In white shorts, white polo shirt, white sport socks and shoes, and with a handsome smile that revealed even, white teeth beneath his clipped-to-quarter-inch-perfection Don Juan mustache, Sonny Harris looked like an ad for a sporting goods store. In a glance, he took in the gathering in the foyer and moved forward to join them.
Realizing that he hadn’t noticed her poised halfway up the stairs, Gentry stooped behind the bannister rail. If he saw her in her wedding gown, Sonny would probably call off the wedding. He believed in all the superstitions surrounding matrimony…something old, new, borrowed and blue, a penny in each shoe, no communication between the bride and groom before the ceremony, and absolutely no glimpse of the bride in her wedding gown until she started down the aisle. Considering what had happened the last time they’d planned a wedding, she supposed it wasn’t so extraordinary that this time he wasn’t taking any chances. So she crouched uncomfortably on the stairs while her dress crept up her thighs.
“I bet you’re all wondering why I called this meeting.” Sonny’s teasing remark went unnoticed by the group in the foyer. Even his presence only warranted a vague nod from Pop. Hillary and Sydney ignored him completely in favor of a closer examination of the infamous magic gown. Heather smiled politely, but Jake—damn his mischievous hide—greeted Sonny with a hearty “Hello, Harris. How have you been?”
Sonny’s eyes narrowed, his jaw went slack, and his good humor faded into incredulity. “Daniels?” His voice cracked on the word like an adolescent boy’s. “What are you doing here?”
“Social call,” Jake replied amiably. “I was in the neighborhood and—”
“Well, you’re on your way out of this neighborhood right now. I’ll show you the door.”
“Excuse me, Sonny, but the last time I checked this was my house, and if I want Jake to leave, I’ll show him the door.” Pop sounded all the more intimidating simply because he didn’t raise his voice. “As it happens, he’s agreed to stay with us until after the wedding.”
Sonny looked properly appalled. “But he…he’s…”
“Welcome to stay as long as he likes.” Pop supplied the words Sonny wasn’t searching for. “Don’t worry, you won’t even know he’s around.”
Sonny clenched his hands at his sides. “Wait until Gentry finds out he’s here.”
“Oh, she knows,” Hillary said pleasantly.
“Yes,” Sydney backed her up. “In fact, she was here just a minute ago.”
“I’m sure she left rather than stay in the same room with her ex-husband.”
“But he isn’t her ex-husband,” Heather explained. “They were never married.”
“What?” Pop’s voice went up like a rocket. “Who says they weren’t married?”
“G-Gentry.” Heather’s answer wobbled a little in the wake of Pop’s questioning. “She told us that Jake can’t be called her ex-husband because the marriage was annulled. It never even existed.”
“Oh.” The thought seemed to please Sonny. “That’s true, I suppose. An annulment wipes out any record, and if there’s no record…”
“There’s no ex-husband or wife. Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Jake’s amused gaze found Gentry, huddled by the bannister. “And since we were never married, I can be called a friend of the family and that clears the way for me to accept your hospitality. Thanks, Charlie. I’d love to stay, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“Of course it isn’t. And Frannie will be so pleased to—Get your schnoz away from that, Cleo!” Pop reached down and pulled the Labrador’s muzzle out of the folds of ivory satin and pushed her away. “Go on. Get out of here.” He looked at Jake. “You don’t mind sharing the guest quarters with Cleo, do you? Frannie won’t let her sleep in the house.”
“I’ll be glad for the company,” Jake replied, his laughing eyes seeking Gentry’s once again. “I’ve never liked sleeping alone.”
Still crouched on the stairs, Gentry leaned her head against her hands, fighting the urge to wiggle uncomfortably as she tried to remain out of sight and still keep her butt covered…no small feat considering the creeping nature of the sequined dress. She must have made some revealing movement, however, because Cleo caught sight of her and bounded up the stairs, intent upon licking her ear. Gentry batted at the Labrador’s delighted greeting, which only seemed to encourage more adoration. She cupped one hand over her ear for protection and pushed Cleo away with her other hand.
A mistake, she realized, as she teetered precariously, lost her balance and tumbled from stair to stair while the sequined train wrapped her in a cocoon of netting. Cleo, excited by the turn of events, began barking like a lunatic and played leapfrog over Gentry as she bounced from one step to the next. Arms pinned at her sides by the train, she landed on the foyer floor, rolled a quarter turn, then rolled back.
Sonny, Pop, Hillary, Heather and Sydney scattered as if they thought she might keep rolling and knock them over like so many bowling pins. Cleo, apparently believing she’d won the game, straddled Gentry’s prone and sequined body to defend her prize against all comers, growling and barking at the onlookers who stood back uncertainly.
“I see you still like to make a dramatic entrance.” It was Jake’s voice she heard and his hand she saw, extending down, offering her quick, no-fault assistance. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you up.”
It was just like him to offer help when she was in no position to accept it. “I wouldn’t give you my hand if you were the only thing standing between me and a hundred-foot drop.”
“Strong words, considering I’m the only thing standing between Harris and a rather charming view of your breast.”
“You’re still a pervert, I see.”
He shrugged as his gaze traveled her neckline with a familiar leer. Her head came up off the floor in a split second, but her arms were trapped at her sides and she could only lift herself far enough to see that the single shoulder strap of the dress had slid down her shoulder, exposing more of her than could be considered “charming.”
“Don’t move,” she told him as she wiggled her shoulders in an effort to adjust the dress and get her hands free.
Pushing Cleo out of the way, Jake bent beside Gentry, still blocking the view. “If you keep that up, you’ll wiggle right out of your clothes. Be still and let me help you.” He scooped her up, set her on her feet and, with an artful brush of his hand, adjusted the drape of her neckline. His touch was a match to the flame of a thousand memories that swept through her with random disregard for where she was and who was present. It was just like Jake to remind her of the worst mistake of her life. Just like him to show up now, when he had no business showing up at all. She stepped away from him. Sonny approached, somewhat belatedly, and Jake looped the sequined train around and around her as if she were a maypole.
“You can let go of her now, Daniels,” Sonny said, his arm slipping protectively around her waist. “I’ll take care of her from here on in.”
Jake held up his hands, letting the ethereal cloud of netting billow downward. “You’re going to need a couple of full-time assistants,” he said. “Gentry needs a lot of taking care of.”
“Not that you would know anything about that.” Sonny narrowed his eyes, facing down his rival. “Gentry is the most independent, perfect woman I know.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” Sydney, always eager to stir up trouble, patted his arm. “I like Gen a lot, but I don’t think she’s worth fighting over.”
Sonny shook off her hand. “What’s the meaning of this, Gentry? What is he doing here?”
“Delivering a dress,” Hillary said.
“Ben asked him to bring it over. And the dog, too.” Heather’s brown eyes went from Pop to Jake to Gentry to Sonny. “It’s all completely innocent.”
“Innocent?” Sonny repeated. “Innocent? Ha! He’s about as innocent as that…that…” His frown turned to Gentry as he seemed to notice her dress for the first time. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
“I’m wearing the dress you had made for me,” she said to Sonny. “The dress you asked your friend to design. The dress you want me to wear for our wedding.”
Words seemed to fail Sonny as he assessed the dress’s faults. “You can’t wear that to the wedding. Especially not now that I’ve seen it. Besides, it isn’t at all appropriate.”
“I tried to tell her that, myself,” Hillary said.
“You and Hillary have a keen eye for fashion.” Sydney clamped both hands around Sonny’s arm. “I’ve always said so. Pop? I think our bridegroom could use one of your famous Charlie North Specials. Can you make us all a drink?”
“Quicker than you can say ‘down the hatch,’“ Pop answered with pride. “Head for the cabana and I’ll mix up a pitcher.”
“Sounds great.” Hillary looped her hands through Sonny’s other arm and dazzled him with her best attention-grabbing smile. “How was your golf game? You and I will have to play a round sometime. Maybe one day this week. I’m always looking for a partner.”
“I don’t drink alcohol,” Sonny protested as the two women drew him toward the terrace and a shot of Pop’s own concoction—a mixed drink that changed colors, but not content.
Pop touched Heather’s back, steering her toward the library, too. “Luckily for you, Sonny, this is one drink you won’t remember drinking, anyway.”
Like a cloud of dust, the bridesmaids swept through the library doors, leaving behind a dog, a dress and the only two people in the house who had no business being alone together.
Gentry looked at Jake, at the well-remembered smile in his eyes and on his lips, and she wanted, suddenly, to run into his arms as if the past two painful years had never happened, as if those years, like the marriage, could just be annulled, wiped out, forgotten and forgiven. But of course she couldn’t do that, didn’t know why the thought even occurred to her. So she stood there for a moment or two, while an endless line of questions trooped through her mind like soldiers marching to battle, knowing the question that overshadowed every other was the one she had too much pride to ask.
With a toss of her head, she scooped up the sequined train, turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs.
Chapter Three
Jake watched her retreat with an admiring eye and a knot of tension in his stomach. He’d known he would never completely recover from Gentry, but until he’d seen her draped over the upstairs bannister like a kid at Christmas, he hadn’t thought the sight of her could still make him weak in the knees.
This trip had been a mistake, despite Ben’s assurance that it was time to stop avoiding the entire Northcross clan because he didn’t want to associate with one particular family member.
Who did he think he was fooling, anyway? He was here because he wanted to see Gentry. Anyone with half an ounce of discernment would know that. Anyone except Gentry, that is. He’d missed her. Missed her chin-in-the-air tenacity, her laughter, her energy, her passion for living, her smile…her temper.
He was an idiot to think she might have changed, that she might have missed him, too. She’d left him. Walked out. Run back to Sonny Harris and the ivory pedestal he kept her on. Oh, yes, Jake thought, he was an idiot, all right.
But since he was here…
Picking up the box containing the first Gentry Elizabeth’s wedding dress, he beaded up the stairs. His Gentry’s bedroom was the second door on the left. He paused outside it, remembering the last time he’d stood here, so crazy in love he could hardly breathe. Taking a deep breath now, just as he had then, he shifted the box in his arms and knocked on the door.
“Sydney? Is that you?”
He meant to say no, to declare his presence with supreme indifference, but he accidentally bumped the door with the cardboard box and it swung open. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat and he couldn’t have said a word if the fate of the world depended on it.
Gentry stood in the center of the room…he recognized her despite the fact that she had pulled the dress over her head and was trapped—half in, half out. Her arms were raised and extended through the neck opening while she tried, without success, to get a grip on the clingy fabric. Strands of red-gold hair looped over the top to curl like question marks on the iridescent sequins.
His gaze dropped to the hemline, which scooped at her waist in front and scalloped to just below her hips in back. Her legs stretched from here to tomorrow, and he admired their shapely length with a voyeur’s pleasure. She would never forgive him for this, he thought. On the other hand, if he revealed his identity now, he’d never forgive himself.
“Don’t just stand there, Syd. I need a little assistance here.” Gentry struggled, but the stretchy fabric clung to her head and shoulders like spider’s silk.
Shifting the box again, Jake gave the door a push with the sole of his shoe…on the not-so-outside chance that this encounter would end with an explosion of one sort or another. It swung to within a fraction of closing as he set the cardboard container on the bed.
“I can’t get this silly thing off,” Gentry complained from inside the dress. “Sonny’s protégé didn’t put in a zipper or a button or any other kind of closure. He probably thought it would detract from the flow of the design or something. Why don’t you grab the bottom and I’ll see if I can wiggle free.”
A guy didn’t get an offer like that every day. Jake moved closer, willing to lend her a helping hand.
“This is all Jake’s fault, you know.”
Not yet it wasn’t.
“I can’t understand why he would show up unannounced just before the wedding. It’s obvious he hasn’t outgrown that fiendish sense of humor, but I thought a couple of years would have made some small increase in his maturity level.”
He admired her legs again as he looked for a handhold on the dress. If he so much as brushed a knuckle against her skin, she would realize he wasn’t Sydney, but if he could pinch just enough fabric between his finger and thumb…
“Ouch!” Gentry jerked. “Take it easy. I’m underneath here, you know.”
He was well aware of it as he surveyed the tight fit and looked for a propitious place to pinch.
“Ow!” She took a step away from his helpful fingers. “There has to be a better way to do this.”
That would depend upon which side of the dress one was on, of course.
“Sydney?” The voice from inside the sheath sounded downright suspicious and he tensed, sure he was about to be discovered. “Do you honestly believe Jake just happened to plan his vacation for this week?” Gentry asked. “And don’t you think it’s odd that he claims he didn’t even get a phone call from Ben letting him know he should postpone his trip?”
“I think it was damned inconsiderate of Ben to forget about me just because he was off on his honeymoon.” Grasping either side of the scalloped hem, Jake jerked the dress upward, pulling it inside out and off in a matter of seconds. Static electricity crackled and Gentry’s hair stood out around her face like a weird science experiment. The sparks in her eyes had nothing to do with experiments, however. She was startled, shocked and furious…in that order and in increasing degrees.
Jake told himself not to smile—it would be the worst thing he could do at this point. No doubt about it. “Gentry!” He tried to sound as shocked as she looked. “I didn’t know it was you inside this dress.”
A blue norther couldn’t have chilled the air more efficiently.
“What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.
“Helping you with your dress.”
The startled look returned as she became conscious of her state of undress, then narrowed temperamentally in the split second before she turned her back to him. She grabbed a nightshirt from the foot of the bed and pulled it on over her lingerie. When she faced him again, it was only natural that his attention would be drawn to the message printed across the front of her shirt. It read Real Art Won’t Match Your Sofa, and he smiled…despite his better judgment.
“What are you smiling at?” Her vo
ice pinned him like a tail on a paper donkey.
“Just admiring your nightshirt,” he said pleasantly. “Let me guess…Sonny had that designed for you to wear on your wedding night.”
Emerald anger flashed in her eyes. “What are you doing here, Jake? And don’t bother repeating that nonsensical story about being in the neighborhood.”
“I’m delivering a wedding gift, Liz.” He motioned toward the bed. “At your brother’s request.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I don’t believe you. Four simple words that carried their own history and hurt. And by employing them, Gentry had drawn the lines of a battle already fought and lost. His smile vanished as if it had never been. “Unlike some people, I take my promises seriously.”
The corners of her lips tightened. “That is a matter of opinion,” she said tightly. “I want you to leave.”
“Pop wants me to stay.”
“He loves an audience, you know that. I’ll invite one of Sonny’s friends to stay in the guest house and Pop will never know the difference. You’re not welcome here, Jake.”
“Get over it, Gentry. I’m going to stay a few days. I’m committed.”
“Committed?” She stressed the one-word question. “That would be a first.”
“Look, Liz, there’s no reason we can’t be civil to each other.”
“We were married, Jake. Civility is a bit much to ask. I prefer that you take your commitment and leave.”
“Ah, I see. You’re afraid I’ll upset your wedding a second time.”
“As if you could.” Her tenacious chin was aimed at him. “I’m immune to your backwoods charm. I’ve been inoculated. Nothing you do or say has the power to distress me. You’ve delivered the box, now go back where you came from.”
“I will,” he answered. “The moment my vacation is over.”
“You can’t possibly want to be here,” she said, annoyed and openly perplexed by his desire to be present at her wedding.
“Maybe I want to stick around and see Ben. And meet his wife. Maybe, on the other hand, I just want to stick around and find out if you’ll actually marry Harris.”
Two-Penny Wedding Page 4