Greek for Beginners (16 page)

It escalated quickly from there, hitting ten thousand before Darcie could process what was happening. He was selling himself, but not to the highest bidder. That was where the reserve came in. Nick was waiting for her. If she loved him, he was, quite literally, hers for the taking.

Darcie set her paddle on her seat. She didn't need it. She had a better idea.

“Excuse me,” she said to the gentleman seated to her left. She had to repeat the process five more times before she made it to the aisle and was heading toward the stage. She no longer cared about making a spectacle of herself.

Nick spotted her when she was halfway there. His mouth curved into a grin that set her heart bumping irregularly.

“I believe the reserve has been met,” he told the auctioneer. His gaze never wavered from hers.

She climbed the steps and met him center stage. The huge crowd fell silent. For Darcie, at that moment, they simply didn't exist.

“I was getting a little worried that you weren't here,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hands found her waist. “I apologize for that. I wanted to make a statement.”

“You certainly did. I was going for that with this dress, by the way.”

“So I see. I can't wait to take it off you. Six months is very long.”

“Felt like a lifetime,” she agreed. “But I've kept busy.”

“Writing?” he asked.

“And plenty of it. Did I mention I moved here to take a job at a magazine? I just started last week.”

His smile was wide and tinged with pride. “I knew you could do it.”

“Kiss him already!” the woman who'd offered her credit card at the beginning of the auction shouted.

Darcie grinned. “How do you feel about public displays of affection?”

In answer, Nick lowered his mouth to hers.

“I love you, Darcie Hayes,” he whispered afterward.

“I love you, too.”

* * * * *

EPILOGUE

Becky fussed with
the satin folds of Darcie's wedding gown as they stood at the back of the church. Although the denomination wasn't Greek Orthodox, much to Yiayia's dismay, Darcie had insisted that some of the elements of a traditional Greek ceremony be incorporated into their wedding.

One year to the day after they'd met in the Athens airport, Nick had gotten down on one knee and proposed. Now, Darcie was minutes away from becoming his wife.

The music began. Her sisters, wearing dresses the same shade of blue as the Aegean, started up the aisle one at a time. As Darcie's maid of honor, Becky went last. Then it was just Darcie and her father standing at the back of the church, a white runner strewn with rose petals the only thing between her and Nick.

“Slow down,” her father whispered, as they began to walk as the wedding march began. “Make him wait a little longer.”

It might have been good advice if Darcie had not been so eager herself. She already felt as if she'd waited a lifetime for this moment, even if by many standards her romance with Nick had been a whirlwind.

Finally at the altar, she smiled at Nick, took his hands. Vows were spoken. Rings were exchanged. A unity candle was lit. Then Pieter, grinning broadly, placed crowns on their heads and switched them three times.

“You may kiss your bride,” the priest said.

Nick's eyes were bright. His expression mirrored the sheer joy Darcie felt.

“At last,” he murmured just before their mouths met.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Maid of Dishonor
by Heidi Rice.

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ONE

New York City, August, the present.

Something's come up. U & M will have to
pick fabulous venue for Cassie's do without me. C u tomorrow at Amber's
Bridal. 11 a.m. Don't B late. R xxxx

‘Reese
Michael, I
am going to murder you.' Gina Carrington glared at the
text that had popped up on her smartphone.

This was a set-up, pure and simple.

Now her old college roomie was in the throes of second-chance
nirvana with her sexy ex- and soon-to-be-new husband Mason, Reese was so full of
the joys of spring—and Gina suspected really spectacular sex—that she was
starting to make Pollyanna look like a killjoy.

The something that had come up was Reese's cock-eyed optimism,
and leaving her and Marnie to have this meeting without her was her unsubtle way
of getting them to kiss and make up properly after that fun-filled night a
decade ago when they'd hurled words such as ‘Tramp' and ‘Whore' and ‘Virgin' at
each other before busting up the Awesome Foursome.

Gina's fingers hovered over the keypad of her phone as she
cursed her own stupidity.

She should have seen this coming, as soon as Reese had
suggested that the three of them organise a surprise wedding party for Cassie
and Tuck, the hot jock she was scheduled to marry at the Manhattan Marriage
Bureau on the Friday before Labor Day.

But the truth was, Gina hadn't given it a second thought. Reese
was classy, committed to her friends and a champion organiser—the original Park
Avenue Princess—it had made total sense that she would come up with an idea like
this.

In typical Cassie fashion, their super-geek friend had agreed
to marry Tuck and then left the arrangements up to him. No fanfare, no fuss, no
debauched fun or inappropriate frolics had been either planned or discussed. So
after speaking to Tuck, Reese had decreed the three of them should handle that
part of the programme without telling Cassie. Because Cassie would go into a
geek-induced coma if they made too much fuss, they had opted to celebrate in
understated style—inviting the minimalist guest list that would be witnessing
the wedding at City Hall to a great meal at a great restaurant right after the
event.

Hence the decision to meet at this ungodly hour of the morning
in Gina's favourite diner near Grand Central Station and debate possible venues,
before booking one.

But Reese being Reese had seen a way to turn what should have
been a polite and straightforward affair, with her as the official gooseberry,
into a peace-keeping mission of UN proportions.

Gina and Marnie had remained civil to each other, meeting again
for the first time a little over a month ago, during the fiasco that was Reese's
Wedding-That-Wasn't to Dylan Brookes—the original Mr Too Perfect. That should
have been enough, Gina thought resentfully. They had spoken to each other, they
had even joked with each other in a strained way. No insults had been hurled, no
punches thrown, no eyes gouged out, which in Gina's mind was a result. But
clearly, that hadn't been good enough for Reese, who was now a fully loved-up
member of the sweetness-and-light club. Reese wanted all the dirty laundry
properly aired and then washed clean—so the four of them could go back to being
the carefree college roomies who'd hit it off instantly at Hillbrook
College.

But to Gina's way of thinking, that simply wasn't ever going to
happen. You couldn't go back and undo the mistakes you made. You simply had to
learn to live with them. And she didn't think that Marnie would ever forgive
her. Because she hadn't yet forgiven herself.

Not only that, but kissing and making up with Marnie would
involve talking about a man Gina had promised herself she wouldn't even think
about again, because she'd thought about him far too often in the intervening
years. Namely, Marnie's big brother, Carter Price. The man she'd had one wild
night with just weeks before his wedding day. A wild night the consequences of
which had not only nearly destroyed her but, from what Reese had told her, had
managed to screw up his life rather comprehensively too.

Gina's newly manicured nails tapped out a tattoo on the side of
her smartphone as she glanced at the ornate clock on the diner's far wall—and
the urge to quickly text Marnie and make her excuses increased. She still had
ten minutes to do a runner before Marnie arrived—because for the first time in
recordable history she was actually early.

Sighing, she locked her phone and slung it back in her bag. Ten
years ago she would have gone with the urge—and run out on Marnie and the
unpleasant conversation that loomed large in her foreseeable future. Because
when she was nineteen, doing whatever took her fancy and then running away from
the fallout had been her speciality. She smoothed damp palms over the vintage
dress she'd picked up in a thrift store in Brooklyn a week ago. How inconvenient
that she wasn't that reckless, irresponsible tart any more.

‘Can I get you something, miss?'

Gina pasted a smile on her face at the helpful enquiry from the
college kid who was waiting tables.

‘Something hot and strong would be good,' she said, checking
him out from force of habit.

His fresh face flushed a dull red. ‘Umm... What did you have in
mind, miss?'

‘Coffee,' she said, taking pity on him as the flush went from
pink to vermillion. ‘And this morning I'm going to need it neat.'

He nodded. ‘Coming right up.'

She watched him stroll off and smiled.

While she might not be in the market for indiscriminate flings
any more, it was satisfying to know she hadn't lost her touch.

In fact, as she took a long gulp of the watery diner coffee ten
minutes later, she felt almost mellow. Until the revolving door at the front of
the restaurant spun round and out popped Marnie Price looking cute and efficient
in her power suit and kitten heels. Gina lifted a hand to wave, and watched
Marnie's expression go from keen to wary when she spotted the empty seat next to
her.

The hollow roll of regret flopped over in Gina's stomach. While
it was certainly true that she and the Savannah Belle hadn't had a thing in
common when they'd first met at Reese's house on campus—and Gina had spent most
of that first month teasing Marnie mercilessly about everything from her views
on love and marriage to her perfect Southern manners—their friendship had
eventually developed into something strong and supportive and surprisingly
genuine.

The truth was, Gina had felt superior to Marnie then. Gina had
considered herself a sophisticated, cosmopolitan woman of the world who knew all
she needed to know about men and sex and relationships—unlike the sheltered,
self-confessed Southern virgin.

But Marnie had grown on Gina, despite their differences.
Because beneath those pristine Southern manners had been an admirable devotion
to doing the right thing, being accountable for your actions and always
believing the best of people. And then Gina had gone and mucked everything up by
jumping into bed with the brother Marnie idolised—and discovered in the process
she was hardly the poster girl for mature relationships either.

But if there was something Gina regretted even more than giving
in to temptation that night, it was taking that bright, trusting light out of
Marnie's eyes. Something that now appeared to be gone for good.

‘Hi, Gina.' Marnie sent her a polite smile as she slid into the
booth. ‘Are we early?' she asked, probably hoping Reese—who was never late—would
magically materialise and get them out of this predicament.

If only
. ‘Reese can't make it.
Something came up, apparently.' Gina took a judicious sip of her coffee,
resisting the urge to say the something was probably a key part of the hot
ex-husband's anatomy.

‘And I'll bet I know what it is,' Marnie murmured, making Gina
choke on her coffee. ‘I swear, you'd think Mason had invented sex the way Reese
gushes about the guy.'

Gina put down her cup, a grin forming despite the underlying
tension. ‘Gushes being the operative word.'

Marnie gave a small laugh. ‘All I hope is that it's more than
just sex this time around—because there is no way I am repackaging a billion
truffles again in this lifetime.'

‘Amen to that,' Gina said, toasting Marnie with her coffee mug
and smiling at the memory of how the four of them had spent two solid hours
taking table-top truffles out of engagement-ring-style boxes when Reese had
decided to reinvent her aborted wedding to Dylan into a celebration of... Well,
no one had ever really figured that out.

‘To be frank,' Gina added, ‘if I ever see another truffle
before I die, it'll be too soon.'

Marnie's lips curved, but Gina could see the concern in her
pure blue eyes—and had the sudden realisation that she hadn't given Marnie her
due in the last month.

Seemed they'd both done quite a lot of growing up in the last
decade.

After ordering herself an iced tea and some wheat toast from
the blushing waiter, Marnie got right down to business, tugging a smartphone out
of her briefcase. ‘Okay, I've narrowed a couple of possible venues down that can
accommodate a party of seven on the required date, can provide a wedding cake
and meet our “classy but not too intimidating” requirements.' She pressed a few
buttons, her gaze flicking to Gina. ‘My personal favourite is the Tribeca
Terrace. Do you know it?'

Gina nodded. ‘Sure, chic and funky with sensational food and a
dance floor—so Cassie and Tuck can get up close and pornographic for our
benefit.'

Marnie's lips quirked again. ‘It's pricey, but totally worth
it.'

‘Done.'

Marnie blinked. ‘What do you mean, done? We haven't gone
through the other options.... And don't you have any venues you want to put
forward?'

‘I had a couple.' Gina shrugged. ‘But none of them are as
perfect as the TriBee,' she said, giving it the nickname it had acquired in the
foodie press. ‘You nailed it in one. Why shop around?'

The waiter arrived with Marnie's toast and tea and made a bit
of a production about asking Gina if she had everything she needed. As he left
Gina noticed Marnie's gaze follow him, before she concentrated on buttering her
toast. There was no censure in the look, just a simple acknowledgement. But Gina
could still hear the words running through Marnie's head even if the
well-mannered woman would rather bite off her own tongue than voice them.

There goes another of Gina's
conquests.

Ten years ago, Gina would have played up to that assessment and
enjoyed it—and quite probably taken full advantage of whatever the young waiter
had to offer. But not any more.

Placing her coffee mug back on the table, she waited for Marnie
to stop buttering. When the bright blue eyes finally met hers, she could see the
tension around the edges of Marnie's mouth and realised that—while she still had
a low-grade urge to throttle Reese—their mutual friend had been right. They
needed to get this out in the open, if they were going to have any chance of
getting past it and repairing the friendship between the four of them the rest
of the way.

Marnie and her would never be best friends, Gina had already
screwed that up for good, but surely they could be more than just civil to each
other. A bit more warmth between the two of them would also take the pressure
off the other two—and as both Reese and Cassie had weddings coming up, she
couldn't think of a better gift to give them both.

‘I'm sure we both know why Reese didn't show this morning,' she
said evenly. ‘And for once I'm not convinced it has anything to do with her
inability to leave Mason's bed first thing in the morning while he's still in
it.'

Marnie's eyes widened a fraction. She raised her napkin to her
mouth to remove an invisible crumb. ‘Reese has always been a peace-maker.'

She put the napkin down, folded it carefully.

‘But I'm confident she'll stop trying to be Mother Teresa when
we turn up at Amber's Bridal tomorrow having booked an awesome venue for
Cassie's party without having gotten into a catfight in the Grand Central
Diner.'

Gina's lips curved at the droll statement. ‘True, but funnily
enough...' She took a deep breath, fortified by the odd feeling of connection
between them—because right about now it seemed they both had a low-grade urge to
throttle Reese. ‘I think I can probably go one better than that.'

Wariness crossed Marnie's face. ‘How?'

‘By apologising for all the crappy things I said to you on our
last night together—which were cruel and juvenile and totally unnecessary.' She
huffed out a steady breath when Marnie remained silent.

Now for the biggie
.

‘And more importantly by apologising for seducing your brother
the week beforehand—which was equally cruel and juvenile and totally
unnecessary.' Even if it had felt very necessary at the time.

‘My only excuse is that I was in a bad place at the time.' A
bad place that had got a whole lot worse in the months after that night. ‘And I
did bad things as a result—including being a heartless, reckless, selfish,
philandering tart. And although I can't promise that I won't do bad things
again—because if there's one thing I despise more than a heartless tart, it's a
hypocrite—I'm trying a lot harder not to.'

Marnie's face remained unnervingly impassive, before she gave
her head a little nod. ‘Thanks for the apology. But if you were being cruel and
juvenile, I was too. And...' She paused. ‘While I could have done without such a
graphic description of my brother's...' she coughed, clearly struggling to get
the word out ‘...assets, you didn't say anything that wasn't true.' She looked
down at her hands, which were mangling the carefully folded napkin. ‘Carter was
the one that cheated, Gina. Not you.' Her eyes met Gina's, disillusionment
clouding the blue depths. ‘And after seeing his marriage die a slow, painful
death and seeing what a player he's become since his divorce—I don't think you
should take all the blame.'