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Hannah’s chest tightened as she stared at the man’s birthmark. She’d seen it before.
His head snapped up. “What’s wrong?”
His dark gaze locked with hers, the unmistakable cleft in his chin hauntingly familiar. Hannah staggered backward, a bolt of heat engulfing her as if an inferno had burst into flames at her feet.
She recognized this man. She knew him…intimately.
He was the man from her dreams.
Dear Reader,
Happy New Year! May this year bring you happiness, good health and all that you wish for. And at Harlequin American Romance, we’re hoping to provide you with a year full of heartwarming books that you won’t be able to resist.
Leading the month is The Secretary Gets Her Man by Mindy Neff, Harlequin American Romance’s spin-off to Harlequin Intrigue’s TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL continuity series. This exciting story focuses on the covert operation’s much-mentioned wallflower secretary, Penny Archer.
Muriel Jensen’s Father Formula continues her successful WHO’S THE DADDY? series about three identical sisters who cause three handsome bachelors no end of trouble when they discover one woman is about to become a mother. Next, after opening an heirloom hope chest, a bride-to-be suddenly cancels her wedding and starts having intimate dreams about a handsome stranger, in Have Gown, Need Groom. This is the first book of Rita Herron’s new miniseries THE HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS. And Debbi Rawlins tells the emotional story of a reclusive rancher who opens his home—and his heart—to a lovely single mother, in Loving a Lonesome Cowboy.
In February, look for another installment in the RETURN TO TYLER series with Prescription for Seduction by Darlene Scalera.
Wishing you happy reading,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
Have Gown, Need Groom
Rita Herron
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To all the sisters and mamas and grandmamas who hold families together through their family traditions.
And especially to my own mom, who spent numerous hours sewing handmade quilts for each of her grandchildren.
You gave them something to treasure forever—your love in the shape of a blanket to wrap around them and remind them of family.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rita Herron is a teacher, workshop leader and storyteller who loves reading, writing and sharing stories with people of all ages. She has published two nonfiction books for adults on working and playing with children, and has won the Golden Heart Award for a young adult story. Rita believes that books taught her to dream, and she loves nothing better than sharing that magic with others. She lives with her “dream” husband and three children, two cats and a dog in Norcross, Georgia.
My dearest, loving Hannah,
You are a very special granddaughter because you were the first miracle in the Hartwell family. You represented love and hope.
But you are the one who remembers the problems; the one old enough to realize that when your mother walked away she wasn’t coming back. And with your own little heart bleeding, you were the one to square your shoulders, console your heartbroken father and nurture your little sisters. And you never complained. You showed us strength when we thought we had none left.
You are studious and smart, dependable and responsible, but cautious to a fault. Don’t forget how to dream, my dear Hannah. Learn to take chances, laugh and have fun. I wish for you happiness, true love and a man who will give you all the joy a partner can.
Love you always,
Grammy Rose
P.S. Inside the hope chest you should find something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue!
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Okay, who ordered the male stripper?” Hannah Hartwell glared at her two younger sisters, Mimi and Alison, as the six-foot hunk Zorro ripped off his cape and flung it toward the leather side chair. Instead of meeting its mark, the black scrap of fabric snagged the bouquet of condom balloons dangling from the ceiling of her apartment and waved at her like a bat’s wings. The surprise bachelorette party had definitely been a…surprise.
The music accompanying Zorro’s striptease grew louder and the roomful of females cheered. Hannah groaned. Enthralled in the show, her sisters ignored her question. Either that or they didn’t want to ’fess up.
Mimi tucked a wad of dollar bills into the waistband of Zorro’s black tights while gyrating her hips to the beat of the Spanish guitar. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. If her fiancé, Seth Broadhurst, found out about this evening, he would be mortified. A calm, practical psychiatrist, he avoided attention and wasn’t a jokester like some of the other doctors at the hospital where they both worked. And she desperately wanted to maintain her hard-earned reputation with the ER staff.
Exhaustion pulled at her. She had to get some sleep. Her wedding was only a few hours away, her future teetering on the brink, just like Zorro’s underwear dangling from the edge of her light fixture. Hannah waved her hands and lowered the volume of the music to a soft hum. “This was great, girls. I appreciate all the gifts, but the party’s over.”
A few moans accompanied her statement, but her friends conceded, offered congratulations on her upcoming nuptials, then hugged her goodnight.
Mimi sighed dramatically as the guests left. “Geez, sis, I wish you’d loosen up. Can’t you go with the flow just once in your life?”
Maybe I could if you’d act responsibly just once in your life. “I can go with the flow,” Hannah protested.
Mimi merely laughed, making Hannah feel incredibly boring, while her youngest sister, Alison, escorted the stripper to the door. When Alison returned, she sank onto the sofa beside Hannah.
Mimi’s shark’s-tooth earrings clinked as she gyrated her hips to the music again. “Wow, he had the biggest—”
“Mimi!” Hannah covered her ears with her hands, cutting off her sister before she could launch into a graphic description. So, the man had great muscles and sexy pecs and the biggest—
“Eyes. I was going to say the biggest bluest eyes, but he was well—”
“—proportioned,” Alison interjected.
“—endowed,” Mimi finished with a mischievous laugh.
Hannah leapt from the champagne-sticky sofa, gathering up the empty wine and champagne bottles. Punch cups, wineglasses and leftover hors d’oeuvres covered her clawfoot table, scraps of wrapping paper littered her Queen Anne chair and cake crumbs clung to the plush velvet of her Victorian sofa.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the guy’s moves, Hannah?” A note of pure horror darkened Mimi’s husky voice as she poured herself more champagne.
“He was pretty buff.” Alison’s cheeks flushed to a rosy glow, but her gleaming brown eyes reflected the devil brewing in her thoughts. “Getting married doesn’t mean you’re dead. Lighten up.” Alison snatched the stripper’s thong from the chandelier. “Want to keep this as a memento of your last night as a free woman?”
“You could handcuff Seth to the bed on your honeymoon,” Mimi suggested wickedly as she played with the present she’d given her sister.
“You’re both hopeless.” Hannah pointed a manicured nail as she spoke. “You will drool after anything in pants, Mimi. And you, Alison Hartwell, are still in college. You’re way too young to be thinking such naughty thoughts.”
Mimi shook her long auburn hair free from its jade clasp, running her fingers through the unruly mass of curls. “Are you worried boring old Seth won’t be able to get you excited like that guy did tonight?”
“You know sex is a very important part of marriage,” Alison added.
“And if Seth isn’t satisfying you—”
“I never said Seth didn’t satisfy me!” Hannah howled, wondering if she should admit to her sexless life with her fiancé.
No, her relationship with Seth was perfect. She did not want excitement.
Before she could elaborate, the doorbell rang. “Please, pleeease don’t let that be Seth.” Hannah yanked the condom balloons from the ceiling then struggled to put them in the closet. “Hurry, help me hide all this stuff!”
Alison slid the handcuffs under the sofa cushion while Mimi sauntered to the door and opened it. A tired-looking trucker dressed in grubby coveralls towered over Mimi’s petite five-two. His name tag read Mountain Trucking. Hannah sighed in relief.
“I have a special delivery here from Rose Hartwell,” he said in a mountain drawl. “Would have been here sooner, but my truck broke down.”
An almost reverent silence descended upon the room, obliterating the party atmosphere. At seventy, Grandmother Rose was the matriarch of the Hartwell clan. For years after the girls’ mother had deserted them, Grammy had jumped in to help fill the parental shoes. The girls loved her dearly.
“One of you Miss Hartwell?” The trucker’s gaze landed on the remainder of the decadent cake shaped like a man’s body part, and his gray eyebrows shot upward.
“Yes.” Hannah and her sisters nodded in unison. Alison signed the delivery slip, stepping aside as the man pushed a big box inside. He left with a chuckle.
“I bet it’s the hope chest Mom told me about,” Mimi said. “The grandmother of the Hartwell family traditionally passes on a hope chest to each of her granddaughters before she marries.”
Hannah bristled at the reminder of their mother. She’d finally broken down and invited her mom to the wedding, hoping for a reconciliation, but she had declined, only cementing the wall between them with another foot of concrete—and the realization that her mother hadn’t wanted her. Forcing herself to forget the familiar hurt, she studied the package. Her grandmother tended to be eccentric. What would she have put in the chest? Nothing alive, she hoped…
“Hurry, open it,” Alison said.
Hannah took a deep breath and tore the wrapping, then opened the box, gasping in delight. A beautiful gold embossed chest sat inside. “It’s exquisite.”
“The chests are supposed to be replicas of the one our great-great-great grandmother brought over from England,” Mimi explained.
Hannah ran her finger along the ornate decorative carving. “This chest will look perfect at the foot of my bed.”
“I can’t wait to see what Grammy enclosed,” Alison shrieked.
Her hands trembling with excitement, Hannah slowly opened the chest and lifted a sheet of pale yellow stationery.
My dearest, loving, Hannah,
You are a very special granddaughter because you were the first miracle in the Hartwell family. You represented love and hope.
But you are the one who remembers the problems; the one old enough to realize that when your mother walked away she wasn’t coming back. And with your own little heart bleeding, you were the one to square your shoulders, console your heartbroken father and nurture your little sisters. And you never complained. You showed us strength when we thought we had none left.
You are studious and smart, dependable and responsible, but cautious to a fault. Don’t forget how to dream, my dear Hannah. Learn to take chances, laugh and have fun. I wish for you happiness, true love and a man who will give you all the joy a partner can.
Love you always,
Grammy Rose
P.S. Inside you should find something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.
Hannah wiped tears from her cheeks as she laid the letter aside and gently lifted a porcelain bride doll from the chest. Something new—a new doll for her collection.
Memories of her ninth birthday surfaced, bombarding her with emotions. She’d collected dolls as a child and had received a beautiful storybook Sleeping Beauty for her birthday. But the celebration had been ruined when her mother decided she couldn’t hack married life any more. All of Hannah’s silly childhood dreams had disintegrated when her mother had left, closing the door behind her. Hannah had packed away all her dolls and hadn’t touched them since; didn’t her grandmother remember?
Swallowing back the painful emotions, she searched the hope chest, surprised when her fingers brushed something hard. A plain brown rock, slightly jagged in shape, was wrapped in the hem of the doll’s lacy dress. It toppled into her hands, along with a note. “‘Don’t let the man you marry weigh you down,’” she read aloud. “Why on earth would Grammy write something like that to me?”
“Maybe she thinks Seth is too much of a drag,” Mimi joked.
“Very funny. Seth is a pillar of the community. He’s the most solid, stable man I know, something this family needs more of.” Hannah unwrapped the tissue paper covering her next surprise. “Oh, my goodness, it’s Grammy’s bridal gown. It’s beautiful.”
“Something borrowed,” Mimi murmured as they all admired the lacy dress.
Tiny pearls formed a border along the edge, the lace billowing out in sheer white folds. The neckline curved and slipped off the shoulders for a dramatic effect. Hannah pictured her grandmother wearing the gown at her own wedding, and a warm feeling washed over her. “This is so sweet, but didn’t Grammy realize I already have a wedding dress?”
Mimi laughed. “Grammy must be getting senile.”
“What should I do?” Hannah asked. “Seth helped pick out my dress.”
“Wear it and save this one for your own daughter some day.”
Hannah nodded and removed a pale blue garter from the chest. The girls laughed as she slipped the lacy garment over her thigh.
“Now, something old,” Mimi said. Hannah’s breath caught at the last item—a velvet ring box. She and her sisters exchanged animated smiles.
“I wonder if it’s the ring,” Mimi said.
“What ring?” Alison asked.
“The ring Grammy told us about when we were little,” Hannah explained. “An antique pearl ring with tiny gold leaves on each side—”
“There’s a legend that accompanies the ring,” Mimi cut in. “The legend says that if a woman wears this pearl ring to bed the night before her wedding, she’ll dream about the man she’s meant to marry.”
Hannah slowly opened the box, and all three of them gushed, “It is Grammy’s pearl. Oh, my gosh, the ring is lovelier than I remembered.” She traced a finger over the delicate setting, half afraid to slip the heirloom on her finger. “You guys don’t believe any of those silly superstitions, do you?”
“No, but Grammy Rose does,” Mimi said. “She said she wore the ring and dreamt of Gramps the night before their wedding.”
Alison’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Are you going to wear the ring to bed, Hannah?”
Hannah studied the antique gold band, the tiny diamond chips set inside the rich gold leaves, the perfect pearl. “I don’t know. All that legend stuff is kind of spooky.”
“Don’t be silly, I think it’s romantic,” Alison said.
“Since Seth didn’t even give you an engagement ring, you can wear this one instead,” Mimi said.
“I didn’t want an engagement ring,” Hannah clarified. “We both decided to be practical and opted for simple gold wedding bands.”
“Well, when I get engaged, I want a ring,” Mimi said. “A big gorgeous diamond.”
“Go on, Hannah, try on the pearl, let’s see how it looks on your finger,” Alison said.
Hannah hesitated. “Let me get ready for bed first.” Exhausted, she stood and gathered her things. “You guys can clean up, the bride-to-be needs her beauty rest.”
Her grandmother’s gown swished as she draped it over her arm and carried the satin-lined hope chest to her bedroom. Tomorrow her entire life would change. She’d marry Seth and have the safe, secure life she’d always wanted. She’d become a Broadhurst, a member of one of the most prominent families around, finally free of the crazy Hartwell image.
Their father, Wiley, owned a chain of used-car lots across the country and was famous for his wacky commercials. As a child, Hannah had loved the kooky ads, but when she grew older, her dad’s flamboyant tastes had brought ridicule. His embarrassing advertisements had been one reason her mother had left him.
Hannah gently spread the bridal gown over the chaise in the corner of her room, placed the bride doll on top of the chest, then placed the velvet ring box on the mahogany nightstand beside her bed. Memories of her grandmother’s eccentric but lovable ways filled her thoughts as she brushed her teeth and prepared for bed. Seconds later, she donned a nightgown, then slipped back to the bedroom. Pausing to admire the pearl ring, she silently laughed at the idea of the silly legend. Should she wear the ring to bed and see if the legend came true?
Nah, the legend was just an old wives’ tale.
She turned off the lamp and crawled into bed then closed her eyes. But sleep eluded her and worry set in. What if she didn’t make a good wife? What if she was more like her mother than she’d thought? What if she’d made a mistake in choosing her mate or had trouble committing, like her mother?
She flipped on the light and glanced at the ring. She didn’t believe superstition. But moonlight streamed through her window illuminating the perfect creamy pearl, the tiny diamonds glittering like teardrops in the centers of the leaves. Oh, what the heck.
She stared at her bare left hand, the ringless finger. Maybe she would let the pearl serve as her engagement ring. What could it hurt? Smiling to herself, she lifted the ring and slipped it on her left hand, then crawled under the covers, and pulled them to her chin. Forget the superstitious family legend. Tonight she’d sleep like the dead.
Either that, or, if the legend came true, she’d dream about her future husband. Maybe they’d even be dreams of the hot honeymoon night to come. She closed her eyes—yep, she could already see Seth Broadhurst’s face in her mind.
His smoky gaze and the hunger in his solemn, brooding look was almost painful in its intensity. He swept her back with his hands, not bothering to disguise the tormented longing in the almost animal-like sound that erupted from deep in his throat. Hannah whimpered and leaned into him, unable to suppress the erotic tremors his heated touch drew from her tender skin.
He was her destiny. The man she would marry, the man to whom she would give her heart, body and soul for eternity.
Long, tanned fingers tormented her as he gently glided his fingers along her cheekbone, traced the curve of her chin. He kissed her tenderly, almost reverently, his lips a loving reminder of the words they’d shared only hours earlier when they’d spoken their vows. With a sigh of contentment, he pulled her into his embrace, murmuring heartfelt words of love and need that would forever be imprinted in her brain. Hannah curled into his warmth and strength, savoring the way he clung to her as he carried her over the threshold to their home.
Moonlight danced through the lacy curtains creating a halo around his magnificent form, shimmering streaks of gold through his thick dark hair, highlighting cheekbones etched in granite, a smile that barely made it to his lips, the strong jaw that remained clenched as he fought for control. Her gaze played over his broad shoulders, down his washboard stomach, then he turned to undress and she noticed a small crescent-shaped quarter-moon birthmark on his hip.
Moments later, they consummated their marriage with a passion unlike anything she’d ever imagined. He emanated strength, power; a man who would protect her and take care of her. And when she stared into his handsome, rugged face, she knew that after their honeymoon night together, they would forever be bound as one.
Hannah awoke with a start, streaked with sweat and tremors of unsated desire that shook her to the core. The sheets lay tangled around her aching limbs, the pearl ring glistening in the moonlight, the pillow beside her empty. A frustrated sigh tore from her lips as she realized she was alone, that the passionate union had been a dream.
She touched the unbroken circle of the ring’s band, the silly legend echoing through her mind. If you sleep wearing the ring the night before your wedding, you’ll dream about your future husband.
She dropped her face into her hands and groaned, a ball of confusion knotting her stomach. What was she going to do? She had dreamt all right—only Seth, her fiancé, had not been the man in her dreams.
Chapter Two
“I can’t marry Seth today.” Hannah inhaled a deep breath, but the waistline of her wedding gown was so tight it was cutting off the oxygen to her brain. Why else would she be dizzy?
Because she was having a severe case of cold feet minutes before her wedding.
Making matters worse, her father had pulled another one of his stunts—newspaper reporters and a TV crew had joined the guests to film every second of her ceremony. She had to go through with the wedding. Piano music wafted through the church signifying the seating of the guests.
“Of course you’re marrying Seth.” Mimi gestured toward her pale-green bridesmaid’s dress. “I’m not wearing this hideous chiffon thing for nothing. It makes me look twenty pounds heavier than I already am!”
“You’re not fat and you know it.” Alison rolled her dark brown eyes heavenward. “You have a beautiful hourglass figure most women would die for.”
“Yeah, you’re busty,” Hannah added, glancing down in despair at her own rather puny chest. Even with her new bra, she barely had cleavage. “I’m just not sure about me and Seth,” Hannah confided in a low voice. “What if he’s the wrong man for me? Grammy Rose met Seth last Christmas, what if she knew when she sent me that ring?”
“That’s crazy,” Mimi said.
“You know Seth is the right man for you. In here.” Alison curled her hand into a fist and pressed it over her heart.
Trouble was, she didn’t know. Hannah had long since forgotten childish dreams of love and romance. Her marriage to Seth was based on friendship, a mutual, almost business-like agreement they’d decided on months ago, thinking their professional relationship made them a suitable match.
Hannah gulped. Her brain whispered she’d be a fool not to marry Seth, he’d give her the stable, secure life she’d always dreamed of. But her body screamed for more: the heat, the raw hungry looks, the frantic, urgent coming together—the dark, virile man in her dreams. And her heart confused her even more, whispering that the man in her dreams was her soulmate. Foolish nonsense. She and Seth were soulmates, weren’t they?
She rubbed her temple where a headache had started pulsing. They were definitely…friends. And they’d almost made love a couple of times, but she’d backed away, claiming she wanted to wait until they were married. What if the real reason she’d held back was because there’d been no spark, no sizzle? What kind of marriage would they have together without passion? Without true love.
“Last night I dreamed I was making love to a stranger,” Hannah admitted in a strangled voice. “Why would I dream about another man when I’m marrying Seth?”
Mimi threw her hands in the air dramatically as she spun around to face Hannah. “Because Seth isn’t the kind of man who conjures up erotic fantasies.”