The Best Man's Plan (Special Edition) Page 14

  Following her sister’s gaze, Grace studied the two men. They made an impressive sight as they crossed the room, Bryan so sleek and polished, Donovan so solid and powerful. She doubted that many would have the courage to take them on.

  There was no mistaking, in her opinion, who was the leader and who the second in command. Donovan seemed to walk a half-step behind Bryan, as if constantly guarding his back. Grace had never thought of herself as particularly drawn to powerful men—but she was definitely drawn to Bryan.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  Cassie Barnum clutched her arm from behind. “Oh. My. God,” she murmured, staring at the men who had been delayed by conversation. “You were right. The photos don’t do him justice.”

  Grace smiled. “I know.”

  “And he’s obviously just crazy about you. You’re so lucky.”

  Grace’s smile faded. Bryan was a very talented actor, she could have said—but, of course, she didn’t. Bryan joined them before she had to come up with a reply. “You aren’t talking about me, are you, darling?”

  Grace shrugged. “Actually we were talking about balloons and other things that are filled with hot air. I think your name might have come up in the conversation.”

  Cassie gasped, then giggled.

  Knowing full well that he’d just been insulted, Bryan grinned and lifted his punch cup in an implied “touché.” He turned then to Cassie, whom he’d met earlier. “Someone told me you’re responsible for the lovely decorations this evening.”

  She beamed, then said modestly, “Of course it’s nothing like you’re used to seeing in New York and L.A.”

  Bryan assured her that he much preferred simplicity to ostentatiousness. Grace simply stood back and watched in resignation as he made another fan for life.

  The more Bryan impressed Grace’s friends, the more they seemed to become convinced that she should make sure she didn’t let him get away. Donovan was unanimously approved as a mate for Chloe; and everyone seemed to agree that Bryan suited Grace.

  She lost count of the number of times she was asked if Bryan had proposed to her yet. She found it especially ironic that many seemed convinced they were waiting to announce their engagement because they didn’t want to draw attention away from Chloe and Donovan. She wondered what those same people would have said if she informed them that she and Bryan were together specifically to draw attention away from the other couple.

  The trapped feeling was growing in her again—trapped in a lie, and in a future that seemed to hold little excitement. It became more of an effort to keep socializing, to keep smiling and chatting and blithely deflecting personal questions.

  She thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her real emotions. Though she didn’t try to convince herself she was as good at that sort of thing as Bryan, everyone appeared convinced that she was having a lovely time at the party. Even her family seemed unconcerned. She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to deceive a master deceiver.

  “Need to get out of here for a while?” Bryan asked in her ear.

  She turned her head to find him standing very close to her, his expression entirely too knowing. “I don’t think we can leave yet,” she whispered. “There are going to be some speeches made for Chloe and Donovan later and it will be rude if we leave before hearing them.”

  “We could step outside for a few minutes. You can show me the gardens—maybe even scream a little, if you need to.”

  She laughed at the thought of the attention a loud, unexpected scream would attract. “That would liven things up.”

  “At least your smile is real now,” he observed, eyeing her in satisfaction. “Come show me the gardens.”

  The temptation to get out of this room, if only for a few minutes, was simply too great. She turned to her mother. “Bryan and I are going to step outside for some fresh air. We won’t be long, but send someone for us if the speeches start before we get back, okay?”

  Evelyn smiled. “I wondered how long it would be before you would have to escape.”

  So apparently she hadn’t fooled her mother very well, either. Was she really fooling anybody?

  Grace was aware of the eyes that followed their path toward the exit doors. Everyone probably thought she and Bryan wanted to be alone because he had been out of town for a couple of days. They would be surreptitiously checking out her hair and makeup when she returned, imagining invisible handprints all over her body.

  She didn’t care what they thought. She had to get out. She was suddenly having trouble breathing in here.

  They passed a crowd of older men swapping fishing lies in the lobby—Grace spotted her father among them—and then walked through the outside doors into the warm August evening. A group of smokers clustered under the awning just outside the door. Grace held her breath as she walked quickly through the cloud of smoke, merely nodding in response to their greetings.

  Softly lit paths crisscrossed the gardens behind the club building. Planted with ornamental trees, rosebushes and a variety of other blooming plants, the gardens lay between the club and the golf course. Moonlight washed the landscape in a soft glow, glittering off the small lake in the center of the golf course. The scent of roses surrounded them, pleasantly replacing the smell of cigarette smoke.

  A night for romance, Grace mused. And the perfect companion to share it with, she added with a sideways glance at Bryan.

  Be very careful, Grace.

  Bryan led her to a small bench set in a shadowy grotto formed by two spreading, lacy-leafed Japanese maples. The bench was just large enough to hold them both; he sat on her left so that his good arm was next to her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “I needed to get away from the crowd for a few minutes.”

  “I could tell.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Was I that obvious about it?”

  “Not to everyone else, perhaps. But I must admit I was watching you rather closely.”

  Because that comment made her self-conscious, she looked away from him. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight. Chloe would have been disappointed if you couldn’t come.”

  He ran his fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Is Chloe the only one who would have been disappointed?”

  Grace cleared her throat. “I’m sure Donovan is glad you’re here, so he isn’t the only one having to deal with so many strangers.”

  A faintly reproving note entered his voice. “You mean you wouldn’t have missed me at all?”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted. Then, when his hand closed over hers, she backtracked quickly. “It’s nice to have an excuse to escape the crowd.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment—whether it was intended as one or not.”

  His fingers were intertwined with hers now, their hands resting on his knee. Holding her hand in a moonlit rose garden. Creating a memory of a perfect romantic moment. She might never forgive him for this.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace slanted a look up at Bryan, only to find him studying her face. His face was shadowed by the moon behind him, but she could see his eyes, steady and clear. “You really are lovely,” he murmured.

  “I look just like Chloe,” she answered gruffly.

  “You do, of course. And yet there’s still a difference. Even when you wore your hair the same way, I could always tell you apart.”

  She couldn’t really doubt him. It had always surprised her that he could tell them apart so easily, from the first time he’d met them. More than once he had breezed into the shop, taken one glance at her before she’d had a chance to say a word, and said, “Hello, Grace.”

  There were people who had known them for years who still couldn’t identify them with just a glance.

  She clearly remembered those first few times when he’d strolled into the shop, his thick black hair wind-blown, his bright blue eyes gleaming, his cheeks a bit reddened because it had been winter when he’d first started coming around. Every time she h
ad seen him, her heart had shown an infuriating tendency to flip over in her chest. Because she had known each time that he was there to see Chloe, she had greeted him with frowns and growls.

  She’d told herself she didn’t trust this slick-talking, sweet-smiling playboy millionaire as far as she could throw him. She didn’t like him hanging around her sister, and she nearly went ballistic when Chloe confided in her that Bryan had been talking of marriage only weeks after he and Chloe first met. Apparently he had developed a prosaic list of qualifications for a bride, and Chloe met nearly every one.

  Chloe had briefly considered taking Bryan up on that offer. She’d told Grace that she would be foolish not to at least consider it. She wanted marriage and children, and she had found a nice, successful, financially secure man who wanted the same things. Chloe hadn’t fallen in love with Bryan—nor, she’d added, did he ever claim to be in love with her—but they had become very good friends.

  Grace hadn’t bothered to closely examine her own passionate opposition to Bryan’s calculated courtship of her sister. She had simply insisted that it was wrong, that Chloe deserved better than to be married because she fit some esoterically compiled profile. She’d pointed out Bryan’s widely recorded history of short-lived relationships, and had asked Chloe what made her think he would stay with her any longer than he had the others. She’d been convinced that Chloe would end up disappointed, disillusioned, and very publicly humiliated when he lost interest in her and moved on to someone else—another supermodel, perhaps.

  She had been prickly and surly and outright rude to Bryan when he’d dated her sister. He had been unfailingly patient and courteous to her in return. Which, of course, had only made her more disagreeable.

  And now he had turned his attentions to her. She looked down at their clasped hands and frowned. This just wasn’t right.

  She made an effort to pull her hand away from his. “We should be getting back inside.”

  He didn’t immediately release her. “What’s your hurry? We’ve only been out here a few minutes.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t want to be gone too long. People might notice.”

  “They’ll probably assume we’re out here enjoying a few kisses in the moonlight. Which is pretty much what we want them to think, isn’t it?”

  She cleared her throat and tugged at her hand again. “Donovan would probably appreciate it if you’d go back inside and talk to him. I can tell he’s getting a little stressed out by being examined and interrogated by so many people.”

  “Donovan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Bryan lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “Don’t you like being out here with me, Grace?”

  The caress made her shiver. And because that made her mad, she snatched her hand away. “I don’t want you to do that anymore.”

  “What? Kiss your hand?”

  “No. I mean, yes. That, too. Any kisses. It has to stop.”

  “Is that right?”

  She sprang to her feet. “Do not be all calm and soothing and polite to me. It drives me crazy when you do that.”

  He laid his right arm along the back of the bench and gazed up at her. “I’m sorry. Would you like me to be agitated and impolite?”

  “And don’t patronize me. I really hate it when you do that.”

  He rose and took a step closer to her. Standing with the moon behind him, he looked tall and dark and a little intimidating. She almost moved back a step, but wouldn’t give up that much pride. “What’s going on, Grace?”

  “Nothing. I just think this is all getting out of hand. Reality is getting mixed up with fantasy, and I don’t like it. And this is entirely the wrong time and place to discuss it, anyway, because anyone could come out here and overhear us and then all our efforts would have been wasted.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. She couldn’t see his face, but his tone was somber. “This isn’t the time or place. But we do need to talk. Soon.”

  Definitely something she wanted to avoid. “There’s really nothing to say. We both know our parts. We both know what’s going to happen after the wedding. Why complicate things?”

  He reached up to touch his fingertips to her flushed cheek. “It’s already gotten complicated.”

  “Then we have to…what now?”

  He had dropped his hands on her shoulders and was pulling her closer. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured. “Don’t want to be caught squabbling, do we?”

  “I really don’t—”

  She stopped in resignation when he kissed her. No one could accuse Bryan of not fully playing his role. In fact, he kissed her with much more enthusiasm than was necessary to fool an incidental bystander. His mouth moved firmly on hers, warm and insistent, giving her little chance to resist. Or even to respond.

  There was a new element to this kiss, she noted even as her mind began to cloud with that now-familiar haze. Not quite anger—but a new assertiveness that was very likely a response to her efforts to take control of their temporary relationship.

  As she had feared, Bryan wasn’t going to be cooperative. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she supposed. He’d been a challenge to her since she’d first met him.

  He lifted his head, took a quick breath, then kissed her again before she could step away. She couldn’t help responding this time, if only a little. Only for the sake of whoever was watching, she assured herself as her eyelids drifted downward. She would not be the one to ruin everything they had accomplished during the past weeks.

  The undercurrents of irritation were gone now. Bryan’s lips moved more gently on hers, more persuasively. Clinging to the lapels of his jacket, she tilted her head a bit more to one side, changing the angle of the embrace. Much better, she decided.

  She didn’t know quite how much time passed before Bryan finally drew back. She was chagrined to realize that he was the one who ended the kiss, without any urging from her. She blinked a couple of times—had the moon suddenly gotten brighter?—then looked around. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

  “My mistake,” he murmured and disentangled her hands from his jacket so he could step back.

  She scowled at him, wondering if he’d ever really heard anything. Or had he been trying to prove his point that they had already crossed the line between playacting and actuality? “Damn it, Bryan—”

  He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “We’d better go back inside for the speeches. We’ll finish our talk later.”

  As far as Grace was concerned, their talk was over. She hoped he’d gotten her message—but she had a feeling it had fallen on deliberately deaf ears.

  It wasn’t possible for Grace to avoid Bryan for the remainder of the party, of course—not without arousing curiosity in the other guests. She stayed close to his side, smiled at him and chatted with him, doing her best to look like one half of a very happy couple.

  Chloe and Donovan were called to the front of the room, where Chloe looked radiant and Donovan uncomfortable as one old friend after another stood to wish the couple well in their marriage. A local videographer taped the entire proceedings as a gift for the couple. Grace held on to her bright smile even when several broad hints about the joys of wedlock were aimed directly at her and Bryan. She really should be nominated for some sort of acting award this evening.

  Whenever the strain became too great, she had only to look at Chloe to remind herself why she was doing this. Chloe looked so happy. Even Donovan, beneath his embarrassment, seemed to almost radiate contentment. He didn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but every time he looked at Chloe, it was obvious to anyone with only a modicum of perception that he was deeply in love with her. He wasn’t acting—Grace had no doubt that Donovan’s feelings for her sister were real and lasting.

  She was delighted for her twin. She really was. She believed that fate had brought Chloe and Donovan together, and she hoped they would share a long, happy life. She said something along those lines when she was pressed
into giving her own brief speech for the couple.

  Bryan’s words were saved for last. He took the microphone with the ease of someone who was quite comfortable speaking in front of crowds.

  “My parents had only one child,” he said, smiling at Donovan, “but fate brought me a brother several years ago. Now my honorary brother is getting married, giving me an honorary sister. I look forward to spoiling several honorary nieces and nephews. There’s an old Irish blessing that seems particularly suitable this evening. Chloe and Donovan, ‘May God go with you and bless you. May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.’”

  She should definitely receive some sort of award, Grace mused again, her smile stretched across her face as she applauded along with everyone else. If there was a tear in her eye, she knew it would be attributed to sentimental joy for her sister. Which, of course, was the only reason she felt the urge to cry, she assured herself.

  What else could it be?

  Because Grace had brought her own car, she had the drive home to herself. Bryan insisted on following her since it was rather late when the party ended. She was aware of his headlights in the rearview mirror all the way, but at least she didn’t have to try to make conversation with him during the ride. She tuned the radio to a classic rock station, turned the volume up, and let the beat of the bass drown out her thoughts.

  Bryan parked beside her in the garage. She was already out of her car before he could turn off his engine. “There’s no need to come up,” she told him as he opened his car door. “It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired after your trip.”

  “I thought we were going to talk.”

  Clutching her things to her chest, she took a step backward. “Maybe you aren’t tired, but I am. I’ve been running all day and I have to work tomorrow.”

  He must have seen the desperation in her face—or heard it, perhaps, in her voice. He didn’t press her this time, merely saying, “All right. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”