It's every bit as bad as I feared. Dana sat at the kitchen table engrossed in the morning newspaper. She expected coverage in the social columns, possibly even a small news item, but definitely not anything like this piece at the bottom of the front page. Not only did the reporter give chapter and verse of yesterday's doings, but also went into elaborate detail about an earlier mishap at Torrence Place when the sprinkler system came on during a ceremony and doused participants and guests alike. The implication was that offbeat occurrences were a regular feature.

Then, to add insult to injury, the paper include a companion photo, a dreary old pre-renovation picture of Torrence Place, resembling something only the Addams Family would want to call home.

Dana retrieved her appointment calendar from the office and reviewed the scheduled weddings. She was booked as far ahead as Valentine's Day of next year, deposits already in hand. But deposits didn't guarantee a wedding would take place. There could be some backing out. A premonition told her there would be, especially if Sarah spread her "bad vibes" opinion too widely. Dana went over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. Aspirin was becoming her new best friend since AJ McLean entered her life.

"May I have a couple of those?"

Dana turned around and experienced a twinge of guilt at her self-absorption. The consequences of Thursday might be traumatic for her, but obviously they were much worse for AJ, whose appearance suggested someone who'd been on a three-day bender.

His hair was uncombed, his unshaven face had a bilious cast to it and there were dark circles under his rather glassy eyes. Only his pressed jeans and neat navy T-shirt indicated any semblance of order, and bilious or not, he was still extraordinarily handsome.

She filled a tumbler with iced cubes and water, handed the glass to AJ and spilled two tablets in his palm.

"Thanks. And don't say it. . .I know I look like hell."

Under less difficult circumstances Dana might have commented, "Rough night?" Now such an utterance would come off as mean spirited. Besides, she remembered all too vividly AJ's suggestive innuendos from the previous evening and refused to risk sending the conversation in that direction again.

Dana didn't feel like wisecracks this morning anyway, not having slept well, either, and was thankful AJ hadn't noticed that she didn't look so terrific herself. She'd spent a large part of the night thinking about being alone with AJ at Torrence Place. . .contemplating what might have happened if they weren't in separate beds, on different floors of the house. Her book not served its purpose and only after endless tossing and turning had she fallen into a fitful sleep, awakening more fatigued then when she'd gone to bed.

The two of them silently watched the dripping of the coffee into the carafe, then Dana rose and filled china cups. "Do you care for breakfast?"

AJ grimaced. "I'd better wait and see if the aspirin and coffee take hold." He rubbed his temples. It took only an instant for a scowl to form as he studied the picture and caption about the wedding, the frown deepening as he read, the accompanying article. The article didn't say much, but the descriptions of the bewildered guests, the tardy bride, and the last minute reversal were story enough.

Dana couldn't help but feel sorry for AJ. She brought the carafe to him and freshened his coffee. "So what happens now?"

"Nothing. I sit tight and stay here. . .just like I said." He gave her a wry smile. "You didn't really think you'll get rid of me this morning, did you, Ms. Evans?"

"Oh, but I did – still do," she answered sharply, annoyed that she felt an ounce of concern for him. "Once those aspirin work their magic, I expect to see you packing."

"Quite the charming hostess today, aren't we? Don't overdo the welcome or it'll go to my head."

Dana thought she detected a wince at the memory of his aching head. Served him right. She mixed a pitcher of orange juice and poured herself a glass, placing the crystal pitcher on the table. "You can help yourself and fix your own breakfast, too, if you decide you're hungry." She took her juice and went to her office, closing the door behind her.

With a single phone call, Dana made arrangements for disposition of the leftover wedding food. Then she jotted down a list of shopping items, grabbed her purse and left without bothering to tell AJ goodbye. He was a smart man, almost as smart as he fancied himself to be. Sooner or later he'd figure out she was gone. She gave a silent prayer that by the time she returned, he'd also be gone.

The morning passed faster then Dana had anticipated as she rushed through routine errands – refueling and washing her car, a visit to the florist, stops at dry cleaner's and grocery. Of all the people she encountered, only the florist had commented about the events of the previous day, and his words were an attempt to be encouraging. "People forget," he assured Dana.

I wish, Dana thought, finding no comfort in his well-meaning statement. Maybe with different players people would forget. . .but not with this wedding. Everyone and everywhere would be buzzing about this event for weeks and she feared the aftereffects.

Her fears materialized into fact when she came in the rear entry and glimpsed two telephone notes struck to the front of her refrigerator. AJ had taken messages for her, one a cancellation and the second a request that she return the call. She stormed into the hall and ran into AJ.

"Why are you still here and why are you answering my telephone?" she demanded, venting her frustrations.

"Just those two times," he said, ignoring the first half of her question. "I called my mom and Kevin to let them know where I was. When the telephone rang right after I'd hung up, I thought it was one of them. I'm sorry if I caused any problems."

"No problems," she grumbled, stuffing the messages slips in her pocket. "But stay off my telephone – and go home."

Suddenly his eyes strayed to a point behind her and he motioned for Dana to turned around. She did so, mortified to discover visitors in the parlor, witness to her explosion. Darn! "I didn't know you had company," she said sweetly to AJ.

AJ smiled, clearly relishing her discomfort. "They were the ones who reminded me I'd better check in with a few people."

"Hello," Dana approached them and extended her hand. "I'm Dana Evans. Welcome to Torrence Place. May I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea?"

"Not for me, thanks," the woman answered charmingly. "I'm Jenna Peters."

"Me, either. Marcus Johnson," the man said. "I'm Alex's security guard." He shook Dana's hand.

"When no one was able to tell us of Alex's whereabouts," Jenna said, "we drove over to see if you could, and what do you know –here he was!" She solicitously draped an arm on AJ's shoulder. "We'll appreciate you taking care of our boy and keeping him in line. Marcus and I are both aware of what a nuisance he can be?"

"Thanks for the flattering words, Jenna," AJ said caustically. "But Ms. Evans doesn't need any help from you in judging me. She's quite capable of forming her own critical opinions."

So the guy is AJ's security guard. But who is Jenna Peters? No one had provided a clue. Marcus was fortyish and wore a wedding ring; Jenna, thirtyish, didn't, so evidently they weren't a twosome. And while Jenna had aptly expressed Dana's view about AJ and although the woman seemed nothing but friendly, Dana felt strangely competitive toward her.

Dana detected in Jenna an air of protectiveness regarding AJ's welfare. Or was it possessiveness in disguise? Maybe she was first of the many predators who'd soon be stalking this fresh prey.

An awkward silence ensued with Dana deciding it best to excuse herself. "Well then, if you don't need anything, I'll just let you get on with your. . .with your visit."

Dana remained closeted on her office for the next hour balancing her accounts and returning the telephone call. The call wasn't a cancellation at all, merely a question about changing the ceremony from eight to seven.

Even with the office door closed, Dana could hear peals of laughter from the parlor. She was glad someone was happy. AJ certainly appeared to be making a rapid recovery from any disappointment. And from all indications, Jenna wasn't terribly disappointed, either.

One would think nothing worse than a few sprinkles had fallen on yesterday's parade. There were no funeral frowns, no flowing of condolences. Was there something she didn't know about the rich and the famous? Were they so different from ordinary people that a torpedoed wedding was just a minor trifle?

As AJ had pointed out, Sarah hadn't acted all that upset. Perhaps she was even enjoying the notoriety. The only who seemed to care was Dana. For her, it was a terrible setback. And not just monetarily. Finances always remained secondary to what her business was really about. . . love. Love and Romance. She took it quite seriously and was appalled to discover there were those who could view the loss of a lover so cavalierly.

She heard when Marcus left and it was at least an additional thirty minutes before Jenna departed. Like Sarah, this woman was beautiful. Perhaps AJ had already latched on to a replacement for his fiancée. The notion made Dana even more distressed. If AJ McLean had another wedding in the works when the body of the first one wasn't even cold, he could get someone else to plan it. Dana wouldn't be so masochistic as to get involved a second time.

The instant she heard the front door closed, Dana was on her feet. Taking a deep breath, she cautiously eased into the hall. There were no noises. AJ wasn't in the parlor. She started in the direction of the kitchen only to bump right into him.

"Oh, you're still here," she said, retreating into the dining room. "I was hoping you left with your lady friend." Actually she was dismayed by the idea and proud of the restraint in her voice. It was just the right tone of insouciance – almost a verbal yawn. Or so she thought. AJ's response made her wonder if he was able to read her mind.

"You jealous?"

"You're mistaking aggravation for jealousy," she retorted, restraint fading fast. "I told you I don't run a hotel, but you've insisted on reminding anyway. Now you're drawing in all these people."

"Two people. Not exactly a convention." He pulled out a chair from the dining table, spun it around and straddled it, folding his arms across the top. "You're just angry because they witnessed you in the middle of your fit." He grinned.

"It was no such thing." Yet Dana knew it was exactly that – pent up tension spewing forth. She'd been fidgety, unsettled for longer than she cared to remember, starting about the time she first met AJ. And it looked as if she was never going to be free of him. "But if it was a fit," she continued, "you'd to be blame."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. If you would just go home like I asked, our lives could begin to return to normal.

"Not much chance of that happening for me," he said dryly. "Jenna and Marcus were advising me not to go home. Apparently this is a slow news period and the media is using my situation as filler until something more newsworthy happens. One TV station has a truck parked in front of my mother's house and tabloid reporters are camped in the recording studios and outside the gate of my condo."

"That's too bad," Dana sympathized. "I wish I could, but–"

"You can help. The question is whether you will. Look, I know I'm asking a big favor, but I'll make it worth your while financially. What can it hurt? My hanging around for a few days or a week won't impact your business. Any damage there has already been done."

Dana knew he was right. As far as "Arrangements by Dana" was concerned, the damage was done. But the potential repercussions went further than her business, indeed straight to her heart. She was unwillingly attracted to AJ and this close confinement could cause that attraction to intensify.

But how could she turn him out and not be guilt-ridden? What he'd asked of her wasn't so much, not from his point of view. Her only hope was that the familiarity adage might prove true and breed into a permanent AJ McLean cure. And the extra money would come in handy. She popped a hand under her chin, mulling over her decision.

"So, what's your answer?" AJ said, after minutes had passed.

"I guess you can," she agreed, wondering as she spoke how soon regrets would set in. "For a while."

"Well, thanks for the enthusiastic vote of confidence Ms. Evans. I'll try to be worthy of your faith in me as a guest." He grabbed her hand for a genteel kiss.

"Okay, okay," Dana said, pulling her hand away and tucking it behind her. "Just remember that my duties don't include entertaining or consoling you."

"I suppose this is a rather new experience for you," AJ said. "Consoling a groom on the loose."

"Yes it is, and not one I care to repeat."

He smiled, obviously not offended by her remark. "You won't be sorry. I promise." He rose from the chair. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I might try to get a little of that shut-eye I lost last night."

"Good idea," she said, realizing she needed some time to herself to devise a strategy for ousting him. Just because she'd agreed AJ could stay, she didn't mean a week, as he had asked. Two, three days maximum and he was out on his ear.

He'd said, "You won't be sorry," a pronouncement Dana met with a high degree of skepticism. She'd been sorry about every step of her association with AJ and she suspected this would be no exception. As long as he was around, her whole existence would be subjected to who-knew-what kind of overwhelming influences.

Lounging in an overstuffed chair, Dana had turned on the television to watch the evening news when AJ tapped on the door of her sitting room and opened it. He was freshly shaven and carried a Coca-Cola in his hand. "So this is your inner world. Mind if I join you?"

As much as Dana wanted to answer that, yes, she did mind her private space being invaded, she couldn't say so. For the time being, while he was here with her permission, she'd make an effort to be hospitable. Dana moved a pile of mail from the sofa and motioned for him to sit down, just as a shot of Torrence Place flashed on the television screen. AJ grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and increased the volume.

The segment showed clips of AJ and Sarah at the Houston Polo grounds and one of him with the guys right before a show. "The wedding that didn't happen is shrouded on secrecy,'" the reporter announced. "Rumor has it that Sarah Martin had fled to Mexico. But where is AJ McLean?"

"Where indeed," Dana said, taking the remote from AJ and switching the set off. She'd heard enough. "Shouldn't you issue a statement and end all this speculation?"

"What could I say to end it? That we changed our minds? No one would buy such a dull explanation. People want something meatier to chew on. Besides, it hardly seems anyone's business but mine and Sarah's.

Dana wondered if his last words had been another warning to her, a reminder not to pry. Well, tough. Since AJ was intent on lodging here, he would have to endure her queries.

"Whether it's anyone's business is beside the point," Dana told him. "We all love to gossip. Especially about celebrities. You're a well-known man whose wedding was scrubbed in a spectacular fashion. So naturally people are talking."

"Good old human nature," he agreed cynically. "The old silver lining is that the interest would be short-lived. Pretty soon a juicier scandal will come along to capture everyone's attention. If I'm lucky, that'll happen real fast."

Sounded like whistling in the dark to Dana, and AJ didn't act totally convinced herself. In fact, he seemed almost wistful, making her wonder what was going on in that convoluted mind of his.

"So how do you feel?" she prodded.

"Now?"

"Right now." Dana decided to cut to the chase. Maybe persuaded to unburden himself, AJ would see that his best course of action was to go home, and face the press, then get on with his life. He'd have to do that sooner or later. Why not sooner?

"Hungry. That's how I feel. I haven't eaten all day. Think we could whip up another sandwich or order in?"

"We can arrange something," she said. "After you've answer my question."

"You'd starve a man?"

"You hardly look starved." Just the opposite, Dana mused. He looked absolutely perfect, his t-shirt framing a taut chest and stomach, his jeans hugging long muscular legs. . .She jerked her head, wondering how to keep those embarrassing thoughts from entering her brain. "Come on now, I want answers."

"Feisty little thing, aren't you? Okay, what do you wish for me to say? That I'm confused? That I misread Sarah? That just because I was resigned to marriage didn't mean she was?"

Twenty-four hours might have passed since the canceled wedding, but AJ was no more forthcoming than he'd been last night. He hadn't confessed any pangs of unrequited love of pain of disappointment. He hadn't admitted anything at all.

"Resigned to marriage – how uplifting! Just what every woman wants to hear from her beloved."

"Can we discuss supper or is this interrogation going on indefinitely?" he complained. Dana could tell her remarks had rattled him. Good.

"I've defrosted a quiche," she said, temporarily yielding to his wishes. "It can heat while I toss a salad."

The meal was almost over was Dana returned to "the interrogation." AJ could complain all he wanted about that and about her tenacity, but Dana believed in airing out wounds rather than letting them fester. "You really didn't tell me before. Just how well are you coping?"

"Oh, we back on that, are we? As you can see, I'm coping just fine."

"I think you're in denial. Did it occur to you that sharing your feelings might help?"

"And you're volunteering to play psychologist?" He snorted. "What are you expecting from me? To confess that I'm brokenhearted? Well, I'm not. And as I told you before, neither is Sarah."

"I'm not worried about Sarah's feelings. It's–"

"Me you're worried about? How nice." AJ's eyes were mischievous.

"I didn't say that. I'm merely trying to get you to face facts. No matter what happened in that last brief meeting between the two of you, you must be disillusioned. Angry, even. I believe–"

"Tenderhearted Dana," he interrupted, dropping the pretentious Ms. Evans he'd heretofore used. "You're almost convincing me that you care."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, altogether too familiarly for Dana. She needed to get this conversation back on even keel. "Were you in love with Sarah?" Dana purposely kept her tone modulated. She didn't want AJ to get the mistaken notion that it mattered to her whether he was or not.

He released her hand and stretched, rotating his shoulder muscles. "Ah, love. I should have known that Dana, the romantic, would get around to that sooner or later. Well, since you obviously not going to rest until you have me bearing my soul, I'll let you in on something. In all my years, I've never experienced that particular emotion. What's more, I'm positive I never will. Surely if there was anything to this love business, I'd brushed against it once or twice."

Dana stood up, offended. "I find it difficult to believe that no woman has ever captured your-" She'd almost said "heart", but after his big speech, Dana doubted he had one.

"My. . .?" AJ prompted.

She groped for the right word. "Your. . .your fancy." An antiquated term, nevertheless appropriate, since AJ seemed to consider her beliefs outmoded, anyway.

"Oh, I've 'fancied' quite a number of your fair sex. There've been chances galore for that highly revered sensation labeled love to seize me," he said with exaggerated formality. "But it's never happened. Why should I expect it now?"

"You talk as if you're a hundred years old." She picked up their empty plates and started toward the sink.

"Not quite, but old enough to realize that the notion of eternal love is mostly propaganda." AJ got up and followed her across the kitchen, turning her to face him, cupping her elbows in his hands. He leaned close to whisper. "Did it ever occur to you that being 'in love' is like the flu? It hits you, sends you reeling, than get over it. Fortunately I haven't caught the bug."

Dana jerked free. "Is that why you planned your wedding like some sort of corporate merger?" She had to remember who he was – AJ McLean, the consummate pop star celebrity. Just for a heartbeat, when he was touching her, she'd been tempted to forget.

"Don't shrink away," he said. "It wasn't as cold-blooded as that."

"You could have fooled me." Iciness penetrated her voice. "Unlike you, I do believe in love, enduring and eternal. And in happy marriages that last a lifetime because love is part of that equation."

"Then I regret saying anything to burst your bubble," he said. "Tell me, through, have you ever been 'in love'? I mean really?" AJ had put up with enough of Dana Evans's probing. It was time to lob the ball into her court.

Chapter 7
Chapter 5
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