The Bridal Chronicles

by Lissa Manley

  He slowly nodded. “Fine.”

  However, when Anna turned her back on him and rummaged through her briefcase, shutting him out, her words troubled him.

  She wasn’t doing this to help him out.

  An odd, unexpected emptiness grew inside of him until he felt dull and hollow.

  More solitary than ever.

  And for the first time since Sonya had shoved his heart through a meat grinder, he wondered whether what he’d focused on for the last few years—his business, which was his dream and salvation—was going to be enough after all.

  Chapter Six

  Anna looked down at the luxurious, creamy material surrounding her and sighed. She couldn’t believe she was decked out in another of her wedding dresses.

  But here she stood in a tiny, drab dressing room at the Portland Exhibition Center, swathed in acres of heavy satin, trying to stand still while the show coordinator hooked the tiny pearl buttons that marched up the back of the dress Anna had designed.

  The Portland Bridal Show was in full swing, and she and Ryan were expected to make their grand entrance in ten minutes—as bride and groom.

  She fidgeted, her hands clenched at her sides.

  Pretend, of course, but even a fake wedding ceremony with Ryan was enough to turn the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach into giant birds with sharp claws and beaks.

  Nothing new at all. She’d been a basket case since yesterday when Ryan had so eagerly pointed out that being part of this fake wedding ceremony would be good for her business, too, not to mention that his charity would be getting what it needed.

  So, she was taking his advice and trying to be practical and focus on the positive. She’d put on a brave face and would make it through this whole thing with Ryan at her side if it would help land the Perfect Bridal account.

  If it would help her prove herself.

  “Please try to hold still,” the woman said, tugging on the back of Anna’s dress. “These buttons take a long time to hook.”

  Anna made a conscious effort to hold still when all she wanted to do was squirm. “Are you almost done?”

  Another tug. “Almost.”

  To Anna’s utter irritation, Ryan had burrowed into her consciousness like a pesky termite. She’d been unable to forget his sparkling blue eyes, easily given smile, and the glimpses of a tender, understanding man that tempted her to forget the brutal lessons about love she’d learned the hard way.

  Ryan made her want to get to know him better— lots better. The image of him in a three-legged race with a little kid had been particularly hard to ignore.

  For the hundredth time she chastised herself, remembering why Ryan seemed as if he cared about her. It was an act crafted to get her to do what he wanted. Nothing more. She couldn’t forget that, couldn’t make another bad choice that would hurt.

  “There you go,” the woman said, smoothing the back of Anna’s dress, which, thank goodness, lacked a train. “You can turn around now.”

  Anna turned and faced the mirror on the wall. She gasped, even though she’d designed the dress and knew exactly what it looked like—on the hanger.

  The simple empire waist gown, the color of a lustrous pearl, made her look like a fairy-tale princess. The tight-fitting, scooped bodice had tiny pearls sewn over every inch, and the long, lacy sleeves hugged her shoulders and arms like a second skin. The dress fell from beneath her breasts in a shimmering wave of fabric to skim the floor. A hairstylist had pulled her hair into a high, tight bun surrounded by a pearl-encrusted tiara with a short tulle half-veil, a necessary, disguising accessory that she had feared would be tacky but looked absolutely stunning with the dress.

  She looked like an honest-to-goodness bride.

  But she wasn’t. It was long past time for her to put away her girlish fantasies about love and marriage and face the fact it wasn’t meant for her.

  She designed wedding dresses for other women. Not herself.

  Without warning, a wave of sadness pervaded her. Surprised by the emotion, she abruptly turned away from the make-believe bride in the mirror and shook the sadness off. She had no time for regrets.

  She clenched her jaw. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The young redhead nodded and followed her out of the dressing room door into the hallway that led backstage.

  As Anna walked down the long, echoing passage, she repeated her instructions to herself.

  Spend as little time as possible with Ryan.

  Pay no attention to Ryan’s stunning smile and gorgeous eyes and seemingly generous personality.

  Get the ceremony over with.

  Try not to worry about the cameras…

  Her stomach clenched, but by the time she reached the end of the hallway, she thought she had herself under control.

  Until she opened the door to the back part of the stage and stepped through into the brightly lit area.

  Ryan stood in the wings, looking like an absolute dream in a black tuxedo, his gilded hair shining like a burnished penny under the bright stage lights. He was surrounded by a bevy of smiling, awestruck women.

  Anna stopped in her tracks, barely able to breathe, her eyes wide. An unfamiliar feeling crawled through her stomach like a fat lizard, overriding the sudden, strange ache in her chest.

  Why, I’m jealous!

  She stood like a statue, watching him joke and tease and laugh with those adoring women and she wanted to rush over and scratch all of their eyes out.

  She wanted him to smile and laugh like that with her. She wanted to be the center of his universe, darn it.

  She fell back a step and pressed a quivering hand to her waist. She wished she could sweep aside the disgusting truth, tell herself that she wasn’t a shallow, almost lovesick fool. But she couldn’t. She was out and out, green-to-the-gills jealous of every single woman there.

  Her hopes to remain unaffected by Ryan sank like bricks in water. Keeping herself cool around him had lasted exactly a nanosecond.

  Chewing her lip, she glanced around, at once noticing a tall, dark-haired young woman hovering in the wings across the stage, chewing the end of a pencil, a small notepad in her hand. The woman was doing her best to appear casual, but it was obvious to Anna that the woman was watching her.

  Another reporter?

  Wonderful. The icing on the cake. It was becoming glaringly evident that even though Ryan’s foundation would benefit, this whole wedding/Ryan experience was going to be much worse than Anna had thought.

  And she’d thought it was going to be pretty darn bad.

  Ryan tuned out some dumb joke a tall brunette was droning on about and looked around, wondering where Anna was.

  He spotted her by the stage door. His breath stalled in his lungs and he could have sworn a two-by-four had materialized out of thin air and whacked him in the gut. He had to remind himself not to drop his jaw.

  She was a vision he wouldn’t forget as long as he had a heartbeat. The cream-colored wedding dress she wore fit her to perfection, emphasizing her slender upper body and full breasts. The shimmering material fell like silk around her, wrapping her in a lustrous haze that made her skin glow as softly as a freshly picked pearl. Her dark red, shiny hair had been pulled tightly onto the top of her head with a shimmering crown holding a short veil. While the style was severe, the whole thing emphasized her exquisite bone structure and her creamy, smooth complexion.

  When he managed to take in a breath, he noticed the odd expression she wore. He frowned, trying to decipher the look, knowing instinctively that her strange little pout went much deeper than the look of dread he’d pretty much expected. He came up empty, though, and chalked up her weird scowl to simple irritation at having to take part in this fake ceremony.

  He excused himself from the cluster of women around him and made his way toward Anna. Her expression didn’t improve as he drew near. He could almost imagine a tiny rain cloud hovering above her head, cartoon style.

  He smiled, hoping a gr
in would be infectious, but she just pressed her lips together in a tight line. Cute little frown lines formed between her eyes and he had the absurd urge to reach out and smooth those Creases away. Or maybe kiss them away…

  Back on track, Cavanaugh. He needed to keep his hands, and his kisses, to himself. Touching or kissing her would border on disaster. If he did, then he’d want her, and he didn’t want to want her.

  “Hey, Anna.” He raised a hand in greeting.

  She smiled, but the quick pull of her mouth upward looked tight and forced. She inclined her head sharply in the direction of the group of women he’d just left. “That’s quite the little entourage you have there. You attract all kinds of attention, don’t you?” She sounded almost huffy.

  He frowned. “What?”

  She crossed her arms tightly against herself. “All of those women. Are they your fan club?”

  He pulled in his chin. She might hate having to be part of this show, but from what he’d seen of her in the few weeks since they’d met, she didn’t seem like a bitter or mean person.

  In fact, she seemed like a really nice gal, one he liked a lot. Maybe too much.

  He looked at her intently. “What’s stuck in your craw?”

  She stared at him for a long second, her lips tight and quivering. She blew out a fat breath, and then her face softened. “Forgive me,” she said softly. “I just wasn’t expecting… uh, well that is, I was surprised to see you… with all of those women.”

  Understanding hit him like a whack upside of his head. He leaned in and said in a low voice, “Woo-hoo! You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  She drew back, her nostrils practically quivering in stricken indignation. “I am most certainly not jealous. That’s totally ridiculous. Why would I be jealous? I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

  “Methinks thee doth protest too much,” he quipped, even though he was serious. Pleasure unfurled inside of him at the thought of Anna possibly liking him.

  But he crammed the good feeling back into its cage and shoved it where he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t want to care about how she felt about him, and damn it, he wouldn’t care. Sonya had taught him the importance of that.

  Anna remained silent, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth, her expression hovering between stony silence and outright misery.

  Call him crazy, but seeing her so upset blew his vow not to care about her to pieces. “Hey, now,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  For her sake, he wasn’t going to argue. “Okay. I believe you. Just don’t get all upset about nothing, all right?”

  “I’m not upset. I’m just… well, I don’t want to do this. You know I hate cameras.”

  He still felt bad about her having to take part in this silly wedding on TV. But it was too late to back out now. They were locked into doing this show, and if anything could drum up awareness for Mentor A Child, it was this hokey bride show and the booth he’d had set up in the exhibit hall.

  Trying to ease her anxiety, he said, “Look, it’ll all be over soon and then you can forget everything about ‘The Bridal Chronicles.’”

  “I hope so, because all of this,” she said, indicating the large stage, “scares me to death.”

  Before he could reply, a man yelled, “Thirty seconds, everyone!”

  Ryan straightened his silk cravat-style tie and held out his arm to Anna. “Are you ready to marry me?”

  She froze, looked at his arm and then up at him. “We really have to do this, don’t we?”

  The panic he saw in her eyes was like a swift jab in the belly. Yes, he wanted the public exposure, not only for Mentor A Child, but for his image, too. He reminded himself that he couldn’t help kids if the foundation’s Board of Directors believed Joanna’s lies about him being a slave driving, overdemanding, arrogant employer and decided his perceived public persona wasn’t good for their cause.

  But Anna’s panicky look really got to him, really cut him. He didn’t like making her unhappy, didn’t like knowing he’d put a shadow in her eyes. “Not if you don’t want to,” he surprised himself by saying.

  Her eyes widened at his response. Obviously she was shocked that he was willing to cut her a break. She bit her bottom lip, and he could imagine the heated debate going on in her head. He’d given her an out. Was she going to take it?

  After an excruciating pause, she sucked in a deep breath and placed her hand under his outstretched arm and rested it lightly between his shoulder and elbow from below. The moment her hand touched him, heat traveled through his arm to his chest.

  “No,” she said. “Even though I hate being in front of cameras, this will be good for my business, and your foundation, too. Let’s get this over with.” With her free hand she flipped her veil down over the upper half of her face.

  Relief spread through him. She looked up at him again and her clear, dark topaz eyes met his. He stood spellbound, lost in her gorgeous gaze, totally unaware of anything but the woman holding on to him, preparing for their pretend wedding.

  And damn if he didn’t have the craziest wish that this ceremony was the real thing.

  “Come on, bride and groom,” a voice called, interrupting his strange little fantasy. “It’s time to get married.”

  Ryan jerked his eyes away, trying to get a hold on himself. As he woodenly walked toward the curtain on the stage, he wondered what in the world was wrong with him. This wedding wasn’t anywhere near real, and he should be glad. Anna might be the ideal pretend bride, but that’s all she was. A fake bride to help the foundation.

  But that didn’t explain at all why he’d been so pleased she was jealous. Or why he fantasized that this was more than just a play, acted out for the bridal show. Or why the prospect of a honeymoon with her filled him with a raging heat he couldn’t seem to get rid of. The very thought of her in a lacy, revealing nightgown, lying on a bed with her hair spread out around her, her arms outstretched to him…

  His body responded in a natural way, which was a bad thing considering they were seconds from getting “married” in front of hundreds of people. Taking a deep breath, he forced all those disturbing thoughts from his head, determined, out of long enforced habit, not to dwell on what he couldn’t explain.

  Because for the life of him, he couldn’t make sense of his crazy attraction to Anna after being burned so badly before.

  The curtains opened with a whoosh and the bright overhead lights nearly blinded Anna. The large exhibit hall spread out before them, bisected by a long, narrow runway surrounded by people.

  An audible hush fell over the crowd and hundreds of eyes fastened on her. Her cheeks warmed and a rush of bitter, cloying anxiety poured through her, and she prayed she didn’t trip over her own feet and make a total fool of herself in front of the world. She tightened her grip on Ryan’s thick, solid upper arm, taking comfort in his strength. He patted her hand, and she relaxed a tiny bit.

  Until she noticed the television cameras aimed at her, symbolically beaming her picture directly to the whole world.

  The media was everywhere.

  A sudden rush of fear filled her and she wanted to run away and hide.

  Ryan placed his big, warm hand over hers and leaned close to her ear. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. He probably looked like an adoring groom murmuring sweet nothings in his beloved bride’s ear.

  That was as far from the truth as it could get.

  Even though she wasn’t his beloved bride, his words and touch calmed her in a way she didn’t understand. Maybe it was because she wasn’t in this alone. Or maybe it was his soothing voice and reassuring touch. Whatever it was, she managed to take a deep breath and corral her overwhelming need to bolt.

  Instead she plastered a smile on her face, reminded herself that this might help her land the Perfect Bridal account and ensure her future as a wedding dress designer. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she forced herself to walk next to Ryan down the runway.

  An
announcer gave their names and described her gown and Ryan’s tux. After what seemed like an hour, but was really only minutes, they were back on stage, standing in front of a short, old man with gray hair and glasses dressed in a minister costume.

  He smiled benignly. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together…”

  Anna stood stock-still as he recited the short ceremony, sounding remarkably official. Halfway through, Ryan laid his hand over hers and gently squeezed, which, again, was surprisingly comforting. She curled her fingers around his and held on for dear life.

  “You may now kiss the bride,” the minister announced.

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  Kiss? No one had mentioned anything about a kiss! She looked up to Ryan who, oh Lordy, Lord, had turned toward her and reached for her with his free hand, his mouth pulled into a lazy, sexy, come-here-and-kiss-me grin.

  Her knees trembled and she almost fainted into a heap of cream satin on the floor.

  Apparently he had no problem with kissing her in front of hundreds of people. She could only stand, frozen in total shock, as Ryan put his big, hot hands on her shoulders and tugged her close.

  Time slowed to a crawl. One of his hands came up and gently tilted her chin upward. With every long second that passed she was sure he would regain his sanity and stop this madness. But as he bent his head, she realized he had no intention of stopping anything.

  He was crazy. He was definitely going to kiss her. For real. On live TV.

  Worse yet, she wanted his kiss more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Her heart pounding like a jackhammer, Anna let Ryan settle her against his big, hard body. His spicy scent surrounded her, making her light-headed. His hand slid from her chin across her jaw and behind her head to hold her steady. Instinctively she slid her arms around his waist and pressed them against his hard, muscled back. He dropped his head and she closed her eyes and waited, her heart ready to spring from her chest and dance around on the ground by itself.