“I’m almost ready.” After checking her watch, Chloe stood in front of the mirror and ran her fingers through her short, tousled hair. In her khaki slacks and green-and-beige striped pullover, she looked neat and as fresh as if she’d just stepped out of a shower. Her own hair still disheveled from the clip, Grace felt rumpled and grubby next to her sister—as she often did.
She sighed impatiently when Chloe lingered to apply lipstick. “We’re going to your apartment, not to the theater. Would you c’mon, already?”
Chloe smiled as she put the lipstick away. “Okay, so I’m primping because Donovan’s picking us up. I know it doesn’t matter to him if I’m wearing lipstick, considering he fell in love with me while we were lost in a forest, all torn and scraped and covered in mud. But I still like to look nice for him.”
Grace tried to smile, but it still angered her to think about the ordeal Chloe and Donovan had endured at the hands of their kidnappers. Grace had tried to talk Chloe out of leaving home that week; she’d had a bad feeling about it all along. Chloe had agreed to spend a week with Bryan at his luxurious vacation lodge in southern Missouri, with the specific intention of discussing the possibly of an old-fashioned marriage-of-convenience between them. Grace had been adamantly opposed to that plan, believing her sister deserved more than a calculated merger.
She’d been aware that Chloe’s biological clock had been ticking wildly for some time, and apparently Bryan’s had, too—or whatever the male equivalent could be called. But she hadn’t agreed that compatible goals and dreams were enough to sustain a lifelong commitment. Besides which, she simply hadn’t considered Bryan a good match for Chloe. She didn’t know why—but every time she had seen Chloe and Bryan together…well, she simply hadn’t liked it.
When Bryan had been delayed by business problems in New York, he had asked his trusted second-in-command, Donovan Chance, to escort Chloe to the lodge, where Bryan had hoped to join her quickly. Before he could do so, Chloe and Donovan had been snatched by three kidnappers, taken to an isolated forest hideaway and held for ransom until Donovan had orchestrated an escape into a million-acre forest. Several days of stormy weather and other daunting obstacles had slowed their rescue. For four days, Grace hadn’t known where her sister was—or if she was even alive.
She shuddered with the memory of that horror. And she acknowledged—if only to herself—that Bryan had helped her through that time. He’d allowed her to vent her fear, her impatience, and her anger—and he’d given her strength by being calm, steady and ferocious in his determination to find his friends and the people who had taken them. When he’d uncovered evidence that one of his business competitors, Wallace Childers, had been the mastermind of the scheme, he had personally confronted Childers.
Watching the encounter, Grace had seen exactly how intimidating Bryan could be when he dropped the affable façade he wore in social situations. Childers had literally been in fear for his life when he’d reluctantly confessed everything—and Grace hadn’t blamed the man for being concerned.
But Chloe was safe, she reminded herself with a glance at her twin’s happy face. She had abandoned the foolish idea of a marriage-of-convenience in favor of a match based on true love. And Grace was doing her part to facilitate a happily-ever-after ending—for her sister, if not for herself.
Following Chloe out of the fitting room, she slung her oversized leather bag over her shoulder and muttered, “I still don’t think it was necessary for Donovan to drive us here and pick us up. We’re perfectly capable of getting around on our own.”
“He wanted to,” Chloe answered with a shrug. “He’s still being a little overprotective, but that will change after the wedding. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on it.”
Grace knew she would quickly grow tired of being coddled and protected. She felt stifled enough now; being hovered over the way Donovan did Chloe would drive her nuts.
Which was why it was just as well she was single and unattached, she assured herself. She needed to be free. She wasn’t the type to be tied down to any man. She’d learned that fact the hard way—with a wannabe cowboy named Kirk.
The sidewalks of Little Rock’s River Market district were crowded late Tuesday morning as Bryan strolled toward the Pennington sisters’ shop. Tuesdays and Saturdays were the area’s busiest days during the summer. On those days, vendors gathered beneath the River Market pavilions to sell fresh produce, herbs, breads, flowers and other wares. Serving as a backdrop for the activities, the Arkansas River glittered with reflections of the bright July sun overhead. Locals and tourists in shorts and sandals ambled along the sidewalks, some carrying bulging bags of fresh fruits and veggies, others just window-shopping and enjoying the summer day.
A group of children in matching orange shirts emblazoned with the name of a local day care center dashed toward him, most likely headed toward the Museum of Discovery at the end of the block. Bryan sidestepped the chattering herd adroitly, nodding sympathetically to the adults trying to keep them under control.
He paused to study a grouping of paintings displayed on the sidewalk next to the River Market building, which housed several food stands and restaurants and gift shops. The artist, a striking black woman in a flowing dress and a big straw hat, had chosen vivid colors for her scenes of tropical marketplaces and fishing villages. One canvas in particular caught his attention. He stood in front of it for several minutes, enjoying the colors and the overall impression of cheery, bustling activity. It reminded him of his favorite marketplace in Jamaica; he could almost hear the lilting voices and the street musicians in the background.
Ten minutes later, he was on his way again, having left directions with the artist to have his newly purchased painting delivered to his Little Rock office. Bryan wasn’t usually an impulse buyer, but he knew what he liked when he saw it, and he was fortunate enough to be able to afford what he liked.
Yet all that money hadn’t helped him find anyone with whom to share his interests. In fact, it had proven a definite hindrance, drawing too much attention to his tentative relationships, and raising doubts about the true motives of the women who had shown an interest in him.
Chiding himself for letting such maudlin thoughts shadow his enjoyment of the nice day, he crossed the street toward the entrance of Mirror Images. Big windows on either side of the door were artfully arranged with uniquely shaped mirrors, framed prints, unusual candlesticks and other decorative wares. The display had drawn i
ts share of attention; several potential customers were milling in the shop when Bryan entered. In response to the chime of the bell above the door, Chloe approached with a polite smile that warmed when she recognized him. “Good morning, Bryan.”
It was easier to tell the twins apart now that Chloe had cut her hair differently—not that Bryan had ever had much trouble recognizing them. Their personalities were so different that he had usually been able to distinguish them by their expressions alone. He took Chloe’s outstretched hand. “Good morning. You look beautiful, as always.”
“And you’re as full of blarney as usual,” she retorted, though she looked pleased by the compliment. “What’s up?”
“I had a rare couple of hours free this morning and I thought I’d pop in for a visit. If I’m not interfering with your work, of course.”
“Of course not. Justin can handle the sales floor for a few minutes,” Chloe replied with a nod toward her salesclerk. “He’ll call for me if he needs help. Come have a glass of tea with me in my office.”
Aware of the attention they were receiving from her customers, he accepted promptly. “I would love to.”
The small office Chloe shared with her sister never failed to elicit a grin from Bryan. Chloe’s side of the room was neat, organized, not a sheet of paper out of place; Grace’s desk was so cluttered it was a wonder she could find her chair. Above Chloe’s desk hung a framed museum poster of a Monet water lilies painting. Grace’s poster depicted a fiery red Corvette convertible. She’d told him once that she dreamed of owning such a vehicle someday. Bryan had impulsively offered to buy her one as compensation for her inconveniences because of his scheme to take media attention from Chloe and Donovan. Grace had let him know in clear and concise terms that she would fulfill her own dreams, thank you very much.
His amusement turning wry with the memory, he asked casually, “Where is Grace?”
“It was her turn to run errands—the bank, the post office, the office supplies store.”
Bryan wouldn’t admit to Chloe, of course, that he’d been disappointed that Grace wasn’t there when he arrived. It was disconcerting enough to acknowledge to himself that it was Grace who had drawn him here today. “How’s she holding up?” he asked. “With the scam we’re pulling off, I mean.”
Chloe wrinkled her nose as she removed a plastic pitcher of tea from the small refrigerator in one corner of the crowded room. “She fusses about it, of course, but Grace does love to fuss.”