Helen Lacey - Once Upon a Bride

“Who said anything about love?” Lauren pushed back her blond bangs.

Cassie’s calm expression was unwavering. “Is that really what you want? A loveless relationship without passion and heat?”

Lauren shrugged. “Marriage doesn’t have to be about sexual attraction. Or love.”

She saw her friends’ expressions, knew that even though they were both fiercely loyal and supported her unconditionally, they still thought her thinking madness. But she wasn’t swayed. How could they really appreciate her feelings? Or understand what she wanted?

They couldn’t.

But she knew what she wanted. No lust, no crazy chemistry. No fairy-tale love.

No risk.

“That’s just grief talking,” Cassie said quietly. “When a marriage breaks down, it’s natural to—”

“I’m not mourning my divorce,” she insisted. No, definitely not. Because she knew exactly what mourning felt like. “I’m glad it’s over. I shouldn’t have married a man I hardly knew. I’ve tried being in love, I’ve tried being in lust...and neither worked out. Believe it or not, for the first time in a long time, I actually know what I want.”

“Which is?” Mary-Jayne prompted, still grinning.

Lauren smiled at her friend. “Which is an honest, uncomplicated relationship with someone I can talk to.... Someone I can laugh with...have children with...grow old with. You know, the usual things. Someone who’s a friend. A companion. And not with a man who looks as though he was made to pose for an underwear ad on one of those highway billboards.”

“Like Gabe?” Mary-Jayne suggested playfully, and drank some champagne. “Okay, I get it. You want short, chubby and bald...not tall, dark and handsome. But in the meantime, how about we all get back to the ballroom and find some totally complicated man to dance with?”

“Not me,” Cassie said, and touched her four-month-pregnant belly. Her boyfriend was a soldier currently on tour in the Middle East. “But I’ll happily watch from the sidelines.”

Lauren shook her head. “I think I’ll stay out here for a while. You two go on ahead.”

Her friends took another couple of minutes to leave, and when she was alone, Lauren snatched up the colorful bouquet, stood and walked the ten feet toward the edge of the pool. Solitude crept over her skin, and she sighed. Weddings always made her melancholy. Which was unfortunate, since she owned the most successful bridal store in Bellandale. Weddings were her life. Some days, though, she thought that to be the most absurd irony.

Of course, she was pleased for her brother. Cameron deserved every bit of happiness with his new bride, Grace Preston. And the ceremony had been beautiful and romantic. But she had a hollow spot in her chest that ached with a heavy kind of sadness. Many of the guests now inside the big hotel ballroom had witnessed her union to James Wallace in similar style three years earlier. And most knew how it had ended. Tonight, more than ever before, Lauren’s sadness was amplified by her embarrassment at being on the receiving end of countless pitying looks and sympathetic greetings.

She took a deep breath and exhaled with a shudder. Somehow, her dreams for the future had been lost. But two years on, and with so many tears shed, she was stronger. And ready to start again. Only this time, Lauren would do it right. She wouldn’t rush into marriage after a three-month whirlwind romance. And she definitely wouldn’t be swept off her feet. This time, her feet were staying firmly on the ground.

Lauren swallowed hard, smoothed the mint-green chiffon gown over her hips and turned on her heels.

And was unexpectedly confronted with Gabe Vitali.

Stretched out on a sun lounger, tie askew and with his black hair ruffled as if he’d been running his hand through it, he looked so gorgeous, she literally gasped for breath. He was extraordinarily handsome, like one of those old-time movie stars. His glittering, blue-eyed gaze swept over her, and a tiny smile creased the corners of his mouth.

And she knew immediately...

He’d heard.

Everything.

Every humiliating word. Heat raced up and smacked her cheeks. Great.

Of course, she had no logical reason to dislike him...other than the fact he was good-looking and sexy and made her insides flip-flop. But it was enough to keep her from allowing her fantasies to take over. She gripped the bouquet tighter and planted her free hand on her hip in a faux impression of control, and spoke. “Whatever you might have thought you heard, I assure you I wasn’t—”

“How are the knees?” he asked as he sprang up.

He was tall, around six-two, with broad shoulders and a long-legged frame. And he looked way too good in a suit. Resentment burned through her when she realized he was referring to her earlier confession.

“Fine,” she replied, dying of embarrassment inside. “Rock solid.”

He came around the lounger, hands thrust into his pockets. “You’re sure about that?”

Lauren glared at him. “Positive,” she snapped, mortified. She wanted to flee, but quickly realized she’d have to squeeze herself in between him and the sun lounger if she wanted to make a getaway. “I think I’ll return to the ballroom now, if you don’t mind.”

His mouth curled at the edges. “You know, just because someone knows your vulnerabilities, it doesn’t necessarily make him your enemy.”

Lauren’s skin heated. “Vulnerabilities?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t quite know what you mean by that, but if you’re insinuating that I’m vulnerable because I haven’t... Because I... Well, because it’s been a while since I was...you know...” Her words trailed off as mortification clung to every pore. Then she got annoyed as a quick cover-up. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not the least bit vulnerable. Not to you or to anyone like you.”

He grinned. “Whoa. Are you always so prickly?”

Prickly? She wasn’t prickly. She was even tempered and friendly and downright nice.

She glared at him. “Do you always eavesdrop on private conversations?”

“I was simply relaxing on a pool lounger,” he replied smoothly, his accent so delicious, it wound up her spine like liquid silk. “And I was here before you, remember? The fact you spoke about your sex life so openly is really no one’s fault but your own.” One brow rose. “And although it was entertaining, there’s no need to take your frustration out on—”

“I am not frustrated,” she snapped, figuring he was probably referring to her being sexually starved in some misguided, macho way. Broad shoulders, blue eyes and nice voice aside, he was a jerk. “I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. What I’d like is to forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Lauren wanted a big hole to open up and suck her in. When one didn’t appear, she took a deep breath. “So we have a deal. I’ll ignore you, and you can ignore me. That way we never have to speak to each other again.”

“Since this is the first time we have actually spoken,” he said, his gaze deep enough to get lost in. “I don’t think it will be a hardship.”

He was right. They’d never spoken. She’d made sure of it. Whenever he was close, she’d always managed to make a quick getaway. Lauren sniffed her dislike, determined to ignore the fact that the most gorgeous man she’d ever met probably thought she was stark raving mad. And she would have done exactly that. Except she turned her heel too quickly, got caught between the tiles, and seconds later, she was tumbling in a cartwheel of arms and legs and landed into the pool, bouquet flying, humiliation complete.

The shock of hitting the water was quickly interrupted when a pair of strong hands grasped one arm, then another. In seconds, she was lifted up and over the edge of the pool and set right on her feet.