Out of Town Bride. Kara Lennox

      Prologue

      Airplane seats were way too small and too crowded together. Sonya Patterson had never thought much about it before, since she’d always flown first class in the past. But this was a last-minute ticket on a no-first-class kind of plane.

      She’d also never flown on a commercial airline with her bodyguard, which might explain her current claustrophobia. John-Michael McPhee was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man, and Sonya was squashed between him and a hyperactive seven-year-old whose mother was fast asleep in the row behind them.

      She could smell the leather of McPhee’s bomber jacket. He’d had that jacket for years, and every time Sonya saw him in it, her stupid heart gave a little leap. She hated herself for letting him affect her that way. Didn’t most women get over their teenage crushes by the time they were pushing thirty?

      “I didn’t know you were a nervous flyer,” McPhee said, brushing his index finger over her left hand. Sonya realized she was clutching her armrests as if the plane were about to crash.

      What would he think, she wondered, if she blurted out that it wasn’t the flying that made her nervous, it was being so close to him? Her mother would not approve of Sonya’s messy feelings where McPhee was concerned.

      Her mother. Sonya’s heart ached at the thought of her vibrant mother lying in a hospital bed hooked up to machines. Muffy Lockridge Patterson was one of those women who never stopped running all day, every day, at full throttle with a to-do list a mile long. Over the years Sonya had often encouraged her mother to slow down, relax and cut back on the rich foods. But Muffy seldom took advice from anyone.

      Sonya consciously loosened her grip on the armrests when McPhee nudged her again.

      “She’ll be okay,” he said softly. “She was in stable condition when I left, and Tootsie was with her.”

      “Tootsie? Is that supposed to comfort me?” Tootsie Milford, Muffy’s best friend since boarding school, was a consummate snob who never did a kindness for anyone unless she thought she could get something out of it—usually attention.

      Sonya said little else to McPhee during the short flight, and he returned the favor. It was only after the limo picked them up at Hobby Airport that they spoke openly, safe from curious eavesdroppers.

      “Do you want to go home first?” McPhee asked.

      “No, of course not. Tim,” she said, addressing the chauffeur, “let’s go straight to the hospital, please.”

      Tim hit the gas as Sonya fastened her seat belt. McPhee, as usual, didn’t bother. Sonya tried her best to ignore him. She rooted through her