Jillian Hart - Every Kind of Heaven

“All done. And without any damage, thanks to the caterer.” He finished bending a wire hanger back into place, but his gaze seared her from six feet away. “Lucky for us she had this in her van.”

“Yep, lucky for us.” But she didn’t feel fortunate. Her nose was still strawberry red, but now it felt hot, too, as if it were glowing under its own energy source.

He opened her driver’s side door, looking every inch the handsome millionaire in the designer tux he wore, which fit him like a vision. Of course. He appeared every inch the proverbial prince. And suddenly she knew how Cinderella felt in her ragged dress, wishing she could put on a fancy dress and change her circumstances.

“Here are your keys.” They rested on his wide, capable palm.

She couldn’t help but notice how strong his hand was. Calluses roughened his skin, as if he worked hard for a living. But that couldn’t be. Wasn’t he a trust fund kind of guy?

“Thanks, again.”

It took all her willpower to meet his gaze. His eyes were so kind and tender. Clearly, he wasn’t holding the mistaken identity thing against her. What a relief.

“Goodbye, Brice.” She scooped the keys from his hand as quickly as she could, but her fingertips brushed his hand.

It was like touching a piece of heaven. A corner of serenity. The shame within her faded until there was only a hush in her soul. She didn’t know why this happened, but it couldn’t be a good sign. She hopped into her car, grabbed her belt as Brice closed her door. Their gazes met, held through the tempered glass, and her world stilled. Her heart forgot to beat.

Probably from the aftereffects of a lethal dose of embarrassment and nothing else—surely not interest, she told herself as she started the engine. But she knew, down deep, that wasn’t the truth. The truth wasn’t something she could examine too closely.

She drove away, into the sun, purposefully keeping her gaze on the road ahead. She resisted the urge to peek at her rearview mirror and see if he was standing there, watching her go.

Chloe had cried in happiness at her first glimpse of the wedding cake. The cake had been cut, pictures taken, and everyone in the ballroom had been served, and still he could hear the conversation buzzing about the unbelievable cake. It had looked like a porcelain creation of art and beauty, impossible that it was edible. But every piece, from the intricate lace ruffles to the golden beads to the delicate curls of rose petals, had tasted as sweet as heaven.

Each of the two hundred carefully stacked serving boxes, printed to match the lacework of the cake, held an individual cake for the guests to take home. A heart-shaped version with sugary miniature rosebuds and golden ribbons. He thought of the woman who had done so much work as a gift to his sister. Chloe didn’t know it yet since he hadn’t found the moment to tell her. She looked as happy as a princess in her frosty white gown at her husband’s side.

Brice thanked God for his sister’s happiness. He wouldn’t mind having some of that kind of joy of his own. He took a gulp of sparkling cider, draining the glass. This was the spot where Ava had stood earlier this morning, with the pale morning sunshine sprinkling over her like a blessing.

Then she’d driven away. What had she been thinking? Did she like him at all? She hadn’t acted like it, and yet he’d thought he’d glimpsed something in her eyes. Something that made him think she might be feeling this, too.

Then again, she’d driven off pretty fast. That couldn’t be the best sign.

“There you are, big brother. You’ve been hiding.” Chloe swept close in her cloud of a dress.

“You know me. All this fancy stuff makes me itch.”

She slipped her arm through his. “You look dashing. Five of my former sorority sisters asked me if you were seeing someone.”

“And you said…?”

“That you seem to be interested in someone. But if I’m wrong, I have a long list of available women I can set you up with, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor.”

“You know I had nothing to do with that. It’s not me.” That only made him feel more out of place. Like he was a rich playboy looking for a fast lifestyle or a great catch for a debutante—both equally wrong.

All he wanted was to trade in this getup for his favorite T-shirt, jeans and his broken-in work boots. That’s who he really was, and all this glam and glitter made his palms sweat. He swept his hand toward the cake. “You don’t need to set me up with a date. I can do it myself.”

“Would you rather Mom did it? She’s working on it, you know. I was just trying to help out.”

“I know.” If anyone knew how rough of a time he’d had after the breakup with Whitney, it was Chloe. She meant well. “I can handle it from here.”

“I never doubted it.” She rose up on tiptoe to brush a sisterly kiss to his cheek. “I want you to be happy. I saw how you looked at Ava at my shower.”

“Exactly how was that?”

“Like you were glimpsing heaven. Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything to her, but you should ask her out. I bet she says yes.”

“I’ve tried that, but I don’t think she likes me.” Like he needed his baby sister’s dating advice. He could handle his own love life just fine. “She said no.”

“And since when does Brice Donovan take no for an answer?” She flounced away, grinning over her shoulder at him. “Try again, silly. Look out, here comes Mom.”

The problem was, his mother had been dropping some pretty strong hints lately. Now that she had Chloe successfully matched, she must be refocusing her energy on him. She seemed determined as she barreled through the crowd. Flawless, dressed in diamonds and flowing silk, she looked deceptively like a genteel upper-class lady instead of the five-star general she really was.

“Brice. You have been hiding again.” She tugged at his tie, unknotted and hanging loose. “This isn’t a barnyard. And what are you doing all the way over here? What are people going to think?”

He accepted the china dessert plate a server handed him. “Maybe people will think that I’m having a second piece of cake.”

“Yes. The cake. Horrible, that’s what it is. I don’t know what Chloe was thinking going with that McKaslin girl.”

“That she wanted her friend to make her wedding cake.”

“Ridiculous. That cake is unsophisticated and completely unacceptable. And the taste of it, why, it’s much too sweet. What is wrong with that girl? I told Chloe. I said, you’re going to regret going with her.”

“Mom, stop. You’re doing it again.”

“But did she listen to me? No, she had to have her own way. We ought to have gone with a professional, not some iffy girl who thinks because our family is richer than hers, she has the right to charge us an arm and a leg.”

He laid a hand on his mom’s arm to stop her. Sometimes she got such a wind going—sort of like gravity’s effect on a snowball rolling downhill—that she simply couldn’t realize what she was saying. “Chloe’s happy, and that’s all that matters. Besides, how much did Ava charge?”

“Ava, is it?” Mom’s face pinched, something only she could do and still look dignified. “I wouldn’t be so familiar with her if I were you. Her family has money, goodness, but that mother of hers.”

“People have been known to say the same thing about Chloe.” He said it gently, because he knew his mother didn’t mean to be harsh. She simply wasn’t aware of it. “I think Ava did an amazing job. So does everyone else in the room. Maybe you should learn to like sweet. You’re awfully fond of the bitter.”

“That had better not be a veiled reference to me, young man.” His mom smiled and tried to hide it, but her eyes were twinkling. “I work hard for this reputation. If people aren’t afraid of you, they take advantage. Now, come with me and say hello to a few of my dear friends.”