by Lori Wilde
“Deranged.”
“I know.”
“I mean, what can you tell about someone in a split second?”
“Precisely.”
Although he could tell from the way Meg moved with that smooth, sensual grace, she’d be good in bed. An image of her in his bed popped into Shane’s head and it was all he could do to fight off an erection. It had been a long time since he’d been this turned on.
Meg sat down on a park bench beside the pond. “I like ducks,” she said. “They follow me wherever I go.”
“That’s because you feed them.”
“No, really, long before I fed them, whenever I’m near water, a duck comes up to me or lands near me. It’s weird.”
“Maybe it’s just coincidence.”
“Ducks calm me.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s something about the way they glide on the water. So beautiful and graceful.”
“They’re dirty birds,” Shane said.
“You’d think you’d have more respect for them. Ducks are symbols of freedom. They fly. Like you do.”
“They eat mud from the same water where they go to the bathroom.”
“I don’t think about that part.”
“Tend to look on the bright side, do you?”
“By nature I’m an optimist.”
“But not in the case of Brady and Ellie’s romance?”
“Did you know that they met through a dating service that coaches people on how to fall in love?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Shane sat beside her, acutely aware of how close they were.
Apparently she was aware of it, too. She tucked her purse into the small space he’d left between them.
Keep your distance, buddy.
Message received.
Ducks spied the paper cone in Meg’s hand and came waddling out of the water. She tossed the pellets with a deft hand. They squawked and gobbled it up. Soon quacking feathered creatures surrounded their park bench.
“I don’t know the details,” she said. “But basically this dating service is a proponent of some study undertaken by a famed psychologist who claims the intimacy between two strangers can be accelerated simply by their asking each other a series of questions designed to escalate vulnerability.”
“Seriously?”
“For realz.” She tossed more pellets. “Brady let me see the questions.”
He liked watching her move. Easy. Casual. The gold bracelet at her wrist caught the sun, glittered. “The dating service forced their relationship.”
“My thoughts exactly. Except that they both willingly went to a dating service that advertised this method of falling in love. So clearly they were both looking for someone.”
“But it’s not real love. How can it be when it’s clearly manufactured?” Shane snorted.
“If it’s love at all.”
“How can a series of questions cause someone to fall in love? That’s not how you fall in love. Falling in love takes time. Lots of time. There’s no such thing as accelerating love.”
“Well,” Meg said, “some studies have shown that people who go through challenging events together form bonds more quickly.”
“Bonds, yes. Love?” Shane shook his head.
“Ellie’s pretty. I’ll give her that. Lust at first sight is a thing. Chemical reaction. Hormones. Pheromones.”
Shane’s body confirmed that theory. He couldn’t stop looking at Meg, or thinking about her. He wanted to touch her skin, smell her hair, taste her lips.
“You’ve got to admit Ellie does know how to get her way.”
“Wait, what?” Shane blinked, felt like he’d gotten whiplash. He’d been mentally kissing Meg and wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He’d thought they were on the same page here.
“Your best friend,” Meg said. “She’s a little manipulative.”
Shane’s blood heated. “Whoa. Hold on there. Ellie’s not the least bit manipulative. She’s the kindest, most honest person I’ve ever known. If anyone in that relationship is manipulative, it’s Brady.”
“How can you say that? He’s the one with money. Ellie’s taking advantage of his generosity.”
Shane turned on the bench so that he was facing her. Meg didn’t move except to dust the duck food crumbs from her hands.
“Excuse me? What are you saying?”
Finally, Meg swiveled around, met his eyes. If the purse hadn’t been between them their knees would be touching. “I can’t help but wonder if Ellie is more interested in Brady’s money than she is in the man.”
That went all over Shane. In fact, it pissed him off.
Who was Miss High and Mighty here to be passing judgment on the one person in the world Shane loved? He had to clamp his teeth down on his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret.
He chuffed out a breath. “Ellie’s not after his money. She doesn’t have a greedy bone in her body. All she wants is to be loved.”
Meg pursed her lips. “For Brady’s sake, I hope you’re right.”
“He’d better treat Ellie like a princess or he’s going to have to answer to me. And you can tell him that verbatim.” Shane jumped to his feet, fists knotted at his sides, heart racing. Shit. He was letting her get him worked up.
Calmly, coolly, fully in control, Meg gazed up at him. “Passionate, aren’t you?”
“About the people and things I care about? You betcha.”
“I admire your loyalty,” she said. “Even if you do irritate me.”
“Me? I irritate you? Listen, lady, if my best friend wasn’t marrying your best friend, I wouldn’t have two words to say to you.”
With infuriating casualness, Meg picked up her purse and got to her feet. “You may be one sexy beast, Shane Freemont, but you are not God’s gift to womankind.”
“We don’t have to like each other,” he said, even at the very moment he was wanting to rip off her clothes and roll around on the ground with her. “But we do have to get through this wedding without causing problems. Because I’ll be damned if I’ll let you ruin the happiest day of Ellie’s life.”
Chapter Three
Meg regretted how she’d let things get out of hand with Shane. He was right. They both loved their friends and wanted the best for them. It was their loyalty that put them at odds with each other.
So she phoned him when she got home. Apologized. Called for a peace treaty.
Shane graciously told her she had nothing to apologize for. She was only looking out for Brady’s best interests, and he respected that.
When she saw him the following Saturday at the cowboy-themed couples’ wedding shower he was throwing for Ellie and Brady, she had to confess that she was impressed. He’d rented out the party room of an Austin hot spot that had cozy, rustic décor and overlooked the Colorado River.
The room was decorated in denim and red bandannas. The nubby brown material of the table runners accentuated the barnyard feel. The centerpiece crystal vases, filled with daisies and framed by white flickering candles, added a subtle touch of elegance.
Straw cowboy hats of different sizes, colors, and stages of wear, strategically hung on the back wall, continued the folksy Texas chic. A burlap banner hanging from the cedar rafters was adorned with Brady’s and Ellie’s names cut from scraps of denim, and Photoshopped pictures of the bride and groom-to-be as toddlers were juxtaposed against their engagement portrait.
Off to the side was a photo booth complete with props—wanted posters, more cowboy hats, hobbyhorses, Lone Ranger masks, toy cap guns. Along with paper signage on wooden sticks to hold up that read “Wild West,” “Howdy,” “Yee-Haw,” and “Outlaw.”
Country music played over the sound system. Currently, Jerry Jeff Walker was singing, “I Love You.” Two buffets were set up, one for beef barbecue, the other vegan fare. A chalkboard, suspended over a metal trough packed with ice, beers, water, soda, and wine coolers, proclaimed “Waterin’ Hole.”
Wow. Ho
w had Shane put it all together so quickly? He must have been on it the entire week.
She searched the crowd of arriving guests and spied Shane glad-handing some of Brady’s friends. He was dressed in starched jeans, a white button-down, Western-style shirt, and square-toed ostrich quill boots.
Their eyes met and that same one-two punch of breathless electricity passed between them again.
Except it was stronger this time. Darker, richer, more potent.
Her body wanted his something fierce. But that was a line she couldn’t, wouldn’t cross. Too fraught with complications. An affair with this package of walking dynamite could go wrong in more ways than she could count.
He lifted his head, made eye contact with her, and surrendered a big grin. Caught off guard by the genuineness of his smile, Meg ducked her head and pretended she hadn’t seen him, struggling to sort out the fizzy effervescence in her stomach.
What was the matter with her? She wasn’t shy. No retiring violet. And yet, under the heat of his blue-eyed gaze, she felt like a simpering debutante at her coming-out party.
He moved toward her, parting the people before him with nothing more than the strength of his personality. Folks just naturally moved out of his way. Many turned to give him a second glance.
Meg had to admit he was a man worth looking at. Hard-bodied, tight muscles, arresting eyes.
Were all fighter pilots born this way? Full of heat and swagger? Or were they made through reverence and the adulation of an adoring public?
Maybe it was a little of both.
Either way, he had more charisma in his little finger than Maverick from Top Gun had in his entire body.
“Well,” he said when he drew close enough for her to hear him. “If it isn’t the best woman herself.”
“Good job with the shower, Freemont,” she said, keeping her tone and facial expression as light and even as possible.
“What?” The quirk of his mouth was disarming. “You expected me to screw up?”
“The thought did cross my mind. Who puts a fighter pilot in charge of a wedding shower?”
“I have hidden depths, babe,” he said glibly.
Babe shouldn’t have sent a shiver of anticipation skipping down her spine. But damn if it didn’t. If she’d been in a mood to take offense, she could have pronounced the term demeaning. However, she could tell from his tone and his body language he was teasing and meant no harm.
She folded her arms over her chest, a feeble defense against his magnetism. “Who helped you?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Meg didn’t buy that for a second. “You did this all by yourself?”
“The restaurant staff set up the room, but the design was mine.”
“Hmm.”
“You can say you’re impressed. It won’t kill you.”
“I said you did a good job. Take it or leave it.”
“Are you always so stingy with your praise?”
“When someone is fishing for compliments, yes.”
His lively eyes danced with amusement. The man could seduce a nun with that grin. “Honestly, I could go on bantering with you all night. But I’m the host and the new arrivals need greeting. Mix and mingle,” he invited. “Grab a beer. Enjoy the party.”
It sounded like a good-enough idea, so she wandered over to the Waterin’ Hole, grabbed a Corona, and twisted off the top.
“Hey there.”
She looked up to see Brady coming toward her, smiled happily. “Hey, Braid.”
“Shane did a nice job with the shower.” Brady reached for a beer of his own and guided her off to one side.
“He did.”
Brady took a sip of beer. Rubbed a hand over his lips. He shifted his weight. Cleared his throat.
Meg had known him long enough to know when he had something on his mind. “Is something wrong?”
“Ellie wants a prenup. Out of the blue.” He shrugged. “She tells me she wants a prenup because she doesn’t want anyone thinking she’s after my money.”
“Oh,” Meg said. “Well, a prenup’s not a bad idea.”
“I don’t want one,” he said. “What’s mine is hers. End of story. She’s the other half of me.”
“That very romantic, but—”
Brady loomed over her, his eyes narrowed, mouth compressed. For the first time in the twenty-eight years she’d known him, she felt intimidated.
“Did you say something to Ellie?” he asked.
“Me? What? No!” she said, then guilt sloshed into her stomach. Shane. He must have told Ellie what she’d said in the park last week. The tattletale.
“I know you don’t like her, Meg.”
“I don’t know Ellie,” Meg protested. “But I certainly don’t dislike her. It’s just that you’re rushing into this marriage and I’m worried about you.”
Brady clenched his jaw. “You need to understand something. I love her with all my heart and soul, and if you and I are going to continue to be friends, you’re going to have to respect that.”
What? Meg flinched. She couldn’t have been more shocked if Brady had physically struck her. “Of course. I love you and only want the best for you.”
“I know.” He offered up a half-flag smile.
Rusty, jagged guilt poked her. Her motives had been pure, but her suspicions about Ellie had hurt him. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”
His face softened. “This is the first time you and I have ever gotten crossways.”
“It is.” She stood there feeling like a jerk. “Let’s not do it again.”
“Agreed.”
“Hug?” She opened her arms.
“Always.” Brady enveloped her in a bear hug and she felt marginally better.
Ellie appeared, looking utterly guileless, eyes aglow. “Aww, you two are adorable. Meg, I’m so glad you’re Brady’s best friend. If a guy has a woman as his best friend, you know he’s going to make a good husband.”
It was a blanket statement and probably not generally true. But in Brady’s case it was.
“He is a catch.” Meg patted Brady’s chest. “Be good to him.”
“I plan on spending the rest of my life proving my love.” Ellie’s smile was so sweet and natural, Meg couldn’t help liking her. And that made her feel even crappier for what she’d said about Ellie to Shane.
Speaking of Shane, she had a bone to pick with him for shooting off his big mouth.
“Tell her,” Brady said to Meg as he slung his arm around Ellie’s shoulder. “Tell my bride-to-be we don’t need a prenup.” He bent to nuzzle Ellie’s neck and Meg heard him whisper, “What’s mine is yours, angel.”
The businessperson in her wanted to say, everyone needs a prenup, but the friend in her couldn’t be that blunt. Meg raised her hands. “That’s between you guys. It’s none of my business.”
“Brady,” Ellie said. “It’s the smart thing to do.”
“Do you ever foresee yourself divorcing me?” Brady asked.
Wake up! Meg wanted to say. Thing change. People change. The unforeseeable happens. Nothing is set in stone.
“Not if the polar ice caps melted, not if an asteroid hit the earth, not if a solar storm hit, not if . . . well, just face it, big guy, you’re stuck with me.” Ellie giggled again.
“Then there’s no need for a prenup.” Brady’s tone brooked no argument.
“But—”
“End of discussion,” he said. There was a look in Brady’s eyes that caused a swamp of tenderness and a ping of envy inside Meg. He did love this woman. “Now, let’s go open presents.”
He ushered Ellie to a chair beside the table laden with gifts, called for everyone to direct their attention to the proceedings, and sat down beside his wife-to-be.
Meg went looking for Shane and found him in the corner of the room, where he’d ensconced himself to watch Ellie and Brady open their presents and jot down in a cell phone app what guest had given what gift.
“Got to hand it to you,” she said
. “You make a pretty great maid of honor.”
“Man of honor,” he corrected. “Did you see who gave them the Pappy Van Winkle?” He nodded at Brady, who was holding up a bottle of expensive Kentucky bourbon and cracking a joke about wedding-night shenanigans.
“I’m making a guess here, but I’m assuming it’s from his cousin Lincoln, who’s a horse breeder from Lexington.”
“Thanks.” Shane thumbed that into the cell phone.
“Listen,” she said, trying not to notice what long fingers and strong tanned hands he had. “That wasn’t very sporting of you to tell Ellie I thought she was after Brady for his money.”
He raised his head and looked at her as if she’d disappointed him in some fundamental way. “I didn’t tell her.”
“So she came up with the prenup idea all on her own?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She must have. Or she picked up on your vibe.”
“You didn’t suggest it?”
The look he gave her was hard and flat. “No. I didn’t tell her you basically called her a gold digger because I didn’t want to hurt her and I didn’t want to color her perception of you.”
Ouch!
“I suppose I deserved that,” she said. “But Brady’s had women take advantage of him for his money before, and he’s so trusting and this thing with Ellie happened so fast, I couldn’t help worrying. It made me bitchy.”
“Not bitchy,” he said, his tone relaxing. “Just honest. You were expressing your opinion.”
“I should have had more respect for your relationship with her. I sometimes have a bad habit of shooting off my mouth before I think.”
He looked amused. “Are you under the impression I’m mad at you?”
“Well, I did dis your best friend.”
“Wanna see the footprints in my mouth from all the times I’ve had my foot stuck up there? You’re not the only one with strong opinions.”
“Apparently not.”
“We’re passionate people,” he said. “We don’t have to apologize for that.”
Passion.
Oh yeah. It oozed from his pores. The heat. The energy. The verve. He was a powerful guy and her womb whimpered, I want.
“We see something we don’t agree with, we speak our minds.”
