After Ginger left the dressing room, Cassandra frowned. Her mother might be reasonable about the wedding gown, but she was still pushing. Pushing Cassandra to get married. Pushing her to do the right things with her life. Pushing her to be something she wasn’t.
“I should have been more clear with Ginger,” Vanessa said. “I’m sure she assumed you’d want a gown like Emily’s.”
“Like I’d want anything to remind me of her wedding.”
“Sweetheart, I know you are still upset over Emily marrying Eric, but it was for the best. Eric was not the man for you. He wouldn’t have made you happy. You’ve got such a wonderful future ahead of you with Troy.” Vanessa’s eyes sparkled. “Can’t you forget about the past?”
If only Cassandra could forget, but it wasn’t easy to forget the pain—the pain of having her heart ripped out. The betrayal still stung. She found it difficult to trust anyone. How was she supposed to forget and put it behind her?
“Once we find you a wedding dress, I’m sure you’ll feel better,” Vanessa said.
Cassandra rubbed her temples, trying to stop the headache threatening to erupt. This was too much. The dress. The engagement. It was all a charade. Everything. She should put a stop to it right now.
“What if we forget about finding a dress?” Cassandra asked. “I could wear a toga. In fact, we could have all of the guests wear togas. I could make a wreath out of fig leaves—”
“Cassandra, really,” Vanessa said. “Could you imagine your father in a toga? Just the thought.”
“It was only an idea, Mom.” At least Cassandra had tried. And she liked the idea of Troy in a toga with nothing underneath. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t think about Troy that way, even though he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen and the best kisser she’d ever kissed. Bottom line, he was like Eric Wainwright—same ambition, same drive, same everything.
She should have never told her mother she was engaged. Yes, it had seemed like the perfect solution to stop her parents from meddling and matchmaking, but now Cassandra wasn’t so sure. If only her parents understood she didn’t mind being alone. She knew something they didn’t. Being alone was better than the alternative—having her heart broken again.
Ginger returned with three dresses. The first was an elegant sleeveless silk ballroom gown with a lacecovered bodice. It reminded Cassandra of a dress Audrey Hepburn would have worn. The next dress was short-sleeved with a small bow at the sweetheart neckline. Simple yet charming. She liked both dresses.
“I think you’ll like this one the best.” Ginger helped Cassandra into the next gown and buttoned up the back. “I call it my English garden wedding dress.”
Cassandra stared at herself in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous. Made of silk with alternating wide stripes of white and ivory, the dress had a small bow on each sleeve and a larger, matching bow in the back.
On the front of the plain, tight-fitting bodice, six round fabric-covered buttons narrowed in a V to the baroque waist. No lace, no beading, no pearls. Perfect.
Vanessa dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Oh, Cassandra.”
“It’s made to resemble an old-fashioned design, but the textured fabric gives it a modern flair.” Ginger placed her right hand on her hip. “I think this dress makes more of a statement than the other two.”
Cassandra looked like a bride; she felt like a bride. Not even the dress she had purchased to wear for her wedding with Eric made her feel this way. Thinking about the other dress dimmed her excitement, but only for a few seconds. This was the dress she wanted to be married in.
“If you don’t like the striped fabric, we could have the dress made with plain silk. I’ll go find a headpiece to match.” Ginger walked around a corner.
“What do you think?” Vanessa asked.
“I like the stripes.”
“Me, too,” Vanessa said, much to Cassandra’s surprise. She thought her mother would prefer the more traditional fabric.
Wearing this gown, Cassandra could imagine herself walking down the aisle. Plain, yet elegant and not completely traditional. Ginger was right. It could have been worn a hundred years ago in the English countryside. Cassandra imagined a wreath of fresh flowers in her hair. She couldn’t wait for Troy to see her. He would love the dress, except…
Troy would never see her in this dress.
“Do you like the gown?” Vanessa asked.
Disappointed with herself; disappointed with finding a dress she didn’t need, Cassandra nodded. She felt like a deflated balloon that had popped itself by floating too high in the sky.
Time to get out of here. She needed to get out of the dress before she fell in love with it any more. Where was Ginger? Cassandra tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for her to return.
How could this have happened?
Cassandra felt like a fraud; she was a fraud. She loved the dress, but she couldn’t have it. She wasn’t getting married; she was never getting married.
Catching a glimpse of her reflection, Cassandra blinked back a tear. She’d found the perfect dress—the perfect dress for a wedding that would never happen.
5
Later that afternoon, Troy stood on a street corner watching Cassie get her face painted. He’d wanted to relax and hang out with Dixon, but Cassie had had other ideas. Grabbing his arm, she’d dragged him to his truck. She’d given him no explanation, just a smile. Standard operating procedure for Cassie.
But still…
Something was on her mind. He could tell by the way she gnawed on her lip. He assumed it had something to do with their talk earlier, but didn’t ask. She’d talk to him when she was ready. Troy had figured that out about her.
Cassie had wanted to go to the beach, so he drove her there. They’d walked along the wet sand in bare feet, smelling the salty air and listening to the waves crash against the shore. She’d said little, another sign telling him something was wrong. Then, she’d wanted to go to the village. And here they were.
Cassie sat on a wooden stool. “Are you sure you don’t want your face painted, Troy?” A woman, wearing a clown suit, painted two daisies on Cassie’s left cheek.
“I think I’ll pass.” Face painting wasn’t for him, but Carmel was. He could get used to this. A gentle breeze blew though a rainbow wind sock hanging outside a flower shop. Birds chirped from a nearby tree. Tourists strolled along the quaint streets, visiting the many galleries and trendy boutiques.
Someone giggled behind him. He glanced back. Three young girls waited in line to have their faces painted. They whispered to one another. He smiled. One of the girls, dressed in pink overalls, blushed and covered her mouth with her hands. She had curly blond hair—a little angel. All she needed was a pair of wings and a halo. Seeing her made Troy wonder what Cassie had looked like when she was younger. No doubt a real cutie with her heart-shaped face and baby blue eyes, like the little girl standing behind him.
Troy sighed. He hoped he had all boys when he had children. Girls would age a man, fast. Especially if they turned out to be anything like Cassie.
Whoa. Where had that come from?
He wanted a family, yes. But not now. And not with Cassie. She was attractive, but unconventional.
Not his type.
The perfect fiancée for a weekend, but not any longer. Troy knew what it took to get ahead. He needed a woman, make that a wife, who would be an asset to his career, not a novelty. Cassie wouldn’t be content standing around and chatting politely at a cocktail party. She would probably pull out a deck of tarot cards and offer to do readings in order to liven things up.
Not the woman for him.
Sliding off the stool, Cassie handed the clown a five-dollar bill. With a big grin on her face, she turned toward him and struck a pose, giving him a perfect view of the daisies on her flushed cheek. The flowers matched the ones on her dress. “What do you think?”
She smiled. A good sign. “It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Cassie balked. Two little lin
es formed above the bridge of her nose. “I wonder how you would describe my tattoo?”
“You have a tattoo?” As he said the words, Troy wondered why he would be surprised. Nothing about her should surprise him. A tattoo. Cassie would have a flower. Wildflowers? A rose, perhaps? But where? The idea of finding it made him smile.
“Yes, don’t you?” She made it sound like having a tattoo was the same as having pierced ears.
“Uh, no.”
“You really need to spice up your life, Troy. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you were boring.”
Next to Cassie, anyone would seem bland. “My life is exciting enough.”
“Suit yourself.”
“So where is this tattoo of yours?”
She tilted her chin. “That’s my secret. No one knows where it is except me.”
“And the tattoo artist.”
“Of course.”
The seductive smile on Cassie’s face intrigued Troy. He imagined trying to find her tattoo, but the image overwhelmed him. He needed to cool off. “Would you like to get an ice cream?”
“Sure. There’s a place around the corner.”
The ice-cream parlor was almost empty except for a family of four sitting in the corner. Cassie ordered a scoop of Rocky Road and a scoop of Chocolate Fudge Brownie on a sugar cone. Troy settled for a scoop of vanilla in a cup.
“Do you want to eat it here?” he asked.
“Yes.” Cassie pointed to a round, marble table near the window. “I want to know about your day with my father.”
Troy grabbed four napkins, handing three of them to Cassie before he sat at the table. “We had a great time.”
“Details, Troy.”
He ate a spoonful of his delicious-looking ice cream. Cool and tasty, just what he needed to forget Cassie, who was hot and tasty. “Details, huh?”
She nodded. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“Let’s see, I lost the round so I bought lunch.”
Her eyes widened. “My father let you buy? Wow.”
Troy didn’t consider buying lunch a big deal. He’d insisted on buying, but didn’t tell her. “Dixon beat me, but he was upset over his score.”
“He has a four handicap.”
“Dixon said he was a hacker.”
A drop of chocolate dribbled from Cassie’s mouth. She licked her lips catching the chocolate with the pink tip of her tongue. “He plays at least three times a week.”
“I was had.” And Dixon wasn’t the only one trying to take him. Troy wondered if Cassie was trying to drive him crazy.
He took a bite of his ice cream. Although tasty, it didn’t do much to cool him down. Not with Cassie seductively licking her ice-cream cone, making him wonder what else she could be doing with her tongue. Talk about torture. He couldn’t wait until she finished eating it. He should have suggested getting a soda. Somehow being around Cassie sent his normally rational mind askew.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. You probably made his day.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What else did you do?”
“We ate lunch at the lodge. Then Dixon gave me a tour. Surprise, surprise. We ended up in a large banquet room. He hinted it would be a nice place for a wedding reception.”
Although Dixon had been far from subtle in maneuvering him into the room, Troy had to give him credit. The elegant room with a hardwood dance floor and picture windows overlooking the golf course and the Pacific Ocean would be the perfect place for a wedding reception. Someday. When he found the right woman and was ready to get married. But not in the near future. Marriage wasn’t part of his near-term plan.
“So did the two of you select a date for the wedding and reserve the room?” Cassie sounded annoyed, but he found it hard to take her seriously with daisies painted on her cheek and chocolate on her upper lip.
“No, but your father thought April would be a good month.” Reaching over, Troy wiped her lip with his napkin. “You missed a spot.”
“Thanks.”
“I thought about what you said this morning,” he admitted. He’d thought about it, especially after Dixon mentioned an opening at his company. “I don’t buy the soul mates for eternity, but I think your parents are getting a little carried away.”
“I told you so.”
Troy deserved that, but she didn’t have to be so smug. “Can’t we share the blame? After all, we are in this together.”
“I suppose.” Cassie bit into the crunchy cone.
It wasn’t much, but it would do…for now.
“After Dixon showed me the room, I mentioned I wanted a traditional church wedding, but you wanted to get married in your bare feet at the beach and have a shaman perform the ceremony.”
“A shaman.” She chuckled. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. I can’t believe you came up with that on your own.”
“I can be creative when called upon.”
“What did he say?”
Cassandra’s smile tugged at his heart. Troy realized her comparison of him to Eric Wainwright must have been due more to emotion and the moment than the truth. “Dixon said the beach might be difficult. Women in high heels. But he didn’t see a problem if you went barefoot.”
“My father said that?”
Troy nodded, not mentioning Dixon thought Cassie’s gown would cover her feet so it wouldn’t matter whether she wore shoes or not.
“What about the shaman?”
Troy laughed. “He didn’t see a problem with that, either.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“I wish I were.”
“Please tell me you said something else.”
“Well…”
She sighed. “Your sheepish grin tells me everything I need to know, Troy McKnight. Damn. You didn’t say a word.”
“Cassie—”
“You could’ve told my father I want you to quit your job and farm algae in Oregon.”
“Like he’d believe that,” Troy said. “I said all I could. I didn’t want to press the issue and be too obvious.”
“Why not?”
“We were having a good time.” Besides, he felt as though he owed it to Dixon, who had taught him more during eighteen holes of golf than in one of Troy’s business school classes. The career advice had been invaluable. “I didn’t want to spoil it”
“You.” Cassie threw one of her napkins at him. “You’re too nice.”
No, he wasn’t nice. If he were nice he wouldn’t be wishing he could have licked the chocolate off her face instead of wiping it off.
“Do you ever not play by the rules?” she asked.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Hopeless. You’re positively hopeless.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Go right ahead.”
He grinned. “What about you? How was your day?”
Cassie rubbed her temples and groaned. “My mother took me shopping for a wedding gown.”
Judging from her reaction, the shopping expedition did not go well. “Did you find anything you liked?”
“As a matter of fact, I—” She stopped herself, but she couldn’t stop the blush reddening her cheeks. “What are we doing? Before you know it, we’ll be married and have a baby on the way.”
The dire sound of her voice made his smile widen. Marriage and a baby were a bit much. Though he liked the concept of how babies were made. “I doubt that.”
She slammed her hands on the table. “We need to do something drastic.”
Troy’s gut tightened. Drastic to Cassie most likely had a different definition than what he was used to. She was an extremist; he was a middle-of-the-road kind of guy. “I don’t like the sound of drastic.”
“I’m not saying we stage a revolution, but something along those lines.” She tapped her fingertips on the table. “This is working out too well. My parents love you.”
And Troy liked her parents. “We’ve already been through this, Cassie. We’re halfway through the weekend. We’re almost th
ere.”
She nodded. “But I didn’t realize they’d be so excited about the wedding. You admitted this was getting a little out of control.”
“Yes,” he said, thinking about the possibility of working for Dixon one day. The job and Cassie would be a package deal. A package he couldn’t begin to consider.
“I know you’re worried about your career, but we can’t forget about my sanity.”
“I know.”
Time for a reality check. Troy needed Cassie more than she needed him. Her parents’ meddling was one thing, but his livelihood was on the line.
“This isn’t easy, but we only have twenty-four more hours to go. We can get through this if we do it together.” Her hesitation worried him. “Twenty-four more hours, Cassie. Think you can make it?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s just…Oh, no.”
“What?”
Her voice softened to a whisper. “Hold my hand and gaze lovingly into my eyes.”
Troy assumed Cassie had a logical explanation for the sudden change. Until she lifted his hand and kissed each of his fingers. Obviously, she’d lost her mind. He pulled his hand away, but she held it tighter. “What are you—”
“PDA in an ice-cream parlor,” a female voice crooned, interrupting him. Troy turned. Emily led a frowning Eric to the table. “I can understand such a public display of affection from my sister, but Troy, really. I thought you were above that.”
Cassie tightened her grip on his hand, then released it. “What are you doing here?”
“We were shopping and saw you in the window. I’m sure the entire village has been watching you.”
The air filled with tension and did not feel sisterly. Cassie straightened in her chair. “I meant, why are you in Carmel?”
“Didn’t mother tell you? I guess not from the expression on your face.” Emily’s tittering laughter filled the ice cream parlor. “Guess who’s coming to dinner?”
To Cassandra’s amazement, everyone behaved themselves at dinner. It reminded her of a meeting between warring nations trying to negotiate a peace treaty. No one wanted to say anything to offend the others so nothing interesting was said.
Fiance for the Night Page 7
