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CHAPTER ONE
Kristi Stewart breathed in the cool, damp Tennessee mountain air as she exited her silver SUV and looped her small cross-body bag across her torso. Although she’d visited the Great Smoky Mountains in the past, she looked forward to exploring Gatlinburg before her return trip to Bakerhill, a town an hour outside of Nashville. First, though, she planned to attend the wedding of a friend.
Opening the back door of her vehicle to retrieve the wedding dress Kristi had designed and made for Abigail Lawrence, a smile curved her lips. Ironic that a wedding dress designer dreaded attending her friend’s ceremony. Her reluctance was tied to Kristi’s father pressuring her to marry Hugh Ward. Abigail’s wedding was an excuse for her father to crank up the heat.
The fault was hers, though. She shouldn’t have agreed to consider Hugh’s proposal. They were friends, but that was all. No sparks. Alan Stewart was persistent and had offered Hugh a coveted position as vice president of Stewart Group once Kristi and Hugh married. For the past month, Hugh had added his voice to her father’s, pressuring Kristi to say yes to marriage.
Fed up with both men, Kristi used the delivery of Abigail’s wedding dress as an excuse to escape the constant pressure and think about what she wanted and needed.
Kristi freed the hanger from the garment hook, draped the heavy, plastic-shrouded wedding dress over her arm, and walked toward the hotel. The tug-of-war with her in the middle couldn’t continue. If she rejected Hugh, she would disappoint him and her father. Of the two men, her father’s opinion mattered more. That truth spoke volumes about her feelings for Hugh.
Hugh deserved a wife who adored him and couldn’t wait to spend time with him. That woman wasn’t Kristi. She often found excuses to avoid Hugh. He deserved better, and so did she.
Resolve hardened inside her. When she returned home, she’d end the suspense with Hugh. Although she and Hugh looked perfect together on the surface, they lacked chemistry and love, a fact both Hugh and her father ignored.
“Ms. Stewart, welcome back. May I assist you with your vehicle and luggage?”
She smiled at her favorite Sandoval bellhop. “Thanks, Harry. I appreciate the help.” Kristi handed him her key fob and a generous tip.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Shoving the turmoil to the back of her mind, Kristi turned her focus toward finding Abby. Her friend’s rehearsal dinner was in full swing somewhere in the hotel. Knowing Abby, she had commandeered the same ballroom where her wedding was to take place. The fact that the hotel staff would scramble to clear the remnants of the rehearsal dinner and set up for the scheduled wedding at noon tomorrow wouldn’t have registered as a problem. She loved her friend, but Abby didn’t consider logistics when she wanted something done a certain way.
Kristi’s lips curved. No doubt Abby had reasoned that if she wasn’t happy with the arrangements, Kristi would convince hotel management to fix the problem, a reasonable assumption since Stewart Group owned the Sandoval.
She approached the Sandoval’s front entrance and the glass doors slid open, inviting her into the marble-tiled lobby. Hidden speakers played soft music. A large chandelier lit the reception area. Glass glittered and chrome gleamed. Over-sized flower arrangements lent a delicate scent and cheer to the elegant entrance.
The woman behind the front desk smiled. “Welcome back to Sandoval Hotel, Ms. Stewart. Your suite is ready. Would you like dinner sent to your room?”
“That’s perfect. Thank you, Lana.” Abby would be disappointed, but Kristi wasn’t part of the wedding party, and the prospect of making small talk with 50 people caused Kristi’s stomach to knot.
She’d worked 18-hour days for the past month, juggling her designing and dressmaking responsibilities. She needed more help on the dressmaking side of Kristi’s Bridal even though Kristi planned to keep working in that part of the business as well. The feel of fabric sliding along her fingers and the whir of her sewing machine called to her as nothing else did aside from her design work.
“Do you need help?” Lana’s gaze locked on the garment bag.
“No, but thanks for the offer. Where is the Lawrence-Thomas rehearsal dinner being served?”
“The Swan Ballroom.”
Of course. That was the same room where Abby’s wedding would be held tomorrow. The Swan Ballroom was on the other side of the large hotel, too. Good thing she had changed into comfortable clothes and running shoes before leaving Bakerhill. “Thanks.”
She headed for the ballroom, walking familiar halls and greeting workers she recognized from previous visits to the five-star hotel. The journey took fifteen minutes longer than she anticipated. More than one of the hotel’s employees stopped to speak to her.
As Kristi walked toward the ballroom’s open double doors, her nape prickled, a familiar sensation over the past few weeks. Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder and saw what she expected. Nothing. The hallway was empty.
Kristi growled, frustrated with herself and her overactive imagination. When she spoke to her father’s chief of security about feeling as though someone was watching her, he assigned a bodyguard to follow her around for two days. Hale hadn’t spotted anyone. Worse, the bodyguard gave her the creeps.
Her stomach growled, reminding Kristi that she had neglected to eat since breakfast. She continued toward the ballroom. The sooner she delivered the wedding dress to Abby, the quicker she could eat and fall into bed.
Approaching the ballroom, she spotted a waiter. “Doug,” she called.
The waiter stopped, turned, and grinned. “Ms. Stewart. What can I do for you?”
“Tell Abby Lawrence that I’m here with her wedding dress. I’d rather not crash the party.” Especially since she was dressed in casual clothes, and the rehearsal dinner was a formal affair.
“Yes, ma’am.” He continued into the ballroom.
A minute later, a blond bombshell rushed into the hall. As usual, Abby wore sky-high heels and a designer dress, with perfect hair and makeup. Her friend could easily strut down a runway as a model.
