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

“I’m impressed.” He actually was. He’d never played league pool, but he knew it attracted good players.

It was his turn to break, and he found himself wanting badly to win without giving her a turn to shoot. Maybe he needed to prove to himself he was the better player. No question his dirty trick had distracted her in the last game. Hell, it was hard for him to concentrate just thinking about it. He could still feel her snug against his front, her bottom wiggling just enough to make him wish she was a date, someone he could take home with him.

“Idiot!” he muttered under his breath. This was Tess. She’d lost the baby fat, but that didn’t make her fair game. He felt uncomfortable enough using her to meet other women without toying with her. A friend didn’t treat a friend that way.

He made a couple of mediocre shots, but his heart wasn’t in them. He’d basically stolen the first game. When his third shot bounced an inch away from the hole, he was happy enough to relinquish the table to Tess. He hadn’t exactly thrown the game, but his sloppy playing gave him what he deserved—a loss.

“Even up,” she said with satisfaction. “Now let’s see some real pool.”

As the winner of the previous game, it was her turn to break the rack. Cole narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the balls and trying not to see the way her breasts filled out her tank top when she leaned over the table. Women always had the power of distraction on their side, but he had more riding on this game than an opportunity for cheap thrills.

He squeezed the pool cue until his knuckles were white. He wanted out. He didn’t want to get married, especially not on his grandfather’s timetable. But he knew darn well his mother would be ousted as CEO unless the stock stayed in the family. A young hotshot MBA would come in and take Mom’s place. Even assuming Nick, his half brother, would get his share, he and Zack had to come through for her.

Balls moved on the bright green table, but his gaze was unfocused. His whole future could depend on Tess Morgan’s ability to push balls with a stick. If she introduced him to someone he decided to marry…

Or if she won and refused to help…

Cole forced himself to pay attention. He was in trouble. Two more shots, and she’d be the winner. He’d lose the game and the bet without getting another shot.

“Oh, no!” She sounded genuinely distressed.

She’d missed her shot. He’d been sure she was going to beat him, and it took a minute to realize he still had a chance.

He bit his lower lip, telling himself not to get cocky. He could still blow it. Wiping first one palm, then the other, on the sides of his pants, he tried to psych himself up to win.

“Number seven in the side pocket.” He called his shot as a courtesy of the game even though it was obviously his only option.

The cue ball banged the seven ball in with a satisfying thud.

“I knew you couldn’t miss that,” Tess said in a tone of disgust.

As the shooter, he could still miss the next shot and lose the bet. He didn’t like the angle between the eight ball and the cup. He’d made harder shots, but he’d missed easier.

Holding his breath, he went for it.

The thud of the eight ball going down the hole was music to his ears.

“Well, I guess you’re the winner,” Tess conceded.

She put out her hand to congratulate him. It was soft against his work-hardened palm, and he didn’t feel particularly elated at beating her.

“You shot a great game,” he said.

“Oh, sure, I lost two out of three, and I was trying hard to win,” she said with a look of disgust. “Getting a blind date for you of all people seems ludicrous. Tell me you were only kidding.”

“Not kidding.”

“Do you have a list?”

“List?” He reluctantly dropped her hand, but still felt a vague need to comfort her for losing.

“Shopping list, wish list, list of likes and dislikes.”

“No, nothing like that.” He laughed self-consciously.

“Everyone has some likes or dislikes. Give me a clue of what kind of person you have in mind.” She sounded grumpy.

“Well, I’d rather she didn’t pick her teeth in public.”

“Be serious!”

“I am. I went with a girl—briefly—who had a teeth fetish. The minute she finished eating, out came the floss.”

“None of my friends would be that gross.”

“That’s why I need your help. You know things about them. I trust your judgment.”

She was putting her stick in the case when two women walked up to the table.

“Are you through for the night?” A platinum blonde batted lashes heavy with mascara.

“The table is all yours,” Tess said. “I’m leaving.”

“How about a challenge match?” the other woman said to Cole.

He checked out her breasts—it would be hard not to notice them since they stuck out in all the glory silicone could produce—and backed away a step.

“Thanks, but I’m calling it a night,” he said.

“Pool isn’t the only game we play.” The blonde was wearing a skirt so short it looked like black leather underpants. She sidled up to Cole, took his arm and rubbed her hip against his.

“I’m leaving,” he insisted.

On his other side, the well-endowed friend wrapped her arm around his waist with the subtlety of a boa constrictor closing in on its prey. He tightened his buttocks when her hand crept downward.

“He’s with me.” Tess faced down the two predators, cue in hand.

Cole didn’t know whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

“Too bad.”

One of them—he didn’t know or care which—patted his butt. Any annoyance he might have felt was tempered by the fact that he’d tried to win a pool game by snuggling up to Tess’s backside.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her cue and her arm.

Women, he’d learned early on, could be just as obnoxious as men when they were on the make. He had to credit Marsh for trying to protect him from the dregs of the female gender, but the old man should give him credit for some sense, not to mention taste in women.

“Well, that was fun,” Tess muttered as he followed her out to the parking area. “Where were those two when they could’ve done my game some good?”