Page 49 of Big Bad Wolfe

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Was that also why he’d booked first-class? Jillian silently slid inside the luxurious ivory interior along with the others.

This is a cold, calculated business arrangement, executed for Casey’s sake. Buck up, Ramsay, and get over yourself.

“All right,” she said with false brightness. “Let’s do this, then.”

* * *

Zane had reserved each couple an individual stone-and-wood cottage at a gorgeous, rustically charming, no amenities spared secluded woodland resort. Tucked into the hushed heart of the emerald forest, the group of buildings topped a rise that offered breathtaking panoramic views of the glittering cerulean lake guarded by rugged mountains. Each cottage suite was a short walk to the main lodge in one direction and in the other, the private beachfront cove where their ceremony would soon take place.

Staring into the full-length mirror in the sumptuous slate-tiled bathroom of her and Zane’s cottage, Jillian’s wobbly fingers fumbled with the wires in her silver seahorse earrings … a gift from her dad when she’d graduated high school. At least she’d have a small part of her father with her.

Standing behind her, Mia zipped Jillian into her new dress.

My wedding dress.

Jillian had packed a pastel blue dress she’d worn for Easter, but after she and Zane had purchased simple but striking milled-edge, brushed platinum bands at the Riverwalk district, Mia had dragged Jillian into a quirky consignment boutique while the men headed out to hunt down Zane’s shoes.

At the very back of the store, Jillian had foundthedress. A delicately filigreed white lace sundress over soft silk lining, with dainty spaghetti straps and a slightly flared skirt that skimmed her hips. The high-enough-above-the-knee-to-be-sexy-but-at-the-same-time-elegant-style was perfect for a casual, lakeside summer bride.

Even if she was only playing a part in a farce.

Mia had also fast-talked Jillian into buying a man-killer sheer lace aqua thong for her “something blue.” And what the hell, she’d bought a coral one also, an irresistible confection in her favorite color. Not that anyone else would see them, because for this particular “honeymoon,” her determined groom had made it clear the terms were strictly impersonal.

Which was exactly what she wanted, too. But impulsively purchasing something so yummy bolstered her faltering confidence.

Mia patted Jillian on the back. “All set, let me get your shoes.”

The diminutive lawyer had had less luck talking Jillian into va-va-voom white FM pumps with towering heels. So not her style, and it seemed like a bad start to even a sham marriage if the bride fractured an ankle walking toward her groom. Instead, Jillian had bought a pair of white, woven-heeled wedge sandals tied with satin ribbons that wrapped the ankle twice before tying in a bow. Still sexy, but far less hazardous.

She always played it safe with her choices—and not just in her footwear.

Yet here she was … about to dive headlong into a clandestine marriage of convenience with an armed and oh-so-lethal FBI agent.

Mia stepped beside her, luminous in her fuchsia dress. She stuck out one slender foot, clad in a pink and gray argyle Converse sneaker. “I hope you don’t mind. I wore them at my wedding and then our recommitment ceremony, and I save ‘em for special occasions now. They’ve always brought me extra good luck. But it’syourwedding, so if you hate them, I did bring sandals.”

“I figured you wore them on the plane for comfort.” Jillian rubbed chilled hands together. “But I love those Chucks! And hey, we need all the luck we can scrounge up to pull off this insane plan.”

“How are you holding up?”

“If you discount pterodactyls performing maneuvers in my stomach that would out-swoop the Blue Angels, then not too badly.”

“Zane’s been through a lot of crap in his life, and that makes him wary, sometimes distant, and causes him to overprotect his heart. But you’re marrying agreatguy.”

“Yes, I know. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, sublimating his own self-protective instincts in order to help his son.”

“I don’t think it’s only about Casey, Jillian. Zane is different when he’s with you.”

“How so?”

“He opens up way more. I’ve never seen him relax his guard with anyone but Dallas and me.”

Jillian dragged in an anxious breath. Obviously, Zane trusted her more than she’d realized. And she could not—would not—be yet another person who disappointed him. Failed him.

Mia paused as if trying to decide how much more to say. “He has scars. And believe it or not, beneath that seemingly bulletproof exterior, he’s scared.”

“Yeah, I realized that, too.”

“You’re a wise woman, with rare insight. There are interesting, untapped depths to Zane Wolfe. Give him some time to adjust, and he’ll surprise you.” Smiling, Mia handed her the bright bouquet of coral, yellow, and hot pink gerbera daisies tied with coral ribbons. “You two are going to be so good for each other.”

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