Quint and Virgil stood on the curb watching her drive away.
“Did you recognize her?” Virgil asked.
Quint stared at his cousin. “No. Should I have?”
“She was the Pink Mink centerfold about a year ago.”
“Hot damn!” Quint said. “I’ve heard that magazine is nothing more than a front for high class hookers. No wonder she can afford a fifty-thousand-dollar car. I wouldn’t mind seeing that body nude.”
“She wasn’t nude. If I remember right, she was wearing some kind of a racing get-up and was sprawled across the top of a race car.”
“That’s odd. Centerfolds are always nude. What did the article say about her?”
Virgil chuckled. “Those pictures come with articles?”
Chapter Two
Jamie pulled up in front of Nicole’s Victorian mansion. She loved this house with the lake out back and the picturesque setting. Weekends spent here with Nicole were Jamie’s only exposure to a normal family life, where parents love each other and their children. Though she and Nicole talked by phone regularly, it had been five years since Jamie visited Sunset Lake. Far too long.
When Nicole asked Jamie to sing at the wedding she’d been delighted. All she asked was that Nicole not mention Jamie’s racing career to anyone, and to use her mother’s maiden name in the program. She was in no frame of mind to field opinions about the Indianapolis Brickyard 500 pileup. What Officer Gentry said was true; he was one of the few who believed she was not to blame. With the focus on Nicole and Hunter in this small community, she hoped no one would recognize her. She would just try to keep a low profile.
Fortunately those two guys at the motel hadn’t recognized her, though she feared the macho every-woman-is-a-helpless-ditz one saw her decals in the trunk. She hoped to piss him off enough to make him leave when she accepted help from the second guy. Just her luck, they were together. No matter, she’d be gone tomorrow never to see either one of them again. Too bad his personality didn’t match those mesmerizing blue eyes.
It annoyed her that he was the first man she’d actually been attracted to since breaking it off with Clay Riker five months earlier. Clay seemed fine until she’d started racing. Their relationship turned ugly in a hurry after that.
Looking back on it, she realized it was her father and Clay’s father, Kent Riker, pushing them together. Kent was Clay’s crew chief, the two older men grew up together and were both dedicated to their work. Everyone believed she and Clay had a storybook romance going. Jamie believed her father was looking for a son to replace T-Roy, and she never was quite sure about Kent. He was friendly toward her in the beginning but sometime during the relationship she started to get the feeling she fell a bit short of his expectations.
She never was excited about Clay, and now she believed he was a traitor, and a liar.
He was directly behind her in the Indianapolis race. Before she went into a slide and all hell broke loose, she remembered the tiny red light blinking on his dash where his personal recorder was mounted, yet afterwards when she asked to view his tape he said he hadn’t had the recorder on.
Then there was Ray Bentler, owner and president of Pink Mink International. Somehow the multimillionaire had the idea that he owned her as well as the rights to the car. Bentler fell into the standard tall, dark, and handsome profile, but Jamie had her own classification for him—high on himself, black-hearted, and lecherous womanizer. She posed for his degrading centerfold, but she drew the line on being seen anywhere off the track with him. Tabloids would declare open season on her if they even suspected she was involved with the owner of her car. Fortunately, Bentler needed her too much to try to force her over that line.
Jamie sighed. If nothing else, the incident with the stranger at the motel proved her feminine libido was still alive. She was beginning to wonder about that. Maybe she’d have time to share the encounter with Nicole. They would both have a good laugh over it.
As it turned out, the house was empty except for Berta, the housekeeper. It seemed everyone was at the park, setting up for the huge reception. She’d be of no help there with her bum leg, so Jamie decided to go instead to the church and compare notes with the organist since she missed the evening rehearsal.
At the church she found a flurry of activity, with men working in the yard setting up speakers and chairs, women rushing about with their arms loaded with flowers, and children darting in and around everyone.
Jamie knew Nicole had few relatives, and all of Hunter’s family was from New York. Obviously the entire community was invited. No big surprise there, but also not good news for Jamie.
Inside, she discovered the programs had already been delivered. Searching for her name, she scanned the list of participants, relieved to see her mother’s maiden name on the program as she’d requested. Jamie Devon was the name she’d used until she went to live with her father.
By the time Jamie finished at the church it was nearly one o’clock, and the wedding was at four. She had just enough time to pick up her tire, grab a quick lunch, and head back to her room to shower and dress.
* * * *
Quint and Virgil exchanged knowing looks when they saw the BMW once again parked in its spot when they got back to the motel. The original wheel and tire had replaced the dummy wheel. It seems the woman was capable of solving her own problems.
Virgil snickered. “Looks like your friend is back.”
“What do you mean, my friend? You’re the one who changed her tire.”
“I saw how she looked at you—sweetie. There was passion in those hot, golden eyes if ever I saw it.”
Quint snorted. “Yeah, like I don’t have enough trouble with Cynthia on my ass. All I need is a Pink Mink hooker. Besides fair is fair, you gave Cynthia to me, I’ll give you the Pink Mink dame.”
Virgil pulled in beside the BMW, chuckling. “Well, let’s see if she’s still here when we get back tonight. Maybe we can get a two-for-one.”
Quint fixed an uncertain glare on his cousin. Somehow the thought of Virgil in bed with the sexy hooker rubbed his jealousy bone the wrong way. He would much rather have the hooker rubbing it the right way. Damn, what was he thinking? “We better get dressed,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never put tights on.” He hoped the tops of those outfits were long enough to conceal the crotch.
* * * *
When Jamie returned to the church at three fifteen the guests had already began to arrive. She was amazed at the wide variety of clothing she saw, from formal wear and medieval garb to some that resembled Halloween leftovers. Everyone vied for the best seats outside the church where they knew the bridal party would be arriving in horse drawn-carriages. It took a special invitation to be allowed inside the small church.
When Jamie tried to enter the back door the helmeted guard snapped his heels together, eyeing her crutches suspiciously. The big boob acted like he was guarding Buckingham Palace for Pete’s sake.
“I’m the singer,” she told him blandly when he asked for her special pass.
“Could you sing a few notes to prove that?”
Before Jamie could opened her mouth to tell him where go, the rotund sentinel let loose with a belly laugh.
“I’m just kidding. You must be Jamie Devon. I’m Chris Climb, one of Billy’s friends. You know, Climb, as in up the hill?” He laughed at his own joke, as his eyes roamed the full length of her mint green chiffon gown; stopping briefly on the gold filigree girdle hugging her softly rounded hips. From there, his gaze traveled to her low square neckline, and back to her face. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, I wish I’d lived back in those days. Say, you look familiar. Have we met?”
“Not likely, I’m from out of town.”
“Need any help getting up them steps?”
Jamie gave him a grudging smile. “No thanks, I can manage. You best stay at your post.”
“Well maybe I’ll catch up with you later at the reception. I could buy you a drink or something.”
Jamie mumbled something under her breath and hobbled past him. She mastered the four steps inside, made her way to the back of the church and up the ten steps to the loft where the organ and piano stood.
Sarah, the organist, already in place, gave Jamie a smile and a wave, and within minutes sweet, flowing music filled the church.
Jamie was grateful her lofty perch placed her above and behind everybody. Only the wedding party could see her when they turned to face the congregation. Few curious eyes would be on her during her two songs.
Nicole allowed Jamie to pick the songs. She’d chosen one of her own songs, My Secret Love, for the unity candle lighting. When the bride and groom presented flowers to Hunter’s parents and Nicole’s grandmother, she would sing Bette Midler’s, The Rose.
She was barely seated when a smiling young, black woman trotted up the steps carrying a wreath of miniature white roses. Streamers the color of Jamie’s dress trailed down the back.
She introduced herself as Carol Wilson, the local hair stylist and beauty consultant. She was there to do Jamie’s hair.
Working with long, fire-engine-red nails, Carol pulled a comb from her apron, and used it skillfully to arrange the wreath on Jamie’s head.
Carol wove Jamie’s short blond curls through the wreath of flowers, leaving long streamers of ribbon to flow down the back. The woman produced a small make-up kit and asked Jamie’s permission to apply some Renaissance touches to her face.
Finished, Carol handed Jamie a large round mirror and waited for approval. Jamie, a no-fuss lipstick-only, kind of person, stared in wonder at her bright cheeks and kohl enhanced eyes.
“You are truly a miracle worker,” Jamie told the beaming hairdresser.
When Carol left, Jamie positioned herself at the railing to watch the proceedings below. People filled the back rows first, and within twenty minutes the church was full to capacity. Everyone waited for the music to change, signaling the start of the wedding. Flowing silk, intricate headdresses, and men in leather and tights were everywhere. Even the ushers looked like they came straight out of Sherwood Forest. It was like being cast in a scene from another time.
The music paused a moment before beginning the processional tune. First to come in were the groomsman and bridesmaid. From her position in the loft Jamie saw them from behind and identified them with the aid of the wedding party handout. Leading the procession was Quinton Doulgas, Hunter’s cousin, and Amanda, a friend of Nicole’s. A soft murmur rose from the guests, certainly a reaction to the wedding party attire.
Jamie knew the costumes, including her own, were Nicole Anderson originals. Quinton wore an ocean blue shirt with big, swashbuckler sleeves, a brown leather tunic that reached halfway to his knees, snug-fitting tights, and leather boots. A silver metal girdle draped his narrow waist down past his hips. Next came Virgil Douglas, Hunter’s brother, with a woman named Carman on his arm. Virgil’s outfit was identical to Quinton’s except the shirt was dandelion yellow. The women wore floral tiaras; their dresses matched the color of the men’s shirts.
Shanna and Kyle followed next. Six-year-old Shanna looked like an adorable pixie in green silk, and four-year-old Kyle was a miniature groomsman. Jamie knew Shanna and Kyle were Nicole’s deceased sister’s children.
Jamie suddenly regretted not having arrived earlier. If she had been on time last night she would have met everyone in the party, including the children Nicole spoke of so fondly. Nicole had invited Jamie to stay at the house, but she felt out of place amid so much family. Now she was sorry she hadn’t accepted the invitation.
At least she could meet them all later at the reception.
At the start of the wedding march, the crowd rose to face the back of the church.
Nicole verily floated down the aisle on Hunter’s arm. Their obvious love for one another brought a lump to Jamie’s throat. Her dear friend looked like an angel in white flowing chiffon with gold trim and a gold filigree girdle. She was so beautiful.
Hunter walked, and looked, like a prince, his costume similar to those of his brother and cousin except for the white shirt and the gold metal girdle. The entire scene could have cast in a medieval movie.
When the wedding party turned to face the bride and groom, Jamie got a jolt that nearly threw her out of her chair. The two groomsmen, Hunter’s brother and cousin, were the two men who helped her with her flat tire! She felt the blood drain from her face in one instant, and a rush of heat wrapping around her neck and face in the next.
Paralyzed, she held her breath until they all turned to face the altar when she let it out in a whoosh of relief. She was grateful not to have been in the middle of a song, when she first recognized them. She took a deep breath, thankful to have time to prepare herself.
It took several more deep breaths to remind herself that she was being foolish. She hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. He had been the rude one. She quickly glanced at the program to put a name to the face—Quinton—and Virgil. She tried to remember their brief conversation but her mind wasn’t working. What she did remember was Virgil asking Quint to put the tire in the trunk.
Twenty minutes into the ceremony Nicole and Hunter prepared to light the unity candle and it was time for Jamie’s first song. She stood at the edge of the balcony, breathing deeply. It wasn’t singing in a crowd that had her shaking. It was knowing that Quinton Douglas’ arresting blue eyes would zero in on her the second she opened her mouth.
Sarah had moved to the piano and Jamie waited for her to go through the opening notes. With her eyes carefully focused on the stained glass windows behind the altar, Jamie began singing My Secret Love with the words altered to tell Nicole and Hunter’s story.
When her clear strong voice filled the church, heads swiveled to see where the sound came from. Only the bridal party had a direct view.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Virgil nudge Quinton’s elbow.
When the song finished, the piano ceased playing, and a hush fell over the guests.
Jamie dropped her gaze to Nicole, anxious to see her dearest friend’s reaction to the words. Nicole’s smile said it all. Their eyes met and in those few seconds all the sweet memories they’d shared as college friends brought them together as though time had stood still. It was the only time in her young life Jamie had gotten out from under her father’s control. If it hadn’t been for T-Roy’s insistence, she’d never have gone back home.
Jamie wished she had a cold compress to cool her face. Though she had managed not to look down at him, she could feel the heat of his gaze. It was now safe to stare at the back of his head and wonder about his thoughts. Certainly he had to be as surprised as she was. Was there any way she could avoid seeing him again? She seriously doubted it. She could only hope he was annoyed enough with her that he would do the avoiding.
She didn’t understand her reaction to Quinton Douglas. Why wasn’t she attracted to Virgil instead? He was the nice one, and better looking by far. Virgil had distinguished, GQ, good looks while Quint belonged on the cover of an outdoor magazine with a fishing rod in his hand.
Jamie gave herself a swift talking to. What did it matter? Her lifestyle didn’t allow for a man not involved in racing. Her father had made the mistake of marrying a woman who couldn’t accept his work. Not that Jamie was that much in love with racing. It was just all she knew—and the only possible way to get Buster LeCorre’s attention.
The speaking of the vows drew Jamie from her thoughts. Nicole and Hunter were promising themselves to each other for life. Minutes later they were husband and wife. Then Hunter pulled Nicole into his arms and they shared a kiss that sent tingles racing from Jamie’s garlanded head down to her silk-slippered toes. The other guests must have had a similar reaction because, when he finally released his bride, a resounding cheer rang out.
Jamie stood up. It was time for her second song.
Sarah hit the monotone key starting The Rose. As before, Jamie trained her eyes on a constant that wouldn’t get
her in trouble. This time it was Nicole’s grandmother’s peculiar, but interesting, hat.
It worked—until the last lines, when her eyes were suddenly and unwittingly drawn to the one person she had hoped to avoid. His blue gaze locked on her with hot intensity. When the song ended Jamie tore her eyes away and collapsed into her chair. Heat seared through her like a merciless flame. She was quite certain the flush in her face had nothing to do with embarrassment.
When the organist played the recessional march the church cleared with amazing speed. Jamie felt numb. Now what?
Nicole would expect Jamie to come out the front door to go through the receiving line. It would be horribly rude not to. Besides, why should she allow a silly encounter with Hunter’s cousin to rule her actions and emotions? The thought was ridiculous. She was Jamie LeCorre, NASCAR driver, competing successfully in one of the most dangerous, male-dominated, professions in the country. She routinely faced racing with steadfast nerve. She would not allow this man, this particular man, to intimidate her.
Jamie grabbed her crutches and made her way down the stairs. The last of the people were filing out by the time she hobbled to the front door. Nicole was waiting for her.
The women embraced in a tearful reunion. Nicole thanked Jamie for the songs before turning to introduce her to Hunter.
“Hunter, this is my dearest, oldest friend, Jamie, Jamie meet my wonderful husband, Hunter.”
Hunter bowed at the waist, took Jamie’s hand, and pressed it to his lips. “Lady Jamie, you are as lovely as your voice. Thank you for sharing it with us on this special day.”
Jamie, not one to giggle, did just that. Then she sank into a deep curtsy, as deep as her crutches would allow. When she tried to straighten back up she would have toppled over if not for swift hands catching her from behind.
Someone announced that the horse-drawn, liveried carriages were ready to take the wedding party to the park reception.
Secret Sacrifices Page 2