Harv chuckled and gave Hank a push toward the door. "You'd better get back in there before she invites half the town to your wedding."

Hank wanted to think his father was joking, but when he reentered the kitchen, Mary was already on the phone with his sister Bethany, chattering a mile a minute. "Yes," Mary chortled. "Friday at four! No warning, nothing. He says her name is Carly. Yes, well, you know your brother. He never crawled. Just up and started walking at seven months. Nothing's ever changed."

Hank heard the faint sound of Bethany's voice coming over the line. He pictured his sister, sitting by the phone stand in the high-tech wheelchair that her husband Ryan had special ordered, her brown eyes dancing with delight.

Mary laughed at something her daughter said and thrust the phone at Hank. "She wants to hear all the details, straight from the horse's mouth."

On Friday at precisely three thirty, Hank rang Carly's doorbell. While he waited for her to answer, he checked his bolo tie, shrugged his shoulders to straighten his western-cut tweed jacket, and then fiddled with his belt buckle to make sure it was centered. He was nervous. A fine layer of sweat filmed his body, intensifying the scent of his cologne. It wasn't every day a guy got married.

When the doorknob rattled, he snapped to attention, tucked the bridal bouquet behind his back, and pasted on what he hoped was a friendly grin. When the door swung open, the grin froze on his lips and all he could do was stare. His church angel had undergone an astounding transformation that could only be described as Debbie Does Dallas.

Carly was wearing a slinky white metallic sheath with a neckline that totally redefined the word plunging. The shimmering knit hugged every delightful curve of her body, and the skirt sported a slit that shot clear to midthigh, revealing one shapely leg almost in its entirety. Her makeup looked as if it had been slathered onto her face with a palette knife. And her hair stood out at either side of her head in a wildly untamed cloud of blond curls that looked stiff enough to support Christmas tree ornaments.

"Hi," she said, sounding agitated.

Hank was shocked speechless.

She smoothed a hand over her hip. "Bess laid out a dress for me, but a button came off. I tried to sew it back on, but I stuck myself and bled on the bodice." Her voice went shrill. "It's the only white dress I own. This one is hers. I found it at the back of her closet. I'm lousy at choosing clothes. Does it look okay?"

It would have been every man's wet dream if she'd been wearing spike heels. Instead she wore the simple white sandals again, which were anticlimactic, to say the least.

Still stunned, Hank stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. He couldn't look away from the inverted, green half moons above her beautiful eyes- or the thick layers of black mascara on her eyelashes.

"You're wearing makeup," was all he could say.

She touched her cheek. "It's safe to wear it now. I called Dr. Merrick and checked." She fixed him with uncertain eyes that were almost eclipsed by the eye shadow. "I've never put on makeup. I had to start over three times."

She had obviously spent a great deal of time applying the cosmetics. For a first effort, there were precious few smears or globs. Taking in the lipstick that defined her soft mouth in glaring red, Hank decided that she must have borrowed Bess's stuff. The shades were far more suitable for a brunette.

In that moment, he was swept back through time to the night of his sister's senior prom. Their mother had been called to the stable on an emergency while Bethany was getting ready for the dance. Hank had been the only member of the family who'd remained at the house, waiting for a return call from the vet. Bethany had emerged from the bathroom, looking pretty much like Carly did now, her face smeared with garish color, her hair a nightmarish mess of inexpert curling and too much hairspray, the only difference being that Bethany had realized how awful she looked.

Carly obviously didn't.

Hank thought about taking the coward's way out. He hated to hurt her feelings. On the other hand, he couldn't very well say nothing and allow her to show up for her wedding, looking like this. Later, when she realized how inappropriate the dress and makeup were for the occasion, she'd be humiliated every time she remembered her wedding day.

Evidently his thoughts showed on his face. She splayed a hand over her heart and said, "I look awful, don't I?"

"You could never look awful." He laid the small bouquet on the sofa and turned to study her. "It's just that the dress is too flashy for a wedding, your hair looks much nicer natural, and you've put on way too much makeup."

She looked stricken. "Oh, God." She turned as if to do something, then whipped back around to fix him with imploring eyes. "Can you help me pick a better dress?"

Hank intended to do more than that. He jerked off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves as he followed her to the bedroom. Boxes were piled all over her bed, telling him that she'd already packed to move to the cabin. Fortunately, she'd left some of her garments on hangers. When she opened the closet, his gaze immediately fell on a simple light blue dress.

"This is perfect," he said, pulling it out.

"What about my hair and makeup?"

"It just so happens that I'm something of an expert on hair and makeup. I used to help my sister Bethany get ready for dates." He glanced at his watch, resigning himself to the fact that they would be late for their wedding. There was no way around it. "Can you lose that dress, throw on a robe, and meet me in the bathroom?"

Moments later when Carly appeared in the doorway of the bath, Hank had already turned on the sink faucet and was adjusting the water temp. She flicked him a nervous look when he advanced on her with a wet washcloth. With the aid of some cold cream he'd found, he quickly managed to remove all the makeup. She emitted a startled squeak when he drew her to the vanity, gently pushed her head down, and started dousing her hair.

"This is one of the most humiliating experiences of my life," she muttered.

"It's not your fault that you haven't developed an eye for hair and makeup-or that you can't see the spangles on a dress."

He soaped her hair, being careful not to get any suds in her eyes. Then he did the quickest rinse job in history. Her soft bottom pressed against his fly. The contact reminded him of their "no sex" agreement and rekindled his determination to change her mind about that stipulation.

"There," he said as he wrapped her head in a towel. "Where's the makeup?"

She gestured at a small bag sitting on the vanity. Hank opened it and quickly rifled through the contents, choosing only three items, some mascara, a blusher, and a light pink lipstick. Carly stood before him, wide-eyed and tense as he went to work on her face. In his opinion, hers was such a perfect countenance that she didn't really need cosmetics, but he understood her desire to be at her best when she met his family. A little makeup wouldn't hurt, and it might bolster her confidence.

"General rule of thumb with makeup, less is always better," he explained as he applied a touch of mascara to her long, silky eyelashes. "The idea is to look natural."

"I'm sorry for making us late," she whispered.

The front of her robe hung open slightly, revealing the lacy cups of her bra and the upper swells of her breasts. Hank looked only once, then riveted his gaze to her face, a feat that tested his self-control to its limits.

"It's not your fault. I should have come earlier."

"Will your parents be angry?"

He dabbed some color on her lips. "I don't think so." He winked at her. "If they're slightly put out by the wait, they'll get over it the second they see their pretty new daughter-in-law."

When he drew the towel from her head, her fine hair fell to her shoulders in damp ringlets. Hank combed them a little with his fingers, marveling at how absolutely lovely she was. "All finished," he said. "Run, throw the dress on, and we'll be ready to go,"

She glanced worriedly in the mirror. "I need to dry my hair. I can't go like this."

"It'll be almost dry by the time we get there," he assured her. "And it'll look fabulous." At her dubious look, he added, "I'm the barroom lothario, remember. Trust me to know what looks good."

She pushed past him to return to the bedroom. By the time she emerged a few minutes later, looking beautiful in the simple dress and white sandals, Hank had retrieved the bouquet.

"You look absolutely perfect," he said, and as the words left his mouth, he knew he meant them with all his heart. She was perfect, sweet and nervous, trembling and uncertain. "I'll be the proudest man in six counties to walk into that courthouse with you on my arm."

He presented the flowers to her. "I know you wanted to keep this simple, but I thought you should at least have a bouquet."

Her eyes shone as she accepted the small cluster of blossoms. "Oh, Hank, you shouldn't have. They're gorgeous." She buried her nose in the blossoms and breathed deeply of their perfume. "Carnations? They're my absolute favorite."

Hank realized she had to identify the flowers by smell. When she gently touched a fingertip to another blossom, he said, "That's a daisy." He'd asked the florist for an arrangement of wildflowers, and she'd done her best on such short notice, using what she had on hand. He touched a delicate, lavender petal. "These are wild orchids." Moving on to a tiny violet flute, he said, "And these are bluebells. The purple ones with the yellow and black centers are just garden-variety pansies."

"Just? Thank you so much. I've only ever gotten flowers once-the time you sent me roses." Even with the blusher to camouflage her natural skin tone, he saw her cheeks turn pink with pleasure. "Flowers have always been my favorite things on earth-I guess because they smell so wonderful. Even when I couldn't see them, I could enjoy them."

Hank made a mental note to make sure she got flowers frequently from now on. He reached into his pocket. "I, um-also picked up some rings."

She flashed him a startled look.

"We'll have to have rings for the ceremony. When I went to the jewelry store, I meant to get plain gold bands and nothing else. But when I saw all the wedding sets, I couldn't resist."

He flipped open the blue velvet box on his palm.

"I wasn't sure what you might like, so I chose something that reminded me of you." He lifted out the engagement ring, which sported a dainty swirl of diamond chips around a small sparkling center stone. As he slipped it onto her slender finger, he congratulated himself on the choice. It looked perfect on her fine-boned hand, not too gaudy, not too small, and the delicate design suited her. "I had to guess at the size. I'm glad it fits."

Carly lifted her hand, her expression troubled. "You shouldn't have, Hank. This must have cost a fortune."

"It wasn't that much." Watching her, Hank found himself wishing... hell, he wasn't sure what he wished. That things were different between them? That he could propose in a more conventional way, and that she might accept? "If we're going to do this, we may as well do it right. If worse comes to worst, you can give it to our son or daughter someday."

She flashed him a wary look. "If worse comes to worst?"

Bad choice of words. He glanced at his watch. "We're already running way late. We'd better make tracks."

"It's a lovely ring, Hank. Thank you."

She looked none too happy about wearing it. Hank supposed it was the symbolic meaning that bothered her. Traditionally, an engagement ring was a promise of forever, and a wedding band sealed the bargain. A man was also staking his claim when he put a ring on a woman's finger.

That worked for Hank. He didn't know what it was about her, but she touched him in ways no other woman ever had.

Chapter Twelve.

Hank and Carly were late for their own wedding. Only by thirty-five minutes, but for those who had shown up on schedule, that was a long time to wait. It resulted in lots of family-his family-standing elbow to elbow in the overly small room, sweating in their Sunday best, fidgeting and growing impatient. It also meant that the JP was growing irritable. He stood beside a small table along the back wall, his eyes as searing and censorial as Judge Roy Bean's.

As Hank pushed open the door, Carly pressed close to him, one hand knotted on his jacket, the other clutching her bouquet. He considered assuring her that there was no need to be so nervous, but the moment he saw his parents, he decided to let them convey that message to her themselves. If there was anything Hank had always been able to count on, it was his mother and father's kindness.

Carly moved beside him like a robot with faulty wiring. Hank instinctively slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side as he led her into the room and closed the door. Rubbing her shoulder, he tried to convey without words that these were friendly people who'd welcome her with open arms.

The JP's glare made it clear that he was anxious to get this show on the road, but Hank refused to rush Carly into saying "I do" until she had at least been introduced to the individuals who'd come to witness the nuptials. He'd make it up to the JP later with a generous tip.

"Mom, Dad, this is Carly. Carly, I'd like you to meet my parents, Mary and Harv Coulter."

Hank had never been more proud to be a Coulter than in that moment. His mom flashed a delighted smile and stepped forward with her arms spread wide. "My name is Mary, dear heart, but I hope you'll call me Mom. It's so lovely to finally meet you!"

Despite her nervousness, Carly's natural poise seemed to kick in. She flashed one of those radiant smiles that had sideswiped Hank that fateful night at Chaps. "I'm equally pleased to meet you! Hank's told me so many nice things about you."

Mary beamed with pleasure. Hank glanced past his mother to see Bess emerge from the press of bodies. She beamed a smile but hung back, clearly not wishing to interrupt. Harv grinned broadly as he gathered Carly into his arms for a hug. Over the top of her blond head, he caught Hank's gaze, his expression conveying that he wholeheartedly commended his son on his good taste.

"You look so much like Hank!" Carly marveled as Harv released her from his embrace.

Harv chuckled. "The Coulter stamp. My sons are all cursed."

Mary came over to give Hank a hug. "She's beautiful, sweetheart. Absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Mom. She's a really special lady."

By now, everyone in the Coulter clan knew about Carly's eye disease and consequent vision problems. True to his word, Harv had kept silent about the pregnancy, but he'd felt no such compunction about sharing the other information that Hank had given him.

"She's amazing," Mary whispered. "Just by looking, you'd never guess she couldn't see such a short time ago."

Hank was about to move back to Carly's side when his father handed her off to Zeke, who gave her a hug, kissed her cheek, and passed her on to his twin brothers Isaiah and Tucker. Hank quickly shouldered his way through the milling bodies to reach Carly's side in time to make the introductions. When he slipped an arm around her waist, she jumped as if he'd touched her with a hot coal.

Hank firmed his hold, met Tucker's twinkling gaze, and said, "Sweetheart, I'd like you to meet my brother Tucker. Tucker, this is Carly Adams."

Carly squinted and leaned closer to peer at the twins. "Oh, my God," she whispered in genuine dismay. "I've started seeing double."

Tucker threw back his dark head and barked with laughter. Isaiah, the quieter and more reserved of the two, merely grinned.

"You're not seeing double, honey. Isaiah and Tucker are identical twins," Hank explained. "It's even hard for me to tell them apart sometimes,"

"Really?" Carly studied each of them with amazed curiosity. "I've heard of identical twins, of course, but I've never actually seen any." She glanced up at Hank. "They look a lot like you."

"Like Dad says, we all kind of look alike."

Tucker sent Hank an amused glance. "So, tell us about yourself, Carly," he said, his gaze warming when he shifted it back to her upturned face. "Mom said something about your being a teacher?"

"Oh yes. I'm on a sabbatical right now to attend grad school."

That was a subject dear enough to Isaiah's heart to prompt him to engage in the conversation. "Really?" he said. "What will you be getting your master's in?"

Unaware that everyone in Hank's family already knew about her blindness, Carly explained about her lattice dystrophy. "Growing up blind and knowing firsthand how difficult it can be for blind kids in public school, I want to focus on special ed and work with visually disabled students."

"That's great," Tucker inserted. "I'll bet there's a shortage of teachers in that field."

"A shortage of good ones, anyway," Carly agreed. "All the better for me. It'll be much easier for me to find a position after I've finished grad school. With only my bachelor's, it was difficult to find a steady job. I subbed for a year and finally got lucky, but only because a teacher grew ill and had to retire. The ease of finding a job wasn't my reason for wanting to attend grad school and focus on special ed, though. Having been blind myself, I honestly feel I have something special to offer."

The conversation continued for a couple of minutes, and then Tucker steered Carly away to meet their sister Bethany, who had recently opened a riding academy for disabled kids. That gave the two young women something in common. Gazing after his future bride and twin brothers, Hank breathed a sigh of relief that everything was going so smoothly. Before this day was over, Carly would probably love every member of his overlarge family whether she wanted to or not.

Confident that she would be okay with Tucker to look after her, Hank took the opportunity to take care of last minute details with the JP.

Contrary to Hank's belief, Carly was not okay. She had been expecting only a few people to show up for the ceremony. Instead there were at least twenty, possibly more, and the sea of unfamiliar faces was making her dizzy. She would never remember all their names. Even worse, Hank's relatives and friends clearly believed this was to be a real wedding, with forever as part of the package. Knowing otherwise, Carly felt horribly guilty.

She didn't believe in lying, and this was the biggest lie of her life, pretending to love a man she barely knew. The only thing she and Hank had in common was their baby. In two or three years, they would get a divorce and go their separate ways. How was she supposed to look these people in the eye, smile, and pretend this was the happiest day of her life?

She couldn't do this. It was one thing to sign papers and get married for financial reasons. It was quite another to pass this off as a real wedding and let people welcome her into their family with such sincerity. Bethany was so friendly and interesting that Carly loved her on sight. Ryan Kendrick, her husband, looked enough like Hank to be part of the Coulter family-a tall, dark cowboy with twinkling blue eyes and a friendly grin. Indeed, they were all so nice that Carly found herself pulling back, not wanting to like them too much or encourage them to like her because she knew this marriage was nothing but a farce.

After visiting long enough with Bethany to be polite, Carly turned away to look frantically for Hank, who was nowhere to be seen. As though sensing her change of heart, Zeke suddenly appeared at her side and slipped a hard arm around her waist.

"Getting cold feet?"

Carly cast him a miserable look. "Very cold feet."

"Hank's over this way," he said as he led her through the crowd. "Everyone gets nervous, you know. It's normal. In five minutes, it'll all be over."

The way Carly saw it, in five minutes it would only just begin. Because she knew Zeke had been present last Friday night when she'd spoken with Hank over the phone and agreed to this crazy idea, she felt safe in saying, "I can't deceive everyone like this. They think this is a real wedding." She clutched his hand. "Would you get me out of here, Zeke? Please? I can't go through with it."

He stared down at her in appalled alarm. Then, tightening his hold on her hand, he yelled, "Hank? Yo, Hank!" He waved to get his younger brother's attention. "Conference time. Your bride needs you."