She wasn’t a stunner. But she was extremely attractive. Tall, with a slender figure and pale skin which suited the off-the-shoulder style of her gown. Her hair was a golden-brown colour, drawn straight back from her high forehead and falling in a softly waved curtain down her back, held in place by a simple circlet of pink and white flowers. It was her face, however, which Blake kept returning to—a face any camera would love.
Blake had a habit of looking at faces as though through a lens, especially on a first meeting. It was a long-ingrained habit, and one which didn’t do any harm, really. No one knew what he was thinking at the time, so Blake didn’t feel any guilt as he continued to assess the bridesmaid’s looks from every camera angle.
He knew from experience that high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline photographed well in any light and from any angle. This woman’s nose wasn’t starlet-small, but it suited her, giving her face character. She didn’t have pouting bee-stung lips either, although it was all the fad these days. Her mouth was actually rather wide, but still well formed. And expressive. So were her almond-shaped eyes.
Blake frowned as he tried to fathom the reason behind the sadness he kept glimpsing within their dark brown depths as she made her way slowly—and stiffly—down the staircase. Along with the sadness lay undeniable tension, he noted. Her knuckles were white as she clasped the posy of pink and white flowers at her waist with unnecessary force.
At last she reached the bottom step. It was at this point that she sucked in a deep breath, as though trying to gather all her courage. The gesture touched him, evoking an uncharacteristic surge of compassion. Something was bothering that girl about this wedding—something much more emotional and personal than Blake’s cynical view.
‘Who’s the bridesmaid?’ Blake muttered under his breath, so that only Lachlan could hear.
‘What? Oh, that’s Kate. Maddie’s sister.’
‘Older sister?’
‘Older? Yeah. God, doesn’t Maddie look incredible?’ he exclaimed, clearly awed by the beauty of his bride, who remained standing at the top of the staircase, all eyes on her.
Not Blake’s, however. He’d had his fill of Barbie doll blondes—especially those manufactured in Hollywood by plastic surgeons and ambitious mamas. His eyes were all for the bridesmaid, with her natural-looking figure and lovely but oh, so sad eyes.
Her chin lifted as she took her first step along the makeshift aisle, her focus straight ahead during what seemed to be a very difficult journey for her. She didn’t look at him, or at Lachlan, or at any of the guests. She seemed frozen now—a robot with no feelings on show any more. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Smile, sweetheart, came the sudden wish from deep inside Blake. Don’t let the world see that you’re hurting. Don’t give people the chance to hurt you further.
And they would if she let them. People could be cruel—especially once they’d sensed weakness. Fortunately, no one was looking at her. All eyes were still on the beaming bride, who was now approaching the bottom of the staircase. The music changed to ‘Isn’t She Beautiful?’ Which the bride was. Even Blake had to agree that Maddie was drop-dead gorgeous. But such beauty was often only surface-deep, he’d found, the same way Lachlan’s was.
The same way Claudia’s was...
The thought didn’t hurt him the way it once had. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the lessons his one and only marriage had taught him.
The main one was, Don’t, for pity’s sake, believe anything that ambitious young actresses do or say to you. Sleep with them, by all means, but don’t fall for their flattery or their brilliant fakery. And never marry one. Lord, no.
In truth, marriage was not for him—even with a non-ambitious non-actress. Not yet, anyway. Aside from his scepticism over the lasting power of romantic love, he wasn’t good husband material. He was way too obsessed with making movies, working seven days a week, often twenty hours a day. What time did that leave for a wife, let alone children?
Maybe when he was forty he might consider both. But he was only just thirty-two. Plenty of years left to think about such things.
Meanwhile, his attention returned to the attractive but bleak-looking bridesmaid.
Damn. She looked as if she was going to cry now. Her bottom lip was definitely quivering, accompanied by a flash of true panic in her eyes. Clearly she didn’t want to cry. Just in time she got control of herself, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in another deep, desperate breath.
Blake wondered what on earth was going on in that girl’s mind. He knew that women often cried at weddings, but they were usually tears of happiness. He could be wrong, he supposed, but he was absolutely certain that whatever she was thinking they weren’t happy thoughts!
Maybe this Kate knew what sort of man her kid sister was marrying—knew that he was a player. Maybe she feared for Maddie’s future happiness. Well, she had a right to be scared on that particular score! Not that he could be a hundred percent positive that was the reason behind her grim face. He could only guess.
In actual fact Blake often found himself speculating on the various emotions he noted on the faces of perfect strangers. He was a people-watcher—an essential talent for a writer-cum-movie-maker. After all, motivations and emotional conflicts were the backbone of all storytelling.
His gaze returned to Kate’s stiffly held face and robotic walk. At last she reached the end of the aisle, flashing him a frowning glance before moving sideways to her left, where no one could see her face except the celebrant. And he was busy ogling the bride. Now all Blake could see was her profile. Her head and shoulders drooped for a split second, then lifted abruptly, the muscles in her throat standing out as she once again took rigid control of herself.
His heart went out to her. As did his admiration. Whatever was bothering the bride’s sister, she was a brave soul. Brave, but still rather fragile.
When the posy of flowers she was holding began to shake Blake determined not to let the evening end before he found out what was upsetting her so much. He could be charming when he wanted to be. And quite good at getting people to open up. Yes, he would worm the truth out of her. Women did love to confide. And hopefully, sooner rather than later, he would bring a smile to her face.
He imagined she would be quite lovely if she smiled. Already Blake found her attractive. And intriguing. And extremely desirable.
Much more desirable than the Barbie doll bride.
KATE GRITTED HER TEETH, still stunned at how much she was hating this, how sick she felt to her stomach. Yet she’d known for ages that this day was coming. She’d had plenty of time to prepare herself mentally. All to no avail, it seemed.
She clasped her bouquet even tighter and willed her mind to go blank. But her mind refused to obey. It whirled on and on, tormenting her. Torturing her.
Because today was the end of the line, wasn’t it?
The end of all her hopes and dreams where Lachlan was concerned. Today the man she loved would marry her sister. And that would be that. No more stupidly hoping that he might wake up one morning and realise Maddie wasn’t right
