by Heidi Rice
Juno blew out a breath as Daisy shot out of the room to tend to her son.
As if Mac Brody’s kiss hadn’t given her enough to panic about, Daisy’s heart-to-heart was making her feel like a basket case. Folding her arms on the breakfast bar, she laid her head on her hands and squeezed her eyes shut as she listened to Ronan’s cries from the monitor and tried to blank out all the conflicting emotions racing through her head.
Ronan’s angry wails turned to indignant sobbing and then cut off completely as Daisy’s soothing voice came over the intercom. Juno imagined Daisy sitting in the white rocker by the nursery’s terrace doors as she settled her son on her breast—and the strange pang she’d felt earlier tore into her chest.
She jerked upright, realising with horror she was ridiculously close to tears.
What on earth had got into her? Where had that fierce sense of longing come from? That empty feeling inside?
Glancing down at her jeans, she saw the tiny tear in the knee and rubbed her hand over it. She forced down the tears, but the uncomfortable whisper of envy refused to go away.
What if Daisy were right? She’d survived what had happened six years ago, but how could she claim to have triumphed over it when she’d been in hiding the whole time since?
No wonder kissing Mac Brody had been such a shock to her system. After six years of pretending she didn’t have a sex drive, he’d demonstrated in one fell swoop exactly what it was she’d been missing. And at the same time brought her face to face with what she’d let her life become. Not just cautious and well ordered, but mind-numbingly dull.
She stared out at the weeping-willow tree in the back garden, noticed the remnants of the breakfast Daisy and Connor had shared together that morning on the patio table. And the little spurt of envy got worse.
She’d sat on the sidelines in the last year and watched Daisy find her happy-ever-after and she’d never even admitted to herself that she wanted one of her own.
Maybe it was about time she took the next step and conceded that survival wasn’t enough any more. That dressing like a tomboy and making herself into a nun had outlived its usefulness. Would it really be so terrible to admit that she wanted more than that now?
Daisy hummed Ronan’s favourite lullaby over the baby monitor and Juno felt a little frisson of excitement and trepidation wash over her.
She didn’t have to go nuts; she could still be practical and sensible.
But why shouldn’t she let Daisy design her maid of honour gown? She’d resisted the suggestion up till now because she’d been scared of what Daisy might come up with. Given Daisy’s flamboyant dress sense and her eagerness to get Juno back into the dating game, her caution had seemed perfectly justified at the time.
But it didn’t feel justified now. She had to stop being such a coward and start easing her life out of the great big enormous rut she’d driven it into.
And, goodness, if she could snog a movie star in Heathrow Airport and live to tell the tale, surely she could let her best friend design a dress for her. Especially if she made it absolutely clear she didn’t want the dress to be too out-there.
Honestly, how bad could it be?
CHAPTER THREE
‘DAISY, I … I don’t know what to say.’ Juno gaped at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, bronze satin shimmering over the curves she hadn’t known she had until about five seconds ago. ‘I might as well be stark naked. I can’t walk into the church wearing this. The minister will have a stroke.’
Daisy laughed. ‘The minister will not have a stroke.’ She cocked her head, considering, then crouched to straighten the hem. ‘But he may make a pass at you. He is French, after all.’
The shock had started to wear off, a little, but Juno still couldn’t muster the ability to laugh back. ‘I have a cleavage,’ she whispered in disbelief, astonished at the way the plump swell of her breasts strained against the gown’s daringly low neckline.
‘I told you hooker underwear had its uses,’ Daisy commented. Standing, she gave a contented sigh. ‘My job is done. You look sensational.’ She smiled. ‘But the big question is—how do you feel? Do you like it?’
Juno pivoted on her toes to take another quick look over her shoulder at the way the cut-out in the gown’s back plunged tantalisingly close to the upper slope of her buttocks. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
She’d never worn anything so beautiful before in her life—or so revealing. This wasn’t just out-there, it was over the hill and far away.
She studied the full effect in the mirror again. The bouncy little bob Daisy’s hairdresser had fashioned out of her haphazard thatch of blonde curls that morning; the dash of lip gloss and mascara that made her fairly ordinary features look exotic; and her slim figure enhanced by the sleek bronze satin of the gown.
Daisy had made her look and feel sexy for the first time in her life. But did she have the guts to pull it off? When she’d decided to unlock her femininity she hadn’t had anything quite this liberating in mind.
‘I feel like a different person,’ she said truthfully.
‘Different good? Or different bad?’
Emotion clogged Juno’s throat as her eyes met Daisy’s in the mirror. ‘Different scared but excited.’
Daisy grinned. ‘Excited is good.’ She touched Juno’s arm. ‘And scared is to be expected. You’re going to knock them dead.’ She plucked a tissue out of her dressing gown and folded Juno’s fingers over it. ‘But remember, no upstaging of the bride is allowed. And you mustn’t cry, or your mascara will run and make you look like a raccoon.’
A giggle popped out of Juno’s mouth, the flutter of anticipation making her feel a little giddy. ‘Good to know.’
Had she ever felt so young or carefree before in her life?
Juno clutched the bridal bouquet as goosebumps rose on her bare arms and she tried to concentrate on the heavily accented voice of the minister. The fragrant scent of blooming orchids and calla lillies perfumed the air as Daisy held Connor’s hand and repeated her vows in a clear, steady voice. The elaborate beading on the bodice of Daisy’s wedding dress sparkled in the light from the stained-glass window and made Juno think of a fairy-tale princess.
She smoothed her palm over the bronze satin of her gown and smiled, letting the buoyant feeling intoxicate her. She’d stopped believing in happy-ever-afters so long ago, but being here in this beautiful place and watching Daisy declare her love for Connor made anything seem possible. She sniffed, trying to grab a dose of reality and keep her whimsy in check.
Make-up emergencies aside, she had to control herself. Daisy had worked hard for her happy-ever-after and had found the man of her dreams against all the odds. In her experience men like Connor were rarer than fifty-carat diamonds. She needed to remember that before she got all dewy-eyed. And anyway, getting back down the aisle without falling on her bum in the four-inch heels Daisy had insisted she wear was going to be tough enough. Dissolving into tears would only make it tougher.
She frowned as the minister’s musical voice was interrupted by a round of shuffles and coughs and hissed whispers. The hairs at her nape tingled and she had the peculiar sensation someone was watching her. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Most of the congregation were craning their necks to stare at something at the back of the small rural church.
She heard Daisy’s quick in-drawn breath at the same moment her eyes focused on the shadowy figure standing by the entrance door. And every last molecule of blood drained out of her head and slammed straight into her heart.
Him? It couldn’t be.
She blinked furiously, sure she had to be seeing things. But she wasn’t. The man who had been a star player in far too many of her dreams over the last two weeks appeared to be staring straight at her. His head dipped and she could have sworn she felt his gaze rake over her figure.
‘Connor, it’s Mac. He came.’ She heard the delight in Daisy’s hushed voice as a battalion of butterflies dive-bombed into her stomac
h.
‘Well, now.’ Connor sounded as shell-shocked as Juno felt.
The minister coughed deliberately, a pinched expression on his face at the interruption.
‘Excusez-moi, monsieur,’ Daisy addressed him in her atrocious French. ‘Une momento s’il vous plaît, un personne tres important est arrive. Une momento.’
She grasped Connor’s hand. ‘We have to welcome him.’
Juno stayed rooted to the spot, watching as if in slow motion, her heart punching her ribs, as Daisy hoisted up her wedding gown and rushed down the aisle with Connor in tow.
Daisy slowed for less than a second when she reached Mac and then threw her arms around his neck. Juno thought she saw him stiffen as he accepted Daisy’s hug, his hand settling on Daisy’s back for only a moment. When Daisy finally let Mac go, the brothers shook hands and then Connor gripped Mac’s shoulder. Juno couldn’t hear a word they were saying above the curious and excited conversations around her, but she couldn’t help noticing Brody’s rigid posture—so different from his relaxed stance at the airport.
Colour flushed across Juno’s sternum as Daisy grasped Mac’s hand and led him down the aisle. Tucking her bottom lip under her teeth, she stifled the groan as she watched him approach. She must not let him intimidate her. She wasn’t the naïve, inexperienced tomboy he’d kissed and made fun of two weeks ago. She was stronger now and much more sophisticated. Or, at least, she looked as if she were.
‘You’ll never guess who turned up after all,’ Daisy teased as they drew level. ‘Juno, I believe you’ve already met Connor’s brother, Mac.’
He’d cut his hair. The thick black locks, now militarily short, only showed the slightest tendency to curl around his ears. The new hairstyle, together with his clean-shaven jaw and the perfectly tailored dove-grey linen suit and pristine white shirt, should have made him look a lot less dangerous. They didn’t.
She lifted her chin. ‘Hello again, Mr Brody,’ she said succinctly, despite the butterflies now having a field day in her tummy.
‘Juno, is it?’ His gaze flicked down and her nipples peaked painfully against her push-up bra. ‘The name of a goddess,’ he murmured, the penetrating blue of his eyes as disturbing as she remembered. ‘It suits.’
The minister coughed loudly and Juno started, amazed she’d forgotten they still had Connor and Daisy’s wedding to finish.
Juno riveted all her attention on the bride and groom as they returned to their positions, struggling to ignore Mac’s alarming presence. The minister launched back into the wedding service and her fingers clenched in a death grip on the bouquet. How could she detect the light pine scent of his soap above the heavy fragrance of the bridal flowers? And what was he really doing here? Wasn’t this the man who’d flatly refused to come to the wedding only a couple of weeks ago?
After what could only have been a few minutes—but felt like several decades—the minister declared Daisy and Connor husband and wife. Sweeping his new bride into his arms, Connor executed a Valentino dip and silenced Daisy’s joyous laugh with an extravagantly sexy kiss. The lavish display of affection only made Juno more aware of the man standing behind her.
‘That looks like fun.’ The provocative whisper at her shoulder cut through the spontaneous round of hoots and cheers from the congregation. ‘How about you and me give it another shot?’
Juno stiffened as his breath feathered across her nape. How typical. While Daisy had found the man of her dreams, she was being tempted by the Devil incarnate.
Her head whipped round. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, struggling for composure. ‘Once was quite enough for me,’ she added caustically. But then her eyes dipped to his mouth completely of their own accord—and she could feel those firm, persuasive lips on hers even though they were standing a foot apart.
‘Once is never enough, Juno,’ he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue with the intimacy of a caress. She jerked her gaze to his to find those laser blue eyes twinkling with the promise of eternal damnation. ‘Especially for you and me.’
She turned her back on him, resisting the urge to hit him over the head with the bridal bouquet. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had gatecrashed Daisy and Connor’s wedding just to bait her.
Connor released his wife at last and Daisy held her arms out to Juno. ‘I’m so happy, I think I might burst,’ she whispered into Juno’s ear as she gave her a hard hug.
Juno clung on tight, tears stinging her eyes again. ‘You’ve got the best man in the world,’ she murmured back. ‘And he almost deserves you.’
Connor’s hand settled on her shoulder and she released Daisy to see the brotherly affection in his face she’d come to depend on. ‘Now don’t go mad there,’ he said, drawing her into his arms. ‘I might get the idea you like me.’
‘Let’s not get carried away,’ she teased, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had built between them in the past year as she hugged him back.
Connor chuckled as he released her. ‘As if I’d dare.’
He reached over her shoulder and she turned to see his hand clasp Mac’s. ‘It’s good to have you here, Mac. It’s been too long.’ Connor’s voice thickened. ‘Way too long.’
Mac let go of the handshake first. ‘Yeah,’ he said flatly.
‘You’ll come to the reception?’ Connor asked, sounding unsure. ‘Daisy and I want you to meet Ronan, our son. You’d be his uncle, after all.’
Mac’s jaw tensed, a cautious, shuttered expression on his face. ‘Sure, wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he said after a long pause, but the reply sounded apathetic at best.
An uneasy feeling bloomed in the pit of Juno’s stomach, doing nothing to calm the dive-bombing butterflies. She recognised that frigid, closed-off tone; he’d sounded the same when he’d told her he didn’t have a brother.
Daisy stepped up to Mac and grasped his hand in both of hers. ‘You have no idea how much this means to us, Mac,’ she said, the unguarded happiness in her voice making Juno’s stomach start to hurt. ‘All that matters right now is that you’re here.’ She grinned. ‘And that you’ve brought an appetite. We have enough fancy French cuisine to feed an army back at the château, so you’re going to have to consume your fair share.’
‘I’m sure I can choke down a bit,’ he replied.
‘Connor and I have to get back to greet the other guests.’ She winked at Juno. ‘So I’ll leave you in Juno’s capable hands. She can introduce you around and show you how to get there.’
No, she won’t.
Juno shot Daisy a horrified look. But as she racked her brain for a suitable excuse Daisy lifted the bridal bouquet out of her arms and whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t be such a wuss. I’m sure he won’t bite.’ She stifled a delighted laugh. ‘Or not yet anyway.’
And with that Connor and Daisy were gone, swallowed up by the crowd of well-wishers as they strolled down the aisle and out into the early evening sunshine as man and wife.
Juno folded her arms across her waist. She loved the dress Daisy had designed for her, but she suddenly felt naked in it. ‘It’s only about a ten-minute drive to the château,’ she said, not able to meet Mac’s eyes. ‘I can introduce you to most of the people here and then give you directions.’
He snagged her arm as she made to leave. ‘I’ll skip the introductions.’ His thumb caressed the inside of her elbow, making her pulse jump. ‘And I only take directions on set, so I think you’d best show me where it is.’ His dark brows lifted, matching the mocking smile on his lips. ‘You wouldn’t want me to get lost, now, would you?’
I should be so lucky, she thought—her pulse pounding where his thumb stroked. ‘Perish the thought,’ she said, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm at bay.
He laughed, taking her arm and folding it through his. The fluid movement anchored her to his side—and offered virtually no protection against the muscled strength beneath the tailored linen.
‘That’s the spirit, darlin’.’ He chuckled, the subtle scent of his soap ove
rwhelming as he guided her down the aisle.
She should have pulled away, but she didn’t want to let him know how much his nearness affected her. So she concentrated on remembering to breathe and making sure she didn’t fall flat on her face in her new heels.
‘I’ve not eaten all day and I’m half starved,’ he said casually. Too casually.
She couldn’t control the tremble of response. Why did she get the impression Daisy and Connor’s lavish reception buffet wasn’t the only thing he intended to devour?
The soft summer light gave the evening a golden glow as Mac’s flashy sports car turned into the château’s driveway behind a queue of other cars. Looking through the thicket of oak trees, Juno glimpsed the baroque French castle standing proud at the brow of the hill. Flowering vines hugged the turrets and balconies and accented a trio of tiered terraces linked by a sweeping staircase. As the powerful car inched closer the main terrace and the ballroom beyond came into view, the throng of guests being served by an army of black-clad waiters brandishing trays of canapés and champagne.
Not for the first time that day, Juno thought of palaces and princes and long-ago pageantry. Daisy and Connor had turned their wedding day into a magical event. She bit back the wistful sigh. Enough with the daydreaming. It definitely was not appropriate in her current circumstances.
She glanced across at the man beside her. In the twenty minutes it had taken them to get from the church to the reception, Mac Brody had been surprisingly subdued. There had been none of the teasing or taunts she’d expected. Probably because he’d been swamped by a crowd of people as soon as Daisy and Connor’s carriage had been waved out of sight.
She’d had no idea he was so famous! She rarely went to the cinema—never having had much time for make-believe—and she didn’t read the gossip mags either.
But more surprising than all the attention had been the way he’d reacted to it. He’d been patient and charming and remarkably gracious about all the requests for autographs and snapshots, but she’d still sensed how uncomfortable he was. Making her wonder what had become of the big bad movie star who had kissed her with such arrogance at Heathrow.
