Meagan waved frantically. With dread in her steps, she went to the bride.
“Hey.” She injected cheer in her tone. “You’re glowing.” Or was that the free booze at the open bar? Lacey saw Meagan down a few in addition to the bottle she’d snuck into the bridal room earlier.
“I think I made a mistake.”
“What?”
“He’s talking stocks and bonds and retirement plans as we were eating dinner.” Her chin wobbled. “Everything.” She swept her arms wide as she clutched her bouquet. “Screams romance here. I spent months and months planning this stupid affair, down to the ribbon on the favors and all he wants to do is discuss boring stuff at my wedding.” She broke down then.
Holy— “It’s all right, Meagan.” Lacey patted her back as the blubbering bride drew attention to them. “It’s the booze talking. Remember, you couldn’t hold a drop in school.”
Meagan clung to her arms. “I just wanted to be friends. With you. Ash. And Heather.”
“We were. We are.” She grimaced at the onlookers. “Sorry. Emotions bubbling up and spilling over.” Where were Ash and Heather when she needed them?
“Lace, he’s got a five-year, ten-year and twenty-year plan mapped out already.”
“You didn’t know this before?” She nearly buckled from the dead weight as Meagan sagged against her.
“We never…talked…” Her words were broken up by tears.
“Do you need some help here?” the mystery guy asked, coming to her side.
She warred between accepting and rejecting his help. “To the bridal room. Then if you can find the groom...”
In less than ten minutes, he’d shouldered his way through the curious throng of wedding guests as they murmured their concerns and out of the hot, stuffy ballroom. The cool air in the hall swept away the shock as Meagan seemed to come back to some of her senses.
The last few yards were uneventful as he led them to the private room.
“Thanks,” she mouthed to him as he held open the door to allow first Meagan and then her inside.
“I’m not that guy,” he said for only her ears as he held her stare for a moment before he walked away.
She watched him go. His proud, stiff shoulders told their own story. She’d insulted him.
Looking down at her low-cut dress, she wondered, but wasn’t all guys just after…the cookies?
***
A box full of tissues later, Meagan still wailed. Nothing soothed her. The once large bridal room seemed to have shrunk as woman after woman entered to calm her.
“But, Mother, he doesn’t want to live near you and Father!”
“What?! How ridiculous! We bought you that starter home just down the street from us. It’s our wedding gift to you.”
Starter home? All three thousand square feet! “I didn’t see that on the registry. My paltry sterling silver tea set will look rather cheap now,” Lacey joked and received a half-dozen glares for her efforts.
No humor here! Where were her two besties? And Mr. Mystery Guy hadn’t returned yet.
“Really, Meagan?” the groom’s exasperated question sliced the air as he strolled through the door. His good looks were marred with a frown. “You’re crying over a house?”
“It’s not just that, Rodney.” She hiccupped, finally sitting up straight. But her pout spoke volumes.
“Hey, buddy,” Lacey said, nudging him forward. “Why don’t we let the two of you be alone so you can talk? Right, Meg? You know that four-letter word. Talk.”
“Stay, Lace. I don’t want to be on my own,” Meagan pleaded.
“Scoot, ladies,” she coaxed, watching them file out. Meagan’s mother dragged her feet, but eventually departed and closed the door behind her. “Two minutes and I’m done, Meg. I’ll be the warm-up part.”
The groom groaned and rubbed his forehead. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Silence dropped like a lead weight.
Lacey looked from Meg to Rod and back again. What just happened? “Okay, folks, we’re going to be real, get it? You met in college, fell in love, graduated, and got engaged. All that was because there was a spark and it burst into more.” How many times had she used a similar speech on her mother when she was packing to leave one of her husbands or boyfriends?
“He changed,” Meg accused.
“She didn’t,” he retorted.
Now the air pulsed with tension.
Blowing out a slow, steady breath, Lacey went to Meagan. “Up, you.” Meg hesitated. “Come on, I don’t have all night.”
The bride crossed her arms over her chest and looked mutinous. Finally, she did rise and walk the few steps to her husband.
“Stand face-to-face and don’t move until you compromise. The stress of planning this ginormous wedding got the best of both of you. So don’t bring up the past or call one another names or say hurtful things. Agree to disagree. My advice: enjoy the rest of the wedding and go on that much-needed honeymoon. Oh, and if you need a good marriage counselor, I can recommend one.”
Lacey backed out of the quiet room and closed the door. Turning around, she faced Meagan’s steaming mother with her aunts and cousins nearby.
She swallowed hard.
“You left my daughter?”
“She’s a big girl, Mrs. Chethum. Now, she’s his wife. They’ll have to work it out on their own.”
The woman pressed a hand to her heart. Her skin paled and her usually
beautiful features crumbled. “She’s mine.”
Oh, man, good luck to Rodney and the tug-of-war he just signed up for.
And people wondered why she didn’t like weddings or marriages, for that matter.
No way was she ever going to be a bride, blushing or otherwise.
“My baby,” Meagan’s mother cried.
“Nope. Not going down that path. You could bet the farm on that!” Lacey muttered.
Chapter 3
“Where did they go?” Lacey wandered back to the table, looking for Heather and Ash. Along the way, she noted the fizzled-out crowd.
They’d gone from happy and celebrating to worn-out, thinned-out, and all-out puzzled. This was one society wedding they’d be talking about for weeks to come.
In her heart of hearts, she wanted Meagan and Rodney to work things out. But, she’d been the kid looking in on her mother’s troubled marriages and relationships too many times to think that the future would be rosy and bright for them.
“I need some air. To breathe.”
Smiling tightly as she wormed her way through the leftover attendees, she avoided addressing their worried looks or answering their well-meaning questions.
In the grand entranceway, she hesitated. “Dang! Why didn’t I grab my things from the bridal room?” Her camera was there and her street clothes. “At least I have my clutch,” she said, fishing out her cell phone.
Lacey jabbed in a quick message to both Heather and Ash. Where are you? Wedding’s a bust.
Her phone didn’t make a sound. Need a drink, she texted.
Nothing.
The limos, lined up with drivers helping wedding guests in the back, dotted the driveway. Which one was hers? Did she even have one now that the wedding party was going their separate ways?
Turning back to search for the event and wedding coordinators from King’s, she spotted the estate house, awash with buttery yellow lights, on the nearby hill. It was big and grand and made her heart jump.
Images from the long-ago program flashed in her mind. Paintings of lush landscapes and marble sculptures teased her. They called to her now.
Looking down at her high heels, ugly peachy-orange dyed to match the equally unappealing color of the gown, Lacey had doubts she could make the long trek.
A motor roared to life near the back of the parking lot, grabbing her attention. “Golf carts?” One zoomed by with an elderly couple clinging to the rails, heading for one of the limos down the lane.
There had to be seven or eight of them left.
“Hmm…”
Could she?
***
Adam dodged the worried parents outside the bridal room and wondered where she had gone. He needed to say a few things to her, set things straight, like she wanted for the bride and groom.
Captivated by her, he’d made blunder after blunder, so unlike him. Usually, he only got that dazed sensation when he found an exquisite work of art that left him speechless.
Maybe talking more wasn’t the answer.
But being a caveman around her was not the solution either.
“Promise you won’t hold this against us,” Rico asked as he waved over Evelyn, the events coordinator for King’s. They were the only two not wearing their masks among the crowd.
“This was a one-time deal,” Adam reminded him.
“It’s so lovely here,” Evelyn said. “We were hoping for at least a charity event.” She seemed to wince.
“What’s wrong?” Rico turned to her. “You’re shorter. Your heels? OMG, you took off the heels?!”
“Feet. Hurt. Pain. Yes, I did.” She practically glared at him.
“Like when did you ever let that bother you?” He smacked her on the arm. “You’re not acting like you lately.”
“Ah, the charity event?” Adam watched the two and some kind of silent argument.
“You agree, then?” Her voice lifted, yet still she made faces at her friend. Her gaze dropped down and then went up again to meet his.
“What? Girl, just spill it.”
“I’m pregnant!” Evelyn cried out. The room went silent.
Rico whooped and hollered and picked her up, squeezing her. “Ev! For real?”
Gasps and applauding followed.
“You two?” Adam frowned. “But, I thought…”
They hugged and faced him, tears in both their eyes. “I’m not the daddy, silly,” Rico said. “I’m the uncle and godfather and…” He choked up.
“I just love kids. I babysit a lot. And I’ve been trying for a very long time to have one of my own.” She beamed.
“When? Why didn’t you say?” Rico pouted.
“I had to be sure. Shane’s over the moon!”
“Congratulations,” Adam said. “I’ll leave you two to celebrate.”
They were so caught up in the good news they didn’t notice when he slipped away.
Something tugged at his heart. Happiness. Joy. Those two strange feelings stayed with him long after he departed.
Marriage? Kids?
His cousins? Yes. Him? No way.
Adam Westbrooke, the oldest grandson of Alistair Westbrooke and executor would not succumb to the foolishness of love and risk his family’s estate.
That laugh, deeper and stronger, sounded in his head again.
He groaned.
“Gramps, you’re not getting your way. Not this time.”
***
Lacey shoved back her mask and gasped at the exquisite paintings. The lush colors and bold strokes sang to her.
The rooms, tall and masterfully decorated, weren’t half bad, either.
She traced the downstairs layout as if she were still watching the film, recalling the steps and landmarks. Most things were the same; however, a few pieces were newly acquired and highly desired. They took prominence in the alcoves with lights shining down on them.
If the wedding reception were held in the private museum, she had little doubt that these personal treasures far exceeded those prized possessions.
A tiny thrill went through her. Gingerly, she began taking pictures on her cell phone. They wouldn’t be great or shared. They’d be for her own private viewing.
Time stood still as she wandered through the rooms, kicking off her shoes along the way. It was bad enough trying to maneuver in the mermaid dress, but seriously—those heels were pinching her toes and killing her feet.
“Ah, sweet relief,” she murmured, rounding a corner and finding an elevator. “Second floor, coming right up.” Her nervous giggle bounced off the walls of the small enclosure as the contraption whisked her upward.
“Wait a minute,” she said, realizing it was taking her even higher. When it finally stopped, the door dinged open.
Lacey peeked out. It appeared less museum-like and more like living quarters. “Hello?”
Phew! No answer. “The old geezer is away.”
A part of her hung back. Trespassing was a criminal offense. It would be highly embarrassing to her dear old dad, the judge, if she had to call to get bailed out. However, the surroundings, intimate and inviting, sucked her in for more.
The painting above the fireplace drew her. “No way. It can’t be real! Monet?! Holy mother of God!” A whoosh of awe raced from her head to her toes and back again. She giggled even as tears smarted her eyes. “I can’t believe it!”
She longed to reach out and touch it. Even she wasn’t that bold. Somehow, she couldn’t invade that precious space.
“Wow!” She ate it up and blew out a shaky breath before taking a quick pic and then turning to the rest of the apartment.
Poking her head into the modern kitchen with its eating nook and then the huge dining room proved enlightening. The long antique table could easily fit fifty people. This may be someone’s living area, but it was by no means small.
Room after room revealed the magazine-worthy décor.
“Imagine living here.” She twirled around and stumbled. “The dress.” Lacey groaned.
“Note to self: if you’re ever a bridesmaid again—and you probably will be eventually with Heather and Ash—do not agree to the mermaid dress.”
All of a sudden it felt bulky. The material did not whisper when she walked. It shouted!
Feeling cumbersome now, she waddled down the hall and found the master suite. “What the—? It’s not a bed. It’s an island!” The light-blue silky bedspread, layered over white silky underthings, covered the massive structure with all the bells and whistles and pillows a girl would die for. It took everything she had not to dive right in.
“Good taste, Geezer, good taste,” she whispered, trailing her fingertips over the cool fabric now.
A nearby open door grabbed her attention. “Ah, the bathroom. Just one peek…”
The gold fittings snatched her breath away. That and the spa-like atmosphere called to her. The shower, yards long, could hold a small army! An enormous tub with the same blue color towels and elegant glass containers of bath salts surrounding it begged her to get closer.
After the events of the day and night, Lacey longed to sink down in a tub full of bubbles up to her neck. She gazed around, nibbling on her lip and debating.
There was no sign of anyone in the house.
Surely, they were away from the estate for the weekend wedding.
Did she dare?
Chapter 4
The steamy water flowed as she poured out half the container into the flowing whirls. Bubbles formed and gently lifted higher.
“No turning back now.” She set the glass jar aside and reached for the stays on her gown. It took some effort and time to undo the fastenings and then shimmy out of the tight dress. “Ah, freedom,” she said, kicking the offending peachy-orange heap of material aside.
In no time flat, she dropped her matching white lace strapless bra and panties and then gingerly stepped into the warm, inviting bath. She grabbed for her phone and snapped a selfie, sending it to Heather and Ash, and then put it aside.
“Oh, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she whispered, shutting off the faucets and sinking all the way in. Lacey leaned back and felt the water lap gently over her skin and the tension drain from her body. “Cure-all.”
“If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me.” She giggled, the sound bouncing off the marble tiles. To be this decadent and luxurious all the time would be too good to be true.
She traveled far and wide and yet she’d never experienced anything half as magnificent as this. “Must remember to get a few shots of this room and the bedroom,” she murmured, fighting the ur
ge to close her eyes.
***
Adam sighed as he entered the house, flicking off lights on the bottom floor. He’d let the staff off for the long weekend, ever mindful they didn’t want to be bothered with the large wedding next door.
Why his grandfather decided to build his private museum so close to his home didn’t surprise him as much as it did his parents, their siblings and spouses, and the cousins. He understood completely.
Love of art ran wide and deep in his grandfather’s veins and passed on down to him, skipping the rest of the members of his entire family.
Gramps wanted to live as close as possible to the priceless works, and, if possible, designed this grand house to hold even more, so he could easily swap out pieces from time to time.
Even going through the familiar motions, Adam became aware of something not quite right. He gazed around. Nothing was out of place. Nothing moved.
He did have to remind himself to lock the backdoor next time, though.
Shaking it off, he headed up the stairs. He slowed and came to an abrupt halt on the third step. There to the right, the elevator door was closed and, looking at the light above it, he realized it was on the third floor. His private quarters.
“What the hell?”
He fished in his pocket for his cell phone. Obviously, along with not locking the door, he’d forgotten to set the alarm. “I’m too reliant on my staff to remember they weren’t here to take care of it.”
Should he call the security company first or the police?
Hitting speed dial, he rushed up the stairs. There was no way in hell he’d let the thief get away.
“Sir, is there a problem?” the head of his security team asked.
“Intruder. My quarters. How soon can you get someone here?”
“Five minutes. Tops. We’re in a tangle of limos leaving at the moment. No way to get a car there. I’m on it. I’ll have my guys follow and we’ll patch it in to the local police.”
very charming wedding 01 - bachelor and the bride Page 2
