The Wedding Planners

Planning perfect weddings…finding happy endings!

It’s the biggest and most important day of a woman’s life—and it has to be perfect.

At least that’s what the Wedding Belles believe, and that’s why they’re Boston’s top wedding-planner agency. But amidst the beautiful bouquets, divine dresses and rose-petal confetti, these six wedding planners long to be planning their own big day!

But first they have to find Mr. Right….

This month:

Sweetheart Lost and Found

by Shirley Jump

And don’t miss the exciting wedding-planner tips and author reminiscences that accompany each book!

For more tips and bridal fun please visit the Wedding Belles at http://harlequin-theweddingplanners.blogspot.com.

Shirley tells all about her own big day:

“You seriously can’t take me anywhere without a calamity happening. I’m a walking America’s Funniest Home Video. Even my own wedding had a near-disaster. My husband got laryngitis the day of the wedding (hmm…was that a convenient way of not having to say any vows?), so his vows came out as a squeak. I forgot our toasting glasses and we had to borrow other guests’ champagne glasses when the best man made his speech.

But all of that was nothing compared to my veil catching on fire.

Let’s just say tulle and candles aren’t a good mix. When my husband and I went to blow out the unity candle, it was before he kissed me, so my veil was still down. I tried to blow through the tulle. The netting swooped forward into the flame and, whoosh, caught on fire. Not a big flame, thank goodness, but a nice little spark. So here I am, madly blowing out my veil, then trying to lift the veil and get the unity candle blown out at the same time. I have a nice round hole in my veil as a memento.

Don’t even get me started on the time I tripped and fell on the church altar in front of two hundred people at someone else’s wedding. And just don’t ask me to do a reading at your wedding—not unless you’re planning on splitting the prize money from AFHV with me.

At least in my fictional world of Sweetheart Lost and Found I can create weddings where almost nothing goes wrong!”

Catch up with Shirley’s latest news at www.shirleyjump.com.

Sweetheart Lost and Found
Shirley Jump

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

MILLS & BOON

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To Kathy, who has brought music and laughter

into our lives, and who graciously forgave me for

tripping on the altar in the middle of her wedding.

Planning perfect weddings…finding happy endings!

In April: Sweetheart Lost and Found by Shirley Jump

Florist: Will Callie catch a bouquet, and reunite with her childhood sweetheart?

In May: The Heir’s Convenient Wife by Myrna Mackenzie

Photographer: Regina’s wedding album is perfect. Now she needs her husband to say “I love you!”

In June: SOS Marry Me! by Melissa McClone

Designer: Serena’s already made her dress, but a rebel has won her heart….

In July: Winning the Single Mom’s Heart by Linda Goodnight

Chef: Who will Natalie cut her own wedding cake with?

In August: Millionaire Dad, Nanny Needed! by Susan Meier

Accountant: Will Audra’s budget for the big day include a millionaire groom?

In September: The Bridegroom’s Secret by Melissa James

Planner: Julie’s always been the wedding planner—will she ever be the bride?

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

CALLIE Phillips slipped the final flower into the cheery wedding bouquet, stepped back to admire her handiwork and marveled at the irony of her career choice.

A woman who didn’t believe in happily ever after, crafting floral dreams for starry-eyed, Cinderella-was-no-fairytale brides.

Callie fingered the greenery surrounding the flowers symbolizing hope. True love. A happy ending. Her clients at Wedding Belles were paying her to act like she believed fairy tales came true. But all the while Callie created those dreams with vibrant blooming white roses and delicate pastel freesia, she hid the fact that the petals had long ago dropped from her own jaded heart.

“My goodness, will you look at that. Another beautiful creation, darlin’.” Belle Mackenzie, the owner of the Wedding Belles and Callie’s employer, breezed into the basement floral design area. She was impeccable as always in a skirt and bright red sweater set that offset her gray hair and shaved years off her fifty-plus age. “You are incredible. Whatever made you think of this combination?” Belle bent to inhale the fragrance of the burnt-orange tulips, paired with deep purple calla and crimson gloriosa lilies.

“The bride, actually,” Callie said. “Becky was just so outgoing, and this design seemed to suit her personality, not to mention the unique colors of her wedding party dresses.”

“I don’t know how you do it. You read people like novels.” Belle smiled. “Best thing I ever did was hire you.”

Callie smiled. “No, I think it’s the opposite. Best thing I ever did was walk in here and apply for a job.” Belle had taken Callie under her wing years ago, seeing a budding creative talent and someone who needed a stable, maternal figure. She’d taught Callie the art of flower arranging, even paid for her to go to classes, then when she’d expanded her wedding planning company into the much bigger Wedding Belles, had given Callie the job of florist. And through that job, a group of close friends who had since become Callie’s rock.

Giving Callie’s unstable life a firm basis for the first time in her life.

Now Callie spent her days discussing calla lilies and Candia roses with starry-eyed brides, but never for one moment believing she would hold another bouquet, opening her heart a second time, believing once again that one man would be by her side forever.

Just the idea of forever made her consider heading for the hills. She’d tried it once, on a whim, and it hadn’t worked at all. Callie wasn’t slipping on that gold band of permanence again under any circumstances.

Belle gave her a grin. “We all make a good team, don’t we? The Wedding Belles.”

“Even if one of us has never been swayed to the dark side?”

Belle’s laughter was hearty. “You mean the white side of the aisle? It’s not as bad as you think over there. And one day, darlin’, I’ll convince you that falling in love and getting married isn’t the prison sentence you think.”

Ever since Belle had hired her three years ago, she’d been working on convincing Callie that marriage was an institution for everyone, sort of like a One Size Fits All suit. Callie wasn’t surprised—the gregarious owner of the wedding planner company had been married several times and had gone into the business because she loved happy endings. The other women on the Belles team echoed that sentiment—and most had already found their happily ever after.

But Callie knew better. For some people, love was an emotion best left for greeting cards.

“Belle, I already tried marriage once and it didn’t work.” Callie cut the end of the crimson satin ribbon that she’d tied in a ballet slipper style around the stems of the bouquet, then tucked a few strands of reflective wires and delicate crystal sprays into the flowers, adding a touch of bling.

“That’s called practice,” Belle said, laughing. “Second time’s always better. And if not, third time’s a charm. Or in my case, maybe the fourth.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m certainly not going to get married that many times.” If at all, ever again. Her divorce was only eighteen months in the past, and if there was one thing her marriage to Tony had taught Callie—

It was that she, of all people, should never get married again.

“You know what you should do?” Belle said. “Celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Being single again. You’ve been back on the market for over a year, Callie, and you have yet to take a step out of the barn.”

“A step out of the barn?”

“And pick another stallion in the corral.” Belle winked. “There are plenty of ’em out there, honey. All you need to do is pick the one that gets your hooves beatin’ the fastest.”

“Oh, no, not me.” Callie waved off the idea, even as she laughed at Belle’s advice. “I’ll keep on working with the flowers. They don’t let me down.”

“They also don’t keep your bed toasty at night.”

“So I’ll buy an electric blanket.” Callie put the bouquet, along with the rest of the wedding party flowers, inside the large walk-in refrigerator, then turned to walk upstairs with Belle. In a couple of hours, she and the other Belles would deliver everything to the wedding party, and see one more bride down the aisle.

“Well, before you go choosing a blanket over a beau, will you run on down to O’Malley’s tonight and drop off the new invitations for his daughter’s wedding? Apparently the first time the printer changed the groom’s name from Clarence to Clarice. Thankfully we caught the mistake just before they got mailed.”

Callie eyed Belle. “Is this some way of forcing me out?”

Belle gave a suspicious up and down of her shoulders, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “Maybe.”

Audra Green, the company’s accountant, greeted the two of them as they entered the reception area of the Belles’ office. The entire room spoke of Belle’s sunny personality, with its bright yellow walls, gleaming oak floors and bright white woodwork. It welcomed and warmed everyone who entered, just as Belle herself did. “What’s Belle cooking up now?” Audra asked. “I read something mischievous in her eyes.”

“Proving to Callie that Mr. Right could be right down the street.”

“Along with the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus,” Callie deadpanned, retrieving the box of invitations from the desk.

“So I thought she should go down to O’Malley’s tonight and maybe deliver these invitations, scope out the dating scene,” Belle went on, optimistically ignoring Callie. “Get back on the horse before she forgets where the stirrups are.”

Callie and Audra laughed, then the straitlaced accountant sobered and gave Callie a sympathetic smile. “Do you want some company?” Audra asked.

“Thanks, but I won’t need it. Contrary to Belle’s matchmaking plans, I’m going to drop off these wedding invitations and nothing more,” Callie said.

“And if Mr. Right happens to be sitting at the end of the bar?” Belle asked.

“If he is,” Callie laughed at Belle’s indomitable belief in Disney endings and picked up one of the thick silver envelopes in the box and wagged it in Belle’s direction for emphasis, “then I’m sure you’ll be the first to announce it to the world.”

Jared Townsend believed in the power of proof. If something could be proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, then he accepted it as fact.

His quest for proof was why he had excelled in geometry but not abstract thought. Why he’d nearly failed poetic analysis and instead discovered a home in the concrete world of statistics.

But now he found himself in the most unlikely of places, to prove the most unprovable of statistics. A bar on a Thursday night.

To prove that true love could be measured and analyzed, weighed and researched. For that reason, he had a clipboard and a pen and intended to interview at least a dozen couples before the bar closed, assuming he stayed awake that long.

A party animal, he was not. He wasn’t even a party puppy.

“Welcome to O’Malley’s. What can I get you?” A rotund bartender with a gray goatee came over to Jared, a ready smile on his face, his hand already on a pint glass. At the other end of the bar sat an older man, his shoulders hunched, head hung, staring into a beer.

“Beer sounds good.” Jared slid his clipboard onto the bar, along with a few already sharpened pencils. Raring to go.

If anything spelled geek, that was it. No wonder Jared hadn’t had a date in three months. Carry a clipboard—an instant death knell for attracting women.

The bartender arched a brow at the pencils and clipboard, apparently agreeing with that mental assessment, but kept his counsel and poured the draft. He slid the frosty mug over to Jared without a word.

A couple walked in. Jared grabbed a pencil, readying himself. At first glance, they looked perfect for his survey. Early twenties, blond girl, brunette guy, walking close, talking fast, as if they were—

Arguing.

“You’re a moron,” the girl said. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Seriously, Joey, my toaster has more brains than you and that’s after I burned my bagel.”

“Dude, that’s mean.”

“And quit calling me dude. I’m your girlfriend, or at least I was. Not your dude.” She flung off his hand and stalked away, ordering a tequila shot, which she knocked back in one swift, easy movement that said she’d done this before. More than once.

Jared put down his pencil. He let out a sigh, settled back on his stool and took a long, deep gulp of beer. No one else was in the bar, even though it was nearly nine and the sign outside promised karaoke night would start in a little while. Maybe he should have picked a place further downtown, rather than one so close to his apartment.

“Hey, O’Malley, how ’bout another for the road?” the man sitting at the opposite end of the bar said. He raised his glass, but it trembled and he nearly dropped it.

“I think you’ve had enough,” the bartender, apparently the O’Malley namesake of the bar, said.

The man swayed in his seat. “No, no. Not enough, not yet.”

Jared heard the words—so familiar—and turned away, fiddling with his clipboard. His memory raced back all the same to someone else, to another slurred voice, determined to have one more round.

O’Malley let out a grunt of disgust. “You’re cut off. Why don’t you go home?”

“Don’t wanna go home.” The man heaved a sigh, stumbled off the stool and careened down the bar. “No one there. No one t’all.” He crashed into a couple more stools, then gripped the edge of the polished oak surface and teetered.

The memories slammed into Jared until he couldn’t ignore them any longer. He shook his head, then got to his feet and caught the man’s elbow, righting the stranger just before he lost his balance.

“Get him some coffee,” Jared said, signaling to the bartender. “And call him a cab.”

“I ain’t paying for that.” O’Malley scowled. “If I took care of every drunk—”

“I’ll pay.” The man may be a stranger, but his story hit a familiar note in Jared’s chest, one he had to heed. He turned to the man, and helped him onto one of the seats, ignoring the nearly overpowering stench of alcohol. “Sir, why don’t you sit here a bit? Have some coffee, wait for the cab.”

It took a second, then understanding filtered into the older man’s bleary gaze. “You’re a good man.” He patted Jared on the back. “My new best friend. And I don’t even know your name.”

“Jared Townsend.” Jared doubted the man would remember his name in the morning, but it didn’t matter. Jared had been down this road often enough to know where it led.

“I’m Sam.” His inebriated tongue slurred the “s,” and his handshake had a decided wave to it, but the sentiment was there. Jared slid the coffee in front of Sam, and encouraged him to drink up.

The door opened again and Jared swiveled toward the sound, once again grabbing his clipboard and pencil. This time a single woman walked in, but no man followed behind her. Jared’s spirits plummeted. Clearly he’d picked the wrong bar. Not a big surprise, given how little experience he had with this kind of scene.

Maybe he should leave, try another place, one with more atmosphere—some atmosphere at least—or try a restaurant, a diner, a—

Holy cow. Callie Phillips.

Jared’s breath caught, held. The pencil in his hands dropped to the floor, and rolled across the hardwood surface. A woman sang about a broken heart on the jukebox, Sam said something about the quality of the coffee and the tequila toting couple went on fighting, but Jared didn’t pay attention. He pushed his glasses up his nose, refocused and made two hundred percent sure.

Yes, it was Callie.

She’d just walked into the bar and upset his perfectly ordered, perfectly balanced life.

Again.

He had the advantage of watching her while her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. He studied her, noting the difference nine years had made. It could have been nine days for all his heart noticed.

She’d cut her hair, and now the dark blond locks curled around her ears, framed her face, teased at her cheeks. But she still had the same delicate, fine boned face, wide green eyes, and those lips—

Bright crimson lipstick danced across her lips, lips that had always seemed to beg him to kiss them, mesmerized him whenever she talked. He watched her approach, his gaze sweeping over her still lithe curves, outlined in jeans and a bright turquoise top, then returning to her face, to her mouth, and something tightened in his gut.

And Jared Townsend, who never did anything without a reason, a plan, completely forgot why he was here.

CHAPTER TWO

“JARED? Jared Townsend? Is that you? Oh…Wow.” She inhaled, her breasts rising with the action, along with Jared’s internal temperature. “My goodness. What a…a shock.” Callie stopped in front of him, clutching a large box to her chest, her mouth shaped in an O of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” His brain fired, sputtered, fired again. “Research.”

She smiled. “Let me guess. You’re trying to determine the best beer for forgetting a broken heart?”

“Coors,” Sam put in. “Best in sh-sh-show.” Then he sent the two of them a wave and headed off to the rest rooms.

Jared glanced down at his icy mug. Beer hadn’t helped him get over the broken heart he’d suffered after her, but he kept that ancient history buried, didn’t talk about it or drag it out.

Only a masochist dug up a skeleton like that. But damned if his body didn’t start playing archaeologist all the same, resurrecting old feelings…and a lot more. There was nothing analytical, statistical or sensible about it. There never had been, not when it came to Callie.

Still, he reminded himself, she had hurt him—and hurt him badly. If he was smart, he’d simply greet her as an old acquaintance and leave it at that.

“I’m here for work,” he told her. “Really. Even if it doesn’t look it.”

Her smile widened. “It doesn’t, except for the clipboard, which is so…you.” She shrugged, laughed a little, then started to move away. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Jared.”

Clipboard was so him? Well, damn it, maybe it was, but once upon a time she’d thought of him in a very different way.

Yeah, and how well had that ended up?

He shut off his inner voice. No matter what had happened in the past, a part of Jared wanted Callie to see he had grown and changed. Become a different man. One who wasn’t the nerdy professor she had so cavalierly left behind.

A man who could—contrary to his plan five seconds ago—have a conversation with her and be completely unaffected.

Cool with it, even.

“Callie.” She pivoted back. “Are you meeting someone here tonight?”

In the space of time it took her to answer, Jared’s heartbeat doubled. He caught his breath, waiting. And not because it would make a damned bit of difference to the sheets on his clipboard.

Tonight, he’d stepped into unfamiliar liquor-infused territory to analyze couples, to take that data, feed it into a computer then hand the information over to Wiley Games so they could use it to develop the next generation of couple-oriented games and products. Not exactly the high end research Jared had set out to be doing after he’d received his doctoral degree, but the work at Wiley Games paid the bills and kept him in spreadsheets.

Either way, if there was one particular half of a couple he didn’t want to add to his sheaf of papers, it was Callie Phillips.

“No, I’m not meeting anyone, not tonight,” she said.

Not an answer that gave him any indication of her status. Single? Attached? No ring adorned her left hand ring finger, so she wasn’t married or engaged. What happened? Where was Tony?

“Hey, Callie, what brings you by?” The bartender crossed to them, a friendly smile on his face.

Callie raised the box in her hands. “Your daughter is now marrying Clarence instead of Clarice.”

O’Malley chuckled and took the box from her. “Thank you. Glad you guys caught the mistake before we sent them out. That would have been quite the mess.”

“You’re more than welcome. The wedding’s going to be beautiful.”

O’Malley’s face softened. “My Jenny, she’s an angel. I can’t believe she’s going to be a bride. Or that I’m old enough to be the father of the bride.” He laughed, then thanked her again and moved down to the far end of the bar to refill the other couple’s shot glasses.

Callie called a goodbye to O’Malley and turned to go. Before Jared could think about what he was doing—and whether it was a mistake—Jared gestured toward the empty seat beside him. “Would you like to join me?”

What was he doing? Inviting her to stay?

Simple curiosity, that’s all it was. Getting caught up on where she’d been all these years.

“I thought you were working,” she said.

“It’s not busy here, so I’m taking a break.” He waved the bartender over to them. “A margarita, on the rocks, with salt.”

Callie smiled. “You remembered?”

“I did.” He remembered a lot more than just her favorite drink, but he kept that to himself. Jared reminded himself that he and Callie had broken up for a reason—and staying broken up had been in their best interests.

She took the seat, brushing by him as she did. He inhaled, and with the breath came the light, sweet floral scent of her perfume. “Thanks,” she said, when the bartender laid the drink before her.

“No problem, Callie.” O’Malley gave Jared another arched brow, this time one of appreciation that the “geek” had a beautiful woman sitting beside him.

Jared tapped the clipboard and grinned. “Nothing’s sexier than statistics.”

“If you say so, buddy,” the bartender said, then headed down to the fighting couple at the other end, who were working on their second set of tequila shots before gearing up for Round Two.

“What kind of research are you doing?” Callie asked.

“Counting the number of beautiful women who come into a bar alone. I’m up to one. I think I should quit while I’m ahead.” He grinned. “Actually it’s a questionnaire of sorts for couples. A research project for the company I’m working for.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It’s actually a lot more exciting once you feed all the information into a computer and start manipulating the data, using it to run statistical probabilities and forecasts. And if I get lucky, hopefully I’ll come up with enough data to create some real, hard evidence to bring to a peer-reviewed journal. Something more respectable than the basis of the next ‘Twenty Tantalizing Bedroom Teasers.’”

“‘Bedroom Teasers’?” Callie chuckled, then raised a dubious brow. “This from the man who dressed up as a biker on Halloween in college? What happened to the leather jacket? The boots? The chaps?”

“Probably shoved in a closet somewhere. I’m strictly a suit and tie guy now. No more of that crazy open road, living by the seat of my pants talk.”

His brief, one-night foray into that different persona had been a bad idea. He’d thought that by slipping on a black jacket, climbing on a Harley, he could get Callie to notice him in a way she never had in high school. She had—for a heartbeat—until Tony had stolen her back again, leaving Jared with an extra helmet and a lot of regrets.

No more. He wouldn’t journey that road again.

“Pity.” Callie took a sip of her drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “You were a lot of fun when you were a…well, not exactly a bad boy, but a bad-ish boy.”

“You make me sound like a five-year-old who wouldn’t obey his bedtime.”

“If I remember correctly, there wasn’t much trouble getting you to bed.” Then Callie’s face colored and she directed her attention to her drink again.

Jared remembered, too. Remembered too well. One night—a night he’d never forgotten, but she had begged him to never mention again, so that she could marry Tony, with a clear conscience.

Tony—Jared’s former best friend. Tony—the man who had stood between them both and been everything Jared wasn’t.

And everything Callie wanted.

The memory sucker-punched Jared in the gut and he had to swallow hard before he could breathe again. He’d let Callie go, left college, leaving them behind without a second glance, because he’d thought she was better off—

Had she been? Had he made the right choice?

Hell yes, he had. She would have never been happy with Jared—she’d made that clear. Jared thought that after nine years that last night with Callie wouldn’t still sting, would have become some distant memory, fog on his past’s horizon.

But nothing about Callie Phillips was foggy in his mind. And he’d be fooling himself if he thought otherwise.

He cleared his throat and took a swig of beer. “So what are you doing now? I take it you’re not the bohemian I remember.”

She chuckled. “No. I’m now a responsible tax-paying florist.”

“A florist?” He assessed her. “That, I can believe. You transformed that hovel I called an apartment into a respectable home, something that didn’t scream bachelor dive. You always did have an eye for color and design.” Jared straightened his glasses again, then asked the one question that had lingered on the tip of his tongue ever since she’d walked into the bar. Was she still with him? “So, how are things with Tony?” he said, nonchalant, taking a sip of beer. “Did you guys have any kids?”

“We’re divorced. No kids.”

Pain flickered in her gaze, and he wanted to ask more, but they’d only been sitting together for five minutes. It wouldn’t be right to probe. No matter how curious he was, how the need to know nearly overwhelmed him. What had happened? When had the tarnish appeared on the golden couple? And did Callie ever regret what had happened? Did she ever think about how her leaving Jared had affected him?

Jared took a sip of beer and navigated toward safer subjects. “Do you live here, in the city?”

She nodded. “I settled back in Boston three years ago when Tony got a job in the city. That’s when I was hired to be a florist for the Wedding Belles.”

“The Wedding Belles?”

“It’s a wedding planning company over on Newbury Street. There are six of us, all working for a woman named Belle, hence the name.”

“Wow. We’re practically neighbors,” Jared said. “I live right around the corner from here and the research division of the company I work for is five blocks from Newbury Street.”

“All those times we could have run into each other and never did.”

“Until now.” Jared’s gaze met hers. Heat brewed between them, a connection never really lost, even though many years had passed since they’d last seen each other. “Serendipity brings us together again.”

“Either that or bad taste in bars.” She raised her drink toward his.

“Always the optimist.” He smiled, teasing her, then tapped her glass with his own. “You haven’t changed, Callie.” He paused, and searched her face, looking for the woman he used to know. The one who had made his pulse race, encouraged him to take chances, to think bigger, wilder, to dream of possibilities he’d never dared to have—not until she’d come along. And never dared to have again after she’d gone. “Have you?”

“I should probably go,” Callie said suddenly, pushing her margarita to the side. “You have work to do and this…” She looked around the empty bar. “This was not a good idea.”

“What do you mean?” She’d just arrived and already she was leaving?

“I just stopped by to drop off the invitations. Thanks for the drink, Jared, and the trip down Memory Lane.”

He wasn’t going to let her get away that easily. He couldn’t, not again. When Callie had been in his life, she’d brought something special, something he’d never found again. Losing her had hurt, hurt like hell. And for just a moment, even though he knew it was crazy and knew she was all wrong for him, he wanted her. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow.” She started to slip off the stool, grabbing her clutch purse from the bar.

He reached for her arm, intending only to stop her, to keep her from leaving too soon. But the fire that rocketed through Jared’s veins told him that nothing had died between them, at least not on his end. Every bit of the attraction that had been left undone in high school, barely explored in college, lurked under the surface, like tinder simply waiting for that spark.

“Callie—” He cut off the sentence. What ending did he have? He hadn’t had a “Cool” transplant in the last nine years, which meant he was still the man he’d always been, the kind of man she hadn’t wanted.

Only a fool went for a third strike. Yet, Jared found himself drawn again, wondering if the distance of years would give each of them another shot.

“I should get home,” Callie said, stepping out of his grasp. “Nice seeing you again, Jared.”

And then she was gone. The door shut behind her, whisking in a cool burst of air as a goodbye.

In an instant, regrets blasted Jared. What the hell was he thinking, letting her get away again? At the very least, he should have asked her out, just to see…

What?

He didn’t know, really. They’d been over for a long time—if they’d ever really been anything at all—yet something inside him still wanted to know. Still felt that sense of something undone, that insistent need to complete the storyline.

Why didn’t he just leave the past alone—leave her alone?

When he met her gaze, he knew why. Because a part of him still wanted answers to his questions. Wanted to know how Callie felt about those days. Jared didn’t want a relationship. He wanted closure.

“Hey, where’d sh-she go? The pretty lady?”

Sam. Jared had forgotten all about him. He turned to find the man, looking a little better with his face washed, and a cup of coffee in him. “She had to leave.”

Sam sighed. “The pretty ones always have to go, don’t they?”

“Seems that way.”

Several people trickled into the bar. None of them Callie. Jared didn’t look for couples, no longer cared about his research.

Sam sank onto one of the stools. Jared signaled for a refill of the coffee cup. “My Angie, sh-she’s gone now. Lost her, lost my res-sh-tauraunt, lost everything,” Sam said. “That’s why I’m a…a drunk.” He ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “My Angie, she’d yell at me, tell me to straighten up. Get it together for the grandkids.”

“Why don’t you?” Jared asked, his voice almost bitter and angry. As the words left him, he knew the question wasn’t just for Sam, but for someone else, someone who wasn’t here, and who couldn’t answer.

Sam shrugged, then paused for a long moment, staring into the coffee. “Would they really care?” he asked, his voice low, full of regret. “After all I’ve done?”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “They would.”

Sam looked up, the bleariness in his eyes cleared and for a second, he seemed as sober as a minister. “You think we all get second chances, Jared?”

Jared’s chest tightened. He hoped so. If his father had lived longer, Jared knew now, with the wisdom of age and experience, that he would have given him a second chance, too. “I’d like to think so.”

O’Malley cleared his throat. “Cab’s here.”

“That’s my cue,” Sam said, rising. He put out a hand to stop Jared from paying the tab. “I’ve got it from here. You’ve done enough. Go after her. Don’t wait too long, like me.”

Jared watched Sam leave. The words “we all get second chances” rang in his ears. Maybe it was possible.

Jared scrambled off the stool, tossed a few more bills onto the pile for the tip and moved to grab his clipboard. As he picked it up, a germ of an idea sprang to his mind.

What if…he combined a little research with the answers he wanted? What if he found a way to not only peek inside Callie’s mind but also use their time together to analyze her reactions? He could do his research—

And find his answers to the past, all at once.

It would solve his problem perfectly. Give him exactly the kind of intimate knowledge his game research needed.

What harm could come of a few days with Callie Phillips? Not a real relationship, just a few dates. After all, Callie hadn’t been divorced for very long. Surely she wasn’t interested in anything permanent. And neither was he. Once his research was done, he’d be hip deep in work anyway, which meant no time for a life—

Again. Which was what he had done in his last two relationships. Yet, even as he told himself this was the perfect solution for both of them, a tiny bell of doubt rang, telling him things with Callie always had been more complicated than that.

Jared ignored the warning signals and strode out of the bar. Had to be the buzz of beer. Or the part of himself that wasn’t interested in signing up for Broken Heart Duty a second time in a decade.

But seeing her, for just a little while—

He couldn’t resist that, no matter how much he tried.

He caught up to her a little ways down the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself, to ward off the evening chill. He slipped off his jacket and slid it over her shoulders before she could protest.

“Thanks,” Callie said. “You were always Sir Galahad.”

“That’s me. The nerd in waiting.” He tipped at his glasses.

“You’re not so nerdy, Jared. Just…nice.” She smiled. “And that’s not so bad, or so easy to find.”

Damn, he was tired of her thinking he was nice. Tired of being seen as “just Jared.”

Nice guys finished last. And Jared had been left in Tony and Callie’s dust.

For one brief moment, she had seen him as something—someone else. Maybe he could give her that peek again. His mind scrambled for a way to connect, to find a path back to who she used to be, to the people they had been nine years ago. And in the process find out what had gone wrong. Why she had found him so lacking and Tony, the heartbreaker, such a better choice.

Then maybe that continual ache would stop hurting.

Music drifted out of O’Malley’s bar as the door opened and closed, releasing the fighting couple, who had apparently made up and were now holding hands and snuggling as they left. Other people headed in, the place finally beginning to fill as the night deepened. The music’s volume swelled, bass nearly drumming the sidewalk.

Jared took a step forward, and leaned close, his pulse ratcheting up with the nearness of her. “Do you still do that one thing you used to do?”

Her eyebrows arched. “What one thing?”

Jared took another step closer, invading her space now, inhaling her perfume, his research forgotten, his reason for being here long since left by the wayside. “You know what I’m talking about, Mariah Callie.”

Callie took in a breath, her chest rising with the movement, and it was all Jared could do not to bend forward and kiss her, just to see if she would still taste as she did. Feel like she used to, her mouth beneath his, her sweet lips against his.

Damn. What kind of game was he playing?

“Yes,” she said.

He grinned. “Good. Then let’s go do it now.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” Jared said. “But since when did that ever stop you?”

Callie returned the smile, hers now curving up into one filled with a bit of a dare, a challenge. “Are you sure you can keep up with me?”

Jared leaned forward. His lips brushed against the edge of her hair, nearly kissed the delicate curve of her ear. “Absolutely. I’ve been practicing.”

Callie laughed, the deep, throaty sound Jared remembered, sending his mind roaring down a heady path he thought he’d forgotten. Clearly he hadn’t forgotten it. Not at all.

Telling him his plan had one hell of a serious flaw.

CHAPTER THREE

CALLIE hadn’t laughed this hard in years. She sat back down at the table in O’Malley’s, the bar much more crowded now, clutching her stomach. “Do you really think you had to go that far?”

Jared grinned. His blue eyes captured hers and Callie’s pulse quickened. “Absolutely. What’s a good Madonna performance without adding in the high-pitched ‘oops’ at the end?”

“For one, I don’t think that’s what she says and for another, the whole gyrating thing was more than enough.” Callie shook her head, chuckling. “You have to be the worst karaoke singer in the universe. And contrary to what you told me, you have not improved since the high school talent show.”

“Which is why I have you.” He waved a hand in her direction, then at himself. “Baby, you make me look good. You are the Cher to my Sonny.”

Callie groaned. “Jared, even your karaoke jokes are bad.”

He laughed, then flipped open the menu and slid it her way. “Time for some appetizers. We need fortification if we’re going to do the Ike and Tina Turner catalog later.”

Callie looked away. Twice, Jared had gone and made references to them as a couple. She hadn’t seen the man in nine years and now, wham, it seemed as if they were picking up like a knitter who’d started again on a forgotten afghan.

But wasn’t that what her body wanted to do? Heck, every part of her was reacting as if not a moment had passed between the last time she’d seen him and now. Every time he looked at her, every time he smiled, the room seemed to disappear.

And when they’d been on stage, singing together—even though he’d had all the talent of a second-grader in Carnegie Hall—a connection had extended between them, the thread tightening whenever Jared’s smile winged Callie’s way.

Callie’s gaze roamed O’Malley’s. The now-busy bartender sent her a friendly thumbs-up, apparently approving of her stage performance, too. Callie waved back, trying to look anywhere but at the man across from her. Maybe if she directed her attention away from Jared, she wouldn’t feel so attracted to him.

Behind them, a young man with a blond Mohawk and a goatee had taken the stage, holding the mike in both hands with a white-knuckled death grip. He stuttered through the first few lines of a Police song, then gave up, to the razzing of a group of drinking buddies in the back corner.

“Poor guy. Probably gearing up for the American Idol tryouts, too.” Jared shook his head. “Everyone thinks they’re a singer.”

Callie returned her gaze to Jared. “Et tú Brute?”

He laughed. “At least I admit I stink. I’m really only here for moral support for you and for the nachos.” He signaled to one of two waiters who were busy juggling the room’s tables. “Do you want to order some?” he asked her.

“Nachos are always good, of course.” Had he read her mind again? She sat back against her chair, watching as Jared ordered the cheesy chips and some colas for them, impressed for a second time at how much he remembered about her. Nearly a decade had passed since they’d been together and yet, he’d recalled a lot of details. Her favorite drink. Her favorite snack. Her favorite hobby.

When the waiter left, Callie leaned forward. “Okay, what gives? I know you’re not some kind of savant, so tell me why you’re all over my favorite things. What do you want from me?”

Jared’s gaze didn’t divert from hers. “Nothing. Just an evening getting to know you again. Catching up on old times.”

“Then how come you remembered everything I love?”

“Is it that hard to think you might have been a memorable person in my life, Callie?”

Silence extended between them, taut, filled with heat, with expectation. He hadn’t forgotten her? He’d remembered all those details?

She grabbed the menu again, pretending to study it, which was a lot easier than trying to figure out this odd tension between her and Jared. “I wonder what they have for desserts here.”

He tipped the laminated edge downward. “Are you changing the subject?”

“Of course not.”

“Then tell me. Have you ever thought about us? About that night? About what might have happened if we—”

“Jared, that’s in the past—”

“I meant if we’d gone on tour, of course,” he said, his voice shifting into a tease, and Callie wondered if she’d read him wrong, and he didn’t mean a relationship “them” at all. Jared reached out and took one of her hands and pulled her out of her chair.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you remember that night, Callie?”

Of course she did. She’d never forgotten that Halloween, that one night in college when she and Jared had stepped over the line from friends and become lovers. One night.

One completely unforgettable night.

Sometimes she wondered what might have happened, had they ended up together, but then her better sense got a hold of her and reminded Callie that happy endings, tied up with a nice neat true love bow, weren’t always realistic.

“We sang ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’ and we were terrible,” she said, focusing instead on the funny memory of their mangled duet, but then feeling her cheeks heating when she remembered the innuendo in the song, the heat singing it had brewed between them that night. “We were drinking margaritas and probably not thinking entirely straight. I don’t know why we even got up on the stage at that college contest.”

“We were having fun. A lot of fun.”

They had laughed. Laughed so hard, she’d tumbled into his arms outside the bar, seeing Jared in an entirely different light. It had been as if he’d put on that leather jacket, picked up that microphone and become someone else. For the first time, she’d seen him as not a friend, but a man, a very desirable man. When they’d touched, an electricity had erupted between them, bursting into a kiss, a kiss that became more, became everything.

Became an absolutely wonderful, incredible night. Never in her life had Callie ever felt as loved as she had with Jared. He’d made love to her with incredible care, taking his time to treasure her, cherish her.

Love her.

It had been as if he’d memorized her body, knew the sentences of her soul and could finish them with every touch. She’d found herself wondering how she could have missed seeing this side of him, missed this man, and for a moment, considered a future between her and Jared.

But then, in the morning, he’d pulled her into his arms and started talking about where he wanted to go after college. About his plans to buy a house, get married, settle down. Create a forever future.

It had all sounded so fast, nearly chokehold fast, and Callie had panicked and run straight to Tony—the one man who turned out not to be so good at forever.

“Callie?” Jared said, drawing her back to the present. “Are you ready to reprise our greatest hits?”

“Of course.” Keep it to music only. Even if the rest of her remembered the details of that night and conveniently kept forgetting the morning after.

“If we’re going to do this, then this time,” he said, weaving their way past the tables and back toward the small stage at the back of the bar, “I think we need to choose a couple that ended happily. Think Faith Hill and Tim McGraw.”

“If you’re planning on singing, I think we’d be better off with a couple where one of them is a mime,” she said, pressing a finger to Jared’s lips, knowing this was a crazy idea even as she stepped back onto the stage with him.

Ten songs later, Jared accepted that he would never have a career in music. “There goes my dream of being on the radio. Even O’Malley threatened to buy earplugs on that last one.”

Callie laughed and slipped into place beside him as they left the bar. “You clearly have a masochistic urge to embarrass yourself in public.”

“It’s not so bad as long as I’m in front of total strangers I’ll never see again, and as long as you’re beside me.”

She laughed. “Still playing it safe, huh, Jared?”

“That’s me. Safe to a T.” He grinned.

“Well, I think you accomplished the total humiliation goal tonight. But you really should have drawn the line at that last pop song.”

“That one was purely for your amusement.” He caught her eye. “And were you? Amused?”

“Very.” The lights above twinkled in her eyes, like stars dancing.

Jared moved closer, unable to maintain his distance another second. All night, she’d enticed him, drawing him closer with every breath, every note. He kept telling himself it was all because he’d missed her, but even Jared knew it was about much, much more. He knew better…and yet, he kept doing the exact opposite of what was smart. “You, on the other hand, were incredible. You can really sing. Why didn’t you ever pursue that professionally?”

Callie shrugged, noncommittally. “I don’t know. Not my thing, I guess.”

“Not your thing? Callie, you are amazing. Seriously. Maybe you should add singing to the wedding business that you’re doing.”

“Oh, no. The other women don’t know I sing at all.” She blushed and turned away. “No one knows.”

For some reason, it thrilled Jared that he knew. That she’d shared this with him, and no one else. “So you’re a closet karaoke-er?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He reached up and cupped her jaw, finally touching the face he’d been dying to feel all night. Her skin was satin against his palm, her delicate features cast by the soft evening light. He moved closer, closing the gap between them, the night providing its soft, quiet blanket of intimacy. “Seems a shame,” Jared said. “To have a gift and keep it wrapped up so tight.”

“Jared, it’s complicated.”

“If I remember right, everything with you was complicated.”

She lifted her chin, so close he could kiss her with nothing more than a whisper of effort. He shouldn’t. He needed to maintain his distance. His professionalism, the research. That’s what he told himself he’d come here for, not a relationship with the woman who had always been the complete opposite of him, who’d broken his heart, left the shards in her wake when she’d run off with his best friend.

But she was smiling and he kept having trouble remembering any of that.

“If I remember right,” Callie said, “that was part of what you liked about me…and part of what drove you crazy.”

“That wasn’t all that drove me crazy,” he murmured.

A heartbeat passed between them. Another, and all Jared could see, hear, think about, was the movement of her crimson lips, the sound of her breath. Her mouth opened again, lips parted ever so slightly, like an invitation.

And Jared dipped down, so close his lips could almost brush against hers. Desire drummed hard in his veins.

Then common sense sent an icy shower of reality across his senses and Jared drew back, his gaze lingering on hers for one long moment before he released her. “Now that we’re all grown up, it seems you’re not the only one who can make things complicated.”

CHAPTER FOUR

IF THERE had ever been a time when Callie wished she had better bluffing skills, it was the next night at the monthly poker game for the Wedding Belles. “So, Callie, how’d it go at O’Malley’s?” Audra asked. “Did you stick to your resolution and not meet a man?”

Callie dipped her head, avoiding Audra’s inquisitive gaze. “Of course not.”

She’d run into an old friend. That didn’t technically make it meeting a man.

The heat on Callie’s neck told her the entire assemblage of women was staring at her. So much for bluffing. “So, shall we get back to the card game?” Callie asked, picking up her pile of five cards and fanning them out in her hand.

“Are you going to tell us his name?” Audra asked. She shifted her slender body in the kitchen chair, her blue eyes wide with suspicion.

“Whose name?”

“This man who has you blushing like a teenager with her first crush.”

Regina O’Ryan, the company photographer, chuckled, then dipped her head to look at her poker hand. Her brown hair swung forward, the locks curving around her heart-shaped face. “Audra, maybe Callie wants to keep him a secret.”

“No secrets. I just want to play cards.”

“Uh-huh,” Audra said, not believing her for a second.

Callie rolled her eyes at Audra’s persistence, then glanced down at her cards. Two jacks, an ace, a three and a four. She slipped the three and the four out, laid them facedown on the table and slid them over to Audra, who, as the hostess, was also the dealer for the monthly ladies’ poker game.

The Wedding Belles played for pocket change because they looked forward to the camaraderie and the margaritas more than anything else.

Only four of the six Belles sat in Audra’s sunflower-yellow kitchen today, two-thirds of the hardworking, dynamic team. Natalie Thompson was busy teaching a cake decorating class to high school students in downtown Boston; Julie Montgomery was running some last-minute errands. Belle was closing up the shop.

“Audra, I think you might be onto something. Callie does seem awfully evasive.” Regina picked up her cards, but didn’t glance at her hand.

“That’s because she doesn’t believe Mr. Right exists,” Audra said, rising to refill the chip bowl.

“Are you serious?” Serena asked. Serena, the wedding dress designer, was the biggest Prince Charming proponent in the group. “You have to believe in Mr. Right. It’s like a job requirement to be a wedding planner.”

“Exactly,” Regina agreed. “How many weddings have you helped put together in the three years you’ve been working here, Callie? Dozens and dozens, right?” Regina finally decided on her poker hand, and slipped Audra a card for exchange. “Our clients sure seem to find good guys and plenty of great picks.”

Callie scoffed. “So do the bargain shoppers who shove you out of the way at the annual Filene’s Basement wedding gown sale.”

“I still have a bruise from the last one,” Serena added. “Those women are vicious.”

Regina chuckled. “Seriously. We’re in the business of creating dream weddings. We’re supposed to believe in true love and happy endings.”

“She has a point, Callie.” Audra handed Regina a card from the deck. Regina smiled. Audra eyed her friend, weighing her expression. As the Wedding Belles financial guru, if anyone could spot someone bluffing about their money, it was Audra. “What do you have there, Regina? Anything good?”

“Of course not.” Regina’s voice raised a couple octaves. The company’s photographer might be great at taking pictures, but most of them could call her on her bluffs. “And I’d never tell you if I did. How about you, Callie? You planning on trying out for the Texas Hold ’Em competitions?”

“You all know how bad I am at bluffing.” Callie took a sip of her frosty margarita, the cold drink a perfect accompaniment to the chips and dip Audra had set out for an appetizer. “Plus, I usually attract low cards like dogs attract fleas.”

Regina laughed. “Maybe that’s what we all need. A Labrador. All you have to do is feed him and he’s not only loyal for life, he never asks for the remote.”

“Seriously, I don’t think you should give up on love or men,” Audra added. “I mean, we all need to have hope, don’t you agree? I don’t care what the statistics say, I believe in happy endings. It’s just not logical to assume Mr. Right doesn’t exist. Especially when we watch all these clients walk down the aisle and know we helped create that perfect moment. Mr. Right is out there, I’m sure of it, especially since I’m planning my own wedding to him right now.” Audra took a sip from her drink. “Besides, we’ve all met more than our share of Mr. Wrongs—”

“Absolutely. Look at me. I’ve got a Mr. Pretty-Sure-He’s-Right,” Serena James piped in. The bubbly blond dress designer was currently in a long-term relationship, and a huge champion for the opinion that there was a Mr. Right out there for everyone.

“I used to think that, too,” Callie said. “But then I met Tony.”

“One bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole harvest,” Serena said. “What was wrong with the man you met last night?”

“Nothing.” Callie sighed. “Everything. He used to be Tony’s best friend.”

“Oh,” Regina said, then realization dawned further. “Oh.”

“It means there’s history between us,” Callie said, plucking a chip from the bowl.

“No, it means you’re not starting from scratch,” Serena said.

“I’m not starting anything,” Callie insisted. Though a part of her wondered where things might have gone if Jared had kissed her. Would they have started something—

Something they had begun, but left undone all those years ago?

“Would finding true love be so bad?” Audra asked.

“No, not at all,” Callie replied. “I just think it’s not realistic to think all of us end up happy.”

“Why not?” Serena asked. “Look at the odds. I have a great guy. Audra’s engaged. Regina’s married.”

“And don’t forget Julie,” Regina said. “She’s found a great guy in Matt.”

Serena sighed. “They are so cute together. I think it’s kinda sad, though, that they’re just planning to go down to city hall. Julie’s been working for us since day one. She deserves the kind of weddings she plans.”

“I agree,” Callie said, glad for the change of subject away from her own life, and for the focus on someone who truly needed a happy ending.

Julie, the Belles assistant, had been hit financially from left and right, both from her own personal life and from her fiancé Matt’s business struggles. After Matt’s custom plane building business lost a huge account, Julie and Matt had decided to pour their entire wedding savings into the company, in order to save everyone’s jobs. Things were still rocky at his business, but they were on the upswing.

Julie and Matt were good people, who’d simply hit a financial road bump.

Callie might not believe in true love for herself, but she was happy to see Julie had found a wonderful man. If anyone deserved a happy ending, Julie did.

“Those hospital bills from her mom and that flood in her house last spring…” Callie’s voice trailed off in sympathy. Hard times had slammed her before, too, and she’d been battered by the twin winds of financial and personal pressures. She’d gone through both during her marriage to Tony, who hadn’t been much for holding down a job—or remembering a word of what he’d promised during the wedding ceremony. “Julie said it was too much and she and Matt need to save every penny they have, until his business is finally on its feet.”

“And then, they can have kids,” Serena said with a dreamy sigh. Serena, always the one who had dreams for the future, the one with the vision. “Julie’s been eager to start a family and would make such a great mom.”

“She definitely would.” Regina beamed, the photographer’s generous smile taking over her face.

Callie and Tony had never had children. A blessing, her mother had said, when the judge finalized the divorce decree. But to Callie, it had been the final ironic twist in her life story. The woman who had never put down roots, who’d married a man who couldn’t sit still, had been left with nothing more to show for all those years than a piece of paper and a few sticks of furniture. Not exactly a monument to achievement.

“Every woman deserves a wonderful wedding,” Serena said, glancing down at her hand, then her pile of coins, clearly agonizing over whether to bet on the cards she’d been dealt. “I wish we could do something for Julie to help her out.”

“Of course there is something.” Audra brightened and laid her cards facedown on the table. “We’re the Wedding Belles. Why don’t we throw Julie and Matt a wedding? I’m sure Belle would be all over it. She’s such a romantic. Natalie would make a killer cake. If all of us worked on it and contributed our amazing skills—” she grinned at her friends “—we’d be able to pull this off.”

“That’s a great idea,” Callie said, warmth spreading through her heart for these women, her friends, who had been with her through the trauma of her divorce. Always ready with a hug, a sympathetic ear, or a simple chocolate bar left on her worktable. What would she have done without them?

They were the best friends Callie could have imagined. Better that than some fairy tale concocted by a couple of brothers. What kind of happy endings could two guys with a last name of Grimm create anyway?

Serena put her cards down, her eyes bright with excitement, the wheels of dress designs clearly turning in her head. “I can already imagine the dress I’d like to create for Julie. She’ll look like an angel.”

“And I’ll take black and white photos of the wedding,” Regina added, the sense of energy soaring through the group. Callie felt it, as surely as a breeze. This was the energy that comprised the Belles, that gave every one of their weddings its unique flavor. “Julie saw some in my portfolio and loved them.”

“I can just see it,” Audra said. “What about you, Callie?”

Callie nodded, already picturing the kind of bouquets and arrangements she’d design. “I can imagine it, too. If there’s one thing I can always see, it’s someone else’s wedding.” She smiled. “Julie loves gardenias. I’ll make sure she has flowers that would make the Dutch drool.”

“Good. It’s settled. We’ll give Julie and Matt a wedding they won’t forget. And we’ll make it a huge surprise.” Audra smiled, then picked up her cards again. “She’s going to be so thrilled.”

“She already is. Matt’s a dream. I think Julie got the last Mr. Right on earth,” Callie said, truly happy for her friend. She didn’t envy Julie’s happiness a bit. But there were days, especially after she’d watched one more couple ride off into a sunset full of happiness and promises, when she wondered if maybe there would ever be a little of that for her, too.

Callie shook her head, dismissing the blue funk. Dwelling on the disaster that had been her marriage did nothing but stir a pot best left alone.

She picked up her new cards and slipped them into her hand. A jack and an ace. Full house. Maybe her luck was looking up—at least pokerwise. She tossed two dimes into the center pile.

“Ooh, Callie’s betting high,” Regina said, matching the bet. “Must be a good hand.”

“I’m out,” Serena said, folding her cards and laying them on the table. “I’ve got nothing.”

Audra’s deep blue gaze met Callie’s. For a second, she measured what she saw in her friend’s eyes, then threw in two dimes. “I’ll meet your twenty cents. And raise you a quarter.” She tossed in the silver coin.

“Too rich for my blood,” Regina said, laughing and setting her pile of cards aside. “Especially when all I have is a pair of twos.”

“I’ll match your quarter and call.” Callie moved to add another coin to the pile.

Audra reached out and put a hand over Callie’s. “Wait. Let’s up the ante a bit.”

“Up the ante? But we always bet pocket change.”

“I mean something more interesting. We are, after all, the Wedding Belles. We’re supposed to believe in happily ever after, but you don’t, Callie, and I happen to think you’re wrong. If we’re going to pull off this wedding for Julie and Matt, then I think you should test your theory about there not being enough Mr. Rights in the world to go around. If you win, then we’ll put on Julie’s wedding, congratulate her for getting the last great guy and resign ourselves to the fact that there aren’t any other Mr. Rights left, but if I win…”

Callie narrowed her gaze. “If you win…what?”

“Then you have to go along with an experiment. A challenge.” Audra smiled. “Because I happen to think you’re wrong. I mean, I work on weddings all day and I’m engaged myself. If I don’t believe in Mr. Right, then I should go into a different field.”

“Yeah, funeral planning,” Regina interjected. The four of them burst out laughing.

“It would be nice if you were right, Audra.” Callie thought of Jared. He’d awakened something in her last night, something that had lain dormant in her for years. Could Audra be right or was Callie merely wishing on an impossible star? “It’s been a long, dry spell, girls, and I could use a guy who doesn’t shred my heart like a Ginsu knife.”

“Or one who doesn’t look like a guilty puppy every time he looks my way,” Regina muttered.

“Everything okay with Dell, Regina?” Audra asked.

“Oh, yeah, just fine.” Regina let out a laugh. “I’m kidding, that’s all.”

For a second Callie wondered if everything wasn’t as perfect as Regina was leading them to believe. She scanned her friend’s face, but the shadow had passed and Regina’s regular sunny countenance had returned. Perhaps Callie had imagined it.

“So, Callie, are you game?” Audra asked. “For an experiment if you lose?”

At first, Callie opened her mouth to protest, but then the whisper of a challenge tickled at her. It raced through her blood, sending a shiver of excitement, of possibilities, down her spine. When had she last felt like that? Excited about her future?

Last night with Jared had reawakened the Callie she used to be. When they’d sung together, he’d reminded her of the woman she’d been in college.

And when he’d leaned down, his breath warm on hers, a kiss only a whisper away, he’d made her heart race in a way it hadn’t raced in…forever.

Like it had when she’d been the girl who had dropped everything at a moment’s notice to jet off for an adventure. The woman who had taken the detours, tried a new city, a different town. She’d done almost anything once, playing a game of spontaneity with every single day.

She’d lost that Callie somewhere in her marriage, buried her under a lot of disappointments and hurts. Did she still exist?

And if she found that woman, would returning to who she used to be ruin Callie’s carefully built life?

A crazy thought, she told herself. Surely she could take on this simple little bet from Audra. Maybe this was exactly what Callie needed to get out of this emotional funk she’d been in since the divorce and start moving forward.

She folded her cards together and leaned forward, excitement increasing her pulse. “What kind of challenge are you talking about? Exactly?”

“One where we see if your theory holds up in the real world. Meaning, you get back in the dating game and see if Mr. Right doesn’t just pop up.”

“Yeah, from underneath a rock,” Regina put in with a chuckle.

“Girls, this is just penny poker,” Serena said, putting a hand of caution over the pot of change in the center of the table. “We never bet anything real. It’s just for fun.”

Audra’s eyes glittered and a smile crossed her face. “This could be fun, too. And besides, Callie, it’s about time you jumped into the deep end.” Her grin widened and a tease edged her words. “Come on in the dating pool. The water’s warm, and with some guys, really hot. And who knows? You might find true love in the process.”

“What exactly are we betting here, Audra?” Callie asked.

“You take a chance with this Jared—” Audra put up a finger “—and don’t try to pretend he didn’t affect you because it’s all over your face.”

“Take a chance?”

“Go out with him again, if you lose this hand, on a real date. And see where it goes.”

See where things went with Jared? Callie had already done that years ago. And yet…

Hadn’t that almost-kiss between them been on her mind nonstop since last night? Didn’t a part of her wonder what might have happened if he had kissed her? Or if she had closed the gap?

It had been eighteen months since Callie’s divorce. Eighteen months spent rehashing her marriage, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Fourteen months of going over every conversation, every argument. But not of dating seriously.

What was that theory about hitting your thumb? Something about quit doing it if it hurts. Well, Callie had quit men. Because they hurt her heart.

Audra waited across from her, a friendly challenge on her face. Callie thought of the full house she held in her five cards. One of the best hands she’d had in months. Surely Audra didn’t hold anything better. And then, they could all drop this crazy idea. She and Jared weren’t right for each other. He was the practical, suburbs kind of guy and she was the wild one who’d never been able to stay in one place for long.

Either way, there was almost no chance Audra’s cards could beat Callie’s. The whole issue was probably moot.

“Yeah, I’m game,” Callie said. “I call. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Callie fanned out her cards, splaying them proudly across the laminate surface of Audra’s kitchen table. Three jacks, two red, one black, paired with two red aces.

She watched Audra do the same. One red card—a six. Another—a seven. A third—an eight. A fourth—a nine.

When the fifth red card—a ten—appeared, Callie knew she’d just been roped into dating Jared again by a straight flush. In hearts, no less.

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