Wedding Roulette

by Leandra Logan

  How he would feel about her as a lover, a life partner, she didn’t want to even think about.

  “Bob Freeman,” Michael repeated in disbelief.

  Rachel turned snappy eyes to Michael. “I didn’t cheat on him with Gerald, if that’s what you’re implying!”

  “It didn’t occur—”

  “Harmless flirtation is all it was. A lady likes to be hit on even if she has a boyfriend. It’s the thrill of the chase. The rousing male scent.” She breathed deep, as if stocking up on male scent.

  “Freeman sure never had an impartial view of my complaint to the newspaper, did he?”

  “Quit thinking so hard,” Beverly advised. “Foolish exercise when you’re getting what you want.”

  “You should be the last to whine, master chef,” Rachel crowed in support of her sister. “Beverly’s actually prepared to sleep with this Gerald character if necessary.”

  “Not on account of me, she won’t! Gerald and I have our own understanding.”

  “Of course you do,” Krista said hastily, flashing a warning look to the pair of rowdy hens. “Enough said.”

  Rachel sniffed. “Just the same, you could show a little gratitude for all our kindnesses.”

  Michael flung himself back on the car seat in defeat.

  KRISTA EXPECTED SOME FIREWORKS once they retreated to their suite. Securing the chain on the door, she turned to find Michael stoically staring out the window. She mustered the nerve to ask him how he was feeling. It was like lighting the fuse on a stick of dynamite.

  “Those women are trying to drive me insane, you know!”

  “They don’t know you well enough yet to try that.”

  “It’s true, I tell you.” He paced around, arms flying. “Beverly and Rachel are here to conduct some weird experiment on an innocent male. Realizing I’d be cornered in a tight jam by our charade, they closed in for the kill.”

  “Oh, Michael.”

  “First order of torture, find me in the masses. Second order, cozy up to my boss. Third order, wiggle into contest kitchen to bake cake for boss, a cake they neither recall or care about.” He raised a finger as she prepared to speak. “Fourth on the list, storm boss man’s house, force me to finally finish their aborted cake mission under the worst imaginable conditions.”

  “The cake turned out beautifully, thanks to your talents.”

  “Wish you had been there for the talent show. That pouty, difficult pair screwed up every task I tried to give them—even argued about the pronunciation of alum.”

  “I don’t remember that being in the recipe.”

  “Rachel was going through the spice rack and pulled out the jar because the contents were white. After all, any white powder belongs in a cake mix, right?

  “I suggested she take a sniff, and she ended up dumping half the jar all over the place.” He marched over to pull his shirt away from his chest and give her a whiff. “Does that smell like something for a cake?”

  “No?”

  “It’s used to pickle things.” He smiled dangerously, leaving her to wonder what he’d like to pickle, given the chance.

  “You’d think they’d be battle fatigued by now,” he raved on. “But no, there’s the clash in the car. Suddenly Beverly’s seducing Gerald. Rachel’s in cahoots with Bob Freeman.”

  “Why should either relationship matter to you?” she soothed.

  “I don’t know that they do. It’s just the element of surprise, the unlikely connections, the dabs of glue bonding your aunts to my backside.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I’m used to being in control of my world, of forging clear-cut relationships. But the higher I climb on your family tree, the more disoriented I feel. All the Mattson branches are entangled with one another. You and me. You and your aunts. My secrets and your aunts. Your aunts and your boss. Your aunts and my boss. So many women doing so many things. To me!”

  “I am right in assuming you’ve never dealt with more than one woman at time, much less three from one family?”

  He nodded. “Is it always this hectic?”

  She bit her lip, gave him a hesitant nod.

  “I don’t like all this confusion, Krista. Don’t like it at all.”

  “We’ll sort everything out. After the contest,” she added emphatically. “That’s where your head should be now, on tomorrow’s strategy.”

  “I can only hope to think straight enough to pull it off!” He raked a hand through his blond hair. “This is exactly why I stick to business all the time. Personal hassles only drag me down.”

  Despite any blame she might feel, Krista was beginning to get irritated. She had fought her reserved nature to bond with this man she’d known for such a short while. Even if she hadn’t completely revealed herself to him, she had opened up her heart wide. Now all she heard was him backing off.

  “It must be possible to run a successful business and have a relationship at the same time,” she reasoned. “Gerald managed well for a thirty-year stretch and is at it again. I bet he isn’t making the fatal mistake of analyzing every single angle he doesn’t completely understand.”

  “Maybe Gerald’s wearing rose-tinted glasses because he’s lonely. Too lonely for his own good. I say he’s better off on his own.”

  Tough words meant to drive her off. With a man less special, her pride would have driven her to her room by now with a slam of the door. But surprisingly, she held tight to a wiser perspective. The pressure of the evening had most likely put in place all the barriers Michael had originally built during his troubled upbringing. He was on the defensive and feeling isolated.

  Krista knew full well that it was up to the person with the happy childhood to be the one to yield.

  “Rose-tinted glasses are very popular with lovers, Michael,” she said gently. “It helps smooth out the flaws we all have to make love possible. And if anybody around here is too lonely for his own good, it is you.” Impulsively, she cupped her hands to his face, stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  “But, Krista—”

  “You think too much.” She deepened her kiss.

  He groaned in yearning as her tongue explored his. Soon her hands were tearing at his clothes and he was a goner.

  Thanks to fevered lovemaking, Michael slept well until dawn. They’d ended up in his bed, so it was his alarm clock that buzzed on the nightstand. He shut it off and rolled back on the mattress to find that Krista was gone. Probably best, as her presence under the sheets was an irresistible temptation. He rose, quickly showered, shaved and dressed. Then he moved into the living space to order lots of coffee from room service.

  Krista was way ahead of him, already dressed in her red polo shirt and dark slacks, transferring breakfast goodies from a room service trolley to the table.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  She whirled around with joy, her long black hair a shiny banner on her shoulders. “Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever rise and shine. Thought I was going to have to come in there and shake you.”

  “That probably would’ve put us both back in bed.”

  She smiled like a contented kitten. “Come, have something to eat.”

  He joined her at the table, allowing her to fix his coffee the way he liked, with a dash of cream.

  “Maybe this isn’t the time to start a real discussion again about our affairs, Krista—”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said brightly. “Not on Michael Collins day. Today is the culmination of everything you have worked for. Nothing should intrude.”

  He covered her hand on the table. “Just want to say…”

  “That you never should’ve blown up last night?”

  “No!” He snatched his hand back. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  She shrugged and began to butter a slice of toast. “Told you this wasn’t a good time for talk.”

  He tore the bread away from her mouth. “But I want to talk. Need to talk.” He dropped the toast on her plate. “I’ve been thinking about some of the things yo
u said last night, especially that I think too much. I’m sure I do. But I sense that you do, too. On one hand there is this wild Simona streak in you, but it only goes so far. When challenges fall in your path you get serious, react like a seasoned operator. I feel you react like me.” He shook his head. “I find your signals very confusing.”

  “You aren’t far off the mark with your assessment of me. There are a lot of things we’ll need to sort out. When we have the time.”

  “But you must realize that we can’t always interrupt discussions with sex,” he objected. “We’ll never completely connect if we do.”

  She traced a finger along his jawline, more delighted than ever. “We’ll make it all happen. And soon.”

  “Just not today?”

  “Just not today.”

  THE KITCHEN’S ATMOSPHERE was humming with tension on this, the third and final round. As Krista stood in line at the ingredients booth with her number seven card, she noted that there was very little chitchat between fellow contestants. Everyone was going through the motions with care and efficiency.

  After she set her card on the counter, she turned to discover Beth in another line. She couldn’t help pausing to say hello.

  “Hi, Krista.” She tucked some stray red curls behind her ear. “Tell Michael I’m sorry about the briefcase mixup yesterday. I was so anxious to escape that party that I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Could have happened to anyone,” Krista assured.

  “Also tell him I intend to tease the daylights out of him once he’s desperate for some private time with you!”

  Krista laughed. “I will tell him. Promise!”

  When she returned to their station, Michael was setting out his utensils and pans on the counter. “Any problems?”

  She touched his back. “Nope.”

  “Took you a while.”

  “I was speaking to Beth. Wants you to know you’re in for some heavy teasing once you’re looking for a romantic escape from the realities of parenthood.”

  He chuckled. “Unfortunately for Beth and Randy, I am too clever to get caught with my…briefcase open.”

  She gave his rear end a smack. “You are the wise one today, aren’t ya.”

  The sound of voices startled them. They turned around in unison to find Jonathan Smithers at their station, flanked by two security guards.

  Michael placed his hands on hips, facing them down. “What’s all this about?”

  Smithers’s face gleamed with ill-concealed triumph. “Pack up your toys, Collins.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are disqualified from this contest. Now take up your possessions and leave this area immediately.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What’s this all about?” Michael demanded. He and Krista had been cooling their heels for nearly an hour in a small room off the kitchen, used as a command post for the contest. Finally, Jonathan Smithers had chosen to make an appearance.

  “You know what it is about.” The dapper man simmered with self-righteous triumph.

  “It’s about our challenging you at the workshop, isn’t it,” Krista surmised.

  “Ms. Mattson, you and your partner here have breached contest rules. That means an automatic dismissal from the kitchen site.”

  “That’s bull,” Michael raged.

  “I don’t like either of you, it’s true. But I cannot punish everyone I don’t like. Would be highly impractical. As things stand, I would have been forced to act, no matter who the entrant. That the entrant happens to be you two, well, it doesn’t break my heart.”

  “You can’t hope to get away with this, Smithers.”

  “I am only enforcing the rules. Your credibility has been questioned and I had no choice but to yank you from the lineup.”

  Michael clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap. “Start explaining, Jonathan, before I explode.”

  Smithers glanced back at the security guard near the door. “I wouldn’t advise any theatrics—”

  “Explain, dammit!”

  “Very well.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jonathan Smithers extracted a folded sheet of paper. “This is only a photocopy. The original is in the hotel safe.”

  Michael snatched the paper from him. On it was the recipe faxed through the hotel to Krista. He waved it as if it were litter. “This is nothing!”

  “It is a breach of contest rules. The rules state that no premixed ingredients may be used in the preparation of said entry. The use of Readiquick is strictly out. And, may I say, a pedestrian choice of ingredient.”

  “I didn’t use Readiquick, you fool! This is not my entry!”

  “I understand that it is.”

  Michael stared at Krista, then back at Smithers. “Who made this accusation?”

  “It was made in confidence.”

  “I bet it was. You know why Gerald is a class act? Because he would’ve checked the validity of such a claim before taking action.”

  “Unfortunately for you, Gerald leaves a lot of things to me, including this morning’s bake-off.”

  “Surely we can reach him and settle this matter in time for me to proceed. I could still get my doughnuts made with my recipe. In fact, Smithers, you could watch our every move. That would prove everything was on the up-and-up.”

  “I’m too narrow-minded and negative to help employees,” he said. “Remember?”

  “Where is he?” Michael demanded.

  “I believe he took some lady friend on a drive out to Mount Charleston.”

  “Some lady, huh?” Krista peeped.

  “Oh my God.” Michael turned to Krista with a look hot enough to incinerate.

  They returned to their hotel room. On the faint hope that the lady in question wasn’t Beverly, Krista went into her bedroom to call her aunts’ suite. Rachel was there, by herself. It seemed that Beverly was indeed off with Gerald today. No, her aunt had no clue as to when they would return. But it would be before noon, as it was such a big day for Gerald’s company.

  She returned to the living area to find Michael pacing the living space.

  “Michael—”

  “I can’t believe this has happened!”

  “I’m afraid it is Beverly with whom Gerald—”

  “No doubt about it! Would have to be one of the Mattson gang, and she’s the logical choice.”

  “I put Rachel on alert. The minute she hears from Beverly, she will relay the problem.”

  “Goodie.”

  Krista wrung her hands fretfully. “Have you considered who might have betrayed you this way? Maybe if we confronted this person, he or she could speak to Smithers—”

  “That would do no good. The fax is all too real. Even I must admit that on the surface the evidence looks bad. It appears that I may have cheated. With that miracle food, Readiquick. Face it, the damage is done.”

  “Perhaps Rachel could explain to Smithers.”

  “Krista, only Gerald can fix this mess. He knows about the coffee cake recipe, knows it is separate from my recipe.”

  “Maybe he’ll return in time.”

  “He won’t.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “You should be! This is all your fault.”

  She was astounded at his charge. “What about the lousy traitor who turned you in? Who slipped my napkin to Gerald? Odds are it’s the same person, a Norquist or a Larkin. This person is the one who has done the damage.”

  “You don’t have to rub in the fact that someone I care for betrayed me. I get it. Loud and clear. That person gave in to the pressure of the contest. But as I see it, Krista, it’s pressure that wouldn’t have existed without you.”

  “What?”

  “All my troubles stem from my association with you. The napkin wouldn’t have existed without you. The fax with that awful recipe wouldn’t have existed without you.” He slapped his forehead. “I don’t know what came over me, allowing a two-bit advice slinger to seduce me into this kind of web.”

  “Hey, you
came to Simona, remember? Simona to the rescue. You were so grateful.”

  “If you recall, I originally came for a retraction to win my fiancée back, not a benchwarmer to take her place.”

  “But we’ve decided she was all wrong for you.”

  “Well, maybe so. But if not for your column, she and I could have coasted through this convention without a fumble. All I wanted to do, Krista, was make the best damn doughnut possible for the contest. Just try to imagine this contest, without you and your aunts’ interference.”

  “You’ve got to believe I’ve had the best intentions. Helped in every conceivable way,” she said in her defense.

  He expelled a breath. “Okay, I admit you tried on some levels—”

  “Some levels? I bonded with your friends, was charming to Gerald, made your dream my own!”

  “It might have worked if you had kept one crucial promise—if you had sent your aunts home when I asked you to. But I suppose that would have been the boring way out, as it was my convention that was providing their headline entertainment!”

  Krista was quaking with anger as she held up a shaky palm. “I can’t believe how naive a normally intelligent man can be. But you are standing here, the living proof. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, I hoped you could go on believing in your charm, your magnetism, your need for a fiancée in the first place.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s about time you know the truth about my aunts, Michael. I did intend to send them away when you asked. Hey, I didn’t want them hanging around, either. They are pests who never know when to back off.”

  “Don’t tell me your love for them stopped—”

  “I assure you I love them. But it was not a question of my affection. It was Gerald Stewart.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I was giving them the heave-ho with some success when Gerald spotted us in the lobby.”

  “I remember. He invited us to dinner.”