Doctors in the Wedding. GINA WILKINS
Читать онлайн книгу.
someone I want you to meet. I think he’s just your type. I can’t wait to introduce you.”
Wouldn’t it be interesting if the man BiBi had in mind was dressed as Indiana Jones tonight? Because, talk about her type …
“His name is Allen,” BiBi added with a toss of her ponytail.
Madison told herself she wasn’t disappointed. Of all the men in attendance at tonight’s party, what were the odds that Jason would have been the match BiBi had chosen for her?
Three women in colorful costumes swept into the restroom before Madison could politely assert that she wasn’t looking for a fix-up while she was in town. Descending on the stalls and mirrors, the newcomers greeted BiBi, who introduced them all to Madison. Their conversation effectively at an end, Madison and BiBi then headed back to the party.
Madison scanned for a battered fedora as soon as she entered the raucous ballroom. A squarely built soldier in a red coat, ruffled shirt, khaki breeches and a white, ponytailed wig stepped into her path, blocking her view. He studied her with bright blue eyes as he asked BiBi, “Who is this lovely lady with you this evening, Lady BiBi? Can you wrinkle your genie nose and convince her to give me a dance?”
Laughing at his foolishness, BiBi slapped the man’s arm playfully. “Allen, you’re so silly. We were just talking about you. Maddie, this is Carl’s cousin, Allen Burleson. Allen, this is Dr. Madison Baker, one of my dearest friends since college.”
Sweeping his tricorn hat into a deep bow, Allen grinned up at Madison. “Delighted to meet you. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Calling on the manners her mother had drilled into her from birth, Madison smiled brightly and gave him her full attention, rather than continuing to search the room as she was tempted to do. “Of course.”
The music was still fast and frantic, another novelty Halloween pop tune, but easy enough to dance to. Madison figured she could make a decent showing even in the ridiculously high heels BiBi had lent her.
“You’re dressed as a fortune-teller tonight, aren’t you?” Allen asked as he escorted her to the center of the dance floor.
“Yes. And you’re a British soldier. A redcoat.”
“That I am, my lady.” He chuckled and fixed his tricorn on his head, skewing the wig just a little. Managing not to wince at his very bad British accent, Madison thought wistfully of a weathered, wide-brimmed hat, resisting a renewed impulse to take just a quick peek around the room.
“So what’s your prediction for me?” he asked, leaning toward her to be heard over the music, his body beginning to jerk in a rather awkward man-dance.
Smiling, she swayed in time to the rhythm, eyeing his uniform meaningfully. “You’re going to lose.”
Allen heaved a heavy sigh. “The story of my life,” he said, mock mournfully.
He seemed very pleasant. Nice-looking, too. But her pulse didn’t race with his smiles, nor did she get weak-kneed at the thought of dancing closely to him. Maybe it was because of their more traditional introduction. Maybe had she met Jason the same way, he’d have seemed no more mysterious and fascinating to her than Allen. But then she pictured his gleaming eyes and flashing smile.
Okay, maybe not. Maybe Jason was every bit as compelling as he’d seemed.
Jason D’Alessandro felt as though he had two choices. He could head for the door and slip out of the party early, or hang around a little while longer in hopes of running into the fascinating gypsy again. He’d been pretty much pounced upon by Carl and his other friends the minute he’d walked back into the ballroom after eating, and he hadn’t been able to make a graceful escape since.
Across the room, Corinna caught his eye, smiled weakly, then turned away to continue a highly animated conversation with a woman dressed in a leopard-print catsuit. He sighed. That situation was truly awkward. He was fond of Corinna, but that was all there was to it. He couldn’t foresee his feelings ever developing into more, as he had made it clear to her in as tactful and considerate a manner as possible a couple of weeks ago. That conversation had surely been as painful for him as it had for her, and he still fretted about whether he’d chosen the right words. He just hoped she would finally accept the facts without being hurt—and without putting a wedge between two families who’d been connected for much longer than either of them had been alive.
He was tired. The booming music, mostly novelty Halloween tunes, was starting to give him a headache. At thirty, he was approximately the same age as the other party guests, but he was beginning to think he was too old for keg-and-costume parties.
It was rather a relief when the volume decreased and the music became background rather than prominent. A microphone reverberated, causing everyone around him to grimace and cover their ears. Someone laughed into it, and then a round of somewhat intoxicated toasts toward BiBi and Carl began. It sounded as though they could go on for a while.
Remembering that pleasant interlude in the courtyard earlier, he snagged another cocktail and slipped through the doors while everyone else was laughing at the string of suggestive jokes coming from the microphone. He’d take just a few quiet minutes, he promised himself, then he’d return to the party. Or maybe he’d come up with an excuse and leave for the night.
When he saw the beautiful gypsy standing in the courtyard, sipping champagne and gazing meditatively at the fountain, he decided maybe he’d stay awhile longer, after all.
The embedded lights in the garden played softly across Madison’s features, glittered from the gold accents of her colorful costume and reflected in her blue eyes when she looked up at him. Moonlight bathed her bare shoulders and silvered the soft waves of blond hair spilling from beneath her headscarf.
“Hello again, Dr. Jones.”
Chapter Two
Jason got a kick out of hearing Madison call him that whimsical nickname in her sultry, musical voice. Though he wasn’t usually a man who indulged in fantasy, he found it easy to slide right into the character of suave adventurer with her. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Esmeralda.”
She smiled up at him from beneath her thick lashes when she took another taste of her champagne. “I am a fortune-teller,” she reminded him with a soft jingle of bracelets as she indicated her very flattering—and delightfully revealing—outfit.
“You never got around to telling mine earlier.”
“We were rather rudely interrupted.”
“So we were. You seem to have dried off nicely.” He couldn’t help glancing downward to the front of her white peasant blouse. And since he happened to be looking that way, he might as well linger just a moment to admire the expanse of creamy, glistening skin revealed above the low neckline, the deep shadow of cleavage, the tiny mole just above her …
She cleared her throat. “Um, Jones?”
With an unapologetic grin, he lifted his eyes. “Yes?”
“You’re being very bold, sir.”
Her tone was teasing, not offended, so his grin only deepened when he murmured, “You know how it is with us epic adventurers.”
“Sadly, yes.” She injected just the right amount of world-weary resignation into her tone to make him laugh. Damn, but it was fun to be with her. The only real fun he’d had tonight.
He motioned toward the open French doors, through which they could still hear voices, laughter and music. “You’re missing the toasts.”
She glanced that way, then lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “There will be plenty more this weekend. I needed a little break.”
“Yeah. Me, too. With all those people in there, it gets too stuffy inside.”
She nodded. “It is warm in there. It’s very nice out here.”