Dear Reader

Las Vegas has always been one of my favorite escapes. When I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, and could take advantage of cheap shuttle flights, my girlfriends and I spent many weekends lounging by hotel pools, scrounging out inexpensive buffets, window shopping and exploring casinos.

When I moved to San Francisco I continued to meet up with my friends for weekend getaways to Las Vegas. We all cherished the opportunity to dish about men and careers, recover from broken hearts, relax at a show or bond over blackjack.

The year I turned twenty-six, eleven friends—male and female—joined me for an amazing birthday celebration weekend. I’ve always been a fan of castles, so we stayed at the Excalibur Hotel on the Las Vegas strip. My birthday dinner was a banquet show, complete with gorgeous, jousting knights. A photo from that night—the silly grins, the extravagant medieval costumes—sits in my study today. It was a weekend to remember. Good times with great friends.

Those memories played a part in my writing WEDDING DATE WITH THE BEST MAN. When your heart is broken, like Jayne Cavendish’s, nothing beats a weekend away with your closest girlfriends.

Jayne is happy when her three best friends unexpectedly find love in Sin City. But it isn’t until she returns on a visit with sexy Tristan MacGregor that she discovers Las Vegas can be as romantic as Paris.

Enjoy!

Melissa

Wedding Date with the Best Man

By

Melissa McClone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GIRLS’ WEEKEND IN VEGAS

Four friends, four dream weddings!

On a girly weekend in Las Vegas, best friends

Alex, Molly, Serena and Jayne are just

supposed to have fun and forget men—but they

end up meeting their perfect matches! Will the

love they find in Vegas stay in Vegas?

Find out in this sassy, fun and wildly romantic

mini-series all about love and friendship!

Meet the girls:

Alex

SAVING CINDERELLA!

by Myrna Mackenzie

June

Molly

VEGAS PREGNANCY SURPRISE

by Shirley Jump

July

Serena

INCONVENIENTLY WED!

by Jackie Braun

August

Jayne

WEDDING DATE WITH THE BEST MAN

by Melissa McClone

September

To Virginia Kantra for her wonderful writing insights, support and friendship.

Special thanks to Amy Danicic,

Terri Reed and Girls’ Weekend in Vegas authors Myrna Mackenzie, Shirley Jump and Jackie Braun, and editor Meg Lewis.

Status update for Jayne Cavendish’s internet networking profile

Jayne Cavendish is getting out of the house…finally! (About an hour ago)

Serena Warren Benjamin: Good for you! Where are you going?

Jayne Cavendish: The Victorian Teahouse.

Molly Hunter Curtis: Wait a minute! Isn’t that where you had your bridal shower?

Jayne Cavendish: Yes, I’m putting the past behind me.

Alex Lowell McKendrick: Yay, girlfriend! Have a great time!

Serena Warren Benjamin: Now that you’re getting out, you need to visit us in Vegas!

Alex Lowell McKendrick: This is the city to fall in love!

Jayne Cavendish: So not ready for that, but someday I will be!

Serena Warren Benjamin: Vegas will be here when you’re ready!!!!

Chapter One

CONVERSATION and laughter surrounded Jayne Cavendish. Sitting at a small table tucked away in a corner of the Victorian Tea House, she glanced around the room.

Pairs of women sat at tables nestled among potted plants and curio cabinets filled with an eclectic collection of teacups and saucers. Everyone seemed to be having a great time at one of San Diego’s favorite Old Town establishments. Everyone but her.

She stared at her steaming cup of Earl Gray, wishing she could conjure up one of her three best friends. She missed Alex, Molly and Serena so much.

Sure, they kept in touch via phone calls, texting and Facebook. Twitter came in handy, too. Alex jetted back from Las Vegas when she could, and Molly would be returning once her and Linc’s dream house was built and his business moved here, but it wasn’t the same as all four of them living in San Diego, dishing face-to-face, getting pedicures and going to tea.

Jayne sank in her chair, feeling as buoyant as a deflated hot air balloon.

Maybe coming to the teahouse this Saturday afternoon hadn’t been such a good idea. She remembered her first visit, when her then-fiancé’s sisters had thrown Jayne a bridal shower. That ‘welcome to the family’ party seemed like years ago, even though it had been only months.

So much had changed since then. She touched the bare ring finger on her left hand. So much still hadn’t changed.

At least not for her.

Jayne looked down at the silver-rimmed plate containing two golden-brown scones and a dollop of honey butter.

Too bad she wasn’t hungry.

Uh-oh. If she weren’t careful she’d soon be hosting a pity party for herself. Jayne sipped her tea to clear her head.

No sense wallowing in the past.

Her teacup clinked against the saucer as she placed it on the table.

So what if memories of her bridal shower with the Strickland sisters were bittersweet? Jayne had other memories, good memories, of subsequent visits here with Alex, Molly and Serena. Her three friends might not be related to Jayne by blood, but she considered them the sisters of her heart. Nothing, not distance or their marriages, would ever change that.

Determined to make peace with the present and enjoy herself, Jayne removed a library book—the latest offering from a top personal finance guru—from her purse. She opened it to her bookmark: a picturesque postcard with a palm tree arcing over a crescent of sugar-white sand and turquoise water stretching all the way to the horizon.

A perfect place for a honeymoon, she thought with a twinge of regret.

No regrets.

She straightened.

So what if things hadn’t turned out with Rich Strickland as she’d planned? Because of what had happened—er, hadn’t happened—her three best friends had found the loves of their lives. Jayne could never regret the end of her engagement and the wild weekend with her friends in Las Vegas afterward that had brought romance and so much happiness to the three people who mattered most in her life.

She flipped over the postcard she’d received two months ago and reread Serena’s loopy, almost whimsical handwriting.

Jayne

Having a great time! This trip was the perfect way to celebrate Jonas’ election victory and recoup from campaigning! As soon as we’re home you must come to Las Vegas! I want to see you! Alex and Molly want to see you, too!

Hope all is well! Miss you!

Love,

Serena and Jonas

The number of exclamation points brought a smile to Jayne’s lips. Serena lived life as if an exclamation point belonged after everything she did, whether at work or play, but she’d found her center with Jonas Benjamin, the newly elected mayor of Las Vegas. He absolutely adored his wife.

As soon as we’re home you must come to Las Vegas!

Jayne wanted to see her friends, but she’d been putting off their invitations to visit. Venturing back to the neon-lit city, with its monstrous resorts and hundred-degree-plus temperatures, held little appeal and way too many memories of the time right after the breakup. Hmmm, maybe she could talk them into coming to San Diego instead. Her friends could bring their husbands and show the three men what their lives here had used to be like.

A life Jayne was still living.

She placed the postcard next to the plate of scones on the table and adjusted the book in her hands. Happily living, she reminded herself, even if her dreams had been put on hold and she was alone. Again.

She focused on the page, mentally taking notes on fresh ideas that might help the clients she counseled at the debt management center where she worked. No wonder the book had hit the bestsellers’ list. The author had some great ideas for getting one’s finances under control.

Several minutes later, the noise level in the teahouse increased exponentially, as if a crowd had entered all at once.

She looked up from the book, glanced behind her and saw a large group of women standing around and holding presents.

Her gaze collided with someone she recognized—Savannah Strickland, her ex-fiancé’s youngest sister. A look of disbelief filled Savannah’s hazel eyes before she turned away.

Was this a birthday party? Perhaps a baby shower for Grace, the oldest sister? Her third child must be due soon.

Curious, Jayne peeked at the colorfully wrapped presents. No bunnies. No duckies. No baby carriages. A few umbrellas, though.

Rich’s other sister, Betsy, noticed Jayne, gasped and elbowed her twin, Becca. Both turned bright pink.

Jayne didn’t understand their embarrassment. Sure this was a little awkward, considering what their brother had done to her, but his sisters weren’t to blame for his…

Oh, no.

There she was.

Every single one of Jayne’s nerve-endings stood at attention with a combination of shock and horror.

The other woman.

The reason Jayne was still single and her three friends were now married.

She forced her gaping mouth closed.

Jayne had only seen the woman once. At Rich’s apartment. Days before their wedding. A living, breathing Barbie doll in lingerie.

Today, the woman’s modest Wedgwood-blue dress and smart cap-sleeved white jacket were one hundred and eighty degrees from the black push-up bra with a bow at the center and the lace-trimmed leggings she’d worn at Rich’s place. The pristine white headband securing long, straightened blonde locks was a far cry from the bed-tousled hair that had left no room for misinterpreting what had been going on between two consenting adults.

But it was her.

The woman’s flushed cheeks were exactly the same.

And so were Jayne’s feelings of betrayal.

Not a baby shower, she realized, stricken to the heart. A wedding shower.

Rich was getting married, and his sisters were throwing a bridal shower for the woman their brother had cheated on her with.

Jayne struggled to breathe.

Look away, she told herself. But, like a moth drawn to a flame, Jayne couldn’t.

The scene was surreal and eerily familiar. A lot like her own bridal shower.

Tears stung her eyes. A lump formed in her throat.

How could his sisters bring her here? It was as if Jayne had never existed in their lives. As if she hadn’t spent every Sunday having brunch at their parents’ house or helped paint Grace’s kids’ bedrooms or a hundred other things Jayne had done with them.

For them.

For Rich.

Having him betray her was one thing—but his entire family, too?

Her stomach roiled. Jayne thought she might be sick.

Self-preservation instincts kicked in. Get out. Now.

She shoved her book into her purse, ripped out a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed the money on the table. The amount was double the cost of her tea and scones, but for once she didn’t care about wasting a few dollars.

Jayne stood.

Someone called her name.

She cringed.

Not someone, but Grace, Rich’s oldest sister—the one person in his family who’d called after the breakup to see how Jayne was faring.

Torn between what she wanted to do and what she should do, she looked over to see a very pregnant Grace. The concern in her eyes—eyes the same color and shape as Rich’s—pricked Jayne’s heart. She gave her almost-sister-in-law a pained, hesitant smile. That was all she could manage at the moment.

Grace moved awkwardly through the crowded room toward her.

No!

The air rushed from Jayne’s lungs.

She had no idea what Grace wanted, but only one thing, one horrible thought, sprang to mind. No way could Jayne allow herself to be introduced to that woman. The other woman. The future Mrs. Rich Strickland.

A potent dose of anxiety fueled Jayne’s already desperate panic. She mouthed I’m sorry to the fast approaching Grace, turned and fled.

The next day, Grace Strickland Cooper stood at the sink in her parents’ kitchen after her family’s weekly get-together for Sunday brunch. “I need a favor.”

Must be his turn to wash. Tristan MacGregor stopped drying a saucepan and stared into the familiar brown eyes of his best friend’s oldest sister. “If you leave your husband and two and three-quarter kids and run away with me, I’ll do anything you ask.”

Grace motioned with wet hands to her bulging baby-filled stomach. “Oh, yes. I’m exactly what an adventurous photojournalist wants to wake up next to every morning.”

“You’re a beautiful woman. Any man would want to wake up next to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you say that to all the girls, pregnant or not.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.” He hung the saucepan on one of the pot rack’s hooks. “Though I usually try to stay away from the pregnant ones.”

She shook her head. “You never change, MacGregor.”

He flashed her his most charming grin. “But you still love me.”

“In your dreams.”

Tristan winked. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Laughing, she rinsed out a soapy pot. “I’m sure you have no problem getting whatever you want. You never did.”

That had been true. At least until recently.

He avoided serious relationships, but he liked having fun. Lately he’d found himself comparing the women he met to an unattainable ideal. That was severely limiting his fun.

He picked up the towel and dried a frying pan. “So what do you need? Want me to take over washing?”

“No.” She glanced around, as if to make sure they were still alone. “I saw Jayne Cavendish yesterday.”

Hearing the name of Rich’s ex-fiancée jolted Tristan from the inside out. He nearly dropped the pan. A big no-no, considering Mrs. Strickland’s year-old marble countertops.

Jayne. His ideal woman…

A million questions sprang to mind. Not one could he ask. “Where?”

“She was at the teahouse where we had Deidre’s shower. It was the same place we took Jayne, which must have made her feel even worse.”

For Rich’s sake Tristan had tried not to think about Jayne Cavendish, but she’d invaded his thoughts and taken over his dreams. She’d become the woman he measured all others against. He even carried her picture in his wallet.

“We were so embarrassed. I’d forgotten how much she liked the place,” Grace continued. “Anyway, Jayne made a beeline for the exit before I could reach her.”

“Do you blame her?” His words came out too harshly, given his role in the breakup.

“Not at all.” Grace frowned. “I love my brother, but he acted like a complete jerk with Jayne. Rich should have broken off the engagement, not led her on the way he did after he met Deidre.”

“I agree.”

“But he didn’t, and Jayne’s the one who’s suffered.”

“Suffered?” Tristan hung the frying pan on a hook. “She should be relieved she didn’t get married. Rich might be my best friend, but Jayne’s better off without him.”

“I call it as I see it.” Grace dried her hands with a dishtowel, rummaged through her purse and handed him a postcard. “Jayne was in such a hurry to leave she forgot this at her table. I thought you could return it and check if she’s doing okay.”

See Jayne?

Tristan’s heart pounded as if he’d stumbled across the perfect shot. No lighting or camera adjustment needed. Just point and click.

He’d wanted to see Jayne for months now, but two reasons kept him away: his travel schedule, and Rich. Speaking of which…

“Just call her,” Tristan said.

“I can’t,” Grace admitted. “Deidre’s feeling very insecure right now.”

Not his problem. Rich had been so mad at Tristan for breaking his engagement. He didn’t want to go through that again.

He returned the postcard to Grace. “Sorry, but I’m not sneaking behind Rich’s back to do this.”

“You wouldn’t be sneaking behind his back.” Grace shoved the postcard into Tristan’s hand. “I

figured there must be some kind of guy code you two follow, so I asked him about it when he arrived this morning.”

“He’s okay if I see Jayne?”

“Better you than me.”

“Because I’m not family?”

Grace flushed. “You’ve been friends with my brother since you were toddlers. You’re family. But Deidre really freaked out yesterday, so I told her I wouldn’t have any contact with Jayne. There’s no harm in you returning the postcard. Deidre won’t feel as threatened if she finds out you saw Jayne. Everyone knows you didn’t like her.”

No one had a clue how Tristan felt about Jayne. “She and Rich weren’t right for each other.”

Staring at the soapy water in the sink, Grace shrugged. “Rich may have put Jayne behind him, but I can’t forget about her and stop caring that easily.”

“You didn’t know her long.”

“Length of time doesn’t matter. She was going to be my sister-in-law and the baby’s godmother. She even painted the kids’ rooms for me. I can’t help but think about her every time I’m in there.” Grace placed her hands on her belly. Worry filled her eyes. “And when I saw Jayne yesterday, she seemed…”

Tristan’s shoulder muscles knotted. “What?”

“Different,” Grace said. “Jayne’s lost weight. She’s cut her hair short. But most of all she looked so sad. I guess that’s normal under the circumstances. It’s only been a few months since the breakup.”

Seven months, one week and four days, Tristan thought.

“She probably shouldn’t look like her cheerful self after everything that happened, but I can’t help but worry about her.” Grace drew her brows together. “Her parents are dead. She has no siblings. Jayne has no one to look out for her except her three best friends, and they weren’t with her yesterday. She needs somebody, but it can’t be me.”

Rich’s oldest sister had been Tristan’s first crush years ago, but at this moment he loved Grace more than he ever had back when he’d been a kid. Her thoughtfulness had provided him with a valid reason to see Jayne Cavendish again. Not only a reason, but also permission from Rich.

Tristan could see if his attraction for Jayne was real or if he’d built her up in his mind because she was off-limits. He clutched the postcard as if it were a ticket to Shangri-la, even though his visit would probably be nothing more than a reality check for him.

“Stop worrying.” He squeezed Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll head over there this afternoon, return the postcard and find out exactly how Jayne’s doing.”

“Thank you.” Grace hugged him. Well, as much as she could hug given her beachball-sized belly. “And if you happen to know any nice single guys you could introduce her to…”

Tristan stiffened at the thought of Jayne with any of his friends. “One thing at a time, Grace.”

Two hours later, Tristan noticed a California State Patrol car parked on the side of the 405 freeway and a radar gun pointed his way. He lifted his foot from the accelerator and tapped the brake pedal. Getting pulled over for speeding would only slow him down.

He gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel as he passed the black and white police car. The officer didn’t glance his way.

Good.

Tristan pressed down on the gas, making sure this time the speedometer didn’t ease into get-a-ticket territory. He wanted to get to Jayne’s.

She needs somebody, Grace had said, but it can’t be me.

It shouldn’t be him, either, but here he was, speeding—within safe limits, of course—to see Jayne.

Jayne Cavendish.

He remembered so much about her—the strawberry scent of her hair, the bubbly sound of her laughter and the warmth of her touch. Okay, one touch—a handshake—the very first time they’d met…

“Just because your marriage didn’t work out—” Rich Strickland maneuvered his four-wheel drive pick-up truck into a spot at one of Balboa Park’s parking lots “—doesn’t mean mine won’t.”

“True.” Still, Rich’s fast approaching wedding date bothered Tristan—bothered him enough that he’d almost said no when his friend had asked him to be the best man. “But you weren’t dating anyone when I left on assignment. I’m back a few months later, and now you’re getting married in a couple of weeks. I don’t understand the big rush.”

“No rush.” Rich removed the key from the ignition. “Jayne says when it’s right it’s right.”

Tristan’s concern ratcheted up three more notches. “Jayne says a lot.”

Rich sighed. “Look, you’re going to like her.”

Maybe. Probably not.

But Tristan would refrain from saying more until he got to know her. That was one reason he’d given the couple a photoshoot around town as a wedding gift—to spend time with the woman who’d made his friend want to take the leap into domesticated hell, aka marriage.

“Give me some time to get used to the idea.” Tristan stared at his blond-haired best friend. “I hate the idea of hitting the town without my wingman. That firefighter shtick you’ve got going is a real babe magnet.”

“If it’s any consolation, Jayne’s friends are really hot,” Rich said. “You might get lucky after the wedding.”

Tristan wanted Rich to be the lucky one. He hoped his best friend’s marriage turned out better than his had. Love, the forever kind at least, was as rare as a photograph of a rainbow’s end. Rich’s parents had found it, but few others. Tristan forced a smile. “That would be good.”

“You mean great.” Rich’s cellphone rang. He glanced at the number. “I need to take this. I’ll meet you by the fountain in the Rose Garden.”

With a nod, Tristan grabbed his camera pack, exited the truck and entered Balboa Park along with a busload of German-speaking tourists. The park was home to museums, several gardens, and the San Diego Zoo.

He crossed the footbridge to the popular Rose Garden.

A breeze blew. The sweet scent of roses wafted in the air.

Tristan preferred taking pictures of people, not scenery. Faces, and especially eyes, told a story in a way landscape couldn’t. A photographer took pictures of nouns—persons, places or things. A photojournalist captured verbs—action verbs—in a single image.

But the bursts of color coming from the circular tiered flowerbeds had him reaching for his camera anyway. His mother loved roses. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity to take pictures for her, especially with her birthday next month.

As he moved toward the fountain, Tristan zoomed in on a nearby blossom—a lush orange rose that reminded him of the sky at sunset.

Satisfied he’d captured the image, Tristan looked around. An arbor covered with white roses. A gray-haired couple holding hands next to a yellow rosebush. And…

Pink.

Tristan did a double-take.

A tall, graceful figure stood among the full round blossoms. Her shirt was the same pale pink as the petals. She should have faded into the background, but she didn’t. If anything, she seemed to be an extension of the flowers.

The play of light and shadow had him composing a long shot.

And what a shot.

Waist-length chestnut hair gleamed beneath the sun’s rays like oiled teak, a complete contrast to the soft, warm shapes and pastel colors surrounding her.

Captivated by the scene, he took picture after picture.

She seemed oblivious to him, so he moved to shoot her from different angles. He drew closer for a medium shot, but that wasn’t enough.

Tristan zoomed in on her face.

Large blue eyes framed by lush lashes focused on the delicate petals of a single rose. His pulse kicked up. He snapped a picture.

Full, pink-as-a-rosebud lips curved into a wide smile. His mouth wanted a taste of hers. He pressed the shutter button.

She bent to smell the rose. The scooped neckline of her shirt fell away, giving him a tantalizing view of ivory flesh and a white lace bra.

Nice—very nice.

And hot.

She straightened and smoothed her above the knee skirt.

Great long legs, too.

He widened the shot, squeezed off more photos and moved to intercept her. No way would he let this opportunity escape him.

Forget about asking for a model release. He wanted her.

“Hello,” Tristan said.

Not exactly the most memorable of lines, but she’d rendered him speechless and short-circuited his brain. Rare feats. Ones he hadn’t experienced in over a decade.

“Hi.” Her sparkling blue eyes nearly knocked him off his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Great line. Tristan didn’t believe in love at first sight, but lust at first sight was another story. He curved his lips into a devastating grin—one that usually got him whatever he wanted. “I’m Tristan MacGregor.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” She stepped toward him, extended her arm and clasped his hand with hers. A burst of heat shot through his veins. “I’m Jayne Cavendish. Rich’s fiancée.”

Chapter Two

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please…

Sunday afternoon. Jayne tightened her grip on the phone receiver. She wanted to talk to someone about what had happened at the teahouse yesterday, but hadn’t been able to reach any of her friends yet.

She paced across the living room.

How could she have not seen Rich for who he was?

But Jayne knew the answer. She’d let her desire for a happily-ever-after cloud her judgment. Never again.

Still, the familiar feeling of being a crumpled aluminum can tossed in the recycle bin was back. She’d been discarded, replaced by something else—someone better. If only she hadn’t been so trusting, so naïve

The line clicked. Thank goodness.

“Hi. This is Molly. I can’t get to the phone right now…”

Jayne’s heart dropped to the tips of her bare feet.

No, no, no, no, no.

She didn’t want to hear Molly’s recorded voice. Jayne had already listened to Alex’s cellphone message two hours ago. And she knew Serena was busy today.

A beep blared.

“Hey, Molly, it’s me. Jayne,” she added, as if one of her best friends and former roommate could have forgotten her name.

She winced. What a loser.

“Um. Call me when you get this. If…you know…you have time.”

Jayne hit the “off” button and slammed the receiver in its charger.

Okay, that was totally pathetic. Nothing new, but pathetic just the same.

What was wrong with her?

Too bad Jayne knew the answer.

She needed to get out more. She needed to make new friends. She needed to get a life.

A twenty-eight-year-old woman needed more to fill her days than checking off items on her “To Do” list. Not that there was anything wrong with being home, but too much time alone wasn’t good for her. Today was a prime example. She’d already organized her sock drawer, clipped the Sunday coupons and played enough games of Spider Solitaire to make her eyes cross. If she weren’t careful, she’d wind up like her next-door neighbor, grandmotherly Mrs. Whitcomb, who loved to eavesdrop as she sat on her porch, and offered cookies to passersby in order to learn the latest gossip.

Jayne bit her lip.

Maybe she needed a hobby or a pet. She missed being welcomed home by Rocky, Molly’s dog. A puppy would be too much work with Jayne’s job, but a rescue dog—a housebroken one—might be a better choice. The yard was fenced. She’d have to talk with Molly, since this was her house, and see what she thought.

A knock at the door sounded.

Jayne’s heart leaped.

She had no idea who it could be, but even a kid selling magazines to go to band camp would be a respite from the lonely quiet. She hurried across the gleaming hardwood floor, unlocked the deadbolt and whipped open the door. A tall, attractive man, dressed in a black T-shirt and faded blue jeans, stood on the “Welcome” mat.

Her mouth dropped open.

He was hot. Really hot. And vaguely familiar.

She pressed her lips together. In fact, he looked a little like…Just like…“Tristan?”

“Hello, Jayne.”

His easy smile caught her like a softball under her ribs. She’d never expected to see Rich’s best friend—his best man—again. In fact, she’d pretty much forgotten about Tristan MacGregor during the aftermath of the breakup. But now…

He seemed taller, his shoulders wider. Had he always had such intense green eyes?

Unwelcome awareness trickled through her. Oh, my.

His sun-streaked hair had grown longer. Whisker stubble covered his face. He should have looked scruffy, but Tristan didn’t. With his long lashes, full, kissable lips and high cheekbones, he looked ruggedly handsome and dangerously sexy.

Jayne swallowed.

Not sexy. Bad-boy types didn’t appeal to her. She preferred clean-cut, fresh-shaven, all-American types. Men like…

Rich.

He’d seemed so perfect—a handsome, stable firefighter, with a big family who all lived here in San Diego. But he hadn’t been perfect. Far from it.

He’d let her down in every way possible, making her feel so stupid for rushing into the relationship and marriage. She hadn’t spoken to her ex-fiancé since that night at his apartment. His last words to her had been, “Guess the wedding’s off.” He hadn’t even given her the chance to break up with him. She’d received no explanation, no apology, nothing.

Now Rich’s best friend was standing here. Alarms sounded in her head. “Why are you…?”

Tristan pulled something from a back pocket. Serena’s postcard, Jayne saw with surprise. He handed it to her. “Grace asked me to return this to you.”

“I must have forgotten it at the teahouse,” Jayne said, thinking aloud. She rubbed her thumb along the edge of the postcard, remembering how quickly she had fled yesterday. “But why didn’t Grace…?”

An image of Rich’s oldest sister making her way across the tearoom flashed in Jayne’s mind. Others, including his new fiancée, would have noticed.

“Grace couldn’t come herself,” Jayne said.

“She didn’t want to upset Deidre.”

Deidre. So that was her name.

Jayne couldn’t believe Rich was already getting married when she hadn’t even started dating again. Granted, he’d had a head start. Still, it seemed…wrong.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I understand Grace has to put her family first. I wouldn’t expect any less of her. She’s always done the right thing for as long as I’ve known her.”

Which hadn’t been all that long, Jayne realized.

“Doing the right thing isn’t always easy,” Tristan said, as nosy, white-haired Mrs. Whitcomb exited the house next door and sat on her porch rocking chair. Her little dog Duke, a black and white Papillion, hopped on her lap.

Jayne waved at her elderly neighbor, who raised her cup of coffee in acknowledgement.

“Would you mind if we talked inside?” Tristan asked.

She took a quick, sharp breath. “You want to come in?”

He nodded.

“Um, sure.”

But she wasn’t sure about anything except for Mrs. Whitcomb’s pastime of spying on neighbors. Jayne could only imagine what her neighbor would think of her inviting a strange, attractive man into the house, but she’d rather do that than talk within range of eager ears.

Tristan showing up out of blue left Jayne feeling off-balance. The guy had never been friendly or sought conversation with her. She didn’t know why he wanted to start now. “If you really want to come in, okay, but please don’t feel obligated. I mean, you returned the postcard. Mission accomplished.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

Apprehension coursed through her. She knew better than to trust a friend of Rich’s. “Why?”

“Grace is worried about you.”

Grace, huh? The tension knotting Jayne’s shoulders eased slightly.

“Come in.” She opened the door wider. “But you should know there’s no reason for Grace to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” His voice was low and smooth. “Then I won’t have to waste a lot of your time.”

“How is Grace doing?” Jayne asked. “It must almost be time for the baby to be born.”

“Past time, but she’s enjoying being with her other two kids, so she’s happy.”

“That sounds like Grace.”

As Tristan walked past Jayne, the scents of earthy male and salt filled her nostrils. Quite a difference from the hyacinth potpourri she was used to smelling in the bungalow. She preferred the floral scent. “I appreciate you going out of your way to do this, but I’m sure you have somewhere else to be.”

He stood in her living room, making the area feel cramped. “No, I’m free the rest of the day.”

As she closed the door, Jayne hoped he didn’t plan on staying long. Sure, she might have the company she’d been longing for, but Tristan wasn’t who she had in mind. All she wanted was to get this visit over with. “Sorry you got roped into this by Grace.”

“I’m not.”

Jayne didn’t know what to say to Tristan. She found herself glancing around the living room to avoid making eye contact with him. At least the house was clean—dusted, mopped and clutter-free. She’d done nothing but chores most of the weekend. That was what she did every weekend to keep busy.

Still, she couldn’t be rude.

“Would you, um, like something to drink?” she asked. “A glass of iced tea, maybe?”

“That would be great,” he said. “Thanks.”

Jayne headed into the kitchen. She’d expected Tristan to wait in the living room, but he followed her instead.

No problem. He could see for himself that she was doing well and relay the information to Grace.

Except his six-foot plus frame took up a lot of space in the galley-style kitchen, making it hard for Jayne to maneuver without bumping into him. She noticed she’d left a bag of coffee on the counter—Kenyan roast: her favorite—and put it away.

“Need help?” he asked.

His offer surprised her. The guy looked as domesticated as a rampaging hippo. “Thanks, but I have it under control.”

She wanted him to tell Grace that Jayne Cavendish had everything under control. No need to worry.

Tristan leaned against the counter and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. He might look out of place, but he sure acted comfortable—as if he were used to hanging out in women’s kitchens.

He looked around. “I smell cookies.”

His sense of smell was spot on. “I baked chocolate chip cookies this morning. Would you like one?”

“Please.”

She reached for the plastic container full of cookies and placed a few on a plate. These homemade treats would give Tristan one more reason to tell Grace that Jayne Cavendish was fine and dandy.

Oh, no. She dropped a cookie onto the plate.

Forget fine. She wasn’t dandy, either. She cringed.

She’d asked about Grace. Given the chance, Jayne would have asked about the other Stricklands, too. Maybe even Rich. She stared at the cookies with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was turning into Mrs. Whitcomb.

Too late to renege on the offer of refreshments, but Jayne would not ask Tristan about another one of the Stricklands.

She would be polite. She would be gracious. But that was it.

With her resolve firmly in place, Jayne added ice to the two glasses, filled them with tea and handed one to Tristan.

He took a sip. “Sweet.”

“Oops. I should have warned you,” she said. “In the South, that’s the only way they make it.”

He considered her over his glass. “I don’t hear an accent.”

“I lived in North Carolina for a couple of years when I was younger.” She remembered the humid summers, the enormous flying bugs, and missing her dad. “My father was in the military, so he was stationed all over the place.”

“Lucky you.” Tristan took another sip of his tea. “I was born in San Diego. My parents still live here.”

“I’d say you’re the lucky one.” Jayne grabbed a few napkins. “I never want to move away from San Diego.”

“It’s a nice place to call home.”

Too bad this place didn’t feel like home at the moment. The kitchen was feeling a little too…crowded.

Jayne picked up the plate of cookies and her tea. “Let’s go into the living room.”

“After you.”

In the living room, she placed the cookies on the scarred maple coffee table Molly had left when she moved to Las Vegas and pulled out two coasters for their glasses. Jayne sat on one end of the yellow plaid couch. “Tell me what you need to know to appease Grace.”

And what it will take to get you out of here.

Tristan lowered himself onto the couch, making the full-sized sofa seem suddenly way too small. He set his glass on a coaster, adjusted a floral print pillow behind his back and stretched out—a mass of arms and legs. “Just a few things.”

“Like what?”

As he placed his hand on the back of the sofa, his hand brushed Jayne’s bare shoulder. Accidentally, of course.

Still, heat rushed down her arm like a lit fuse on a stick of dynamite.

She guzzled her tea, but the cold drink didn’t cool her down at all. Even her fingertips seemed to sizzle.

Her reaction disturbed Jayne. It must be because she’d sworn off men. For the past seven months she’d barely seen a man outside of work, but the one sitting next to her on the overstuffed sofa was too warm, too solid, too…male. No wonder her body was so confused.

But being even the slightest bit attracted to Rich’s best friend was a huge no-no.

She scooted away from Tristan until her hip collided with the sofa-arm. Darn. That wasn’t far enough for her peace of mind.

He picked up a cookie. “Grace will want to know how you’ve been.”

Add Rich’s oldest sister to the list. Alex, Molly and Serena all kept asking how Jayne had been doing, so she wasn’t surprised Tristan—make that Grace—would want to know, too.

“Please don’t answer fine,” he added. “You’ve already used that one.”

Jayne usually answered fine. The word fit her most days—good or bad. She didn’t want people worrying about her.

“I’ve been busy trying to make this house a home—my home, that is—when I’m not at the office,” she said. “Everything is going…okay.”

Okay seemed like the best, the safest answer. Because, face it, things might be fine, but they hadn’t been great for a while now. Months, actually. She kept second-guessing herself. Something she had never done before. That had made things…harder.

He held his cookie in mid-air. “Okay, okay? Or okay, but I’d rather not talk about it?”

Her gaze met his. She hadn’t expected him to delve further or to read so much into her simple answer. “A little of both.”

“An honest answer.”

She raised her chin. “I’m an honest person.”

“Honesty is a rare quality these days.”

“No kidding.” Jayne wasn’t about to disagree with him, especially after her experience with Rich. The cheating jerk.

And what did that say about Tristan? He and Rich were best friends.

She watched a bead of condensation drip down her glass.

“You cut your hair,” Tristan said.

Her gaze met his. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“I’m a photographer, remember?” he said, as if that explained anything. “An eye for detail.”

She’d forgotten. Her cheeks burned. How could she have forgotten what he did for a living? He’d spent two days trailing her and Rich around town, taking their picture. But then again, she’d pushed as much of that painful time out of her memory as possible. That included her groom’s best man.

Still, she wanted to cover her embarrassment.

“My friends treated me to a makeover at a fancy salon in Las Vegas.” She fingered the short ends. “Rich told me never to cut my long hair, so I told the stylist to chop it all off. I had a moment of sheer panic when she did, but decided I actually liked the shorter length and have kept it this way even though there are times I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself.”

Tristan drew his brows together.

Uh-oh. Deep in thought? Or disgusted by her rambling? Not that his opinion mattered to her. “Too much information?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I was just looking at your hair. The longer length was nice, but this style flatters your features better. You should get your picture taken.”

Thinking about the deposit she’d lost canceling the wedding photographer sent a shiver down her spine. Of course she’d lost a lot more than money with the breakup. Pride. Respect. Confidence. “I don’t like having my picture taken.”

“I remember.” His lips formed a wry grin. “But I managed to get some good shots anyway.”

“I never saw any of them.”

“I’ll get you copies.”

Jayne crossed her arms over her chest. “Um, I…”

“Bad memories?” Tristan guessed.

“Yeah, sorry, but thanks for the offer.” She picked up a cookie. “I know Rich is your best friend, but he wasn’t the man I thought he was. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone like him.”

Even if she’d thought he could give her everything she’d wanted. Everything, that was, except his love and fidelity.

Dredging up the past made her uncomfortable. This called for chocolate. She bit into her cookie.

“Then everything worked out for the best,” Tristan said.

Still chewing, she nodded.

“You’ll find someone else,” he said. “Someone better.”

Jayne choked, coughed, and reached for her tea. Plunging back into the dating scene was about as appealing as a case of food poisoning. Taking a year off from dating seemed a reasonable amount of time after a broken engagement. She needed time to regain the self-confidence to make the right decisions and trust her judgment again.

Besides, her three friends had found the loves of their lives when they hadn’t been trying to find “the one.” Maybe Jayne had been going about this happily-ever-after business the wrong way. Maybe she’d been trying too hard to get what she wanted. “I’m not really looking.”

“You don’t have to look. Someone will find you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Tristan sounded so…romantic—a way she’d never heard him sound in the short time she’d known him. He’d always seemed so unfriendly, almost arrogant, back then.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he added.

Her heart melted a little. That sure would be nice.

Thanks to what had happened to her best friends in Las Vegas, Jayne knew Mr. Right finding her could happen. And she really did want it to happen one of these days.

Ever since she was a little girl Jayne had wanted the fairytale to come true. She was over the heartbreak Rich had caused, but she wanted to focus on work and getting her life back in order first. Her heart had fooled her. She didn’t want to be duped again.

“I hope that happens someday.” She emphasized the final word. “Just because things with Rich didn’t work out doesn’t mean I can’t live happily ever after here in San Diego with my one true love.”

“If that’s what you want, go for it.”

She thought about her and her mother’s dream. “Isn’t that what everybody wants?”

Tristan set his iced tea on the table. “Not me.”

Okay, so maybe the guy wasn’t so romantic after all. She shouldn’t be surprised, given his long-time friendship with Rich. A true romantic wouldn’t condone a cheater’s behavior. “That sounds a little…bitter.”

“Not bitter, just experienced.” He stared at his glass. “I gave marriage a try. It didn’t work out.”

She leaned toward him. “You were married?”

He nodded. “You sound surprised.”

“I am,” she blurted. He was attractive enough to have his pick of female companionship, yet had chosen to settle down. She wondered what kind of woman had made him want to say I do. No doubt a gorgeous model or actress-type, with a killer body. “I mean, you don’t seem like the marrying kind.”

“I realized I’m not, but I tried to make it work.”

Yeah, right. That was what all men said, but actions spoke louder than words. If only she’d realized that with the first man in her life…her father.

Her dad had done nothing to make things work with her mother. Jayne still remembered hearing her parents’ yelling late at night when she’d be in bed. Still, she’d never thought he’d leave one day and never contact her again. “Let me guess—you were misunderstood?”

Tristan laughed. “No, she understood me quite well. I take full responsibility for the failure of my marriage.”

His words touched Jayne. Her father had never admitted failure. He’d blamed all their problems on her mother. God rest her soul. “That must be a hard thing to admit.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “As you said, honesty is a rare quality these days.”

One she hadn’t expected from Tristan MacGregor.

“Have you been married before?” he asked.

“No, my parents were divorced, so I told myself to make sure it was right first and not rush into anything.”

“Until Rich.”

She nodded. “I didn’t follow my own advice with him, and rushed in with my eyes full of stars, but I won’t do that again.”

Jayne looked at the table. Only crumbs remained on the cookie plate. Her glass was empty. Tristan’s was only a quarter full. By now he should see she was fine and be able to reassure Grace. Nothing left to do but say goodbye. Except…

He didn’t seem in any hurry to finish his iced tea and leave.

“Anything else you want to know so you can tell Grace?” Jayne asked, trying to move him along. “I hate keeping you here.”

“You’re not keeping me.” His gaze took in the knickknacks on the bookcase and the framed photographs on the fireplace mantel. “It’s nice be in a house. I just got back from two months in Malaysia and Bali.”

Two months? That would have included last month…December. “You were overseas for Christmas?”

He nodded. “You can celebrate Christmas anywhere.”

But it wasn’t the same as being home. Not that Christmas alone here had been all that great. Still, she’d had a small tree and presents sent by her friends—including a filled stocking.

“I can’t imagine being on the go so much.” Just the thought gave Jayne the heebie-jeebies. She rubbed her arms. “Away for weeks or months at a time. I get tired thinking about it.”

“I get more tired when I’m not traveling,” he admitted. “If I’m in one place too long I get antsy.”

She’d heard that so many times. “My father was like that.”

“What about you?”

“I take after my mother,” Jayne said with pride. “I traveled so much when I was younger there’s no place I want to go now. I’m pretty much a homebody.”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem like a homebody.”

“You just don’t know me that well. Growing up, I was always bugging my parents for a house with a yard and a puppy.”

“You want a dog?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “My former roommate had a dog. I walk my neighbor’s dog most evenings. But I’m still debating whether this place needs a pet or not.”

“It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I lucked out getting to live here.”

“How’s that?” Tristan asked.

“Well, I’d given notice on my studio apartment to move in with Rich after the wedding, so I found myself homeless after he—I mean we—broke up. My friend Molly had a spare bedroom and told me to move in with her. It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but she fell in love with a man she met during a girls’ weekend in Las Vegas, married him a few months later, and relocated to Sin City. And that’s how I ended up with this charming bungalow to call home.”

“You did luck out.”

Jayne nodded. “Though I liked having Molly for a roommie. I miss talking to her late at night over a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.”

“So find a new roommate. Preferably one who likes ice cream.”

A new roommate. Jayne thought about his suggestion. Someone to talk to. Someone to split the rent and utilities with. “You know, Tristan, getting a roommate is a really good idea.”

“Unless you prefer living alone.”

“I don’t like being alone,” she answered quickly. “I mean, Molly and my other two best friends have moved away. With the three of them gone it’s been a little…”

Loser, Jayne thought. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut and not say so much?

“Lonely?” he finished for her.

“Yes,” she admitted, wishing she’d put more cookies out.

“You lost your fiancé and your three best friends.”

She nodded. “The only two things that haven’t changed in the last seven months are my job and my car.”

“That’s tough.”

“It’s been…challenging.”

He scooted closer. “I guess it has.”

Oh, no, she thought. He was Rich’s friend. And here she was babbling about her life and sounding really pathetic. What if Tristan told Rich?

Her insides clenched. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.

“Not that I’m unhappy with the way things turned out,” she added hastily.

“Glad to hear it.”

Tristan shifted position. His leg touched hers. No skin-on-skin contact was made, but warmth emanated from the spot. Worse, his jean-clad leg remained pressed against hers.

Maybe he didn’t notice, but she sure did.

Unfortunately she couldn’t move. The sofa-arm blocked her in one direction, Tristan in the other. She was…trapped.

The only thing she could do was ignore it. Him. “I wonder how hard finding a roommate would be.”

“You can’t beat this location.” As he looked around the living room, she prayed he would notice his leg was still touching her. “And you keep the place nice. Neat. It’ll all depend on the room.”

Companionship and only paying half her current living expenses sounded like an ideal combination. Why hadn’t she thought of getting a roommate herself?

“Oh, the room is lovely. It’s not that large, but has lots of windows.”

“Show me,” Tristan said.

“Sure.” Jayne jumped up, eager to get away from the intimacy of the couch. She led him past her room into the other bedroom. “This used to be Molly’s room.”

“Great room.” He checked the closet. “Why didn’t you take this one for yourself?”

“The two bedrooms are almost the same size, and I didn’t want to move.”

“Across the hall?”

“My room is decorated the way I like it.”

He looked out one of the large windows facing the backyard garden. “Nice view.”

His position gave her a view of his backside. His faded jeans fit well. “Very nice.”

What was she doing? With cheeks burning, she looked away.

“You’ll have no trouble renting this room out,” he said.

The thought of not being alone all the time made Jayne wiggle her toes. Maybe something good would come from Tristan’s impromptu visit. “I better put together an ad.”

Tristan turned toward her with his brows drawn together. “You’re serious about this?”

She heard the surprise in his voice. She was a little surprised herself, but loneliness could drive a person to do some crazy things. “Yes, and it’ll give me something to do this afternoon.” Jayne winced when she realized how her words must have sounded. “I mean—”

“Forget the ad,” Tristan interrupted. “Spending the rest of this beautiful afternoon inside would be a crime.”

Yes, but she didn’t have anything else to do, and the last thing she wanted was his pity. She didn’t want anything to do with him.

She raised her chin. “I happen to like staying home.”

“That’s okay, but you should get out more.”

Going out alone had gotten old fast. She shrugged.

“Let’s go on a hike,” he said.

Her heart picked up speed. “A hike?”

“Yes.” Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “The fresh air will be good for a homebody.”

“Why would you want to go on a hike with me?” She felt as if she’d entered an alternative universe. One where everything had flipped upside down and inside out. “You don’t like me.”

Tristan jerked as if she’d slapped him. “I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“The only reason you’re here is for Grace.”

“Grace asked me to stop by, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here.”

Jayne didn’t—couldn’t—believe him. Her assessing gaze raked over him.

No way was he telling her the truth.

“Have you forgotten the way you acted toward me before the breakup?” His unfriendly behavior had gotten worse each time she saw him. “It was pretty obvious to everyone—including Rich,” she added, as if that was the clincher. As if Rich’s judgment could be trusted. As if Rich could be trusted, the lying rat.

Tristan’s dark eyes locked with hers. “Everyone, including Rich, is wrong.”

The words hung in the air, as if suspended in a floating bubble.

Wrong.

Emotion tightened Jayne’s throat.

She’d never understood why Tristan had behaved the way he had. Could she be wrong? She wanted to believe him. Which made her mistrust her own judgment even more. She wasn’t a good judge of character when it came to men. Taking a man at his word, even when he said he loved you, was a huge mistake. One she’d made with her father and with Rich. Trust had to be earned, not given.

Tristan rocked back on his heels. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Fun. When had that word become an alien concept? Maybe…

No.

Tristan MacGregor wasn’t some attractive stranger inviting her for a walk. He was Rich Strickland’s best friend. His best man. She’d have to be out of her mind to go anywhere with Tristan. Out of her mind or very, very lonely.

Her own thought ricocheted through her brain.

Loneliness could drive a person to do some crazy things.

She swallowed a sigh.

“What do you have to lose?” Tristan asked.

Nothing. Jayne’s shoulders had started to sag, but she squared them instead. She’d already lost everything.

Her fiancé, her trust, her hope, her three best friends.

Life had become one lonely hour followed by another. She rarely left the house, and when she did she couldn’t wait to get home.

Just like her mother.

The unsettling realization made Jayne straighten.

Her mother had stuck close to home after her father had left. She’d gone to work, the store, and occasionally to church. She hadn’t even wanted to go to the doctor’s office when she’d started feeling poorly, and because of that she’d ended up dying way too soon.

Jayne didn’t want that to happen to her.

Something had to change. She had to change. Now.

Maybe one small step—one short hike—would start her on a new road…a path toward the life she wanted to live, not the one she was living. Even if the hike was with the last person, next to Rich, she wanted to spend time with.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “A hike will do me good.”

Chapter Three

“HIKING has been good for me—” Jayne puffed behind Tristan “—but I don’t know how much further I can go.”

He turned on the trail, happy to be finally spending time with her. She might not be exactly the woman he remembered, but the woman he was getting to know intrigued him.

She closed the distance between them. Her feet dragged—something they hadn’t done at the start of the hike. But even tired, flushed and sweaty, with her hair sticking out of that old San Diego Padres baseball cap she wore, she was still the best thing he’d seen in weeks…maybe months.

“We’re almost to the beach,” he said.

She adjusted the brim of her hat. “Okay, then. I guess I can make it.”

“Sure you can.” But Tristan didn’t want to wear her out before they reached their destination. He opened his water bottle. “I need a drink first.”

Relief filled her pretty eyes. “That sounds good to me, too.”

Talk about a good sport. Tristan took a swig of water. He liked that about her.

Despite an extended and thoughtful moment of hesitation back at her apartment, she’d gamely accepted his invitation to go hiking at Torrey Pines State Park. She hadn’t once complained about the hot afternoon sun blazing down on them even though it was only January.

Jayne drank from her water bottle. Her pink tongue darted out to lick the liquid off her lips.

He took another gulp from his bottle.

She sure was a nice addition to the already beautiful scenery surrounding them. Her legs, exposed between the hem of her khaki shorts and hiking books, looked long and slim and smooth. The sky intensified the blue of her eyes. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her glossed lips.

Tristan put away his water bottle and focused his camera on her.

Jayne pretended to scowl. “Again?”

He preferred her mock exasperation to the loneliness he’d glimpsed earlier at her apartment. “Just capturing memories.”

Lines creased her forehead. “Memories of a day spent with a stranger?”

Her suspicious tone bothered him. “We’re not strangers.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“We could be friends,” he countered.

She pursed her lips. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Because he liked her. He wanted her to like him. But she wasn’t ready to hear that.

In her wary eyes he was still only Rich’s best man. Rich’s best friend. And Rich had let her down big time.

“You’re a nice person,” Tristan answered.

“Nice, huh?”

He nodded.

“The last time we were together you didn’t even look me in the eye.”

Tristan remembered. He wasn’t as nice as Jayne was. But even a jerk would have had trouble looking a bride straight in the eye when he knew her fiancé was two-timing her with another woman.

Tristan aimed at the basket. Swoosh. Two points.

“Lucky shot,” Rich said, taking away the ball.

The two had been co-captains of their high school basketball team and won two district titles. Whenever Tristan was in town they would shoot hoops at the gym.

“Next time it’ll be for three,” he said.

Rich dribbled the ball and scored with a lay-up. “You’d better hope so.”

A cellphone rang. Rich’s. For the third time in the past hour. For the third time he ignored it.

“You want to get that?” Tristan asked.

“Nah. Probably just Jayne.”

Tristan held the ball. “I’ll wait.”

“No. She keeps bugging me about the wedding.” Rich rolled his eyes. “Everything’s about the wedding with her.”

“Your wedding, too, buddy.”

“You’re sticking up for her?” Rich asked.

“No, but remember how Grace and Becca turned into Bridezillas before they got married?”

No answer. Something was up.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Tristan said.

Rich started, then stopped himself.

“Come on.” Tristan passed the ball hard at Rich’s chest. “It’s me.”

Rich looked around, as if to make sure no one else was there. “I met someone.”

Tristan got a sinking feeling in his gut. “A female someone?”

Rich nodded and tossed the ball back. “She’s a dental hygienist and totally hot. Smokin’.”

“So is Jayne.” Okay, maybe Tristan shouldn’t have said that about his best friend’s bride to be, but Rich didn’t appear to notice. He was still going on about this other girl. Deidre Something.

Annoyance flared.

Cold feet or not, Rich was being an idiot. Time to call him on it.

“You can’t drill your dentist, bud.” Tristan dribbled the basketball. The sound echoed through empty gymnasium. “What did she do? Put the moves on you in the chair?”

“She was in a car accident we responded to.” Rich glanced around the empty court again like a man being watched. Or one who didn’t want to get caught. “A few days later she brought brownies to the station and invited me to dinner. I couldn’t say no.”

Rich could have said no, but he hadn’t wanted to. Not good.

Tristan spun the ball in his hands. “So you screwed up one time? You’re engaged. Just tell her.”

“It was more than once,” Rich admitted. “And I’m not telling her about Jayne. Deidre wouldn’t see me anymore.”

“She’s not going to see you anymore anyway, bonehead. You’re getting married in a week.”

“I know, but…Hell, I think I’m in love with her. Deidre,” Rich clarified.

Tristan dropped the ball. “What? Are you kidding? What about the wedding?”

“I’m sick of thinking about the wedding. That’s all Jayne can talk about. All she sees. Deidre treats me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to her. The most important thing in her life.”

“Probably because you saved her life,” Tristan countered, wanting, needing to say something. Anything. An image of Jayne, bright-eyed and smiling, flashed in his mind. He couldn’t believe Rich was doing this to her. “It’s a crush. Deidre will get over it.”

“Maybe I don’t want her to get over it. Maybe I like being somebody’s hero.”

Damn. Tristan thought for a minute. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not long,” Rich admitted. “A couple of weeks, maybe.”

“You’ve got to talk to Jayne.”

Rich stared at Tristan as if he’d grown antennae and a third eye. “Why?”

“You can’t get married if you’re in love with someone else.”

“I’m not canceling the wedding.” Rich set his jaw. “I asked Jayne to marry me, and I will marry her.”

Uh-oh. Tristan knew that mulish tone of Rich’s all too well. “What about Deidre?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

“Better figure it out fast, because you can’t have both.”

“I know.” Rich looked miserable. “Look, just don’t…Don’t say anything to Jayne. Promise me you won’t.”

Tristan had kept his mouth shut. But his guilt over knowing the truth had made it difficult for him to face Jayne the next time he saw her, and each time after that. He’d thought by ignoring her he would buy Rich the time he needed to make the right decision.

Wrong.

Rich had ignored the matter, forcing Tristan to keep his best friend and Jayne from getting married. He didn’t regret his actions one bit. But dragging up the past and telling Jayne what he’d done to engineer her discovering Rich’s cheating now wouldn’t help anyone. She’d admitted she wouldn’t have wanted to marry Rich. She was moving on. Rich was getting married. Tristan was finally getting to spend time with Jayne. It was better to bury the past.

“It wasn’t you,” Tristan said finally.

The doubt in her big blue eyes hit him right in the gut.

You don’t like me.

The problem was he did like her.

He’d always liked her.

Too much.

And for that reason he’d kept his distance from her and limited his contact with her. Even after the breakup. For all their sakes.

Yet he was here now, and he wouldn’t want to be any-where else.

“It was me,” he finished.

She smiled crookedly. “Yeah, that’s what the guy always says.”

He winced. “I’m…sorry.”

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like this.”

“No worries.”

Her closed-mouth smile turned into a wide grin. His pulse kicked up.

Man, she really had a great smile. He took another picture of her.

“Knock it off,” she said, but her eyes gleamed with laughter.

“Professional photographer, remember?” A gull flew overhead, its sharp white wings contrasting with the cloudless blue sky. He turned his camera from her to the bird. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I’d say it’s more a hazard for anyone who happens to be around you.”

“Having your photograph taken isn’t a hazard.”

“Some cultures believe being photographed steals a part of your soul.”

“I’m not a soul-stealer,” he said. “I’m only after the image. The best photographs tell a story, and can often be described by a single verb.”

She took another slug from her water bottle. “Well, as long as you aren’t stealing souls, I suppose it’s okay, but please don’t go overboard.”

He gave a mock bow. “Your understanding is much appreciated, since my camera follows me everywhere. No questions asked.”

“Sounds like a perfect relationship for you.”

“It is,” he admitted. “My camera packs light, doesn’t hog the bed, and never gets upset when I don’t remember its birthday.”

“Men.”

“We are what we are.”

A breeze caught the ends of her hair. He snapped her picture again.

She sighed.

“I’m not going overboard,” he said.

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