a wedding date, something happens to change our plans,” she said. “But now I need to hurry things up. Now, I have to get married.”
A shock of…surprise surged through Adam, and he forgot about the phone. He stole another quick look at Casey’s figure, to see if he’d missed any suspicious bulges. No sign of a baby—but pregnancy would explain her emotional state.
She looked as if she was about to break down again. Adam, inured to tears through years of dealing with weepy female relatives, planned to wait her out. But something about the way Casey’s eyes shimmered, then widened as if to say she wasn’t about to cry, no, not at all, got to him. He whipped his handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her.
She took it without a word. He read the Emergency Fire Instructions pinned to the wall while he tried to ignore the way her snuffling did funny things to his insides. Eventually he gave up, and glanced sideways long enough to find and pat the creamy shoulder nearest him. At his touch, Casey straightened, drew on some inner reserve to blink the tears away, and met Adam’s gaze full on.
“I’m sorry.” She blew her nose one last time.
“Why don’t you tell me more about Joe?” Dwelling on her husband-to-be’s good points might cheer her up.
“He’s very nice. We have a lot in common,” she said. “He’s about to join the navy, which means he’ll be away a lot, but I can handle that.”
For all Casey’s dreams of being adored, Adam would bet the marriage she had lined up with Joe would be a lot happier than one based on some infatuation.
“Unless,” Casey said, “I pull out now, and wait for a man who adores me.”
He wished she wouldn’t keep saying that. She had stars in her eyes when she talked about love and adoring.
Besides, if Casey was pregnant, she should marry the father of her child. The pretty-well-perfect father of her child.
“You could wait a long time for a man who adores you,” Adam said, and was annoyed to find he felt like a heel, telling her to abandon her dreams. More forcefully, he added, “You might never find one. Marry Joe and be happy with what you’ve got.”
“Casey!” A voice from the doorway startled them. Adam recognized one of the production assistants. About time. Casey leaped to her feet.
“There you are.” The woman’s voice was overly bright. She flashed Adam a look of sympathetic exasperation. “They’re waiting for you in makeup. We need to hurry.”
Casey hesitated. She swallowed, then turned to Adam. “You’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Her voice held the faintest question, so Adam nodded reassuringly. She smiled, a proper smile this time, which made her eyes glow more green than gray. “It was nice talking to you.”
“You, too. And—” he might as well admit he knew what she’d been alluding to “—good luck with the baby.”
Her eyes widened. He saw confusion, the dawn of understanding, then amusement chasing through them. She laughed out loud. “I’m not pregnant.”
“So why did you say you have to get married?”
She beamed, still amused. “It’s complicated. Family stuff.” She stuck out a hand and said, “Bye, Adam.”
“Goodbye, Casey. And good luck.” Whether it was because he knew what desperate measures family could drive a person to, or because he felt unaccountably relieved she wasn’t pregnant, or just because she was dressed in such formal, elaborate style, Adam did the weirdest thing. Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.
And found himself sorely tempted to kiss Casey Greene all the way up her arm and keep right on going.
CASEY HAD CONVINCED herself she had her nerves under control. She’d gotten over that crazy bout of crying in front of a complete stranger. She’d gone through makeup, final adjustments to her hair and the fitting of her veil, ninety-five percent certain that following her dream justified this extreme step.
Now, a renewed surge of misgiving tightened her grip on the seat of the high stool center stage in the baking-hot television studio. The show hadn’t started; a buzz of conversation drifted from the studio audience toward the stage.
“Remind me why I’m doing this,” she muttered to the bride on her right, her best friend, Brodie-Ann Evans. Beyond Brodie-Ann, the third bride overheard the question and tittered. She’d introduced herself as Trisha from Truberg and, in her wedding dress, was alarmingly reminiscent of a giggling meringue.
“Two words,” Brodie-Ann said. “Push. Over.”
Oh, yeah. I am not a pushover. Not anymore. Casey recalled the way Joe kept postponing the date for their wedding, and how their plans to move out of Parkvale kept getting put on hold. Then she summoned to mind the letter she’d received last month from her sister, Karen. A letter that gave Casey the urge to get as far away as possible from their hometown.
It was time her life started happening, and tonight was the night.
“Thanks, hon,” she breathed to Brodie-Ann.
Signing up for the pilot episode of Kiss the Bride had been Brodie-Ann’s idea—but Casey had instantly recognized its genius. If her best friend could marry the man she loved after dating him just six months, then Casey would darn well marry Joe.
Which was how she’d ended up here, dressed in a silk-and-lace concoction she could never have afforded in real life.
The floor director, who’d introduced himself earlier, stepped up on to the stage in front of Casey. “Two minutes, ladies, so get ready to smile. And remember, don’t look at the cameras while you’re being interviewed.”
Instinctively, Casey’s gaze darted to the nearest camera, which appeared to be pointed right at her. The director tsked. “Keep your eyes on Sally, the camera will find you.” He paused, pressed his headphones against one ear as he listened, then smiled at the brides. “I’m happy to report that your men are ready and waiting in the green room. No cold feet.” He nodded brisk reassurance, then hurried to talk to Sally.
Casey wasn’t surprised to hear the men weren’t worried.
She’d told Joe they were competing on a game show and were likely to win a lot of money. They’d driven three hours to Memphis this morning. Brodie-Ann’s boyfriend, Steve, along with a third unsuspecting man had been taken out for lunch by Channel Eight staff and given bogus details as to what the show was about. They doubtless assumed their female partners were getting the same treatment.
How could it have occurred to Joe that Casey would be selecting a wedding dress, having a makeover and planning on marrying him in front of millions of viewers?
She shuddered. Thank goodness it was only a local show. No one outside of Tennessee would see what she’d had to go through to get married.
“I’m not conning Joe into marrying me,” she told Brodie-Ann. “I’m just bringing the date forward a bit.”
“You told me that already. Twelve times.”
Casey closed
