Chapter One
“Would you like to hear a list of all the places I’d rather be right now?” Mary Farraday asked.
“Not really,” her cousin Angela said without looking at her. “One of the photographers is really hot and I’m trying to flirt.”
“Which one?” Mary looked through the store’s picture window at the assembled paparazzi.
“The one with the dreads, tattoos, and nose ring.”
“Of course it would be that one.” She hadn’t even needed to ask, really. She was just kind of hoping that for once the answer would be something like, “The guy with the button-down shirt and glasses. The one who doesn’t look like he’s on his way to boost a car.”
But no. Mary wasn’t having that kind of day. Or even that kind of life.
She was having the kind of day where she let her older sister bully her into helping organize the arranged marriage of the local pack’s Alpha Regent – who had once been the love of her life – to a beautiful, spoiled socialite named Regina Van Hoffington. Regina was as skinny as a pipe cleaner, had stolen her personality from a rabid wolverine, and even her name was snooty. That was who Jarrod Shaw was marrying.
For some reason, even after all this time, the thought sent a stab of pain through her.
“Number one, getting a root canal.” Mary ticked them off on her fingers. “Number two, walking across the Sahara barefoot without a water bottle. Number three, swimming through a lagoon full of crocodiles with steaks tied to my ankles.”
Angela tore her gaze away from the dreadlocked object of her lust to look quizzically at her cousin.
“Why would somebody tie steaks to your ankles? And how would that work, exactly? Did they drill a hole through the steak first and run some string through? Steaks are expensive. That would be a waste. I mean, if they wanted you dead that badly they could just shoot you.”
“Shut up and let me wallow in self-pity. Number four—”
“Where is he? Damn it, this needs to go off without a hitch,” Mary’s older sister, Hilda, owner of Mated and Matched, demanded so loudly that Mary could hear her from across the room.
“Do you realize that’s the seventeenth time she’s said that this morning?” Mary glanced at her note pad, at the little hatch marks on the side. She drew a little line through one of them. “Yep. Seventeen.”
“Do you realize you need professional help?” Angela quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Making lists soothes me.”
“That’s why you never get laid.”
“Language!” Mary gasped indignantly.
“English. Spoken it since I was a toddler, so I’m told. I’m bored. Is this guy coming or not?”
“Mary, I just heard back from the pack secretary,” Hilda called out. “He says Jarrod is on his way and he’ll be here in five minutes.” Her brows were drawn together and she was glowering. That was something she and her older sister had in common; they were both high-strung perfectionists. They just manifested it in different ways. Hilda got incredibly bitchy when she was stressed. Mary consulted her lists and tried to work thorough the problem. “This bridenapping is incredibly important. It has to go off without a hitch,” Hilda said again, and rushed off to confer with her photographer.
“Huh. What do you think the odds of that are?” Angela asked, surveying the chaotic scene in front of them as Mary furtively added another line to her hatch marks.
Then she looked up and shook her head in dismay. She was employed by her older sister as executive secretary for Mated and Matched, the East Coast’s premier bridenapping agency, and today was turning into a disaster on a par with the Hindenburg. The Alpha was late, the paparazzi gathered outside Outdoor Outfitters were getting impatient, and the bride-to-be, as usual, was stamping her feet and throwing a temper tantrum. Something about her lip gloss. Regina’s parents were there – yes, her overprotective helicopter parents insisted on attending all of Regina’s planned run-ins with Jarrod.Are they planning on being there for the wedding night?Mary thought, and grimaced. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“Slim to none.” Mary suppressed a groan, surveying her to-do list. She’d planned out today’s “accidental” encounter between Jarrod Shaw and Regina Van Hoffington down to the last detail. All her plans were perfect. They were perfect on paper, anyway. But unfortunately, today she was dealing with Jarrod. Jarrod had been ordered by his uncle to bridenap Regina…and that was the problem. Jarrod did not take orders from anyone.
“I think you’re being a little too optimistic,” Angela said. “The bride-to-be just threw her water bottle at the photographer’s head.”
“Shi— iver me timbers!” Mary stuffed her list back in her purse and ran over to the bride. She thanked her lucky stars that Regina wasn’t standing where the paparazzi could see her.
Angela scooped up the water bottle from the floor and tossed it into the garbage. “I’m twenty-one,” she said to Mary. “You do know I’ve actually heard swear words before? You were going to say shit, I believe?”
“Regina,” Mary said through gritted teeth, ignoring her cousin, “what is wrong?”
“Everything, damn it!” This was accompanied by a foot stomp and a ferocious scowl. When Regina moved her face, cracks appeared in her foundation. “Where is Jarrod? It’s like he doesn’t even want to bridenap me! And I look terrible!”
Angela looked at her with a critical gaze. “Well, if you’d stop forcing that lady to put so much makeup on you, you’d look a lot better,” she said, gesturing at the makeup artist who carried several bags crammed with brushes and tubes and pots and eyeshadow palettes. “How can you even open your mouth with that much lip glo— ouch!” she squealed, as Mary grabbed her by the arm.
