His Queen of Hearts

The cobwebs in her mind slowly receded, and she realized she wasn’t at her wedding and she wasn’t on her honeymoon. She scrunched her eyes tight and groaned. Had she really announced that she couldn’t marry James?

Her mind whirled with images and sounds, of Prissy’s pale face and her mother’s tear-filled eyes and anguished cry. Oh, yes, she’d done it. And now she would have to deal with it. That’s what she got for not heeding pauvre d'efunte Mam`ere’s warnings.

Memories flew at her like a whirlwind, settling finally on a devilishly handsome stranger. One whose very presence had been threatening and frightening, yet protective and calming. And he had certainly made her heart race, especially when he touched her. He’d come to her rescue, and they’d driven off in his Jeep. Yes, that’s what she remembered. They’d gotten burgers and driven on, and she’d been so tired, so exhausted, that she must have fallen asleep.

But where was she now? Whose bed was she sleeping in? Like Goldilocks awakening when the three bears returned, she was afraid to open her eyes. She giggled nervously, wondering whether, if she did peek, she would see huge bears peering at her.

Feeling more than silly, she slowly opened her eyes. See? No bears, you goose. She let out a shaky sigh of relief. The room was empty. Of bears anyway and, thankfully, of people too.

Slivers of sunshine in the dusky room slipped through a slit in the drapes across from the bed. Moving carefully, Carly pushed back the blanket covering her and cautiously walked on silk-stockinged feet from the bed to the window. Her fingers trembled as she peeled the edge of the curtain aside a few inches. Bright light hit her full in the face, and she blinked, but she was determined to find out where she was. After she became accustomed to the brightness, she gazed out and then took a quick step back, the fabric slipping from her fingers. She spun around, taking in the room’s furnishings and the personal pictures on the wall. This wasn’t a motel room. This was…an apartment? And merely the bedroom.

On a large, upholstered club chair, she spotted her veil, draped across the back and trailing to the floor. She crossed the few steps to it and noticed a piece of paper atop a pile of what looked like clothing. Picking up the note, she squinted in the dim light and quickly read it.

Since you didn’t bring luggage, you can wear these until we get you something more appropriate. When you’re ready, give me a call and we’ll have some breakfast.

It was signed “Dev,” with a phone number under the name.

Carly moved the clothes aside and sank onto the chair, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. Mercy goodness, what had she gotten herself into? She’d bolted from the church without a thought as to what she was doing or what would happen to her. She hadn’t even grabbed a bag. But then, her luggage had been tucked away in James’s car so she wouldn’t have bothered if she had even thought of it. Her wardrobe was the last thing on her mind when she’d burst through the church doors and the stranger had taken her away. She’d spent a sleepless night before her wedding wondering what to do, planning exactly what she’d say and when she’d say it, and praying she could go through with it. She certainly hadn’t planned well. Then again, when it came to her personal life, she never did. Between being too impulsive and her poor judgment, she had really botched things.

All she could do now was make the best of the situation she’d managed to get herself into. As bad as it might be, it couldn’t be as bad as if she had gone ahead with the wedding.

Picking up the items she’d shoved aside, she held up one of the two and eyed it. A sweatshirt. The other piece of clothing was matching sweatpants, and both were several sizes too big. Since she didn’t have a choice—it was her wedding gown or the sweatsuit or nothing—she stood and began to struggle out of her dress. Cursing each tiny satin-covered button in the back, she finally gave up and tugged at the fabric until she heard a rip, and the fasteners popped like popcorn around her.

Once freed, she ignored the wave of guilt caused by the damage she had done and shoved the cumbersome dress to her feet. Stepping out of it, she removed her nylons and shivered, then grabbed the clothing Dev had left and quickly put it on. The legs of the pants were a good ten inches too long, and she was forced to roll the waistband over and the hems up, so she could take a step without tripping. Shoving the sleeves up as far as possible, she looked around for a mirror. Seeing none above the massive dresser along one wall, she tried a door and found a bathroom.

One look in the mirror was enough to know it was a wonder her savior hadn’t dumped her along the road. Mascara smudged beneath both eyes, and her hair looked as if it had been brushed with an egg beater. A drop of water on her finger removed the black marks, and a finger-combing tamed her hair to almost presentable.

Satisfied she could do nothing more with her appearance, she passed through the doorway and spied a cordless phone on the table next to the bed. She grabbed it and the note, and quickly punched in the number Dev had left her.

“Brannigan,” he drawled.

The man’s voice was absolutely lethal. The sound of it warmed the blood running through her veins, and she closed her eyes. She could listen to it forever.

“Carly?”

She opened her eyes and sighed softly. “Thanks for the loan of the clothes.”

He let out a whoosh of breath. “Sure. No problem. You okay?”

Was she? She really couldn’t tell, still feeling a little shell-shocked and confused. “I think so.”

“Good. What do you like for breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” She rarely ate in the morning and had often been chided by her mother for it. “Doesn’t matter. Look, uh, Dev—”

“Stay put,” he said, before she could finish. “I’ll have something there in fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t need to do that. What I wanted to ask you is—”

But he’d hung up.

Fifteen minutes for breakfast? Was there a fast-food place nearby? A shop with coffee cake? Whatever, she didn’t care, as long as he had the answers she needed and would be kind enough to help her. She was certain he hadn’t saved her only to refuse to help her now. Even with the eye patch he wore, he looked reasonable.

Too antsy to be still, she decided to explore, hoping to discover where she was. That’s all she needed to know, and if only he hadn’t ended the call in such a rush, she would have asked. Once she had her bearings, maybe she could start making plans.

She opened a pair of double doors near the dresser and discovered a walk-in closet filled with shirts and suits, all neatly hung in double rows. The other set of doors led into an impressive living room. A corner fireplace dominated the room, along with an enormous window that spanned one wall. Walking behind a huge white leather sofa facing an entertainment center crowded with electronic equipment, she went to the window and stared out at the same view she’d had from the bedroom. She was several floors up and could see far into the distance, but it didn’t reveal her location. All she could tell was that there was a city out there, with a slow-moving river running through it. She could be almost anywhere.

Wishing he would hurry so she could find out where she was, she took a seat on one of the matching white leather chairs that flanked the sofa. Knowing there was one thing she needed to do, she dialed the long-familiar number, hoping her host wouldn’t mind a small long-distance charge.

“Mama?” she said, when her mother answered after two rings.

“Carly! Oh, honey, where are you? Are you all right? I’m absolutely appalled at what that James did to you. That awful man. Don’t you worry, honey. He’ll never be able to show his face again to anyone of any significance in Baton Rouge.”