As she eased the scooter out of its parking space and headed for the turnoff to Main Street, Lana smiled to herself. Anticipation expanded inside her like a helium-filled balloon, making her feel lighter and lighter as she got closer to home. Her life had definitely taken a turn into interesting territory.
Chapter 2
The bride was late.
Only by fifteen minutes, which Lana figured was understandable given all a woman had to do to prepare for a wedding. By the look on the groom’s face as he glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time, she didn’t think he shared the same understanding.
“She wouldn’t stand him up, would she?”
Lana sent a sideways glance toward Courtney Fitzsimmons. “No way.”
“Marriage is a huge deal. Maybe she chickened out.”
“Nothing’s going to stop Sidney getting here—she’s nuts about Drew.”
“Oh my God,” Courtney groaned. “You believe in true love, don’t you?”
“Why not? Don’t you?”
The brunette’s lips twisted bitterly. “Not lately. Tony and I broke up.”
“Oh no.” Lana tried to remember how long Courtney had been dating Tony. Courtney had only been working at the Blue Fish Grill a few months and already there’d been a Tony, a Simon, a Ryan and she thought a Brian. Lana wasn’t entirely sure those last two weren’t the same guy and she’d misheard the name. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Turns out he wanted to post naked pictures of me on some website called Horny Housewives dot com.”
“How awful!”
“Tell me about it. Do you think I look old enough to be a housewife? My ass I do.”
A woman sitting in the row in front of them turned and displayed a filthy look, to which Courtney responded with a suitably chastened expression. They settled into guilty quiet again while the small crowd of invited guests began to shift uncomfortably in their white fold-out chairs.
The heat of the balmy Sunday afternoon was ameliorated by the ample shade cast by the arbor above them. Blooming wisteria draped from its framework, imbuing the air with a sweet fragrance that mingled pleasantly with the salty breeze drifting in from the Pacific. Lana surveyed the crowd idly, a ruse to cover the true focus of her attention, who was standing at the altar beside the groom.
Doing his Blackbeard impersonation the other night, Brody had looked gorgeous. Clean shaven, wearing a formal suit with his hair freshly trimmed, he was beyond delicious. As she watched from the fourth row, Brody leaned forward and said something to Drew, who was once again dragging his hand through his tawny hair and pointing to his watch. Taking advantage of the other man’s closeness, Brody grabbed Drew’s wrist and snatched the watch from it, slipping it into his suit pocket.
Lana smothered a grin. As though he sensed her amusement, Brody’s gaze scanned the small gathering until it collided with hers. Seeing the mirth on her face, he responded to it with a half-smile that made her heart trip over.
“The best man’s a dish.” Courtney’s statement mirrored Lana’s thoughts. “Who is he?”
“That’s Brody. He’s going to be filling in for Drew while he’s away.”
“Really?” Courtney asked with interest.
“Forget it, Courtney.” On Courtney’s opposite side, Mick Jensen joined in the conversation. “Brody’s a shark—eats women alive and moves on. Wouldn’t you rather date a nice guy, someone you could cuddle up to at night?”
At the suggestive way Mick waggled his blond eyebrows, Courtney shoved at his shoulder. “Come off it, Mick. I’m not that desperate.”
“Ouch.” Mick settled a hand over his chest. “My poor wounded heart.”
“You’ll survive. Some girls might like this whole look you have going.” Courtney gestured at Mick’s dress slacks and vibrant purple and blue paisley shirt. It wasn’t an outfit many guys could carry off, but in Lana’s opinion Mick had such a jovial way about him his odd sense of style hardly mattered.
Yet Courtney sniffed in distaste. “Look at you, you’re like a cockney David Spade.”
“I wish I was.” Mick tossed his longish blond hair out of his cheeky baby blues and ramped up his British accent. “I could make me a million quid acting like a dweeb.”
“And here you are, doing it for free.”
“Could we call a truce today, guys?” Lana entreated with a long-suffering sigh. “This is a happy occasion.”
“Spoken like a true romantic,” Courtney drawled. “Wait a few years, Lana, and that optimism will wear off.”
“We’re the same age.”
“Yeah, but something tells me I’ve got more miles on my speedometer.”
Mick leaned in close and whispered, “Any time you want to rack up a few extra, I’m available.”
Courtney sent her spike heel careening into his leg, making Mick wince. “One day I’m going to give up on you, Court. How will you feel then?”
“Like I don’t have to get that restraining order after all.”
Mick muttered, “I know when I’m not welcome,” before turning back to Jack, the young guy who worked as a bartender at the restaurant.
“Doesn’t seem like he knows squat,” Courtney said to Lana.
“Mick’s not so bad. I think he’s quite sweet.”
“You can have him.”
Lana laughed. “It’s not that way with us. We’re friends.”
Courtney narrowed her green eyes shrewdly. “So who did we get all dressed up for then?”
Lana glanced down at herself, running her palms over the smooth fabric of her purple silk shift dress. The thin straps and crossover empire style top showed off a lot more skin than she usually dared to, and while she could easily have gotten away without wearing a bra, she’d worn a strapless one underneath the dress because the padding gave her at least the illusion of cleavage. “I look all right?”
“Oh yeah. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were hoping to get lucky tonight.”
Lana tossed her hair, sending the auburn ringlets she’d manufactured with a curling wand bouncing around her shoulders. “What makes you think you know better?”
“Oh my God.” Courtney stared at her with wide eyes. “You’re planning on getting laid. Who’s the main target?”
“No one you know.” It wasn’t really a lie because Courtney hadn’t met Brody officially. Lana wasn’t ready to share her plans with Courtney, lest the other woman laugh at her. Lana wouldn’t blame Courtney if she did. In her more sensible moments even she had to admit getting Brody into bed tonight was probably a pipe dream.
The improbability of success didn’t stop Lana from indulging the fantasy. However minor, there was a chance she could pique Brody’s curiosity enough that he might push things a little further than he had the other night—a lot further, she hoped. She’d waited three years for a kiss, she wouldn’t wait another three for the next one.
There would be a next one if she had anything to say about it.
Lana was saved from additional interrogation when the sound of a car engine punctured the afternoon quiet. The gathering turned as one and watched as an antique convertible car pulled to a stop and Sidney McCall hopped out. Leaving her bridesmaid to race after her, she lifted the flowing skirt of her strapless champagne satin dress and raced halfway up the aisle. “Hi, honey,” she called out to Drew. “Sorry I’m late. Stupid car had a flat tire.”
“It’s okay,” Drew replied, looking equal parts relieved and besotted. “I knew you were coming.”
Brody cleared his throat pointedly and everyone laughed, the entire gathering having witnessed Drew’s obvious anxiety over the bride’s delayed arrival.
A young musician with long hair began playing an old Bryan Adams ballad on his guitar, and after some shuffling, Sidney allowed her bridesmaid to precede her toward the altar. Lana assessed the voluptuous brunette dressed in fitted, mint green silk. Dark glossy hair piled on her head so sexy ringlets tickled her nape, big brown eyes and even bigger boob
s. Lana glanced down at the modest décolletage she’d needed underwire and padding to enhance, and felt her hopes dwindling. That woman was going to be dancing with Brody all night. Lana sent up a prayer that she was married or gay.
As the maid of honor took her place, she sent Brody a look filled with promise that anyone could have interpreted. Nope. Not gay. Darn it.
As if seducing Brody wasn’t already a long shot, now Lana had to compete with the bridesmaid from hell.
*
Amy Walsh had a really nice set of tits. Brody couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more interested in them.
As the song ended and the band smoothly played into another one, Sidney’s bridesmaid made no move to step away and Brody missed his chance to extricate himself politely. So he moved through another dance and made the occasional expected comment as she told him all about her ex-boyfriend, who was evidently a dropkick, and her cat, who apparently had fur balls.
Amy also had big, pretty brown eyes that were sending him all kinds of messages about her availability. But for some reason his gaze kept straying over her shoulder to scan the room. He had no idea what he was looking for until he found it.
Lana.
She was dancing with Mick Jensen. Brody remembered that she’d made excuses for the chef’s early departure the other night and wondered if they had a thing going on. The guy said something to her and Lana laughed so hard she had to cling to his shoulders for support. Those long tapered fingers stood out, the nails newly painted a shiny lilac, against the dark fabric of Mick’s shirt. Brody knew a yen to see those pretty fingers resting against his shirt, toying with the buttons until they popped open and slipping inside the material to touch flesh.
He’d been envisaging all manner of similar scenarios for three days and it didn’t make a bit of sense. That heat that had risen between them had to have been a fluke. The kiss had surely been some peculiar impulse, one he definitely shouldn’t have acted on. But tonight he was more interested in watching Lana dancing with somebody else than he was in flirting with the woman in his arms. It didn’t seem normal.
“So what do you do for excitement around here?” Amy inquired, dragging his attention away from the other dancing couple. She eyed him through her thick lashes. “I guess in a small town you have to make your own fun.”
“It’s not so bad. I spent some time in Sydney when I was younger. The city’s not my thing.” Like it or not, Graceville was home. He’d realized it as he sailed back into Knight’s Bay this time, when a sense of rightness had settled in his bones. Not all his memories of this town were good ones, but the place was part of him and the easy pace agreed with his sensibilities. He couldn’t see himself living anywhere else.
“You sure? Because if you were ever up that way I’d be happy to show you the sights.”
Brody chose to ignore the open invitation Amy’s words presented. Why? She was exactly his type. Available, uncomplicated and headed out of town tomorrow. He really couldn’t figure why he had no interest in nailing her. She was pressed up against him in all the right places, but he remained consistently unstirred by the physical contact. The only female who’d gotten his juices flowing since Sidney was Lana.
To Amy, he said, “Thanks for the offer. I won’t have time.”
She blanched visibly at the brusque refusal and Brody felt a sweep of remorse that he’d offended her. But he had the feeling he wasn’t going to change his mind about taking her home and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night fending her off.
The song ended and this time Amy seemed only too happy to put a bit of space between them. Fortunately, a few of the dancers started swapping partners, and Brody took the opportunity to hand Amy over to Drew’s dad, Ray, which left Carol Buchanan without a partner.
She held her arms out to him and Brody got into position with ease. Drew’s mother had taught him the fundamentals of waltzing way back when he’d been trying to impress some girl at high school. Trying to get into her pants more precisely, but he hadn’t divulged that to Drew’s mother at the time.
They chatted about the wedding but Brody’s attention kept wandering to Lana and Mick. Was it his imagination or was she moving closer to the guy?
“She’s a pretty girl.”
Brody pulled his gaze back to his own dance partner. “Your son has good taste.”
Carol laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not talking about Sidney. I meant the girl you’ve had your eye on all night. Her name’s Lana, isn’t it? She works at the restaurant.”
“I haven’t had my eye on her.” Complete bullshit, but Brody was surprised his preoccupation had been so obvious.
Carol gave him an admonishing look. “Brody Nash. You forget who you’re talking to.”
Brody felt the urge to squirm under the woman’s sharp scrutiny. She’d always had had a talent for seeing everything, for knowing everything. All the secrets he’d never told about what it was really like living with his father. Why he’d swallowed his pride so many times and accepted Carol’s open invitation to dinner with her family, even though it had made him feel like a stray dog she was too kind to shoo away.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance?”
Yeah right. Maybe he could lose his mind again and plant one on her, something she’d think was fine. Frankly, he was used to better reviews and the sting of her critique still hadn’t quite dissipated. Perhaps that was why he was so preoccupied with her. “Nothing’s going to happen there, so stop matchmaking.”
“That would be quitting. Have you ever thought maybe it’s time to stop sowing your wild oats and breaking hearts all along the eastern seaboard?”
Brody felt the beginnings of an honest-to-God blush creep up his neck. “Mrs. B, I promise I don’t break hearts.” He wasn’t going to clarify one way or the other about his wild oats.
“Of course you do. Girls have been lining up for you for as long as I can remember.”
“You’ve always been biased.”
“If I am, I have good reason.” Carol smiled up at him, a wealth of affection displayed on her elegant face. “You never realized how much I adored you, Brody—how much we all did. I used to wish one of my girls would take a shine to you but that never happened.”
Brody laughed at the idea. “Belinda and Deanne did nothing but abuse me.”
“Just like they did Drew. Abuse is the highest form of compliment from those two. Really, Brody, I don’t think you’ve ever understood that we think of you as part of the family.”
“You say it all the time. I get it.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Ray and I would have adopted you if we could have, if you’d only told the truth about what really went on in that house.”
Brody turned away from her too-intelligent eyes. The urge to tell Carol to zip it was strong, but he could never speak that way to Drew’s mother. Didn’t she see talking about this shit always made him uneasy? He had no interest in delving into the past. It was long buried, along with his father, Larry. His mother hadn’t taken an interest or bothered to give a good explanation for why she “couldn’t handle being a mother”, and had ultimately left going on twenty years ago. Francine Nash had never given a damn what had happened to him, so Brody figured he’d reciprocate. As far as he was concerned, when it came to his past there was nothing left to talk about.
Carol sighed. “I’m sorry I brought that up, sweetie. I’ve been feeling nostalgic today. Your youngest child tying the knot will do that to you. And I can’t help but be very aware of the fact that none of this would be happening, that we wouldn’t have Drew with us, if it weren’t for you. You saved his life.”
Brody didn’t say anything. Speech was suddenly impossible over the massive lump in his throat. He hated it whenever Carol or Ray expressed any kind of appreciation for what he’d done all those years ago, when he’d been only twelve. He’d jumped into a flooding drain and yanked Drew’s foot out of a grate that had hold of him. So what? Anyone who ever heard about
the incident always seemed to look at him like he was some kind of hero, when the truth couldn’t have been more different. Reckless instinct was part and parcel of who he was back then. He’d jumped into that water simply because that was the kind of crap he was willing to do. He’d taken a perverse satisfaction from dicing with his life. Altruism had nothing to do with it.
Applause smattered around the dance floor as the song came to an end. Carol didn’t release him to add hers to the cacophony. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, “I love you, sweetie. Try and accept it.” Before she moved on to retrieve her husband from Amy, she threw over her shoulder, “And ask that girl to dance before someone else does.”
Her comment made him seek Lana out with his gaze again, as he’d been doing all night—and being damned obvious about it apparently. Mick said something to her and walked off, leaving Lana without a dance partner. For a split second she appeared disoriented. That flash of little-girl-lost made Brody act on Carol’s suggestion even though he’d had every intention of ignoring it.
He walked over and placed a hand on Lana’s arm, stopping her as she looked set to leave the floor. She glanced at him, her eyes as wide and round as gold coins, her lips parted in surprise. He leaned in close in order to be heard over the opening bars of the next song and a light tangy fragrance tickled his nostrils. Her skin was softer than he’d expected, and the feel of her beneath his fingertips made them tingle in a way that shocked him, made his words gruff with demand. “Let’s dance.”
Lana felt herself gaping. She’d had only two glasses of champagne, but the room spun as though she were half-drunk. “You want to dance with me?”
Brody smiled thinly, as if her shock irritated him. “Yeah. Promise I won’t bite.”
His gaze passed over her in that thorough, assessing manner, resting for a moment too long on her throat. A hot chill swept through her, the thought of Brody and her throat and love bites preventing speech.
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