Sandra Steffen – Lone Star Wedding (страница 1)
THE TEXAS TATTLER
All the news that’s barely fit to print!
FORTUNE HEIR ALIVE!
Telling Clue Sheds Light on Baby’s Whereabouts
Texas’s most talked-about family was rejuvenated with hope last week with the sudden appearance of enlightening evidence in the dramatic kidnapping case of beloved Bryan Fortune. On the one-year anniversary of the baby-snatching, a plain white envelope was delivered to the palatial Double Crown Ranch, which included a second shocking ransom note and a photograph of a grinning Bryan next to a recent issue of the San Antonio Star.
Though the kidnapper(s) failed to comply with the FBI’s baby-for-money trade, top-notch law enforcement officials are encouraged and combing the area for signs of the cooing heir. Red Rock’s Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk predicts, “The villains are probably closer than we think.”
And talk about closer than you might think… Lovely marriage planner Hannah Cassidy, daughter of Lily Cassidy—soon-to-be wife of mogul Ryan Fortune—was spotted in a candlelit cuddlefest with ferocious divorce attorney Parker Malone. And just when The Tattler had all but voted this ultra-eligible bachelor most likely to go down the aisle…kicking and screaming! Looks as if this wedding-hostess-with-the-mostest has her toughest assignment yet….
About the Author
SANDRA STEFFEN
Growing up as the fourth child of ten, Sandra developed a keen appreciation for laughter and argument. She lives in Michigan with her husband, three of their four sons and a blue-eyed mutt who thinks her name is No-Molly-No. Sandra’s book Child of Her Dreams won the 1994 National Readers’ Choice Award. Several of her titles have appeared on the national bestseller lists.
Lone Star Wedding
Sandra Steffen
Meet the Fortunes of Texas
Hannah Cassidy: She never expected to be enamored with Parker Malone, the man who was trying to stop her mother’s upcoming nuptials to mogul Ryan Fortune. And although the daughter of the bride had no intention of changing her mom’s mind about marriage, she had every intention of changing Parker’s….
Parker Malone: As a divorce lawyer, he didn’t believe in love and marriage. As a man, he couldn’t resist sweet Hannah’s charms. Still, the lovely wedding planner couldn’t convince Parker to surrender his heart…could she?
Sophia Barnes Fortune: The soon-to-be ex-wife of billionaire Ryan Fortune was just weeks away from signing a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement. But she was having second thoughts about settling for such a paltry sum when what she really wanted was the entire Fortune empire.
Victoria Fortune: A woman in danger, she found shelter in the arms of a handsome bodyguard. Could she trust him with her heart?
For Melissa Jeglinski
I was your first author at Silhouette and you were my first editor there. This is our twentieth book together, and I’m still thanking my lucky stars for your insight, skill, understanding and humor.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
One
Hannah Cassidy hitched the strap of her big leather purse onto her shoulder and hurried down the sidewalk toward her friend’s restaurant. The traffic on the street was heavy; the honking horns, hiss of brakes, and the pounding of a teenager’s car stereo were typical for a late Saturday afternoon in downtown San Antonio. Hannah’s jacket clung to her back and a sheen of perspiration dampened her forehead. She didn’t mind the heat. It was July, and like her father used to say, the only thing hotter than July in San Antonio was August.
She’d just come from a former classmate’s bridal shower, and she had to admit she was still smarting a little. All any of her friends talked about these days was settling down and biological clocks. She was only twenty-seven. What was the hurry? Oh, she’d grown adept at smiling demurely when her friends offered advice concerning her single status, but even she’d had to stretch to find her smile when she’d opened the consolation prize this afternoon. They’d thought it was hilarious.
Hannah hadn’t bothered defending the stand she’d taken when it came to settling for less than honest love. Couldn’t they see that she liked her life? Her business, The Perfect Occasion, was challenging and rewarding and was even starting to show a profit. Her mother and brother were happy, and lately she’d felt a strange sense of anticipation, as if excitement was just around the corner.
So what if she spent more Saturday nights working than she spent dating? She was good at what she did, and she was earning a reputation for her ability to dream up wonderful, unusual themes for everything from birthday and retirement parties to graduations and weddings. Traditional weddings would always be in style, but lately she’d seen a trend toward weddings with a theme. Her newest client wanted a mobster-style wedding and Hannah wanted to talk to her closest friend about reserving The Pink Flamingo for the evening of the big event.
She ducked around the building that housed Adrienne’s restaurant, and slipped through a bright-pink side door. The air inside the small, trendy restaurant was decidedly cooler, but the pace was no less hectic than it had been on the street out front. Waiters and waitresses in black trousers and fuchsia-colored shirts bustled from the kitchen to the dining room, heavy trays balanced high on their hands.
Hannah’s best friend, Adrienne Blakely, was nowhere in sight, not in her usual place behind the dais in the lobby, or in the dining room, or in the office near the back door. Hannah poked her head inside the kitchen last. The chef and his assistant, a spiky-haired, forty-year-old woman named Desiree who was dicing vegetables, glanced up at the same time.
“Have either of you seen Adrienne?” Hannah asked.
Gerard raised his eyes expressively, but it was the woman brandishing the knife who said, “Last I knew, she was sweet-talking a customer who burned her tongue on Gerard’s soup.”
“How many times must I tell you it’s called fricassee?”
“Freakin’ whatever,” Desiree insisted. “I’m telling you, one of these days somebody’s gonna figure out how to sue God for making the sky blue.”
A waitress bustled in with another order. “Is that true? Somebody’s suing God Almighty?”
Hannah laughed out loud. She’d never been able to figure out where Adrienne found her employees. As unusual as The Pink Flamingo itself, they never failed to make Hannah smile.
Leaving poor Gerard to explain, Hannah hurried from the room. Her footsteps slowed when she entered the dining room. There was still no sign of Adrienne, but that giddy feeling was back, stronger than ever. Excitement was just around the corner, so close she could almost taste it.
A movement to her left drew her attention. A tall, dark-haired man in an expensive-looking suit pushed his chair out just as a waiter she hadn’t met rounded the corner. Hannah could see the collision coming, and hurried forward, arms flailing. “Look out!”
Parker Malone glanced at his watch and reached for his briefcase all in one motion. The Pink Flamingo wasn’t the type of establishment he normally frequented, but his client had insisted on this trendy uptown restaurant with its brightly colored napkins and plastic pink flamingo on every table. Parker preferred more subdued settings, but the dinner meeting had gone well, all things considered. His client left. Next, Parker had an appointment across town with his father, the legendary J. D. Malone, and J.D. didn’t like to be kept waiting.
Parker was planning the most direct route to his father’s house when he felt a slight jab against his shoulder. His stop was automatic, his sudden jump backward a reflex action. A dark-haired woman and a pimply faced kid both stopped abruptly. Unfortunately the objects in their hands didn’t. A tray and a purse toppled to the floor. Everything else went flying. Parker bit back an expletive the same instant a coffee cup bounced off his elbow. He spun around, steaming coffee arcing like a miniature tidal wave, heading straight for the woman’s arm.
She jumped, winced, and made a grab for her jacket. Parker’s hands were already there, whisking the jacket off her as if it were a cloth off a magician’s table. He was vaguely aware of something cold that had splattered the back of his hand, but his attention was trained on the skin he’d bared. The hot coffee had left red splotches on an upper arm that was otherwise golden brown. Her shoulders were slightly bony; her collarbone looked fragile. His gaze strayed slightly lower. She definitely wasn’t skinny everywhere. His perusal had made it as far as her chin when he felt a small object beneath the sole of his shoe. He glanced down, then lowered to his haunches and took the small square packet into his hand.
The floor was littered with all kinds of women’s paraphernalia: combs, lipstick, one earring, keys, a pen, a pack of gum, and at least a dozen packages similar to the one in his hand. He’d known women who carried one or two, but a dozen or more? He was speechless, no small feat for an attorney with the reputation for having a razor-sharp tongue.