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Marry Me ... Maybe?
By Anne McAllister Tori Carrington Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
Copyright © 2004 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved. ISBN: 0-373-23027-3
Chapter One
JUST THINKING about Marc McCoy made Melanie Weber tingle with need. Even now. Especially now.
She slid her palms over the thick silk of the traditional wedding dress she was being fitted for. It was ironic, really. She had never thought of her relationship with Marc in the traditional sense. Still, she had expected they'd always be together. Always be partners. Always be lovers.
But that was three months ago. Before she realized Marc could never love her. Before she was injured in the line of duty. Before she found out she was pregnant.
Melanie reluctantly opened her eyes, then tugged her hands away from the wedding dress. A pinpoint of guilt started in her stomach and slowly spread through the rest of her body. The last person she should be thinking about was Marc McCoy. She'd carefully tucked him in the past the day Craig had generously offered to solve both their problems by proposing to her. She owed it to Craig to keep focused on their plans for the future. She owed it to herself to keep her thoughts away from the past and all that could never be.
Still she recognized the churning signs of panic that had been swirling in her since she and Craig had picked up their marriage license that morning. She'd felt the same way the day she had faced her mother to tell her that she wasn't majoring in business, as her mother so wanted. Only now she suspected hormones were more to blame for her anxiety - she hoped.
She turned slightly to view her profile. Funny, her jumbled thoughts didn't keep her from longing to wear a dress with an open decolletage neckline. But that was impossible. The fresh scar just below her left collarbone was difficult to look at, even for her. She could imagine what would happen if she flashed her gunshot wound to one hundred of Bedford, Maryland's, prominent citizens, much less her own mother. She shook her head. The seed-pearl-studded mock turtleneck that covered nearly every inch of her skin would have to do.
Melanie sucked in her stomach. If she didn't have the dress let out just a tad, she would split a seam in front of Craig Gaffney, God and everyone halfway down the aisle two days from now.
"Wouldn't that fuel Bedford's gossip hot line for at least a month?" she whispered to her reflection. As it was, she'd already given them enough to talk about. Scary, since they didn't even know the half of it.
"Joanie? Can you come here for a minute?" she called.
Her younger sister, Joanie, owned the Once Upon a Time Bridal Shoppe. It was just before closing, and with June looming but a few days away, Melanie's dress wasn't the only thing bursting at the seams. The shop was filled with stressed-out brides and overbearing mothers. She stuck her head into the hall. In the room opposite hers, Joanie slid a stray pin from the fabric peach forever around her wrist, then blew her hair from her eyes.
"Be with you in a minute, Melanie."
"Hey, be careful!" complained the bride whose dress Joanie skillfully worked on. "If you get so much as one drop of blood on this dress, I won't hesitate to sue."
Melanie ducked into her dressing room. Her sister could probably make a good chunk of change by videotaping some of the more interesting fittings and selling the footage to their grooms. But something like that would never occur to Joanie.
Her sister's generous spirit and endless patience were the main reasons her business had grown so successful. They were also the reason she radiated happiness like a sweet perfume.
Melanie glimpsed her own rare smile in the mirror, then eyed the chair behind her. But no matter how much she wanted to rest her swollen feet, she didn't dare sit down. Not unless she decided to let out the dress herself in a way that would guarantee she couldn't wear it two days from now.
Saturday. Her wedding.
Her throat tightened, choking off her airway. She closed her eyes to ward off the unwanted reaction. Cold feet, that's all it was. A major case of cold feet. What more could it be?
"You can handle this, Mellie. I don't think I've met a braver woman than you. Aside from my Mary, of course."
The words conjured up the image of Sean's kind, time-marked face and sober green eyes.
Sean. Just Sean. She didn't know his last name. But his presence had been the only thing that had kept her sane during that long week in the hospital. Odd, she thought, because he had been little more than a stranger. A visitor, there for another patient, who had entered the wrong room and found her alone and crying. It was the only time she'd been left alone by her mother, Joanie and Craig, who had all meant well but hadn't a clue how to handle an injured secret service agent whose heart was breaking for the only person who hadn't visited.
Sean hadn't pried. He hadn't tried to comfort her. He'd simply handed her a tissue and sat next to her bed as if it had been her he had come to visit all along.
Picking up a bouquet sample, Melanie listlessly straightened a silk lily of the valley in the all-white waterfall bouquet. She hadn't seen Sean since she had been discharged, and hadn't expected to. But thinking about him made her realize how much she missed her father. Made her selfishly yearn to have him there if only for an hour or so. If only to walk her down the aisle.
Blinking back unexpected tears, she refocused on the bouquet. Merely looking at the fake flowers made her feel like a fake herself. She turned away, not sure she wanted to see the woman reflected in the smooth glass. Three months ago ...
"Three months ago you were a fool in love with your career. And an even bigger fool in lust with Marc McCoy," she said softly.
She tossed the bouquet to the velvet chair and reached back to undo her dress, but she could barely move her arms. Joanie had trussed her in. It looked as if Joanie would have to let her out.
She sighed. "Just peachy."
Joanie poked her head around the corner. "Whatcha need?"
Melanie sighed with relief then tried to pinch the tiniest bit of fabric away from her waist. "You were right. It needs letting out."
"I was afraid of that." Joanie came to stand behind her, assessing the damage. "I really hate to tell you I told you so, but -"
"You told me so." Melanie watched her sister slide into her role as seamstress. While she may have spent the past eight years bucking tradition, Joanie had always been content with her life. More than that, she seemed to cherish the role she'd created for herself as everyone's best friend.
It struck Melanie as odd that she should be the one getting married when her sister was still inexplicably single.
Joanie sighed wistfully. "I really do love this dress." She smoothed the puckered seam. "I think it's the one I would pick, you know, if I was in your place." A shadow briefly moved over her pretty, freckled face. "You're lucky, you know? I don't think there's a time in my life when I can't remember Craig being around. And he's always had such a crush on you." She brushed a strand of red hair from her cheek. "You couldn't ask for a better man...."
Her soft words drifted off. Melanie watched her sister, wondering if she was going to mention that the most she and Craig had ever been were friends. The best of friends, but just friends. But her sister appeared to be thinking of something else entirely.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Marry Me ... Maybe? by Anne McAllister Tori Carrington Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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