Besotted
Page 26
"I always wondered how you do that," she observed.
"Magic fingers," he told her, moving into her space and wiggling them up the back of her skirt until they reached and cupped her behind. Regan let out a satisfied sigh, followed by a disgusted huff.
"Now look what you made me do."
Regan was standing facing the mirror with a long line of black mascara painted down her cheek like the scar from hell and a pout that made her bottom lipstick out. Tyler released her butt and took her in his arms, sucking that lip deep into his mouth until Regan pushed him away.
"I'll be late," she explained, "and I have to fix this."
"I think you should leave it, Scarface," Tyler said as he ran from the threat of the towel Regan grabbed to swat at him. Tyler quickly disappeared.
She found him in the kitchen rummaging in the refrigerator for food. "There's nothing in the house. We never eat here."
"That is obvious," he deadpanned, holding open the refrigerator door to display two containers of takeout, yogurt, two apples, a six-pack of beer, and a bottle of wine. There was a bottle of olives and four different mustards on the door. "Looks like all we do is drink."
"I'll get Donna to order groceries. We should eat at home more."
"Shouldn't your personal assistant do that?"
"I don't have a personal assistant." Regan turned to look at Tyler with a quizzical look. "You know that."
"You did in DC. Don't you want one here?"
"Would you drop that already? I needed one to handle the press stuff, but I don't need an assistant here. I have Donna. And you."
"Me?"
"I seem to recall you telling me you would do anything for me, just about 30 minutes ago."
"That's not fair. You were teasing me unmercifully then."
"You said it, Tyler Winthrop, and I intend to hold you to it."
"So you want me to grocery shop?" Tyler asked, confused.
"Oh, no, I have way better uses for your talents."
Tyler and Regan caught each other's eyes in the mirror and laughed.
"Seriously, Ree, I do think you need an assistant. We could share one and see how it works out. Alex has one, and she's fantastic."
"You want one because Alex has one?"
"I want one because it will make your life easier."
"Let me get moving, and we can discuss it tomorrow," she begged until Tyler exited the room after kissing her hard on the mouth, transferring her fresh lipstick to redden his lips.
Less than an hour later she was laughing with her friends.
"How could I say no, when he offered to give up everything and move to Washington for me? That is a man in love," Regan admitted, showing off her ring yet again for the women surrounding her. "Besides, with a rock like this, I'd be an idiot to let the man out of my sight."
The women at the bachelorette party agreed. It wasn't every woman who married the man of her dreams after so many years apart, nor did every woman wear a 7.6-carat perfect diamond on her finger. The stone caught the light and refracted it as Regan moved her fingers this way and that.
"The man's a catch," Charlotte admitted. "I may have been rooting for the other guy – who shall remain nameless – but I am a believer. I didn't have the history."
"All you needed was to see the way Tyler looks at her," Keeli shouted down the table. There were nine women crowded around two tables pushed together in the back corner of Gibson’s. In a week, the men would likely have their stag party at this same venue. Then, the next day, Julia Lyons Howe would get her heart's desire, watching her daughter walk down the aisle in one of the biggest weddings of the decade. She had spared no expense, keeping two wedding planners on their toes for six straight months.
"No one could be happier than I am," Missy whispered in Regan's ear. "I have been waiting for this day for too long."
"I think I have been waiting longer," Regan agreed, wrapping her arm around her sister's shoulder and leaning over to kiss her cheek.
"Actually," Missy corrected, "I think I stayed steadfast a few times when you gave up."
"Perhaps, but I learned my lesson."
"Thank God," Sloane interrupted, wrapping her arms around the two sisters and taking over the conversation. "I was so damn sick of watching the two of you moon over each other. It was obvious to the rest of us. Only the two of you would need someone to get kidnapped to realize you were in love."
"Sloane," Charlotte chided, "perhaps you've had enough to drink?"
"What?" Sloane asked the group, "What did I say this time?"
The women laughed and fell into a discussion of whether to stay put or go bar hopping all night. Regan had attempted to remove the cheap tiara and veil on her head as well as the sash proclaiming her the bride to be, but her friends insisted that she wear both. Well-wishers, friends and strangers alike, had been stopping by the table for the last two hours, buying rounds of drinks. The group, in general, was tipsy, but Sloane was drunk.
Keeli, the only one sober as she was expecting, made the decision easy. She pointed across the room at a group of devilishly handsome men approaching the women and proclaimed, “We can’t leave now.”
Randall got to the table first, signaling a round of drinks for the table. “You might need to carry Sloane home,” Keeli warned him.
“It’s only fair after everything she put up with in my past.” Still, he took the drink in front of Sloane and moved it across the table as he leaned in to kiss her. “Hello, wife, are you having fun?”
“We’re having a blast,” Sloane shouted a bit too loudly, making everyone laugh. “But this is a hen party. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“We’re just passing through,” Wyatt assured them as he leaned over the table to kiss Keeli, then moved around to kiss his sisters.
“How’s the bachelorette?” he asked hugging Regan tightly.
“So happy, Ivy. I can’t remember being so happy.”
“Then I’m happy,” he told her, kissing her once more before being shoved out of the way.
“Hey, she’s my sister too,” Ethan announced, pushing his way closer only to be pushed aside.
“But she’s my fiancé,” Tyler announced, wrapping his arms around Regan and kissing her on the cheek. “Doing well?” he whispered in her ear. Regan nodded yes, then spun in her seat to give Tyler a proper kiss. Hoots and howls and calls for another rang around the table. The couple obliged.
"I promised," Alex announced to the rowdy group, "we are not staying. We are not crashing your party. However, you have landed in our usual spot," the men nodded as the women groaned, "so we have no choice but to grab a table across the room."
“No choice?" Joanne challenged.
“No pressure but remember I hold your job in my hands,” Alex teased.
“Not tonight, you don’t,” Joanne responded, surprisingly cheeky.
“Don’t push your luck, dear sister,” Clarice told Joanne, coolly. “Monday will come sooner than you think.”
They all laughed, the drinks arrived, and the men went to move away. “Stay,” Regan begged, her hand reaching for Tyler’s arm to halt his movement. “Please join us. We have done all our girl stuff already, right ladies?”
No one objected, and two more tables were pushed to join the first pair. People moved about the room to accommodate the large group, because of the tiara, because they recognized them, or because Alex bought drinks to bribe them. Whatever reason, the group swelled to be loud and boisterous.
“Do you realize,” Wyatt asked, “how many years we have been coming here?
“Holy shit, we fought over Sloane here," Randall reminded Wyatt. "And the best man won."
“I let you win,” Wyatt shouted down the table, getting a laugh from everyone but Randall.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Sloane told her husband. “I let you win too.” She reached over to grab his shirt front and pulled him in for a kiss better completed in privacy. Randall was grinning from ear to ear when they stopped.
“Look how well things turned out,” Keeli piped up, rubbing the small bulge of her tummy. She rested her head on Wyatt’s shoulder, the picture of contentment.
"We have come a long way from our bachelor days," Alex stated. We used to sit here and pick up women on Friday night, not one of whom could hold a candle to this lot." He gestured about the table, acknowledging the force of nature that was this group of women – artists, business executives, CEOs.
“To the women who run the city,” he lifted his glass in a toast to them.
“To the women who run our lives,” Randall added.
“To the women who have our hearts,” Tyler announced, raising his glass to Regan.
Regan lifted her glass, the others around the table followed suit. “Amen to that.”
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