LITMIR.BIZ

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she said, resuming whatever it was she was doing.

      So, she’d noticed his damp hair. Obviously he wasn’t the only observant type in the room. He stopped at the kitchen table and said, “Until I spotted the towels, I thought I’d imagined seeing you in my room.”

      She stopped stirring. “You saw me?”

      “I’ve got to tell you, it was a relief finding evidence that you’d been there. Chronic insomnia and an insatiable hunger are bad enough. Hallucinations would have been a lot tougher to ignore.”

      She smiled at his dry wit. He found he liked that, too.

      “I thought you were dead,” she said, as she faced him. “Seriously, I’ve never seen anybody sleep so soundly. If you saw me deliver your towels, why didn’t you say something?”

      “Like I said, I thought I was dreaming. I’d be happy to tell you about the rest of the dream.”

      She rested her back against the counter, folded her arms and tilted her head slightly. He half expected a mild admonishment. He felt a sexual stirring again. Oh, he definitely wasn’t numb to everything.

      “Harriet is the one who enjoys dirty stories,” she said quietly.

      Did she say Harriet?

      There was a nagging buzzing in the back of his mind. He looked from Summer’s hazel eyes to the clock on the stove. It was after seven.

      Harriet.

      He’d stood her up. Muttering Grant Oberlin’s favorite word under his breath, Kyle headed for the door.

      “Take these,” Summer told him. She handed him a vase filled with fragrant lilacs. “Purple is Harriet’s favorite color.”

      It was dark outside when Kyle parked at the curb in front of Madeline’s house on Floral Avenue later that night. He recognized Riley’s silver car in the driveway and also Summer’s blue sedan. Two other vehicles were there, too. It might have explained why every light in the house was on.

      He climbed out of his Jeep, only to hesitate. Madeline’s doctor had prescribed bed rest, so it was unlikely there was a wild party going on, and yet for a few seconds he wondered if he should go in. Riley would have called Kyle a choice brotherly name if he knew Kyle was so much as considering the possibility that he was intruding.

      Riley, Braden and Kyle had been raised by three very different mothers in three separate households. The boys had all wanted the same thing from their father: his attention, some fatherly advice and a good example. Brock Merrick hadn’t had it in him. He’d shared his immense wealth, and he’d loved his sons; he’d loved their mothers, too. The problem was, he’d loved a lot of women. By the time the boys were adults, they’d learned to accept his flaw. Ultimately, since they couldn’t get what they’d needed from him, they’d gotten it from each other. They’d also gotten black eyes and bruised egos, but that was part of growing up with brothers.

      They’d vowed to be there for one another no matter what, no questions asked, and while they’d all been adults for a while now and didn’t see each other as often as they wanted to, being there for one another would never change. Feeling back in his game, Kyle walked to his brother’s door.

      Riley answered Kyle’s knock and threw the door wide. He motioned him in as if Kyle were a lifeboat and Riley was swimming in shark-infested water. “I’m glad you’re here.”

      “Is something wrong?” Kyle asked.

      This morning only Riley and his dog, Gulliver, had been home. Tonight, Kyle heard voices, several of them. All female.

      “No,” Riley said. “On the other hand.” He paused again. “No, come on back.”

      Kyle wondered, was there something wrong or not?

      Just then a chorus of laughter carried through the house. One was throaty, one breathy, one a giggle. Again, all were feminine. Maybe there was a party going on after all.

      Gulliver looked expectantly at Riley then waited for his master to nod before leading the way. The brown dog and Riley took the same route through Madeline’s house they’d taken this morning. They led Kyle past a narrow staircase in the living room then through a brightly lighted dining room and into the kitchen. From there they entered an arched hallway where Kyle saw a door that had been closed earlier.

      They stopped outside a small bedroom with old-fashioned floral wallpaper and period furnishings. There was a mahogany desk and dresser on the far wall. On an adjacent wall was an antique four-poster bed. And on that four-poster were four women.

      Kyle recognized Summer. She sat on the side closest to the door, her back to him, her body blocking the faces of two others. Kyle assumed the slight woman lying down was Madeline. He had no idea who the other two lined up against the headboard were. One had a notebook open on her lap, the other was gesturing wildly with her hands. Whatever she said caused laughter to erupt again.

      Kyle and Riley shared a look, and Kyle quietly said, “This kind of thing would never happen between men.”

      Riley’s sudden chuckle drew four sets of eyes. It occurred to Kyle that laughter looked good on Summer. Her cheeks were flushed, the curve of her lips enticing a second look. Rimmed by dark lashes, her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. She was smiling, genuinely happy.

      There was an innate elegance in the way she placed her teacup on its gilded saucer and set it on the nightstand before introducing him to her friends. Chelsea Reynolds was the curvy brunette, Abby Fitzpatrick the wispy-haired blonde.

      “It’s nice to meet you,” he said to each in turn.

      “How did it go?” Summer asked him.

      “Better than I expected.”

      “Did she forgive you?”

      “Who?” the petite blonde asked.

      The brunette shushed her with a nudge.

      “She made me work for it,” he said, his gaze steady on Summer. He and Summer were the only ones who knew they were referring to Harriet Ferris, and neither of them chose to explain to the others. “But eventually she warmed up,” Kyle said. “The flowers were a big help.”

      “I’m glad.” She was looking at him as if she meant it.

      Kyle wondered if anybody else in the room noticed that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. He was interested. He was intrigued. And he hadn’t been either of those things in a while.

      “Am I interrupting something?” he asked her.

      Summer shook her head. “Chelsea is Madeline’s wedding planner. She’s been prioritizing the most pressing details for the coming week.”

      The blonde, Abby, said, “Summer’s going to be filling in for Madeline.”

      “Is that right?” He smiled at Abby, but his gaze ultimately went to Summer again, for this was the first he’d heard that.

      The weather had been unseasonably warm and humid today. It brought out the beast in a lot of people. As far as Kyle was concerned, the conditions were perfect for peeling off layers of clothing, for gliding a zipper down a slender back, for lowering the straps of a certain someone’s bra and for taking his time removing it.

      That was a good place to halt his wayward thoughts. “If you have plans to make,” he said, looking directly at Summer, “I won’t keep you from them.” Even he could hear the huskiness in his voice. “I just stopped over to talk to Riley.” Kyle nodded at all four women. He smiled last at Summer.

      He’d been accused of being vain a time or two. When he happened to look over his shoulder as he was leaving and caught four women looking at him, he knew why he’d never apologized for it.

      From the doorway, he directed a question to the official wedding planner of the group. “I’m curious about something. What does a fill-in bride do?”

      Chelsea

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