Whitelaw's Wedding

Manda focused her gaze on Hunter. “You are so damn sure that once we announce our engagement, my secret admirer will make his move and you’ll be able to catch him?” She pulled away from his arms. “By all means, let’s follow through with this idiotic plan. Let’s put both our lives in danger. Let’s show everyone in Dearborn that we’re fools in love, and to hell with the consequences.”

Hunter grabbed her, cupping her chin as he stared into her eyes. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble convincing everyone that we can’t keep our hands off each other. Just pretend you feel about me now the way you did when you were sixteen.”

Manda’s face flushed. “And what are you going to pretend?”

“I’m a man, baby doll. With a woman who looks like you, I won’t have to pretend.”

Dear Reader,

This is officially “Get Caught Reading” month, so why not get caught reading one—or all!—of this month’s Intimate Moments books? We’ve got six you won’t be able to resist.

In Whitelaw’s Wedding, Beverly Barton continues her popular miniseries THE PROTECTORS. Where does the Dundee Security Agency come up with such great guys—and where can I find one in real life? A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY is almost over, but not before you read about Cinderella’s Secret Agent, from Ingrid Weaver. Then come back next month, when Sharon Sala wraps things up in her signature compelling style.

Carla Cassidy offers a Man on a Mission, part of THE DELANEY HEIRS, her newest miniseries. Candace Irvin once again demonstrates her deft way with a military romance with In Close Quarters, while Claire King returns with a Renegade with a Badge who you won’t be able to pass up. Finally, join Nina Bruhns for Warrior’s Bride, a romance with a distinctly Native American feel.

And, of course, come back next month as the excitement continues in Intimate Moments, home of your favorite authors and the best in romantic reading.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

Whitelaw’s Wedding

Beverly Barton

BEVERLY BARTON

has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, Beverly wrote her first book at the age of nine. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, Beverly chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer. The author of over thirty-five books, Beverly is a member of Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. She has won numerous awards and made the Waldenbooks and USA Today bestseller lists.

To my fellow Heart of Dixie RWA chapter members,

past and present, for the camaraderie, encouragement

and support, but especially for all the good times

we’ve shared over the years.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Prologue

M anda Munroe inspected her curves in the mirror. The woman she saw reflected there was one others referred to as beautiful. She supposed she was pretty, just as she was rich and pampered. At least that was what everyone told her. Her father, older brother and grandmother doted on her. And she loved them, too, which was why she would never tell them that all their smothering attention could never fill the void, never replace the gigantic hole created in her life by her mother’s absence. Most of the time she didn’t feel sorry for herself for being the only kid in her circle of friends who didn’t have a mother. But for crying out loud, she had just turned sixteen and what she needed most was someone no one in her life could truly replace. A mother. Someone she could turn to for advice on being a woman. Grams was wonderful, but she was sixty and hardly up-to-date on the things today’s teenage girls needed to know.

Manda pivoted slowly in front of the cherry cheval mirror in her bedroom. Grams wouldn’t approve of the bikini she was wearing, even though some of her friends wore skimpier ones. But if she was ever going to make Hunter Whitelaw notice that she was no longer a little girl, she had to do something drastic. She’d decided letting him see her in next to nothing would open his eyes to the fact that she was all grown up. Now, maybe he’d stop thinking of her as nothing more than Perry’s little sister. She’d had a crush on Hunter for as long as she could remember, since the first time Perry brought him to the house, about six years ago when the guys played high school football together. Of course, back then, she really had been just a kid. But even at ten, she’d somehow known that Hunter was the one and only boy on earth for her. And since that time, with each passing year, she had become more and more certain that he was destined to be the love of her life.

Now, all she had to do was convince him of that fact. And parading around in front of him in her bikini was a great way to start. She didn’t have much time to accomplish her goal. Hunter was home in Dearborn for only two weeks, then he’d go back to the army.

Manda grabbed her waist-length hair, pulled it through a rubber band and secured it in a ponytail. She opened her bedroom door, peeked out into the hall for any sign of Grams, then rushed toward the back stairs. As she passed through the laundry room, she grabbed a huge white towel, then flew out the door and onto the patio. Seeing Hunter lying on one of the chaise longues by the pool, she skidded to a halt. He was all alone. Manda squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and sauntered in his direction. She probably had less than twenty minutes to make an impression on Hunter. Daddy was at work, Grams should be taking her afternoon nap and their housekeeper, Bobbie Rue, was enjoying her day off at her sister’s house across town.

Manda had timed her arrival at the pool to coincide with Perry’s trip to the store to pick up a couple of six-packs. He’d huffed about in the pantry, complaining that he couldn’t understand where the hell the four six-packs he’d put in there this past weekend had gone. She’d hidden the beer under the sink in the kitchen, knowing her brother wouldn’t spend a lazy summer afternoon without his favorite drink. Yuck. Manda had tried the nasty stuff and couldn’t imagine anyone drinking such foul-tasting poison.

Hunter was stretched out to his full six-four height, his big, muscular arms thrown back and his hands resting above his head. He wore only a pair of loose black swim trunks, leaving most of his body bare. As she approached, she took inventory, scanning him from head to toe. Thick, dark brown hair, neatly trimmed. Sunglasses hooded his eyes, which she knew were a light blue-gray. Broad shoulders and wide chest, trim waist and hips. And long, long legs. Big hands. Big feet. And every inch of his flesh was tanned a golden brown. Curly dark hair covered his chest, as well as dusted his arms and legs.

Now, that’s a man!

Manda paraded around in front of Hunter, who didn’t seem to notice her. She cleared her throat. He eased the sunglasses down his nose and peered at her over the rim.

“Hi, there,” she said, then tossed her towel on the chaise beside his, pulled back her shoulders and thrust forward her breasts, which were covered only by two triangles of shiny red material.

Hunter grunted and slid his shades back into place.

What was the matter with him? Manda wondered. Couldn’t he see that she was a gorgeous young woman? Everybody said so. All the guys her age drooled over her.

“Where’s Perry?” she asked.

“He went to pick up some beer for us,” Hunter replied, but didn’t glance her way.

“Mind if I join you?”

He shrugged. “This is your house, your patio and your pool.”

“So it is.”

Doing her best to act alluring, Manda lay down on the chaise next to Hunter’s and turned her head so that she faced him. She reached out, picked up the bottle of suntan lotion on the small table between them and flipped open the lid. After pouring a quarter-size amount of the white cream into the palm of her hand, she applied it to her arms, then repeated the process on her legs. She’d seen this seduction scene in a movie, so she figured it was worth a try.

“Do you mind doing my back?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“My back. Would you put some lotion on it for me? I can’t reach my back and with this fair skin of mine, I burn easily.”

Hunter barely suppressed the chuckle rising in his throat. Manda, Manda. What was he going to do with her? Perry had told him a couple of years ago that his little sister had a mad crush on her big brother’s best friend. At the time, he’d thought it was cute and rather endearing. But for the past few days, while he’d been home on leave, Manda had been driving him crazy. She had done everything but strip off naked to gain his attention. And from the looks of that skimpy bikini she was wearing, she must have decided to use that tactic, as well. If Mrs. Munroe saw Manda in that scanty swimsuit, she would ground her granddaughter until she was thirty.

He had to admit that if he didn’t know Manda was only sixteen—and if she weren’t his buddy Perry’s baby sister—he’d be tempted. Manda was just too damn pretty for her own good. Pretty? Hell, she was beautiful. And she knew it.

The girl was too pretty, too rich, too smart and too spoiled. He pitied the poor guy who wound up marrying her someday. She was growing up to be a high-maintenance lady.

“Sure, I’ll do your back,” Hunter said and took the bottle from her. “Turn around.”

She obeyed instantly, but then she did the unexpected. She unhooked her bikini top, jerked it off and laid it on the chaise. Hunter hadn’t been prepared for that particular move, but he supposed he should have been, considering the way Manda had been chasing him these past few days.

“That’ll make it easier,” she said.

Easier for what? Damn, this kid didn’t know she was playing with fire. His guess was that she didn’t understand how easily a guy could become sexually aroused. If she pulled this kind of stunt with another guy, she might get more than she bargained for. “Manda, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“A lady doesn’t strip off her clothes that way and expose herself,” Hunter said. “Your grams would be—”

“Grams is an old-fashioned prude who doesn’t know the first thing about being a modern woman. It’s been so long since she was young and in love that she’s probably forgotten how it feels.”

In love? Damn! He definitely wasn’t prepared to handle that kind of complication. Even if Manda were older, there were too many things that separated them on every level imaginable. She was and always would be off limits to him.

“Damn it, Manda, put your top back on and act like a grown-up instead of a stupid kid.”

“A stupid kid!”

She whirled around, anger flashing in her eyes, but before he could look away, he got an eyeful. God help him, the sight of her was enough to bring a strong man to his knees. Her breasts were large, firm and centered with pouting pink nipples.

Hunter jumped up, grabbed the red bikini top off the chaise and tossed it at Manda. “For heaven’s sake, brat, put that on. Now!”

She ignored his command, flung the top on the patio floor and shot out of the chaise. “I’m not a stupid kid. I’m a grown woman. Damn it, will you look at me? Can’t you see that I’m more than just Perry’s little sister?”

Hunter tried his level best to keep his gaze focused on her face, but that wasn’t an easy task. Not with her sweet, luscious body almost totally bare. He snatched the towel off the chaise and started to wrap it around her, but with another unexpected move, she flung herself at him and clung to him tenaciously. The towel slipped off and down to the floor. Her naked breasts pressed against his chest.

Hunter grabbed her shoulders, pulled her away from him and shook her soundly.

“What the hell’s going on?” Perry Munroe stood at the back door, a beer in each hand.

Manda whirled around, gasped when she saw her brother, then glanced over her shoulder and glared malevolently at Hunter. “Your best friend here was putting the moves on me.”

“Perry—”

“Damn it, Manda, put on some clothes, will you,” Perry said. “And leave Hunter alone.”

“You don’t believe me?” Manda asked in a wounded, little-girl voice.

Perry walked onto the patio, handed Hunter a beer, set the other on the table, then picked up the towel off the floor and wrapped it around Manda, crossing it over her breasts. “Get upstairs and put on a decent bathing suit before Grams sees you. And for the rest of Hunter’s stay with us, will you, please, leave him the hell alone?”

“You might not believe me, but we’ll see what Grams and Daddy have to say.” Manda scurried toward the house.

“Don’t you dare repeat such a stupid accusation,” Perry called after her, then turned to Hunter when Manda disappeared inside the house. “Sorry about that. She’s spoiled rotten. We usually give her anything she wants and unfortunately the one thing she wants the most right now is you.”

“She scares the hell out of me,” Hunter admitted. “Manda’s a stick of dynamite that’s just about ready to go off. Y’all had better tighten the reins on that girl.”

Perry laughed. “And think, she’s only sixteen. Can you imagine what we’ll have to deal with by the time she’s eighteen? Heaven help us.”

Hunter shook his head and laughed. “Heaven help the guy who marries her.”

Chapter 1

P erry Munroe found his sister pacing the floor in Dearborn Memorial Hospital’s ER waiting room. When she’d phoned him half an hour ago, she had been nearly hysterical. She’d kept repeating the same words. It’s happened again! The Manda Munroe Curse. The best he could make out from their brief conversation was that her date had taken ill during dinner and she had rushed him to the hospital. Of all things to have happened to Manda, why this? She hadn’t dated anyone in such a long time. Not since her fiancé Mike Farrar’s death.

Perry had hoped that the nightmare she’d lived through in the past was over, that she could actually live a normal life, find a man to love, marry and have children. He knew that was what his sister wanted more than anything. He’d thought perhaps her colleague, Dr. Boyd Gipson, who worked with her at the clinic where she was a grief counselor, might turn out to be Mr. Right. But somehow, by a trick of fate, Boyd had fallen victim to the Manda Munroe Curse, the phrase an insensitive reporter for the local newspaper had coined five years ago when Mike Farrar’s body had been found a week after his mysterious disappearance. At that time, the reporter had unearthed the tragic story of Manda’s past and the death of her first fiancé when she’d been twenty-one.

The moment Manda saw him, she halted her frantic pacing and ran toward him. He opened his arms and embraced her. She trembled as she clung to him.

“Oh, Perry, it’s happened again. Boyd and I were having dessert and coffee, when he suddenly became very ill. I don’t know how it’s possible, how anyone could have done it, but I know someone tried to kill him.”

Perry grasped Manda’s shoulders. “What does the ER doctor say?”

“He said it was food poisoning, but I know better.” Manda glared at Perry, her eyes wild with fear. “I thought…I hoped and prayed that I could at least have a nice, comfortable friendship with a man, without—without—” She took in huge gulps of air. “We’ve had only three dates. Nothing serious. Just companionship. But then that’s all there was between Mike and me. A marriage of two good friends, both who had lost a loved one in the past and… He won’t let me have anyone else in my life, will he? Not even a friend.”

Perry’s stomach knotted painfully. “Look, brat, I honestly don’t think that lunatic who might or might not have been responsible for Mike’s death had anything to do with this. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be. People get food poisoning fairly often. And you haven’t gotten any notes predicting Boyd’s demise, have you?”

She shook her head. “No, but… I’ll have to tell Boyd that I can’t see him again. Not socially. I can’t take the risk. If anything happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.”

“What do you plan to do, live the rest of your life like a nun? You deserve better. You’re allowing some lunatic to dictate the terms of your life.”

“Two men that I’ve cared for have died tragically,” Manda said. “First Rodney and then Mike.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and sighed in an effort to not cry again. “Someone killed them because he’s obsessed with me and doesn’t want me to marry anyone else. Whoever killed Rodney and Mike is probably still watching me, waiting for me to… I refuse to endanger another man’s life. Not ever again!”

Perry knew that when she got like this there was no point in trying to reason with her. He felt certain that Boyd’s food poisoning had been an accident, but Manda was bound and determined to blame herself. Poor girl. The woman standing before him bore little resemblance to the carefree, spoiled little hellion she’d once been. Rodney Austin’s death in a car crash only a week before their wedding had devastated Manda. That had been twelve years ago. It had taken Manda years to get over that loss, but eventually she had become engaged to her good friend, Mike Farrar, who had lost his wife to cancer. When they became engaged, Manda had received a series of letters warning her to not marry Mike, that if she did, he would die, just as Rodney had. They had taken the letters to the police, but the local law enforcement had been unable to trace the letters to find the author. Only days before the wedding, Mike had disappeared. His body had been found in the Poloma River. He’d been shot in the back. His murderer was never found.

For the past five years, Manda hadn’t dated. It had taken him months to convince his sister to accept Boyd’s pleas for a date.

Had he been wrong to encourage her to put the past to rest and move on with her life?

The letter arrived a week later. Manda had stopped by Perry’s law office in downtown Dearborn and tossed the nondescript white envelope on his desk.

“Read it,” she’d said.

The author of the printed missive had assured Manda that he was not responsible for Boyd’s illness. But he had pointed out that even Fate didn’t want Manda with another man. He had ended his letter with a warning.

You know that I’ll never let you be happy with anyone else. If you ever try to marry another man, I’ll kill him. And if you’re foolish enough to allow it to happen again, I might have to kill you, too.

The letter was similar in tone and wording to the six letters that Manda had received in the weeks leading up to her wedding to Mike. A second wedding that never took place.

Perry had insisted Manda take the letter to the police, just as they’d done in the past. He had gone with her, of course, and as he had expected, the local authorities reluctantly admitted that there was little chance of apprehending the culprit, with nothing but the letters as evidence.

Damn it all, he wasn’t going to allow his sister to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after her. She was young— only thirty-three—and beautiful, with so much love and passion to give the right man. But out there somewhere was a nutcase determined to control Manda’s love life. There had to be a way to put an end to this craziness. He should have done something years ago, after Mike’s death. But he’d known Manda needed time to heal and he had allowed the years to slip by without forming a plan of action.

What Manda needed was a fiancé capable of not only outwitting a would-be assassin, but one able to protect her, too. Perry grinned. He knew just the man. He’d call him tonight. And tomorrow he’d tell Manda that she was going to marry the man of her dreams—her teenage dreams.

Hunter Whitelaw propped his feet up on the rustic log coffee table, eased his weary shoulders into the back of the overstuffed sofa and groaned. He and his fellow Dundee agent Matt O’Brien had just completed a month-long assignment and agents Jack Parker and David Wolfe had also recently finished with a difficult job. Hunter and Matt’s case had taken a toll on them and had dredged up some unpleasant memories for Hunter personally. An American billionaire had given his eighteen-year-old twins a trip to Europe as a high school graduation gift, but he’d wanted the two girls, Risa and Rhea, protected day and night. On the surface, it had seemed to be a plum assignment—a month in Europe, all expenses paid. At least that was what Matt had thought. Hunter could have warned them, but figured he would find out soon enough just how much trouble two cute little girls could be. Hunter had learned that lesson years ago.

The smell of frying fish wafted through the cabin. Jack Parker was cooking supper for them. Frying fish and hush puppies. Hunter closed his eyes and sighed. He could almost taste the delicious catfish they’d caught in the river this morning. He and Jack had persuaded Wolfe to go with them and the guy had turned out to be quite a fisherman. Apparently, Wolfe was good at whatever he did. But the man was too damn quiet, too reclusive. Hunter had actually been surprised that he’d accepted his offer to join them on their weekend trip.

Jack liked to fish as well as Hunter did. The gregarious Texan was a fellow who seemed to love just being alive. He was the exact opposite of Wolfe, a somber, solitary man, who seemed to carry the woes of the world on his shoulders. And then there was Matt, their movie-star-handsome buddy who had women swooning at his feet wherever they went. Hell, Risa and Rhea had been all over Matt, and the former Air Force Cowboy had been out of his league with the two nymphets. It had taken both of them working diligently to stay one step ahead of the twins and at the same time keep the girls out of their beds. If they’d been smart, they would have suggested Ellen, Dundee’s CEO, take this job herself and enlist several female Dundee agents to help her.

Hunter chuckled. He hadn’t been propositioned by a teenage girl since he’d been twenty-two and Perry Munroe’s little sister had given him an eyeful that summer he’d been home in Dearborn on leave from the army. Her outraged grandmother, who had believed Manda’s tale that Hunter had come on to her, had forbidden Hunter to set foot in the Munroe house ever again. Of course, Mr. Munroe and Perry had known the truth and assured Hunter he was always welcome.

“Supper’s ready,” Jack called from the kitchen. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”

After opening the front door, Hunter repeated Jack’s invitation to Wolfe, who had escaped outside over an hour earlier. Then he walked halfway up the stairs to holler at Matt. Hunter waited for Wolfe to enter from the front porch and for Matt to emerge from the upstairs bedroom, where he’d been playing games on his laptop computer. Once the two men joined him in the living room, he followed them straight to the kitchen table. They all laughed when they saw Jack in a large floral apron, apparently left there by the last people who’d rented the cabin.

“Hey, don’t laugh at my stylish attire.” Jack plopped lightly breaded and browned catfish on each of the four plates. “You guys would starve if it wasn’t for my culinary talents.”