Bed of Roses Page 0,43

bright red hair. "We have to work with what we've got."

"Count to three, Mac, then turn and look." Emma pressed both hands to her lips. "Just look at you."

"Okay." Mac took in a breath, let it out, then turned toward the cheval glass where she'd watched so many brides study their reflections. The only thing she could say was "Oh!"

"And that says it all." Laurel blinked at tears. "It's . . . it. You're it in it."

"It's . . . I'm . . . Holy shit, I'm a bride." Mac's fingers fluttered up to her heart as she angled herself.

"Oh, check out the back. It's fun, and female, and I do have an ass." In the glass, her gaze shifted to Parker's. "Parks."

"Am I good or am I good?"

"You're the best. This is my wedding dress. Aw, Mrs. G."

Mrs. Grady dabbed her eyes. "I'm just shedding a tear of joy that I won't have four spinsters on my hands."

"Flowers in your hair. A wide floral headband instead of a veil," Emma suggested.

"Really?" Pursing her lips, Mac studied herself, imagined. "That could work. That could work well."

"I'll show you some ideas. And you know, I think with the lines of the dress, I'd like to see a long sweep of a bouquet, probably hand tied. Maybe arm-carried." Emma angled one arm, swept her hand down to demonstrate. "Or a cascade, but with a waterfall effect. Rich, warm autumn colors, and . . . I'm getting ahead of myself."

"No. God, we're planning my wedding. I think I need that drink."

Retrieving Mac's flute, Laurel stepped to her. "It sure looks better on you than any of our old Wedding Day costumes."

"Plus, it doesn't itch."

"I'm going to make you one hell of a cake."

"Oh man, I'm watering up again."

"Turn around, all of you," Mrs. Grady ordered as she took a camera out of her pocket. "Our redhead's not the only one who can take a picture. Glasses up. There's my girls," she murmured, and captured the moment.

W HILE THE LADIES DRANK CHAMPAGNE AND DISCUSSED WEDDING flowers, Jack popped a beer and prepared to fleece friends at Texas Hold 'Em. And tried not to think about Emma and her latest e-mail.

"Since it's Carter's first official Poker Night, let's try not to humiliate him." Del clapped a friendly hand on Carter's shoulder. "Taking his money's one thing, embarrassing him's another."

"I'll be gentle," Jack promised.

"I could just watch."

"Now where's the fun and profit in that. For us?" Del asked.

"Ha," Carter managed.

They mingled around Del's lower level. A boy's dream space, in Jack's opinion, with its antique bar that had once served pints in Galway, its slate pool table, its flat-screen TV - an auxiliary to the even bigger one in the media room on the other side of the house. It boasted a vintage jukebox, video games, and two classic pinball machines. Leather chairs, sofas that could take a beating. And a Vegas-style poker table just waiting for action.

No wonder he and Del were friends.

"If you were a girl," Jack said to Del, "I'd marry you."

"No. You'd just have sex with me then never call me."

"You're probably right."

Since it was there, Jack snagged a slice of pizza. Skinning friends was hungry work. As he ate he considered the group. Two lawyers, the professor, the architect, the surgeon, the landscape designer - and as he watched the last player come through the door - the mechanic. Interesting group, he thought. It fluctuated from time to time with a new addition, like Carter, or when one of them couldn't make it. The tradition of Poker Night had begun when he and Del had met in college. The faces might change off and on, but the foundation remained. Eat, drink, tell lies, talk sports. And try to win money from your friends.

"We're all here. Want a beer, Mal?" Del asked.

"I'm breathing. How's it going?" Mal said to Jack.

"Well enough. The new blood's Carter Maguire. Carter, Malcolm Kavanaugh."

Mal nodded. "Hey."

"Nice to meet you. Kavanaugh? The mechanic?"

"Guilty."

"You towed my future mother-in-law's car."

"Yeah? Did she want me to?"

"No. Linda Barrington."

Mal narrowed his eyes. "Okay. Yeah. The BMW convertible. The 128i."

"Um. I guess."

"Nice ride. Interesting woman." Mal smirked as he lifted his beer again. "Good luck with that."

"The daughter doesn't take after the mother," Del put in.

"Lucky for you," Mal said to Carter. "I met her - the daughter. Mackensie, right? She's hot. She does the bride thing with the Cobalt I just serviced."

"Emma," Del added.

"Right. She ought to be arrested for vehicular abuse.