them, Amy cleared her throat. “Not to break this up, but we have this wedding to get to . . . Cameron—you have your itinerary for tonight?”
“Yep. In my purse.”
“Jack?”
He patted his blazer. “Got all six pages right here.”
“As indicated on page two, I’ll see you in the gazebo for bridal party pictures in five minutes.” Amy pointed at Cameron. “Don’t be late and make me regret choosing you for this position instead of Collin.”
“Was he seriously in the running?” Cameron asked, slightly offended by this.
“Only briefly. But I figured his wedding toast would be filled with all sorts of lame sports references.” Amy’s expression was stern. “I’m expecting much better things from you.” She left in a whirl of blush and ivory taffeta.
Jack nodded at Agents Rawlings and O’Donnell, who stepped outside for a moment, leaving them alone.
With a warm smile, he turned to Cameron and held out his hand. “So? Are you ready for this?”
She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
“Definitely.”
AMIDST THE CLAPPING and cheering, Jack escorted Cameron back to their table. He leaned in to congratulate her on a job well done when Collin raised his glass and beat him to it.
“Fantastic toast,” Collin said enthusiastically. “A few laughs, a few tears—seriously, you smoked the best man.”
Cameron shushed him as she took the seat between him and Jack, with a pointed glance in the direction of the other two couples at their table. Friends of the groom, she had whispered to Jack earlier—part of Amy’s plan to encourage mixing and conversation amongst the various groups. He’d actually already known who they were, and who they were friends with, along with their full credit history and lack of priors, having texted their names to Wilkins for background checks as soon as they’d introduced themselves.
As Jack stood behind Cameron, helping her with her chair, he tried to focus on anything other than the bare satiny skin at his fingertips. It was quite artful, the way the dress covered her just so, right at the curve of her lower back. An inch lower and he might be able to see cheek . . .
He was going out of his damn mind.
“Aren’t bridesmaids dresses supposed to be ugly?” he grumbled as he took the seat next to her.
“As if Amy would let any part of this wedding be ugly,” Cameron said. Underneath the table, she rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently.
Jack sucked in his breath through gritted teeth. On the other side of her, however, Collin seemed wholly unfazed by Cameron’s appearance. Jack kept one eye carefully trained on him, thinking things had better stay that way. Gay or not, best friend or not, no one with a dick was getting within a foot of Cameron while she wore that dress.
“My only criticism of the speech is that I didn’t get as much airtime as I deserved,” Collin complained.
Cameron brushed this off. “You got plenty of airtime. I talked about how the three of us lived together senior year, didn’t I? I even mentioned how you used to make pancakes for me and Amy when we got home from the bars.”
“We’d talk about the boys we’d met that night,” Collin explained to Jack.
Jack was curious about this. Plus he needed something to keep his mind off Cameron in that dress. “How did the three of you meet?”
Cameron started to answer when Collin held up a hand, cutting her off. “Ahem. Since no one asked me to give a toast at this wedding, I will handle this question. Besides, I tell this story better than you do.”
Collin sat forward in his chair, lowering his voice dramatically. “It was a dark and stormy night.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “Oh boy.”
Collin held up his hands. “What? It was a dark and stormy night. I should know—I walked you home that evening, remember?” He turned back to Jack. “It was our sophomore year. I was living in my fraternity house and had been having a rough time of things in college, struggling with the issue of whether I was gay. I was at Michigan on a baseball scholarship and homosexuality was not something one discussed casually within the athletic circles. Anyway, one night early in the year, my fraternity had an after-hours party and it was pouring outside. I was hanging out by the front door, drinking my usual—which back then was Jim Beam and Coke—when Cameron blew in, huddled under a red umbrella with Amy and another girl. They were