LITMIR.BIZ

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at a neighbor who had just arrived—in white shirt and bolo tie. “Isn’t he lucky,” Clay grumbled under his breath.

      He was nervous. Mike Schuyler, the groom, seemed more relaxed than Clay was, shaking hands with the minister and preparing to make his way to the front of the church. Clay checked his watch and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. Stacy was due any second with Linda beside her. He’d caught a glimpse of the bride before he’d headed to the church. Stacy’s simple white dress suited her perfectly. It was hard to believe that the woman who’d raised him was getting married. He was thrilled for her. And he liked Mike.

      But giving her away was going to be difficult. She was, in all but one sense of the word, his mother. And placing his mother into another man’s keeping was a difficult thing to do.

      A hand clapped on to his shoulder. “God, you look like you could use a nip of something,” Dawson greeted him with a wide smile. “Relax. It’s not like you’re the one getting hitched.”

      Clay forced a smile. No, it wasn’t him. Thank God. This was torture enough. Standing up at the front of the church? It wasn’t likely that would ever happen. “Dawson. And Tara. You look great.”

      Tara smiled shyly at him and put her arm through Dawson’s. “Thanks, Clay.”

      If Dawson was here then Meg must be, too. Clay hadn’t seen her since last week when he’d popped over to the Briggs ranch to talk to Dawson about renting out a block of land for grazing. Meg’s words about the Briggs’s struggles had stayed with him and the arrangement would benefit both operations. Meg had been talking to the vet, her back to him and that awful ugly hat on her head. Before he left he’d quickly asked, “Are we still on for the wedding?” She’d answered that she’d meet him at the church.

      What had he expected? It’s not like it was a real date. She was a friend. She was his wingman, right? She was going to help him get through the evening and he’d be by her side as she faced the town again. And at the barn she’d acted like it was nothing to her at all. He frowned a little.

      “Did Meg come with you?”

      Dawson’s grin widened. “She sure did.”

      “I think she went to the powder room,” Tara suggested.

      Dawson’s grin faded a touch. “I’ll admit I was surprised when she said you were going together.”

      Clay met Dawson’s steady gaze. “As friends without other dates. That’s all.”

      Dawson’s gaze was unerring. “Good. She needs support, you know? But not complications. Not after what she’s been through.”

      “And you consider me a complication?” Clay was tall but Dawson was a bit taller and right now it annoyed Clay a lot to have to look up at his best friend, especially when Dawson spoke with that hint of warning deepening his voice.

      “I’m just saying we all know your history, Clay. Be careful.”

      “It’s just Meg. Nothing to worry about, so you don’t need to act all big brother with me.”

      Dawson frowned. “Well, you haven’t seen her yet.” He nodded toward the foyer.

      Clay turned his head to scan the vestibule.

      She was there. Smiling and holding Agnes Dodds’s hand between her own and then turning away as they parted.

      Holy Mother Mary. The air seemed to leave Clay’s lungs as he stared at her. Where was the plain old Meg he remembered? The woman walking this way was stunning. More than stunning. She was …

      His brain seemed to tie in knots as she suddenly saw him and stopped. For the space of a heartbeat, their gazes clashed and her lips dropped open the tiniest bit. Full, sexy lips the exact same deep red hue as her dress. She gave a slow smile and his body tightened in response. When had she learned to do that? Why was he reacting this way? Sure, he’d noticed she was attractive but she wasn’t his type. She was his best friend’s little sister. Only she wasn’t, not today. Today he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was soft, sweet and sexy as hell.

      She began walking again and Clay had the strangest urge to run, only he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run to her or away from her. His gaze swept down to her hips, lightly swaying as she made her way past the gathering congregation to his side. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Megan. All he wanted right this moment was to put his hands on her slim hips and draw her close.

      Dawson’s hand gave a final tap on his shoulder but Clay barely registered the touch. She was only a few feet away now and he had to somehow untangle his tongue and be cool.

      Meg’s whole body felt on fire beneath the heat of Clay’s gaze.

      At first there’d been a jolt as their eyes met and recognition flared. Then had come the sweetest part—the utter surprise and approval she glimpsed in his face. She felt the glow of triumph as she smiled slowly and his dark eyes glittered at her in response. He stood up straighter. She saw Dawson say something by Clay’s shoulder, but Clay’s eyes never left hers.

      Today she felt as beautiful as she’d ever been, which under the circumstances felt tantamount to a miracle.

      Her confidence faltered slightly as she reached him and struggled to find the right thing to say. She’d seen his reaction to her appearance and she didn’t want to blow the moment by sounding stupid. In the end she managed a simple but inadequate sounding “Hi” as she looked up at him, grateful for once to have on heels. At least in her shoes her eyes were at a level with his strong, freshly shaved jaw.

      “You look … wow,” he finished, at a loss for words, and Meg felt her confidence come rushing back.

      “Thanks. Lily made the dress.”

      “It suits you.”

      Goose bumps erupted on her bare arms. She’d made noises about not going sleeveless but Lily had worked her magic with a soft wrap-style bodice and a demure V-neck that gathered into wide shoulder straps. The red velvet was soft and rich, and the fabric and construction were very pretty while managing to make Meg feel covered and comfortable. Jen had loaned her gold dangly earrings and a simple gold necklace. Megan couldn’t have felt more like a princess had she been the bride.

      Clay was staring at her oddly, the silence somewhat awkward but in a new, exciting sort of way. He put a hand lightly on her waist. “I need to go for now, Stacy’s arrived.”

      The spot where his fingers touched seemed to light on fire through the fabric, and she wasn’t sure but she thought she detected a bit of regret in his words. “And I need to find my seat.” The words came out sort of breathlessly and Meg bit down on her lip. There was knocking his socks off and there was making a fool of herself and the way she was feeling with his hand on her waist was treading on fool territory. It felt proprietary—and she liked it. Too much. She could get used to that feeling a bit too easily, and she reminded herself that this was a special day. This was not real life. Tomorrow she’d be back in faded jeans, out in the barns again.

      But, for today, she was determined to put her cares aside and enjoy every blessed moment.

      “I’ll see you after?”

      His warm eyes looked at her hopefully and she couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “I’m sure you’ll have other duties, like family pictures, that sort of thing. Why don’t I just meet up with you at the reception?”

      He looked like he wanted to say something more but she had to move, had to escape his touch before she did something silly. She’d achieved what she wanted. She was making a success of the afternoon, wasn’t she? There was no more to it than that.

      With a parting smile she drew away from his hand and walked toward the sanctuary doors. She swore she could feel his gaze on her back and she forced herself to take regular breaths. She wouldn’t look back at him. There was obvious, and then there was obvious.

      She took her seat beside her father and crossed her legs, smoothing her

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