The Ghost Groom

by Jennifer Youngblood

  “Very good,” the woman said briskly. “We’ll look forward to seeing you and Gracie on Tuesday, June 3. Have a good rest of the evening.”

  “Thank you.” Silver ended the call, her heart soaring. The Wexton Academy was one of the top private schools in the nation for Down syndrome children, helping them assimilate into a mainstream educational environment, but they were very selective about the students they accepted. Their waiting list was years long. Gracie was now five years old, and Silver had put her name on the waiting list a few months before she was even born. Gracie’s acceptance into the program was nothing short of a miracle—one Silver had prayed for too many times to count. The school was ghastly expensive. As a single mom trying to get a business off the ground, Silver had no idea how she was going to pay for it or fit the two-hour-commute into her schedule each day. But she was determined to make it work—even if she had to take on extra events and get up at four in the morning. She offered a silent prayer of gratitude for the blessing, and then asked that the event would run smoothly. She took in a deep breath and smoothed down her black evening dress, ignoring the intermittent flashes of pain in her feet caused by her skyscraper heels. She’d worn her tennis shoes for as long as she could, but put on the heels an hour ago. With her feet already hurting, it was sure to be a long night. She sighed, straightening her shoulders as she sucked in her stomach. No matter how stressed she was on the inside, she had to remain unruffled on the outside—look the part of the successful event planner. A large part of her job was mingling with the guests to ensure everyone was happy. Even though her budget was slimmer than a runway model, she’d splurged on one nice dress to wear to such occasions. It was simple but elegant, and she’d dressed it up with dangling, teardrop, faux-diamond earrings. Marla and two other employees would handle the behind-the-scenes details, keeping in close contact with her to make sure everything ran smoothly.

  As Silver stepped into the ballroom, her breath hitched as she took in the spectacular display. Marla was right, the florist was exceptionally good. Large arrangements were spotted in strategic areas so the pops of color would have the greatest impact. Her gaze went to the white, linen tablecloths and pristine table settings reflecting light from the enormous chandeliers overhead. Soft classical music played in the background. There was a sense of breathless anticipation in the air, and yet, everything was perfect and untouched. This was the pay-off in Silver’s profession—that moment of realizing that, despite the craziness and stress, she was doing what she loved. And her business was growing. This event could open doors for her, get her into more high-society events. She’d learned that the work was the same whether she booked clients with tight budgets or deep pockets, so she made a practice of going for the gusto. A quiver of excitement tingled through her, she felt she was on the cusp of something great. Gracie got into The Wexton Academy, and Silver planned the event of her dreams. It was a rocky road getting here, but her persistence and hard work was finally paying off. For one blip of a moment, her heart felt light enough to fly.

  Marla and Angie stood near the stage, their backs to her. Silver was almost to them when she caught a tidbit of what they were saying. Her good mood was snuffed out faster than a candle flame in a blizzard.

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell Silver that Ace Sanchez came looking for her,” Marla said. “Her intestines are liable to explode.”

  Angie snorted out a deviant giggle. “He’s a hottie, that’s for sure. What’s their history?”

  Silver probably should’ve said something then and there, but her tongue was lead in her mouth. Ace came looking for me? Why? The fierce longing welling in her chest came as a shock. Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of her reaction.

  “They were best friends in high school, but didn’t actually date,” Marla responded, a note of authority in her voice like she had the inside track into Silver’s life. “Silver dated Riley Coulter the school’s quarterback, eventually married him and had a kid.”

  Angie’s voice grew incredulous. “That’s Silver’s ex-husband? The builder, whose billboards are plastered all over town?”

  “Yep,” Marla said sourly. “The jerk barely pays a cent of child support, even though he’s rich. Ace went off to college, UCLA I believe, then got drafted in the NFL.”

  “Do Silver and Ace keep in touch?” Angie said.

  “No, Silver swears she wants nothing to do with him.” She chuckled. “But if you ask me, she’s still carrying a torch for him.”

  “Yeah, who wouldn’t be?” Angie said. “I mean, look at him, and he’s a football star,” she said dreamily.

  “Something happened between Ace and Silver, but whatever it was, she doesn’t talk about it … not even with me.”

  It was at this moment that Silver had enough. She balled her fists, her voice crackling with indignation. “I beg your pardon.”

  Marla and Angie jerked around, their faces draining.

  Silver straightened to her full height, eyeing them. “I’ll have you know that I’m not carrying for a torch for Ace Sanchez,” she spat, honing in on Marla. “And I resent you saying that I am.”

  Marla’s eyes rounded as she drew back. “I—I’m sorry,” she sputtered.

  “In the future, you don’t need to hold anything back from me, you understand?”

  She nodded. “Um—” Marla began, but Silver wasn’t finished. She was on a roll and determined to get it all out … once and for all.

  Silver’s hands went to her hips. “If Ace comes looking for me, you tell him I’ll be happy to meet him any place … any time.”

  “But,” Marla interrupted.

  “Oh, no, I’m not finished yet. Better yet, the next time I see Ace Sanchez, I’ll tell him that myself.” She wagged a finger, her tone going sharp. “In fact, I’ll tell him when to stand up, when to sit down, and if he can go to the bathroom. You got that?”

  “Yep, got it. Crystal clear,” a male voice said from behind.

  Silver froze, the realization of what was happening hitting her like a Mack Truck. Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “Ace is behind me, isn’t he?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Marla said, forcing a smile through tight lips.

  Silver turned to face him, her knees going wobbly. She looked into his dark eyes that held a glitter of amusement. For all her bravado, “Hey,” was all she could think to say. Dang it! He looked good. Better than she remembered.

  His gaze flickered over her, igniting a slow burn in her stomach. “Silver Bliss,” he drawled in his slightly husky voice she knew so well. “My favorite wedita.” His Latino accent was still sexy as ever, not that it mattered. She and Ace Sanchez were history. “Long time no see. How’ve you been?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the confusion on Angie’s face when she heard Ace call her wedita. The direct translation was white girl, but it had always been Ace’s nickname for her—a term of endearment, he once told her. No doubt he called her that now to get a rise out of her. Not to mention he’d used her maiden name Bliss rather than her married name. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m doing okay,” she mumbled, her eyes seeming to have a mind of their own as they traced the faint line of stubble along his jaw and upper lip. How well she knew that rugged face—the dot of a mole on his right cheek, his defined chin that drew her attention to his sensual lips. Her gaze trailed down the lines of his strong jaw to his prominent Adam’s apple, then back up to his lips. It was crazy, but even after all these years she still remembered the feel of his lips on hers. Heat crawled up her neck, and her throat went drier than a tub of cotton balls as she gulped a swallow. His normally unruly curls were polished back for the occasion, giving him a suave, sophisticated look. He fit the bill of the eligible bachelor to a T in his black tuxedo that picked up the color of his midnight hair.

  Ace looked her up and down. “You certainly look the part of Silver Bliss.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured lowering her eyes, her lashes sweeping against
her cheekbones. When they were in junior high, a substitute teacher was calling roll and pointed out that Silver Bliss was an unusual combination for a first and last name. “It sounds more like a winter wonderland scene than a name,” the teacher said. Ace heard the man and teased Silver mercilessly the entire year. It’s funny how that one comment jolted her back to the past, unearthing a trove of memories. She should be chewing Ace out right now, hurling the list of accusations she’d compiled against him over the years. Instead, she was standing here trying to figure out something halfway decent to say.

  “So, you’re the one who put all of this together,” Ace said, a touch of admiration in his voice as he gestured at their surroundings.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes,” she said proudly, halfway expecting him to follow up his observation with a snarky comment.

  “Impressive,” he murmured.

  She drew back, surprised, feeling guilty for what she’d said about him earlier. Not guilty enough to retract the comment, but slightly guilty nonetheless. “You seem to be making quite a name for yourself on the football scene. Congratulations.” Even as the words left her mouth, she realized that she meant it. Regardless of what happened between her and Ace in the past, he deserved to be happy.

  “Thanks. Congratulations to you too.”

  She tipped her head. “For what?” she said carefully. Did he realize she was divorced? She hadn’t seen Ace since the day of her wedding to Riley, when they’d parted on hostile terms.

  “Your business,” he countered smoothly, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he guessed what she’d been thinking. “How’s your little girl?”

  “Gracie. She’s doing great. A handful.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Gracie’s acceptance into The Wexton Academy, but that would be stupid. Ace was only being polite. He had no genuine concern for her daughter—Riley’s daughter. She doubted that Ace even knew Gracie had Down syndrome.

  He gave her a genuine smile, which shot an unexpected dart of warmth into her chest. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  For a split second, Silver could almost forget the bad blood between them and view Ace as her best friend, who’d turned into something infinitely more complicated. How had they ended up here? Two strangers, trying their best to make a semblance of polite conversation in an impersonal room.

  “How’s Riley?”

  And there it was, the one topic that had always come between them. She folded her arms over her chest, eyes hardening. “Okay, I guess. I don’t see him much now that we’re divorced.” She studied Ace, waiting for a reaction, but his face remained unreadable as he nodded.

  Silence grew thick between them until Marla spoke. “I’m a big fan,” she said, her voice too cheerful as she stepped up and clasped Ace’s hand in a firm shake.

  Silver breathed a sigh of relief. That one act was enough to get Marla out of the doghouse for blabbing her business to Angie.

  Marla looked Ace up and down with open admiration. “So, you’re getting auctioned off tonight.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “I’m sure you’ll fetch a pretty penny.”

  Silver couldn’t help but laugh at Ace’s startled reaction and the way his face turned a deep red. Ace had never cared for the limelight. She’d wondered how he was faring now that he was a superstar running back.

  He shrugged. “It’s for charity.”

  Marla wriggled her eyebrows. “Yes, indeed. Too bad I don’t have enough money to bid on you,” she purred, nudging him with her elbow. “How about it, big shot? Wanna run away with me after this shindig’s over?” She winked at Silver.

  Silver chuckled inwardly as Ace cleared his throat. Marla was such a tease. She loved putting Ace, and everyone else, on the hot seat. Divorced, with a couple of kids, Marla was a good ten years older than she and Ace. She tried to act all tough on the outside, but had a heart of gold—and a steady boyfriend, they were practically engaged. Marla didn’t want to go out with Ace any more than a goose. She just liked watching him squirm. It was kind of fun, Silver admitted. A taunting smile tugged at her lips as she cut her eyes at Ace. “I suppose Angie and I could cover for Marla while you two make your big escape.”

  Ace’s mouth went slack, the second before he burst out laughing. He pointed at Marla, his fingers forming a gun as his thumb flicked the trigger. “You’re good,” he drawled.

  She just laughed.

  Silver nearly fell to the floor when Ace touched her arm, the warmth of his strong fingers sending a jolt of electricity through her. “Hey, on a serious note, I was wondering if we could get together after the event—maybe grab a cup of coffee.”

  Her eyes bugged. “Um, I have to get home to Gracie. She’s with a sitter.”

  He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe next week? I’m going to the restaurant to see my parents. I’m sure they’d love to see you too.”

  Silver was at a loss for words. She just stood there, looking at him. Where was all of this coming from? Did he really think they could pretend nothing happened?

  “I’m sure she’d love to do that,” Marla inserted, giving Silver a forceful look.

  “There he is,” a high-pitched voice cooed. “The star of the auction.”

  Silver was surprised to see Clarissa Lansing, the chairwoman of the gala and her boss on this project, striding toward them, her hands outstretched. When she reached Ace, she gave him a fierce hug and air-kiss on both cheeks. She pulled back, holding him at arm’s length as she assessed him. “You look positively gorgeous, darling.” A throaty laugh bubbled as she trilled her tongue. “The women are gonna love you.”

  Ace grinned. “You look lovely, Clarissa. Gold suits you,” he said referring to the color of her tight, sequined dress.

  Clarissa’s lips creased into a pleased smile. “Thanks, sugar, I think so too.”

  Ace looked past Clarissa. “Where’s Clyde? He should know better than to let a beautiful lady like you out of his sight.”

  She patted Ace’s cheek, giggling. “You silver-tongued devil. Clyde’s on his way.” She frowned. “Taking his sweet time. You know Clyde, he hates these types of things.”

  Ace winced in understanding. “I feel his pain.”

  “You’ll do great. Have the other players arrived yet?”

  “They’re on their way.”

  “Good.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s going to be a great evening.”

  In her mid-fifties, Clarissa Lansing was the epitome of a social butterfly who married into money when she caught the eye of an oil tycoon. And from the looks of her, she was determined to spend every nickel of her husband’s money she possibly could. Her dress looked like it cost a small fortune, and she was keen on advertising her assets. The neckline of her dress plunged deeper than the Grand Canyon, revealing plastic boobs, and the skin on her face was stretched tighter than taffy. Silver had never seen this side of Clarissa. Normally, she was a no-nonsense business woman who was only passively polite. But with Ace, she was acting like a bubbly schoolgirl. Silver had to fight the urge not to scowl, an unreasonable jealousy coursing through her. Geez. She was pathetic. Jealous of some middle-aged, married woman.

  Ace turned to Silver. “I believe you know Silver Coulter?”

  Clarissa smiled warmly like they were the best of friends. “Of course.” She touched Silver’s arm. “Honey, you’ve outdone yourself. Everything is perfect.”

  “Thank you.” Silver felt a burst of pride, immensely grateful and relieved that Clarissa was happy. This would bode well for future business.

  Clarissa turned to Ace. “I’m so glad you recommended Silver.”

  For a split second, Silver thought she’d heard Clarissa wrong. “What?” She looked at Ace. “You recommended me?”

  “Highly recommended you,” Clarissa added.

  The floor seemed to give way under Silver as she fought to steady herself. She looked at Ace, confusion swirling over her. “I didn’t realize,” she stammered.

  He shrugged casually. “What can
I say? Clarissa wanted the best, so the best is what I gave her.”

  “I—I’m not sure what to say,” Silver uttered.

  “You simply say thank you,” Clarissa chirped, a hint of reproof in her voice.

  Silver shook her head, color creeping into her face. “Yes, of course, thank you,” she said automatically. Ace’s eyes caught hers, and she felt the familiar desire swim over her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said softly. Time seemed to stand still as their eyes locked. Then he seemed to remember Clarissa was there. “Oh, I almost forgot. Silver has graciously agreed to host a private dinner for me and my date from the auction.”

  “What?” Silver blurted, her brows darting together.

  Ace smiled a slow, intimate smile that only she would understand. “Yes, you did, and it was very kind of you.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Clarissa said, bringing her hands together. “I’ll be sure the emcees announce that tidbit when they’re auctioning you off.”

  “Silver agreed to personally host the dinner to make sure everything goes off without a hitch.” A devilish light sparkled in his dark eyes. “And if I’m lucky, she might even give me permission to go to the bathroom.”

  Heat burned over Silver’s face. The nerve of him! She wanted to wring his handsome neck for bringing that up in front of Clarissa.

  Clarissa looked funny. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I only meant that Silver’s so thorough about her events that I don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “Oh,” Clarissa said. She tipped her head, growing thoughtful. “Clyde’s birthday’s coming up. I should get you to host his party.”

  “I’d love to,” Silver said quickly, before Clarissa could change her mind.

  “Good, I’ll be in touch.” Clarissa linked a territorial arm through Ace’s as she turned to Silver. “Sorry to steal him away, darling, but the other committee members are dying to meet him. And I wanna get a few pics on the red carpet before the other ladies get their claws into him.”

  Silver stepped back. “No worries. He’s all yours.” She flashed a saccharine sweet smile at Ace. “Enjoy the auction tonight. Like Clarissa said, the women are gonna love you,” she purred, copying Clarissa’s husky drawl. She got a kick out of the uncomfortable look on Ace’s face, the lamb being led to the slaughter.