Still The One

Chapter 1

Ally Fletcher had waited six years for this opportunity. Six long years. There was no way a mere thunderstorm was going to stop her. Of course in Texas, calling this a mere thunderstorm was like saying a Texas tornado was a mere puff of wind.

She peered anxiously through the river of rain that washed down the windshield. The sluggish wipers just couldn't keep pace with a downpour that reduced visibility to zero.

Where was the church? It had to be around here somewhere. Had she already crept past the old limestone block building? In this storm, it would be easy to miss just about anything through the curtain of falling rain.

Suddenly, the church loomed out of the early evening fog like the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic. Ally slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel of the rental car sharply to the right in an effort to execute the turn into the parking lot.

Big mistake.

The little blue car made the turn into the drive, but it kept on turning, spinning in a three hundred sixty degree circle. Ally didn't even have time to scream. She fought the steering wheel, but she lost. The little rental car concluded its acrobatic performance by smashing into a sleek black Jaguar parked in the line of cars along the curving driveway. The impact jarred Ally from the top of her too-tight chignon to the toes of her black patent pumps.

The rental car shuddered as if it had the chills and wheezed like an asthmatic in desperate need of an inhaler. Then the engine died without further ado. Ally released the breath that had caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat and slumped over the steering wheel. She ached all over, but she figured it was more from the stress of driving through the storm than the impact of the low-speed crash.

What a perfect ending to a perfectly horrible day!

With shaking hands, she shoved the gear shift into low and turned the ignition key to off. Even though the engine seemed as dead as last year's round-toed pumps, she yanked up the handbrake just in case. The way her luck was running, the damn car might come back to life like some kind of post-apocalyptic zombie.

Ally squared her shoulders. She didn't have time to waste on hysterics. Her flight from Dallas Love Field had landed thirty minutes late at Houston Hobby Airport due to the storm.

Desperate to get to the small town of Brookwood, thirty miles southeast of Houston, she had taken the only available car at the rental agency even though that meant contorting her five feet nine inches into a car obviously engineered for someone built more like one of the inhabitants of Munchkin Land.

Belatedly, the clerk at the rental car counter had warned her that the car's air conditioner was a little tricky. Tricky? Inoperable would have been a more accurate label.

Somehow, she'd negotiated Houston's flooded streets, and, in record time, for rush hour traffic, that is, she'd reached her exit.

By the time Ally had skirted through the Clear Lake area and turned onto the two-lane, black-top road leading to Brookwood near the bay, the rainy June evening had become a steamy experience in the confines of a car about as roomy as a can of tuna. The so-called tricky air conditioner had conspired with Houston's humidity to melt her carefully applied makeup. And now this!

Disgusted, Ally smacked the steering wheel with her palms. She'd just leave the darn car where it was, right front fender smack dab up against the left rear fender of the Jag. She'd take care of this problem, and the sure-to-be irate owner of the Jag, later. Ally yanked the door handle upward. Nothing happened. The door didn't budge. She groaned. "I don't have time for this," she complained aloud. Exasperated, she pulled hard and shoved with her shoulder at the same time. The door flew open. With a startled cry, Ally fell out into the rain.

Instinctively, she broke her fall with her hands. The asphalt was cold, hard, and wet. She earned herself two abraded palms for her efforts. Her arms felt as if they'd been slammed into, well, cold, hard asphalt. Really angry now, at the lousy car, the rain that drenched her, the rush hour traffic, and the phone call that had started this insanity, she scrambled to her feet.

Cursing, she impulsively kicked the offending door with her right foot. "Owww!" She yelped. But the door slammed and stayed that way. Hopping on her left foot, she realized that cursing in front of a church would have had her grandmother washing her mouth out with soap.

Chagrined, and in pain, she moaned, "Can this day possibly get any worse?"

As if the universe answered her, the rain intensified, pelting her with even greater force. Ally blinked and shielded her eyes. This was all Burke's fault. She hadn't seen the blasted man in six years. Six years of a quiet, orderly life. But from the moment her grandmother had mentioned his name today, her world had begun to tip crazily on its axis.

"You're going to pay for this Burke Winslow!" She muttered, shivering in the pouring rain. Limping to the church steps, she winced with pain each time her right foot made contact with the pavement.

Her expensive black silk sheath offered no protection from the weather. She thought longingly of the dress's matching jacket, lost somewhere during the mad dash from Dallas to Houston. And her shoes! Her beautiful, sexy black patent pumps that she'd paid way too much for were ruined. It was all Burke Winslow's fault.

When she'd conceived this plan, Ally had pictured herself arriving at the church and looking as if she'd stepped off the pages of Vogue Instead, she probably looked like a newspaper photograph of someone who'd been caught in a mudslide. With her foot throbbing and rain dripping from her hair and her dress, she shoved open the iron-hinged double doors of the church.

This wasn't how this scene was supposed to play out. She should be looking sophisticated and gorgeous in her best outfit. On the plane, she'd envisioned herself strolling down the center aisle of the church, with every man's eye on her. Especially Burke's intense hazel eyes. In her daydream, she'd been calm and collected, and oh, so cool. Well, she was cool, all right, she thought, trying to control her chattering teeth.

For a moment, Ally considered abandoning her impulsive plan. But, maybe, she rationalized, she didn't look as bad as she thought. The moment of sanity flitted by.

When this was over, Ally decided, she was going to have a nice nervous breakdown. Right now, she just didn't have the time. The wedding may have already started.