The Best Man's Bride

Colleen had known he would be at the wedding. Did he recognize her? She doubted it. How could he recognize someone he had never noticed before?

He saw her now, staring at her so intently that goose bumps rose on the bare skin of her shoulders and arms.

“Hi,” he said. “I missed the rehearsal. Any idea which bridesmaid I walk down the aisle?”

She blinked her eyes open and met his gaze. In his expression there was a flirtatious twinkle. All rational thought fled her mind.

Probably used to women’s tongue-tied reactions, he grinned, and a deep dimple pierced one lean cheek. “I’m the best man.”

“Then you’ll walk down the aisle with the maid of honor,” she informed him. The haughty tone of her voice surprised her.

“I hope that’s you,” he said, flashing the dimpled grin at her.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Cloverville, Michigan, for the second book in my THE WEDDING PARTY series for Harlequin American Romance. Even if you didn’t read Unexpected Bride, you’ll have no problem figuring out what’s going on now in the small town of Cloverville, because all four books in the series cover the same time frame. Since the stories occur simultaneously, you may recognize some scenes from Unexpected Bride, but from the interesting new perspectives of the best man, Dr. Nick Jameson, and bridesmaid and younger sister of the bride, Colleen McClintock.

Colleen has had a crush on Dr. Jameson forever, but Nick first notices Colleen at the wedding of her sister to his best friend. These two commitment-phobes have no intention of taking a trek down the aisle themselves. But Nick brings out the impulsive nature Colleen has long suppressed, and Colleen turns Nick’s world upside down. I hope you enjoy reading their story!

Happy reading!

Lisa Childs

Bestselling, award-winning author Lisa Childs writes paranormal and contemporary romance for Harlequin/Silhouette Books. She lives on thirty acres in west Michigan with her husband, two daughters, a talkative Siamese and a long-haired Chihuahua who thinks she’s a rottweiler. Lisa loves hearing from readers, who can contact her through her Web site, www.lisachilds.com, or snail mail address, P.O. Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.

For my wonderful, supportive, talented friends:

Mary Gardner and Kimberly Duffy, finalists in the Romance Writers of America 2007 Golden Heart writing contest— ladies, you’re both winners with me!

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

With great appreciation to Kathleen Scheibling

and my agent, Jenny Bent, for offering their guidance and sharing their knowledge.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Nick Jameson asked his best friend.

“I was going to ask you that,” Josh Towers said as he peered into the mirror on the wall of the groom’s dressing room, straightening a bow tie that was already perfectly straight. But then, nearly everything about Josh was perfect—apart from his taste in women.

Nick sighed. “What do I need to know? I’m not getting married.” Not ever.

“You missed the rehearsal, you know.”

“Hey, I was on call last night.” Nick shrugged, testing the seams on his tuxedo jacket. Tuxedos were called monkey suits for a reason, he thought. They were damned near as comfortable as straitjackets.

Not that he’d ever been in a straitjacket, but if for some reason he considered doing what Josh was—getting married—he’d put himself in one.

“And what’s so hard about what I have to do?” Nick asked his friend. He had stood up with Josh at his other wedding—the first one. He was such a hypocrite. How could he stand up for something in which he put no faith? “I just walk down the aisle with some girl on my arm.”

“You’re the best man,” Josh reminded him. “You’re in charge of the rings, too.” He dug a pair of gold bands out of his pocket and handed them over.

The metal, although warm from Josh’s pocket, chilled Nick’s skin as the rings lay in his palm. The anxiety built in his throat, nearly choking him. He didn’t even like to touch the things.

“Daddy,” one of Josh’s twin four-year-old sons said, “we’re the ring bears.”

“Funny, you don’t look like bears,” Nick teased, chucking the boy under the chin. Must have been Buzz since his black hair had been kept buzzed short for the past two years after he’d gotten hold of Josh’s electric razor. TJ’s hair was a little longer and moussed into half-inch spikes. Both twins had deep blue eyes, and now they stared up at him as if he were trying to make off with one of their Tonka trucks.

“Yeah,” said TJ as he tugged on Nick’s pant leg. The twins’ tuxedos matched his, black with white pleated shirts, black bow ties and red cummerbunds. “We’re supposed to carry the rings.”