Missing: One Bride

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“Good. Finish your steak, Alexandra, we have a lot to arrange.”

“I’ve eaten all I want.”

He nodded. For a man who should be feeling dumped and dismal, he felt remarkably good. Of course, a hearty breakfast always did wonders for his morale.

“There is one problem,” Alex said. “I don’t have a comb or a toothbrush.”

He looked at her hair, really looked at it for the first time that morning, and grinned. She was a mess, all right. Of course, a few stray hairs didn’t really detract from her face, but he could see that she needed some personal items.

“Then that’s where we’ll start,” he told her.

They found a sundries store on the floor below the lobby and Thorn stood by as Alex picked out the three or four things she needed. He couldn’t help but notice how modest her choices were or how often she told him she’d repay him. He tried telling her that she was there because of him, but in the end, he let it drop. If it made her feel better to repay him thirteen or fourteen dollars, then so be it.

He sent her up to the room by herself, then went back to the lower-level shops and found one that sold women’s clothing. There wasn’t a whole lot to choose from, but as this was the only store he could shop at, he adapted to the limited selection.

Estimating her size, he chose a blue bathing suit with lots of little straps around the back. The only sweatshirt without a picture of some big-eyed animal plastered on the front was a bright purple one with pink sleeves, which he kind of liked. He grabbed a pair of red pants that looked as though they were made out of parachute material and should be cool or warm depending on the situation, then found the only sandals in the place—gold ones with flowers on the toes.

“Oh, Mr. Powell,” the clerk told him as she rang up his purchases. “Are these things for the new Mrs. Powell?”

Thorn was bent over a rack, trying to decide what SPF the suntan lotion should be. He looked up at the clerk and said, “No.”

“What!”

The woman’s shocked voice roused him. He said, “What?” back at her.

“I asked if these items were for your new wife. The hotel grapevine, you know.”

Oh, brother. “Ah—well, of course they are,” he mumbled.

The woman, tight-lipped because she obviously didn’t believe a word he said, wrapped his purchases in tissue paper, ran the hotel credit card through a machine and handed him the bag. “I’m sorry if I pried into your personal life,” she said, her eyes downcast.

Great, Thorn thought. Now the entire hotel will think I’m cheating on my wife of one day. “You don’t understand,” he began, but then he dropped it. What was the use? When this was over, he’d just have to stay away from the Otter Point Inn for a while. But after the confrontation he envisioned with Natalie tonight, he doubted very much that he would want to come again anyway.

Back in the lobby, he cornered Alfred and arranged for a picnic and a couple of Boogie boards and wet suits to be delivered to his car. Then he took the elevator back to his room. Instinct told him what he needed was some sort of physical activity to make the time pass, to take his mind off what was to come. For a second he wondered if all his plans would blow up in his face—maybe Alex was as cautious about the water and the sun on her skin as Natalie was, but somehow he doubted it. Still, he’d skip the details until it was too late for her to back out.

Alex spent the time alone in the room to move her maidof-honor dress and the truss to the empty closet where Thorn wouldn’t have to constantly see them. She was just getting out of the shower when she heard a loud knock on the bathroom door. After wrapping herself in a towel, she opened it to find a blue sack in Thorn’s outstretched hand.

“For you,” he said. “Put the bathing suit on under your clothes. By the way, I looked in my suitcase but I can’t find my suit. Were you wearing it this morning?”

His suit, which she’d used as shorts, was neatly folded and lying on the counter. “Yes,” she said as she handed it back to him.

“Thanks.”

“What’s in the sack?” she asked as she opened it.

“Clothes and a bathing suit, like I said. I had to estimate your size. I hope everything fits.”

“I can’t accept—”

He cut her off. “Spare me all the protests, please. Just put on the clothes and let’s get out of here.”

She closed the door on him. “Where are we going?” she asked as she dumped out his clothes. What she needed was a pair of sunglasses—the clothes were all bright colors. Very bright colors. Damn near fluorescent! How could a man who dressed himself so well choose such strange clothes for someone else?

She heard him answer, but his voice was muffled and she guessed he’d moved off toward the glass doors and the balcony. At any rate, she didn’t catch a single word. The bathing suit was a size too small, but she pulled it on anyway, a little confused at first as to where all the little straps were supposed to go. A bit tight in the bust, but not too bad. The other clothes were baggy, the sandals a size too big and a lot too fancy seeing as they were shiny gold with silver and black silk daisies glued to the toes. She tried pulling off the flowers but they were stuck on there for good. Resigned, she slipped them on and avoided her reflection.

“Oh, my,” Thorn said, as she opened the door and he caught sight of her. “I guess I got a little carried away, didn’t I? Well, you look nice in bright colors, Alexandra, and it seems as though everything fits. Kind of, anyway…”

He was wearing his swim trunks and a pair of rope sandals and nothing else. His chest was covered with a soft dusting of dark hair, which clung to his pectoral muscles and inflamed Alex with the incredible urge to touch him. He pulled on a knit shirt, which effectively saved the day.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“All that steam made me dizzy,” she mumbled as-she fanned herself with an open hand.

“You okay now?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She held up the suntan lotion. “Listen, Thorn, we’re on the Oregon coast, where it’s windy half the time and cold the other half. Why do we need bathing suits and this stuff?”

“Don’t ask. It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“Not really?”

“Yes, really.”

He grinned at her. “Surely you can humor a jilted man?”

“You’re not acting terribly jilted.”

“Smiling through my tears.”

She shook her head.

“I need to get away from here, Alexandra,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I keep thinking about Natalie and the guy with the white hair. I need to get out in the open with the fresh air and the wind. If there were horses, I’d go riding, but there aren’t. However, there is an ocean. Can’t we just go?”

Instantly contrite, Alex gathered two towels from the bathroom and followed Thorn out of the room. Twice that morning, she’d assumed his banter was lighthearted; she hadn’t considered the possibility that he was trying to make her feel comfortable or, perhaps more accurately, that he was hiding from the deep betrayal he must surely feel. She must stop calling him on it and just let him go. If he could have fun on a day like this, so could she.