Wedding Party Collection: Always The Bachelor: Best Man's Conquest / One Night with the Best Man / The Bridesmaid's Best Man. Michelle Celmer
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ugly.”
“Blake’s brothers don’t think so.”
“They’re no better than the Tweedles. I sometimes wonder how Blake turned out so normal when the rest of his family is completely wacky.”
The smile spread to her cheeks. “Wacky? Is that an official diagnosis?”
Ivy laughed. “Absolutely.”
Deidre may not have been conventionally beautiful, but she had a warm, genuine smile and a good heart. Ivy hoped Blake realized just how lucky he was.
And May be somewhere deep down, she was a little jealous. But not everyone was lucky enough to find what Deidre and Blake had.
Some people weren’t capable.
Deidre wiped her eyes one last time and tossed the tissue in the trash. “You know, no matter how lousy things seem, you always manage to make me feel better.”
“It’s what I’m trained to do.”
“No, it’s always been that way, even when we were really little. It’s a gift.”
If that were true, Ivy wished she could bestow that gift on herself.
“That’s the reason I got you and Dillon together,” Deidre admitted. “I wanted to help you the way you always help me. I wanted you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” The words spilled out automatically, but they sounded dry and hollow. Like May be she wasn’t so convinced anymore.
“Speaking of Dillon,” Deidre said, “what’s really going on with you two?”
Ivy shrugged. “Just like I said, we bumped into each other.”
“You’re sure about that.”
Something in Deidre’s expression said she knew something Ivy didn’t. “Of course I’m sure.”
“So what you’re telling me is, you were just walking along and accidentally ran into him with your lips?”
Ivy winced.
Oh, crud. Didn’t it just figure that not only had her plan backfired, but of the thousands of people roaming the city, Deidre had to be there to witness her mistake.
“Did Blake see?”
“Lucky for you he was looking the other way. And before you ask, no, I didn’t say anything to him. And if you ask me not to, I won’t. But do not think for a second that I’m going to let you off the hook. I expect an explanation.”
Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She didn’t have a clue what to say.
“Well?” Deidre asked, all but tapping her foot, waiting impatiently. “What’s the deal?”
“You know, if we don’t get to the table soon, the men are going to send in a search party.” She made a move toward the door, but Deidre blocked her way.
“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me the truth.”
Ivy sighed. She may as well come clean. The worst Deidre could say is I told you so. “Okay, so I kissed him. But I did it to prove I was completely over him. That I’m not attracted to him anymore.”
Deidre nodded. “I see. And did it work?”
“Umm…” She bit her lip.
“The truth, Ivy.”
“I may have been a little…flustered.”
“I saw your face, honey. You were more than a little flustered. You looked as if you’d gone ten rounds with the ghost of Christmas past.”
Okay, so May be I told you so wasn’t the worst she could say.
If her feelings had been so clear to Deidre, Dillon must have known exactly what she was feeling. The man always did have an uncanny way of reading her thoughts, her body language.
“Proving that what you said was right,” she told Deidre. “I haven’t had sex in a long time. Too long, obviously. And it had nothing at all to do with Dillon.”
“That’s good, Ivy.” Deidre reached for the knob and pulled the door open. “If you keep telling yourself that you might start believing it.”
Want to discover the secret (and dirty!) tactics men use to make our lives hell? (Shh…don’t tell them we know!)
—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)
The man clung to her like lint on a black wool blazer.
After lunch, which she grudgingly admitted was not as bad as she’d anticipated, Deidre, Blake and Dillon took off to sightsee. Ivy headed back to the house and found it blissfully empty. No Tweedles, no ex-husbands or neurotic battered brides. Only tranquil silence.
Thirty seconds later Dillon strolled through the door.
She felt like throwing up her hands in surrender, breaking down and crying, and shoving Dillon over the balcony, down the rocky bluff and into the ocean below. All at the same time.
Just remember, he’s doing this on purpose, she reminded herself. He’s doing it to annoy you. Do not let him know it’s working.
“I thought you were going sightseeing,” she said in a flat, I’m-only-asking-to-be-polite voice.
He just shrugged—a slight hunch of his shoulders and an almost imperceptible tilt of his head. “Changed my mind.”
No, he hadn’t. This had been the plan all along.
Tease her with a hint of freedom, a few precious moments of peace, before he was back annoying her again.
Despite how many times she brushed him off, cosmic static cling kept drawing him back.
Just like lint.
Only, in this case, a dryer sheet wouldn’t be much help. They didn’t make one big enough or powerful enough to get rid of someone like him. The way to avoid Dillon, Ivy realized, would be to shut herself away in her room for the remainder of the week.
It couldn’t be any worse than spending a week with him.
“I’m going up to my room to rest. I’ll see you later.” Much, much later.
“I understand why you might need some time alone,” he said, a devilish glint in his eyes. “That kiss did get you pretty hot and bothered. You go ahead and take care of business.”
“Business?” For a second she was confused, then it hit her. She realized exactly what he meant by business. Did he really think she was going upstairs to—
“I have nothing against going solo.” He stepped closer, eyes sparking with desire. His voice dropped a few decibels, even though they were the only ones there. “In fact, you might not remember, but I love to watch.”
Oh, she remembered.
The things he’d talked her into doing back then still made her blush. Unlike past boyfriends, he’d never played the if-you-loved-me-you-would card. He’d been patient. A tender, generous lover. The kind of man who never failed to put her needs before his own.
The memory poured over Ivy like melted milk chocolate. Rich and sweet and warm. And her head had begun to get that light, fuzzy feeling…
Damn, damn, damn.
He was pulling that sexy, simmering thing he did so well. And like an idiot she was falling for it. Again! How could someone she disliked as much as Dillon be so darned appealing? Could it be that she didn’t dislike him as much as she thought?
Or was she just losing her mind?
The