Stacy Connelly - The Wedding She Always Wanted

“So show ‘em you don’t care,” he encouraged, lifting a hand and running his index finger from the nape of her neck down … over her bare skin … until he hit the top of her dress, where he traced the line of the zipper to the small of her back.

Half surprised the small metal teeth didn’t simply melt away, Emily swallowed hard and searched for an argument to keep herself from doing the same. “I do care. I should care. Today was supposed to be my wedding day. I was supposed to be marrying the man I loved and—”

“But you didn’t. And you’re relieved.”

“Of course I’m relieved. Who would want to be married to someone who cheated and lied?”

“I mean, you’re relieved because you didn’t love him.”

Emily pulled back far enough to meet his gaze. If his dark eyes had slowly peeled away her clothes, she wouldn’t have been surprised—he had that kind of reputation. But she hadn’t anticipated the way his knowing look stripped bare all the insecurities she’d tried to hide. Totally exposed, she struggled to duck behind an indignant front.

“What makes you so sure? You don’t know me. You don’t know—”

“I know when a woman’s in love, and I know when she’s heartbroken. And you, sweetheart, are neither.”

Javy let Emily go at the end of the dance. He couldn’t help watching her walk away. The gown she wore fit her willowy curves to perfection, drawing his eyes to her slender waist and the flare of her hips. The color—a soft, innocent pink—made her skin look even creamier. She had a grace and bearing that spoke of her wealth and pedigree. He would have gladly danced with her all night—breathing in the scent of peaches on her skin, following the fragrance from the curve of her neck, left bare by her upswept hair, to the hollow of her throat, to the valley between her breasts—but the worry clouding her blue eyes had told him how truly concerned she was by what the high-society guests around them thought.

Too bad she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to give the crowd something to talk about. His blood heated at the thought of Emily kissing him in front of the whole crowd, of discovering her unique taste, feeling the slow, soft slide of her lips against his own. But he supposed it would require something bigger than dumping a fiancé she didn’t really love to shake up her world that much.

Making his way to the bar, he ordered a beer. Champagne toasts were likely the thing, but he had simpler tastes. He’d taken his first sip from the bottle when an exuberant hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Hey, having fun?”

Javy turned to meet Connor’s grin. “You bet. This is my kind of party,” he said wryly. “Loved the ice sculpture, by the way. What the hell was it supposed to be? Some kind of snake?”

“A swan,” his friend said, only to admit a split second later, “I think. Anyway, this is what Kelsey wanted. Her dream wedding.” As he spoke, his gaze immediately sought out his new wife, who was dancing with her uncle.

Javy figured he could have dumped the melting serpent/swan into his friend’s lap and he wouldn’t have noticed. “I’m happy for you, man. Really.” He winced, hearing the doubt he was trying a little too hard to hide.

“Yeah, right.” Connor slanted Javy a glance that reminded him how well they knew each other.

“Sorry. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Kelsey’s a great girl, but—”

“You didn’t think I’d ever settle down,” Connor said, filling in the details. His gaze met Kelsey’s from across the ballroom, and he smiled. “Things change.”

He’d said the same to Emily. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Except for you.” Turning back to Javy, Connor said, “Look, I know you’re still all about playing the field, but you gotta know Emily’s not up for the game.”

Javy pulled back in surprise. “Hell, Connor, you haven’t warned me away from a girl since we were both interested in Alicia Martin in the fifth grade. Are you sure you married the right woman? Emily’s—”

“Emily is Kelsey’s cousin,” Connor interrupted, leaning forward enough to warn Javy not to finish his thought. “I’m just looking out for her. She’s family now. You understand.”

“Yeah, sure,” Javy agreed as Kelsey waved her husband over to the dance floor.

He understood because at one time Connor had considered Javy family. They’d practically grown up together, covering each other’s backs and pulling each other through some rough times.

“Things change,” he mumbled, lifting the beer bottle to his lips for another drink.

Connor wasn’t the first of his friends to get married and likely wouldn’t be the last. But Javy had no intention of following that line down the aisle. Not now, not ever.

Connor was right about Javy liking to play the field. It had been years since he’d had trouble forgetting a woman, and ever since then, they had come and gone, none of them sticking around long enough to etch a place in his life or in his heart. He had no reason to believe Emily would be any different.

Now that the wedding was over, there’d be little chance of their paths crossing again and less reason for her to cross his thoughts.

No, he definitely wouldn’t have any problem forgetting Emily Wilson, he thought as an exotic brunette at the end of the bar caught his eye. Her ruby-red lips curved in invitation, and he waited for the familiar kick of interest to flare. He could send over a drink—a cosmopolitan, he figured—strike up a conversation and be well on his way to forgetting. He’d learned, thanks to his friends’ weddings, that a reception was the perfect place to first meet a woman. After all, half the work was done for him. The candles, the flowers, the romantic music were already in place. It was easy. Maybe too easy.

When the bartender came by, Javy didn’t order a cosmo or any other kind of break-the-ice drink. Instead, he handed over a few bills for his beer and turned to watch Emily in the out-of-the-way corner where he’d first spotted her.

He wondered if she knew how completely false her smile looked even from across the room. It didn’t come close to reaching her eyes—those beautiful blue eyes with darker flecks, which reminded him of the turquoise gemstones his mother loved.

Emily Wilson was a gorgeous woman, no doubt about it, but if she really smiled—hell, if she laughed—he didn’t think a man in the room could resist. Including him.

Good thing it didn’t look like she’d be laughing anytime soon.

Twenty minutes, Emily vowed silently. She’d give Connor and Kelsey another twenty minutes to cut the cake, and then she was leaving.

She’d accomplished what she had set out to do by coming to the wedding. First, of course, to see her cousin and Connor get married. And second, to face friends and acquaintances for the first time since calling off the wedding. She’d known the whispers and speculation would only be harder to withstand the more time that passed. So, although she wished she were brave enough to stay until the end—heck, she longed for the courage to stand among the single women and do her darnedest to catch the bouquet—in twenty minutes she was going to live up to her own words and sneak out a side door.

Until then, well, Emily decided she had to go to the restroom. She’d check her makeup, her hair, her dress, her shoes, even her nail polish, and hopefully by the time she completed the head-to-toe inspection, at least a quarter of an hour would have passed.

As she stepped into the gold and marble restroom, the door closed behind her, muffling the sounds of music and laughter coming from the reception. Emily leaned against the door for a second and took her first deep breath in hours. The evening was almost over, and she had survived, proving once and for all that embarrassment could not kill.