Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid.... Avril Tremayne
Sunshine looked at him, struck, lips pursing. Leo could almost see the cogs turning.
‘You know,’ she said slowly, ‘I read something somewhere about a pop star who has red toilet paper provided when she’s on tour, so do you think—?’
‘No, I do not,’ he interrupted. ‘Forget the red toilet paper.’
The nose was wrinkling. ‘Well obviously not red. I was going to suggest a beautiful ocean-blue. Or sea-green.’
‘No blue. Or green. You’ll have to content yourself with your victory over my growing hair.’
Sunshine laughed, giving up. ‘It’s coming along very nicely.’
She ran her hand over the stubble on his head and his whole body went rigid.
Leo stepped away from her, forcing that hand to drop and simultaneously dislodging her other hand from his arm. ‘And so are your eyes,’ he said, just for something to say—and didn’t that sound bloody fatuous? How could eyes come along? They were just there—from birth!
Although...hmm...something about them wasn’t right. Her pupils were a little bigger than they should be, given all the light streaming into the room.
Why were they standing so close that he could see her damned pupils anyway? It wasn’t a crowded nightclub. They were the only two people in a big, furniture-free space. There was nothing to bump into. No reason for them to occupy the same square foot of floor. He took another step back from her.
She was considering him with a blinking, slightly dazed look that worried him on a level he didn’t want to acknowledge.
And there went that tic beside his mouth.
‘I saw my parents yesterday,’ she said, and her voice sounded kind of...breathy. ‘They like the new natural look—as you could imagine. Mum talked about sending you a thank-you card, so brace yourself for some homemade paper and a haiku poem. Apologies in advance for the haiku!’ Stop. Little laugh. ‘But strangers are doing a double-take when they look at my eyes now, which makes me feel a bit naked.’
‘Don’t knock naked. I’ve had some of my best moments naked,’ Leo said, and wondered what the hell was happening to his brain. Disordered. That was what it was. You didn’t go from talking about hair to eyes to nakedness. At least he didn’t.
In fact there was altogether too much talk of underwear, orgasms and sex between them as it was, without tossing naked around.
He took yet another step back. Tried to think of something to say about homemade paper instead, because he sure knew nothing about haiku poetry. But Sunshine was giving him that dazed, blinking look, and he couldn’t seem to form a word.
‘Yeah, me too,’ she said.
Leo had a sudden vision of Sunshine naked, lying on his bed. The almost translucent white skin, the long chocolate hair. Voluptuous. Luscious. Steamy hot. Smiling at him, sea-eyes sparkling.
He shook his head, trying to get the image out of his head.
And then Sunshine shook her head. ‘So! Tables!’ she said, and took hold of his arm again—and this time it seemed to hit him straight in the groin.
Leo, looking everywhere except at Sunshine, had never enthused so happily about inanimate objects in his life. The choice of wood for the chairs; the elegant curved backs; the crisp white tablecloths and napkins; the bar’s marble top and designer stools. And still his bloody erection would not go down!
Go down. Sunshine Smart going down. On him.
Bad.
This was bad, bad, bad.
Walking a little stiffly, he showed her the outdoor terrace. Talked about welcome cocktails. Described the way the decking had been stained to match the wooden floor inside. Back in. Suggested positions for the official table. Indicated places for dancing—except that Caleb had told him that dancing was likely to be off the agenda, so why he was pointing that out was a mystery. Just filling the space with words. Any words. Waiting for that erection to subside.
And at the end, when she looked at him with those twinkling blue and green eyes of hers, he still had a hard-on and he could still—dammit!—imagine her naked. On his bed. Kneeling in front of him. Walking towards him. Away from him.
Help!
‘Can you email me the layout so I can refresh my memory when I need to?’ Sunshine asked. ‘Oh—and tomorrow I’ll have the invitation design to sign off. Are you happy for me to do it, or would you like to see it?’
‘I’d like to see it,’ he said, and couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. Because He. Did. Not. Care.
‘I could email it.’
‘No. Not email.’
Sunshine pursed her lips. Her ‘thinking’ look—not that he knew how he knew that.
‘I really do have to be in the store tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Some new stock is coming in and I have a very specific idea for the display. And you’re working tomorrow night, right?’
‘No—night off,’ he said, and was amazed again. He never took a night off.
She brightened. ‘Great. Where shall we meet?’
‘I’ll cook.’ Okay. He had lost his mind. He was not going to cook for Sunshine Smart. He never cooked for girlfriends. And she wasn’t even that. Not even close to that. Even if he did want to have sex with her.
Damn, damn, damn. Goddamn.
Sunshine’s eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Really?’
Could he back out? Could he? ‘Um. Yes.’
‘At my place?’
No—not at her place. Not anywhere. ‘Um. Yes.’ So he had a vocabulary problem today. Brain-dead. He was brain-dead.
‘Just one teensy problem. Most of my kitchen appliances have never been used.’
‘I love virgin appliances.’ Arrrgggghhh. Again with the sexual innuendo. He was clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
‘In that case you will have an orgasm when you walk in my kitchen.’
Orgasms. Oh. My. God.
Sunshine checked her watch. ‘And, speaking of orgasms, I’d better go.’
Huh? What the hell?
‘I’m being taken to that new Laotian restaurant the Peppercorn Tree tonight,’ she said, as though that explained anything. ‘I checked the menu online. Very excited!’
Okay, he got it. Whew. It was the thought of food making her orgasmic.
And then her words registered. ‘Being taken’. As in date.
‘Gary or Ben?’ He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking.
‘Neither of them. Tonight it’s Marco.’
Marco. Marco? Three men on a string now? Not to mention the calligrapher. And the hairdresser. And there was probably a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick-maker in there somewhere.
‘You sure there was no free love on that commune?’ he asked, and thanked heaven and hell that he sounded his normal curt self.
‘Love’s never free, is it?’ Sunshine asked cryptically. And then she smiled. ‘That’s why I’m only interested in sex.’
Before Leo could think of a response she tap-tapped her way out of the restaurant, clearly with no idea he was having a conniption and might need either medical or psychiatric intervention.
TO: