My Best Friend's Bride (4 page)

In return, Brad had stood by Hunter, year after year, through one woman-disaster after the next. While Brad still didn’t believe it, none of those breakups had been Hunter’s fault. He hadn’t left any of those women; they’d left
him
. The fact of the matter was that he did have a soul, and way down deep it was probably unlovable. It sure didn’t know how to love back. Not that his parents had set much of an example in that department. They’d shipped him off to boarding school at fourteen and had never come to visit. Not even on family day. While he was gregarious and confident on the outside, emotionally, Hunter had donned a suit of armor that was impossible for anyone to penetrate. How many upset females had accused him of that before slamming their way out the door? Far more than Hunter cared to count or remember. “I’m not marriage material,” he replied dryly. So many women had told Hunter that, and after a while he’d begun to believe it.

“That’s what makes this ideal,” Brad said. “You and Jill go in with your eyes open. Zero expectations.” He shook the envelope in the air between them. “Other than what’s written in here.”

Hunter gave a weighty sigh and snatched back the envelope. He hated Brad for putting him in this position nearly as much as he disliked seeing Brad on the verge of a breakdown. Brad was the closest thing he had to a brother. A baby brother. The sort who repeatedly got himself into trouble, then required Hunter’s help getting out of it. Jill Jamison, of all people. Of course it had to be her. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “But only for you.”

A few days later, Hunter adjusted his red-and-yellow-striped tie in the washroom mirror. It made him look authoritative, not stuffy. In any case, that’s what he hoped. He angled his head from side to side and set his jaw in a confident manner. “You’ve got this,” he told his rugged reflection. A flicker of doubt flashed in his dark brown eyes. He cleared his throat and tried again, speaking more surely. His voice resonated in a deep baritone as he gave himself a steady thumbs-up. “You’ve got this.”

A commode flushed and his coworker Fred Forester popped out of the bathroom stall behind him. “Got what? Catch something touching the toilet?”

Hunter startled, leaning forward to grip the edges of the basin. “Fred! Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“Obviously.” Fred stood at the sink beside him, washing his hands. He addressed Hunter’s reflection in his mirror. “You’re up for the big promotion, I hear.”

“Word gets around.”

“Sure does,” Fred said smugly. Did Hunter imagine it, or was Fred appearing full of himself, like he knew something Hunter didn’t? Then again, that was just Fred. Always one-upping everyone in the office. He was a few years younger than Hunter, but others viewed him as twice as ambitious. That’s because Fred was very
obvious
in his aspirations, whereas Hunter tended to purposely underplay his.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Hunter told him. “I’m sure your turn’s coming soon.”

Fred dried his hands with a paper towel, then tossed it into the wastebasket, straightening on his reed-thin frame. “No doubt,” he said flippantly. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Hunter with a sinking feeling. If Hunter was about to get good news, why did he sense the other shoe was about to drop?

Hunter’s boss, Maxwell Abrams, crossed his ankle over one knee and started making small circular motions in the air with his expensive Italian loafer. Rather than remaining behind his desk, he’d joined Hunter in his office’s sitting area. They now sat catty-corner in sleek leather chairs facing a low Lucite table. It held sketches of all kinds and mock-ups for new campaigns. Old man Abrams never stopped working, which was why he was rumored to need help. Word was that he sought an entrepreneurial partner to take under his wing and groom for taking over the business one day. Hunter hoped that man would be him. He’d worked hard and had landed some major accounts for the firm. Dollar for dollar, his efforts had certainly generated more revenue than Fred had brought in.

“You know I respect you as a worker,” Abrams said, his silvery hair catching glimmers of sunlight through the window.

“Yes, sir. I appreciate that.”

“You’ve got a keen eye where marketing is concerned, and that financial background of yours has only been a boon to the company.”

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure working here.”

Abrams met his eyes. “I believe you’ll go far someday.”

Hunter’s stomach clenched.
Someday? What about now?

“But I’m sure you’re aware,” Abrams went on, “that a very big deal is at stake.”

“Kaleidoscope Kids, yes, sir. I’m aware of it. Actually, I’ve been studying their prospectus, devising a plan—”

Abrams held up his hands. “I’ve got to explain this is a major account. Huge, Hunter. Landing it could completely change the financial face of this company, give us a whole new direction.”

Hunter angled toward him and set his elbows on his knees. “That’s why I’m determined to do everything I can to land it, sir. Just give me the word, and I’ll bring that puppy home.”

Abrams smiled wryly and shook his head. “That
puppy,
as you call it, is only interested in working with one kind of master.”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

Abrams pressed his broad palms together. “Kaleidoscope is about kids, Hunter.
Family
. They want someone who understands that, inside out, to design the campaign. Now, I know Fred Forester is a little younger than you…”

Fred Forester? No way!
He didn’t have half the experience Hunter did. Plus, he was more than a little bit of a jerk. “Fred, sir?” Hunter was embarrassed to hear his voice squeak.

Abrams looked him straight in the eye. “Fred’s married, and they like that. They want someone on their team who understands commitment…someone with the right frame of mind.

“Fred and Penny have been married five years. And now…” The loafer bobbed up and down. Yeah, here came the other shoe. “They’re expecting a baby.”

Hunter drew a breath. He had no idea Fred was about to become a dad. Hunter couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the child. More than that, he felt sorry for himself. Fred Forester being positioned as his boss? That wouldn’t just be uncomfortable for Hunter, it could prove disastrous for the whole office. While pretty much everyone got along with Hunter, nobody could stand Fred. What kind of supervisor would he make? Hunter couldn’t believe there wasn’t a way to turn this thing around. “Mr. Abrams, if you’ll just give me a chance. Maybe let me talk to the Kaleidoscope people myself—”

“I’m sorry, Hunter.” His look was sincere. “It’s already been decided. I talked to Fred this morning and he accepted.”

Of course he did, the snake! Hunter spoke frankly, because he didn’t see any reason not to. “I’m really sorry to hear that, sir, because I honestly feel I’m the best man for the job. The best ad man for Kaleidoscope and the best manager for this company. I’ve got great leadership skills. You’ve seen them in action.”

“Yes, and I admire that about you. Which is why I’m bringing you on board as Fred’s right-hand man. He’ll need someone with your talents to assist him.”

The situation was going from bad to unbearable. Work directly under Fred? Hunter would have to leave the company first. The thing was, Hunter
liked
Abrams Advertising, and he’d given it his all. In the past year, he’d built relationships here, with his clients and with the staff. He couldn’t just throw all that away. Nor could he stand the thought of Fred being in charge. He made one last desperate plea. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

Abrams gave a noncommittal laugh. “Only that you’re getting married.” He uncrossed his legs and stood. “But with a lone wolf like you, we both know that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

Hunter leapt to his feet, unable to stop the words that flew from his mouth. “Mr. Abrams!”

Max slowly turned his way.

“It already is!”

Abrams stared at Hunter agape. “Excuse me?”

Perspiration built at Hunter’s hairline and slicked the back of his neck.

“I’m getting married,” he reported evenly.

Max’s brow shot up. “That so? When?”

“Soon, sir. Very soon.”

Abrams sat back in his chair, apparently stunned by this turn of events. “And…who’s the lucky girl?”

Hunter sucked in a breath, then spilled it. “Jillian Jamison.”

“The relationship expert?” For some reason Abrams appeared amused. “But I thought she was marrying someone else. My wife, Diane, was just saying last Sunday she’d seen it in the—”

“
Was
,
sir. As in, past tense. Let’s just say it didn’t work out.”

Abrams was unable to mask the skepticism in his voice. “And Ms. Jamison decided to pencil you in? As a…replacement?”

“It’s a tad more involved than that. Jill and I have known each other since high school,” Hunter said. “This, um…attraction has been brewing under the surface for years.”

Abrams studied him curiously. “I see. And you love this girl?”

“Almost as much as I love myself.” Hunter called himself up short, realizing how awful that had sounded. “What I mean is—”

“I must say this comes as a surprise.” Abrams brought a hand to his chin and sat still for a moment. When he met Hunter’s eyes, he asked, “So you and your long-lost flame, Jillian Jamison, are determined to make this work? A full-fledged marriage?”

Hunter nodded numbly, not admitting he intended to make it work for just a year. Hey, many marriages only lasted that long. Why should his and Jill’s be any different? By the time their agreement concluded, Hunter would be well on his way to proving himself a valuable asset at Abrams, and Fred would be caught up with baby duty.

“Well, in that case… It appears there’s only one thing left for me to say.” Abrams shot to his feet and held out his hand. “Welcome to my personal team, Hunter. I can’t wait to see your ideas for Kaleidoscope Kids. If they’re half as good as I’ve got a hunch they’ll be, we’ll lock down that account in no time. By this time next year, I might even be calling you
partner.
”

Hunter pumped Max’s hand with a firm handshake. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret giving me this opportunity.”

“I’m happy for the company, I really am. But mostly…” Abrams released his hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you. Such wonderful news! Congratulations to you and Jill!”

Five minutes later, Hunter was back in the washroom and on his cell, furiously typing a text. He had to meet with Brad and get this deal sealed before something went wrong. He hit
send
just as someone walked into the room.

“Writing to Mommy with the bad news?”

Hunter looked up from where he leaned against the wall to see Fred standing before him. “In here again, Fred? Got some kind of condition?”

“Beats what you’ve got.” Fred smirked. “Sore loser syndrome.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to call a victory yet.”

Fred paused midway into a stall, holding the door slightly ajar between them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hunter shrugged and shoved his cell into his pocket without giving Fred the satisfaction of a reply. It was up to Abrams to break the news, after all. All Hunter had to do now was confirm that Jill Jamison was fully on board. Of course, Brad had already assured him she would be.

Chapter Four

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jill exclaimed, meeting Brad’s eyes. They were still at the grill in their tennis clothes and Brad had just finished telling her how he’d explained her situation to Hunter roughly a week ago. Hunter had been so taken with Brad’s story—and concerned by Jill’s predicament with her publisher—that he’d naturally agreed to step right in. Hunter really had changed a lot, Brad assured her. No matter what she believed of him in the past, he was a true gentleman now. Jill stared down at the contract on the table, noting that Hunter had made several corrections with a bright red pen. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was looking at some hapless high-school English student’s first-term paper. Some of these changes were untenable. Hunter wanted
how much bigger
of a cut? “What’s Hunter thinking?”

“That everything in life is negotiable?”

Jill answered combatively. “The things in my life aren’t.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that?” she asked, reliving her earlier conversation with Morgan, the one that had landed her in this crazy position.
Am I actually perusing a contract between me and Hunter Delaney? A marriage contract?

“Look, Jill. It’s all going to work out. Hunter really wants it to. So he made a few minor tweaks to the—?”

Jill’s brow rose with suspicion. “What do you mean, ‘He really wants it to’? What’s in it for him?” She didn’t know why, but something in her gut said things weren’t exactly adding up, including Brad’s assertion that Hunter had suddenly morphed into a gentleman.

Brad fidgeted with his coffee cup.

“Brad…?” she pressed.

“You can see for yourself! You’re the one who added the clauses! Ten percent of residuals, and…” Brad blinked twice, like he always did when he was lying. “Fifty percent of the advance money.”

“The deal was twenty, Brad. Twenty percent. How did that more than double?”

Brad sank back in his chair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take that up with him.”

“You can just bet I will. This is ridiculous.”

She started to stand, but Brad stopped her. “Just one more thing.”

Jill took a breath, prepared for anything.

Brad spit it out quickly like he was afraid to say it. “He wants you to move into his place, not the other way around.”

That was really crossing the line. From what she’d heard, Hunter owned a cramped condo in the city. Jill had a spacious country cottage with room for her pets to roam. For all she knew, Hunter’s condo didn’t even allow pets! Jill had so much on her mind already, she couldn’t tolerate one more complication. Her grandpa’s retirement home had called this morning. Their rates were going up and they wanted to make sure Jill was renewing the assisted living agreement. There were several people on the waiting list, all of whom were prepared to make early deposits, if Jill found herself unable to. As her last bill was several weeks past due, the director found it necessary to press the point. Either she paid her balance soon—
and
a large deposit toward her grandpa’s next year—or her grandfather was out. Jill didn’t even know where she could move him at this stage. Most nice retirement places required residents to enter when they were still eligible for independent living.