Czytaj książkę: «Last Groom Standing»
Marnie Price’s guide to surviving the bridesmaid blues…
1. Get a new man
2. Find a new job
3. When in doubt, drink wine!
Having watched her three closest friends all find love, Southern belle Marnie Price feels as if she’s the only single girl left. Luckily she’s found a solution—one sizzling night with Dylan Brookes. This man wears a wedding tux better than anyone, but all Marnie wants to do is get beneath it!
Dylan is all about making the sensible choice, and a fling with his ex’s friend Marnie is about as far from sensible as he can get! Marnie might prove to him that taking risks is worth it, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to give up his bachelor status quite yet, does it…?
Marnie had forgotten about Dylan, who seemed to also be finishing off a drink—something dark in a glass, on the rocks. ‘Tough day?’
‘I lost my job this morning.’
‘That does suck. I think I should buy you a drink.’
She could well afford to buy her own drinks, even without a job, and she didn’t really need his company, either. Dylan Brookes wouldn’t have been her first choice of drinking partners, but it did beat a total stranger, and he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, making her wonder if maybe he had a few woes to drown, as well.
‘All right, then.’
‘Another chardonnay? Or perhaps something stronger?’
She waved over a server. ‘I’d like a shot of Patrón, two limes, with a Dos Equis back, please.’ She turned to Dylan and shot him an innocent smile. ‘And for you?’
Dylan shot her a smile that said there was some sign of life in there. ‘Same.’
The server returned with their drinks, and Dylan lifted his shot glass in a toast.
She lifted her own glass and nodded. Then Dylan licked the salt off the rim of the glass and she nearly fell off her chair in shock.
Things were looking up.
Dear Reader,
I was so excited to be asked to be part of the first MODERN TEMPTED™ continuity—especially when I found out that I’d be lined up with Aimee Carson, Amy Andrews and Heidi Rice. We had so much fun creating the characters and the concept, and it was just an awesome experience working with such talented writers.
But the downside to working with such talented writers is that they’re so darn good. Like utterly intimidatingly good. And my book would come last in the line-up. Talk about pressure! (Picture me hyperventilating into a bag of jelly beans when I read their fabulous books.)
In the end, though, I couldn’t be more pleased with what we did. While I love Marnie and Dylan to pieces, I also love Gina and Carter, Cassie and Tuck, and Reese and Mason. Marnie and Dylan may be ‘mine,’ but I’m quite invested in the others, as well—very much like a doting auntie. I hope you come to love them as much as we do.
So big kisses to Aimee, Amy and Heidi—thanks for making this experience an amazing one. You ladies (and your books) rock!
And, as always, I’d love to hear from you, dear reader. You can find me on Facebook and Twitter or on my website at www.booksbykimberly.com.
Kimberly
THE WEDDING SEASON
Look out for Gina’s story this month in Maid of Dishonour by Heidi Rice!
Don’t miss Reese’s and Cassie’s stories, out last month!
It’s a reunion to remember—with sizzling, scandalous, and very surprising consequences …
Last Groom Standing
Kimberly Lang
KIMBERLY LANG hid romance novels behind her textbooks in junior high, and even a master’s program in English couldn’t break her obsession with dashing heroes and happily ever after. A ballet dancer turned English teacher, Kimberly married an electrical engineer and turned her life into an ongoing episode of When Dilbert Met Frasier. She and her Darling Geek live in beautiful north Alabama with their one Amazing Child—who, unfortunately, shows an aptitude for sports.
Visit Kimberly at www.booksbykimberly.com for the latest news—and don’t forget to say hi while you’re there!
This and other titles by Kimberly Lang are available in eBook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk
To my aunt Lou Ann, who introduced hundreds of children to the magic of books and the joy of reading. I hope some of them are reading this now. ~Grin~
(And a quick shout-out to Jane—again—since your dedication didn’t make it into the last book!)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago, Hillbrook University campus, upstate New York...
“She had s-sex with Carter.”
Marnie Price stumbled over the word—sex wasn’t something she was overly comfortable talking about, and ironically it was Gina’s influence over the past year that had gotten her to the point where she could even talk about it at all.
She didn’t know who was more in the wrong: Gina, who was supposedly her friend, or her brother, Carter, who had succumbed to Gina’s wiles even though he was engaged to another woman. The betrayal cut deep for Marnie, and she couldn’t quite make sense of it.
Lord, just when she thought she was beginning to figure things out... Everything she thought she knew was crumbling down around her, making the situation worse.
Reese stroked her hair, making soothing noises. Although technically her roommate and landlady, Reese was also the big sister she’d never had. At least Reese would understand. “I’m sure we’re missing part of the story,” she began.
Reese’s willingness to let Marnie live with her so her family would believe she was being properly looked after in the big, bad world was the only reason she’d been allowed to enroll at Hillbrook in the first place. And while Marnie would be forever grateful for that, Reese’s attempted defense of Gina only drove the knife deeper. “It seems pretty straightforward to me. How could Gina do that? She seduced my brother, took advantage of him. Does she not think any man is off limits?”
“Carter’s an adult, and he’s equally responsible for his actions.”
Marnie couldn’t believe this was Carter’s fault. They’d been raised with the same values, the same knowledge of right and wrong. Sex was for marriage, something saved solely for your future spouse, but Carter had still betrayed that fundamental belief—as well as his bride—making him a hypocrite of the worst sort.
Her heart constricted with pain for her best friend, who’d spent the past year planning the perfect wedding to start their perfect life together. Missy would be heartbroken.
She’d never been comfortable with Gina’s overt sexuality, the way she treated sex like a recreational sport and men like disposable items, but there was something in her spirit and embrace of life that was attractive, too. It hadn’t been enough to sway her morals, but then Gina had never tried to seduce her, either. The girl was a proud, self-proclaimed maneater.
Which, Marnie decided, was just another word for slut.
“No. Carter is a decent man.” That much Marnie was sure of. Carter was a little overprotective, becoming even more so after Daddy passed five years ago, but he was everything a good man was supposed to be. He was even beginning to respect the fact Marnie wasn’t a child anymore: just last week he’d suddenly agreed to let her go on the road trip with the others this summer.
“Carter was raised right, with honor and integrity and respect. He’s a gentleman. Men can be weak sometimes when it comes to the flesh, and...and...” She struggled to find the right words, the right explanation for Carter’s behavior. She couldn’t find one at the moment, but she knew there had to be one somewhere. “Well, there’s no way he would have done something like that unless Gina—”
Reese shook her head. “You can’t just blame Gina. It takes two to tango.”
She shrugged off Reese’s embrace and stood. “You’re defending her? Taking her side?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side, Marnie. Remember that Gina is your friend—”
“Some friend,” she snapped. “A real friend would have left my brother alone. A real friend wouldn’t hurt people I care about just so she can get her own thrills.”
“I doubt Gina meant to hurt you with this.”
“Then why tell me about it? Why do it in the first place? My friend? I don’t need slutty friends who jump into bed with men they barely know.”
Reese’s cheeks took on a pink tint and she played with the square-shaped pendant on the necklace tucked under her shirt. She cleared her throat. “Marnie, remember how we talked about how you can be really judgmental sometimes...?”
“I’m sorry, Reese, but there’s right and wrong in this world. Carter is in the wrong, too, but Gina has, once again, proved she’s no better than a common whore!” She shouted the last word, well aware of how it would carry through the hall of Reese’s beautiful house and straight up the stairs to Gina’s room. “It’s just more proof that Gina doesn’t care about anyone except herself.”
“Marnie...” Reese began.
Marnie waved her silent and stalked over to the glass of champagne she’d merely been toying with all night. In three long swallows, she drained it, then, ignoring Reese’s shocked “Marnie!” reached for the bottle and refilled the glass.
“I think I’ve earned this,” she said before she caught herself and sat the glass down instead. Her mother had never allowed alcohol into the house, and it wasn’t until Marnie came to Hillbrook that she’d even tried it. Just more proof of how she’d changed thanks to her roommates—but maybe these changes weren’t for the better.
She heard footsteps and turned to see Cassie returning.
“Gina says we’ll talk tomorrow,” Cassie said, as oblivious as ever. Usually, Marnie found the nerdy Australian’s lack of understanding about social situations rather endearing, but tonight she was angry and lacked the patience.
“There’s nothing more to talk about, Cas.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then let me explain this to you. I’m never speaking to Gina Carrington again.”
“Why?”
“Because Gina is a selfish tramp who doesn’t care who she hurts. I bet poor Missy and what this would do to her never even crossed Gina’s mind.”
Cassie nodded. “It’s very unlikely since Gina doesn’t know Missy.”
Oh, my sweet God. “She knew Carter was engaged, though.”
“As did Carter. I don’t see why you’re holding Gina responsible for Carter’s decisions. He chose to be unfaithful, and having made that decision, the woman involved is irrelevant.”
Marnie wanted to pull her hair out. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side, too. Wow, y’all are lousy friends.”
“Marnie, we’re trying to be good friends,” Reese started carefully, “to both you and Gina—”
Cassie nodded. “Which is difficult when you’re overreacting like this.”
Reese put a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “Cas, let me handle this, okay?”
That was the last straw. “There’s nothing to handle. Missy has been my friend—practically a sister—since we were little girls, and as her friend, she deserves my loyalty and support because that’s what friends do. Real friends don’t seduce your brother, and they don’t defend and make excuses for the woman that did. If y’all don’t see that, then I’m not sure I want you as my friends anymore.”
Her voice broke on the last word, and she ran to her room before she burst into tears.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Marnie lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling as tears burned her eyes. And it’s all my fault.
Everyone back in Savannah had tried to tell her this was a bad idea. Maybe they were right. Maybe she should have just gone to Simmons State and pledged Kappa like every other woman in her family. She’d only applied to Hillbrook to be polite—the recruiter who’d visited her school had been hard to ignore. She hadn’t given it a second thought until the acceptance came—along with an attractive scholarship that played to her ego and made her feel like the school really wanted her.
Carter had protested, Mama had been heartbroken, and her boyfriend horrified she’d even consider it. Coming here had been her first act of rebellion—ever.
And it had felt so good.
Even if she’d been scared to death.
But Reese and Gina and Cassie had supported her, introduced her to a world beyond her carefully controlled Savannah circle, and encouraged her to come out of her shell and experience so many new things.
Beautiful dark-haired Gina who talked of London and Oxford and wasn’t afraid of anything, always quick with the perfect comeback delivered in her crisp British accent. Nerdy Cassie who was almost as naive as she was about the world, but driven by logic and science instead of belief and Southern customs. And Reese, who brought them all together in her house because she thought it would be interesting to have such an eclectic set of roommates—a far cry from her own Park Avenue background.
And it had gone well—Marnie had bragged to everyone back home, proud of both her grades and her broadened horizons. Maybe she’d broadened them a little too much.
It was so confusing. Life had been so much easier to understand before she’d come here. And while the others had laughed at her naiveté, she longed for that innocence now.
Yeah, this is all my fault.
If she hadn’t come to school here, she wouldn’t have met Gina and the others. Carter wouldn’t have come up to visit, and he’d have never fallen into Gina’s web. Missy was going to be hurt and it was all her fault.
Silent tears slid down her face. Some friend I am.
There was no way to repair the damage done here tonight, but there had to be a way to make this right for Missy.
As for Carter... She couldn’t think about him right now. He’d been her hero—the perfect example of what a man should be—and the shattering of that image hurt more than she expected. He’d spit on everything they’d been raised to value and believe and yet he still had the nerve to leave town last week, fresh out of Gina’s bed, it seemed, with an admonishment for her to behave.
The hypocrite.
Marnie could hear Gina moving around in the room next door and the low mutter of conversation from Cassie and Reese as they closed up the house and went to their own rooms.
She lay awake for a long time—exploring her options, figuring out what to do next, trying to make some kind of sense of it all in her head. Long after the house was quiet, she’d only come to one solid conclusion.
This wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
She needed to go home.
ONE
Marnie Price took a deep breath to assess the situation and her options. This was not the time to react thoughtlessly. After a moment to think, she did what any rational, reasonable, adult woman would do in a situation like this.
She pulled the wine bottle from the ice bucket and filled her glass right up to the rim.
Despite the fact she’d had several already tonight, she remained frustratingly sober. It was a happy occasion—Cassie was married and bridges she’d thought burnt beyond repair were slowly being mended. She should be happy—and she was, by God, she really was.
Except, at the same time, she wasn’t. She’d started the day by cleaning out her desk at work and ended it with finding out her friends had been lying to her for years and that years of estrangement had been all her fault. In the middle, she’d gone to a wedding and found out her brother was sleeping with Gina—again. Mercy, when losing your job wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to you, the day officially sucked.
Hence the need for more wine. Lots more wine.
Her mother was probably spinning in her grave—ladies didn’t overimbibe, much less in public—but this was New York City, not Savannah, and Marnie had intentionally given up the quest to be a “lady” years ago.
Old habits were hard to break, but she could drown the Southern guilt in another glass of Chardonnay.
The large table in the corner of the trendy Tribeca Terrace held the remains of Cassie and Tuck’s small wedding reception, and Tuck had pulled Cassie to the dance floor a little while ago. It didn’t take a genius IQ like Cassie’s to see that they would be off to their wedding night very soon. Carter and Gina and Mason and Reese were also on the dance floor, doing that slow sway that said both couples would be leaving soon as well to a happy night themselves.
Marnie sighed into her glass. None of her friends had walked the easy path to happiness, but that was what made their stories so wonderful. The passion. Passion might be messy and difficult, but the proof it was worth it was right in front of her. And that’s what she wanted. If she’d wanted a predictable and staid and unremarkable life, she’d have stayed in Savannah.
But the pairing off of the others had left her alone at the table with Dylan Brookes. Their party of eight had really been three parties of two and two parties of one, but that hadn’t been too obvious or strange until everyone else coupled up. Being an extra wheel was awkward enough, but this situation took awkward to a new place.
Dylan had stood as Tuck’s witness today, but it was just plain weird to have him around. Tuck was Dylan’s best friend, but he was also Reese’s cousin, and he’d met Cassie at what would have been Reese and Dylan’s wedding—except that Reese had practically jilted Dylan at the altar in favor of Mason. It had been quite a mess. Reese and Dylan seemed okay with it now, but everyone else—including her—found the situation awkward at best.
Watching your ex-fiancée canoodle with the guy she threw you over for had to be uncomfortable, but if Dylan had a problem with that, he’d done a good job of hiding it.
He was currently typing something on his phone, and if he was feeling like an extra wheel, it didn’t show.
Either he was a very good actor, or he simply didn’t care. Marnie wasn’t sure if she should envy him or pity him.
The music wasn’t overly loud, but it was thankfully loud enough to not make the conversational silence at the table too noticeable. Not that she was in the mood for small talk, anyway. There was just way too much circling in her mind. She needed to process it all.
No one wanted to ruin Cassie’s celebration, so conversations had been hushed and behind bathroom doors, everyone trying to bring her up to speed without involving the entire party or casting a pall over it. The result was information and emotional overload, and the beginnings of a massive headache.
By the time she finished this glass, she could head on home without anyone thinking it was odd. There was wine in her fridge, and drinking herself into oblivion seemed the best way to finish out this horrid day. Tomorrow would be soon enough to try to make sense of it all.
“I think I’m supposed to ask you to dance.”
The comment caught her by surprise, as Dylan hadn’t said much to her all night, choosing to talk to Tuck and oddly Carter mostly. “Excuse me?”
Dylan half pointed in the direction of the dance floor, where Reese was making gestures over Mason’s shoulder that did seem to translate into: “You two, dance.”
The last thing she needed was a pity dance from him. “Thanks, but no.”
“No, thank you.”
Marnie had a brief flash of irritation at the relieved sigh in his voice as Dylan turned back to Reese and shrugged. Reese’s lips pressed together in annoyance before she peeled herself off Mason and stalked over to the table.
“You need to dance, Marnie.”
“Why?”
Reese seemed to think for a second. “Because it’s bad luck for the bride and groom if the guests don’t dance.”
Reese should really know better than to try that. In three years at Simmons College, fourteen of her sorority sisters had walked down the aisle. There wasn’t a wedding tradition or superstition she didn’t know inside and out. “You made that up.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I think it’s bad luck.”
“Well, I don’t think Dylan really wants to dance,” she countered. “And it’s bad luck to dance with an unwilling partner.”
She could tell Reese was trying to decide if that was an actual superstition or not. Finally, Reese cut her eyes in Dylan’s direction. “But he will be willing if you just say yes. This is a celebration, and you two are sitting it out. I think that’s a little rude, don’t you?”
Reese knew right where to hit. The desire not to be rude was ingrained into her very soul and hard to ignore. Marnie weighed her options. Once Reese got an idea, it was nearly impossible to change her mind. She was a peacekeeper, a smoother-outer, the perfect hostess who wanted everyone to participate and have a good time. Reese had been born on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line; for a Yankee, she could channel a Southern matriarch with the best of them. Marnie could give in gracefully now or be politely and lovingly badgered to death.
“Fine.” She took a long swallow from her glass and stood. Dylan, wearing a look that might have been boredom or annoyance—it was really hard to tell which—pushed to his feet, as well. Talk about rude...
“Excellent.” Reese smiled as Mason pulled her back into his arms.
Marnie let Dylan lead her to the dance floor, his hand at the small of her back, and she caught at least one or two jealous looks being shot her way by other women. She totally understood why. Dylan Brookes was smart, successful and handsome, and the news he was back on the “eligible bachelor” list had brought a cheer to the lips of nearly every unmarried woman in the city looking to marry well.
Dylan looked every inch the Park Avenue aristocrat he was—which seemed a ridiculous contrast to the all-American frat-boy good looks of his best friend, Tuck. He radiated a suaveness, like he belonged in a tuxedo drinking dirty martinis at swanky events. Even tonight, with his dark hair slightly mussed, collar open and shirtsleeves rolled up over tanned forearms, the adjective that sprang to mind was “debonair.”
Her departed mother might be mollified now, as Dylan Brookes—the smart, rich, well-connected and respected attorney and philanthropist—was exactly the kind of man Miss Marnie Suellen Price, the only daughter of Marshall and Alma Price—God rest their souls—of Savannah, Georgia, was supposed to dance with.
And she hadn’t danced with that kind of man—intentionally—in over five years.
She knew Dylan’s type—she’d grown up surrounded by men just like him. Well-bred, well-read, and well-groomed, raised with every perk money could provide and trained to step right into their daddies’ shoes and run the world. Bloodless, boring, and usually arrogant, but disguised under a thousand-dollar suit.
But she’d suck it up for one dance.
Dylan took her right hand in his, placed his other at her waist, and they moved gently to the music, both of them staring off into the distance.
God, this was worse than junior prom. A good foot of space separated their bodies. She bit her lip to hold back the snicker as the memory flooded back. Peter Stevenson, son of Savannah’s mayor and the young man lucky enough to win the Price family seal of approval as a proper escort, had had sweaty palms. Looking back, it may have been the first time he’d ever actually laid hands on a girl. They’d kept that respectable distance between them all night—up to and including the chaste and proper good-night handshake on her front porch. And she’d been both satisfied and pleased, convinced it was proof Peter respected her.
Even now, she could still hear Gina’s bark of laughter at the recounting of that story, and her sincere judgment of “How very pathetic.” Even after everything that happened, Marnie had always been thankful to Gina for opening her naive eighteen-year-old eyes to the real world.
“What’s so funny?” Dylan’s question caused her to jump and brought her back to the present.
Her cotillion instructor would be horrified to know that she was neglecting the most basic rules of etiquette by ignoring her dance partner. But since she doubted Dylan would be happy to hear himself compared to her nervous seventeen-year-old prom date, she rapidly searched her mind for something appropriate to say.
She’d met Dylan a few times in social situations after he and Reese moved from coworkers to couple—their engagement party, that Thanksgiving she’d had lunch at Reese’s parents’ house—but she’d never really spent much time talking to him. She knew all about his career achievements, giving her a specific picture of Dylan, and she’d always been a little sad Reese had engaged herself to someone so dry, staid, and frankly unexciting. And if there was more to him—a hidden fire, exciting depths—Reese had never shared that information. Reese was just so private about things that there hadn’t been much girl talk deconstructing their relationship during their infrequent lunches in the city.
So while she kind of knew Dylan, she couldn’t say that she knew him well. And what she did know wasn’t all that helpful at the moment.
The obvious seemed the safest conversational course. “Just thinking what an odd couple Cassie and Tuck are, but yet they’re so happy together.”
Dylan nodded. “You ladies did a good job with this party. I know they both appreciate it.”
She grabbed the conversational rope gratefully. “Tuck...yes, and Cassie wouldn’t care unless Tuck did. We just couldn’t let her get married without some kind of celebration. It just seems wrong not to. It’s one thing not to have the big white wedding, but just a run to the courthouse wasn’t nearly enough.”
Dylan nodded, and that topic was finished. How long is this song?
She laughed. “It just seems like I’ve been neck-deep in weddings since June...”
“I know the feeling. I’m rather tired of them myself.”
Damn it. I shouldn’t have brought that up. “My apologies. That must be a sore topic.”
Dylan shrugged. “Not really.”
Her curiosity got the better of her manners. “Does it not bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“Being around Reese. Seeing her with someone else like that.” Seeing Reese so openly cuddly with Mason made Marnie realize that she’d never really seen Reese act openly affectionate toward Dylan when they were engaged—nor vice versa. Reese and Dylan had made a good-looking pair, but it would be a stretch to call them a “couple” based on their behavior.
“I’m not a huge fan of witnessing large amounts of PDA from anyone, but beyond that, no.”
Maybe that explained the lack of showy affection between them when they were together. “Well, you’ve been very understanding and decent about it.”
His eyebrows went up. “There was another option?”
She tried to picture Dylan in a jealous rage or even a mopey lovelorn depression. Neither image worked. “I guess not.”
“We’re friends and I wish her well. I just hope she’s not making the same mistake twice—”
It was rude to interrupt, but... “You think Reese and Mason are a mistake?”
“For her sake, I hope not. But the odds aren’t good.”
She rushed to defend Reese. “I’d say that after all they’ve been through, their odds are pretty damn good. They love each other—”
Dylan actually snorted.
“What? It’s true.”
“Yes, and love is probably the worst reason there is to get married.”
That threw her off her game. “What other reason is there?”
“You’re a romantic.” His tone clearly said he saw that as a fault.
That wasn’t entirely true. She had no starry-eyed misconceptions about the realities of relationships, but to just dismiss love outright? “For thinking love is a good reason to get married?”
“Love is ephemeral. Good marriages need a stronger foundation than that for a solid and successful partnership.”
Ugh. She’d heard variations of that before. But even being taught that marriage was about creating a strong family foundation—usually with the wife playing the helpmate to her husband—love was still at least given lip service in the equation. “So you think that Mason and Reese won’t have a solid and successful partnership? Simply because they’re in love?”
“Would you marry someone just because he was good in bed?”
The bluntness of that question quite literally caused her to stumble. Dylan’s hand tightened against her back as she regained her balance, and she wondered if Dylan had tried to shock her on purpose. No, Dylan wasn’t the type. Gina might try to bait and shock, but Dylan... She couldn’t really picture it. “Like love, it shouldn’t be the only reason to get married, but it’s a damn important one.”
Dylan merely smiled at her response, and she could almost feel the metaphorical pat on the head. It had been a long time since anyone had patronized her like that, and she wondered what Reese might have said about her to make him think...
“Wait a second.” She stopped the sway. “If love isn’t the right reason to get married, are you saying that you never loved Reese?” Reese might be happy in love now, but she’d sworn to only marry for love and finding out that Dylan hadn’t loved her at all would still hurt.
“Of course I loved her.” What would normally be a passionate declaration in any decent romance novel sounded flat instead. Dylan could have been speaking about how much he loved pizza for all the emotion behind the statement. Wow. Reese had definitely dodged a bullet with this one.
“Well, Reese seems to be pretty good at avoiding mistakes these days.”
An eyebrow arched up at her statement, but the music finally came to a stop, keeping Dylan from responding to her snark. Instead, he stepped back, and with a mocking bow, said, “Thanks for the dance, Marnie.”
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