by C. M. Albert
“Presley!” she scolded. “It’s Richard and you know that.”
I couldn’t help but grin as I handed her the box. “Sorry, Mom.”
Her face softened. “You’re forgiven,” she said, oblivious to my sarcasm. She pulled the ribbon off and tossed it on the table next to her as if it was cheap tissue paper. The lid creaked as she opened it, and Lauren gasped. Inside was a tennis bracelet with fourteen cushion-cut yellow diamonds, each surrounded by smaller, round, full-cut diamonds.
“Wow. Dick must feel awfully guilty to send over a bracelet like that.”
Lauren ignored my cheap shot, smiling as she ran a perfectly manicured fingernail over the bracelet’s shiny surface. When she caught me staring at her, she quickly closed the lid and placed it in her black handbag.
“That was sweet of Richard,” she murmured. “I hope someday you find a man who treats you as well as Richard treats me.”
If I were ever stupid enough to fall in love in this city, it most certainly wouldn’t be with a man like Dick. Instead, I thought of my father. Of his strong arms, his crinkly, bright green eyes, and a shaggy, weathered beard I’d grown up calling “spikes,” since no matter how much he groomed it, it always felt a little spiky to my touch. He’d probably been the only authentic relationship in Lauren’s adult life. I had to believe she’d really loved him. He’d been happy with her all those years after my mother died.
“Who knows?” Lauren said, circling my thoughts back to her wedding with Richard. “Maybe you’ll meet someone this weekend? Wouldn’t that be a story to tell?”
Yeah, some story.
Rich socialite meets even richer heir to some huge fortune at the wedding of Richard Brash, CFO to Montague Enterprises, and Lauren Kincaid, second cousin to the Kennedys.
I snorted. Not in this lifetime. The last thing I wanted was to marry into money. No thanks. I had enough of my own and didn’t need a man to take care of me.
Like my father, I would marry only for love.
And with my track record, that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon.
CHAPTER THREE
Carter
WHY THE HELL am I fussing with my tie again? It’s not like she’s single. I’m a fucking pro. I’ve got this. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a small glass, neat. Liquid courage. Isn’t that what they call it? It’s one night. Ten grand. Then I can lay Lauren to rest. And she . . . she can live happily ever after with the Crypt Keeper.
The Uber was a short drive over to the Excelsior. I’d been to plenty of events at the upscale hotel in Midtown. The top floor was an event space unlike many others in New York. The entire top floor boasted an elevated, retractable glass ceiling and a functioning botanical garden. In the center of the space was a large circular area where attendants bustled around as they set up for the wedding. A circular, dark brown, open-air gazebo was the showstopper, and where the vows would take place. Clumps of lush, purple flowers hung heavy from dark green vines that spilled over from the top, almost like a crown. Candles flickered in mismatched lanterns and cast a warm, welcoming light on the table at the back of the gazebo where the minister would stand.
Who just so happened to be Dex.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how I got suckered into this. But Bianca assured me it was legit. Bada bing, bada boom. Next thing I know, the Universal Church of Life is telling me I’m an official minister.”
I lifted a brow. “You sure this is legal?”
“Dude. If it’s good enough for Richard Branson and Paul McCartney, I think it’s good enough for me.” He clapped my shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think your date’s here.”
I turned, confused.
That’s when I saw Lauren walking toward us, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a blush-colored dress that never reached her knees and clung to every curve like a lifeline. Large bands of shimmery gold cascaded down the front of the dress, broken up by a large strip of the same golden fabric circling her small waist like a cinched belt. It wasn’t the dress that caught my attention though. It was her long, auburn hair, brushing her shoulders in soft waves—just how I remembered it. She hadn’t aged a bit.
“So, this is the infamous Stand-In?” she said to Dex while smiling at me. She leaned in for a small hug and air kissed both of his cheeks. I could smell rich layers of floral and vanilla.
“Lauren, meet my good friend, Carter Wright. Carter, this is Lauren Kincaid—well, until tomorrow.”
She reached out and took my hand, her eyes never leaving mine. “Carter Wright,” she said low. “I remember you. Your father, is he Robert Wright?”
I glanced between Dex and Lauren. So she did remember me. I cleared my throat. “Yes, ma’am, he is.”
Her laughter was warm and genuine and caught me off guard. “I’m hardly old enough to be called ma’am, Carter. You can’t be that much younger than me,” she teased, her hand now resting on my upper arm. “I was just a baby when John and I vacationed at The Grove.”
“I didn’t realize you vacationed there,” Dex said. “Of course, The Grove was my grandfather’s baby, not mine.”
“Well, yes, we did. We spent many summers there, preferring the sweet lure of the south to the same old hobnobbing circle we can’t seem to escape in the Hamptons.” She winked in my direction. “There was something so laid back and magical about The Grove, wasn’t there, Carter?”
I thought back to the small island off the coast of South Carolina where I’d been born and raised. It was all I’d known before I went off to college, and then joined the military. But my summers weren’t quite like Lauren’s had been. Hers had been catered to, everything made easy and seamless. My summers? They were spent making that illusion a reality with my father and the rest of the staff at the swanky resort that Dex’s family owned. One day, it would all be his. Lucky SOB.
Before I had a chance to answer, Bianca interrupted our little soiree, a beautiful younger woman in tow. “I think we’re about ready to start,” she said, linking her arm in Dex’s. “The wedding planner is driving me nuts about our schedule.”
“Perfect,” Lauren said, waving over a polished, middle-aged man to our group. “Mattie, darling, please tell me we haven’t stressed you out too much,” she said, smoothing her hands over her flawless form.
I noticed the younger woman who’d come over with Bianca eyeing me, but she turned her head quickly when I caught her looking. I grinned, sliding one hand in my pocket. My dark brown hair was slicked back tonight, but the waves still gave it body. I’d left my five o’clock shadow, because it made me look older—and sexier. Not that I had to worry about that tonight. If there was one thing that was certain, even if she asked, my childhood fantasy wouldn’t be coming true tonight. She was Richard Brash’s woman now.
Mattie quickly explained what we would be doing. It was simple really. All I had to do was walk Lauren down the aisle as if I were her groom-to-be. We’d stand at the front, talk about the vows, make sure everyone knew where to stand, and then head over to the rehearsal dinner. It really was the easiest paycheck of my life. I wasn’t sure why my presence was even needed. But then again, that was what my business was built on.
Show up. Look handsome. Smile. Be Charming.
I had this in the bag.
“YOU SURE YOU want to go through with this?” I asked Lauren as we stood at the head of the aisle waiting our turn. Her bridesmaids did hurried walks with their respective groomsmen, getting little chuckles from the friends and family who were present as they hammed it up.
Lauren was holding onto my arm and looked up at me with her large doe eyes. Ones I remembered being filled with kindness in my youth—even then, when most other people treated me like I was invisible unless they needed something. Lauren had always made time to say hello, check in on my father.
“Why on earth wouldn’t I want
to?” she asked playfully.
I switched gears as the cute ring bearer and flower girl marched down the aisle. The first practically ran, while the second clung to her mom’s leg, looking out shyly at people as she went.
“So, where is Mr. Brash tonight? Seems like this is something he wouldn’t want to miss,” I said, glancing down at my perfectly polished dress shoes. “If it were me, I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”
“You mean, when you get married.”
“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat.
It was our turn and she beamed up at me. “You were always a kind boy—just like your father,” she said. “Thanks for being here tonight so I didn’t need to do this alone.”
“Are you nervous?” I asked quietly as we made our way down the aisle. In all my teenaged fantasies, this was the last thing I ever imagined doing with Lauren. My gut knotted, and I felt like I was breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Relax, Carter,” she teased, squeezing my arm. “It’s not your wedding day.”
I chuckled, releasing the tension in my body. “Yeah, right. Sorry about that.”
We got to the front of the aisle and Dex greeted us. Since no one was giving Lauren away, she and her groom-to-be opted to walk down the aisle together, an untraditional move I admired. It felt right to me, like how partners should do things: together.
“This is where I greet you, then greet your guests,” Dex said, looking around at the people filling a few of the ivory-colored chairs now. “Then I’ll go into the ceremony portion, where I talk about love and your union. You and Richard will be facing each other during all this, holding hands if you like.”
Lauren faced me, reaching for my hands. I swear, if anyone looked closely enough, they would see my boyhood crush slowly gasping for air and dying on the floor right in front of me. I willed myself to keep my face neutral. I was happy for her. I really was. It was just a naïve fantasy anyway of what my dream girl might be like one day. I raked my eyes over Lauren’s smooth complexion, her white teeth. The soft curls that cascaded over her shoulder and rested just above the swell of her breasts. And god, don’t get me started on her breasts.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the soft feel of Lauren’s small hands in mine. I zoned out on Dex’s speech until he was forced to clear his throat.
“This is where you’ll say your I dos and exchange rings,” he said, waving his hand. “Do you Richard take Lauren, blah, blah, blah . . .”
He stared at me.
Oh, right.
“I do,” I said, my voice catching. Someone in the bridal party snickered, but I couldn’t see who.
“And Lauren, you’ll be asked if you take Richard as your lawfully wedded husband.”
“I do,” she breathed out, her lashes fluttering as if saying goodbye to me.
“You’ll exchange rings.”
I acted like I was putting a ring on Lauren’s finger, and she did the same. I need another whiskey, stat.
“Then, this is when Richard can kiss his bride,” he winked at Lauren, then shot me a sly grin. “No standing in for this one, Carter. Sorry.”
“Understandable, if not regrettable,” I joked. Lauren flushed beside me, unaware of how much truth were in those four simple words.
“I’ll introduce you as husband and wife for the first time, you can take hands, and then you’ll head back down the aisle. When you get to the end, Mattie will be there to escort you into a private suite where you can freshen up and meet the photographer. Did I miss anything, Mattie?”
Mattie stood up from one of the pews, clearly loving his moment in the spotlight. “When you arrive with Richard at the altar tomorrow, don’t forget to hand your bouquet to your daughter,” he said. “And when you leave, she will hand it back to you for the march out.”
Wait, what?
I scanned the row of bridesmaids, my eyes landing on the young woman I’d seen earlier with Bianca. No. It couldn’t be.
I hadn’t noticed her before because my focus had been on getting through this thing with Lauren. But I noticed her now. She never once waivered her cool green eyes from my own intense gaze. One perfectly sculpted brow arched, and I knew she realized I now recognized her.
Well, damn.
There—in all her glory—was bratty, little Presley Kincaid, all grown up. And she had grown up. Gone were the braces and unruly corkscrew curls. Gone were the dirty knees and the occasional pimple. In their place was a woman. One dressed in a slinky black tuxedo suit, the front buttoned, but with no shirt underneath. The neckline plunged all the way down, but somehow, her breasts remained tucked away, and all that was left was a smooth trail of pale skin that shimmered between her cleavage. Presley grinned, amused as my eyes did a walk of shame over the girl who once had the biggest crush on me.
The one I ignored every summer as she incessantly tried to tag along and get my attention. The girl who propositioned me when she was just thirteen, because she wanted her first kiss to be memorable—and from me.
Fuck. Why had I turned her down again?
Lauren tugged my arm, and I turned to face her, allowing her to wrap her hand around my forearm so I could lead her back down the aisle.
What a screwed-up little reunion we were about to have. At least it was just one night. I was ready to put the memories behind me and move on. To forget about Lauren—who would be sunbathing in Fiji with her new husband. And Presley, who would be . . . Well, to be honest, I didn’t know what the heck little Miss Moneybags would be doing. Counting her fortune maybe? I heard she inherited almost everything from her father—and it was a shitload. I was surprised Lauren wasn’t angrier about that. Who knows? Maybe that’s why she was moving on to husband number two.
I waited with Lauren at the end of the aisle for the others to do their march back. Dex’s wife, Bianca, met us there and gave me a little wave. “Great job, Carter.”
I laughed. “Yeah, it was really hard work.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, swatting my arm. She looked past us, her eyes not happy until they landed on Dex. I swung around and saw him gazing back hungrily at her, too. I looked away, feeling like I was spying on something I shouldn’t be seeing. I shoved my hands in my pockets and waited patiently. It was only eight thirty and I was ready to bail. Except I couldn’t. I was contractually obligated to stay until ten p.m. That’s what Lauren stipulated when my assistant sent over her paperwork.
At least I was off tomorrow. I couldn’t wait to just kick it around my home—a spacious condo that had taken me the past four years to buy. What started off as a favor to a five-star general soon turned into my most lucrative job to date—Mister Stand-In, LLC. And it paid well enough to finally offer a cash purchase on a condo in one of the city’s trendiest boroughs. So, yeah, I’d stick it out till ten.
“Why, if it isn’t Carter Wright,” I heard from behind me. When I turned, my eyes locked on Presley’s again. They hadn’t been that enticing and green when she was thirteen.
I swallowed, letting my grin raise slowly from the corner of my mouth, my eyes hooded. The look I knew well enough by now melted panties.
“Why, if it isn’t little Miss Moneybags,” I drawled in return. I dropped my gaze and let it caress her body, enjoying the sight, if I was honest. She was the polar opposite of Lauren. Where her stepmother was petite with curves and breasts for days, warmer complexion, dark hair, and eyes, Presley was taller and naturally fair, with strawberry blond waves tied back into submission in a long, sleek ponytail tonight.
Damn if my cock didn’t kick at the sight. For some reason, the thought of yanking that ponytail and getting Presley’s bratty little mouth to submit to mine made me a hell of a lot hornier than I ever imagined.
“Come back for that kiss, did you?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Presley
I PACED THE length
of the women’s restroom while waiting for my best friend to finish changing. She’d gotten off work late and missed the rehearsal ceremony but was able to meet us for the dinner party. I was so glad, too. Because I seriously needed someone to vent with about Carter.
“As if,” I sputtered. “I can’t believe how arrogant he’s become.”
“Was it really arrogant, or just kind of take-chargey?” Willa asked. “Because a man who takes charge can be kinda hot, if you ask me.”
She had a point.
But no, there was arrogance in the practiced grin, the dimples that had nowhere to hide they were so prominent. And those eyes. Warm, liquid pools of amusement as they traveled over my tuxedo jacket and down my thighs. I was wearing my kick-ass, black, satin Badgley Mischkas. They were at least four inches tall, and almost put me at eye level with Carter, but not quite.
He’d grown even taller after he’d left the island as a teenager. He had facial hair now, and I’d had to clench my fingers in my fist while we bantered, just so I wouldn’t be tempted to run them over the soft growth covering his angular jaw. He was a dangerous combination now as a man—both hot as sin and with a flash of kindness behind the arrogance in those smoldering, brown eyes. I fell for it once, and he turned me down. It had burned so bad, nearly breaking my pathetic thirteen-year-old heart. There was no way I’d let history repeat itself. Even if he did smell like the ocean and fresh air and made me yearn for surfing at The Grove’s hidden cove again.
“It’s arrogance, trust me. I think his success has gone a little too much to his head.” I pulled out my lip gloss and used my pinky to coat my full lips. He could suck it. I worked hard to become the successful woman I was today, and I didn’t need a man’s approval to feel validated.
