Angel In Disguise

“Pete, I appreciate your offer to help, but God will take care of me,”

Sunny said.

Pete’s eyes lifted innocently. “You don’t think God uses people to carry out His plans? For all you know, I could be your guardian angel in disguise.”

Sunny laughed at the thought. Would God send her a handsome charmer, especially when He knew how much she didn’t trust them?

Then again, Pete could be an angel, the way he made her feel that her problems were tiny and that contentment was fingertip near.

But Pete Maguire looked nothing like any storybook angel she’d ever seen. Not with that lock of black hair falling over his brow, the wicked half smile and the teasing gleam in his eyes.

If Pete really was her guardian angel…

…that was some disguise!

PATT MARR

has a friend who says she reminds him of a car that’s either zooming along in the fast lane or sitting on the shoulder, out of gas. Her family says he’s dead right.

At age twenty she had a B.S. in business education, a handsome, good-hearted husband and a sweet baby girl. Since then, Patt, a professional musician, has earned an M.A. in counseling, worked a lifetime as a high school educator, cooked big meals for friends, attended a zillion basketball games where her husband coached and her son played, and enjoyed many years of church music, children’s ministries, drama and television productions.

In down time, Patt reads romances, eats too much chocolate, watches too many movies and sleeps way too little. She’s been blessed with two darling granddaughters, wonderful friends, a great church and a chance to write love stories about people who love God as much as she does.

Angel in Disguise

Patt Marr

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Trust in the Lord and do good…and He shall give you the desires of your heart.

—Psalms 37:3-4

For a first book, there are many people to thank for their encouragement and support: family, friends, the Romance Writers of America, teachers of the craft and most of all, God. Special thanks go to my husband, David Marr, for sharing his knowledge of basketball coaching and providing many pots of coffee, to Randall McNaughton, Eldon Partridge and Big Bear Rangers for sharing their knowledge of camping and hiking, and to Medical Arts physicians for providing information about the character Pete Maguire.

I dedicate this first book to J-J

My wonderful, precious daughter

Dear Reader,

I hope you have a “forever love” in your life, someone to cherish, someone who loves you more than any other. It’s a magnificent feeling to have that connection. If you happen to be alone right now, let Pete and Sunny’s story remind you how quickly things can change.

They were alone, living in a maze with tall walls that obscured the future. Those walls had so defeated Pete, he’d given up even trying to find a way out. Yet, right around the corner, his “forever love” waited for him in a most unexpected spot. Sunny had turned one corner after another, searching for a way to have a relationship with her family without bowing to their will. Suddenly she had “an angel in disguise” to help her find the way.

God has the best seat in the house, looking down on the maze we live in. From His view, He sees it all. And He knows exactly which way we should turn. Dead ends bring discouragement, frustration and despair. When we remember to ask for His direction, God helps us discover the path to joy, peace and love.

My prayer is that you and I will be great “remember-ers!” God wants to bless us beyond our expectations.

Thank you for reading Angel in Disguise. I hope you’ll share it with others. If you would like to write, please address mail to P.O. Box 692, East Moline, IL 61244. If you would like an answer, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope or, even better, your e-mail address.

In Him,

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Prologue

Sunny Keegan stepped inside the sanctuary three hours before her wedding wearing well-washed jeans, a faded yellow T-shirt and comfortable sneakers. The clothes felt just right, but the headpiece to her bridal veil had either been pinned too tightly or she was unbelievably tense.

She touched her temples, wishing she could massage circles there, but that wouldn’t do. She might smudge her professionally applied makeup and she’d already made the mistake of wearing a T-shirt to have her hair done. Someone would have to scissor her free, and that was a shame for the old shirt held great memories. She’d put it on today, wanting to wear something familiar, something of her own. This wedding sure wasn’t.

Not that she was complaining. If things had gotten out of hand, it was her own fault for letting her mother and the wedding consultant run with the ball. But, as her father said, she was her mother’s only daughter, and it was true her parents’ wealth could handle any extravagance. Even for a Beverly Hills wedding, though, some of the plans were over the top.

The dove release, for instance, was extreme, and the twenty-limousine caravan pure ostentation. What her parents were paying for flowers could have housed the homeless, and the price of her beaded wedding gown, six inches longer than Princess Di’s had been, could have fed them. Their two thousand guests certainly didn’t need a seven-course dinner, and one band was enough, not three.

Since her groom had objected to none of it, she’d let things slide. She couldn’t blame Bruce for appreciating what he called “the good life” since it wasn’t something he had known all his life.

She looked down the long aisle and tried to imagine him standing beside his nine attendants and herself beside her own nine, all of them dressed in white. White didn’t particularly flatter her redhead’s coloring, but it was supposed to make an elegant June wedding.

Bruce, with his dark hair and eyes, would look fantastic in white. He had such presence, such charisma. All eyes would be on him, and that was fine with her. Handsome, well educated, successful, Bruce was perfect. Even her parents thought so. Finally she’d done something right. That this wonderful man loved her as much as she loved him seemed almost a miracle. But he loved her. There was no doubt about it.

So why was she standing here with lead in her stomach and a sinking heart? She might as well admit it, she’d give anything if she could run.

Lord, if this is just prewedding jitters, please ease my spirit. Give me the joy of a bride on her wedding day. If this is anything else, then I ask that You give me a sign, an unmistakable sign. As much as I love Bruce, as much as my parents would be upset, I would walk away from all this if it’s not what You want. I can’t imagine You letting me get this far without it being Your will, but I should know better than question. In all things, I trust You.

Sunny took a deep breath and realized she felt better. Prayer always helped. She’d been silly, imagining some dark foreboding, wasting time when she should find the changing room and let the bridal staff go to work, transforming her into a beautiful bride. Her mother swore they could do wonders.

At both ends of the foyer, stairs led to a lower level where the changing rooms were. The women’s area was supposed to be at one end, off a courtyard centered with an angel fountain, and the men were on the opposite side. Exactly where she wasn’t sure because she hadn’t been paying attention during the wedding coordinator’s instructions. She couldn’t, not with Bruce kissing her neck, whispering “babe” in her ear. He knew how she loved that.

Uncertain which end of the foyer to choose, she tried the left stairs, and was relieved when she spotted a bubbling fountain centered with angels—well, to be precise, cherubs, but people often said one when they meant the other. She was probably in the right place, and it would only take a minute to check.

If she was wrong, the worst that could happen was Bruce teasing her about her sense of direction. Knowing him, he’d steal a kiss and walk her back. How bad could that be?

The rooms around the courtyard were laid out in a circular design, and the first one, a small reception area, had obviously been claimed by the florist. The second was a bookstore, dark and closed at this hour. The third opened into a small library, also dark, but voices came from inside. She walked into the carpeted room and discovered an alcove tucked under the stairs with two chairs and a large sofa, its back toward her.

Two people lay on the sofa. She smiled to herself. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t even know she was here. If she retreated, quiet as a mouse, she’d be gone before they realized their privacy had been invaded. Why they’d chosen this place and this time for a tryst, she couldn’t imagine, but it was none of her business. Today she wished all lovers well.

She had almost returned to the checkout desk when she heard the woman moan a name. Every muscle in her body tightened. Her heart nearly stopped.

“Bruce,” the woman moaned again. “This is crazy.”

Slowly Sunny turned, her eyes focused on that sofa, her hearing on the couple’s passionate breathing, their murmured words. It sounded like Bruce and the bridesmaid she barely knew, a distant cousin of his whom he’d wanted as a member of their wedding party.

Inch by inch, she retraced her steps, drawn by a desperate need to prove she was wrong, until she stood so near they should have sensed her presence. They would have if they hadn’t been oblivious to everything but each other. Watching them, disillusionment clawed at her soul.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Bruce, especially not here, not now,” the woman murmured.

“You worry too much. It’s okay, babe.”

Babe? That’s what Bruce always called her.

“But what if someone walks in on us?” the woman argued.

“That’s half the fun, knowing there’s the off chance it could happen. But the guys aren’t due for another hour, and the women are on the other side of the church.”

“Where I’m supposed to be,” the woman said with a giggle.

“But not yet. There’s plenty of time before we have to be dressed for the pictures.” He kissed the woman’s neck, and she giggled again.

Horrified, Sunny stared, not believing something this awful could happen. Nausea curled in waves of revulsion. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Wait until you see me in my bridesmaid dress.”

“I’d rather see you out of it.”

She’d never heard Bruce talk that way. A sleazy lounge lizard had more finesse.

The woman giggled again. “Bruce! You are so naughty!”

“But you like it,” he teased, kissing the hollow spot at the base of her neck until her laughter turned into a moan.

“Oh, babe,” he murmured, “I don’t think I could get through this fiasco with Li’l Sunshine if it weren’t for you.”

This had to be a terrible, hideous dream. Please, God, let her wake and escape it.

“I love it when you do that,” the woman said with a sigh.

“If you liked that, how about this?”

Tears burned behind Sunny’s eyes. She’d never had Bruce’s love. Not if he could do this. It had all been a sham. How humiliating to know he’d made such a fool of her.

Then again, humiliation was a choice. It didn’t have to be hers. Not today. Not ever. He didn’t have to know how devastated she felt, how belittled.

Her heart pounding, she shook his shoulder roughly. “Bruce,” she said, getting his attention.

He looked up, and the shock on his face should have been satisfying, but she was too shattered to care.

“Sunny!” He pushed away from the woman. “This is not what it seems.” Caught red-handed, he lied as he buttoned his shirt.

“I think it’s exactly what it seems.” Betrayal like this was hard to disguise.

He raked his hand though his hair. “I can explain.”

How stupid did he think she was? She met his eyes boldly, contempt coursing through her body. “Just pretend I was never here. I’ll lock the door on my way out so no one else will disturb you. Take your time. There’s no rush, not anymore, for the wedding is off.”

“No!” He reached toward her, his eyes wide with alarm.

It was a first, seeing fear on his face.

“You know I love you, Sunny!”

Oh, she could see that.

“C’mon, Sunny, don’t be this way.” Tucking in his shirt, he rose from the sofa and came toward her.

She stopped him with a open palm. “Forget it!”

“But you’ve got to at least give me a chance, babe.”

“Babe?” Fire-hot fury made her voice shrill. “Oh, no! I’m ‘Li’l Sunshine.’ Wasn’t that it? Really, Bruce, you’ve got to do a better job of keeping your women straight. Here, let me help you.”

She twisted the diamond from her finger and threw it at him, taking grim pleasure when it landed hard on his chin. “Now you have one less to worry about.”

“Sunny! This isn’t like you!”

It wasn’t? Had she been a gullible fool all along?

“Sunny, darling, please…” His dark eyes were as beguiling as a puppy dog’s, pleading for a better home than the pound. “Let’s talk about this.”

He actually believed he could turn this around? Did he think that much of himself or that little of her?

“Just give me a minute, darling. I can make this okay.”

“Sorry. Time’s up.” Pivoting, she ran from the room.

“Sunny! Wait!”

She heard him following her and panicked. She’d left with some measure of dignity, but she’d taken as much as she could. He must not see these hot, renegade tears spilling down her cheeks, but where could she go?

Lord, tell me what to do.

In front of her were glass double doors marked with red letters. The message read Exit, and that’s what she did.

Chapter One

Eight months later

Sweat trickled down Pete Maguire’s back as he stood behind a pulsing neon heart and listened to the studio audience applaud the last contestant’s entrance. It was the last time his little sister would catch him coming to her rescue. If Meggy couldn’t handle her new job as a Dream Date production assistant, she could broil burgers somewhere. Setting him up to appear on national television was the last straw.

He shifted his shoulders and tried to get comfortable in the clothes she’d provided when she dragged him out of the house as a last-minute replacement. He’d have to talk to her about her taste in ties. Real men did not wear grapes and leafy things.

With his heart pounding as loud as it was, he barely heard the show’s host say, “The last of our contestants is a guy named Pete.” That was his cue to go on, and he’d do it if his body would cooperate. Someone shoved the middle of his back and he stepped into blinding bright light.

“Pete, a carpenter by trade, says he’s looking for a girl just like Mom.”

A carpenter. If they only knew. Well, it was true enough once. And more accurate than anything else these days, unless you wanted to count rich, worthless beach bum. Though nearly blinded, he headed toward the one unoccupied chair on the set. A spontaneous scream from the women in the audience startled him. For his sister’s sake, he tried to look pleased and threw the audience a wave. They screamed again. Man, Meggy owed him big.

“Welcome, Pete! It’s going to be a great show, folks!” the host proclaimed. “After we break for commercial, we’re going to match one lovely lady with one lucky guy and send them on their very own Dream Date! Don’t go ’way.”

Pete settled into his leather chair and checked out the group. The guy next to him was a regular weight lifter. If the sleeveless T-shirt showcasing massive biceps didn’t give him away, the tree-trunk neck did.

The other guy had longer hair than most women, holes in his jeans, a dangly earring and a soulful look. Two bucks said he played a guitar and screamed into a mic.

Pete fingered his ugly tie. He could have worn what he wore at the beach and felt less out of place here. Leave it to a woman to overdress a guy.

The three female contestants were knockouts. The lush blonde was giving him the eye, and the petite brunette looked unbelievably interested, as well. Pete wondered which they liked best—his new nose, cheekbones or chin.

He still wasn’t used to The Face, as he’d come to call it, or women’s reaction to it. He doubted if he ever would be. No matter how much the guys with knives changed his looks, he was the same Pete Maguire he’d been for thirty-two years.

There’d been a time he’d have appreciated two babes checking him out. Shoot, he’d have been tickled with one. You’d think a guy whose wife had dumped him for his best friend would be happy with the attention, but that wasn’t the way it worked. Not when he knew it wasn’t him that turned them on—just The Face.

The redhead across from him seemed preoccupied with covering long, gorgeous legs with a skimpy black leather skirt. From the way she flipped that mane of coppery curls, he’d say she’d give a lot to be just about anywhere else. Edgy, that’s what she was. Real edgy. And indifferent to him. Good for her.

Signaling the end of the commercial, the stage manager pointed to the show’s host who smiled at a camera and said, “It’s time for our guys and gals to share their responses to our Dream Date questionnaire. When a gal’s answer matches a guy’s, they get a matchmaker point. Everybody understand?”

Pete understood the questionnaire was a big deal, but Meggy said she’d completed his with such crazy answers he couldn’t possibly win. Thirty minutes, she’d said, and it would be over.

“Okay, here we go,” the host said. “Remember, the couple with the most points at the end of the show shares a fabulous Dream Date. Then in a couple of weeks they’ll return to rate their date. Will it be a dream…or a nightmare? Everybody ready?”

Pete hadn’t dated since high school and wasn’t about to start now. He leaned forward in his chair, the better to concentrate on losing.

“The first category,” host Mike Michaels enthused, “is ‘Food on a First Date.’ On their bios, contestants were asked to state where or what sort of food they would enjoy on a Dream Date. Cheryl,” he said to the blonde with the low neckline, “let’s start with you. What’s your choice in food?”

“Well, Mike, I like really nice restaurants. Romantic places with gourmet food and fine wine. Oh, and valet parking.”

The audience chuckled, and Pete smiled at the idea of turning his old pickup over to a parking attendant. ELEGANT DINING popped onto the board behind the woman. Mike moved on to the brunette. “Jacy, how about you?”

“Sushi, Mike. Can’t get enough sushi. I like to head down to the marina and spend some time there.”

As SUSHI appeared on the electronic board behind Jacy, Pete wondered if either the weight lifter or the longhair were more willing to eat raw fish than he was.

Mike turned to the redhead. “Sunny, what’s your preference?”

Sunny glanced at the studio audience where a dozen or so teenage girls chanted, “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the emcee and said, “Mike, I like to stay home and cook for my dates.”

Looks could be deceiving, but Pete would have bet his pickup that this woman didn’t know a whisk from a blender.

The board faithfully registered HOME COOKING, and the host looked at the redhead with awe. “We don’t get too many women choosing to cook. Bet you’re real popular, Sunny.”

The redhead grinned and shrugged her shoulders. Personality sparkled in her pretty brown eyes.

It was only a little twinge Pete felt. A little zing in the gut. But it took him by surprise. It had been so long since it happened that a moment passed before he recognized the feeling. Attraction, he guessed you’d call it. Man, it had been a while.

Even in the old days he’d never been attracted to redheads, yet he felt the impact of this one’s smile right down to his socks. What was her name? Sunny? She sure was when she smiled. The smile was beautiful. In fact, spectacular.

She caught him staring at her. Her eyes were huge, the warm color of butternut, and uneasy. Rather pointedly, she turned toward the host. He had to smile. She didn’t know it, but she didn’t have to worry about him coming on to her. Any interest he had in her was purely analytical.

“Kevin,” Mike said to the longhair, “on your questionnaire you stated that you prefer ethnic food. Right?”

“Mostly Mexican and Thai. The hotter the better,” Kevin claimed in a dark, sultry voice, dramatically swishing his hair as ETHNIC FOODS registered.

Pete was fairly sure he’d have trouble relating to Kevin.

“Frank, our fireman from the LAFD…”

“Firefighter,” the weight lifter corrected politely.

“Frank the firefighter,” the emcee repeated goodnaturedly, “says he prefers pasta and salad. Looks good on you, Frank.”

Frank smiled as if he might think so, too. Pete approved of his diet, if not the attitude.

“According to Pete,” the host said, “the perfect meal is a big pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob dripping with butter and chocolate-chip cheesecake.”

The audience groaned. So did Pete, at least inwardly. He avoided red meat and kept an eye on his fat grams. The pot-roast fantasy was Meggy’s creation. “Trust me,” she’d said. “I know these girls and what they say.”

She’d better, since her life was on the line.

“Pete also says,” continued the host, “that his favorite place to eat is his mom’s own backyard. Isn’t that nice?”

The audience laughed. Pete thought they’d get an even bigger kick if they knew his mother was so into her art that she never knew when it was time to eat.

He looked warily at the board behind Sunny. Her HOME COOKING could be a match with Frank’s PASTA or the POT ROAST hanging over his own head.

“What do you say, audience?” yelled the host. “Which couple matches? Cast your electronic votes now.”

In mere seconds the boards flashed behind Pete and Sunny.

The “Do it” girls exploded in screams and piercing whistles as they high-fived each other all over the place. The blonde threw him a pout, and the brunette seemed disappointed.

Sunny looked as if she’d been sentenced to ten days in the county jail. He wasn’t happy about the match, either, but he couldn’t say he liked her reaction.

In the second category, which had to go better than the first, Mike started with the guys, asking their music preference on a first date. Frank the firefighter liked rhythm and blues. Kevin the longhair predictably talked about rock and said he sang with a band. Since Pete didn’t know the answer Meggy had given for him, he gave his honest preference: country.

Sunny’s answer, “All types of music,” made him nervous until Cheryl answered, “Rock.” That, of course, was a perfect match with Kevin the longhair, and Pete breathed easier.

For the next category, “TV Preference on a First Date,” Mike started with Sunny. “I understand you’re a teacher and the girls’ basketball coach at San Josita High?”