A Weaver Wedding
Now you see him, now you don’t… Shy and retiring Tara Browning couldn’t believe it. One minute she was enjoying an outrageous, out-of-the-blue weekend of heaven with Axel Clay and the next minute he disappeared without so much as a goodbye! Was she dreaming? The baby on the way seemed very real indeed…Now, months later, Axel was back in town, showing up on her doorstep with a song and dance about being her bodyguard while her brother testified in a high-profile criminal trial. In such close quarters, could Tara keep her baby secret – and her hands to herself – now that this masterful man of the Double-C Ranch was back on her radar?
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âAxel Clay, what are you doing here?â
Tara didnât sound welcoming and wished she didnât care.
âWe need to talk.â
âAfter four months of silence? I donât think so.â Darn it. That didnât sound indifferent, either.
âTara ââ
Heâs just a guy, she told herself for about the millionth time since that night in Braden had turned into an entire weekend. More than forty-eight hours spent with each other in that little motel room, during which sheâd started thinking things sheâd had no business thinking. Crazy things. Forever things.
All of which had come to a screeching halt when heâd been gone before sheâd woken up the last morning. The only thing heâd left behind was a note that heâd âcall.â
Well, no call ever came. All they had in common was one weekendâ¦and an unborn baby that she needed to keep secretâ¦
Available in May 2010from Mills & Boon®Special Momentsâ¢
Once Upon a Wedding by Stacy Connelly & Accidental Princess by Nancy Robards Thompson
The Midwifeâs Glass Slipper by Karen Rose Smith & Best For the Baby by Ann Evans
Seventh Bride, Seventh Brother by Nicole Foster & First Come Twins by Helen Brenna
In Care of Sam Beaudry by Kathleen Eagle
A Weaver Wedding by Allison Leigh
Someone Like Her by Janice Kay Johnson
A Forever Family by Jamie Sobrato
Allison Leigh started early by writing a Halloween play that her grade-school class performed. Since then, though her tastes have changed, her love for reading has not. And her writing appetite simply grows more voracious by the day.
She has been a finalist for the RITA® Award and the Holt Medallion. However, the true highlights of her day as a writer are when she receives word from a reader that they laughed, cried or lost a night of sleep while reading one of her books.
Born in Southern California, Allison has lived in several different cities in four different states. She has been, at one time or another, a cosmetologist, a computer programmer and a secretary. She has recently begun writing full-time after spending nearly a decade as an administrative assistant for a busy neighbourhood church, and currently makes her home in Arizona with her family. She loves to hear from her readers, who can write to her at PO Box 40772, Mesa, AZ 85274-0772, USA.
For everyone who has loved The Double-C family as much as I have.
Table of Contents
Prologue
âCan I get you another margarita?â
Tara Browning looked up into the sympathetic eyes of the cocktail waitress as she moved the empty glasses from Taraâs table to the tray balanced on her palm.
Wasnât there a rule somewhere that drinking alone was a bad sign of something?
Beyond the waitress, the wood and leather-studded Suds-Grill was just about standing-room only. Maybe that meant Tara wasnât alone, even if she had been stood up by her own brother. She forced a smile. âSure.â
âHave it out in a few minutes.â The waitress disappeared among the bodies crowded into the small bar.
Tara sighed and glanced over the people. Still no sign of Sloan.
She couldnât pretend she wasnât disappointed. The message that her twin brother had left on her phone had been the first time sheâd even heard his voice in three years. Five since sheâd seen him in person and turned her life upside down because of the choices heâd made in his life.
She should have known he wouldnât show, despite his message. Not even on this, their thirtieth birthday.
She exhaled and accidentally caught the eye of a middle-aged guy staring at her from his seat at the bar. She looked away. She wasnât looking for a pickup. Occupying bar stools wasnât something she indulged in even in Weaver, where she lived and worked, much less here in Braden, a good thirty miles away. Sheâd come for Sloan McCray. Period.
âDo you mind if I take the extra stool?â The kid from the overflowing, high-top table next to hers was eyeing her earnestly over the top of his longneck beer bottle.
She shrugged. It wasnât as if she needed to save the seat for Sloan. âGo ahead.â
The kid slid the stool three feet to the other table. âThanks, maâam.â
Maâ am.
Happy big fat three-oh to you, Tara.
The guy at the bar was still eyeing her and she turned slightly on her stool, accepting the fresh margarita from the waitress. She didnât know why sheâd bothered ordering any drinks when she had no head for alcohol. Nor did she know why she stayed in the crowded bar at all when it seemed painfully clear that her brother wasnât going to show, no matter what his message had said.
She pushed off the stool, swaying a little dizzily. She wasnât about to hire a cab to take her back to Weaver. Even if she could find one, sheâd have to turn around and make the return trip in the morning to retrieve her car.
