Jennifer Drew - One Bride Too Many - One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go

A few minutes ago she’d been furious with Danny-the-creep Wilson for breaking his promise to go to the wedding with her. Now she was glad he was off sailing with his boss and some clients. She was tired of men like him, male friends who cadged meals, borrowed money and called her “good buddy.” It would be a small, if short-lived, triumph to walk into the grand ballroom with Cole. He was just another pal from her past, but no one here knew that.

Why did she have so many male friends and no real boyfriend? Guys called her when they wanted to whine about work or the women who did them wrong. They never seemed to notice she was ripe and ready, not even after she slimmed down to a size eight and learned to lose at everything from tennis and video games to battles of wit.

Cole smiled broadly when he returned from disposing of her present.

“Thanks for carrying it,” she said, smiling. “From now on, I give nothing but towels.”

“Towels are nice,” he said in a tone that labeled them boring, “but I’m glad we got together. Big receptions are a drag when you don’t know anyone.”

“Except the happy couple, of course, but they only have eyes for each other.”

He offered his arm. She took it, more than a little impressed by the way his bicep strained against the sleek, dark sleeve of his suitcoat.

They walked into a ballroom that reeked of old money—a blend of greenhouse flowers, high-priced liquor and expensive perfumes.

He dropped his arm, and she felt let down. Of course, she couldn’t expect him to hang with her all evening just because they’d once taken the same class.

“Fancy affair.” He sounded vaguely disapproving.

“Yeah, I guess.”

She knew he was much more likely to feel comfortable at a society wedding than she was. His grandfather was wealthy and important, and the twins had grown up in the lap of luxury, so to speak. Not that Tess wasn’t inordinately proud of her family. Dad was a high-school coach who thought it was more important to teach values than win games, and her mom taught reading skills to kids who would otherwise wash out of the system. Her older sister, Karen, was a third-grade teacher with a peach of a husband and two adorable girls, Erika, five, and Erin, seven.

Tess was the family maverick, but thankfully she had a natural flair for business. She’d built up a successful baby store on her own and had recently moved to a high-rent location, the Rockstone Mall. So far the store was thriving, mainly because she stayed current on all the latest gadgets, gimmicks and gizmos made for little people.

“I prefer receptions at a lodge hall or in the back room of a restaurant,” Cole said, scanning the enormous room.

“Where the girls are more fun because they’re tipsy?” she teased, wondering why she felt free to say whatever came to mind with him.

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?”