To Be A Bridegroom. Carole Mortimer
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‘Yes, I’m American,’ she confirmed dryly. She knew all about English reserve, but by practically ignoring her existence for the last three months she felt Jordan Hunter had been taking it too far. For all the notice he had taken of her, she could have been lying dead in the apartment next door to his for that length of time, and he would never have known about it!
He seemed to be taking in her appearance for the first time as he slowly looked her up and down. So much for his only ever having seen her in leggings and loose tops—this man hadn’t actually registered her at all until this moment!
She was wearing neat brown ankle boots, fitted denims, a light blue sweatshirt, her hair, as usual, flowing riotously down the length of her back. Her eyes were blue, her nose small and snub, with a peppering of freckles across its bridge, her mouth wide and smiling, her chin pointed. Determined even, she hoped!
‘Are you busy tomorrow evening?’
Stazy wasn’t quite sure what she had expected his next comment to be—if there was one!—but she certainly hadn’t anticipated that. Which was probably the reason why she blurted out, ‘No,’ before she had given herself the time to think!
Which was how she now found herself standing at his side in the middle of this crowded room!
She had hastily tried to retract that bald statement yesterday, but Jordan had chosen to talk over it, telling her of a party he had to attend, and to which he would like to invite her as his guest. She would have fun, he had assured her as she’d looked unimpressed, meet lots of new people.
What he had omitted to tell her was that the ‘party’ was, in fact, his older brother Jonathan’s wedding reception—and so far the only person she had ‘met’ had been their garrulous uncle, whose name she couldn’t even remember!
The wedding itself had taken place late that afternoon, but now it was all turning into a party. Not that Stazy felt in the least underdressed for the evening, wearing a midnight-blue dress that showed off the perfection of her slender figure, and the tanned length of her long legs. No, it wasn’t the way she looked that made her feel so uncomfortable; she just knew, as partner of the groom’s brother, that she was attracting more than her own fair share of attention.
She would have fun, Jordan had told her. Being stared at like the specimen in a jar was not her idea of fun! And as for meeting lots of new people, apart from his uncle, Jordan’s scowls seemed to be keeping everyone away from them. At least, no one had yet attempted to talk to them...
Stazy wondered again why Jordan had invited her at all. She had given up trying to answer why she had accepted! But Jordan was a good-looking man, could have had his pick of partners for this evening—so why her? The glaringly obvious answer to that was that she didn’t know anyone here, and so, in consequence, none of these people knew her either. They might feel curious about her for tonight, but when she didn’t appear again they would as quickly forget about her...
But why had Jordan needed to bring a partner with him this evening? What possible reason could he have—?
He was looking darkly across the room at the newly married couple as they danced together, just the sight of his new sister-in-law in her wedding dress seeming to make his expression deepen. Was it possible he was in love with her? Gaye was certainly beautiful enough—tall and blonde, delicately lovely. But if Jordan was in love with his brother’s new wife, it was obvious from the way Gaye only had eyes for Jonathan that she didn’t return those feelings!
Could it be a love triangle?
Jordan certainly gave every impression of wishing himself a hundred miles away from here, of wanting to be anywhere else but at this family wedding!
Stazy couldn’t say she exactly liked being used as a smoke-screen, but if she really was here for that purpose Jordan was doing a lousy job of playing her partner! Several people were now giving them more than enquiring looks, and although she had tried to ignore it for the last five minutes a rather attractive couple standing several feet away now seemed as if their curiosity had got the better of them, and they were going to come over and talk to them!
She turned impulsively to Jordan. ‘Would you like to dance?’ she prompted quickly; several other couples besides the bride and groom were on the dance floor.
Jordan looked at her blankly for several seconds—almost as if he had forgotten who she was! The man was doing wonders for her self-esteem. And to think she was trying to help him!
‘Dance, Jordan?’ she repeated. ‘The music plays fast or slow—’ She paused to listen to the band. ‘In this case slow,’ she continued mockingly. ‘And we human beings—strange creatures that we are!—move in time to it. It really is quite easy—’
‘I know what dancing is, Stazy,’ he snapped irritably.
Oh, he knew what it was—he obviously just had no intention of doing it!
Ah, well, she had tried, she told herself as she saw the attractive couple fast approaching them...
‘Enjoying yourself, Jordan?’ It was the man who spoke, tall and dark, arrogantly assured, his glance resting curiously on Stazy as he spoke. A golden-eyed gaze!
Another Hunter, Stazy realised, which meant this had to be the oldest brother, Jarrett. Jordan had at least briefly filled her in on family relations before they came. Good of him! The beautiful dark-haired woman at Jarrett’s side had to be his wife, Abbie, a former model. They had two children around somewhere too, Stazy recalled vaguely—a little girl called Charlie, and a baby boy called Conor.
‘Not particularly.’ Jordan answered his brother curtly, still scowling.
Jarrett smiled, instantly dispelling that air of arrogance. ‘No, I forgot—weddings aren’t your favourite things, are they?’ he drawled before turning to smile warmly at Stazy. ‘I hope you’ll forgive my little brother for not introducing us—he seems to have left his manners at home this evening.’ It was a teasing rebuke, but nevertheless there was a steely edge to it. ‘I’m Jarrett Hunter. And this is my wife, Abbie.’ He put his arm affectionately about his wife’s slender waist.
‘Stazy Walker,’ she returned lightly, allowing herself a smile at Jarrett’s description of Jordan being his ‘little brother’; there was nothing ‘little’ about Jordan, and the two men were of similar height. And, although she knew Jordan was the youngest of the three brothers, at the moment, grimly unsmiling as he was, he looked every one of the thirty-plus years she guessed him to be.
‘Would you care to dance, Stazy Walker?’ Jarrett invited smoothly.
‘I was just about to ask her myself,’ Jordan muttered—evoking a disbelieving look from Stazy as he did so.
He had been about to do no such thing; he’d already ignored her suggestion a few minutes ago that they dance! But he obviously wasn’t happy with the thought of her dancing with his oldest brother—so unhappy about it he was even willing to escort her onto the floor himself in order to prevent it!
‘Too late,’ Jarrett replied lightly. ‘Maybe next time,’ he added tauntingly, a light but firm hand in the middle of Stazy’s