Precedent for Passion

by Amber Cross

  Glen found his tongue again. “Does this mean I don’t have to stand up in front of everyone at the hall and say ridiculously flattering things about you?”

  “You can’t get out of best man duty that easily.”

  “Okay, okay.” Opening his car door, he tossed the scraper behind the driver’s seat. “I’ll try to come up with something.”

  “Remember that we don’t have a wedding party table. Sara wanted people to mix and mingle, so she arranged seats based on who she thought would enjoy talking to each other.”

  Glen understood her intentions, but when he arrived at the hall, he wished she had been more traditional because the card with his name on it was right across from the woman with the mane of chestnut hair and the form-flattering, teal-blue dress.

  ****

  Abby couldn’t believe her good fortune when the usher directed her to a table at the reception and she read the name opposite her own. That is, until she read the one beside it. Linda Plankey. Not single then; not just temporarily off the market, either, but married. Well, what did she expect? If a man like him was unattached, her gender had a lot to answer for.

  “Can I take your coat for you?” the usher asked. It was the same young man she’d met outside the church, and he was unusually tall. As short as she was, even if she stood to remove her coat he would have an unobstructed view of her cleavage in the surplice wrap dress.

  “Why don’t you show me where to put it?” That way she wouldn’t make either one of them uncomfortable again. Aloud, she said, “That way I can use the rest room at the same time.”

  A few minutes later she returned to her seat, hair detangled and smoothed down, makeup repaired. Six empty champagne flutes had been delivered to the table, but as yet no one else had joined her, which meant she had to sit still with nothing to do, nothing to read or write on. Just for a moment she considered taking a pen out of her purse and scribbling on the paper napkin or checking her cell phone for news that wasn’t important.

  “Don’t do it,” she muttered even as her finger played with the zipper on her bag. It would be rude. She knew it would, but boredom made her crazy. She rarely did one thing and one thing only. Whether it was talking on the phone with a client or watching a movie at home, she also did a crossword puzzle, a Sudoku, even knitting—she knew how to knit and purl but not finish anything, so it was simply knitting—to keep both her brain and her hands occupied.

  “Hello there,” a man with steely hair and kind brown eyes greeted while taking the chair beside hers. “You must be”—he paused to read her card—“Abby.”

  “I am.” She was relieved to have company.

  “Then I guess that makes me Neil Swain.” He stuck out a hand and she shook it. “Nice to meet you, Abby.”

  “You too.”

  Being an attorney and judge, she was good at asking questions that gave the other person an opening to talk at length about themselves. In no time she learned Neil was a highway crew manager and his wife was Jason’s secretary at the marble quarry. “Greta’s helping out in the kitchen,” he said, referring to her now. “I imagine Linda is too, but Glen and Jimmy should be here as soon as the wedding pictures are done.”

  She might have said something, but just then six and a half feet of dark-haired, blue-eyed distraction arrived, pulling out the chair across from where she sat. Her normally sharp brain turned to mush.

  He greeted Neil by name, glancing over the place card with her name and her face yet not making eye contact. Maybe he was embarrassed? After all, she had been checking out his rear end during the ceremony.

  “Now you’re here to keep Abby company, I’m going to see if Greta needs a hand,” Neil said.

  His departure left an awkward silence behind. Glen Plankey’s gaze fixed on a spot over her shoulder while her fingers pulled idly at the zipper on her bag. When she realized what she was doing, unconsciously seeking pen and paper in order to occupy her mind, she decided one of them had to break the ice, and it might as well be her. “Will your wife be joining us soon?”

  Blue eyes snapped to her face, and she almost recoiled from the anger in them. “Is that your idea of a joke?”

  Whoa! She had his attention now. Before she could figure out why such a simple question would cause that kind of reaction, the remaining guests from his side of the table arrived.

  Jimmy Duncan took the woman’s coat and wool cap, disappearing with them while she slid into the seat beside Glen. Abby surreptitiously observed her. She was tall, with a lean, muscular body and ruddy features that spoke to hours spent outside without moisturizer. Her dark hair, when she shook it free of hat marks, was thick and curled loosely to just below her chin. Something about her was also familiar, like maybe they had met before but in another setting.

  Nothing about her behavior indicated a significant relationship with Glen. Certainly Abby detected no hint of a romantic attachment. In fact, they hadn’t even spoken to one another yet. Was he going through another divorce? That would explain the hostile response to her innocent question.

  Jimmy Duncan returned, smiling affably across the table at her. “Hey, Judge.”

  “You’re a judge?”

  What now? Abby was used to surprise from people when they found out what she did for work, but nothing like this. Most of the time it was due to her age, because she was only thirty-five and had been on the bench for almost two years now. Sometimes it was because she was a woman. If she had to describe Glen’s reaction, she would say it was somewhere between shock and revulsion.

  The woman stuck her hand out across the table, a deliberate interruption. “Hi. I’m Linda Plankey.”

  Abby shook her hand automatically. She would have introduced herself as well, but just then three young people rushed up, the usher among them. He was the first to speak. “Uncle Glen, is it okay if we go to Jason’s place for a minute? We’ll be right back.”

  “What for?”

  “He forgot the wine!” the teenage girl wailed, her pretty face reflecting disbelief that anyone could be so careless on a wedding day.

  “Uh-oh.”

  All eyes turned to Jimmy, who looked like a boy caught stealing cookies from a jar.

  “Please, Dad?” the girl pressed, blue eyes imploring. “Jason said it’s right inside the door and you’ll need it for the toasts.”

  “We’ll be quick,” the usher promised.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s icy out there.”

  The third young person pushed his way between the other two. Tall with wide, bony shoulders holding up a New York Rangers jersey and a narrow jaw still unblemished by facial hair, he said with a slash of white teeth, “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll drive.”

  Glen shuddered dramatically. “Nice try, son.” To his nephew he said, “You can drive but be careful. The town crew was treating the roads when we got here, but they’re still slippery.”

  They left in a flurry of energy, one last caution following them to the door.

  “Just to Jason’s and back.”

  Abby needed a cardiologist. Or a shrink. Or both. Because when he lowered his voice to issue the stern warning, everything inside her clenched. Her eyelids grew heavy. She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. It was either that or give voice to the moan welling up inside her because if one thing could turn her on, it was an authoritative man.

  What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t find anything about him attractive. He acted like a jerk just moments before, but when he smiled after the young people, her heart did a little flip-flop.

  He’s married. Keep it up, and you’ll have a jealous wife to contend with.

  A quick glance showed Linda Plankey eyeing her with speculation. Great. First he caught her looking at his backside, now his wife caught her in the act of salivating over him. Someone needed to save her from herself, and that someone took the form of Neil Swain returning with a gray-haired lady who could only be his wife. Even better, his first words were “Glen, Jason needs yo
u backstage.”

  Abby was glad to see him go. Her emotions were bouncing all over the place after the last few minutes, and only his absence could help her get them under control.

  Unfortunately, Linda Plankey had other ideas. “Don’t take his reaction to your job personally. He’s not fond of judges, but that’s not why he acted that way.”

  She didn’t want to talk about him with his wife, but the woman wasn’t done.

  “He has to give a speech,” she said as if that explained everything.

  Desperate to change the subject, Abby said, “I’m sure your husband is a nice guy—”

  “Husband?”

  From the stage a microphone squealed. Everyone turned. Jason Hunter tapped on the electronic device. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?”

  The room went quiet. Glen Plankey walked onto the stage with a second microphone and a guitar in his hand.

  “It seems someone forgot the wine for the toasts.” Jason peered directly at Jimmy, and the guests laughed. “Since the best man can’t give a speech until it gets here, we’re going to change the order of the program. Sara, will you join me up here? I have a surprise for you.” When she looked reluctant to leave her seat, he added, “Come on. I dare you.”

  “Smart man.” Jimmy laughed. “She can’t resist a challenge.”

  Once she was settled on the piano bench, Glen tuned his guitar, and Jason stepped closer to his microphone. “Now I have a special gift for my bride.”

  Abby understood the song choice immediately. Like her, Jason was in his thirties and had never married. Unlike her, he was a single father. He had all but given up hope of sharing his life with anyone other than his son Andrew when he finally found “the one.”

  Jason’s baritone voice filled the hall, mesmerizing the guests, but she couldn’t stop looking at the guitarist. His dark curls fell down across his forehead as he bent to the instrument. His long fingers plucked and stroked the strings, and she wondered how they would play a woman’s body.

  The lyrics spoke to finally being close to the one, the only one.

  She could appreciate that sentiment. After fifteen years of fantasizing about Glen Plankey, seeing him in the flesh again made those dreams pale by comparison. She would take him smiling, rude, authoritative; she would take him any way at all, if he would only give her half the attention he was giving to the guitar in his hands.

  If only he wasn’t married.

  Jason promised to make Sara’s happiness his life’s mission.

  A collective sigh went through the room as the song ended. Abby exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding and blinked herself back to the present. She stood with the other guests to cheer for the bride and groom. When Glen’s nephew hopped up onto the stage holding a bottle of wine in each hand, they cheered again before chanting, “Speech, speech, speech.”

  Within minutes every table had champagne glasses filled, and Glen Plankey was alone at the microphone. He cleared his throat. The room went quiet again. He ran his hand through his hair, pushed it off his forehead, and cleared his throat a second time.

  He’s nervous.

  As if she had made the observation aloud, Linda explained, “He hates to speak in front of a crowd, even a small one.”

  Suddenly Abby remembered him standing before Judge Henry at the courthouse in Guildhall. Much younger, just as handsome then as now and just as nervous, he had tripped over his words trying to defend himself against his wife’s accusations. Explaining what happened in their bedroom, as kinky as it sounded to her virginal ears, had nothing to do with his parenting skills and should not affect custody of their children.

  Chapter Two

  The lump in his throat seemed to paralyze Glen’s vocal chords. He had already tried clearing it twice. If he did it a third time, he’d look as foolish as he felt.

  Before him the wedding guests merged into a formless void. The microphone in his hands was damp from perspiration, but he couldn’t let go because he was shaking so much. His breath was loud in his ears. In full-fledged panic attack, he looked for an escape, any escape, and then his gaze lit on the piano bench where Jason and Sara sat waiting.

  “Harness,” she mouthed, one hand cupped to her cheek so no one else could see.

  Processing the word was like wading through his brother’s manure bin after a heavy rain. He saw the word, but it took repeating it in his head several times before he remembered what it meant. Sara was a speech language pathologist. Knowing how he dreaded giving this speech, she had coached him to harness his emotions, good or bad, and use them to power through the anxiety that gripped him every time he stood before a group of people.

  He could do this. For her. For Jason.

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded and returned his attention to the room full of people.

  Bodies took shape. Faces came into focus. One face in particular captured his attention, fueling the angst and anger inside him. How he wanted to hate that beautiful face. Remembering her lush mouth falling open, her cheeks turning pink, and her gray-green eyes going wide while she listened to his ex-wife fifteen years ago, he imagined instead another scenario. One where those lips were on his body, those eyes drowning with pleasure, those cheeks pink for an entirely different reason.

  Buoyed by the images, he began. “When I was a boy, I stuttered. The doctor said it was because I was a genius and was thinking faster than I could talk, but the school didn’t agree and kept me back a year. So my teacher decided that a learning partner might help, and she paired me up with the smartest kid in class for my second round of first grade.”

  Abby leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table while she listened to his speech. Because she was short, her breasts pressed against the edge of the table, spilling over the V in her teal dress. Adding to his fantasy and giving him strength to continue.

  “It was the best thing anyone ever did for me. I got to sit with Jason Hunter through the rest of elementary school. And though I might be a genius, he’s still the smartest man I know. Like a wise old owl.”

  The crowd murmured their agreement.

  “Only a wise man would save himself for marriage like he did. And only a smart man would recognize his soul mate the first time he met her.”

  Smiling at Sara’s obvious surprise, he went on. “That’s right. The very first night, after seeing you at The Gables, he called me and told me you were the one. He was afraid he might never run into you again. You see, he doesn’t have my talent for flirting with pretty women, so of course he needed my expert advice.” Glen winked, she blushed, and the wedding guests laughed.

  “Seriously, though, he was afraid he wouldn’t have a chance with you, him being so old and all. I told him any woman, even one as young as you, would be a fool to turn him down. Then I met you the next summer when I came up for haying on the Fourth of July. You two were having some trouble then, but the chemistry between you was hotter than the fireworks that night.”

  The crowd laughed when he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “I knew you belonged together. In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen Jason so happy. You’ve done that for him. And at the risk of swelling his head, he’s about as good as a guy can get. He deserves you.”

  Jason nodded to him, a silent thank you for the heartfelt compliment.

  “Please join me,” Glen said to the guests, waiting until they rose to continue. “Here’s to Jason and Sara. A perfect match. May they have many happy years together!”

  They drank from their champagne glasses. Jason stood and thumped him on the back. Sara kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tight, which was good because the relief of being done made him weak. When Jimmy took the mic and he stepped down from the stage, his legs were shaking.

  Back at the table he drained his champagne flute in one swallow. Without even sitting down.

  “More?” Linda asked.

  Her dry tone penetrated the freefall he was in after the adrenali
ne rush on stage.

  “Sorry.” He kissed the top of her head and couldn’t miss Abby’s reaction. She jerked like someone had slapped her.

  Linda handed him the bottle of wine. Absently he took it and seated himself, but his gaze was on the woman with the chestnut hair and teal dress. She seemed to be fiercely concentrating on Jimmy’s speech. Deliberately ignoring him the way he had tried earlier to ignore her.

  “It’s called Good in Bed,” Linda said.

  “What?” She had his attention now.

  “The wine. Jason had some on a trip to Washington State, so they ordered it through a New York seller for the wedding because we can’t get it here in Vermont. It’s called Good in Bed.”

  Why was she telling him this? She didn’t usually make random conversation, even to help him through a public speaking event.

  “Abby thinks we’re married.”

  The wine and Jimmy’s speech were forgotten as both he and the little judge whipped their heads up to look at one another. She looked startled. A flush stained her cheeks.

  “Glen’s my big brother.”

  Oh.

  The question about his wife joining him made sense now. She hadn’t been rude.

  Say something.

  He could almost hear the encouraging words coming from his sister. Normally he was good with females. He hadn’t been joking about that in his speech, but now he found himself tongue-tied. A combination of high emotion from being on stage and fifteen years of resenting this woman only to use fantasies about her to help him through that ordeal. So what came out of his mouth was simply the first thing he could think of.

  “Your hair is curling.” When she looked blankly at him, he explained, “At the side of your face, by your ears.”

  Her blush deepened, and she twirled one of the ringlets around a finger, stretching it out until she could see it before letting it pop back into place. “That happens when I’m in a room full of people and it gets warm, or when it’s humid outside.”

  He admired the way the curls clung to her cheeks, to the smooth golden skin of her neck.