Chapter One
Donovan Chance had done a lot of favors for his friend and employer, Bryan Falcon—some involving actual risk to life and limb—but he had never served as a babysitter. While that wasn’t exactly what he was doing on this Sunday afternoon in early April, the description felt uncomfortably accurate.
He had reluctantly agreed to escort Chloe Pennington—Bryan’s current girlfriend—from her Little Rock, Arkansas, apartment to Bryan’s vacation home on Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri. It would be a little more than three hours in the car with a total stranger, a trip Donovan wasn’t anticipating with any enthusiasm.
With a sigh, he reached for the door handle. He owed Bryan a lot more than a few favors—regardless of his personal feelings about this one in particular.
The apartment he’d been directed to was on the ground floor, opening onto a covered sidewalk. Rain was in the forecast—lots of it—and the air was nippy. Hunching a little against a brisk breeze, he rang the doorbell.
From the photograph Bryan had shown him, he immediately recognized the woman who opened the door. Medium-brown hair cut in a smooth bob to her collar. Large, long-lashed hazel eyes set in a fair-skinned oval face. Straight, smallish nose. Soft mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top. More pretty than beautiful. Dressed very casually in jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt.
He wouldn’t have thought she was Bryan’s type—but then, this whole situation had been a surprise to him. He wished he could say it had been a pleasant one.
He was quite sure no emotions were revealed in his expression when he introduced himself. “Ms. Pennington? I’m Donovan Chance, Bryan Falcon’s associate.”
Rather than make him feel welcome, as he’d expected, she gave him a cool once-over that left him feeling like something she’d spotted floating in her soup. “Associate?” she asked. “Don’t you mean flunky?”
His eyes narrowed in response to the unveiled insult. This was the woman Bryan wanted to marry? The one he’d described as sweet, warm, funny, a little old-fashioned? If Donovan hadn’t seen a photograph, he would be certain he’d come to the wrong apartment. “You are Ms. Pennington, aren’t you?” he asked just to be sure.
“Yes. May I call you Donnie?” Her honeyed tone was pure insolence this time. Donovan had always believed that no one could deliver an insult more effectively than a woman of the South.
“Not if you want me to answer.” He hadn’t been prepared to like her particularly, but he’d thought she’d at least make a show of being pleasant. He’d bet she never talked this way in front of Bryan. He’d had a great deal of experience
dealing with difficult people, so he was able to keep his voice blandly polite. “I suppose we should get on the road. May I carry your bags for you?”
From babysitter to bellhop. Bryan could well owe him a few favors after this. Especially if Ms. Pennington’s attitude didn’t improve significantly. Soon.
“If it were up to me, no one would be getting in a car with you,” she said, and her expression now seemed to be an odd mixture of frustration and disapproval. “Then your rich boss could go shopping elsewhere for a suitable partner for his ridiculous marriage of convenience.”
Now he was confused. He’d thought Chloe Pennington was a willing participant in this whirlwind courtship—too willing, actually. He’d been certain she was as attracted to Bryan’s money and power as to Bryan himself—as too many other women had been during the past few years. But this woman wasn’t even pretending to be looking forward to the week she would be spending with the man who had been courting her so persistently. Did she really think it didn’t matter how she spoke to Bryan’s closest associate, as long as she behaved properly in front of Bryan himself?
Because he’d long since appointed himself Bryan’s protector, he spoke sharply, “Look, if that’s the way you really feel about this, let’s just forget it. Bryan doesn’t have time for a vacation now, anyway, especially with someone who would rather be elsewhere. And to be honest, I have plenty more important things to do than babysit a…”
“Grace? I saw Mrs. Callahan in the laundry room, and she asked me to tell you…” The woman who had entered the room, wearing khaki slacks and a mint-green sweater and carrying a load of folded laundry in a round plastic basket, came to an abrupt stop when she saw Donovan standing in the open doorway. “Oh,” she said, looking suddenly flustered. “You must be Donovan Chance. You’re early.”
Donovan wasn’t usually caught completely off guard, but it took him a moment to respond. “Actually, I’m exactly on time.”
The woman set the laundry basket on the couch and approached the door. “I’m so sorry. My watch must have stopped again. It’s been doing that lately.”
Though their appearance was almost identical—the only difference being that this woman wore her brown hair slightly longer and straighter—the newcomer’s voice was warmer than the one who had opened the door to him, her expression friendlier. “Grace, haven’t you even invited Mr. Chance inside?”
“Actually, I had almost convinced him to leave without you.” Her face resigned, Grace stepped out of Donovan’s way.
Sighing, Chloe stepped forward to extend her hand in Donovan’s direction. “I’m sorry if my sister was rude. Perhaps we should start from the beginning. I’m Chloe Pennington, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Chance. Bryan has often spoken of you.”
Donovan remembered now that Bryan had mentioned that Chloe owned a business with her sister. He had neglected to add that the sisters were identical twins. Donovan would have to discuss that with his friend later.
He shook Chloe’s hand briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Pennington,” he said, because etiquette demanded it of him.
“Please call me Chloe. And you’ve already met my sister, Grace.”
Meeting Grace’s glittering hazel eyes, Donovan nodded. “Yes, I’ve had that pleasure.”
She flashed him a challenging smile.
Looking suspiciously from one to the other, Chloe shook her head. “Now I’m even more convinced that an apology for my sister’s behavior must be in order.”
Turning his back on Grace, Donovan looked at Chloe—the woman Bryan had chosen, he reminded himself. “Are you ready to leave?”
Chloe glanced at her watch, shook her wrist, then slipped it off and tossed it to her sister. “See if you can have that repaired while I’m gone, will you?”
Catching it easily, Grace replied, “You could always stay and see to it yourself.”
“Don’t start with me again.” Chloe picked up the laundry basket and turned toward the doorway that led to the back of the apartment. “Five minutes,” she promised Donovan. “Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”
He nodded, watching Grace a bit warily out of the corner of his eye.
Maybe Chloe sensed his uneasiness. “Grace, why don’t you come help me get everything ready,” she said, and her tone made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’m sure Mr. Chance won’t mind waiting by himself for a few minutes.”
“Not at all,” he assured her.
Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “You can handle everything in there. I’ll keep Falcon’s chauffeur company.”
Donovan was going to let it pass, but Chloe spoke sharply on his behalf. “Mr. Chance isn’t a chauffeur, he’s an executive in Bryan’s company. He’s doing Bryan a big favor by giving me a lift today because Bryan was detained in New York.”
“An executive. Is that what they’re calling errand boys these days?”
“Grace!”
Holding up a hand toward Chloe, Donovan focused on her sister. “You might as well get it off your chest. What other insults would you like to throw at me before I leave?”
He was a bit surprised to see her blush. She kept her chin high, defiance overcoming embarrassment. “I suppose I should apologize for the things I’ve said to you. You’re only doing your job, I guess. It’s my sister who needs some sense knocked into her.”
“You don’t approve of the engagement?”
“Bryan and I aren’t engaged,” Chloe said quickly. “We’re still in the preliminary stage of our relationship. That’s why we’re taking some private time at his vacation home this week—to discuss the future in private. We were both disturbed when the press got wind of our friendship and started dropping hints about a possible marriage.”
Grace whirled toward Donovan. “Do you approve of this ridiculous arrangement?”
He shrugged. No way, of course, was he going to admit that he agreed with Grace Pennington—about anything. “It’s none of my business.”
“So you are just an employee and not a real friend of Bryan Falcon.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “Bryan Falcon is the best friend I’ve ever had. But I don’t tell him how to run his personal life.”
Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his opinion when asked, of course. And if Bryan asked him, Donovan was going to suggest that his friend think a lot longer before making himself a part of this family.
“I wish you would teach that trick to my sister,” Chloe said. “Not getting involved in other people’s business, I mean.”