The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers. Cynthia Thomason
a champion.
That was the only contact Liam had ever had with Jude Foster, Jude Something-Else now, and he’d ended up covered in mud, and hating girls for the next six months.
“Now, go on before your dinner gets cold,” Dr. Foster said. “It cost me twenty-four ninety-five a plate, and for that price, you should eat it while it’s hot. And remember my involvement with you is a private matter between you and me, for now. Jude doesn’t need to know yet.”
Uncertain about this plan, Liam returned to his table, sat next to his father and ate his tepid prime rib.
“So you talked with Martin?” Dr. Manning asked.
“He wants to hire me for a short while,” Liam said. “But I guess you already know that.”
“I hope you agreed,” Dr. Manning said. “There’s not a better man than Martin Foster, but he’s a pushover when it comes to his daughters. And Jude, the middle one, is tougher to handle than the other two. According to Martin, if left alone, without some solid, timely advice, she’ll run that foundation of hers into the ground and Martin along with it.”
“But I don’t feel right about this whole thing. Dr. Foster wants me to keep our relationship a secret until I’ve gotten closer to Jude, until she trusts me.”
“Sounds to me like a good way to approach this,” Lawrence said. “Why alienate the girl right at the start?”
Liam frowned. “What do you know about her?”
His father smiled in a guarded way that made Liam uncomfortable. “Martin doesn’t criticize his daughters for the most part, but I know he’s not used to opening up to Jude. That’s where you come in. And since Martin is likely to pay you well for this assignment, I wouldn’t want to prejudice you with idle gossip about the girl.”
“So without telling me some of that gossip you’ve heard, you’re warning me that if I work with Jude, I might be better off to use a whip and a chair rather than a mechanical pencil and spreadsheet.”
“You should talk to her tonight, see what you think for yourself. Women have always liked you, son. You’re clean, cultured, honorable...”
“Staid? Boring?” An image of his ex-wife came to mind, and he realized she might add other adjectives that could describe an Eagle Scout.
“No! I didn’t mean that at all. Could be Jude will take to you like a mama bear to honey.”
The analogy was not a comfortable one. Didn’t bears eat honey? And besides, Lawrence’s facial expression suggested that he truly might have no faith in his son being able to get along with Jude.
“You’d be doing this as a personal favor to me, Liam,” his father said. “Martin and I go all the way back to medical school. I don’t suppose I have a better friend than he is, and he needs help with this situation. It’s gotten out of control.”
“I guess I believe that,” Liam said.
“Besides, you want to go to that economic conference in Stockholm this spring, don’t you?” Lawrence added. “If you straighten Jude out, Martin will be so grateful, you’ll be able to afford a first-class plane ticket.”
Dr. Manning patted his son’s back. “At the end of the night, if you want them, I’ll give you my impressions about Jude. There probably are a few things you should know. Combined with what you learn yourself, you can decide what you want to do. But if it makes any difference, I’m counting on you, son. Friendships mean a lot to me.”
Nothing like putting on the pressure, Liam thought. He owed his father for sticking by him during his divorce. Lawrence had called his son every day to ask how he was, and Liam didn’t know how he would have gotten through those difficult days without his dad’s concern. And Liam figured he could straighten out this foundation in a matter of a few visits. He was that good. Besides all that, Dr. Foster had promised he’d tell his daughter about their alliance soon.
The wedding cake had barely been cut when Liam stood in line to get his piece. He chose a small slice and turned to go back to his table. And ran into Jude.
No time like the present to get to know Martin’s middle daughter.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping out of his way.
Liam stopped her by placing his hand on her elbow. She turned toward him and he stared into the softest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. She didn’t look like an obstinate, my-way-or-the-highway girl. “My fault,” he said, giving her his brightest smile. “My name is Liam Manning. I don’t really know many people here. Would you like to share our cake together?”
“I really can’t,” she said. “I have to give a toast soon.”
He tried again. “We’re actually not strangers. We met at a picnic years ago.”
“I remember. You were tormenting a defenseless snake.”
Was she kidding? “Tormenting?” he said. “I was doing no such thing. Besides, it was just a snake.”
“Yeah, and if a snake bit you, one of his buddies would say, ‘Don’t worry about it, pal. It was just a human.’”
Oh yeah, she wasn’t kidding.
“Anyway, snake torture is enough to make me wonder about you now. Like for instance, what did you and my father talk about in the hallway?”
So she’d seen them leave the party. He tried to speak, to come up with a convincing stall, but his jaw seemed to tighten up. He put down the dainty china plate that held his cake and reached for Jude’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
JUDE PULLED HER hand back. “I’d rather not.” She glanced down at her elegant so-not-her dress. “I’m part of the bridal party. I have duties.”
“But you do dance?” he asked. “And I’m sure the bride won’t mind if you have a little fun.”
Truthfully, except for a modest skill at line dancing, she wasn’t much of a dancer. Her mother had paid for the same ballroom lessons for all three of her daughters. The glides and swishes and dips had looked great when executed by Alexis and Carrie. When Jude tried to do them, she looked like a horse who’d thrown a shoe.
“Everybody dances,” she said. “But it’s not my proudest achievement.”
Refusing to take the hint, he suddenly had her hand tucked into his, and they were walking toward the dance floor. “Forgive me, but I feel the need to convince you that I’m not the snake torturer that you believe I am.”
“And dancing will do that?”
“Among other things, I hope.” He continued on a path to the dance floor. “These are all your friends and family, right?”
“Yes.” She made a quick summary of the guests in the room. How many could she actually call friends? “Most of them.” She frowned. “Some, anyway.”
“Then no one will be critical of your dancing.”
She stared into glimmering brown eyes that seemed lit from within by tiny gold sparklers. What man had eyes that perfect? She shouldn’t trust this guy. “Don’t count on it,” she said.
They stopped on the fringe of the dance floor. Jude couldn’t think of a way to escape.
“Everyone’s having fun,” he said. “And you just pointed out that you’re an important member of the wedding party. Joining in and adding to the general spirit of the occasion is part of your job, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t argue. Alex had told her, “It’s just one day, Jude. I’m counting on you. You can at least pretend to have fun.” If spinning around the dance floor one time would endear her to Alex, she could do it.