My Best Friend's Bride (23 page)

Mauve sympathetically laid a hand on her shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

“I
am,
” Cassandra whined pitifully. “Can’t you see? All this time I’ve been on a wild goose chase, believing there was something more than meets the eye to their hasty union.”

Mauve shot her a placating look. “There still could be.”

Cassandra vehemently shook her head. “No, I hate to admit it, but Mauve…” She stared at him blankly. “I think I may have been wrong.” She doubled forward and buried her face in her hands. “What am I going to do?”

Mauve patted her head to soothe her. “Maybe you could try your hand at something else?”

“Something else?” she cried, teary-eyed. “But writing for
Tempo Beat
is all I know!”

“Come on.” He took both her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. “Look at me.” When she did, Mauve said, “You’re a brilliant, beautiful woman. I’m sure you have many talents, some of which you haven’t explored.”

She gasped hopefully. “You really think so?”

Mauve nodded. “Now, tell me. Isn’t there anything else you’ve ever wanted to do? I mean, apart from working at
Tempo Beat
?”

She studied her shoes, then glanced at him shyly. “Once upon a time I wanted to write.”

“You do write.”

“Not like that, not for a gossip magazine. I mean fiction.”

Mauve’s mouth drew up in a smile. “Cassandra, I think that’s splendid. Then that’s what you should do!”

“What? Now?”

“Why not now?”

“Because,” Cassandra said, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start small. With short stories, maybe. Those are probably about the length of your articles anyway.”

The dark clouds hovering above her began to lift as she pondered this aloud. “Yeah, short stories.” Then she grabbed him by the shoulders. “But what will I write about?”

“Well…” Mauve said, drawing out the word. “You do like investigating, don’t you?”

“Love it.”

“Then how about a detective piece?”

Cassandra’s whole face warmed. “You mean like Dick Tracy?” she asked excitedly.

“Why, yes, I supp—”

Before he could finish, Cassandra pulled him violently against her and planted a big one on his lips. Mauve stared at her aghast and fell back a few paces, his knees wobbling. “Wh…what was that for?”

“For inspiring me!” She stepped toward him and this time, he didn’t back away. He let her scoop him into an embrace. “And Mauve,” she said gazing at him dreamily. “Nobody’s ever inspired me before.”

His voice quavered. “Not ever?”

“Not even once,” she purred, tightening her arms around him.

Mauve made some little animal sound and held her close. “Oh, Cassandra,” he said. “You’re amazing. In fact, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Cassandra tilted up her chin to take him in. This wonderful, weird, quirky man that she was actually starting to like. “I’m glad that you think so,” she said, kissing him again.

Hunter lifted the bottle from its chilling bucket and poured Jill more wine. “No more after this,” she told him. “It’s still the middle of the day, and I’ve got writing to do tomorrow.”

His dark eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “All work and no play?”

Jill giggled into her plastic cup. “I’d say I’ve played quite a bit with you these past few days.”

“Yeah, and it’s been good, hasn’t it? Almost like Niagara Falls.”

“That was a truly memorable trip,” she told him.

“I’ll never forget it,” he answered. “That’s for sure.”

Hunter had packed them marvelous sandwiches made from gourmet cheeses and deli meats and fresh French bread. They’d gone well with the white wine, and it was a beautiful July day out. Sunny and clear, but not too warm. Jill was happy Hunter had gotten her to come out and play. Maybe she needed to play more often. Perhaps when the pressure of this book project was done, she would. “Thanks for the picnic, Hunter. It’s been fun and a really nice break.”

“You’ve been working pretty hard on that new outline of yours.”

“That’s because Morgan wasn’t thrilled with the first one.”

“What was wrong with it?”

Jill lifted a shoulder. “Not personal enough.”

“I see.” Hunter stared up at the sunlight streaming down through the branches of the tree they were under. “What have you got so far?”

“You know the title of the book?”

“
Married Love: Keeping Those Home Fires Burning
.” He quirked a grin in her direction. “Who thought that up? Morgan?”

“Yep.”

Hunter chuckled warmly. “Thought so.”

“Anyway,” Jill continued. “It’s supposed to be about what makes marriages work. You know, the building blocks of a solid relationship.”

“Like a recipe, you mean?”

“A recipe?” Jill took a moment to consider this, then smiled broadly. “Hunter, that’s brilliant!”

His expression was murky. “What is?”

“A recipe! Yes! The recipe for a lasting marriage! That gives me a way to frame the information in the book! I already have several ‘ingredients’ in mind: shared adventures, the element of surprise, sacrifice…”

“Sacrifice?” he asked with interest. “That sounds a little old-world, doesn’t it? Kind of Aztec?”

“Hunter!” She swatted a hand at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but maybe you ought to call it ‘compromise’? Something a little less bloodthirsty?”

“How do you know I don’t already have a chapter on compromise?” she asked, flirting.

“Do you?”

Jill rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. “What are you now, my project consultant?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I could be. I’m just saying that ‘sacrifice’ sounds a little one-sided. With compromise, the sacrificing goes both ways.”

“And you know so much about married love, because…?”

“I know as much as you do.”

Jill laughed again, realizing what a good time she was having. “You’ve got me there.”

“A recipe for love…” he pondered aloud. “I like it.”

“I like it too,” Jill said surely.

Her pretty face was aglow and Hunter was pleased by how excited she looked. He was even happier he’d had a part in that. Hunter didn’t fully understand what was happening between them, but he knew he felt happy in Jill’s company. She’d been a star at Max’s cookout, and this morning when she’d woken up in his bed he would have given anything if she’d looked pleased rather than petrified. While Hunter understood that Jill’s walking into his bedroom in the middle of the night had been a mistake, inwardly he knew he wouldn’t be opposed if she made that mistake again. He’d like it even better if she came in there on purpose. Hunter sighed, imagining what that would be like, waking up each morning with Jill in his arms.

“When do you have to finish the book?” he asked her.

“Morgan wants to see the new outline when she gets back from New York. We have plans to meet on Monday. Assuming she approves, I’ll write the first three chapters based on that. Those will be due to the publisher for review by October.”

“And the final draft?”

“Browning wants it by Christmas.”

“Christmas? That seems fast.”

“They want to rush it into print for their spring catalog.”

“Isn’t that pushing things? I thought the process generally took longer.”

“Browning wants the big push before summer, so they can get me on the talk show circuit. Otherwise, they’ll have to plan for a fall release. And speaking engagements and conferences are harder to book around the holidays. Everyone has other things going on.”

“Sounds like you’re really going to be under the gun.”

“I’ll be working pretty hard these next few months, yeah.”

“Then I’m going to help you.”

Her expression was grateful. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to support you, Jill. With this endeavor. Isn’t it the whole reason you got into the fake marriage in the first place?”

“Yes.”

Hunter regarded her kindly. “I know it means a lot. So, just for now, let’s put everything else aside. You’ve got your room and I’ve got mine. What’s more, we seem to be getting along.”

Color dusted her cheeks. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“It’s not something I expected, I can tell you that.”

“I like getting along with you, Hunter. It feels so much better than…”

“Not talking,” he finished for her. “I agree.”

“So, you’re okay with this?” she asked him. “Prepared to continue our arrangement?”

“I’m in it for the long haul just like you are.”

Her face fell almost imperceptibly. “The long haul meaning a year?”

“Now’s not the time to talk about the future, Jill. Next June is a long ways off. In the meantime, you and I have some goals to reach. You’ve got to finish your book and I want to make partner at Abrams. After all that’s done, maybe we can reassess?”

She bit into her bottom lip and waited a few seconds before answering. “I’d like that,” she said at last in a whisper. “I really would.”

“You know, Jill, I’d like that too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Morgan set her reading glasses down on the coffee shop table. “This is fantastic, Jill. Such an improvement! Love it. Love it.”

“It really feels like it’s working,” Jill said. “The whole concept is totally gelling for me.”

“I can see that in the outline.” Morgan thumped her glasses case against the papers. “It shows.”

“It’s awesome that you approve. So we’re set to move ahead?”

“You make those first three chapters as good as it sounds like they could be, we’re golden.”

Morgan took her time toying with her coffee cup, then asked, “So, how are things going at home?”

“Actually,” Jill told her brightly, “very well.”

Morgan studied her. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“My, my. It’s going that great, huh?”

Jill cupped a hand to her mouth with a blush. “Oh, Morgan,” she whispered. “He’s wonderful.”

“Hunter?”

“There’s so much more to him than I thought. And he’s patient, you know? And not pushy. Plus, he’s promised to be supportive and—”

“Has he kissed you again?” Morgan pressed. “Since the wedding?”

“Maybe just once, on our honeymoon.”

“You don’t remember?”

Jill recalled it quite clearly and the memory took her breath away. “My point is, we had a little difficulty in the beginning…settling in. Now, we seem to have arrived at an understanding between us due to our common goals.”

“His promotion and your book,” Morgan stated.

“Exactly.”

“Well, good. That’s good, Jill. I’m glad that it’s working out for you. In the beginning you were so concerned about living with Hunter.”

“I know, but he was a different man then.”

“Was he? Or could it be you didn’t know him?”

“Why don’t you tell me about your time in New York?” Jill said, changing the topic. Morgan smiled wistfully at the thought of it.

“Owen’s pretty wonderful too. He convinced me to stay an extra day, did you know that? Even paid for the replacement flight.”

“Wow.”

“I know! And for me, right? Who could have imagined?”

Jill leaned forward and sweetly squeezed her hand. “I could have, Morgan. I could have imagined it in a heartbeat. I’m just so glad you’ve met someone who recognizes your specialness too.”

Hunter let himself into his darkened condo and flipped on the lights. Even with all of them shining, it still seemed dismal somehow. He’d come back to check on the place and pick up any mail that had missed getting forwarded to Jill’s. Walking around here now, it was difficult to believe he’d once considered it home. Where were the decorative candles and the vases filled with fresh flowers? And what about that big, dopey dog that always came rushing to the door to greet him, and that crazy gray feline with whom he’d struck a secret deal? In his new lifestyle with Jill, Hunter had developed two regular habits. When he got home in the evening, he did two things right away. One, he opened a small pull-tab can of tuna fish for the cat and set it on the porch. This had somehow given Mimi the idea that when Hunter was around, he got rewarded for being outside. Two, he removed his suit jacket and tie and played a few rounds of fetch with Sport.
 

Not that Hunter would ever suggest Jill make Mimi an outdoor pet only, especially in wintertime. The cat seemed to enjoy lazing about in the sunshine on the porch just as much as he did sleeping by the windowsill inside. And the more Mimi stayed outside, the less Hunter’s allergies bothered him, even when he was sitting in the living room watching TV. Hunter stared at the empty space in his condo that had once held the large television. It looked a little bare without it, and the rest of the room appeared forlorn too. Hunter had never imagined a home could have a personality, but Jill’s house did. It was cheerful and warm and inviting, in a friendly and open-hearted way…just like Jill.

Hunter strode into the bedroom and sat on his king-size bed. At one time he couldn’t have imagined sleeping anywhere more comfortable. Now, the prospect of returning to slumber here seemed almost unbearable. The room was lonely and depressing, without too many personal touches. Hunter acknowledged that that was because he’d packed most of his personal things and taken them to Jill’s. Like that silly football trophy, which was still in a box. When he’d decided to take it over there, he’d had his rational reasons. Now Hunter felt foolishly sentimental for clinging to the relic from his past. That may have been the first time he’d tested his mettle, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. His relationship with Jill challenged him constantly.

Hunter opened his bedside table drawer and pulled out the contract. Who could have guessed a month ago he’d have such a different perspective on things today? Hunter smiled, recalling Jill’s combative stance as they’d lunched together at the country club, and the way she’d been so horribly embarrassed over surrendering to—no, make that
commandeering
—his kiss. Hunter thought briefly of Cassandra, realizing he and Jill hadn’t heard from her in a while, which was likely a good thing. The memories swirled through Hunter’s mind: Brad’s early insane proposition that Hunter take over Brad’s role as Jill’s groom; his and Jill’s rushed yet fantastic wedding day; that unforgettable honeymoon in Niagara Falls… Hunter swallowed hard, reliving their kiss on the boat. Jill had seemed all his then, and for an instant he’d wondered… No, he’d dared to hope…that maybe she wanted to be. But that was ridiculous at the time. Or was it?