Married By Mistake

CHAPTER ONE
    T HE BRIDE WORE A long white dress and a look of utter despair.
    Adam Carmichael saw her through the glass wall of the Memphis Channel Eight boardroom, scurrying down the corridor as fast as the full skirt of her dress would allow, flicking furtive glances over her shoulder.
    Damn, a runaway bride. Could this day get any worse?
    He stepped out of the boardroom, and she saved him the effort of stopping her when she cannoned into him, preoccupied by one of those over-the-shoulder checks. Soft yet firm breasts pressed hard against Adam’s chest; honey-gold hair tickled his chin.
    He steadied her with his hands on her upper arms. And saw tears welling in her eyes. Instantly he released her, took a step back.
    She brushed at the tears with short, impatient movements. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” She looked behind her again and said distractedly, “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, but I really must...”
    She gathered up her skirt, ready to run, giving Adam a glimpse of slim ankles above a pair of silk shoes.
    Overhead, the PA system crackled to life, and Adam recognized the voice of Channel Eight’s senior producer, unusually agitated. “Would Casey Greene please return to makeup immediately. Casey Greene to makeup.” There was a pause, then the producer said, “Now!” more ferociously than Adam had ever heard her speak before.
    There was no mistaking the whimper from the runaway bride, nor the flare of panic in her eyes, which were the gray-green of the Mississippi when a storm was brewing.
    Adam clamped a hand over her forearm. “Sounds like they’re looking for you.”
    “I can’t go back.” She tried to tug her arm free.
    Fleetingly, he considered letting her go. But much as he hated this wedding show, he wasn’t about to sabotage it.
    They were due to go live in an hour, so it was a safe bet people would be scouring the building for the missing bride. In her panic to get away, she’d obviously taken the elevator up instead of down. It might take awhile for the search party to reach the top-floor boardroom, but they’d get here in the end.
    “You can’t leave like this,” he said. “You look terrible.” Oops, that wasn’t the most tactful thing to say to a bride. “I mean, you look great...fantastic.” He ran a quick eye over her to check if he’d made a fair assessment. She was a little on the short side, around five-four in her shoes, he estimated, but the dress hugged some very attractive curves.
    He pushed open the door to the boardroom. “Why don’t you take a minute to pull yourself together?” He gave her no chance to refuse, shepherding her in, then steering her to one of the black leather couches arranged along the far wall. He turned a chair from the boardroom table around to face her, and sat down. “I assume you’re Casey Greene?”
    She nodded. Someone walked past the boardroom, and she shrank down in the couch.
    “It’s only my secretary,” he assured her. But she looked jittery, as if she might spring up at any moment. Adam estimated it had been a minute since that call over the PA, probably several minutes since she’d left her minders. Where were those guys? He said chattily, “So you’re a guest on Kiss the Bride? ”
    “I was.”
    Uh-oh. This was just what he needed, after he’d worked through the night to get this show into some semblance of order, tying up the loose ends his cousin Henry, the show’s creator, had overlooked. Except Adam hadn’t had time to check if Henry had lined up a replacement bridal couple in case someone pulled out. He’d bet money the answer was no.
    Any minute now, representatives of the show’s sponsor, New Visage Cosmetics, would arrive at the studio to see the debut of “their” show. New Visage was in a different league from Channel Eight’s other sponsors; having them on board would bring the station to the attention of the major players. Adam couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong.
    He wanted to haul this woman back to the production suite—anyone dumb enough to sign up for a surprise wedding show deserved whatever she got. “It’s understandable you have cold feet. Just remember, this is the happiest day of your life.”
    He couldn’t have sounded very convincing, for she shot him an unbridelike glare.
    “Oh, sure,” she said. “I dupe my fiancé into coming to the TV studio, and he won’t find out until we’re on air that he’s here to get married. Happy days.”
    Adam should never