His Wedding Date (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 2) (2 page)

So, here it was.

The end.

Time to give up.

To keep the promise she'd made to herself and move on.

She decided not to torture herself by actually reading the wedding invitation.

Chapter 1

Four weeks later

The phone rang, sounding absurdly loud in the deserted engineering office, and startled Shelly Wilkerson.

It wasn't quite six on a Monday morning. Normally she wouldn't be caught dead at the office at this hour, because a certain man she knew, one she'd managed to avoid for weeks, liked to come to work early, as well.

Unfortunately, the firm was bidding on a huge new hotel, and Shelly was in charge of gathering information from all the departments for the bid. The staff electrical engineer had let her down, coming in late with his information. So, here she was, in the office at dawn to make the bid deadline.

She hadn't expected to have to contend with the phone. Who in the world called a business at this hour?

She picked up the phone and said, "Williams Engineering."

"Shelly?" The man's voice was muffled and strangely void of any inflection.

"Yes." She wondered how he knew who she was.

"You've got to get out of there, Shelly. It's not safe for you to work there anymore."

"What?" She whirled around from one side to the other, peering out over the mostly darkened office, but her vision was almost blocked by the shoulder-high partitions that separated the employee work stations.

This was crazy. Had to be some kind of prank.

"The firm," the man said. "There are things you don't know, things you don't understand, and you need to get out of there now."

He sounded agitated, but not crazy. And it was a grown-up on the other end of the phone, not some kid. Did grown-ups make crank calls? Surely not.

She checked Caller ID.

Blocked number. Big surprise.

"Please," the voice said. "Just go. I don't want anything to happen to you."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and he knew her name, had called her at the office. Had he watched her walk in this morning? Was he right outside?

She pivoted from side to side, scared someone was going to sneak up on her, feeling as if someone was watching her. Someone must have been watching her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but—"

"I can't explain. I've already told you more than I should. And for God's sake, don't tell anyone about this call. Just get out of that office before something happens."

"Wait, before what happens?"

"I don't know—"

"Okay," Shelly said. "Just tell me who you are—"

It was too late. She heard a click, and the line went dead.

She hung up the phone and not two seconds later, heard a door closing in the front of the office. Shelly clamped a hand over her mouth, afraid some sound would escape and lead the person right to her.

Was it him? The man on the phone? He claimed to be a friend. But he wouldn't warn her about some non-specific danger, refuse to identify himself and then waltz in the front door. That didn't make any sense.

None of this did.

She had locked that front door when she came in. Hadn't she?

She'd been in a hurry this morning, anxious about the bid deadline, but surely she hadn't forgotten to lock the door.

They weren't open for business, and all the employees had keys. The door was kept locked outside of Monday through Friday, nine to five.

The man on the phone had scared her so much she'd been shaking even before she thought she heard someone walk in the front door.

Now, the sound of footsteps came closer.

Shelly whimpered.

Someone was here, moving through the office.

Calm down
, she told herself. She'd worked here for four years, ever since she graduated from college in North Carolina. Surely nothing bad could happen here.

Charlie Williams, the owner—a friend of Brian's father, who'd helped her get the job—was more of a father figure to her than a boss. She counted everyone who worked at the small firm among her friends.

But she wasn't losing it. Those were footsteps she heard, and they were coming closer.

Shelly sat there, stupidly paralyzed, wondering where she could hide and what she might be able to use to defend herself.

Think, think, think.

She didn't have an office, just a cubicle in the middle of the big room. She liked being in the middle of everything.

She knew there was only one way out—the way the intruder had come in. The office had an emergency exit/fire door in back, but it was farther away, and she didn't think she could make it down the central hallway without being seen.

Danger? Here?

It didn't make any sense. She wondered for a moment if she was still asleep in her bed at her apartment, having some weirdly symbolic dream about work being a dangerous place for her because Brian was here.

She knew it was exactly that. She had even started sending out resumes for new jobs–in anywhere except Naples, Florida–right after she'd gotten the wedding invitation.

If it was a dream, could she just tell her subconscious she knew she shouldn't be here, she knew she had to get away from him, and then she would wake up?

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

She tried yelling it silently to herself, then opened her eyes. Didn't work. She was still at the office, footsteps coming closer with every passing second.

God, they were right behind her!

Too late, Shelly realized she'd waited too long to simply call 911.

She spotted the big crystal paperweight she kept on her desk, the hardest thing within reach. She lifted it over her head, stood up and whirled around.

A man stood right behind her.

"Ahh!" she screamed as she slammed the paperweight at him. Then she tried to stop, barely managing to swing to the side at the last minute and miss his head.

"Shelly?" It was the most dangerous man she knew.

"Brian." She felt ridiculous, even though her heart was still pounding.

One of her greatest fears had always been making a complete fool of herself in front of him.
Or over him.

Okay, she might well have already made a fool of herself over him. She hoped not, hoped he didn't know how she felt. It would be awful if he felt uncomfortable around her, or sorry for her.

She smiled and tried to act like nothing was wrong and she hadn't nearly knocked him unconscious as he walked into the office where they both worked.

"You scared me," she said.

"I guess so."

He caught the paperweight she'd forgotten, and might have dropped on his feet. After he set the big crystal on her desk, he reached out for her arms.

"You're trembling." He looked worried.

She was, trembling harder now that he held her loosely in his arms.

Slipping easily into his never-forgotten role as her protector, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, shook off his hold and sat down in her chair, hoping to put some distance between them.

She thought wrong. He pushed her stack of manila folders aside and sat down on the edge of the desk. "You'd crack this rock over my head for nothing, squirt?"

That silly childhood nickname made her stand up faster than anything else he could have said to her, and he knew it, too. "I will if you keep calling me that."

"Guess it doesn't do much for your professional image." He smiled easily.

"No, it doesn't," she said, her heartbeat racing.

She'd known him forever, it seemed, that perfect, older, just out-of-reach boy of her childhood. She'd spent at least six years trying to get him to notice her and another six trying to get him out of her heart.

Neither effort had succeeded, although living with the failures became much easier once she didn't live practically in his backyard, as she had when they were growing up in Tallahassee.

She hadn't seen him more than a half-dozen times since he graduated from college, the last time when her father died.

It had been sudden—his heart. He'd fallen, and died before he touched the ground. Brian had come to get her at college. Her father was the only relative she had left, and Brian hadn't wanted her to be alone after she knew he was gone.

It had been Brian's shoulder she'd cried upon when he told her as gently as he could what had happened, his hand that she'd grabbed on to during the funeral, his arms that had locked around her and gently but firmly led her away from the grave site.

He did care about her, and, in his own way, he probably loved her. But not the way she wanted to be loved.

It had been so much easier, having him farther away.

Then, they'd had a casual conversation or two about where she worked–nothing more—and he'd shown up here last spring, to work at the same engineering firm as she did. He'd said his father thought highly of Charlie Williams, and Brian thought it was time to get out of his own father's firm. Rebecca would be joining him soon, he'd said.

It was one of the great injustices of her life to date, Shelly thought, right up there with loving him and him never loving her back.

She'd put more than four hundred miles between them, made a life here–kind of–and been happy–kind of.

It had been so long, and she hadn't been prepared for the Brian of the present. He was thirty-one now, and the years had been kind to him. He was taller, broader through the chest, stronger, even more solid than before.

That's how she always thought of him—rock solid, for his physical strength and his dependability, his loyalty, his honesty, his determination.

He was the kind of man a woman could count on, no matter what kind of trouble came her way, and Brian had always looked out for her.

The only problem was he'd never grown to love her the way she loved him. To him, she was nothing but a good friend.

"So." He leaned forward on the desk, coming even closer. "Going to tell me what's wrong?"

"It was nothing," she said, dropping her eyes, refusing to let herself look at him, because she was afraid he'd see something he shouldn't. "I didn't hear your keys in the lock. I just heard someone walking around in the office, and I thought someone had broken in."

She had no intention of telling him about the strange phone call. He'd never let her out of his sight if she did.

Sometimes—no, most of the time—Brian had trouble remembering she wasn't a little girl anymore. Given the slightest reason, he'd become incredibly protective.

She couldn't stand to have him hovering.

Besides, danger in this office? She shook her head at the thought. It had to be some silly prank. The greatest danger to her in this office was standing right in front of her.

"Want some coffee?" She knew of his weakness for caffeine and was ready to exploit it. "I started a pot a few minutes ago. It should be done by now."

He gave her a look that told her he wasn't ready to drop this, but took her hand and pulled her up from the chair anyway, as the promise of caffeine won out.

They headed for the small kitchenette the engineering firm shared with the accounting office next door, and along the way, Shelly managed to pull her hand from his.

* * *

"So what are you doing this weekend?" He held an empty coffee mug under the still-dripping spout while she poured a cup for each of them from the half-full pot. He hadn't been willing to wait for it to finish brewing. Besides, they both liked their coffee strong.

"I don't know." She pushed the pot back under the stream of liquid as he pulled the mug away. A little coffee spilled from the spout. It hissed and danced along the burner, and she watched it, mesmerized for a moment. This was how it felt, she decided. If her skin could talk, this is what it would say when he touched her.

Shelly handed him his coffee and tried to remember what they'd been talking about.