One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go

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 silly dress to her sister and let Karen make kids’ costumes from the yards and yards of material in the skirt. Her nieces would love having pink taffeta Halloween costumes, if they didn’t wear them out before then playing dress up.

A waiter came toward them with a tray of champagne in glass goblets, not the plastic throwaways that smelled like nail polish.

“Drink or dance?” Cole asked, snagging one for both of them with a casual thanks.

“Hard choice.” She wondered if he actually wanted to dance with her or was only being polite.

“Both, then.” He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. “To the happy couple.”

“To Mr. and Mrs. Menton.” She took a tiny sip, then a more substantial one. It tasted a lot better than the usual bubbly vinegar served at receptions. “You didn’t say whether you’re a friend of the bride or the groom.”

“I’m equally fond of both,” he said. “Good champagne. I usually hate it,” he said, draining the goblet determinedly.

“A friend of the couple? I’m surprised Lucinda never mentioned you.”

She finished her champagne and looked around for a place to put the glass. Cole took it and put both on a passing tray.

“I’m more a friend of what’s-his-name,” he said. “Menton.”

“Doug. His name is Doug.”

“Guess I don’t actually know him,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So Lucinda invited you?” He was up to something, and she was intrigued.

“Not exactly. My mother is a friend of her aunt.”

“Then why…”

“You’ve caught me!” He touched his finger to her lips. “I’m crashing the party. Will you keep it a secret?”

She nodded, and he took his finger away, leaving her lips with an oddly tingling sensation.

“But why?”

“Just for kicks. Want to dance?”

“Sure, why not?”

She didn’t kid herself. He hadn’t crashed the reception just to glide across the waxy hardwood floor with an old school acquaintance, but he really could dance. Responding to the firm pressure of his fingers on her satin-armored waist, she followed his lead with exhilaration.

“You’re making me look good,” she said a trifle breathlessly.

“You are good.”

He sounded surprised, but she didn’t care. Dancing with Cole was incredibly…stimulating. Her dress rustled, Cole hummed, and her ears buzzed. Could it be she was feeling tipsy on one glass of champagne?

“What do you do?” he asked, his lips so close to her forehead she could feel a warm whisper of air when he spoke.

“Do?”

He pressed the hand he was holding against his chest and twirled her around a flat-footed couple who were shuffling across the floor without much regard for the music.

“Job, career, work?”

His sarcasm got through to her.

“I have a store at Rockstone Mall.”

“Let me guess. Flower shop?”

“No.”

“Pet supplies—doggie sweaters and gourmet treats for pampered cats?”

“No, I’m into pampering babies. My store is Baby Mart.”

The song ended, and the band members stood up for their break. Did they have to take one now?

“As a matter of fact, Bailey Baby Products is my main supplier. Your company’s high chairs outsell all competitors five to one,” she said enthusiastically, groping for common ground to keep him with her a little longer.

“My grandfather’s company,” he said dryly. “Zack and I have a construction business.”

“That’s nice.”

This conversation was going nowhere, and he obviously wasn’t focused on her anymore. Well, he wasn’t her date, however pleasant it was to have a gorgeous man in tow.

“Thanks for the dance,” she said as casually as possible. “I need to speak to a friend over there.”

The friend was imaginary, but the technique was all hers. When a guy started looking through her, beyond her or over her head, she liked to be the one who walked away.

She headed toward the universal haven of unescorted women, wishing she’d had room for a hair pick in the tiny satin drawstring bag that came with the dress. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wished she could wet down the sausage curls and loosen the stiff nylon petticoat, but it would take more than that to get Cole Bailey to go home with her.

Dang, where did that thought come from? She was swearing off champagne forever!

After touching up her lipstick, she went back to the reception, killed an hour gossiping with Lucinda’s younger sister, then filled a plate at the buffet and sat at a table with the bride’s great-aunt, who was allergic to every food from grapefruit to garlic and liked to talk about it. Tess murmured sympathetically and picked at the smoked salmon, but she couldn’t help tracking Cole. It wasn’t hard. For an uninvited guest, he certainly wasn’t trying to be inconspicuous. In fact, he zeroed in on the most eye-catching women and was never without a dance partner.

Lucinda had assigned little jobs to all her attendants, and Tess had the task of organizing the bouquet toss. The clubhouse had once been a millionaire’s mansion, and the front hallway had a curving staircase wide enough for a 1930s musical comedy number. Naturally Lucinda wanted to stand above the rabble when she tossed her artfully arranged bunch of orchids.

“Use the mike,” Lucinda commanded when she swished by to give Tess her marching orders.