Stand-in Groom Read Online Free PDF

along with how to make a near-perfect crêpe, it was that crazy ideas
always
had hefty price tags.
    But how could he turn down seventy-five grand? The money would put him a year and a half closer to owning his own restaurant. And how could he not notice those tears of gratitude that had flooded Chelsea’s crystal-blue eyes when he’d told her he’d help her out? And how could he not think about the fact that he’d be flying to some Caribbean paradise to share the honeymoon suite for three hot, tropical nights with a lady who made his blood pressure rise?
    The possibilities were endless and extremely tantalizing.
    He got out of his car, glancing again at the address Chelsea had scrawled on the back of one of her business cards. Her attorney’s office. It was a Newbury Street address—just a few blocks away.
    He picked up his pace as the first fat drops of rain began to fall.
    Newbury Street was made up of graceful old brownstones, some elegantly restored, but some renovated with gleaming metal and shining glass. It was a jangling mixture of old and new, a vibrant neighborhood filled with trendy restaurants, upscale fashion boutiques, and avant-garde record and CD stores. Offices and condos were nestled in among the shops, and on the other side of the heavy wooden front doors, those offices tended to be either crumbling and slightly seedy or gorgeously preserved.
    Johnny took the stairs up to the attorney’s building, betting he was going to see an office that was gorgeously preserved.
    He wasn’t disappointed.
    The reception area was something out of an old movie. The wood trim around the windows and doors gleamed. The ceilings were high, and polished brass gas fixtures were still in place.
    An elegant-looking receptionist was sitting behind an enormous oak desk, gazing at him over the top of a pair of half glasses. “Are you here to pick up the delivery?”
    Johnny had to laugh. Figures he’d be mistaken for the hired help. “No. Actually, I’m here to see Tim von Reuter.”
    “Really?” She gave him a very pointed once-over, lingering disapprovingly on his shoulder-length hair, his faded jeans, and his rain-spotted T-shirt.
    He returned her gaze just as steadily, feeling his temper start to rise. “Yes, really.”
    “I’m sorry, you don’t seem to be in
Mister
von Reuter’s book. You’ll have to call for an appointment. Good day.” She turned away from him.
    Johnny knocked on her desk to get her attention. “Hate to disappoint you, lady, but I do have an appointment. One o’clock. You can tell Mr. von Reuter that
Mister
Anziano is here to see him.”
    “John. Good, you made it.”
    He turned to see Chelsea coming into the outer office, closing the door behind her.
    His fiancée.
    Nobody would mistake her for a delivery person.
    She was still wearing the same dark suit she’d had on this morning, and she still looked like about a million very elegant bucks. He forgot all about the snob lady behind the desk as Chelsea sether umbrella in a brass stand and smiled at him. It was a sweet smile, almost shy. She met his eyes only briefly as she set her enormous purse on a chair and shrugged out of her raincoat. “I was half-afraid you wouldn’t come.”
    “I said I’d be here.”
    “John, it’s okay if you want to change your mind—”
    “Do
you
want to change your mind?”
    “No!”
She looked up at him then, her blue eyes wide. She glanced at the receptionist and lowered her voice. “I just … I know you must be having second thoughts and doubts, so …”
    “I definitely have some questions to ask the lawyer before I sign anything,” Johnny said evenly.
    She took a deep breath and gave him a somewhat wobbly smile. “Then let’s do it. Let’s talk to Tim.” She turned to the receptionist. “Mrs. Mert, will you please tell Mr. von Reuter that we’re here.”
    “We?” the lady asked icily, with another grim look at Johnny.
    “My fiancé and I,” Chelsea said, with a hint of that same