The Groom's Stand-In

No way could he resist the temptation of her kiss. Just for a moment, he promised himself.

But with one taste, he was lost.

He tried to remind himself that Chloe was endowing him with qualities he didn’t possess. That she was turning him into some kind of hero because they had grown to depend on each other during their kidnapping ordeal. Yet with her kiss, he found it all too easy to believe she wanted him for exactly who he was, flaws and all.

That sort of self-deception was dangerous. He’d never indulged in it before.

But everything was different with Chloe. She tempted him in ways he’d never been tempted before.

She almost tempted him to forget she was the woman his best friend planned to marry….

Dear Reader,

April may bring showers, but it also brings in a fabulous new batch of books from Silhouette Special Edition! This month treat yourself to the beginning of a brand-new exciting royal continuity, CROWN AND GLORY. We get the regal ball rolling with Laurie Paige’s delightful tale The Princess Is Pregnant! This romance is fair to bursting with passion and other temptations.

I’m pleased to offer The Groom’s Stand-In by Gina Wilkins—a fascinating story that is sure to keep readers on the edge of their seats…and warm their hearts in the process. Peggy Webb is no stranger herself to heartwarming romance with the next installment of her miniseries THE WESTMORELAND DIARIES. In Force of Nature, a beautiful photojournalist encounters a primitive man in the wilderness and must find a way to tame his oh-so-wild heart.

In The Man in Charge, Judith Lyons gives us a tender reunion romance where an endangered chancellor’s daughter finds herself being guarded by the man she’s never been able to forget—a rugged mercenary who’s about to learn he’s the father of their child! And in Wendy Warren’s new sensation Dakota Bride, readers will relish the theme of learning to love again, as a young widow dreams of love and marriage with a handsome stranger. In addition, you’ll find an intriguing case of mistaken identity in Jane Toombs’s Trouble in Tourmaline, where a world-weary lawyer takes a breather from his fast-paced life and finds his sights brightened by a lovely psychologist, who takes him for a gardener. You won’t want to put this story down!

So kick back and enjoy the fantasy of falling in love, and be sure to return next month for another winning selection of emotionally satisfying and uplifting stories of love, life and family!

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

The Groom’s Stand-In

Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA Today bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times.

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 One

Donovan Chance had done a lot of favors for his friend and employer, Bryan Falcon—some involving actual risk to life and limb—but he had never served as a babysitter. While that wasn’t exactly what he was doing on this Sunday afternoon in early April, the description felt uncomfortably accurate.

He had reluctantly agreed to escort Chloe Pennington—Bryan’s current girlfriend—from her Little Rock, Arkansas, apartment to Bryan’s vacation home on Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri. It would be a little more than three hours in the car with a total stranger, a trip Donovan wasn’t anticipating with any enthusiasm.

With a sigh, he reached for the door handle. He owed Bryan a lot more than a few favors—regardless of his personal feelings about this one in particular.

The apartment he’d been directed to was on the ground floor, opening onto a covered sidewalk. Rain was in the forecast—lots of it—and the air was nippy. Hunching a little against a brisk breeze, he rang the doorbell.

From the photograph Bryan had shown him, he immediately recognized the woman who opened the door. Medium-brown hair cut in a smooth bob to her collar. Large, long-lashed hazel eyes set in a fair-skinned oval face. Straight, smallish nose. Soft mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top. More pretty than beautiful. Dressed very casually in jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt.

He wouldn’t have thought she was Bryan’s type—but then, this whole situation had been a surprise to him. He wished he could say it had been a pleasant one.

He was quite sure no emotions were revealed in his expression when he introduced himself. “Ms. Pennington? I’m Donovan Chance, Bryan Falcon’s associate.”

Rather than make him feel welcome, as he’d expected, she gave him a cool once-over that left him feeling like something she’d spotted floating in her soup. “Associate?” she asked. “Don’t you mean flunky?”

His eyes narrowed in response to the unveiled insult. This was the woman Bryan wanted to marry? The one he’d described as sweet, warm, funny, a little old-fashioned? If Donovan hadn’t seen a photograph, he would be certain he’d come to the wrong apartment. “You are Ms. Pennington, aren’t you?” he asked just to be sure.

“Yes. May I call you Donnie?” Her honeyed tone was pure insolence this time. Donovan had always believed that no one could deliver an insult more effectively than a woman of the South.

“Not if you want me to answer.” He hadn’t been prepared to like her particularly, but he’d thought she’d at least make a show of being pleasant. He’d bet she never talked this way in front of Bryan. He’d had a great deal of experience dealing with difficult people, so he was able to keep his voice blandly polite. “I suppose we should get on the road. May I carry your bags for you?”

From babysitter to bellhop. Bryan could well owe him a few favors after this. Especially if Ms. Pennington’s attitude didn’t improve significantly. Soon.

“If it were up to me, no one would be getting in a car with you,” she said, and her expression now seemed to be an odd mixture of frustration and disapproval. “Then your rich boss could go shopping elsewhere for a suitable partner for his ridiculous marriage of convenience.”

Now he was confused. He’d thought Chloe Pennington was a willing participant in this whirlwind courtship—too willing, actually. He’d been certain she was as attracted to Bryan’s money and power as to Bryan himself—as too many other women had been during the past few years. But this woman wasn’t even pretending to be looking forward to the week she would be spending with the man who had been courting her so persistently. Did she really think it didn’t matter how she spoke to Bryan’s closest associate, as long as she behaved properly in front of Bryan himself?

Because he’d long since appointed himself Bryan’s protector, he spoke sharply, “Look, if that’s the way you really feel about this, let’s just forget it. Bryan doesn’t have time for a vacation now, anyway, especially with someone who would rather be elsewhere. And to be honest, I have plenty more important things to do than babysit a…”

“Grace? I saw Mrs. Callahan in the laundry room, and she asked me to tell you…” The woman who had entered the room, wearing khaki slacks and a mint-green sweater and carrying a load of folded laundry in a round plastic basket, came to an abrupt stop when she saw Donovan standing in the open doorway. “Oh,” she said, looking suddenly flustered. “You must be Donovan Chance. You’re early.”

Donovan wasn’t usually caught completely off guard, but it took him a moment to respond. “Actually, I’m exactly on time.”

The woman set the laundry basket on the couch and approached the door. “I’m so sorry. My watch must have stopped again. It’s been doing that lately.”

Though their appearance was almost identical—the only difference being that this woman wore her brown hair slightly longer and straighter—the newcomer’s voice was warmer than the one who had opened the door to him, her expression friendlier. “Grace, haven’t you even invited Mr. Chance inside?”

“Actually, I had almost convinced him to leave without you.” Her face resigned, Grace stepped out of Donovan’s way.

Sighing, Chloe stepped forward to extend her hand in Donovan’s direction. “I’m sorry if my sister was rude. Perhaps we should start from the beginning. I’m Chloe Pennington, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Chance. Bryan has often spoken of you.”

Donovan remembered now that Bryan had mentioned that Chloe owned a business with her sister. He had neglected to add that the sisters were identical twins. Donovan would have to discuss that with his friend later.

He shook Chloe’s hand briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Pennington,” he said, because etiquette demanded it of him.

“Please call me Chloe. And you’ve already met my sister, Grace.”

Meeting Grace’s glittering hazel eyes, Donovan nodded. “Yes, I’ve had that pleasure.”

She flashed him a challenging smile.

Looking suspiciously from one to the other, Chloe shook her head. “Now I’m even more convinced that an apology for my sister’s behavior must be in order.”

Turning his back on Grace, Donovan looked at Chloe—the woman Bryan had chosen, he reminded himself. “Are you ready to leave?”

Chloe glanced at her watch, shook her wrist, then slipped it off and tossed it to her sister. “See if you can have that repaired while I’m gone, will you?”

Catching it easily, Grace replied, “You could always stay and see to it yourself.”

“Don’t start with me again.” Chloe picked up the laundry basket and turned toward the doorway that led to the back of the apartment. “Five minutes,” she promised Donovan. “Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

He nodded, watching Grace a bit warily out of the corner of his eye.

Maybe Chloe sensed his uneasiness. “Grace, why don’t you come help me get everything ready,” she said, and her tone made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’m sure Mr. Chance won’t mind waiting by himself for a few minutes.”

“Not at all,” he assured her.

Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “You can handle everything in there. I’ll keep Falcon’s chauffeur company.”

Donovan was going to let it pass, but Chloe spoke sharply on his behalf. “Mr. Chance isn’t a chauffeur, he’s an executive in Bryan’s company. He’s doing Bryan a big favor by giving me a lift today because Bryan was detained in New York.”

“An executive. Is that what they’re calling errand boys these days?”

“Grace!”

Holding up a hand toward Chloe, Donovan focused on her sister. “You might as well get it off your chest. What other insults would you like to throw at me before I leave?”

He was a bit surprised to see her blush. She kept her chin high, defiance overcoming embarrassment. “I suppose I should apologize for the things I’ve said to you. You’re only doing your job, I guess. It’s my sister who needs some sense knocked into her.”

“You don’t approve of the engagement?”

“Bryan and I aren’t engaged,” Chloe said quickly. “We’re still in the preliminary stage of our relationship. That’s why we’re taking some private time at his vacation home this week—to discuss the future in private. We were both disturbed when the press got wind of our friendship and started dropping hints about a possible marriage.”

Grace whirled toward Donovan. “Do you approve of this ridiculous arrangement?”

He shrugged. No way, of course, was he going to admit that he agreed with Grace Pennington—about anything. “It’s none of my business.”

“So you are just an employee and not a real friend of Bryan Falcon.”

His eyes narrowed at that. “Bryan Falcon is the best friend I’ve ever had. But I don’t tell him how to run his personal life.”

Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his opinion when asked, of course. And if Bryan asked him, Donovan was going to suggest that his friend think a lot longer before making himself a part of this family.

“I wish you would teach that trick to my sister,” Chloe said. “Not getting involved in other people’s business, I mean.”

Donovan doubted that there was anything Grace Pennington would be willing to learn from him. “We’d better get going,” he said to Chloe, looking pointedly at his own efficiently accurate watch.

“I’ll hurry,” she replied. “Come on, Grace.”

With a show of reluctance, Grace followed her twin from the room, leaving Donovan to exhale slowly and wonder what on earth Bryan had gotten the two of them into this time.

Strapped into a luxuriously soft and comfortable leather seat, Chloe looked through her lashes at the man behind the wheel of the expensive sedan. The passing scenery was lovely. Though it was a bit chilly due to a midnight rainstorm the night before, the past couple of weeks had been quite warm, coaxing new leaves from trees and bringing out daffodils, Bradford pear blossoms, and a few early azaleas. As much as she enjoyed the first signs of spring, Chloe found herself unable to stop surreptitiously studying her driver.

Bryan had described his second-in-command as the classic “strong, silent type”—tough, blunt-spoken, ruthless when necessary. He had then added that Donovan Chance was the most honest, loyal, reliable friend he’d ever had. Chloe had expected to be a little awkward with Donovan. She hadn’t anticipated that she would be totally intimidated by him.

He wasn’t as handsome as Bryan—not in the traditional sense, anyway. Donovan’s features were more rugged than Bryan’s. She would bet he’d had his nose broken in his youth; just enough to keep it from being perfectly straight. His jaw was square, his cheekbones broad, and his unsmiling eyes were such a pale, cool green they looked almost metallic. Nice mouth—but she doubted those firm, intriguingly etched lips curved into a smile very often.

He wore “business-casual” clothing—a thin, V-necked cream-colored sweater over a navy-and-cream checked shirt with navy chinos and loafers—but he looked as though he’d be more at home in a denim shirt, jeans and a pair of boots. He’d apparently made an effort to comb his medium-length, chestnut-brown hair into a conservative style, but it showed a tendency to tumble rebelliously onto his forehead.

On anyone else, she might have referred to that errant lock as “boyish.” But not this guy. There was nothing boyish about Donovan Chance.

Because she knew that Donovan was Bryan’s best friend as well as his employee, and since she figured she’d be spending a lot of time around him in the future if she and Bryan did marry, she decided that now was as good a time as any to try to get to know him. After all, that had been Bryan’s intention when he’d sent Donovan to escort her to the resort, though she had assured him she was perfectly capable of traveling alone.

“Bryan told me you and he have known each other since high school,” she said to kick off the conversation.

Donovan replied without taking his eyes off the road ahead. “Yeah.”

“Were you neighbors?”

“No.”

Okay, no more questions that could be answered in monosyllables, she decided. Whether he was just naturally averse to small talk, or was still smarting from Grace’s rudeness, she didn’t know, but they would never get anywhere this way. “How did you and Bryan meet?”

After a rather lengthy pause, he said, “Four guys were doing their best to beat me to a pulp. Bryan jumped in to help me.”

Chloe felt her eyebrows rise as she tried to picture always-immaculate, elegant Bryan Falcon engaged in a vicious fist fight. On the other hand, she had no trouble at all imagining Donovan taking on four challengers. “Did you and Bryan win the fight?”

“Actually, they beat us both to a pulp.”

Chloe was startled into a laugh. “That’s terrible.”

What might have been a smile—it was hard to tell with this man—quirked one corner of his mouth. “We recovered.”

“So you and Bryan have been friends ever since?”

Another long pause—followed by another monosyllable. “Yeah.”

Chloe stifled a sigh and sat back in her seat. Looked as though this was going to be a long, quiet trip. She might as well enjoy the view.

It was with effort that Donovan kept his gaze focused on the road ahead instead of the woman sitting in the passenger seat. Something about her kept drawing his attention her way.

A sideways glance let him see that she was gazing out the side window at the passing landscape, a somber look on her face. Her fingers were twisted in her lap so tightly that her knuckles gleamed. She didn’t give the appearance of a woman on her way to a romantic getaway with the man she was planning to marry. Which made him wonder again why she was going along with this very businesslike courtship.

The most logical answer, of course, was that she had several million reasons—all green.

He was lousy at small talk, but he searched for something to say, a way to get her talking again so he could try to figure her out. “Bryan told me you’re in the retail business.”

She seemed relieved to be drawn out of her thoughts, even with such a lame conversational gambit. “Yes, Grace and I own a shop in Little Rock’s River Market district. We call it Mirror Images—a shameless play on our being twins, I’ll admit. We specialize in decorating accessories—unusual mirrors, mostly, but also pottery and sculpture, candleholders, carved boxes, blown-glass pieces. Many of the items are handmade and one-of-a-kind.”

Hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, he could tell her heart was in her work. Bryan had always said that no business could be successful if the owner had no passion. It was probably Chloe’s enthusiasm for her shop that had drawn Bryan to her in the first place. And maybe her smile…

He cleared his throat rather forcefully. “How’s business? Making a profit?”

Her eyebrows rose. “We’re doing all right,” she said, her tone a bit cool now.

Did she think he’d gotten too nosy? Or did she simply not want to admit that the shop wasn’t making money? He knew how difficult it was for a small business to survive. More than half folded within their first year of operation. It required a good deal of startup capital to acquire stock, hire competent employees, purchase enough advertising to catch the buying public’s attention….

He shrugged. “You’ll do better once Bryan’s involved.”

Everyone knew that Bryan Falcon had an almost magical way of making every business he backed turn a sizeable profit. Donovan was sure Chloe was well aware of her new boyfriend’s business talents—not to mention his notorious talent for charming women.

When she spoke this time, her tone was almost cool enough to deposit ice on his eyelashes. “I don’t expect Bryan to be involved with my business in any way. My sister and I are perfectly capable of running it on our own.”

“I see,” he said—which didn’t mean he believed her, of course. There was no way he’d accept that the financial advantages of marriage to one of the most successful venture capitalists in the country had never crossed her mind.

She frowned at him. “You think I’m only interested in Bryan’s money?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—you didn’t say it.” But apparently, she’d interpreted his words that way anyway. She sat back in her seat, her face turned away from him, her posture stiff enough to let him know she’d taken offense.

He thought about trying to apologize, but decided to let it go. For one thing, he was lousy at apologies—hadn’t made enough of them to get good at it. For another—well, hell, of course he figured she was interested in Bryan’s money. He’d met few women—or men, for that matter—who weren’t. And since her own sister had made it clear she didn’t consider this a love match, then Chloe had to have more prosaic reasons for considering marriage to Bryan.

An eminently practical man himself, Donovan supposed he couldn’t blame Chloe for keeping her eyes on the bottom line, but he still didn’t approve of this whole arrangement. Bryan deserved better than to be married for his money.

Donovan believed his friend was overreacting to his last failed romantic relationship. Bryan had been burned by a woman who had convinced him that she wanted him for himself, not his money. The truth of that ruse had been revealed when she’d gone ballistic at the first mention of the rather strict prenuptial agreement that Bryan’s team of attorneys had drafted years earlier. She hadn’t been a good enough actress to convince anyone that the extent of her outrage couldn’t be measured in dollar signs.

Because it hadn’t been the first time Bryan had been deceived, he had come to the conclusion that the only way he could be certain of a potential mate’s motives was to have everything spelled out from the beginning. He wanted children, and he wanted to raise them in a conventional two-parent family. He’d decided he should approach marriage the same way he started a new business—with legal contracts, long-term planning, calculated risks and clearly defined benefits.

Donovan had tried to point out that one didn’t choose a wife the same way one hired a financial officer, but Bryan had shrugged off the admonition. To him, it had seemed like a perfectly logical plan.

He’d told Donovan about the day in February when he had wandered into Chloe’s shop while on a break from a day-long meeting being held nearby. They’d started talking, then had somehow ended up having coffee together at the popular River Market pavilion. Bryan claimed to have known very quickly that Chloe was exactly the sort of woman he’d been searching for since he’d made the decision a few months earlier to enter into a practical marriage.

Donovan had never been accused of being even remotely romantic, but Bryan’s plan seemed too cold and calculated even for him. He couldn’t help wondering if someday Bryan was going to feel that he’d settled for less than he could have had, if he would always be aware that something important was missing.

Since he himself had no strong desire to reproduce, Donovan figured his way was easier—he didn’t plan to marry anyone. Any relationships he entered into were strictly short-term and no-strings, so motives didn’t really matter.

He was convinced that his strategy was the most practical of all.

They’d been on the road for almost an hour when Donovan realized that Chloe’s posture was still unnaturally rigid. Her hands were still laced tightly together, her short pink nails digging into skin.

“Are you okay?” he couldn’t resist asking. “My driving isn’t making you nervous or anything, is it?”

His question brought her head around. “Of course not. You seem to be an excellent driver. I’m not nervous about anything at all.”

Definitely a lie, he decided, glancing again at her telltale hands. “You just seemed a little tense.”