by Lisa Jackson
The small dance band was playing a slow tune, and Megan felt her stiff body begin to relax as Adam led her easily through the waltz. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel that it was she, and not Natalie, who was his bride.
For a silly moment, she let her head rest against Adam’s chest. She could hear the hollow sound of his regular heartbeat. She smiled to herself. If only this dance could last forever—She heard the click of a camera. Adam suddenly whirled her quickly. Her eyes blinked open, and she caught that same boy silently watching them, a deep furrow creasing his brow.
Who was he?
As if on cue, the music ended. “Thanks for the dance, sis. Maybe I’ll catch you later,” Adam said, then with a smile and a wink, added, “Next time, though, try to let the man do the leading.”
Oh, God, she’d blown it again!
“Adam!” Natalie’s voice called impatiently. “It’s time to cut the cake. And then Mom insists that we have a receiving line over by the arbor.”
“I thought we already did that scene,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, I know. So did I, but Mother insists that we do it again because some of the guests didn’t get a chance to meet you earlier. Also, the photographer wants to get some ‘candid’ shots.” Natalie’s large brown eyes pleaded with him not to argue. “Come on, Meg. Mom wants you there, too.”
“Me?”
Natalie would not be put off. “Let’s go! Mom and Dad are waiting over at the trellis.” Natalie was off in a rustle of white satin.
Without further protest, Megan obediently followed Natalie over to the wooden archway covered with holly and mistletoe. She forced a smile and hoped beyond hope that it appeared sincere.
The faces of the people in the line seemed to blend into one: some old, some young, but for the most part all unfamiliar. Meg nodded vacantly as she automatically shook hands with the guests and all the while was caught up in her own misery. She felt as if she were the heroine of some Greek tragedy or romance novel or worse! If only this heart-wrenching night would end! She’d go home, eat a tub of ice cream, and burrow under the covers with a book so that she could forget—
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” A male voice broke into her reverie, and she found herself shaking the strong hand of that same boy who had been staring at her all night. What the hell was his problem?
“What? Geez, I’m sorry,” she said, her forced smile crumbling. She tried to retrieve her hand, but he held it clasped tight in his.
“I said,” he emphasized, “I’m Chris.”
She realized he was staring at her as if she’d met him before.
“I’m Adam’s cousin. We moved from Boston last summer.”
Megan had found her practiced smile and pinned it on. “I’m Megan. Meg Simmons, Natalie’s sister.”
“I know.” His blue eyes were intent.
“You do?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I like to know everything I can about all of the good-looking girls.”
It figured. “So that’s how you found out that Natalie had a younger sister.” Sarcasm edged her voice. Of course. This Chris guy had checked out Natalie and had found out about Megan as a by-product of the investigation. Wouldn’t you know? The same old thing: second fiddle to Nat, again.
“I guess I haven’t seen you around school,” she ventured, embarrassed that he hadn’t released her hand and feeling like a complete dork. She was awful at this small-talk stuff. Thankfully, the push of the guests in the receiving line forced him to let her fingers slip from his. Good! She told herself she didn’t like that little warm glow that his touch had evoked and was glad to release his palm before her fingers got all sweaty.
From the corner of her eye, she caught him glancing back at her, and she ducked her head and tried to ignore him.
When the receiving line finally broke up, Megan joined her parents and Natalie’s new in-laws. Her father’s eyes sparkled when he saw her. “You look almost as beautiful as Natalie does tonight.”
Her father was always quick with a compliment, as if he understood how his younger daughter felt, always being outshined by her older sister.
“Thanks. I guess.”
Her mother cut in, her smile as false as Meg’s. She was nervous. Worked up. “Why don’t you go back to the house and get started?” she suggested. “I’ll be right along, but I might get caught up here, and I’d like things to be ready.”
“Sure,” Megan said, hiding her enthusiasm. Anything to escape. Even if it was because some of the family was returning to the Simmons house for an after-reception get-together.
“Thanks. I owe you, and so does Nat.” Megan’s mother let out a heartfelt sigh as her gaze strayed to the bride, who was talking and laughing, her arm linked to Adam’s. “You know, you’re really going to miss her.”
Something in her mother’s gaze made Megan aware that this was a hard day for her, too. Natalie was moving out of the house for good.
“Carol! Mrs. Simmons.” The raspy voice of the effervescent photographer broke into their conversation. “How about a shot of you and the two girls, over by the arch . . . no, better yet, near the staircase? The paned windows and the snow would make a perfect backdrop. We’ll try to make it look really natural!” He bustled off to the staircase.
“Doesn’t he ever give up?” Megan whispered to her mother.
“He’s just trying to do his job.”
“I know, but he follows everybody around with his camera poised, ready to capture just the right picture. Kind of like some kind of creep!”
“What? No. It’s not that bad. I’m sure this must be just about his last pose. At least I hope so.” She chuckled. “I have to admit that I plaster a smile on my face every time I see him coming in my direction!” Mrs. Simmons laughed, and all of a sudden Megan felt better, just knowing that her mother was as uncomfortable about being on display as she was.
“Oh, there you are.” Natalie sighed as she approached them. “I guess we need some more pictures. A million isn’t enough.” She rolled her eyes in the direction of the staircase. “Let’s get it over with!”
“The sooner the better,” Megan agreed.
Once the final photograph was snapped, Mrs. Simmons sought out her husband, leaving the two sisters alone for the first time that day.
“I have a surprise for you,” Natalie told her sister.
“For me? What?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” Natalie said. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
Megan followed Natalie back into the reception hall. “It’s right here, in my purse, wherever that is.”
“Maybe in the dressing room.”
“Crap. Of course.” Relief flowed across Natalie’s face. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember. Disorganized, Mom always says. What would I do without you?” she tossed over her shoulder as she hurried to retrieve her small clutch. Returning a few seconds later, she held up the jeweled bag and rolled her eyes. “Right where I left it. What am I going to do when you’re not around? I’ll never find anything. Sometimes I wish I were more like you, Meg.”
Megan felt another jab of guilt as her sister, her beautiful sister, actually praised her. Natalie snapped open the purse and retrieved a small package, which she handed to Megan. Natalie’s diamond ring caught in the light, the gold band nestled close to it reminding Megan again that her sister was actually married. To Adam. Megan’s heart twisted once more as Natalie, her eyes dancing, urged, “Come on. Open it!” Megan’s throat tightened. She opened the little box. Inside was a lovely antique ring wrapped in white tissue paper. She found it hard to speak, but managed to say, “It’s your ring. . . .”
“No, it’s your ring now. It was Aunt Janice’s ring, before she married Uncle Ned. Her first husband had given it to her. When she remarried after he died, she gave it to me. And now I’m giving it to you.”
“Are you sure? What will Aunt Janice say?”
“She knows all about it! Come on; put i
t on. The only thing you have to worry about is who to give it to when you get married.”
“If I get married.”
Natalie laughed. “Hey. I never expected to get married so young. Then I met Adam, and the rest is history!” Her face lit with a mischievous air, and one dark eyebrow arched. “You know, I couldn’t help noticing that Chris couldn’t take his eyes off of you!”
“Who?”
“Chris Johnson, Adam’s cousin.”
“Really?” Megan said, as if she hadn’t noticed, and cast a glance at the boy in question. His eyes were averted, but she’d sensed he’d been looking her way only seconds before. Was he really interested? Not likely. Maybe he was just surprised that she was Natalie’s sister, as different as they were.
At that instant, Adam hurried down the stairs. His gaze landed squarely on Natalie. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing!” Natalie insisted.
“Yeah. Right.” He pressed a kiss to his bride’s cheek. “Come on, Nat. The guests expect us to do a little more socializing and dancing before we head over to your folks’ house.”
“I guess I can’t complain that my feet are killing me,” she whispered.
“So take off your shoes.”
“No way.” Natalie acted as if he’d just asked her to commit harikari.
How could anyone be tired of dancing with Adam? Megan wondered to herself as she watched the bride and groom head for the dance floor again.
It was about time to make good her escape and head over to the house, to get away from the celebration and clear her mind. She was wicked, that was it, for being jealous of her sibling, a sister she’d once adored. No, she decided, it wasn’t Natalie who was the problem. Megan was mad at herself for being such a goody-two-shoes, as her mother had once pronounced, a kid who had colored within the lines and striven to do what was right, to the point of sometimes being boring. Oh, she had a wild side, but she’d tamped it down all the while she’d been in school.
And what has that gotten you? A 4.0 GPA and no boyfriend, zero social life. Again, through the mullioned windows, she saw the wintry landscape. All of the trees had lost their leaves, and they stood out as a dark reminder of the icy season. Even the glowing candles and the laughing guests with sparkling glasses of champagne couldn’t warm the winter’s chill for Megan.
Time to leave.
She wasn’t paying much attention as she made her way around knots of guests to the dressing area where her own purse and keys were stuffed into a closet and found herself near the bridal arch. Woven wood slats had been braided with red-berried holly and occasional sprigs of mistletoe. The miniature lights winked as if they were tiny stars, and cautiously she stepped under the arch. From the corner of her eye she noticed a movement, and suddenly Chris Johnson appeared on the opposite side of the archway.
“Waiting for me?” he asked, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
“What?” she asked. Was he kidding? “Waiting? For you?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“But you’re waiting for someone?”
For the first time she noticed how blue his eyes were, how they caught the light. “What are you talking about?” Megan couldn’t stop a note of irritation from creeping into her voice. She was in no mood for games.
“I don’t suppose that you know you’re standing under the mistletoe?”
“Under the—?” She glanced at the center of the arch. Directly over their heads was a beribboned sprig. “Oh, geez. No, I mean I . . . didn’t realize,” she began. Her gaze collided with his.
“Sure you did.”
“What? No!” She was shaking her head, but didn’t step back. Her heart raced a little, and she felt bold, the wild child within her coming to the fore. She swallowed hard. What the hell was she doing? Before she could think twice, he leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips.
She almost kissed him back. Almost. And then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he vanished, stepping backward into the throng of guests to disappear.
Chapter 5
Megan wanted to die.
And as for that stupid “wild child” within her? A quick beheading would suffice, she thought as she lay on the bed, on top of the quilt, absently petting Madonna, the family’s long-haired calico cat, who had followed her up the stairs. What had she been thinking? Okay, so it was only a kiss. No big deal, right? Except that it had happened under the bridal arch at her sister’s wedding reception, and she was too young to make up some lame excuse about being drunk or something. So there it was—she’d let Chris Johnson, a virtual stranger, kiss her in front of God and everyone. Including Aunt Janice. And Adam.
Yep. Death would be a great alternative to joining the rest of the family downstairs. She’d made good her escape from the reception and helped her mother get things ready at the house, then had come up with a lame excuse of going upstairs to change. Of course she’d been hiding out ever since.
Chicken! Her brain nagged.
She couldn’t hide up here all night. Unfortunately. The tinkling of glasses and sound of laughter filtered upstairs to her bedroom, so she’d have to go back down. After tonight, she wouldn’t have to deal with her sister’s wedding, at least not until the happy couple returned from their honeymoon.
Ugh. Megan should have changed her clothes and been back downstairs helping her mother by now, but she couldn’t manage to get off the bed. She just wished that this wedding business would soon end and that she could relax. After all, this was supposed to be the start of Christmas vacation.
Rather than dwell on Adam, she thought about Chris Johnson. He had actually seemed interested in her, and if it weren’t for her feelings for Adam, she would probably be attracted to him, too, even if he seemed like a boy when compared to Adam.
All too clearly she remembered the feel of Chris’s lips on hers. The kiss had been a bit of a joke on his part, she thought. The way his eyes had twinkled devilishly. The curve of his mouth. Yeah, he’d been playing with her. Nothing more. Still, when she thought about the chance meeting in the archway she couldn’t help but be intrigued. Kissed under the mistletoe by a handsome stranger! She had to admit it was kind of romantic. She wondered where he lived. Hadn’t he said that he lived here now? Why hadn’t she seen him in school?
A gentle rap at the door chased away her thoughts.
“Megan?”
Mom. Great. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She sat up. “I, uh, I kind of fell asleep,” she lied, cringing a little. “I’ll be, um, I’ll be right down.” She threw on a pair of pants and a sweater, nothing fancy, but not her favorite pair of beat-up jeans, then shook out her unruly hair, getting rid of the French braid Natalie had insisted she wear. Megan hesitated, saw the little box Natalie had given her, and slipped the cameo ring onto her finger. It was really old-fashioned, but who cared? She liked it in its funky-grandma kind of way.
As she reached the door and the cat slunk under her bed, Megan wondered if Chris would be downstairs. He was, after all, now “family.” Great, she thought sourly. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she’d have to deal with Natalie and Adam, now she had another worry. Get over yourself. It was one kiss. No big deal.
So why then did she think Madonna, hiding under the bed, eyes glowing from the shadows, had the right idea?
As Megan descended the stairs, she eyed the living room, where family members had gathered. She was amazed at how many people were already in the house. Was it possible that between Natalie and Adam they had this many relatives? She scanned the faces of the crowd, but nowhere did she see Chris. Stupidly, she felt a pang of disappointment, which only convinced her that she was a bona fide cretin.
But of course there was Adam.
Perfect, handsome, mature Adam.
And he was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. “I wondered what happened to you.”
For a second her heart leapt, then she saw the brotherly glint in his eye.
“Hiding?” he asked, guessing the truth.
“From what?”
“You tell me.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and she noticed that his rock-hard jaw was already showing a bit of shadow.
“Adam?” Megan’s father’s voice reached them. He was standing near the open doors to the den as he searched out his new son-in-law. “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Megan asked.
“To open a bottle of twenty-year-old champagne.”
She nodded, knowing about the bottle that had been bought the day Natalie had been born. Her father had talked about it for years. “I wonder if it’s still good.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Megan felt that she had seen enough traditions, ceremonies, and customs to last her a lifetime.
Just as Megan was stepping into the kitchen, Natalie came down the stairs. Her hair was pinned up, and she’d changed into slim black slacks with a matching jacket. Adam was at her side in an instant, and Megan tried to retreat into the kitchen, but Aunt Janice spied her.
“I hear Natalie gave you the . . . oh, there it is!” She spied the cameo ring. “Does it fit?”
“Perfectly,” Megan said, which was a white lie as the ring slid a bit on her finger. She spied Chris Johnson as he entered the house. Her foolish heart soared slightly, which was just plain ridiculous. Natalie and Adam, who had apparently done the honors with the old champagne, descended on him in an instant. While he was unzipping his jacket he looked around the room, his gaze landing on hers for an instant before skating away.
Ridiculously she felt a little bit of disappointment.
What had she expected, she asked herself, then squared her shoulders. One stupid little kiss under the mistletoe was just that. Nothing more. No big deal. To hear some of her friends talk about it, kissing was nothing. Or at least just the start. Which made her curious.
And she thought about kissing Chris again. With a little more passion.
The wild child raised her head again, and Megan bit her lip. Why not? But she’d never been bold where boys were concerned, and maybe that was the problem. Time to grow up. If Nat could get married, to Adam no less, maybe it was time for Megan to step out of her sister’s shadow and find out who she really was.
