His Brother's Fiancee

Dylan wasn’t a detective for nothing. She’d thought she managed to convey that information rather calmly, but he sensed the anxiety lurking only a hairbreadth beneath the cool surface.

“Emily, what’s bothering you?” he asked quietly. “I assumed it was the search for your birth mother that had you on the edge, which is why I pressed you hard about the risks involved. But I’ve been watching you closely, and I’m fairly sure it’s not this investigation that has you half a step away from full-blown panic. It’s something else. Can I help?”

“No, but I really appreciate the offer. It sounded genuine.”

“It was. I have broad shoulders if you feel the need to unload a problem.”

It occurred to her that Dylan would be an easy man to confide in. It also occurred to her that he must encounter people all the time who were struggling with heartbreaking, life-or-death dilemmas. She suddenly realized that 350 disgruntled guests didn’t amount to a life-or-death problem. As for heartbreaking… Her heart, now that she stopped to think about it, seemed remarkably unscathed by Michael’s casual termination of their engagement. Her pride was rubbed raw and she was panicked by the sudden upheaval in her plans for her future, but there was no gaping wound in her emotions. In fact, for a bride jilted almost at the altar, she was embarrassingly free of grief.

Emily flashed Dylan her first genuine smile in several hours. “I’ve just this minute come to the conclusion that I don’t have much of a problem at all. Other than the fact that I’ve been indulging in an exaggerated case of self-pity, which I plan to snap out of right now. Thank you again for your excellent advice.”

“You’re welcome.” Dylan grinned. “Sometime you must let me know what I said that was so insightful.” He walked her to the door. “You’d probably like to see Carolyn before you leave. Her office is two doors down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks. I’ll look forward to hearing from you as soon as you have any news about my birth mother.” Emily said a final goodbye and marched purposefully down the hallway to Carolyn’s office. The door was open and she stepped inside without knocking.

“I’m not going to marry Michael,” she announced. “You’re the first person to hear the news.”

The sky didn’t fall and the walls of the building remained standing. In fact, her announcement seemed considerably less amazing once she’d actually spoken it out loud.

Carolyn, who’d been working at a computer, swiveled around on her chair and looked at Emily without saying anything. Her expression revealed nothing at all about what she was thinking, not even that she was surprised.

“You want to sit down and tell me about it?” Carolyn asked finally.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.” Whatever story she invented for the benefit of the world at large, Carolyn was her best friend and would have the plain, unvarnished truth. But not right now. Not today.

“I’ve been really stupid, and it still feels too frightening to talk about,” Emily said by way of explanation. Her heart might not be shattered, but it could still ache for dreams and hopes that weren’t going to be fulfilled. “Give me a few hours to get my head fixed on straight and then I’ll share all the gory details.”

“Okay. Subject closed. So what shall we do tonight?” Carolyn rallied like the trooper she was. “Want to come to my place and eat popcorn and watch bad movies? Hop on a plane to Dallas? Drive into the country and spend the night at a motel, drinking champagne and dissing men? You name it, I’m game.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, feeling tears spring into her eyes. “You’re a wonderful friend, Caro. But I think what you should do tonight is attend the Sutton-Chambers bridal dinner at the San Antonio Federal Club. Trust me, the food’s going to be spectacular. The champagne is all from France, and there are a bunch of cute guys coming, and most of them dance really well.”

“But I thought you said you weren’t going to marry Michael?”

“I’m not. But it’s too late to cancel the bridal dinner. Everything will have to be paid for anyway, so somebody might as well eat all the fancy food Mrs. Chambers has spent three months selecting.” Emily was quite proud of her smile. “The bride and groom will be missing, but that should at least make for some interesting table gossip.”

“Well, I don’t know, Em…”

“Go, Carolyn. Please. I want you to. You bought a super new dress, you told me so. You might as well wear it and leave all the men of San Antonio eating their hearts out because you’re so unattainable.”

Carolyn laughed. “You’ve got me mixed up with you,” she said. “You’re the one who left a trail of broken hearts when you accepted Michael’s proposal.”

Emily sent her friend a grateful smile. It was so typical of Carolyn to say something to boost her morale. “Thanks, Caro. I wish we could have lunch together so you could pay me lots more slick compliments, but I ought to get back, I suppose. I can’t put off talking to my parents any longer.”

“Do you want me to call any of the guests? Warn the other bridesmaids? Anything along those lines?”

Emily felt herself break out in a cold sweat at this reminder of what she would shortly be facing. “I don’t know what to say….” She drew in a steadying breath. “No. Don’t tell anyone that the wedding’s off. I think it’s best if we just let everyone turn up for the bridal dinner tonight and then my parents will have to make some kind of an announcement.”

Carolyn sent her a look of real sympathy. “You went a bit white around the gills when you said that. Are you okay to drive yourself home, Em?”

“Yes, I’ll manage. I’m fine, really.” She looked at her watch and realized that she’d left the Chambers’ home well over two hours ago. “Wow! I really have to get back and face the music. I’ll be in touch soon, I promise. Take care, Carolyn.”

“You, too, Em. Drive carefully. Love ya.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

Carolyn watched her friend leave. “But you didn’t love Michael,” she muttered under her breath. “Thank goodness you realized that in time to get out of marrying him.”

CHAPTER THREE

EMILY DIDN’T NEED to ask where everyone was when she finally managed to fight her way through the crush of city traffic and return to the Chambers’s house. The sound of loud, angry voices informed her she would find a large gathering of furious people in the family room at the rear of the house.

Feet dragging, she walked slowly down the hallway, fighting a cowardly urge to hide in one of the formal reception rooms, where the heavy antique furnishings provided cover, and Victorian oil portraits of Chambers ancestors looked down at the goings-on of their descendants with bland indifference.

The irate voices grew progressively louder, with Mr. Chambers’s upper-crust baritone booming over a cacophony of other speakers. Her mother sounded as if she might be crying, and Emily winced in anticipation. The prospect of opening the door to the family room and facing the hurt and disappointment of her parents was almost enough to have Emily turn tail and run as fast as her legs could carry her in the opposite direction. But the thought of Mr. Chambers berating her mother put some steel into her flabby backbone. Reminding herself that a canceled wedding barely rated as an earthshaking problem in the grand scheme of things, Emily opened the door.

The family room was little used and quite small, converted from a combination of the old butler’s pantry and housekeeper’s sitting room. Right now it appeared crammed to overflowing with irate people. Her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Chambers. Michael. Jeff Greiff, his campaign manager. Michael’s brother, Jordan, was also there, standing a little apart from the others and staring out of the window. He was the only person who wasn’t yelling, shouting or crying.

Emily swallowed hard. The tension swirling around the room was powerful enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs. Her vocal chords stubbornly refused to function and she pressed her hands to her rib cage, trying to speak, but no words came. Surprisingly, it was Jordan who noticed her arrival first, even though his back was toward the door.

“Emily’s here,” he said, half turning. He spoke quietly, but his cool tones penetrated the hullabaloo, and the babble of exasperated voices stopped for a few seconds while everyone swiveled around to stare at her. She’d noticed before that Jordan rarely needed to raise his voice in order to make his presence felt, and she wondered why his family seemed unaware of the fact that on the rare occasions when he wanted to, Jordan could dominate any situation he found himself in.

Amelia Chambers spoke first, her voice acid with sarcasm. “Well, it’s the vanishing bride! How good of you to put in an appearance. Finally. I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies.”

Emily flushed. “I had an appointment on the far side of town, Mrs. Chambers. I’m sorry to have kept everyone waiting.”

Amelia was standing by the fireplace, her hand resting on the mantelpiece. At Emily’s reply, she drew herself up to her full, imposing five feet nine inches and squinted down her narrow, patrician nose, her nostrils flaring with temper.

“You had an appointment across town?” She sounded incredulous, as if Emily had admitted to taking off for a brief trip to the planet Mars.

“It was a long-standing commitment. A business appointment.”

“Oh, well, that explains everything. I appreciate your finding time to squeeze us into your busy schedule.” Amelia rarely lost her temper, but when she did, her sarcasm could corrode steel. “Perhaps, now that you’re here, you’d be kind enough to give us some clue as to why you’ve chosen to ruin my son’s life?”

“You’ve no call to talk to my daughter in that nasty tone of voice!” Raelene Sutton, plump and petite, sprang to her daughter’s defense like a sparring bantam hen, giving Emily no chance to speak for herself. “If she’s called off her engagement to your son, you can be sure she has a good reason for it.”

“Yes, and I’d like to know what that reason is,” Sam Sutton said fiercely. “What did your son do to my little girl that she doesn’t want to marry him anymore?”

Sam was a good six inches shorter than Michael, but that didn’t deter him from confronting his daughter’s former fiancé. Hands on hips, lower lip thrust out, he looked as if he’d as soon punch Michael’s nose as listen to an explanation.

Michael stepped back, alarmed. “I didn’t do anything to your daughter!” he protested, sounding aggrieved. “Emily, tell everyone the truth! Explain to your parents that you called off our engagement because we were incompatible. You have to convince them you’re okay with this! Nobody seems to believe me.”

Emily sent him an astonished glance, although she didn’t really look at him. Couldn’t look at him and maintain any pretense of being in control. Was this how Michael had resolved the dilemma of explaining that he’d called off their wedding? By blaming it all on her? If she hadn’t felt so numb—so bludgeoned—she thought she might have been angry.

How little Michael understood her, she reflected wearily. After three months as her fiancé, he still didn’t recognize that she was a conformist to the core of her being. But unlike Michael, her parents knew her well enough to realize she would never have suggested canceling the wedding at this late date except in the most dire of circumstances. No wonder they were worried sick, imagining what those dire circumstances could be.

When she didn’t immediately speak up, Michael came and stood at her side, his confident manner suggesting that he harbored no real doubt that she’d go along with his version of events. He obviously assumed she was still such a captive of his charm that she would meekly accept whatever story he cooked up, Emily thought, seething at his attitude. Had she really been such a wimp in their relationship? Was it only a few hours earlier that she had found his arrogance appealing?

“Tell everyone that you want to call off the wedding, Emily. Help me out here.” Michael flashed one of his cajoling smiles, reminiscent of Bruce Willis at his most endearing. Smiles she had previously considered irresistible and now found repellant. “Please tell them that you don’t want to go through with this charade, honey. Tell them it’s a mutual decision.”

Emily had new insights into Michael’s character now that she hadn’t enjoyed this morning, and she felt sure he hadn’t lied about their breakup in order to save her injured pride. He was laying the blame for their broken engagement on her doorstep simply because his jaunty confidence was a sham. Deep inside where it really counted, he was too gutless to stand up and take responsibility for a mess that was entirely his own creation.

Despite her anger, if he wanted to pile all the blame on her, she didn’t really care. Nothing could avoid the humiliation that was building inexorably toward tomorrow’s climax, when 350 guests would gather for a wedding that wouldn’t happen. In the circumstances, did it matter how the guilt was apportioned? In fact, she could only agree with Michael about their incompatibility. Whatever the true reasons for his last-minute decision to call off the wedding, she probably ought to be grateful that he wanted out. After today’s events, there was no avoiding the conclusion that they were wildly unsuited to each other. It seemed inevitable that their marriage would have ended in crushing failure. Better that it never take place.

Right now, though, it was difficult to feel gratitude, with Holt and Amelia Chambers looking so disgruntled and her parents looking so devastated. Still, she couldn’t give her parents false hope. The wedding was off and, since there was no way to change that, she needed to confirm that the break between her and Michael was beyond mending. There were business considerations at stake here, in addition to everything else. Holt Chambers and her father had signed a preliminary agreement to develop Laurel Acres, a major construction project in the hill country region north of San Antonio. If her marriage to Michael didn’t take place, that deal might be at risk. Her father had old-fashioned values and tried to do business only with people whom he respected. He might not want to continue in partnership with the Chamberses if he decided that Michael had treated her badly.

Michael’s father wasn’t a warmhearted man, but he’d been as kind to her as his uptight nature permitted, and she knew he needed the projected partnership a great deal more than her father, whose canny judgment and hard work had made him a millionaire many times over. By contrast, since her engagement, she’d come to realize that the Chambers family was long on ancient lineage and seriously short of ready cash.

Emily knew she had it within her power to wreak revenge on Michael simply by telling the truth. For a moment she was tempted, then her better nature won out. No point in punishing Holt Chambers because Michael had turned out to be a jerk.

Her silence had already gone on way too long, and she spoke quickly, before her good intentions melted in the heat of disgust for Michael’s behavior. “A marriage between the two of us would never have worked,” she said woodenly. “We don’t love each other enough to make a go of our relationship. Under the circumstances, we decided to cancel the wedding ceremony tomorrow. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Very sorry.”

She spoke to a spot angled somewhere between her parents’ concerned faces. Which, by an unfortunate fluke, brought her slap bang into visual contact with Jordan Chambers. He looked at her quizzically and she felt heat flare in the pit of her stomach. From the time of their disastrous encounter in Mary Christine Bernauer’s bedroom, Michael’s brother always produced that effect on her, and Emily intensely disliked the sensation.

Cheeks burning, she dropped her gaze and stared fixedly at her shoes. Even though she could no longer see him, she knew instinctively that Jordan continued to look at her. She felt the touch of his gaze as a physical entity, unsettling, but compelling. His silent inspection continued and the heat in her cheeks spread through her body, blazing all the way to her toes.

With a liberating sense of release, Emily realized there was no longer any reason for her to conceal her dislike of Michael’s brother. She jerked her head upward and sent him a gaze of fulminating fury. Here was a genuine blessing about her broken engagement, she thought grimly. At least she would never have to be polite to Jordan again.

He held her gaze for several tense seconds, then turned back to his original position at the window, staring outside as if fascinated by the view of the barren, sun-drenched courtyard. Emily drew in a shaky breath, determined to get a grip on herself. She could only hyperventilate about one disaster at a time, and right now, her antagonistic relationship with Jordan Chambers shouldn’t even be registering on her personal disaster scale. She had bigger problems to worry about.

She was concentrating so hard on ignoring Jordan that she jumped when Jeff Greiff spoke. “You and Michael need to come up with a better explanation for the breakup than being incompatible,” the campaign manager said. “When a celebrity couple splits and tries to claim incompatibility, the media just invent a more interesting story. Gone are the days when keeping a discreet silence ensures that gossip dies down faster. Nowadays, silence is an open invitation to scandal. Mega scandal.”

Jeff puffed out his cheeks, looking self-important and vaguely ridiculous to Emily’s jaundiced eyes. “You can’t afford scandal right now, Michael,” he went on. “Quite apart from the disastrous effect on our fund-raising potential, you’re just starting to get some name recognition with the voters. Negative publicity could sink your positive ratings to a point where they can’t be salvaged. We can’t afford any negative press right now.” He scowled at Emily. “The timing for this breakup really sucks, you know.”

Emily almost apologized, then stopped herself just in time. Michael’s campaign problems were not of her making and she had zero sympathy for his plight. In fact, given the weakness of character he’d revealed today, a dose of negative publicity might not be a bad thing. The people of Texas deserved better than a man who broke promises and then tried to weasel out of the consequences.

She finally brought herself to look squarely at her former fiancé, letting him see her scorn. He stared back at her somewhat helplessly, then ran his hand through his thick, glossy hair, looking a great deal more worried now than he had when he announced the ending of their engagement. “This is a hell of a mess,” he said, handsome jaw clenched.

“You could certainly say that,” Emily agreed. “Personally, I suggest we stop tossing around blame and make up our minds what we’re going to say to the 350 people who are expecting to watch us get married tomorrow.”

Michael sucked in a nervous gulp of air, then scowled. “My God, this is a public relations nightmare.”

“You should have thought of that earlier, I guess.”

“I did think about it. But I didn’t have much choice—“ He scowled. “Damn! Why couldn’t all this have come to light weeks ago? There would be no story for any reporters to run with if it weren’t for the fact that the wedding’s only hours away.”

“You’re right. It’s the wedding ceremony itself that’s the real problem.” Jeff Greiff paced nervously. “The guest list includes three U.S. senators and the secretary of defense—”

“Dear lord,” Amelia whispered, fanning herself. The poor woman looked truly ill. “What in the world are we going to do? What shall we say?”

“The out-of-town guests are all due at the dinner tonight, so there’s no way to head them off,” Jeff said with gloomy relish. “They’ll have left Washington already. What kind of spin can we put on this? My God, Michael, if you’d set out to piss off the movers and shakers who’ve supported your candidacy for governor, you couldn’t have done a better job.”

Amelia stopped glaring at Emily long enough to direct an icy glance at her son’s campaign manager. “This horrible situation isn’t improved by using coarse language, Jeff.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Jeff turned away, rolling his eyes once he was out of Amelia’s line of vision.

Raelene broke into a fresh burst of tears. “I don’t care about the senators or any of your other fancy guests,” she wailed. “All I care about is my daughter. I don’t understand, Emmie. You looked so beautiful when we went for the final fitting on your wedding dress yesterday. You seemed so calm, so sure of yourself….”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Emily interrupted, unable to bear any more reminders of how naively content she’d been a mere twenty-four hours earlier. “I guess Michael and I discovered we weren’t in love—”

“Now, now, muffin, you know we aren’t going to believe that load of garbage.” Her father took her hand, patting it as much to comfort himself as to reassure her. “We’re not angry with you, Emmie, we just want to understand. At breakfast you gave us no hint—none!—that you were having second thoughts. What happened between breakfast and lunch to make you change your mind?”

Emily opened her mouth, then shut it again, unable to think of a single intelligent thing to say. She wanted to help Mr. Chambers salvage his business partnership with her dad, but she realized that might be impossible. Her parents simply knew her too well to believe the story Michael was trying to pass off on them.

“I know it’s out of character for me to do something like this,” she said in a final attempt to make the incredible sound reasonable. “The truth is—”

“The truth is that you and I need to talk,” Jordan interrupted. “Now, Emily, before you say anything more.”

“Excuse me?” Emily stared at him, sufficiently astonished to forget that looking at Jordan invariably produced an absurd and troublesome rush of heat. Their eyes met and, on cue, her cheeks flamed, but for once she ignored the sensation. “I can’t think of a single thing that you and I might need to discuss, Jordan.”

“You’re not handling this the right way,” he responded coolly. “Trust me, Emily, we need to talk.”

She glared at him. “Have you ever noticed that it’s only people who are completely untrustworthy who tell you to trust them?”

Jordan flashed her a brief, hard smile. “Darling, this isn’t going to get us anywhere, you know. We need to discuss the situation privately. Just the two of us.”

He’d called her darling. Emily’s stomach performed a back flip. She was sufficiently stupefied by Jordan’s endearment that she forgot to reply, just stared at him with her mouth hanging open. What in the world was going on? This was the man she despised, the man who had never yet spent ten minutes in her company without saying something that provoked an argument. Was the entire Chambers family going mad?

If they weren’t collectively nuts, perhaps she was. Maybe this crazy cancellation of the wedding was a nightmare, and she would wake up any second. Surreptitiously, Emily gave her arm a hard pinch and waited in hope.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she wasn’t dreaming. Jordan walked across the room and touched his finger to her chin, gently closing her mouth. She opened it again to speak, but Jordan closed it once more, this time with considerable firmness.

“Not here, dearest.”

First darling, and now dearest. She’d definitely slipped down a rabbit hole into Wonderland, Emily decided.

Jordan turned to the assembled company. From their silence, Emily deduced they were all as bewildered as she was. “Excuse us,” he said. “Give us fifteen minutes, will you?”

He didn’t wait for a response, just put his hand under Emily’s elbow and propelled her from the crowded family room, shutting the door on the explosion of questions that followed their exit.

“They’ll be hot on our tail within minutes,” he said as soon as they were in the hall. “We’ll have to use the library. That’s the only room with a lock on the door.”