The Wedding Must Go On. Robyn Grady

The Wedding Must Go On - Robyn Grady


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he’d run that night six months ago. Why he was acting overly cavalier now. Which was fine by her. She had enough going wrong with her life without inviting in more trouble.

      ‘Hope you don’t take offence,’ she said in a flat tone, ‘but I need to follow up on Ava and Violet.’

      Giving a curt nod, he dug out a business card of his own. ‘Ring when you’re finished here.’

      ‘That could be late.’

      He flashed a thin grin. ‘I’m a night owl.’

      After slapping the card on the counter, he strode out and the invisible band squeezing her windpipe eased.

      She’d daydreamed of how she might one day turn the tables and make Nate feel as small as she had that night when he’d left her quaking and embarrassed as she’d never been before. Seeing his reaction now had been worth the price of stirring up all those wonderful, dreadful feelings again. Primal emotions that demanded immediate attention but needed to be shut down and ignored.

      Still.

      Remembering, Roxy touched her tingling lips.

      No one kissed like Nate Sparks.

      ‘Hey, buddy, great game.’

      Rounding up a squash match at Greg Martin’s private home court, Nate clapped his friend on the back as they moved into a change room that boasted three showers, a sauna and facilities for remedial massage. Nate hadn’t mentioned Marla and their bust-up yet but he planned to. He was committed to helping mend Greg’s fractured life—both personal and professional—even at the risk of exposing himself to public enemy number one. The girl with the lips.

      Shaking off the residual effects of his and Roxy’s latest bombshell kiss, Nate grabbed a towel while Greg dropped his racket on the bench. The clatter echoed around the ceiling and walls.

      ‘I played like a dog,’ Greg said before dragging his shirt up and over a crop of sandy-coloured hair. ‘But I appreciate the company. The alternative was dinner with the folks. Don’t think I could stand my mother’s questions tonight, or my father turning red, trying to contain his relief.’

      Happy that his son was staying with the family firm, Nate surmised, stuffing his racket into his bag.

      ‘We’re going to sort this out. You didn’t hire that stripper on your buck’s night, you didn’t call her over to sit on your lap and you certainly didn’t ask for those shots to be snapped in the brief window of time she was there. Woody Cox did all that.’ One of Greg’s buddies since university. Nate had always thought that guy needed a leash. ‘Hell, he even admitted to putting the evidence on the Net.’

      ‘He apologised as soon as I balled him out.’

      ‘Not soon enough.’ News on social media networks spread quicker than a wink. Sometimes a great thing. In this case, just plain dumb. ‘But Marla can’t stay mad for ever.’

      ‘You think? A few words on the phone—her crying, me begging—and she refuses to see me again, let alone marry me.’ Greg’s towel swiped down his unshaven face, around the thick column of his neck. ‘I’ve sent a truck full of flowers, a diamond bracelet to go with the ring. I even hired a scaffold and played a slideshow of all our best moments outside of her second-storey window. She pitched our framed engagement photo at the screen. Tore a two-foot rip down the middle.’

      Nate forced a Pollyanna smile. ‘After getting that out of her system, she might be ready to talk.’

      ‘When she emailed our guest list and said the wedding was off, what could I do?’

      Seriously? ‘Not give up.’

      There was a reason he and Greg were friends. They thought the same. Shared similar values. Nate knew Greg would never cheat on a woman because Nate, himself, would never do such a thing. Not that he was naïve enough to think indiscretions between couples didn’t happen.

      At the engagement party six months ago, he and Roxy had been talking out on the restaurant’s balcony when she’d mentioned her father and his exploits. She hadn’t belaboured the point but had rather only said enough to make her situation growing up clear. Life was confusing for a kid when your dad was a womanizer and your mother refused to see the situation for what it was: a betrayal not only to wife but also to child.

      Guess there were some advantages to that blasted family curse, Nate thought as he drew the sweat-damp shirt off over his head. Despite the downsides, he was thankful his parents’ marriage was a solid one. They didn’t argue over anything more important than where to spend their next vacation. If their trust should ever be tested, neither would look at the other with suspicion. Not that his dad would ever come close to cheating. And neither would Greg.

      His friend was jamming his shirt into his bag, muttering, ‘Hell, maybe Marla’s better off without me.’

      ‘Like Sparks Martin Steel would be better off without you?’

      Greg’s dark gaze edged over. ‘I know you’re disappointed but, believe me, it’s best you go that alone. I’m no good to anyone right now. I’d only let you down.’ He headed for the exit, his six-plus height barely missing the lintel. ‘I’m going to take a shower inside.’

      Nate punched his arms through the sleeves of a fresh shirt, then followed Greg out. Time to set down the first layer of his plan.

      ‘Why don’t you and I get away for a couple of days? You had time pencilled out anyway.’

      Time off to finalize wedding stuff with Marla.

      ‘I’d be sorry company.’ Outside in the evening cool and beneath path lights, Greg turned and sent a wan smile. ‘I’m beat. I’ll catch you later in the week.’

      As Greg made his way down the path that led to his separate quarters on his parents’ extravagant Potts Point estate, Nate set his jaw. Dammit, he wasn’t giving up on that wedding. He certainly wasn’t giving up on his and Greg’s partnership. This was only the first round and, no matter the setbacks or complications, he was in for the long haul.

      When his cell vibrated and buzzed in his sports bag, Nate checked the ID and his heartbeat began to crash. Speaking of complications …

      Shoring himself, Nate connected and Roxy Trammel purred down the line.

      ‘Is that Luscious Lips?’

      ‘That’s not funny.’ Neither the nickname nor her tone. He’d done the wrong thing that night, but couldn’t she show him a little mercy six months on? He’d fallen hook, line and sinker when she’d given herself over to their embrace. Now her voice was tease enough.

      If history was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take too many more embraces like the one this afternoon to have him looking cross-eyed, thinking he was in love and arranging a whole new set of priorities. The mere thought of the way her body had moved against his could make him break into a sweat that had nothing to do with the energetic hour he’d just spent on the court. If it killed him—and it probably near would—from now on he’d keep his hands to himself.

      ‘Are we still on for tonight?’ she asked.

      Regarding Marla and Greg? ‘You bet. Have you eaten?’

      ‘I have a craving for sushi.’

      Sauntering to his car, Nate winced. ‘Raw dead fish.’

      ‘Who knew you were so cultured?’

      ‘I vote Chinese.’

      ‘Done.’ She suggested a well-known restaurant.

      ‘Say, thirty minutes? I need to change.’

      ‘Just for you, I’ll change too. All this white satin is getting heavy.’

      He heard her laugh before signing off and, despite his mood, Nate couldn’t help himself. He laughed too.

      Roxy arrived at the China Town restaurant


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