by Stacy Gail
Claire’s mouth tightened. No other man would even think of asking such a question, which she supposed only underscored how totally incompatible they were. “If we’re talking about blue jays, or wolves, or even Matt Guthrie, then yes—it’s completely natural, that’s how all species propagate and move forward. But if we’re talking about you, not so much.”
A sound of what seemed like annoyance escaped him. “Why not me?”
“You’re not exactly marriageable material,” she drawled, then pretended the admission didn’t make something die a little inside. “It would take one hell of a woman to set her sights on you.”
“You think?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he slid an oblique glance her way. “Well, I guess that’s good to know. If I ever do find that hell of a woman, would you mind putting our wedding together?”
Claire gripped the clipboard so sharply her fingernails scraped over it blackboard-style. “Why, sure,” she seethed, so saccharine-sweet he backed up a step. “In fact, I know the perfect theme for the likes of you. For a venue we could do it down at the San Antonio Jailhouse, and instead of the traditional ring, we could have you outfitted with an old ball-and-chain.”
His brows shot up. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t plan it.”
“Finally, the man starts using his brain for something other than a separator for his ears,” she stormed, so enraged she could hardly see straight. “And if you ever even think about coming to me to plan a wedding for you and the woman you love, you’d better be prepared to run for your miserable, godforsaken life!” With a ferocious growl, she spun on her heel and secretly willed the brave little blue jay to peck Ryder to death.
“I am so nervous.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I have to pee.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Do I have time?”
“No. Don’t think about it.”
“Crap. Is Matt really waiting for me?”
“He went out with the priest and—and his best man.” For the most part, the answers popped out of Claire’s mouth like a reflex being hit, and only the thought of Ryder made her stumble. Small wonder. Ever since he’d had the testicular fortitude to talk about getting married one day, she had felt as though some cerebral motherboard had been blown.
Damn him.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen went out in pairs, resplendent in their wedding finery. Claire hardly saw them. With all the gentle sweetness of the Spanish Inquisition, her short-circuited brain insisted on imagining what Ryder would look like waiting at the altar for his blushing bride, his eyes aglow with a love Claire had assumed he could never feel.
Yet here he was, Mr. Anti-Marriage himself, spouting off about when he got married.
Damn him to hell.
He hadn’t meant it, surely. Ryder Price wasn’t built for the long haul. Men like him never changed.
“He had his choice of women and lifestyles, and what he chose was me. That’s true love.”
Unbidden, Rachel’s comment echoed back to her, and as the flower girls and ring-bearers went out and Rachel’s father spoke softly with his daughter, Claire couldn’t get those words out of her mind. Matt and Ryder had been so similar—both footloose and fancy-free playboys. It wasn’t until Matt had found his perfect match that he had realized there could be something more. Something better.
Was it possible Ryder could also have an epiphany one day? A few weeks ago Claire wouldn’t have even considered it. But now…
“Claire?”
I am home.
“Claire? Shouldn’t we cue the music?”
Blankly Claire stared at Mari, before realizing she was holding everything up. With a tiny gasp, she snatched up the walkie-talkie, cheeks burning. “Cue the music.”
The Wedding March swelled, but instead of feeling the excitement she always felt when that piece played, Claire watched distractedly from the open doorway with Mari while her thoughts whirled. Was it an anomaly for Ryder to mention the possibility of a wedding in his future? Was it something he’d said just for the sake of argument? Or was this a signal of something fundamental changing within him? As far as she knew, the thought of marriage had never even occurred to him. Her gaze drifted to Ryder as she tried to puzzle it out. Why had it come up now?
As if he sensed the intensity of her gaze, Ryder’s attention slid from Rachel and Matt, to where Claire stood by the door. He looked at her, his pale eyes unwavering, an urgent message in them she couldn’t decipher, though her pulse rocketed into the stratosphere. Without any effort at all, that laser-like focus pulled her in and made her his willing captive, and in that moment all she could see was Ryder.
Damn him…and me too.
“If any person can show just cause why Matt and Rachel may not be joined together, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”
Claire’s heart skipped several beats as Ryder at last looked away.
Oh, no. Don’t…
Ryder pursed his lips, and a sudden glint in his eyes made the breath back up in her lungs. Then he bent, took the ring from the little bearer’s pillow, and wordlessly handed it to Matt before turning once more to look at Claire as if she were the only thing worth seeing.
Claire stared at him, trying to understand. Unless she was seriously delusional, she just saw Ryder choose not to screw up the wedding, but…why? People didn’t have the power or the desire to change overnight, especially a person like Ryder Price. Perhaps he was throwing in the towel? Could it be he was finally accepting that Matt could find happiness in marriage? That happiness and marriage could be mentioned in the same sentence without an automatic gag reflex?
No way. It had to be a trick.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
The ceremony’s conclusion slipped by Claire almost without her notice. Matt and Rachel shared their first kiss as a married couple, the photographer captured the moment forever, and the blue jay made one last heroic swipe at the priest in a perfectly timed farewell, but her attention remained on Ryder. She was certain there was more going on with him than met the eye, and she became convinced of it when all the guests filed into the Grand Ballroom for the reception to hear the best man’s toast.
Great, she thought, horrified she had forgotten about this massive pitfall. Here it comes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask all of you to raise your glass to Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Guthrie,” Ryder began, his voice tinny over the D.J.’s microphone. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to wing it from here on in, since I don’t really have a planned toast for this. I slacked off on this particular duty of best man, because part of me believed this marriage was a bad idea.”
Claire closed her eyes as the crowd stilled. Maybe she could conveniently trip over the microphone cord…
“And it wasn’t just this marriage—I thought marriage in general was nothing more than an exercise in futility. In my mind, marriage put so much pressure on people to stay together that it worked to split them apart. But in the past few weeks I’ve come to realize marriage doesn’t break up people, people break up people. I’ve also come to realize that married or not, some people simply belong together.”
Cautiously, she cracked her eyes open—and her heart stumbled to a breathless halt when she found Ryder looking right at her.
“I was once told there is a place in a person’s heart that goes undiscovered until their perfect match comes along to fill it. A person who will be there to support you when no one else will, to listen when you’re troubled, to be no more than an arm’s reach away when the world is closing in. Such a thing seemed unbelievable. Too good to be true. A fairy tale. But then it occurred to me how two people can manage to stay together, even when times are tough and they’ve seen each other at their very worst. They can do it if they love each other.”
Stunned, Claire could only stare at Ryder while giddy hope soared. He understood.
Finally.
&n
bsp; At last, Ryder turned to Rachel and Matt, and raised his glass. “To my best friend and his thankfully patient wife—love each other, you two. That is the true bond of marriage, the basis of happily ever after. I wish you both the joy of everlasting love.”
Rachel cried as Matt clanked his champagne glass hard against Ryder’s, and the crowd cheered their exuberant toast to the happy couple. Claire didn’t join in the festivities, instead tottering on unsteady legs out to the back patio she and the workers had been using as a staging area.
So this was what shock felt like, she thought, reeling. She sank down onto the low limestone patio wall and looked out over the sun-washed, oak-covered hills with blank eyes. This was what it felt like to have witnessed a miracle. She couldn’t call it anything else. It was a heaven-sent gift to witness a hardcore commitment-phobe finally understand that love wasn’t some cheesy myth listed somewhere below Sasquatch and the Chupacabra. It was real, the greatest strength two people could discover in each other. It was completion.
But…why now?
“Claire?”
Somehow she wasn’t surprised he’d come looking for her. Feeling oddly naked huddled there on the wall, she turned to find Ryder no more than a few feet away.
“That was beautiful.” He was beautiful, she thought while her heart ached with an overflow of love she didn’t know how to stop. In that moment, he was the most beautiful being she had ever seen. “I didn’t think you could say that. Any of it.”
“A few weeks ago I couldn’t have.”
“I know.” That’s what had her so flabbergasted. “What’s changed?”
A wry curve tilted his mouth. “Everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did you know when I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most perfect woman to have ever graced this world?” he said instead of answering. “It was right here, across the parking lot, and that’s where the change in me began. Seeing you for the first time hit me like a punch to the gut, and all I could think was how magnificent you were. When I should have been focused on saving Matt from what I thought was a fate worse than death, all I could see was my idea of feminine perfection.”
Her jaw seemed to be permanently unhinged. “Perfect? Good grief, that’s the last thing I am. No one is.”
“Don’t bring logic into this. My visceral reaction to you has nothing to do with logic. The change that began in me that day has everything to do with what I think might be the human version of the nesting instinct.”
“Now you’ve really lost me.”
“I don’t know what else to call it.” His shoulders shifted in a shrug as he crossed to sit on the wall beside her. “Out of all the relationships I’ve had, I’ve never felt any real belonging, Claire. I didn’t know such a thing existed, except in love songs and fairy tales. I genuinely believed no one could ever fit me to the point where they became my other half. Then, as I stood beside the one woman who can tie me in knots without even trying, I watched a blue jay protect his family for all his worth. And like that, everything fell into place.”
She frowned, trying to follow his train of thought. “The blue jay?”
“Think about it, Claire. If a bird can be brave enough to fight like hell to forge a life with his chosen mate, then what the hell is my problem?”
The promise behind his words made her forget the need to breathe, but she didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding. “What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I think I get it now.” As if he thought she would shatter at a touch, Ryder reached over to take her hands in his. “You should know something about me. Before we met, I was struggling with this weird restlessness I couldn’t put my finger on—a gnawing, unsettled feeling like I was forgetting to do something important. It only got worse when Matt announced he was getting married, to the point where I lied about my house being infested with bees so I could be close enough to stop the wedding from happening.”
“You lied?” For some reason, she wasn’t at all surprised. “That’s pretty off-the-wall.”
“It shows how desperate I was feeling,” came the sheepish reply. “I guess I didn’t want to be left completely alone in the world. And that in a nutshell was the life I was forging for myself—one of total isolation. I just didn’t realize it until you pointed it out to me.”
All too clearly she recalled his expression when she admitted how she felt sorry for him. “I thought that made you angry.”
“The truth hurts,” he admitted, grimacing. “The restlessness I’d been dealing with finally had a name—loneliness. But putting a label on it didn’t make it any better. What’s more, the restlessness only quieted down when I was with you, and I think it’s because instinctively I realized when I’m with you, I’m complete. Something in me recognizes you as my other half, the one person I was created for.”
Her breath caught, a jagged little sound that hung between them as her staggered brain tried to absorb it all. Could this really be happening? Could it be that at long last Ryder Price was willing to believe there was such a thing as forever?
Maybe she was dreaming. Or having a psychotic episode.
“Claire, I know I’ve screwed up,” he said anxiously when she began to shake her head, his hands tightening on hers as if he feared she might somehow slip through his fingers. “I know you don’t trust me. I admit, I haven’t given you any reason to believe in me. Until now all I’ve ever done was try to prove that lust, not love, was what brought people together. But I was wrong, and the only reason I acted like such an ass was because I was falling in love with you, and I was trying to save myself. You have no idea how falling like that can hurt.”
“Yes I do,” Claire whispered as at last she heard the words she thought she’d never hear from him. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked up into his stormy eyes. “You idiot, I’ve been falling this whole time.”
Slow, beautiful hope dawned on his face. “Claire…?”
“I’ve fallen in love with you.” She let the truth out in a breathless rush, and it was like stepping out into nothing. She only prayed he would be there to catch her. “I’ve tried so hard not to, Ryder. The two of us together…it’s like some kind of bad joke. We’re totally incompatible—”
“We’re not.” With a rough sound wrenched from his throat, Ryder caressed her face with lips that seemed to almost worship her with their fiery tenderness. “We’re perfect together. Let me prove it to you. I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
“Careful,” she warned, her mouth coming to nuzzle his as her body began to heat. “That sounded dangerously like forever.”
“Forever’s not nearly long enough.” He groaned and kissed her hard. “If I had a hundred lifetimes to spend with you, it still wouldn’t be enough. You are my happily ever after.”
A dazed little laugh burst from her. Thank heaven he’d caught her, after all. “I’ll do my best to always be yours,” she vowed, and melded her lips to his.
About the Author
Stacy Gail would love to announce that she is an accomplished concert pianist and can speak seven different languages. Unfortunately, she can’t. Chopsticks was the only piano tune she ever mastered, and her idea of speaking another language equates to talking with a funny accent.
There are, however, a couple of things Stacy can do—figure skate and write romances. While skating competitively from the age of eight and learning that perseverance is the true key to success, she began to write stories in between skating events to pass the time. By the age of fourteen, she told her parents she was either going to be a figure skating coach who was also a published romance writer, or a romance writer who was also a skating pro.
Amazingly enough, both dreams have now come true.
For more news on Stacy Gail’s upcoming releases (or to uncover the latest trouble into which she’s landed herself), feel free to take a peek:
Blog: http://stacygail.blogspot.com
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Look for this title by Stacy Gail
Now Available:
Zero Factor
Armed and dangerous…
Zero Factor
© 2011 Stacy Gail
A Cybershock Story
Born a psionic—a rare human prized by the government for her gifts—agridome worker Via Brede lives by two simple rules: slip into stealth mode whenever the cybernetic-enhanced militia is near. And never remove the gloves that block her psychic ability.
During a routine delivery, a tear in her glove connects her with what should be her worst nightmare. A meched-out soldier with bulging muscles and a scarred face that makes her heart pound like a pneumatic drill. She also envisions his death in an attack that happens…now.
Locke’s typically ho-hum mission goes sideways when the stunning, green-eyed bubble farmer plants a sensual kiss that sets fire to every one of his remaining man-nerves. He also sees her vision. His own commander is about to kill him.
He needs Via to find out why. First step is to get her to Old Las Vegas without succumbing to a raw, sexual need that burns in him like fever. Getting there will be a snap. Getting out alive—and winning her trust—might be a little tougher.
Warning: This title contains mild violence, blow-your-mind Psionic sex, buns of steel (literally) and the usual hanky-panky at a bordello. Author is not responsible for side effects, including locked-and-loaded hunks taking your dreams by force.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Zero Factor:
Via knew her life was over. If she were honest with herself, part of her had known it the moment she had left the safety of the agridome. People like her could never put themselves in a position where they would be within spitting distance of the militia, much less work hand in hand with them. To do so was akin to bathing in jet fuel, then playing with a lighter.
