Runner-Up Bride

by Lisa Bingham

  Alex didn’t budge. It took all of his efforts to keep his mind away from the velvety softness of her skin and the clean fragrance of her hair.

  “Don’t be a spoilsport,” she continued. “You only have a few more days of freedom. Once you and Dannette get hitched, times like this will be rare.”

  “Why?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Because wives don’t do this sort of thing. They don’t encourage their husbands to skip work for an afternoon. Only best friends do.”

  He hesitated, looking into her eyes and knowing that it would be better for all concerned if he refused. For some reason, he was having a difficult time lately remembering that Riley was his friend—and only his friend.

  “I’ll buy you a beer,” she whispered close to his ear.

  A strange tingling radiated from that spot and sped straight to his groin. Alex stood abruptly, nearly toppling Riley onto the floor in the process. “You really are a brat, you know.”

  She merely grinned. “That’s why you like me so much.”

  Maybe too much, his conscience warned him, but Alex forced the silent chidings away. After all, this was his oldest and dearest friend—and just as Riley had said, moments like this would be rare in the future.

  “All right,” he finally conceded. “But this time you really are going to pick up the tab.”

  RILEY TOOK Alex to a secluded park where a carnival company had assembled a carousel and a Ferris wheel in preparation for an arts fair that would be held there later that week. After paying the attendant twenty dollars, she convinced the man to let them ride the merrygo-round undisturbed for ten full minutes.

  It was while they were whirling in a dizzying circle that Riley asked, “So why are you really marrying Dannette?”

  “I’ve told you my reasons.”

  She scowled. “You’ve told me you’re ‘fond’ of her.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Don’t you think that’s a rather weak term for a man who’s about to be married?”

  “I never claimed to be a poet.”

  “No, but I think you could try a little harder to convince mc that you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?”

  Alex refused to be baited. “I wasn’t aware that I had to convince you of anything. In fact—” he gripped the gilded upright support of his painted pony and leaned as close to her as he dared “—I think it’s time you offered a few explanations of your own.”

  “About what?”

  “You seem to be overly concerned about my future happiness, but I see no evidence that you’re concerned about your own.”

  When he saw her eyes narrow, he pressed on.

  “You’ve become positively manic about my relationship with Dannette, but I see no candidates for romance on your own horizon.”

  “That’s because I’m choosy,” she offered loftily.

  “‘Impossible’ would be a better description. When was the last time you had a date?”

  “I had quite a few of them before I left Africa.”

  “I’m talking about a man-woman outing, not a tropical fruit.”

  She grimaced. “Well, if you want to get technical…”

  “When was the last time you went on an outing with a man?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  He frowned in mock severity. “That answer is very telling, you know.”

  She waved his objection aside. “I don’t know how we started talking about this subject. My personal life shouldn’t require a discussion. I’m not about to tie myself to someone for the rest of my life.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  The retort was sharper than he’d meant it to be, but since he had her full attention, he continued. “You’ve been to nearly every continent on the globe—”

  “I have been to every continent—”

  He scowled at the interruption. “Hush yourself until I’ve finished.”

  She pulled a face, the same mischievous expression he’d experienced countless times when she thought he was playing the “older brother” and planned a lecture.

  “You’ve been trotting around the globe for the better part of ten years. Don’t you think it’s time you put down some roots?”

  She grimaced.

  “At the very least, you should rent some kind of apartment. A place you can call your own.”

  “So the truth is out,” she said, grasping the pole of her steed and leaning back with childlike abandon. “You were lying when you said that I was welcome to stay with you.”

  “I wasn’t lying—and you know it. I love having you in my house—and you can stay there whenever you want.”

  “Even after you’ve married?”

  “Of course.”

  Her brows arched. “Are you sure your wife is going to agree to such an arrangement?”

  He refused to be diverted from the subject at hand. “I don’t think she has much choice in the matter.”

  “The master has spoken, hmm?”

  “You’re trying to draw me away on a tangent so I’ll forget this issue, but it won’t work, Riley. I want a straight answer.”

  “About what?”

  He sighed in impatience. “I want to know if you’re planning to settle down at any time?”

  “If you mean do I plan to marry, I doubt it.”

  “I’m not talking about marriage. I’m talking about a place of your own. Belongings. Maybe a cat.”

  She stared into the whirl of scenery with patent boredom but did not answer.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you stopped running from entanglements?”

  “Running?” she repeated with raised eyebrows. “Who says I’m running?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, it isn’t true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. And I can prove it.”

  The carousel was already beginning to slow. Riley swung from her mount as if it were a Barbary steed and motioned for Alex to follow her.

  “Come with me.”

  The cab Riley had commandeered pulled to a stop on a small side street a mere half block from Michigan Avenue. Tall, elegant brownstones popular at the turn of the century for “genteel” housing were swiftly being refurbished as apartments and trendy boutiques.

  Taking a key from her pocket, Riley made her way to a corner structure whose rounded walls and large windows gave it the appearance of being a modem castle complete with a turret.

  “What’s this?” Alex asked as she slid the key in the lock and opened the door.

  “I bought it.”

  She would have laughed at his overtly shocked expression if his surprise hadn’t been slightly insulting.

  “You what?” he demanded.

  “I bought this portion of the building, as well as the space above it, nearly five years ago.”

  “What!”

  “You don’t have to act as if I’ve shot you, Alex. Earlier you were extolling the virtues of my setting down roots, as you called it. Now that I’ve shown you I’ve done much the same thing on my own, you seem quite mystified.”

  His eyes narrowed and he studied his surroundings more intently, his gaze growing darker and blacker with each instant.

  Placing her hands on her hips, Riley realized that things had changed in the five years since she’d seen this property. The time had somehow softened her memory. She had forgotten that the aged linoleum was peeling, several dummy walls had collapsed or sported gaping holes. The windows were dirty—some of the broken panes boarded up altogether. A musty smell hung in the air, and dirt, crushed leaves and other miscellaneous pieces of refuse littered the floor.

  “What in hell persuaded you to buy this place?”

  His tone was so disapproving that she stuck her tongue out as if they were both five years old and arguing about a tree house. “You don’t have to sound so…so…superior.”

  “This building is a rattrap, Riley.”

  “It’s structurally sound and located in a prime realestate ar
ea. Despite its small size, it cost me a fortune.”

  “You should have saved your money.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you could have bought a nice condominium for a fraction of the cost.”

  “Ahh, but I don’t plan to use it for an apartment alone, Alex. On the advice of several business analysts, I’ve decided to open a small shop.”

  She nearly giggled at the way his mouth gaped.

  “A chocolate shop,” she continued, when it became apparent he’d lost his ability to speak.

  He stared at her for several long moments, then began to prowl restlessly through the long narrow space.

  Riley wondered if he saw the potential as clearly as she did. Already, she could imagine gleaming hardwood floors, old-fashioned candy bins, a long counter and a shiny brass cash register.

  But one look at Alex’s dubious expression conveyed clearly enough that he wasn’t looking at the inherent potential of the place; he was seeing the dirt, the damaged flooring and the peeling wallpaper.

  “You’re out of your mind, Riley,” he said, but there was no sting to the comment, only a weary acceptance.

  “I don’t think so. I fell in love with the place the first time I saw it.”

  “But what did you fall in love with? The building itself, or its artistic gloom?”

  She shrugged. Alex was too perceptive for his own good. She had originally been drawn to the brownstone to photograph an architectural series. But after developing the prints of this particular space, she’d been inspired by the elaborate details, the old-fashioned grace. At the time, she had already been toying with the idea of buying an apartment of her own, and she’d found herself imagining what it would be like to have a bedroom in the turret. The prospect had soon blossomed into the thought of using the building as a means of income, as well. The constant travel she endured was beginning to grow wearing, and if she had a way to support herself part of the year, she could afford to pick and choose her photographic assignments.

  Alex shook his head, bringing her back to earth with a thud. “You won’t last a week here. As soon as you get elbow-deep in renovations, you’ll get the urge to move on.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t think so. I’ve been toying with this whole proposition for some time. If I’d wanted to back out of the project, I could have sold this space a dozen times for a very handsome profit.”

  Again, he studied her carefully, then his features assumed an instant wariness. “Who did you envision doing the restorations?”

  Ah. He’d come right to the stickiest part of her plans.

  “I was hoping…you would help me.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. I sunk most of my savings into the building itself because I didn’t want to carry a mortgage. I’ll need start-up money, so I’m hoping to keep renovation costs to a minimum.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?”

  But he knew what she meant to ask.

  Adopting her best sugary tone, she coaxed, “Come on, Alex. You put yourself through college on a construction crew.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m longing to return to the work.”

  “No, but I didn’t think you’d begrudge me a little help.”

  “A little,” he retorted. “This—” he waved his arm expansively “—will require a major restoration.”

  “And you’ve always done beautiful work.”

  “I haven’t held a hammer in years.”

  “It’s not the sort of skill a person forgets.”

  “I’m getting married in two weeks, I won’t have much time to—”

  “Don’t even bother with that argument. Your secretary has already told me you’re planning to take your vacation as soon as the board meeting is over. Dannette probably has a few things planned, but judging by all the lists she keeps, she won’t need you for much. If you help me, your brain will be occupied and you won’t suffer from any more jitters.”

  “I haven’t suffered from any jitters at all.”

  “But you will,” she assured him. “What better way to keep your mind busy than to work with your hands?”

  “I can think of a good many other things I’d rather do with my hands.”

  The remark shot through the room like a bolt of white lightning—and although Riley knew Alex had meant the words to be completely innocent, her gaze immediately fell to his fingers, and a tingle of something akin to anticipation rushed up her spine. She couldn’t help remembering the first night she’d arrived in Chicago and caught Dannette in Alex’s arms. At the time, Riley had been drawn to the gentleness he’d displayed, the passion, the devotion.

  When her eyes lifted again, it was to find him watching her quite purposely. Seeking to waylay whatever thoughts caused his eyes to burn, she bluntly asked, “Does she satisfy you?”

  “Who?”

  “Dannette. Does she satisfy you physically?”

  “Do you really think that’s anything either one of us should talk about?”

  “Maybe not. But I want to know.”

  “Why? Is it another of your tests?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Riley. I’m not totally unaware of the way you’ve been running Dannette through a gamut of tests to ensure her worthiness as my bride.”

  Her chin defiantly tilted. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  He took a step toward her, his shoes crunching against the rubble on the floor. “How far would you go to prevent such a thing?”

  She licked her lips, her heart knocking against her ribs as Alex prowled toward her in a far too purposeful manner.

  “I suppose I could arrange a kidnapping,” she quipped, but the jest bounced off him like rain off an elephant’s hide.

  “What would you do if I decided you were the one who needed my interference?”

  He was close now, far too close.

  “I’d probably welcome—”

  “You’d be irritated as hell,” he interrupted.

  “So what do you want me to do? Sit back and allow you to make a mistake?”

  “Am I making a mistake?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to determine.”

  He nodded as if he were giving her response careful consideration.

  “Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to arrange for you to spend even more time with Dannette so you can be sure she’s the right woman for me.” He abruptly stopped and the room became even smaller, even more airless.

  Just when Riley feared she could bear no more of the nameless emotions, he touched her, one finger stroking her cheek and arousing in her a flood of sexual fantasies that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

  “She has a degree in interior design,” he said.

  “Who?” she asked numbly, barely absorbing the words as she watched them being formed on his lips.

  “Dannette.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Riley.”

  “Like what?”

  Somehow he took a step closer.

  Somehow she took a step closer.

  “Like…that.”

  “Oh.”

  Then the words no longer mattered, the reasons became irrelevant. Riley had only one thought, one need.

  Kiss me, Alex.

  Please.

  His head bent, hovering close, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath caressing her cheek.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, the word completely involuntary and contrary to her thoughts.

  His hands touched her waist and she fought to maintain her equilibrium.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she managed to rasp, saying the words, but not meaning them.

  “No.”

  “We should stop,” she said, giving him one last, halfhearted objection.

  “Yes.”

  But then his lips were closing over her own and her arms swept around his neck to hold him close. A flurry of sensations swamped her body, bringing her to life, fi
lling her with an excitement she had never known before. Alex’s body was strong and hard against her own. So familiar, yet so new.

  When he drew back, they were both breathless.

  “We shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured.

  “No.”

  Again their lips met, passionately, hungrily. Riley’s mouth immediately opened and Alex’s tongue swept inside to taste her sweetness. Then it was she who did the tasting, the clinging, the pursuing.

  They were both breathing hard when they separated.

  “What was that?” Riley said, referring to the kiss.

  “I don’t know, but I liked it,” Alex muttered, then immediately shook his head. Untangling himself from Riley’s embrace, he offered, “Sorry. I don’t know what made me kiss you like…”

  Like a randy teenager? Riley supplied for herself. That was exactly how she’d felt—like a kid getting her first taste of passion.

  “I’m sorry, Riley,” Alex said.

  Riley offered a bark of laughter. Neither of them was truly repentant. Riley knew that by the gleam of desire that still lingered in Alex’s eyes.

  She’d excited him.

  The thought was enough to send a shimmy of renewed awareness through her body.

  “We should go,” Alex said.

  “Yes. I suppose so.”

  But neither of them moved. The silence held them in its embrace, its energy vibrating with its own brand of tension. Riley couldn’t help wishing Alex would drag her into his arms and kiss the living daylights out of her.

  “I guess I’ll be spending some time here in the next day or two,” Alex stated.

  “What?” she asked, pushing her own fantasies aside. The kisses had been fantastic. How much better would it be if Alex dragged her into some forgotten hideaway, dropped her on a mattress and…

  Don’t go there.

  Do not go down that particular fantasy road.

  No.

  But even her conscience couldn’t ease the pounding of her pulse.

  “I guess I’ll be coming to this gopher nest to help you fix up the place.”

  “Oh. Right!”

  Keep your mind on the apartment, only on the apartment. Don’t think about Alex’s hands, his mouth, his…

  Mayday, mayday!

  “I’m sure Dannette will help, too,” Alex continued.

  Dannette. The name had the effect of a bucket of cold water being upended on Riley’s head.