he’d seen her wasn’t exactly easy.
“I always thought the two of you were perfect for each other,” Sarah continued.
“We were friends. Nothing more.”
Sarah nodded across the terrace. “At least go rescue her from my mother. You remember how much my mother talks. She’ll keep her half the night, and Lindsey’s too polite to say anything.”
Kyle glanced at Lindsey, smiling to himself as he remembered the first time they met. He’d been pulling a load of pink clothes from a Laundromat washing machine, after accidentally tossing a pair of new red jogging shorts into the mix. Then Lindsey had walked in. A trip to the supermarket and two hours later, she’d somehow managed to turn his socks and T-shirts white again.
A decade or so later, she still looked beautiful even if the pink bridesmaid dress she wore might be a tad frilly for his tastes. Slender frame, honey-colored hair pulled up in a classic twist, big brown eyes…He’d often wondered what would have happened if their friendship had turned into something more all those years ago.
His cell phone vibrated in his jacket, stopping his reminiscing. He glanced at the text message and frowned. “Emergency in Amsterdam. Call D.C.”
Great. Matt’s timing couldn’t be worse, but Kyle knew he couldn’t ignore the message. Security breaches were a serious cause for concern, and he was afraid there was either a mole in their Amsterdam office or a bug in their computer software. Both posed a threat to the integrity of the company that couldn’t wait.
“Please don’t tell me you’re working,” Sarah said.
Kyle flashed her an apologetic smile. “It will only take a few minutes. You don’t mind if I step inside the house and make a call, do you?”
Sarah shrugged in defeat. “Try the library. It should be quiet in there.”
He heard Lindsey’s soft laugh as he headed inside. He would definitely make an effort to talk to her before the night was out.
By the time Lindsey heard the ominous crack, it was too late.
Her first mistake had been to agree to wear the pink taffeta bridesmaid’s dress with the layers of ruffles down the back. The second mistake had been the shoes—one of the silver heels had just snapped off like a dry twig. Her left hip jutted forward and punch splashed over the edge of her glass, dribbling down the front of her dress. Teetering on one foot, she struggled to keep her balance and avoid spilling the rest of the drink onto the beige suede couch in front of her. The book under her arm slapped against the floor of the small library, followed by her purse. A groan escaped her lips as she grabbed for the couch. Fortunately, she was still holding the generous slice of cake with an inch of chocolate frosting.
“Need some help?”
Lindsey’s arm jerked at the sound of a voice inside the darkened room. The cake flipped off the plate, into the air, and landed smack-dab in the middle of Kyle’s white tuxedo shirt. It was clearly too late for help. She looked at him, horrified, and wondered if it was physically possible to dissolve into the expensive Oriental rug on the library floor.
“I am so sorry,” she said, setting the drink and now-empty plate on the coffee table. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Lindsey bit her lower lip, wondering how in the world she had managed to make a complete fool out of herself in less than five seconds. Kyle’s familiar smile—though lovely to look at—did nothing to erase her humiliation.
A wave of heat flooded her cheeks as he reached for the empty plate and used it to scrape some of the brown frosting from his white shirt.
“I really am sorry,” she said again.
“Don’t worry about it. This was heading to the cleaners tomorrow anyway. And better my shirt than Mr. Adams’s suede couch.” He flashed her another wide grin. “Besides, I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat before I have to fly back home to D.C.”
“Me, too.” She couldn’t help but match his smile as she sat down. “It’s been a long time.”
“Thirteen years to be exact.”
He was right, though she could barely believe it. Another decade, an extra pound or two, a handful of gray hairs she ensured were professionally colored every six weeks…
“Did you really have to bring up the fact that it’s been that long?”
He settled into the couch across from her. “Would it help if I told you that you look even better thirteen years later?”
“Only if it were true,” she countered.
“Oh, it definitely is.”
He always had known how to say the right thing, possessing enough charm to rival Prince Charming himself.
“Did I mention how good it is to see you again?” She reached down to examine what remained of her seventy-five-dollar heels and moaned at the ruined shoe. He picked up her book and purse, handing them to her. “Thanks. I didn’t know that the best man’s job description included taking care of the maid of honor.”
“Not a bad description in my opinion. Trying to escape the wedding reception?”
Lindsey squeezed the paperback into her purse. “My feet are killing me, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if I slipped out for thirty minutes. Of course, I didn’t expect you to beat me to my favorite hideout.”
“Your favorite hideout?”
She looked at the wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with everything from Grisham to Hemingway to Peretti. “I’m still a bit of a bookaholic, and Sarah’s father has always given me unlimited access to this room.”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I can ever remember seeing you without a book.” He stole a glance at his computer. “If we’re confessing, I suppose I have to admit to becoming a bit of a workaholic the past few years.”
“I’d say so.” The blue light of a laptop glowed on the coffee table. Lindsey’s brow furrowed. “Working during your best friend’s wedding reception?”
“An emergency in Amsterdam.” His smile faded. “Looks bad, doesn’t it?”
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, ignoring her gut reaction. Just because her father had taken up permanent residency inside the World Wide Web didn’t mean Kyle was also stuck there. This situation was completely different. Kyle had to make a living.
Lindsey slid forward to the edge of the couch to unbuckle the strap of her broken shoe, mentally reviewing what Sarah had told her about Kyle.
First of all, he was still single. She could practically hear Sarah’s voice in her head, announcing the fact.
Secondly, Kyle lived in D.C., splitting his time between Washington and London with an occasional trip to Hong Kong or Eastern Europe. The fact that he lived halfway across the country removed any pressure. After tonight, they’d probably never see each other again. Considering she’d just dumped a half pound of chocolate frosting on his shirt, he was probably glad.
