Kate looked uncertain. “What if she—? I mean, I…don’t want to—”
“This is your wedding day and you want her to be here to witness your vows to Mike, right?”
She nodded, dabbing at her pink nose.
“She will probably be upset with herself later if she misses it, so you’re really doing her a favor. If it will make you feel better, I’ll make sure she knows she can leave right after the ceremony and avoid…whatshisname.”
“Eric. He’s her husband. Or was,” she corrected immediately when he frowned. “They got divorced eighteen months ago, but they’re both miserable,” she rushed to add.
Trevor really didn’t want to know about all that. Right now his mission was to make sure his buddy’s wife-to-be was happy and ready to get married. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was meddling in anyone else’s life, much less their love life. He’d personally guarantee Viv a ride home after the ceremony. Everyone would be happy.
He pushed the pencil and paper at Kate. She smiled through a fresh rush of tears. “Mike was right. You really are hero material. Thanks for saving my day.” Her lip was trembling again. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
Trevor nodded, silently praying for her to hurry with the directions so he could make his escape. When she handed the paper back, fingers trembling, he scanned the directions to make sure he could understand them. He’d lived in the area as a child and had been back when he could to see his grandmother, but she’d passed away years ago and his job with the Special Forces hadn’t allowed him to come back very often since then. Things seemed to change every time he came back to this small suburb of Richmond, Virginia.
He gave Kate what he hoped was a reassuring nod. “Have your father tell the reverend to give me twenty minutes. I’ll have her here ready to go.”
1
CHRISTY RUSSELL was not a morning person. Or an afternoon, or middle-of-the-night person, either, depending on what shift she was working. She’d worked so many in a row now she’d totally lost track. All she knew was that she had no shifts of any kind for the next seventy-two hours. No pager, no cell phone, no emergency call ins. The world could come to an end and probably would given her luck, but she was not gracing the hallways of the Richmond General Hospital’s ICU until Monday afternoon at four.
Three days. And she planned to remain unconscious for as much of the first one as possible.
And she would if they’d just stop that banging. Whoever “they” were. She grumbled in her sleep. Banging, banging, banging. She tossed one way, then yanked the covers over her head as she turned the other. Pound, pound and yelling. She wasn’t going to listen to any yelling. Uh-uh. She was unconscious. Off work. Not available.
She sunk deeper into dreamland. Still, the noise followed. Someone calling for Viv. Ah, she thought hazily. Viv, not Christy. Good. She smiled and nestled into her pillow. No Viv. Viv gone, she remembered dreamily, then blocked the disturbance out once and for all by tugging her pillow over her head and sinking fully into the waiting arms of the Sandman.
“Get up, Vivian.”
Mmm. The Sandman had a deep, sexy voice. She burrowed deeper under her pillows and blankets. Maybe he’d crawl into her dreams with her and bring that sexy voice with him. What else would go with such a sexy voice? she wondered dreamily.
“You’re late for a very important date.”
Date. Yeah. She’d go on a date with that voice. He sounded so real, so close. “C’mere,” she murmured, mentally reaching for her dream man.
“Come on, wake up.”
Strong hands. Yeah, they went very nicely with that voice. Strong, warm hands. A little rough, but then she could handle a demanding lover. Lord knew, it had been so long, she had a few demands of her own.
“Vivian, time to wake up. Now.”
She frowned. “Viv?” she mumbled. Why did her dream man want Viv? That wasn’t very nice. After all, she’d conjured him up, shouldn’t he be wanting her? What kind of dream was this anyway?
“Vivian.” Her dream man was becoming demanding, but not the way she’d like him to.
“Go ’way.” She’d think up another dream man. It was bad enough she wasn’t getting any action in real life, but she’d be damned if she’d put up with her own dream man choosing someone else over her.
And then her dream man was using those nice, strong hands to pull her covers off and yank her pillow away. How rude! Consciousness tugged at her, only her brain and most of her body weren’t really willing to catch up. Which wasn’t surprising given she was probably the world’s heaviest sleeper.
“There’s going to be a wedding in fifteen minutes and you’re going to stand up for your best friend.”
“Huh?” She had no idea what sort of whack dream this was, but she was really beginning to hate it. She flopped back on the bed and once again swore off convenience-store microwave tamales. Well, right before bed, anyway. They were one of her major food groups and she wasn’t going to be so hasty as to swear off them forever. Food. Maybe she should dream about that….
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
She was being hauled upright again. This really must stop. She was sure she was telling him, but the words were all fuzzed up in her brain. All she wanted to do was sleep, dammit. Couldn’t they just leave her alone to sleep? And just who the hell were they anyway?
She tried to struggle, but her arms were all sleep-gimpy and the Sandman was much stronger at any rate. “Whas going on? Hey!” This last came out much more clearly as she was unceremoniously dragged from her nice warm bed, or Viv’s nice warm bed. Maybe that’s why her dream man wanted Viv; it was her bed after all. Hmm…She began to drift again.
Then was awakened by her own shriek when she found herself turned almost upside down. “What the hell?” She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to clear the cobwebs. “What are you doing?” This demand was delivered directly to the very hard, very broad back of…Wait a minute. Her dream man wasn’t real. Was he?
No, she must still be asleep after all. Okay, so no tamales or frozen cheesecake treats. Sheesh.
But she swiftly realized her predicament had nothing to do with sugar-and-spice overload. Because the warm, well-muscled forearm strapped across the back of her thighs was definitely real.
She began to struggle in earnest now as full consciousness was rudely and irrevocably thrust upon her. “Who the hell are you? Put me down!”
“Your best friend is crying her eyes out in a church on what should be the happiest day of her life and so you’re going to put aside whatever personal problems you might have and go make her happy.”
They were already heading down Viv’s stairs and she grabbed his waist to keep her head from banging against his back. She couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together, much less make any sense of what was happening to her. But one thing would certainly help. “Put. Me. Down.”
But the hard body presently manhandling her wasn’t remotely intimidated by her best ICU nurse voice. Okay, okay, she told herself. Calm down, wake up, think, think. What was he talking about? A wedding. Wedding.
“Oh! You must mean Kate Winchell.”
“Nice of you to remember.”
She finally put it together. He thought she was Vivian and Kate had sent him here to bring her matron of honor to the ceremony.
But the breath she’d planned to use to inform him of his dire mistake was oomphed out of her when he stepped off the front porch and headed toward a silver sedan. She forgot all about warning him when warm, humid air brushed her legs.