Chapter 1

Michaela smiled contently as she reveled in the warmth within the circle of Jim’s arms.  He stood behind her, holding her close, as the two of them watched the couple dancing their first dance as husband and wife. 

Would she and Jim would ever follow Rachel and Ciaran down the aisle?  The two of them had known each other for nearly two years, but they started dating just six months ago.  Neither one wanted to rush the relationship—she was content with how things were; she loved him.  She could see herself married to him sometime down the road, though there was no rush.  Where Rachel and Ciaran had a whirlwind romance filled with passion and a desire to seal the deal with marriage vows, Michaela and Jim took things slow.  Jim’s desire to take things slow stemmed from the breakup of his previous marriage.  She wasn’t quite ready to give up her independence for marriage.  She liked having her own place, and not having to share her space if she did not want to.  Of course, she did share her space with Jim quite frequently.  Whenever Ciaran was not shooting a film on location or performing in a London theater, and Jim had time off, he would come home to Ireland and most of the time, he would stay at her place.  No, marriage wasn’t for her.  Not yet, anyway.

Her heart swelled with pride as she took in the beautiful picture Rachel presented.  Her long, blonde hair was made up into a twist and covered with a delicate veil.  She wore an ivory, strapless, A-lined gown covered in seed pearls that complimented her womanly figure.  Michaela stifled a giggle as she remembered the concern Rachel had over her boobs falling out during her first fitting for the gown. 

She smiled at Ciaran as he danced with his wife.  He was the quintessential handsome groom.  He wore the classic black tuxedo, however it looked anything but traditional on Ciaran.  He reminded Michaela more of a male model at a photo shoot for a top designer than a man getting married.  He had his normally tousled hair slicked back neatly and his black beard close cropped.  His deep blue eyes held a look of absolute adoration for his bride.  Together, they were the perfect picture of a couple in love.

“They look so good together,” Jim whispered into her ear.  “I’m glad things worked out for them.”

Michaela nodded.  “It’s clear to anyone looking how much Ciaran and Rachel love each other.  It’s been wonderful watching their relationship develop to this point.” 

Jim kissed the back of Michaela’s neck, sending a shiver of excitement through her.  “I, for one, am thankful the two of them met.  If not for that, I’d not have ye,” his Irish accent lending sensuality to his words.

Michaela turned in Jim’s arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his lips softly.  “Me, too.”  Ciaran once joked about finding a sexy Irishman for her, and while Michaela turned down his offer, he was still responsible for her meeting Jim. 

“At this time, the couple would like to invite the wedding party to accompany them on the dance floor,” the DJ announced in the middle of the song.

Michaela turned her head and looked up at Jim.  “That’s us.  You up for this?”  She asked with a teasing grin. 

“Aye, if I have to,” Jim said with mock reluctance as he held his elbow out for her.  For all of his hesitation, Jim was a fantastic dancer and she loved dancing with him.

“Oh, you have to,” Michaela said with a grin as she slipped a hand around his offered arm.

He led her a few steps onto the dance floor near Rachel and Ciaran.  Jim stopped and took Michaela into his arms once again.  The softly lit pub offered an intimate atmosphere.  Despite the numerous guests in attendance, the world melted away as Michaela leaned into Jim.  As the two of them swayed to the slow song, Michaela got lost in the intimacy of their closeness.  She rested her head on his strong shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of his body to seep into hers.  She breathed in the scent of his musky cologne and enjoyed the way it mixed with Jim’s own masculine scent. 

She peered at Rachel from under Jim’s chin and smiled at her friend.  Ciaran’s tall, dark frame wrapped his small, blonde wife in a loving embrace as they turned on the dance floor.  Rachel returned Michaela’s smile before her dance with Ciaran turned her away.  From the warm cocoon of Jim’s embrace, all was right with the world.  Rachel had Ciaran, and she had Jim.  Both her and her best friend had their sexy Irishmen who adored them with all their hearts.  Michaela couldn’t ask for more.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed into his chocolate brown eyes.  “I love you, too, Jim.”

He leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips.  Just as she was about to deepen the kiss, Jim pulled away suddenly.  The shock of the cool air hitting her where Jim once held her left Michaela dazed.  It took a split second for the commotion a few feet away from her to sink in through the confusion. 

Michaela turned in time to see Jim shove Ciaran and Rachel out of the way before turning to wrestle with a man whose face she couldn’t see.  The push knocked Rachel off balance and she fell on her backside.  Michaela instinctively rushed to help her up.

“Are you okay?”  She asked her friend.  Rachel looked up and blinked rapidly.

“What happened?”  She asked as she stood, eyes wide from the suddenness of landing on her butt.

Before Michaela could answer, a shriek from one of the other wedding guests drew Michaela and Rachel’s attention back to the commotion.

Where was Jim?  What was going on?  Her eyes scanned the commotion until she found him.  He and the unknown assailant were struggling to best each other.  Jim was the bigger of the two, but the smaller man moved with an element of desperation that made him faster.  Jim threw a right hook and caught the man just under his chin with a sickening thud.  She winced at the sound.  When the man’s head whipped to the side from the blow, she gasped at the wild-eyed image of Ciaran’s former manager, Colin Murray.  She’d met the man only once before when she and Ciaran went to his office to pick up some paperwork after Ciaran fired him, but there was no way she’d ever forget him.  It was hard to forget the face of the man who attempted to turn the public against her best friend.

Michaela stared at the two men, unable to move, trying to make sense of the scene before her.  Colin punched Jim in the stomach, but the blow glanced off to the side as Jim skillfully turned to make less of a target.  He then threw a left punch and connected on the side of Colin’s head.  The blow only slowed Colin’s frenzied attack for a moment.  She didn’t know what she should do, but she had to do something.  Where was the rest of the security team?  She scanned the crowd and let out a relieved breath when she saw Rob running over to help Jim subdue Colin.

Rob rushed in causing confusion between Colin and Jim as Jim barked orders to Rob.  In those seconds that Jim’s attention was diverted, Colin reached into his jacket pocket.  A flash of something shiny drew her eyes away from Rob, and a scream tore from her throat when it sank into Jim’s abdomen and came out bloody.  Jim punched Colin square in the face, breaking his nose.  As a bloodied Colin fell back into Rob’s grip—screaming incoherent obscenities the whole time—Jim fell to the floor.  Michaela’s legs refused to follow the orders her mind gave them.  The din of guests screaming faded, the jostling of the people moving around her disappeared.  The icy tendril of terror gripped her heart as the blood began to pool on the floor.

Michaela couldn’t have predicted the turn of events that evening.  One minute, her, Jim, Ciaran, and Rachel were dancing and having a great time, then the next, Jim was lying on his back in the center of the dance floor, his white Tuxedo shirt quickly turning a dark crimson.  Michaela forced herself into action.  She knelt over him, pushing away a similar image of Rachel from the past that blinked in her mind.  Instinct drove her to press her hands against the growing red spot on Jim’s abdomen.  She looked up at Rachel, who was peeking out from behind Ciaran as he stood with arms stretched out and demanding people give Jim room.  When Rachel’s eyes met Michaela’s, she saw the flash of guilt on Rachel’s face.  Michaela tore her gaze from her best friend and looked back at Jim. 

Her mind reeled as she struggled to make sense over what just happened.  She shook her head in denial—refusing to believe any of this was real, even as the warmth of Jim’s blood oozed through her fingers.  She cast her eyes about, trying to find a hint of the illusion, but instead her eyes met the cold, hard stare of Colin Murray, Ciaran’s former manager, as Rob and a few others of the security detail dragged him away.  His gaze, so intent, and so hate filled, hit her just as surely as if someone struck her.  No, this was no illusion.  

The shock faded when the paramedics arrived.  She relinquished the task of keeping pressure on the wound to the nearest paramedic and she moved to kneel by Jim’s head to give them room.  She was careful to stay out of the way of the emergency personnel who were tending to Jim.  In the back of her mind, she said a silent prayer that they arrived so quickly.

“Jim, honey, please…”  Her voice trailed off as the knot in her throat threatened to choke her.  Her eyes burned and her cheeks damped with the tears that flowed steadily as Michaela caressed Jim’s face.  He was going pale and his eyes rolled back.  When he only moaned pitifully, Michaela hoped he had heard her.  “I’m here, babe.  They’re going to take you to the hospital, but you’re going to be okay.”  As she said the words, she searched the face of the paramedic closest to her.  His face was drawn into a grim expression; his lips turned down and he avoided eye contact with Michaela as he went to work on Jim.  She ignored his grave look and silently willed Jim to fight.  It worried her that Jim wasn’t responsive.

“Ma’am, we need to move him now,” said the grim faced paramedic.

Michaela dropped a kiss on Jim’s forehead before standing up.  “I’m going with him.”  It was not a question.  When the paramedic looked as if he was going to argue, Michaela fixed him with a look that dared him to object.  He said nothing, and when he turned back to her after putting Jim on a stretcher, he motioned for Michaela to follow.  After the paramedics moved Jim onto the stretcher, Michaela couldn’t help but stare at the pool of blood on the floor. 

She tore her eyes away from the spot and looked around for Ciaran and Rachel, who were both standing right behind her.  She jumped when Rachel placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Are you two okay?”  Michaela asked as her eyes moved from Rachel to Ciaran.  Her concern for Jim weighed on her, but it did not escape her notice the intended victim was Ciaran.

Rachel shook her head.  “No, but we’re not hurt.  Go with Jim.  We’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Michaela wrapped Rachel and Ciaran in a quick hug before rushing out of the darkened pub and into the waiting ambulance.