There Goes the Bride Read online

  Sara Beth nodded. “Hot in a wealthy, ditch-the-rules, great-in-bed kind of way.”

  Rule breakers? She knew the type well. She’d grown up with those people. And yet running here hadn’t helped her one damn bit.

  Lindsey eyed the door with panic and longing. “I don’t know what to say. I, uhm, haven’t met him.” But she knew he was gunning for her family’s secrets. Nerves made the roots of her hair tingle. This day was already stressful enough. She had to get out of here. “I need to go to the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”

  “Hold still just a minute longer,” Marilyn said, tucking pins back into Lindsey’s updo, securing tiny flowers.

  Sara Beth reached into her satin handbag. “He left his card for you. Are you sure you don’t want it? He seemed pretty anxious to talk to you.” Finding it, she read the name aloud, “Myles Emory. He even sounds yummy.”

  Marilyn sighed. “How come no mysterious men ever show up asking for me?”

  Lindsey wondered if Myles Emory had already spoken to other members of her family. Were Lara’s secrets already out there?

  “A music producer...,” Marilyn said the words with soft incredulity. “And he wants to see you. You bad girl. What are you not telling us? There’s still going to be a wedding, right?”

  She hesitated a second too long.

  Sara Beth gasped. “Oh my God, you’re calling off the wedding because of this guy?”

  “No,” Lindsey said quickly. Maybe too quickly? But she didn’t know what to say to people. There clearly wasn’t going to be a wedding. Beau William’s secrets were his own to tell. He’d given her the option to leave and she was taking it. “Please, I just need to go to the bathroom okay?” And she didn’t want them searching for her any time soon. “I need some time alone to think.”

  She ducked out from under Marilyn’s hairstyling hands. Her emotions were too raw for her to speak with anyone. She snatched her purse, bypassed the bathroom and slipped out a back entrance. A warm breeze rolled in off the water and she slipped behind a sprawling oak tree, feeling more than a little conspicuous in the wedding gown as the caterers and decorators put last minute touches along the grounds.

  No way could she sprint to the bungalow to retrieve her suitcase and car unnoticed. Peeking around the fat oak, she searched for a way to escape, recoup, and call Beau William so they could plan how to share the news of their breakup with the public. Once she could think of what happened without bursting into tears.

  Her eyes landed on a trolley, parked and ready to cart guests around the grounds. Parked right in front of a towering ladder that had been used to place a banner with their names across a balcony. Ouch.

  Back to looking at the trolley. Keys dangled from the ignition. It wasn’t like she was stealing the vehicle. Technically she’d rented it for her big day.

  With a bracing breath, she eased from behind the tree, dodged to the next, then the next, still grateful she was wearing ballet slippers rather than heels. Finally she reached her ride. She hitched up her dress and hopped in the trolley cart. She cranked the ignition, shifted into gear and nailed the gas, steering hard to the left. No way in hell was she driving underneath that ladder.

  Because today, Lindsey Ballard had become decidedly superstitious.

  Myles Emory tapped his thumbs along the limo steering wheel. He’d paid off the chauffeur so he could pick up Lindsey when she ran out and needed a getaway car. But she hadn’t. So he’d moved on to plan B and come to her bridal bungalow. And still no Lindsey.

  He’d guessed wrong. He’d been sure she would ditch her groom and show up here.

  He’d done his research and knew which bungalow was hers and had counted on her retrieving her suitcase. Weighing his next move, he scrolled through the notes saved on his phone. He weighed his next move. Crash the reception? Hope to work on an “in” with one of the bridesmaids? What was her name? Marilou? Or Marilyn? And Sara Something? Regardless, he’d been hoping they would be anxious to spill all.

  Low? Sure. But he had a mission. Even after a two-month hiatus, Myles Emory sat at the top of the recording industry as one of rock music’s most sought-after producers. Tough to believe that today, as he was double parked in front of a bridal suite trying to wrangle an interview with a hairdresser soon to be the wife of a mayoral candidate. But he needed that interview and the Ballard family had given him crap for help so far.

  He reached for the ignition to drive over to the wedding—an event he’d have to crash to get his interview.

  Just as he shifted the limo into reverse, an empty trolley cart zipped past the cutesy bungalow. Hmmmm. Curiosity had him resting both arms on the steering wheel to lean in for a closer look because he couldn’t possibly be seeing what he thought ...

  A bridal veil whipping in the wind. A wedding train trailing out the side of the trolley. The vehicle careened around to the side of the building, damn near on two wheels before screeching to a halt.

  Lindsey Ballard hopped out, looking around. Lucky for him the limo had tinted windows so he could watch her unobserved long enough to come up with a plan. But this unexpected opportunity wouldn’t last. The time to act had come. Myles stepped out of the limo and smoothed his sports coat.

  She turned to face him. Horror stamped across her face and stopped her in her tracks.

  Bottle green eyes flipped up to his before she went tight-lipped. Scowled. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear when I slammed the door in your face that you can go flirt with another bride.”

  She wore a crooked wreath of flowers in her hair with a free-flowing, low-key sort of wedding gown. Much more hippie style than he would have predicted for the future wife of the man projected to be the new mayor.

  Myles had expected a modern Southern belle like her socialite sister. A woman who would smile sweetly as she saw him escorted off the property. But Lindsey Ballard was a different breed. A wispy bohemian beauty with a whole other sort of fierceness.

  He eyed her empty ring finger. And apparently no need for a husband today.

  Myles smiled slowly. “I think the more important question is what are you doing here? Don’t you have a wedding to attend?”

  “Seriously?” She swiped her fingers along one high cheekbone, smudging her tear-streaked makeup even worse. “I think it’s mighty obvious that’s not happening today. Or ever. Details will show up on the internet soon enough if you aren’t already planning to spill all to the world. Now if you don’t mind, answer my question. What are you doing here, Myles Emory?”

  Shit. Busted. She knew his name. He wondered how much she knew about his work.

  Her whole body vibrated like a live wire. Her gaze carried knowledge, a grudge, not curiosity or even fear of a stranger. Yep, she knew exactly who he was.

  “Yes, I’m Myles Emory and I would have introduced myself earlier if the timing hadn’t been so awkward.” He offered his hand. “I’ve left my card at your place of business and tried to make contact. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sorry.” She folded her arms and brushed past him, ignoring his outstretched hand. “You’ll have to make an appointment. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that this happens to be a really crummy time.”

  Why had she canceled the wedding? Curiosity bit him right in the libido, a surprise in the wake of his painful divorce. Still, he wouldn’t get that answer – or any answers – if she slipped away.

  She was making tracks for the porch.

  “Lindsey,” he called, charging up the steps after her. “Maybe I’ll just have to go ahead and schedule that interview CMT has been asking me for without your input. Your showing up here today driving a trolley and wearing your wedding dress would be a good place to start.”

  She stopped cold like he guessed she would. The mild May breeze lifted the ribbons in her veil and molded the gown to her slight curves.

  “I’m listening.” She tipped her chin at him, her delicate features set in fierce lines. “But I don’t appreciate the coercion.”

  “Can I coerce you into making this more civilized then? Could we step inside? Because something tells me you’re not interested in having anyone snap photos of you right now.” He had another couple of hours before he had to catch his plane. Plenty of time to spend with Lindsey Ballard now that he finally had her attention.

  Even though she didn’t appear interested in talking, she definitely appeared... interesting. He met lots of beautiful women in his business. But he didn’t often meet women who left their wealthy roots to carve out a living in hair design. Or women who walked right past him. Genetics had given him the mixed blessing of being noticed. A high-powered, lucrative career meant people hurried to be noticed by him. But Lindsey remained cool. On edge, even.

  For a woman in a wedding dress, with her hair half straggling down. There was a story here. A big one. And he found himself interested for more reasons than his book.

  She extended her hand. “Give me your cell phone so I can be sure you won’t snap a photo or tape anything.”

  He passed it over without hesitation. He had a photographic memory anyway.

  She opened the door and left him to trail after her. “You’re trying to make a buck on a story that’s not yours to tell today,” she said angrily. “Nothing is going to make that civilized.”

  “But since you don’t want CMT calling you for a statement...” He shrugged, letting her think the worst of him.

  Because he would do whatever he needed to in order to get his story, no matter that he felt a definite tug of attraction. And it wasn’t just because he’d promised a publisher. He’d promised his mother. His family had old connections to the star-turned-recluse, Lara Kane. His business sense told him his mother had been screwed over by her songbird friend and that didn’t sit well with him. The book was just a cover for the real reason he wanted answers.

  “What can I say to make you drop this and leave?” she asked.

  “So you can go? It’s going to be tough for you to just slip away in the trolley, especially looking like that.”

  “Ya think?” She picked up her suitcase from beside the dining room table and hitched her other bag over her shoulder, which still left another bag on the floor. “You know what? Go. You can tell everyone all about me if you want. It’ll be old news within fifteen minutes.”

  “Which means you have fifteen minutes to get away.” Inspiration struck and he pushed ahead. “Come with me. In the limo. Everyone will be looking for your car or the trolley.”

  Lindsey glanced at the door then back at him. “You’re a little too well known for me to be seen with.”

  “Afraid I’ll tarnish your image?” As much trouble as tracking her down had caused him, he found himself genuinely amused by her now. “I have tinted windows. No one will see us and you’ll get away clean.”

  Better to focus on that than the fact that thinking about those close quarters with her made his whole body go taut. Tense. Hungry. She’d awoken a need in him that had been cold and dead for months after finding out his wife had cheated on him. He hadn’t expected to feel this kind of heat again anytime soon, and it surprised the hell out of him.

  “Mr. Emory, I have no intention of fanning the media hype that you seem intent on generating around this book of yours.” She shifted feet, adjusting the weight of the suitcases. “So if you hoped to be seen with me tonight somewhere along the road in order to be photographed together and plant another story about your bogus book, you’re out of luck. And I’m about out of time.”

  “I am happy to find a private place to talk and if you don’t want to tell me anything then fine. And the limo will be private since I’m driving.” His voice lowered as he spoke, the whole concept far too appealing. “Although you must realize the way your family refuses to talk looks like you’ve all got something to hide. And that makes people like me more curious. Use this time to convince me there’s not a story to be told.”

  The Ballard family had clammed up tight whenever Lara was mentioned. Even the grandfather, Harlan Wakefield, who was Lara’s former manager and husband, had nothing to say. He’d left the country rather than deal with how close Myles had come to finding the answers he wanted.

  “My silence just makes me look like a private person, who doesn’t have a sob story to share for five minutes of fame.” Her green eyes sparked with a new fire. Determination?

  Or did she feel the same flare of heated awareness that singed him at the edges? He locked her in his gaze for a moment longer than was polite, delving for secrets that didn’t have a damn thing to do with her family.

  Was she lonely in Atlanta? Or did she spend all her nights with her fiancé? And, mostly, what would it be like to slip past those touchy defenses of hers and cover her lips with his? The need to find out crawled over his skin until she blinked. Her lips parted in surprise as if she’d seen a hint of that need in his eyes.

  “In that case,” he spoke softly. “Let’s get in the limo and go. You choose what we talk about.”

  She stared at the vehicle for a minute. “How convenient you happen to have a limousine waiting.”

  He would prefer if he had a hotel room across the street, which was twisted, given she was standing in a wedding dress, and he knew better than to trust a woman who specialized in keeping secrets. But he kept that thought locked up tight.

  He just needed to get her in the limo and then hopefully, if he was lucky, he could convince her to let him drive her all the way to Nashville. After all, that was the destination for them both. Kismet really.

  He checked his watch, giving away nothing. “Your fifteen minutes are ticking away fast—”

  Chapter Three

  “Fine, I’ll go with you then.” Lindsey passed a suitcase to him, then the second. “But I’m not talking and I mean that, other than to say thanks for the ride. Now let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  She picked up the remaining case and stomped toward the door. Her feet tangled in the train and he clasped her arm. She gasped and looked at him sharply. For a second, she looked like she might race back to the trolley. Her pupils widened and yeah, he felt the sparks between them shoot through his hand.

  Slight curves, but perfect. Her complicated hairdo had slid apart and now the long flow of straight blonde hair fell around her shoulders, past her shoulders, in a way that was downright sexy. Definitely distracting. He’d have to make sure the attraction didn’t become a disadvantage. On his way to the car he locked the back doors so she had no choice but to sit up front with him. He stowed her luggage in the trunk in record time and slid behind the wheel – just as a Mercedes started driving toward them. Damn.

  Myles slammed the door closed. Lindsey hugged the corner farthest from him. The sun dipped lower on the horizon.

  “I notice we’re in opposite corners.”

  She hitched up her foot and pulled off her grass-stained ballet slippers. His gaze dipped to her ankles, her pink toenail polish glittering.

  “It seemed appropriate. I plan to come out swinging when the bell rings.” The barest trace of a smile curled her lips.

  “I assure you, it won’t come to that.” He found it difficult to take his eyes off her. “Bad day for a wedding?”

  She looked out the window, her jaw quivering. “You could say that.”

  He slid open the divider. “Do you want to reach back into the mini fridge and see what’s inside?”

  “Sure. Just get us out of here.” She tugged her veil off with what was left of the floral wreath and pitched it on the seat between them, but she still appeared tense, her shoulders tight.

  “Want to give me an address? I can take you to your home, except there are going to be reporters all over there before long, so perhaps a hotel to hide or wherever you wish.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll take a cab once we wrap this up. You don’t need to take me far.” She shifted around through the privacy window with a water bottle in her hand, the move releasing the honeysuckle fragrance again.

  He breathed deep and drove north.

  “In that case give me a snippet of information, your choice of what to share, and I’ll keep this trip confidential.”

  “Like I believe that.” She placed her water bottle in the cup holder and hugged her legs, her wedding dress draped over them. “Mr. Emory, I can tell you the threats of media coverage are only going so far with me.”

  “Who said anything about threats?” He sipped his water, wishing things didn’t have to be so acrimonious between them. Wishing he had another way of accessing her family.

  But he’d already spoken to her sister. Already tried to speak with her mother. He needed the black sheep of the family on his side to unearth his story. His mother deserved for the truth to be exposed about Lara Kane –whatever that might be.

  “Coercion then,” she clarified, her speech more clipped and less southern than her sister’s. As if Lindsey Ballard had gone out of her way to remove all traces of her Tennessee roots. “I do not have any obligation to help you with your book, and if you continue to contact me, I will look into legal protection from harassment.”

  “We’re a long way from harassment. Especially if we’re on a first name basis. So call me Myles.”

  He extended a hand as if there wasn’t the crazy chemistry with a woman who’d just walked away from the altar, no wedding ring on her finger. He would never get the answers he wanted unless he could put her at ease. The notion spiked his temperature a few degrees. Getting close to her had not been in the plan. Complicated things too much.

  He sure as hell didn’t want to like her. He’d been prepared for Lara Kane’s family to be the enemy.

  “Well then, Myles.” She paused to sip her drink, her full lips a treat to watch in motion even in his peripheral vision. “Knowing my stance and that we are a very private family, how can I convince you that we wish to be left out of your book and out of the spotlight?”

  “I’m already convinced. I’m just not sure I can make it happen.” He did not trust her family. Definitely did not trust the integrity of the former country music star who had travelled with Myles’s mother for years in a relationship he didn’t quite understand. His mother claimed she was a backup singer for Lara. The liner notes to all Lara’s albums said as much. But he knew enough about the music business to know his mother was too talented to have been left out of the limelight all those years. She’d been shuffled aside in the same way Myles had seen other industry talents used by record labels.