Stand-In Groom

“You’ve a master’s degree in English?” George set his book aside, shifted to the edge of his seat, and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

She tried to swallow the emotion that threatened to cut off her breath. She’d ventured into treacherous territory; he belonged to someone else. I have to get out of here. I have to put an end to anything but a professional relationship between us. “Linguistics—though I was about ten hours from finishing when I had to leave school for financial reasons.”

“I’d be interested in reading your thesis sometime. The study of language has always fascinated me.” He couldn’t be for real. No one—not even a family member—had ever asked to read her work.

The sincerity and warmth in his gaze made Anne want to cry. “I’ll see if I can dig it up.”

He leaned back again. “I enjoyed dinner with your family Thursday evening.”

“I’m sorry they gave you such a hard time with all those questions.” Her cheeks burned in memory of some of the things said at dinner a few nights ago.

“Don’t fret about it. My brothers would probably be much worse. Do you eat together every week?”

“It’s a long-standing tradition. Forbes, Meredith, and I started it a couple of years ago to help support Jenn’s restaurant.” She remembered Jenn’s request. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Two, both younger.”

“And do they both still live in England?”

“Henry just moved to Australia. Edward still lives in London. My mum writes occasionally to say they’re doing well.”

“It must be hard to be so far away from your family.” She would never want to live anywhere but within a short drive of her relatives.

He shrugged, and the sadness in his gaze tore at her heart. “I left home at sixteen for a live-in apprenticeship. Henry and I have grown closer since the advent of e-mail, but I don’t have much contact with Mum or Edward.”

Stop asking him personal questions. “Have you gotten to know Courtney’s family?”

He looked away and cleared his throat. “No. Since I moved Courtney out of her mother’s house, we’ve had no contact with her family.”

Her heart constricted. “You…you’re living together?”

“We are living in the same house, yes.”

Anguish choked her, and she struggled for breath. She stuffed the magazines into her bag. “You must not have read the entire contract. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to resign as your wedding planner. The morals clause states that unless the wedding is to be immediate, I don’t plan weddings for couples living together.” Standing, she flung the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder.

“Wait—let me explain.” He jumped up from the sofa, panic edging his voice.

Grabbing her empty cup from the floor, she stuffed her unused napkins into it, unable to meet his gaze. If she looked at him, the moisture burning her eyes would turn into full-fledged tears.

“I had to get her out of her mother’s house. You’ve met Mrs. Landry, yes?”

Anne nodded.

“Then you understand why I couldn’t leave Courtney there. But you must believe me—there is nothing untoward happening. She is staying in a room on the third floor, while my suite is in the basement—right beside the housekeeper’s room.”

“Right beside…?”

“The housekeeper’s room. So you see, even if Courtney weren’t currently in Paris, we have a chaperone. There is no need for you to resign. I would—I know Courtney would be most distraught if she discovered my decision to get her away from the negative influence of her mother caused you to break the contract.”

He’d thought of everything, hadn’t he? Could he be a more perfect gentleman? She swallowed hard. “I see. Well, in that case, I suppose we should set a time to meet this week and finalize the plans for the engagement party, since it’s only two weeks away.”

Based on several bids still out, she scheduled George for Wednesday afternoon, at which time she planned to have her presentation for the engagement party finalized. She just hoped the plan wasn’t too ambitious to pull off in less than fourteen days.

She had to get out of here. “Oh, wow, look at the time.” She rummaged for her keys. “I’ve got to run.” Keys found, she extended her right hand. “George, it was good to see you. I’ll see you Wednesday. Don’t forget you can park in the alley and come in the back door.”

His warm, smooth hand wrapped around hers. “I’m glad I ran into you. Cheerio.”

Anne tried not to look back as she exited the store but did take a peek over her shoulder as she reached the door. He’d sat down again, his back to her.

She wanted so badly to go back, to sit and talk to him as if they were the only two people in the world…like they had for the last hour. Walk away. Don’t give in to temptation. Lord, give me strength.

She opened the exterior door and got a face full of rain. She’d left her umbrella on the floor beside the armchair. Unable to face him, she ran to her car. She didn’t start the engine but leaned forward and rested her dripping head against the steering wheel.

“God, why are You torturing me like this? Please, please take away these feelings I have for him. Why is it that the only men I’ve ever been attracted to haven’t felt the same way for me? Lord, what have I done wrong? I do the best I can—every task You’ve ever put before me, I’ve poured myself into one hundred and ten percent. Why are You asking me to plan a wedding for a man I’m falling in love with? What are You trying to teach me?”

A tear burned down her cheek as she visualized George standing under a floral-bedecked arbor, awaiting his bride…and it wasn’t her.

* * *

Forcing himself to stay seated and not run after Anne was the hardest thing George had ever done in his life. He’d nearly blown his cover this afternoon by revealing more of his feelings than he should.

He gave her a few minutes to drive away, shoved the copy of the latest spy thriller from his favorite author back into the bag, and edged around the coffee table. He tripped and looked down to see her red and black University of Louisiana umbrella tangled between his feet.

Grabbing the umbrella, he headed for the exit. He pulled out his phone, scrolled to the entry for Forbes Guidry, and selected his mobile number. Anne’s umbrella came in handy as he splashed through the parking lot to the car.

Thunder nearly drowned out Forbes’s baritone voice. “George? Is everything all right?”

“I need to speak with you. About Anne.”

Leaden silence transmitted through the phone for a moment. “I had a feeling. Come on over to my place, and we can sit down and figure this out.”

Since George couldn’t stop to write down the directions, Forbes stayed on the phone with him until he pulled into the driveway of the redbrick row house not too far from Town Square.

The front door opened to reveal the man who could be either George’s enemy or his ally in sorting out the mess he’d gotten himself into with Anne. He dashed up the front steps, glad to take the thick green towel Forbes held toward him.

Forbes led him down the shiny, dark wood–floored hall into a masculine leather and wood–furnished study. “Make yourself comfortable. I can put on some water for hot tea. Or coffee, if you’d prefer.”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” George spread the towel over the leather club chair before sitting. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. Now here, he didn’t know how to start the conversation.

Forbes sat in a stiff-looking blue Queen Anne wing chair.

Queen Anne. Yes, she had all the makings of royalty.

“I was afraid when I first met you that things between you and Anne might get complicated.” Forbes templed his fingers, looking as if this were a casual Sunday call rather than one of the most important meetings of George’s life.

“Complicated? Bit of an understatement. I—” He glanced down at his clenched hands. “I cannot continue being dishonest with her. I respect her too much to continue the charade.”