Saved by the Bride (4 page)

His hands slipped down her neck, caressing her bare shoulders
and journeying along her arms—the touch leaving a trail of intoxicating bubbles
that joined together into an effervescence of unadulterated need. She ached in a
way she’d forgotten she could, and all the while his tongue continued its
invasion of her mouth in the most delicious raid that had her reconsidering the
antisocial behavior of pirates.

One of his hands rested on the top of the zipper at the back of
her dress while the other cupped the weight of her breast through the beaded
material. Her nipple immediately rose, pushing against the constraints of the
bodice, and tingles dived deep.
More
.

She leaned in closer but he suddenly whipped his hand away from
her breast, and was gripping the tops of her arms. Her breast sobbed, her mind
snagged and suddenly she was being hauled upward. Her feet hit the floor hard.
The next moment, Finn broke all contact, spinning away from her and striding
straight toward the decanter.

As her breathing slowed and her vision started to clear, it
took her wet and throbbing body a few seconds to catch up with her brain. When
it did, it was met with a comprehensive list detailing
all
the reasons why Finn stopping the kiss was a seriously good
idea. Not kissing strangers was a basic safety rule up there with looking both
ways before crossing the street. Plus she was here on a mission for the town and
she couldn’t let herself get sidetracked by sex. The tiny rebellion of
reawakened womanhood was duly reprimanded and squashed.

He silently handed her a drink which she accepted with an
unsteady hand and with no intention of drinking it. If one Scotch had her
considering getting naked with a complete stranger then she didn’t need a second
one. Finn downed his fast, his face a complicated crush of expressions, none of
them easily readable. He placed the low-ball glass on the credenza and shot her
a tight smile. A very different smile from the one he’d worn when he’d laughed
with her over her lack of athleticism. That one had lit up those inky eyes like
moonlight breaking through cloud, before carving into high and handsome cheeks,
and weaving its way through sexy stubble.

This
is
officially
awkward
. Her mouth dried as she tried to think of
something casually clever to break the stained silence, but she came up
empty.

“Donna, how far are you prepared to go to meet with Sean?”

Okay, this was good; aberration over and now it was back to
business. She could do that. She’d hoped to speak with Sean Callahan in
Whitetail but if the only appointment she could get was in Chicago, then she’d
go there. “Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

Black brows drew in so fast she almost heard them snap as they
dug a deep V into the bridge of his long, straight nose. Every ounce of
graciousness vanished. “And then I suppose you’ll write about it.”

Write
about
it
? His change in demeanor had her second-guessing
herself but using the logic that they were talking about a meeting, she realized
that a detailed report for
The
Bugle
was probably a good idea. “I’ll give an
interview first.”

“I bet you will.” Disgust slashed his face and he pressed a
button near the fireplace before sweeping up her purse. With deft fingers he
undid the clasp and upended it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Lipstick and her phone tumbled onto
the floor and she scrambled for them, her heart racing in shocked surprise. She
had no idea what had just happened but every part of her told her it wasn’t
good.

Finn reached her phone first and held it high. “You’re not
getting an interview, and you’re sure as hell not getting any photos of me in
compromising positions.”

Photos
? She stared at him wondering
if he had some sort of mental problem. “What are you talking about?”

A steely expression stole all the humanness from his face and
he stared at her like a thunderous, black angel with evil intent. “You can drop
the innocent act because with a mouth like that, you’re not innocent at all, are
you? What was the plan? Sex on the couch or the credenza with a photographer
secreted at the window?” His lips thinned and barely seemed to move. “I don’t
know who you’re working for but you better hope they’ve got bail money.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to make sense of
his words and his complete character change but it was like she’d tumbled into a
parallel universe. Everything looked the same but it was all oh so very
different. “I have no clue what’s going on inside your head but you’re barking
mad.” She lunged for her phone.

He caught her shoulders and held her firmly at arm’s length, as
if she was a child. The slight creak of a door opening jerked his gaze up and
beyond her.

She turned her head as far as she could, given his viselike
grip on her, and saw a tall, silver-haired man striding into the room.

Sean
Callahan
. Annika instantly recognized him from the
magazine picture Nicole had shown her. This was who she’d risked a concussion
for. This was the man she had to speak to and she had to get to him before Finn
said anything. She had to get free. Thinking fast she weighed her options—she
could knee her captor in the groin but instead she chose the next one. Lifting a
foot, she aimed a sharp kick squarely to his shin.

“Shit.” His hands fell away from her shoulders.

Ignoring the pain that ricocheted along her own leg, she
bunched up her long skirt and ran toward the man who held the future of
Whitetail in his hands. “Mr. Callahan, I’m so sorry to do this to you on your
daughter’s engagement but I need to—”

“Mr. Callahan—” The security guard who’d refused her entry ran
panting into the room with his paunch bouncing ahead of him. As his head came up
for air, he saw her, raised his hand and said, “You!”

Her stomach fell to the floor as panic threatened to close her
throat. She frantically glanced between the door, the three men and the now shut
window. All escapes routes irrevocably cut off. “I can explain every—”

“Don’t listen to her.”

“Finnegan, what on earth’s going on?” Sean Callahan’s voice
boomed around the chaotic room.

“You’ve caught me mid-citizen’s arrest, Dad.”

Dad
? Annika’s chest muscles froze
and she gagged on bile. Oh, God, why hadn’t she known Sean Callahan had a son?
Why hadn’t she done some research rather than depending on what Nicole had told
her? She looked at both the Callahan men, and now that she knew their
relationship she could immediately see the genes they shared—the impressive
height, the strong, square jaw and the deep brackets around a wide mouth just
waiting for a reason to smile. Right now though, given the way both of them were
staring at her, that reason was going to be a long time coming.

“I can take over for you, sir.” The security guard put his
meaty hand on her arm. She struggled not to try and shake it off.

Tell
them
the
truth
.
Tell
them
you’re
the
acting
mayor
of
Whitetail
. She toyed with that idea for about one
tenth of a second. She’d broken into a house, wrapped herself around the owner’s
son, allowed herself to be kissed senseless and to cap it off had kicked him as
hard as she possibly could, treating his shin like a soccer ball. Oh yeah, they
were so going to be believe her.

Chapter Two

Finn rubbed his throbbing shin and reminded himself to
never underestimate someone who claimed to be uncoordinated. He grunted at the
security guard. “Ring the police, Jerome.”

The usually stoic man looked confused. “Mr. Callahan, sirs,
exactly which county sheriff covers this area?”

“Aren’t you supposed to know stuff like that?” Finn could feel
an egg-size lump rising on his leg.

“In Chicago, sir, but this part of the country is all new to
me.”

“We’re on the border of Lake and Bayfield so take your
pick.”

Donna sighed, her smoky voice sounding tired. “Actually, it’s
Lake County. The police chief’s number is 555-3228, although it’s Saturday night
so he’ll probably be bowling. He never hears his cell over the noise so best to
call 555-5196.”

His gaze stalled on her mouth and the way it formed the numbers
so precisely, instantly recalling the wild and hot way it had played under his.
He ran his hand through his hair, the curls frustratingly snagging at his
fingers. Kissing her was supposed to have been a test to see how far
she’d
go in her quest to get what she wanted. Instead
he’d been more turned on in three minutes than he’d been in three months. He
closed his hand, pressing his fingers into his palm, desperate to shut out the
feeling that had been tingling there since it had unexpectedly discovered a soft
curve of breast nestling behind the embroidered bodice. A tingling that had made
him reach for her zipper.

He hated that he’d responded like a randy teenager to her
calculated plan to get a story. But that was over. He had her number and then
some. “Don’t believe a word she says, Jerome.”

“No, sir.”

“She’s right about the county,” his father said quietly as he
put his hand on the door handle. “The toasts are starting, Finnegan. Leave
Jerome to handle this.”

And it was time to go play happy families—the evening just got
better and better. “She’s wily, Jerome. Don’t let her near any windows and stay
with her until she’s in the back of the squad car.”

“Yes, sir.”

He could barely look at her but he gave a curt nod. “I’d like
to say it was a pleasure meeting you but we both know that’s a lie.”

Her chin shot up and those sparkling blue-on-blue eyes flashed.
“Enjoy the rest of the party, Finn.”

Her words mocked him as he stepped out of the library.

* * *

Bridget Mary Callahan—Bridey to her family and close
friends—was now officially engaged. She and Hank had been quietly engaged for
three months but tonight was the public declaration. She stood barefoot with
thick, soft grass tickling between her toes. The gentle and relaxing sound of
the lake lapped behind her as she stared up at the house from the bottom of the
garden. Fireflies zipped through the air, drawn to the tiny white bud lights
that adorned the huge maple and beech trees. Torches surrounded the now-empty
dance floor, casting delicious flickers of light and shade, and just beyond, on
the terrace, she could make out the silhouette of Aphrodite—the slowly dripping
ice sculpture that had graced the buffet table. The scene looked like a magical
kingdom and the hours and hours of meticulous planning she’d put into it had all
paid off. It was exactly how she’d imagined it. Picture-perfect.

A woman marched onto the terrace and into the picture. Bridey
instantly recognized the walk—stiff, tightly wound and perfectly controlled.
Mom
. Then silver flashed in the night light and
her father appeared, followed quickly by a woman younger than her mother who
immediately slipped her arm through his as if staking her claim and declaring to
all, “he’s mine.”
Stepmom
.

It didn’t take long before big brother joined the group,
standing next to their mother and flanking her like a protective guard as he
always did on the very few occasions the Callahan clan actually came together.
The last time had been two years ago when she’d finished her master’s and had
been accepted into the PhD program to study twentieth-century American
literature. She held her breath, willing the picture to hold.

This night had been close to perfect but that had been when one
hundred and fifty people had separated her family. Surely they could hold it
together for just a tiny bit longer. She glimpsed a man stepping through the
French doors, his height equal to that of her father and brother. The lights
caught his hair, giving it a golden glow like the sun god, Apollo, and her heart
fluttered in her chest.
Hank
. His usual stance—that
of a man at ease in the world—held a tremor of uncertainty as he deliberated
exactly where to stand. Wisely, he chose Switzerland and took his place between
her parents.

She smiled, loving Hank with every fiber of her being. He was
her soul mate. She’d been so busy planning their engagement party that she
hadn’t seen much of him in the last few weeks so she couldn’t wait to wake up
next to him tomorrow morning and start their vacation together. But right now it
was time to rescue him. No one deserved to deal with her family en masse and
unprotected. As Bridey picked up her shoes and commenced walking toward the
group, her mother’s tense voice drifted across the garden. “Where’s Bridget? I
need to say good-night before I leave.”

“You don’t have to stay in Whitetail, Kathleen.” Her
stepmother, Dana, seemed to draw even closer to Sean. “You’re welcome to use the
guest cottage.”

Oh
,
no
,
here
we
go
. The scene—picture-perfect when empty—was
suddenly shredding at the edges. Bridey knew that a smile-cum-grimace would be
pulling the skin taut across her mother’s cheeks.

“That’s very gracious of you, Dana.” The tone said it was
anything but.

“Kathleen.” Sean’s voice rolled out on a growl.

Daddy
,
no
. Bridey knew the exact effect her father’s warning tone would
have on her mother.
Please
don’t
bring
up
the
divorce
settlement
and
remind
Mom
how
she
lost
the
cottage
. She started to run.

“Sean, I didn’t design the cottage for the convenience of your
other wives.”

“The invitation was well meant.” Dana’s tone conveyed
resignation.

Sean patted his current wife’s hand.

Finn’s hand rested on the small of his mother’s back as if to
spin her away. “I’ll drive you to Whitetail
now
,
Mom. I have to go to the police department anyway.”

With his usual lightning-fast decisions, big brother had come
to the rescue of his mother yet again, protecting her against their father even
though she didn’t need it. Kathleen Callahan had been self-sufficient for years
and intolerant of those who were not.

Bridey’s feet hit the terrace and she came into the circle of
light, grabbing Hank’s hand. “What a wonderful party. I just know everyone had
the best time.”

Her family turned toward her, mouths tightly closed and their
silence speaking volumes.

Hank squeezed her hand but his smile was weary. “Mom and Dad
are so sorry they missed the party.”

A lump formed in her throat, making it hard to swallow, and
tears pricked the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. She would not cry.
She’d wanted everything to be perfect, needed everything to be perfect, and her
first attempt had fallen short. Hank’s parents hadn’t made it and her family
looked like they were sucking on lemons.

She gave herself a tiny shake. She knew perfection took hard
work and she’d never been one to walk away from that and she wasn’t about to
start now. Life was a series of steps that needed to be taken in the correct
order so that everything fell into place. For her, these steps started with a
big engagement party and finished with a huge wedding. Her parents hadn’t taken
all the steps and their marriage had ended in divorce.

No way was Bridey getting divorced. She was going to do
everything right. However, the
tiny
fact that she’d
been the one to propose to Hank had her stressing that they’d already started
out wrong, breaking the proper order of things—which is why she now had an
elaborate plan. A plan to right things in her world, to realign the universe and
to appease all or any deities to ensure her future happiness with Hank. Nothing
or no one was going to get in her way.

* * *

“I’m Finn Callahan and I’ve come down as requested to
check the charge sheet against Donna whoever-she-is.” Resignation clung to his
words because more than anything he wished he was home in his quiet cabin, free
of women, free of family and in a place where he could forget the whole
miserable night.

The police chief, looking as weary as most people do at one in
the morning, rose to his feet and joined him on the other side of the counter.
“Thanks for coming down, Mr. Callahan.”

“No problem. This is going to be quick, isn’t it?”

“I’m hoping so.”

“Hey, Rory, I got us some hot choc— Oh.”

What
the
hell
? Finn spun around at the sound of a very
familiar smoky voice.

Donna stood stock-still clutching two steaming mugs. Except for
her voice, her French nails and a fading black eye, she was unrecognizable. Gone
were the high heels and evening dress, and in their place she wore red canvas
shoes ripped-at-the-knee jeans and a blue hoodie. Her face was now scrubbed
clean of ruined makeup, making her eyes seem larger than ever, but the biggest
surprise was her hair. What had seemed to be a mousy blah color when wet was now
a startling white-blond with sun-kissed streaks of gold. Instead of being swept
up in a French chignon, it was pulled back in a simple ponytail which made her
look ridiculously innocent and wholesome instead of designer and predatory. Then
he remembered her mouth—full of delicious sin—and how he’d lost total
control.

Anger at himself, as well as her, surged back and he turned
around, slapping the counter. “Why isn’t she in a cell?”

The police chief calmly stood his ground. “She was wet and cold
so I sent her home for a hot shower before she caught a cold. She knew she had
to come back.”

“She lives here?” He’d assumed she was a stringer from Chicago,
plying her trade with the trashy publications of the big city.

“I’ll just go sit in the cell.” Donna put down one of the mugs
and hot chocolate slopped over the side, creating a brown river that snaked its
way toward the paperwork. “Oh, sorry.” She grabbed a wad of tissues out of her
pocket as if they’d been there for the express purpose of cleaning up a
self-induced mess.

“No, you need to stay here.” The policeman sipped his hot
chocolate. “This is good, Anni.”

“It’s the marshmallows. I whipped them in.”

Finn shook his head trying to clear the stands of fatigue that
were stealing his concentration.
Anni
? Her name was
Donna. Nothing was matching up here except her clumsiness. “Excuse me for
interrupting ‘top tips for making hot chocolate,’ but can we focus on why we’re
here...” he read the chief’s name badge, “...Chief Gunderson. This woman broke
into my father’s house.”

She wriggled her nose like a bunny rabbit and her shoulders
squirmed. “Well, technically I did, but not really. I’m sorry for how it looks
and I can explain everything.”

Cutesy didn’t cut it with him but worse than that she was doing
that thing she did with her teeth. His gaze slid to her plump bottom lip and his
mouth filled with the memory of its cushion softness and intoxicating taste.
Part of him yearned to kiss her again.
Yeah
,
right
,
like
that’s
really
going
to
help
.
She’s
a
liar
and
an
information
thief
.

He stared at her left shoulder and fought to find his
emotionless but analytical thinking that he prided himself on. Did she think he
was wet behind the ears? He and his father ran a business that employed
thousands of people in and out of the country and he’d pretty much heard every
excuse in the book. “It’s too late for sorry, Donna, and the only explaining you
have to do is to a judge.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Actually, I’m Annika.
Annika Jacobson.”

He sighed. “I don’t care what the hell your name is. It makes
no difference to the fact you broke the law.” He turned to the chief. “Does
it?”

Rory reached for the now damp and chocolate-stained charge
sheet. “Technically, no.”

Finn smiled. There was nothing like the facts to simplify
things and clear them of the chaos of emotions. “There you go. You not only
broke into the house with the intention of getting information to sell, you also
used an alias and lied about why you wanted to meet my father.”

“I’m not a journalist and I didn’t lie about why I wanted to
meet your father.” Her voice was unexpectedly firm.

He didn’t believe her. “If that’s the truth then you have a
funny way of doing things.”

“Mr. Callahan, you’re quite correct.” Rory Gunderson’s
expression was a combination of paternal concern and professional patience.
“Technically she broke the law. However, I’m uncomfortable arresting Whitetail’s
acting mayor over what I believe to be a misunderstanding.”

Finn stared at her in disbelief. Not now, or even when she’d
been wearing wet evening wear, had she looked anything like a local official.
“You’re the mayor?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a self-deprecating shrug and a
faint blush pinked her cheeks. “It’s a bit of a long story, but I’m standing in
until the next elections.”