Undressed

by Heather MacAllister

  The crowd was utterly silent as the last chord died away, and then they erupted in applause.

  There were calls for J.C. to sing more, but he shook his head, pointed to the white plastic runner and strummed a few bars of the familiar wedding march.

  After it was over, Lia bypassed the bride and groom and headed straight for J.C. She had to let him know she’d heard him sing. She had to let him know she understood his dream and that she believed he could make it. And she just had to see him one last time.

  She was pushing her way through the babbling crowd when she caught some of the conversations.

  “How did she get Jordan Christian to sing for her wedding?”

  “I guess she knows him somehow.”

  “Would it be tacky to ask for his autograph?”

  Lia came to a full stop and the crowd eddied around her.

  Jordan Christian. Jordan Christian? J.C. for Jordan Christian. Not for Jimmy’s Cousin, even though he was.

  Jordan Christian, heartthrob singer with thousands of female fans, which he’d told her, selling out major venues, which he’d told her, traveling, which he’d told her, known for his insistence on traveling around the country working odd jobs while he wrote his music—which he hadn’t told her, but his cousin had.

  She’d slept with Jordan Christian. How could she not have recognized him? How could she have criticized his music? How could she have been such an idiot?

  Jordan Christian himself had spotted her and was cutting through the crowd of thousands of female fans—okay, dozens—to get to her.

  When he reached her, he took her hand, kissed the back of it, waved to the thousands—dozens—of fans and led her away.

  “Keep walking,” he murmured. “Don’t look back. My truck is the black one right there.” He beeped the lock. “When we get close, open the door and hop in. Don’t stop.”

  “Uh, I don’t think we’re being chased by rabid autograph hunters.”

  “When they start chasing you, it’s too late.”

  They were in J.C.’s truck and away before Lia finished fastening her seat belt.

  They didn’t drive far—just to the parking lot at the Wainright Inn. J.C. parked in a row of similar vehicles, lowered the windows and turned off the engine. “We can sit here for a while, just to be safe.”

  “We could actually go inside. This is my parents’ place.”

  He smiled. “I know. I figured if things got messy, you could get help easier.”

  Lia studied him, trying to match the J.C. she knew with the Jordan Christian she didn’t. “Do things often get messy for you?”

  “Yes. But I have people who deal with crowds. I don’t have my people here.”

  He had people. “About that…You’re Jordan Christian.”

  He nodded slowly, watching her. “I was never a hundred percent sure whether you knew or not.”

  “Not.”

  “Ah.”

  “You’re famous,” she pointed out totally unnecessarily.

  “Lia, you’ve never confused the image and the man. Don’t start now.”

  “I didn’t know the image.”

  “But you know me. I’m still the same.”

  Right. “Show me your underwear.”

  J.C. unfastened his slacks and pulled them aside to reveal white boxers printed with brides and grooms, wedding cakes, doves and hearts.

  “Of course.” Lia smiled for the first time since she’d realized he was also Jordan Christian.

  J.C. hooked and zipped up his pants, stared straight ahead for a moment and then turned to her. “I’m falling in love with you, Lia.”

  The words she wanted to hear. Too bad he didn’t mean them. Even though her heart started thudding hard, she looked away, waving both hands. “Please don’t give me the speech. I want the memories of our night together…and maybe the CD of you singing ‘Ave Maria,’ because you are fantastic, but that’s it.”

  “Lia, I don’t have a speech. I’m trying to tell you how I feel and how special you are to me.” He lifted his hand, but she jerked her head away.

  “Special like the thousands of other women. Yeah, I get it. I know what that night was and you don’t have to pretty it up. I’m not going to cling or cry or sell my ‘I slept with Jordan Christian’ story to the tabloids. You don’t have to worry.”

  Expressionless, he said, “You’ve got it all figured out.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So…you want that CD autographed?” His voice had turned cold.

  She shivered, and not in a good way. “I was going to go buy it myself.”

  “Hey, it’s no trouble.” He reached into a box behind him and dug around. “I gave one to the bride and groom and I’ve got an extra.” Pulling out a jewel case, he snagged a Sharpie from the glove compartment and scribbled on the case. Then he tossed it into her lap.

  Without touching it, Lia read, “To Leah, You’re one in a thousand. Jordan Christian.”

  It was a calculated insult right down to her misspelled name. “Wow. And all I wanted was the memory.”

  “That’s all most women want. Enjoy.”

  Lia took in his tight jaw and the way he wouldn’t look at her. “Why are you angry? If anyone should be angry, it’s—”

  “You?” He glared at her. “I tried to talk to you and you shut me off. I called you and you didn’t answer. And as soon as I saw you today, I came straight toward you and told you how I felt. You threw it back in my face and asked me for a CD.”

  He made her sound awful. “You didn’t even tell me your real name!”

  “I go by J.C. on the road. The Jimmy’s Cousin thing was a coincidence.”

  “I thought—”

  “I know what you thought. You’ve been very clear on the whole one-night-stand issue and how okay you are with it. Well, I’m not okay with it and I never was, which I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Lia felt awful for about two seconds before anger flared. “How can it be anything but a one-night stand? You’re leaving!”

  “I have to.” Jordan took back the hatefully inscribed CD and dropped it into the box. “My concert and recording schedule for the rest of this year and the first quarter of next is pretty much set in stone. I’m scheduled beyond that, but there’s some wiggle room.” He laced his fingers through hers. “I’m falling in love with you and I want to keep falling in love with you.”

  Lia was silent as she looked into Jordan Christian’s blue, blue eyes and saw J.C.’s eyes. Hearing the words she wanted to hear and knowing he meant them was just as painful because nothing was going to change. He was still leaving.

  “If you feel the same, now would be the time to say so,” he prompted.

  Lia swallowed and nodded. “But I can’t go on the road with you.”

  “No, you can’t. You’re rooted to this place and have your own goals. That’s part of what makes you Lia, spelled L-I-A.”

  She smiled briefly. “Then we’re not going to have much of a relationship.”

  “Sure we will, but it’ll take work and commitment. I’ll come see you when I can and you’ll do the same. Gradually, I’ll be able to schedule more breaks and shift my home base to Rocky Falls.”

  Lia began to hope. “You’d do that?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “I can’t walk away from what I feel. I can’t walk away from you.”

  “I don’t want you to. This has been killing me!”

  “Ah, come here.” He cradled her face between his hands and kissed her.

  Lia rested her forehead against his. “You had better be seriously committed.”

  “I am officially off the market.”

  Lia laughed. “Do you have to send out a press release?”

  He groaned. “Trust me, it wouldn’t matter. And, Lia, promise you’ll ignore the tabloids.”

  “Why? They’ll be talking about Jordan Christian.” She smiled into his eyes. “I’ve fallen for J.C.”

  1

  UNVEILED

 
“ANJI, I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re doing this.”

  “Getting married?” Anjali Rawat smoothed her hands down the white wedding dress. It was too plain for her American wedding reception. “This is not the dress.”

  Jennifer, her roommate all through their medical residency, unfastened the clips holding the dress sample together. “I’m talking about the whole arranged-marriage thing. It’s…it’s medieval.”

  Anji laughed. “No one is forcing me to marry Devak Sharma. It is simply the custom in my culture to have our families arrange for us to meet.”

  “But…you were born in the United States. You’re an American.” Jenny gestured dramatically to a huge Cinderella-type ball gown hanging in the fitting room. “This is your culture!”

  “And that is why Devak and I will have a civil ceremony and reception here before we have the religious ceremony in India.”

  Jenny unzipped the bag protecting the Cinderella gown.

  “No,” Anji decided even before she took it out of the bag. “It has the drama of what we’re looking for, but there must be more beading and ornamentation. Just this side of being overdone. Think over-the-top.”

  “Anji, as your maid of honor, I’m supposed to keep you from going crazy with the bling.”

  Anji laughed. “Wait until you see the ceremony in India! Even though this is our American wedding, we must have an important dress or it will be an insult to Devak’s family. No bows or flowers or ruffles—it’s all about the beading and embroidery and crystals.”

  “Gotcha.” Jenny looked through the wedding dresses the sales associate had selected for Anji to try on. “Here’s one.” She pulled it off the hanger. “Gosh, it’s heavy!”

  The door opened and Lia, the black-suited assistant manager, came in. “I’m so sorry I’ve left you to fend for yourselves. We’re really busy today.”

  “Actually, we prefer it,” Anji said. “Right now, we’re only selecting the dresses to try on for my family. You’ll have plenty to do when they’re here this afternoon.”

  “So how are we doing?” Lia asked.

  “Well…these are very lovely dresses—”

  “Let me,” Jenny interrupted and turned to Lia. “Think sparkle and beads. If you’ve got some dresses you thought were so ornate no one would ever buy them—bring those. Don’t bother with the sheaths and make sure the dress has a train, the longer the better.”

  “I can do that,” Lia said. “Let me take some of these away. Would you try on these gowns—” she pulled a couple aside “—just for the shape?”

  Anji nodded.

  As soon as Lia had gone, Jenny started in again. “I don’t understand. Why get married now at all?”

  “It’s time. Soon, Devak and I will have both finished our residencies. When our schooling is over, we become householders. It’s one’s dharma to marry, the natural order of life. It’s what’s right.”

  “I get that. But can’t the natural order go a little slower? A month ago, you didn’t even know this guy existed.” She helped Anji into the beaded dress.

  “The priest studied our natal charts and chose the most auspicious day for marriage. The next one is months away.”

  “Natal chart…you mean your horoscope?”

  “No. The natal chart is the alignment of planets and stars at the time of our birth.”

  “That sure sounds like astrology.”

  “It’s part of our religious calendar. Marriage is difficult enough. There’s no sense in picking a bad day for it when you can just as easily pick a good one. And then everyone is pleased.”

  Jenny was looking at her as though she’d lost her mind. “I just…You’re marrying a stranger! Somebody your parents picked out.” Jenny shuddered. “I’ve done the parental setup before and who they consider a good prospect and who I consider a good prospect…” She shook her head. “Not even close.”

  Anji smiled. “Devak is not a stranger. My parents have told me all about him. He meets their qualifications and they believe we would be a good match. And trust me, the aunties have put him through a screening process that makes the CIA look like amateurs.”

  “But what about him?” Jenny lowered her voice. “If you’re married, you’ll have to have sex with him.”

  Anji laughed. “Well, I hope so!”

  “It’s sex with a stranger! Okay, I’ll admit the whole sex-with-a-stranger thing might appeal to some people, but I’ve known you a long time and that’s just not you.”

  “We’ve met and talked and I think we will have a good life together.”

  Jenny looked at her closely. “Anji, I understand that it’s your decision and you wish to honor your family and culture. And you’ve told me that if you don’t like him, that’s the end of it. But I remember that day. You were just off a twenty-four-hour shift. You barely had time to change clothes before you went to meet this guy and his family. A few hours later, you came back, told me you were engaged and slept for fourteen hours. And you haven’t seen him since, have you? How do you even know if you like him?”

  “We have spoken on the phone and we frequently e-mail and text.”

  “Did you at least feel…a little zing?”

  Anji remembered his kind eyes and the way they’d both laughed when they realized that they were so sleep deprived they were having trouble forming complete sentences. They’d gone into another room in her parents’ house where she’d told him what she wanted in a husband and he’d told her what he expected in a wife.

  She remembered wishing that there weren’t dark circles under her eyes and that she’d had a chance to get her hair trimmed. He’d held her hand when he’d asked if she wanted to make a life with him and she’d felt the strength flowing from it. He’d kissed her on the cheek, lingering a bit, and she’d had an impulse to turn her head and kiss his lips, but she’d stifled it.

  That impulse surely counted as a little zing.

  And Jenny might make fun of the e-mails and phone calls, but Anji had grown to like Devak more and more.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “I think we can say there was a zing.”

  “And I know better than to ask if you two will test that zing before you’re married.”

  “No.” Anji shook her head. “There will be no testing.”

  “That’s just so weird. You aren’t going to sleep with the man you intend to spend the rest of your life with, but you—” Jenny stopped and walked around to face Anji. “You have never zinged with a man, have you?”

  Anji laughed. “You should see your face! I’m no naive girl, Jenny.” She laughed again. “I’m a urologist. A man’s penis holds no mysteries for me.”

  “Great. Anji, you’ve only ever seen diseased penises. What are you going to do when a perfectly healthy penis comes knocking at your—” Jenny gestured “—‘portal of love’?”

  “Then I’ll open the door!”

  Jenny lowered her voice. “Sometimes the door might be locked. Sometimes the door might not be large enough. Sometimes it might be too large. Sometimes you might not like what’s on the other side. Wouldn’t you rather know that before you’re married?”

  Anji was laughing so hard she could hardly stand. “Don’t they teach you correct anatomical terms in sports medicine?”

  Jenny stalked around to the back of the dress. “Sex isn’t a sport,” she grumbled as she used the big clips to adjust the dress. “Ugh. I’m invoking maid-of-honor privilege. No mermaid gown for you, missy!”

  Anji agreed. “There’s no train, anyway.”

  “You won’t be comfortable showing all that skin in a strapless dress, which cuts out a bunch of styles.” Jenny helped Anji out of the mermaid gown. “I like this princess shape with the cap sleeves. Try it.”

  As Anji stepped into the gown, Jenny remarked, “You do realize you’re spending more time picking a dress than you spent picking a husband.”

  Anji stared at her reflection as Jenny did up the back. What she’d said was true.

  She knew everything about him.
>
  But she didn’t know him.

  “Hey—no clips needed for this one.” Jenny peeked out from behind the dress. “Oh, Anji! What do you think? This is your shape. And talk about a train.”

  The dress was very flattering and stately. Stately was good. “I like the sleeves for a bit more covered look, you know?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “And the neckline is open so it will display the jewels I’ll receive.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little ahead—”

  “I would not expect my parents to allow me to marry without bridal jewelry or to arrange a match with a family who would not present me with jewels.”

  Jenny raised her eyebrows. “All righty then. I’m going to find Lia and help her pull dresses now that I know the look you’re going for. It’s more efficient. And she may need help carrying them.”

  Anji shut her eyes. She could hear her speech taking on the cadence of her Indian relatives. Jenny was her friend and cared for her. Anji would probably question her, too, if Jenny suddenly announced she was marrying a man she’d just met.

  But Jenny didn’t spend weeks every summer visiting India. She didn’t truly understand the importance of family in Anji’s cultural heritage. And Jenny didn’t fully appreciate the rigorous screening a boy and girl went through before their families agreed to a match.

  This wasn’t an impulsive whim. Anji’s family had met Devak’s and exchanged biodata and family histories. Their star charts were compatible and he was a Hindu and a Brahman, as was she. She’d known all about him before they’d met.

  And then when they’d met…Anji remembered again the feeling of strength in his hand and a sense of recognition—kind of a “Yes, here he is, my life mate.”

  And, of course, there was that little zing.

  2

  “DEV! HEY, BUDDY!”

  “Josh!” Devak Sharma was genuinely happy to see his former soccer teammate. “It’s been a long time.”

  He and Josh had just emerged from fitting rooms at Tuxedo Park and were waiting for the tailor to measure their pants for hemming.