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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false starts, she had finally snagged Mr. Right. Ivy got the feeling Deidre saw this as her last chance and that, if everything didn’t go exactly as planned, she was destined to spend the rest of her life alone and childless and die a bitter spinster.
“I told you the best man was a buddy from college, and you knew he and Blake went to school together.”
Ivy knew they had shared an apartment at Harvard, until Dillon had been expelled, that is, but she hadn’t known they were that close. Her and Dillon’s quickie Vegas wedding had been too last-minute for a best man or maid of honor.
Or a cake.
Or even a wedding dress.
It had been more of a we’ll show them when their parents had tried to interfere in their relationship. Proving that not only is love blind, it’s downright idiotic.
The sad truth is, she and Dillon had barely known each other when they’d gotten married. Out of bed, anyway. Only after their vows had she realized her mistake.
The day after.
“I know you probably won’t believe this,” Deidre said, “but Dillon has changed.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.” Men like Dillon never changed. Not deep down, where it counted.
“May be it’s time you…” Deidre paused, her lip clamped between her teeth again.
“It’s time I what?”
She shrugged. “May be…get past it.”
“Get past what?”
“What I mean is, May be it’s time you…forgive him.”
Forgive him?
Was Deidre joking? Had the wedding jitters short-circuited her brain? Had she forgotten what Dillon had put her through?
Did a woman ever get past having her heart stomped on and filleted into a million pieces? Did she forget losing an academic grant, being tossed out of college and having her reputation decimated?
And how did you forgive someone who showed no remorse? Someone who sat back and watched with a smile on his face while her world fell apart? A man who had promised to love and honor her until death? “What Dillon did to me was unforgivable and you know it.”
Deidre lowered herself into the chair beside Ivy’s, a look of genuine concern on her face. “I just hate to see you so unhappy.”
Her words nearly knocked Ivy out of her chair. “What are you talking about? My book is selling millions, my private practice is flourishing. Why in the world would I be unhappy?”
“You’re the psychologist. You tell me.”
Ivy had everything she’d ever dreamed of. A good career and an impressive stock portfolio. Personal and financial independence.
She was not unhappy. In fact, she was freaking ecstatic. “For your information, I am very happy with my life.”
“When was the last time you were in a committed relationship? When was the last time you had sex? Hell, when was the last time you were on a date?”
“I don’t need a man to complete me.” The words spilled from her mouth automatically. It was her mantra, the basis for her book. The only constant in her life.
“May be not, but they sure can be fun to have around.”
And so not worth the hassle. She had her career and her friends. That was enough. For now. “Setting me up like this has put me in a terrible position. Considering all the people who will be at the wedding Saturday, it’s bound to get out that I spent a week in Mexico with my ex. You know how brutal the media can be. What if they start spreading rumors that we’re getting back together? What do you think that will do to my reputation?”
“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Deidre’s lower lip began to quiver and tears hovered just inside her eyelids. “I was only trying to help. If you want to leave, I understand.”
Ivy sighed. As mad as she was at her cousin, deep down she knew her intentions were pure. Deidre didn’t have a vindictive bone in her body. If she said she was trying to help, it was the truth, and it was executed out of love and concern.
Oh, hell.
She reached over and squeezed Deidre’s fisted hands. “I’m not going anywhere. This is the most important week of your life, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
The tears spilled over onto Deidre’s cheeks and rolled down, leaving wet dots on the front of her shirt. “Thank you.”
“Besides, Dillon and I talked, and we’ve reached somewhat of an agreement. I’ll avoid him and he’ll avoid me.” She gave Deidre’s hands a reassuring squeeze and forced a smile. “Really, how bad could it be?”
It could be bad, Ivy realized fifteen minutes later after Deidre left to see about dinner. Really bad.
She experienced the same eerie, familiar feeling as she had downstairs when Dillon had entered the room, and she looked up to find him a stone’s throw away, leaning on the edge of his own balcony on the opposite end of the house. His eyes were on her, steady and intense, as if he was biding his time, just waiting for her to notice him there.
“Howdy!” he called, wiggling his fingers in a casual, friendly, good-ole-boy wave. He looked out across the ocean, his chest expanding beneath his T-shirt as he drew in a long, deep breath. “Hell of a view, isn’t it?”
Oh, yes it is, she agreed silently, her eyes wandering over his solid frame. And she could feel it coming on, that little shimmy thing her heart did whenever he was near.
Here it comes…
No, no, no!
She lowered her eyes back to her book. Don’t look at him. Don’t encourage him in any way. May be he would take the hint and leave her alone.
He didn’t.
“Whatcha’ doin’?”
“Reading,” she answered, not looking up from the page. May be if she kept her answers short and succinct he would get a clue. He would realize she wanted him to leave her alone. Like he promised he would.
He didn’t.
She could still feel his eyes on her, feel him watching. Goose bumps shivered across her skin, and she felt fidgety and uncomfortable.
Ignore him and he’ll lose interest, she assured herself. Keep reading and he’ll get bored and go away. But she could feel her anxiety level climbing again. Her foot had begun to tap, the way it always did when she was nervous, and she was grinding her teeth.
She forced herself to relax.
“Good book?” He used a tone that suggested he was making friendly conversation. May be to break the ice, so the situation would be a bit less awkward.
He was wasting his time. The only conversation she was interested in having with him was the nonexistent kind. She didn’t want to break the ice, and she had no desire to make things less awkward.
She just wanted him to go away.
There was also the distinct possibility that, despite his promise to leave her alone, he was doing this to annoy her.
Either way, she was beginning to feel like a specimen under a microscope.
She took several deep, cleansing breaths, tried to concentrate on her book and not on the man staring at her.
After a few very long, tense moments he said, “Must be a good book.”
“It is.” Up until a few minutes ago, anyway. Now, as she tried to focus on the small print, the words ran together in a nonsensical jumble. Was a few minutes of peace really too much to ask for?
Several more minutes passed quietly by, but she knew without looking