Secrets & Saris

by Shoma Narayanan

  The first voice went, ‘The cake has been carved up by the lovely mother of the bride, and if you run across immediately there’s a small chance that you might be able to grab a bite. Going, going, gone...’

  Neil came to stand next to her. He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms but his magnificent torso was bare in the moonlight. Shefali took a moment to admire him, and then snuggled into his arms.

  ‘Want to go grab a piece of wedding cake?’ he asked teasingly.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I want us to stay here, alone with each other for the rest of our lives,’ she said dreamily, then looked mischievously up at him. ‘But as we can’t do that, let’s make the best of the time that we do have...’

  And they did.

  * * * * *

  THE WEDDING DRESS DIARIES

  Aimee Carson

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Excerpt

  ONE

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  The busty brunette behind the bar at the exclusive Manhattan restaurant was addressing the guy at the end of the counter. And, when Amber spied the man, she did a sharp double take that would surely leave her with a crick in her neck.

  Parker Robinson.

  Blinking, Amber adjusted to the sight as the sounds of Reese’s engagement party faded.

  When Parker didn’t respond, the bartender repeated, ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  Attention finally caught, Parker drew the sexy smirk like a gun from a holster. No doubt he wasn’t even aware. It was more like an automatic response, like most people would say please or thank you or mutter an excuse me when they accidentally stepped on someone’s toe.

  ‘Why, yes, you can,’ Parker said.

  The brunette puffed up her chest, clearly pleased she’d finally earned an attentive smile, and Amber resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently Reese hadn’t exaggerated; her half brother’s attitude toward women hadn’t changed much since adolescence. Amber had witnessed that grin directed at girls often enough, that knowing twinkle in his eye communicating that females liked what they saw, and he knew it.

  A cocky confidence that, on Parker Robinson, was more endearing than annoying.

  The sun-streaked blond hair of his teens was now a light brown with leftover golden highlights, like keepsakes from his childhood. He still wore it tousled with soft spikes up front, and the little-boy, rough-and-tumble look totally suited him, hair begging to be tugged. Years ago she’d longed to do just that, to pull him in for a kiss. Had fantasized about him teaching her how. And while his hair hadn’t changed much, his masculine features were better defined, cheekbones and jaw now sharp enough to cut cold butter. Yet he straddled youth and maturity with an ease to be envied, that cocky teen housed in the bad-boy adult making a killer combination.

  His gaze collided with Amber’s and held, and a pit yawned wide beneath her stomach. The brilliant green eyes hadn’t faded with time. Pulse pounding, she realized, belatedly, that he’d caught her staring, and the shameful memory barreled into her. The day when he’d called her out on exactly that. But she wasn’t the besotted little preteen anymore, the one that had followed him around like an adoring puppy.

  ‘You a friend of Reese’s?’ he asked.

  Amber was proud she didn’t laugh out loud. Amazing. Ironic that the guy she’d spent every summer in the Hamptons with from the ages of seven to twelve—the guy she’d loved from the ages of eight to fifteen—didn’t even remember her.

  Though, in his defense, she’d been in the sixth grade the last time he saw her.

  In jeans and a leather jacket the color of burnt butter, Parker picked up his glass and came closer, moving with that easy earthy stroll that came with a confidence few could dream of. It had been captivating on Parker the teen.

  On Parker the man, it was absolutely breathtaking.

  He slid onto the bar stool next to hers and leaned his elbow on the counter, facing Amber. Parker cleared his throat and lowered his head a little to look up at her face—most likely a stupefied face—as if worried her lack of response meant she wasn’t completely sane.

  Parker seated this close was definitely threatening her sanity.

  ‘Are you a friend of Reese and Dylan’s?’ he repeated.

  It had been fifteen years since she’d seen him, had been close enough to touch. She gripped her glass and sipped her wine, hoping she looked more sophisticated than she felt.

  Amber managed a nod of her head. ‘I’ve known Reese a long time.’ I’ve known you a long time. ‘Why would I be at their engagement party if I didn’t know them?’

  ‘Could be a party crasher, here for the expensive food and free drinks.’

  It was surreal to be having this conversation with her childhood crush, protected by her unknown identity. Because she had plenty to be embarrassed about when it came to Parker.

  From the time Reese had asked her to handle her wedding, Amber had been dreading the moment she had to measure this man for his tux—an event that needed to occur soon. But she’d thought she could relax tonight because Reese had said Parker would never show. He hadn’t attended any of the other parties for his half sister and her fiancé. So why had he come now?

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’ she said with a smile. ‘For the free food?’

  Parker let out a bitter scoff. ‘If only.’

  He didn’t want to be here.

  The realization hit her with all the force of a sledgehammer on steroids. It fit with what Reese had told her, the man who refused to have anything to do with the Michael family anymore. Not that Amber could blame him. But ever since her engagement, his sister had been trying to pull him back into, well, if not into the fold, at least within touching distance.

  He tipped his head with an almost boyish curiosity. ‘Do I know you?’ he said, and Amber’s heart froze. ‘I definitely think I know you.’

  He pursed his lips contemplatively, and Amber wished her memory of his mouth hadn’t been so spot on. He did have the most gorgeous lips in the world. Full. Sinful. Utterly kissable. Pretty savvy of a stupid twelve-year-old to notice, if she did say so herself.

  Enjoying the rare sense of power in Parker’s presence, she sent him another smile. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘A name would be helpful,’ he said.

  Amber let out an overly thoughtful hmm, as if she were seriously considering giving him the information. But suddenly, the moment she’d been dreading, her first meeting with Parker, was more about fun than fear.

  ‘That would be too easy,’ she said.

  Parker’s understanding smile at her tone set her pulse fluttering. ‘Okay,’ he said, settling in as if for a prolonged conversation, the light in his eyes sizzling. ‘I’ll bite.’

  God, she wished he would.

  ‘Do I know you through your work?’ he said.

  Amber bit back the smile. ‘Could be,’ she said with laughter in her tone. ‘I used to be a seamstress, but now I own my own bridal shop.’

  He actually recoiled as if slapped, and the look on his face as he backpedaled made her laugh. Clearly, Parker Robinson was offended at the thought of frequenting an establishment that dealt with weddings.

  ‘Definitely not through your work,’ he said gruffly. ‘Maybe through mine?’

  Amber pretended not to know. ‘What do you do?’

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I work Homicide down at the fifty-seventh precinct. Maybe I interviewed you as a witness before?’

  ‘Maybe I was once a suspect,’ she said as coolly as she could.

  The roll of his eyes, that sarcastic ‘yeah,
right’ expression made her suddenly sentimental. She remembered that look from her childhood, and a small part of her was glad he hadn’t changed too much.

  ‘Do I look too innocent?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I just remember all my perps.’ His face grew tight, and a harsh laugh escaped his mouth, and he slid his eyes to somewhere beyond her shoulders. ‘And yeah, you look too sweet. But, trust me,’ he said with a light tone that he didn’t quite pull off. He took a sip of his drink and carefully set the glass down, his tone distant. ‘No one is as innocent as they look.’

  There was a hard set about his eyes, the crinkles at the edges more about experience than age. A bitter fatigue that had started in his teens and now was fully realized.

  That bold green gaze was back on her, intrigued. Interested. ‘Maybe we attended the same school?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Did we meet at a party once?’ he asked.

  Enjoying his frustrated curiosity, she sipped her wine. ‘Try again.’

  His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Well, I know we haven’t slept together,’ Parker went on, sending her stomach plummeting to her toes.

  God, only in her teenage dreams.

  ‘Because, although you’re certainly attractive,’ he said, ‘you’re definitely not my type.’

  Amber ignored the sudden surge in her pulse and maintained an even tone. ‘Is that the only reason we couldn’t have slept together?’ she said. ‘Because I’m not your type?’

  The reflexive sexy smirk lit up his face.

  And as the words finally sank in, she drew back a touch in surprise. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘What type do you think I am?’

  His gaze traveled down her body, leaving her hot in places that normally...weren’t. Her A-line dress was simple, with a classic cut. Nothing seductive. No overt ‘I’m yours for the taking’ in the way it clung to her body.

  He hiked a brow dryly. ‘You own a bridal shop, which means you believe in the institution of marriage.’

  ‘And you don’t?’ she said softly, only pretending the statement was a question.

  Sure enough, a bitter sound escaped those beautiful lips. Not that Amber could blame him.

  ‘Hell, no,’ he said.

  Heart bleeding a little for him then, she remembered the day she’d found him by the dock, devastated by his mother’s words.

  You were a mistake.

  Amber had grown up knowing she was wanted. Secure in the knowledge her parents had been devoted to each other, were devoted to her. Her dad had died when she was a child, and her mother had loved him so much she’d never remarried. And Amber’s bridal store revolved around proving that love existed every day, with every client.

  But Parker...

  Well, Parker’s experiences were opposite in every respect.

  And the boy who’d given Amber her first taste of romantic love—unrequited, but love nonetheless—had grown into a man who mocked its very existence.

  ‘You’ve made weddings your business,’ he said. ‘So, obviously you believe.’

  ‘And that’s how you’ve concluded I’m not your type?’ she said. ‘Because of the dress I’m wearing and what I do for a living?’

  He sat back a bit to study her, no teasing, seductive tone now, but a kind of gaze that could see through your soul. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head softly. The thoughtful look on his face was deep and, for the first time, he actually looked at her. Really looked at her. ‘It’s the light in your eyes,’ he said with a simple shrug. ‘You still believe.’

  Her lungs slowly collapsed, forcing the air from her body. Believed in what? In love?

  In life?

  The thought instantly drained from her mind when he shifted closer, and the scent of his leather jacket drifted in the air.

  ‘I can’t remember who you are.’ Simmering gaze on hers, he said, ‘How about throwing a poor guy a hint?’

  ‘Okay,’ Amber said. After the years of crushing on Parker the teen, now that he was looking at her as a desirable woman, she wanted to work the moment for all she was worth. ‘You once pressed your lips against mine.’

  Parker’s eyes widened, and he dropped his gaze to her mouth, pulling all the oxygen from the atmosphere. Amber’s breathing increased in an attempt to suck in enough air.

  ‘Awesome.’ His voice slid lower, like heated silk. ‘I approve of my choices.’

  He leaned close, his eyes glowing, sparking embers she’d thought long dead—those secret pieces of a young girl in the throes of her first sexual attraction. Not really understanding the full extent of what she felt.

  His teasing grin was hot enough to light the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. ‘Did I get to second base?’

  Skin vibrating at the thought, her smile was strained.

  ‘Sorry, only first,’ she said.

  And technically, it was probably only half base, but she was having too much fun to clarify the exact nature of how their lips had touched.

  ‘Did I slip you the tongue?’ he said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘My loss,’ he said, and his mouth parted a bit, as if imagining righting that previous wrong.

  The tiny peek at his tongue sent a shot of adrenaline through her body, surely leaving her glowing. Fine hairs standing on end.

  ‘And as first kisses went,’ she pressed on, ‘it could have been better.’

  Mostly by being real.

  The offended expression on Parker’s face was comical. ‘Could have been— Wait...first kiss?’ He shot her a skeptical look. ‘Either this was a really long time ago or you’ve confused me with someone else.’

  ‘I definitely don’t have you confused with someone else.’ When he looked at her as though he was beginning to suspect she truly wasn’t sane, Amber sent him a smile and gave up the pretense. ‘I practically grew up at your mother’s house because my mom worked as her personal assistant,’ she said. ‘Which was the fancy title for glorified gofer girl.’

  There was a three-heartbeat pause that felt like thirty as Parker’s expression remained blank.

  ‘I’m Amber Davis.’

  ‘Amber Davis,’ he said slowly, as if pulling the name from a memory long buried. Recognition finally shot through his face, and his shoulders snapped back. ‘Well, hell,’ he breathed out. ‘You’re the one who tried to drown.’

  TWO

  Fifteen years earlier

  The Hamptons, Long Island, New York

  Swimswimswim

  Eyes fixed on the dock, the chant rang on and on in Amber’s head. She’d lost sight of her paddleboard ages ago, swept away by the Sag Harbor current. Crap, she was so getting in trouble for this.

  Mom’s gonna kill me if I drown.

  A fresh slice of panic surged. How was she going to marry Parker now if she died? At the stupid age of twelve. Jeez, she’d never even been kissed before! Frowning, she paddled harder. She should have played Spin the Bottle at Nancy Kruger’s last month. Okay, so Amber probably would have been stuck kissing Jimmy Stevens, better known as lizard tongue, but at least she wouldn’t be drowning with virgin lips. An epically lame end to the suckage that was her life.

  All except for Parker.

  Parker.

  So what if he was in the eleventh grade and she was only in sixth. She’d loved him since she was eight years old. He’d briefly been replaced with Justin Timberlake from ’N Sync, but even she knew that was pretty unlikely to happen. And Parker was cuter. She wanted to marry him so bad that she’d picked out her wedding dress ages ago. Course, it had taken her four months to whittle it down to her top five favorites. Her obsession with tulle and satin and lace was growing pretty strong. This summer, in a fit of boredom, she’d planned the whole ceremony. Reese would have been her maid of honor cuz s
he was Parker’s half sister and Amber’s sort-of friend.

  Stupidstupidstupid

  Sneaking off and forgetting the life vest. But she’d really really wanted to get better on the paddleboard. Mostly cuz she wanted to impress Parker. Last summer he’d taught her how to stand and maneuver a turn, but this summer he was more interested in kissing Susie Frances. Amber scowled. And he never helped her bait a hook or capture crabs anymore.

  The current was scarily strong, and the dumb dock was slipping farther away. The chill from the water seeped deeper with every passing minute, despite how hard Amber swam. Teeth chattering, her arms and legs grew heavy. So much so it was a struggle to control them now.

  A sob ripped from her throat, and she fought back the fear, closing her eyes.

  Giveupgiveupgiveup

  Her muscles screamed for a break, her lips quivering, the taste of salt a mix of seawater and frustrated tears. The furious pounding of her heart was now just as much about terror as tiredness, and she was sure her chest was gonna explode.

  Her thoughts began to drift and grow foggy. She knew there was something she was supposed to be doing. Swimming? Finding Reese?

  ‘Amber!’

  The call shook her out of her daze. God, she really was drowning. Was she already in heaven? Now she was hearing Parker calling out her name.

  The voice grew closer, the tone urgent. ‘Amber.’

  Exhausted, she turned and spied Parker sprawled on his board, sleeves pushed to his elbows as he paddled toward her like a madman. She sucked in a breath, getting a mouthful of salt water that burned her throat, and she coughed and gagged, slipping beneath the surface. The cold closed over her head and she stopped fighting for a moment. It was peaceful. Quiet. And she was so, so tired; it was nice not to fight so hard to keep her head above water.

  She drifted, floating, until an arm circled around her chest and heaved her up. She had a vague sensation of being hauled onto something hard, but she couldn’t move. It took too much effort to breathe.

  And then there were lips on hers and warm breath filling her lungs and she had an overwhelming urge to cough again. She rolled, gagged and then threw up a bunch of salt water that stung as much coming up as going down. Shattered, she collapsed again, drifting in and out, only half-aware as Parker paddled the board for shore and dragged her up on the beach.