you’re at your sister’s wedding so I’ll cut this short. Just like we planned all those years ago, I want you to be my maid of honor. It’s time.”
“Of course you can count on me,” Cecile said, warmth tingling her toes. While she might be a little shocked by the sudden turn of events, she knew Lisa better than she knew her own sister. If Lisa had decided Mark Smith was the one, then he was. “You know I’d be honored to stand by your side when you get married.” Even if it means enduring another wedding, another reminder that perhaps my Mr. Right doesn’t exist.
“Thank you. I know it’s sudden. But, Cecile, I love him. He’s always been the one, even after the fiasco at Joann’s reception. We’ve wasted eight years, and I refuse to wait anymore now that we’re finally together. I’ll tell you all the details next time I see you—or at least talk to you when you aren’t needed elsewhere.”
“You’d better,” Cecile said automatically. “I think I rate a scoop after everything we’ve been through.” They’d pledged the sorority together, shared initiation rituals, gossip and dreams. They’d even shared an apartment for a while.
But it was still a bit surreal to imagine Lisa getting married, especially to Mark Smith, a man she’d despised and labeled a playboy. There had to be a show in that: “I’m marrying the man I always thought I hated.”
“Look, my sister’s wedding is about to start,” Cecile told Lisa. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“That’s fine. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I wanted you to know first. I still haven’t called Tori. She’s next.”
“Well, go call her. She’ll hate you if you don’t tell her within a few hours of calling me,” Cecile joked.
“I’ll call her the moment I hang up. And you go pick up some hunky groomsman. I’m sure he’d be better in bed than Bob any day.”
Cecile laughed at that. “I don’t know. Bob can be pretty low-maintenance.”
“You’ll never change. Find someone human. Someone sexy,” Lisa insisted.
“He’d have to be much better than that for me to consider it.”
“There has to be someone,” Lisa persisted. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to loosen up. Come on,” she cajoled, “surely there’s one person who might fit the bill?”
“There is. The guy I have to walk down the aisle with. Luke Shaw. Surfer-boy looks. Body to die for. Charisma and class.” And that dimple in his cheek had been so tempting, making any woman want to trace it after making love…
Luke was a real flesh-and-blood man, not a fantasy. Still, what would he be like?
“He sounds absolutely scrumptious. Go for it,” Lisa said, jolting Cecile back to the present.
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” Cecile said. She certainly didn’t need to be considering having sex with Luke Shaw, no matter how attractive the guy was. Her focus should be on saying goodbye and getting back to the wedding, not that she wanted to do either. “Right now forget my troubles and consider yourself getting a big hug through the phone. You are very lucky and I’m thrilled for you. Unlike me needing to get through today.”
“That bad?” Lisa said, prolonging the conversation one more minute, as they had so often done in the past.
“Oh, yes,” Cecile said with a nod. “So before I let you go, promise you’ll do me one favor.”
“What? You know I’ll do anything.”
Cecile used her free hand to finger the fabric of her gown. “That’s good, because I’m going to send you a photo of this dress. If you care about me, don’t make me wear anything this hideous again. I look like a fat purple grape.”
Lisa began to laugh, and Cecile realized how much she missed her friend. “I promise not to torture you,” Lisa said. “Go survive and be sure to have at least one drink for me. And don’t forget to hit on that guy.”
“As soon as this thing’s over, I’m having at least two. As for hitting on Luke? We’ll see. You know I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”
“Start tomorrow afternoon,” Lisa joked before saying her goodbyes.
Yes, but starting tomorrow afternoon would sort of defeat the whole purpose of beginning anew. Upon her return to Chicago, Cecile had set three goals. One, excel at her career. Two, become closer with her sister. And three, try to avoid Mr. Right Now and instead find Mr. Right. So no matter how much she might be tempted, she’d decided to hold out for something that at least had potential. New city. New attempt.
Cecile ended the call, closed the phone and turned. She then did a double take and took a much-needed step back.
Luke Shaw hovered about five feet away, as if waiting for her. He gave her a killer smile that made the big, bad wolf seem tame. Damn, but the man did something to her equilibrium. Already her skin heated, as if he’d run a finger down her arm instead of just giving her a smoldering glance.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.
Chapter Two
Cecile winced. How long had he been there? How much had he overheard? Had he heard her say she thought he had a body to die for? Had he understood her meaning when she’d said, “Maybe I will”?
If so, he wasn’t telling. He stood there and stared at her, a poker facade having fallen into place. Cecile blinked and tried to read him. She’d been having a conversation—a private conversation—involving Bobs and picking up groomsmen.
“Is there something wrong?” Luke asked, that sexy voice of his low and deep. It rumbled over her, sending some foreign sensation to her toes.
He’d overheard her. She was certain of it, especially when that devastatingly handsome smile of his widened suddenly. He was Mr. Charming and he knew it.
But two could play at this game. So like a cat that always landed on her feet, Cecile quickly found her poise. She had a lifetime of experience in handling men like Luke Shaw—they’d come out of the woodwork ever since she’d passed that awkward stage and developed breasts.
“I would say that the only thing wrong is that you’ve crept up on me. One should be able to have a private conversation in a church, don’t you agree?”
He laughed at that, another deep rumble that sounded great. “Sorry if I surprised you, but I was sent to find you. Not my fault or intention to surprise you,” Luke said, his big wide hands open in a gesture of mock defense for his loitering.
“So let me guess—someone got all panicky that, instead of indulging in mimosas, I escaped,” Cecile said.
“Devon’s mother,” Luke confirmed. “Although when I was told to find a missing bridesmaid, I wasn’t surprised to discover you were the one I was searching for.”
“I must have errant stamped on my forehead,” Cecile said. “I had a phone call I needed to take, of which I’m sure you got quite an earful since you chose to eavesdrop.”
Luke
