“Hey, Nathaniel. Where are you?”
“Just touching down in your backyard.”
“You better not be blowing my tent over.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “Relax. We’re on the other side of the garage. You know you’ve got news crews circling, right?”
“They can circle all they want. We’re going to the Cavendish Club tonight.”
“Exactly. Still, I’m glad I’m not trying to get in your driveway.”
“Did you happen to see a white cube van back there?”
“It’s stuck behind a couple of semis and about a dozen limos.”
“Good God. That’s Philippe’s tenderloin. I gotta get somebody out there to direct traffic.”
“See you in a minute,” said Nathaniel, signing off.
“Mrs. Nash,” Alex called.
Emma plugged one ear and moved into an alcove.
Alex strode down the hallway and nearly ran into Katie.
“Can you please help me get her into the bath?” Katie pleaded.
“She’s on the phone. Have you seen Mrs. Nash?” He continued toward the kitchen.
Katie scurried behind him. “I know she’s on the phone. That’s the problem.”
“Well, I can’t get her off. I have to rescue—”
The kitchen was a maelstrom of activity. That was the only way to describe it. A dozen cooks vied for space on the counter-tops. Two more were working over the stove. A cleanup crew was elbows deep in the sinks. And Mrs. Nash’s voice rose clearly above the din as she spoke to a young man with a perpetually bobbing head.
“One hundred tables,” she said. “The order was for white cloths with the royal blue skirting. And I don’t want a single wrinkle. If you can’t guarantee—”
“Never mind,” Alex muttered to himself, doing an about-face.
“Alex,” said Katie. “The hairdresser will be here in less than an hour.”
Alex shook his head as he paced back down the hallway.
In the foyer, he picked the phone out of Emma’s hand.
“Hey!”
“You, in the tub, now,” he ordered, snapping it shut.
“Alex,” she protested, grabbing for the phone.
“Save it. I’ve got four hundred pounds of tenderloin to rescue.” He swung open the big oak door.
“Hey, cousin,” sang Nathaniel.
“Point me to the cube van.”
Nathaniel ignored him and elbowed his way in. “This must be Emma,” he cooed, taking Katie by both hands.
“I’m Katie,” she corrected, tugging her hands away and closing the neckline of her robe.
“Ahhh,” said Nathaniel, hitting Alex with a sidelong look.
“What ahhh?” asked Katie, eyes narrowing.
“I’m Emma,” said Emma, stepping forward to hold out her hand. “Alex has told me nothing but good things about you.”
Nathaniel took Emma’s hand with great fanfare and bestowed a kiss on her knuckles. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined. And a most charming liar.”
“What ahhh?” Katie repeated.
Nathaniel gave her a sharp look. “Wait your turn.”
“Excuse me?” she said.
Nathaniel ignored her, clinging to Emma’s hand.
“Would you do something for me?” Emma asked him sweetly.
“For you, anything.”
“Make Alex give me back my phone.”
Alex grasped her shoulders, turning her toward the staircase. “Bath.”
Then he turned to his cousin. “And you, keep your hands off my bride.”
“She’s stunning,” said Nathaniel with an exaggerated sigh, then he deigned to gaze down at Katie.
Katie stared back with a clenched jaw.
“Ahhh means I’ve heard about you, too,” he said.
She was about to ask what he’d heard. Alex could see it in her eyes. But, to her credit, and to what had to be Nathaniel’s disappointment, she didn’t take the bait. She kept completely silent.
Head held high, she turned to link arms with Emma, and the women headed up the stairs.
“You’re losing your touch, cousin,” said Alex.
Nathaniel straightened his tie. “We already know she has terrible taste in men.”
Alex slapped him on the back. “You cling to that thought. And help me get the damn tenderloin into the house.”
After the wedding rehearsal and the dinner at Cavendish, Alex leaned on the railing of his veranda. It was after midnight, and the mansion was mostly dark. But the yard lights were on, and a few clouds teased a faraway moon.
“Not too late to back out,” said Nathaniel, approaching with a crystal tumbler of single malt in each hand.
“I’m not backing out,” said Alex. Worst case scenario, he’d make millions of dollars. Best case…He accepted the drink from Nathaniel and took a long swallow.
Best case, Emma decided to give them a real chance.
He’d given it a lot of thought over the past week, and there was something going on between them. It went past business, even past friendship, and he intended to use the honeymoon to figure out exactly what it was.
“The sister’s prettier,” said Nathaniel.
Alex straightened and shot his cousin a warning glare. “Excuse me?”
Nathaniel chuckled low.
“Emma happens to be gorgeous.”
“Do you happen to be falling for your bride?”
“I’m simply pointing out the obvious.”
“That she’s gorgeous?”
“She is.” Anyone could see that.
“And Katie’s a pale second?”
Alex took another swig.
Had he once called Katie the pretty one? Because Katie couldn’t hold a candle to Emma. Emma was one of those rare women who got prettier as you got to know her. She had a stunning smile, eyes that glowed when she was happy and sparkled when she laughed. She had an inner radiance that nobody could fake.
“Katie’s a pale second,” he agreed.
Nathaniel sobered, and his jaw went tight. “You do remember she has an ulterior motive, right?”
“Katie?”
“Emma.”
“I’m fully aware of all Emma’s motives.” She was doing exactly what she’d promised. The woman didn’t have a scheming bone in her body.
“Al—”
“Back off, Nate.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well stop saying it. My wife is not plotting against us.”
“Everybody’s plotting against us.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“She’s marrying you for your money.”
“Because I forced her to.”
“Just keep your guard up.”
“Just mind your own damn business.”
Nathaniel shook his head. Then his mouth curved into a knowing smile.
“What?” Alex asked.
“It’s ironic,” said Nathaniel.
Alex waited.
“That you fell for her.”
“I did not.” Alex snapped his jaw shut.
Okay. No point in disagreeing. He had fallen for Emma. But it hadn’t clouded his judgment. For the first time in his life, his judgment was clear.
He was marrying Emma in the morning, and it was absolutely the right thing to do.
Emma told herself over and over that this wasn’t a real wedding. But somehow it didn’t ease the pain of her father’s absence. Marriage of convenience or not, he should have been here to hold her hand, to escort her down the aisle, to tell her everything was going to be all right when, deep down in her soul, Emma feared it would never be all right again.
The weather had cooperated. So, under the glare of a brilliant blue sky, the gazebo band struck up the traditional version of the “Wedding March.” Mrs. Nash’s choice, no doubt.
That was Katie’s cue to start down the long strip of royal blue carpet that bisected seven hundred white folding chairs filled with smiling friends, relatives and business associates. Lil
ac ribbons streamed from the floral pew ends, fluttering in the breeze while Emma kept her attention fixed on Katie’s purple dress.
Proving Alex lived in a whole other world, Mrs. Nash had hired a team of seamstresses to design and sew Katie’s dress in less than a week. The same nineteen-twenties style as Emma’s, it was shorter and simpler, and perfectly suited to Katie’s slender shape.
They’d both opted for upswept hairstyles. To match the color of her dress, Katie’s had a light sprinkling of irises at the back, while Emma had had a pinned French twist and the antique diamond tiara to match her cream-colored vintage gown. A veil seemed excessive, so she’d left her head bare.
Katie passed the midpoint of the long aisle, Emma’s cue to start walking. She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. She couldn’t bring herself to meet anyone’s eyes, and she sure didn’t want to look at Alex, so she fixed her gaze on the rose-covered arbor.
Everything else faded to her soft vision, and she told herself her father would be proud. At least, she hoped he would be proud. She’d give anything to have him here to tell her one way or the other.
By the time she made it to the front, her eyes were misty with memories and regrets. Striking in his tux, Alex took her hands in his and stared at her quizzically while the preacher welcomed the congregation.
His eyes narrowed in a question, and she shook her head and forced a smile. She was fine. She would get this over with, and her life would get back to normal. Well, almost normal.
He gave her a smile in return and a reassuring little squeeze. Then the preacher addressed the two of them, talking at length on the solemnity of marriage and their obligations to each other as lifelong partners.
Emma grew more uncomfortable by the second. Was Alex listening to this? Had he known it was coming? Could they not cut to the “I dos” and get out?
Finally, the preacher started on the vows. Emma almost breathed a sigh of relief. But then her gaze caught Alex’s, and his deep voice seemed to penetrate her very skin. She felt a tingle envelope her as he promised to love her and honor her.
It wasn’t real. She’d repeated that to herself over and over again. But when she whispered her own vows, something shifted inside her. And when he slipped the antique wedding band on her finger, she felt the weight of a dozen generations on her shoulders. For better or worse, she was now a Garrison bride.
The preacher pronounced them husband and wife, the crowd erupted in a spontaneous cheer, and Alex leaned down to kiss her.
“For the record,” he whispered as his palms cupped her face and lips grew close. “I did marry the pretty one.”
Then his tender kiss exploded between them. He pulled back, far too soon. For a moment, and only for a moment, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, feeling the strength of his arms and the power of his heartbeat, she let herself believe. But then she heard the helicopters in the distance and realized it was all for the benefit of the telephoto lenses.
Alex was grinning happily at her. He planted one more kiss on her forehead before taking her hand for the recessional. The band struck up, and the standing crowd congratulated them all the way down the aisle.
Back on the veranda, Katie gave her a quick hug and kiss, then they assembled into a receiving line to greet ambassadors, celebrities and captains of industry.
“You did great,” said Alex nearly two hours later as they made their way across the lawn. The sky had turned a glorious pink. The champagne was flowing, and succulent smells were beginning to waft from the tent.
“I want to jump up on the nearest table and confess to them all,” said Emma. The deeper they went into their deception, the guiltier she felt.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” said Alex.
“Afraid I’d tarnish the Garrison name?”
He smirked. “Afraid you’d convince six hundred people you were a lunatic. I’d be forced to tell them you were merely drunk. It could get ugly.”
“I didn’t drink a thing.”
“You mean I’d be, gasp, lying?”
“Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?”
“At the moment, I feel…as if it’s none of their damn business.”
“You invited them to our wedding.”
“To eat Beef Wellington, not to pass judgment on my life.”
“They’re your friends and family.”
“You’re my family now.”
His words made her chest ache. “Don’t say that.”
In response, he took her hand and kissed each of the knuckles.
“Alex, don’t.” His playacting made her want things she couldn’t have, things they could never have together.
“Emma. It’s you and me now. And we’ll make whatever damn decisions we want.”
If only. But they weren’t living in a vacuum. “What about Katie? And Ryan? And Nathaniel.”
He sighed. “Are you always going to be this contrary?”
“My contrariness is a surprise to you?”
Before he could answer, Mrs. Nash bustled from the crowd, and he muttered in Emma’s ear. “Knew I should have put obey in the vows.”
“There you are.” Mrs. Nash swiftly plucked some imaginary lint from the bodice of Emma’s dress. Then she straightened Alex’s tie. “They need you two at the head table.”
“Nathaniel’s written a great toast,” said Alex.
Emma’s stomach sank. She didn’t think she could take any more benevolent smiles and heartfelt well wishes. “Surely you told him the truth.”
“I haven’t told him a thing.”
“So his toast will be sincere?”
“He’s going to call me lucky, and you gracious and beautiful.”
The words, “I did marry the pretty one,” suddenly rushed back into Emma’s brain. What could Alex have meant by that?
Katie was stunningly gorgeous tonight. Even though she was on David’s arm, half the men in the yard were staring openly at her, including Nathaniel, who looked annoyed about something.
“You are beautiful,” Alex continued in a gentle voice. “And I am lucky. Focus on the truth, Emma.”
It wasn’t as simple as that. “Yet all those so-called truths are couched in one very big lie.”
Had Nathaniel guessed what they’d done? Was that the reason for the scowl on his face?
“The head table,” prompted Mrs. Nash.
“You have a half-empty attitude,” Alex said to Emma.
“And you have flexible ethics.”
“Emma, Emma.” He put his hands on her shoulders, slowly guiding her toward the giant open-air tent. “Don’t fail me now.”
The speeches were over. The cake was cut. The Beef Wellington had been magnificent. And Emma was still holding up.
As the conductor cued up the first waltz, Alex counted his blessings and pulled her into his arms.
“Home stretch,” he whispered, as much to have an excuse to lean in close as to reassure her. She knew her only remaining duty was to throw the bouquet.
To his delight, she almost immediately softened against him, matching his step to “Color My World.” He’d chosen it because it was short. But it also seemed appropriate. He might not be in love with Emma, but she’d brought more life to his cavernous old house than he’d seen in years. He couldn’t help but think his father would gripe about the noise. He also knew his mother would be pleased.
Vaguely aware of the oohs and ahhs of the crowd around them, he was infinitely more aware of the soft, sensual woman, pliant in his arms. Her guard was down, he imagined from exhaustion, but he wasn’t going to dwell on the reason.
He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Yeah, it would look good in the pictures. But, honestly, he felt like doing it. She’d been terrific today. In the receiving line, he’d been impressed with her graciousness all over again.
Maybe they could host some kind of Garrison-McKinley companies social function. Ryan would certainly be thrilled with the personal touch.
“We staying here tonight?” Emma asked, fatigue evident in her voice.
He shook his head. “Chuck will fly us to the airport.”
A genuine laugh left her lips. “A helicopter ride from your backyard to the roof to the airport?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. I’m not going to complain about that.”
“You’re not?”
She shook her head against his chest. “Not tonight. You can go ahead and spoil me to death.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You got it.”
The song ended, and a new one started up immediately. Emma would be relieved to have Nathaniel and Katie join them on the dance floor.
Alex caught sight of David scowling in the crowd. It was mean-spirited, but he was glad Nathaniel was making the man think. Taking a cushy job at his girlfriend’s company? That was just tacky.
Nathaniel danced up beside them. “May I?” He nodded to Emma.
Alex’s arms automatically tightened around her. No. He didn’t want to stop dancing with Emma. And he didn’t want lady-killer Nathaniel holding her close.
He felt a sudden pang of empathy for David.
“Certainly,” he said smoothly, smiling at his cousin and forcing his arms to release her.
Then he turned to Katie to complete the switch.
“Great party,” she told him, doing a hop step to catch up to his rhythm.
“Thanks.”
“Think you’d be willing to host your sister-in-law’s wedding?”
“My who?”
She tipped her chin to look up at him. “Me, of course.”
“Oh.”
“Think about it?”
“Sure.”
They danced a few more steps. “So what’s the story with your British cousin?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s very nosy.”
“Is he asking about Emma?”
Was Nathaniel yanking his chain? Or did he still think Emma was a threat? And why was her smile so bright?
“Is that jealousy?” teased Katie.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Alex dragged his attention away from Emma.
Nathaniel wouldn’t flirt with his bride. Or would he? Had he come up with some bizarre plan to prove she was opportunistic?
He glanced at them again.
“You’re as bad as she is,” said Katie, digging her elbow into his ribs.
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