Runner-Up Bride

by Lisa Bingham

  He sighed and opened a cupboard, tossing her the box of chocolate chip cookies James had hidden there days before. As he watched her tear into the package, he couldn’t help marvel that after all of the challenges she’d met as a photojournalist for World Wildlife, she could still find such joy in simple things. If he’d been the one who’d just returned from living in the bush, he was sure he wouldn’t be quite so pleasant this early in the morning.

  “How was Africa?”

  “Hot.”

  It was the lack of the rest of her answer that told him what he needed to know. The infrequent letters he’d received from Riley had not been full of the chatty news he had grown accustomed to finding.

  “What happened?”

  Her brows rose. “Nothing. It was scorching, rugged, incredibly beautiful, and now it’s over.”

  Alex wanted to know the rest—what she wasn’t telling him—but a distant rumbling warned Alex that Dannette was on her way upstairs in the elevator. Other than Riley and James, she was the only person who had a key.

  “Dannette will be here in a minute,” he stated needlessly.

  Riley’s face brightened—causing Alex to become immediately suspicious. She was up to something, dammit.

  But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t warn her again. Let Riley find out for herself that Dannette wasn’t the fragile Georgia peach everyone assumed she was upon first introductions.

  “Don’t you think you should change, Riley?”

  She opened her mouth to offer some sort of retort—something sassy, he was sure—then stopped, offered him a benign smile and slid from his chair.

  “I’ll be right out. Don’t do anything interesting until I get back.”

  RILEY WHISTLED SOFTLY to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair, then grimaced. No matter what she did, her hair looked the same. From birth, she’d been cursed with naturally curly hair—no, not just curly, but wavy and kinky and permanently windblown. Because of that fact, she’d begun wearing it in a short, tousled hairstyle. But on returning home and examining “the natives,” so to speak, she realized that her coif looked as if she’d cut it herself.

  “You did cut it yourself,” she muttered to her reflection in the mirror. Then, remembering that she would be spending the day with Dannette, she rummaged through the bottom of her duffel bag, finally finding a container of eye shadow and a tube of mascara. Both items were all but gone, dusty and far from desirable, but she wasn’t about to look as if she’d crawled out of some ditch.

  After applying a modest amount of the cosmetics, she stood back, eyeing the results of her efforts.

  Her dark hair looked as good as it was going to get, the makeup adequate with her deep tan. She’d unearthed a bright red T-shirt from a pile of athletic gear she’d found in Alex’s drawers as well as a pair of old jeans that she’d tightly belted at the waist. The result was just as she’d hoped. She didn’t look like a fashion plate—she’d leave that department to Dannette. But her ensemble did have a certain grungy chic that was popular among teenagers and cinema stars.

  “Ready or not, here I come,” she announced to no one in particular, scooping a small rucksack from where she’d left it on the floor. She wasn’t a woman prone to carrying a purse; it wasn’t her style. But she’d grown so accustomed to having her camera gear with her that she invariably kept a Nikon in the bag, film and loose cash—which sometime today, she would have to exchange for American currency.

  “Hey, Alex! Can we stop by a bank this afternoon?” she shouted as she made her way down the hall. “I need to get some—”

  Her words died when she stepped into the living room to discover Dannette in Alex’s arms.

  Can’t those two keep their hands off each other?

  They parted, Dannette self-consciously smoothing her clothing—a pristine white cotton blouse, red sweater-vest, pleated plaid skirt, opaque tights and trendy flats. Riley wished she had the nerve to tell the woman she looked like an escapee from a parochial school.

  “Dannette, darling!” Riley exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her as if they were long-lost friends.

  “Riley.” The low growl came from Alex’s direction, but she ignored him.

  “I’m so excited about our little shopping expedition,” Riley said as she drew back. “I can hardly wait to see what you’ve planned for your wedding.”

  Dannette’s gaze bounced from Riley to Alex, then back again. She was clearly confused by Riley’s warm welcome.

  The intercom phone buzzed. Before Alex could move, Riley snatched the receiver off the hook. “Yes?”

  “We’re on our way up,” a gruff voice announced.

  “Thank you, James.” Hanging up the phone, she said to Alex and Dannette, “They’re on the way up.”

  “Who?” Alex’s voice had darkened even more, and Riley delighted in the fact. It wasn’t often that she could make her dear friend squirm.

  “James and the gang.”

  “The gang?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She ran to the elevator, peering into the shaft, watching the wires and cables twist as the freight elevator climbed and shuddered to a stop.

  Riley helped throw open the safety gate, then clapped her hands when she saw the massive crates waiting to be unloaded.

  “What the hell?” Alex murmured.

  “You didn’t think I’d come all this way without bringing a few souvenirs, did you?”

  James, a spry older gentleman with a shock of curly hair, signaled to the doorman and a pair of maintenance men who had come to help him.

  “Let’s get it into the apartment, laddies.”

  The men heaved the crates into the living room. Then, while James offered his thanks, Riley went over to the tallest crate, caressing it with outstretched hands.

  “This is for you, Alex.”

  His brows rose. She’d often brought him trinkets from the exotic locations she’d visited, but never anything this large.

  “What is it?” His voice thrummed with suspicion.

  “Your wedding present. Yours and Dannette’s.”

  “D’ye want me t’ be openin’ it fer ye, Miss Riley?” James asked, his brogue stronger than usual from the exertion of moving the crates.

  “I’ll open this one. You start on the others.”

  He handed her a crowbar, and she began to deftly pry the boards free. Soon the wooden panels lay on the floor at her feet, revealing a tall object swaddled in bubble packing. Ripping it free, she disclosed the last layer, a protective cotton sheet.

  “Are you ready?”

  It was clear that Dannette was intrigued, while Alex remained suspicious.

  “I picked this out especially for the two of you. It was made by one of the artisans in my village. I knew that a pair of newlyweds couldn’t possibly start their life together without one.”

  She whipped the sheet away with as much flourish as possible.

  Dannette gasped, a hand flying to her throat.

  Alex’s lips twitched, and he averted his head to hide his grin.

  “W-what is it?” Dannette gulped after she’d managed to catch her breath.

  “To-Bu, the god of fertility.” Riley gazed in admiration at the ebony statue of the bald-headed god. Bulging eyes seemed to stare back at her above an outstretched tongue. Spindly arms and legs supported a bulbous body. A naked body. A wonderfully…endowed body.

  “It’s very…” Dannette’s voice trailed away into some sort of garbled moan.

  “Yes, he is, isn’t he,” Riley proclaimed, pleased with the effect her gift was having on Alex’s fiancée. Her face was nearly the same shade of red as her vest.

  “Would you…excuse me please? I’d like to freshen up a bit”

  Dannette beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, while James chortled like a gleeful elf.

  “To-Bu, huh,” Alex said. He circled the statue, eyeing it with the same care Michelangelo must have given David “Is he really the god of fertility?”

  Riley shrugged. “Who
knows? I like to think so.” She couldn’t resist adding, “According to the craftsman, he’s guaranteed for the life of the marriage.”

  “In what way is he guaranteed?”

  “Guaranteed to help the man…perform.”

  A heat had entered the room, a potent expectancy.

  “And you thought I needed a statue for that?”

  She shook her head before she’d even thought. “No.” Damn. When had the huskiness invaded her voice?

  She cleared her throat. “But it couldn’t hurt, could it? Who knows? If To-Bu is the god of fertility, you might find yourself especially…inspired on your wedding night”

  Alex’s gaze dropped to the statue’s attributes, then speared Riley. “Wouldn’t you like to know if I do?”

  3

  ALEX SLOUCHED in the oversize leather chair outside the dressing rooms of the bridal coordinator’s shop and resisted the urge to yawn. He was sure that the seat had been provided for other prospective grooms who were destined to wait while their fiancées made up their minds.

  If the truth were told, Alex wasn’t nearly as bored by the activity as he could have been. In fact, he’d had to rest his elbow on the arm of the chair and obscure his mouth with his fingers to hide the grin that lingered there.

  The trip in the car had been relatively peaceful, but from the moment they’d all entered the establishment known as Cher Amour, Riley and Dannette had both been determined to have their own way.

  Dannette had immediately steered Riley toward the filmy dresses, while Riley had gravitated to the tuxedos. Dannette had pulled her back to the dresses, and Riley pulled her to the vests. The tug-of-war had been going on for the better part of an hour, and Alex didn’t expect the clash of wills to end anytime soon.

  “So what do you think?” Dannette demanded, holding up the same style dress her attendants would be wearing. “It’s a paler pink, so it will stand out as being something special.”

  Alex was quite sure that Dannette felt she was making a grand concession. She didn’t want Riley to “stand out” at all.

  “I don’t like pink,” Riley said, before Alex could answer.

  “I think she’d look lovely in pink, don’t you, Alex?”

  He opened his mouth to offer some sort of bland comment that he hoped wouldn’t irritate either woman, but Dannette began pushing Riley toward the dressing rooms.

  “Try it on. That’s all I ask. Try it on and see if I’m right about how flattering it is.”

  Riley’s eyes rolled, but she finally disappeared behind the elaborate brocade curtain. Alex heard their muffled conversation, then Dannette’s squeal of delight.

  “Go show him. Go on!”

  The curtain swayed and Riley emerged. Alex opened his mouth to offer a generic comment, then hesitated, his eyes trailing from Riley’s tousled hair, down her lithe frame to the tips of her shoes. The dress she had donned clung to her body, emphasizing high small breasts, an incredibly tiny waist, narrow hips and legs up to her ears.

  He swallowed against the unaccountable tightness that clutched his throat, then shifted in his chair when he felt an inexplicable tingle of awareness low in his body.

  Dammit, this was Riley. He’d known her forever.

  But he hadn’t known she hid a body like that under her sloppy clothes.

  “She looks—” He broke off when his voice emerged much too rough.

  “I look like a freak,” Riley muttered. “I told you I don’t look good in pink.”

  “You look fine,” Alex assured her.

  Fine? What an understatement. The color of her gown was pale and dusky, blending beautifully with her bare, tanned arms and the slit that revealed one leg to midthigh.

  “I want him to see the tuxedo before he offers any sort of opinion,” Riley said stubbornly.

  Dannette sighed in impatience, but Riley ignored her and turned on her heel, striding back to her dressing room.

  Alex sucked in a breath, held it, then exhaled, some of the tension draining from his body as he did.

  “I think she looks divine, don’t you?” Dannette stated, obviously intent on using the time alone with Alex to press her point.

  “Of course.”

  “She’s really a pretty girl.”

  Girl? Riley had celebrated her thirtieth birthday before going to Africa, so he didn’t think the term “girl” applied.

  Especially when she was all woman in that dress.

  Alex scowled at his own wayward thoughts and pulled his attention to his fiancée.

  “Perhaps she would be more comfortable in slacks, Dannette.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s accustomed to wearing loose, comfortable clothing. With all the tramping about she does in her line of work, she doesn’t have a need for dresses.”

  “That’s nonsense. Every woman wants to feel feminine and pretty now and again, despite her occupation.”

  “That might be true, but—”

  “And this is a wedding, for heaven’s sake,” Dannette grumbled. “I don’t think I’m being unreasonable to ask that she blend in.”

  “I suppose.”

  He heard a door slam and looked up in time to see Riley striding into the main room.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  The woman standing in front of him was far more in line with the one he was accustomed to seeing. Her shoulders were neatly outlined by a tailored tuxedo jacket. A starched white shirt with a folded wing collar sported an old-fashioned tie and a diamond stickpin. A brightly colored brocade vest led to loose, pleated slacks that draped over shiny black loafers.

  On any other woman, the ensemble would have looked absurd. But as Riley adopted an insolent-model expression, cocked one hip and slid her hands into her pockets, Alex knew she could have appeared on a Parisian runway.

  “I like it,” he stated.

  Dannette frowned. “But, Alex—”

  This time, it was Alex who interrupted whatever comment she’d been about to make. “Riley is my best man and I believe I have some say in what she should wear. Let her wear the tux.”

  “But—”

  He cast Dannette his sternest look and she quickly relented—just as he’d known she would.

  “Now,” he continued, “I believe that Riley invited us to lunch. I think we should accept her offer, don’t you?”

  Dannette’s lips thinned, but she shrugged. “Fine.”

  As Dannette went to gather her things and speak to her personal coordinator, Alex stood. Closing the distance between them, Riley muttered under her breath, “Thanks for the help.”

  “You didn’t look too thrilled to be in that dress.”

  But he’d liked it. More than he should have.

  “It wasn’t the dress so much as the heels. Did you get a look at those things?”

  Yes. He had. One of the shoes had peeked out at him from beneath the slit in her gown. Vividly, he remembered how the tiny straps had shown off her delicate feet. Surprisingly delicate feet, considering all the hiking she did.

  “I don’t think I could have spent all day in those things. In my opinion, their only real value is in being part of a right costume for a seduction.”

  The word hung in the air long after Riley had gone to her dressing room.

  Seduction.

  Immediately, the image of a woman dressed in high heels, silk hose and a clinging gown swam into his head. Hell, how could he prevent such a picture?

  So why, then, did the dark hair he first imagined become short. Tousled.

  Enough.

  Riley might have uttered the cheeky comment in his presence, but that didn’t mean Alex had the right to be thinking of his friend in such a suggestive light. She wasn’t the type for a seduction of any kind. She was his buddy.

  So he would do well to remember that fact.

  RILEY POINTED to a small, discreet sign and ordered the cabby to stop outside of one of her favorite restaurants. Peering over her shoulder, she saw Dannette’s dubious expressi
on.

  “I realize the neighborhood is a bit off the beaten track…”

  Judging by Dannette’s mood, they could have been in Outer Mongolia.

  “But I assure you the food’s excellent.”

  Dannette adopted a brave face. “What kind of cuisine do they have?”

  “Indian,” Alex provided, sliding out and holding the door for them both.

  Dannette touched Alex’s arm as if to draw him back into the cab. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Sure,” Alex replied. “Lots of times.”

  The fact that he didn’t object to the restaurant apparently gave her some comfort, because she said, “I suppose I’m in for a treat, then.”

  Riley fought the urge to chortle. Yes, Dannette the exbeauty queen was in for a treat, the first of her tests, as a matter of fact. The previous evening, Riley had compiled a more detailed list of qualities Alex’s future wife would need to have before Riley would give her wholehearted approval of the match. Among the traits Riley had noted were a sense of humor, spontaneity, an adventurous spirit, a love of good food and fun, an interest in sports and a sensuality to match his own.

  The three of them ducked into the restaurant. As Alex closed the door behind them, they were entombed in a fragrant darkness. Rich silken fabrics draped the walls.

  “Reservation?” a small wizened man asked automatically. Then his mouth split in a wide smile when his eyes landed on Riley. “Miss Page! You’ve come back at last.”

  “Of course, Mr. Pok. I arrived last night—and you know I’d be visiting you as soon as I possibly could.”

  He took her hand, shaking it with open abandon. “I’m so glad.” He leaned close to ask, “You will let me determine the menu?”

  “Of course.”

  “This way, please.”

  He led them through the dim confines of the restaurant, past other diners who were seated on pillows piled on the floor.

  When Dannette saw that they too would be asked to sit on the cushions, she hesitated.

  Alex drew Riley aside. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Indian cuisine might be more than she’s used to eating—especially the way Mr. Pok spices things to a three-alarm level.”

  Riley patted his hand. “I think Dannette’s equal to the challenge. Don’t you think you’re up to the challenge, Dannette, dear?”