The Wedding Gift (8 page)

But he'd said it to her. All morning it had nagged at her mind, undermining her resolve. She didn't know what to make of it.

Then he'd mentioned love again on the sidewalk. He'd seemed crushed when she blew it off, stung when she pawned him off on Barbie.

What if he'd meant it? What if he really did love her and she was being dense?

Minutes passed as she rocked. The Germans emerged from their room to stake out chairs by the pool. Barbie abandoned her watering can and disappeared inside.

And still Jan rocked. And the more she rocked, the more she wondered. Until, finally, she decided there was only one thing to do.

She'd have to come right out and ask Mick if he loved her.

S
TOMPING PAST THE
bed, Mick cast a bitter glance at the mess they'd made; blanket on the floor, sheets in a sticky knot, pillows every which way. And the whole kit and caboodle infused with Jan's strawberry scent.

Barging into the bathroom, he peeled his shirt over his head and threw it at the floor. Then he shot a line of Colgate on his toothbrush and went at his teeth like they were to blame.

He glimpsed himself in the mirror. He looked as miserable as he felt.

He smiled grimly. At least he'd had the satisfaction of putting misery on Jan's face too. She'd crushed him, and he'd crushed her right back.

Though why she'd care if he went at it with Barbie, he didn't know. Jan had made it damn clear that last night was a one-off. She'd wanted to be schooled in sex, he'd done the job, and now they were supposed to go back to being friends as if nothing had changed.

As if she hadn't said she loved him.

He spit toothpaste in the sink. What a fool he was. He'd actually believed she meant it.
Really
meant it, not just meant it the way she signed his birthday card.
Love, Jan.

In the mirror, he spotted her bridesmaid dress hanging on the hook behind him, sleeveless and flowery, and made of some kind of filmy fabric that would float around her like mist.

She'd look beautiful in it, as always. But today he wouldn't be the only one who noticed. Jan's beauty was public now, no longer a secret that only he knew.

That pissed him off too.

Then someone knocked on the door. Instantly, his anger dissolved and joy swelled his chest. She'd had second thoughts! She'd realized how good they were together and come back to throw herself into his arms.

He shot to the door, yanked it open to catch her . . .

“Hi, Mick.”

His heart fell.

Barbie.

She twirled her hair around one finger. “I came to clean. I didn't know you were in here.” She peered around him. “And all alone.”

“I'll be gone in a minute,” he said, turning his back and trudging to the bathroom.

He expected her to leave and come back later. But when he lifted his head from the sink, she was smiling in the mirror behind him.

“Looks like you had quite a night.” She jerked a thumb toward the bed. “I guess Little Miss Muffet knew her way around the tuffet after all.”

He stared at her. How was he supposed to respond to that?

And more importantly, what the hell would Jan think if she came back and found him with Barbie?

The answer was obvious. She'd think he was doing exactly what he'd implied he would be doing.

Guilt carved a slice from his heart. Now that his anger had fizzled out, he couldn't believe he'd thrown Barbie in Jan's face. Sure, Jan had hurt his feelings. But hurting hers in return made him feel like shit.

He definitely didn't want to hurt her again. Which meant he had to vacate, and fast.

Straightening up from the sink, he let his shoulders fill the tiny bathroom, meaning to crowd Barbie out. But instead of backing up, she shimmied past him.

Bending to pick up the T-shirt he'd dropped on the floor, she aimed her ass at his crotch, but he was faster, hitching his hips back like a batter dodging a brush-back pitch.

“I'll take that shirt,” he said, “and get out of your way.”

She stood up and faced him, holding the shirt behind her back. “Don't leave on my account. I'll work around you, make the bed. Do whatever else you need done.”

The look on her face had him backing out the door. Forget the shirt, he'd grab another one. Jan was probably long gone by now, but just in case—

Knuckles tapped on the door. “Mick, it's me. Can I come in?”

His heart leaped into overdrive. But his brain switched off like a light. He couldn't think how to answer.

Say
yes
and she'd find Barbie there. After his dumb-ass comment by the pool, Jan would assume the worst.

Say
no
and she'd leave for Julie's. By the time he saw her again, second thoughts might have hardened into third, and he'd lose his chance to make a case for more-than-friends.

It was a no-win scenario. Speechless with dread, all he could do was stare at the door.

Slowly, it opened. Jan poked her head in. Spotting him frozen in the bathroom doorway, she ventured inside the room, closed the door, and leaned back against it, her face pale and serious.

Mick made himself hold her eyes. In the bathroom behind him, Barbie was out of sight for now. He propped a hand casually against the door frame. If he could keep her caged until he got Jan out of there, maybe he could avoid disaster.

Jan tucked her hair behind her ear. “I have a question.” Her voice quavered. “Did you mean what you said?”

He hesitated. He needed clarification before he could answer, but his conscience rebelled at drawing her out with Barbie breathing down his neck.

“Let's go outside,” he said, well aware it was the wrong thing to say. This was plainly a behind-closed-doors conversation.

Jan ignored his stupidity. “When you said you love me, did you . . . ? I mean . . .” She took a deep breath. “How exactly did you mean that?”

Sweat streamed down his sides. This was his chance to tell her how he'd loved her for years. To describe the future he wanted them to share.

And it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Dropping his arm, he started toward her. He'd take her outside whether she wanted to go or not. They'd find a private spot and he'd pour out his heart—

Behind him, something hard hit the floor.

Jan froze like a snapshot.

“Oops” came from the bathroom, followed by a giggle.

The shock on Jan's face would haunt him for a lifetime. Every drop of warmth fled the room.

He opened his mouth to explain, but the hurt in her eyes stole his breath.

Time stood still.

Then, slowly, she walked toward him, an iceberg gliding across an arctic sea. Stepping around him as if he'd ceased to exist, she paused in the bathroom doorway and said calmly, “Barbie, would you pass me my toiletry case?”

Barbie did, solemnly, as if the chill affected even her. Jan took it, then removed her dress from the hook.

Mick found his voice at last, and it was a plea. “She's only here to clean the room. Tell her, Barbie.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Barbie said. But the T-shirt in her hand told a different tale.

Jan ignored both of them. She stowed her things in her suitcase, then zipped it and stood it on the floor.

“Please don't go,” Mick said, his voice breaking. If she left now, her heart would harden against him forever. “Please, Jan. Please don't go.”

It fell on deaf ears.

Winter had fallen on the land, and nothing he could say would make the sun shine again.

The door closed softly behind her.

 

Chapter 7

“J
ANNY
B
ANANNY!”

Ellen Marone—Julie's mom—gave Jan a hug, then stepped back to look her up and down. “I didn't believe Julie when she told me, but she was right. From old maid to hot chick overnight.”

Jan couldn't help smiling at her favorite aunt. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Don't I always?” Ellen hooked an arm around Jan's shoulders, drawing her into the living room of Julie's suite at the most luxurious inn on the island. The reception would be catered under a tent in the backyard, and the chapel was conveniently located next door.

“Seriously,” Ellen went on, “you're like a younger, hipper, prettier Jan. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one.”

Actually, New Jan was starting to appreciate Old Jan. Old Jan had stayed on an even keel. Her days were tame but predictable. Life-changing events were thin on the ground.

New Jan, on the other hand, was flying by the seat of her pants, catapulting from mind-blowing sex with the love of her life to devastating betrayal by her best friend, all in the space of twelve hours.

Maybe I'm meant to wear plaid skirts and cotton blouses instead of spandex and bikinis.

Obviously, I'm not meant for Mick.

Julie came out of the bedroom in a pink satin robe, her hair in a complicated updo, her makeup photo-shoot perfect.

“I'm so glad you're here, sweetie.” She air-kissed Jan's cheek. “Sorry, but my lips took twenty minutes. I'm saving them for Cody.”

“You look gorgeous,” Jan said.

“If that's true, I owe it all to Monica, our stylist.” She made the introductions, then touched Jan's cheek. “She'll give you some color, sweetie. You're so pale today. Is everything okay?”

“I'm fine,” Jan said, putting her pity party firmly on hold. She'd have time enough—a lifetime—to cry about Mick. She wouldn't ruin Julie's wedding with tears and recriminations.

She straightened her shoulders. “What can I do for the bride?”

“At the moment, I'm good.” As usual, Julie had everything running like clockwork. “Monica will do you next, then Amelia when she gets here. Mom wants to go last.”

“All that hair spray. Ugh.” Ellen shuddered. “Only for you, Julie.”

“You'll be glad when you see the photos,” Julie said. “Speaking of photos. Jan, you know Rowena Childs, don't you?”

The photographer who'd asked for an introduction to Mick. She was fussing with her gear on the kitchenette counter.

Jan acknowledged the woman with a stingy nod.

Rowena gave her a friendly smile anyway, then made a squish-together-ladies hand motion and snapped off a string of pictures of the three of them.

Amelia arrived a minute later with two bottles of champagne. “Finally,” Ellen said, and got busy pouring glasses all around. “To Julie.” She raised her flute. “And her hot cowboy husband.”

Jan tossed back her champagne, then polished off another before Monica steered her to a straight-backed chair facing a large portable mirror.

“Very pretty,” she said, running her fingers through Jan's hair. “How about something like this?” She scooped it up, then got a load of Jan's hickey. “Or you could wear it down,” she said smoothly. “We'll do some loose waves, pump up the volume.”

She fluffed it around Jan's shoulders. “I'll go natural with your makeup too. Bring out your eyes, outline your lips. Your skin's gorgeous. All you need is a little blush.”

Jan nodded along, the champagne numbing her. Ellen poured another round and everyone got a little louder, like somebody had turned up the volume on a stereo.

As Monica fiddled with her hair, Jan fell into a trance. She set her champagne aside, let her eyelids do what they wanted to do, which was blink . . . blink . . . blink . . . close.

She came to when Monica shook her shoulder gently. “What do you think?”

“Pretty,” Jan murmured, turning her head from side to side. Monica spun her around and handed her a mirror. The back looked pretty too. A shinier, smoother, fuller version of her hair.

Ellen propped her butt on the table. “You're gorgeous, Janny Bananny.” She laughed. “It doesn't seem right to call you that now. You're all grown up.”

Jan smiled. “I've been grown up for a while, Aunt Ellen. I'm thirty now.”

Ellen
tsk
ed. “I can't understand why you hid your light under a bushel all this time. Well, yes, I can.” Her eye roll said it all:
your Mom's a nutcase.

Jan didn't dispute it. She might defend her mother to strangers, but with family it was a waste of breath. Everyone knew what was what.

Monica came at her with a powder puff, and Jan closed her eyes again, listening to the feminine chatter around her. Julie on the phone with the caterer. Ellen extolling the “virtues” of her ten-years-younger boyfriend. Amelia begging her to stop.

These were Jan's women, and she loved them. She was grateful to be here celebrating Julie's big day. And sadly, she was glad her own mother hadn't made the trip. No one appreciated a wet blanket at a wedding.

Around and among them, Rowena circled, unobtrusively snapping candids. Jan did her best not to scowl at her. Why blame her for wanting exactly what she herself wanted?

Mick.

She shouldn't blame Mick either, for being who he was. Who she'd always known him to be. He slept around. He didn't get serious. He made no promises. And truthfully, he'd made no promises to her either.

Or so Old Jan would have said as her heart broke and bled.

But New Jan? As she looked in the mirror, her chin came up.

New Jan might be heartbroken, but she was also deeply and permanently pissed.

Last night she'd shared the most intense experience of her life with Mick, and he damn well knew it was a watershed for her. He should have been sensitive to her feelings, even if he didn't share them.

There was no excuse for getting naked with Barbie ten minutes after walking away from her. So what if she'd all but invited him to bang the girl? That didn't mean he should do it in their bed!

It was a betrayal of monumental proportions. Unredeemable. Unconscionable. Unforgivable. And the perpetrator didn't deserve her love and devotion, or even her friendship, anymore.

It was time she grew up and put away childish things. Including—no, especially—Mick. If he left a huge hole in her life, and a larger one in her heart, well, she'd find other things—other men—to fill it.

Mick McKenna was a vestige of Old Jan's life. New Jan was finished with him.

M
ICK STUCK HIS
finger in his collar. The damn tie was choking him.

“It's the shirt, not the tie,” Ray said helpfully. “Unbutton the button.”

The guy really was a mind reader.

Mick flicked open the button and cool air rushed down his throat. “Does it look too obvious?”

Ray reached over and fiddled with Mick's tie. “There. You can hardly tell.”

Ellen's boyfriend, Jess, was sitting a few pews in front of them. He turned around and grinned. “Been working out? That can grow your neck.” Jess was a personal trainer. He sized up Mick's shoulders. “Your proportions are good, but I can put some beef on you. Stop into the gym. I'll show you a few moves, no charge.”

Mick nodded. Small talk was beyond him. He craned his neck toward the back of the chapel, hoping for a glimpse of Jan.

“They're cloistered,” Ray informed him. “Incommunicado for the last two hours.”

“For Christ's sake.” Mick fought the urge to drag his hands through his hair. He wanted to look as good as possible when Jan came down the aisle.

“Had a fight, huh? Don't sweat it.” Ray nodded sagely. “She'll soften up when they start with the vows. They all do.”

He pointed at a middle-aged couple taking seats across the aisle. “The Browns. Harper and Maeve. You can see where the sons got their looks.”

Mick looked them over with a jaundiced eye. As far as he was concerned, there was already one Brown too many at this wedding.

Still, he had to admit they were a nice-looking couple. Harper was tall and rangy like his sons, with a handsome, sun-cragged face that never quit smiling. Maeve, an attractive blonde with laugh lines around her eyes, looked happy and relaxed, and totally in love with her husband.

“They're nice people,” Ray said. “They live down here now, and hang out with Jimmy Buffett.”

“Hmmph.” Mick wasn't jumping on the Brown bandwagon yet. He still hadn't forgiven Tyrell for enthralling Jan.

Ellen slid into the pew beside Jess. She squeezed his bicep appreciatively, then smiled over her shoulder at Ray and Mick. “Any minute,” she said. “They're all so beautiful it'll break your heart.”

Mick didn't doubt it, except his was already broken.

If only Barbie hadn't followed him into the room. If only he'd gotten rid of her sooner. If only he'd told Jan right up front that Barbie was in the bathroom, instead of trying to hide her.

If only, if only, if only.

If only he could get Jan alone for five minutes at the reception and make her listen to him. Then he'd answer her question. He'd tell her that when he said he loved her, he meant with all his heart, forever and a day, until death do us part.

The harpist swept her fingers over the strings and began to play. Cody stepped through a door beside the altar, Tyrell on his heels. They looked like something out of a magazine. Mick's jaw clenched.

Then Ellen turned and pointed to the back of the chapel.

And there was Jan, lovely beyond words, a flawless vision of innocent beauty. Snow White had nothing on her. A lump rose in Mick's throat.

Down the aisle she came in a slow, graceful glide that carried her past him at arm's length. When she reached the altar, she stepped aside, half turning to watch first Amelia, then Julie, walk down the aisle. She never looked Mick's way, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her flowing hair, her pale shoulders, her sweet curves.

He drank her in. And against his will and his wishes, he hardened for her. He worked his finger inside his collar again. Scenes from the previous night played in his mind, and they were porn.

The bride and groom took their place, and all eyes but Mick's turned to the altar. The minister said something that prompted a laugh, but Mick wasn't listening. Jan had all his attention. When she smiled, his lips curved. When her eyes welled, tears pricked his own lids.

And when the ceremony was over and the wedding party gathered on the chapel steps, he hung as close to her as he could without photo-bombing the wedding pictures.

He got his chance to approach her as the photo shoot broke up. Moving in from the side, he touched the back of her arm. She glanced at him, and the frost in her eyes sank into his bones.

“I'm surprised you made it,” she said. “Now that I'm familiar with your stamina, I assumed you and Barbie would be at it all night.”

“That wasn't what it looked like.” He held her cold gaze. “She really did come to clean the room. I was trying to get rid of her when you showed up—”

“And she was taking along your T-shirt as a consolation prize? Or was it a souvenir?”

“Neither. I dropped it on the bathroom floor and she picked it up.” He touched her arm again. Her skin was silky and cool. “I should've told you she was there the second you came in. But I was afraid you'd think exactly what you thought.”

“Even if that's true—and I don't believe it for a minute—it means you have a pretty low opinion of me.”

“Not at all. It means I'm an idiot, which can't come as a surprise to you.”

Her lips curled in a cynical half smile. “Nothing about you would surprise me now.”

She started to turn away when the photographer popped up in front of them. “How about a smile?” the woman said, lifting her camera. “You two look like you lost your best friends.”

“Funny you should say that.” Jan's lips twisted wryly. “By the way, let me introduce you.”

Shit!
Mick threw his hands up defensively. But it was too late. Before he could run, or faint, or be beamed up to a spaceship, Jan took the cheap shot. “Rowena Childs,” she said, “meet Mick McKenna.”

And with a last bitter smile that splintered his heart, she turned her back and walked away.

M
ARCHING TOWARD THE
inn, Jan's heart raced, her nerves jangled, but she was damned proud of herself. Instead of falling for Mick's tempting tale, she'd kept it real, and even delivered a parting shot that would have him sweating bullets for weeks.

Take that, Mick. Congratulations on your impending nuptials.

“Jan!” Julie waved her over. “These are Cody's parents, Harper and Maeve.”

Harper's big hand engulfed Jan's. “You Marone girls sure are a pretty bunch.” His deep drawl rumbled. “Makes me wish we had more sons so we could rope you into the family.”

New Jan met his gaze boldly. “I'll take whatever you've got—cousins, uncles, nephews. Let's have a look at 'em.”

Harper belly-laughed, and Maeve said, “Be careful what you wish for, Jan. Once the wedding photos hit Facebook, you'll find Browns lined up at your door.”

“I'll be sure to post my new address.” Anyone sharing the Browns' gene pool would get a warm welcome from her.

Then a hand touched her arm.

Mick.

The nerve.

He smiled at Harper and Maeve. “Hi, I'm Jan's date, Mick McKenna.” He linked hands with her like they were a couple, obviously assuming she'd swallow it rather than knee his nuts in the middle of Julie's reception.

He was right, of course. She sucked it up, simmering silently behind a bogus smile as he paid her back for the Rowena intro with a string of hilarious Jan stories that had the Browns in stitches.