The Bridesmaid's Gifts Read online

  She gaped up at him when he lifted his head. Then, concerned that she probably looked like an idiot, she closed her mouth and jerked away from him.

  Ethan spun on one heel and moved back to stare out the window again. He stood straight and stiff, tension vibrating from every inch of him. Was he regretting kissing her? Wondering what on earth had possessed him? She didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.

  “I suppose you were expecting that,” he said after a moment.

  “What are you talking about?” Peevishly, she pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I had no idea.”

  “You mean you didn’t predict it?”

  “No,” she answered shortly.

  “Interesting.”

  She stared at his back with mounting irritation. “You’re testing me? Trying to see if I can predict your actions?”

  Without looking around, he shrugged.

  “What more do you want me to do to convince you that you can trust me?”

  “You could always try some more parlor tricks.”

  Planting her fists on her hips, she drawled, “Want me to read your mind?”

  That made him turn toward her. “You can’t.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours just now.”

  She thought she saw a brief flash of relief in his eyes, but that couldn’t be right, since he didn’t believe she had any special abilities anyway. “You want to convince me? Help me find my brother.”

  “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing tonight?”

  “Hardly. We looked up a couple of old reports of the accident. Easy enough to do. For all I know, you’d already done so.”

  “I told you I hadn’t. But that goes back to whether you can trust anything I say, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded to concede her point. “Help me find some proof that Kyle survived that flood, and I’ll be a lot more likely to believe you.”

  “I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’re the one who suggested I contact Carmen’s surviving family and friends. Go with me to talk to them.”

  “Go with you? I thought you would just talk to them by phone.”

  He shook his head. “This is too complicated to handle by phone. I need to see their expressions if there’s any chance that one of them knows anything about that day that hasn’t already been revealed.”

  “Maybe. But why on earth would you want me there with you?”

  “You’re the one who claims to just know things. Maybe you’d know if anyone tries to hide something from us.”

  “So I’d be your human lie detector.”

  “Something like that.”

  She shook her head. “I really don’t think this is a good idea. For one thing, I’m very busy right now.”

  “I can wait until you aren’t busy. It isn’t like there’s any hurry.”

  But there was, she thought, chewing on her lower lip. Somehow she knew that he needed to start his search soon or he would never find the answers. “I really see no need for you to take me along.”

  “Because you know there’s very little chance that there’s anything for me to find?”

  He was trying to trap her, she thought with a glare. To somehow make her admit she wasn’t really convinced Kyle was still alive. “You know what I believe.”

  “So are you willing to back up your words with action?”

  “You really are testing me,” she said slowly. “Why?”

  He seemed to mull over the question for a moment before replying. “It seems like something I need to do.”

  It was like him not to try to offer rationalizations. But she could figure out part of his reasoning. He was still concerned about her closeness to Nic—which made her a part of Joel’s life, as well. He had an older-brother protectiveness toward Joel. Toward his whole family, for that matter.

  He was undoubtedly worried that despite her promises to him, she would say something to Joel or his parents about her belief that Kyle was still alive. It wasn’t necessary for him to explain how distressing that would be for them without proof of her claim. It would be hard enough for them when it turned out to be true.

  And it wasn’t only his family he was worried about, she sensed. There was a tiny part of him that was starting to believe her, and that disturbed him as much as anything.

  She knew he had been burned in the past. She knew he had put his faith in at least one person who had turned out to be untrustworthy. Because of those betrayals, combined with the hard losses his family had known, he had become guarded. Wary. Unwilling to open himself to further disillusionment.

  It would be hard for anyone to believe the earthshaking news she had shared with him, she mused. For Ethan, it was almost impossible, based on nothing more than her instincts.

  He would never know, of course, how difficult it was for her to accept it herself. He didn’t know how hard she had tried to talk herself out of confiding in Ethan, telling herself that he would probably throw her out on her ear, and that even if he gave her the benefit of the doubt, it would be cruel to raise his hopes with so little evidence. And yet she had known that she was right. Believed it with every fiber of her being. And she had been compelled to tell him, feeling that he had a right to know his brother was alive.

  He didn’t believe her. He didn’t trust her. And yet, rather than keeping her at a distance and refusing to listen to her, he had been spending time with her. Trying to figure her out. And even though he saw it as more of an invitation than a dare, in effect, he was giving her a chance to prove herself to him. To help him find the brother she knew was still out there somewhere.

  “Have you gone into a trance?”

  His sarcastic question brought her attention back to the moment. “I can take off the week after next if you can,” she said, and it was as much a challenge as the one he’d thrown at her. He wanted her to prove herself? Fine. She was demanding that he give her a real chance to do so.

  For only a moment he looked startled that she’d accepted his dare. Had he been bluffing?

  But then he nodded. “I can probably arrange that.”

  She swallowed, wondering if she’d made a mistake. But she hid her doubts behind a brusque tone. “Fine. We’ll need to work out a plan. And a cover story, if you’re still opposed to telling your family what we’re doing.”

  “We can do that. You don’t have any cakes ordered for that week?”

  “Actually, I’d blocked that week out for a vacation,” she said, wondering now if she had somehow sensed that she needed to leave some spare time in her calendar.

  “And you’re willing to spend your vacation helping me track down a ghost?”

  “He’s not a ghost,” she said firmly. “He’s as alive as you are.”

  “Looks like you’ve got one week to prove that.”

  “That will be enough.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Something else you just know?”

  She shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  Turning on one heel, she snatched up her purse as she headed for the door, suddenly needing some distance from him. “I’m heading home. We’ll talk later about the details of our search.”

  “Right.” He followed her toward the door.

  She opened it before he could reach her, stepping quickly out into the evening air. Her hand was still on the door when she turned to say, “By the way, Ethan—”

  He stood just inside the house, watching her make her exit. “Yeah?”

  “You didn’t kiss me as a test. You kissed me because you wanted to.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest in what might be interpreted as a defensive posture, though his drawl was meant to sound rather mocking. “Think so, do you?”

  “I do.” And that was the woman speaking, not the sort-of psychic. “But from now on? Wait for an invitation.”

  She closed the door with a snap, giving
him no chance to respond.

  “So, Cassandra, have you been sleeping better since Dr. Thomas changed your medications?”

  “Much better.” Whatever name she had used, whatever identity she had assumed, Cassandra had always been a highly skilled liar.

  “That’s wonderful.” Melanie Hunt, the counselor who had been assigned to Cassandra, smiled her cheery smile and made a note in the file she held.

  Cassandra had often wondered whimsically if Melanie had found a way to have that smile permanently affixed. Some sort of clever plastic surgery, perhaps. She was pretty sure she could tell the perpetually perky psychologist that she was planning to sneak out of the institution that evening and rob a bank, and Melanie would just smile and nod and make another note in the file. Maybe ask Dr. Thomas to prescribe some new meds.

  But that was unkind. And she was trying to be a better person these days. She was sure Melanie meant well. Hers wasn’t an easy job, and she was performing it to the best of her abilities. Which were just a tiny bit limited, that old, less charitable voice whispered.

  “What shall we talk about today?” Melanie asked brightly.

  Arranging the almost-finished sweater she was knitting more comfortably on her lap, Cassandra started another row. “You’re directing this session. Isn’t that your call?”

  “I’d like to talk about something important to you, Cassandra. Why don’t we chat about your childhood?”

  The needles stuttered a bit, but she spoke evenly. “It was fine. Quite nice, actually.”

  She really was a very accomplished liar.

  “Would you like to tell me any amusing stories from your youth?”

  “Not particularly.”

  Melanie managed to smile and sigh in exasperation all at the same time, proving she had some impressive talents of her own. “Oh, Cassandra, you are such a hoot.”

  A hoot. Well, she supposed it was better than some of the names she’d been called in her time.

  Someone tapped on the open door. “Is this a bad time?”

  Both Cassandra and Melanie smiled then. Cassandra noted that Melanie’s smile had a newly flirtatious element to it. Melanie was wasting her time in that respect, she thought as the handsome young doctor strolled into the room. Dr. Thomas wasn’t interested. He’d learned his lesson about dating coworkers.

  “Dr. Hunt.” He greeted her with professional courtesy, then turned to pat Cassandra’s shoulder, his tone turning warmer. “How’s my favorite patient?”

  Even though she suspected he said that to everyone here, she couldn’t help but respond, “I’m doing very well, thank you.”

  His eyes were more perceptive than Melanie’s as he searched her face. This one was a little harder to deceive.

  “I was just trying to persuade her to tell me a funny story from her childhood,” Melanie chirped. “But she doesn’t seem to be in the mood to reminisce.”

  Cassandra almost told her that she was never in the mood to reminisce. Living in the present had been her philosophy for the past twelve years, since she had married Lawrence and put her past behind her. But she kept those thoughts to herself.

  She sensed that the doctor and the psychologist shared a look before Dr. Thomas said, “That sweater is a very intricate pattern, isn’t it? You’ve made quite a bit of progress on it. It looks almost finished.”

  “Almost.” It had taken her quite a while, actually, since she’d never become very fast at knitting and this was the most complicated pattern she had ever tried. But there had been no reason to hurry, after all.

  “Are you making it for yourself?”

  “Oh, no. It wouldn’t fit me.”

  “Someone special?”

  “Mmm.”

  The doctor laughed ruefully. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”

  “You know what they say. Give an inch, and they’ll take a mile.”

  Shaking his head, he patted her shoulder again. “Then we’ll wait until you’re ready to share.”

  What he didn’t add was, If ever, though it was implied. That was one thing about this private and very expensive facility. As long as she had the money to stay, she could pretty much cooperate with the staff or not, as she desired. And since she had plenty of money and cooperated just enough not to be a problem for the administration, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  The headphones covering Aislinn’s ears discouraged conversation from the chatty-looking little lady sitting in the seat next to her. It wasn’t that Aislinn was trying to be unsociable, exactly. She was simply too nervous to engage in conversation with an overly friendly stranger.

  She didn’t do well in close quarters, like this airplane cabin. So she sat here, crammed into a window seat, her hands clenched in her lap and soothing music playing in her ears, trying to focus on the melodies and the lyrics.

  Unfortunately the music didn’t drown out the insights she picked up from all the people crowded around her. The sweet-natured woman next to her wanted to talk about her grandchildren, whom she was on her way to visit. The man in front of her was a salesman wearily embarking on yet another business trip. Someone else was traveling with a woman who was not his wife—and hoping his wife would not find out.

  She wasn’t reading thoughts. She couldn’t add many details to those flashes of information. There was nothing she could do for any of them, though she supposed she could inform the philanderer that his wife would learn about the girlfriend—and that it was going to cost him. Big.

  Maybe it was possible that she would learn something she could change. An impending car accident or some other tragedy she could divert with a warning. But that would involve tracking down whomever she’d picked up on, and then convincing that person that she wasn’t a nut and that her warnings should be taken seriously. And because she didn’t want to be led away in a straitjacket or—equally daunting—believed and then expected to possess more wisdom and guidance, she had no intention of opening herself to more.

  She cranked up the music just a little, as if doing so would drown out any extra thoughts in her head. Instead she found herself thinking about an all-new problem. The man who was supposed to be waiting for her when the plane touched down at the airport in North Carolina.

  It had been more than a week since she’d last seen Ethan. He’d left Arkansas on Saturday, two days after they’d spent the evening with Joel’s computer. They had seen each other only once after that night: he’d stopped by her shop to tell her he was leaving, and to inform her that he would call with details of their trip. Unless she’d changed her mind? She had coolly informed him that of course she hadn’t changed her mind and she would look forward to his call.

  She had spent the eight days since staying very busy at work and firmly not thinking about kissing Ethan.

  She couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, joining Ethan in another state on a search for the brother he didn’t even believe was still alive. But he had pretty much dared her to prove she wasn’t crazy, and she’d been unable to resist the challenge.

  Maybe she needed to prove a few things to herself, as well.

  Ethan was waiting at the baggage claim, as he had promised he would be. She spotted him almost immediately after turning the corner. Though he wasn’t tall enough to tower over the milling crowds and was doing nothing to call attention to himself, her gaze went straight to him.

  He leaned against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, his expression inscrutable. More than one passing woman checked him out, some rather lingeringly, but he didn’t seem to notice any of them. He simply waited. For her.

  Spotting her, he straightened away from the wall and moved toward her. He wore jeans. And wore them well. His shirt was a green polo that fit just tightly enough. He was a man who would look equally masculine and comfortable in a three-piece wool suit as he did in denim and soft knit.

  She had hoped the week they’d spent apart had given her a chance to recover from her initial problematic attraction to him. It hadn’t.

  Telling
herself this was simply a normal reaction to a good-looking man and that there was no reason she couldn’t put it aside and concentrate on their mission, she stepped forward to greet him. “Hello, Ethan.”

  “Did you have a good flight?”

  “Yes, it was fine,” she replied blandly, seeing no need to embellish.

  “I’ve rented a car. Let’s get your bags and get out of here.”

  She nodded and turned toward the luggage carousel, hoping she looked as blasé about this whole thing as Ethan did.

  Chapter Ten

  Fifteen minutes later they were on the road in the small but comfortable vehicle Ethan had procured for them. “Did you have any problems clearing your schedule for the trip?” he asked.

  “Not too many. My employees can take messages until I get back. How about you?”

  “I had to reschedule a few things, but I handled it.”

  “One of the perks of being self-employed, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shifted into a more comfortable position, rearranging the seat belt across her lap. Like Ethan, she had dressed casually for travel. She wore a tan wrapped top over a cream-colored tank, slightly darker brown twills and brown leather flats. She hadn’t given a great deal of thought to her outfit, simply choosing pieces that were nonbinding and wrinkle-resistant.

  “So what was your cover story to get away? I assume you didn’t tell anyone you were joining me here?”

  She shook her head, trying not to feel too guilty about the fibs she had left behind her. “I told everyone I’d been working too hard and needed a week to rest. Since that wasn’t much of a lie, no one really thought too much about it. Except for Nic, of course.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “I just told her I had some things I needed to do and I didn’t want to talk about it yet.”

  “That satisfied her?”

  Aislinn smiled a little. “Of course not. But we respect each other enough to give each other space when we need it. She knows I’ll tell her what I want her to know when I’m ready.”

  When he merely nodded, she asked, “What about you? What did you tell everyone about being out of town this week?”