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Connor McClane had stepped to life from the photograph. From his form-hugging T-shirt, to his worn jeans and boots, to the sunglasses covering his eyes, every detail remained the same. A plane took off from a nearby runway, and the low rumble reverberating in her chest could have easily come from a motorcycle.
Kelsey tried to swallow. Once, twice. Finally she gave up and croaked out, “Mr. McClane?”
“Yes?” He stopped to look at her, and Kelsey’s only thought was that she still didn’t know the color of his eyes. Brown, maybe? To match the mahogany of his hair and tanned skin. Or blue? A bright, vivid contrast to his coloring.
A dark eyebrow rose above his mirrored sunglasses, a reminder that she had yet to answer him. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “Uh, Mr. McClane—”
“We’ve already established who I am. Question is, who are you?”
“My name’s Kelsey Wilson.”
He flashed a smile that revved her pulse. His head dipped, and she sensed him taking in the red hair she struggled to control, the freckled skin she tried to cover, and the extra pounds she sought to hide beneath the khaki skirt and boxy shirt. She saw her reflection in his mirrored glasses, a much shorter, much wider version of herself, like a carnival funhouse distortion.
Kelsey didn’t feel much like laughing.
Had she known her aunt was going to assign her this mission, she would have worn something different—like full body armor. The image of what Emily might have worn to meet her former boyfriend flashed in Kelsey’s mind. She shoved the pointless comparison away. Too much like trying to force Strawberry Shortcake into Barbie’s wardrobe.
“Well, what do you know?” Connor stood in the middle of the corridor, mindless of the sea of people parting around him. “The Wilsons sent out a welcoming party. Heck, if I’d known I’d get this kind of reception, I might have come back sooner.”
“I doubt that,” Kelsey muttered.
Connor McClane had planned his return perfectly, coming back to ruin Emily’s wedding. Aunt Charlene was certain of it. Kelsey knew only one thing. Her cousin had nearly thrown her future away once for this man, and she could see how Emily might be tempted to do it again.
“Don’t underestimate your appeal,” he told her, and though she couldn’t see beyond the reflective sunglasses, she had the distinct impression he’d winked at her.
Kelsey straightened her spine to the shattering point. “My appeal isn’t in question. I’m here to—”
Keep him away from Emily, Kelsey. I don’t care how you do it, but keep that man away from my daughter!
“To do what, Kelsey Wilson?”
His deep voice made her name sound like a seduction, and suddenly she could think of all kinds of things to do that had nothing to do with her aunt’s wishes. Or did they? How far would Aunt Charlene expect her to go to keep Connor away from Emily?
“To give you a ride from the airport,” she answered with a saccharine smile. “Baggage claim is this way.”
Connor patted the duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Got everything with me.”
Eyeing the lumpy bag, Kelsey wondered how dress clothes could survive such careless packing. Maybe he planned to ride his motorcycle up to the church in leather and denim, the same way he’d ridden out of town ten years ago? Unless—
“You didn’t bring much with you. You must not plan to stay long.”
Something in her voice must have given away her hope, because Connor chuckled. He adjusted the duffel bag and headed down the corridor, his strides so long Kelsey nearly had to jog to keep up.
“Oh, I’ll be here as long as it takes,” he told her with a sideways glance, “but I won’t need more than a few days.”
A few days. Did she really want to know? Did she really want to throw down the verbal gauntlet? Kelsey took a deep breath, partly to gather some courage, partly to gather some much needed oxygen. “A few days to what?”
“To stop Emily from marrying the wrong man.”
Connor hadn’t known what to expect when he stepped off the plane. He’d given Emily his flight information with the hope she might meet him at the airport. He’d wanted a chance to talk to her away from her family and her fiancé. He was realistic enough to know the whole Wilson brigade might be lined up at the gate like some kind of high-fashion firing squad. But he hadn’t expected a petite redhead. He’d never imagined the Wilson genes could produce a petite redhead.
“So who are you anyway?” he asked, only to realize the woman was no longer at his side.
He glanced back over his shoulder. Kelsey Wilson stood in the middle of the corridor, her brown eyes wide, her lips adorably parted in shock. She didn’t look anything like the other Wilsons, and curiosity stirred inside him. He couldn’t picture her at the elegant country-club settings the status-conscious family enjoyed any more than he’d imagined himself there.
A Wilson misfit, he thought, on the outside looking in. Their gazes locked, and the momentary connection rocked him. Shaking off the feeling, he circled back around and asked, “You coming?”
The flush of color on her cheeks nearly blotted out her freckles. “You don’t actually think you can come back here after ten years and expect to take up where you left off?You weren’t right for Emily back then, and you aren’t right for her now!”
As far as insults went, the words were pretty tame, especially coming from a Wilson. And it wasn’t as if he had any intention of taking up where he and Emily had left off. He’d made his share of mistakes, and some—like thinking he and Emily had a chance—didn’t bear repeating. Emily had been looking for someone to rescue her from the life her parents had planned for her, and he’d been young enough to think of himself as a hero.
Connor knew better now. He was nobody’s hero.
Still, Kelsey’s reminder stirred long-buried resentment. Worthless. Good for nothing. Troublemaker. Gordon Wilson had shouted them all when he’d discovered his younger daughter sneaking out to meet Connor. After being knocked around by his old man during his childhood, he knew a thing or two about male aggression and had arrogantly faced down the older man.
But Charlene Wilson’s clipped, controlled words had managed to pierce his cocky facade. “From the moment Emily was born, she has had nothing but the best,” Charlene told him with ice practically hanging from her words. “We have given her the world. What could you possibly give her?”
He’d tried to give her her freedom, the chance to live her life without bowing to her family’s expectations. If someone had given his mother that same chance, things would have been different, and maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive. But when Emily made her choice, she didn’t choose him. She took the easy way out—and in the end, so did he, Connor thought, guilt from the past and present mixing. But he wasn’t going to fail this time. He was here to help Emily, no matter what the redhead standing in front of him like a curvaceous barricade thought.
“Look, whoever you are,” he said, since she’d never explained her relationship to the Wilsons, “you didn’t know me then, and you don’t know me now. You don’t have a clue what I’m good for.”
He ducked his head and lowered his voice, not wanting to attract attention, but the words came out like a seductive challenge. He stood close enough to catch a hint of cinnamon coming from her skin. The color faded from her complexion, and her freckles stood out clearly enough to play a game of connect-the-dots. He shoved his hands into his pockets rather than give into the urge to trace a five-point star over one cheek. He tried to imagine Kelsey’s reaction if he touched her. Would she recoil in shock? Or would he see an answering awareness in her chocolate eyes?
Right now, sparks of annoyance lit her gaze. “I know all I need to know. You’re no good for Emily. You never were—What are you doing?” she demanded when Connor leaned around to look over her shoulder.
“Amazing. You can’t even see the strings.”
“What strings?”
“The ones Charlene Wilson uses to control you.”
“Aunt Charlene does not control me.”
Aunt Charlene, was it? He didn’t remember Emily talking about a cousin, but they hadn’t spent time discussing genealogy. “Funny, ’cause you sure sound like her.”
“That’s because we both want to protect Emily.”
Protecting Emily was exactly why he was there. Adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, he started toward the parking garage. “So do I.”
“Right.” Kelsey struggled to keep up with him, and Connor shortened his stride. “Who do you think you have to protect her from?”
“From Charlene. From you.” Before Kelsey could voice the protest he read in her stubborn expression, he added, “Mostly from Todd.”
“From Todd? That’s ridiculous. Todd loves Emily.”
Yeah, well, Connor had seen what a man could do to a woman in the name of love. Seen it and had been helpless to stop it from happening…Shoving the dark memories of his mother and Cara Mitchell aside, Connor said, “Todd’s not the golden boy the Wilsons think he is. The guy’s bad news.”
“How would you know?” Kelsey challenged as they stepped out the automatic doors and into the midday sunshine. Exhaust and honking horns rode the waves of heat. “My car’s this way.”
Connor followed Kelsey across the street to the short-term parking, where the fumes and noise faded slightly in the dimly lit garage. “I could tell from the second we met.”
She stopped so suddenly he almost crashed into her back. When she turned, he was close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest, and the inane thought that she would fit perfectly in his arms crossed his mind.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’ve never met Todd.”
“How do you know?”
“Be-because,” she sputtered. “Emily would have told me.”
Despite her words, Connor saw the doubt written in her furrowed brow as she walked over to a gray sedan. The car nearly blended into the concrete floor and pylons. Between her plain vehicle and sedate clothes, he had the feeling Kelsey Wilson was a woman who liked to fade into the background.
But he was trained to notice details. He’d bet the brilliant hair she kept coiled at the back of her neck was longer and wilder than it looked, and try as they might, the shapeless clothes did little to hide some amazing curves.
“If Emily tells you everything, then you know she and Dunworthy spent a weekend in San Diego a few weeks ago, right?” At Kelsey’s nod, Connor added, “Well, I drove there to meet them, and we had dinner.” Keeping his voice deceptively innocent, he asked, “Emily didn’t mention that?”
“Um, no,” Kelsey grudgingly confessed.
“I wonder why. Don’t you?” he pressed.
Not that there was much to tell, although he wasn’t about to admit that to Kelsey. When he left town, he never thought he’d see Emily again. But after hearing through the long-distance grapevine that she was getting married, calling to congratulate her seemed like a good way to put the past behind him. The last thing he expected was Emily’s invitation to have dinner with her and her fiancé while they were vacationing in California. But he’d agreed, thinking the meeting might ease his guilt. After all, if Emily had found Mr. Right, maybe that would finally justify his reasons for leaving Scottsdale.
But when Connor went to dinner with Emily, he didn’t see a woman who’d grown and matured and found her place in life. Instead, he saw in Emily’s eyes the same trapped look as when they’d first met—a look he could not, would not ignore.
Kelsey kept both hands on the wheel and her gaze focused on the road, but she was far too aware of Connor McClane to pay much attention to the buildings, billboards and exit signs speeding by. The air-conditioning blew his aftershave toward her heated face, a scent reminiscent of surf, sand and sea. His big body barely fit in the passenger seat. Twice now, his arm brushed against hers, sending her pulse racing, and she nearly swerved out of her lane.
She’d been right in thinking the man was dangerous, and not just to Emily’s future or her own peace of mind, but to passing motorists, as well.
“I can’t believe how much the city has grown. All these new freeways and houses.…” He leaned forward to study a sign. “Hey, take this next exit.”
Kelsey followed his directions, wishing she could drop him off at a hotel and call her familial duty done. Unfortunately, playing chauffeur wasn’t her real purpose. Connor had flat-out told her he planned to ruin Emily’s wedding. If she didn’t stop him, her own business would be destroyed in the fallout. Who would trust a wedding planner who couldn’t pull off her own cousin’s wedding?
Panic tightened her hands on the wheel. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“My friend Javy’s family owns a restaurant around here. Best Mexican food you’ve ever tasted.”
“I don’t like Mexican food.”
He shook his head. “Poor Kelsey. Can’t take the heat, huh?”
They stopped at a red light, and she risked a glance at him. He still wore those darn sunglasses, but she didn’t need to look into his eyes to read his thoughts. He was here to win back Emily and show the Wilsons and the rest of the world they’d underestimated him all those years ago. But until then, he’d kill some time by flirting with her.
Kelsey didn’t know why the thought hurt so much. After all, it wasn’t the first time a man had used her to try and get to her beautiful, desirable cousin.
The light turned green, and she hit the gas harder than necessary. “Let’s just say I’ve been burned before.”
A heartbeat’s silence passed. When Connor spoke again, his voice was friendly, casual and missing the seductive undertone. “You’ll like this place.” He chuckled. “I can’t tell you how many meals I’ve had there. If it hadn’t been for Señora Delgado…”
Kelsey wondered at the warmth and gratitude in his words. Something told her Connor wasn’t simply reminiscing about tacos and burritos. An undeniable curiosity built as she pulled into the parking lot. The restaurant looked like an old-time hacienda with its flat roof and arched entryway. The stucco had been painted a welcoming terra-cotta. Strings of outdoor lights scalloped the front porch, and large clay pots housed a variety of heat-tolerant plants: pink and white vinca, yellow gazanias, and clusters of cacti.
Still checking out the exterior, Kelsey remained behind the wheel until Connor circled the car and opened the door for her. Startled by the chivalry, she grabbed her purse and took his hand. As she slid out of the seat, she hoped Connor didn’t guess how rare or surprising she found the gesture.
She thought he’d let go, but he kept hold of her hand as he led her along red, green and yellow mosaic stepping stones that cut through the gravel landscape. His palm felt hard and masculine against her own, but without the calluses she’d somehow expected.
When he opened the carved door, he let go of her hand to lay claim to the small of her back. A shiver rocked her entire body. His solicitous touch shouldn’t have the power to turn on every nerve ending. And it certainly shouldn’t have the inexplicable ability to send her mind reeling with images of his hand stroking down her naked spine…
Full body armor, Kelsey thought once again, uncertain even that extreme could shield her from her own reactions.
Desperate to change her focus, she looked around the restaurant. A dozen round tables stood in the center of the Saltillo-tiled room, and booths lined each wall. The scent of grilled peppers and mouthwatering spices filled the air.
“Man, would you look at this place?” Connor waved a hand at the brightly colored walls, the piñatas dangling from the ceiling and the woven-blanket wall hangings.
He removed his sunglasses to take in the dimly lit restaurant, but Kelsey couldn’t see beyond his eyes. Not brown, not blue, but gorgeous, glorious green. A reminder of spring, the short burst of cool days, the promise of dew-kissed grass. Without the glasses to shield his eyes, Connor McClane looked younger, more approachable, a little less badass.
“Has it changed?”
“No, everything’s exactly the same. Just like it should be,” he added with a determination that made Kelsey wonder. Had someone once threatened to change the restaurant that was so important to his friends?
A young woman wearing a red peasant-style blouse and white three-tiered skirt approached, menus in hand. “Buenas tardes. Two for lunch?”
“Sí. Dínde est´ Señora Delgado?”
Startled, Kelsey listened to Connor converse in fluent Spanish. She couldn’t understand a word, so why did his deep voice pour like hot fudge through her veins?
Get a grip! Connor McClane is in town for one reason and one reason only. And that reason was not her.
The hostess led them to a corner booth. Kelsey barely had a chance to slide across the red Naugahyde and glance at the menu when a masculine voice called out, “Look what the cat dragged in!”
A good-looking Hispanic man dressed in a white button-down shirt and khakis walked over. Connor stood and slapped him on the back in a moment of male bonding. “Javy! Good to see you, man!”
“How’s life in L.A.?”
“Not bad. How’s your mother? The hostess says she’s not here today?”
“She’s semiretired, which means she’s only here to kick my butt half the time,” Javy laughed.
“I didn’t think you’d ever get Maria to slow down.”
“This place means the world to her. I still don’t know how to thank you.”
“Forget it, man,” Connor quickly interrupted. “It was nothing compared to what your family’s done for me over the years.”
Modesty? Kelsey wondered, though Connor didn’t seem the type. And yet she didn’t read even an ounce of pride in his expression. If anything, he looked…guilty.
“I’m not about to forget it, and I will find a way to pay you back,” Javy insisted. “Hey, do you want to crash at my place while you’re here?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got a hotel room.”
Finally Connor turned back to Kelsey. “Javy, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Javier Delgado, Kelsey Wilson.”
