by Holly Jacobs
Actually, she wasn't pretending. This might have started out as a ruse, but she'd like to present her mother with some ideas for the store. And if Annabelle did decide to sell, knowing what new avenues there were in terms of expansion could only solidify her bargaining position with Mark.
So, despite her initial fib, Morgan was here on a legitimate mission.
So why was she sweating?
Not glowing.
Not perspiring.
Sweating. She just hoped her deodorant worked, because the antiperspirant part wasn't doing a thing for her.
"Here, carry this in," Conner said, handing her a case.
"Sure thing."
They entered the beautiful, ornate cathedral. Morgan felt a sense of awe as she glanced into the sanctuary and took in the intricacy of the interior.
Beautifully carved wooden pews, paintings and relics surrounded her. It almost felt like sacrilege to breathe, because it would disrupt the peace.
As if on cue, the peace was shattered by an ear-splitting howl.
A door burst open and a wild-eyed woman wearing a rather obnoxious pink ruffled dress appeared.
"Photographer, right?" she asked brusquely, a note of hysteria in her voice.
Conner nodded, and Morgan just tried to be invisible.
She didn't manage it well enough because the woman looked her up and down appraisingly, then barked, "And you are?"
"My assistant," Conner said smoothly, trying to draw the woman's attention back to him.
It didn't work. She continued to assess Morgan. "What size do you wear?"
"Pardon?"
"Size, girl," she repeated loudly and succinctly, as if Morgan was rather slow-witted and possibly hard of hearing. "What size dress do you wear?"
Morgan looked at Conner, and he simply shrugged, so she told the crazy woman her dress size.
The matron heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "You'll do."
"Do what?" Morgan's earlier nervous buzz was now a roar.
"One of the bridesmaids just called and she's having car problems. She'll be here in time for the reception, but won't make the wedding ceremony. That's where you come in."
"You want me to go pick her up?" She could take Conner's car and—
"No, of course not. If it were that simple, I'd send my husband. It would be the first bit of use he's been the entire wedding. But picking her up would take too long. It would make the wedding start late. And we have important people on the guest list. The mayor, deans of three of the city's universities. We'll start on time with the proper number of bridesmaids. You'll fill in until Kimberly gets here."
"Ma'am?" Morgan might not be hard of hearing, but she feared she was indeed a bit slow-witted. "I'll do what?"
"You'll be a bridesmaid. No one will even notice. All eyes will be on my daughter, the bride, of course. We just need a body. A body that will fit into Kim's dress. You'll do."
"But—"
"The mayor will be here," the woman repeated. "I've spent a year of my life planning this wedding, a small fortune paying for it. Guests will be arriving at any moment and there will be the proper number of bridesmaids marching down that aisle on time or else." Not waiting for any further arguments, the mother of the bride said, "Now, follow me."
"Conner?" Morgan yelped, as if pleading for help.
"Why not?" he said.
Why not? Morgan could think of a host of reasons, but before she could voice even one, the woman was pushing her toward the door.
"We'll pay a substantial bonus," she called out to Conner, as if that settled it.
"What's your name?" she asked Morgan, not releasing her tight grip.
Morgan wasn't sure the woman even heard her answer as she gave a final push and closed the door behind them.
Like some four-star general, she entered the small changing room and started shouting out commands.
A gaggle of strange women, all dressed in pink, approached. They swarmed toward Morgan like a horde of locusts. There was something in the hands of the lone girl at the back of the pack.
Something large.
Something that looked suspiciously pink and as ruffly as the mother of the bride's gown.
"Here's the dress, Mom," the woman said, thrusting the fussy garment at the general.
"Let's see how this will look," the woman crooned. "Then we'll do your hair and makeup and. . ."
Morgan didn't have time to think or even cry out before they had her practically naked, then stuffed into the pink monstrosity. Zipping her in required that she hold her breath and suck in all her organs, redistributing them to positions they'd never occupied before. She was pretty sure her breasts increased in size due to the fact that they were almost touching her chin.
"I can't breathe," she said in a strangled voice, hoping for some sympathy.
The women all stared at her a moment, studying her, then looked to the general for her decree.
"She'll do."
Morgan had passed the test. The first test she'd ever hoped she'd fail.
"Now, the hair," the woman cried.
"IT WASN'T THAT BAD," CONNER said soothingly. They were driving from the wedding to the reception. Morgan still looked more than a bit pale.
"Wasn't that bad?" she repeated, punctuating the sentence with a shrill tone he surely couldn't miss. "Maybe not that bad for you. I didn't get to breathe deeply for over an hour. You try holding your breath that long. And it might have been worth it if I'd been wearing some fabulous couture sort of dress, not that eighties-flashback horror they stuffed me into."
Her hair still bore traces of whatever goop they'd used. It had lost the polished look that Morgan had each time he'd seen her.
"Come on," he said cajolingly. "You helped them out. They're grateful. And you got a real behind-the-scenes look at a wedding. I bet you have all sorts of ideas for the store. Right?"
Morgan was still shooting daggers at him with her eyes, as if it was his fault she'd been trapped into playing fill-in bridesmaid.
"Yes. I've got a great new idea."
"See, told you."
"Valium. Lithium. The store needs to carry a line of tranquilizers and happy pills for the mother of the bride. The general was overwrought. And the bride? Well, let's not start on her. She was a shrieking, wailing mess."
"They all are before the ceremony. You just wait and see her tonight at the reception. Her groom showed up, they said their I-do's and her bridesmaid finally arrived. The bride's outlook is going to be a lot sunnier than at the ceremony."
"I swear, I never got out of my clothes as quickly as I did when the absent bridesmaid walked in. I feel so. . .well, able to breathe, now that I'm free of all that frippery."
"Frippery?" He chuckled, but at her glare, saw that he'd made a tactical error.
Despite her grousing in the car, he'd been impressed by what a trouper she'd been, pitching in that way. And he wasn't about to share with her the fact that she'd looked cute in the hideous pink bridesmaid's dress. He'd taken an inordinate number of pictures of her, some he knew he'd never give to the bride; they were for his own personal collection.
Something about Morgan fascinated him. Drew him. He wasn't sure just what. Even now, ranting and carping about the wedding, she was adorable.
Oh, he doubted that's how she'd want to be described, but there it was. She was cute. And it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her.
Thankfully, they pulled up at the reception hall before his inclination won out over his good sense.
"We're here," he announced.
If the reception was anything like the wedding, it was going to be an interesting evening.
MORGAN STUDIED THE BEAUTIFUL country club with its perfectly manicured lawns, huge old trees and magnificent stone entryway. She breathed deep, thankful to be out of the close confines of the car. Being so near to Conner made her heart race and her entire body perspire.
She was glad to be back in her own clothes, and not the unfortunate bridesmaid's d
ress, for the ride. She'd have hated to hand the girl back a sodden gown. After all, it was ugly enough without being drippy.
She stood outside the car, wishing she dared flap her arms and dry them a bit.
"This is it?" she asked, stalling for time. After all, if they'd stopped in front of the building, it must be the place.
"Nice, eh?" he said.
"More than nice."
They got out and unloaded his equipment. As he handed her a camera bag, he came close enough that she couldn't help but notice again how good he smelled.
Very good.
She followed him into the building, playing the dutiful girl Friday, but actually she was pondering Conner.
She wasn't sure what scent he wore, but she'd like to get a bottle and just spray her pillow with it. She was pretty sure it would lead to some amazing dreams.
She'd never known she was such a scent junkie, but it appeared that she was.
"Okay, now in that cardboard box you'll find disposable cameras," explained Conner. "Take them around to the tables, and make sure that whoever's sitting there knows we hope they'll use them up before the night's over."
"Great."
Carrying the box of cameras, Morgan began to distribute them. It was a relief to get a bit of distance between herself and Conner. A bigger relief when she realized she'd put some distance between herself and her thoughts as well.
She was pretty sure her armpits were drying, and her heart rate had definitely settled into a more normal rhythm. . .well, right up to the minute she spotted the two women bearing down on her.
"Morgan!"
Nikki? Tessa? What are you two doing here?" Morgan's heart rate was once again racing, but not in the same he's-hot-and-smells-good sort of way. And not in a filling-in-for-a-missing-bridesmaid sort of way. Rather in an oh-nuts kind of way—what would Conner think of her if he found out? "You're friends of the bride and groom?"
That was it. She tried to calm herself down. Yes, that had to be it. Nikki and Tessa knew the happy couple and were invited guests. But when Nikki laughed, Morgan knew her friend hadn't been invited, and her hopes faded away.
"No. Not at all. Tessa and I took your advice."
Oh, no. It couldn't be. But even as she asked, "What advice?" she knew very well what it could be and, with her luck, probably was.
"Why—" Nikki dropped her voice "—crashing, of course. Sunny refused to come, but Annabelle helped me and Tess find a reception to crash. And here we are."
"Yippee." Tessa had never been able to, or more accurately, never felt inclined to mask her feelings. If she was unhappy, everyone knew it. And Tessa was definitely not happy about being here.
Well, that made two of them. Morgan was definitely less than enthusiastic. What if the General found out? Morgan couldn't imagine the mother of the bride would have much of a sense of humor about party crashers.
"We didn't know you'd be here," Nikki said. "But I'm so glad you are. It makes it even more fun."
"I can't believe you went along with her crazy plan," Morgan said to Tessa.
"I almost didn't. But Nikki was bound and determined to get a column out of this, and as her attorney I'm bound and determined to keep her out of jail. Between you and me, I don't think it's just a column. She—" Tessa pointed at the obviously excited Nikki "—is hoping to meet the man of her dreams here. You know, the same one she hopes she'll meet on every bad blind date, and at every bar she visits. She can't seem to shake the fairytale belief in true love."
"Hey," Nikki protested, "don't think I can't tell you're sneering at me or the idea of true love, Tessa Jean Caldwell. You don't have a romantic bone in your body. It could happen. The man I'm destined to be with could be here, right now. That's how it happened for Annabelle all those years ago with Morgan's dad. And you—" she turned to Morgan, obviously looking for support"—met the hot photographer while you were crashing."
"Shh," Morgan hissed.
Nikki dropped her voice a bit. "By the way, where is he? We want to check him out."
Oh, yeah, Morgan could just picture that.
Nikki would walk over, introduce herself and ask if he had any friends so that they could all double. Blind dates were once Nikki's favorite part-time occupation, and from what Morgan had heard, that hadn't changed a bit during the time she'd been gone.
Morgan shook her head. "Oh, no you don't. You totally stay out of his way. I don't want any pictures of the two of you turning up when he develops his film."
Just then the man in question, camera in hand, approached them, poised to take a picture.
Thinking quickly, Morgan moved between the camera and her two party crashing friends, just as it flashed.
"Uh, sorry," she told him.
And though she wasn't exactly sorry she'd blocked Conner's shot, she was truly sorry for a lot of other things.
Sorry that the Fates were against her.
Sorry her mother had aided and abetted her two friends in their crashing exploits.
Sorry that Morgan found herself in such an absurd situation.
Sorry she'd left a decidedly normal life in San Diego and found herself traveling down a rabbit hole into Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
"Morgan, you ruined my shot," Conner complained. No, not complained. That sounded as if he was whining, and he definitely wasn't whining. Instead, he was scowling.
Note to self: never get between a photographer and his subject.
"Sorry," she said again. "I'll be more careful."
Conner moved a step beyond Morgan and shot her friends a killer smile. "Ladies, would you mind my trying again?"
Even as Nikki said, "No, feel free," and started to pose, Morgan blocked his shot again.
"Sorry, but the bride was hoping you'd get a picture of the cake before her niece gets her fingers into it again. They already had to reposition it to hide the missing rose."
Conner gave her an odd look, then nodded. "All right. Did you finish passing out the cameras?"
"I was just giving some to these two ladies before coming to find you for the bride." Morgan dropped her voice. "They needed more instructions than most. I don't think the brunette's very sharp." She paused, then added, "The bride seemed very anxious about the cake."
"I'd better run. I'll get a picture of you two ladies later."
"We'd love it," Nikki called merrily.
Conner gave a small wave, then hurried across the reception hall.
"No. You wouldn't love it," Morgan corrected her friend.
"I wouldn't?"
"You wouldn't. I warn you, Nikki, if I look through these pictures and find you in any of them, I'm going to get a particular old photo of mine out and mail a copy to your mom. I'm pretty sure you can guess which one I'm talking about."
"You wouldn't." Nikki was obviously trying to sound assured, but wasn't able to hide the hint of doubt that crept into her tone. "Would you?"
"Try me."
Nikki's mom was as by-the-book as Morgan's mom was doesn't-even-own-a-book.
"She'd have a hissy fit if she saw her only daughter shooting a moon," Morgan assured her. "And after you denied so vehemently toilet-papering the principal's yard, the photo would say otherwise."
"I can't believe you'd threaten me like this."
Morgan knew Nikki wanted her to feel guilty, but all she felt was relief that maybe she'd found a way to control her rather wild and spontaneous friend. "I can't believe you crashed my wedding."
"It's not your wedding, and we didn't know you'd be here."
"Girls," Tessa scolded. "No fighting. I'm here to see to it no one ends up in jail, and a brawl might wreck that goal."
"You heard her—she threatened to tell my mother," Nikki said. "She's been on the West Coast far too long. It's sucked away her sense of adventure."
"I have a sense of adventure. A great sense of adventure," Morgan protested. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here in this absurd situation. You're just trying to blow my cover."
"Oh, I didn't real
ize that you had a monopoly on crashing."
Morgan realized Nikki was right; she was here under false pretenses, just like they were. "Oh, go, have fun, just don't let Conner take any pictures of you. Please, don't wreck this for me."
The "please" must have softened Nikki's ire, because she said, "He is awfully cute."
"Cute?" Tessa scoffed. "Hot. He's downright burn-your-briefs hot."
"Was that a joke, Tessa Jean?" Nikki asked, laughing.
"Just because I'm an attorney doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor. Lawyers are funny."
Nikki snorted.
Tessa glared at her, then turned back to Morgan. "I won't let her wreck it for you. She'll behave, I promise."
"Good. Thanks. I'd better finish delivering these cameras." Morgan plopped one in each of her friends' hands. "Take some pictures, just don't have any taken of you."
Nikki looked at the disposable camera and nodded. "Oh, and before you go, we wanted to be sure you're coming to brunch tomorrow."
"Will she be there?"
"Would we have asked you if she were coming?" Tessa replied.
Morgan knew they wouldn't. "Then, yes, I'd love to. I didn't realize how much I've missed Sunday brunches. . . missed all of you."
"Well, I doubt you'll miss us tonight, so we won't stay long," Tessa assured her. "Once Nikki's had her adventure and discovered her true love isn't lurking in the shadows, we're going. If we don't say goodbye, don't worry. We'll see you in the morning."
"And I'll tell you all about my lucky night, because despite what doubting Tessa thinks, there could be a Mr. Right for me right here." Nikki started scanning the crowd, as if she expected to find him immediately.
If Morgan had any luck at all, Nikki wouldn't spot anyone, and she and Tessa would both leave before Conner caught up with them again.
And imagine Nikki calling Conner cute! She snorted. Was she blind?
Tessa was right—he was much more than cute. He was gorgeous. And if he found out about all this crashing, she might lose whatever chance she had to experience that heat up close and personal.
Morgan hurried away, very much aware of how she'd almost had her cover blown. Her heart rate was racing again, and she was sweating even more.
