OREY WAS ALREADY SETTING UP EQUIPMENT FOR THE WEDDING shots on the lawn at seven o’clock in the morning when she was handed a note from Spence telling her to come to his study immediately. Convinced he had some new form of lie to tell her, she circumvented him by taking Mike and Kristin with her.

Anger made her steps long and fast as she walked across the lawn. She still could hardly believe he’d done what he had, merely to get free professional photographs for his damned book. On the other hand, Corey’s freelance fees were very high, and she’d lived among the wealthy long enough to know how incredibly cheap some of them were when it came to spending money on anything other than themselves. Cheap was bad enough, but deceitful and manipulative were unforgivable, and to use her as he had – to touch her and kiss her – and then to tell her he loved her. That was obscene.

As soon as she stepped into his study, Corey realized she needn’t have worried that he had any sort of cozy tryst in mind. Angela was seated in a chair wearing a dressing robe and clutching a handkerchief; her husband was standing rigidly beside her chair in his robe, looking poised to attack. Spence looked immune to whatever drama had taken place in there. With his hip perched on the edge of his desk and his weight braced on the opposite foot, he was looking out the window, idly turning a paperweight on his desk.

He looked up at Corey as she walked in with her assistants, but instead of the animosity or the cajolery she expected to see, he looked perfectly composed, as if last night hadn’t happened. He nodded toward the chairs at his desk in an invitation for Corey, Mike, and Kristin to have a seat. Unable to bear the suspense, Corey looked from him to Angela. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone, that’s what’s wrong!” Angela cried. “That nitwit has eloped with that – that busboy! I shouldn’t have named her Joy, I should have called her Disaster!”

Corey sank down into the chair, her shock giving way to happiness for Joy and then to the awful realization that Joy’s last-minute elopement was a calamity for Corey and the magazine. It was too late to substitute another wedding for the next issue, much too late. They were already at deadline now.

“I notified the groom’s family an hour ago,” Spence told her. “They’ll speak to as many of their guests as they can reach. Those guests who can’t be reached will be met here by one of their relatives, who will explain the situation.”

“This is a nightmare!” Angela gritted.

“It’s also created an enormous problem for Corey’s magazine. They’ve invested a great deal of time and money in all this.” He paused to let that sink in before he continued. “I’ve had longer than anyone else to consider alternatives, and I think I’ve come up with a plausible solution. I suggest we let Corey go ahead and photograph the wedding.”

“There isn’t going to be a wedding!” Angela burst out bitterly.

“What I’m suggesting is that Corey be allowed to photograph everything-“

“Except the bride and groom who won’t be there!” Angela exploded.

“Corey can use stand-ins,” Spencer explained.

Corey understood exactly what he was suggesting, and she rushed in to help him explain, her mind already racing ahead to the angles she’d use to get appealing photographs without revealing the faces of the bride and groom. “Mrs. Reichardt, we can take shots of another couple dressed as a bride and groom. What I need is a crowd in the background… It doesn’t have to be a large one, but-“

“Absolutely not!” said his sister.

“I won’t have it!” Mr. Reichardt stormed.

Spence’s voice had a razor edge to it that Corey had never heard before. “You haven’t paid for it, I have.” He shifted his attention back to his sister and continued, “Angela, I understand how you feel, but we have a moral and ethical obligation to do what we can to make certain Corey’s magazine doesn’t suffer because of Joy’s… impulsiveness.”

Corey listened to him in stunned silence, trying to understand how his mind worked. Last night, she’d decided that he was so cheap that he’d been romancing her in the hope of getting free photography for his book. This morning, he was lecturing about ethics and morality and passing up an opportunity to cancel everything associated with the wedding, forfeit what deposits he had to forfeit, and still save himself a small fortune.

“But what will we tell our guests?” Angela demanded. “Some of the guests are friends of yours, too, don’t forget that.”

“We will tell them we’re delighted with the bride’s decision, and sorry that she can’t be here… but that we’d like them all to celebrate at the reception as if the newlyweds were present.” Finished, he looked to Corey for approval, and she gave it to him in the form of a relieved smile, but in fairness to Angela she added, “It is very unusual.”

“So are many of the wedding guests,” Spence said dryly. “They’ll probably enjoy the novelty of a reception for a canceled wedding. That’s something they won’t have already done. A new experience, you might say, for a bunch of jaded cynics.”

Angela looked ready to hit him. She surged to her feet and stormed out of the room with Reichardt at her side.

Spence waited until they were gone, then he said briskly, “Okay, let’s handle the details. We need a bride and a groom and a judge.”

Corey knew he was waiting for her to speak, but as she looked at the forceful, dynamic man who was willing to help shoulder her burdens, her heart was reclassifying him from enemy, to ally and friend, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He saw the change reflected in her eyes and his tone softened to a caress. “I’ll find a stand-in for the judge.”

“In that case, all we need are stand-ins for the bride and groom.” Corey looked at Kristin and Mike. “How about you two?”

“Get serious,” Mike said. “I’m fifty pounds overweight and Kristin is six inches taller than me. The caption beneath our picture would have to read ‘Pillsbury Doughboy Weds the Green Giant’.”

“Stop thinking about food,” Kristin chided, “and start thinking of solutions.”

Silence ensued for a long moment before Spence finally said in a tone of exasperated amusement, “What am I, chopped liver?”

Corey shook her head. “I can’t use you for the groom.”

A look of surprised hurt flashed across his eyes. “As I recall you used to find me rather photogenic. Now that I’m older, are you afraid I’ll break your lens?”

“You’d be more likely to melt it,” she said wryly, imagining his tall, muscular physique in a raven black tuxedo with a snowy shirt contrasting against his tanned skin.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You’ll be busy with the guests, making explanations and trying to keep them smiling.” She paused to make her point. “Spence, it’s imperative that I have lots of happy faces in these shots. Their success depends much more on the mood of the crowd than of my technique.”

“I can accomplish that and still be the ‘groom’. I’ll tell the staff to open up all six of the bars on the lawn and keep passing drinks until the last guest leaves or we run out of liquor. If necessary, we’ll have taxis lined up in front in case they’re needed.”

“In that case,” Corey said with a relieved sigh, “the job is yours. Kristin, you get to be the bride. Spence is several inches taller than you.”

Spence opened his mouth to object, but Kristin beat him to it. “I’d have to lose twenty pounds to get into Joy’s wedding gown, and it would still only hit me at the knees.”

“Corey, there’s only one solution and it’s obvious,” Spence said flatly. “You’ll be to be the bride.”

“I can’t be the bride; I’m the photographer, remember? We’ll have to ask someone else.”

“Even I cannot trample on good taste to the extent of asking a wedding guest to put on Joy’s gown and play bride for us. You have several tripods here. You can set up the shot, rush into the picture, and have Mike or Kristin press the button. That’s all there is to it.”

Corey bit her lip, considering his suggestion. She didn’t need more than a couple shots of the bride of groom – one in the garden beneath the gazebo, the other somewhere at the reception off to the side, so using tripods wasn’t a problem. “Okay.”

“Would anyone like a glass of champagne?” Spence offered, looking completely satisfied with the situation. “It’s customary to toast Corey and me.”

“Don’t make jokes like that,” Corey warned, and the tension in her voice surprised everyone, including her.

“Bridal nerves,” Spence surmised, and Mike guffawed.

They got up to leave, but Spence laid a detaining hand on Corey’s arm. “I want to ask you for a favor,” he said when the others were gone. “I understand how you felt last night, but for the rest of the day, I’d like you to pretend it never happened.”

When Corey eyed him in dubious silence, he grinned and said, “No favor, no wedding. I’ll cancel it and the deal’s off.”

He was completely unpredictable, inscrutable, and utterly irresistible with that teasing glint in his eyes. “You are completely unscrupulous,” she informed him, but without any force.

“Lady, I am the best friend you’ve ever had,” he countered, and when she gaped at the arrogance of that claim, he explained, “I have, in my possession, Joy’s elopement letter. In it, she says very clearly that it was her conversation with you yesterday that convinced her she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t marry the man she loved. Contrary to what my sister thinks, you brought all this on yourself. Now, do I get my favor or do I cancel the wedding?”

“You win,” Corey agreed, laughing. She wasn’t certain whether she was relieved or disappointed that he didn’t want to talk about last night.

“No dark thoughts about me for the rest of the day – agreed?” When she nodded, Spence said, “Good. Now, is there anything else I can do to make things easier for you before the wedding?”

Corey shook her head. “You’ve already accomplished a great deal. I’m very grateful,” she said earnestly. “And very impressed,” she reluctantly admitted, tossing him a grin over her shoulder as she left.

Spence studied the easy grace of her movements while he considered her last remark. If Corey was “very impressed” by what she knew he’d accomplished, she’d be dazzled by the rest of it. Upstairs, Joy’s wedding gown was already being altered to the size of one of Corey’s dresses. In Houston, Spence’s attorney was drawing up a letter notifying the tenants in his grandmother’s house that their lease was being terminated, and preparing a large check from Spence to compensate them. In Newport, Judge Lawrence Lattimore was on the phone with a sleepy clerk from City Hall who was being talked into issuing a marriage license on a Saturday.

All things considered, Spence decided, it had not been a bad morning’s work.

Even so, he had the disquieting feeling that he was forgetting something important – something other than informing Corey that she was about to become a bride. He hoped to God that she’d been sincere about her love of spontaneity and acting on instinct; he hoped she’d been sincere when she told Joy she’d always loved him and wanted to have his babies.

That last part didn’t bother him as much as the first. Corey loved him, he knew she did, but he wasn’t thrilled about the sort of wedding she was about to have.

Of course, based on their early history, she was bound to feel an enormous amount of satisfaction at having forced him to go to such bizarre lengths in order to get her to the altar.

He smiled to himself, imagining the tales she would tell their children about this day, but his smile faded as he walked out of his study and stood on the terrace, watching the sailboats gliding across the water. If he was mistaken, she was going to be furious, and if he wasn’t mistaken, then he shouldn’t be feeling quite this uneasy. On the other hand, he could merely be suffering from an ordinary case of wedding nerves.

Spence turned his back on the view and walked over to his desk to make some more phone calls. At the very worst, Corey could get an annulment and no one would ever need to know they’d been married.