by Helen Hardt
Kayla grabbed her phone to scroll through her social media feed for a picture of the rainbow bouquet she’d been describing when her chatter rolled to a stop. The sudden silence yanked Devon out of her brooding thoughts. She looked up to see her friend blinking hard, her breath hitching in almost a sob.
“Kayla? What’s wrong?”
“This place. The wedding. I must be having pre-wedding jitters.” Kayla pushed her drink to the side and clenched her hand into a fist. “I keep worrying that Brandon might change his mind. Last night, out of the blue, he was talking about developing this gamer app. He has all these big life plans. What if at the last minute he decides this marriage isn’t what he wants?”
“Take a deep breath, Kayla…and another. There, that’s better,” Devon said as soon as Kayla’s grip loosened a bit. “Brandon Myers is more than lucky to be marrying you. Don’t you ever forget that important fact.”
“You think so?” Kayla’s sighed response was almost inaudible.
“I know so. Who wouldn’t want a beautiful, sweet, sexy and—not forgetting—super-smart, financially independent woman for his wife?”
“Oh, Devon.” Kayla’s worried expression changed to one of relief.
“My point is,” Devon continued, “you have nothing to fear. You’re going to walk down that aisle with your head held high because you are Kayla Lewis, the woman who is adored by all who meet her.”
“You are the sweetest.”
“I know.” Devon shrugged with a bit of a smirk and then took the first sip of her drink, letting the zingy cucumber and mint flavors solidify her resolve to be the best friend she could be. She sat back against the cushioned seat and let the sun warm her freshly pedicured toes.
“I mean it, silly.” Kayla smacked the table, her solemn expression transforming into a fit of the giggles.
Devon couldn’t resist joining her.
As hiccups replaced Kayla’s chuckles, Devon glanced at her iPad. “So where are we? What’s the next thing to check off the list?”
“I think my next appointment is…” Kayla paused when voices overlapped each other and interrupted her.
“Who’s making all that noise?” Devon glanced around the pool area, searching for the commotion, until she spotted Mike Lewis, Kayla’s older brother.
He was on the far side of the pool, surrounded by a crowd of glamorous, scantily clad women vying for his attention. Some were tugging at his sleeve, while others wrapped their arms around his waist to pose with him while the paparazzi cameras click-click-clicked. Devon was sure she wasn’t imagining poor Mike’s frustration and annoyance as he tried, with little or no success, to break free of the swarm.
Her heart did that fluttering thing it always did when Mike showed up.
If one googled Mike Lewis, the definition of demigod—luscious, smart, talented, and uber rich—would appear under his name. His deliciously smooth voice alone was enough to sweep any woman off her feet and into his bed.
Devon couldn’t help but stare at him while her mind took her down memory lane to the day heaven blessed her life with her perfect guy, although the mortifying events that followed were forever stamped in her memory.
It had been a typical Friday night, her freshman year at Yale.
Devon was wearing her R2-D2 pajamas, sitting on the hard dorm room bed, leaning back against the headboard with a neck pillow keeping her comfy.
A bowl of pasta was cradled in her palm, a fork in her other hand, and Mirjana Pavlovic’s Bioengineering: A Conceptual Approach rested on her lap.
“Devy!” Kayla staggered into the room, her hair in an unusual tangle, and her blurry-eyed expression suggesting she’d had one or three too many drinks. It was week two, and Kayla had yet to find time to crack open a book.
Kayla, an English Literature major, was out doing “humanity research,” the term she used when she wanted to avoid studying. Even though they were opposites in every way, Devon and Kayla hit it off on day one, when Kayla rolled into the 140-square-foot room with her thirty boxes of must-haves. Devon laughed at Kayla’s horrified expression when she saw how small the dorm room was and then assured Kayla there would be enough space for all her precious things.
Devon finished swallowing her mouthful of pasta. “What’s up, Kay-K?”
Kayla teetered her way to the desk chair and flopped down. “I brought you someone.”
“Who?” Devon twisted her fork, rolling up another wad of pasta as she did her best to feign interest. Kayla always brought people back to the dorm, her goal being to prolong the party for as long as possible.
Kayla pointed toward the door instead of giving a reply. Devon tilted her head back, a pasta noodle still hanging from her mouth, to behold a gift from heaven. She choked out a cough as the noodle got stuck from slurping too quickly. He was wearing a hoodie and khaki chinos, plus the latest in sports shoes that must have set him back a few bucks. He had thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, and full, symmetrical lips…and best of all, at five feet eleven, he was, as Goldilocks said, just right.
“Meet my super-annoying workaholic brother and big-time pain in the ass.” Kayla’s statement was delivered with a mix of sarcasm and excitement.
Devon pounded her chest to recover from the cough. “Mike. Right?” She glanced at her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, thanking every deity in the universe she hadn’t done an herbal facial that evening.
Kayla had always bragged about her brother, Mikey, being a dreamboat. Not one to be attracted to guys easily, Devon dismissed it as girl talk and was expecting nothing more than a typical guy. But the senior standing in the doorway was a heartthrob. So much so, her brain shut down, refusing to cooperate by creating a proper sentence.
Kayla laughed and slapped at Devon’s Yoda-slippered foot. “I kinda only have one brother, and yes, this is Mike.” Kayla weaved toward her brother, paused to hold onto the closet handle, and pasted a sloppy grin on her face. “Mikey, bro, meet my college roomie, my new best friend and heart-sister, Devon Gaines.
Devon set her half-eaten bowl of pasta aside and slapped her textbook shut.
“Hey,” Mr. Hottie said, his baritone voice caressing Devon’s ears—and skin—as he pushed away from the door.
Mike sauntered into the room, his gaze sweeping over the matching pink-and-purple flower-power comforters, corkboards crammed with pictures, and Kayla’s bed piled high with pillows. When he was close enough for Devon to touch, her throat tightened. Then she sighed. He’s perfect, she thought, and her heart added, mine.
Kayla climbed onto Devon’s bed and settled in next to her. “This is the point where you say, ‘the pleasure is all mine,’” Kayla whispered, not so quietly, in Devon’s ear.
Yes, all mine, Devon almost whimpered.
“Told you he’s a dreamboat,” Kayla said with a soft chuckle.
“It’s nice having you in our room… I mean here. Meeting you in our room.” Oh, God. I need to shut up now.
Devon elbowed Kayla when her bestie snickered and thrust her hand out for a shake because she just had to touch him, feel his skin against hers, feel his heat. When he took her hand into his big, strong one, her entire body sighed, and then a rush of electricity zipped through her when his gaze fixed on hers.
“Intros over with,” Kayla said, interrupting the chemistry sizzling between them—or, to be more honest, exploding in Devon. “The three of us should go to dinner. I’m starved.”
“Make that dinner for two,” he said.
Yes, just the two of us. Devon’s heart pounded and her toes curled and wiggled as she sighed. Oh, what a magnificent man.
“C’mon, Mikey. You never make time for me anymore.” Kayla’s expression changed to that pouty little frown Devon had already seen too often.
“I got you back safe, and now it’s time for me to cram. I have a test tomorrow,” Mike said, his tone so calm Devon wondered if he had ever shouted at anyone in his lifetime.
“But you just got here. You didn’t even sit down.”
“I’m sorry, gumdrop. I need high scores if I’m going to get into graduate school.” He pulled Kayla into a brotherly embrace.
Devon gazed at them, her insides eaten up with jealousy. She so, so, so wanted to be the one in Mike Lewis’s arms.
From that day forward, that soul-level craving for Mike Lewis had never diminished.
Now here he was, in Jamaica, on the other side of the pool, with a white sand beach as his backdrop. He was still a heartthrob, and still a “hands-off” option.
Devon picked up her drink and let the dreamy reminiscence slip away while she took a long swallow and wondered how Mike Lewis kept getting better looking year after year. She let out a heavy sigh.
“What the F?” Kayla skidded her chair back an inch as she leaped to her feet.
Devon was familiar with that determined look and reached for Kayla’s arm to prevent another outburst. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To help my brother, of course. I can’t just let those paparazzi embarrass him like that.” She took a step away.
Devon was quick to nab Kayla’s arm again. “Yo, Kay-K, I understand you want to protect Mike, but don’t forget about the wedding reception menu—which needs reviewing—plus you haven’t delivered a final guest count to the hotel caterers.” Devon reached for any other excuses she could dig up to make Kayla see reason.
“But what about Mike?” Kayla pointed over her shoulder with a grimace. “I don’t want those women and camera jerks ruining my wedding.”
“I’ll take care of it. You need to complete the checklist. You made me promise to keep you on track, and the rest of your family should arrive soon, so you need to be available to welcome them. Don’t forget. Once everyone arrives, you won’t be able to check on things for yourself. Your mom will insist on taking over.”
“You’re right. You always think these things through. I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years.”
“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”
Tremors of fear cascaded through Devon as visions of Kayla slipping further away choked off her air. At the end of this weekend Kayla would be married, and then she would have a house to set up, babies to raise, soccer practice, or dance recitals. Where would that leave Devon? She shook off the panic.
No self-pity. Not now or ever.
“Oh, no!” Kayla pulled away, reaching for her room key. “I’m already ten minutes late. Good luck with whatever you have planned. I can’t wait to hear how you solve this one. You’ve always been one for clever solutions.” Kayla sprinted up the path leading to the hotel’s lobby.
As Devon walked over to rescue Mike—whether he wanted it or not—her heart did that little pitter-patter it always did when he was around. But it didn’t distract her from assessing the scene while she worked on a solution for Mike’s dilemma.
Promising to rescue Mike might not have been such a good idea, but backing out now wasn’t an option. Kayla certainly didn’t want to have Mike distracted by hordes of women trailing in his wake. And he’d be annoyed if photographers kept springing out of bushes to take his picture. She sucked in a deep breath for courage.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded as she got close enough for the others to hear.
No one paid any heed.
Raising her voice, she repeated, “I said, what’s going on here?”
Mike seemed surprised by her sudden appearance, and the women surrounding him appeared more confused than anything.
“Babe.” Devon used the tone she’d perfected when giving presentations to large audiences, even though her nerves made her legs a little wobbly. “Why are you not checked in yet? I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” She pushed aside the woman who stubbornly held onto Mike’s arm.
“Excuse me.” The half-dressed woman with the designer sunglasses—and more diamonds around her neck, wrists, and fingers than in the gift shop’s window—gave her some heavy shade.
“Who are you?” A man in khaki shorts, a navy-blue T-shirt, and a beer gut demanded. He gave Devon the impression he enjoyed watching sports and drinking on Sundays and did very little else besides making a nuisance of himself taking unwanted pictures of people who didn’t want to be disturbed. “More to the point, who are you to Mike Lewis?”
Devon turned around to face the crowd. “My name is Devon Gaines, and I’m engaged to this man. I am Mike Lewis’s fiancée.” Her fears paused for a second as she held onto her serious expression. Thankfully, she’d managed to speak the lie without a stutter.
“What?” The tall woman who looked like she only ate salad greens sneered at her.
The clicking of cameras started up again.
Mike placed an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Smile,” he whispered in her ear.
Goosebumps swept a chill across her skin as she did her best to pose for the camera.
“Mike, can you please confirm what this lady said? Is she really your fiancée?” the football fan’s buddy demanded. “When did you start dating? Why haven’t we seen you together before?”
Mike eased the pressure of his hand around her waist but kept her by his side.
Devon hiked up her chin and gathered her courage. “We came here for Mike’s sister’s wedding. I ask you not to interfere or ruin her special day. The world will hear about us soon enough, but for now, Mike and I must maintain a low profile for his sister’s sake.”
“If you have any more questions,” Mike said, calm for a man who’d just had a family friend claim she was his fiancée, “I suggest having your respective media houses send a request for information to my personal representative. That’s all I want to say for now.” He pointed to the path up to the hotel and raised an inquisitive brow. “Shall we?”
With a barely polite “If you’ll excuse us,” Devon allowed herself to be guided away from the scene.
Neither said a word while they navigated a small bridge through the lower garden toward the hotel restaurant area, but just before they entered through the door leading them to the resort bar, Mike interlaced his fingers with hers and leaned in. “They’re still following us, but we should be safe once we’re inside.”
Devon’s heart raced faster and faster as the impact of what she’d just done ballooned in her head. For years she’d hidden her feelings for Mike so they wouldn’t affect her relationship with her best friend and the Lewis family as a whole. Especially since Kayla’s parents were always so good to her.
2
Mike replayed the unbelievable scene in his head as he walked into the restaurant bar area, still too stunned to speak.
Devon—his sister’s best friend, who he’d recognized right away in spite of the confusion surrounding them—had called him her fiancée.
That was weird, not to mention awkward. Yet Mike couldn’t help wondering why she was so angry.
Wearing a white tank top with a lace bra strap peeking out on her right shoulder, she looked gorgeous in her fury. Her high-waist linen pants fit her just right, and the low-heeled sandals weren’t quite as sexy as three-inchers might have been, but he liked her pink painted toenails, which matched her sun-kissed cheeks. Her brown hair was tied in a rough ponytail with loose strands floating around her head.
But what was up with her calling him babe?
Mike’s brain was still having trouble working out what was going on. He didn’t need a soothsayer to tell him Devon was trying to pull off a prank again. She had sounded and looked so confident, with that smile lighting up her vibrant, virtually makeup-free face.
Over the years he’d become aware of Devon’s mischievous side.
The first time was when Kayla came up with a scheme to travel to Denver for the holidays. The details of the moment were so vivid that they could have happened yesterday.
His mom was sitting beside Kayla on the ugly couch she had someone reupholster the year before, but the bright pink-and-yellow pattern did nothing to improve the room’s decor. It was November, and he’d ta
ken a vacation from his management trainee job. Kayla was home for the school break.
“Why do you need to be in Denver for Thanksgiving?” his mom had asked.
“I already told you,” Kayla said with the little pout that worked on his parents like a charm. “It’s for a school project. You can ask Devon.”
Kayla’s whiny tone was like listening to a constantly crying baby. The drama continued to unfold while he pretended to work on his laptop, doing his best to stay out of the fray.
“Hey, everyone.” Devon walked into the living room, set her backpack on the floor, and took a seat across from Kayla.
“Good evening, dear,” his mom replied with warm welcome. “Tell me about this project you and my daughter are working on.”
“You know, Dev. The project in Denver.”
Kayla kept her tone so cotton-candy sweet it almost made Mike gag.
Devon’s confusion disappeared in a flash. The conspiracy was so obvious, but his mom seemed to miss it.
“Oh…yes, the project. The school’s newspaper is adding a special vacation column, and”—Devon’s brows were almost up to her hairline at that point—“Kayla wants to become the editor for the newspaper. If they select her article for this new column, she’ll get the open paid position. Having firsthand experience of Denver’s landscape and cultural scene will be a big help and make her column stand out.”
Mike had to cover his mouth so his mother wouldn’t see him smirking.
He had to admit, Devon was quick to come up with a mighty persuasive argument.
His mother turned back to his sister. “You are over eighteen and a grown woman, Kayla. You must make your own choices, but I will worry if your studies slide. I’ll pay for your travel this weekend, but you’ll need to fund your spring break. Deal?”
“Deal!” Kayla launched herself at their mom, giving her a giant hug. “Love you.”
