WHITELAW'S WEDDING Read online

  Perry called out as he glanced over his shoulder. "You two hurry along. You don't want to miss the birthday cake."

  Manda started to follow, but Hunter grabbed her arm, detaining her. "Wait up a minute."

  She turned to face him. "What?"

  "We should go back into the party together and make sure everyone sees us being … infatuated with each other."

  "Before we begin this charade, I need to know if you're—"

  "I'm sure," Hunter said. "No one should live the way you're living. Afraid to care about anyone. Scared to even, date a man because you think dating him might put him at risk. Whoever's out there, determined to keep you alone and miserable, needs to be exposed and dealt with so you can have a life of your choosing, not his."

  "I'm not sure we're doing the right thing." Manda took a deep breath. "Two men are already dead because of me. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

  Hunter gently grasped her chin, cradling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Nothing will happen to me. Or to you. I'm going to protect you and keep us both safe."

  She nodded. More than anything she wanted to believe Hunter Whitelaw. He was so confident, so self-assured. She almost believed that he really could protect himself and her from an unknown enemy.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  He draped her arm over his and led her out of the den, but paused momentarily in the hallway. "Go along with whatever I say and whatever I do. And just remember that everything between us is an act, a performance staged to make your secret admirer jealous enough to expose himself."

  "I'll do my best."

  "That's all anyone can ask of you."

  He led her back to the party. They arrived just in time to sing happy birthday along with the sixty other guests. She made no protest when he kept his arm around her waist, and whenever he nuzzled the side of her face or kissed her temple, she smiled and pretended that she loved Hunter's ardent attention. While cake was served and Gwen opened her stack of presents, Hunter escorted Manda past her three suitors—Grady, Boyd and Chris—leaving the men without any doubts about his claim on Manda. He had walked in and snatched her right out from under their noses. And it was apparent by the stunned, hurt and even angry expressions on their faces that they couldn't understand what had happened. Why had the reclusive, reluctant Manda suddenly thrown caution to the wind and succumbed to this big, dark stranger?

  "If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man," Hunter whispered. "I think we should put those three at the top of our suspects list."

  "You're kidding? Those guys are harmless. They wouldn't—"

  "Never assume anything about anyone. It never pays to trust too easily. Professionally or personally. People are seldom what they seem. And putting your trust in the wrong person is a sure way to get your heart broken."

  "Speaking from personal experience?" she asked.

  "Definitely." He took her in his arms and joined the other couples dancing to the slow, sensual beat of a cool jazz tune.

  She found that she liked the feel of his strong arms around her. It had been such a long time since she had allowed a man to hold her, even to simply dance with her. Hunter was so big that she should have felt dwarfed by his size, but somehow she felt protected and comforted. And even cherished. Damn, but he was a good actor.

  "So, tell me, who did you trust that wound up breaking your heart?" She gazed into his stormy gray eyes and noted a hint of pain. Someone had hurt him. Maybe his ex-wife had broken his heart.

  "I don't make a habit of talking about my personal life."

  "No fair. If you get to know all the intimate details of my life, then I should at least be allowed to know something about yours."

  He brought her closer until their bodies pressed intimately against each other, then he gazed down at her as if he were going to kiss her. Not here, she thought. Not in front of all these people. That would be taking the act a little too far and a little too fast.

  "Do you remember meeting my ex-wife, Selina, at Perry and Gwen's wedding?" Hunter asked.

  "Yes. She was a lovely woman." Manda remembered that several people at the wedding had mentioned the similarity between Selina Whitelaw and herself. Both blue-eyed blondes, about the same age. And she had later learned that Selina came from the same type of background—a respected, blue-blooded Southern family with old money.

  "She was a spoiled, selfish, promiscuous hellcat," Hunter said, his smile never wavering.

  He'd thought the same of her once. At least the spoiled, selfish hellcat part. At sixteen she might have been daring and determined where pursuing Hunter was concerned, but she hadn't been promiscuous. Actually, she'd still been a virgin. And you still are! No one would believe it. Sometimes she had a hard time explaining to herself how a thirty-three-year-old woman could still be a virgin. As a teenager, she'd been rebellious and self-centered, but had drawn the line at experimenting sexually with any of the guys she dated. She and Rodney had been very much in love, but both had agreed to wait for their wedding night. But that wedding night had never come. And her relationship with Mike hadn't been sexual. They had been friends, drawn to each other out of mutual admiration and similar interests. They had been affectionate with each other, and had they married, she didn't doubt that they would have been compatible sexually. But they had never married.

  "I take it that Selina was unfaithful to you," Manda said.

  "Mmm … I caught her in bed with one of my friends. Later, I found out that he wasn't the first."

  "And you've never trusted another woman since. If that's true, then you're probably as afraid of forming a new relationship as I am."

  "There's a difference. You want and need a husband and a houseful of kids. Or at least that's what Perry told me." He paused, as if waiting for her to deny his statement, which she didn't. "I, on the other hand, have no desire to remarry. And I date as much as I want to, have as many women in my life as I need."

  "Need being the operative word?" Manda asked. "Need, as in physical need? You're afraid of an emotional relationship, but you don't have a problem having physical relationships. Am I right?"

  "Are you inquiring for a personal reason?" Hunter nuzzled her neck.

  Manda gasped as pure sensation shot through her. "What … what—"

  "If you're wondering if after we get married, I'd be willing to screw you even though we won't be emotionally involved, then the answer is yes."

  She tensed in his arms, then stopped dead-still. "Grams is right—you can be very vulgar."

  When she tried to pull away from him, he refused to release her. "If you don't want to dance any longer, then why don't we go through the buffet line and get some cake? After all, we don't want anyone thinking that we're having an argument. Not when we're supposed to be falling in love."

  Manda resigned herself to accept his smothering attention. Every glance, every hug, every kiss as phony as a three-dollar bill. But necessary, she reminded herself. If they were going to pull off this dangerous charade, she couldn't allow herself to be affected by anything Hunter said or did. Or by her own unwanted feelings for him. Crazy as it might seem, she found herself as strongly attracted to him now as she'd been at sixteen.

  Don't you dare fall for this guy, she cautioned herself. Caring about Hunter would be dangerous—for him and for you. Even if there was no external danger, no lunatic watching and waiting for her to choose a new mate, she didn't dare risk losing her heart to Hunter Whitelaw, a man who still saw her as spoiled and selfish, the way his ex-wife had been.

  As they made their way to the buffet table, Manda noticed Gwen heading in their direction. The birthday girl herself, all smiles, but with unmistakable curiosity in her eyes. She and Gwen had known each other most of their lives and had at one time been friends. But that was before they'd both fallen in love with Rodney Austin. Manda didn't think her sister-in-law had ever quite forgiven her for being the one Rodney had loved and wanted. Even though Gwen had married Perry only a
year after Rodney's death, Manda wondered if her sister-in-law had ever truly loved Perry. They seemed to have a stable marriage. Gwen was the ideal wife for an up-and-coming lawyer with political aspirations. And she thought Perry was content, if not genuinely happy. He doted on Gwen, gave her anything her heart desired and had even accepted her decision for them to not adopt a child after she had found out that she couldn't have a baby of her own.

  Before Gwen reached them, Claire Austin stopped Gwen to give her a hug. Hunter urged Manda into the line at the buffet table and as they waited their turn, he kept his arm around her shoulders and occasionally rubbed his hand up and down her arm in a gesture of affection. As Manda picked up a plate holding a piece of birthday cake, prepared by Atlanta's renowned Chef Maurice Claude, she cast a quick glimpse over her shoulder and saw that Gwen and Claire, talking happily to each other, were heading their way.

  Manda tried to hurry Hunter along, but he insisted on acquiring flutes of champagne for them. By the time they had cake and champagne in hand, Gwen closed in on them.

  "Manda," she called, and waved. "There you are. I haven't had a chance to even say hello." Moving nearer with each step, Gwen brought Claire with her. "I just had to postpone opening the rest of my gifts so that I could mix and mingle more with my guests."

  Gwen sized up Hunter, her gaze traveling from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. "Hunter Whitelaw, we haven't seen you in ages. I'm simply delighted that you'd drive down from Atlanta just for my birthday party."

  "Happy birthday, Gwen," Hunter said. "You don't know how glad I am that I accepted Perry's invitation. Manda and I are getting to know each other all over again, and I must say that I'm finding myself intrigued by your beautiful sister-in-law. So much so that I'm staying over a few days, since I've persuaded Manda to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."

  "How wonderful," Claire said, a warm smile on her face. She reached out to clasp Manda's hand. "Sweet girl, I'm so glad to see that you didn't let that silly incident with Boyd Gipson keep you from accepting this young man's invitation."

  "Claire, I'd like for you to meet Hunter Whitelaw," Manda said. "Hunter is an old and dear friend of Perry's. Hunter, this is Claire Austin. Rodney's mother."

  "Ma'am." Hunter nodded

  "Hunter was Perry's best man at our wedding." Gwen laughed, the sound hollow and brittle. "And he was Manda's first love, wasn't he, Manda?" Gwen skewered Manda with her cold black eyes.

  "Is that right?" Claire asked, her gaze resting on Hunter.

  "She had a teenage crush on me, ma'am," Hunter explained. "At the time she was a bit too young for me, but now six years difference in our ages doesn't matter."

  "Of course, it doesn't." Claire patted Manda's arm, then leaned over and whispered to her, "I do so want you to be happy."

  "Thank you." Manda kissed Claire's cheek.

  "Manda and I were headed out to the patio to find a table. Would you ladies care to join us?" Hunter asked.

  Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but Claire spoke first. "Nonsense. You two want to be alone … to talk. Besides, Gwen must spend more time with her guests, mustn't you, dear."

  Manda took the opportunity Claire had given her to head toward the French doors. Hunter followed her along the escape route, through the open doors and onto the patio. The only empty table was in the garden, on the far side of the swimming pool. She halted immediately.

  "Keep going," Hunter said. "We'll be out of earshot over there, but we can still put on quite a show for anyone watching us."

  "Do we have something more we need to discuss in private?"

  "We have a great deal more to discuss," he told her. "If we're going to walk down the aisle in a couple of weeks, we need to plan a whirlwind courtship and get started on it right away."

  "A couple of weeks? You're kidding. You expect us to get married in two weeks?"

  "Keep walking." He nudged her in the back with his plate. "And two weeks is my limit at playing adoring suitor. If our engagement doesn't bring out Mr. Lunatic, then we'll follow through with the wedding. That's sure to bring him out. He's not going to allow you to be happily married to another man."

  Manda set her plate and crystal flute on the wrought-iron table, then Hunter did the same. He pulled out a chair and with gentlemanly good manners assisted her. Once seated, she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the champagne.

  Hunter pulled a chair up beside her, so that when he sat, their arms brushed against each other. Quivers fluttered through her body. She hadn't been this aware of a man in years. This won't do, she told herself. She couldn't let her emotions come into play during their game of pretense.

  "So, the way I see it, we need to become a constant twosome," he said. "Dinner tomorrow night. And afterward, you'll invite me in and I'll stay for at least an hour."

  "An hour?"

  "Just in case Mr. Lunatic is watching your house."

  "Oh."

  "Then day after tomorrow, we'll start having lunch and dinner together every day and by the end of the week, we'll be inseparable."

  "I don't know if I can stand that much of a good thing," she said sarcastically.

  "Force yourself. After all, it's for your own good."

  "Okay, after we've shown the world how nauseatingly in love we are, what do we do next?"

  "I move in with you—twenty-four hours a day."

  "No way!"

  "Manda, that's what people do when they fall madly, passionately in love." Using his fork, Hunter sliced through his piece of cake, lifted the bite and brought it to Manda's mouth.

  When she opened her mouth on a startled gasp, Hunter slid the cake inside and grinned as she glared at him. She chewed and swallowed. "And I assume you know that we won't be sharing a bed or even a bedroom."

  "We'll work out the details later. As long as we give the appearance of being lovers, we don't actually have to be. Unless you'd like—"

  "I wouldn't like," she told him.

  "How do you know you wouldn't like it unless you try it?"

  "I think you have me confused with your ex-wife. I don't sleep around. I believe that love and sex go together in a relationship and that the best sexual relationships are created as part of the lifelong commitment two people make to each other."

  "Your grandmother did a good job of brainwashing you with her old-fashioned morals, didn't she?" Hunter chuckled.

  "I think more and more people these days are seeing the wisdom in waiting until—"

  "Okay." He grabbed her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "I have no problem waiting until after we're married. It should make for an interesting wedding night."

  "Hunter Whitelaw, if you think that I'm going to—"

  He kissed her, adeptly silencing her tirade. She struggled for just a minute, then ceased her resistance, but refused to participate in the kiss.

  When he lifted his head, he grinned and said, "Baby doll, if we're going to convince people that we're in love, you're going to have to put a little more into it. You're not doing a very good acting job."

  Keeping her voice low and smiling at him as she spoke, she laid her hand on his shoulder and gazed dreamily into his eyes. "If you call me 'baby doll' one more time, I'm going to emasculate you. Do I make myself clear?"

  Chuckling softly, he caressed her hand that lay on his shoulder.

  "I've noticed that lovesick fools usually have pet names for their lady loves, so if you don't like 'baby doll,' would you prefer honey or sweetie or sugar or darling or—"

  "I don't think a pet name is necessary. I have no intention of calling you anything other than Hunter."

  He slid his arm around the back of her chair, effectively encompassing her shoulders. "Manda Munroe, you're still a stubborn, hardheaded brat. You want it all your way or— Hey, that's it. I'll call you 'brat,' the way Perry and I used to when you were a kid. People will find that endearing and amusing."

  "Brat? Oh, that's just great."

  "Take your pick—baby do
ll or brat?"

  "Go to hell," she said through clenched teeth.

  "I have a feeling that's where I'm headed. When I told Perry years ago that I pitied the poor guy who married you, I had no idea that I'd wind up being that guy. Or at least the first guy to marry you. Once we nab Mr. Lunatic and you and I get an annulment, I'm sure it won't take you long to find a real groom."

  "I'm sure you're right." She glanced away, unable to continue meeting his gaze. Had he really told Perry that he pitied the guy who married her? Had he disliked her that much all those years ago? If she'd had even one silly little notion in her mind that Hunter might actually be attracted to her, that he might genuinely care about her, his comment had vanquished that thought. For the next few weeks she was going to have to accomplish a difficult task—pretending to fall madly in love with Hunter, without him ever realizing that he still held the power to affect her sexually and emotionally, more so than anyone she'd ever known.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

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  Manda was glad this was a Saturday morning and she didn't have to go to work today. She had slept fitfully last night, waking often between erotic dreams about Hunter Whitelaw and frightening dreams about a faceless killer pursuing them. In retrospect, she wondered if she was out of her mind for agreeing to go along with Perry's plan to trap her tormentor. What if something went wrong and Hunter was killed? She knew she couldn't survive another loss. It had taken her years to recover after losing Rodney, but at least when he died, she hadn't been eaten alive with guilt that his death had been her fault. No one, not even the police, had suspected that his car crash was anything other than an accident. Even now, Perry insisted that all the evidence showed that, after one of his long intern shifts at the hospital, Rodney had been driving too fast when he had probably fallen asleep at the wheel and careered over a steep embankment. More than anything, she wanted to believe that was true.