Runaway Groom

by Sally Clements

  Inviting him to her wedding…

  He ran his thumb over her words. Maybe in some twisted way she thought inviting him to the wedding would heal the wounds, would show everyone she’d made peace with the past. Rehabilitation—June style.

  Matthew ripped the invitation in two, and dropped it into the wastebasket.

  *****

  Dad usually rang on Sundays, and today was no exception.

  “Inez wants some insider info on what color dress she should wear for the wedding.” He sounded tired. “I don’t see that it matters, but she says it really does. So I’m asking.”

  “I don’t know about Michael’s mother, but Mum is wearing light blue, and I’m wearing a sort of dusky rose.”

  “That’s pink, right?”

  “Tell her dusky rose, she’ll get it.”

  “Light blue and dusky rose, Inez,” Jack called.

  April smiled as she heard her stepmother in the background.

  Jack sighed. “Now she wants to know about hats.”

  A call from Inez.

  “Okay, okay, fascinators. What the hell is a fascinator anyway?”

  “It’s a sort of headdress, Dad. Tell her Mum is wearing a hat, and I’ve got pearls in my hair.”

  “Jeez, it’s so complicated.” Her father was quickly losing patience with all things feminine. “The wedding is a month away. I don’t see why everyone is getting so het up.”

  April scooted up in bed, rearranged the pillows, and pulled her duvet close. “It matters, Dad. We just want everything to be perfect.” She plucked at the duvet cover, and wished she’d managed to get a glass of water before her father’s call. Her head was pounding as though an army of jackhammer-wielding builders were having a party.

  She closed her eyes. She rarely drank, and this morning she remembered why.

  Hangovers suck.

  Her father droned on. “Come on, what could go wrong?”

  She almost told him.

  “June said Michael’s family have block-booked the hotel, apparently they have security travelling with them. His father sounds a real hotshot. I’m booking a room today for Inez and me. Do you want me to book one for you too?”

  “I’m going to stay with Mum.” Her mother had announced she wanted to sleep in her own house after the wedding, and April had voted to join her. It was bound to be an emotional day, and at least this way they could spend some quality time together.

  “Okay. June seems happy?”

  “Yes, I think so.” It was natural her father would be worried about his eldest daughter. After all, he’d been here before and seen it all gone wrong.

  “She deserves some happiness. I haven’t seen that young buck since he ran. Even after all these years…” He made a familiar sound, the sound he made when sucking through his teeth.

  “It’s a long time ago.” April tried to infuse her tone with soothing.

  “Not long enough. I swear if I see him again I’ll deck him.”

  The pain in her jaw alerted her to the fact she was grinding her teeth again. She slackened her jaw, opened and mouth and breathed in and out.

  So June hadn’t told him then. Fan-bloody-tastic. A part of her, the part that had nursed a crush on Matthew all those years ago almost felt sorry for him. No doubt, he’d come to the wedding under the impression he was being welcomed back into the fold, when in fact there were a whole pack of wolves ready and waiting to tear him limb from limb.

  If June hadn’t told Dad, she wouldn’t have told Mum either, which meant the best possible scenario was Mum would dissolve into tears as her ex ranted and raved, or have a heart attack with the stress.

  There was nothing for it—someone needed to save the situation, and despite the lack of a superhero costume, it would have to be April to the rescue.

  Chapter Three

  It was more channeling James Bond than Superwoman. Sure, she wasn’t a six foot hunk, but April was pretty pleased with her investigative skills. It was pretty easy, actually. A search of the London phone book had only returned one Matthew Logan, and she’d carefully copied down his address.

  Now, like Monsieur Bond, she would painstakingly track her quarry and use her seduction skills to charm him into not attending the wedding. How hard could it be?

  Start with sugar, and if necessary, she had arm flailing freaking out to fall back on. One of her approaches would definitely work. Because failure wasn’t an option.

  She looked crap in a tux, so instead, she’d strapped on high heels that made the best of her legs, and dressed in a leather mini and a black shirt—because it was winter, and black was her winter color. Now she stood at his front door.

  April plastered on a bright smile and pressed the bell.

  He wouldn’t remember her. It had been years…

  The door opened.

  Her mouth went slack.

  The Matthew in front of her was even more good-looking than he’d been back then. In a fraction of a second her gaze drank him in. The years had added a few lines to the corners of his cobalt eyes. His mouth was just as she remembered, firm and sexy. His dark chocolate hair stood up in front, as though he’d run his fingers through it seconds before opening the door. Her gaze dropped. Those shoulders… Years ago, he’d been lanky. Now? He looked as though he’d worked out every day of the last seven years.

  He wore shorts and sneakers, with strong corded thighs covered in a dusting of dark hair on full display. April swallowed.

  How was she to remain detached faced with such male beauty?

  “Can I help you?” His voice was deep. His gaze did the whole up-down-full-body-scan thing she’d just done to him, lingering for a moment on her legs, as though even if he didn’t recognize her face, he might recognize her legs.

  “Matthew.” Darn it, her voice was so high, she sounded like a cheerleader.

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed.

  “You probably don’t remember me, it’s been a long time…”

  His eyes widened. “April?”

  She nodded. “April. I’m sorry for turning up unannounced, but I…I want to talk to you.”

  “April Leigh.” His mouth curved into a smile.

  Her stomach flipped. Somehow she’d forgotten that smile.

  “God, it’s been years.” He stepped back, and held the door open wide. “Come on in.”

  “Were you going out?”

  “I was just going for a jog. It can wait.” He closed the door.

  Large London houses like these were often divided into flats, but this one had only one doorbell, and there was no evidence Matthew’s house was subdivided. A Persian rug lay atop the polished wooden floorboards. The walls were painted warm terracotta and cluttered with what looked like nineteenth-century prints.

  “Come on into the kitchen.”

  She followed him down the long hallway into the room at the end. His back view was just as attractive as the front. She snapped her gaze from his butt to the back of his head. This wasn’t a guy she could lust over. This was Matthew. Runaway Groom. More hemlock than catnip. Focus.

  He flicked on the kettle, and waved her to a chair around the worn wooden kitchen table. The way he looked at her, as if he’d never seen her before, did something funny to her stomach.

  “You’ve really changed.” His head tilted to the side. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “But you did.”

  He smiled. “It’s your eyes. Eyes never change, do they?”

  He remembered her eyes? April blinked.

  “What’s your poison. Tea? Coffee?”

  “Coffee. Black, please.”

  He spooned granules into a cup and brought two cups to the table. He turned a chair around and sat, resting his elbows on its back. His sexual lure was so strong her mouth dried.

  “So, what brings you to London, April?”

  “I live here.” Sitting here with him was so strange. Once they’d been as easy around each other as family. Now, the air seemed to buzz with things unsaid
. The last time she’d seen him she’d been in school. Once been almost family; now they knew nothing about each other.

  She took a sip of coffee and burned the top of her mouth. “After I finished school I came to London to study fashion. I qualified, and now I’m putting together my first collection.”

  “Clothes?” His gaze dipped to her feet. “Or shoes maybe? That pair is wicked.”

  She flexed her toes. “Have you a thing for shoes?” The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could call them back. Especially when he arched a black brow.

  “I can appreciate a woman’s shoes as much as the next man.”

  Heat flared into April’s face.

  “But more for what they do to a woman’s legs than anything else. Obviously.”

  He was looking at her ankles.

  She crossed them. Bond had never found himself in this situation. She felt as gauche and flustered as she had when she was a teenager. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a woman. With a mission.

  April gritted her teeth. Took a long look from his powerful calves to his big feet. “I like your shoes too.” Her voice sounded husky. Flirty husky.

  His gaze shot up. The eyes that met hers held an expression of stunned disbelief. As though he’d been playing with a puppy that had suddenly bared its teeth and then torn a chunk out of his hand.

  Once upon a time, he’d have joked it away.

  He stretched his foot out. Twisted his ankle back and forth. “They’re Albios.”

  Designer sneakers? Obviously Matthew had moved up in the world. Big house, fancy shoes. What else?

  “You know Albios, right?”

  “Are you a shoe snob? Because I can’t afford Manolos.”

  He glanced at her shoes again. “Those do the job.”

  Whatever job that was remained unspecified.

  “So.” He rubbed the trace of dark stubble on his chin with his knuckles. “Why are you here?”

  *****

  April Leigh looked nothing like her sister. June had modeled herself after an old-time screen goddess, like Marilyn or Zaza,Zsa Zsa all blonde and curvy. Even as a teen she dressed to make the most of her assets, and was always perfectly made up.

  April, on the other hand, was as natural as they come. She might be wearing make-up, for surely no woman had eyelashes as long and dark as hers naturally, but her skin was pale with a dusting of faint freckles. Her hair, sparrow brown, was straight and long, pulled back from her face with a tortoiseshell clasp. Her full mouth was unadorned by lipstick. The moment Matthew wondered what it might feel like against his, he looked away.

  At first, he’d been thrown off by her long legs and unfamiliar curves. But then he’d recognized her eyes. Cornflower blue with little gold specks. They at least were familiar.

  She’d been shy, back then. Sort of uncoordinated, always bumping into things. But she’d been cute and fun. He remembered the conversations they had while he was waiting for June to be ready to go out. Talks about the universe, about her desire to become a vet. Where had that girl gone?

  The April who sat at his kitchen table was all grown up. She eyed him with suspicion through guarded eyes. The exchange of words about his legs and hers had definitely held a trace of flirt. And to be honest, if they’d met for the first time today, he’d have no compunction about acting on the attraction which had flared pretty darned instantly the moment he’d seen her standing on his doorstep. Flirting was as natural as breathing, with the right person.

  She wasn’t the right person.

  Matthew crossed his arms.

  She’d started to fidget the moment he asked the question. Her throat moved. She seemed to be summoning all her resources, as if preparing for battle.

  The air was thick with anticipation. If she were a friend, he’d take pity on her and change the subject, but he wanted her answer so he let it be.

  She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. Bit her bottom lip. Then blasted him with her cornflower gaze. “I’ve come to talk to you about June’s wedding.”

  An unfamiliar anger exploded through Matthew like an electric shock.

  Typical. June was all about making those who loved her do her bidding. His non-response to the invitation must have irritated her, and so she’d sent April to get an acceptance.

  There was no way he was playing this game.

  “You must have better things to do than visit all of her guests to make sure they’ve received their invitations.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You can tick me off, I got one.”

  Let June stew. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d go to her wedding. Not stating his intentions was petty, but petty felt good. In fact, the prospect of leaving June in the lurch, wondering if he was going to turn up, was incredibly satisfying.

  “Are you going?” April tilted her jaw up a fraction.

  The smooth curve of her neck was lean and smooth. He wanted to trace it with his fingers. Matthew gritted his teeth. “I think that’s between June and me, don’t you?” This conversation was over. Matthew stood. “It’s been good to see you, April, but I really should get a run in.” He walked around the table to her, in an unmistakable get-out-of-here move.

  She didn’t get up. “June doesn’t know I’m here.” She swallowed. “Please give me a moment of your time.”

  He looked closer.

  Her throat moved and she seemed to have paled to milk-white.

  “She didn’t send you?”

  “No.” Her hands clenched into fists on the lap of her short leather skirt. “June told me she invited you, and I came to ask you not to come.”

  The thought of attending June’s wedding hadn’t been remotely appealing, but this—April’s insistence that he shouldn’t—sparked his interest. “Why not?”

  “Would you sit?”

  He was still looming over her, and it seemed, making her nervous.

  He pulled out the chair nearest to her and sat.

  “The thing is… Well…the past is over. She’s moved on, and you must have moved on too.”

  He nodded.

  “I mean, going to the wedding might make your girlfriend insecure, and...”

  “What if there’s no girlfriend?”

  “There’s no girlfriend?” Her eyes widened a fraction. She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Not at the moment, no.”

  “Ah.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen table, as though the pot of marmalade dead center was incredibly interesting. “I don’t know why June invited you, but surely you can see that going to the wedding would be foolish.”

  “Foolish?” Matthew frowned. Did she think he was going to run off with her sister or something?

  “Foolish. Because I don’t think she’s told her fiancé she invited you. And his parents are very conservative. I don’t think they’d approve.”

  “She has told her fiancé about her past, I presume?”

  “Yes, but knowing about you and having you at their wedding are very different things.” She smoothed her hair back. “Michael could be confused, could be hurt…”

  “Have you a crush on your sister’s fiancé, April?” he asked quietly.

  She frowned. “Of course not. He’s not my type.”

  Immediately Matthew found himself wondering what exactly was her type. Was he her type? He rubbed his neck and wished this whole situation wasn’t happening. It would be easy to stop it; all he had to do was tell her he had no intention of attending the wedding. But she hadn’t come out with the true reason she was so frantic he shouldn’t go. And letting her off the hook at this point would mean he’d never know.

  “My mother has a weak heart, and my father…”

  June’s father had always been a bulldog. “Your father what?”

  “My father isn’t in the mood for keeping the past in the past. If you come to the wedding I’m sure he’ll make a scene.”

  So even so many years later, June hadn’t come clean about what had happened between them. If he’d cared
about June, he would have been disappointed. Now, paradoxically, the only thing that rankled was the knowledge that April considered him a total bastard.

  “Why should he make a scene?” He knew the answer, but couldn’t resist goading her into saying it.

  “You’re the runaway groom. You left my sister when she needed you.” Her lip curled in obvious distain. “You’ve broken her heart once, are you really ready to ruin her future?”

  Anger blazed through Matthew in a heated rush. He clenched his teeth and breathed in through his nose. The urge to throw her out, to tell her straight up to just go to hell was a strong one.

  His hands shook. “I can be civilized. I’m sure your parents can be to. And June wants me there.”

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again. “I’m begging you not to go. I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything?”

  Her mouth opened into a perfect O at his whispered word.

  “I’m irritated you consider me some sort of monster, April.” He reached out and stroked her bare arm. “I think you don’t really know me at all.”

  Her gaze met his, and for the life of him he couldn’t look away.

  “I think you need to get to know me better. I haven’t replied to the invitation yet, and maybe I’ll go, maybe not. I’m certainly not going to decline just because you think badly of me.”

  “I…”

  “If you want me not to go to the wedding, you’ll have to persuade me of the folly of going. And you’re going to have to shelve the contempt you feel.”

  Her gaze flickered to his mouth.

  “We can start tomorrow night, over dinner.” He stood. “Write down your phone number.”

  Chapter Four

  As an emergency talkathon was needed, Marie and Eliza came over for Sunday lunch. April had cooked a stuffed chicken with rosemary and roast potatoes, and had made cauliflower cheese, and gravy. Comfort food.

  The table was set. Marie poured three glasses of chardonnay, and they sat down at the table. “So, what’s going on?”

  April hadn’t wanted to go into it on the phone, so her friends were clueless about the situation she’d gotten herself into.