Dream Wedding: Dream Bride / Dream Groom

CHAPTER TWO

“ARIZONA, this is one of my nieces. Chloe. She’s the journalist. Chloe, this is Arizona Smith. I think you were watching him on the morning news show earlier today, weren’t you?”

Charity’s question hung in the air, but Chloe didn’t answer. Arizona shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the round table. He was used to fans being tongue-tied in his presence, but Chloe Bradley Wright didn’t look like the rabid fan type. Plus, she was staring at him as if he’d grown a horn in the center of his forehead. He brushed back his hair, casually letting his fingers touch the skin there, just to be sure.

“Hi, Chloe,” he said, and held out his hand. In the past he’d found that polite, social niceties often put people at ease.

Her gaze dropped from his face to his hand. She still looked panicked, but she responded automatically. “Mr. Smith. What a pleasure.” Her attention shifted to her aunt. “You didn’t mention company for dinner. I think there’s a roast, but it’s not defrosted. I could put it in the microwave and—”

“All taken care of,” Charity said, and patted the empty chair next to hers. “Get yourself something to drink and join us. Arizona and I were just catching up on old times. He has some wonderful stories. I’m sure you’ll be interested in them.”

Chloe didn’t respond right away. Her gaze settled back on his. Arizona read concern in her eyes and something that looked like apprehension. He held in a sigh. No doubt Charity had been telling tales out of school again. The older woman loved to brag about his exploits. Okay, he was willing to admit that there had been a time when everything they said about him was true, but that was long ago. These days his life was practically boring. At least when it came to his conquests with women.

Chloe moved to the refrigerator. “Would either of you like anything?”

“I’m fine, dear,” Charity said.

“Me, too.” Arizona motioned to the bottle of beer in front of him.

Chloe gave him a tight smile, then collected a diet soda for herself. She walked back to the table.

Arizona told himself it wasn’t polite to stare, but Ms. Chloe Bradley Wright was very easy on the eyes. Tall, at least five-eight or -nine, slender with big brown eyes and a cascade of reddish-brown curls that tumbled to the middle of her back. She might not have a lot of curves, but she was woman enough to get his blood pumping.

If he had a type, she would be it. Fortunately he didn’t have one, nor was he looking for anyone to keep him company during his brief visit to Bradley.

“I’m trying to convince Arizona to stay with us while he’s here,” Charity said, picking up the conversation where they’d left it when Chloe had arrived home. “I’ve explained there’s plenty of room and he won’t be any trouble at all. What do you think?”

Chloe was staring at him again. Whatever the reason for her attention, he found he liked it. She blinked twice, then looked at her aunt. “What? Oh, sorry. I was—” She took a sip of her soda. “It’s just I’ve been staring at your picture all day. I can’t believe you’re sitting here in my kitchen.”

Her words hung in the room like dust motes floating on a sunny afternoon. The silence lengthened. Chloe sucked in a breath and flushed, as if she’d just realized what she’d said.

“That came out wrong,” she said quickly.

“Not to me it didn’t.” Arizona winked. “The fan club can always use a new member. Did I mention I often take care of initiation myself?”

He was teasing...for the most part. Chloe’s flush deepened. Maybe the little town of Bradley would be more interesting than he’d first thought.

He glanced over and saw Charity’s speculative gaze. Ah, so his friend was thinking about a little matchmaking. He drank his beer, unconcerned by her efforts. He’d dealt with much tougher than her in the past. As they said in Australia—no worries.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Now you’ve seen me at my worst, or close to it. I don’t usually make a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. What I meant was I’m a reporter with Bradley Today magazine. The writer who was going to follow you around for the next couple of weeks and write the article won’t be able to do it. Our editor assigned me this morning. I’ve been busy doing research.”

A reporter. Assigned to him. He liked that. “Should be fun.”

“Yes, well, I left a message at your hotel explaining the situation.”

“I’ve been with Charity most of the day,” he said. “I’ll be sure to listen most attentively when I get back to my room.”

“You do that. There’ll be a quiz in the morning.”

She smiled then. A real smile without thought or purpose. Her face lit up, her eyes sparkled and he found himself leaning toward her, already planning what he could do to make her smile again.

Chloe reached for her briefcase and unzipped the leather, unconstructed bag. “I believe we have an appointment at the gem exhibit at nine-thirty in the morning. Does that still work for you?”

In more ways than you know, he thought, but only said, “Yes.”

“Good.” She made a notation in her date book. “It will take me a couple of days to get up to speed. I have Nancy’s research, of course, but I want to do some of my own. I’ll try not to be a pain with all my questions.”

“My life is an open book,” he said.

Charity coughed. “Really, Arizona? Oh, good. I was afraid there were some stories you wouldn’t want me telling, but with your life being so accessible and all...” She turned to her niece. “Later I’ll tell you about the time a tribal elder’s daughter paid him to teach her how to please her husband. It seems that there was a problem with—”

Arizona groaned. “Charity, have you no shame? That is private.”

“I thought you were accessible. I thought you wanted to share yourself with the people.”

“Not that much of myself. There are some things Chloe should learn on her own.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows. “How kind of you to say that, but don’t worry. I’m not interested in any lessons on pleasing the men in my life.”

“They’re all satisfied?”

“Completely.”

In her tailored slacks and linen jacket, she looked professional and confident. He wondered if Charity saw the slight tremor in her niece’s hand as she picked up her can of soda. Chloe was lying through her teeth. Which either meant she wasn’t pleasing her man, or there wasn’t a man to please. He found himself wanting it to be the latter.

Charity chuckled. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m giving you completely the wrong idea about Arizona. It’s true that he can be a charmer when he wants to be, but for the most part he’s a decent and kind man.”

Arizona winced. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am.”

“You’re talking about me as if I were the family dog.”

Chloe leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “So you don’t want to be thought of as decent and kind? Secretly you long to be—” She pressed her lips together.

Indecent. His brain filled in the word and he shifted in his chair. What was going on between himself and Chloe? This didn’t make sense. The banter was fine—he enjoyed people who were fun and funny. But the sexual innuendo wasn’t his style. Too obvious. Was it the lack of female companionship in his life, or was it something else? Something about Chloe specifically?

Before he could analyze the situation, the front door opened and a female voice called out a greeting.

“That’s Cassie,” Charity said, rising to her feet. “My other niece. She’s the baby of the family.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Chloe protested. “She’s younger by all of six months. You make her sound like she’s still a teenager.”

“Or that you’re an old woman,” Charity teased.

“Thanks.”

A young woman entered the kitchen. Her gaze settled on Arizona. “I saw you on television this morning,” she said and grinned. Her short dark hair accentuated her large eyes. Where Chloe was tall and slender, Cassie was a good five or six inches shorter, with plenty of curves.

A nice enough young woman, Arizona thought as they were introduced, but not intriguing. Not like her sister.

“So you’re a famous explorer,” Cassie said as she reached for a pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass. Heart-shaped earrings glinted at her earlobes.

“That would be me. Larger than life.”

Cassie settled next to him and sighed. “Do women gush when they meet you?”

“Only if they’re incredibly discerning.” He glanced up and caught Chloe’s smile.

“Are you married?” Cassie asked.

“Cassie!” Chloe frowned at her sister. “Don’t be personal.”

“Why not? Well, are you?”

“You proposing?”

Cassie sipped her tea, apparently unruffled by the conversation. “No. I’m involved with someone. But Chloe is single.”

Arizona shot her a glance. So there wasn’t a man in her life. Funny how that piece of information was suddenly fascinating.

“Thanks for sharing that particular detail,” Chloe said and rose to her feet. Her aunt stood by an electric frying pan sitting on the counter. “Can I help?” she asked.

“I’m doing fine. I’m cooking Arizona’s favorite for dinner,” she said.

Chloe glanced in the pan, then over at him. “Pot roast?”

“Yup. You’d be amazed how hard that is to find in some places.”

“I’ll bet.”

“There’s chocolate cake and ice cream for dessert,” Charity added. “Both you girls will be staying for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question. The sisters exchanged knowing looks, and Arizona was pleased that he wasn’t the only one Charity bossed around.

“You don’t have to if you have other plans. Although I would very much like the company.” The latter comment he addressed to Chloe.

“Oh, we aren’t busy,” Cassie said. “I’m only seeing Joel and I can call him and cancel.”

“Joel would be your young man?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. We’re engaged to be engaged.” She held out her left hand. A thin gold band encircled her ring finger. The diamond set there was so small it looked like a grain of sand.

“It’s lovely,” he told her.

She beamed.

Cassie started asking him more questions. He answered automatically, most of his attention focused on her sister. Chloe didn’t rejoin them at the table. Instead she moved around the kitchen, doing odds and ends that to his mind looked like busywork. Almost as if she was staying as far away from him as possible. Did he make her nervous?

There was something between them, he thought. Some kind of a connection. He knew there were people who would dismiss a feeling that they’d met someone before. He didn’t. He’d traveled too much and seen too many things he couldn’t explain to overlook the obvious.

When he looked at Chloe there was heat and desire, but there was also something else. An intangible he couldn’t explain but that he wouldn’t ignore, either. He wanted to get to know her better. At least circumstances were conspiring to assist him in his quest. If she was going to be writing about him, she could hardly spend the three weeks he was in town avoiding him.

She turned and opened a drawer. As she choose forks and knives, one fell to the floor. She knelt down to pick it up. The movement prickled at the back of his mind. As if he’d seen her kneel before. But when he probed his mind, the image that appeared to him was of Chloe completely naked, kneeling on a bed of straw.

Not that he was complaining, but where on earth had that thought come from? He swore silently and forced himself to pay attention to Cassie and her list of questions. Thank God he was sitting down and no one could see the obvious and rapid physical response to his vision. Clearly he’d been without a woman for too long. He’d outgrown the appeal of a bed partner in every port, but he was still a man who had needs. At some point in time he was going to have to do something about them.

Cassie stopped her bombardment long enough to get up and fix a salad. Chloe walked over to the table and began setting it.

“Pot roast, vegetables, mashed potatoes and salad,” she said. “Not very exotic fair. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to run to the gourmet store and grab a bottle of chocolate-covered ants or something. Just so you’ll feel at home?”

Her voice was low and teasing. She stood close enough that he could inhale the scent of her. “I think I can handle this.”

He wasn’t talking about the food, but did she know that?

“If you’re sure,” she said and picked up his empty bottle of beer. “I’ll get you another one.”

Cassie sliced tomatoes into the bowl of lettuce and cut-up vegetables. She grinned at him. “So when was the last time you had three women waiting on you?”

He thought for a second. “It’s been a couple of months. I was staying—”

Small bits of radish hit him in the face.

“Hey!” He looked up and saw Chloe prepared to launch another assault.

“That was an incorrect answer,” she told him. “You should try again.”

He eyed the piece of radish. “Charity, you’re not protecting me from these bloodthirsty nieces of yours.”

“You were just bragging how you can handle things. So you’re on your own.”

“I’m seriously outnumbered.”

Chloe tossed him another piece of radish. This one he caught and popped in his mouth.

“No one here is impressed,” she informed him, her eyes bright with laughter.

The teasing continued throughout the preparation of the meal. Arizona enjoyed watching the three women work together. They moved with an easy grace that told him they did this often. Their banter reminded him that on occasion his chosen life could be very solitary. Sure he loved what he did, but his lifestyle didn’t allow for a home of his own, or many intimate connections. He had lots of acquaintances, but few friends.

He tried to distance himself from the situation, to observe instead of participate, but the trick didn’t work this time. He kept finding himself pulled into the conversation. The sense of family was strong and he was the odd person out. As the three women joined him and began dishing up food, he realized he was the only man at the table. He liked that in a group.

When everything was ready, Cassie plopped herself next to him and smiled. “I have a ton more questions.”

Chloe took the seat opposite his, while Charity was next to her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I can answer anything without first getting an agreement that everything we discuss here is off the record.”

There was a stunned moment of surprise followed by a burst of laughter. Both women looked at Chloe, who raised her hands in the air. “Fine. I won’t take notes, record the conversation or make any attempt to retain it in my brain. I’m sure that important secrets will be shared here tonight, but the public will just have to stay uninformed.”

“So how long are you in town?” Cassie asked.

“Three weeks.”

“Where were you before you got here?”

“South America. I was making arrangements to ship the gems. Before that I was in India.”

Chloe passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes. As he took it from her, she shrugged. “You’ll have to forgive her. Cassie works with preschool children. She doesn’t get out much.”

Cassie gave her sister a mock glare. “Oh, and you’ve traveled the world yourself. I know you have a lot of questions, too. You’re just pretending to be sophisticated.”

Arizona leaned toward Chloe. “It’s working,” he said in a low voice.

Her dark eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite register, then she smiled and looked away.

“What do you usually look for?” Cassie asked as he finished serving himself and passed on the mashed potatoes. “Bones and stuff?”

“I’m not that disciplined,” he admitted. “I know it’s important to study the details of life in lost civilizations, but I don’t have the interest. I want to learn about the unusual. The mystical and unbelievable.”

Cassie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Magic. Objects that cast spells or connect the wearer to whatever gods that society worshiped.”

Chloe put some salad on her plate and gave him an innocent smile. “Remember the last Indiana Jones movie, Cassie? It’s the one where they were looking for the Holy Grail—the cup Christ is said to have used at the Last Supper. Arizona looks for stuff like that.”

Arizona wasn’t fooled. Chloe might have just been assigned the story, but she would have spent the day doing research. She had to know that he loathed being compared to that fictional movie character Indiana Jones. There was no way he could compete with that kind of hero and come out anything but second best. Tweaking the tiger’s tail, he thought. She obviously wasn’t a pushover. He liked that in a woman.

Cassie stared at him wide-eyed. “Really? So you’re interested in legends?”

“All kinds. Old stories, myths about the past.”

“Family legends?”

There was something about the way she asked the question. Chloe focused on her sister. “Mr. Smith doesn’t want to hear about that,” she said, her expression tight. “It wouldn’t be interesting.”

A mystery, he thought as he glanced from sister to sister.

“Just because it didn’t work for you doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Cassie said. “We have a family legend. The Bradleys do anyway. That’s the family on our mother’s side.”

“Cassie, I don’t think—” Chloe began, but her sister waved her off.

“Ignore her,” Cassie said. “She’s a cynic when it comes to stuff like this.”

“I’m intrigued,” Arizona admitted. As much with the idea of a family legend as with the mystery as to why Chloe didn’t want him to hear it.

“The story is that several hundred years ago an old gypsy woman was being chased by some drunken men. They were throwing stones and yelling at her and she feared for her life.” Cassie waved her hands as she talked, providing animation for the tale.

He spared a glance for Chloe. She stared at her plate as if it had suddenly started forming signs and symbols in the mashed potatoes.

“A young woman heard the commotion,” Cassie continued. “She lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of town. I think she was being shunned or something but no one knows for sure. Anyway, she invited the old woman in and protected her from the men. In return the woman gave her a magic nightgown.”

“Really?”

Cassie’s humor faded. “I’m not making this up.”

“I don’t doubt you. It’s just clothing isn’t commonly used to carry magic. It doesn’t age well, is easily torn or destroyed. But it’s not unheard of. What’s the magic?”

“This is the good part. Every woman in the family is supposed to wear the nightgown on the night of her twenty-fifth birthday. If she does, she’ll dream about the man she’s going to marry. He’s her destiny and as long as she marries him, they’ll live a long and happy life together.”

“I see.” Interesting story. He’d heard several like it before in different forms. It was a common theme. Related stories were the idea of sleeping with a piece of wedding cake under the pillow, or the stories about St. Agnes Eve.

“Any punishment for not sleeping in the nightgown?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Aunt Charity? You’re the one who knows the most about it.”

Charity shrugged. “There have been rumors of unhappy marriages when the woman didn’t pay attention to her dream and married the wrong man, but I don’t think there’s a penalty for not wearing the nightgown.”