Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,109
straight black skirt, black stockings or the tailored white shirt. Yet when she moved toward the car, she carried herself with an easy, swinging grace that contrasted sharply with her coolly composed features.
“Best therapy right now would be another woman. Victoria—”
“No.” Connor looked away from the termagant and directed a stony stare at Michael. “I definitely don’t need another hard-boiled career woman with her eye on the main chance. So don’t try any matchmaking tonight or you’ll be looking for a new best man for your wedding tomorrow.”
Two
Connor barely noticed the radiant beauty of the stained-glass window backlit by the afternoon sun. Or how the kaleidoscopic light fell onto the faces of bride and groom, giving them an otherworldly quality. Instead he stood stiffly next to her behind the bridal pair as they exchanged vows, Michael’s voice deep and serious, Suzy sounding much breathier.
His anger at her had driven away his annoyance that Michael had dared to discuss Connor’s abortive personal affairs with Suzy. He couldn’t bear the thought of being pitied by anyone.
Although he could hardly accuse her of pitying him.
Unwillingly Connor slanted a sideways look at the maid of honor. He’d planned to ignore her today. She’d said little at dinner last night. Despite his threats to Michael, his and Suzy’s matchmaking efforts had been irritatingly obvious, and Connor had no intention of giving the argumentative woman any encouragement. The next woman he dated would be pure entertainment … no strings and plenty of hot sex. Not another high-flyer married to her career.
Her pallor last night had suggested she’d be more prone to headaches than hot sex. So had her attitude—she’d excused herself just after eleven, pleading exhaustion, but when he’d offered her a ride home she’d given him a look that suggested she’d rather eat slugs, and insisted on calling a taxi.
He had to admit she looked much better today. Suzy’s doing, no doubt. He almost hadn’t recognized her at the church door. Only her height—she was tall, her head coming up to his chin—her slender body and those wary hazel eyes had identified her.
Yet she was impossible to ignore.
Yesterday’s rumpled white shirt and black sacklike skirt had given way to an ultrafeminine dress of some pale, gauzy fabric that turned what he could see of her skin to the delicious luminescence of pearl. She’d done something different with her hair, too, twisting the dark strands up so it exposed the soft, pale skin of her neck, and a couple of loose tendrils brushed the slope of her shoulders.
And all that bare, feminine skin tempted him to touch, to stroke.
What the hell was he thinking? One week without a woman to call his own and even this plain, uptight female was starting to look attractive.
Despite Michael’s advice, the last thing he needed in his life was a woman. Even if he did, this one didn’t qualify—she was way too intense. And, as Suzy’s best friend, too complicated.
A hush fell over the church and he turned his head to watch Michael slip a plain gold band onto Suzy’s finger. There was a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, and Michael looked positively bewitched.
Connor let out the breath he was holding.
He should’ve advised Michael on the wedding band. Women liked diamonds. Dana would’ve demanded a humdinger—for investment purposes of course. Michael should at least have had a row of diamonds channel set.
The priest was giving Michael permission to kiss the bride. Connor blanked out the sighs from the congregation and his awareness of the woman standing beside him, and found himself hoping Suzy would be more trustworthy than Dana had been.
Then, thankfully, the service was over. As they filed out of the church Connor pulled out his BlackBerry and made a note to himself about a meeting with a Realtor to look at new offices that he’d remembered he was supposed to attend on Monday.
The maid of honor—he really should remember her name—was glaring at him. Guiltily he stuck the BlackBerry back in his pocket.
“Wait,” she ordered as he headed for the stairs. “Michael and Suzy will want a photo at the church door.”
Violet? Was that her name? “There’s a wedding photographer to do that.” He gestured to where the man stood. “I didn’t bring a camera.”
“They might want us to be in the photo with them. We should smile. Look happy.”
“Sure.”
She shot him a narrow look; clearly she hadn’t missed his sarcasm. Not Violet, but it had been something equally old-fashioned. Edith? No, that wasn’t