Unlawfully Wedded. Kelsey Roberts
Unlawfully Wedded
Kelsey Roberts
For my stepdaughter, Bonnie, who has achieved personal and financial independence;
for my stepson, Eric, who is quite adept at selling his plasma when times get tough; and for my son, Kyle, who will continue to be on the dole for the foreseeable future.
I would gratefully like to acknowledge the assistance of Pat Harding, Kay Manning and Carol Keane of Charleston, South Carolina: my crack research team.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Tory Conway—She’s forced to confront a mysterious past and an uncertain future.
J. D. Porter—He’s a reluctant bridegroom with a few too many secrets.
Rose Porter—She finally gains a daughter-in-law, but for how long.
Wesley Porter—He’s sticking around to see the fireworks.
Shelby Tanner—Co-owner of the Rose Tattoo; about to give birth.
Dylan Tanner—His sleuthing skills are always appreciated.
Chad Tanner—Mischievous, but cute.
Cliff Griffen (“Griff”)—A dear old friend of Tory’s…or so he thought.
Calvin Matthews—He’s made a success of his own restaurant over the years. Is he really just a friendly competitor?
Gloria Burrows—Did she move to Vegas for a fresh start, or was she running from the memories of a stale murder?
Evan Richards—Is he an accountant or an accomplished liar?
Contents
Chapter One
J. D. Porter. She knew the initials stood for “Jackass Deluxe,” and he was sitting at a table in her station!
A frown curved the corners of her mouth as she donned an air of false confidence. Brushing a few strands of hair away from her eyes, Tory Conway pushed through the hinged kitchen doors of the Rose Tattoo, a tray clamped tightly to her chest.
With practiced aloofness, she held her breath as she marched past where he sat hunched over a mound of paperwork. The pleasant smell of his decidedly masculine cologne chased her behind the bar, threatening her resolve.
After placing the tray on the polished wooden surface of the horseshoe-shaped bar, Tory bent down and began collecting the salt and pepper shakers.
Her motion was halted in midstream when she felt long, tapered fingers close around her wrist. She rose slowly, trying not to devote too much thought to the devastating feel of his touch.
Their eyes collided—hers wide from the shock, his a deep, penetrating gray, the same shade as a South Carolina summer sky before a violent storm. She swallowed against the irrational belief that those eyes could see through her clothing. His lopsided, sexy display of even white teeth hovered somewhere very near a leer.
“Good morning, Miss Conway.”
Not from where I’m standing, she thought. She didn’t speak immediately, mostly because she had a sinking feeling that her words might come out in a squeaky, helium-high voice.
“No greeting?” he taunted, one dark eyebrow arched questioningly. “You wound me.”
“No,” she returned with a sweet smile. “But I’d be happy to, as soon as I’ve finished my setup.”
“Ouch,” he returned easily, placing his free hand over his heart.
Or, she thought, where his heart would be if he actually had one.
Annoyance crept up her spine when he refused her subtle request to be released when she gave his hand a small tug. “I have work to do,” she insisted through tight lips.
“So do I,” he said in a frustratingly calm voice that was just too smooth, too velvety to have emanated from such a massive man.
“Then why don’t you do it?”
The smile widened, accentuating the chiseled perfection of his angled features. “Would you like to do it? I’m game if you are.”
Tory groaned and sucked in a breath in exasperation. The man was infuriating. “Not in your lifetime, Sparky.”
The sound of his laugh was deep, rich. It caressed her ears and made her skin tingle. “Haven’t you heard of sexual harassment?” she managed to say between her clenched teeth.
“Doesn’t apply,” he returned easily. “You don’t work for me.”
“Thank God and anyone else responsible,” she grumbled. His hold on her wrist was getting on her nerves. She didn’t like being touched, especially by the visiting Neanderthal.
“You aren’t very friendly for a waitress, Miss Conway.”
“Depends on the customer,” she retorted.
“No wonder you can’t live off what you earn in tips.”
She bristled and might have stiffened her spine had it not been for the unfortunate fact that she had not yet fastened the top button of her uniform. The