Wedding Fever Read online

  She set down the telephone, then hurried into her bedroom to dress. Ten minutes later, a knock sounded on her door.

  “Coming,” she called, teetering on one black satin high heel as she jammed on the other one. She scooped up three-inch-long rhinestone earrings and fastened them on as she moved from her bedroom into the living room. She stopped at the front door, settled her clingy black dress down so that the hem was its normal five inches above her knees, then turned the knob, expecting to greet her nephew.

  Two defensive linemen loomed in her doorway. The larger of the two, the one minus a neck, thrust a bouquet of white roses straight at her and let go, forcing her to catch it.

  “There’s a card,” he mumbled, his granite jaw barely moving.

  Maggie eyed the flowers, then the men. From Brendan, of course. To appease Tweedledee and Tweedledum, who stood with their feet apart and legs locked to support their bulk, she plucked the envelope from inside the cellophane wrapping, then set the bouquet aside and opened the card—An unforgettable evening awaits you—as do I, eagerly. BH.

  With her hand on the door, ready to shut it, she said, “Please inform Mr. Hastings that I have other plans.”

  Tweedledee and Tweedledum exchanged glances Dee cleared his throat. “We can’t leave without you.”

  Something trickled down her spine. “You most certainly may. I have other plans.”

  Before she could close the door, Dum slammed his arm against it She heard wood splinter a second before they barged into her apartment, pulling her along as they went, somehow shutting the door behind them. Everything happened in one fluid movement, giving her no opportunity to grab the phone or run into another room. Each man held one of her arms.

  “Let go of me now!”

  Dum made an inarticulate sound toward Dee. Simultaneously they released her. Dee, obviously the only one capable of actual speech, mumbled, “We aren’t asking.”

  “So, what are you gonna do? Kidnap me?”

  “No one will hurt you,” Dee said. Dum croaked agreement. “But you must come. Mr. Hastings insists.”

  Maggie glared at the two men. “Mr. Hastings insists, does he? All nght”

  She scrawled a quick note to tack on the front door for her nephew, scooped up a full shopping bag, then preceded Dee and Dum out the door. She’d see Brendan Hastings, all right, but on her terms.

  “By all means, gentlemen. Let’s not keep your boss waiting.”

  Three

  J.D. scanned the block, trying to find a parking place, anticipating Magnolia’s shock when she opened the door and found him there instead of her “tall, blond and handsome” nephew. But would the shock result in her being irritated or pleased? Her unpredictability always kept him off guard—it was one of the things he enjoyed most about his relationship with her.

  When Jasmine had called a couple of weeks ago to invite him to join them for New Year’s Eve, he’d turned her down, not wanting to encourage Magnolia by being there. Then this morning he’d gotten word that Hastings was back in town, and J.D. had reinvited himself to the party.

  He almost rear-ended the limousine double-parked Dios, double-parked in front of Magnolia’s apartment. He watched in horrified fascination as she came down the stairs, a bulky man on each side of her. Tall, blond and handsome was Hastings, not Matthew?

  She didn’t look his way but got into the limo calmly. She was going willingly? What the hell?

  He muttered every curse he knew, English and Spanish. Blindly, he reached under his car seat and pulled out a custom computer the size of a cigar box. He flipped a switch, punched a few keys; a comforting beep greeted him. While stopped at a red light, he glanced at the digital numbers in the amber-lit screen.

  Dios. She wasn’t wearing the necklace.

  He reached for his cell phone, searched his memory for a number and dialed, wishing he had the luxury of using a pay phone, where his call couldn’t be easily intercepted and overheard.

  “Yes?”

  The soft, smoky voice wrapped him with a measure of relief.

  “Do you know who this is?” he asked, keeping the limo in sight.

  A tiny hesitation followed, then, “Why sure, lover. What can I do for you?”

  “I need a favor.”

  The limousine turned into an underground parking garage, and Maggie was hustled into an elevator accessed only by a special key. She wondered if one would be needed to leave, as well.

  Dum pushed the button marked P. In only a few seconds, the doors opened agam and they faced a huge living room with an opulent view of San Francisco Bay. Brendan, dressed in a crisply pressed tuxedo, stood near the plate-glass window, a phone to his ear.

  “Deal with it,” he said, then turned and saw her. His voice changed from authoritative to mild as he smiled at her. “Quick and painless, though. It was a minor infraction, after all.” His smile widened as he hung up the phope and walked toward her.

  “Miss Walters. How very nice of you to join me.”

  “Stuff it, Mr. Hastings. ‘Nice’ has nothing to do with it. I was kidnapped.”

  Maggie watched Brendan fire a look of shocked inquiry to the two men who loomed behind her, blocking any attempt at escape. Then his mouth curved in a solicitous smile.

  “I’m afraid my employees lack the finesse you’re accustomed to, Miss Walters, but they mean no harm,” he said, extending a hand in greeting.

  She ignored the gesture. “They forced me to come here when I told them I had other plans. They gave me no choice. None. That’s kidnapping.”

  Brendan cocked his head toward Dee and Dum, signaling they should depart. “You had other plans?” he repeated, taking her elbow and guidmg her into the room with the glorious view. The silkiness of his voice didn’t hide the intensity of the question.

  “In fact, Mr. Hastings, I’d just turned down someone else’s request for a date because of those plans. Just who do you think you are?”

  “A man who’s more than a little interested in you. May I fix you a drink? Some wine, perhaps?” He moved behind the bar.

  Maggie took several calming breaths, knowing she had to be rational and reasonable.

  Not waiting for her answer, he handed her a full glass. “Tell me about your plans. Were they with your sister, Jasmine?” Anticipating her next question, he said, “I made it my business to learn about you.” He looked at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his wine. “Try it, please. It’s a delightful California zinfandel I just discovered.”

  She tasted the drink and murmured something complimentary.

  He smiled. “Shall we sit?”

  “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  “As you wish.” He stood an unintimidating two feet away and swirled the ruby rich liquid in his glass. “How was your Christmas?”

  She set the bag she still carried at his feet. “I’m returning all your gifts. As I told you, I’m involved with someone.”

  “Not according to what I’ve heard.”

  “We’ve been discreet.”

  “Why? Is he married?”

  “Of course not.”

  He smiled slightly. “My dear Miss Walters. You’re not being honest with me.”

  “I’m not playing games.”

  “Ah, but you are.”

  She flinched as he touched her hair.

  “You made it clear that you like the chase. So do I. But we’re ready for the next step.”

  “I’m on my period.” There. Factual and off-putting. She lifted her chin.

  His eyes danced as he inched closer. “I’m not so crude as to expect you to fall into bed with me. Alas, the next step I was suggesting was a night on the town. Dinner, dancing, a kiss to welcome the new year.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “You wouldn’t leave me to celebrate the new year alone, would you?”

  “Mr. Hastings, I have other plans. Regardless, I have no interest.”

  His smile disintegrated. He plucked her still-full wineglass from her and returne
d to the bar, where he plunked down both glasses. “Then I must regretfully insist. I had hoped to do this properly, Miss Walters. I had hoped to share a lovely evening. But if you insist on casting me as the bully, I assure you, I can fill that role.”

  His tone of voice filled in every blank—he would get what he wanted, when he wanted it.

  Icy calculation lingered in his eyes, a darkness distinctly at odds with his civilized demeanor. A shiver raced through her, distributing tentacles of fear and anger. She was in way over her head. She could either go along with him or fight him. Some choice.

  “I don’t care for orders,” she said, the barest hint of concession in her voice.

  He relaxed fractionally. “And I am accustomed to giving them, and having them obeyed without question. I apologize for treating you like staff instead of the beautiful woman I desire.”

  “If I don’t call my sister, she’ll have the entire San Francisco Police Department out tookmg for me. She raised me. She’s very protective.”

  “And very pregnant. I’ll get a message to her. Now, shall we go?”

  The amount of information he had on her astounded her. “Where?”

  He cupped her elbow and guided her toward the elevator. Dee and Dum appeared from nowhere. “The top floor of the Empress Hotel. I believe it’s a setting worthy of showing off the lovely jewel that you are.”

  A public place meant safety. What could he do? Okay. She could manage this, manage him. Now she only had to figure out a way to avoid the midnight kiss he wanted. She’d start by ordering every item on the menu with garlic in it

  Maggie looked out a floor-to-ceiling window at the twinkling lights of San Francisco. The elegant restaurant where Brendan had brought her took up the entire twentieth floor of the Empress HoteL The room was filled with revelers waiting to celebrate the new year.

  “Maggie?”

  Reluctantly, she faced Brendan, who was losing patience with her lack of interest. He leaned toward her.

  “You would have permanent use of the penthouse, unlimited credit—whatever your heart desires.”

  As he listed the perks of the job he was offering, Maggie glanced around the restaurant, wondering what the servers made in tips. She made more than a decent income at the Carola, thanks to great tips, but the food here was even more expensive.

  “I don’t usually make an offer so freely,” he continued, “but I know it would be good between us. Phenomenal, in fact.”

  Meaning you usually sample the wares first. Was she supposed to feel flattered because he didn’t ask for a “test drive”?

  She looked at the Caesar salad she hadn’t yet taken a bite of, rolled a few croutons over some romaine leaves, then set her fork aside. She had to come up with some kind of answer. Something to placate him, yet not commit her to anything. She lifted her wineglass, stalling, mentally forming a sentence, then noticed patrons around them turning in their chairs, watching a woman glide through the restaurant, greeting people, her beaded, ankle-length, cardinal red gown capturing and holding everyone’s gazes. She stopped at Brendan and Maggie’s table.

  “Why, hon, what a surprise to see you here!”

  Maggie smiled as Misty Champion touched her shoulder, and she relaxed for the first time that evening. “Misty, hi.”

  “Brendan, happy new year.”

  He stood to shake Misty’s hand. They exchanged pleasantries for a minute as Maggie wondered why he hadn’t invited Misty tonight instead. She seemed much more suited to him.

  “I’m headed to the little girls’ room,” Misty said to Maggie. “Keep me company?”

  Maggie grabbed her purse and tossed her napkin on the table as she shot out of the seat, not giving Brendan a second to stop her. She linked her arm through Misty’s and hustled her away. The bathroom door had barely closed behind them when Maggie grabbed her.

  “I have a big favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Could you help me get out of here? It’s a long story, too long to explain right now, and Brendan isn’t going to be happy, but I’m willing to risk sneaking out, even though I’m concerned about what he’ll do.”

  “And well you should be, hon. In the river of life, he’s a crocodile and you’re a tadpole.” She picked up a book of Empress Hotel matches from the vanity counter, then pulled a cellular phone from her purse, and dialed. She oozed charm. “Hi, there, Jacques. This is Misty Champion....”

  Maggie listened as Misty made the necessary arrangements to get her out of the sky-high restaurant, then Misty folded the phone and slid it back into her purse.

  “Okay, it’s all set, hon. Jacques will be right outside the door.”

  “Thanks, Misty. I owe you.”

  “Just tell me you’ve learned a lesson—don’t bite off more man than you can chew.”

  “I didn’t bite this one.” She eyed the rest-room door. “I felt as close to helpless as I ever want to feel in my life. I was doing the best I could to handle him. But he’s...a force unto his own. I’m afraid this is just the beginning of my problems with him. He’s going to be furious that I dumped him.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, hon. Trust me, this is not a man you want to be involved with.”

  Maggie frowned. “Then I can’t leave you with him. I got myself into this mess. I’ll get myself out.”

  She patted Maggie’s arm. “In another life, I dealt with men like him. I know what to do.”

  “No, I—”

  “Just follow me out.”

  Maggie expected to see either Brendan., Tweedledee or Tweedledum looming outside the door. She saw only the maitre d’, Jacques, who whisked her through the kitchen. He indicated a door.

  “You will find a service elevator on the other side,” he said precisely.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and retreated. Maggie pushed open the door and stepped through.

  “Well, Alice, have you had enough adventures in wonder land?”

  She whirled around. “Diego! How did you—What are you doing here?”

  He strode toward her. “That’s some dress you’re almost wearing.”

  “Don’t start,” she warned, relief warring with anger at herself. “I’m not in the mood.”

  She marched to the elevator and punched the down button. Several times she looked over her shoulder. She jabbed the down button twice more. “Come on. Come on.”

  “Where’s your coat?” Diego asked, coming up beside her.

  “In the coat check, at the restaurant.” She fired a glance his way. “This can’t be a coincidence, your being here. Were you following me?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Maggie shivered, not only from the cold but from residual fear After a moment she felt his suit jacket being draped around her, warm and scented with the essence of him. “Thank you,” she said tightly, embarrassed that he’d seen her vulnerable. And inordinately glad that he was there.

  J.D. cupped her shoulders a moment, indulging himself. They shared a silent ride down the elevator and an equally silent walk to his car, leaving each other to their thoughts. He observed her ngid posture, felt the stiffness of his own muscles.

  Damn it, he’d known she’d get in the way. More than that, she’d almost blown it for him, almost ruined the relationship he was building with Hastings by forcing J.D. to confront him. Worse yet, she’d almost gotten herself into a position he couldn’t have extricated her from so easily. Thank God for Misty, who’d been able to keep him out of any public scene with Hastings.

  Still silent, J.D. and Maggie navigated the hills of the city until they reached her apartment. They climbed the stairs in unison. He took the key from her and opened the door. She flicked on the living room light as she passed him.

  “Dios. ” He ran his hand down the long crack in her front door. “What happened here?”

  She tugged his jacket closer. “One of Brendan’s henchmen wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  He inspected the splintered wood, giv
ing himself time to calm. He should have been there. He’d known Hastings was back. He knew the man wouldn’t give up—his track record verified that.

  J.D. shoved the door to close it.

  He should have known she’d need him.

  “I don’t believe Hastings would have harmed you,” he told her. Not yet, he thought, aware that Hastings liked to present a civilized facade for the world. J.D. leashed his temper, knowing anger would counter his purposes. “Control you, yes. But not harm.”

  “Oh? And controlling someone isn’t harmful?”

  “It isn’t life threatening.” He cupped her elbow and moved her to the couch. They sat several feet apart.

  “I guess it depends on who’s being controlled. And I wasn’t in fear for my life, just my right to choose who I date. He’s creepy.”

  “Creepy. Could you be more specific?”

  “Just creepy. I don’t know how to define it. It’s a feeling, that’s all. Why were you there, anyway?”

  “I was invited to your sister’s party. I was going to surprise you, pick up you and Matthew and take you there. When I arrived, I saw you getting into the limo. That didn’t make sense to me so I followed.”

  “Was Misty there because of you?”

  “She fit the scene. I didn’t.”

  “He made me feel dirty,” she said, burrowing farther into his suit jacket, then scowling. “I’d just finished making that new winter coat, too. The jerk. He’d better give it back to me.” She stood. “I need to wash off my makeup and get out of this dress. You won’t leave, will you?”

  “No. Take time to have a shower if that would make you feel better.”

  When J.D. heard water running, he stood and wandered around the room, more than a little surprised at the disorder he found. A large wooden hoop held what appeared to be a block of quilting; a sewing machine and cabinet took up a substantial amount of space in one corner; a dressmaker’s form was layered with a diaphanous white silky nightgown draped over a mold reminiscent of Magnolia’s shapely body. He traced the lines with his eyes, appreciating the perfection of proportion he’d always been drawn to. His willpower had been stretched to the limit these many months of working beside her, watching her move with unintentional—and sometimes completely intentional—seductiveness. She’d flirted relentlessly with him, feeling safe perhaps, or maybe just testing him. He’d rarely reacted openly. It was all he could offer her—self-control, protection and respect.