Always the bridesmaid,

never a killer’s target...until now.

Back in his hometown for a wedding, Detective Conor Wildman reunites with his ex-girlfriend’s sister, Laura Karr, once the tomboy next door. Now Laura is a beautiful woman...and someone wants her dead. Conor is the man to protect her and catch the killer, but will one heated kiss jeopardize their precious friendship? Or will it prove that he can trust her with his wounded heart?

JULIE MILLER is an award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of breathtaking romantic suspense—with a National Readers’ Choice Award and a Daphne du Maurier Award, among other prizes. She has also earned an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. For a complete list of her books, monthly newsletter and more, go to juliemiller.org.

Also by Julie Miller

Rescued by the Marine

Beauty and the Badge

Takedown

KCPD Protector

Crossfire Christmas

Military Grade Mistletoe

Kansas City Cop

APB: Baby

Kansas City Countdown

Necessary Action

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Do-or-Die Bridesmaid

Julie Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09360-6

DO-OR-DIE BRIDESMAID

© 2019 Julie Miller

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Thank you to my readers who were so kind to help me

figure out Conor Wildman’s story. I needed a few

details on the fly, and you found them for me.

I appreciate you taking the time to find the answers

I needed from Protection Detail and getting back to me so quickly. You’re the best!

To Anu-Riikka Henriksson, Jeriann Fisher, Kathy

Brown, Kay Singletary, LaJuonna Sirk, Danielle

DePierre, Mary Birchwood Lawson, Lanita Idrus,

Diana Roman and April Fowler.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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

About the Publisher

Prologue
The honor of your presence is requested...

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Conor Wildman skimmed over the details of the wedding invitation. Embossed pink hearts and lilac ribbons adorned the paper and the little RSVP card. This had to be a joke. Only it wasn’t.

It took a lot of gall for his ex to invite him to her wedding.

It took even more gall for said ex to be marrying his former best friend.

But he wasn’t bitter. Conor snorted the hot coffee he was drinking up his nose and cursed. Yeah. That was about how good he felt at reading Joe and Lisa’s names linked together—like a hot, black brew scalding his sinuses.

He should have left yesterday’s mail sitting on the counter and come back to it after work this evening. Better yet, after a drink after work this evening. No. He should have dumped the pale pink envelope in the trash and then skipped straight to the drink after work at the Shamrock Bar where he and his new friends at KCPD often hung out after hours.

That was why there’d been no return address on the envelope—so he wouldn’t automatically trash it. If it wasn’t pre-coffee time in the morning, he might have thought to check the envelope for the Arlington, Virginia, postmark. But since he’d just come from the shower and poured himself his first cup, he’d been blindsided by the reminder of all he’d lost these past two years.

It didn’t matter that he logically understood why Lisa had dumped him—too many necessary lies, too many absent nights with his former job at WITSEC. Dumped was dumped. There was no logic that could ease the pain of being told he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t right enough to make a good husband to her.

It wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been enough to make someone stay.

He was no longer with the US Marshals service, no longer in Virginia, no longer brooding over the life that had been denied him. But a wedding invitation?

There was no one in his life who’d be sending him a Valentine this February. Had he hoped he’d picked up a secret admirer? That his mother had arranged for someone to send him a missive before her death eight months ago? She’d known the breast cancer was winning, that it had metastasized beyond any hope of saving her. She’d spent a lot of those last few weeks getting her affairs in order, trying to get his life shipshape, too, knowing she was the last of his family. Had Marie Wildman been in collusion with his ex’s mother? The two women had been friends for as long as Conor had been alive. Had his mom asked the Karr family to keep an eye on her only child? Make sure he was happy?

If so, what was the point of inviting him to a weekend wedding extravaganza back home? A torturous weekend trapped in awkward conversations with well-meaning friends and painful memories wasn’t his idea of fun. There was a reason he’d moved halfway across the country to take an assignment in Kansas City, Missouri. A reason why he’d left the Marshals Service to become a cop with the KCPD instead of moving back to Arlington after his assignment in KC had wrapped up.

Lisa Karr had rejected his ring and said he wasn’t the kind of man a woman who wanted a normal life should marry. Hell, she’d quoted some statistic about how a man with his temperament and job skills would be divorced in a couple of years if they’d gone through with their engagement. He didn’t think either Lisa or Joe Gerhart was the rub-our-noses-in-Conor’s-pain kind of cruel. But he could see them doing a favor for his mom, feeling sorry for him. Poor Conor. We didn’t mean to hurt you. We know it’s been a tough year. We want you to know we will always care about you.

It didn’t matter that Lisa had officially broken up with him before she’d started dating Joe. It still felt like his friend had stolen his girl. Knowing the two had kept the relationship quiet while he’d been dealing with his mom—seeing them together for the first time at Marie’s funeral—felt like Lisa had cheated on him.

It made no sense, but that was what he felt. He’d been one raw emotion, keeping it together for so long that he wasn’t sure he knew what he felt anymore. Except pissed that Lisa and Joe had invited him to their wedding. In one week. Like he was a problem they needed to fix.

Conor considered taking another hit on the hot liquid caffeine he lived on. But he wasn’t that much of a masochist. He carefully set the mug down on the kitchen counter and stepped away to finish dressing.

Striding into the bedroom, he dropped the towel cinched around his lean hips and pulled on his shorts and slacks. The white shirt with the button-down collar came next. He crossed to the mirror over the dresser and combed his short, wheat-blond hair into place before looping a tie around his neck. He stopped mid-Windsor knot and eyed the brown-and-navy stripes before pulling it off and tossing it onto the bed.

Lisa had given him that tie.

He’d settle for the solid blue tie with the tiny food stain on it. That would have driven her nuts. She’d fuss over his incompetence when it came to dressing himself before catching on that it was just a ploy to get her to put her hands on him. Then they’d laugh. And there would undoubtedly be a kiss.

Conor tugged that tie off, too. Nope. Better opt for the completely neutral, no-history-involved tie he’d picked up at a Christmas party.

He’d once been amused by Lisa’s tendencies to have the details of her life arranged so that there were no surprises. His inability to guarantee her that home-for-dinner-every-night predictability was one of the reasons she’d broken off their engagement. The possibility that he might not come home at all one day because of the inherent dangers of working in law enforcement had sealed the coffin on their future together.

But he couldn’t give up his job—couldn’t surrender the gun and the badge and the crazy hours he’d once worked as a US marshal, tracking down fugitives and protecting witnesses. He wouldn’t give up the man he chose to become after the father who hadn’t wanted him or his mother had abandoned them. He couldn’t give up who he was. Not even for the girl he’d loved since college. His promise that she would always come first in his heart hadn’t been good enough for her. She needed a sense of security that his gun and badge couldn’t provide.

Ironically, now that she was no longer a part of his life, he’d resigned from the Marshal Service. His last case guarding a witness relocated to Kansas City had made him question too many of his supervisor’s decisions. If his boss didn’t have his back, and wouldn’t put the woman he’d been protecting first, then the oath he’d taken—Justice, Integrity, Service—meant nothing. Conor had lost too much for his work and his life not to mean anything.

He thought Lisa had understood that. That she accepted his job was a big part of who he was as a man. But maybe she’d been in love with a version of him he just couldn’t be.

He understood Joe and Lisa’s need to mend fences and make the past right, so they could move on with their future—to their new life. But why was their happiness his problem? He slipped his holster and badge onto his belt, grabbed his suit jacket and headed back to the kitchen.

Conor finished off his tepid coffee in one long draft. He shrugged into his jacket and picked up the wedding invitation to toss it into the trash.

That was when the note that had been tucked inside fell out and drifted to the tile floor. Conor’s shoulders lifted with a wary sigh before he stooped down to retrieve it.

He unfolded the handwritten note—with messages from both Joe and Lisa.

Con—If I was marrying anyone else but Lisa, you’d be standing by my side as best man. I let this go because I know you’ve been dealing with your mom this year. But it’s killing me that you aren’t a part of our lives anymore. Hell, Lisa talks about how much she misses the three of us hanging out the way we did in college so much that I’m getting a complex. I finally told her to send you an invitation. Bail me out, bro. Lisa needs to see you’re okay with her own eyes. Come to the wedding. Do it for yourself, too, and show everyone here that you’re okay.

—Joe.

He flipped over the paper to Lisa’s flowery handwriting. What was this? An intervention to help him get over how sucky they thought his life had become?

Dearest Con—I know things ended badly between us. Deep down in your heart, you know I couldn’t make you happy in the long run, nor you me. But we were friends long before we were something more. We were practically family. Marie and Mom were like sisters. Your mom would want you to be happy, not stewing in anger or grief or whatever it is that is keeping you away from home.

If you don’t care about me or Joe, then think of your mother. We all miss her. Mom most of all. Seeing you here, representing Marie, would make her so happy.

You may think there’s no one in your life who worries about your well-being. But we do.

I hope we can be friends again. I’d love to have a big brother like you in my life. Please come. We miss you.

Yours truly,

Lisa.

Big brother? He hadn’t felt brotherly toward Lisa since she’d sprouted breasts in middle school.

Brotherly was what he felt toward Lisa’s tomboy little sister, Laura. The squirt always seemed to be around when he’d come over to hang out with Lisa, and she’d even tagged along on a couple of dates in college. He’d taught her to swing a softball bat and spit watermelon seeds from the tree house that hovered over both their backyards. Laura had freckles and braces and snorted through her nose when she laughed. Lisa was feminine right down to her painted pinkie toes. Not in any universe could he equate brotherly with his feelings for Lisa.

But his heart hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.

He wasn’t sure he could handle the friendship she wanted. The pain of her rejection compounded by his mother’s death, the guilt of not seeing how unhappy she’d been with him, wouldn’t allow friendship to flourish again. But maybe he could give Lisa one day.

Show everyone here that you’re okay.

“You played me like a fine violin, Joseph.” Shaking his head, Conor scooped the invitation up and stuffed it into his pocket. His decision was made.

Time for a road trip to Virginia.

Chapter One

The Methodist church was packed with enough guests that Conor could easily slide into the last pew without drawing attention to his arrival.

He’d convinced himself that taking a few vacation days and driving to Arlington for Joe and Lisa’s wedding was a necessary thing. It was a matter of pride to show them that he wasn’t so grief-stricken about his mother’s death or wounded by Lisa that he was too weak or vulnerable to wish them well.

So, here he was, in the flesh, back at the church where services for his mother had been held, the same church the Wildmans and the Karrs had attended growing up. Detective Conor Wildman was doing just fine on his own, thank you very much.

But he wasn’t going to make a spectacle of himself. He might be proving that he was a gracious loser, that he had made the right choice to move on, but those emotional scars were still fresh.

One of the hazards of standing six foot three, though, was that blending in wasn’t always an option. When Joe walked in from the waiting room beside the altar with his best man and a groomsman—one a fraternity brother he recognized from college, the other probably an accountant friend from work—he adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses on his nose and looked again, letting Conor know he’d been spotted. Joe beamed at seeing Conor in the back row near the exit. Conor offered his former college roomie a thumbs-up and a wry grin.

But when Joe took a couple of steps to come down the aisle toward him, Conor shook his head and pointed to the back of the church, reminding Joe of his priorities as the organ music finished with a dramatic flourish. The best man pulled Joe back into place, rubbing Joe’s shoulders and teasing him about putting the kiss-the-bride stuff ahead of the “I dos,” which sent laughter through the pews like a wave.

Conor didn’t laugh. The organist began playing the overture to the traditional processional. But he wasn’t ignoring the joke or appreciating the music so much as he was distracted by the sudden shuffle of commotion in the narthex just outside the sanctuary’s open doors. From his vantage point he could turn and see what the fuss was about while the congregation buzzed with chatter, waiting for the grand entrance of the bridal party.

“Put down your cell phone.” That terse whisper would be Lisa. Something wasn’t going according to her no-doubt meticulous plan for the day. Conor’s chest expanded with a steadying breath at hearing her voice again. He knew all her tones and what they represented. That one was her nervous-that-everything-is-about-to-fall-apart-but-I’ll-cover-my-fear-by-sniping-at-someone-else tone. “If she chooses not to be here to oversee the guest book, then...why isn’t Chloe here?”

“I don’t know. She isn’t answering. And no one’s seen her here at the church, either.” Since Conor didn’t immediately recognize the second woman’s voice, he tilted his head to get a glimpse of pink tulle curving over a generous flare of hips. Tulle and satin gave way to pink lace clinging to some very nice breasts that rose and fell with a huffy sigh. But bangs of short brown hair with caramel highlights and a netted glittery pink feathered headpiece pinned above her ear obscured the woman’s face. “I’d like to know where my friend is, too. Do you think Isaac knows?”

“Don’t go out there and ask him,” Lisa chided. “He’s already at the altar with Joe.” All he could glimpse of her was the hem of her lacy white gown as she paced beyond his line of sight. “I don’t care if she’s leaving me in the lurch. I care about you being the first one down the aisle.”

“Relax, dear. Aunt Sandra handled the guest book just fine.” Conor smiled as a familiar face joined the woman in the pink bridesmaid dress. Lisa’s petite mother and his own mom’s best friend, Leslie Karr. “Please, sweetie. It’s time. We can’t start the ceremony without you.”

Sweetie meant one of Lisa’s sisters. And since her older sister was as tall as Lisa, that meant the frilly pink bombshell was her younger sister, Laura. Um, bombshell? Conor remembered braces and blue jeans and tennis shoes. He never would have ogled Laura the way he’d been assessing her figure a few seconds earlier, and, in fact, would have gone all big brother on any guy who did let his eyes linger on her curves for that long. She was just a kid. Well, the Laura he knew had been like a kid sister to him.

But the attitude was familiar.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Laura protested. “You told me to find Chloe, and now I’m concerned because I can’t.”

A pregnant belly draped with more pink satin and tulle moved into the picture, blocking his view of Laura and her mother. Linda Karr-Colfax moaned and rubbed at the small of her back. A similar clip of feathers dangled from her upswept hair. “Mom? Ty was playing with my hair. Is this thing still in okay?”

“I thought we checked everything before leaving the dressing room,” Lisa scolded, while her mother secured the gaudy thing in Linda’s hair. “And do not have your baby today.”

Linda chuckled at her middle sister’s worry. “Take a deep breath, Lisa. They’re Braxton Hicks contractions. I’ve had them with all three babies. And neither of the boys came early.” She muttered something slightly less reassuring when a little boy in a black tuxedo somersaulted into the picture. Linda’s attorney husband followed with a sleeping toddler on his shoulder and pulled the boy to his feet. Linda brushed the dust off the tiny tux’s shoulders. “You only have to wear this for a little while, Timmy. Just until we take the pictures after the wedding. Where is your pillow with the rings tied to it?”

“Has he lost it?” Lisa’s long dress swirled into the tableau, but again his anticipation at seeing the beauty he’d loved was thwarted by the angle of the doorway.

Laura knelt in front of her nephew to hand him the embroidered white pillow. “Not lost. Here.” The little boy chortled with delight. Now that he had a clear view of that part of the lobby, Conor saw that there was a toy truck tied to the pillow, too. “You hold tight to that, and you won’t lose that pillow again, will you.”

Appeasing the youngster in the face of all the tension happening out there made Conor smile, too. “Nice move, Squirt,” he murmured under his breath, automatically thinking of Laura by the nickname he’d given her growing up.

But her smile faded a split second before she looked down at her phone and pushed to her feet.

More than noticing that she’d snipped off her long pigtails for a short, angular cut that hugged her jawline and played up the waves in her highlighted hair, and had traded her braces for a sweet, mischievous smile, he registered the frown lines that deepened beside her green-gold eyes. Baby Sister was really worried about something.

She texted something in response to the message she’d received.

“Laura! Phone!” Lisa pleaded.

“Sorry.” Laura turned it off and slid it beneath the lace of her gown to tuck it inside the sweetheart neckline.

“Seriously? You’ll ruin the look of the dress with that thing sticking out of your cleavage.”

“Like I don’t look like a piece of cotton candy, anyway.”

“Mother!”

Leslie Karr had handled bigger spats than this with her patient tone and knowing smile. “Laura, sweetie, let me put your phone in my purse.” With another lift of her bare shoulders, Laura did as her mother asked. After tucking the phone into her clutch purse, Leslie cupped her youngest daughter’s cheek. “You look beautiful today.”

Then Leslie turned, gently touching Linda’s belly as she smiled up at her oldest daughter. “You look beautiful.”

When she reached for Lisa, stepping out of Conor’s line of sight to hug her middle daughter, his breath hitched with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety at the thought of glimpsing Lisa again. But unless he leaned out into the aisle, making his presence more than obvious, he’d have to wait like every other guest to put eyes on the bride.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful. Joe is the luckiest of men. Take a deep breath.” Conor had always admired how Leslie had kept her three daughters in line. Such different personalities. Different activities all through school. Different emotional and parental needs. A little diplomacy, a little bargaining, a little bit of cajoling. But then she barked an order, and all three women snapped to attention, falling into line behind the young ring bearer. “Now. Everyone smile. Ron? Take your place. Here we go.”

Conor turned away from the scene in the lobby and finally found a reason to chuckle. Leslie Karr had a little bit of five-star general in her, too. He recognized that tone from his own mother’s bag of tricks when it came to raising him. His mom and Leslie had been such close friends—they’d probably traded parenting secrets.

Leslie walked down the aisle on the arm of an usher, followed by Tim Colfax and his son, the ring-bearer making vroom-vroom sounds as he carried the pillow by the truck.

Then he saw Laura. The moment she stepped into the sanctuary, their eyes met. Her mouth rounded with a startled O of surprise and he winked. The blush on her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue and her megawatt smile lit up the church. Yeah. The tomboy of the family had sure grown up. She made cute work on her compact, curvy frame. She fluttered her fingers in a friendly wave before hurrying over.

“Hi.” Those same fingers curled around his neck and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hey, Squirt.”

Just as quickly as she’d kissed his cheek, she stepped away and fell back into line. She made a face and tapped her cheek, indicating he check his own face, before heading slowly toward the altar again.

Conor dutifully pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the mark she’d left, leaving a smear of rosy pink lipstick on the white cotton. He was glad someone here could elicit a genuine smile from him. He folded the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket, letting his gaze follow Laura down the aisle.

Her cotton candy dress swirled around her calves, drawing his eyes down to slim ankles and strappy high-heels she wouldn’t have been caught dead in back when she’d been in middle school, hitching a ride with him to school activities before she could drive. Conor leaned back in the pew to do a little bit of math. Those memories had been from a decade ago. Laura had to be about twenty-five now, five years younger than him. She’d been at college when his breakup with Lisa had happened, and he’d moved away. He recalled now that she’d sent flowers and a heartfelt condolence letter to his mother’s funeral, but she hadn’t attended because something with work had kept her out of town. He’d have remembered the swing of those hips and that wire-free smile if he’d seen Laura recently. All grown up. Sharing little resemblance to her taller, willowy sisters beyond the changeable hazel color of her eyes.

He traded a smile with Linda when she entered the church. He pointed to her belly and whispered congratulations. Then the music changed and everyone in the congregation stood.

Conor buttoned his jacket and held his breath, waiting for that gut-check of recognition when he saw Lisa on the arm of her father. They paused for a moment at the back of the church. She was an elegant vision of sparkles and lace in her figure-hugging white gown. Yes, she was beautiful. But seeing her gaze seeking out Joe at the front of the church, her taut expression relaxing into a genuine smile, did more to bring closure to their relationship than her returning his ring ever had.

Hell. She didn’t love him. Not anymore. Certainly not the way he’d loved her.

He must have been scowling at the thought because when their gazes finally met, Lisa hesitated. She mouthed, “Are you okay? We’ll talk later.”

She was that worried about him? He wasn’t so hard up that he wanted a woman to settle for him just so he wouldn’t be alone in the world. If Lisa wanted Joe, she should be with Joe. He was man enough to accept that. Conor smiled before he doffed her a two-fingered salute and waved her on down the aisle to the man she loved.

And then she walked away from him. Again.

Where was the knife to the heart he’d been expecting? The fires of jealousy burning through his veins? He’d been so certain he needed to come here to save his pride, to prove to everyone in his old life he could be happy and successful without their interference, that the confusion he felt now was a little unnerving. As the guests sat and the ceremony started, Conor admitted he was melancholy that their long history had been tossed aside, his planned future altered.

But he wasn’t angry.

His mother’s illness and truly accepting that he and Lisa were never going to be left him feeling...empty.

Great. Understanding was a humbling thing. He hadn’t needed to prove anything to anybody but himself by coming here today.

But now that he’d admitted the truth, skipping out the back of the church was hardly an option, unless he wanted to start some real gossip or face more heartfelt letters of concern for his well-being. Just like a stakeout assignment, he was here for the duration of the ceremony and reception.

But he had a bad feeling that today was going to be a lot longer and more stressful than any stakeout.

* * *

“ARE YOU TALLER?” Conor smiled at the warm greeting and wound his long arms around tiny Leslie Karr, treasuring the maternal hug at his waist. “Conor Wildman, I think you’re taller. I’m not shrinking, am I?” Keeping one arm linked around his waist, Leslie turned to her husband beside her in the reception line. “Ron, am I shrinking?”

“No, dear. You’re as petite and perfect as always.” Ron Karr seemed to be taking the demands of the day in his familiarly patient stride. Probably a life skill learned from raising three daughters. He extended his hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Conor. It’s good to see you again, under happier circumstances.”

“Yes, sir.” Conor shook hands with the father of the bride. “Congratulations, Ron. How are you two holding up today?”

“Fine.” His forehead wrinkled with concern. “We should be asking you that question, though.”

Leslie patted Conor’s stomach, tsk-tsking between her teeth. “You’re thinner, though. Are you eating well? Taking care of yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s fit, Les, not skinny.” Ron patted the cummerbund of his tuxedo. “I’m the one you need to be fattening up.” At six feet, Ron Karr towered over his wife, but he still had to look up to meet Conor’s gaze. “She’s got me on some crazy diet where I eat weeds and straw five nights a week. She hasn’t baked me a pie in six months. Trust me, once it’s cut, I am diving into that wedding cake.”

“Oh, stop,” Leslie chided over the men’s laughter. “The doctor said we both needed to cut down on sugar and red meat.” She tilted her chin back up to Conor. “I promised your mother I’d keep an eye on you. Of course, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that with you being a million miles away.”

Conor grinned at the exaggeration. “It’s only eleven hundred miles.”

Leslie frowned. “Is it really that far?”

“A couple days’ drive. Or one really long one.”

“You must be exhausted.”

He hugged her shoulders, silently reassuring her that he’d passed his KCPD physical with flying colors, and that she didn’t need to honor the mom code of perennial worry. Not on his behalf. “I got in yesterday. I’m staying at Mom’s house. There are still a few things to go through there, some repairs I need to line up before I put her house on the market.”

Leslie’s sigh was audible. “You’re selling Marie’s house? You’re not coming back? Ever?”

Come back to what? Constant reminders of all he had lost here in Arlington? His old boss was here. Lisa. Memories of his mother. Even the ancient scars from his father. Still, Leslie’s stricken expression reminded him of those last days with his mother in the hospital. One of Marie Wildman’s regrets was that she’d never see her grandchildren.

“Conor, you will have children? You’ll have a family?”

He’d gently squeezed her frail hand and promised, telling her whatever she needed to hear to ease her worries and keep any last bit of strength she had for herself. Back then he’d been gutted by Lisa’s rejection. All he had left was the precious life slipping away in front of him. “I will, Mom. I promise. One day, I will.”

“Don’t wait forever.” Marie’s hand had trembled in his. “Life isn’t always what you expect it to be. It’s been just you and me for a long time. And now I’m leaving you all alone. I wish I could be at your wedding. I wish I could see my grandchildren...”

“Mom—”

“I don’t regret a moment. I’ve been happy. I’ve lived a wonderful, fulfilling life. I want the same for you.” Even though her energy was flagging, there was a smile on her gaunt face. “I’ve always been so proud of you. My brave son risking his life for others. I don’t want you to mourn me forever. You live your life. Don’t you dare settle for anything. Or anyone. Lisa never understood how deeply you feel things—I don’t think you even know.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “But I do. The right woman is out there for you. I want you to love and be loved the way the way your father and I once...” Her voice faded away. He supposed heartache like hers never completely went away. “Find your happiness, son. Hold tight to it with both hands.”

Life isn’t always what you expect it to be...

Conor roused himself from his thoughts and smiled down at the woman who had always been like a favorite aunt to him. “I don’t know my future plans yet, Leslie. For right now, though, they’re in Kansas City.”

Ron seemed to sense the dark turn of Conor’s thoughts and pulled his wife back to his side. “Les, dear, we’re holding up the line. The rest of our guests are waiting.” He shook Conor’s hand again. “Come by the house anytime. There’s still a gate in the fence connecting our backyards. The walkway is a little snow-packed this time of year, but it’s still there.”

“Thanks. I’ll stop by before I leave town.”

Still raw from that trip down memory lane, Conor wasn’t prepared for Lisa stepping out of line to hug him. For a moment, he stood there in shock. Another second gave him time to remember the way her tall frame fit against his body, like two pieces of a puzzle joining together. A third, saner moment reminded him to pat her back instead of squeezing her tightly, and then push her away. She wasn’t his to hold anymore.

“Congratulations, kiddo. You’re a beautiful bride. But then, I never had any doubt you would be.”

“Con—”

“Take the compliment.” He cut her off before she could turn his words into any kind of apology.

“Thank you.”

Dismissing Lisa to move on down the reception line, he reached out to take Joe’s hand and pulled his friend in for a back-slapping bro hug. “Congratulations, man. You dress up pretty good for a numbers geek.”

Joe grinned. “I can be taught.”

But his intent to move past the bride and groom to greet Joe’s parents was thwarted by the tug of Lisa’s hand on his. “Are you happy, Con? Please be happy.”

“Why is everyone so worried about my happiness?” he joked. “This is your day. We’re here to celebrate you two.”

Lisa’s gaze darted to Joe, then back up to Conor. “We never meant for our engagement to hurt you. But I know it did. Losing your mom and then running away...” Her grip on his fingers tightened. “We’ve been so worried. You don’t call. You don’t write. Don’t throw away your life here because of us.”

Conor pulled his hand from hers. He schooled the irritation out of his tone. “Guess what? I didn’t run away from anything. I went where the job took me. Remember? The job I’m obsessed with?” He immediately bit down on that snap of sarcasm and apologized. He was over this. He was over her. But being back in Arlington was stirring up painful memories. “You should be thinking about your honeymoon, not me. If you two aren’t happy together the rest of your lives, I’m gonna come back and kick both your butts.”

“No worries, man,” Joe assured him, looking relieved to hear the teasing.

“Thank you. You’re just so important to both of us.” Lisa’s next hug was a little too long and a little too uncomfortable. When he heard the telltale sniffle against his lapel, he leaned back, automatically pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket for her.

But Joe had pulled one out, too. He tucked his into Lisa’s hand, kissed her cheek and suggested she take a break to powder her nose.

“Sorry about that,” Conor apologized, balling his handkerchief into his fist. “That’s just the way my mama raised me.”

Joe nodded, looking not at all threatened by any old habits Conor might have that involved his new wife. “Heard you took up drinking.”

One bender the night Lisa had dumped him, and suddenly he was an alcoholic. Conor shook his head. “Is that the rumor?” He nodded toward the doorway where Lisa had slipped out of the reception. “No wonder she’s so worried about me. I swear my only vice is coffee. Strong and black.”

Joe laughed, reminding Conor of the camaraderie they’d once shared. “That’ll eat a hole in your stomach.”

“Standard hazard of the job.”

“I also heard you left the Marshals Service.” Joe pulled back the front of his tuxedo to slide his hands into his pockets. “Does that mean you’ve found someone to settle down with in Kansas City?”

Even the accountant wasn’t above interrogating him. “I’m still a cop.”

“So that’s a no.” Joe’s deceptively casual stance never changed. “It never was a competition between us. You know that, right? I would never move in on your woman. I didn’t ask Lisa out until you two were done.”

His breakup with Lisa didn’t seem to bother Conor as much as it seemed to bother everyone else. But this big ol’ pity party, expressing all this concern for his welfare, was rubbing on his last nerve. “No hard feelings, Joe. Just take good care of her. And make sure she takes good care of you.”

“I will.” Joe extended his hand. His grip felt firm and familiar. “Take care of yourself, too.”

Conor congratulated Joe’s parents and then backed out of the line, turning toward the main reception area.

“Con?” He glanced back to see Lisa hurrying to Joe’s side. Her makeup was all neatly in place again as she called after him. “Save a dance for me, okay?”

Yeah. That wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, the other guests moving through the reception line demanded the bride and groom’s attention. He wondered just how long he had to stay before anyone else accused him of falling apart or running away.

Longer than Conor had planned, apparently. When one of his mother’s former bridge-playing friends linked her arm through his and invited him to join her and her husband at their table, he resigned himself to at least staying through dinner. But several old friends of his mother’s were at the table, too, and all their efforts to “help him” soured the taste of the prime rib and mashed potatoes he’d taken from the buffet.

“How long are you going to be in town?” Mrs. Martin, one of his mom’s friends, asked as he picked at his cake. “My niece just had her heart broken by a boy she’s been dating since high school. I think you two might have a lot in common.”

Conor set down his fork as the sweet icing curdled in his stomach. Now their concern had graduated to fixing him up with other women? “I won’t be in town that long.”

“I could give you her number for when you come back.”

Once he sold his mother’s house, he wasn’t coming back. “Sorry to hear that she’s unhappy. But no, thank you.” Conor pushed his chair away from the table. “Would you excuse me?” Conor eyed the patterns of foot traffic around the reception hall, taking note of the easiest route to an exit door. Maybe he could get a cup of coffee to go?

And then he spotted one of those sparkly feathered hair clips moving through the chairs and round tables, momentarily diverting him from thoughts of escape. Short, brown hair. Caramel highlights. Cotton candy-pink dress hugging womanly curves he shouldn’t be noticing.

Laura Karr.

When she moved past a table where the guests were seated, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her mouth was creased with frustration as she hurried after the groomsman with the dark hair and glasses. She caught up to him at the edge of the dance floor, grabbed the back of his black tuxedo jacket and forced him to stop and face her. Although there was too much noise with the band playing and the conversations buzzing around the tables to hear anything, he could tell by their body language that it was a heated discussion.

Conor’s gaze narrowed as the groomsman glared down at Laura.

Was that a lovers’ quarrel? Including lover in the same thought as the tomboy next door jarred his equilibrium, but he could tell Laura was upset. Was that guy picking on Conor’s little tagalong buddy? Giving her grief? Why was he so eager to dismiss her?

Conor’s emotions had been on the fritz since receiving the invitation to the wedding. Hell, they’d probably been offline long before that, but he’d just kept himself too busy to acknowledge them. But something pinged on his that-ain’t-right radar and made him curious to know why his longtime friend seemed so distressed—and why Glasses Guy was so intent on shutting her down.

Rescue. It wouldn’t get him out of this place, but it might get him out of his head long enough to forget the awkward discomfort of the evening.

He strode into the crowd of guests. “I’m comin’, Squirt.”

Chapter Two

Laura Karr might be the one person here who’d treat Conor like the guy next door he’d always been—not like the prodigal son returning home, or some poor lost soul who needed to be saved. The groomsman smacked Laura’s hand off his sleeve, and Conor hurried his steps to reach her.

Smacked her?

Uh-uh. That wasn’t gonna happen.

Conor came up behind Laura in time to hear a parting shot from the curly-haired man. “Don’t mess with things you don’t understand.”

Over the top of that glitzy pink fascinator, Conor locked his gaze on to the dark eyes behind the man’s glasses. “Hey, Squirt.” He settled his hand at the nip of Laura’s waist, alerting her to his presence so he wouldn’t startle her, but also warning the other man that she had a friend who’d intervene if the argument turned any uglier. “Is there a problem?”

Laura’s frown transformed into a bright smile when she faced him. “Conor. I was hoping we’d get a chance to connect before you ran off.”

Great. Not her, too. “I came to the wedding, didn’t I? Even brought a gift. I’m not running anywhere.” He kept a friendly grin on his face, ignoring the fact that moments earlier he’d been sizing up the room for his best chance to do just that. Run.

“Sure, you weren’t.” A heavenward roll of her green-gold eyes told him she wasn’t fooled by either the words or the grin as her arms went around his waist in a welcoming hug. But he barely had a chance to complete the hug before she pulled away to stop the other man’s retreat. “Isaac, wait.” She tugged on Conor’s hand and pulled him forward to make introductions. “I want you to meet a friend of mine. Detective Conor Wildman, this is Isaac Royal. He was Joe’s groomsman today. They work together at the accounting firm.”

The man who’d walked Laura back down the aisle at the end of the service blinked rapidly behind his glasses. “Detective? You’re a cop?”

Conor arched an eyebrow at the dumb question. “Generally, that’s what the word means.”

“Conor’s with the Kansas City police,” Laura explained. “He moved to Missouri a couple of years ago.”

Since this seemed important to Laura, Conor extended his hand when the other man didn’t. “Isaac. Nice to meet you.”

Isaac Royal was clearly agitated about something. Did he have a reason not to like cops? Maybe he was just anxious to get away from whatever Laura had been pestering him about. His palm was sweaty when he finally reached out to shake Conor’s hand. “You, too.” He pulled away, adjusting his glasses on his nose. The corner of his mouth hitched up with a smile. “Heard what happened to you with Lisa. Women can be a bitch, right?”

Not the opening to a polite conversation Conor had been expecting. He bristled to his full height. “And some guys can be jerks,” Conor pointed out. “Whatever you two were arguing about, you’d better not be referring to Laura. And if you touch her in anger like that again, I will—”

“He won’t.” Laura stepped forward, not needing his defense because, apparently, Isaac’s snide remark hadn’t been about her, after all. “Give Chloe a chance to explain herself. Call her. She’s been absent all afternoon and evening. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Let it go, Laura,” Isaac warned. “This is between her and me. Chloe made her choice.”

“But Lisa was counting on her. What if she’s counting on you? To save her?”

Isaac’s laugh held zero humor. “I’m done being her boyfriend when it’s convenient for her. I’m not picking up her pieces. That woman is not going to hurt me anymore.” Isaac excused himself, taking a shortcut across the dance floor and exiting into the hallway where the restrooms were located.

Feathers and bangles bounced as Laura fumed beside him, visually drilling holes through the archway where Isaac had disappeared.

Still clueless as to the source of the tension, but not liking how it affected his childhood friend, Conor sought some answers. “Everything okay? Do I need to have a man-to-man conversation with Mr. Royal?”

The set of her mouth was still tight even as she joked about his concern. “Just like you had a conversation with Scott Swearingen when I was in the eleventh grade?”

“A guy doesn’t tell a girl he can do better when she asks him to the prom.” Since no one had asked her, Laura had bravely taken the initiative and asked a boy to go with her. There were less cruel ways to say no than to belittle her for her not being the most popular girl in school. “I heard you crying up in the tree house that day. He was an immature jerk who hurt your feelings. What was I supposed to do?”

Laura nudged him out of the way of a row of line dancers sliding past them. “Maybe not go all big brother on his ass and embarrass me? You ambushed him in the parking lot after track practice, basically told him he was an idiot for not seeing the treasure behind my lack of boobs, straight As and wicked sense of humor.”

Conor had prided himself on not throwing a punch that day. “I called him worse than an idiot. And I never once mentioned your boobs.”

Although, mentioning them now, he found himself looking down at the shadowy cleft beneath the lace overlay on her gown—and just as quickly looking away the moment that most male part of him awoke with the knowledge that there was nothing teenagerish, tomboyish or lacking about Laura’s curvy shape now.

“Why do you think I was embarrassed? Do you think any other boy would say yes to me, knowing you were lurking next door, waiting to pounce on them, too, if they so much as looked crossways at me?” She raised her voice as the music crescendoed to its climax. “You should have at least offered to take me to the dance yourself. Now that would have been real chivalry.”

Conor dipped his head closer to hers to continue the conversation without shouting. Ignoring the subtly exotic scent that wafted off her hair and filled his nose, he reminded her of the facts. “I was home on spring break from college. The law frowns upon someone over twenty-one dating a high school kid. I couldn’t take you.”

“And I always thought that big, bad Conor Wildman was a rule-breaker. It was one of the tenets that my teenage adoration of you was based on.”

He grunted a laugh at the idea he’d been any teenage girl’s fantasy. “There are rules. And then there are laws. One of those, I don’t break.”

“Plus, there was that whole dating my big sister thing. That would have been awkward.”

Yep. There was that.

She inclined her head toward the line dancers shuffling their direction again. “I’m old enough to dance with you now.”

Had he imagined the hushed invitation in her voice just then?

He knew he hadn’t imagined that little gut-kick of interest stirring in the pit of his stomach at that surprisingly grown-up, completely feminine tone. Conor hoped she’d been unaware of just how provocative she had sounded.

She was putting him on, right? That had always been their routine—hug, laugh, listen, tease. He was the one who was screwed up, who’d been screwed over by life. There was no way Laura’s offer to dance was meant to sound like a proposition for something more. He’d been celibate and grieving, angry and heartbroken for too long to trust anything his flirt radar was trying to tell him. This was Laura. Same freckles. Same sass. Same smile—sans the braces. The comfort in that familiarity was what he needed to focus on. Not this whole weird awareness of the pretty bridesmaid he was experiencing tonight.

Conor remembered the easy banter between him and Laura. He didn’t remember any verbal innuendo or the voluptuous frame she’d poured into that candy-pink gown. And while it was a relief to find something normal about this long evening, he remembered he wasn’t the only person in this conversation. There were tactics to her rambling. “You changed the subject. What were you and Isaac arguing about?”

“I’m probably being paranoid.” Unlike Lisa, who fit snugly under Conor’s chin, the top of Laura’s head barely reached his shoulder. And that was in the heels she was wearing. Still, he had to admire that the differences in their heights didn’t deter her from tilting her chin to make direct eye contact with him as she spoke. “Isaac dates a good friend of mine, Chloe Wilson. Well, he used to. They’ve been on-again, off-again for a year or so. She lives in the apartment above me. I introduced them.”

“I take it, by the static I felt in the air between you two, that it’s off again?”

Laura nodded. “Chloe was invited to the wedding, too. In fact, she was supposed to help, but she never showed. I’ve called and texted, but she doesn’t answer. Isaac was ignoring me before the ceremony, but I finally caught up with him. He said they broke up for good this time—that she’s seeing someone else. Although, I hate to think about the guy she might have dumped Isaac for.”

“This new guy put up a red flag for you?”

Laura made a derisive sound that was more snort than laughter. “I wouldn’t call him reliable, that’s for sure. I’ve only met him a couple of times. He always has one or two other guys with him, like an entourage. I never spoke with any of them.”

“He’s a party guy?”

“If it’s his own party. He shows up when Chloe’s working. Makes her change plans when they don’t suit him. Maybe she didn’t come to the wedding out of respect for Isaac’s feelings. But she’d have called Lisa or me to let us know she wouldn’t be here. I’d bet money that Vinnie didn’t want her to come.”

“Vinnie’s the new guy?”

Nodding, Laura braced her hand on Conor’s arm and stretched up onto her toes, scanning through the crowd. Conor automatically followed suit, checking the diners and dancers, even though he didn’t know who he was looking for. “You don’t see a blonde about my size wearing ridiculously high heels, do you? I proudly accept that I’m never going to top five-three, but she overcompensates by wearing killer heels all the time. Even to run to the grocery store.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that tonight.” To be honest, he realized that he’d been so focused on his own inner demons that he hadn’t paid much attention to any women younger than his late mother, besides Lisa and her sisters. A quick scan of the dance floor and dining area now didn’t reveal any young blondes tottering around on scary heels.

When Laura pulled her hand away, Conor wondered at the imprint of heat that lingered on the skin beneath his jacket. What was wrong with him tonight? There wasn’t anything that felt right or normal about this long-overdue trip home except for Laura. And now he was blowing this reprieve because she’d gone and grown up on him, and he couldn’t get comfortable in his own damn skin around her.

“Chloe doesn’t always make the best choices,” Laura went on. “I worry. I mean, Isaac wasn’t exactly trippin’ her switch, but he was steady, nice.”

The fading red mark on Laura’s hand made him question what kind of temper Royal was hiding behind that geeky façade. But he’d go along with her for now. “In other words, boring. Let me guess, the new guy drives a fast car, spends a lot of money on her and looks like the lead in the newest superhero movie franchise.”

Laura laughed. “You’ve met Vinnie Orlando?”

“He sounds like a cartoon character.”

Laura butted her shoulder against Conor’s arm, smiling at how he must have nailed the description of a handsome party boy who could turn a woman’s head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she wants to date someone else. Isaac can be a little...controlling. With his budgets and schedules. Chloe’s a free spirit. She’s an artist. She paints some, but mostly sculpts in clay—animals, human figures, busts. She makes ends meet by waiting tables. She’s got a big heart, but she wants what she wants.”

“That doesn’t sound like a recipe for a successful relationship.”

“I always thought it was an ‘opposites attract’ kind of thing for her and Isaac. She brought him out of his shell. He offered her security. Her home life isn’t much to tell about. Her dad’s been MIA for years, mom’s in prison.” Laura’s sigh was audible above the pounding beat of the music. “Still, I thought she’d come today. She is a friend of the family.”

“It’s awkward when things don’t go the way you planned with the person you love.”

Hazel eyes swiveled up to his. “That rings a little too close to home, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Squirt.” Conor shrugged. “I’m not the man your sister needed. And try as I might to change things, we were never going to be. I wish I’d figured that out sooner. Could have saved a few dings to my heart and my pride.” He tilted his head down to her and winked. “She wants what she wants, too.”

Laura’s hand moved back to that spot on his arm, and Conor felt the squeeze of compassion through the layers of worsted wool and cotton he wore. Then she linked her elbow through his and leaned against his side in what he could only describe as an arm hug. When had Laura Karr become such a toucher? Or had he just never noticed that natural way she made contact with those around her before? “I’m sure today is hard for you. Lisa was so worried you’d crawled off into a dark hole after she announced her engagement to Joe. So soon after losing your mom? People here worry about you.”

He was well aware of that fact. “People? You mean Lisa? She wants everything in her world to be organized, neat, pretty. Breakups aren’t pretty.” He nodded to the hallway where Isaac had disappeared. “Ask your friend.”

The song ended and was momentarily replaced by the buzz of conversations across the reception hall before a slower tune started. Conor retreated to the nearest table, pulling Laura out of the way as dancers who weren’t coupled up filed off the dance floor. Several more guests left their seats, moving forward to take advantage of the sultry jazz melody.

Laura’s arm was still linked with his, the scent of her hair filling up his head, and as the crowd thinned they could nudge a little space between them again. “You and Lisa were friends long before you two were an item. We were all friends. Family, practically. That’s why she was so worried.”

“A guilty conscience will do that.”

“Conor...”

He raised his hands in surrender, breaking the last of the connection between them, admitting that was a low blow. “Sorry. Sarcasm is my go-to when I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I’m ready to be buddy-buddy again, but I’m hardly living in a dark hole.”

Laura faced him. “You ran away to Kansas City.”

“My job took me to Kansas City,” he explained for the umpteenth time that night. “I was protecting a witness. We damn near lost her because of my supervisor’s wheeling and dealing.”

She was squeezing his arm again. “Is that why you changed jobs? Because you lost a witness? Is that why you stayed?”

“We didn’t lose her—thanks to some help from her boss and his family, all local cops there, the Watsons and some close friends of theirs. We arrested the killer who was targeting her.” The Watson family had turned out to be better allies than the unit he’d been working with at the Marshals Service. “I like KC. I like the people. I trust the friends I’ve made there.”

“Meaning you don’t trust your friends here anymore?”

“Not when they took comfort in each other’s arms.” For a moment, Conor wondered if the sarcasm had leaked out of his mouth again because Laura propped her fists on her hips and looked as if she was about to scold him for the uncharitable thought. Conor shook his head. The problem with old friends was that they sometimes knew him better than he knew himself.

“People need to stop worrying about me. I’m a grown man. I’m not drowning my sorrows in a bottle. I’m not contemplating suicide. And I sure as hell am not running away from anything. I just...” Laura’s eyes darkened to nearly solid green while she waited for him to finish that sentence. “Truth? I did need some space. I couldn’t think here. There were too many memories. I needed to move on, but I was drowning in everybody’s sympathy and their efforts to make everything right for me again. So, when the new job opportunity came up, I took it. I don’t have any regrets.”

Laura’s shoulders lifted with a deep breath, and she nodded—as if someone around here finally understood why he’d left. “Loss changes you. You had a double whammy of it. You needed time and space to grieve. And you weren’t going to get any better here, with us.”

When he looked past the youthful dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, past the silly bauble in her hair, Conor could see a serene wisdom in the depths of her eyes. Maybe even a hint of sadness or regret there. Curious. “What do you know about loss, Squirt?”

Her gaze held his for a moment before dropping to the middle of his chest where she brushed away something. “Enough to know that I outgrew that nickname a long time ago.”

The bride’s familiar voice reached him a split second before he felt Lisa’s hand at his back. “Con, are you ready to dance?”

A shiver that was part pain, part self-preservation, rippled down his spine. It might be Lisa’s day, but he was done explaining himself and reassuring her.

Conor captured Laura’s fingers, curved his hand around her waist and turned her into his arms. “I was just asking your little sister to.” He managed a wink for Lisa as he whisked her bridesmaid onto the dance floor in a swirl of candy-pink tulle. “When they get to the hokey pokey, I’m your man.”

It took a few steps for him to find the rhythm of the music after the abrupt start. Laura seemed to struggle for a moment, too. She stumbled over his feet, her free hand brushing against his arm, tapping the middle of his chest, then grasping his arm again, as if she wasn’t sure where to rest it. Conor caught the wayward hand and placed it on his shoulder. He tightened his hold behind her waist and pulled her hips into his so that they could match their steps without him crushing any of her toes with his big feet.

Leading her into the heart of the dancers, he dipped his mouth beside Laura’s ear. “Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime. But seriously?” She whacked his shoulder in a playful reprimand. “The hokey pokey? Avoiding my sister much?”

“A slow dance leaves too much time for talking. I’ve said my piece to Lisa.”

“But you’re okay to talk with me?”

“Yeah. I’m okay with that.” That wasn’t a lie. Something inside him eased a little bit. “If you can stand to talk to me after that whole Scott Swearingen fiasco.”

“I know it’s your go-to, but you don’t have to make everything a joke. Not with me.”

The music created a low, pulsing rhythm in Conor’s blood. Or maybe that was simply the thumping of his heart after that close call with Lisa. And maybe it had nothing to do with any woman other than the one he held in his arms. Laura stared right at the knot of his tie as they swayed together. But she did this crazy-cute thing when she spoke, tilting her eyes up to him. With his hand flattened at the small of her back, it wouldn’t take much to tug her body flush against his. And for a few seconds, his fingers tightened against the ticklish lace, wanting to do just that.

Good grief. Had he not been with a woman since Lisa returned his ring? He mentally ran through his social calendar, or lack thereof, for the past two years. Hell. Had he even gone out on a date?

No wonder the enticing scent of Laura’s hair was filling his head with non-brotherly thoughts. Just entertaining the idea of moving his hand to the curve of her rump or nuzzling his lips against the shell of her exposed ear shocked him into taking half a step back and thinking analytically about Laura. She had more curves to hold on to than Lisa ever had. Laura clearly took after her mother’s side of the family, while Lisa favored their father. The crown of Laura’s dark hair had touches of gold in it that Lisa’s sable tresses lacked. The caramel highlights tipping each wave made Laura’s hair color as uniquely unpredictable as the green and gold of her eyes.

“Have I ever danced with you before, Squirt—” said green-gold eyes tilted his way and he caught himself “—Laura?”

“No. It’s not as awkward as I imagined it would be.” A rosy hue warmed her cheeks, and he wondered if he’d ever seen her blush before. “Because of the differences in our heights.”

Wait. Why was she was blushing? “You imagined dancing with me?”

“Ego much, Detective?”

Conor laughed. “My ego’s taken a few hard hits lately. It appreciates even the remnants of a teenage crush.”

She glanced to the side and stiffened in his arms for a moment. Conor was about to ask if he’d offended her, when she hooked her hand behind his neck, moving in close enough for her breasts to brush against him. For a few seconds, as every sensible cell in his body rushed to those points of contact, he didn’t even hear her words. “Lisa’s glaring at us. She knows you’re avoiding her. Are you okay with that? Or are we trying to make her mad?”

After inhaling a steadying breath, Conor eased a little space between them, ostensibly so he could look down into her eyes, but mostly because his body was firing in ways he wasn’t entirely comfortable with around Laura. And he certainly didn’t want her to realize the purely male interest in her that was stirring behind his zipper. “I’m not the retribution type. I’m okay with this marriage. But I don’t have to be a glutton for punishment. I’m afraid getting too close will stir up things I’m not allowed to feel anymore.”

Or shouldn’t feel in the first place—like whatever was happening to him with Laura tonight.

“Lisa loved you, you know.” She shrugged, as if apologizing for what she said next. “I just don’t think she was in love with you.”

Well, wasn’t that a painfully sharp distinction to make? Time to change the subject to anything but him. “Did you ever get a date with that track star?”

“Nope. Decided he wasn’t my type.” Thankfully, Laura shifted the conversation with him. “That was almost a decade ago. I’m not a kid anymore. You just haven’t been around to notice. I’ve earned a college degree. I have a career as an educational travel coordinator. I book and lead student tours. I’ve seen a lot of the country. A lot of the world.”

“And I thought you wanted to grow up and play professional softball. Or be a veterinarian at a zoo—you wanted to save cheetahs or something like that. Or become a US marshal like your favorite neighbor.”

Laura pulled her hand from his shoulder, laughing as she gestured to the generous swells of her breasts. “These got in the way of being an athlete. Allergy to cats precluded the vet job. And I outgrew my teenage crush on all things Conor Wildman long ago.”

Conor covered his heart, laughing with her. “I’m wounded.”

She teasingly punched his arm before grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the rhythm of the music. “All the years I would have traded anything for you to see me as more than your kid sister. Oh, well. You had your chance, big guy. I’ve moved on.”

That particular choice of words sounded a little too familiar. Moving on was exactly what Lisa had done. Years ago, it was what his father had done, too.

Conor needed to save the conversation before he took a trip too far down the path of bitter memories. “I appreciate the flowers and letter you sent for Mom. That was sweet of you to recall some of the fun things we did growing up. Those were good memories. Mom treasured them as much as I did.”

“They were. I’m so sorry about Marie.” Laura stopped in the middle of the dance floor to slide her arms beneath his jacket and hug him around the waist.

Conor braced his feet, absorbing a bump from the couple moving next to them. When that accidental nudge didn’t loosen her hold on him, he wound his arms around her shoulders, protecting her from the people moving around them. And, if he was honest with himself, relaxing into the curves of her body and the heat of her small form clinging to him, accepting the solace of the compassionate gesture. “You okay, Squirt?”

He felt the hum of her groan vibrating through the cotton of his shirt.

“Sorry.” He dropped a kiss to the crown of her hair. “Laura. You okay?”

Her squeeze around him tightened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back for the service. But I did go by the cemetery once I was in town. The marker wasn’t up yet, but I left flowers at the site.”

“Thank you.” That reminded him that he needed to go by the cemetery and check the status of the headstone he’d ordered.

They were still hugging as the song ended. The DJ was encouraging the married couples in attendance to make their way to the dance floor for a competition to see who’d been together the longest. “That leaves us out.” Conor finally relented his hold on Laura. She pulled away but latched onto his hand as he walked her back to the tables. “It really is good to see you, Laura.”

“You, too, Conor. I’ve missed you.”

“I appreciate a few minutes of normal amidst all the crazy.” He chucked her lightly beneath the chin and grinned. “I don’t have to pretend to smile with you.”

When he excused himself to leave, she tugged on his tie with one hand and slipped the other around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. What the heck? Her lips were warm, bowed and moving across his before he could close the startled O of his mouth. When he did press his lips together, they caught the decadent fullness of her lower lip between his. Whoa. Did that qualify as a kiss? Had he just kissed Laura? With a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan beneath the pulse of the music, she pushed up onto her tiptoes, sealing their mouths together in another kiss that exploded somewhere inside his brain and lit a fuse down to his groin, prompting the instinctive need to snap her to his body and take over the embrace. But before he could even acknowledge the desire zinging through him, she dropped back onto her heels and broke the connection between them.

As he leaned over her like this, with her face tilted to his, the color of her eyes changed like a kaleidoscope, showing him tawny sparkles of glitter amidst the forest, moss and olive in her irises. The woman had beautiful eyes. “You should do that more,” she whispered.

“Kiss?” He’d been too startled to respond the way he’d wanted to, but now he was wondering if he had... He could still feel the pressure of her lips softening against his...

She rubbed her fingertips across his mouth, probably wiping off a stray glob of lipstick. But he felt the tug of that unexpected touch down deep inside him. “Smile. You’ve always been such a good-looking son of a gun when you smile.”

Was she flirting with him? How was he supposed to think brotherly thoughts when every cell of his body was standing at attention, eagerly anticipating the next touch? When every self-respecting male hormone was demanding he take her in his arms and show her that Conor Wildman knew exactly how to respond to a woman’s kiss, and not stand there like a statue.

She smoothed his tie against his chest and stepped back, maybe sensing that he’d change the way that kiss had ended if she didn’t put some space between them. “I’d better go. Try to get a hold of Chloe again.”

Right. Get a grip, Wildman. That was a goodbye kiss. Hadn’t he just been thanking her for keeping everything normal between them? He was the one putting a sensual spin on things.

A nod of agreement was the best he could do right now. “Good luck.”

Conor watched her chat her way through the crowd before she disappeared into the same hallway where Isaac Royal had gone. These few minutes with Laura—their dance, that kiss—had been both the most natural and the most unsettling conversation he’d had all evening.

After enduring a couple of quick dances with Lisa, reassuring her every way he knew how that her marrying Joe hadn’t damaged him beyond repair, he finally made his exit. He’d done his time. He’d saved face, rallied a bit of his pride. But he was more than ready to loosen his tie and unbutton the collar of his shirt as he pushed open the door to a rush of damp February air and strode across the parking lot to his SUV.

Conor inhaled deep breaths of the cold, sobering air into his lungs, replaying this whole evening, replaying the last two years, actually, calculating just how quickly he could wrap up his mother’s business and get on the road to Kansas City before he got any more lost in the twilight zone of his old life.

He was halfway to his SUV and mentally halfway home to KC when Laura came running out of the shadows from between two cars and slammed into him.

“Whoa.” He caught her by the shoulders and steadied her in front of him to keep her from falling. “Where’s the fire?” Her bare arms were already dotted with goose bumps beneath his hands. His tone grew serious. “Where’s your coat?”

She glanced back at the reception hall and muttered a choice word. “I’ll get it later.” A cloud of warm breath obscured her face for a moment before she broke away and hurried down the line of vehicles. “Chloe’s in trouble.”

“Your friend?” Conor fell into step beside her.

“I have to help her. I knew she was in over her head with Vinnie. It was just a stupid, stupid plan.” She stopped beside a compact toaster of a car and sorted through the keys dangling from her fingers. Before she found the remote, she dropped her keys into the snow beneath the car. Laura dropped down in a billow of cotton-candy pink to search for them. Conor knelt to retrieve them for her. Not only had she run outside without a proper winter coat, but the only things she’d brought with her were the keys and the phone she clutched in her left hand. Where was her purse? Her driver’s license?

Conor’s fingers closed around the keys first and he stood. “You seem pretty upset, Squirt—”

“Stop calling me that. I’m a grown woman.” She snatched the keys from his hand and tried to unlock her car. She tapped the remote a half dozen times. “Why isn’t this working? Dad said to get the stupid battery replaced.”

Conor brushed his fingers along her arm, trying to calm her. “Hey, I’m not the enemy here. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Chloe had a fight with her boyfriend.”

“You mean her fight with Isaac?”

“Vincent. The one she dumped Isaac for.” She glanced a quick 360 around the parking lot. “Isaac’s car isn’t here. Maybe she called him, too. Why would she call me if she’d already talked to him? I don’t know... She sounded wrong. She wasn’t making sense. I have to get to her. I have a bad vibe about this.”

“How bad a vibe?”

“Bad. She said she needs my help.” Giving up on the remote, she pulled up a key to unlock the car the old-fashioned way.

Conor curled his hand around hers, stopping her from turning the key. “I don’t know if you’re in the right frame of mind to drive. Have you been drinking?”

“No!”

“Okay, okay. This just isn’t you. At least, the you I remember. You’re wiggin’ out a little bit.” She rolled her eyes up at him. That was a condemning look. Fine. You’re not a little girl anymore. I get that. “You’re that worried about her?”

“Yes. On the phone, when she finally called me back—she was out of breath. Like she’d been running or crying. Or she was hiding. Or hurt? She whispered everything. I kept asking her to repeat things.”

“Why would she be hiding?”

She hugged her arms around her waist, shivering. From nerves? Cold? A combination of both? “I’m not sure. I don’t think she was alone, and she didn’t want whoever was there to overhear. I could hear a man talking, but I couldn’t make out any words. Music was playing. She had it up loud.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“She said she was eloping with Vinnie—that she talked him into proposing to her. They’re driving to the airport. And then there was something about insurance and she’s counting on me to keep it safe and her mom could never find out, and she was hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.”

“Keep what safe?”

“I don’t know. She thanked me and said I was her best friend and that she had to go.”

“Go where?”

Laura turned the key in the lock. “Stop asking me questions like you’re a cop and I’m a suspect.”

“I am a cop.” Her cheeks were pale, her whole body trembling when she glared at him a second time. Conor shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her. Whether she was freezing or about to burst into tears didn’t matter. He clasped her shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, instilling what warmth and support he could through the jacket. “You’re upset. Enough that you’re scaring me a little bit. Talk to me.”

The glare was gone when she tilted her gaze to his. “Vegas. She said they’re going to Las Vegas. They’ll get the rings and everything they need there.”

“They’re not the first couple to do that. You said Chloe was impulsive. Sounds like they both are. Are you worried she’ll have regrets?”

“She asked me to feed her cat.”

And that was a problem because...? “Do you have a key to her apartment? Will the landlord let you in?” Then he remembered something she’d mentioned on the dance floor. “Are you worried about your allergies?”

“She doesn’t have a cat!” She shrugged off his touch and opened the car door.

Conor palmed the window and closed it again. Either that remark about the cat had been a coded plea for help, or they were the words of someone who wasn’t in her right mind enough to make a big decision like elopement. Laura knew that, too.

Now he understood her panic, her need to act.

There was little Conor could explain about the ups and downs of all that had happened this evening. But he knew how to answer a call for help.

“I’ll drive.” He captured Laura by the elbow and walked her to his car, bundling her into the passenger seat before starting the engine and cranking up the heat. “Keep calling your friend. And tell me everything you know about Chloe and Vincent Orlando.”

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