Bridesmaid Says, ''I Do!''. Barbara Hannay
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house, long and low, with lights already glowing on the veranda.
The car’s wheels crunched on white gravel as she pulled up behind Kent’s ute in front of smooth sandstone steps flanked by garden beds filled with agapanthus and lilies. When Kent got out, she saw him silhouetted against the backdrop of his home. Damn. It was such an attractive image—but she had to stop thinking like that.
She had no choice. This gorgeous man was Bella’s future husband and there was no way she would let her silly imagination give into any more reckless fantasies.
‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Kent said with the gracious charm of a perfect host, which showed that he at least knew exactly what his role was.
Zoe followed him down a hallway past an elegant lounge room with deep squishy sofas and rich Oriental rugs to a pretty bedroom that was the epitome of comfort and tasteful country-style décor.
With her things stowed, she was taken out to a wisteria-scented back veranda, and soon found herself sitting in a deep cushion-lined cane chair, sipping chilled white wine while she and Kent looked out in the fading light to the most beautiful view of fields and distant hills.
She suppressed an urge to sigh. Everything about Kent Rigby’s home was as gorgeous as he was. And it was all so beautifully presented she supposed he must have a housekeeper and a gardener. Lucky Bella wouldn’t be a slave to housework.
As a child, looking out of the bus window, Zoe had dreamed of living in a lovely farmhouse like the Rigbys', but she’d never been the jealous type and she wasn’t about to start now.
Very soon Bella would return from the hospital and take her rightful place at Kent Rigby’s side. And Zoe’s silly road side mistake would be a thing of the past.
Clutching an icy glass of beer as if his life depended on it, Kent struggled to ignore the girl sitting beside him. Not an easy task when he was her host and hospitable manners had been ingrained in him from birth.
Problem was, he was badly rattled and he couldn’t really understand how he’d got this way. Anyone would think he wasn’t used to meeting new girls—when the truth was quite the opposite.
He could only assume the problem arose because he hadn’t adjusted to his newly engaged status. No doubt that would explain the crazy chemistry that had gripped him from the moment he set eyes on Bella’s bridesmaid.
Why the hell hadn’t he introduced himself to Zoe Weston as soon as he stepped up to help her? If he’d known who she was, he could have avoided those telling moments—those shocking spellbinding seconds when he’d felt drawn to her, as if a bizarre spell had been cast over him.
Chances were, he’d never have noticed her inexplicable appeal, that special something in her eyes, and in the sheen of her hair or the tilt of her smile—a quality that rocked his easy-going nature to its very foundations.
How crazy was that? He’d exchanged nothing more than a few glances with her.
Kent knew it was nothing more than an illusion. A mistake. It was more than likely that every man experienced a similar difficulty in his pre-wedding weeks. Commitment to one girl didn’t automatically stop a guy from noticing other girls. Learning to ignore their appeal was part of the adjustment to being engaged or married.
In Kent’s case, his commitment was binding on all kinds of levels, and there was no going back. No regrets. He was a man of his word.
Besides, if he was rational about this, there wasn’t even anything particularly special about Zoe Weston. Her brown hair and blue eyes and slim build were nice enough, but her looks were average. Surely?
The imagined attraction was merely a blip, and now he could put it behind him.
That settled, Kent took a deep, reassuring draft of beer, pleased to realise he’d been overreacting.
It wasn’t as easy as Zoe had hoped to relax while sitting beside Kent on his veranda. She found herself crossing and uncrossing her legs, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass, or sneaking sideways glances at her host’s stare-worthy profile. Hardly the behaviour of a perfect bridesmaid.
Desperate to stop this nonsense, she jumped to her feet and leaned on the veranda railing, looking out at the parklike sweep of gardens that stretched to a timber fence, and fields of golden crops and grazing animals.
Concentrate on the wedding—not the groom.
Casually, she asked, ‘Are you planning a garden wedding, Kent?’
He looked surprised, as if the question had caught him out, but he responded readily enough. ‘An outdoor ceremony would be great and the weather forecast is promising. What do you think?’
Rising from his chair, he joined her at the veranda’s edge, and once again Zoe was struggling to ignore his proximity. Now there was the tantalising whiff of his cologne to deal with as well.
She concentrated on the lawns and banks of shrubbery. ‘A garden wedding would be perfect. Would you hire a caterer?’
‘That’s one of the things we need to discuss this weekend. But Bella’s a bit … distracted.’
‘Yes, her dad’s health is a big worry for her.’
Kent nodded, then let out a heavy sigh.
‘You’re worried, too,’ Zoe said, seeing the sudden tension in his face.
‘I have to be careful what I say around Bella, but I’m angry with her dad.’ Kent sighed again. ‘Don’t get me wrong. Tom Shaw’s a wonderful guy. In many ways he’s been my hero. But his wife died eighteen months ago and he dropped his bundle. He started drinking heavily, and now he has the beginnings of heart failure.’
‘From drinking?’
‘From drinking and generally not looking after himself.’ Kent’s hand fisted against the railing. ‘Bella’s beside herself, of course.’
‘I hadn’t realised his health was so bad,’ Zoe said with concern. ‘Poor Bell.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Kent spoke quietly, but with unmistakable determination. ‘I’ll look after her. And I’m damned if I’ll let Tom kill himself.’
Wow, Zoe thought. Kent had sounded so—so noble; he really was Bella’s knight in shining armour.
And clearly he was happy in that role. He was turning to Zoe now with a smile. ‘Bella said you’re going to be a great help with the wedding.’
‘I—I’m certainly happy to do all I can to help.’
‘She claims you’re a fabulous organiser and list-maker.’
‘I suppose I can be. I’ve never organised a wedding, but I quite like planning our office Christmas party. A smallish wedding won’t be too different.’ To Zoe’s dismay, her cheeks had grown very hot. She shot a quick glance out to the expanse of lawn. ‘I imagine you’d need to hire tables and chairs.’
‘Yes, definitely.’
‘And table cloths, crockery, glassware et cetera.’
‘I dare say.’ Kent flashed a gorgeous crooked smile. ‘If you keep talking like that you’ll land yourself a job, Zoe.’
And if he kept smiling at her like that she wouldn’t be able to refuse.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS late on Sunday night before the girls arrived back in Brisbane. As Zoe drove they discussed practical matters—the style of wedding gowns and invitations, and the things they needed to hire for the garden reception. They were both tired, however, and, to Zoe’s relief, they spent much of the journey in reflective silence.
She dropped Bella off at her flat in Red Hill, declining her invitation to come in for a drink with the excuse that they both had another Monday morning to face in less