Almost To The Altar

by Neesa Hart

  Reaching to the small shelf on the wall, he picked up a nickel. Elise watched, a glimmer of hope beginning to build in her wounded soul, as he dropped the nickel into the old jukebox and punched a few buttons.

  Slowly he turned to face her. “Come, Kynieza, stand on my feet. I will teach you to dance.”

  With a sob, Elise raced across the room and flung herself into his large arms.

  In the shadows of the storeroom, Wil wiped a hand across his eyes. It wasn’t every day that a man witnessed a miracle. He’d never loved Elise more than he did at that moment. What she’d done had taken more courage, more love, than he’d ever felt in his life. He knew in that instant that he could offer her no less. She owned his soul. Now he merely had to find a way to give it to her.

  Then, because he felt the moment too private, too tender, to be witnessed by outside eyes, he turned and left the butcher shop.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ilook ridiculous.” Elise tugged at the full skirt of the Princess Claire wedding dress. “I can’t believe I agreed to wear this.”

  Parker, elegantly clad in white tie and tails, brushed her hands aside. He straightened the skirt with a few efficient swipes. “To be honest, I can’t, either.” He smiled at her. “It’s not your normal style.”

  Elise frowned. “I’m starting to wonder if I have a normal style anymore. I’ve turned into a schizophrenic.”

  “Of course you do, darling.” He attached the veil to her hair with a bobby pin. “It’s a little odd, but it’s yours.”

  His quip helped lighten her mood. Standing behind the screen that separated the staging area at the auction, she listened to the drone of the auctioneer’s voice. Auction day had finally arrived, and Elise was practically a basket case. To make matters worse, one of her models for the wedding dresses had canceled at the last minute. If it hadn’t been for

  Parker’s offer to help, she might have gone crazy. His call the night before had been like a godsend. With his usual efficiency, he’d helped her smooth over the last of the problems. It had taken more than a little prodding, but Parker had finally convinced her to wear the gown herself. In a way, she was grateful for the diversion. She’d spent the past couple of days with her parents, and while they still had a long way to go, they’d talked a lot, listened even more, and been able to go a long way toward mending the hurts of the past.

  But she hadn’t heard from Wil.

  At first, she’d hardly noticed his absence. Her family had needed the time. There had been so much to discuss. Just being together had been crucial. By nightfall, however, she’d begun to wonder where Wil had gone. When she phoned Jan, he’d told her Wil had not yet returned to the garage. The following day, he’d called her, but even then he’d been almost deliberately vague. He’d seemed to be in a hurry to get her off the phone. Sternly she’d reminded herself that their last conversation had hardly given her a reason to expect anything more from him.

  Parker seemed not to notice her distress as he finished adjusting her veil. “I suppose this is as close as we’ll get to a wedding,” he said.

  Elise met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Parker. I know this is uncomfortable for you.”

  He covered her hand with his gloved one. “I told you before, I want what’s best for you. If you’re happy, I’ll be happy.”

  Why, she wondered, couldn’t she have loved this man? Impulsively she went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You’re a very nice man, and I know some woman who’s a lot smarter than I am is going to figure that out some-!!day.”

  He grinned at her as the model whose dress had just been sold was escorted from the stage by her makeshift groom. “Ready, darling?” Parker said.

  Elise nodded. “Wait for the auctioneer to do his spiel. I’m expecting this dress to be the top seller.” She smoothed her fingers over the luxurious satin as she listened to the auctioneer’s explanation.

  “This next dress,” his voice boomed, “is a gem. Princess Claire of Caldonia wore this in 1943. It’s not only a gorgeous gown, it’s a collectible for its contribution to silver-screen history.”

  “Now,” Elise told Parker.

  An appreciative applause greeted their entrance. Though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, Elise couldn’t help scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Wil. As she’d suspected, he wasn’t present. She squelched her disappoint-!!ment with an overly bright smile at an astounded Roger Philpott.

  “Well,” the auctioneer was saying, “this is a pleasant surprise.” He pointed to Elise. “This entire event owes itself to the woman in this dress. This, ladies and gentle-!!men, is the Elise Christopher who’s been running you all in circles so she can take your money.”

  The crowd laughed, then applauded again. Elise managed a cheery wave, despite her sinking spirits. Jan stood by the back door. If Wil had planned to come to the auction, he’d have been with his father. She refused to consider what his absence might mean. There’d be plenty of time for misery when she wasn’t standing in front of two hundred people.

  Parker seemed to sense her distress. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t lose heart,” he told her in a low whisper. “Sometimes things work out the way you least expect them to.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “What are you talking about?” Parker’s eyes sparkled with an unusual twinkle. “You’re up to something,” she said.

  “Perhaps.” He inclined his head toward the photographer at the foot of the stage. “Smile for the camera, dar-!!ling.”

  Elise groaned. She’d forgotten that a photographer from the Tribune was covering the event. This was just what she needed. A full-color picture of her and Parker Conrad in full wedding regalia sprawled across the front page of the paper.

  After the pictures were snapped, the bidding began. As Elise had expected, it was fast and furious. The fact that Claire Davis had worn the gown gave it a considerably higher popular appeal than any of the other pieces. The bidding seemed to stall at four thousand dollars when a tremendous noise from the back of the auction house interrupted the auctioneer.

  Elise frowned. Dear God, now what? It sounded like the roof was caving in.

  Her frown quickly turned to a gasp of shock when she saw Wil, looking impossibly attractive clad in jeans, a white T-shirt and a suede jacket, riding toward her on a red 1957 Harley-Davidson XL Sportster. Roger Philpott appeared on the verge of apoplexy. Completely undisturbed by the reaction of the crowd, Wil rode the bike down the center aisle, stopped at the foot of the stage and fixed Elise with the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.

  A tiny bubble of hope, along with the insane urge to laugh, found its way into her heart. “What are you doing?” she shouted above the idling engine.

  “Showing you that I’m not a coward,” he said. He indicated the crowd with a sweep of his arm. “You told me you didn’t think I wanted to make a commitment to you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Maybe not.” He regarded her with a sexy go-to-hell look that made her toes tingle. “You also told me I wasn’t willing to admit I was wrong.”

  “You weren’t.”

  “Maybe not that, either.”

  His gaze turned serious. “But I got to tell you something, Elise.”

  “Here?”

  “Here. You were right about everything. I pushed you away. I misjudged you. I was wrong. I was a fool.”

  “Oh, Wil.”

  “So Parker and I talked it over.”

  Elise frowned at Parker. “You knew?”

  Parker nodded. “I didn’t plan the gown, though. That was just nature’s way of blessing this little fiasco.”

  Wil revved the motorcycle engine to get her attention. “We decided that you weren’t ever going to trust me unless I was willing to really make a fool out of myself for you.” His gaze scanned the audience until they landed on the newspaper reporter. “That’s Larsen,” he said to the astonished woman. “With an e.”

  Elise couldn’t stifle a laugh. Wil’s gaze found hers
again. “Parker and I decided,” he continued, “that what you needed from me was a grand gesture. So I’m doing it in front of all these people.” The flash of the photographer’s camera made him smile. “In front of the media.” His gaze turned suddenly serious. There was a raw hunger in his eyes that made her heart soar. “Because, my God, Aina, I’m going to die if I don’t have you.”

  With a laugh of pure, undiluted joy, Elise pressed her hand to her mouth. Roger, she noticed too late, had risen from his seat and was stalking toward the stage. “Elise—” he hoisted his considerable bulk onto the elevated platform “—you’ve got to put a stop to this.”

  “Oh, stuff it, Roger.” Indicating the crowd with a flick of her wrist, she said, “They’re loving it.”

  He was so aghast, his double chin dropped to his chest. Elise took the opportunity to push her bouquet into his hand. “Everything’s running like clockwork. You’re going to make a mint for Brandy off this little event, and I don’t even care if you take credit for it.”

  “Elise…”

  Ignoring him, she turned to Parker. “Would you help me down?” she asked.

  Parker led her to the side of the stage, leaped down, then lifted her the two feet to the ground. Wil still studied her with that intent look on his face, the one that made her heart accelerate. With a soft smile, she put her hands on his shoulders. “So tell me, grease monkey, is this a proposal, íor what?”

  To the applause of the crowd, he pulled her into his arms For a hot, satisfying kiss. When he lifted his head, he grinned at her, that funny lopsided grin that stole her breath. “Am I acting like a big enough fool to suit you?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “Oh, yes.”

  And before she could draw her next breath, he said the words she’d longed for. “I love you, Elise.”

  “I love you, too, you big idiot,” she told him.

  In seconds, the kiss flowered, ran hot and urgent and out of control. Wil pressed her to him with a ferocity that made her shiver. When he swept his tongue into her mouth, she clutched at his head. Nothing, but nothing, had ever felt as right as holding this man.

  Wil’s mouth was slanting over hers to deepen the kiss when Parker tapped him on the shoulder. Reluctantly Wil lifted his head. The befuddled look on Elise’s face sent a jolt of pure adrenaline rushing through him. He almost told Parker to go to hell so that he could kiss her again.

  Parker cleared his throat. “Listen, pal, I think this conversation would be best continued outside.”

  Wil grinned at him. “You know, I never expected to like you.”

  “Yes, well—” Parker assisted Elise onto the back of the motorcycle “—the feeling was mutual.”

  She laid her hand on Parker’s face. “Thank you,” she said.

  With a brief laugh, he kissed her fingers, then laid them on Wil’s shoulder. “Thank you, Elise. You taught me what it means to love an extraordinary woman.”

  Wil waited for her to wrap her arms around his waist before revving the engine once more. At the back of the crowd, Elise saw her father and Jan slapping each other on the back as if they’d just pulled off the coup of the century. With a happy laugh, she pressed her face into Wil’s shoulder.

  As he rode the motorcycle out of the auction hall, she heard Roger Philpott call after her on the microphone, “But… who is going to pay for that dress?”

  With a happy laugh, Elise tossed her veil over her shoulder as Wil headed for the road.

  And then, one by one, as if she were shedding shackles from the past as they moved toward their future, she left her white satin shoes lying in the dirt.

  eISBN 978-14592-7332-0

  ALMOST TO THE ALTAR

  Copyright © 1997 by Neesa Hart

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street. New York, NY 10017 U.S.A

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention

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