very charming wedding 01 - bachelor and the bride Page 4

  “To be determined. That’s all I’m going to say at the moment.” She flicked a glance at her watch. “In fact, I need to hurry this up. Business.”

  “And I suppose I get nothing from you, too?” She eyed Ash, quieter than usual, and that was saying something.

  “Go. Try it on. There’s a half-dozen more for us to select from. Why did I agree to this charity thing again?”

  “Because they want the top model in the country, if not world, right now. And Rico knows how to be very persuasive. Charity. For the troops. Engaged soldiers,” Lacey finished as she entered the sleek, white room, lined with hooks to hang multiple dresses and clothes with a few chairs and a small table off to the side.

  She left the door ajar and continued to talk to her friends. “Thanks for getting my clothes and camera from the bridal room and bringing them with you today.” At least she didn’t have to do the walk of shame and go back to the museum.

  “That’s what friends are for.” Heather’s muffled voice came to her.

  Quickly, she flung off her gray T-shirt with the pink hearts on it, a la wedding bliss theme, and shucked off her black yoga pants. She grabbed the dress off its hanger, thankfully slipped her feet into the opening and pulled up the leftover dress Heather had handed to her. “Have either one of you heard from Meagan?”

  “On her honeymoon. With her mother,” Ash said.

  “What?! That’s crazy.” Lacey pictured the couple with the mother hanging over them. “Is she giving instructions or something?”

  Deep, male laughter coming from outside the dressing room caught her off guard.

  “Rico?”

  The door slowly swung open. She clutched the dress to her lower half as she covered her hand over the top half.

  “No one has ever mistaken me for him before.” He was taller than she recalled or maybe it was because she was crouched over at the moment.

  Heat flared in her cheeks and stayed there, burning. “You!”

  Without the mask, her split-second impression last night was dead-on. He could put most men to shame. That sandy-brown hair and green eyes melted her insides. But he was lean with muscles. How could an art curator be so fine?

  “Do you mind? I’m trying on a dress here.” She would bet her blush covered half—if not all—of her right now.

  “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you.” He went to close the door.

  Beyond him, her two friends and Rico crowded to see. “You can’t let him get away with this.”

  “Sorry, sweetie, we can,” Rico said. “We’ll be right here if you need us.”

  “I need you now.”

  “Give it a try. You may even like the outcome.”

  He shut the door with a definite click and leaned back against it, holding a black garment bag. He raised an eyebrow, taking her in. “Trade you? Your bridesmaid dress for my robe.”

  Lacey gulped hard, shimmying the corset dress higher on her hips and getting the top front in place, but having to cover it with her hands. See-through? For a bride? “I don’t have it with me.”

  “We’ll go to your place.”

  “No. I’ll…mail it?”

  His chuckle filled the room, touching her like a caress.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “You are. The police would be very interested in meeting you.”

  Now, she was certain all the color ran out of her face. “You’re going to press charges?”

  “Lace, you okay in there?” Ash’s mumbled question came to her.

  “Your name is Lace?” His curiosity seemed piqued.

  “Lacey. Okay.” To her friend, she said, “You can stop playing now. Come on in.”

  “Don’t be a spoilsport, sweetie,” Rico called out. “Another ten or twenty.”

  “Last name?” The man would not give up.

  “Daniels. Lacey Daniels. I am a makeup artist and hair stylist on commercials, print ads, videos, TV and movie sets. Satisfied?” She cocked her eyebrow at him this time.

  “Hardly.” He deposited the garment bag on a nearby hook and then slipped a hand in the top inside pocket of his charcoal-gray suit. Pulling out a scrap of material, he held it up for her. “White lace panties? Yours. Do you wear them because you favor them or does it have something to do with the name?”

  “It’s a thong, not panties, by the way. I like them. Okay? Now, is the interrogation over?”

  “Not by a long shot. Oh, I’m the old geezer, by the way.”

  Flames whooshed into her cheeks, scorching her. “Mr. Westbrooke, I presume.” That much she’d figured out last night.

  “Adam.”

  “My bad.” She winced. Could she ever get over the embarrassment?

  “Among other things. A bubble bath?” His perplexed look was genuine. “Of all the things you could have taken, you take a bath.”

  “Did I offend you?” She chuckled. “I like your art pieces, if that helps.”

  A flicker of a smile came and went. “Good taste, at least.”

  Lacey sighed. “Look, Adam.” It felt strange to say his name out loud when all she’d done was repeat it in her head through the night. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do any harm. I was caught up in the lavishness of your home. Masterpiece after masterpiece. And your Monet. Breathtaking.”

  “You like art.” His surprise mixed with doubt couldn’t be disguised.

  “Nothing on your level, mind you.” She blew out a breath. “Again, I’m sorry. You’re not going to turn me in, are you?”

  That sly smile came back and stayed. “I should. Tell me, how did you get out? My security team swept the building. No evidence. No way out.”

  “Fire escape. Third floor.”

  “How? The door never opened or else the alarm would have sounded.”

  “Window. Above. It has a latch on it.”

  “Wait, you climbed up—what?—the side panels to get to the top?”

  She nodded. “No alarm attached to that window. You should fix that little flaw, though.”

  “You could have hurt yourself.”

  “Practice.” At his quizzical look, she explained, “Growing up, my mother either didn’t have the rent or needed the money for something else—say, like food— so we had to skip out of a lot of places. Landlord was downstairs, so we found other means.” She shrugged. It was in her past. “No residual trauma attached.”

  “I don’t see how you couldn’t have.”

  “Life skills 101.” She grinned. “Still comes in handy now and then. Didn’t realize I still had it.” At the flash of shock in his eyes, she felt sorry for him. “Hey, I got a great stepdad eventually. They didn’t make it. But he adopted me and stuck around. Even after he remarried and had a couple of kids. Win-win.”

  Relief washed over his features.

  “We good here?” She nodded to her panties. “Mind giving those back?”

  “Could hold them hostage. You know, get a bunch of guys to pay to see them.”

  “You did not see that movie?!”

  “Of course I did.” He laughed. “I have twelve cousins. All girls. They forced me to watch that one and many more over and over again.”

  “Twelve girls?”

  “I’m the oldest grandchild and only grandson. Torture.” But he grinned.

  Lacey hadn’t heard the family dynamics before, only about his grandfather collecting precious works of art and building the museum. “If they were here, what would they want you to do?” Obviously, he had a soft spot for his girl cousins.

  He groaned. “You do not play fair, Lacey Daniels.”

  The way he said her name made her heart beat a little faster. “So you won’t have me put away in the slammer and you’ll return those to me?”

  “No harm. No foul. So no arrest. This time. And yes you can have them back. But you owe me.”

  “Huh? How so?”

  “A kiss.”

  “A what?” She threw up a hand and quickly returned it when the bodice slipped.
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  “Prove you’re not interested.”

  Her first statement to him at the bar came back to bite her now. “You’re not, so why even bother.” Please let him drop this.

  “I never asked. But I never said I wasn’t.”

  Volley. Shot. “You’re just playing, right?” Nerves edged her words.

  “No. Lacey Daniels, you are a beautiful woman. That wit—well, when not used against me—is charming. You admire my art. And, when delighted with my grand tub, you decide to indulge and take a bubble bath. I wish I had been there from the beginning. We could have taken one together. Talented in the most unusual ways. Escaping, for one. You intrigue me.”

  Delicious tingles started behind her knees and went up the backs of her thighs. No! Not that! Yep, hit the spine and, Houston, it’s on some kinda journey upward and in my shoulders and climbing to my scalp now.

  “Speechless?”

  “You surprise me. You’re definitely not old and stodgy.” His sweet words were working their magic on her. Lacey took a few steps toward him. She so wanted to touch him, taste him.

  “Go for it!” Rico cried.

  “Is your ear pressed against the door or something?” she asked, shaking her head. But her eyes dropped to Adam’s lips, longing to touch that corner where it went up a little higher.

  “You’re killing me here,” he whispered.

  Her giggle erupted of its own accord. Tickles of heightened awareness followed.

  The last steps were shaky and filled with anticipation. His big, warm hands wrapped around her small waist. He held her and stared into her eyes.

  “Lacey.” He said her name and she melted into him.

  She stood on tiptoes and he lowered his head. Softly, she brushed her lips against his. They moaned in unison. “Adam.” Her shaky breath whooshed out as he captured her mouth in a long, searing kiss.

  Her body shook. Or was it his? Either way, Lacey clung to his shoulders, grateful for his broad chest holding up her dress. One slip and she’d be exposed.

  Somehow that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous as letting him touch her tender heart.

  Slowly, she ended the embrace, pulling back and clamping an unsteady hand on her dress. With more courage than she thought she’d ever possessed, she stood back and captured his hot stare. She almost backed down.

  Lacey yanked out the words, delivering them with a slight quaver in her voice. “Sorry, Adam, if you’re interested. I’m not.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire!

  Chapter 7

  His head spun as he exited the building. Dazed, Adam blinked at the sudden bright sunlight and wandered down the sidewalk, brushing by people and uncaring of where he’d go next.

  “Not interested?” With his lips still tasting her sweetness, he couldn’t imagine that her response was calculated.

  Her soft body pressed into him, no holds barred. She wanted it just as much as he did.

  Or had she? A makeup artist and hair stylist on shoots, she could certainly pick up an acting lesson or two. She was good at learning skills.

  “The window above the fire escape?” He shook his head at her fleeing him last night and his heart ached for the child she’d been, scared and desperate and running.

  He’d had it all. Wealth. Family. There had never been a day in his life that he’d wanted for food, shelter, clothing, or anything else, for that matter. His family, close-knit and loving, was always there for him as he was for them. With twelve girl cousins, he’d been their hero, depending on him to guide them and answer all those awkward questions girls longed to have answered.

  Abruptly, Adam halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Deep down, she’s just a scared kid.” That had to be it. Hadn’t Missy, his oldest cousin and psychology major, mentioned to him most everyone hid behind their fears? The closer people got to what they truly wanted, the scarier it became. They either froze, forged ahead, or turned tail.

  Was that what was going on with Lacey?

  Why would she in essence hold up a stop sign—do not pass this point of no return—even before he said one word to her?

  Adam blew out a pent-up breath. The heaviness he’d felt a moment ago lifted. It wasn’t about him, per se. Just guys in general she warned off.

  Turning back now, Adam strolled down the street. He was better off not going anywhere near her again. She was dangerous to him and his mind; she took up too much of his once peaceful, focused thoughts and away from art.

  “There you are!” Rico rushed to him, waving a paper. “Don’t think you can get away from me that easily, handsome.”

  “Caught!” Even this man didn’t faze him now.

  “The charity auction, remember? Saturday night. Tux fitting. I can get them to take you tomorrow afternoon at three. Good for you?”

  “Three?” He rubbed his jaw, thinking he had to meet with the museum curator about that time. Next, he had several crates to carefully pack and ship for a loan to the New York Met.

  “She’ll be around.” He winked. “I can make things happen. You know, another dress here or there. That one isn’t quite right. Come back. I’m getting more in. Or I can have the designers and seamstresses take a look at this or that.”

  His heartbeat skipped. No! Save yourself! “You’d do that for me?”

  “For Lacey, too. She’s spunky and funny and have you seen the divine work she did on the bridal party? Ar-teast! I like her.”

  “So do I,” he murmured, his interest piquing. “Too much.”

  Now, how am I going to get a date with the elusive Miss Lacey Daniels? And why do I even want to go there?

  ***

  “I can’t stay long, Rico,” Lacey warned him as she hit the doors of the wedding department.

  “As in? Time, dear?”

  “A couple of try-ons. Tuesday is family night.” Her bubbling anxiety had nothing to do with seeing her adoptive dad and his brood. It did, however, have everything to do with returning here.

  Mrs. Higgins at the front desk smiled and returned her greeting, making her feel welcome.

  The elegant, dignified atmosphere should soothe her, calm her shaky nerves. The soft, plush seating arrangements were begging for someone to sink into them. The bright whites and splashes of hot pink were tasteful and inviting.

  So why the jitters?

  A man. No, the man. Adam Westbrooke would not leave her alone. His image invaded her every thought. That smile, a tad lopsided, made her heart go pitter-pat. And those lips—warm, firm, and oh so tasty—made her flush with warmth even now, hours after the steamy encounter.

  She stopped in her tracks, searching the first floor and not finding who she was looking for among the few patrons and their families. “Where’s Heather and Ash?”

  “Couldn’t make it. Prior engagements, I think.”

  “No fair.” Why hadn’t they mentioned it to her? They only shared an apartment, for crying out loud. “I can come back for a fitting. Rehearsals are every night for the rest of the week, right?”

  “But this is special.” He preened, touching his earlobe, and then pointing to the racks. “I thought we could dress you in a color to go with your exotic coloring.”

  “Exotic? If you say so. There’s like a touch of everything in my bloodline.”

  “See, I knew you were the one for my idea.” He showed her the gowns in various hues. “Which one appeals to your senses the most?”

  “None.” She said it with a straight face.

  He cracked up laughing. “Oh, honey, Uncle Rico is not marrying you off— not yet, anyway.”

  “Never.” Lacey shoved a hand on her hip.

  “Girl, and deprive me of planning your wedding?”

  “And me of my divorce.” She smiled sweetly.

  Still, he chuckled, smacking her arm. “You are so funny!” He plucked up the red one and held it up. “We’ll start with this.”

  “Do we have to?” Thinking of the next two hours jumping in and out of wedding dresses was not her idea of fun.


  “Off with you.” He steered her to the back dressing area while he pushed the rack of dresses along. “About the charity event…”

  She groaned, her feet feeling like lead.

  “Could you be a doll and help with makeup and hair?” Before she answered, he rushed on, “Between you and me and the wall, we’re looking for a full-timer to take over at the Charmings Beauty Bar. Kids!” He huffed. “They come and go. We need top caliber for the event, your work is superb, and we pay top dollar.”

  Lacey flexed her fingers, thinking she’d done Meagan’s wedding as a gift, but she’d been sitting idle too long in the days leading up to the nuptials. And it would help kill some time from now until the big night. “Practice looks through the week? Full makeup and hair at the final rehearsal?”

  “Perfect! I’m glad you’re on board.”

  “Great. So I don’t have to be in it now, do I?” She stopped at the dressing area and turned to him with a big grin.

  “No way, Jose! I’m even in it!” He flicked up invisible collars. “Divine. Black tux. Red lapels. Red lining. No bow tie. Red and black ascot. Custom made for moi.”

  Her belly dropped. “No expectations, huh?”

  “Try this one.”

  “Red. I get it. You want me to be your partner on the stage. Rico, I’m touched.”

  He coughed and looked away. “If you say so.”

  Giving in, she dragged the dress behind her. “Prison may have been easier than this,” she muttered.

  One dress turned into seven as she tried on and discarded one after the other.

  “Too tight. Too bell shaped. Too bright…” Rico tsked.

  “At least we have the same taste,” she agreed after the bright lime one was

  tossed aside without even trying it on. Who makes a lime-green wedding dress?

  “In men, too.” He raised and lowered his brows. “That Adam is to die for. D-I-E!”