The Best Man's Plan (Special Edition)

by Gina Wilkins

  What he meant, Grace decided, was that he hadn’t wanted to mention Chloe until he knew whether she was going to marry him. “So your own mother doesn’t know for certain that you were dating Chloe before she met Donovan?”

  “No,” he said with a quick glance around to make sure she hadn’t been overheard. “And neither will anyone else—unless you broadcast it tonight.”

  Fully aware that no one was close enough to overhear, Grace only shrugged. “I suppose you haven’t told your parents why you’re now taking pains to be seen with me?”

  “No. I saw no reason to discuss that with them, either.”

  “So they probably believe what they hear through the grapevine—that you and I are involved in a serious relationship.”

  The discussion seemed to be making him increasingly nervous. He was standing so close to her that she spoke almost directly into his ear; an eavesdropper would almost have to be standing between them to overhear. To everyone else, it probably appeared that they were engaged in an intimate conversation. Still, Bryan made it clear that he’d rather not talk about their relationship—or lack of one—under those conditions. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  She stifled a sigh and allowed herself to be towed to the dance floor.

  The one redeeming aspect of the fund-raiser, in Grace’s opinion, was Bryan’s dancing talent. Despite her initial rejection of his offer, she loved to dance, and wasn’t able to do so very often. It was nice to have a skilled partner who seemed to enjoy the activity as much as she did.

  They danced the rest of the evening away. Maybe it was because Bryan was trying to avoid further stilted conversation with his parents—or trying to spare Grace from the chore. Or maybe it was the novelty of finding something they could enjoy together without the underlying friction that usually existed between them. They even laughed together while they experimented with intricate dance steps. And when the movements brought them close, their bodies brushing as they moved slowly to some blatantly romantic arrangement…well, that was nice, too.

  A bit too nice, as far as Grace was concerned. She had to keep reminding herself not to confuse make-believe with reality.

  “You never told me you were such a good dancer,” Bryan murmured into her ear as the orchestra played a sultry rendition of “Misty.”

  “Should I have included dancing on my personal résumé for you?”

  He chuckled, making his chest vibrate pleasantly against her. “I have a feeling there are several tidbits on that résumé that I would find interesting.”

  “I doubt that mine would be half as interesting as yours.”

  “Maybe we’ll compare notes someday.”

  She decided to let that suggestion pass.

  Looking over his shoulder, she said, instead, “I see that your father is dancing with the senator’s wife.”

  A muscle twitched in Bryan’s jaw. “Is he?”

  “You find that surprising?”

  “Not really. My father has always had a knack for staying on friendly terms with his exes. Too bad I didn’t inherit the talent—my relationships always seem to crash and burn.”

  “You and Chloe have certainly remained good friends.”

  “But Chloe and I were never involved in what you would call a real relationship,” he reminded her in a murmur.

  Because other couples were dancing nearby, she said no more about her sister, asking instead, “So your father dated the senator’s wife before he married your mother?”

  Bryan lifted an eyebrow. “That’s an uncharacteristically naive comment, coming from you. That lovely lady was still in junior high when my parents married.”

  “Oh.” She looked again at the attractive blonde dancing with Richard Falcon, and felt foolish for not immediately realizing the truth.

  “My parents have a very modern and sophisticated marriage,” Bryan added dispassionately. “Discreet dalliances are allowed—even encouraged—as long as they’re conducted quietly and carefully.”

  Grace gave Bryan a hard look. “If that’s what your family considers a marriage, I’m even more relieved that Chloe met Donovan.”

  “I said it was my parents’ idea of marriage, not mine.”

  She thought about that as the music ended and they moved a few steps apart. Bryan implied that he wanted a more traditional marriage than what his parents had, and yet he’d never pretended to be in love with Chloe, even when he proposed to her. He’d described a marriage based on friendship, affection, a mutual desire for children—but romance had nothing to do with it.

  From what she’d seen of his parents, it was no wonder he was confused about what a real marriage was supposed to be. She thought of her own parents, who had recently celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary. They had married for love and had kept the promises they’d made to each other through good times and the inevitable hard times. And they were still the best of friends.

  That was the type of marriage Grace wanted for Chloe and Donovan. It was what she had hoped for when she’d become engaged to Kirk—until she’d belatedly realized that his idea of a wife was someone who stood on the sidelines cheering him on. Someone who catered to his every whim, and made herself over to suit him. Grace had found herself incapable of becoming that person—not even to please the man she’d thought she loved.

  “All this dancing has made me thirsty,” Bryan commented. “Why don’t I find us a couple of glasses of champagne?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to freshen up a bit. I’ll rejoin you in a few minutes.”

  His wicked smile made a sudden reappearance when he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I’ll be counting the moments until you’re with me again. Hurry back, darling.”

  She sighed. “Stuff it in your ear, Falcon.”

  His low laugh followed her as she turned and marched away.

  She was standing in front of a gilt-framed mirror in the crystal-and-marble appointed ladies’ lounge, a tube of lipstick in her hand, when a tall brunette approached her. “You’re here with Bryan Falcon, aren’t you?”

  After recapping the lipstick, Grace dropped the tube into her tiny black evening bag. “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m Katherine Stanley.”

  “Grace Pennington. Are you a friend of Bryan’s?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t travel in his circles. I’m a financial reporter for the state newspaper. I’ve written quite a bit about his business ventures, and I met him once at a business seminar, but I doubt that he would even remember me.”

  “You might be surprised. Bryan has a phenomenal memory for names and faces.” Especially, Grace would guess, if the face in question was this pretty.

  Katherine shrugged modestly. “Perhaps. Anyway…what’s it like being involved with a man like Bryan Falcon?”

  Grace concentrated on fastening the clasp of her purse. “I, um…”

  “Oh, I’m not angling for gossip to print in my column. That’s not what I write. I’m afraid I simply let curiosity overcome good manners.”

  Grace gave the other woman a slight smile. “I’m getting used to that, I guess. Bryan seems to arouse a great deal of curiosity.”

  Katherine nodded, then broke into a rueful grin. “You have to admit the man is flat-out dazzling.”

  Grace laughed softly. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “It must be difficult for you—being the center of so much attention, reading all that silly tabloid gossip about whether Bryan was dating your sister before you.”

  “It does get tiresome.” With one last glance in the mirror, Grace turned toward the door. “Nice to meet you, Katherine.”

  The other woman spoke quickly. “You might mention to Mr. Falcon that you met me. I would love to interview him for the financial section sometime. No gossip, just straight business talk.”

  Grace shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Come ask him yourself.”

  Looking suddenly nervo
us, the reporter cleared her throat. “You mean now?”

  “He’s here, you’re here. Why not now?”

  “Well, I, um…”

  Grace had never expected to meet a shy reporter. Apparently Katherine Stanley had used up her courage by introducing herself to Grace. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you again.”

  If there was one thing she could guarantee about Bryan, it was that he was unfailingly gracious in social situations. Even if he preferred not to be interviewed for Katherine’s newspaper, he would decline politely. He might be surprised that Grace was helping a reporter after she’d been so careful to avoid them lately, but Katherine was hardly a tabloid tattle monger. Grace rather liked this one.

  Bryan had commandeered a small table. He waited there with two flutes of champagne and a dessert plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries—one of Grace’s favorite treats. He rose when he spotted Grace and her newfound companion.

  Plucking a strawberry from the plate, Grace said, “Bryan, this is Katherine Stanley. She’s a financial reporter.”

  Flashing one of his patented smiles, Bryan took the other woman’s hand. “Yes, we’ve met. It was at that Arkansas investors’ seminar last spring, wasn’t it?”

  The young woman seemed stunned that he had recognized her, even though Grace had predicted that he would. “Yes, my editor introduced us in passing.”

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  “No, thank you. I have to get back to my friends. I met Ms. Pennington in the ladies’ lounge, and when I mentioned that I would like to do an interview with you sometime about your latest business ventures, she invited me to accompany her.”

  Bryan glanced at Grace, who was thoroughly enjoying the biggest, sweetest strawberry she’d ever tasted and pretending not to listen to his conversation with the reporter. “My schedule’s rather full at present, but I’m sure I can make time for a brief interview. Call my office next week and talk to my assistant. I’ll tell her to expect your call.”

  Visibly delighted, Katherine thanked him, and then thanked Grace. “It was so nice to see you both. I think you make a great couple,” she added artlessly as she turned to rush away.

  Bryan lifted his champagne flute to Grace in a minisalute. “To us—a great couple.”

  “A compatible team,” she amended, “at least for now.”

  She sipped the champagne, telling herself she would be glad when there was no further need for this temporary partnership. And trying very hard to believe it.

  Chapter Five

  Despite her perfunctory assertion that there was no need for him to walk her all the way to her door, Bryan escorted Grace to her apartment after the fund-raiser. He hadn’t forgotten the last time they had stood outside this door, when the sudden appearance of her neighbors had generated an impulsive goodnight kiss between them. Judging from Grace’s posture, she hadn’t forgotten, either.

  He’d thought of that kiss—and the reasons behind it—several times since that night. True enough, they’d agreed to keep up the charade of an intimate relationship whenever outside observers were around. Her neighbors would have expected him to kiss her before leaving her for the evening. And yet, he was fully aware that he’d wanted to kiss her then, and had seized the first excuse to do so.

  He wanted to kiss her again now.

  “I had a very nice time with you tonight,” he said, testing her mood in the elevator.

  She blinked a couple of times, as if the sound of his voice had roused her from deep thought. “I, um, what did you say?”

  Wondering what she’d been pondering so intently, he repeated his comment.

  “Oh. Well, the evening wasn’t as bad as I expected. I enjoyed the dancing.”

  It wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of the event, but coming from Grace, it was close. “I was a bit surprised that you brought a reporter to our table.”

  “I kind of liked her. Besides, she’s a real reporter, not one of those sleazy tabloid writers. Maybe if the media starts concentrating on your business ventures again, they’ll stop focusing so intently on your private life.”

  “I agree. Most of that attention came from the ‘America’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ article that was published last year. It was right after that absurd list that gossip started going around that I was seriously seeing someone here in Little Rock, thinking about getting married, maybe. Now that so many of the columnists are feeling foolish because they can’t say with absolute certainty which twin I met and dated first, they’ve almost stopped saying anything at all about me.”

  “Great,” she said a bit too heartily as the elevator doors slid open. “Then we’ve accomplished what we set out to do.”

  He followed close behind her down the hallway toward her apartment. “That’s true—but we don’t want to abruptly stop seeing each other now, especially not before the wedding. That could start the gossip all over again.”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded grudgingly.

  “So…what next? Do you have any upcoming social events at which we could be seen together?”

  “I have no social events,” she replied, shoving her key into the lock of her door.

  “I’ve noticed that you haven’t talked much about your life away from your shop. Other than dancing, what do you like to do for fun?”

  “Oh, this and that. Good night, Bryan.”

  She’d slipped inside her door as soon as she opened it, and would have closed it in his face had he not reached out to block it. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  She frowned. “Well, I…”

  “We need to talk about our plans for the next couple of weeks,” he added. “While we have a chance to talk in private, I mean.”

  Hesitating only another moment, she nodded and held the door open for him.

  “I really do like your apartment,” he remarked, masking his satisfaction that she had allowed him inside. He wandered across the big, open main room to gaze out the window that dominated the back wall of her living room. Reflections of the moon and the city lights glittered like diamonds scattered across the black satin surface of the Arkansas River. The apartment itself was rather modest, containing the living room, an eat-in kitchen, a single bedroom and bath—maybe eight hundred square feet total—but the view was impressive.

  “Thanks. I like it, too. Chloe prefers the suburban setting of west Little Rock, but I like being downtown. It’s been interesting watching the area transform itself from a row of dilapidated, abandoned warehouses to a thriving neighborhood filled with shops, galleries, museums, restaurants and breweries. I’m close to the main library and the Arkansas Repertory Theater, and the Alltel Arena is just across the river, so I can easily attend concerts and sporting events such as hockey and arena football.”

  He knew all this, of course, being a Little Rock native, himself. He could only assume she was babbling because it made her nervous to be alone with him in her apartment.

  She must have realized what she was doing at the same time he did. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said and hurried into the kitchen.

  He moved to sit on the couch, his attention lingering for a moment on the intriguely shaped pottery pieces arranged on her glass-topped coffee table. Trying to find hints of her other interests, he looked around the colorfully decorated room, paying particular notice to a built-in bookcase crowded with an eclectic assortment of paperback novels and movies on DVD. Did she spend all her free hours alone here in her apartment, reading and watching films? That didn’t seem to mesh with what he knew of her, yet he saw no evidence to the contrary.

  He knew Chloe had interests outside of work; she enjoyed volunteering through several community service organizations and she had been taking pottery classes at the Arkansas Arts Center. He wondered if the pieces on Grace’s table included any of Chloe’s work. Chloe also enjoyed fly-fishing and traveling, two of the mutual pastimes that Bryan had considered a sign that he an
d Chloe had a great deal in common.

  But Grace was still a mystery to him. Chloe had chatted openly about herself during their few discreet dinner dates; Grace had revealed almost nothing to him. He’d learned only this evening how much she enjoyed dancing, for example.

  He wondered why she was so reticent about revealing anything of herself to him. Was it because she didn’t expect to spend much time with him after Chloe and Donovan married? Or did she simply dislike him so much that she didn’t want him to know much about her?

  If it was the latter, he’d have to see what he could do to change her attitude toward him. He had grown rather spoiled to having other people—of both genders—like and respect him, and he was well aware of that small conceit. But why wouldn’t she like him? He was a nice guy. Good company. A more than decent dancer. He wasn’t trying to charm her into falling desperately in love with him, of course, but he would like to think they could become friends in addition to reluctant co-conspirators.

  She carried two mugs of coffee when she rejoined him. Handing him his mug, she settled into a chair with her own, eyeing him somewhat warily over the rim. “What do you want to talk about?”

  He certainly had his work cut out for him. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust him entirely. That was a problem he would have to overcome before they could establish any sort of friendship, even a casual one. “The wedding is still three weeks away. I think we should probably be seen publicly together two or three more times prior to the wedding, and then a few more times afterward before we drop the pretense. Just to be on the safe side. Do you agree?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  He might have wished for a little more enthusiasm, but he would settle for what he could get. “So far we’ve only been seen together at events that are related to my business dealings. Don’t you think we would be more believable as a couple if you introduce me to some of your friends? Don’t you have a party or a bowling team or something we can attend together?”