Part 9 (2/2)
Chapter Ten.
The bride was beautiful and the groom handsome as the late afternoon sun touched the guests gathered for c.o.c.ktails just inside the old antebellum mansion. The wedding had taken place a few hours earlier, photos had been taken, and now it was time to celebrate.
The bridesmaids' dresses were sheer perfection-old rose in a cla.s.sic and simple strapless design that flattered the four women who wore them-and the flowers were gorgeous, white and pink peonies. The groomsmen were rakish in coattails, the guests distinguished, with a healthy balance between celebrities, politicians and people like Abby-plain old folk.
Music played softly while waiters worked the room, laden with trays of succulent scallops, mouth-watering mushrooms or crab and avocado canapes, and jumbo shrimp c.o.c.ktails. There was a slight breeze that was perfect, just enough to cool Abby's hot skin and that was a welcome relief.
G.o.d, it felt as if her cheeks had been burning since she'd woken up this morning to suns.h.i.+ne, the smell of fresh coffee and the memory of a kiss that had rocked her to the core.
Tucker had already been up, showered and ready to head out when she'd stumbled out of bed. For a moment, the two of them had stared at each other and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Wasn't hard. The slow, sensual smile that crept over his face had left her knees weak and her stomach in knots. Last night had been a game changer, but in the bright light of the morning after, she wasn't sure if she was ready for anything to change. Or rather, Abby wasn't so sure she would survive it.
G.o.d, how had she gotten herself in this mess? Jesus. She knew better than to drink wine. It always loosened her tongue and opened up that box full of inhibitions she kept hidden away.
A moment had pa.s.sed. Then another.
And then she'd mumbled something unintelligible before hightailing it to the bathroom like a scared kid.
”c.r.a.p,” she muttered, touching her flushed face as she ducked behind a large palm tree near the large foyer. Leaning against the cool wall, she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her nerves.
You'll just have to kiss me again to find out.
”I can't believe I said that,” she groaned, biting her lip.
”What would, that, be?”
Her eyes shot open and her vision filled with six foot two inches of blond male beauty. Cooper Simon smiled, head c.o.c.ked to the side as he loosened his tie and undid his top b.u.t.ton.
Sweet Jesus, the guy was easy on the eyes and did he ever know it. He'd flirted with her outrageously the night before and though Abby genuinely liked him-it was hard not too-she wasn't in the mood to play his game right now.
”It's nothing,” she said straightening her dress-a dress that Betty Jo Barker had nothing to do with, so her b.r.e.a.s.t.s weren't falling out the top, and the naked factor was minimal.
The high-neck top was a deep green satin that left her arms bare, while the soft fabric that fell from an empire waist stopped just above her knee. With her dark hair, the color choice was flattering, but, more importantly, everything was covered up.
Even more important was the fact that she was wearing underwear. Jesus, she would have pulled on a pair of granny-pants if she had any with her.
Cooper took a sip from his tumbler, amber liquid glittering as sunlight hit the gla.s.s.
”Nothing,” he repeated, his voice like water over silk.
She shrugged, but didn't respond. She was still navigating her way through the Simon family and, contrary to what Tucker had told her, she thought that his cousin Cooper was a whole lot more complicated than he'd indicated. There were layers to this guy, layers that she wasn't sure his family knew about.
”So what's the story with you and Tucker anyway?” Cooper asked.
”There is no story. We're friends.”
Friends who kiss.
”I don't believe you.”
”I don't care.”
Cooper laughed and raised his gla.s.s. ”I see why he likes you.”
A waiter pa.s.sed by and Cooper grabbed a crystal flute. He handed it to Abby without asking if she wanted a drink. For a moment, there was that voice in the back of her head, the one that said, pace yourself, girl. You're beer and wings not champagne and pastries.
At her raised eyebrow, he grinned. ”You look like you need it.”
”You don't know me well enough to know what I need.”
”I know more than you think,” he replied. ”Trust me, you need a drink.”
”What is it with you?” She grumbled and eyed Cooper closely.
”You tell me.” Cooper leaned closer.
Abby took a sip of champagne and rolled her shoulders slightly. She considered Cooper for a few moments, her irritation growing at about the same rate as his smile.
”You do know that my family owns a bar in New York City, right?” she asked.
”Yep.” His smile widened even more. ”Yes indeed, I believe that came up last night when you instructed the bartender on how to make the perfect martini.”
Her cheeks heated. G.o.d. She'd been a little full of herself.
”Well there is a wrong way and there is the Mathews way. I'll give you two guesses as to which one is better.”
Cooper held his gla.s.s aloft in mock salute. ”I believe you.”
Abby took another sip from her gla.s.s, relaxing a bit. ”The thing is Cooper, working in a bar, being around people all the time, it gives a girl a certain perspective.”
”I'm all ears,” he said softly.
”I know people. I know how to read them. I know when they're hiding something, and I know when they're trying to be someone that they're not.”
His eyes narrowed a bit, but the smile never left his face.
”You my friend,” she said lightly, ”are not what you seem.”
”Really?”
”Really” she repeated.
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