One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go. Jennifer Drew
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Not so unfortunate for him. “I’d be glad to.”
He hefted the box and walked beside her toward the clubhouse. How could one person change so much and so little at the same time? She had the same tentative smile, but he didn’t remember her lips being so lush, no thanks to the metallic pink lipstick that was probably supposed to match the dress. Her eyes were bluer than he recalled, but maybe ten years ago she hadn’t looked at him so directly. She had apple cheeks, part of the reason he and Zack had enjoyed making her blush, but there was nothing plump about any part of her now, including her face. She had golden-tan skin, a cute nose and arched brows, altogether a pretty package.
“I didn’t see you at the church,” she commented.
“I’m not big on weddings. It’s a bachelor phobia.”
“Oh, you’re still single?”
“You sound surprised.”
“A little. Girls liked you a lot in high school—more than Zack even, but I shouldn’t tell you that.”
“It’s my brother you shouldn’t tell. He thought he was quite a ladies’ man back then.”
Since winning the coin toss, Zack was the happy twin, free to continue playing the field. He was also the one who could get a date with a complete stranger anytime just by saying, “How about it?”
Cole wasn’t at all eager to begin wife-hunting, but he hoped to get a date or two at this reception. Zack would have too much fun trying to give him advice on how to get a woman if he struck out.
“Is Zack married?”
“No, we’re both lonely bachelors. What about you? Are you married?”
“No—and don’t pretend you’re surprised.”
He protested weakly, but he wasn’t at all surprised. As far as he knew, she hadn’t had a boyfriend in high school and probably still put men off with her wholesomeness. It had had nothing to do with looks. She’d always been too reserved, too self-contained—maybe too shy.
“Meeting the right person isn’t easy,” he said glumly, thinking of his grandfather’s unrealistic expectations. Maybe in Marsh’s day virgins panting for husbands were plentiful, but the old man needed a wake-up call. This was the twenty-first century! It was a lot easier to find a playmate than a longtime partner.
They climbed the steps at the main entrance of the imposing pseudo-Elizabethan clubhouse, its stucco walls gleaming white and the timbers freshly stained a deep mahogany brown. He’d lucked out in connecting with Tess and her big box. Private security was hovering like dark-suited ghosts, and when he saw the gift room off the foyer, it was pretty clear why. Besides wicker, the bride was obviously into silver and other pricey stuff. He didn’t need Tess’s prompting to carry her gift in with the others and put it in a corner.
TESS WAITED while Cole discreetly made her gift disappear in the treasure trove of Lucinda’s loot. He’d been a hunk in high school—she’d sighed over his picture in the yearbook for an embarrassingly long time—but he’d matured and lost his boyish cuteness. Now he was drop-dead gorgeous. His face was sun-bronzed, and a light crease line in his forehead made his dark brows and eyes even sexier.
A few minutes ago she’d been furious with Danny-the-creep Wilson for breaking his promise to go to the wedding with her. Now she was glad he was off sailing with his boss and some clients. She was tired of men like him, male friends who cadged meals, borrowed money and called her “good buddy.” It would be a small, if short-lived, triumph to walk into the grand ballroom with Cole. He was just another pal from her past, but no one here knew that.
Why did she have so many male friends and no real boyfriend? Guys called her when they wanted to whine about work or the women who did them wrong. They never seemed to notice she was ripe and ready, not even after she slimmed down to a size eight and learned to lose at everything from tennis and video games to battles of wit.
Cole smiled broadly when he returned from disposing of her present.
“Thanks for carrying it,” she said, smiling. “From now on, I give nothing but towels.”
“Towels are nice,” he said in a tone that labeled them boring, “but I’m glad we got together. Big receptions are a drag when you don’t know anyone.”
“Except the happy couple, of course, but they only have eyes for each other.”
He offered his arm. She took it, more than a little impressed by the way his bicep strained against the sleek, dark sleeve of his suitcoat.
They walked into a ballroom that reeked of old money—a blend of greenhouse flowers, high-priced liquor and expensive perfumes.
He dropped his arm, and she felt let down. Of course, she couldn’t expect him to hang with her all evening just because they’d once taken the same class.
“Fancy affair.” He sounded vaguely disapproving.
“Yeah, I guess.”
She knew he was much more likely to feel comfortable at a society wedding than she was. His grandfather was wealthy and important, and the twins had grown up in the lap of luxury, so to speak. Not that Tess wasn’t inordinately proud of her family. Dad was a high-school coach who thought it was more important to teach values than win games, and her mom taught reading skills to kids who would otherwise wash out of the system. Her older sister, Karen, was a third-grade teacher with a peach of a husband and two adorable girls, Erika, five, and Erin, seven.
Tess was the family maverick, but thankfully she had a natural flair for business. She’d built up a successful baby store on her own and had recently moved to a high-rent location, the Rockstone Mall. So far the store was thriving, mainly because she stayed current on all the latest gadgets, gimmicks and gizmos made for little people.
“I prefer receptions at a lodge hall or in the back room of a restaurant,” Cole said, scanning the enormous room.
“Where the girls are more fun because they’re tipsy?” she teased, wondering why she felt free to say whatever came to mind with him.
He laughed. “There is that.”
It was a huge reception, but the majority of the guests were north of forty. Lucinda’s parents had lots of friends, but Tess’s weren’t among them. It was only an alphabetical accident that she and Lucinda were old friends. Since grade school, L. Montrose and T. Morgan had been paired up. They’d renewed their friendship when Lucinda’s dad had called in a favor with the mall management corporation and gotten his daughter a job doing publicity for Rockstone, where Tess had her store. For the first time in her life, Lucinda had been out of her depth, possessing little flair for promotions. No surprise, she’d come to rely on Tess for sympathy and suggestions.
Tess glanced at the sturdy little wristwatch she’d managed to slip past the bride’s last-minute inspection. She was genuinely fond of her longtime friend, but this wedding had brought out the worst in Lucinda, turning her into a control freak. A slightly plump blonde, she’d dressed the seven bridesmaids in nursery-rhyme costumes that made them look like pink pumpkins. She said it gave the wedding a quaint ambience.
Tess came to the reception with one thought—how soon could she sneak away without being missed? She was enjoying her moment in the sun with Cole, but no doubt he’d soon be snatched away by one of the many predatory, but not necessarily single, women who were looking for a way to milk a little fun out of an otherwise dull affair.
Fortunately the dinner was a buffet, and Lucinda wasn’t going to share the limelight by having her quaint maidens on display at a head table. Unfortunately there were still little rituals that demanded Tess’s presence—single girls diving for the bouquet as though they believed the prize was a wedding of their own, bachelors tussling manfully over the garter, the bride and groom smearing cake on each other’s lips so they could do the giggle-and-smooch bit. Why had she agreed to yet another stint as a bridesmaid? Tomorrow she’d take this