Chapter 2

Bridget tugged on her tights and straightened her miniskirt over them. She slipped into her ballet flats and fluffed her curly copper hair around her shoulders. Her woolen top molded to her curves more comfortably than any shiny dress. She began to unwind the tension knotting up her shoulders. She never worried about her figure until she put on that infernal dress. Now that she got into her own clothes, she liked her body again.

She checked her makeup in the hotel room mirror and tucked her hair behind one ear when someone knocked on her door. She opened it and Sheila bounded in wearing her little black dress. Bridget’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you a little dressed up for this?”

Sheila pirouetted in a circle. “I want to look good for the dinner. Aren’t you at least going to change your clothes? These are the same clothes you drove up in.”

Bridget pushed her out of the room and closed the door behind her. She hooked her arm through Sheila’s elbow and guided her down the hall. “Unlike you, I’m not here to pick up guys. I’m here to celebrate my brother’s wedding. You’re bringing down the whole bridesmaids’ team with your antics.”

“Nonsense,” Sheila shot back. “What are weddings for if not for picking up guys? Your brother’s party is the best hunting ground I could ask for.”

Bridget groaned. “Don’t give me that about my brother’s party. You’ve got your eye on Roy. Don’t lie about it.”

Sheila turned red. “I won’t lie about it. He’s prime meat, and I’m gonna get him.”

Bridget covered her eyes. “Could you please not use the word ‘meat’ in the same sentence with a man? It’s really crude, you know.”

Sheila cackled with glee. “I know. Isn’t it great? I bet he’s got the best meat on the block. I have an idea. How about I find out and let you know?”

“Don’t you dare! If you get anywhere close to Roy Fontaine’s ‘meat’, I don’t want to know about it. You keep all the gory details to yourself. Do you hear me?”

Sheila didn’t answer because, at that moment, they entered the hotel’s main lobby. Voices rose and fell from the dining room to one side. Bridget and Sheila got their noses through the door when the hubbub exploded into vivacious debate.

Bridget’s mother hustled between tables. She assigned everyone a specific seat marked with a name tag. Half the guests got to the dining room early and already sat down at the wrong places. Bridget’s mother made them get up and move to the right places to make room for people arriving.

Bridget hung back. “Oh, great! Another disaster.”

Her mother caught sight of her and waved her forward. “And you’re here, Bridget, and right next to you is Roy. Where is he? Oh, there you are. Right here, Mr. Fontaine. Yes, that’s right. Have a seat. We’ll have this sorted out in no time.”

Bridget froze with her hand on the chair back. Sit next to Roy? She glanced toward the door, but more people clustering around the entrance blocked her escape.

Roy pulled out his chair and sat down. He wore a perfect gray wool suit now to match his eyes, and he straightened his jacket. His back spread farther than either side of the chair back. At that close range, Bridget got her first sense of his sheer size and mass. He intimidated her just sitting there.

Her mother ushered people to their seats. Pretty soon, the glut dissipated and people sat down. The hubbub died to a gentle ebb of conversation. The dining room settled into a happy hum. Bridget had no choice but to sit down, too.

She yanked out the chair, sat down, and scooted up to the table. She could get through a meal without talking to the hulk next door. She would eat and run. The waiters started making the rounds and handing out plates and drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Cutlery clinked and jaws chewed.

Bridget pulled her plate toward her, all set to work fast when Roy leaned over and murmured in her ear. “What did you think of the rehearsal? Which side of the altar do you think you should be on?”

She cast a quick glance his way. Then she locked her eyes on her plate. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter much.”

That should shut him up. She took a bite of a deviled egg when he leaned over to murmur in her ear again. “I agree with you. You should be on the bride’s side.”

She didn’t answer. Maybe if she ignored him, he would get the message and go away.

A polite silence followed. Then he tried again. “Ben and Larissa sure seem happy together. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. How about you? Don’t you think he seems happy?”

She took a deep breath. She had to shake this lamprey off once and for all. “Yes, Ben and Larissa seem happy, but I guess that’s to be expected. They’re getting married, after all.”

She stuck a forkful of cheese blintzes in her mouth and relaxed into the silence, but he wouldn’t quit. His voice came just a hint louder this time. “You’re supposed to make polite conversation at wedding functions. That’s all I’m trying to do here. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Bridget’s head snapped sideways to face him. “I’m not making polite conversation with you. Do you think I didn’t hear you call me a tart in the church? Talk to Maury Jensen on your other side over there if you really want to make polite conversation with somebody.”

She faced front. Now what in the sam hill made her react like that? Why did she have to blow her cool by reminding him? She should have kept up her one-line answers until he gave up and left her alone. Then again, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who gave up on anything. Come to think of it, she wasn’t the kind of girl to let something like that go. Better to give him his walking papers now so she could enjoy the rest of the weekend.

He set down his knife and fork and leaned back in the chair. He set his hands on his hips. “You are a tart, Bridget. You looked incredible in that dress. I can’t wait to see you in it again tomorrow. And the way you strutted down the aisle? Shoot! I wish I had that on camera so I could watch it every day.”

Bridget’s ears and neck burned. She should have known strutting down the aisle would come back to bite her. When would she ever learn to control her temper? “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m sure every other guy in the groom’s party enjoyed it, too. I only did it because you were staring at me like that.”

“I couldn’t help but stare. You’ve got a body to make any guy drool. You know that.”

“I don’t know any such thing. I wish I didn’t have to wear that stupid dress. It doesn’t fit me.”

“It fits you great. You look ten times better than Larissa.”

“What are you talking about? Larissa is a stick. She would look good in anything.”

“It’s because she’s a stick that she doesn’t look good in anything. She looks like a stick wearing a bridal gown. You on the other hand….”

She couldn’t stop herself turning in his direction. “What about me?”

He met her gaze for just an instant. Then he swept his eyes down to her feet and back up. “You look good in everything. You look just as good now in those tights as you do in your dress. You’re not a stick. You’re a woman. Men like women, not sticks.”

Bridget blushed to her eyelashes, but she had to admit his words made her heart beat faster. She never wanted to be a stick. She liked her curves, but it was nice to hear someone else did, too. All she ever heard from everyone and everything was stick, stick, stick. Sticks stared out at her from billboards and TV screens. The media slammed sticks in her face everywhere she turned.

Roy smiled at her. “You’re just perfect the way you are. I like a woman with some meat on her bones. It gives you something to hold onto.”

Now she really did blush. She blushed so bad she had to turn away. She pushed her food back and forth on her plate. “Yeah, well, you never will, so take a good look and go find yourself another tart to eat.”

“I don’t want another tart to eat. I want to eat you.”

Her head spun around on her neck. She took one look at those piercing gray eyes and she couldn’t look anymore. She whirled around the other way and jumped out of her seat. “Dude, you’re sick. I’m outta here.”

She grabbed her plate and raced out of the room. She dumped her plate in the bus tub by the door and beat it out of the hotel in a hurry. She didn’t slow down until she got out into the garden. Just before she left the dining room, she cast a furtive glance toward her table. There was Sheila sitting down in the chair Bridget just vacated. Good. Sheila would keep Roy occupied. She would take his mind of Bridget and…..

Aw, forget it. She wouldn’t think about him anymore and the ridiculous things he said. What was he doing, hitting on her at her brother’s wedding? He was supposed to be the groom’s best man. Had he no shame at all, cruising for whatever and hitting on her at the rehearsal dinner?

She sat down in the sun among the roses, but she couldn’t get away from what he said. He liked her body. He liked the way she looked in that dress. She wasn’t fat and ugly to him.

She would have to make sure not to strut in front of him tomorrow, though. She didn’t want every other guy in the groom’s party drooling over her, too. She walked around the gardens for an hour or more until the sun started going down. Dance music lilted out of the hotel. She cast a longing gaze toward the doors, but she couldn’t go in there.

She wished she could find a guy like Ben and Larissa found each other. Loneliness seized her heart. No one waited for her in that hotel. No one waited for her back in the city, either. No one waited for her anywhere. What would it be like to face every day with someone…someone who appreciated her?

Roy appreciated her—at least, he appreciated her body. That didn’t mean he appreciated her. What would it be like to be with someone who appreciated her body? What would it be like to revel in being big and curvy, to release herself with someone who wanted her like this?

She meandered back toward the doors, but she didn’t go inside. She heard the music louder now and caught a glimpse of Sheila dancing in the cleared-out dining room. Sheila was probably in there dancing with Roy right now. From the stories Ben told, Roy picked up a girl every day of the week. He couldn’t fail to see Sheila coming at him a mile away.

Bridget’s heart sank. So all that talk about liking a curvy woman was just so much smoke blown up her skirt. He would say anything to get in a girl’s pants. That’s what Ben said…or was it? Actually, Ben never said that. He said Roy could have any girl he wanted, that Roy set his sights on a girl and got her. He never said Roy lied to get them.

Ben worshiped the ground Roy walked on. He called Roy a prince and a saint and a king and a genius. Bridget didn’t pay enough attention to their business dealings to understand what made him say that, but Ben couldn’t say enough about Roy. She knew Ben well enough to know he wouldn’t admire a guy who lied to get a girl in the sack.

She just started feeling really sorry for herself and turned to walk away again when a figure stepped out of the lobby. Roy walked over to stand next to her. He peered through the door at Sheila parading around with a bevy of penguins in tow.

Bridget shot him a sidelong glance. “I thought you’d be in there breaking it down with the rest of them.”

His eyebrows went up. “Me? No, I don’t like that kind of dancing. That kind of dancing is for drunk people.”

She had to smile at that. “Thanks for saying what you said before. I appreciate it.”

He faced her. “What did I say?”

“You said I was a woman, not a stick, and that you thought I looked good in my dress. I appreciate you saying that. I don’t hear that kind of thing very often.”

“You do look good in your dress. You look good like this, too. You’re drop-dead hot. Don’t you know that?”

“I guess not if I’m thanking you for saying it.”

“Well, you are, so you don’t have to thank me.”

She turned away. “Thanks.” Then she caught herself and laughed.

He smiled and surveyed the lobby. “I don’t usually come to places like this. I wouldn’t have come if your brother hadn’t asked me to be his best man.”

Bridget’s eyes popped open. “You don’t? I thought a billionaire like you would be going to places like this all the time.”

He shrugged. “Naw. This isn’t really my scene.”

“So why did Ben ask you to be his best man? I mean, I know he admires you and everything. It’s just…you know, you guys aren’t exactly friends.”

“That’s what I thought, but he told me I’m his best friend. I wasn’t expecting it. I told him I would be honored to be his best man, and he seemed pleased with that. That’s what I’m doing here.”

She didn’t know what to say. She watched the dancers for a while. She had to say something, but she couldn’t think of anything appropriate to get her out of this awkward situation. “So what kind of dancing do you like?”

“I like slow dancing with someone I care about. I like holding someone close and sharing a private moment, not throwing myself around in front of a drunken crowd.”

At that moment, the music changed to a swaying rock ballad. The excited hoots died down in the dining room, and Bridget saw Sheila fall against one of her penguins

Roy leaned over. “How about it? Would you like to dance with me?”

She stared up at him. “What….here? Now?”

“Why not?” He took her hand and gave her arm a tug.

She resisted. She didn’t really want to dance, especially not with him. Well, why not with him? Wasn’t she just mooning over having a guy that appreciated her? Here he was, asking her to dance—not in front of a drunken crowd like Sheila, but right here, in the privacy of the hotel doorway.

No one was around. Potted trees and wisteria surrounded the doorway. The music lapped into the garden. His hand squeezed hers, and his iron bulk rose up big and high all around her.

What would it be like…just once? What the heck. What could go wrong? So he appreciates her body. She could enjoy dancing with him, just for a minute. Then she would split. She didn’t want to have anything to do with a guy who called her a tart and said he wanted to eat her. That kind of guy would eat dirt and die.

She couldn’t break free of his hand holding hers anyway. Some undeniable force pulled her toward him. That undeniable force came from him, from his massive, unstoppable self.

So this was what Ben saw in Roy. He locked his eyes on what he wanted, and nothing could stop him. He liked her, he appreciated her body, and he wanted to dance with her. Gravity towed her toward him. She couldn’t break away.

She didn’t want to break away. She wanted to dance with him. So he was a bombastic prick. He considered her something to eat. She wasn’t marrying him. She was just dancing with him for a minute.

He dragged her toward him, and he pushed her hand behind her back to hug her against his broad chest. Her top pressed against his jacket. He took her other hand and started swaying to the music.

She sank into that undertow, and her body followed his movements. His overpowering presence dwarfed her and sheltered her. She leaned into him, and she rested her head on his chest. He settled his cheek against her hair and kissed her forehead. She should have startled away at that. What was he doing? He couldn’t actually care about her, could he? What was he kissing her forehead for?

She didn’t startle away, though. For some reason, that kiss seemed just right, in just the right place at just the right time. It fit with this slow dance with no one around to see.

They eased back and forth. You couldn’t call it dancing. They just shifted their weight back and forth in time to the music. Before Bridget knew it, the song ended, and the thumping beat of jumpy dance music took its place. She let him go with a sigh and stepped back.

She smiled up at him and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thanks. That was nice.”

He let her hand go. “Anytime.”