Page 4

Chapter Three

My wedding day dawned with bright sunshine and a deep blue sky. It was absolutely perfect, and as I ran along a winding seaside path in the hills above the ocean a little before eight, I savored the warmth of the sun on my head, wanting to soak it in, wanting every step to take away the anxiety I'd gone to bed with and that was still haunting my thoughts.

While the fun night with my friends had distracted me for a while, my worries had returned the second I'd gone to bed, and after hours of restless tossing and turning, I'd gotten up with the sun and decided to do what I always did when my emotions were too much—run. I'd started running when I was a kid, when my mom worked late hours to keep a roof over our heads and I worried about money, or when I felt anxiety every time I had to draw a picture of my family and had only my mom and me to put in it.

I never knew my father. He'd died before my mom found out she was pregnant, and she'd only known him for a few weeks, so she knew next to nothing about him. She said I'd saved her life because she'd been sad after he died, and knowing she was going to have a baby was what kept her going. But her father, my grandfather, had not felt like I was a gift but rather a reminder of his daughter's shame. He'd disowned her and hadn't been around while I was growing up. Since my grandmother had died years earlier and my aunt and uncle lived on the other side of the country, it really was just me and my mom, and she had had to make a lot of sacrifices to raise me on her own.

She'd worked in the hotel business, too, starting as a front desk clerk and working her way up to supervisor and night manager. It was a job with often demanding hours and not great pay, but I'd loved hanging out in the back rooms of the hotel with her, sometimes getting to take a dip in the pool late in the evening when no one was around.

My mother had tried to steer me away from following in her footsteps. She'd insisted she wanted more for me: opportunities to grow, to be in charge, to make good money. So, I'd gone into marketing, and I'd stayed away from the hospitality industry until after she'd died. When the marketing job with the Carrington Group had come up, I'd decided to try for it, because it was a good-paying corporate job but also in a hotel and it felt like it would tie me to my mom in some small way.

That thought brought another wave of sadness, and I increased my pace, wondering why it felt like I was running away from something when it should feel like I was running toward something. I was about to enter a new chapter in my life, one that held promise, love, and excitement. That's what I should be thinking about. That's what I should be running toward.

So I turned around and headed back to the resort, adjusting my earbuds and changing my music to a more upbeat song. As I ran, my sneakers crunched softly against the gravel path that wound along the shoreline. I had a better view of the seashore going in this direction, and the sunlight now cast a warm, golden light over the water, which was mostly calm, just a few ripples now and then.

Catalina was different in the early hours. Quieter. The tourists hadn’t yet descended onto the paths that led into the main town of Avalon, and the buzz of activity that usually filled the air later in the day was replaced by the soft sounds of waves and the distant cries of seabirds. The scent of saltwater and wildflowers drifted on the breeze, mingling with the earthy aroma of sun-warmed sand.

As I drew closer to the resort, I couldn't help but admire the grandeur of the Carrington Coastal Retreat. The hotel and villas with their white stucco walls and red-tiled roofs stood out against the rugged cliffs and hills rising up behind the main building where there were more villas currently under construction. Those wouldn't be opening for another three months, but Victor hadn't wanted to wait a second longer before bringing his new resort out into the world. And I had to admit this place was special.

The resort had been built in a previously unincorporated part of the island. While the main ferry stopped at the bigger harbor in Avalon, a mile away, there was also a private boat dock in front of the resort where Victor's large yacht was already bobbing in its slip along with several smaller boats, some with Carrington Coastal Retreat logos that would be used for sunset and sunrise cruises.

The pretty view drove all the worrying thoughts out of my mind. I had a beautiful day ahead of me. Not only would I marry the man of my dreams, but before that, I would be treated to a day of luxury and pampering, followed by a beautiful oceanfront ceremony on the great lawn and a spectacular reception in the indoor/outdoor banquet facility.

At the end of it all, I would be Andrew's wife, and that's what mattered most. I was going to build a new life with Andrew, and hopefully, we would have children one day. That was one thing we had talked about. We wanted our kids to have two parents to love them and care for them. Andrew had been raised by divorced parents who had hated each other and gone on to marry other people. Once he was of age, they'd had no time for him, and he hadn't talked to them in years. And with my mom gone, I was looking forward to building a new family with him.

Ethan Stark had told me his wife had wanted the wedding, not the marriage, but I definitely wanted the marriage more than the wedding. As if I'd conjured Ethan up with my thoughts, my steps slowed as I saw him standing by the railing in front of the dock. He was dressed more casually today in dark slacks and a short-sleeved black polo shirt. When he saw me, he straightened and moved down the path toward me, as if suspecting I was about to make an abrupt turn and dash through the trees, which was what I wanted to do. But that would make me look guilty of something, and I didn't want to give him the wrong impression.

"Morning," he said with a nod. "How was your run?"

"It was good."

"I didn't expect the bride to be out so early."

"The rest of the day will be busy."

"That's true. Weddings are a crazy time, so many things to worry about. But what you don't realize at the time is that place settings aren't what you should be worrying about."

"I'm not worrying about place settings. Jeanette is very good at her job."

"That's not exactly what I meant," he said dryly.

"I know what you meant, and I assume you're talking about your own experience again."

"I believe that the marriage should get more thought than the wedding, but that's not the way it usually goes. You spend days and weeks talking about color schemes, flowers, and wedding invitations, instead of discussing what's really important: fidelity, children, money, and work. You see red flags and hear warning bells, but you blow right past them because the wedding train has already left the station."

"Andrew and I are on the same page," I said confidently. "We know what we want. And there have been no red flags or warning bells."

"You don't think the red-haired Allison is a red flag?" he challenged.

I frowned at his question. "No. I asked Andrew about her, and he told me they never had a relationship, that they're just friends, and they work together on occasion."

"Did you tell him about the photo I showed you?"

"No. But that photo was nothing. Two friends exchanging a hug. You're making something out of nothing."

"It's not the only picture of them together, Lauren."

"What are you talking about?"

"I went online last night. I checked out Allison's social media, and there are other photos of her and Andrew together."

My lips tightened. "Are those photos from the last six months? Because if they aren't, they don't matter to me."

"You're working very hard to convince yourself of that."

"I'm really not, and I don't understand why you're trying to start trouble. I'm marrying Andrew today, and there is nothing you can say or do that will stop that. I trust Andrew far more than I trust you. I don't even know you."

"I'm not sure you know him. I thought you did, that you were working together, but the more we talk, the less likely that seems."

"You're obsessed with trying to pin a crime on us, but you're wrong. And I'm not going to keep trying to defend myself or my soon-to-be husband."

"Has Andrew told you about his family?"

I sighed. "His parents are divorced and married to other people. He doesn't see them anymore. Are you going to tell me that's not true?"

Ethan gave me a long look. "Andrew's father, Frank Chadwick, died four years ago. He left Andrew fifty thousand dollars in his will. Shortly after that, Andrew opened his own real-estate development company."

My stomach churned. Andrew had never wanted to talk about his parents. In fact, he'd said they were dead to him because he'd been dead to them once they moved on with their new families. I probably should have asked more questions, but it was clearly a painful subject he hadn't wanted to discuss, and I'd chosen to respect that.

"Well, they were estranged long before he died. What does it matter to you, anyway? I don't understand what game you're playing."

His green gaze seared through mine, making me feel like he could see right through me.

"Maybe you don't understand the game at all," he murmured. "But I'm not the one who's playing it. That would be Andrew."

"That's not true. You've created some story in your head about Andrew and me because you want to pin an art theft on us, but you have no evidence. What does Mr. Carrington think about your suspicions? I can't believe he would have ever chosen us to be the faces of his grand launch and marketing campaign if he thought we were criminals."

"I've expressed my concerns to Mr. Carrington, but without proof, he didn't want to act on my suspicions. He likes both of you. He thinks I'm wrong."

I was relieved to hear that. "You are wrong, Ethan. You're chasing the wrong people. You need to move on."

"I can't do that. My employer is about to insure Victor's private collection. I need to protect those pieces and my employer's investment. I have to be suspicious of everyone and everything, especially when several people who were at the hotel fire are now also here. I'm not just talking about you and Andrew, but also about Allison McGuire, Colin McCallum, and Jay Hollingsworth, all three of whom were staying in the hotel that week."

"Because they were at the conference together. And I was working in the hotel," I said, exasperated by his stubbornness. "I have nothing more to say to you except this. It's Victor's collection, his art pieces, and if he's not worried about us, you shouldn't be, either."

"I'm paid to be worried, Lauren. And I don't work for Victor. I work for the insurance company, which is counting on me to protect their investment. I will make sure that the security at this resort and Victor's villa is impenetrable. There won't be another fire or another theft. Not on my watch. So, I'm going to keep a close eye on anyone I think is suspicious, and that includes you and your soon-to-be husband." He paused. "Look up Allison online. Look up Andrew's friends, his background. You have time to possibly save yourself a lot of heartache. You may believe I'm your enemy, but I might be your best friend. And remember, it's not too late to run. You're even wearing the right shoes for it."

"I'm not running away from Andrew; I'm running to him. I know who he is. You're as wrong about him as you are about me."

"I doubt that." His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "I have to go."

"Good. Because we're done."

He turned and walked away without a response, and while I should have been happy about that, I felt uneasy. Despite my defense of Andrew, Ethan had put some doubts in my mind about Andrew's relationship with Allison, and the fact that I'd seen them together last night still stuck in my mind. I also wondered why Andrew wouldn't have told me his father was dead. Why would that have been a secret? We'd talked about my mother's death a lot. Maybe he hadn't wanted to speak about his father because he hadn't felt the same sadness and grief. That was probably the reason.

Sighing, I pushed the anxious thoughts out of my head and told myself to stop borrowing trouble. Nothing was going on with Andrew and Allison. What had happened with his dad was also in the past. It was time for me to get on with my day.

I headed up the path to the resort, pausing when I saw a moving van parked in front of Victor's three-story villa, which was as grand as the main building of the resort. There were at least four men unloading the truck, while Ethan stood nearby, talking to Bennett Carrington, Victor's son.

I was about to cut through the trees to avoid walking in front of the villa when, to my shock, Victor and Andrew came out of the house together. And right behind them was the beautiful redhead who seemed to be everywhere—Allison McGuire. She was chatting with an older blonde woman, who I quickly realized was Paula Carrington, Victor's wife. She must have arrived early this morning.

What on earth was Andrew doing with Allison, and why were they talking to Victor and Paula like they were all old friends?

When they reached the sidewalk, Andrew shook hands with Victor, Allison gave Paula a hug, and then Andrew and Allison walked away together. Fortunately for me, they weren't coming in my direction, because I suddenly realized how embarrassing it would have been to be caught staring at them.

I hurried through the trees, finding my way back to the main building. I jogged up the steps and bypassed the elevator to take more stairs to my room. I needed to burn off the anxiety that was rocketing through me again. When I hit my floor, I saw Harper knocking on my door.

"Oh, there you are," Harper said. "I was wondering if you were still asleep, but it looks like you've been running."

"Yes, I was."

"Is something wrong?" Her gaze narrowed on my face. "You look really red. Why did you run so hard the morning of your wedding?"

"I'm fine." I pulled out my key, avoiding her questioning gaze as I opened the door. "What are you doing here so early? Weren't we going to meet at eleven?"

"I thought you might want some company."

"Actually, what I want right now is a shower."

"What's going on, Lauren? You've been nothing but blissfully happy the last few months, but ever since we arrived on the island, you're tense. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No," I snapped. "And you promised you were going to support me."

"I am supporting you," she said, looking surprised by my words. "But you are clearly upset, and since I haven't said or done anything, I'm guessing it's not me you're bothered by. So, who's to blame for your mood?"

"No one. I just want this day to be over."

"You should want to savor every second of your wedding day. This is about Andrew, isn't it?"

"No, it's not about him," I said with exasperation, knowing Harper still wanted to be right about me moving too quickly into marriage. "I had another run-in with that insurance investigator. He's really annoying. And while I know we are completely innocent, I don't like to be the focus of his unfounded suspicions."

"You need to put him out of your head. You and Andrew are representing the company. Do you think the Carringtons would have paid for all this if they had any doubts about you?"

"Probably not."

"No probably about it. So stop being so nervous around the investigator." Harper cocked her head to one side, giving me a speculative look. "Or are your nerves more about the beautiful woman with the striking red hair who seems to be very friendly with Andrew?"

My body stiffened as I stared at her in surprise. "Why would you ask me about her?"

"I saw Andrew having what looked like an argument with her during the rehearsal dinner last night when I went out on the patio to get some air. It was right before dessert was served. You were at the table talking to Jamie. When Andrew saw me, he shut down their conversation and came inside, but I have to admit I was curious about her. Who is she?"

"A work friend. They were probably talking about something work related."

"What's her name?"

"Allison McGuire." I shivered as a sweaty chill ran down my body. "Anyway, there is nothing wrong. I just need to take a shower and focus on what's important, which is my wedding."

"You're right. Can I get you anything?"

"No." I offered her an apologetic smile. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"You're entitled to have some big emotions today. I'll come back at eleven."

"Thanks."

As Harper left, I walked over to the small refrigerator in the kitchenette and pulled out a bottle of water. I took a sip and leaned against the counter, trying to calm my nerves. For a distraction, I took out my phone, but that was a bad idea because Ethan's words now rang through my head— I didn't have to believe him; I could do my own research.

Before I could think twice, I went on social media and searched for Allison McGuire. It took a few tries to find the woman I was looking for. I went through her accounts, searching her photos for some sign of Andrew, because clearly Ethan had found something when he'd investigated her.

It took several minutes for me to go far enough back in time, since Allison loved to post photos of every meal she ate, as well as design photos from her many jobs. I was about to quit looking at her annoying face, until I found what I hadn't wanted to find: a photo of the two of them together.

My stomach tensed as I saw Allison with her arms around Andrew's neck. His hands were on her waist. They were gazing into each other's eyes while standing on the balcony of some hotel, fireworks going off in the distance. The date was from the previous July, which was well before I'd met Andrew, so there really was no reason for me to be jealous, except that Andrew had claimed they'd never dated, that they were just friends. They looked like more than friends in this photo. There was an intimacy to their stance that suggested they knew each other on a much deeper level.

I felt sick as a dozen thoughts collided in my head, and I blew out a shaky breath, trying to rid myself of the onrushing wave of doubt.

Did I have any right to be angry? The photo had been posted almost a year ago. Maybe I was reading into it. They could have been drinking and just had a moment, not a relationship.

But Andrew had been so definite when I'd asked him about her last night, when he'd said there'd been nothing between them. If he'd lied about that…

No! Stop!

This was all Ethan Stark's fault. He'd put the doubts in my head.

But he hadn't put this photo online. Nor had Ethan put Allison and Andrew together last night or a few minutes ago when I'd seen them with Victor and Paula.

Why had they been with the Carringtons?

Watching them say goodbye to Victor and Paula had made me feel like they were the couple, and I was the outsider. My pulse wouldn't slow down. Nor would my breath. I had so many questions and no answers.

My phone buzzed, and I jumped. I drew in a breath as I saw an incoming text from Andrew: Morning, Beautiful. Can't wait to marry you. Love you.

His words immediately eased the tightness in my chest.

What was I doing? Andrew was a good man. And it wasn't like I'd caught him cheating on me. I'd just found a photo of him from a year ago with a woman he was friends with. I needed to get a grip.

I read Andrew's message two more times, then texted back: I love you, too. See you soon.

I wasn't going to confront him, not today, not hours before our wedding. That would be pointless. But maybe there was someone else I could talk to. Someone who could fill in some blanks.

Moving back into the suite, I picked up the hotel phone and asked for Allison McGuire's room. A moment later, a woman answered. My gut tightened.

"Allison?" I said.

"Yes. Who's this?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't do this to Andrew. I couldn't go behind his back. I hung up the phone, my heart beating way too fast. I couldn't believe I'd just done that. How stupid was I?

I needed to take a shower. I needed to forget all about Allison and move on with the day, the happiest day of my life.

My cell phone suddenly buzzed, Andrew's name flashing across the screen with an incoming call. Why was he calling me when we'd just texted?

"Hello?" I said, trying to sound calm.

"Lauren? Is everything okay? Are you looking for me?"

"No. Why?"

"Allison said she thought you called her."

My heart almost leapt out of my chest. Had Allison immediately called Andrew the second I'd hung up or had he been standing right next to her?

"Lauren?" Andrew pressed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Sorry, I'm distracted. I was about to jump into the shower."

"Why did you call Allison?"

I could lie and say it wasn't me, but that might be easily disproven, and getting caught in a lie would be worse than saying I wanted to talk to her. But I needed a reason, a good reason. My mind spun. I had to come up with something fast.

Finally, I said, "The caterer told me that Allison hadn't marked down her entrée choice for steak or halibut. I said I'd find out. I didn't think the call went through. I didn't hear anything on the other end of the line. I was going to have you call her on her personal phone to find out what she wants to eat."

"Oh, okay. I can do that."

"Great. Can you text me the answer? I need to shower before the hair and makeup people arrive."

"No problem. You're sure there's nothing bothering you? Because I want this day to be perfect, and if anything is not perfect, you need to tell me."

My hand tightened on the phone. I was being stupid. Andrew loved me, and I loved him. Nothing and no one else mattered.

"I am happy. You're happy, too, right?"

"More than I ever thought I would be," he said with a sincerity that touched my heart. "I love you, Lauren. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life showing you that."

He always knew the right thing to say. "I can't wait for that, either."

I ended the call and vowed it would be the last time I let doubts about my wedding get into my head. I didn't want to look back at this day and wonder why I'd let an obsessed insurance investigator and an attractive redhead mess up my wedding.