Secret Quickie
Chapter 1
Roy Fontaine jerked his chin toward the bride’s side. “Who’s the tart?”
Ben Poppins glanced over his shoulder. “That’s my sister Bridget.”
Roy’s eyes widened. “Your sister! Dang!”
Bridget turned her back on the scene and muttered to Sheila, the other bridesmaid. “Did you hear that? That scumbag just called me a tart.”
Sheila batted her eyes at Roy over Bridget’s shoulder. “He’s not too bad, though, is he? I wouldn’t mind him calling me a tart.”
Bridget didn’t turn around. “He’s kinda old, isn’t he?”
Sheila cocked her head and grinned. “He can’t be too old. He doesn’t have any gray hair, and those crow’s feet around his eyes make him look distinguished.”
Bridget smoothed her dress down her hips. “You can have him, then. He’s all yours.”
Sheila’s eyes popped open. “Oooh! Do that again! He’s checking out your ass.”
Bridget flushed. She hadn’t meant to show off her swerves to her brother’s best man. She only wanted to look good, and this dress clung to her tighter than she expected. It left nothing of her voluptuous curves and full bust to the imagination. Every guy in the wedding checked her out every time she turned around.
Just then, the minister called everyone’s attention. “Is everyone in their places? Okay, I’ll just go up front with you, young man.” He tapped Ben on the shoulder. Once the groom’s party gets into position, we’ll start the music and the bride’s party can walk down the aisle.”
He left with Ben and Roy and the rest of the groom’s men. The weight of all their eyes lifted off Bridget’s shoulders. She sighed with relief. “I don’t understand why we have to wear all our fancy clothes for the rehearsal anyway. Why can’t we just wear our old blue jeans.”
Sheila ran her finger next to her mouth to remove any stray lipstick. “You wouldn’t want to get dressed on the day of the wedding and find out your dress didn’t fit, would you? Besides, I just love seeing all those guys in their tuxes. Which one do you like best?”
Bridget blushed again and faced front. “I wasn’t looking.”
Unfortunately, when she faced front, she found herself looking at all of them lined up in a row like penguins on a beach. Her brother Ben stood nearest the minister with Roy at his side. The other groom’s men trailed off into the background, but she couldn’t help noticing Roy. He stared straight at her with his piercing gray eyes.
Okay, so Sheila was right and he looked smashing in his tux. They all did, but for some reason, Roy stuck out to her. He stood three inches taller than all the other men, and his shoulders filled out his jacket so he occupied more space than any other two. He made Ben look tiny and fragile standing next to him.
Roy’s eyes burned into Bridget’s face. He scanned her up and down in her tight bridesmaid’s dress. Maybe she should tell the fitter to let the dress out some, but that might make her look even bigger. To hell with him. Let him look. Once her brother got safely married, she never had to see him again.
She tried to face him, to stare him down, but she had to drop her eyes to the floor before that direct, determined gaze of his. Ben tried to copy him by swelling out his chest and throwing his head back, but no one could match Roy’s size and raw muscle power.
She didn’t have to look at him again. She already knew what he looked like. His close-cropped brown hair surrounded his head, and he wore his own tailored tux instead of a rental like the others.
She could understand now why Ben talked about Roy nonstop ever since he started working with him. Roy had more money than God, and he took Ben under his wing to mentor him in his multi-billion dollar consultancy firm. Ben told some pretty outrageous stories about Roy and his exploits, but he wanted to be just like his older friend.
Bridget let out another sigh of relief when the music started, but that posed a whole new problem. She wouldn’t have to stand there in the vestry with him staring at her anymore, but now she had to walk down the aisle while he watched.
He didn’t even look at the flower girl or Sheila sashaying into their places. Bridget could just imagine Sheila eyeing Roy all over and grinning like a tiger. That girl had no scruples about throwing herself at a rich and powerful man, and Sheila heard Ben’s stories the same as Bridget. They made her mouth water to get her hands on Roy.
At last, Bridget’s turn came. She couldn’t put it off any longer, and she couldn’t get out of it, either. Not only would she have to strut her curvy body in this skin-tight dress in front of him, she’d have to do the same thing at the wedding tomorrow, too. She would have to show her stuff now and deal with him for the rest of the weekend until one of them made a discrete exit at the end of the wedding.
She couldn’t exactly bail on her brother’s wedding, but if Ben and Larissa got married in the city like civilized people, Bridget could go home between major events. Instead, all the guests and participants got locked up in a luxury resort in the Berkshires for a whole weekend. Friday wasn’t over yet, and already Bridget wanted to escape.
She started down the aisle. She could only face the firing squad and get it over with. Ben smiled at her, but that did nothing to bolster her nerves. Roy didn’t smile. His eyes smoldered out of his chiseled face. Halfway down the aisle, she could see his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. His whole being seethed under his tux.
A thousand eyes burned into her from all sides, but she couldn’t escape his penetrating gaze. He looked right through her dress to her flesh underneath. He peeled off every layer to her stomach, her hips, her rounded ass, her breasts, her cleavage above the ribbon neckline. Her guts flipped a somersault. She would NOT let this raving pig intimated her.
By the halfway mark, her embarrassment turned to anger. Her natural spirit flared. If he wanted something to look at, she would darn well give it to him. She raised her chin, stuck out her chest, and stared right into his eyes. She threw out her hips when she walked and straightened her back. She imagined she was a model strutting down the runway with dozens of flash bulbs blowing all around her. She twisted her mouth up in a wicked smirk. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and she would let him think it to his heart’s content.
His eyes flashed sharper than ever. He clenched his jaw, and his knuckles turned white where he clasped his hands in front of him. He watched her hips sway and her breasts bounce with every step.
She got to the altar and turned to take her place with the other bridesmaids. At least that ordeal was over. As soon as Ben and Larissa finished pretending to say their vows and exchange rings, everyone would file out of the church. Bridget could free herself from out of this dress and get her own comfortable clothes back on. She made a note to herself not to sit anywhere near Roy at the rehearsal dinner after this and to avoid his room like the plague.
As soon as she turned aside and lost sight of Roy’s eyes, the minister’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks. “Umm….wait a minute, Bridget.”
She spun around to face that long line of black-suited men all over again. She stood right smack dab in front of Roy. They looked straight into each other’s eyes.
Bridget floundered in confusion. Her cheeks burned, and her pulse pounded in her head. “What’s wrong?”
The minister looked all around. “Umm….I think you should be over here with the groom’s party, shouldn’t you?”
Bridget fidgeted from one foot to the other. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t I be with the bride’s party?”
Everyone looked around at each other—everyone except Roy. He stared at Bridget with those hypnotic, unwavering eyes. Everyone fell into a lengthy discussion about which side of the altar Bridget should stand on. Half the people said she should stand with the groom. Wasn’t she the groom’s sister? The other half said she should stand with the bride? Wasn’t she a bridesmaid, after all?
She had to stand there between them, one agonizing minute after another. Roy stared at her and ran his eyes up and down her body while everyone argued the question out. Voices started to rise. Disagreements heated up until the minister raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Why don’t you stand with the bride for now, Bridget? We’ll finish the rehearsal, and maybe the Good Lord will send us some Divine Inspiration before tomorrow.”
Bridget slunk off to the end of the bride’s line. Now she could really relax and watch Larissa and her father walk down the aisle. She could appreciate the loving smile passing between Ben and Larissa and the excited blush on Larissa’s cheeks. In the end, nobody cared if the groom’s sister’s dress was too tight, or if she needed to lose a few pounds, or if she stood on this or that side of the altar. As long as Ben and Larissa got happily married, who cared about anything else?