by Jackie Braun
“Hold on, folks. Hold on. Take your seats again, please. We have one last item up for bid today. It’s not listed in your programs. It’s something very special.”
A murmur of surprise went up from the crowd as people returned to their seats. Darcie swiped at her damp cheeks. Unless she wanted to draw attention to herself by stepping over the half-dozen spectators in her row that were between her and the aisle, she had no choice but to take hers as well.
Once the audience had quieted down, the auctioneer continued. “This item is a little unusual. It’s going to require a special buyer, which is why the seller has set a reserve.”
Darcie was hunting through her purse for a tissue and only half listening, but she knew that meant the seller had requested a minimum bid be met in order for the sale to go through. Such a strategy could prove risky, but it also ensured that an item of great worth didn’t wind up selling way under value simply because the right buyers weren’t in attendance.
Must be some car, she thought, momentarily halting her quest for a tissue to glance at the stage. She didn’t see an automobile. Instead, she saw Nick saunter out.
The women in the crowd went wild, cheering and clapping and whistling shrilly. Darcie would have joined them had she been capable of making noise. But at that moment, even breathing was proving difficult.
He was here!
And looking gorgeous in a classically cut tuxedo with a snowy white shirt and black bow tie. His dark hair was neatly combed. Just wait till she got him alone. She was going to run her fingers through it, leaving it mussed and sexy.
“I’ve got a platinum credit card!” a curvy blonde near the front hollered. “Whatever the reserve is, I’m sure I can meet it.”
Other women began shouting out dollar amounts then, even though the auctioneer had yet to start the bidding.
“Ladies, ladies. Quiet down. As I said, this is a special auction item. Nick Costas is offering a personal tour of Manhattan and dinner at his favorite Greek restaurant to the woman who meets his reserve.”
“What’s the amount?” someone called out.
“Nick and I have known one another for a long time. We’re competitors in business, but friends, too. Still, he hasn’t told me. All he has said is that he will let me know when or if the terms of the sale have been met.”
When the audience began grumbling, the auctioneer silenced them. “It gets more bizarre, folks. Nick will pick up the tab for the winning bid and give the amount to the charity of the winner’s choice.”
“So, there’s no risk?” a woman asked.
“Only to your hearts. So, ladies, get ready to raise those paddles. Bidding starts at one thousand dollars.”
It escalated quickly from there, hitting ten thousand before Darcie could process what was happening. He was selling himself, but not to the highest bidder. That was where the reserve came in. Nick was waiting for her. If she loved him, he was, quite literally, hers for the taking.
Darcie set her paddle on her seat. She didn’t need it. She had a better idea.
“Excuse me,” she said to the gentleman seated to her left. She had to repeat the process five more times before she made it to the aisle and was heading toward the stage. She no longer cared about making a spectacle of herself.
Nick spotted her when she was halfway there. His mouth curved into a grin that set her heart bumping irregularly.
“I believe the reserve has been met,” he told the auctioneer. His gaze never wavered from hers.
She climbed the steps and met him center stage. The huge crowd fell silent. For Darcie, at that moment, they simply didn’t exist.
“I was getting a little worried that you weren’t here,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck.
His hands found her waist. “I apologize for that. I wanted to make a statement.”
“You certainly did. I was going for that with this dress, by the way.”
“So I see. I can’t wait to take it off you. Six months is very long.”
“Felt like a lifetime,” she agreed. “But I’ve kept busy.”
“Writing?” he asked.
“And plenty of it. Did I mention I moved here to take a job at a magazine? I just started last week.”
His smile was wide and tinged with pride. “I knew you could do it.”
“Kiss him already!” the woman who’d offered her credit card at the beginning of the auction shouted.
Darcie grinned. “How do you feel about public displays of affection?”
In answer, Nick lowered his mouth to hers.
“I love you, Darcie Hayes,” he whispered afterward.
“I love you, too.”
* * * * *
EPILOGUE
Becky fussed with the satin folds of Darcie’s wedding gown as they stood at the back of the church. Although the denomination wasn’t Greek Orthodox, much to Yiayia’s dismay, Darcie had insisted that some of the elements of a traditional Greek ceremony be incorporated into their wedding.
One year to the day after they’d met in the Athens airport, Nick had gotten down on one knee and proposed. Now, Darcie was minutes away from becoming his wife.
The music began. Her sisters, wearing dresses the same shade of blue as the Aegean, started up the aisle one at a time. As Darcie’s maid of honor, Becky went last. Then it was just Darcie and her father standing at the back of the church, a white runner strewn with rose petals the only thing between her and Nick.
“Slow down,” her father whispered, as they began to walk as the wedding march began. “Make him wait a little longer.”
It might have been good advice if Darcie had not been so eager herself. She already felt as if she’d waited a lifetime for this moment, even if by many standards her romance with Nick had been a whirlwind.
Finally at the altar, she smiled at Nick, took his hands. Vows were spoken. Rings were exchanged. A unity candle was lit. Then Pieter, grinning broadly, placed crowns on their heads and switched them three times.
“You may kiss your bride,” the priest said.
Nick’s eyes were bright. His expression mirrored the sheer joy Darcie felt.
“At last,” he murmured just before their mouths met.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice.
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ONE
New York City, August, the present.
Something’s come up. U & M will have to pick fabulous venue for Cassie’s do without me. C u tomorrow at Amber’s Bridal. 11 a.m. Don’t B late. R xxxx
‘Reese Michael, I am going to murder you.’ Gina Carrington glared at the text that had popped up on her smartphone.
This was a set-up, pure and simple.
Now her old college roomie was in the throes of second-chance nirvana with her sexy ex- and soon-to-be-new husband Mason, Reese was so full of the joys of spring—and Gina suspected really spectacular sex—that she was starting to make Pollyanna look like a killjoy.
The something that had come up was Reese’s cock-eyed optimism, and leaving her and Marnie to have this meeting without her was her unsubtle way of getting them to kiss and make up properly after that fun-filled night a decade ago when they’d hurled words such as ‘Tramp’ and ‘Whore’ and ‘Virgin’ at each other before busting up the Awesome Foursome.
Gina’s fingers hovered over the keypad of her phone as she cursed her own stupidity.
She should have seen this coming, as soon as Reese had suggested that the three of them organise a surprise wedding party for Cassie and Tuck, the hot jock she was scheduled to marry at the Manhattan Marriage Bureau on the Friday before Labor Day.
But the truth was, Gina hadn’t given it a second thought. Reese was classy, committed to her friends and a champion organiser—the original Park Avenue Princess—it had made total sense that she would come up with an idea like this.
In typical Cassie fashion, their super-geek friend had agreed to marry Tuck and then left the arrangements up to him. No fanfare, no fuss, no debauched fun or inappropriate frolics had been either planned or discussed. So after speaking to Tuck, Reese had decreed the three of them should handle that part of the programme without telling Cassie. Because Cassie would go into a geek-induced coma if they made too much fuss, they had opted to celebrate in understated style—inviting the minimalist guest list that would be witnessing the wedding at City Hall to a great meal at a great restaurant right after the event.
Hence the decision to meet at this ungodly hour of the morning in Gina’s favourite diner near Grand Central Station and debate possible venues, before booking one.
But Reese being Reese had seen a way to turn what should have been a polite and straightforward affair, with her as the official gooseberry, into a peace-keeping mission of UN proportions.
Gina and Marnie had remained civil to each other, meeting again for the first time a little over a month ago, during the fiasco that was Reese’s Wedding-That-Wasn’t to Dylan Brookes—the original Mr Too Perfect. That should have been enough, Gina thought resentfully. They had spoken to each other, they had even joked with each other in a strained way. No insults had been hurled, no punches thrown, no eyes gouged out, which in Gina’s mind was a result. But clearly, that hadn’t been good enough for Reese, who was now a fully loved-up member of the sweetness-and-light club. Reese wanted all the dirty laundry properly aired and then washed clean—so the four of them could go back to being the carefree college roomies who’d hit it off instantly at Hillbrook College.
But to Gina’s way of thinking, that simply wasn’t ever going to happen. You couldn’t go back and undo the mistakes you made. You simply had to learn to live with them. And she didn’t think that Marnie would ever forgive her. Because she hadn’t yet forgiven herself.
Not only that, but kissing and making up with Marnie would involve talking about a man Gina had promised herself she wouldn’t even think about again, because she’d thought about him far too often in the intervening years. Namely, Marnie’s big brother, Carter Price. The man she’d had one wild night with just weeks before his wedding day. A wild night the consequences of which had not only nearly destroyed her but, from what Reese had told her, had managed to screw up his life rather comprehensively too.
Gina’s newly manicured nails tapped out a tattoo on the side of her smartphone as she glanced at the ornate clock on the diner’s far wall—and the urge to quickly text Marnie and make her excuses increased. She still had ten minutes to do a runner before Marnie arrived—because for the first time in recordable history she was actually early.
Sighing, she locked her phone and slung it back in her bag. Ten years ago she would have gone with the urge—and run out on Marnie and the unpleasant conversation that loomed large in her foreseeable future. Because when she was nineteen, doing whatever took her fancy and then running away from the fallout had been her speciality. She smoothed damp palms over the vintage dress she’d picked up in a thrift store in Brooklyn a week ago. How inconvenient that she wasn’t that reckless, irresponsible tart any more.
‘Can I get you something, miss?’
Gina pasted a smile on her face at the helpful enquiry from the college kid who was waiting tables.
‘Something hot and strong would be good,’ she said, checking him out from force of habit.
His fresh face flushed a dull red. ‘Umm... What did you have in mind, miss?’
‘Coffee,’ she said, taking pity on him as the flush went from pink to vermillion. ‘And this morning I’m going to need it neat.’
He nodded. ‘Coming right up.’
She watched him stroll off and smiled.
While she might not be in the market for indiscriminate flings any more, it was satisfying to know she hadn’t lost her touch.
In fact, as she took a long gulp of the watery diner coffee ten minutes later, she felt almost mellow. Until the revolving door at the front of the restaurant spun round and out popped Marnie Price looking cute and efficient in her power suit and kitten heels. Gina lifted a hand to wave, and watched Marnie’s expression go from keen to wary when she spotted the empty seat next to her.
The hollow roll of regret flopped over in Gina’s stomach. While it was certainly true that she and the Savannah Belle hadn’t had a thing in common when they’d first met at Reese’s house on campus—and Gina had spent most of that first month teasing Marnie mercilessly about everything from her views on love and marriage to her perfect Southern manners—their friendship had eventually developed into something strong and supportive and surprisingly genuine.
The truth was, Gina had felt superior to Marnie then. Gina had considered herself a sophisticated, cosmopolitan woman of the world who knew all she needed to know about men and sex and relationships—unlike the sheltered, self-confessed Southern virgin.
But Marnie had grown on Gina, despite their differences. Because beneath those pristine Southern manners had been an admirable devotion to doing the right thing, being accountable for your actions and always believing the best of people. And then Gina had gone and mucked everything up by jumping into bed with the brother Marnie idolised—and discovered in the process she was hardly the poster girl for mature relationships either.
But if there was something Gina regretted even more than giving in to temptation that night, it was taking that bright, trusting light out of Marnie’s eyes. Something that now appeared to be gone for good.
‘Hi, Gina.’ Marnie sent her a polite smile as she slid into the booth. ‘Are we early?’ she asked, probably hoping Reese—who was never late—would magically materialise and get them out of this predicament.
I
f only. ‘Reese can’t make it. Something came up, apparently.’ Gina took a judicious sip of her coffee, resisting the urge to say the something was probably a key part of the hot ex-husband’s anatomy.
‘And I’ll bet I know what it is,’ Marnie murmured, making Gina choke on her coffee. ‘I swear, you’d think Mason had invented sex the way Reese gushes about the guy.’
Gina put down her cup, a grin forming despite the underlying tension. ‘Gushes being the operative word.’
Marnie gave a small laugh. ‘All I hope is that it’s more than just sex this time around—because there is no way I am repackaging a billion truffles again in this lifetime.’
‘Amen to that,’ Gina said, toasting Marnie with her coffee mug and smiling at the memory of how the four of them had spent two solid hours taking table-top truffles out of engagement-ring-style boxes when Reese had decided to reinvent her aborted wedding to Dylan into a celebration of... Well, no one had ever really figured that out.
‘To be frank,’ Gina added, ‘if I ever see another truffle before I die, it’ll be too soon.’
Marnie’s lips curved, but Gina could see the concern in her pure blue eyes—and had the sudden realisation that she hadn’t given Marnie her due in the last month.
Seemed they’d both done quite a lot of growing up in the last decade.
After ordering herself an iced tea and some wheat toast from the blushing waiter, Marnie got right down to business, tugging a smartphone out of her briefcase. ‘Okay, I’ve narrowed a couple of possible venues down that can accommodate a party of seven on the required date, can provide a wedding cake and meet our “classy but not too intimidating” requirements.’ She pressed a few buttons, her gaze flicking to Gina. ‘My personal favourite is the Tribeca Terrace. Do you know it?’
Gina nodded. ‘Sure, chic and funky with sensational food and a dance floor—so Cassie and Tuck can get up close and pornographic for our benefit.’
