His Wedding Date (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 2) (8 page)

Slowly, carefully, she pulled away and said, "I think I need to lie down again."

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked before he let her go.

She nodded, then turned onto her side with her back to him. It was all she could manage.

* * *

Shelly rolled over in the bed and looked around, wanting to know for sure that she was alone in the bedroom of the suite. The big, overstuffed chair pulled to the side of the bed was empty now, and the door to the sitting room was closed.

She was grateful for a few precious moments alone. She'd been so hopeful before that moment in the middle of the night, before he'd crushed her dreams of the two of them together.

He'd ridden in the ambulance beside her, holding her hand. He'd been at the hospital with her, and when the doctor had wanted to keep her overnight for observation, Brian had promised to watch over her during the night. That had been the only way the doctor would let her leave the hospital.

Shelly hated hospitals. She'd spent a lot of time in them when she was little, when her mother had been dying. Brian knew that. She hadn't needed to explain. He'd found a way to get her out of there.

Neither one of them wanted to face his family last night and tell them what had happened. Exhausted and wanting nothing more than to rest, they'd checked into a suite at the Clairmont and decided to let explanations wait until morning.

Now it was morning.

Even worse—it was Rebecca's wedding day. She was due to walk down the aisle in—Shelly squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand—eight and a half hours.

That and an urgent need to find the bathroom was enough to convince Shelly she had to get out of bed. Cautiously, slowly, she sat up on the side of the bed, then got to her feet and struggled to make it to the other side of the room.

After taking care of her most urgent needs, she went to the mirror and groaned at what she saw. She may have only come close to dying, but she looked as if she'd actually done it.

An ugly bruise ran along the side of her face, right up against the hairline, from cheekbone to temple. It was an angry reddish color now, but she'd probably be black-and-blue tomorrow.

Her arms were bruised, too, probably from when Brian had pulled her from the plane. Her brown, shoulder-length hair, which she normally kept under control in a loose braid hanging down her back, was going every which way, and she smelled of river water.

The lime-green scrubs they'd given her to wear at the hospital did ghastly things for her skin. Normally pale, her complexion now had a ghostly tint.

And her eyes were huge and red—lack of sleep and too many tears. She'd sobbed uncontrollably time after time in the night, with her head buried in a pillow so Brian wouldn't hear.

Like family, he'd said. Not that it had come as any great surprise to her, which made it ridiculous that it had hurt so much. She'd spent years daydreaming about a man who loved her like a sister.

She made herself remember it, hear it again, remember how it had felt when she heard that. So she could get over him and finally move on.

Shelly stripped off the drab green scrub suit, took a quick shower to wash off the scent of the river, then filled the big whirlpool tub with warm water and stepped into it. She listened to the gurgling sound of the bubbles rushing to the surface of the water, and she didn't cry this time. She was done with that.

Once and for all, she was done with this man.

* * *

Brian was waiting for her when she opened the bathroom door, and he didn't look at all like someone whose plane had crashed into a muddy river the day before.

Shelly knew she did.

"I didn't think you were ever going to wake up," he said.

She stood there in nothing but the hotel's big, fluffy bathrobe and somehow endured having him reach for her, having one of his hands sweep her hair aside so he could look at the bruising on her face.

This trip would be over soon, and she'd get away from him, one way or another.

"Still know what day it is?" he quizzed her, as he had throughout the night.

"Saturday."

"What state we're in?"

"Florida."

"Who the president of the United States is?"

"I voted for him, both times."

"Okay. I guess you're going to live," he said, trying to make a joke of it, although he still seemed genuinely worried about her. "How's your head?"

"Is it still in one piece?" She wasn't sure, judging from the way it felt.

He nodded.

"Then I guess I can't complain."

She made her way over to the bed, groaning as she sat down on the edge of it.

"Sore?"

"Very."

"Me, too." He helped her swing around so her head was propped against the pillows and her feet were stretched out in front of her.

Shelly watched his hands as they settled back against his sides. She wondered what she'd have to do to keep them there—by his sides and off her. She wondered how she could reconstruct some of that hard-won distance between them that she'd tried so hard to maintain, distance that had all but shattered in the past twelve hours or so.

She'd clung to him on the riverbank, in the ambulance, at the hospital and long into the night while he'd sat by her bedside and slept in the chair he occupied now. She needed the distance. Desperately.

"Look," Brian said. "The doctor gave us some pills last night, in case we woke up with tight, sore muscles. He said you could have some if you needed them once you woke up this morning. They're in the bathroom."

"I think I'll wait and see how I feel." Besides, she wanted to be as clearheaded as possible. "Does anyone know about the accident yet?"

"I called my parents. My mother dug some of my old clothes out of a closet at the house and brought them over, and then she went out to pick up a few things for you. She should be back any minute now."

"Good, I was dreading putting those scrubs back on." And she sure didn't want to sit around the hotel suite with him while she was in nothing but this robe.

God, this was so awkward.

She looked away for a second, so she didn't see the hand that came out to gently turn her face to the left so he could look more closely at her bruise.

It had always amazed her how gentle he could be. It wasn't a quality most men felt comfortable letting someone see, but he did.

"Are you sure you feel all right?" he asked, coming so close she felt his breath stirring the strands of hair that had escaped from her braid. He was watching her, too intently as far as she was concerned.

What did he see? Was he remembering the way she'd held on to him so desperately on the riverbank, the way she hadn't wanted to let go of his hand in the ambulance or at the hospital? Was he wondering why? Or did he already know how she felt about him?

Her face burned at the thought.

"I've had better days," she admitted at last, then searched her brain for something else they could discuss. "The plane? Did you figure out what went wrong?"

Brian shrugged, still not taking his eyes off her. "Not yet. I talked to Charlie this morning, too, and he said he'd just had the plane serviced because he was planning to take it to Orlando on Monday."

"So what could have happened?"

"I don't know. Charlie's a careful man. He takes good care of that machine. We'll probably have to have it hauled out of the river and let the mechanics run over it before we know for sure."

* * *

Brian's mother, Katherine Sandelle, was the epitome of a well-bred Southern lady who prided herself on her image and her gracious manners. But she was so shocked by Shelly's appearance, she could do nothing but stare at her. Her reaction was so obvious that Shelly wanted to run to the nearest mirror again and see if she could possibly look any worse than she had when she'd crawled out of bed this morning.

Surely that wasn't possible, Shelly reasoned. Then she hit on the real problem.

"Brian didn't tell you everything, did he?"

"Obviously not," she said, dropping her shopping bags on the floor and sitting down in the chair Brian had slept in. "Are you all right, dear?"

"I'm sure it looks worse than it is," Shelly said. "Really. I just have a big bruise, a splitting headache and lots of sore muscles."

"I think my son has some explaining to do," she said.

"What did he tell you?" Shelly asked, although she had a pretty good idea of what he would have said.

"I believe his exact words were that the landing was a little rough and that you got bounced around a bit."

"He didn't say anything about the engine going out, about landing on a little country road or running the plane into a river?" She still had trouble believing it.

Katherine looked truly shocked then. "No."

"He probably wanted to wait until you were standing face-to-face before he sprung all that on you."

"He had that chance this morning when I brought him his clothes."

Shelly leaned back into the pillows that were holding up her aching head, and she shivered in the suddenly cool room as the scenes from the day before ran through her mind. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to talk about it, but Brian's mother had a right to know some things.

"He was incredible up there in the plane. I don't think he knows the meaning of the word panic. And then when we landed in the river... " Shelly didn't care for the trembling quality of her voice and paused to try to control it.

It was over. They'd survived, thanks to Brian.

"He saved my life," she told his mother. "He wouldn't ever tell you himself, but I want you to know he saved me. The plane was sinking. It was nearly full of water. I got lost in the darkness, and I was scared. I couldn't get myself out."

Brian's mother was scared, too, now.

"He pulled me out of the plane, and he got me out of the water," Shelly said. "He was incredible."

"Well, I'm a little prejudiced, but I'd have to agree with you, dear." She took Shelly's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Now tell me about you. We've missed you. You've stayed away much too long."

"I've missed you all, too," Shelly said, and it was true. She missed both Brian's parents and the big house that was so familiar to her. "I hope you don't think that I—"

A knock sounded on the outer door to the suite, and Shelly paused, unsure of what to do.

"I have a feeling I know who that is. We should let Brian get it," his mother said.

"Oh?"

"Rebecca and Sammy," she explained. "When Brian called this morning, he caught up with me at Rebecca's parents' house. They were there for the wedding breakfast. Sammy was a little concerned about Brian, and Rebecca promised to bring him over for a minute."

"Oh," Shelly said, staring at the door that separated them from what was sure to be an awkward scene in the next room. "I don't... I don't know what to say. I feel so bad for Brian, and I don't understand how this could have happened."

"He's going to be fine," his mother said.

"But Rebecca... "

"Rebecca doesn't love him the way a woman should love the man she marries."

Shelly was stunned. She'd always known that Brian and Rebecca belonged together. She thought everyone did, especially his own mother.

"Shelly, dear, I know Brian's been hurt by all this, and I'm sorry for that. But it's been more than five years since Rebecca's divorce from Tucker was final. If she'd truly wanted to marry Brian, she would have done it long before now. If Brian didn't have such a blind spot where she's concerned, he would have figured it out for himself long ago."

Shelly couldn't say anything. Katherine and Rebecca's mother were the best of friends. They had been for years. Shelly had assumed that the two of them had been plotting and planning to marry off their children forever. She had been sure Brian's mother would be as upset as Brian was by the thought of Rebecca marrying someone else. But clearly she wasn't.

"Brian's going to be fine once he accepts what's happened," Katherine said.

"I'm sure he will," Shelly said. "I just... I hate to see him hurt this way."

"He'll be fine. And now that Rebecca's getting married again, maybe he'll find someone, too. I hope so. His father and I are ready to start spoiling our grandchildren."

Shelly hadn't thought of that. Of course he would find someone, or more likely, some other woman would find him.

When Brian had first moved to Naples, they'd had a temp working in one of the secretarial positions at the engineering firm. The woman had been disappointed to learn he was engaged, but it hadn't stopped her from going after him.

Shelly had hated the woman for it. And nothing would stop women like that from going after him now. She couldn't watch that, she decided. She couldn't be there and see him with another woman, so it was a good thing she'd started sending out resumes weeks ago, when the wedding invitation arrived. When she'd thought he was marrying Rebecca and they'd live in Naples, Shelly had known she had to get out of there.