His Brother's Fiancee. Jasmine Cresswell
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sensed the anxiety lurking only a hairbreadth beneath the cool surface.
“Emily, what’s bothering you?” he asked quietly. “I assumed it was the search for your birth mother that had you on the edge, which is why I pressed you hard about the risks involved. But I’ve been watching you closely, and I’m fairly sure it’s not this investigation that has you half a step away from full-blown panic. It’s something else. Can I help?”
“No, but I really appreciate the offer. It sounded genuine.”
“It was. I have broad shoulders if you feel the need to unload a problem.”
It occurred to her that Dylan would be an easy man to confide in. It also occurred to her that he must encounter people all the time who were struggling with heartbreaking, life-or-death dilemmas. She suddenly realized that 350 disgruntled guests didn’t amount to a life-or-death problem. As for heartbreaking… Her heart, now that she stopped to think about it, seemed remarkably unscathed by Michael’s casual termination of their engagement. Her pride was rubbed raw and she was panicked by the sudden upheaval in her plans for her future, but there was no gaping wound in her emotions. In fact, for a bride jilted almost at the altar, she was embarrassingly free of grief.
Emily flashed Dylan her first genuine smile in several hours. “I’ve just this minute come to the conclusion that I don’t have much of a problem at all. Other than the fact that I’ve been indulging in an exaggerated case of self-pity, which I plan to snap out of right now. Thank you again for your excellent advice.”
“You’re welcome.” Dylan grinned. “Sometime you must let me know what I said that was so insightful.” He walked her to the door. “You’d probably like to see Carolyn before you leave. Her office is two doors down. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks. I’ll look forward to hearing from you as soon as you have any news about my birth mother.” Emily said a final goodbye and marched purposefully down the hallway to Carolyn’s office. The door was open and she stepped inside without knocking.
“I’m not going to marry Michael,” she announced. “You’re the first person to hear the news.”
The sky didn’t fall and the walls of the building remained standing. In fact, her announcement seemed considerably less amazing once she’d actually spoken it out loud.
Carolyn, who’d been working at a computer, swiveled around on her chair and looked at Emily without saying anything. Her expression revealed nothing at all about what she was thinking, not even that she was surprised.
“You want to sit down and tell me about it?” Carolyn asked finally.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.” Whatever story she invented for the benefit of the world at large, Carolyn was her best friend and would have the plain, unvarnished truth. But not right now. Not today.
“I’ve been really stupid, and it still feels too frightening to talk about,” Emily said by way of explanation. Her heart might not be shattered, but it could still ache for dreams and hopes that weren’t going to be fulfilled. “Give me a few hours to get my head fixed on straight and then I’ll share all the gory details.”
“Okay. Subject closed. So what shall we do tonight?” Carolyn rallied like the trooper she was. “Want to come to my place and eat popcorn and watch bad movies? Hop on a plane to Dallas? Drive into the country and spend the night at a motel, drinking champagne and dissing men? You name it, I’m game.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, feeling tears spring into her eyes. “You’re a wonderful friend, Caro. But I think what you should do tonight is attend the Sutton-Chambers bridal dinner at the San Antonio Federal Club. Trust me, the food’s going to be spectacular. The champagne is all from France, and there are a bunch of cute guys coming, and most of them dance really well.”
“But I thought you said you weren’t going to marry Michael?”
“I’m not. But it’s too late to cancel the bridal dinner. Everything will have to be paid for anyway, so somebody might as well eat all the fancy food Mrs. Chambers has spent three months selecting.” Emily was quite proud of her smile. “The bride and groom will be missing, but that should at least make for some interesting table gossip.”
“Well, I don’t know, Em…”
“Go, Carolyn. Please. I want you to. You bought a super new dress, you told me so. You might as well wear it and leave all the men of San Antonio eating their hearts out because you’re so unattainable.”
Carolyn laughed. “You’ve got me mixed up with you,” she said. “You’re the one who left a trail of broken hearts when you accepted Michael’s proposal.”
Emily sent her friend a grateful smile. It was so typical of Carolyn to say something to boost her morale. “Thanks, Caro. I wish we could have lunch together so you could pay me lots more slick compliments, but I ought to get back, I suppose. I can’t put off talking to my parents any longer.”
“Do you want me to call any of the guests? Warn the other bridesmaids? Anything along those lines?”
Emily felt herself break out in a cold sweat at this reminder of what she would shortly be facing. “I don’t know what to say….” She drew in a steadying breath. “No. Don’t tell anyone that the wedding’s off. I think it’s best if we just let everyone turn up for the bridal dinner tonight and then my parents will have to make some kind of an announcement.”
Carolyn sent her a look of real sympathy. “You went a bit white around the gills when you said that. Are you okay to drive yourself home, Em?”
“Yes, I’ll manage. I’m fine, really.” She looked at her watch and realized that she’d left the Chambers’ home well over two hours ago. “Wow! I really have to get back and face the music. I’ll be in touch soon, I promise. Take care, Carolyn.”
“You, too, Em. Drive carefully. Love ya.”
“Love you, too, babe.”
Carolyn watched her friend leave. “But you didn’t love Michael,” she muttered under her breath. “Thank goodness you realized that in time to get out of marrying him.”
CHAPTER THREE
EMILY DIDN’T NEED to ask where everyone was when she finally managed to fight her way through the crush of city traffic and return to the Chambers’s house. The sound of loud, angry voices informed her she would find a large gathering of furious people in the family room at the rear of the house.
Feet dragging, she walked slowly down the hallway, fighting a cowardly urge to hide in one of the formal reception rooms, where the heavy antique furnishings provided cover, and Victorian oil portraits of Chambers ancestors looked down at the goings-on of their descendants with bland indifference.
The irate voices grew progressively louder, with Mr. Chambers’s upper-crust baritone booming over a cacophony of other speakers. Her mother sounded as if she might be crying, and Emily winced in anticipation. The prospect of opening the door to the family room and facing the hurt and disappointment of her parents was almost enough to have Emily turn tail and run as fast as her legs could carry her in the opposite direction. But the thought of Mr. Chambers berating her mother put some steel into her flabby backbone. Reminding herself that a canceled wedding barely rated as an earthshaking problem in the grand scheme of things, Emily opened the door.
The family room was little used and quite small, converted from a combination of the old butler’s pantry and housekeeper’s sitting room. Right now it appeared crammed to overflowing with irate people. Her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Chambers. Michael. Jeff Greiff, his campaign manager. Michael’s brother, Jordan, was also there, standing a little apart from the others and staring out of the window. He was the only person who wasn’t yelling, shouting or crying.
Emily swallowed hard. The tension swirling around the room was powerful enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs. Her