For Eric's Sake (17 page)

She stood back and admired how her work shown to advantage against Brandy's dark, curly hair. "Perfect. It even looks expensive by the way you carry your body. Good… good." She watched Brandy walk. "Pretend a string is pulling you up from the back of the head. If your spine is correct, everything else will fall right into place. And whatever you do, don't lean on one hip—it looks tacky and outdated these days."

Brandy laughed at her charm school lesson. Fondling the dress as if it were a present, a precious one that Shaw might have given her, she said, "I shouldn't have called you, Candace. You're taking an awful responsibility letting me borrow this. What if I spill something on it?"

"Don't," Candace warned, then laughed, "because I'm saving it for myself, but it looks a lot better on you than I ever even imagined it would on me. Wear it in good health, and be sure everybody knows where it came from."

Brandy laughed. "Will do."

"But—" Candace was looking rather critically at the dress, and then she stepped forward and unbuttoned all the fastenings to the bodice. "Get rid of the bra and wear it open to the waist. The buttons are just decoration. I shouldn't have even put buttonholes in it."

She loosened the waist sash and pulled the open front of the shirtwaist together. "Let me pin this here." She made an alteration, then retied the sash in place. "There… that's better. A little more decent, yet sensual because the buttons are still obviously afly."

Brandy blushed. "Couldn't I just—one button?"

"No," said Candace. "Ruins the whole effect. It's not that bad. Go look in the mirror."

Brandy did as she was told and had to admit she didn't look
that
undressed. But what would Shaw say when he saw it?

Fortunately, Brandy didn't see Shaw until the last minute. He was running so late with last minute work at his business that he arranged for Marcus to drive to the apartment and pick up Brandy while he changed at his office.

Marcus didn't comment when he saw Brandy, nor did he talk much on the drive to the suburban mansion where the festivities were taking place. Both wondered what Shaw's reaction would be when he saw Brandy.

The house, at the end of a long, wooded, sweeping drive, was a great English Tudor mansion. When Brandy asked, Marcus was closemouthed about the house's owners, merely stating that it was the home of a friend of Shaw's. From the way he said "friend," Brandy assumed it was a girlfriend.

"Well, everybody seems to be here already," Marcus commented, parking the car far down the drive and getting out to help Brandy.

Brandy's palms sweated. It was almost as if she, Shaw's wife, had been invited as an afterthought, yet it was the party's purpose to introduce her. It also didn't help that she noticed the party was in full progress, and had been long before she was told to arrive. She didn't say a word to Marcus as he took her hand and steadied her out of the car. She was glad now she hadn't run out and bought something to try to compete with the other women who would be here this evening. If she had, she would have felt too self-conscious spending the kind of money she'd need for a dress in their league. Wearing a Candace James original would be prestigious enough, and it would show in the way she carried herself.

Brandy and Marcus walked up the drive to the sound of laughter and live music. Who was paying for this extravaganza? Brandy wondered.

"Marcus." Brandy held back as he was about to ring the door bell.

He looked down, his eyes dark and smoldering the way Shaw's could when he was angry.

"I'm frightened," she whispered. "I don't know anyone in there."

"You know me." He smiled, but like Shaw, the smile didn't reach his eyes. "And you know Shaw, if he can spare the time for you," he muttered. He squeezed her arm. "You look beautiful, Brandy. That should give you confidence enough. I have a feeling you'll be able to hold your own this evening, but if you get worried about that, just look across the room for me. I'll be there watching out for you, if you need me."

Brandy relaxed beneath his look. She knew he was being sincere, and it was nice to know she had an ally.

The door opened to a glittering hallway with a curving staircase swirling to the upper levels of the house. It seemed out of place with the outside facade, almost fake, but the amount of money that had been spent on the single crystal chandelier spoke of riches beyond Brandy's imagination.

Brandy stepped with Marcus across the mosaic tiled floor into the living area where the majority of the guests were congregating. She tightened the muscles in her stomach, remembering her modeling training, and decided that to boost her confidence she would pretend she was modeling. She held her rib cage high, her shoulders back, and her spine straight as she put one foot in front of the other and entered the room.

Seeing men notice her entrance and turn to look at her made her relax—she knew several gave Marcus envious glances.

Brandy looked for Shaw, but didn't see him. She did, however, notice the man he had lunched with the day at Peachtree Plaza. It was hard to miss him, especially when he bellowed out to the group that Shaw's wife had arrived.

Brandy was soon surrounded by wellwishers and anxious young men eager for an excuse to kiss the bride. Marcus drifted away from her side, and she soon realized she could stand on her own, and more than that, was actually enjoying the attention. Perhaps, she thought, if so many other men were eager for her company Shaw would realize what a prize he had in Brandy.

Laughing and chatting, she allowed those she met to lead her around and introduce her to various businessmen and prominent citizens of the community, but all the while kept a lookout for Shaw; it seemed odd that strangers were making the introductions instead of her own husband.

Someone brought her a glass of champagne and several in the crowd toasted to her. The champagne felt bubbly going down, but the quickness of her swallowing made tears well behind her eyes.
Where is Shaw
? she wondered. Had he even arrived? Did he prefer having a private party with someone else in some other room of the mansion? She emptied her glass and found it just as quickly replaced by another.

Take it easy
, she warned herself. She had to be prepared for whatever games Shaw was playing. It was as if she were on display, yet he didn't seem proud enough to be the one to show her off to his friends. She had been forced to arrive with Shaw's brother. She had no choice but to shuffle from person to person making small talk about subjects she was only vaguely aware. Perhaps this was another of Shaw's games—giving her enough rope to hang herself by saying the wrong thing to his best friends.

Finally Shaw appeared, although she concluded that he had arrived a long time ago. She vowed not to let her frustration show, as she noted a tall woman beside him, her hand on his arm—a rather possessive hand at that, Brandy thought. She recognized the woman as the evening hostess at Shaw's restaurant and she had wondered from the beginning what other relationship the two might have.

It was plainly obvious as the other woman's eyes caught Brandy's that she was laying prior claim to Brandy's husband. It didn't help that everyone in the room greeted the woman as one of their own.

Brandy watched Shaw shake hands with many of the guests, the woman sticking close by his side.
He doesn't even have the decency to set that woman aside and take the hand of his own wife
. Brandy thought angrily.

But the next moment Brandy remembered her place —she was Shaw's wife and a stranger in the midst of Shaw's longtime business associates and friends. She also remembered something else—he was her husband. That was what this stupid party was all about anyway! If he didn't want everyone to know the fact of their marriage, he should never have agreed to let the party be in their honor.

"Excuse me," Brandy said to the woman she had been speaking to, "but I see my husband has just come in. I've so enjoyed meeting you and hope we get a chance to chat later."

Brandy walked determinedly up to Shaw and his companion, daring the woman to keep her arm on Shaw in her presence. Brandy's eyes glared as the woman let her hand slip away from Shaw's jacket-clad arm.

"Hello," said Brandy, holding out her hand to the man Shaw was talking to. "I'm Brandy Janus."

"Well, hello." The man's eyes lit up and he turned his full attention to Brandy. "You didn't tell me Marcus had gotten married," the man said over his shoulder to Shaw, while his eyes devoured Brandy.

"He didn't," Brandy informed him. "Shaw did." She slid into position between the woman and Shaw, clutching his arm even more possessively than the other girl had.

Shaw looked at her—and then all the way down her open front—and the expression in his eyes was not one of his most pleasant. Snuggling closer, Brandy smiled up at him, further wedging her body into his and the other woman out of the conversation. Brandy felt the muscles in her neck knotting with tension and anger; she had sat home night after night waiting for him, hoping he would come home just to talk to her, if nothing else, and all the while he had probably been with his hostess. Before Brandy could elaborate on their marriage, Shaw was excusing them and hustling Brandy out of the room.

"We can't leave now," Brandy protested, knowing there was safety in numbers, and afraid of a confrontation with Shaw.

"To hell with the party," he said. "This was not my idea."

"It wasn't?" Brandy hung behind, making it difficult for him to push her further. "You can't think I arranged it. I don't know any of your friends."

"In a way you did, though." He glared, taking her resisting wrist and hauling her onto the terrace.

"Me? How?" She stumbled after him.

"My whole life has changed since you entered it!"

"Do you think mine hasn't also?"

"That's different. You're a woman."

"Oh," Brandy fumed, shaking her wrist free of his touch. "Since when have you taken a dislike to women? Certainly not tonight the way that blonde was cutting off the circulation in your arm! Everybody noticed."

"So what? Most of them know her. Nobody knows you."

"Is that my fault?"

"Yes." He lowered his face to her level.

"I thought you were going to try to be discreet with your affairs until all this mess with Eric was settled, but I guess it was too much to trust you to care about him."

"It's because I care about him that I'm in this blasted mess. And it's because of him that this idiotic nuptial party is taking place tonight."

"How?" she challenged.

"Because Lorraine saw the thing in the paper about our custody battle and, of course, the little fact that we were recently married. I'd been hoping to keep it from
her
, of all people."

Brandy tapped her toe on the flagstones. "I can see that it would make it easier to keep your little affair going if she were in the dark about your marriage."

Shaw's eyes widened, and Brandy cringed. She'd said too much that time, but luckily he had enough self-control not to resort to violence.

"We are not now having an affair," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then why did you invite her to this party?"

"I didn't invite her," he said slowly and distinctly. "She invited us. All of us. This is her home. It was all her stupid idea to have everyone get to know you… especially her."

"But I don't understand." She frowned. "Why would she want to give
us
a party if she and you still—"

"We aren't
still
—" he paused for emphasis, "and the reason she gave this party is because she knows how much I
hate
this kind of thing."

"Oh," said Brandy, as if she understood, but she was more confused than ever. One thing was becoming clear, however, and that was that Shaw was no more happy to be here than she was. "Why don't we leave then?"

"We can't leave!" He stomped away from her in exasperation. "We're the guests of honor."

"I suppose that's why you had Marcus bring me… why you couldn't bring me yourself."

"I didn't bring you because I've been tied up with the details of opening the restaurant, but I can see I should have brought you—if for no other reason than to make you wear something more decent than that dress." He stepped back to her and began buttoning up the dress.

She put her hands over his. "It's supposed to be worn open."

"Who says?"

"The designer." She undid all the buttons.

"Well, your husband says it should be buttoned up all the way to the throat."

"No." She argued.

He lifted his eyes to the porch ceiling. "Why is it whenever we're out in public you let every man near you see more of your body than I can when you're lying in bed with me? How come
I
always get left out?"

"It's not that I'm trying to leave you out," Brandy tried to explain. "It's just that—" She wasn't finding it easy to tell him how she felt. "Let's go home," she said instead.

Shaw grasped her shoulders, his eyes blazing with emotion. "Why do you always tell me things like that when it's impossible to do anything about it?"

"Because," she involuntarily licked her lower lip, "it's safer that way."

"Oh, baby." His eyes softened as they concentrated on her full, moist lips. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

"Shaw," she said, her hands going to the front of his white shirt, smoothing over the material beneath his jacket. "You're so experienced… and I'm not… not at all. How can I satisfy you? How can I compare to women like her?"

He pulled her closer, chuckling at her fears, holding her loosely in his arms as he cuddled her next to his chest. "You wouldn't be half so special if you tried to compete with everyone else. You're unique, like no other woman I've known. That's why you're so dear to me."

Brandy's heart was fluttering like a captive butterfly. He sounded so tender, so sincere, and the words were honey to her ears. She stared up at him. Was he just saying these things because he knew it was what she wanted to hear? Or did he mean them?

She didn't take time to think any longer as his lips came down on hers and she was swallowed up in sensations that she thought must be love. It was what she wanted to feel from Shaw, and she wouldn't question it any longer. It was enough now to take what she could get from him for as long as it lasted. She had trapped him into marriage, perhaps she could snare him into loving her as well. She knew now that was what she wanted, why she had been so determined all along in choosing him for her husband. She wanted to love Shaw and have him love her back. To be his wife and have him as her husband—not for Eric's sake, but for her own. She couldn't help loving him. Perhaps if she were with him long enough, he wouldn't be able to resist loving her, either.