The Bridesmaid's Gifts. Gina Wilkins
ring to her at the same time. For just a moment they smiled at each other, their long years of friendship forming a bond that let them say a great deal to each other without words.
And then Nic turned to her new husband, and Aislinn was aware of the faintest pang of regret, almost as if an era were ending. She and Nic would always be close, she knew—but it would be different now. Nic and Joel would share a long, happy life together, one that would eventually include a child. A boy who would look exactly like Joel.
Though she had known for a few weeks now, Aislinn hadn’t shared that tidbit with her friend. After all, it was only a feeling. A guess, really. And even though Aislinn’s “feelings” had an impressive record of accuracy, there were times when it seemed best to keep them to herself.
She glanced once again toward Ethan, who was watching Joel and Nic now. Strange how she’d had so few insights about him since she had met him. As well as she usually read people, she’d gotten very little from Ethan—primarily that he seemed suspicious of her and had from the start. She still wondered what he had been told about her.
Ethan took great pride in being a realist and a skeptic. He didn’t believe in mind readers, mediums, poltergeists, UFOs, vampires, Santa Claus or love at first sight. If he couldn’t see it, feel it, touch it or prove it, he had no use for it.
And yet—every time he looked into Aislinn’s exotically shaped near-black eyes, he felt something shift inside him. He couldn’t explain it any better than that, but something definitely happened. And he had been on edge ever since he’d met her.
Lust, he told himself. Nothing more complicated than that. And who could blame him? On a scale of one to ten, this woman was a twelve. A perfect heart-shaped face framed by long, glossy black hair. Eyes as dark as still water on a cloudless night. A full, soft mouth that could make a man want to believe anything she might tell him.
As for the rest of her, well, he had to remind himself that he was in a church just to keep his eyes from lingering too long on curves that made his mouth go dry and his palms itch.
Realizing the fanciful direction his thoughts had taken, he had to force himself not to scowl. He didn’t need to be standing up here glowering during the ceremony or people might get the idea he had a problem with the bride rather than the maid of honor.
It was too bad, really. Under normal circumstances, he might have been happy to spend some time with a beautiful woman like Aislinn while he was visiting the area.
It seemed appropriate that her bridesmaid dress was a bold, bright red. The color of danger.
“…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The solemn words brought Ethan’s attention back to the ceremony. He managed a slight smile as Joel enthusiastically kissed his bride to the accompaniment of sentimental sighs from the guests gathered to witness the occasion.
He was as pleased for his brother as everyone else was. Despite his initial concerns about police officer Nic Sawyer’s suitability for Joel, he had quickly been convinced that they were a very good match. Though she couldn’t have been more different from Heather, Nic was exactly what Joel needed now, six years after the tragedy that had changed the direction of his life. She made Joel happy again, which was all that really mattered as far as Ethan was concerned.
Beaming like two high-intensity bulbs, Nic and Joel turned to face their audience as they were introduced for the first time as Dr. and Mrs. Brannon. Holding her bouquet again in her right hand, Nic slipped her left hand beneath Joel’s arm for their walk down the aisle. Following the instructions he had been given, Ethan moved to stand behind the couple, presenting his arm to Aislinn.
She hesitated only a moment before sliding her hand beneath his arm. The pause was so slight that he doubted anyone else had noticed, but he knew he hadn’t imagined it.
Despite his skepticism of anything resembling premonition, he had the oddest feeling as he escorted Aislinn down the aisle in the wake of his brother and new sister-in-law. Had to be hunger, he told himself. Lunch had been a long time ago.
Aislinn had practiced walking out on Ethan’s arm during the rehearsal the evening before. She had been surprised then to feel such well-defined muscles beneath the conservative but casual business-consultant clothing—and she was struck again now by how strong and solid his arm felt beneath her lightly resting fingertips.
Funny how nervous she’d been about touching him each time, she thought as she smiled at familiar faces she passed going down the aisle. Whatever inspired her hunches, she had never been overly influenced by physical contact. Yet she had been so wary of touching Ethan, almost as if she’d been worried that doing so would trigger some previously unknown ability within herself. How silly.
Or maybe the reason for her hesitation had been a lot more basic than that. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that she found Ethan Brannon just a bit too attractive for her own peace of mind. Dropping his arm the moment they stepped out of the sanctuary and into the vestibule, she reminded herself that he didn’t seem to like her very much. She wasn’t particularly fond of him, either, with his cutting remarks and obvious suspicions.
“Oh, my gosh.” Nic looked a bit dazed as she turned to Aislinn. “I think I just got married.”
Aislinn laughed, as did everyone else within hearing. “You did, sweetie.”
“Too late to back out now,” Joel said cheerfully.
His bride grinned up at him. “That goes both ways.”
Aislinn noted that Joel didn’t look at all perturbed by Nic’s reminder.
The reception was held in the ballroom of a local country club. It wasn’t an overly large room but big enough for the intimate crowd Nic and Joel had invited to celebrate their marriage with them. A local country band, made up of four talented teenagers who were already getting statewide attention for their singing and songwriting talent, provided the music.
Unpretentious but delicious food was served buffet-style, with coffee, fruit punch and sparkling grape juice for beverages. The lack of champagne or other alcoholic choices had nothing to do with the wedding budget but everything to do with Nic’s relentless campaigning against drinking and driving. Through her career she had seen entirely too many tragic accidents involving alcohol and she had no intention of contributing to the statistics by serving drinks to people who had driven to her reception.
It wasn’t as if public transportation was plentiful in the smallish central-Arkansas town. Whole months often passed without Aislinn seeing one cab. When the locals wanted to go somewhere, they drove. This was part of the reason traffic was such an issue as the thriving area grew more rapidly than the aging street system.
She cast a quick, assessing glance at the table that held the wedding cake, making sure it was still in pristine condition for photographs and the ceremonial cutting by the bride and groom. Though Nic had requested an understated cake to go with the simple theme of the wedding, Aislinn had spent hours crafting the perfect wedding cake for her best friend. She had taken her inspiration from Nic’s heirloom wedding gown, first worn in the mid-1940s by Nic’s grandmother, then by Nic’s mother, Susan, in the early seventies.
The gown was satin, covered with lace painstakingly dotted with seed pearls. It had been hand sewn by Nic’s great-grandmother, making it a priceless family treasure, immaculately preserved. Only a minimum of tailoring had been required for Nic, and Aislinn had no doubt that the gown would survive for another generation or two, perhaps to be worn by Nic’s future daughter-in-law, or maybe a granddaughter.
Aislinn had so few heirlooms from her own family that she could only imagine how much the gown meant to Nic and her mother. So the dress had seemed to be the logical theme for the wedding cake. Borrowing Nic’s matching veil for a few days and using photographs of the dress as inspiration, Aislinn had designed a white-on-white cake that looked as though it was covered in the same lace as the dress.
It had involved hours of eye-crossingly intricate string work and hundreds of tiny, hand-set edible “pearls.”