Runner-Up Bride

by Lisa Bingham

  The woman was still whispering, as if by doing so Riley wouldn’t hear the questions.

  Riley knew she should hold her tongue, but she couldn’t resist whispering back. “I’ll just stay here. Right here.”

  Dannette’s mouth opened in a silent Oh. Then she jumped to her feet. “No. Oh, no.”

  She pushed past Alex, still scrambling to fasten her buttons. Then she whirled, not realizing that half of them were buttoned incorrectly.

  “She can’t stay here with you.”

  Strike one. Riley thought to herself. Dannette and Alex had been engaged for the better part of a month. Surely in that time, Dannette had discovered that Alex did not take orders. He gave them, but he never took them.

  Alex’s features tightened. “Dannette, I don’t think this is the time…”

  “Well, I do.” Her chin tilted to a defiant angle. “I agreed to have a drink, with you in your apartment. I let you woo me into staying a few minutes longer. I even allowed you to—” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the couch “—only to be rudely interrupted by some woman I do not know wearing the shirt I bought you just last week—”

  Riley guiltily wiped a dot of milk from the pocket.

  “And now you’re telling me that she’s going to stay here at your apartment?”

  Strike two.

  Dannette was getting overwrought, in Riley’s opinion—and in Alex’s, as well, judging by the way his silver-gray eyes had begun to darken. Didn’t his fiancée know that Alex hated scenes?

  Dannette, however, was oblivious to the change in his mood. Her hands had balled into fists, and she tossed her head in that way Riley associated with petulant debutantes. “I won’t have it, Alex. I won’t! What would people think?”

  Strike three. Riley waited to see what Alex’s response would be to the ultimatum. Even Dannette realized she’d gone a step too far, because she suddenly wilted, placing delicate fingertips to her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I really am.”

  Sweetie? Alex?

  “It must be this dreadful headache. It’s got me all out of sorts.”

  Riley nearly snorted in disbelief. As if that weak excuse would have any effect on Alex.

  To her utter amazement, it did. He softened. He actually smiled. A slow, molasses-in-winter kind of smile that had a tendency to warm a woman from the inside out.

  “Of course, dear.”

  He scooped her purse from the low coffee table and crossed to hand it to her, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckle as he did so.

  “It’s been a busy day.”

  “Oh, yes,” Dannette sighed.

  “And you’ve had to deal with so many arrangements.”

  “Hundreds.”

  He bent to place a soft kiss on her lips. “Why don’t you have James take you home? He’s waiting for you in the limousine out front. A good night’s sleep will make everything so much clearer in the morning.”

  Riley’s spoon dropped against, her bowl with a clatter.

  “Thank you, darling.” Dannette lifted on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then rubbed his chest, needlessly smoothing the fabric she’d rumpled during their heated embrace.

  “I’ll see you early tomorrow for the tuxedo fittings?” Dannette asked. She frowned and glanced at Riley. “I suppose I’ll have to find an extra dress for…Riley.”

  The way she said her name made it clear to all concerned that she felt that Riley’s name was far too masculine.

  “A tuxedo will be fine, Danny, hon,” Riley chipped in, retrieving her spoon.

  “I see,” Dannette said, somewhat confused.

  Riley could almost picture the woman’s mental gears whirling. Dannette was probably envisioning her perfectly traditional wedding—with its flowers, candles, and color-coordinated bridesmaids. Then her expression soured and Riley knew the woman was imagining the best man—who was really a woman—wearing a tux.

  “Well,” Dannette said slowly. “We’ll have to come up with something special, won’t we?”

  Riley’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like the way Dannette had said “special,” nor did she care for the way the woman was staring at her as if waiting for lightning to strike.

  “Good night, Dannette,” Alex murmured.

  She presented her cheek for another peck, then strode to the elevator and struggled with the safety gates. “Alex, could you help me?”

  “Of course.”

  Riley’s brows climbed. She’d never seen Alex so solicitous, so gentlemanly, so…nice. It was positively eerie.

  He raised the gate, helped the woman inside—even pushed the damn button for the garage level, Riley noted with irritation. Then he stood at the opening, watching the heavy freight elevator descend until Dannette was completely out of sight. When a faint clatter revealed that Dannette had arrived at her destination, he turned.

  “Riley,” he growled. “What the hell kind of mischief are you up to now?”

  2

  RILEY SET the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table and jumped to her feet, regarding Alex in disbelief. “Me? Mischief?” She offered a dismissing wave. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Before he could respond, she hurried in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to distract Alex and soften his mood.

  “What else have you got to eat around here? Excluding those plastic-wrapped, mini-portioned, old-asdirt airline sandwiches, the last good meal I had involved some sort of fried insect.”

  Flipping on the overhead light, she offered, “Do you want something?”

  “No.” The word was so definite that a shiver ran down her spine.

  She shook the sensation aside and opened the refrigerator, withdrawing a bottle of Yoo-Hoo. Then, humming, she made her way to the pantry, collecting bread and peanut butter. After setting the ingredients on the counter, she made another stop at the refrigerator for cream cheese and fresh strawberries.

  “You’re sure you don’t want a sandwich?” she asked breezily, ignoring the way Alex had leaned back, propped his hips against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. There was something very disconcerting about the way he stood so easily, while Riley’s own movements had become jittery.

  “No. I want to talk.”

  “Wonderful. I haven’t heard English—proper English, that is—in months.” She took out two pieces of bread and began to slather them with peanut butter.

  “What are you doing here, Riley?”

  She purposely chose to misunderstand. “You invited me to the wedding, remember?” Her head bounced from side to side and she singsonged, “I’m to be the best man.”

  Opening the cream cheese, she spread it over the peanut butter, then sliced strawberries on top of that.

  “That’s disgusting,” he commented.

  “How would you know?” she asked, taking a bite. “You’ve never bothered to try it.”

  “It’s loaded with fat, cholesterol and empty calories.” ries.”

  “It has fruit on it. That’s healthy.”

  He shuddered visibly. “After the…insects you say you’ve been eating, I would think you’d want real food.”

  “What’s not real about it?” she asked, taking another bite. “Actually, I’d originally hoped to send out for pizza, but that might have to wait until tomorrow.”

  His eyes narrowed, but not so much that they obscured the sparkle of pleasure buried deep within them. Despite his big-brother-like scoldings, he was pleased she’d come to join him for his wedding. The thought filled her with a honey-sweet pleasure.

  “It’s obscene the way you eat so much yet still manage to look like a scarecrow,” he said. But there was a greedy familiarity in the way he studied her from top to toe. Obviously, he didn’t find her too hard on his eyes.

  She pulled a face. “Blame it on the bugs. Maybe they’ve done something to my metabolism.”

  “Doubt it—you’ve always eaten like a pig.”

  “Thank you very much,” she said breezily, totally unfazed by his c
riticism. Alex’s mood and banter were as familiar to her as breathing. For the first time in hours, she actually felt as if she were home.

  Home. How long had she dreamed of being here with him?

  “So,” she said, wanting to be the first person to bring up the subject of his impending nuptials. “That’s the great Dannette MarquisDunne, the woman who’s stolen your heart?”

  “Yes.” The word was uttered as something of a dare.

  “Hmm.”

  “Out with it, Riley.”

  She assumed a guileless expression. “What?”

  “If something is bothering you, get it off your chest.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You hate her.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Carrying what was left of her sandwich and the bottle of Yoo-Hoo in one hand, she made her way back into the living room. “But I must confess,” she said, as she brushed past him, “that I don’t care for that color on you.”

  Her finger traced the sliver of chest revealed by the buttons Dannette had wrenched loose under his tie. On the cotton fabric, as well as the skin beneath, was a smear of pale pink.

  As he looked down at the spot, she put some distance between them, slouching in an easy chair that could easily have accommodated more than one person.

  Alex stood at the back of the couch, leaning forward—and for the first time, the hidden amusement was gone. In its place was his chairman-of-the-board intensity.

  “Go ahead, tell me what you think.”

  She knew it wasn’t that he necessarily wanted to hear her reaction to his fiancée, but that he believed she would feel better if she “vented.”

  “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Uh-huh.” The sarcasm was obvious as he used a dishcloth to wipe the lipstick from his skin, then tossed the towel onto the arm of the couch. He didn’t bother to refasten his buttons, and she wished he had. That way, she wouldn’t be confronted with a wedge of tanned flesh Funny, she hadn’t remembered him being so, well…hard looking. Athletic.

  “Have you been lifting weights, Alex?”

  “That’s off the topic.”

  “So? Have you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re doing something.”

  “I swim.”

  “Ahhh. That explains it.”

  His lips tightened in annoyance. “We were talking about Dannette. You were going to tell me how you feel about her.”

  “And I said that I didn’t know yet.”

  “Miss Snap Judgment isn’t sure?”

  “Just because I’m impulsive and spontaneous doesn’t mean that I’m shallow, Alex. I don’t jump to assumptions the moment I meet someone.”

  But she’d done just that, her conscience reminded her. You decided in a glance that she was a vapid, exbeauty queen bent on a show of philanthropy with her country-club cronies.

  “I don’t believe you, Riley.”

  “Really,” she insisted in her sincerest tone. “I couldn’t possibly make a decision on whether I like or dislike your fiancée until I have a chance to get to know her.” She offered him a mischievous smile. “So I think we should go to lunch tomorrow. The three of us. After I’m fitted for my tuxedo.”

  “Riley…”

  “Honest. I just want to get to know her.” She finished the last of her sandwich and grasped the bottle of Yoo-Hoo. Circling the couch, she laid a hand on his arm, wondering if it had always been that warm, that strong. “It will be my treat. I’ll make the reservations for one o’clock. How does that sound?”

  “Fishy.”

  “You wouldn’t care for seafood?” she kidded.

  Alex just rolled his eyes. “What I would like is for you to introduce your personality to Dannette gradually.”

  “What’s wrong with my personality?”

  “Nothing. But even you have to admit you can be a little…unorthodox.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  She dropped her hand, not really knowing why she felt compelled to do so, but sensing that it would be best for all concerned if she did. Unfortunately, by backing away, she unwittingly encouraged his gaze to drop to her bare legs. Riley fought the urge to tug at the hem of her shirt. Needing something to do, she grappled with the bottle cap, but it wouldn’t open.

  She held it out to Alex. “Would you, please?”

  He sighed, straightened and opened the drink without a problem.

  “Be nice, Riley.”

  “I am nice, Alex. I will be nice. You’ll see.”

  It was clear he didn’t trust her assertions.

  Sensing that now was the perfect time for a retreat, she offered him a jaunty wave. “I’m sorry, but since I’ve eaten, the jet lag is taking effect. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  “Sure.”

  She turned and walked away, becoming curiously disturbed when she sensed Alex watching her, studying her back, her hips, her legs. She knew that’s where he was looking. His gaze fairly singed her skin with its path.

  “Riley?”

  He stopped her just as she reached the doorway to the guest room. She wished he hadn’t. The jet lag really had to be wreaking havoc on her system. Her knees were trembling in an odd manner.

  “Yes.”

  “I accept your offer of lunch. As long as you’re paying.”

  “I already said I would.”

  “Just checking.”

  She pulled a face, turned and stepped into her own little haven.

  Alex’s voice floated to her from the living room. “Make sure you behave yourself.”

  But as she slipped into bed and settled her head on the soft pillows, she wondered just how she was supposed to behave.

  ALEX STOOD at the window, staring down at the street below, watching a garbage truck making its way from doorstop to doorstop. One of the operators slipped, juggled a can of refuse, then fell backward on the rainslick pavement.

  Sipping from the scalding coffee he’d just poured for himself, Alex watched the stranger pick himself up and dust himself off. As the truck lumbered out of sight, Alex noted that the weather was still cool for spring. Cool enough that wisps of steam were rising from the sewer grates and sprouting from the exhausts of the cars that were leaving early to avoid as much of the rush-hour traffic as possible. Riley would probably need some time to adjust to the change in climates.

  Riley.

  His lips quirked in a smile. He’d known that the moment she arrived, fireworks would ensue. It was Riley’s way. The instant she entered a room, she filled it with her energy. She was vivacious, eccentric, and full of mischief—and from the start of his engagement, Alex had known that Riley’s personality would be at odds with Dannette’s. Dannette was generally calm and serene, stable, endearing—the antithesis of Riley.

  As a matter of fact, he’d known full well when he’d discussed Riley’s arrival with Dannette that he’d purposely omitted mentioning Riley’s gender. It was a bit of a dirty trick, he knew, but he’d been unable to help himself. Call it his own little test. Riley had been an integral part of his life since they’d grown up together in a small Iowa farm town with a population of less than eight hundred. Their mothers had been best friends as children, a relationship that had continued long after they’d had children of their own. It had been only natural that Alex and Riley developed bonds as close as brother and sister.

  No, not brother and sister.

  But close. Very close.

  And it was important to him that Riley felt she could visit him anytime. Even after he and Dannette were married and had begun a family of their own, he wanted to see her as much as her schedule allowed.

  But first, he had to arrange for the women to become acquainted—become friends. A task that seemed insurmountable considering their first meeting.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  At the indignant comment, Alex purposely fixed a mock scowl on his face, then
turned to face Riley as if he were about to scold her.

  “Maybe not yet, but I’m sure you’ll do something today to annoy me.”

  An injured expression spread over her features, but he knew that the emotions were as feigned as his own pique.

  “I promise,” she said expansively, placing both hands over her heart. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Even your best behavior can sometimes leave a little to be desired. Be nice.”

  She rolled her eyes, obviously remembering that he was offering the same advice he’d given her just before she’d gone to bed.

  “Dannette is a good woman, Riley.”

  She became instantly serious. “Is that why you’re marrying her? Because she’s ‘good’?”

  “Yes.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “That’s not a very interesting reason.”

  “I didn’t say it was the only one.”

  “Then tell me the rest.”

  She climbed onto one of the bar stools, and Alex had the oddest urge to tell her to get down again. Her perch caused the tails of the rumpled dress shirt to show far more leg than he was accustomed to seeing on his friend.

  “Don’t you have any clothes?”

  “I just dumped them in the washer.”

  Which meant that unless he offered her some of his belongings, she was bound to be prancing around the room in her current wardrobe for at least the next hour.

  “Tell me, Alex.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell you what?”

  “Why Dannette is—” her voice dropped dramatically “—the one.”

  He’d forgotten that she was intent on pursuing that particular line of questioning, and now that he’d been reminded, he wished that Riley had forgotten it, too.

  “Do you see fireworks when you kiss her?” Riley asked, leaning over the bar as he made his way into the kitchen to freshen his cup.

  “Sure.” But even as he gave the answer he knew she wanted to hear, he knew he’d never been prone to such romanticism.

  “Liar.”

  He threw a package of bran muffins her way.

  She shuddered. “Don’t you have anything else? These are nasty.”

  “They’re good for you.”

  “Who cares?”