“You wish you could be anywhere else but here, huh?”
“Of course not. I want to be here, Bree.” She gave me the look that told me so much more than the words she’d just uttered. I knew my friend, and thus was privy to information that confirmed why this would be hard for her.
“You’re a beautiful liar, darling.” I patted her hand affectionately. “But I know Elaina appreciates you being here for her.”
“No, I’m not,” she said stubbornly, taking a sip of something alcoholic that looked wonderful, and I wouldn’t be having. “I don’t want to be anywhere else than right here for Elaina on her wedding day.”
I laughed at my best friend who never seemed to acknowledge her own beauty. Gabrielle Hargreave was one absolutely gorgeous woman, with her mahogany hair and green eyes, and a body that didn’t quit, but she didn’t see it. Men panted after her all the time. And there were men here right at that very moment looking at her. Ethan’s cousin, Ivan, was one of them.
“So what’s the deal with you and Ivan?” I swung a look over to the bar where Ethan and Ivan were chatting over beers. Lots of beers. My husband might just be getting drunk at this wedding reception. We’d both been asked to be in this wedding, just as Neil and Elaina had been in ours. I guess he was letting off some steam, and he was entitled to that. During the actual ceremony he’d seemed a little tense to me. I wondered why. It was a happy time. His best friend had just married the girl he’d loved for years. Ethan’s behavior didn’t make sense, even for him.
“What do you mean?” Gaby’s eyes were now trained onto where Ethan and Ivan were ensconced. I didn’t miss how Ivan found her the instant she looked over to the bar, either. “We met at your wedding obviously as maid of honor, and best man. We—we have been forced into each other’s company.”
“Forced, huh? Ivan is so sweet...and hot. Why wouldn’t you want to be around him?” I smelled a rat with her lame explanation. And I was also fishing with my best friend. I hadn’t forgotten what Ethan had told me about the night at the Mallerton Gala when the alarm went off and everyone had to flee the building in a hurry. Ethan had seen them all mussed up like maybe they had been together. Ethan also seemed to know the type of woman his cousin would go for, and he’d told me more than once Gaby had all the right qualities.
“Well, I—I think he is—he’s very…um…Ivan is an interesting man.” She twisted her cocktail napkin into the shape of a toothpick. “He told me about all of the Mallertons at his estate in Ireland. He wants me to go back there and work on cataloging the entire collection.”
Ahhh, there it was. The nervous napkin destruction, the stammering, the blush in her cheeks, all suggesting Ethan’s prediction was dead-on target. “Back there?” I asked.
“Hmmm?” Her innocent look didn’t fool me.
“You said, ‘back there’ as if you’ve been to his Irish estate already.” I tilted my head at her. “Gaby, have you been to see Ivan’s paintings and not told your best friend about it?”
“Um…yeah, I was sent over there by Paul Langley to check out what was there.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stay, though. The timing was—bad for me.” She took another sip of her drink and looked down, avoiding eye contact.
“Well maybe you will find a better time to go back then. I bet the paintings are magnificent if they’re anything like my Lady Percival.” I decided to let my probing go—for now. I could tell she was done with confession, and I didn’t want to hurt her by bringing up bad memories of things she didn’t need reminding.
“Yeah. I hope so.” She looked up and asked honestly, “How are you dealing with your political celebrity?”
Nice topic change, Gab. My turn to embrace avoidance now. “I try not to pay attention to it,” I lied. “We both had to put on a show, and we did. Now, I just want to move on and let my past stay there, you know?”
“I do know, my friend.” She squeezed my hand affectionately before heading off to find Benny, who was doing the wedding photographs.
“MAY I join you?” a silky voice asked at my ear.
Dillon Carrington was indeed here, just as he’d promised when we met him in Italy. He was one of Neil’s groomsmen and had all the ladies swooning. I imagined it was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to already, being a celebrated racing champion and all. The dark good looks didn’t hurt his chances, either. The man was quite simply gorgeous. But he knew it. “Sure, if hanging out with a pregnant chick cranky from a lack of wine is your thing.” I winked at him.
He laughed and pulled up a chair. “Well, you’re a stunner, pregnant or not, even if the lack of wine has made you a bit barmy. How can I help?”
I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine, just sitting back and people-watching. It’s my favorite.”
“Really? I know people like to look at you in photographs.”
Was he flirting with me? And if so—why on earth was he paying attention to me when he could have his pick of any single women in the room. “You’ve seen my photographs, Dillon?”
He pursed his lips as if he were trying to hold back a grin. “Yes, Brynne, I have.” He bowed his head in deference. “I wholeheartedly approve.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Ethan doesn’t.”
He nodded with a tilted head as if considering. “I think I can see why he would feel that way. Ethan has territorial tendencies. He has to, in his profession, plus he’s just snatched you off the market, so I can only imagine.”
“Yeah, I know.” I drew in a deep breath and thought about it from Ethan’s perspective. What if he were the model and women saw him naked in photographs? I wouldn’t like it. Honestly, I would hate it. I decided a swift subject change was needed to lift the mood. “Where’s your pretty girlfriend, Dillon? Why aren’t you out there dancing with her right now?”
“Oh, Gwen? She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just my date for this weekend.” He flashed me a devilish grin that told me more than I wanted to know about Dillon Carrington’s sexual skill with women. He spelled TROUBLE in straight shouty caps, and Ethan was right on target about Dillon only having dates. “And I’m not dancing with her right now because your husband is.”
DILLON laughed at my reaction. Ethan was indeed, with Dillon’s “date,” the leggy Gwen, who looked like she was really into dancing with my husband. He just looked drunk. Oh, I don’t like you at all, Gwen.
“I was going to ask you to dance with me, but when I came over, you seemed like maybe you weren’t up for a spin, and I couldn’t face the possible rejection.” His amber eyes twinkled naughtily.