Love Me by Cheryl Holt Page B

him and couldn’t bear to let go.
    Even now, when she’d called his boss to guarantee that she never saw him again, she was swamped by the preposterous impression that she was making all the wrong choices. 
    She’d shamed herself, had jeopardized her engagement, had proved that she was loose and fickle and disloyal.  She was sick over what she had done.  What would Andrew think if he knew? 
    She had always viewed herself as a faithful and devoted person who could be relied upon to behave correctly.  Yet she’d nearly tossed it all away for Matt Monroe.
    She wanted to marry Andrew.  She wanted it.  She wanted to be a wife, to live in New York City, to share his life and friends.  She wanted to be accepted into the elevated social sphere where he thrived, where she would thrive, too.
    She wasn’t interested in a wild fling with an inappropriate, vain, macho man who could never mean anything to her.  Why had she wandered down such an irresponsible, unsuitable road?
    When she’d awakened next to him at dawn, when she’d remembered every delicious, humiliating detail, she’d been stunned by her conduct and too unnerved to face him.
    She’d slid out of the bed, dressed, and sneaked off without his stirring.  The weather had cleared, and it had been easy to rent a car, to drive away.  Then, for some inexplicable reason, she’d cried all the way to Denver.
    But she was on familiar ground now.  She was where she belonged, where she’d stay.  The encounter with Matt had been an aberration, one she wouldn’t pursue or repeat.
    Footsteps sounded in the hall, and her mother entered the parlor.
    “Where have you been?” Jacquelyn demanded.
    “I went out partying,” Brittney said.  “I got back late, so I slept in.”
    “Honestly, Brittney, I realize you’re an adult and can do as you please, but you might have warned me.  The housekeeper asked if she should cook you breakfast, and I had no idea what to tell her.”
    “I’m sure she survived.”
    “What if you’d had an accident?  I didn’t know where you were.  I was worried.”
    No, you weren’t, Brittney thought, but she didn’t say so.  Instead, she inquired, “Why are you still here?  I could have sworn I told you to head to Santa Fe.”
    “And I told you that you were being absurd.  I came to this godforsaken town to plan your wedding.  I’m not going home until we’re finished.”
    “I’m not waiting until July to get married.”
    “What?”  Jacquelyn’s astonished expression was amusing.
    “I don’t want to delay that long.”
    “It’s only three months as it is.  It’s not as if you’re rushing.”
    “I’d like to do it next week or the week after.”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “I’m flying to New York to speak with Andrew.  I have a reservation tomorrow night.  I’ll have him check his schedule to see if he’d be available to get it accomplished any earlier.”
    “Then what?” Jacquelyn scoffed.  “I couldn’t possibly pull any guests together that quickly.”
    “I might just drag him off to a judge in New York.”
    “You will not,” Jacquelyn fumed.
    “If he can get away, we’ll do it here.  If not, I’ll settle for a small and fast event in New York.  There’s no reason for him to travel all this way—except that I had hoped to have the ceremony here in the mansion.  But I don’t have to have it in Denver.”
    She left her perch by the window and headed for the hall, the path taking her by her mother.  She simply wanted to go to her room, to shut the curtains and lie in the dark until it was time to drive to the airport the following evening.
    Though she couldn’t understand why, she felt as if she was grieving, as if she was mourning what she’d lost, what might have been.
    Jacquelyn clutched her wrist and snarled, “What is wrong with you?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You look awful.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Are you all right?  Did something happen last night while you were