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The Accidental Bride
Christina Skye
Love can find you in the most unlikely of places… When her friends order her to take a vacation, celebrity chef Jilly O’Hara is skeptical. She may be overwhelmed by her sudden success, but a trip to the mountains is not her idea of fun. Especially when a snow storm forces her to fill in for an absentee bride in a lavish television wedding taking place at the resort. Buit then the ruggedly handsome make-believe groom arrives…Walker Hale has kept to himself since his return from active duty —but the next thing he knows, he’s reluctantly playing along with the wedding charade. Even this jaded loner isn’t immune to Jilly’s quirky charm…or her beauty. But Jilly has to return home to Summer Island, leaving Walker to decide if the feelings between them were something more than pretend…
Dear Reader,
I hope you will join me on a new adventure.
Our travel will take us to fog-swept coves. To the magic of a special town and special people. On Summer Island’s quiet streets friendship runs deep, and the love of a good yarn runs even deeper.
One by one old friends will be pulled back home to the rugged Oregon coast. One by one dreams will be lost—and then found. As the seasons change, each friend will face secrets and betrayals, along with the healing gift of love.
Please join me on this journey home.
With warmest wishes,
Christina
Also available fromChristina Skye
Summer Island A HOME BY THE SEA THE KNITTING DIARIES
Code Name CODE NAME: BIKINI CODE NAME: BLONDIE CODE NAME: BABY
Draycott Abbey TO CATCH A THIEF DRAYCOTT ETERNAL DRAYCOTT EVERLASTING BOUND BY DREAMS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for joining Jilly and Walker on their journey. Strong and stubborn, these two have surprised me at every turn. Somewhere along the path of writing, they claimed a spot among my very favorite characters. (Even though they made me tear at my hair!)
And Winslow …
No words needed there.
He carries his own kind of magic and courage.
I hope that Summer Island continues to touch you as it has touched me, beginning with my story in The Knitting Diaries and again in A Home by the Sea. In those fog-swept coves and quiet streets friendship runs deep.
For readers in search of a detailed look at the inspiration for Jilly’s amazing desserts, try Bittersweet, by Alice Medrich (New York: Artisan, 2003). Decadent and delightful, the book is rich with baking secrets and chocolate lore. For a second helping of dessert, enjoy Sherry Yard’s The Secrets of Baking (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2003), a master course for all adventurous cooks.
And if you want up-to-date recipes right from Jilly’s kitchen, visit my website. I’ll be offering new recipes regularly.
To learn more about service dogs in action, track down US Army Field Manual 3-19.17 Military Working Dogs (2005), a basic resource about training, protection and utilization in combat.
If you are intrigued by the gentle movements that Jilly used on Walker, I highly recommend the tissue techniques developed by Tom Bowen. Or email me at my website (www.christinaskye.com) for more information. The Bowen system has a truly impressive record of success. While you’re at my website, have a look around. And drop by frequently for new book updates, free knitting patterns and contest news.
Meanwhile, a new Summer Island book is already heading your way. As summer sunlight fades into winter storms, Olivia will find her world shattered by lies. And when she least expects a gift, she will stumble into a man who holds the healing touch of love.
For her nothing will ever be the same.
I’ll be watching for you down at the cove.
With warmest wishes,
Christina
The Accidental Bride
Christina Skye
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
A warm thank-you to all my friends at Tuesday-night knitting for good patterns, good cheer and great inspiration.
Thank you to Celia and Caroline— world-class knitters and friends. Fiber days rule!
Another big round of thanks for Peggy and Victoria. You are the best. I couldn’t have typed The End without you!
A deep and hearty thank-you to Phyllis at Barnes & Noble in Goodyear, Arizona. You rock! As always, you are the queen of booksellers!
And finally, my heartfelt appreciation to Debbie Macomber, wonderful author, wonderful friend. Thank you for all your kindness and laughter. And thanks for that amazingly clever wedding twist!
PROLOGUE
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL wedding.
The groom got sick. The bride overslept. The best man was a dog.
And the day had barely begun.
The anxious bride peeked out the door at the back of the crowded chapel, watching more and more people cram the pews. Everything had happened so fast over the past week. It was still hard to imagine how much had changed.
Right now all she wanted was to have the ceremony over. She wasn’t used to wearing makeup, and she never fiddled with her hair, but the wedding consultant had taken her job seriously.
Jilly O’Hara was stunned to see her image in the mirror, a tall, serene vision of elegance in a long white silk gown. A cream satin sash framed her slim waist, accentuating her height, and a single satin orchid gleamed in her upswept hair.
She could barely recognize herself. None of her friends would have known her, that was for sure.
A few stragglers were being seated, to the backdrop of restless coughing. Standing at the back of the chapel, Jilly’s friend Jonathan made a discreet gesture and smiled as the bridegroom came to stand at the front of the crowd. The groom’s big brown dog sat nearby, alert and perfectly behaved, a vision of canine elegance in his red bandanna.
The organ music swelled. Jilly took a deep breath as the instantly familiar strains of the Wedding March filled the chapel.
She stared down the long aisle, wondering how everything had happened so fast since she came to Wyoming. Marriage was the last thing she had planned for herself. Down the aisle Jilly saw her groom, lean and a little dangerous in a severely cut black suit that looked very expensive.
“Are you ready?” Jonathan stood smiling at the door.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Explain to me again why I agreed to this,” she murmured.
Jonathan took her arm. “You’ll be fine. By the way, you look gorgeous. Seriously, I wouldn’t have recognized you under all that makeup and puffy hair.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.”
As they walked outside, Jilly focused on not falling in the strappy evening sandals that the bridal expert had insisted she wear.
Every face turned. The music swelled. The big room seemed to blur as Jilly’s cool, thoughtful groom smiled at her from the altar.
CHAPTER ONE
Arizona
One month earlier
THE RESTAURANT KITCHEN was a scene right out of World War III. Pots churned, grills smoked and a dozen harried workers danced to avoid each other. It was cramped, hot and noisy—one step away from chaos.
And Jilly O’Hara couldn’t have been happier.
She presided over the hot, noisy room like a choreographer, watching for problems and juggling advice along with her orders. Running a restaurant had always been her dream and her passion, and after years of work, Jilly had her own baby.
Since the first week it had opened, Jilly’s Place had been a stellar success. Sometimes Jilly hated how successful her restaurant had become. The social end of the job gave her a headache, and shmoozing with customers was a nightmare. As soon as she could, she ducked back into the crowded kitchen to create magic.
Only here did she feel fully alive. With her wavy black hair tucked behind a bandanna, the rail-slim chef juggled a smoked asparagus risotto and two orders of grilled potatoes with salsa verde. Beside her on the counter, smoky-rich tortilla soup steamed next to a wedge of wood-grilled salmon. The flavors teased and tantalized, every color snapping with southwestern energy.
Another meal done, Jilly flipped a fresh towel over her shoulder and then attacked the next order. One of the kitchen crew caught her eye. Smiling, he poured a thermal cup of coffee and slid it toward her over the counter.
“Caffeine break. After all, you’ve only had three tonight,” he said, well aware of Jilly’s particular vice.
“Lifesaver.” Jilly took a long drink, savoring the caffeine.
They were crazy crowded tonight, but that was normal. At the kitchen door, her front desk manager signaled his pleasure at the crowd with a big thumbs-up, then vanished back outside to deal with the reservations desk.
The Saturday-night pace was sheer pandemonium, but Jilly was used to that. She thrived on the jagged edge of chaotic energy. Even on her days off, she made it a point to check out new restaurants or help in the kitchen of a friend, working the line with manic energy. And why not? She loved to cook.
She didn’t do vacations, and time off was for wimps.
Jilly finished her coffee and scanned the next set of dinner orders. Tugging on Kevlar mitts, she leaned down to grab an eggplant pizza from the wood-burning oven. She had just removed the mitts when the pain hit her.
Jilly looked up blindly at the ceiling, struggling to breathe.
No one in the busy kitchen noticed her shaking or her short, strangled breaths. No one helped her when she leaned forward to grip the counter.
Blindly, she stared at her white hands. No ring. No husband. No kids. Just a pile of debts from her years in cooking school.
A fresh wave of pain struck. Jilly whimpered, clutching at the long granite counter.
A pot was boiling over on the big 8-burner Wolf stove. The foam seemed to rise in slow motion. Bubbling and hissing, it exploded over the copper rim, down into the steel prongs of the burner.
Burn.
Burning.
Her throat and chest on fire, fear striking her like a mallet, Jilly slowly bent double and whimpered.
Her legs gave way. With a ragged cry she fell forward onto the cold tile floor.
CHAPTER TWO
THE EMERGENCY ROOM doctor was talking to her, but Jilly couldn’t make out what he was saying. His lips moved but no sounds seemed to come out.
She squinted at him and tried to focus.
“More tests. But we think it was your heart.”
Excuse me? Jilly’s mind raced. Her heart? What about her heart?
Lights flashed on the machines that crowded the small white room. She had collapsed in the kitchen. She remembered that part.
Then something about an ambulance …
She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy. A little pain in her chest. Okay, nausea. Lots of nausea.
What was going on? She was only twenty-blipping-seven. She hadn’t smoked more than three times in her life. Once when the town bad boy talked her into sharing a Marlboro behind the old post office. Once after her junior year prom, which she watched dateless and bored from the high school bleachers. And the last time, to celebrate her admission to cooking school in Arizona.
Six bleeping years ago.
So how was anything wrong with her heart?
“Symptoms are consistent … still need detailed results of EKG, angiogram. More tests of your heart enzymes … Hospitalized until then.”
Hospitalized?
Jilly stared at the white walls while the words rained down, sharp and cold.
Rest? More blood tests? No way. She didn’t have time to be sick. She had a restaurant to run and debts to repay.
She looked down at her arm stretched out on the white bed. They were good arms. Good muscles. She could whip a chocolate mousse by hand almost as fast as a mixer could. She could swirl perfect frosted flowers over a white chocolate cake and mince a tomato as finely as any machine.
And Jilly loved that work. Every minute she spent cooking was a joy in her life.
But her hands showed another story, too. Jilly saw a sprinkling of fine silver scars from mishaps in crowded kitchens on busy nights. She had always felt proud of those marks as signs of her experience.
Her nails were short. Always clean and unpolished. She was strictly no frills and always had been. Her no-frills life kept her lean and fast, ready to catch that next wave and race on to meet her dream. Right now that dream was to create a natural-food empire by the time she was thirty-five.
Her scarred hands twisted with a tremor of pain and loss. What would happen to her dreams now? She listened to the machines hiss and whisper a warning.
A heart attack at twenty-seven. Why her?
She closed her eyes. More words bounced past.
“Possible malformation … MRI. Then exploratory catheterization.”
