Free Stand-In Groom by Kaye Dacus Page A

could be dangerous. Very dangerous.

C HAPTER 6
    G eorge stared at the form he’d been trying to fill out for two days, then tossed the pen on the desk and stood to pace the tiny antechamber. How had he gotten into this position? He had signed a contract agreeing to lie about his identity. Every scripture he’d ever read about the evils of lying jumbled in his head.
    His gaze fell once again to the paperwork littering the desk. He couldn’t face it any longer. Besides, why was he sitting alone in the house wasting this beautiful Saturday morning by becoming more and more frustrated with his job?
    Tucking his keys and cell phone in the pocket of his jeans, George grabbed his sunglasses on his way out the door. He hadn’t attended church last weekend and had a sudden need to find one to attend tomorrow morning. He consulted his city map and set out toward the shopping district, where he’d seen several churches.
    After a quarter hour, he passed the large stone arch marking the entrance to the University of Louisiana. He could picture Anne Hawthorne as she must have been years ago as a student here— sitting on a stone bench in the shade, chatting with chums. …
    The random thought surprised George. He couldn’t let his fancy get the better of him. He had a professional role to maintain.
    How gutted would she be when she learned the truth? He hoped she would be happy for the opportunity rather than upset, but the more he got to know her, the more he worried about her reaction.
    “Father, give me strength. I do not want to hurt Anne Hawthorne. Not when I’m coming to care for her—” He let his prayer stop when he spied a large structure on his right. The pictorial stained-glass windows reminded him of St. John’s Cathedral, and the architecture seemed to be based on Middle English design. How long had it been since he’d been home?
    The name on the sign near the street was incongruous with the size of the building. Judging from the sprawling wings of the structure, Bonneterre Chapel was larger than any church he’d attended in California or New York.
    He pulled up beside a few cars parked near a side entrance, hoping to slip in and take a quick look around. A florist truck pulled up halfway on the sidewalk near the door. George waited until the three men from April’s Flowers entered the church, then followed them.
    Inside, he removed his sunglasses and discovered he’d entered a room that reminded him of the lobby of a small but expensive hotel; for all that the exterior of the building recalled a long-past era, the interior was anything but old.
    The mossy green carpet of the foyer gave way to rich dark blue in the sanctuary. He drew a deep breath, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. The bright sunlight from outside filtered in through the multicolored glass windows and the Bible-story images glowed in rainbow hues.
    He started when a female voice broke the reverent silence of the worship center.
    “Let’s place the candelabra here…here…here…and here.”
    His gaze snapped to the altar at the front of the room. Although distorted by echoing throughout the cavernous space, Anne Hawthorne’s voice was unmistakable.
    As before, her blond hair was pulled away from her face into a clip at the back of her head. She had an open notebook cradled in her left arm, a pen or pencil in her right hand, and a roll of masking tape around her wrist.
    Unlike their previous encounters, when she’d been dressed inconservative business suits, she wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless denim shirt. Even though she was slightly larger than what most men would consider to be beautiful, George admired her athletic hourglass figure.
    Only the lights over the altar were on; George stayed concealed in the shadows under the overhanging balcony. He slipped into the end of the rear pew nearest him and sat, wanting nothing more than to watch her.
    As she directed the three men from the florist shop on the exact placement of the