Unexpected Bride

Lisa Childs

MILLS & BOON

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With great appreciation to Jennifer Green for

encouraging me to write a Harlequin American

Romance proposal, and to Kathleen Scheibling for

accepting that proposal for THE WEDDING PARTY

series, and to all the brides who included me in their

wedding parties.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Clayton McClintock pressed his cell phone to his ear. “I’m going to be late,” he told his date, as he studied the flight schedule posted in the terminal. All the flights were on time but one. Hers. It figured. Conversation swirled around him as people rushed through the arrival gates and met those waiting for them in the lounge area.

On his phone there was dead silence. He pulled the cell from his ear to study its small screen, but his call hadn’t been lost. “Ellen, are you there?” he asked.

“Yes,” was the reply, in a tone of long-suffering patience, followed by a sigh reminiscent of the dramatic ones his sisters had subjected him to in their teens. “This isn’t working, Clayton. You stand me up more often than you see me.”

He sighed, too—with frustration. “Things have been crazy with my sister’s wedding stuff.” Writing checks, that had been his primary duty. And then he’d been pressed into playing chauffeur. Everyone else was busy with the rehearsal this afternoon.

He glanced at his watch. If Abby’s flight was any later, they’d miss dinner as well as the activities at the church. His plan had been to pick up his date after the rehearsal and bring her with him to the dinner. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to set aside his own plans for the sake of his family, though.

“Things have been crazy,” Ellen agreed. “And your brother…”

Rory, who was in his teens, was going through a difficult time right now, also reminding Clayton of her. But she was hardly a teenager anymore. People grew up and matured—probably even Abby Hamilton. Clayton had to believe that Rory would do the same, provided his big brother didn’t kill him first.

“It’s always something with your family, Clayton,” Ellen said. “You never have time for me.”

He couldn’t argue with her. He didn’t have time for himself, either. Not with his job and his brother and sisters and his mom. How had his dad managed everything? Clayton had taken over family responsibilities eight years ago, and he had yet to figure out how to handle everything his father had managed so effortlessly. He lifted a hand and wiped it over his eyes. He was tired.

“I’ve known for some time that it wasn’t going to work out, Clayton. So don’t bother calling me anymore.”

“My sister’s getting married tomorrow.” That would take care of one responsibility. “Things will get better then.”

“How? Is she taking your mom and sister and brother with her? You don’t have room in your life for me or for any woman, Clayton. I’m sorry.”

The phone clicked and the call ended, not because of a faulty connection but because of a lack of a romantic connection. And except for going stag to the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, he wasn’t even too upset. Clayton hadn’t dated anyone long enough to say that he’d ever had a serious relationship. He blew out a ragged breath of relief. He didn’t want a serious relationship because it was just one more responsibility he didn’t need.

Waiting in an airport for Abby was bad enough. How like her to fly in at the last moment. Some bridesmaid she’d turned out to be. Fortunately Molly had asked her longtime friend, Brenna Kelly, to be maid of honor. Clayton couldn’t imagine Abby handling the responsibilities.

He headed over to the airport coffee shop and filled a disposable cup with strong black brew. When he passed his money to the clerk, he ignored her flirty smile and bright eyes. Maybe he’d stop dating for a while—it wasn’t as if he ever intended to get married, anyway. He’d leave that to Molly, Colleen and Rory. Heck, he wouldn’t even mind if his mom got married again. It was already eight years since his dad had died.

The same length of time Abby Hamilton had been gone. She’d taken off right after the funeral, even skipping her high school graduation. Not that she’d have been able to graduate with her class, since she’d just been expelled. If Clayton didn’t get a handle on Rory soon, the youngest McClintock would probably be heading down that same dead end.

What was she doing now? His sisters and mom kept in touch with her, but they didn’t tell him much. They knew how he felt. The last he’d heard, she was moving around, working temp jobs, which didn’t surprise him. Nothing had ever seemed to hold her interest for long.

“Flight 3459 is arriving at Gate B4.”

The announcement startled him and his hand jerked, spilling coffee over his fingers and burning them. Abby was back. Clayton’s stomach lurched, maybe from the bitter liquid, or maybe because he knew that Abby Hamilton had always been nothing but trouble. She might be older now, and maybe even wiser, but he doubted she had changed that much.

He stared over the heads of other people gathered who waited to meet the late arrivals. They greeted each other with exuberant hugs and voices full of excitement. Somehow he doubted Abby would be that happy to see him—she had no idea he’d been called into service as her chauffeur.

He glanced in the direction of the approaching passengers. Where was she? Everyone moved toward the luggage carousel, its gears grinding as it began a slow rotation. Then metal clunked and the bags began to drop onto the carousel. Clayton ran his hand, which still stung from the coffee burn, across his face. Somehow the ground crew had gotten the luggage off the plane before she’d disembarked. Now, there was no hope of their making the rehearsal. He’d have to push her, in order to make the dinner.

So she hadn’t changed. He caught sight of her, finally, first spotting her fair hair as she strolled into view behind a group of stragglers pushing strollers. Until the others moved toward their luggage, he could barely see her. She probably wasn’t much over five feet tall. As she got closer, he studied her face, which was framed by a wild mass of curls. Her eyes shone a bright, clear blue between thick fringes of black lashes.

Clayton’s gaze traveled down her body, clad in a ribbed white tank top and tight faded jeans. His stomach lurched again. Abby was still going to be trouble; probably much more trouble as a woman than she’d been as a kid.

Then he noticed that her right hand was wrapped around another smaller hand. At her side walked a little girl of about four or five. With her own blond curls and those same bright eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother. His breath left his lungs as the shock slammed through him.

No one had told him that Abby Hamilton had a child.

Abby glanced around the airport, looking for Molly or Colleen or Brenna, and then her gaze collided with Clayton McClintock’s. His chocolate-brown eyes were wide with surprise. He rubbed a hand over his eyes as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Then the hand skimmed down his face, over sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. He didn’t look much different at thirty than he had at twenty-two, except that he wasn’t boyishly thin anymore. His black knit polo shirt strained across his chest and upper arms, and stone-colored khakis encased his long legs. Clayton McClintock was all man now.

Abby exhaled deeply, stirring her bangs so that strands of hair tangled in her lashes. “Oh, no…”

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” her daughter asked as she gave her mother a tug.

Abby’s feet stopped moving—she didn’t want to get any closer to Clayton. No one had told him about Lara. While Abby appreciated her friends’ loyalty, she wouldn’t have minded if they’d broken their promise not to tell anyone in Cloverville about her daughter. Why had she made them pledge their silence in the first place? She wasn’t ashamed of being a single mom. But a part of her was still eighteen, hurting from the disapproval of the townspeople. And no one in Cloverville had disapproved of her more than Clayton.

If only she’d worn one of her tailored business suits instead of her most casual outfit, but now it was too late to change either her clothes or Clayton’s opinion of her.

He walked toward them, eating up the short distance with just a couple of strides. “Abby.”

She drew in a breath and then pasted on a smile. “Clayton.”

“It’s been a long time,” he said, his gaze hard as he stared at her.

Not long enough. He obviously didn’t want her back in Cloverville any more than she wanted to be back.

Then his head dipped, and his gaze softened on her little girl. His throat moved as he swallowed, and then he asked, “So who’s this pretty young lady?”

“My daughter.”

“I can tell,” he said, his lips curving into a warm smile that etched creases into his cheeks.

Abby’s pulse quickened. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen him smile before. Lara, however, was more frightened than charmed and ducked behind her mother’s legs, grasping Abby’s hand tightly with one hand as she clutched a well-loved teddy bear with the other.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she assured her daughter, even though she’d spent much of her childhood fearing her friends’ older brother. But she’d grown up many, many years ago—she’d had no choice. “Clayton isn’t a stranger. I’ve known him a long time. Well, I knew him a long time ago.”

“I knew your mother when she was your age,” Clayton said as he dropped to his haunches, his slacks pulled taut across muscular thighs. “You look exactly like she did the first time she followed my sister Molly home.”

Like a stray dog. That was how he’d always seen her. But then he hadn’t been all that wrong. She used to come to the McClintock house with her clothes dirty, her knees scraped and her stomach growling with hunger. And his mom had always cleaned her up and fed her. Mrs. Mick, as Abby had always called her, had been more of a mother to Abby than her own sad excuse for a mother had been. Mom had spent more time in the bar than at home, and Abby’s dad had always been gone because he drove a semitruck for a living.

“What’s your name?” he asked the child.

The small girl whispered her response. “Lara.”

“Lara?” Clayton glanced up at Abby.

She nodded, then confirmed what he had to be thinking. “Lara Hamilton.”

He straightened up. “So you’re not married.”

“Nope. The closest I’m getting to an altar is Molly’s wedding tomorrow.” The one reason she had come back to Cloverville: she was going to watch her friend make the biggest mistake of her life, unless somehow she could manage to talk Molly out of it. If not for all the projects Abby had had going on in the past couple of months, she would have come back to Cloverville much sooner. She hoped she had enough time to talk Molly out of the wedding. “I’m sorry you were sent to get me, Clayton. I thought one of the others…”

“They’re already at the rehearsal.”

She glanced at her watch, then closed her eyes. “We’re late.”

He probably held her responsible for the computer problems at O’Hare that had delayed their flight. She blamed herself, too, for not coming in earlier. But Clayton was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to come back to Cloverville at all. No matter what she’d accomplished since she’d left, everyone here—and especially Clayton—would always see her as the poor, screwed-up Hamilton kid who’d been failing high school even before she’d been expelled for malicious mischief and vandalism.

“Is it too late for me to be the flower girl, Mommy?” Lara asked.

Abby’s lids lifted, her gaze on her daughter’s concerned expression. Lara had been looking forward to her “job” in Molly’s wedding, and she’d be disappointed if Abby convinced her friend to cancel.

Clayton turned back to Lara, too, offering reassurance before her mother had a chance to speak. “No, honey, the wedding is tomorrow, and you’re going to be the most beautiful flower girl Cloverville has ever seen.” He closed one dark eye in a wink, his lashes brushing his cheek.

Abby’s heart fluttered. It had to be an aftereffect of flying. Not that she was an anxious flyer. Nope, the nerves were because she was here, less than an hour away from the Cloverville city limits.

“But we do need to get to the rehearsal,” Clayton continued. “So we know what to do tomorrow. And after the rehearsal, we’re having dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Kelly’s. They own the bakery and they always have lots of goodies around, including the best cookies in the world.”

Lara tugged on Abby’s hand. “Can I have a cookie, Mommy?”

Abby nodded. Even though it would be awfully close to Lara’s bedtime when the rehearsal concluded, if it wasn’t finished already, sugar didn’t affect Lara as it did her mother.

“I’ll get your bags and we’ll be on our way,” Clayton said as he headed toward the carousel.

Abby rushed after him, pulling Lara along with her. She didn’t want to accept his help. She really should have rented a car, but Brenna Kelly, the maid of honor and one of Abby’s oldest and closest friends, had insisted that it would be easier and faster for someone to pick her up from the airport. “I’ll get my own bags, Clayton. You don’t know what my suitcases look like.”

“I imagine they’re the only ones that are left,” he said with a smug smile, turning toward the conveyor.

Abby clenched her free hand into a fist and wished she had something to whip at the back of his head. Clayton McClintock had always irritated the heck out of her, with his smug I-have-everything-under-control personality. Why had her friends sent him to get the two of them? Just how crazy had this wedding made everyone?

“He’s nice, Mommy.”

Clayton McClintock was a lot of things. Judgmental, humorless and uptight. But he was not nice. While all the other McClintocks had always accepted her as one of the family, Clayton made her feel as if she didn’t belong.

Then again, she really hadn’t. But most of the time when she was growing up, she’d had no place else to go.

“Mommy?”

She blinked, then gazed down at Lara. “What, honey?”

“Don’t you like Clayton?”

She turned to watch him lift their suitcases from the carousel, his impressive biceps straining his shirtsleeves. Then she lied to her daughter for the first time in her life. “Sure I do.”

Clayton stood only a few feet away. Despite the grinding of the conveyor belt, he heard her and smothered a laugh. Abby had never liked him, which was fine with him. She’d been such a brat in her day. Her daughter might look exactly like her, but apparently she acted nothing like the wild child her mother had been.

“I wouldn’t let them leave again,” a male voice commented near Clayton’s shoulder.

He glanced over at a gray-haired man who was standing beside him. “Excuse me?”

“Your wife and daughter,” the older man said, gesturing toward Abby and Lara. “I flew in from Chicago with them.”

Clayton’s mouth went dry, too dry for him to respond and correct the misconception. His wife and daughter? He’d never take a wife, never have children of his own. That was one plan he didn’t intend to let his family change.

“Despite the computer problems at the airport, they stayed so sweet and patient. They’re beautiful,” the stranger continued. “You’re a lucky man.”

Clayton simply nodded, not wasting any time with explanations. They were already late. After the rehearsal dinner he would dump Abby, her daughter and suitcases at his mother’s house, and his responsibilities to her would be over.

“SLOW DOWN, CLAYTON,” Abby said. Sun-streaked fields and dappled woods whipped past the windows of the hybrid SUV. She turned toward the backseat, where Lara’s head bobbed in her sleep with each bump in the road. Less than a foot of console separated Abby from Clayton’s broad shoulder. His jaw was rigidly set as he stared straight ahead at the road leading into Cloverville.

He hadn’t even heard her request. She reached over and touched his thigh. Muscles flexed beneath her fingers and the SUV surged forward as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

“Clayton, slow down!” she whispered, not wanting to wake her daughter, even though Lara could sleep anywhere and through anything.

“Grabbing my leg isn’t going to slow me down,” he said tersly, as he eased off the gas. “It’s actually a good way to wind up in the ditch.”

Fingers tingling, Abby snatched back her hand and knotted her fingers in her lap. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Telling me to slow down?” he said. “I thought you were kidding, considering the way you drive. You thrive on speed.”

“I used to,” she admitted. Although speed had had little to do with her poor driving. Undiagnosed attention deficit disorder had been the real reason for her erratic youthful driving—that and bad brakes.

“Did having a kid finally settle you down?”

Diet and exercise had gotten the ADD under control, but nothing had affected her as much as becoming a mother. “Yes,” she agreed.

“Responsibility will do that to you,” he said, his voice thick with bitterness.

She’d always figured that after he’d mourned the loss of his father, he’d enjoyed stepping into the patriarch’s shoes and taking control of his family. Even before his dad had gotten sick, Clayton had bossed his younger siblings and Abby around so much that they’d all looked forward to his leaving for college.

Maybe his bitterness was because he’d never gotten over his father’s death. It had affected all their lives so much. “Clayton…”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her. The tingling spread from her fingertips throughout her body in reaction to that look. What the heck was that about? He’d never looked at her like that when they were younger, when she’d secretly wished he would; wished that he’d return from college and notice that she was all grown up.

“What?” he asked when she remained silent with remembered self-disgust. In the end, she’d actually missed him when he’d gone away to college. She doubted he’d missed her at all these past eight years.

She expelled a soft, shaky sigh. “So are you speeding to the church?”

He shook his head. “When I went to get the car, I called Brenna’s cell. Reverend Howland had another commitment and couldn’t wait any longer, so they had to rehearse without the missing members of the party.”

“Us,” she acknowledged, bracing herself for his accusatory stare. He’d always blamed her for any trouble his sisters had gotten into. Like the tattoos, for instance. But in Abby’s opinion, this wedding was the most trouble Molly had ever gotten into, and she wanted to get her out.

“We weren’t the only ones who missed the rehearsal,” Clayton admitted. “Neither the best man nor Eric was there.”

“Eric.” Eric South been the lone male member of a group of friends that included Abby, Brenna Kelly, Molly and Molly’s sister, Colleen, who was a few years younger than the classmates. “I hope he makes it to the dinner.” He could help Abby talk Molly out of marrying a stranger.

“I hope we do,” Clayton muttered as he pressed down on the accelerator.

Abby lifted her hand from her lap but stopped herself from reaching across the console again. “I’m surprised an insurance agent would drive so fast. I remember the lecture about driving responsibly that Mr. Mick gave me when I got my license.”

“You listened?” he asked, sounding surprised. Probably remembering his father’s patented lecture himself, he slowed down.

“Since you run the agency now, do you give the safe-driving speech, too?” she asked.

He nodded. “At the high school and the office.”

Just as his father had done. Had Clayton chosen to be an insurance agent or had he just assumed the job when he’d taken over his father’s business after he died? She couldn’t ask something so personal. They weren’t friends nor were they ever likely to be.

“The Kellys always make plenty of food.” She doubted that had changed. “Why are you in such a hurry to get back to Cloverville? Do you have to pick up a date for the dinner?”

Under his breath, he muttered, “Not anymore.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. Apparently even the Clayton McClintocks of the world got dumped. “Then you just don’t want to be alone with me.”

He didn’t deny her assumption. “How long are you planning on staying?”

Obviously he didn’t want her in Cloverville any more than she wanted to be back. Since he’d slowed down, the scenery enveloped them. Fields and woods, trees thick with green leaves gave way to subdivisions crowded with new houses, streets lined with strip malls, box stores and fast-food restaurants. “This is Cloverville?”

“It’s grown since you’ve been away. Did you think it would stay the same?”

She shook her head. “Nothing stays the same.” She’d learned that at a young age. Sadly enough, so had Lara—it was time for Abby to put down roots for the two of them. To give her daughter a home they would live in for more than a year or two. Time to establish permanent headquarters for the temporary employment agency Abby owned. Abby had already given up her apartment in Chicago. She’d been so busy packing that she couldn’t fly in sooner. Now she just had to decide on where she and her daughter would settle.

It was only the two of them. The moment Abby had gotten pregnant Lara’s father had wanted nothing to do with either of them. Almost five years later, the hurt had faded, but she couldn’t fathom how she’d been so wrong about him. She’d thought he’d been such a nice, responsible guy, but maybe it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her. Her own parents hadn’t.

Clayton turned the SUV onto Main Street, where nothing had changed. Mrs. Hild’s Cape Cod still crowded the corner lot, her prize roses climbing over the carved wooden sign denoting the Cloverville city limits. In the middle of the block was Mr. Carpenter’s hardware store, the windows ablaze with the reflection of the setting sun. They also passed the McClintock Insurance Agency, the same gold logo on the front door as the one embroidered on Clayton’s shirt. The three-story redbrick building that housed the agency was one of the biggest on the block, taller and wider than the diner and pharmacy flanking it. A For Lease sign had been posted in the window of the first-floor office next to the insurance agency.

“Dr. Strover moved?” she asked.

“He retired,” Clayton said. “So I’m looking for a new tenant.”

Clayton’s dad had owned the building, and now it was Clayton’s responsibility—like so many others he’d taken on at twenty-two years of age. The same age Abby had been when she became a mother.

“I was hoping Josh would put his practice there, but his partner thought they needed more space. They’re putting up a new building on the west side of Cloverville, closer to Grand Rapids and the hospitals.”

“Josh?” she asked, not following his conversation, probably because she was so surprised he was making the effort to talk to her. Eight years ago, except for one night, he’d never bothered to say much of anything to her other than an occasional curt, “Don’t you have a home?”

She hadn’t then. Or now. She glanced into the backseat where Lara still slept peacefully, her curls tangled around her face. Love filled Abby’s heart. Until she’d had her baby, she’d never known how much love one could feel.

“Dr. Josh Towers is the man Molly’s marrying tomorrow. I thought you and my sister kept in close contact,” he said with a hint of his old disapproval. As if he didn’t understand why Molly would want to remain in contact with her. “You don’t know the name of her fiancé?”

“Molly and I talk every day either by phone or e-mail.” And she’d hardly mentioned her fiancé. Of course, Molly had only just gotten engaged—to a man she obviously didn’t love. Not that Abby knew anything about love except what she felt for her daughter. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“What?”

“The wedding. They hardly know each other.”

The muscles in his arm rippled as he gripped the steering wheel. “Since her first year of college, Molly has worked summers at the hospital where he’s on staff. She’s known him a long time.”

“No, she hasn’t. They’ve only just started dating.” Frustration churned Abby’s stomach. She’d tried to talk to Molly, tried to convince her to wait before she leaped into something as serious as marriage. Molly wasn’t the type to act impetuously—she’d always been as responsible as her older brother. “I thought you, of all people, would be against this shotgun wedding.”

“It’s hardly that.”

“You’ve always been so practical, so…”

“Boring?” he finished for her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He knew how she’d seen him in the past, and he could only imagine what she thought of him now since she’d lived in big cities and he’d stayed here. In Cloverville. Not that he cared what she thought of him. His concern was for Molly. Abby couldn’t be right about the wedding. Molly was too smart, too responsible to act as impulsively as Abby always had.

“Judgmental,” she answered.

The comment stung, even though it shouldn’t have, even though he knew she was only trying to get a rise out of him, just as she always had. No matter how hard he’d tried, she’d made it impossible for him to ignore her.

“I’m judgmental? Really?” he challenged her, then pointed out, “I haven’t said anything about…” He lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, which reflected back the image of her daughter. Damn, she was a cute kid, just like her mother had been.

A breath hissed out of her with an offended whisper. “Clayton!”

He didn’t care that she was a single mother. Despite her accusation, he didn’t judge anyone. But he really wanted to know why she was a single mother. Had she decided to raise her daughter alone or hadn’t she had a choice? Had she turned down the father’s offer of marriage, turned off the idea from the poor example her parents had set for her? Or had the guy taken off on her? “Why aren’t you married, Abby?”

She snorted. “I should have known you were just acting back at the airport, when you were being nice to Lara. You’re still a judgmental jerk.”

Instead of anger, amusement coursed through him. She remained a combination of sass and attitude. He could see her turning down marriage, determined to maintain her independence. He persisted. “Why aren’t you married?”

“None of your damned business, Clayton.”

She was right. Her life was none of his business, but he wanted to know about Lara’s father. He could imagine the kind of guys Abby dated: wild, irresponsible, exciting. His guts twisted into knots at the thought of Abby in some other guy’s arms, in some other guy’s bed, naked…

He tapped the brakes on his thoughts and the SUV slowed almost to a stop at the entrance to Cloverville Park. “Look there, Abby. Not everything’s changed. They still haven’t managed to fix the colonel.”

Her head turned to where the bronze statue of the town founder, Civil War hero Colonel Clover, stood among the ornamental trees and flowers. His hat was dented, his left ear mangled, his neck at an odd angle with a crude welding job only just holding his head in place, as well as his arms and legs. Her breath hissed out again. “Can’t the damn town hire someone to fix him properly? It’s been eight years.”

Eight years since she’d been expelled from high school for vandalizing the town park by plowing her car across it and knocking over Colonel Clover. She’d been lucky to come out of the crash without even a scratch. His younger sister, Colleen, who’d been in the car, too, had been hurt however. Her face had been cut by the broken windshield and her ribs bruised.

The harsh words he’d said to Abby that night rolled through his mind. “Troublemaker” had been the nicest thing he’d called her. God, if Colleen had been hurt any worse…With his father dying, his family hadn’t been able to handle any more tragedy.

He glanced to the backseat, to the little girl who was dependent on Abby alone. Poor kid. That was what his father had called Abby, when he’d told Clayton to go easy on her, to give her a chance since she was a remarkable young lady. That was one of the last things his father had ever said to him, because he’d died just a few days later.

Clayton blinked. He should have listened to his dad and been easier on her then. She’d only been a kid. Now, sitting next to him, staring wide-eyed at the park, she didn’t look a lot older despite the eight years that had passed and motherhood.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” Abby said, her voice soft. “You can’t come home again.”

When she turned to him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears, his guts twisted with regret over how she’d left town, and with anxiety over her return. Although Abby Hamilton had grown up, he had no doubt she would still cause trouble.

For him.

Chapter Two

Abby leaned into the backseat, brushing the tangle of damp curls from Lara’s sleeping face before unclasping her safety belt. Strong hands gripped Abby’s waist, the heat of his palms burning through the thin cotton of her tank top. Her heart jumped. Startled, she lifted her head, smacking it against the roof as he gently tugged her out of the doorway.

“I’ll get her,” Clayton said, pushing Abby aside.

Some things never changed. She brushed a hand over her scalp, checking for a bump as she glared at him. But he’d already turned away to lift out her daughter, settling her sleeping head against his broad shoulder. Abby’s heart shifted again at how right Clayton looked with a child in his arms. Her child.

“You’re going to hurt yourself lifting her. She’s nearly as big as you are,” he murmured, staring over Lara’s head at Abby. “You never grew.”

Maybe not physically. But emotionally she had. She knew better than to ever expect a man such as Clayton to be interested in her. She didn’t attract the responsible kind. She only attracted the ones who wanted to use her, not love her. But then, maybe the men weren’t the problem. If her parents were any indication, she was simply unlovable.

“Abby!” a voice squealed as a group of women rushed off the wide front porch of the Kellys’ Victorian. The yellow structure, with its brightly painted teal-and-purple trim, resembled the gingerbread houses the Kelly family baked for their customers every Christmas.

The trio of women enveloped Abby, their voices raised with excitement. She’d always had that effect on Brenna Kelly and Clayton’s two sisters. Molly and Colleen had been studious and mature beyond their years until Abby had arrived on the scene with her boundless energy and enthusiasm. While Clayton had worried about her influence on his siblings, his father had said they needed her to lift their spirits and show them how to have fun. Dad had even gone so far as to suggest that Clayton could benefit from her company, too. But Clayton didn’t need any more responsibilities.

Roused by the babble of voices, Lara opened her eyes, blinking her long, thick lashes before gazing blearily up at Clayton. He tensed, expecting a fearful outburst of tears. After all, he was a stranger, and the little girl had been shy back at the airport. But her rosebud lips formed themselves into a smile, and she settled against his shoulder with a contented sigh. His heart clenched, as if someone had just wrapped a small hand around it.

“If Mom gets a load of you like that, you’re in trouble,” Colleen teased, her brown eyes alight with mischief as she stepped back from the huddle around Abby and stared at him.

“For what?” Abby asked, her brow puckered in confusion as her attention shifted back to Clayton and her daughter.

“For hogging her baby,” Molly said, reaching out to run her fingers gently over Lara’s head. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.

Colleen’s mouth lifted in a wide smile. “Mom’s been nagging Clayton for grandchildren. If she sees him looking so natural with a child in his arms…”

“I like kids,” Clayton assured the women and the little girl who stared up at him again, her blue eyes wide with interest in the conversation. “Other people’s kids.”

“You obviously haven’t met Josh’s twins yet,” Colleen murmured with a weary sigh.

“They’re good boys,” Brenna said, the redhead jumping to the defense of the groom’s children while Molly remained silent, her face pale and unreadable.

Was Abby right? Had Molly accepted this proposal too soon? Clayton needed to get his sister alone for a serious conversation. Since she’d come home from med school just two short weeks ago, he hadn’t had many opportunities to talk to her. At the time he’d thought she was simply busy with wedding plans, but now he suspected Molly might have been avoiding him.

She turned, leading the way across the lawn and back toward the front porch. “We’ve been holding dinner for you,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed the wide steps.

“I’m sorry we missed the rehearsal,” Abby apologized to her friends. “I should have taken an earlier flight.”

“You couldn’t predict the delays at O’Hare,” Brenna insisted.

Abby laughed, the musical tinkle raising the hairs on Clayton’s arms. “This isn’t my first trip,” she said, refusing to relinquish responsibility. “I should have factored in the possibilities of technical difficulties.”

The old man had spoken the truth at the airport. Regret, over misjudging her, knotted Clayton’s stomach. She hadn’t caused problems on purpose. This time.

“Is the rest of the wedding party here?” Abby asked.

Molly shook her head, tumbling her brown curls around her shoulders. “Eric…left me a voice mail. He can’t come.”

“Tonight?” Abby sighed. “Well, I’ll get to talk to him tomorrow. We can catch up then.”

“He’s not coming tomorrow, either,” Molly said, her voice ragged with emotion.

“Is he okay?” Clayton asked, lost in the conversation as significant looks passed between the four women. He’d never had friends as close as they were. Their mastery of silent communication with mere glances had always frustrated him. He’d felt left out. Despite being only a few years older than most of them, he didn’t fit in. He’d never known how to have fun the way they did.

“Eric’s okay,” Brenna answered. “Can you fill in for him tomorrow and walk Abby down the aisle?”

Abby’s breath caught at the idea of walking down an aisle with Clayton. She shook her head, puzzled by the flash of panic she’d felt. She didn’t intend to marry anyone, ever, and risk a situation like the one her parents had known. “That isn’t necessary.”

She hoped there wouldn’t even be a wedding. From the tight expression leeching the color from Molly’s beautiful face, Abby knew she was right—that going through with this wedding would be the only mistake Molly McClintock had ever made. Not counting the tattoo, of course, but Abby had talked her into that. This mistake Abby needed to talk her out of.

“You can’t walk down the aisle by yourself, when everyone else will have a partner,” Brenna insisted. “It wouldn’t look right.”

Abby was used to not “looking” right. She reminded them, “Clayton has another, more important responsibility. He’s giving away the bride.”

Judging by the gleam in his dark eyes, she suspected he couldn’t wait to carry out that particular role. Maybe he thought Molly’s marriage would lessen the family pressure on him to reproduce.

Disappointment tugged at her heart. She’d thought Clayton one of the few selfless people she knew, but she shouldn’t be surprised that she’d misjudged a man. She’d done the same with Lara’s father, thinking him a man she could trust, and being proven wrong.

With a steady job and a serious demeanor, he’d reminded her of Clayton. Unlike the oldest McClintock sibling, Jeff had refused to take on any responsibility. He’d even refused to believe that Lara was his and that the contraceptive had failed. But Abby wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t sleep around, and she’d actually thought she’d loved him until he let her down—like everyone else. She didn’t know which of them was the bigger fool—Jeff for failing her and Lara, or Abby for trusting him in the first place.

“Clayton can walk down the aisle with you and give away the bride,” Mrs. McClintock said, as if she’d been listening all along, rather than jumping into the conversation as the group joined her in the kitchen of the Kelly house.

“So how was your trip, honey?” she asked Abby, setting down a bowl of salad and enveloping her in a hug.

Abby stretched her arms around Mrs. McClintock’s back, holding tight to the older woman’s softness and warmth. The mingled scents of vanilla and cinnamon clung to the woman’s shoulder-length brown hair. She probably dyed it now, as she had not even a strand of gray, and this woman had earned more gray hairs than anyone Abby knew. She’d survived the loss of her beloved husband and the raising of four headstrong children. Abby’s heart stretched with admiration and love for the woman she’d always wished had been her mother, too.

Nearly choked with emotion, Abby managed to say, “The flight was fine.”

And the flight, although late, had been fine. The ride to Cloverville, thanks to Clayton, had not. At least he’d answered the question she’d carried with her for the past eight years. He would never let her forget about the screwed-up girl she’d once been. In his eyes, at least, she would always be the legendary troublemaker from Cloverville.

Mrs. McClintock released Abby, to reach for Lara and take the drowsy child from Clayton’s arms. “Oh, she’s gotten so big since the last time I was in Chicago. She looks more and more like you every time I see her.”

Every time she saw her. Molly wasn’t the only family member Clayton intended to get alone for a conversation. Why had his mother never told him about Abby’s daughter?

More importantly, why did his arms feel so empty right now without Lara? He drew in a deep breath, catching a whiff of grilling beef through the open patio doors. Mr. Kelly was as renowned for his barbecuing as his baking, but Clayton’s hunger barely stirred. Abby Hamilton had been back in town for little more than an hour and already he’d lost his appetite.

He glanced over at her, grudgingly appreciative of how her curves filled out the white tank top and tight jeans. Her friends were all in casual dresses because of the rehearsal, but here she was, still dressed like a teenager. A damned sexy one, he had to acknowledge. Apparently he’d only lost his appetite for food.

But more than her body drew his interest. Her face softened with affection as she gazed at his mom and her daughter. Her expression of love touched something deep in his chest, bringing about another kind of longing—one he had no business feeling.

“Clayton, where’s Erin?” his mother asked.

“Erin?” he repeated, distracted.

“She means Ellen,” Colleen said. Even outside the agency, she sometimes acted like her brother’s office manager. “Weren’t you bringing her tonight?”

“She couldn’t make it.”

“A lot of people couldn’t make it tonight,” Brenna noted, as she picked up tongs to finish tossing the salad greens. The maid of honor’s voice deepened with frustration when she added, “Even the best man didn’t show up. It’s going to be pure chaos tomorrow.”

Despite her friend’s concern, Abby smiled. They had always considered Brenna the mother of the group. She liked being in control almost as much as Clayton did, which was why she’d already taken over and expanded her parents’ bakery. Abby had occasionally wondered why Clayton had never gotten together with the voluptuous redhead, since they had so much in common. But he’d always treated Brenna simply as if she were one of his sisters. Maybe it was because she shared the same Irish and Italian heritage the McClintocks had. Or maybe it was because Clayton had approved of Brenna, whereas he’d never approved of Abby.

Eight years had passed, and she didn’t seek his approval anymore—his or anyone else’s in Cloverville. She’d only come back for Molly’s wedding. The bride-to-be slid her arm around Abby’s waist. “So you’re not the only one who won’t know what she’s doing tomorrow,” Molly teased.

Abby bit her tongue, holding back her comments about Molly not knowing what she was doing, either. Along with learning how to manage her ADD, she’d acquired some tact over the years. If only she could remember those lessons around Clayton….

But he distracted her. “I’m going to join the guys outside,” he said as he stepped through the open doorway, obviously anxious to escape her presence.

Lara, however, wasn’t eager to let him go. She wriggled out of Mrs. McClintock’s arms. “Can I go, too, Mommy?” she asked. When Abby reluctantly offered a nod, the child ran out after him, reaching for Clayton’s hand as two boys about her age ran up to them. They were dark-haired, blue-eyed miniatures of the man who stood beside Mr. Kelly at the grill. But Lara was obviously not charmed by their cuteness, and she clung to Clayton until the twins ran off across the backyard.

“Clayton has a fan,” his mother said, grinning as she picked up the salad bowl and joined the others on the patio, leaving Molly, Brenna, Colleen and Abby alone in the kitchen.

A wide smile spread across Colleen’s face. “This is so great. We’re all here together again.”

“Except for one of us.” Molly reminded her younger sister of Eric’s absence.

Abby had a pretty good idea about why Eric had backed out of being a groomsman. She imagined he would still probably rather be Molly’s groom. Apparently a lot of things hadn’t changed.

“It’s so great to have you home, Abby,” Colleen exclaimed, throwing her arms around Abby’s neck.

Despite her concern over the impending marriage, Abby’s heart swelled with happiness. She patted Colleen’s back. “Hey, it’s not like you guys haven’t seen me in years. You’ve visited me. Not often enough,” she playfully observed, “but at least you’ve visited.”

“It’s not the same as having you here,” Colleen insisted. “Now that you’ve given up your place in Chicago, you need to move back to Cloverville. You can open the third branch of Temps to Go here.”

The request wasn’t exactly new. Abby had fielded it repeatedly in phone calls, letters and e-mails. She’d never been able to make Colleen understand that, to her, Cloverville could never be home. So instead of arguing, she changed the subject. “Brenna, did you hire any strippers for tonight?”

Colleen’s thin body shook with laughter. With her graceful build and gorgeous face, the girl could have been a supermodel rather than an office manager. But like her big brother, she might have assumed her career out of a sense of obligation. Or guilt—as Abby well knew.

Regret dimmed Abby’s happiness as she considered the part she’d played in Colleen’s guilt. Maybe Clayton was right. Maybe she had caused too much trouble in the McClintock household.

“Strippers?” Colleen shook her head. “You haven’t met the groom yet. No stripper could measure up to him.”

“We’re not having strippers,” Brenna insisted, her expression strained. Not that she would disapprove of strippers—Brenna Kelly was no prude. Was she stressed with her responsibilities as maid of honor? From the long-distance conversations she’d had over the past few weeks, Abby suspected Brenna had more interest in planning the wedding than the bride had. And maybe more interest in the groom.

“It looks like dinner’s ready,” the redhead murmured as she stepped outside to join the others on the patio.

“Come on,” Colleen pleaded with her sister. “You can share Josh with us for one night. You’re going to have him for the rest of your life.”

What little color there had been in Molly’s face drained away, leaving her skin almost translucent.

“The thought of spending the rest of my life with one particular someone would give me the willies, too,” Abby admitted. Not that anyone would want her forever. Even her own parents hadn’t wanted her.

Molly shook her head. “No, it’s just that…”

“What?” Abby persisted, hoping Molly would finally admit to her doubts.

But the brunette laughed. “I haven’t even seen him naked yet.”

Colleen sighed. “What a waste. But at least Clayton will be happy you saved yourself for marriage.”

Abby suspected that her friend had waited to make love to Josh for a reason other than her big brother’s approval. Molly didn’t love her groom. And if she couldn’t sleep with him, she certainly couldn’t marry him.

MOLLY’S DARK EYES welled with tears, summoning every protective instinct Clayton possessed. What had Abby said to her? They’d only been alone together in the house for a few moments.

He asked his brother Rory to entertain Lara and went over to Molly. “Honey, are you okay?” he asked, using the same tone he had with Lara. His sister seemed as vulnerable and afraid as Abby’s daughter had when she’d met him at the airport. Yet Molly had always been the strongest of his three siblings.

What had Abby said to her? He turned his attention from his sister to the blond troublemaker, and although she never slowed her conversation with his mother and Mrs. Kelly, Abby met his stare and then closed one eye in an audacious wink.

Molly laughed, even as the tears shimmered on her lashes. “Nothing much has changed between the two of you,” she commented.

“What do you mean?” There had never been anything between the two of them but animosity.

“You can’t keep your eyes off each other.”

Clayton’s pulse quickened. Did Abby watch him in the way that he watched her? “I’m just making sure she’s not starting trouble again.”

“Isn’t that excuse getting old, Clayton?”

Maybe it was. But he wasn’t about to admit his attraction to Abby, not even to himself. Nothing could come of it. Abby hadn’t been able to wait to leave Cloverville, and there was no way she was staying now. And even if she did, he wasn’t interested.

“Look at you, Mol. You’re crying. She’s only been back a little while and she upset you.”

“These aren’t those kind of tears,” Molly insisted.

“You’re happy?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “I’m happy Abby’s back home, where she belongs. I hope she stays.”

Clayton’s stomach dropped. He hoped she didn’t. He didn’t know how long he could deny the attraction. “Are you happy about tomorrow?” he asked. “About getting married?”

Molly gestured, hand shaking, toward where the groom-to-be stood near the grill, a twin on each arm, like matching blue-eyed, dark-haired bookends. “He’s a great guy. Successful, handsome, generous and a wonderful father.”

But did she love him? Hell, what did Clayton know about love? Only that it could hurt so much he didn’t intend to learn any more about it than he already knew. He’d seen his mother’s devastation when his father died, and he didn’t intend to risk that kind of pain himself. It was better to feel nothing, he was certain.

“So you’re sure…?” he asked his sister. “You’re doing what you want to do?”

Even as she nodded, more tears pooled in her eyes. Her voice broke when she answered, “Yes.”

Clayton pulled her into a hug. “I’m honored to be giving you away tomorrow, but I wish…”

It didn’t matter what he wished. Nothing could bring back his father.

“I know,” Molly said, pressing her lips to Clayton’s cheek before pulling from his arms. “Me, too. But you’ll do, big brother. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us. For paying for my college and med school.”

“I didn’t,” he protested. “It’s really Dad’s…”

“It’s your money,” she corrected. “You’re the one working your butt off at the office. He’s been gone eight years, Clayton. It’s your office. Your agency. Your money. I can’t believe you even insisted on paying for the wedding. Josh wanted to pay.”

“Dad would have wanted…” He suppressed the emotion that was threatening to choke him. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“And Clayton always does the right thing,” she teased him.

What about her? Did she really feel getting married tomorrow was the right thing? “Molly…”

She kissed his cheek again, and one of her tears dropped onto his neck. “Thank you.”

He reached out, but she turned and ran back into the house. Before he could follow her, a soft hand slid over his forearm, pulling him up short.

His pulse didn’t jump, so it couldn’t be her. Instead of Abby, his mother tugged on his arm. “Come to the buffet and get some food, Clayton, before your brother eats it all. The way that kid eats, he must have a tapeworm.”

“Mom, I should check on Molly.”

“She’s okay,” she insisted. “All brides get emotional.”

He hoped that was all it was and that nothing else was going on with his sister. Of all his siblings, he’d worried the least about Molly. She’d always been so focused, so determined to achieve her goals. Ever since their father died, she’d wanted to be a doctor. Getting married was a little detour from finishing med school and her residency, but he had no doubt she would still achieve her goals.

Unless…

Abby had referred to the ceremony as a shotgun wedding. Could Molly be pregnant? Did she have to get married? He wouldn’t have thought so. The groom had been so traditional that he’d even asked Clayton for Molly’s hand in marriage. But nowadays that really didn’t mean anything. He allowed himself a selfish moment of satisfaction. Maybe Mom would soon have more than enough grandchildren to keep her happy and off his back.

“How come no one told me about Lara?” he asked her. The question had been burning in his mind since the airport.

His mother smiled her softening-the-blow smile. He’d seen it often over the years. “You tend to be judgmental, honey.”

First Abby. Now his own mother. Stung, he clenched his jaw. “I am not judgmental of people.”

“Oh, not people,” she agreed. “Just Abby. That’s why she made us promise not to tell you.”

So Abby had wanted to keep her daughter secret from him. Why? He’d never considered the fact that she might care about what he thought of her.

“Speaking of Abby,” his mother continued, “you need to drop her back at the house. Instead of a bachelorette party, the girls are having one of their infamous sleepovers at our house. Then we’ll all leave together for the church in the morning.”

He winced at the memory of those adolescent sleepovers. They hadn’t bothered him much when they were all younger, except for the incessant giggling that had kept him awake half the night. But he’d really hated it when they’d had them years later, on his weekends home from college. Abby had run around the house in skimpy boy shorts and a tank top. His wince turned into a groan that he smothered with a cough.

“I’ll switch her bags to your car,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Nonsense. That’s too much trouble.”

For whom?

“And Rory needs to spend the night at your place.”

“The best man was supposed to use my spare bedroom.” Despite all the recent construction, Cloverville still had no hotels or motels.

“He’s coming straight to the church in the morning, and so the groom doesn’t see the bride before the wedding, Josh and the boys are staying here at the Kellys’. You have room for Rory tonight.”

Room, maybe, but he wasn’t so sure he had the patience, especially not after seeing Abby again. He’d have to stay awake all night to guard his liquor cabinet. Clayton focused his gaze on Mr. Kelly’s cooler, beside which his curly-haired teenage brother stood—probably about ready to snitch a beer. Clayton had caught him with a bottle a few weeks ago, in the park, well after his curfew. The boy was trying to grow up too fast and too recklessly. Fortunately, the old man who’d seen Rory and his friends while walking his dog had called Clayton instead of the sheriff or their mother. That time, too, he’d had to leave his date in order to rescue Rory from himself.

It wouldn’t matter if both Molly and Colleen got married. He’d still have too much on his hands with Rory to consider getting seriously involved with anyone. But he wouldn’t change his mind about a relationship even if Rory suddenly became a choirboy.

Abby sauntered up next to Rory, whose face flushed red. Clayton’s gaze followed his brother’s to her derriere, straining the worn seams of her jeans as she leaned over the cooler, drew out a can and handed it to the boy. A cola.

Amusement teased his lips into a grin. His mother patted his cheek. “It’s great to see you smile, Clayton. You’re always so serious. Too serious. You need something…” Her gaze followed his to the giggling blonde teasing his brother. “Or someone to lighten you up.”

It didn’t matter how many grandchildren Molly gave her, he wasn’t likely to get his mother off his back. Ever. Because he wasn’t going to get married and start a family with anyone. And most especially not with Abby Hamilton.

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