But a tall, portly man moved up beside her and, smiling down at her, took her arm, and she was mesmerized by the total acceptance and love in his eyes. The organist broke into the strains of the wedding march.
“Okay, bride, you’re on. This is your show. Take it slow and graceful. Do not run down the aisle.”
The tall man winked. “My baby girl went straight from crawling to running. What makes that woman think you’re going to change now?”
Analise’s father.
The love that emanated from him was for his daughter, not for her.
But it was so hard not to luxuriate in the paternal adoration, something she’d never experienced before.
In a daze she walked down the aisle beside Analise’s devoted father, moving toward Lucas, Analise’s beaming groom. It was hard to fight the urge to become lost in the pretense, to believe she really was Analise Brewster, beloved daughter and fiancée, the person who belonged in this church, in this community, in this wedding.
“Who gives this woman in marriage?”
“Her mother and I.”
The older man placed her hand in Lucas’s. He gave her a conspiratorial smile, and she could no longer resist becoming hopelessly lost in the wedding fantasy.
“The minister reads the vows. You each answer ‘I do’ and exchange rings.”
“I do,” Sara whispered, holding her hand out for Lucas to slip on the invisible ring, then doing the same for him.
“Then you kiss the bride, turn to face the congregation, and the minister introduces you as Mr. and Mrs. Lucas Daniels.”
Lucas’s dark gaze held hers for an instant then dropped to her lips. As if in slow motion, his face lowered toward hers, his lips touching hers gently, possessively, lighting unexpected fires inside her while promising a lifetime of love and belonging. For that brief moment she almost believed that promise was for her.
“Now you walk down the aisle together.”
The voice of the wedding coordinator yanked Sara back to reality.
What on earth was the matter with her? Had she lost her mind? She’d agreed to this charade in exchange for promised assistance in her quest. Losing herself in a game of make-believe wasn’t part of that quest.
She was not Analise. This was not her wedding, the older man was not her father and Lucas was not her fiance.
She pushed against Lucas’s chest.
His heart pounding furiously, Lucas released Sara.
Around them the wedding party buzzed while the loudmouthed, pushy coordinator tried to get them quiet for another run-through or even two. They needed to have it down pat, she said, since it would be an entire week before the wedding, a lot of time to forget.
That was the last thing Lucas needed—to have to pretend to marry Sara again, to kiss her again.
Not that the kiss was a requisite part of the rehearsal. No, that had been entirely his idea. Actually, it hadn’t even been his idea. His body, his lips had taken control, demanding to touch this woman who looked so much like his fiancée but affected him in a way Analise never had.
That was how he’d known for certain she wasn’t Analise. Heaven help him, Analise had never set his hormones to boiling the way this woman did, and certainly never made him want to take care of her and protect her from the world.
Heck, the world needed protecting from Analise, he thought fondly. But Sara was a different story altogether. And he damn sure shouldn’t be feeling this way about another woman a week before his wedding.
Nerves, he told himself. That’s all it was. Because of Analise’s disappearance, he was hyped, his adrenaline pumping. He’d get away from here, do some deep breathing and get back to normal.
A tiny blond woman pushed through the crowd. “I can’t believe my baby’s getting married!” Clare Brewster exclaimed, reaching upward to embrace Sara. Lucas held his breath. Did Sara look enough like Analise to fool her own mother? He needed to get her out of there fast...to protect her identity as well as to protect his out-of-kilter libido.
Sara leaned stiffly to accept Clare’s embrace.
“Oh, good grief, Clare, don’t start already,” Analise’s father admonished.
“Hush, Ralph. Go remove an appendix or lift a face or something. Do you feel all right, Analise? You look a little pale.” She squinted upward, and Lucas repressed a smile at his future mother-in-law’s vain reluctance to wear glasses. “You need some lipstick, sweetheart, and a little blusher. I’m not sure I like that new hairstyle. It makes you look so old, so grown-up. And where did you get that dress? Oh, I know, that look is trendy. It’s just that it’s so...so—”
Lucas placed-a hand on Sara’s shoulder. “Analise isn’t feeling very good today. Why don’t you all do another run-through of the wedding without us? We know our parts.”
“You don’t feel well, baby? What’s the matter?”
“She’s a little queasy, that’s all. Prewedding jitters.” Lucas wanted to bite his tongue as soon as he said it. Would anybody believe a mere wedding could make Analise jittery? “Or maybe a bug of some kind,” he hastily added.
“We can’t do this without the bride and groom,” the coordinator protested.
“You certainly can,” Clare said. “I’m taking my baby home. I’ll have Annie make some of that potato soup you like, and you’ll be all better by the rehearsal dinner tonight.”
“No!” Sara and Lucas exclaimed in unison.
He’d forgotten about that stupid dinner and hadn’t even considered the possibility that Clare might drag Sara home with her.
Ignoring them both, Clare clutched Sara’s arm and tugged her toward the door.
Lucas flinched, expecting the worst. His future mother-in-law didn’t know she was dragging off an ersatz daughter who was skilled in the art of self-defense.
When Sara merely gave him a panicked look over her shoulder rather than mauling Clare the way she’d done him, he sent up a short prayer of thanks.
He grabbed her other arm. “She needs to go with me,” he said. He’d bargained with Sara for a couple of hours of her time, not an afternoon trapped by Analise’s demanding parents who’d be sure to figure out immediately that Sara was not their headstrong daughter. For everybody’s sake, he had to get her out of there. “We have some, uh, wedding arrangements to take care of.”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Clare argued. “My little girl’s sick. She’s coming home with me. You’re not married to her yet.” Clare was taking full advantage of her “daughter’s” unaccustomed weakness.
“They’re really important,” Sara said in a strangled voice, “those arrangements Lucas and I need to take care of.”
Clare patted Sara’s cheek and smiled softly. “Can’t it wait for one more day, sweetheart? Can’t you be my little girl and let me take care of you one last time?”
A glazed expression came over Sara’s face as she looked down at Clare and, to Lucas’s astonishment, she nodded slowly.
“Then I’m coming with her,” he said. “After all, I’m a doctor.” It was the best he could come up with on such short notice.
Clare frowned at him. “So is her father.”
“And two doctors are better than one.”
Right now he needed a doctor of a different sort, one to figure