Chapter 1: Zoe Morgan, will you marry me again?

"Zoe Morgan, will you be my wife," John asked for the second time since she had met him. This time, he proposed with a different ring and without the wedding band. His delivery of the proposal varied very little. He still had that upward quirk of his lip that indicated it wasn't a real proposal, but he did get on bended knee this time. What could she say? He was actually showing his creativity.

Giving him an exaggerated sigh, she asked. "You need me to be your wife again?"

"My fiancée," he said with a smirk as if he couldn't keep himself from laughing. He pulled his phone out and put it on speaker.

"Miss Morgan, thank you for agreeing to help us, once again," Harold's voice cheerily said.

"Where are we headed this time? Not to the suburbs again? I'm not sure I could bear another backyard barbecue," Zoe commented as she tried the ring on for size.

"You're actually going further away this time," Harold answered, still sounding a little too cheerful than the situation warranted. Zoe listened, crossing her arms across her chest. She knew when she was being played and she didn't like it one bit.

"Well, our target's name is Debra Hicks. She's the wedding coordinator at the Huntington House; a Bed and Breakfast that specializes in romantic weddings. She just moved from New York a week ago to take on this new job," Finch paused giving them time to absorb the details of the new target. He went on to describe that their cover will be as a newly engaged couple looking at possible wedding venues. "I was able to book you a reservation in one of their suites. The Huntington House claims that all of their rooms are romantic and in fact was rated among the 15 most romantic B&Bs in the country by one of our leading industry publications. You'll have a view of the Atlantic Ocean right outside your door. . . "

"Harold, I think we get the picture. How far is it from the city?"

"I'd say it's about a three hour drive to Blue Cove, Delaware, do you agree Mr. Reese?"

"I'm not sulking," she said staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly at her chest.

John frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd said that since their road trip began some two hours earlier. "You need to relax," he said.

Zoe had been unusually uptight, more so than usual, and tight lipped when she found out that they were heading to Delaware. She tried to convince herself that Blue Cove was a relatively big town and that if they stayed close to the B&B they wouldn't necessarily run into her, would they?

"I'll relax when I'm dead. I can't believe we are doing this. I must be out of my mind." She turned her head to face him and shot him a withering glare, as she nervously swung her leg to and fro.

Absently noticing her bare toes for the first time, he realized that at some point during the drive, she must have kicked off her shoes for comfort. John's gaze zeroed in on Zoe's naked legs as he felt a tugging somewhere due south and his mouth went dry.

"John! Eyes on the road," Zoe reprimanded.

With a silent curse, John's eyes immediately went to the road and righted the car.

Zoe was still in disbelief. This had to be the worst idea ever. Seriously, what was she thinking agreeing to this? He made all the arrangements he said. They didn't have to worry about a thing except to get themselves to the location that was three hours away, by the ocean, with wonderful accommodations. She started unconsciously playing with the doorknob that was masquerading as an engagement ring.

Her participation in this road trip was voluntary until she found out that their accommodations were not going to be as wonderful as she had been led to believe. An hour into their "trip", Harold had received a call from a very apologetic Huntington House employee. It seems as though they were double booked and that the inn was currently full.

"The good news is there is a lovely home next door to the inn that they sometimes use for over bookings. And, because Miss Hicks only moved last week, she is temporarily staying there as well. I spoke to the owner of the home; a lovely woman by the name of Ruby Duchamp, who is a young ninety and quite entertaining. She has this lovely southern accent that makes me think of mint juleps."

Zoe's pulse quickened. "Did you say Ruby Duchamp?"

"Why yes, Miss Morgan. Do you know her?"

"John, turn this damn car around," Zoe ordered.

"We're almost there . . . "

"I don't give a rat's ass, turn this car around and take me back to New York."

They could hear the tapping of the keyboard on the other end of the line. "Miss Morgan I don't see why . . . oh. . . oh dear."

"I take it you see my concern Harold?" Zoe asked caustically.

"Why yes, but she doesn't have to be involved . . ."

"Harold, you don't know that woman like I do . . . she will do nothing but hinder this operation of yours." Zoe fought hard to keep the panic out of her voice, but appeared to be failing miserably.

"Miss Morgan, surely you're exaggerating. . . "

"Harold, have you ever known me to exaggerate?" Zoe demanded rhetorically.

"I'm sorry Miss Morgan, but it's really important that we get there tonight. You realize how quickly things can happen in these situations."

With a huff, Zoe acquiesced. "I swear to God, after this little project, I don't want to hear from either one for a long time. Do you hear me?"

John cast a cautious glance at his passenger. It came as a surprise to realize that Zoe was nervous. Her forehead was creased with tension, her eyes were hooded, her mouth crooked as she nibbled on the inside corner of her lower lip, and he couldn't help but notice the constant fidgety movements of the hand that was twisting the large diamond ring around her left ring finger.

"It's going to be fine, Zoe, you'll see," he encouraged softly.

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, not knowing how to express the feelings that coursed through her at the moment. Zoe felt wary and downright scared.

AN: Okay this chapter is not so different from my old fics. I know not much going on except John likes Zoe's legs and naked feet. What man doesn't?