Best of Virgins Bundle

by Cathy Williams

  “Nice enough that you’ll consider going out with me again? I have this wedding I was invited to and I’m not up to going without a date.” He grinned.

  She shook her head, and he felt disappointment shoot through him. Why did it matter whether this woman said yes? Why this woman, when there had been others before her who’d come and gone in his life like cars in a drive-through?

  He lifted his hands in the air. “I promise, no touching, not even a kiss, if you don’t want me to.”

  “Matt, I want to see you again, but—” She looked away, shaking her head. “But it would just delay the inevitable.”

  “Hey, we had a deal. You came through on your end of the bargain. Now, I’d like to repay you by escorting you to that wedding. Nothing more.”

  “You don’t need to take me to the wedding. You’ve done enough. Business has picked up since the customers started coming in to talk about us.”

  “We’ve created a stir, have we?”

  “More like a mini tornado.”

  “Then going to the wedding together will top the cake, if you’ll pardon the pun. No one will ever call you conventional again.” He traced a finger along her lip. “Although where you got that nickname, I’ll never know. You’re far from predictable.”

  Katie let out a breath. “You don’t know me that well.”

  “Then let me take you to the wedding and work on getting to know you better.”

  “No, Matt.” She lowered her head, paused, raised it again. “I know the ending of this story already. You’re not looking for anything beyond tomorrow. I’ve already been down that road with someone else. I don’t need another Steve.”

  Ouch. She knew just where to hit to make her point. And as much as he wanted to correct her, he knew she was right. In the end, he’d leave, too, and be no better than Steve.

  “Katie—” He wanted to kiss her again, but didn’t. There she stood, still clad in the clown suit, and all he could think about was taking her to bed and seeing what she looked like under the purple jumpsuit and pompoms.

  “Thank you for the earrings.” Her smile was bittersweet. “And thank you for showing me there’s more to life than I ever knew.”

  Then she turned and left him there, wishing he could run after her and tell her she was all wrong about him.

  But she wasn’t. Katie had hit that nail on the head with precise accuracy.

  Chapter Eight

  St. Michael’s Church loomed before Katie, sporting a steeple so tall, it practically brushed the underside of the clouds. It was a perfect Saturday—an exquisite setting sun, mild temperature with a hint of a breeze—just right for a wedding. And for a crazy idea that had seemed like a good plan early this morning—before coffee. What good was saying she’d moved on if she never showed it? Now, almost eight hours later, Katie wasn’t so sure. Butterflies raged in her stomach and threatened to upheave her lunch.

  It was the same church where she’d spent two of the most humiliating hours of her life. Now she was volunteering for mortification.

  She thought of turning around and bolting for her car. But she was already halfway up the stairs, a smile pasted on her face to greet the people she knew. She’d been brought up to be friendly and gracious, no matter the circumstances. Her mother would burst with pride if she could see Katie now, being cordial all over the place.

  A number of people nodded greetings at her, their eyes full of surprise. Without missing a beat or tripping over her own two feet, Katie returned their hellos. If nothing else, Katie figured she’d gotten awfully good at pretending in the last year. She sent a wave to Carol Mullins, a friend from high school.

  “Katie?” Carol, a tall woman in a Bohemian-style sundress, was almost gangly in her movements across the steps. “I thought that was you!”

  “In the flesh.” Katie paused on the top step. Her car had never seemed so far away.

  “Congratulations! I’m so happy to hear about you and Matt Webster. I never knew—” Carol blushed. “Anyway, I think it’s awfully big of you to come to Steve’s wedding. I don’t know many women who could do something like that.”

  Katie couldn’t stand here and have a conversation about this. All she wanted to do was get in the church, make an appearance and leave. She murmured something and moved away, but Carol followed her, chattering about the weather or the decorations or something—Katie barely heard her.

  She took a deep breath, then marched through the double doors and into the vestry. Two tuxedoed groomsmen flanked either side of the aisle leading into the sanctuary. “Bride’s side or groom’s?” one of them asked.

  Neither. Faced with walking down that aisle, once again adorned with swooping pink ribbons and a roomful of hope, Katie balked. She couldn’t do it. It had been a crazy idea.

  “I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she stammered. Then she darted down the hall and away from all the happy faces and blooming flowers before anyone could stop her. Even in high heels, Katie found she could move pretty fast, given the right impetus.

  The church was huge, filled with hallways and anterooms that offered more choices than a game show. It had been a year since she’d been inside St. Michael’s, and, in her panic, she couldn’t remember where anything was. She couldn’t find the right door for the rest room—or a hiding place.

  The organist began playing, the music booming through the building, reverberating in the walls. Just as Katie grasped a door handle, someone came bursting through it, nearly colliding with her.

  She popped back in surprise. “Steve?”

  He halted. Sweat beaded along his forehead and his breath was coming in gasps. “Katie! You came!” Then again, with more surprise, “You really came. I didn’t think you would.”

  “You’re here, too. That’s a surprise.”

  He looked almost sheepish. “Yeah, I’m here. But I think I’m going to puke.” He swiped a hand across his brow. “I was just looking for the restroom.” He glanced toward the Exit. “I thought about leaving, about not even showing up. But I didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s time I grew up.”

  Before she could stop herself, Katie blurted out the question that had lain in the back of her mind all this time. “Why couldn’t you do that for me a year ago?”

  “I was an idiot.” Steve offered up the grin she’d fallen in love with, the one that asked her to forgive him and to love him, all at the same time. This time, she didn’t. That smile had lost its power over her. “I mean, I always intended to stop running around and settle down with you, I really did. You were…well, you were good for me. It’s just me who wasn’t good for you.”

  Katie let those words hang in the air.

  “I remember standing in my apartment that day, putting on my tux, and all I kept thinking was: One woman? For my whole life?” He shook his head. “I panicked. Barbara had stopped by to drop off a couple of gifts and…well, I guess you know the rest.”

  “Yeah, I do.” She supposed she would have been justified if she yelled at Steve. But what would be the point now?

  In Steve’s eyes, she saw true regret and apology. “You’re a good woman, Katie. I never appreciated that.”

  “Steve—”

  “No, I mean it. I was wrong when I said you were boring and…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words he’d flung at her in the letter he’d sent from Barbados.

  “Predictable,” she supplied. “Conventional. Frigid.”

  He cringed. “Yeah, I guess I said all that, too.” He reached out a hand, as if he were going to touch her, then withdrew. “I’m really sorry. You deserved a lot better than what I gave you.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Steve cleared his throat and stepped toward the doors. “I should go. I’m still not sure about the one-woman-forever thing,” he let out a shaky laugh, “but I’m going through with it.”

  “Because you love Barbara?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows what love is? I sure as hell don’t. M
y dad marries women and trades them in like used cars. I guess I inherited some of that from the old man. Permanence is not my thing, you know?” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Barbara understands me. She’s got the same kind of family. We’re not banking on forever here. We’re just trying it out.”

  The prelude of organ music swelled louder. Steve turned to Katie. “You’ll be okay?”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  And then he was gone. She watched him leave, a trim, handsome man who filled the elegant tuxedo well, and realized the spark that had drawn her to him was gone. She was over him, over the whole betrayal. Ready to move on with someone else.

  Then, as if he’d been drawn by telepathy, she heard Matt’s voice. “Katie! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  Matt had come. Even though she’d told him twice not to, he’d shown up anyway. A rush of joy flooded Katie, but she held herself in check. Just because he was here didn’t necessarily mean anything had changed. But maybe…

  This rampage of emotion running through her at the sight of him had begun the night they’d played darts. Her single comment about there being a good man buried underneath his bad-boy exterior had dissolved his swagger and revealed the true Matt. It had touched her, as had his love for a beaten-up old farm, and the pain in his eyes when he talked of his baby.

  Were these feelings…love?

  No. There was no way she could be falling in love with Matt Webster.

  But as he approached, she knew she was lying to herself. The truth came to her in a sudden punch that sucked out her air and compressed her lungs. She’d fallen in love with Matt. Irrevocably.

  “Someone said you ran back here. Why?”

  “I was…” She could barely talk. She was afraid the truth of how she felt about him would be reflected in the hesitation of her voice, in the shimmer of her eyes. She swallowed and tried again. “I was looking for an escape route.”

  “Escape, huh?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her to him. Every touch felt different now, layered with meaning. Katie leaned into him, a bit unsteady on her feet. Inside, she could hear the beginning strains of Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus.”

  “I think I can help you there,” Matt said. He tipped his head toward the window across the hall. “If you want, I can tie all my clothes together as a rope and lower you out the window.” He put a finger to his chin. “I’d probably have to get naked to do that, though. Would you mind?”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t complain.”

  His hands went to his belt buckle. “Well? Shall we?”

  “I think that would be going above and beyond the call of duty here.” Katie choked back her worries that Matt’s arrival meant nothing more than he was bored on Saturday night. She gave in to the hope that maybe he was beginning to feel the same way she did. Mustering every bit of the new Katie, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “It was a sweet offer.”

  “No, that was sweet.” He bent to kiss her again, then stopped. “I thought I heard Steve’s voice earlier.”

  Did Matt look worried? Jealous? “You did.”

  “And has he…did he reconsider marrying Barbara?”

  “No, he went through with it.” Katie glanced toward the door that led to the church. “I’m not so sure he’s making the right decision, but for once, he seems committed.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  She nodded. “I don’t love him anymore. And if he loves Barbara, he should be with her.”

  “A happy ending for everybody, huh?”

  Wagner reached the crescendo. “That’s what I’m hoping for. Steve said he backed out of marrying me because he was terrified to commit to one woman for the rest of his life. Know anyone else like that?” She tugged on Matt’s tie.

  He feigned innocence. “You couldn’t mean me. I’m not scared of anything, baby,” he said in his best Schwarzenegger voice.

  “Nothing?” She smoothed the navy silk back into place.

  “Well…maybe black widow spiders and rogue building inspectors.”

  She tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “And you’re not scared of me?”

  “No, definitely not of you.” He lowered his mouth to hers, hovering there, teasing her. “Are you scared of me?”

  “Oh yeah. Terrified.” And she surged forward, bringing her lips to his.

  By the time they came up for air, Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” was playing and the new Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Spencer were dodging birdseed on their way to a waiting limo.

  Matt and Katie dashed into the reception hall, laughing and holding hands like a couple of teenagers who’d just made out in the back seat of a car. The making out part was true, Matt thought. Tonight, though, he’d discovered how much fun the halls of a church and the front seat of a car could be.

  When he’d decided to come to the wedding, despite Katie’s protests, he’d thought he was doing it out of altruism. But the minute he’d seen her in the hall talking to Steve, and felt a powerful surge of something that seemed damned close to jealousy, he knew there was more to his decision than keeping a bargain.

  They came up short when they nearly collided with a life-size papier-mâché Elvis. Not the handsome Elvis of “Love Me Tender,” but the older, puffy white-suited King. Done in glue and paper, he looked more like the Pillsbury Dough Boy than the man who broke a million hearts.

  The whole room was a tribute to Presley. Records served as place cards, stuffed hound dogs leashed to balloons were centerpieces. No less than eleven velvet Elvises adorned the pristine white walls of the exclusive Lawford Country Club.

  “I always knew Barbara was an Elvis fan, but I never knew it went this far,” Katie said.

  “Speak of the devil,” Matt whispered.

  Barbara dashed over, clasping Katie’s hands in her own. Or at least Matt thought it was Barbara. Her hair was done in a huge cloud on top of her head, her eyes rimmed with black and her lips coated with pale lipstick. If she hadn’t been blond, she could have been Priscilla’s clone. Matt wondered if a reporter from the National Enquirer was skulking behind the potted plants, hoping for an appearance of the King’s ghost. If anything would make Elvis come back from the dead, it would be this party.

  “Don’t you just love it?” Barbara gushed. “It’s always been my dream to have a true Elvis wedding, ever since I saw Blue Suede Shoes. I was so glad my mother already owned all these portraits of the King,” she waved at the velvet Elvises with pride. “No trouble finding the decorations for this wedding!”

  “It’s…it’s…unique,” Katie said.

  “Oh, thank you.” She pressed a hand to her chest and beamed. Apparently, having legally snagged Steve in the setting of her dreams had Barbara feeling magnanimous instead of mean. “Well, you two enjoy yourselves, I’ve got to go see about the food. The chef wasn’t too keen on the idea of serving peanut butter and banana sandwiches as an appetizer.”

  Barbara left, her hair like a beacon. Matt put a hand to the small of Katie’s back and propelled her toward the bar. “In all the…ah…confusion back at the church,” he grinned, “I forgot to tell you that you look incredible. The kind of beautiful that could make a weaker man’s heart stop.”

  Even that wasn’t enough to describe how wonderful she looked. The dress was a clear departure from what he’d seen Katie in thus far. Ebony and silky, it lifted, tightened and enhanced all the right places, then flared out at the bottom. The best part was the scoop bodice, giving the illusion that Katie’s breasts were ready to spill out with the first strong gust of wind. Unfortunate that the reception was inside, with little chance of a quick breeze.

  “Thanks, I borrowed the dress from Sarah. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She ran a hand down the front of his suit jacket. “Presentable enough for a wedding.”

  He barely heard what Katie said, but noticed every detail about her. The delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lower lip pouted like a newly-budded apple. The slender fingers that slipped
along his jacket with a feather touch, awakening a long-sleeping volcano of feeling. “Well,” he cleared his throat. “I aim to please.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “And are you pleased?”

  “With the clothes or the man?”

  “The man.” He tried to make it sound like he was joking. That her answer didn’t mean anything.

  She put a finger to her chin and feigned deep thought. “I guess I’d have to say both.”

  He smiled. “Then I’d better be on my best behavior tonight. Wouldn’t want you realizing I’m not such a nice guy after all.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “You don’t know me that well,” he said quietly. And there it was, the truth about the kind of man Matt knew he really was, slipping between them like a curtain. He could play this game of pretending there was hope for more, that he didn’t have the past that he did, but in the end, it all came back to one night and one stupid, foolish choice. He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself back to the present. “So, where’s the clown suit?”

  “I thought this dress might be a bit more appropriate.” She spun and the skirt swirled around her legs, a` la Marilyn Monroe. All they needed was a rush of air from a subway grate and he’d get another glimpse of her fabulous legs.

  “Too bad. I was really starting to get turned on by those orange pompoms.”

  “Someday, if you’re really lucky, I’ll wear the Bozo suit just for you,” she said. There were layers of meaning, hints of tomorrow, in her words. Hope, then regret that those days would probably never come to pass, surged through him. Why had he come? Why had he thought that he could make a new life here in this town? He belonged in Pennsylvania, far from where his past lived.

  No, you belong with Katie, his mind whispered. He let that thought simmer for a while.

  They passed by the stage where the band, dressed in rhinestones and satin, was belting out “Blue Suede Shoes.” At the mike, crooning and gyrating, was a rotund man wearing an Elvis wig and faux sideburns. “Look,” Katie exclaimed. “That’s Jim! The bartender at the Corner Pocket. He’s Elvis!”