Forgotten Honeymoon (Best Friends Wedding Series)

by Beverly Farr

  “No one is forcing you to do anything.”

  He was right. She was overreacting. And she wasn’t going to win any points by arguing with him. The problem was, she didn’t know how to act around Lars any more. He was still her friend, but they’d been lovers. Her head ached. She sat down.

  She took a deep breath and asked calmly, “What were you and Dad discussing?”

  “He thinks we should go through the wedding ceremony you already have planned.”

  “You mean, get married a second time? And just tell the guests I’m changing grooms?”

  He nodded. “He thinks it would be the least upsetting alternative for your mother. She’s worked hard to organize everything.”

  That made sense. “And what do you think?”

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  How logical and calm he sounded, as if he were discussing the acquisition of another glass plant, instead of getting married. Kelly lifted her chin. “What do you want?”

  “I want to stay married. I think it’s the right thing to do for the baby. Children need stability.”

  Lars would do whatever he felt was his duty. She admired that, but it would be nice if he’d smile at her, so she didn’t feel she’d trapped him into this. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d created this baby all by herself. “What kind of marriage are we talking about? What if we make each other miserable?”

  “There are no guarantees, Kelly. We can work it out as we go. So what do you say?”

  As far as proposals went, it was hardly romantic. Nigel had gotten down on one knee with a ring box. But he’d turned out to be a jerk, and now it was a little late for romance, with Junior on the way. For a moment, she wished she could remember Lars’ first proposal -- it must have been extremely persuasive to make her elope with him.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She hesitated. She’d always wanted a marriage like her parents. She wanted to be a full partner with her husband. Friends as well as lovers. She and Lars were already friends and apparently lovers, too. Was it enough? “Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s do it.”

  “Thank you, Kelly.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

  How can I marry you when I don’t even know you, she thought as she took his hand, then realized how foolish that was. She knew Lars as well as she knew anyone. Certainly better than she knew Nigel, and she’d been ready and willing to marry him. She smiled bravely. “Under the circumstances, shouldn’t we seal our bargain with a kiss?”

  Lars’ eyes narrowed, as if trying to read her thoughts, then he bent his head towards her. His lips touched hers, feather soft. After the briefest touch, he started to move back.

  “No.” She wanted more than that. She caught the lapels of his suit jacket to steady herself, lifted herself up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. She wanted to get a reaction from him, to shake his iron self-control.

  He hesitated for just a fraction of a second then pulled her to him, deepening the kiss. She sighed, granting him further access to her mouth, and snuggled closer, her hands sliding under his jacket to smooth the crisp cotton of his dress shirt. She could feel the strength of his muscled chest under her fingers. This was a surprise. He must use his membership at the company gym, she thought and ran her finger around one of his shirt buttons. He gasped and let her go.

  Good, she thought, amazed by how breathless she felt. Her lips tingled, and there was an interesting tightening in her stomach. His eyes, as he watched her were a smoky blue. He felt something for her, but what? Was the heat of passion enough to build a marriage?

  “Did you remember something?” he demanded. His voice was husky, the voice from her dream.

  She smiled shakily and smoothed her hair. “No, but that was better than I thought it would be.”

  The light in his eyes died. “Damn you, Kelly. Don’t play games with me. I’m not a light switch you can turn on and off at will.”

  That’s not what she’d meant. She protested, “I’m just trying to remember.”

  “Then remember this,” he growled, and kissed her again, backing her up against her father’s desk, until she was sitting on it. He stood between her legs. She clutched his shoulders for support. His hands were at her hips, pulling her closer. This was no gentle kiss, but a mark of possession, from a man who knew her body better than she did.

  It felt right. I want this, she thought with amazement. I want to forget everything but this. The feel of him against her, this urgency, this heat. She tugged at his conservatively striped tie. “This has got to go,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “Looks like you two have kissed and made up,” her father said from the doorway.

  Lars let her go as if she had burned his fingers. He stepped back and straightened his tie. “Excuse me, sir,” he said tightly.

  Kelly felt her face flame with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, and jumped down to the floor. She smoothed her long tiered skirt back down over her bare legs. What had come over her? She’d never acted like that in her life.

  At least not that she remembered, she thought, glancing back at Lars. Was this the way it had been between them?

  He nodded, as if reading her thoughts.

  Good heavens.

  “Don’t worry,” her father teased. “I know you’re married. But would you mind doing that somewhere else and letting me have my office back?”

  “Yes, sir.” Lars took her arm. “Let’s go,”

  Kelly stood still. She may have kissed him a bit, but in spite of evidence to the contrary and her father’s opinion, she was not ready to go any further. “Go where?”

  “House hunting,” he said succinctly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Her mother sat at the dining room table with thirty teacups in front of her. She handed Kelly a typed list of wedding guests and a pair of scissors. “Here,” she said.

  Kelly looked at the scissors in her hand. “What are we doing?”

  Her mother explained. “I’m figuring out who should sit where at the dinner.” She pointed. “Each of the cups represents a table.”

  Thirty tables with ten guests each, meant 300 dinner guests, at fifty dollars a plate. What a lot of time and money her mother had spent to ensure that her wedding day was perfect. Kelly sat down next to her. “Can’t we just open the doors and let our guests choose their own seats?”

  “And have a stampede? No, thank you. Besides, you remember what happened when your Uncle John got married again. Cousin Louise and Carla ended up at the same table. I was afraid we’d have to call the Homicide Unit.”

  Kelly watched her mother rearrange several slips of paper. She gathered her courage. “Mom,” she said gently. “We need to talk.”

  “Go ahead, dear. I’m listening. I can cut and listen at the same time.”

  Kelly put her hands on top of the wedding list to stop her for a minute. “Mom. I’m going to marry Lars Henderson.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m marrying Lars instead of Nigel.”

  “Yes, dear, I heard you the first time.”

  Kelly was stunned. “Aren’t you surprised?”

  “No.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I suspected something was up the other night when you didn’t go to the bridal shower.”

  That even seemed so long ago. “And you don’t mind?”

  “No, it seems right. Lars is so much nicer than Nigel. He’ll make a much nicer husband. And he’s cuter, too.”

  Kelly smiled at her mother’s ability to assess the situation so clearly. Lately her own thoughts had been running along similar lines. She’d always liked Lars’ hair and eyes, but now she’d noticed his square jaw and beautifully shaped mouth. But she didn’t want to start day-dreaming about those heart pounding kisses now. Kelly said, “We’ll have to send out new invitations and retractions for those on Nigel’s list.”

  “Yes, dear, I’ll order them this afternoon. Would you please get a guest list from L
ars and tell him to limit it to one hundred and seventy five?”

  How could anyone have one hundred and seventy five friends? “I’ll ask him.”

  “Good,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Now remember you have another fitting for your wedding dress this afternoon. You’re looking a little thin. Have you been dieting?”

  “Not really.” She hadn’t felt like eating anything the past few weeks, but she’d thought that was due to pre-wedding nerves. Now, she supposed it was due to the pregnancy.

  “Well, don’t lose any more weight or your dress will hang on you.”

  Don’t worry, Kelly thought wryly. I’m due to get bigger and bigger.

  “And you’re a little pale. I’ve scheduled an appointment with the hair stylist and a make-up artist for that morning. Have you decided whether you want your hair up or down?”

  “I don’t care.” What did it matter if her hair was up or down?

  “Oh good, I’ll decide myself.”

  “Just so long as I don’t end up looking like Marie Antoinette.”

  Her mother looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t think you have enough hair. And the powder would be too messy.”

  Kelly laughed. Her mother smiled and turned back to the wedding list and started cutting apart the names.

  Kelly couldn’t believe her mother wasn’t more curious, demanding more information from her, but then her mother had always been a patient person, happily busy with her own projects. Kelly said, “Mom, about Lars. Isn’t this change going to upset everyone? What will all our friends and family think?”

  “Since when have you cared about that? Besides, I think everyone will be relieved you aren’t marrying Nigel.”

  Her mother, like her father, had never liked Nigel. Maybe that’s why she’d been drawn to him, Kelly realized. Marrying him had been a way to assert her independence. She said, “Won’t changing the groom three weeks ---”

  “Closer to two weeks, now.”

  “--before the wedding make everyone think I’m impulsive, flighty, and irresponsible?” That’s what she’d been calling herself ever since she’d learned that she’d married Lars on the rebound.

  Her mother patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Everyone likes Lars. Besides, you’ve always been a little impulsive. Think of all the lessons you took as a child: first it was tuba, then fencing, then ice-skating, then water colors, Spanish, violin ...”

  “That makes me sound as if I can’t make up my mind.”

  “No, once you finally make up your mind, you stick to it. Look at your pottery. You’ve been doing that for years, now. You’re just more willing than most people to try new things.”

  Is that what had happened with her and Lars? Was their fling the adult version of tuba lessons?

  Kelly persisted, “So you’re not worried about me and Lars getting married.” For the first time in a long time, she desperately wanted her mother’s approval.

  “Why should I be? I know you’ve always liked him.”

  “As a friend, yes, but not --” She stopped herself. She and Lars had agreed to make this look as a love match. Otherwise, it would be too humiliating.

  Her mother smiled fondly. “I remember when he first came to work for your father straight out of college. You found every excuse in the world to go by the showroom.”

  Kelly remembered her schoolgirl crush. It was humiliating. She’d done everything she could think of to get his attention -- she wore short skirts and noisy jewelry to catch his eye. She told him jokes, asked him about the movies he’d seen, even begged him to help her with her math. “But he never reciprocated. He tried to avoid me.” Once she saw him duck into another office when she came down the hall.

  “Of course. You were only fifteen years old. What’s the word they use -- jail bait?”

  “Mother!” Kelly gasped, surprised she even knew the term.

  “But it’s true. You were much too young for him.”

  Kelly had never thought of that. All she knew was that after weeks of rejection, she’d finally given up on him, burying her attraction.

  But what did she feel for him now, eight years later? Those kisses in her father’s office had shaken her, and for the past two days she’d avoided Lars, telling him she had a crucial deadline and needed to work on her pots. Lars respected deadlines and didn’t pressure her to spend time with him.

  She did have deadlines for a few commissioned pieces, but he didn’t know she sat for hours at the wheel, molding the same clay into dozens of forms, unhappy with all of them.

  Kelly reached over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mom,” she said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” her mother said, turning back to the tea cups. “Remember to get a guest list from Lars.”

  #

  They drove up to a huge three story stucco house with a large circular drive in front. Kelly muttered under her breath, “A little small, isn’t it?”

  The realtor overheard her and looked at Lars with concern. “If you’d rather look at something else ...”

  Kelly saw the frown lines on Lars’ forehead and quickly amended, “No, I’m joking. Let’s look at it.” Lars had spent three days looking at houses without her, and she had agreed to look at the ones he liked. She just hadn’t expected them to be so big.

  As they walked up the beautifully landscaped walk, Kelly said, “I still don’t see why we can’t stay in your condo for a while. Two bedrooms should be fine.”

  “We’ll need more space when the baby comes. He’ll want a yard to play in.”

  Kelly noticed that he already assumed they’d have a son. At the mention of the baby, the realtor gave her a speculative glance, quickly masked. She said smoothly, “This home has a beautiful yard. It’s on three quarters of an acre, and notice the native oak and pine trees .....”

  “Lovely,” Kelly murmured. She read that look. It implied, So that’s how you trapped him into marriage.

  She should have dressed better, she realized, as the other woman unlocked the ornately carved front door. Lars was in a suit and tie, as always, and the realtor was in a tailored red jacket, short black skirt and black hose. But she looked like a teenager in a sleeveless cotton tank top that bared her midriff, paint splattered jeans and sandals. She had planned to upgrade to a clean fitted t-shirt and a denim skirt, but she’d started painting a display table and lost track of time. Next time, she’d set an alarm to remind herself to get ready. She didn’t want to give Lars any reason to be ashamed of her.

  The house had five bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, a breakfast nook, a family room, and a library. “We’re going to need beepers just to find each other,” Kelly said.

  Lars put his arm around her bare waist and gave her a little squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep track of you.”

  Kelly liked the feel of his skin on hers, and how it made her pulse accelerate. She looked up at him with a shy smile. How could she have ever thought Lars was unexciting? He was quiet, yes, but underneath that reserve, was a burning passion.

  His eyes darkened and he stepped away, breaking contact.

  What was the problem? First he touched her and then he backed off, as if he was afraid she was going to attack him. She was definitely getting mixed messages from him.

  “And here’s another bathroom,” the realtor said, opening a door.

  “How many does this make?” Kelly asked, duly noting the marble counter tops.

  “Three and a half, not counting the bath in the master suite.”

  Four and a half baths for two adults and a baby? “I hope you’re handy with a scrub brush,” she said to Lars. “I’m not very domestic.”

  “We’ll hire a cleaning service,” he said.

  “And this is the master suite,” the realtor said with a flourish.

  Kelly had never thought she’d buy a house with a suite. The room was large with a stone fireplace, flanked by a wall of bookcases. The windows ran from the floor to the ceiling. Kelly walked across the p
lush cream colored carpet. “I won’t need my studio any more,” she joked, spinning around with her arms outstretched. “I could set up shop in here. I’ll put my wheel over by that window and my kilns in the walk-in closet.”

  Lars smiled. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, it’s lovely. But can we afford it?”

  The realtor made a point of pushing one of the curtains aside and looking out onto the backyard to give them some privacy.

  Kelly asked, “Can you afford it, Lars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rawlins must be doing very well.”

  He nodded. “If you’ve noticed, your dividends have tripled this year.”

  Kelly paid little attention to all that. She put all her energy into running KPots and lived simply off its profits. She rarely thought about her shares of Rawlins stock.

  “This is a beautiful home, Lars, but doesn’t it seem excessive for two adults and a baby?”

  His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “I’m hoping we’ll have more than one child.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. She was still getting used to the idea of having one. But if he wanted more children, that meant they’d be sleeping together. This wouldn’t be just a marriage of convenience. She could imagine them together, making love in front of the stone fireplace.

  The glint in his eye made her think he might be thinking along similar lines. Nervously, she cleared her throat. “How many children do you want?” She walked over to the fireplace, as if interested in the stonework.

  “We can decide later,” he said calmly, following her, but not too closely. “Think about it. You’re an only child. Wouldn’t you have liked a brother or sister while you were growing up?”

  “I guess so.” Kelly had had a happy childhood, lacking for nothing.

  “And we’ll need room for entertaining,” he added.

  “That’s my mom’s specialty, not mine,” she reminded. “My idea of throwing a party is ordering a dozen pizzas.”

  “I know,” he said dryly. “I’ve been to some of your parties.”

  Had he? She hadn’t paid enough attention to him. But he was right. He was the Vice President of a multi-million dollar company, and as his wife, there would be some social obligations. “I’m sure I can put on a dinner or two, if you want,” she said finally. “I want us to be a team, Lars. I want to be a good wife.”