LITMIR.BIZ

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defeat. She refused to give in to the threatening sobs choking her. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the happiest day of her life. Not the worst.

      Feeling her mouth tremble, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and took the first step down a long white carpeted walkway. She felt as if she was walking through quicksand, each step taking every ounce of energy she possessed. She walked down the aisle toward her fake groom, who looked way too much like Griffin for her peace of mind.

      She kept her eyes trained on Grant and tried to look on the bright side—if there was one. At least Griffin had a twin who could save her from total humiliation.

      There was a wildness about Grant, not a silly funny bone like Griff, but an untamed side that intrigued her. He looked tall, dark and sexy in his tux, the quintessential groom, a definite prize. The stark white collar accentuated his sun-bronzed features. The ebony jacket showed off his broad-as-Texas shoulders and slim waist. She’d switched his pale pink rosebud boutonniere for the white one reserved for the groom. Somehow his metallic gaze pulled her toward him, steadied her, gave her confidence.

      She should have been reminded of her ex-fiancé when she looked at him, but now she could see the subtle differences in the two men. Grant’s eyes were a silvery-gray, compassionate yet hard-edged. His features were tanned, making the tiny white scar on the bridge of his nose stand out. And his body…well, she remembered the hard feel of him against her, his hands at her waist, his mouth on hers. She felt a surge of heat from her satin-covered toes to her veil.

      Annie! You shouldn’t be having thoughts like that—at a time like this.

      Feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable playing the part of a bride, she refused to look at the smiling, curious and surprised faces of family and friends sitting along the wooden pews. She figured most had simply come to see if the twice-dumped bride would finally get to say “I do,” or to see what catastrophe would keep the wedding from taking place. If only they knew!

      Her jaw clenched. They wouldn’t know. Not if she could help it. And Grant Stevens better not slip up and let the cat out of the proverbial bag. Damn Griff! The least he could have done was tell her himself.

      Actually, she wouldn’t have taken that well, either. But at least then she could have pretended the decision was hers. That she’d dumped him! Oh, how she would like to drop-kick him all the way to Dallas.

      Her hand tightened around the cascading bouquet of white roses, Casablanca lilies and stephanotis blooms. Once again, she felt the sharp bee sting of rejection. A burning ache resonated outward from her heart and throbbed in her veins. Why, oh why, had this happened again?

      Grant gave her a cautious, if not worried, smile. He held out his arm for her and she put her hand in the crook. Suddenly she felt safe. It was an odd time to feel that way as she stood at the front of the chapel about to take false vows with a stranger, knowing it was a big lie to her family and friends. Still a calm settled over her.

      She’d never been able to lie. Never fibbed. How could anyone get away with something like that in a small town anyway? Someone always tattled or gossiped.

      But not this time. There’d be no one here to reveal her secret once she’d left with a handsome groom on her arm and her hopes and dreams packed in her suitcases. For the first time in the past seven years, she felt relieved that her parents weren’t alive to see this farce, this fiasco!

      She’d always tried to do the right thing, always been the Goody Two-shoes, always toed the line. What had she done to deserve this? Well, she wasn’t going to sit back and take what life handed out anymore. This time she was taking her life in her own hands, making her own way, pushing the limits. And boy was she pushing the boundaries today.

      This time she wasn’t a poor, defenseless victim, a romantic sap who’d fallen in love with the wrong man—again. This was her way out of a humdrum life stuck in a nothing-happening town. By this evening, she’d be on her own…free.

      Heck, she decided suddenly, it was better than getting married. Why, she could do anything her heart desired. Freedom would be fulfilling, exciting, an adventure. She could go anywhere, do anything. And she would.

      The only thing she wouldn’t be getting was a lovely romantic, sexy honeymoon.

      She felt Grant’s muscles shift and tighten beneath the fine cloth. He seemed as steady and solid as a rock, where Griff had been slender as a reed, obviously bending and swaying to his own whims. When she thought of her ex-fiancé, anger swirled inside her. So she kept her focus on Grant, on the way his gaze warmed her, on his generous mouth, on the memory of his kiss.

      Just the recollection had her insides twitching with need. Her skin burned as she remembered all she’d said to him, even though she hadn’t known he wasn’t her fiancé.

      But he had! Still he hadn’t stopped the kiss. He’d deepened it, held her intimately against him. She couldn’t be mistaken about that. But why?

      It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. He was her temporary groom. End of story—or so it would be when he dropped her at the airport.

      “Annie,” he whispered.

      Her gaze lifted to his, and she saw concern darkening his eyes to a deep, somber gray. “Huh?”

      He gave a nod toward the preacher.

      “Oh, uh, I do.”

      The man who’d married her parents, baptized her as a child and eulogized her parents at their funerals gave a slight shake of his head. Reverend Sarks offered her a sympathetic smile as a murmur of laughter rippled through the congregation. Embarrassment burned inside her. What had she done now?

      “Let me repeat,” the preacher said, “and then you copy what I say, Annie. Okay?”

      She gave a slight nod of understanding. Pay attention or you’ll blow this.

      “I, Annie Meredith Baxter,” she repeated Reverend Sarks’s words, her throat tight, her heart pounding, “take this man, Gra…uh, Griffin Thomas Stevens, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

      Reluctantly she felt her gaze drawn back to Grant. What kind of husband would he make? Was he really as different from Griff as he declared?

      It doesn’t matter, Annie! Good grief, you’re not marrying him anyway. Distinctly she remembered that his aversion to marriage matched his brother’s. And now she shared that same aversion.

      “To have and to hold from this day forward.” She waited for Reverend Sarks’s next cue. “For better or worse.” Couldn’t get much worse than today. “For richer for poorer. In sickness and health.” If I ever run into Griff, he’s dead meat.

      She’d tried the marriage route three times now and that was enough. From now on, she was on her own. She didn’t need a man. Not even one as devastatingly handsome as Grant Stevens.

      It disturbed her that she wasn’t more upset about Griff’s desertion. Anger dominated her feelings more than grief. Her one regret was that she wouldn’t be leaving today on a romantic honeymoon. Maybe she was in shock.

      Dangerously, her mind skipped back to that kiss she’d shared with Grant. Her tongue tripped over itself and she flubbed the last words of her vows, “Till kiss us do part.”

      Her gaze flew to Grant and a flame flared deep inside her. Laughter sifted through the congregation.

      “Till death, darlin’,” Grant said, his mouth pulling to the side in a semblance of humor. “Our kiss is just the beginning.”

      His words gripped her heart. If only!

      No, no. She didn’t want Grant or his brother or any other man. She’d do just fine on her own. After today, that is. She’d be grateful to Grant for his help and support through this difficult day, but gratitude was where it would end. And the upcoming kiss would be their last.

      “Right, padre?” Grant slanted his gaze toward Reverend Sarks.

      “It’s nice to

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