Save the Date

by Jenny B. Jones

  “It’s nothing. I just thought the girls deserved a party too.”

  Then she was in his arms, hugging him like he had just given her access to his checking account. He settled one arm at her back and the other in the hair he couldn’t quit touching. Just seconds ago Lucy had been ready to toss him to the sharks. And now he was her hero. He knew people were watching, but he didn’t care. Pressing his lips to her temple, Alex just held on.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Every party had a pooper. And this one was headed their way in a black Halston gown with coordinating clutch.

  “Alex, Lucy.” Clare’s diamonds swung from her earlobes and circled her wrist. “You may conduct your displays of affection later. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

  Reluctantly Lucy left her friends and stood by Alex’s side as he worked the room. She tried to say as little as possible but kept her smile bright and cheery until she thought her lips would fall off. With Clare stuck to her like glue, Lucy felt her initial annoyance fade away. The former first lady was a genius at steering conversation. So much so that Lucy only had to contribute small bits of input when prompted. Yes, she did like Alex’s new ideas for overhauling the foster care system. She loved that the state was seeing the heart behind the man. No, she didn’t think his opponent had the public schools’ best interest at heart. Had they seen all the research on Alex’s website? Why, of course, she loved Gucci. They made the most fabulous shoes.

  It was enough to wear a girl out. Didn’t anyone want to talk about Britney Spears, the BOGO sale at Payless, or the delicious rumor that Avatar was going to be a trilogy?

  But she held her own. And only slipped once—when she had referred to Senator Coolidge’s current wife by his ex’s name. Clare had discreetly coughed into her fist, and Lucy gracefully righted the error.

  After making the rounds, Lucy and Alex found her girls and joined them. As Lucy chatted, Alex coaxed Marinell onto the small dance area, sending the girl into giggles, a sound that was music to Lucy’s ears. Mesmerized, Lucy could hardly maintain a conversation as she watched him dance with each young lady brave enough to spin across the floor with an American icon. Tyneisha, the last to join him, could’ve been Beyonce’s twin in her hot-pink gown and matching heels. She struggled through Alex’s patient instructions on a waltz, and Lucy had to laugh when Tyneisha maneuvered Alex into trying some hip-hop.

  The music shifted from classics to a melody Lucy recognized as “The Way You Look Tonight.” Music to fall in love to.

  “I was wondering if you’d dance with me, Ms. Wiltshire.”

  With her chin in her palm, Lucy looked up to find Alex standing over her, hand extended. His earlier anger was gone, and in its place was a look that had her grateful for a good ocean breeze.

  “I don’t know.” She placed her fingers in his palm. “You’ve danced with nearly every woman here.”

  “Just sad replacements for the one I really wanted.”

  She laughed as he swept her into his arms. “You’re good, Sinclair.”

  He didn’t bother with the formal style he had used on the girls. There was no holding each other at arm’s length. He pressed her close, and she rested her head on his chest as they moved across the small space.

  “The girls are having the time of their lives,” she said.

  His hand massaged the back of her neck, sending warm shivers across her skin. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves.”

  “You’re a nice man, Alex.”

  “I’m going to write that in my journal tonight.”

  She leaned back and looked into his face. “Do all your supermodel ex-girlfriends know you have a big heart?”

  His lips curved slowly. “Only for you, Luce.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  It was all just a pretty façade, but it could still turn a woman’s head. Why couldn’t he stay the arrogant stereotype? He was going off-script and she didn’t know what to think.

  She snuck another glance as they moved in time to the music. Alex looked both elegant and savage in his black tuxedo. It was a good thing someone like Matt was more her type. Stable. Calm. Predictable. Alex was none of those things. He was mercurial, intense, a man who defied all the rules.

  Never mind that she fit so perfectly in his arms as they swayed under the stars. Or that her heart was beating an irregular cadence. It was merely a trick of moonlight and ocean magic.

  Lucy watched some of her girls get up and mingle among the guests. “They’re going to be okay, aren’t they?”

  He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “How could they not?”

  “Because they have everything in the world against them.”

  “But they’ve got you.”

  She turned her head until she was looking into his face. Brown eyes locked with blue. A tendril of heat slowly uncoiled as Alex watched her. She couldn’t look away. Could only feel the pull that was Alex.

  “You’re really messing with my head,” she whispered as she slid her hands up his chest.

  His head dipped. His lips hovered. “Consider it payback.”

  He was going to kiss her. Was it real? Part of the charade? Did she even care?

  She let her eyes flutter closed, felt the feather-light touch of his lips.

  Only for him to lift his head and gaze over her. “We’ll pick this up later.”

  Her brain shuddered as it struggled to process. He had been about to kiss her. She hadn’t imagined that look in his eyes, that electric current passing between them, that—

  Why were people leaving the dance floor? Where was everyone—

  Looking over her shoulder, Lucy saw she and Alex had the space to themselves. She had been too wrapped up in him to even notice.

  As the crowd circled around them, Lucy’s knees turned to liquid.

  She twisted back to Alex. And that’s when she saw it in his eyes.

  It was time.

  “Oh my gosh,” she muttered.

  The orchestra began to play the theme to Star Wars.

  Alex took Lucy’s hand, pressed it tight as if to share some of his strength. “Are you ready for this?” He kissed her palm, never taking his eyes from her face.

  “No,” came her breathy reply.

  “I find we have more in common every day.” His slow wink sent heat dancing across her skin.

  “Lucy Wiltshire.” His voice was now loud enough for all to hear as he captured her other hand. “I knew you long ago. I was a young arrogant fool not to see what an amazing person you were. I passed by you then without so much as a glance.” A crooked smile lifted his lips. “Luckily I got another opportunity. And I knew when I saw you that, this time, I wouldn’t be passing by.”

  They were pretty thoughts. Elegant words, spinning around Lucy like pixie dust, drawing her heart to his.

  “We haven’t been together long, but it’s been the best time of my life. You take me as I am, flaws and all.” He quirked an eyebrow, and they shared a grin over his outrageous lie. “When we’re together, I know you don’t care about where I come from. You see me for myself— and the person I want to become—for you.”

  Lucy’s breath constricted as Alex reached into his tuxedo jacket and extracted a box.

  Oh, no. This was happening. Her head hurt. Her hands shook. Her stomach lurched.

  With a small pop, the box snapped open, and there sat a ring fit for a princess.

  He didn’t go down on one knee. Somehow she’d known he wouldn’t. Alex Sinclair bowed to no one. Maybe she should’ve been insulted, but it was one less thing to add to the mockery.

  “Lucy, in front of all these people, including your friends and the ladies of Saving Grace, would you make me one happy man and agree to become my wife?”

  Yes. The word stuck in her throat. It was her line—her one and only line.

  His eyes narrowed a fraction. His grip tightened.

  Lucy felt the boat sway and rock, and she wondered how she didn’t topple
over. She held the attention of a couple hundred people who had never cared about her before, and now they watched her with open curiosity. She knew what they were thinking. Why that woman? What could he possibly see in her? He could do so much better.

  It was so wrong. They were lying to the world. To her friends. His family. To God. But she wanted it to be real. With someone she loved. More than anything, Lucy wanted someone on this planet to love her, to care for her. To adore her and look at her just as Alex was right now.

  “Lucy?” His voice was a quiet plea.

  And her undoing.

  “Yes.” The words were barely audible. She blinked, surprised at the silly tears in her eyes. “Yes, I will.”

  He paused only a moment—to read her face, to try and gauge what was in her mind—but she just shook her head, wiped her eyes, and let herself be crushed to him.

  The audience erupted into applause. Their cheers rose to the sky.

  He gave her one quick kiss, a mere brush of his lips. “Thank you.”

  Alex took the ring from the box as her girls squealed their approval. The ring slipped over her pink nail and stopped in a perfect fit at the end of her finger. Alex lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles, sending lightning bolts all the way to her toes.

  Then his hands cradled her face. His eyes seared into hers. The stirring swelled within her again, that magnetic pull that had her breath growing shallow and her heart doing crazy pirouettes.

  She didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his mouth covered hers. His lips fit over her own, delicately, softly—as if she were the most fragile of possessions. Her hands moved up his back as he deepened the kiss, pulling her out of her role and into the moment. There was no pretense. No faking. Only feeling.

  Until a familiar voice intruded.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.”

  Lucy broke away first. Alex just stood there, his forehead pressed to hers, his breathing ragged. And a storm rolling into those chestnut eyes.

  “I would like to be the first to congratulate the happy couple,” Clare Deveraux said, her voice commanding attention. “To many years of wedded bliss—Alex Sinclair, this state’s next Congressman. And Lucy Wiltshire”—Clare lifted up her glass in a toast—“my granddaughter.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  So the old Spock could be in the same place as the young Spock?” Clare took a long swig of root beer. “Inconceivable.”

  Chuck laughed as he looked at Lucy. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Deveraux. You’ll catch on.”

  It was their bimonthly meeting of the Hobbits, and Lucy was still grounded to Clare’s house. She went to work during the day and came back home to dinner and lessons at night. The phone had been ringing off the hook all week since Clare’s big announcement just six chaotic days ago. The local and national papers had gone wild: South Carolina’s dearly departed former governor had an illegitimate granddaughter. Even Good Morning America had called. The paparazzi had been bad before, but it was nothing compared to the past few days. For once Lucy was grateful for the bodyguards Alex had hired. No reporters got within fifteen feet of her. Clare said Lucy would eventually have to make a statement, but she just wasn’t ready. She and her grandmother had barely spoken about it themselves. There were still so many questions, yet Lucy found her pride just wouldn’t let her ask.

  Julian nudged Clare and held up her phone. “It’s that guy from the Today Show. Again.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” She glanced down at the agenda she had forced Lucy to make. “Besides, next we’re talking about some zombie book I was supposed to have read.” Clare shook her head, her white bob bouncing. “Face it, my lovelies, Star Trek is just a ridiculous story. Flying in space and being in two places at once? Absolutely silly.”

  “Ma’am, you go too far.” Sanjay pointed a daring finger. “I’m going to have to ask you to take that back.”

  “No,” she snapped. “I’m the guest at this meeting. I can say whatever I want.” She held up her plate. “Julian, we need more Martian cucumber sandwiches. When they get a bite of these, the ladies at the DAR are going to go nuts.”

  “Most of them already are.” He put down his own plate and started to get up.

  “Keep your seat,” Lucy said. “You can run interference for Clare.” As soon as her group had seen the sci-fi–themed spread Julian had created, he had made ten instant friends. Larry, who sold computers at Best Buy, had already invited him to his company barbeque. And Monique, dressed in full Battlestar Gallactica wear tonight, had slipped him her phone number after her first taste of the Half-Blood punch.

  Lucy got up from her seat in Clare’s less-formal family room and made her way to the kitchen. She had just pulled the second tray of sandwiches from the fridge when Morgan and Chuck walked in.

  “Hey,” Lucy said. “Sanjay hasn’t challenged Clare to a duel yet, has he?”

  “No.” Morgan picked up one of the petite sandwiches and took a bite. She could eat the whole platter and it would never show on her enviably thin frame. “But she did just ask him if he could show her how to use her iPad.”

  Lucy smiled as she leaned against the granite counter. If she were to be honest, Clare was growing on her.

  “So Clare Deveraux is your grandmother.” Chuck’s eyes darted between Morgan and Lucy. “Anything else you two are keeping from me?”

  Lucy tugged the plastic wrap off a tray. “Can’t think of a thing.”

  “My mind’s a total blank.” Morgan’s voice wasn’t the least bit convincing.

  “Well, the whole world certainly knows now,” Chuck said.

  Clare’s announcement at the party had been a shock to Lucy and Alex too. When questioned, Clare had simply clammed up and said, “It was time.” Time to bring on the legions of paparazzi? Time to cause a perfect storm of a media frenzy? But Alex’s approval ratings had gone up. Again.

  “And what about your relationship with Alex?” Chuck asked.

  “What about it?”

  “I knew it was serious, but marriage? Where did that come from?”

  “Yes, where did that come from, Lucy?” Morgan asked sweetly.

  “I know you,” Chuck said. “And this isn’t like you at all. You’re Miss Cautious—you don’t just jump into things.” With years of leeching out the truth from teens, he turned those youth-minister eyes on Lucy. “I just think you’re rushing things.”

  “Not everyone drags their feet like you, Chuck.” Morgan said.

  “I said I’d go get fitted for my tux, and I will.”

  Morgan turned on her fiancé. “You’ve already cancelled three times.”

  “I’ll get to it. I promise.” Chuck popped a sandwich in his mouth and changed the subject. “Is there a date set? I’d love to perform the ceremony.”

  “Um . . .” This whole conversation was a sinking ship. A Titanic. “October fifteenth.”

  “We’ll save the date.” Morgan didn’t exactly look like she’d be writing it in ink on her calendar. “Alex does have good taste in engagement rings, though.”

  Lucy glanced at her sparkling rock of a ring for the millionth time. It wasn’t Hollywood obnoxious, which she appreciated. The diamond was tasteful, yet large enough to make a bold statement. And though she didn’t particularly like what it was saying, she couldn’t stop looking at it either.

  “We could start the premarital counseling. I’ll be glad to do it.”

  Lucy didn’t miss the air of challenge in her friend’s voice. “I’ll . . . talk to Alex.” She’d rather step into oncoming traffic than sit through counseling sessions with Chuck. Ten minutes of relationship questions, and he’d see right through them.

  “Well, I think it’s really classy how you’ve forgiven Clare,” he said. “It takes a strong woman to do that.”

  Forgiven her. Lucy hadn’t quite gotten that far. “Clare sought me out. Apologized. It’s still hard.” She had paid off her mother. Put a price tag on her granddaughter. “But she’s genuinely sorry. We
’re still not best friends or anything, but right now I need her help. Aside from my daily lessons on how to be one classy lady, we pretty much stay out of each other’s way.”

  “And since when do you care what others think of you?” Morgan asked sharply. “Especially the people in this town?”

  When had she not? “What’s wrong with learning some new skills?’

  “Like what heels to wear with what handbag? How to talk without really saying anything?” With a sigh that sounded like it came all the way from her leather sandals, Morgan nodded. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

  That made two of them.

  One good thing about staying at Clare’s was an-all access pass to Julian’s refrigerator. Lucy made her way down the stairs, surprised the lights were still on so close to midnight.

  It wasn’t until her foot touched the bottom step that she heard the voices.

  “I just want to talk to her. I’m an old friend.”

  Lucy froze, her bare feet on the wood floor, her hands clutching the banister, as Matt tried to talk Julian into letting him inside. “It’s really important I see her tonight.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, but I’ll let her know you stopped by.”

  “Wait!” Lucy ran through the foyer and stepped onto the porch. Bathed in the overhead lights, Matt looked like a blond Romeo in search of his Juliet. “It’s okay, Julian.” She nodded at his worried look. “We’ll just talk out here.”

  An indecisive Julian pursed his lips, then finally nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

  “What are you doing here?” Lucy asked as Julian shut himself inside the house.

  Matt stared at her ring as it sparkled in the dim lights. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lucy hadn’t thought about Matt for days. And now that he was standing in front of her, his broken heart blazoned on his sleeve, the most horrible realization hit her.

  She missed Alex.

  “I know this is going to sound weird.” Matt’s hands cupped her shoulders. “But I can’t shake this feeling that you’re making a huge mistake by marrying Sinclair.”