Tessa took a minute to look down and smooth the cool silk over her hips. The handkerchief hemline rose and fell flirtatiously around her ankles and calves, making it perfect for a beach wedding. The fabric had a shell-pink cast to it, so it didn’t scream virginal first-time bride. And the tiny rosebuds along the portrait neckline made her hurt with how perfect they were.

Perfect for Tessa, not Zoe.

“You’d never wear this,” she said. “I should have tried on that one with the gold belt and plunging neckline.”

Zoe’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I loved that dress, but this one is…it’s you.”

“Precisely,” Tessa said, glancing at the others for an assist that was clearly not coming. “I thought this was going to be your wedding dress.”

“Well, just in case, you should buy it.”

Three—no, four—heads nodded in agreement with Zoe.

“You guys! I’m not spending…” She reached down to look at the tag, but of course there wasn’t one. She wasn’t in a department store; they’d come to an exclusive Naples boutique that reeked of money. “Whatever it costs.”

“It’s so pretty, Aunt Tess. You could wear it for any fancy thing.”

“But you all want me to buy it for a farce of a wedding?”

“What makes you think it’s a farce?”

“Lacey!” Tessa choked on her name.

“Seriously, Tess,” she continued, getting up from her comfy viewing chaise to approach the stage. “The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. I mean, did you see the look on his face when you said you’d be trying on dresses? Maybe you can wear it twice—once for the bridal consultants and, again…later.”

Why were they all helping to build up her hope?

The next “You guys are nuts” welled up, but somehow the words didn’t come out. They weren’t completely nuts. He had given her the dreamiest smile. And last night, under the stars, they’d kissed for hours and talked more—not about him, but about all kinds of things.

There was no way that guy didn’t like her a lot. And vice versa.

She turned back to the mirror, the rush of seeing herself in the dress washing away common sense and reality and questions.

“Buy the dress, baby,” Zoe said. “No alterations and it fits like a dream. And you have to have something to wear for the big event.”

“Can’t I just wear a pretty dress I already own?”

“I’m afraid the consultants won’t buy it,” Lacey said.

“Ash?” Tessa asked, but she was texting. Finally, Ashley tore her gaze from the screen to look up and, from the glint in her eyes, Tessa knew exactly whose name was on that phone.

“What?” Ashley asked from her residence in la-la land.

“I was hoping for the voice of reason.”

“I think if he makes you feel good and you really love him, then go for it.”

Tessa narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to pretend I love him,” Tessa said. “But…” She grazed the smooth fabric again. “If I have to pretend to get married…”

They all waited, hanging for the verdict, but she blew out a breath and looked around, as if he might show up at any minute.

“I’m really falling for him,” she whispered, so softly Zoe had to step closer to hear her. “I mean, like, whoa and damn, girls, I am really falling for him.”

Jocelyn joined Zoe, closing in. “And that’s a problem, why?”

“Because I still sometimes think—no, I actually know—he’s not telling me everything about himself. He even admitted there was more than he was telling, but refused to disclose.”

“Give him time,” Jocelyn said. “Some men take eons to open up.”

“Still,” she said. “It scares me.”

“Relationships are scary,” Lacey said. “You think he’s not telling you everything. And I thought Clay was too young and Joss thought Will was too close to her father and Zoe thought Oliver would tie her down.”

“He does, occasionally.”

On the floor, Ashley giggled. “Aunt Tessa, I think they’re trying to tell you that every new guy has problems but, if it’s true and lasting and honest, you’ll overcome them.”

Lacey beamed at her. “Right you are, baby girl.”

Ashley smiled back, then gave a knowing and hopeful look to Tessa. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Tessa assured them. “But this is different. It seems like every time we get close, he shuts down.”

“He’s a guy,” Jocelyn said. “They don’t see the need to spill their guts. It doesn’t mean he’s not getting ready to. He obviously really cares about you.”

Tessa nodded, then looked in the mirror again as Zoe climbed up on the bride’s stage and slipped an arm around her. “He’s got a lot of promise, is all we’re saying.”

She curled her arm around Zoe and, as she pulled her in for a hug, got a nudge from the baby belly. “There is the little matter of how much I want a child.”

“Is he opposed completely to the idea?” Zoe asked. “My God, surely he’d offer up some of his liquid gold when he sees you in that dress, if not before.” She shot a look at Ashley. “I guess you’re old enough to get those jokes now.”

“I know what liquid gold is, Aunt Zoe,” Ashley said quietly and held up a hand to Lacey. “Don’t, Mom.”

Lacey shot her a surprised look, but then turned to Tessa. “Honey, I don’t care what he says. I saw that man hold Elijah and he wants a baby. It was all over his face. He’s probably terrified to admit it, but he couldn’t hide how taken he was with that child. Give him time, Tess.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe they all were. “I’m cautious,” Tessa said. “And I don’t trust easily. I don’t really know if he’s marriage material or daddy material or donor material or a good time in the garden.”

“In the garden?” Zoe spat. “You did it in the garden?”

Ashley’s head shot up, her text forgotten.

“We did not do it,” Tessa said. “We talked, really. And kissed.”

“That tells you so much about him,” Lacey said.

“That he’s made of titanium?” Zoe asked.

“That it’s real for him,” Lacey insisted. “He respects you.”

Tessa fought the urge to underscore the point with Ashley, who was facedown in a text, anyway.

The boutique attendant knocked on the dressing-room door and peeked in. “Do we have a winner?”

“Not yet,” Ashley said.

“Maybe,” Zoe added.

“Working on her,” Lacey chimed in.

They all looked at Tessa, waiting for the final answer. “Possibly” hung on her lips to finish the chorus, but then she turned and looked in the mirror and went a little crazy. “I’ll take it.”


The last dinner customer left the Casa Blanca restaurant at eleven, so Ian texted Tessa that he’d be at work until well after midnight, too late for a rendezvous dinner like they’d had the past few nights. It was actually well after one by the time he finished the kitchen cleanup.

So he wasn’t surprised to see her bungalow shrouded in darkness when he got home. The only thing that surprised him was how disappointed he felt. All he wanted to do was be with her. Kiss her. Make her laugh. Take their constant touching and foreplay one step farther.

Not good, mate. Not good at all.

Swearing softly, he turned off his bike and sat in the circular drive shared by both little houses, staring at her darkened windows. This was probably better.

The more time they spent together—and the hours were adding up—the more he wanted to tell her the truth. Among other things. God, so many other things. He’d touched her, felt her quiver with an orgasm, kissed her breasts, and walked away with a woody the size of Big Ben.

He could feel one growing right now, thinking about her in bed.

Why the hell wasn’t he in there with her?

Because of some trumped-up, fucked-up plan to fool her into signing a piece of paper. He’d talked to Henry once more, and although they weren’t quite sure how it would unfold yet, he was onboard with the wedding plans. It was possible that Tessa would sign a piece of paper thinking it was part of the act, but, in reality, it would be a legitimate wedding certificate.

Then Henry could get the whole thing annulled when Ian disappeared. Tessa quite possibly wouldn’t even know she’d ever been married. The only other plan was to actually convince her to marry him, then claim cold feet and disappear after the wedding.

She’d hate him and be heartbroken, but he’d have Shiloh and Sam and they could start a new life, hopefully while they were so young they wouldn’t even remember the old one.

“John? What are you doing out here?” He hadn’t even heard the front door open.

In the doorway, she was bathed in moonlight that shimmered over a thin tank top, so silky sheer that he could see right through it. Her long legs were exposed all the way up to the top of her thighs, barely covered in black shorts that looked like a very sexy version of men’s boxers.

Holy bloody hell, he wanted her.

“Somehow I imagined you slept in a men’s nightshirt.”

“Nice to know you think about such things.”

“Only constantly.”

She leaned her head against the doorjamb, a sleepy sigh carried on the breeze and giving him chills. “I heard your bike, but not your bungalow door.”

He liked that she listened so carefully. “Can I come in?”

She swallowed and lifted a narrow, toned shoulder, the skin glistening from recently applied lotion. “It’s late.”

He climbed off the bike and walked to her door. “I need…” You. “A shower.”

She lifted a brow in question and pointed one finger toward his bungalow. “You have running water.”

“So do you.”

She crossed her arms as he reached her, the act pure self-defense. “Not sure I can take the torture.”