The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,19

do for him.

“Go look at the itinerary,” she said, swiping mascara on her upper eyelashes. “We need to know what we’re facing down there.”

He walked over to the dresser and picked up one of two bound binders. The cover was inscribed with the words The Wedding of Megan and Jay in bold calligraphy. One booklet had Megan written in the upper right corner, and the other read Jay.

He opened the book on top—Jay’s—and flipped through the pages. The next three days were strictly regimented with a minute-to-minute schedule and detailed descriptions of all the activities. The entries were color-coded with highlighters, and there was a corresponding color key at the bottom of the first page.

Oh. My. God.

But even worse was the fact that Mrs. Vandemeer had booked most of the next three days of his life. How was he going to find the evidence he needed if he was required to be at all the places listed on those pages?

“Well?” Megan called out to him. “What is it?”

Oh, God. Friday morning he was scheduled for a men’s mani-pedi. Who did that?

“Josh!”

“Uh . . .” Terror washed through his body. What in the hell had he gotten himself into? “Uh . . .” He scanned the page. “Oh, your mom told me about this one. Seven p.m. Poolside cocktail party.”

“A cocktail party?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Shit.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, still in the binder’s horrific thrall. “Is that bad?”

She stopped applying her mascara and glanced over at him. “It’s not good. Do you have nice clothes? A dress shirt and a tie?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

He shot her a sideways glare. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She stormed out of the bathroom and squatted next to her suitcase before glancing up at him. “What are you waiting for?”

He tossed the binder on the dresser, then hefted his overnight bag onto the bed and unzipped it.

Megan came over holding a pale blue dress, and then started to dig through his clothes.

“Hey!”

She tugged out a shirt. “The white shirt with the blue tie.”

“You’re dressing me?”

“You want to sign up for this gig, it’s part of it. She’ll expect us to be color-coordinated. Did the itinerary say if there was a color scheme?”

“A color scheme?” He shook his head. “God, no.”

“Good. Get dressed.” She left him standing at the foot of her bed as she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

He could wear his jeans with the shirt and tie, but he suspected Megan’s mother would flip her lid. And while that would be amusing to say the least, he needed to stay on her good side, at least until he found his evidence. He dug a pair of dress pants out of his bag and set them on the bed, waiting for Megan to emerge from the bathroom so he could change. He heard Nicole’s muffled voice calling from downstairs.

“Megan!”

He decided not to wait for the bathroom to be free. His goal was to charm Nicole Vandemeer, and so far he was succeeding. No need to be late for the first event on her endless schedule. He stripped off his shirt and slipped an arm into one of the sleeves of the button-down shirt as the bathroom door opened.

Megan stood in the doorway in a light blue sundress, and he stopped dressing, his second arm partially in the sleeve.

The sight of her sucked his breath away. Megan Vandemeer was a stunningly beautiful woman. And Jay Connors was a fool.

They stared at each other for several seconds before she looked away.

“You can use the bathroom now,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

“Thanks.” But he stayed in place, pulling his shirt on the rest of the way and starting to button it.

Her gaze moved to the bed and then to his face. “Keep the jeans.”

“But I figured your mother would have a fit.”

Megan glanced up at him through long dark eyelashes, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. “She’ll hate it. That’s why you should wear them.”

“So you want me to piss your mother off? After you freaked out about upsetting her?”

“That’s different,” she said, picking up his tie off the bed. “You get to make an exit from this horror show. I have to live with her for at least another thirty years.”

She looped the tie around his neck, and in that instant he knew he was in deep, deep shit. He forced his breathing to remain normal even though his heart raced. Did she even know how sexy she was right now, knotting