Manhunting in Mississippi (20 page)

“You’re in luck,” Edmund boomed. “Sheila doesn’t know where they’re staying, but the wedding is at the Saint Stephen’s Catholic Church on Pascoe Road at three o’clock.”

“Thanks, Edmund.” His head pounded as he hung up the phone. He scrubbed both hands over his face and sighed. One thing was certain—tying up loose ends at the office

would have to wait. The start-up venture of his life waited in Tupelo, Mississippi.

CHAPTER TWELVE

And finally, remember it’s bad luck to cry on your wedding day.

“MY GOODNESS,
Piper, why the devil are you crying? I’m the one with the hormones—I should be upset that the record for daily rainfal was set on my wedding day.” Dressed in ful bridal regalia, Justine leaned forward and offered Piper a tissue. “Come on, out with it.”

Piper blew her nose, then sniffed mightily. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Justine checked her watch. “We have ten minutes before the music starts, and we’re both dressed. So talk.”

She wel ed up again, and Justine clucked.

“Don’t cry—talk. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s just a m-man.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“You knew?”

“Piper, give me some credit, okay? Is he a local guy?”

She sniffed. “No. He’s from Chicago and he does business with the company I work for.”

“What’s his name?”

Piper hiccuped. “Ian Bentley. And he’s married.”

Justine’s eyes bugged. “Married? Geez, Piper, I thought you knew better.”

She shook her head, and watched in the mirror as the big salmon-colored satin bow in her hair flapped like a butterfly. “No, he wasn’t married when I—when we—oh, God, I feel like such a
fool.
”

“Wel , if he wasn’t married—”

“He got married as soon as he went back to Chicago.” Her chin quivered.

“Piper,” her friend said, touching her hand. “If the man met you, then married someone else,
he’s
the fool.”

“Wait until you’ve heard the rest of the story.”

“What? Tel me!”

“He sort of…lost the engagement ring his fiancée had given him…in my bed.”

Justine pursed her pink lips and bobbed her head. “Okay—there’s a movie.”

“Wel , first I didn’t believe that he’d actual y lost the ring, but then I found it about a week later, and by that time he’d already gone on his honeymoon.”

“So you hocked it, I hope.”

She shook her head. “The thing was worth a freaking fortune—I was afraid I’d get hard labor.”

“So what did you do?”

“I mailed it back to him.”

“You
mailed
back a ring that was worth too much money to be pawned?”

Piper frowned. “I cal ed a jeweler and he said it was the safest way.”

“Okay, okay, you mailed the ring, end of story.”

“No. Because when I wrapped up the ring, I wanted to put a note inside.”

Justine dabbed at Piper’s eye makeup. “Something nasty, I hope.”

“Wel , the practice note
was
a little spiteful and not very nice.”

“And?”

“And I put in the practice note by mistake and mailed it.”

Her friend’s eyes widened. “And
this
is why you’re crying? Because you sent a jerky note to a jerky guy? Geez, the man should send you a car or something for sending that ring back to him and getting him out of the crapper with his girlfriend.”

“Wife,” she corrected.

“Whatever.”

“But that’s not the worst part.”

“Oh, so there
is
a worst part?”

“On the practice note, I sort of wrote ‘I love you.’”

Justine made a painful face. “Are you sure? Think—because if you drew a little eyebal with the lashes around it, and a heart and a sheep, men don’t get it. It’s a code they can’t break.”

“Justine, I spel ed it out. I…love…you. No pictures, no codes.”

“Oh, geez, Piper, what were you thinking?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I was thinking that I loved him.” She fel against her friend, sobbing.

Justine rubbed her back. “There, there, men are pigs. Just think, you’l probably live twenty years longer than he wil .”

A knock on the door sounded. “That’s our cue, sweetie,” her friend declared.

Piper drew up, dried up and stood up. “I’m sorry, Justine. This is the happiest day of your life, and I’ve been pouring out my pathetic little tragedy.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” the other woman assured her.

“Let’s go get you married,” Piper said, smiling wide.

Another knock sounded, this one louder.

“The bride is on her way,” Piper said loudly.

“Piper, it’s me—Ian.”

Piper stopped, paralyzed. Justine gasped and whispered. “Is that him?”

Her heart beating wildly, Piper nodded, her eyes wide.

“Piper, talk to me,” he said through the door.

She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk you out of making a big mistake.”

“What mistake is that?” she asked, confused.

“Marrying Rich—don’t do it.”

She and Justine exchanged puzzled glances.

“What the hel is he talking about?” Justine hissed.

Piper shrugged.

“Play along,” her friend encouraged, nudging her.

Moving closer to the door, Piper swal owed. “W-why not marry Rich? Are you so disenchanted with marriage already, Ian, that you don’t want anyone else to be happy?”

“I didn’t marry her, Piper.” His voice reverberated, low but clear.

Her heart skyrocketed. Justine grabbed her arm and made a squeaky noise. Piper tried to keep her voice steady when she asked, “Why didn’t you marry her?”

She heard a fumbling noise and a scraping sound at her feet. When she looked down, a folded napkin lay by the toe of her salmon-colored shoe. She bent to retrieve it and

unfolded it slowly, recognizing the name of her company printed across the paper, uncovering a reddish stain. At last she revealed a stemmed maraschino cherry, and tears fil ed her eyes.

“I love you, Piper. Please don’t marry him until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

“This is great!” Justine whispered. “Open the door, for heaven’s sake.”

Piper nodded numbly, but her hands wouldn’t move. “I can’t.”

Justine unlocked the door with the flick of her wrist, then pul ed open the door. Ian stood in the doorway, one arm on either side. Soaked to the skin, his dark hair hung in his eyes, while water dripped off the sleeves of his black suit. He stared in confusion first at Justine, then at Piper as he took in their respective garb.

“Piper—”

“I told you,” she cut in, trying to keep her voice breezy. “Always a bridesmaid.”

He straightened, his forehead wrinkling. “But I…I mean, you and Rich…and then Edmund…” He gestured aimlessly, his face reddening.

Fingering the cherry, she smiled, tel ing herself not to get her hopes too high. “Rich and I are not getting married. We’ve never even dated.”

He lifted his hands in the air, then jammed them on his hips. “I feel like an idiot.”

Piper studied the tips of her shoes. “So you want to take it al back?”

Ian was silent so long, she final y lifted her gaze, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes. He reached for her, crushing her against him. “Not on your life,” he breathed before he captured her lips in an urgent kiss.

When he released her, she lifted the cherry to his mouth and pul ed out the stem as he clasped the red fruit between white teeth. He slowly chewed and swal owed, then kissed her, sharing the sweetness. Final y he raised his head and laughed. “Hey, what about you?”

“Me?”

“
I
made a complete fool of myself to prove how much I love you. So, what about you?”

Piper ran a tongue over her tingling lips. “I guess that means you haven’t received the package.”

“What package?”

“Your engagement ring. I found it and sent it to your office.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been visiting my folks, then I came straight here when I heard that—” Ian stopped and grinned sheepishly. “Wel , when I
thought
I heard that you were getting married.”

She grinned.

“So,” he continued with a mischievous expression. “Are you saying that because you returned the ring I’m supposed to believe you’re madly in love with me?”

Embarrassment flooded her. “Um, no, there’s the matter of a note,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck.

“A note?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

“We’l talk about it later,” she said, rol ing her shoulders in pure happiness. “For now, you’l have to take my word for it that I love you.”

“Marry me, Piper.” His dark eyes shone. A drop of rain trailed off the tip of his nose. His lips parted expectantly.

Piper trembled with desire, love and anticipation of their life together. “Yes, Ian, I’l marry you.” He whooped and kissed her hard, his tongue seeking, his breath ragged. They parted at the sound of Justine clearing her throat behind them. Piper laughed—she’d nearly forgotten about her friend.

“Nice day for a wedding,” Justine said, smiling.

She and Ian stared at each other, eyebrows high. “Why not?” he final y asked.

“We could have a double wedding,” Justine said, squeezing Piper’s shoulders. “Most of our sorority sisters are here.” Her friend lowered her voice. “Girl, when you go on a

manhunt, you get serious.”

Everything was moving so fast. “B-but you’re al wet,” Piper said to Ian, surveying his suit.

“Sort of like when I first met you,” he declared, dishing up a devilishly happy expression.

“Sort of,” she admitted, her head spinning. “But my dress…” She glanced down at the salmon-colored bedspread she wore.

“Don’t worry about your dress,” he teased, leaning close. “I’l have you out of it in no time.”

Justine picked up her bridal bouquet, divided it and pressed half the flowers into Piper’s hand. “I’l let the director know there’s been a change of plans,” Justine offered, lifting her skirt and bustling from the room.

“But where wil we live?” Piper asked, troubled at the thought of leaving her grandmother, of leaving her job, despite the fact that she loved Ian very much.

“In Mudvil e,” he said. “There’s a woman there who can vouch for my good intentions.”

She withdrew a single white lily from her makeshift bouquet, inserted it through the buttonhole in his lapel, then frowned. “What woman?”

His eyes grew warm as he settled his arms around her waist. “Relax, sweetheart, I think you’re going to like this lady. She’s certainly anxious to meet you. And wait until you see this incredible house…”

If you liked
Manhunting in Mississippi,
by Stephanie Bond, you’l love the feature recipe, Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles. This marvelous marbleized dessert is guaranteed to satisfy the most ardent chocolate lover’s appetite. Make Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles tonight and share them with someone you love!

Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles

Cake:

Cream together in a medium mixing bowl:

1/3 cup margarine

1 egg

½ cup white granulated sugar

½ tsp vanil a extract

In a separate bowl, sift together:

¼ cup cocoa

1 cup self-rising flour

1 cup chocolate-flavored dry malted milk

Add dry ingredients to wet, alternately with:

¾ cup prepared coffee (leftover coffee is fine; the stronger the coffee, the more intense the chocolate flavor)

Stir by hand until ingredients are just mixed. Pour batter into wel -greased loaf pan or muffin pan (fil cups to halfway level; makes 10-12 regular-size muffins). Bake at 350°F for 25

to 35 minutes until toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Be careful not to overbake.

While the batter bakes, prepare the sauces, one to serve cold, the other warm:

Malted Chocolate Sauce
(serve chil ed)

Add 1/3 cup whipped cream to ¾ cup chocolate-flavored malted milk; mix by hand or electric mixer until the sauce is fluffy, but pourable. Refrigerate.

Dark Chocolate Sauce
(serve warm)

In a medium saucepan, combine over low heat (don’t bring to a boil) until warm and smooth:

¼ cup margarine

½ cup cocoa

¾ cup white granulated sugar

1/3 cup prepared coffee

1 tsp vanil a extract

Serve cake warm from the oven in bowls, top with cold malted chocolate sauce and warm dark chocolate sauce. Garnish with whipped cream and a stemmed cherry if desired.

Enjoy!

WRAPPED AND READY

Julie Kenner

CHAPTER ONE

ANNIE SILVER SMOOTHED
the skirt of her super-short elf costume, wondering if perhaps she should have changed before the annual holiday party for the staff of Carrington’s Department Store. Except for two other elves and Santa, everyone else wore typical workday attire.

And although Annie had been perfectly comfortable guiding children to Santa’s lap or working the gift-wrap table, now she felt decidedly out of place.

She was pondering the possibility of sneaking off to raid the women’s casual wear department when Faith flounced over, looking gorgeous as usual in a loose red dress that

cinched at the waist. In one easy movement, she handed Annie a fresh glass of wine and leaned in close. “It’s not easy being green,” she whispered, then burst into peals of laughter.

“Thanks.” Annie flashed her friend a wry glance. “You’re making me feel so much better. I’m standing out like a sore thumb, and people are staring.”

“No, Paul’s the sore thumb, since he’s Santa and al in red. You can have a green thumb. Except there aren’t any plants around.”

Annie couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Whatever. They’re staring.”

“So what? You look hot. Green, but hot. And isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I suppose.” As she had every year since high school, she’d signed on as a temporary holiday employee because she absolutely adored everything about the Christmas season. This year, though, she was interested in one particular fringe benefit that came with the job—Brent Carrington. He’d never once noticed Annie. Not through four years of high school, not when she’d worked summers during col ege in his family’s department store, and certainly never at the annual holiday party. This year, Annie hoped that would change.