C3 Once spurned

Besides, his personality negated the attractive packaging. He was my adversary, and I had to play my part. Wonderful Will-who might even be my brother-in-law by now, if all had gone as planned-and my beloved sister, Faith, was counting on me. I had to ignore Brian Adam's good looks and remind myself that he was bent on destroying my sister's precious chance for happiness with the man she loved.

And for no justifiable reason, as far as I could see. Will had told me a story about Brain's past, he'd been spurned in his early twenties by his first love, a young woman he hoped to marry. But as the story went, Brian's father did not approve of the girl. Convinced she was only after the Adams, fortune, he met with her secretly, persuaded her to break off with Brian, and paid her a large lump sum to disappear. Coupled with the early loss of their mother, Will claimed the experience had burned his brother so badly he'd never again trust a woman in a romantic relationship. And unfortunately, not only were any women he met suspected but women that Will met, as well.

Well, it was a sad story, indeed, I reflected as I walked toward Brian. But we all have sad stories to tell, I thought. and I knew that only too well. One bad experience was no excuse to ruin other people's lives.

He faced me squarely as I stood in the arched entranceway to the room "All right, where is he?"

"I have no idea who you're speaking about "

I claimed with a wide-eyed stare

"Of course you do, damn it! Don't give me those big eyes and fluttering lashes I'm immune to your charms, Ms. Christopher, plentiful as they may be," he promised me. I few two thousand miles from New York, drove three hours from the airport to this god-forsaken nowheresville, got lost five times on the road, and walked the last mile in the pouring rain. His voice had started at a reasonable tone but rose with each breath so that his speech now crescendoed at shouting level, his face an angry scowl. "Now, you tell Will to get out here this instant! I'm tired of playing games."

I stared at him for a moment, speechless Then I laughed, politely covering my mouth with my hand. Perhaps it was a nervous reaction to his tirade. Or some defensive reflex meant to show him I was not cowed by his anger. But it was funny if you thought about it, I realized. Brian Adams was truly a man on a mission. You could see it from the obsessed gleam in his coal-black eyes. He truly believed he'd arrived just in the nick of time to prevent me from marrying Will Adams. Who he also believed was cowering in some dark corner of my house.

"I don't appreciate your amusement at my expenses, Ms. Christopher," he said sternly.

"Please, call me Olivia," I suggested politely. We are on shouting terms and all."

"All right, Olivia," he agreed through gritted teeth. "Now you are either going to tell Will to come out and face the music, or I'll search this place from cellar to attic."

"Help yourself." I waved my arm airily. "But it won't do you any good. Will isn't here."

He quickly glanced around the room, as if expecting his brother to step out from behind the couch or a curtain. Then he looked back at me, glaring at me, obviously considering his next move.

"Maybe that is true," he said finally, rubbing his jaw with his hand." I doubt that even my brother would stay in hiding this long while his fair damsel faced the dragon alone."

I watched him as he paced around the room, peered out the Window at the wretched weather, and then dropped the curtain back in place

Gee, I'd never been called a fair damsel before. It was a little corny...but cute

"So, why isn't he here?" Brian persisted. "Are you two superstitious? No letting the groom view the bride before she walks down the aisle and all that?"

"I'm not the least bit superstitious," I said honestly. "But Will is. Funny thing for a scientist, isn't it?"

"Very amusing," he replied blandly. "Where is he? You might as well tell me now and save us both. a lot of trouble," he warned.

"I don't know," I answered simply. When he stared at her in disbelief, I shrugged. "Honestly."

He started to say something, then pursed his lips and sighed. I wondered if he was giving up or just getting a second wind.

I watched him warily as he gazed around the room as if seeing it for the first time. I saw his expression turn to an appraising, scornful look. It was a look that spoke volumes of me -he was wealthy and a snob. He'd never known anything but the very best life had to offer raised on a huge estate in Connecticut, a Park Avenue apartment, private schools and Ivy League colleges, etcetera. and I was on the other hand, raised in a backwater town just like Sweetwater, had left home pregnant and unwed at age seventeen, and barely finished high school. After years of scraping by at menial jobs, I had my own home and business now, an achievement that I very was proud of. But still, while I had always found my home quite comfortable and had decorated it to my taste, could understand how it must look to a man of his reputed wealth. I gazed around as he did, seeing the place from his eyes. The swayback couch, of 1990s vintage, was valuable-if I ever had the extra money to refinish the wood trim and repair the tear in the burgundy satin upholstery that was now cleverly camouflaged by a hand-knit afghan. The rocker, with its careworn velvet cushions, needed repair as well. I'd nursed Noah in that rocker, it held such fond memories.

The Oriental-style area rug that covered the polished wood floor had seen better days. But I had other, more pressing financial priorities at the moment than finding a replacement. Paying the utility bills, for instance. Besides, I was waiting for a suitable rug to pass through my hands at my shop. How could I force myself to pay retail prices, when sooner or later I'd come across the perfect replacement for free?