Genae ran her tongue experimentally over her teeth. She had never had a root canal, but she wasn’t sure it could be much worse than dinner with Brian’s parents. Her cheeks still ached from the fake smile she’d worn all during the meal. It hadn’t been easy--especially when his father continuously spoke to her as if she had the IQ of an average five-year-old and his mother asked a string of utterly inane questions about the shop.
Normally she would have let anyone else know exactly what she thought of their patronizing behavior. But these were Brian’s parents. She had restrained herself for his sake--and because she had solemnly promised Raylene that she would behave.
It had been a struggle, but she’d managed. She was rather proud of herself, actually. And thoroughly relieved that she would never have to go through that again.
“You really were great this evening,” Brian commented, proving that he’d been thinking along the same lines. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
“It wasn’t too bad.”
He laughed and reached over to give her a companionable pat on the knee, through the thin fabric of her summery, cream-colored slacks. “You’re a liar. But I still appreciate what you did tonight.”
“I just hope we accomplished something. Except for the photographer who stopped by our table to snap a photo of your father toasting us--you predicted that to the last detail, by the way--no one seemed to pay much attention to us.”
“Don’t you believe it. Nearly everyone there saw us and recognized us. The ones who didn’t were informed of our identity by the serving staff and other diners.”
“And you think they’ll talk about seeing us all together?”
“Oh, yeah. They’ll suspect the dinner was specifically arranged for tonight because of that journal article, but it was obvious that we were all being pleasant and cordial. We might not have looked like a Norman Rockwell family, but we obviously aren’t estranged, either.”
His hand was still on her knee. Genae picked it up and set it firmly on the steering wheel. “Are you ever going to tell your parents why you and I have been seen together so often during the past few weeks? That we aren’t really a couple?”
Still grinning at the byplay with his hand, he shrugged. “Probably not. They aren’t really that interested in my social life. Who I see, or why. Unless, of course, there’s a chance that I could introduce Mom to someone from Hollywood. You know how she feels about anyone who’s ever been on a movie screen.”
“Yes, she makes that clear enough.” It hadn’t escaped Genae that his parents hadn’t even asked how his injuries were healing. She hoped they had asked during telephone calls, at least, or had expressed some concern for their son’s well-being.
After a moment, she asked a question that had been bothering her all evening. “How did you end up so different from your parents?”
He shrugged again. “I didn’t spend time with them. I was raised by a series of nannies and housekeepers. Spent some time with my maternal grandmother until she died when I was eleven. Mostly I just raised myself.”
She would not feel sorry for him, she told herself. It would be a tremendous waste of time to feel sorry for Brian. Instead she said merely, “You spoiled yourself rotten.”
He laughed. “You aren’t the first to say that.”
He pulled into the parking space next to her car and killed the engine. “Are you going to ask me up for coffee, or are you going to bolt again?”
She gave it only a moment’s thought. “I’m going to bolt,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching for the door handle.
He caught her arm, holding her in her seat. “What are you so afraid of, Genae? What do you think will happen if I come up?”
“We’ll fight,” she said promptly. “You’ll start lecturing me again about how reckless and irresponsible I am when it comes to the security measures you want me to take, and that will make me mad and we’ll start yelling at each other.”
“What if I promise not to fight with you? We’ve already settled the issue of security as far as I’m concerned.”
“Right. You have someone following me twenty-four hours a day whether I like it or not, and I’m supposed to accept that without complaint.”
“Exactly. So there’s nothing to fight about, right?”
“If you say so,” she muttered.
“Which brings us to what you’re really afraid of--that we won’t fight.”
She scowled at his hand on her arm. “Wanna bet?”
Ignoring her, he continued. “You’re afraid we’ll be alone up there together--not fighting--and things will start getting intense again.”
“That’s not--”
He reached up with his free hand to slide his fingers beneath her chin and turn her face toward him.
“We’d start kissing again--and you’d enjoy it. Again. And that scares you all the way down to your toes.”
“You obviously had too much wine with dinner.” She said, trying to sound haughty instead of panicky, “It’s gone straight to your head.”
“I had half a glass because my dad ordered a wine he knows I don’t like. You know I’m right, Genae.”
“About the wine? How could I know--?”
“About the kisses,” he interrupted with strained patience. “That’s what really scares you, isn’t it?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Brian.”
His face was very close to hers now. “Then maybe you’re afraid of your own feelings.”
“That’s redicu--”
The man had an exasperating habit of kissing her right in the middle of her sentences. She had swallowed so many words lately, she’d probably gained an extra pound or two. He made her so damned crazy that she wrapped her arms around his neck and almost angrily kissed him back.
Twisting in his seat, he enveloped her in an embrace that nearly squeezed all of the air from her lungs. His mouth was hard and demanding on hers. There was nothing tentative about this kiss, no holding back on either side.
Brian had always been very careful to control his hands when he kissed her before; this time he let them roam. And, oh, was he good with them!
Her figure-skimming gauze top proved no hindrance to his explorations. For the first time, she felt the heat of his palms on the bare skin of her sides and her back. She’d fantasized about having him touch her more often than she cared to admit. And he was right--it scared her senseless.
Because she had also fantasized about touching him, and because this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, she unlocked her arms from around his neck and slid them down his chest. Her fingers flexed against him, testing the solid feel of him, and she marveled again that he was more firmly muscled than his slender build would indicate at first glance.
Her imagination was definitely in high gear now, as she imagined how he would feel beneath his finely tailored clothes.
She shuddered when his hands finally moved up her stomach, his thumbs moving lazily, yet skillfully, over the thin fabric of her bra. A sound escaped her, muffled by his mouth against hers.
Excitement and a growing need for oxygen were making her dizzy. She clutched his forearms, and she couldn’t have said whether her intent was to pull his hands away or to hold them more tightly against her.
This time it was Brian who made a choked sound. She knew immediately that it was not a murmur of pleasure. Realizing that she was tightly gripping his left forearm--she could feel the bandages beneath his jacket sleeve--she gasped, tore her mouth from beneath his, and immediately dropped her hands. “I hurt you arm. I’m so sorry--”
Shaking his head, he steadied her when she would have jerked away from him. “It’s okay,” he said. “You just happened to brush against the only small part of my arm that’s still a little raw. It was an accident, and no damage was done. I hardly even feel it now.”
She felt terrible that she had gotten so carried away with her own sensations that she’d forgotten about his injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should--
“Genae,” he cut in firmly. “I’m fine. Really. It was just a twinge.”
Hastily rearranging her clothes, she wondered how on earth everything had gotten so out of hand.
Hadn’t they been arguing? Hadn’t she been intent on getting out of this car and safely locked inside her apartment to avoid any more kisses or serious conversation? Hadn’t she told herself before she’d left for this dinner tonight that if Brian did try to kiss her again, she would let him know firmly and finally that she wasn’t interested?
So much for even trying to pretend that she was completely unaffected by his kisses.
Brian shifted back into his own seat, carefully lifting himself away from the gearshift that must have been digging into him during their embrace. “I think I’m getting too old for make-out sessions in a little car,” he murmured. “Maybe I should buy a mini-van.”
Her hands were shaking when she lifted them to her tumbled hair. “Don’t bother on my behalf. This is not going to happen again.”
“You’re probably right. From now on, we’d better keep this sort of thing behind closed doors. We never know when a tabloid photographer might pop up.”
She groaned at the thought of seeing a front-page tabloid snapshot of herself and Brian groping each other in his car. And then, after processing everything he had said, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. From now on, unless it’s necessary for the sake of our public act, no more kisses. Period.”
“And why is that?” He asked genially.
“Because there’s no purpose in it. No future to it. You and I will be going our separate ways in a few weeks, and I’m not interested in a temporary dalliance during that time.”
“And if I were to reply that I’m not interested in that either?”
Was he implying that he was thinking long-term? That he wasn’t planning to disappear from her life when the wedding was behind them and the need for deception was no longer an issue?
If so, he needed to be set straight about that, too. “Then I would say, good. I’m glad you aren’t going to be giving me any problems.”
He studied her in a way that made her wonder if he could see the nerves shimmering just beneath the surface of her deliberately stern expression. “I’m not sure you understood what I meant.”
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” she countered.
“And maybe we should wait and have this discussion another time. After the wedding, when some of the pressure is off.”
The only thing she intended to say to him after the wedding was, “So long, Brian. It’s been interesting.”
Keeping that thought to herself, she reached for her door handle. “I’ll see you Friday night at the rehearsal. I’ll be pretty busy until then.”
“I understand. You need some time to think about what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing is--” She stopped and drew in a deep breath, aware that nothing would be accomplished by an argument now. Not while her emotions--and presumably his--were still running so high. “Goodnight, Brian.”
“Goodnight, Genae.” He didn’t offer to walk her up, most likely because he knew she would refuse. She grimly suspected that he would know when she arrived safely to her door. He probably had someone posted in her hallway to report to him.
She climbed out of the car and started to close the door behind her. With a sigh, she paused and looked back inside. “Are you okay to drive? Your arm, I mean.”
His smile made her sorry she’d given in to the impulse to ask. Obviously he misinterpreted her very natural concern. “I’ll be fine, darling. But thank you for asking.”
She stepped away from the car and shut the door firmly. She didn’t slam it--no matter how irritated she was with Brian, she couldn’t bring herself to mistreat that beautiful vehicle--but she made her frustration clear. And then she turned on one heel and marched toward the elevator, her chin high, her shoulders squared.
“Do a guy a favor and look where it gets me,” she muttered under her breath, stabbing at the call button with her forefinger. “I sat through that God-awful boring meal with his parents, I smiled for that stupid photographer so they could pretend to be a happy family and what do I get for my kindness and generosity? A headache.”
Massaging her temples, she stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. It wasn’t only her head that ached, she thought with a scowl, rubbing at another ache in the center of her chest. And that was one pain she was afraid would only get worse during the next few days.
Jonathan was unbelievably calm on his wedding day. Brian watched his friend in amazement, wondering why he wasn’t sweating or stammering or something.
Brian knew his old buddy didn’t like dressing up or being the focus of attention. And yet, here he was, dressed in a tux and preparing to step out in front of a church full of people--and he didn’t even look nervous.
He actually looked happier than Brian had ever seen him.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this, John?” Jason Colby asked as he adjusted the sleeves of his own tuxedo jacket. “I can smuggle you out of here before anybody catches on.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Thanks, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m staying.”
Jason heaved a heavy sigh and looked at Brian. “She’s brainwashed him, boss. Got him thinking he wants to give up his freedom.”
“I’m thinking Jonathan’s not giving up anything. But he’s gaining a hell of a lot.”
Jason groaned. “Damn. You’ve been brainwashed, too. Next thing I know, you’ll be buckling a ball and chain around your own ankle.”
Smiling a little in response to his security chief’s broad Texas drawl, Brian thought of how closely he had come to standing in Jonathan’s shoes.
Twice he had proposed marriage, and twice his plans had fallen through. Now he couldn’t imagine himself waiting at the end of an aisle for either of the women he had considered marrying before, not even as fond as he was of Raylene.
He supposed he should consider himself lucky to have avoided making such a monumental mistake.
The minister entered the room, tapping his watch. “It’s time to line up, gentleman. We’ll walk into the sanctuary together as soon as the organist gives us the signal.”
Brian was amused that Jonathan stepped forward so quickly. “I’m ready,” he said.
The minister smiled. “I see that you are.”
Brian and Jason fell into step behind their friend.
A short time later, they stood together in front of the church. Groom, best man, and groomsman, standing straight and stiff in their tuxedoes as they waited for the ceremony to begin.
Brian didn’t know many of the guests, only a few business associates of his and Jonathan’s.
Raylene’s family and friends and members of her church made up the rest of the cozy assemblage. Her mother was already sniffling into a lace-edged handkerchief. She happened to catch his eyes; he winked at her, eliciting a watery smile.
The little flower girl, the five-year-old daughter of one of Raylene’s cousins, came down the aisle dropping rose petals from a beribboned basket. Her angelic face was creased in an adorable frown of concentration. There was no ring bearer; the rings were stashed securely in Brian’s pocket. At least, he hoped they were...
A quick, discreet exploration reassured him that the rings were exactly where they were supposed to be. He gave a small sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the wedding procession.
Another cousin of Raylene’s, Angie Parrish, served as bridesmaid, her curly auburn hair clashing cheerfully with her lavender dress. Brian had met her at the rehearsal last night. A resident of Birmingham, Alabama, she had a slow drawl and a quick sense of humor. He followed Angie’s progress down the aisle, and watched as she took her assigned place at the front of the church, opposite Jason.
When he glanced back down the aisle, he had the sensation of being kicked solidly in the chest.
Genae was coming toward him, her steps measured and timed to the music, her long, lavender dress fluttering at her ankles. She wore her hair up, baring her slender neck and shoulders, and she carried a small bouquet of white roses in front of her.
She looked so beautiful it made him ache.
He had the feeling she was deliberately not looking at him as she came up the aisle; she seemed to be focusing rather intently on the altar straight ahead of her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
He was struck by the utter rightness of this moment--waiting for her at the front of a church.
What, exactly, did that mean?
Still without looking at him, Genae took her place. The organ music swelled and the audience rose to their feet as Raylene entered on the arm of her father. Brian glanced that way, noted that Raylene did, indeed, look beautiful--and then his eyes turned back to Genae.
Maybe she felt his attention on her. Or maybe it was only happenstance that she finally looked his way. Their eyes met, and held for so long that others must have noticed. But this was no act. It wasn’t romantic posturing for the sake of anyone who might be watching them. They looked at each other because they couldn’t look away--at least, he couldn’t.
The ceremony proceeded, and Brian and Genae managed to perform their responsibilities as best man and maid of honor. Brian got a lump in his throat when the minister pronounced Jonathan and Raylene husband and wife. He swallowed, then broke into a big grin when Jonathan kissed his bride. Genae, he noted, had a sheen of tears in her eyes, but he knew her too well to think she would let them escape.
He still remembered the day less than a year earlier when he had confided in Jonathan that he wanted to marry and start a family. Jonathan had listened to Brian’s carefully thought-out plan for finding the ideal bride and then had said it sounded to him like a disaster waiting to happen. He hadn’t understood why Brian was in such a hurry to get married or to have kids. As far as Jonathan was concerned, he and Brian were both better off being free of marital ties, able to concentrate on business, to travel at will, and to spend their time doing exactly what they wanted without worrying about checking in with anyone else.
Who would have believed then that only a few months later it would be Jonathan taking marriage vows while Brian, still single, looked on?
Jonathan and Raylene turned to walk back down the aisle together. Brian stepped up behind them, offering his arm to Genae, while Jason and Angie fell in step behind them. He doubted that anyone else noticed Genae’s momentary hesitation before she rested her hand lightly on his arm. She was avoiding his eyes again. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“You look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“Think we could bribe the minister to perform another ceremony? I’m game if you are.”
Her steps faltered a moment. Through a frozen smile, she hissed at him. “That isn’t funny. Behave yourself.”
He wondered what she would say if he told her that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been teasing.
Genae never expected that Brian would be a lifeline she would cling to during the wedding reception. She had planned to avoid him as much as possible while still carrying on the pretense that they were a couple. But as the evening wore on, she found herself using him more and more as a buffer between her and everyone else.
Brian was so good at this socializing thing. He knew exactly what to say in response to even the most trivial small talk. He was particularly adept at diverting questions he didn’t want to answer without offending the asker. Genae envied his tact and forbearance; she could have used a little of it herself.
She had developed a strategy of her own for coping with too-personal remarks. Every time someone asked about her plans for the future, she smiled, took a sip of champagne and let Brian field the question. Might as well make use of his talents for this one last big event, she rationalized.
“The band is very good,” Brian commented to Raylene and Jonathan after the cake had been cut and the first dance was behind them.
Raylene nodded in satisfaction. “They are, aren’t they? The lead singer is an old friend from Searcy. The band’s getting quite popular locally. I was lucky to get them tonight.”
Brian listened for another minute, his foot tapping in time to the beat, and then he asked, “Do they have aspirations of going national?”
Jonathan gave Genae a wry smile. “Apparently he’s considering getting into the music production business now.”
“I was just wondering,” Brian answered mildly.
Raylene put a hand on her sister’s arm.
“Genae--you will sing for me tonight, won’t you? You promised you would, you know.”
Genae took another quick gulp of champagne, “Um...”
Her twin smiled, not without sympathy. “Don’t try to weasel out of it now. I know you and the band have practiced and I’m holding you to your promise. For me.”
For Raylene. “Of course,” Genae replied. “I’ll sing for you.”
Having overheard her, Brian turned to look at her in surprise. “You’re going to sing?”
“Genae has a beautiful voice,” Raylene informed him proudly, “I sing well enough, but she got the real talent in the family. It’s just rare that anyone can talk her into using it.”
Self-conscious now, Genae shrugged. “Raye has always overstated my talent.”
“She promised to sing my two favorite songs,” Raylene said, leaning happily against Jonathan’s arm. “I begged, of course. Shamelessly.”
“And, as usual, Genae consented as a favor to you,” Brian returned.
Both Raylene and Genae looked at him in question at his tone. Jonathan frowned at his friend, apparently also hearing something that bothered him.
“Brian, you make it sound as though everything Genae does is for me,” Raylene said a bit hesitantly. “I certainly don’t--”
“Brian is well aware that I do exactly what I want,” Genae cut in, giving him a stern look that dared him to say anything to upset her sister this evening.
“And tonight you want to sing for your sister’s wedding?” He asked, his tone hard to read.
She lifted her chin. “Exactly.”
With a wry expression, he motioned toward the stage.
Draining her champagne, she set the empty flute on a table and moved toward the band, her long skirt swishing about her feet. Seeing her approaching, the lead singer, after finishing the number he’d been singing, motioned for her to join them.
“As a special gift for the newlyweds, the bride’s sister would like to sing two of the bride’s favorite songs,” he announced into the microphone. The statement was greeted by murmurs of pleasure and anticipation from the guests, who immediately gathered around the stage, led by the twins’ proud parents.
Genae wasn’t usually nervous when she sang. She’d been singing in public since her Bible School debut when she was four. She’d sung for big crowds and small groups, for close friends and total strangers--but she had never performed in front of Brian before. That made it different.
She looked at Raylene as she began. Her twin appeared so delighted that it encouraged her to put everything she had into the performance.
Standing on the stage in the dress her sister had selected for her; she sang the songs her sister loved. “Open Arms” and “It’s Your Love.”
It was sometime during the first song that Raylene stopped watching Genae and turned her eyes to her new husband’s face. He smiled down at her, and their eyes locked. Genae finished the second number with a wistful ache in her chest.
Her audience erupted into enthusiastic applause when she finished. Giving them a little bow of gratitude, she handed the microphone back to the band’s lead singer and moved to the three steps that led down from the stage.
Brian was there to take her hand and assist her down the steps, even though she could, of course, have handled them on her own. He leaned over to kiss her lightly when she stood beside him.
Because she knew that would be expected of them, she didn’t try to resist the kiss, though she didn’t exactly respond, either.
“Raylene didn’t overstate your talent,” he said. “You have an amazing voice. Absolutely beautiful.”
As talented an actor as Brian was, Genae had learned to tell when he was being sincere. He was now. Because that sincerity touched her, she smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He squeezed her hand, them moved to stand just behind her while she accepted hugs from her sister and her parents and glowing compliments from the others there.
The approval was nice, of course, but it quickly became overwhelming. Somehow Brian knew the exact moment when it became too much for her. He moved to her side and slipped an arm around
her. “You must be thirsty after singing. Would you like another glass of champagne?”
She gave him a grateful nod. “Yes, I would. I’ll go with you to get it.”
As always, the crowd parted to allow them through.
“You really do come in handy occasionally,” Genae told him as she accepted a glass from him.
He lifted his own in a mock toast, “Just keep that in mind, okay?”
She sipped the champagne rather than attempting to answer him.
“We haven’t danced yet,” he reminded her as the band began to play again.
She was aware of that. She’d rather hoped to avoid it, even though she’d known the chances of doing so were slim. People would expect to see her dancing with Brian. And they did dance well together. The problem was, she enjoyed it entirely too much.
She downed several more swallows of champagne before Brian gently removed the glass from her hand and set it aside. “I think you’ve had enough of this for now. Come dance with me, Genae.”
She just hated it when he spoke in that particular tone. That low, sexy, intimate growl that made her knees go weak and her stomach all quivery. Really hated it, she thought as she moved into his arms.
You are such a liar, Genae.
