Forever His Bride by LISA CHILDS

as if they’d become friends, as if she were planning Molly’s wedding more for Joshua Towers than for the friend Brenna had known since kindergarten.
    And now she was ashamed of herself. Could she be any more disloyal? Yes—she could have kissed her best friend’s groom.
    “I really need to check on my friends,” she insisted, her voice cracking with nerves.
    “And I should go check on the boys,” he murmured as he followed her off the dance floor.
    Brenna picked up her pace, dodging other couples and dancing children. She needed some distance between them, needed to gain some perspective.
    She’d already lied to Josh when she’d assured him he wasn’t trouble. Because he was—for Brenna’s head and her heart. How would she survive two weeks with him and his lovable boys living in her house?
     
    J OSH STRIPPED OFF his bow tie and shrugged out of his jacket, then draped it over the back of one of the spindly-legged chairs in the parlor. He shouldn’t have agreed to stay here, for so many reasons.
    His body tensed as the floorboards creaked above his head. Brenna’s room was directly above the parlor, in the turret of the Kellys’ old Victorian house. She was awake, too. Her parents had come home a while ago, checked in on him and then headed to bed. And the boys were dead to the world, sleeping just as they played—flat out. There was something intimate, he thought, about Brenna and him being the only two people awake in a quiet house.
    He shook his head. There could be nothing intimate between them, no matter how much Brenna’s beauty and generosity tempted him. He was still engaged. And even if he wasn’t, he was done rushing into relationships.
    Something beeped in the small, crowded room. Did the Kellys have a lie detector among their antiques? But then he realized that the sound emanated from his jacket. He pulled his cell phone, which issued a low-battery warning, from one of the pockets. When he flipped it open the little envelope icon flashed on the LCD screen, indicating voice mail.
    “Probably Nick,” he muttered. He had an excuse for deleting the message, too—his battery was low. But he still appreciated his friend’s concern, so he speed-dialed the voice-mail box and punched in his access code.
    A soft, feminine voice filled his ear. “Josh, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me…”
    How could he? When he suspected she’d saved them both from making a terrible mistake.
    Molly’s message continued, “You said you’d understand. I hope you do.”
    That was it, and the phone reverted to an automated voice telling him which number to push to delete the message and which to save.
    “Molly, what do I do?” he asked himself, trying to decipher her cryptic message. “Do I delete or save?” Were they over, was their engagement broken, or would she return and expect him to be waiting?
    He’d never said he loved her, and she’d never made that vow to him. They cared for each other, though. And yet she must have realized just in time that that wasn’t enough to build a marriage on. If only he’d realized that before he’d proposed.
    Undoing some of the buttons on his shirt, he struggled to compose himself. Heavy velvet drapes hung at the parlor windows and furniture filled every corner. Feeling trapped in the crowded room and by his own promise, he ducked out onto the porch.
    A shadow shifted near the railing where the porch wrapped around the kitchen and dining room. Maybe he and Brenna weren’t the only two awake.
    “Pop?” he called out as he skirted rockers and deck chairs until he reached the table where someone sat.
    Then the clouds shifted, and moonlight shone so brightly it could have been morning already. He glanced at his watch. Hell, it nearly was. His breath caught as he realized who else occupied the deck. Brenna sat at the patio table. Moonlight shimmered in her hair, making the auburn strands glow like fire. She’d changed out of her bridesmaid dress, and now the