The Wedding Must Go On

by Robyn Grady

  Nate smothered a wince. The woman had it wrong. Roxy wasn’t Emma. There was no Emma and wouldn’t be for a very long while, if he could help it.

  The woman looked between the uncertain two, then slanted her head. ‘Is there something wrong with the gown, dear?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Roxy said. ‘I love it. More than any gown ever. The satin’s as soft as rose petals. Every line is exquisite. It’s just that this dress is—’

  ‘Beautiful,’ Nate cut in when he knew he ought to have let her finish and set the misunderstanding straight. But the dress was stunning, he thought again, drinking in those satiny curves and falls, whether Marla ended up wearing it or not.

  When Roxy’s slow smile said she appreciated his compliment, a kernel of heat bloomed in his chest, a sensation he enjoyed as much as he spurned. Then she turned and admitted to the woman, ‘But I’m not this man’s fiancée.’

  The woman blinked. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I own this salon. I’m Roxanne Trammel.’

  The woman absorbed the news and, nodding absently, introduced herself as Ava Morris before her focus swung to Nate. ‘Where’s your bride-to-be? Nothing’s wrong, I hope.’

  Nate scrubbed his jaw. He’d only meant to help—to give Roxy a hand up with a potential sale. But duplicity, well intended or not, had caught up. Nothing for it but to face the music.

  ‘Actually,’ he began, ‘my fiancée’s—’

  ‘Out back,’ Roxy said, cutting in. ‘Emma’s choosing accessories.’

  Mrs Morris held her stomach and breathed out over a relieved smile. ‘Well, that was quick!’

  ‘Happens like that sometimes,’ Roxy said, slipping Nate a ‘you owe me’ look.

  A call from the dressing room. ‘Can someone help with this?’

  Picking up her skirts, Roxy went to hurry off but Mrs Morris put up a hand.

  ‘I’ll help Violet. You see to your other matter.’

  Mrs Morris rushed away while, sheepish, Nate tugged his ear. ‘Sorry about the Emma thing.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have lied. I in no way condone it.’ Roxy’s expression lightened a smidge. ‘But I do appreciate you trying to help. I didn’t need to embarrass you.’

  As he’d embarrassed her that night?

  But she didn’t look half as ticked off as she had a moment ago. In fact, her eyes were almost smiling, somehow reaching out. And he liked the positive change. Liked it way too much.

  Nate cleared his throat and hauled himself back. ‘We’ll need to see each other again. To discuss the Marla-Greg plan,’ he clarified quickly.

  ‘I’ll give you my email address.’ She cut across the counter and slipped a business card from a holder. ‘Why don’t you send over your ideas for Greg and Marla? I’ll be with Violet for a while yet hopefully.’

  ‘I’d rather toss around ideas face to face.’

  ‘I don’t know what time I’ll be free.’

  ‘I could hang around. Help out some more. Maybe do some zip repairs.’ His weak smile faded and he tucked in his chin. ‘I really am sorry about that.’

  She tried to hold her scowl. ‘Guess you can’t help if you’re too strong for your own good.’

  ‘I should have taken more time.’ Thought ahead.

  Hell, maybe he shouldn’t have come at all. But he believed in Greg and couldn’t abandon him. He believed in their business too, and he definitely wouldn’t abandon that. There seemed no other way around this bind, and to pull this make-up plan off he needed help. He needed Roxy.

  Looking radiant beneath the lights, she offered over the card, but Nate found his attention drawn instead to the side of her throat where a tiny pulse popped. Strange, but at this moment he seemed to feel that heartbeat as well as he felt his own. Steady. Deep.

  Hot.

  When she tipped closer, still offering the card, Nate extended a hand and accepted. He hadn’t meant for his fingers to linger, to stretch that bit further and brush over hers. And in that instant he saw the pulse in her throat beat faster and her gaze grow heavy while his dropped to her glossy parted lips.

  Time and again, he’d wondered what would’ve happened if he’d stayed that night six months ago. What principle of physics decreed that he would share his father’s fate, as well as his grandfather’s, and back on down the line? But as he continued to drink in Roxy’s curious gaze the world fell away and a series of snapshots flashed through his mind…

  His parents on their wedding day, two months after they’d met. His grandfather and grandmother in tails and lacy veil six weeks on the heels of a first date. If ever he mentioned the myth, his father would simply shrug. When a Sparks man found the right woman—the one who left his senses reeling and blood crashing like giant rollers on a shore—nothing else mattered. He might as well surrender. The toll of wedding bells was imminent. Marriage and domesticity a foregone. So, it would seem, was lack of personal growth and motivation for building security for one’s future.

  After marrying, his father had given up his dream of finishing medical school and becoming a surgeon. Instead he’d taken a job as a hospital wardsman, which meant less income to support the five kids that came along but more time to spend with his beloved wife, the only thing in his life that seemed to matter. Not always as romantic as it might sound.

  Nate couldn’t forget the weeks his mother had spent convalescing after a car accident when he was twelve. The children had needed leadership, strength, hope. Instead, their father had stopped eating, stopped communicating. He’d all but pined away for love. Or the time his father had had the chance to return to his education but had decided to support his wife’s dream of becoming a renowned painter when, hell, they could barely afford to feed themselves, let alone buy art materials and exhibition space.

  Similar stories of Sparks men and their women had survived … hasty marriages followed by a lifetime of Byronic devotion. Was it genetics or a curse? Of course it could all be coincidence.

  It was only when Nate realized his other palm had curled around the satin cinching her waist—when Roxy trembled and his head dropped deliberately over hers—that he knew the truth.

  Coincidence had nothing to do with it.

  He should have run while he could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN his throat made a gravelled wanting sound that resonated like beautiful bass chords through Roxy’s bones, memories of the dreams that had tormented her these past months wrapped around her like a run of steamy veils. A heartbeat later, his mouth captured hers and inhibitions concerning Nate Sparks and his dubious affections spread their powerful wings and flew far away.

  In the smoky recesses of her mind she understood she’d submitted without a whimper of protest. More so, she was aware of her breasts, suddenly so full and sensitive, rubbing against the front of his business shirt … against the hard broad plateau of his chest. After all her talk, after the way he’d escaped that night, she ought to be ashamed by her surrender now. She should be horrified.

  She was anything but.

  The magic of his kiss was still as strong. In fact, the pleasure he stirred up within her had only grown. The verdict was back, approved, stamped and sealed. Their lips were a perfect fit, and the desire pulsing through her veins was a better than fair indicator that their bodies would join just as well.

  She focused on individual sensations but absorbed them all at once … the graze of his jaw, the drugging pull of his scent, the mesmerizing way he seemed to consume her. The sensations were so pure, it was nothing short of sweet torture. Then his palms ironed up and over the curve of her back, pressing her that much closer, and Roxy dissolved even more.

  No man could compete with the depth of longing Nate Sparks had brought out in her. Ridiculous as it might seem, she was helpless to deny it. She wanted him to make love to her—take her. After one craze-filled moment, she wanted that so completely, she couldn’t remember a time when anything had mattered more.

  Of course, something did.

  His k
iss shifted then lightened so that rather than covering, his mouth was now brushing hers. On a dreamy smile, she held his bristled jaw and murmured, soft and sexy against the bow of his lower lip, ‘Gotcha.’

  Nate stiffened. His eyes flew open, enlarged pupils shrank, then he jumped back as if someone had rammed his stomach with a stick. His lips pressed together while he drove a hand over his scalp, leaving usually neatly groomed hair nicely dishevelled.

  Roxy’s smile widened.

  Damn, it felt good to be right.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he rasped.

  Satisfied, she slapped her hands as if removing grit. ‘Proving something.’

  ‘Proving what?’

  ‘That the world didn’t end.’

  Nate’s face thundered and his jaw clenched doubly tight.

  But then the fury and shock cleared, the tension locking his stance visibly eased and his eyes took on the gleam of a wry smile. All in all, he looked rather pleased with himself.

  ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘The world didn’t end. The sky wasn’t ripped open by a thousand raging thunderbolts. There’s nothing wrong with physical reaction to stimulation. Sexual arousal happens every day.’

  And that was why he’d run that night six months ago. Why he was acting overly cavalier now. Which was fine by her. She had enough going wrong with her life without inviting in more trouble.

  ‘Hope you don’t take offence,’ she said in a flat tone, ‘but I need to follow up on Ava and Violet.’

  Giving a curt nod, he dug out a business card of his own. ‘Ring when you’re finished here.’

  ‘That could be late.’

  He flashed a thin grin. ‘I’m a night owl.’

  After slapping the card on the counter, he strode out and the invisible band squeezing her windpipe eased.

  She’d daydreamed of how she might one day turn the tables and make Nate feel as small as she had that night when he’d left her quaking and embarrassed as she’d never been before. Seeing his reaction now had been worth the price of stirring up all those wonderful, dreadful feelings again. Primal emotions that demanded immediate attention but needed to be shut down and ignored.

  Still.

  Remembering, Roxy touched her tingling lips.

  No one kissed like Nate Sparks.

  ‘Hey, buddy, great game.’

  Rounding up a squash match at Greg Martin’s private home court, Nate clapped his friend on the back as they moved into a change room that boasted three showers, a sauna and facilities for remedial massage. Nate hadn’t mentioned Marla and their bust-up yet but he planned to. He was committed to helping mend Greg’s fractured life—both personal and professional—even at the risk of exposing himself to public enemy number one. The girl with the lips.

  Shaking off the residual effects of his and Roxy’s latest bombshell kiss, Nate grabbed a towel while Greg dropped his racket on the bench. The clatter echoed around the ceiling and walls.

  ‘I played like a dog,’ Greg said before dragging his shirt up and over a crop of sandy-coloured hair. ‘But I appreciate the company. The alternative was dinner with the folks. Don’t think I could stand my mother’s questions tonight, or my father turning red, trying to contain his relief.’

  Happy that his son was staying with the family firm, Nate surmised, stuffing his racket into his bag.

  ‘We’re going to sort this out. You didn’t hire that stripper on your buck’s night, you didn’t call her over to sit on your lap and you certainly didn’t ask for those shots to be snapped in the brief window of time she was there. Woody Cox did all that.’ One of Greg’s buddies since university. Nate had always thought that guy needed a leash. ‘Hell, he even admitted to putting the evidence on the Net.’

  ‘He apologised as soon as I balled him out.’

  ‘Not soon enough.’ News on social media networks spread quicker than a wink. Sometimes a great thing. In this case, just plain dumb. ‘But Marla can’t stay mad for ever.’

  ‘You think? A few words on the phone—her crying, me begging—and she refuses to see me again, let alone marry me.’ Greg’s towel swiped down his unshaven face, around the thick column of his neck. ‘I’ve sent a truck full of flowers, a diamond bracelet to go with the ring. I even hired a scaffold and played a slideshow of all our best moments outside of her second-storey window. She pitched our framed engagement photo at the screen. Tore a two-foot rip down the middle.’

  Nate forced a Pollyanna smile. ‘After getting that out of her system, she might be ready to talk.’

  ‘When she emailed our guest list and said the wedding was off, what could I do?’

  Seriously? ‘Not give up.’

  There was a reason he and Greg were friends. They thought the same. Shared similar values. Nate knew Greg would never cheat on a woman because Nate, himself, would never do such a thing. Not that he was naïve enough to think indiscretions between couples didn’t happen.

  At the engagement party six months ago, he and Roxy had been talking out on the restaurant’s balcony when she’d mentioned her father and his exploits. She hadn’t belaboured the point but had rather only said enough to make her situation growing up clear. Life was confusing for a kid when your dad was a womanizer and your mother refused to see the situation for what it was: a betrayal not only to wife but also to child.

  Guess there were some advantages to that blasted family curse, Nate thought as he drew the sweat-damp shirt off over his head. Despite the downsides, he was thankful his parents’ marriage was a solid one. They didn’t argue over anything more important than where to spend their next vacation. If their trust should ever be tested, neither would look at the other with suspicion. Not that his dad would ever come close to cheating. And neither would Greg.

  His friend was jamming his shirt into his bag, muttering, ‘Hell, maybe Marla’s better off without me.’

  ‘Like Sparks Martin Steel would be better off without you?’

  Greg’s dark gaze edged over. ‘I know you’re disappointed but, believe me, it’s best you go that alone. I’m no good to anyone right now. I’d only let you down.’ He headed for the exit, his six-plus height barely missing the lintel. ‘I’m going to take a shower inside.’

  Nate punched his arms through the sleeves of a fresh shirt, then followed Greg out. Time to set down the first layer of his plan.

  ‘Why don’t you and I get away for a couple of days? You had time pencilled out anyway.’

  Time off to finalize wedding stuff with Marla.

  ‘I’d be sorry company.’ Outside in the evening cool and beneath path lights, Greg turned and sent a wan smile. ‘I’m beat. I’ll catch you later in the week.’

  As Greg made his way down the path that led to his separate quarters on his parents’ extravagant Potts Point estate, Nate set his jaw. Dammit, he wasn’t giving up on that wedding. He certainly wasn’t giving up on his and Greg’s partnership. This was only the first round and, no matter the setbacks or complications, he was in for the long haul.

  When his cell vibrated and buzzed in his sports bag, Nate checked the ID and his heartbeat began to crash. Speaking of complications …

  Shoring himself, Nate connected and Roxy Trammel purred down the line.

  ‘Is that Luscious Lips?’

  ‘That’s not funny.’ Neither the nickname nor her tone. He’d done the wrong thing that night, but couldn’t she show him a little mercy six months on? He’d fallen hook, line and sinker when she’d given herself over to their embrace. Now her voice was tease enough.

  If history was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take too many more embraces like the one this afternoon to have him looking cross-eyed, thinking he was in love and arranging a whole new set of priorities. The mere thought of the way her body had moved against his could make him break into a sweat that had nothing to do with the energetic hour he’d just spent on the court. If it killed him—and it probably near would—from now on he’d keep his hands to himself.

  ‘Are we sti
ll on for tonight?’ she asked.

  Regarding Marla and Greg? ‘You bet. Have you eaten?’

  ‘I have a craving for sushi.’

  Sauntering to his car, Nate winced. ‘Raw dead fish.’

  ‘Who knew you were so cultured?’

  ‘I vote Chinese.’

  ‘Done.’ She suggested a well-known restaurant.

  ‘Say, thirty minutes? I need to change.’

  ‘Just for you, I’ll change too. All this white satin is getting heavy.’

  He heard her laugh before signing off and, despite his mood, Nate couldn’t help himself. He laughed too.

  Roxy arrived at the China Town restaurant bang on time.

  The expansive room was bordered by tall arched windows, smelled of fine Asian cuisine and was illuminated by a sky of glowing pumpkin-shaped lanterns. A slender woman dressed in a red full-length cheongsam led her to a table and when Roxy pulled in her chair, she knew Nate would appreciate their location: dead centre of the restaurant, in plain view of everyone. That second kiss had been even more unsettling than the first; neither she nor Nate needed to be tested by sharing a darkened corner tonight. Her outfit had also been chosen with those same boundaries in mind.

  A ‘tailored black trousers, loose-fitting black silk shirt with matching casual vest’ combo was more ‘business’ than ‘come hither’. Spiked sandal heels were a staple with this outfit but tonight it was boots. No sheer silk stockings either. Thick, black, to the breastbone tights, as well as her ugliest bra. Who could get turned on wearing old stretched cotton? Amazing what a person found stuffed at the back of their lingerie drawer.

  Roxy glanced across at the entrance—no Nate—so she filled her water glass from a centre pitcher then inspected the table setting. Skimming a fingertip over the symbols printed on her Chinese zodiac placemat, she smiled. The years indicated she was a tiger! Powerful, passionate.

  Reading on, she frowned.

  Restless, reckless? What sign would Nate fall under? An agile rabbit might fit. Or an arrogant monkey. She huffed and flicked out her napkin.