her gaze to him.
NICK SWALLOWED HARD, his mouth dry as he held her gaze. He lifted the plastic cup, sniffed the rim, but didn’t take a sip from her glass. Her lipstick, deep crimson, marked the cup in the shape of her full lips. She’d drunk the spiked punch. Was she aware that she had? She’d been so distracted that when she’d gone off to huddle with the other bridesmaids, she’d left her purse on the table.
He lifted his gaze from her beaded crimson bag to study the women who stood near the door. They knew where the bride had gone. Women talked to each other. They didn’t talk to him. They flirted. They teased. They never talked.
But maybe that was Nick’s fault. He never talked to anyone but Josh anymore.
He couldn’t lose his best friend the way he’d lost his big brother, for so long the guiding force in Nick’s life. Hell, if not for Bruce, Nick wouldn’t have had a life. His brother had saved him from the car accident that had claimed their mother’s life. Nick had owed him, but he’d let him down. He hadn’t been there when Bruce had needed him. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Josh.
For his best friend, Nick would make any sacrifice. He’d even spend time with the most tempting woman he’d ever met—but only to pump her for information. Finding the groom’s runaway bride had become one of Nick’s duties, as best man. While he hadn’t agreed with much that his friend had said in the bathroom, he acknowledged the fact that Josh needed to talk to Molly. The sooner he did and accepted that she didn’t and would never love him, the sooner Josh could put her and Cloverville behind him and move on.
Maybe that space on Michigan Avenue in Grand Rapids was still available. Sure, the rent had been more than the mortgage payments on the building in Cloverville, but they could swing it. Together. Like they’d done everything else.
Nick glanced down at Colleen’s nearly empty cup. Had she had enough to, as his dad would say, prime the pump?
“Thinking of mugging me?” a soft voice asked.
Those tense muscles in his neck prompted a grimace as he whipped his head toward her, to where she stood not more than an arm’s length away. How had he not noticed her approach, when he’d hardly taken his gaze off her all day?
What was it about her that drew and held his attention? Was it the bright red dress that bared her shoulders and the delicate ridge of her collarbone? Was it the glossiness of her sable hair? Or the warmth and vulnerability in her deep brown eyes?
She stepped closer, as if she doubted he’d heard her over the music and raised voices of the other wedding guests. “Are you?”
His pulse leaped in reaction. She was so damn beautiful that all rational thought fled his mind. All his plans, all his convictions evaporated in the heat of his attraction to her. “What?”
She gestured toward the beaded bag, which he hadn’t realized he held. “I didn’t figure you for a purse snatcher,” she teased, her eyes shining.
“You left it here,” he pointed out, “unattended.”
“This is Cloverville,” she said, as if that explained everything.
He lifted a brow. “And there’s no crime in Cloverville?”
“Nothing more serious than my idiot brother and his degenerate friends spiking the punch.” She extended her hand, reaching for her bag.
But he held tight. “I can’t give this to you.”
“What?”
When he fumbled with the rhinestone clasp, she gasped at his audacity. She had no idea how bold he could be, but now he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know him.
“I have to take your keys,” he insisted. “You can’t drink and drive.” As a surgeon, he’d seen far too many drunk drivers and the people hurt by them.
“I’m not driving.”
“No, you’re not,” he agreed, as he pulled out her key ring.
“Hey, those are my house keys, too,” she protested.
“This is Cloverville. No crime,” he said, tossing her words back at her. “I doubt anyone here locks his door.”
Colleen opened and then closed her mouth, completely at a loss. Her mother had never locked her front door, and since Colleen still lived at home, she could get inside without a key. But still, he had no right to take her property. No right to tease her.
An urge came over her to tease him back, to make him want her as she’d wanted him for so long. The reckless desire coursed through her veins with all the fire of the spiked punch. Maybe she’d stifled her impetuous nature for too long. Or maybe the punch had loosened her inhibitions. Either way, she couldn’t act. She knew the ramifications of impulsive behavior. She always wound up getting hurt or humiliated.
“Give me my keys and my purse,” she demanded as she managed to summon her earlier haughtiness again. But her hand trembled as she held it out.
“I will,” he agreed. Too easily. “After I walk you home.”
She ignored the traitorous leap of her heartbeat and lifted her chin, saying firmly, “I’m not leaving.”
“Your blond friend has already left. And there goes the redhead with Josh.” He gestured toward the door.
Colleen followed his gaze. Looking like an old married couple, Brenna walked alongside the groom, each of them carrying a sleeping twin. Their seemingly boundless energy was finally spent.
“Abby Hamilton is ‘the blonde,’” she informed him, annoyed that he knew no one’s name. He’d skipped the rehearsal dinner, of course, so he hadn’t officially met anyone. But he could have at least read a program. “And Brenna Kelly is the maid of honor.”
“The maid of honor put up Josh and the twins last night,” Nick observed.
Yet she could hardly blame Nick for not being invested in the wedding when even the bride hadn’t seemed to care about the plans. Colleen nodded. “Brenna put them up at her folks’ house, so the groom wouldn’t see the bride before the wedding.”
Even so catering to superstition hadn’t saved them from bad luck.
Nick snorted, probably sharing the same thought. “They’ve extended their hospitality even longer,” he said, as if amazed at their generosity. “He’s still staying with the Kellys.” His voice turned bitter as he added, “He’s waiting for your sister to return.”
“Molly will come back,” she assured him. If she’d ever really left Cloverville, which Colleen doubted. She had to be at Eric’s, safe and protected.
Nick’s pale green eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Do you know where she is?”
As Colleen shook her head, her stomach was doing flips from nerves and punch. She really needed to find Rory—the teenager had to learn there were consequences to thoughtless actions. Colleen hadn’t been much older than he was now when she’d learned that painful lesson.
NICK HAD LOST HER again…to that place she retreated when all the color drained from her face and her eyes darkened, haunted with regret.
“Come on,” he said, taking her by the elbow to guide her toward the exit. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
But she followed his lead, as she had on the dance floor, their steps perfectly in sync.
It occurred to Nick that’d he’d never been as attuned to another person, not even his best friend, and especially not his brother.
“I don’t need air, and I don’t need you to walk me home.” Instead of sounding petulant, she sounded proud. Her voice was strong with spirit and independence.
Nick pushed open the outside door, and Colleen passed by him into the cool night. Crickets chirped in accompaniment to the buzz of fluorescent lights as flood lamps illuminated the parking lot. “But you’re leaving.”
“As you pointed out,” she said, her voice soft, lost, “all my friends have left.”
Why did he suddenly suspect it wasn’t the first time Colleen McClintock had been left behind? She was younger than her sister and the other bridesmaids. When they’d gone off to college, she would have still been in high school. She was young. Far too young for him. Even though he was only thirty-two, he felt much older. He swallowed back a sigh. And tired. Damn, he was tired. Too many long hours, too many old regrets.
“When you said earlier that you were staying, you made it sound like more than just tonight. Are you really staying in Cloverville?” she asked as they crossed the parking lot.
“Yes.” He couldn’t leave Josh alone; he’d made that mistake before. “Like Josh, I have the next couple of weeks off.” And he didn’t intend to let his friend out of his sight until he was sure he was really all right.
“But where are you staying? With Josh and the twins staying there, the Kellys don’t have any more room. And Cloverville has no hotels,” she said, her lips lifting in a satisfied smile. “No inns. No bed and breakfasts.”
Nick realized she didn’t want him to stay. He shouldn’t care. He knew nothing could come of the attraction he felt for her, and not just because she was too young for him.
“Your brother offered me his spare room,” Nick said.
She lifted her face toward him, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Really? Clayton prefers being alone, or so he claims.”
Nick shrugged, uncertain why McClintock had offered him a guest room. “I think he feels responsible for your sister skipping out on the wedding.”
She let out a derisive laugh. “That sounds like Clayton—responsible.”
“Or guilty.”
“That sounds more like me,” she murmured, her voice weary with regret.
“What?” he asked, dipping his head closer to hers, to where the lilies had wilted in her hair. “Feeling guilty because you’re hiding your sister?”
“I’m not hiding Molly.”
“But you know where she is?” And who was hiding her.
“Why do you care?” she asked, defensiveness on her sister’s behalf hiding her own vulnerability.
He cared because he needed to protect his friend. So why did he feel as if he needed to protect Colleen McClintock, too? “If you’re not hiding your sister, what are you feeling guilty about?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know why I said that to you. I guess I did have too much punch.”
“How old are you?” he wondered aloud.
“Twenty-three.”
Too young to be haunted by all the regrets that he had.
“What do you know about guilt?”
“Too much,” she murmured, as she stepped onto the sidewalk and into the shadows cast by the canopy of tree branches overhead.
“Are you like your sister?” he asked as he followed her along the path. Moonlight streaked through the trees and glittered in her eyes as she stared up at him.
“Molly? No, Molly and I are nothing alike,” she assured him. She sounded apologetic now, as if she felt she didn’t measure up to her older sister. He understood idolizing an older sibling. Maybe if he hadn’t idolized his own brother so much, he would have realized that Bruce was in trouble.
While he tried for a teasing tone, his voice betrayed him, going hoarse with emotion as he asked, “So you’re not feeling guilty for breaking some poor man’s heart into a thousand pieces?”
“Nobody’s ever loved me that way,” she said, her voice echoing the longing and loneliness he sometimes felt himself…
He shook his head in disbelief, then reached out to take her hand and tug her to a stop. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like this town.”
“What?” she asked.
