Meant to Be Read online

  A Cerridwen Press Publication

  www.cerridwenpress.com

  Meant to Be

  ISBN #1-4199-0486-8

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Meant to Be Copyright© 2006 Denise A. Agnew

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Willo.

  Electronic book Publication: January 2006

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

  MEANT TO BE

  Denise A. Agnew

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband Terry, the best friend I could ever have.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

  Cracker Jack: Frito-Lay North America, Inc.

  Dom Perignon: Schieffelin & Co.

  Dudley-Do-Right: Ward Productions, Inc.

  Energizer Bunny: Eveready Battery Company, Inc.

  Ken: Mattel, Inc.

  Land Rover: Land Rover

  Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc.

  Monopoly: Hasbro, Inc.

  Speedo: Speedo Holdings B.V.

  Tiffany: Tiffany and Co. Meant to Be

  Chapter One

  Seven days and seven nights, all expenses paid vacation at the famous Heart Inn Resort nestled in a romantic valley deep in the majestic Rocky Mountains.

  Courtney caressed the creamy white, expensive notepaper as if it were a lustrous fabric.

  Impossible. Things like this didn’t happen to her.

  She, Courtney Ann Devons, had never won a thing in her life.

  At least not until that moment.

  “I won.” Courtney swiveled the rickety office chair and jumped up. “I won!”

  Rachel Higgins, Courtney’s friend and accomplice in the tiny business of Devons and Higgins Accountants, appeared at the doorway to Courtney’s lunchbox-size office. “No way.”

  “Way.” Courtney grinned, feeling a sense of wellbeing all out of proportion to the prize.

  Rachel returned her smile and leaned against the doorjamb. She pushed a lock of her long, dark hair away from her face. “What did you get? Movie passes?”

  Courtney wrinkled her nose then walked over and handed Rachel the notice. “Nada. This is ten times better.”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open as she read. “Wow. This is great. The Heart Inn Resort? That’s one of the most exclusive resorts in the Rockies.” She cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Courtney. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. I signed up for it at that bridal show we went to three weeks ago. Hell, I forgot all about the drawing until I opened the mail just now and…violà.”

  Rachel shook her head and handed the card back to Courtney. “Wouldn’t you know it. I’m the one getting married in four weeks and you win the honeymoon.”

  Courtney sighed and sank back into her chair. “Maybe I can get it transferred to your name.”

  Rachel snorted. “Are you kidding? You’ve needed a vacation for months and this is the perfect opportunity. I need you fresh and ready to be my maid of honor in four weeks. It’ll do you good to get away.”

  Perhaps Rachel was right. She’d been putting in extra hours at the office lately. “But seven days. I can’t take that much time away. If it was a weekend—”

  “Bull,” Rachel said, her blue eyes flashing. “I’ve watched you work yourself into the ground and it’s starting to worry me. You’ve got to take some time for yourself and sort your feelings out.”

  Frowning, Courtney tossed the notecard on her desk where it promptly slid off a pile of papers and into the trash can. “Rachel, I’m over him. There’s nothing to sort out. I like working long hours.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rachel came into the office and picked up the five by seven photo of Stan and Courtney that sat on Courtney’s desk next to the unicorn paperweight. She held the picture in both hands and turned it toward Courtney. “Then why do you keep this picture on your desk?”

  Courtney’s mouth opened and closed then opened again. She didn’t know. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it in the garbage. She was a self-proclaimed pack rat, but that didn’t explain why she kept a picture of the man who had broken her heart four months ago.

  Sighing, Rachel put the photo back on the desk and smiled. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to nag, but isn’t it time you shoved that no-good, slimy bastard out of your mind and started hunting bigger game?”

  A burst of laughter came from Courtney, and she threw her hands up in surrender. “Has anyone ever told you that you have no subtlety whatsoever?”

  “Several times a week.” Rachel reached into the trash and retrieved the invite to the Heart Inn Resort. “Now call this place, confirm your reservations, get packed, and leave this weekend.”

  “But today is Thursday. What about the new clients we’ve got lined up—”

  “I can handle it.” Rachel crossed her arms. “You’ve wanted to go to the Heart Inn for as long as I can remember. Now is your chance. Besides, when I go on my honeymoon you’ll be stuck with the clients. Run while you’ve got a chance.”

  “But this is unexpected. We’ve known about your honeymoon plans for months. It’s not the same thing.”

  “So what? Read my lips. You need some time off. Enjoy a little Rocky Mountain high, sip some champagne and ogle the men. It’s not like you get this chance every day.”

  She was right. The Heart Inn Resort, a one-hundred-year-old lodge built in a secluded area deep in the mountains west of Denver, catered to clients with money. It was extremely popular as a honeymoon destination in the summer and the winter because of its proximity to hiking, fishing, and skiing. The resort’s popularity included a local legend. Love seemed to find visitors to the Heart Inn Resort on a regular basis. The number of couples who met, married and honeymooned at the lodge was so regular the Heart Inn was written up in a local newspaper as the most romantic place in the Rockies.

  Wouldn’t it be a dream come true to spend seven days eating luscious food, getting a massage, sitting around the pool, and maybe meeting the man of her dreams?

  The man of her dreams? Yeah. Right. And she was the Queen of England. Such a man didn’t exist.

  “Well, what do you say?” Rachel asked.

  Courtney nodded. “All right. I’ll do it.”

  * * * * *

  “What?” Courtney straightened in her chair and gripped the phone tightly. “You mean I can’t use the reservations if I come alone?” She tapped a ruler on the brown leather blotter on her desk. “But I’m—”

  She cut herself off just in time. No way would she miss this opportunity. She’d think of something. “Ah…all right. I understand. I’ll get back to you later.”

  After she hung up she tossed the ruler in the air and let it drop onto the blotter with a sharp thwack. “Damn!”

  Courtney heard Rachel’s file drawer shut and then the tap of high heels as Rachel came out of her office and peered in at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not going to believe this. I won a honeymoon suite.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows speared upwards. “Hot damn.”

  “Yeah. When they said I’d won accommodations for two people for seven days and nights they really meant it.
It’s for a married couple.”

  “So? Can’t they change it?”

  “Apparently not.” Courtney shifted in her chair impatiently and banged her knee on the corner of a drawer. She cursed softly and gritted her teeth as she rubbed her knee. “So much for my vacation.”

  Rachel sat in the chair next to Courtney’s desk. “Wait a minute. Don’t you know any guys who might be interested in a vacation?”

  Courtney looked at the picture of her and Stan and shook her head. Then she turned the photograph facedown and smiled. “Sorry, I’m all out of men.”

  “What about Benny?”

  “Benny Drake? You mean Benny Drake two shops down? The mortician? I don’t think so.”

  “Come now, Courtney. I didn’t think you were prejudiced against people because of their occupations.”

  Courtney swallowed and reconsidered. Then she tossed the idea away. “Nope. He’s very creepy. He came to your Halloween party last year dressed as himself and everyone thought he was wearing a costume.”

  Rachel laughed and tossed her hair away from her face. Courtney sometimes envied her tall, long-legged friend’s ease, confidence and effortless beauty. Courtney’s self-assurance had recovered after her disastrous relationship with Stan, but just barely.

  “Okay. Let’s think.” Rachel put her index finger to her chin.

  Courtney lifted her head and sniffed the air. “I think I smell smoke.”

  “What?”

  “Your brain is on fire.”

  Rachel snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it.” Her smile widened until she looked like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “Morgan Lucas.”

  “What?”

  “Morgan Lucas. Our neighbor and your friend. I’m surprised you didn’t think of him first.”

  She didn’t think of him much at all.

  At least she hadn’t thought about him in the last few months. First she’d slogged through her relationship with Stan, then the last four months when she’d tried to bury herself in paperwork. She saw Morgan maybe once a week.

  A twinge of guilt cut like a knife into her conscience. Morgan had always been like a big brother to her and now their lives hardly touched. When had they drifted so far apart?

  She’d known him since she was fourteen and he was seventeen. He’d moved to Denver from Arizona thirteen years ago and had been a part of her life ever since. But Morgan was…Morgan.

  He might be the owner of his own antique store a door down from their accounting offices, he might have an entrepreneurial flair that bordered on the uncanny, he might have a nice smile and a generous heart. But he was still a tall, lanky…

  “Geek.”

  “Pardon me?” Rachel said.

  Courtney cleared her throat. “I don’t think Morgan’s the man I’m looking for.”

  Rachel grinned. “Why not? Morgan’s a nice enough guy.”

  Courtney could feel her own face cracking as she forced a smile. “Because he’s…uh…he’s…”

  “Come on, I didn’t say you had to marry him for real. I’ll bet he’d chomp at the bit for a chance to take an expenses-paid vacation for one week.”

  Courtney laughed. “Are you serious? Pretend to be married to Morgan?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s probably as busy with his store as we are here. Besides, Morgan would never go for it. He’s much too serious. Too grounded to do something that frivolous.”

  Rachel rested her elbow on the desk, propped her chin in her hand, and gave Courtney her best intimidation stare. “How do you know what he’ll do unless you ask him?”

  “Remember we’ve been friends a long time. I know how he thinks.”

  “A man can change a lot in a few months and you’ve barely talked to him lately.”

  Guilt surfaced again. She knew Rachel wasn’t trying to be cruel. The truth hurt all by itself. Past pain threatened to stir a well of bad memories. Rachel might not realize it but she spoke as much about Stan as she did Morgan. Stan had changed significantly in a short period of time. Or maybe she’d been blind and had seen what she wanted to see and nothing else.

  In the six months she’d dated him, fell in love and moved in with him, she’d discovered Stan wasn’t the man she’d thought. And during that six months Courtney had changed, too. Changed so much she only realized now the damage her relationship with Stan had created in her entire life.

  “This is a crazy idea,” Courtney said, shaking her head to dissipate unwanted memories.

  Eyes sparkling mischievously, Rachel said, “Hey, it’s either Morgan or Benny.”

  Courtney sighed and looked at the invite sitting on her desk. How could she pass up the chance to take a dream vacation? Morgan was a nice, safe, reliable kind of guy.

  Dull.

  She looked at the invite again.

  Dull looked better every minute.

  “Okay. I’ll ask him.”

  “Better the devil you know,” Rachel said.

  * * * * *

  Courtney’s nerves jumped in her stomach like Mexican jumping beans. Maybe because she was doing the most incredibly audacious thing she’d ever contemplated in her life.

  As she walked out of the door and headed down the sidewalk toward Lucas Antiques, she wondered for the hundredth time in the last half hour if she’d finally popped a gasket. Morgan would never agree to such a crazy idea. Too levelheaded, his feet were planted in the ground like the roots of a tree.

  She cleared her throat and walked on, determined a little hitch in her confidence wouldn’t prevent her from taking a much-needed vacation.

  Seconds later, she reached Morgan’s small store, and she waited a moment before entering. She looked through the window. Although she didn’t see him anywhere at the front, she figured if he didn’t have a customer he might be in the back room working at his desk.

  If she wanted to see him today, she’d have to hurry. He closed the store this time every day. Quickly she opened the door, and the forceful jangle of the chime rattled her nerves. Several seconds passed but he didn’t appear. Frowning, she moved into the room and took in the surroundings. Not much had changed since she’d last seen the shop two months ago. Two months ago? Had it really been that long?

  She reached down to touch a huge dark wood dining table in mint condition.

  “Hey, Squirt, don’t touch that. You’ll get fingerprints on it.”

  She started. She’d know the deep tones of that voice anywhere. Turning, she leveled the biggest smile she had on him. “Hi.”

  Morgan returned her grin and pushed his black-rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

  A tremble of awareness passed over her nerves, alerting her to something different about Morgan. For a moment a sudden, nervous tremor rolled through her stomach. As if an elevator had dropped a couple of floors.

  “You’re just in time,” he said, strolling toward her. He tossed the book he carried onto a counter and gestured into the back room. “Come take a look.”

  “Take a look at what?” she asked. Morgan might be a nice guy, but he could play the odd prank or two.

  When she didn’t move he continued toward her at that leisurely pace. He came to a halt very close to her. Although she was tall, she had to look up at him, and when she took a breath, she drank in the spicy scent of his aftershave.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said.

  “Yeah, I remember the last time you said that to me.”

  His dark brows twitched up. “When was that?”

  “I was a teen and you thought it was funny to scare girls with spiders. You put one of the nasty creatures in my lunchbox. I think it liked my liverwurst sandwich more than I did.”

  He laughed, and the deep tone spread through her like a rich and hearty wine. A twist of mischief curved his lips. “You still remember that?”

  For a second she thought he was asking if she remembered high school or what she’d eaten for lunch. Then reason asserted itself. “I remember every little trick
you ever played on me.”

  “Ouch. I guess what they say about a woman’s memory being like an elephant’s is true.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, smiling as she took in his appearance.

  He looked well-groomed, as always, in a gray suit, white shirt, and conservative navy blue tie. And, as always, his tie was slightly askew. Automatically, she reached up and adjusted the tie, pulling and arranging until she had it just right.

  He grinned at her. “Thanks.”

  She patted his lapels. “What would you do without me to fix your tie, Morgan?”

  He reached up, captured one of her hands in his, and held it to his chest. His grin faded and he gazed intently into her eyes. Time slowed to a crawl and that elevator did another drop. “Lately you haven’t been around much to straighten my ties. I’m beginning to think I’m going to have to stop wearing them.”

  She didn’t want to think about the last few months and how little time she’d spent in his company. When she said nothing he released her fingers. She took a deep breath, surprised by the way his gesture made her feel. Unsteady. Slightly breathless.

  He pushed a hand through his dark brown hair and it tumbled about his head in a riot of waves that reached to his shirt collar. She’d known about a dozen girls in high school who would have sold their soul for the chance to touch those sinfully thick curls.

  Her stomach fluttered wildly.

  Maybe the enchilada and tacos she’d eaten for lunch had been too spicy.

  Taking another steadying breath, she asked, “Now what did you want to show me?”

  She followed him to the back room, all the while drinking in the beautiful sight of antiques, and inhaling the unique scents of leather and age.

  “Here we are,” he said as he opened the door to the large storage room. Sitting just inside the door was a massive dark wood desk with an impressive inlay of green leather edged with gold tooling. “I think you’ve been looking for this for a very long time.”

  A jolt of surprise and happiness came over her. Indeed, she’d been scouting around for a desk like this one for a couple of years. Because work took most of her time on weekends, she hadn’t tried antique shopping in months. Stan didn’t care for antique hunting, and she’d found herself doing it less and less as a result.