Just how much did Brent understand of her decision to quit her job? She’d never told him how she truly felt. Not in so many words.
The nightmare that haunted her dreams resurfaced. Would she hold it together when she saw him and Honey? Brent gazing adoringly at his bride; Honey, beautiful as ever, riding high on her triumph?
Or would Eve Fortescue, exiled and unloved, lonely to the core of her miserable soul, disgrace herself in public by dissolving in tears?
Never. She must not.
She made an effort to steady her nerves. She was a twenty-seven year old woman of the world, a bona fide New Yorker now, working in the exciting field of publishing with a whole bunch of truly glamorous people. She had an apartment of her own, admittedly not enormous, and with a nook, rather than some overblown, grandiose kitchen. She was wearing a dress she’d bought just around the corner from Fifth Avenue, stunning new five-inch heels and genuine silk stockings, and she had played Sister Maria in the Bellefleur production of The Sound of Music to critical acclaim.
She had a reputation for success to uphold.
In Bellefleur, anyway.
Besides. Brent wasn’t married yet.
Smoothing down her dress and bearing in mind the soothing knowledge of the quality of her underwear, Eve took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and sashayed through the grand doorway of the Magnolia Room.
Just inside the entrance she paused, both to check the lay of the land, and on the off- chance she might be charmingly framed by the architraves.
Just in case anyone—all right, Brent—might be watching.
She blinked at the blaze of light. Someone must have given the chandeliers a good scrub. The restaurant section sparkled, the tables set with crystal and snowy white linen and arranged in long, inviting rows.
Folks were standing about gossiping, glasses in hand, enjoying caviar on their canapés, voices raised a notch above the music. The classy five-piece outfit was into a mellow “Sophisticated Lady,” not intrusive, just noticeable enough to tug at Eve’s already overburdened heartstrings.
It was easy to pick out the wedding party. They were all hanging together over by the bar, seeming a little wired with excitement.
Eve searched breathlessly among her old friends for the one face she longed for. There was Brent’s older brother, Griff, lounging his elegant frame against the bar with the lazy grace of a big wicked jungle cat on the prowl. He was the one all the girls had been crazy for. Tall, rich, and smokin’ hot. Why couldn’t Honey have gone for him and left Brent for the woman who could truly appreciate his more subtle qualities?
That was when she saw him. Brent.
Her pulse revved up.
Almost simultaneously, as though they were linked by some cosmic force, Brent glanced up and saw her. As his gaze held hers across the room, her heart did that crazy little spin. She was barely aware of Honey at his side, looking spectacular in an elegant lemon-yellow dress, shooting a quick anxious glance between them. For this moment in time and space, Eve’s entire being was centered on Brent.
“Now aren’t they the perfect couple?”
Hearing that smooth deep voice in her ear, Eve nearly jumped out of her skin. A thrill shocked through her, whether of pure fear or excitement she couldn’t quite tell.
Rainer had materialized beside her, his large, powerful body swamping her in an almost overwhelming force field of stirring masculinity.
It was so disconcerting. This was her moment, her beautiful entrance, probably one of the most significant in her life, and this big lunk had to spoil it.
And there was no warning the likes of him away. While she was doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there, Honey broke into a dazzling smile and surged toward them both, hands outstretched.
“Why, Rainer. And—Eve. So glad y’all could come.”
Rainer bent his dark head to kiss Honey—quite tenderly, it seemed to Eve—then strode to Brent and clapped him on the shoulder.
Honey turned to Eve, the smile in her warm brown eyes the teensiest bit strained. Hesitating the barest instant, she leaned forward and grazed Eve’s cheek with hers.
That small hesitation pained Eve and made her heart thump uncomfortably. She liked Honey, she truly did. She didn’t deserve this bad feeling she sensed clouding the air. What did Honey have to complain about, anyway? Eve had allowed her to walk off with the man she believed could be her true and rightful soulmate, without even putting up a fight.
Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe she should have stood her ground. This could have been her wedding rehearsal dinner. It wasn’t fair that Honey should make her feel like some dangerous femme fatale when Eve was the one who’d made the noble sacrifice and walked away.
She became aware of an edgy little pause in the conversation, and realized the other three were all looking expectantly at her. Rainer’s gray eyes were veiled, yet somehow alert.
Fine, then. Her cue.
Breathlessly, assuming her most winsome smile, she gazed into Brent’s eyes and placed her hand in his. Let their palms commingle to generate a little harmless electricity.
“Hello.” Her racing heart made her sound quite throaty.
“Come now,” Brent said gruffly, pulling her toward him. “You can do better than that. My favorite assistant.” He bent to brush her cheek with his lips, rested his hand lightly in the small of her back.
Ohhh. Emotion seethed in Eve’s heart. She closed her eyes to savor the precious contact, but tragically, it was over far too soon. With Honey standing there, Brent hadn’t even been truly able to hold her in his arms. He probably hadn’t even had time to catch a whiff of the Sin she’d doused herself in. His favorite.
As they separated, leaving her grieving heart bereft, something dragged her glance sideways. With a jolt she collided with Rainer’s cool, level gaze.
That glint in his eyes. WTF? Who did he think he was? Her conscience?
She turned her back on him.
Brent and Honey started chatting to her then, for all the world like a single item, showering her with their entwined happiness. A bona fide couple, asking her about her exciting new career, Manhattan, her fantastic new life.
So kind. So heartbreaking.
No one would have guessed that little more than a year ago Brent had kissed her late at night in the piano bar of the InterContinental hotel in Dallas and ignited her girlish heart with a helpless adoration. And that he’d slid his hand up her dress and stroked the silky secret terrain of her inner thigh.
No one, except for maybe Rainer Delacroix. Oh, and Aunt Minna evidently, who had some sort of supernatural second sight when it came to sex.
Not that Eve and Brent ever had come to sex. Unfortunately. That was one of Eve’s worst regrets. Often fantasized, never realized.
If only they had, this unfortunate situation right here and now would be happening in reverse.
“Eve.” Smiling like a rattlesnake, Rainer turned his gleaming gaze upon her. “Why don’t we leave this happy couple to welcome their other guests. Let me find you a drink.”
In all the excitement she hadn’t noticed the queue waiting to snag the bridal couple’s attention. With no polite way of resisting, she was forced to surrender the ground to Honey.
Again.
Rainer steered her through the crowd, pausing here and there along the way. Friends stopped to shake hands and inquire about his travels. “Weren’t you in Somalia just recently, feller?” she heard one old guy say.
“Interesting place,” Rainer said. “Though I was mainly in Djibouti.”
“Interesting, you say?” his interrogator exclaimed. “It’s a wonder you lived to tell the tale, boy. Those goddamned pirates show no mercy.”
“Just making a buck,” Rainer said. “Like everybody else.”
Approval was showered on him from all directions, folks applauding him for having saved the lives of some sailors who’d been held for ransom, apparently.
Eve turned her head to study him. “Con
gratulations. I had no idea you were a hero.”
His hard eyes glinted. “I’m no hero, Eve. I just got lucky in a little negotiation.” He directed her gaze to where some of Eve’s old friends were gathering around an ornately mounted placard. “What are those folk peeking at?”
Eve looked and her heart sank like a stone. Fantastic. They were all clustering around the bridal photo collage—though this one was bigger, glossier and more professionally finished than most wedding couples’ humble little productions. People were crowding to peer closely, searching for themselves.
Not caring to appear rude and ungracious, Eve steeled herself to take a glance. Naturally there were pictures of Honey and Brent, dating back to their births. From nursery school onward a surprising number showed them together in the same shot. Bellefleur Elementary. Bellefleur High. And there was that old one of Honey’s college graduation, Brent’s arm around her.
Hadn’t the guy had any other place to be?
Sure, everyone knew they’d been sweethearts on and off forever. But these pictures didn’t show all the off-times. The times they broke up and Brent wanted to kiss someone else. And had.
As far as Eve was concerned, there was just a tad too much Honey in this collection.
Rainer peered over her shoulder, then moved around her to take a closer look. “Is this you? This kid with the braces on her teeth?”
“I guess. A long time ago. ” It was a poignant shot, considering the degree of hope and joy radiating from her eyes back then.
She avoided looking at Rainer in case he noticed the difference.
“Hey, look here. Is this really you dressed as a nun?” His amused little chuckle twisted her insides with the careless cruelty of a corkscrew.
She said coldly, “It was a theatrical production.”
He glanced quickly at her. “Sure. Sure it was. And you look great. Real convincing. I’m willing to bet you were— incandescent. So…do you do much theater in New York?”
For mercy’s sake. Was the guy trying to torture her with her failures?
She crushed him with a glance. “Are you kidding? They have real actors in New York.”
Not to mention that the guy at the Village Players had told her she wasn’t capable of projecting enough emotional complexity to play a character like Blanche DuBois. Even though he’d acknowledged that she’d “nearly achieved” the accent.
Rainer’s speculative grey gaze turned on her like a searchlight. He said softly, “You and Honey have been friends a long time.”
“Sure we were. We were in the same year.”
She barely kept her teeth unclenched. Of course she appeared in some of Honey’s pictures. What would he expect? She and Honey had been friendly, though they’d hardly moved in the same circles. The Fortescues had had an unfortunate number of girl babies in recent generations. They hadn’t been able to manage the resources to keep up with the Moreaus.
Or marry the Delacroix boys.
But sure, she and Honey had been on the softball team together. And here they were again. Her, Honey and Honey’s friend Pippa—who’d only just been dating Brent at that time…not that anyone was mentioning that little circumstance tonight.
Eve wondered how Pippa felt about the wedding. Was she even invited? Here the three of them were again, standing on the stage of the Bellefleur High assembly hall singing with all their hearts.
Brent’s girls.
Eve’s heart panged and she turned away. It was all too painful. She’d have slunk away into a corner to weep and lick her wounds, except one of her old theater pals noticed her then and shrieked, “Eve Fortescue, is that you?”
That started a landslide of cheery folks exclaiming over her, gathering to hug her and ask when she was coming back to Bellefleur for good. They were so sweet she could have cried. But she kept her head high. Laughed and joked, flirted with the boys as expected and tried not to let them see the tears pricking her eyes.
“Oh, sure. New York is just spectacular,” she lied through her perfectly straight teeth. “Y’all should shake off the dust of this old town and come too. Life there’s so sophisticated. It’s just a wild, wild ride.”
If only they knew the truth. If only she could come home.
Sensing Rainer’s glance, she caught him watching her, a wry half-smile on his sexy mouth. Just for a second there was something in his eyes then that made her insides flinch and curl up. Something shrewd and serious, as if she were suddenly made of crystal and he could see straight through her.
As usual, the Dixon sisters were staring from the sidelines at everything she did, muttering spiteful things to each other out of the corners of their mouths. Just like they did at church. Eve waved and blew them both a kiss.
Poor souls. With their attitude, they weren’t likely to score any of the other kind.
Chapter Two
Rainer was one of those big, quiet men who could cut a swath through a crowd without effort. At the bar he somehow managed to inspire two out-of-towners to vacate their barstools by the sheer force of his glance.
Normally Eve would have relished being in the company of a man with such commanding stage presence. As it was, she sank onto her chair, too broken to even flutter a lash.
However she tried to convince herself otherwise, it sure was looking as if Brent was Honey’s creature now. Was he truly lost to her forever? When she thought of all they’d shared… Their conversations in the office, over lunch, en route to conferences… Their deep and secret understanding, never spoken, only felt, running between them like a subterranean river…
Could all that have meant nothing?
Or—and this was what she agonized over on so many a sleepless night—had she thrown in the towel too soon? Maybe that kiss in Dallas had been real after all. At the time she’d been so destroyed at having her beautiful delusion exploded, she’d fled to New York.
The hurt had been cruel. She’d believed in Brent so absolutely, romantic old notions of courtly love must have screwed her brain. And she’d been charmed to think a man could kiss her without demanding her body. For twenty-four crazy hours after that kiss she’d floated in a beautiful dream…
Instead of tumbling her on her back and whipping down her knickers, Brent Delacroix was wooing her like a true old-fashioned gentleman. Like…Baron von Trapp. Or Ashley Wilkes.
As if anyone like that had ever really existed. She and Brent were hardly back in Bellefleur when the town was buzzing with the news. Brent had proposed to Honey Moreau.
Engaged.
The shock was a slap in the face to Eve. Why had he done it? So soon after Dallas? After their kiss?
Sometimes Eve wondered if Honey had done the proposing. Snatched him up because Eve was a threat. And if Brent, sweet, compassionate Brent, hadn’t wanted to hurt the poor little rich girl’s feelings.
Secretly, Brent might be every bit as miserable at this moment as Eve. Why else would he have invited her to his wedding?
What a fool she’d been to walk away. What a blind, lovesick fool.
She felt her throat begin to thicken. If only she could somehow detach him from Honey tonight and tell him how she felt. Give him a chance to choose. People were allowed to change their minds right up until the moment of the “I do,” weren’t they?
Rainer was scanning her face, his eyes gleaming with a warmer light than usual.
“Cheer up, now, gorgeous. You can’t win ’em all. Flirtini,” he told the barman. “Make mine bourbon.” He smiled at Eve. “You look like a vodka woman to me.”
Eve made an effort to pick herself up off the floor.
“I don’t know why you would assume that. I hardly drink at all, except at wakes. Train crashes. Tragedies.” She swiveled her chair so she could keep Brent in view, though it was hard to keep Brent and eliminate Honey at one and the same time. “Times of mourning and terrible heartbreak.”
“Must have to do with those Fifth Avenue shoes you’re wearing.”
She noticed Rainer’s gaze
drift down to her Louboutins. At least it was gratifying someone had noticed them. Almost automatically she crossed her legs, but then—damn—her skirt rode up too high and she needed to uncross them. Then she dangled a shoe from her toes and let her foot swing some.
Maybe it seemed flirty, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was a mere primitive reflex. With so many of the town gossips present, it seemed a pity to disappoint her public.
And she could tell Rainer wasn’t minding one bit. He scanned her knees, a smile playing on his mouth. “You know, it was touching, that little sigh you gave.”
She glanced warily at him. “What sigh?”
“When Brent pecked your pretty cheek. What were you for hoping for? Something more significant? Maybe a kiss full on the lips? Deep and soulful? Tongues?”
Her spine stiffened in shock. This guy was up-front. Did he have any respect for a woman’s tender feelings? If one of the Dixon sisters hadn’t sidled up to the bar right then and ensconced herself a couple of spots along, Eve might have forgotten her manners and slammed him for his nerve.
As it was, she kept her words to a stern murmur. “You are rude, mister. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You know. Don’t think I don’t sympathize. I know what it is to lust.” His gaze rested appreciatively on her mouth.
“Shh.” Frowning, she darted a glance along to where Jenna Mae Dixon was stretching her gawky neck, straining to listen.
Forced to lean closer to Rainer, Eve lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t even say that word. There’s never been anything like that between Brent and me.”
His black brows lifted. “No? Didn’t I hear him say you were his secretary?”
Beneath his black lashes his eyes were alert, amused, and unnerving. The faintest of scents teased her nostrils. A mix of woody cologne, clean clothes, and distilled essence of man. It was annoying how that trifled with her concentration. It nearly threw her off the track of her thoughts.
When Honey Got Married Page 6
