A Bride Until Midnight / Something Unexpected: A Bride Until Midnight

“I’m marrying her, Kyle, the sooner, the better.”

The dog stood up and looked from one to the other.

“What’s your hurry?” Kyle asked. “It’s not as if you have to marry her.” He stopped. The drone of the television covered an uncomfortable lag in conversation. “Is that what this is about? She’s pregnant?”

Riley shot him a warning look.

And Kyle muttered the only word that came to mind.

“We’re not telling anyone yet,” Riley said. “So keep it to yourself. I don’t know what I did to deserve Madeline, to deserve any of this, but whatever it was, I’m not wasting another minute of my life without her.”

Kyle fought the urge to rake his fingers through his hair. “You slept with her, and now she claims she’s going to have your baby. Don’t hit me for what I’m thinking.”

He could tell Riley wanted to hit him. It wouldn’t be a sucker punch, either. Riley didn’t fight dirty, but he fought to win, something else the Merrick men had in common.

“Have you ever known a virgin, Kyle?” he asked.

It took a few seconds for Riley’s meaning to soak in. “You mean Madeline? For real? You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Kyle put his coffee down. “I’ll be damned. A virgin. I didn’t know there were any alive past the age of eighteen. Make that seventeen. Fine. The kid’s yours. That’s good. I guess. I’m just saying—”

“You’re saying it’s all happening fast and you, Braden and our mothers are worried about that. I trust you’ll put their minds at ease. In your own good time, of course.”

They shared their first smile. Riley knew him well.

“Anything else you’d like me to tell our mothers?” Kyle asked, suddenly not at all sorry he’d lost that toss to Braden.

“Tell them I can feel my heart beating.”

This time Kyle didn’t say anything. He simply stared in amazement at his younger brother.

He would never forget the panic and paralyzing fear that had ripped through the entire family twenty months ago when they’d learned that Riley had contracted a rare virus that was attacking his heart. In a matter of days, he’d gone from strong and athletic to wan and weak. He was only thirty years old. And he was dying.

Kyle, Braden and Riley’s friend Kipp had stayed with him around the clock. They’d begged him, badgered him and bullied him to hold on. Two years younger than Kyle, Riley had been at death’s door, literally, by the time he’d finally received a heart transplant. His recovery had been nothing short of a miracle, but, despite his robust health afterwards, there had been something different about him. It was as if his sense of adventure, his passion and even his laughter had been buried with his old heart. Strangely, he hadn’t been able to feel the new one beating.

“How long has the feeling been back?” Kyle asked.

“Since Madeline.” Riley placed a hand over his chest. “I used to climb mountains just for the view from the top. That view is nothing compared to what I see when I look into her eyes. I can see the future, and that’s never happened to me before.”

Kyle held up one hand. He didn’t know how much more he could take on an empty stomach.

Riley laughed. And for a moment it took Kyle back to summer vacations and boyhood pranks they’d pulled together. He hadn’t heard Riley laugh quite like this in a long time. It did Kyle’s heart good.

“I’ll tell The Sources you’re happy and as healthy as the proverbial horse and I’ll tell them you can feel your beating heart. I’m glad, man. It’s good to see you. Real good. Now, I have a plane to catch to L.A.”

He was already out the door when Riley said, “You look good, too, Kyle. More rested than I expected.”

The brothers shared a long look, Kyle in the watery rays of late morning sunshine and Riley in the shadow of the doorway. If they were keeping score, this point would go to Riley, for, with his simple statement, he’d let Kyle know that Riley wasn’t the only one their mothers were worried about. Kyle hadn’t been himself lately, either. He was going through something. Running from something.

The Sources worked both ways.

“If I look rested,” Kyle said, “it’s because I slept like a baby last night.”

“During that storm?”

Kyle couldn’t explain it, but once he’d closed his eyes, he hadn’t heard a thing for nine solid hours. The inn had been empty and the power was back on by the time he’d wandered downstairs this morning. Now, standing in a patch of sunshine beneath his brother’s watchful gaze, he found himself thinking about the woman with the large, hazel eyes and sultry, cultured voice that made hello sound like an intimate secret.

“Can your plane ride wait until after lunch?” Riley asked.

“That depends. Are you cooking?”

Again, the brothers shared a grin.

Riley, who often burned toast, said, “I thought I’d call Madeline at work and see if she can join us at the restaurant downtown. I’d like you to meet her.”

“Let me know what time,” Kyle said as he climbed into his Jeep.

Meanwhile, he had a woman to see about a room.

Robins splashed in the puddles in the inn’s driveway as Summer pulled into her usual parking place. She lifted her cloth bags from her trunk and started toward the backdoor, the groceries in her arms growing heavier with every step she took. The sound of Kyle Merrick’s deep voice coming through the kitchen window sent the headache she’d awakened with straight to the roots of her teeth.

She’d spent the first half of the night tossing and turning, her body yearning to finish what meeting Kyle Merrick had started. Between short bursts of fitful sleep, she’d lain awake staring at the dark ceiling, anticipating the hate mail she would receive from the people she’d duped should her secret ever be revealed.

Her father, for one. Her former fiancé, for another.

Sometimes she imagined her mother and sister sitting on a cloud, smiling down at her and singing a song about sweet revenge. To this day, she knew she’d done the right thing. That didn’t mean she wanted to relive what was to have been her wedding day.

She heard Kyle’s voice again. This time it was followed by a flirtatious, though aging, twitter Summer would recognize anywhere. Harriet Ferris lived next door and was always happy to watch the front desk when Summer needed to run errands during the day. Harriet told raucous stories and loved nothing better than having a captive audience, especially if it was someone of the opposite sex.

Summer almost felt sorry for Kyle.

Almost.

What was he doing in the inn, anyway?

He’d gone. She’d freshened the rooms after breakfast and made the beds. Room Seven had been empty. She’d checked.

Kyle Merrick’s duffel bag was gone. And she’d been relieved. Okay, she’d felt a little unsettled, too, but that was beside the point.

For some reason he was back—she had no idea why—and was sitting at the table, no doubt sharing raucous tales with Summer’s next-door neighbor. He looked up at her as she walked in and almost smiled.

“I thought you’d left,” she said.

“Without paying for my stay last night? Your low opinion of me is humbling.”

He didn’t look humble. He looked like a man with sex on his mind, the kind of man who didn’t ask for commitment and certainly didn’t give it. Lord-a-mighty, the invitation in those green eyes was tempting.

“What makes you think I’ve formed an opinion about you?” she asked.

He smiled, and the connection between their gazes thrummed like a guitar string being strummed with one finger. Pulling her gaze from his wasn’t easy, but she turned her attention to the woman watching the exchange.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Harriet?”

Seventy-eight-year-old Harriet Ferris had been dying her hair red for fifty years. Before every birthday there was a discussion about letting it go gray, but she never would, just as she would never stop wearing false eyelashes and flirting with men of all ages.

“No, thank you, dear, I really should be getting back home. I’m expecting an email from my sister in Atlanta. She refuses to text. So old-school, you know?”

Although she stood up, she made no move toward the door until Summer leaned down and whispered in her ear.

A smile spread across Harriet’s ruby red lips. “What would I do without you? What would any of us do? This handsome man has brought you a gift.” Harriet looked from Summer to Kyle and back again. “I won’t spoil the surprise, but I dare say if you could bottle the electricity in this room right now, you could sell it to the power company for a tidy profit. If only I were twenty years younger.”

“You’re a cougar, Harriet,” Kyle said, rising, too.

With a playful wink and a grin that never aged, Harriet tottered out the back door.

Now that he and Summer were alone, Kyle handed her the gift bag. “For the next time your power goes out,” he said.

She opened the brown paper sack. Peering at the fuses inside, she shook her head and smiled.

He looked like he was about to smile, too, but his gaze caught on her mouth, and Summer knew Harriet was right about the electricity in this room.

“You wanted to settle up for last night’s stay?” she asked.

“You aren’t from Michigan are you?” he asked.

The question came from out of the blue and caught her by surprise. Years of practice kept her perfectly still, her expression carefully schooled to appear artful and serene.

“I can’t place the inflection,” he continued. “But it isn’t Midwestern.”

She pulled herself together. Carrying the milk, eggs and cheese to the refrigerator, she said, “I was born in Philadelphia and grew up in Baltimore. My grandparents had a summer house on Mackinaw Island. Until my grandfather died when I was fourteen, my sister and I spent every summer in northern Michigan. What about you? Where are you from?”

She was just making conversation, for she knew the pertinent facts about his past. She’d researched all three of the Merrick brothers after Madeline had announced her engagement to Kyle’s brother Riley a few days ago.

“I was born and raised in Bay City,” he said, his voice a lazy baritone that suggested he had all the time in the world. “I studied out east and have traveled just about everywhere else. What did you whisper to Harriet?”

She glanced at him as she closed the refrigerator. “I told her where she put her spare key this week. She keeps moving it and forgets where she hides it.”

“Is that why they call you the keeper of secrets?” he asked.

Summer stopped putting away groceries and looked at him. She prided herself on her ability to identify a person’s true nature at first sight. She wasn’t the only one in this room doing that right now. Kyle was looking at her as if she were a puzzle he had every intention of solving. That felt far more dangerous than the heat in his gaze or the fact that she was wondering if he might kiss her.

She wasn’t about to be the first to look away, as if she had something to hide. Which she did, but he didn’t know that. And he wouldn’t.

Okay. It was time to get both their minds on something else. “Are you flirting with me?” she asked, even though she knew he was.

She could tell her ploy had worked by the change in his stance, the slight tilt of his head, the even slighter narrowing of his gaze. Oh yes, his mind was on something far more fundamental than her past, for nothing was more fundamental than flirting with the opposite sex.

For months, Kyle had felt as if a spring had been coiled too tight inside him. This woman was slowly unwinding him. She’d taken a chance when she’d opened her door last night. Maybe she kept mace under the counter. If she had a stun gun, she hadn’t needed it. He’d felt hypnotized at first sight.

Summer Matthews had hazel eyes and curves in all the right places. She was a pretty woman, and he knew his way around pretty women. He didn’t understand them, God no, but he knew when a woman wanted what he wanted.

Summer was interested. She just wasn’t acting on it. The question was, why? She wasn’t wearing a ring, and she was no prude. Nobody with a voice that sultry and a mind that bright was shy and unsure of herself.

She was refreshing and intriguing. Deep inside him, that taut spring unwound a little more.

“If I were flirting with you,” he said huskily, “you’d know it.”

Her gaze went to his mouth, but instead of continuing the flirtation, she named the amount for last night’s stay. His interest climbed another notch, and so did his regard for her.

He liked a woman who could keep her wits about her.

He wished he had enough time to turn those astute eyes starry, to run his hands along her graceful shoulders and feel her arms slowly wind around his neck as her lips parted for his kiss. Unfortunately he was out of time to do more than say, “I’m meeting my brother and future sister-in-law for lunch. After that I have a plane to catch, but I wanted to pay for my room before I leave town.”

Pocketing the cash he gave her, she said, “It’s not every day a girl meets an honest man.”

And then she did something, and there was no turning back. She smiled as if she meant it.

Kyle couldn’t help reaching for her any more than he could help drawing his next breath. He covered her mouth with his, before either of them thought to resist.

After that first brush of lips and air, the kiss deepened, breaths mingling, pulse rates climbing. It was a possessive joining, a mating of mouths and heat and hunger. It didn’t matter that it was broad daylight, that he had to leave in a few minutes or that he barely knew her. He kissed her because he had to. It was primal, and it was powerful, and, when her mouth opened slightly, he wanted more. He wanted everything.

He’d imagined her body going pliant—he had a damned fine imagination—but it was nothing compared to the reality in his arms. Her hands came around his back, then glided up to his shoulders. She moved against him, and he held her tighter, melding them together from knees to chest.

Somewhere in the back of Summer’s mind, warning bells were clanging. She was crazy to be doing this, to be starting something with a man in his field, this man in particular. Doing so was risking discovery. And yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. She couldn’t stop. She had to experience Kyle’s kiss. She needed to know she could feel this way.

Last night when she should have been sleeping, her eyes had been wide open. Now, they closed dreamily, so that she had to rely on her other senses. Her other senses were floating on a serenade of sound, heat and passion.

His mouth was firm and wet, his breathing deep, his scent clean and brisk like mint and leather. The combination made her heart speed up and her thoughts slow like a lazy river on a sultry summer day. His arms and back were muscular, his legs solid and long. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed like this, since she’d reacted like this. Had she ever been kissed quite like this?

Her back arched, her body seeking closer contact even though they couldn’t get any closer through their clothes. Until this moment, they’d been strangers. His kiss changed that, and it was spinning out of control. Control was the last thing she wanted, for passion this strong didn’t come along every day.

She felt like a balloon held gently between a pair of firm lips, waiting to see if another puff of air would fill her, transforming her, or if those lips would withdraw, sending her careening backwards. The air was Kyle Merrick. Therein lay the risk.

She reminded herself that he was leaving town today, and if she ever saw him again, it would be on rare occasions and only because he was going to be Madeline’s brother-in-law. Such meetings would be entirely controllable. It made this feel less dangerous, less likely to be something she would regret. And so, for a few moments, she let herself feel, let herself react, let herself go. And go and go.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. And it felt good.

She felt free.

The kiss didn’t end on a need for air. It ended with the sudden jarring and incessant ringing of both their phones.

Hers stopped before she could think clearly enough to answer. It went to voice mail, only to start up again. Whoever was calling was insistent. Kyle’s caller was just as determined.

They drew apart, their eyes glazed, mouths wet, breathing ragged. She let her arms fall to her sides. Dazedly, he raked his fingers through his dark hair.

Moving more languidly than usual, as if her hands were having trouble picking up signals from her brain, she finally reached for her cell phone and answered. Normally Summer began speaking the moment she put the phone to her ear. Today, Madeline did that from the other end.

“What?” Summer asked. “Honey, slow down.” Although vaguely aware of the low drone of Kyle’s voice, too, Summer listened intently to what Madeline was saying. “Of course I’ll come. I’ll be right there,” she said.

Summer was aware that Kyle had pocketed his phone and was watching her. “That was Riley,” he said. “I was planning to meet him and Madeline for lunch. He had to cancel.”

She glanced at him as she dropped her phone into her bag and fished inside for her keys. “I know. My call was from Madeline.”

He watched her, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “Riley said it’s possible she’s losing the baby.”

Summer studied his eyes. Only a few people knew Madeline was pregnant. “Riley told you about the baby?”

This time Kyle nodded. “When I saw him this morning, he was happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Madeline, too,” she said quietly.

Summer wanted to shake her fist at fate and demand that this work out for Madeline. She’d already lost so much. Now she’d found Riley, and she was happy. Happy. Was it too much to ask that she could stay that way?

“Dammit all to hell,” Kyle said.

Summer wasn’t a crier, but tears welled because, for a few moments, she understood. They both felt frustrated and helpless over Madeline’s possible medical emergency. Maybe what they said was true. Maybe there was strength in numbers, because she suddenly felt empowered. It went straight to her head. From there, it meandered to places she didn’t normally think about in the light of day.

Dresses were her usual work attire. The sleeveless, gray dress she wore today had a fitted waistband and a softly gathered skirt. It wasn’t formfitting, yet she was very aware of the places along her body where the lightweight fabric skimmed.

She felt Kyle’s gaze move slowly over her, settling momentarily at the little indentation at the base of her neck. It was all she could do to keep from placing her hand where he was looking, for she could feel the soft fluttering of her pulse at her throat. She’d learned to school her expressions, but that little vein had a mind of its own.

Last night, she’d blamed this attraction on the storm. Everybody knew people did crazy things during atmospheric disturbances. Kyle’s kiss a few minutes ago had created its own atmospheric disturbance.

But right now, Madeline needed her.

So Summer reeled in her thoughts, tamped down her passion and said, “I don’t like to be rude, but I have to go.” A handshake seemed a little formal after that kiss, so she settled on a smile. “It was nice meeting you. I mean that. Have a good flight.”

Even though it was handled politely, Kyle knew when he was being asked to leave. Since he had no legitimate reason to hang around—he did have a plane to catch after all—he walked out with Summer.

She headed for a blue sedan, and he started toward the lilac hedge in full bloom near where he’d left his Jeep. Pea gravel crunched beneath his shoes. He wasn’t sure what made him turn around and look at her. Perhaps it was the same thing that caused her to glance over her shoulder at him at the same time. Whatever the reason, it felt elemental and as fundamental as the pull of a man to a woman and a woman to a man.

Just then, a gust of wind caught in her hair and dress. And it struck him that he’d seen her before.

He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. He scanned his memory, trying to identify the reason she seemed familiar.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, obviously in a hurry to be on her way.

Deciding this wasn’t the time or place to play twenty questions, he simply said, “No. You have to go. Good luck. Tell Riley I’ll be in touch.”

She drove away, and he finally got in his Jeep. Instead of starting the engine, he sat behind the steering wheel, thinking. The sensible thing to do would be to turn the key and head for the airport to catch his two o’clock flight to L.A.

Leaving the engine idling, he slipped his laptop from its case and turned it on. He typed Summer’s name at the top of his favorite search engine. There were thousands of matches, among them a semi-famous opera singer, a retired drummer from a sixties rock band, and a teacher in Cleveland. There was even a racehorse by that name. Kyle tried another search engine and found an article archived from a local newspaper that listed Summer as the innkeeper of The Orchard Inn.

Minutes later he turned his computer off. Now what?

He wondered what was happening in the Emergency Room. He’d spent days on end at the hospital two years ago when Riley had been so close to death. Riley hadn’t asked Kyle to come this time, which was fine with him. Female troubles made all men squeamish. Besides, this was intimate. It was something that was between Riley and Madeline and Madeline’s closest friend. That brought Kyle back to Summer.

He was pretty sure he’d never met her. He would have remembered an actual encounter. As he sat strumming his fingers on the armrest, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

What?

She hadn’t looked familiar until a few moments ago. Did she remind him of someone else? Was that it?

His mind circled around a few possibilities then discarded them. No, she didn’t look like anyone he knew. He would have noticed that earlier.

But she was familiar. Although he didn’t know where or when, he’d seen her before.

Kyle Merrick never forgot a face.

Chapter Three

The founding fathers of Orchard Hill were an unlikely trio of entrepreneurs from upstate New York. One was said to have been a charming shyster who convinced his business associates back home that wealth awaited them “in the green hills of a promised land.”

According to local historians, among the first arrivals were a prominent banker and his wife, who took one look at the crudely built clapboard houses in the village and the surrounding mosquito-infested ramshackle farms and fainted dead away. The second founding father was a botanist who, through much trial and error, developed three species of apples still widely grown in the local orchards today. The third was considered to be a simpleton by his aristocratic parents. This so-called dunce proved to be a man of great wisdom and ambition who eventually established The Orchard Hill Academy, now the University of Orchard Hill.

Historical tidbits were strange things for Summer to be thinking about as she waited at the traffic light at the corner of Jefferson and Elm, but it took her mind off worrying about Madeline or wondering if she’d really glimpsed a momentary recognition in Kyle Merrick’s gaze as she was leaving the inn. She gripped the steering wheel and told herself not to jump to conclusions.

He couldn’t have recognized her.

It was possible he’d seen her photograph in the newspapers six years ago. But she’d been younger then, and blond, and had been wearing a frothy veil and a wedding gown made of acres of silk.

He hadn’t recognized her.

How could he? She barely recognized the girl she’d been then.

More than likely, what she’d thought was a fleeting recognition in Kyle’s green eyes had simply been a conscious effort to coax the blood back into his brain after that kiss. She pried the fingers of her right hand from the steering wheel and gently touched her lips. He wasn’t the only one still recovering.