It Happened One Wedding (2 page)

Still, the logical part of her realized that the hazel-eyed, dark-scruff iteration of This Guy who sat across from her right then hadn’t actually done anything wrong to her. Because of that, she smiled in an effort to be polite. “That’s nice of you to ask. But, unfortunately, I’m going to have to say no.”

“Great.” He nodded, as if expecting this very answer. Then his brow furrowed, and he cocked his head. “Wait—what?”

Sidney bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Ah . . . when she told this story later to Trish, the perplexed look on this guy’s face would be the highlight.

“I’m afraid I have to pass on meeting you tomorrow,” she explained.

His confused expression turned to one of understanding. “Oh, sure. Because you have other plans, right?”

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s more just a flat-out no.”

“Huh.” He folded his arms over his chest, taking a moment to think that over. “I have to say, I was expecting a different answer.”

Yes, she got that.

“Can I ask why?” he said.

“I just don’t think you’re my type,” she said, for simplicity’s sake.

“Interesting. You were able to determine ‘my type’ in the all of five minutes we’ve been talking?”

Now he was pushing her buttons a bit. “Yes.”

“That’s impressive. See, it’s my job to size people up. So I’m intrigued to hear if you’re as good as you obviously think you are.”

Sidney threw him a look. “Honey, you know exactly what your type is. And so does every single woman in her thirties.”

“I see.” He leaned back in his chair and beckoned with this hand. “Now I really need to hear this.”

Logically, Sidney knew this was not the kind of conversation one should have with a perfect stranger in a coffee shop. First of all, there was no point. Second, she had places to be, and allegedly so did he.

But his eyes dared her.

Despite her better judgment, she felt a spike of adrenaline course through her, a rush to rise to his challenge. Back when she’d first started working as an investment banker in Manhattan, she’d known plenty of men who’d assumed they could intimidate her with tactics just like these.

They’d assumed wrong.

So she, too, sat back in her chair and got comfortable. She’d tried to be as diplomatic as possible in her rejection, but, hey, if this guy insisted on answers, then answers he would get.

“All right.” Her eyes raked over him in assessment. “You’re thirty-four or thirty-five, gainfully employed, never been married. You think maybe you’ll settle down one day, perhaps when you’re forty, but for now you work hard at your job, so you want to play hard, too. You tend to skew more toward dating women in their midtwenties, because women in their early twenties seem just a little too young and women in their thirties frustrate you with the way they all want to talk about marriage and kids by the third date. You’ll go out with a girl a few times, you’ll have a lot of fun together, and then when she starts pushing for something more serious, you’ll move on to someone else, wondering why it is that women can’t be content to just
date
without needing a commitment. And why would you want to commit to one person right now? For men as attractive as you, this city is one big candy store, filled with so many shiny treats, you couldn’t possibly choose just one. So instead, you run around with your obviously healthy ego, sampling as many of the goods as you can get your hands on—simply because you can.”

When finished, Sidney took a deep breath and felt strangely . . . good. For the last six months, she’d been so determined to move forward after her breakup with Brody, and to keep a stiff upper lip around her friends, family, and work colleagues, that she’d barely vented at all to anyone. So it felt great to finally express her frustration.

To this guy, apparently.

Better him than anyone else,
she figured. It wasn’t as though she was ever going to see him again.

He rested his arms on the table. “Well. On behalf of the male population, let me be the first to apologize for whatever
he
did.”

Sidney’s eyes narrowed. He was being sarcastic—fair enough, given what she’d just said to him. But that hit a little too close to home. “We’re done here, right?”

“I’d say so.” He got up from his chair. “Enjoy your coffee, Ms. Doe.” He walked out of the café without further word.

Sidney took a deep breath, shaking it off. She was meeting her sister, Isabelle, and her sister’s boyfriend in a couple minutes and didn’t want to show up for dinner in a crummy mood.

She noticed that the man at the table next to her, in his sixties, was watching her. Clearly, he’d caught the show.

“Well, he
asked
for my opinion,” she said defensively.

“I’m just wondering what you’re going to do to the next guy who walks in,” the older man said. “They’re gonna start taking them out of here in body bags.”

Probably it was high time she left this coffee shop.

SO, APPARENTLY, THAT
was a
no
from Ms. Doe.

Vaughn cut across the street, dodging around a taxi in the intersection while trying to dislodge the self-righteous speech that was stuck in his head like an annoying earworm.

And why would you want to commit to one person right now? For men as attractive as you, this city is one big candy store, filled with so many shiny treats, you couldn’t possibly choose just one.

Well, in a nutshell . . . yes.

He didn’t deny it; he liked to have fun. He had a healthy dating life, he was free to go out with different women and have a good time, and he didn’t see why he should feel guilty about any of that. There wasn’t some big angsty reason he avoided commitment, he simply enjoyed his life as it was. He was a single man with a good job living in a vibrant city teeming with interesting people, a variety of things to do and see, new restaurants and bars to try. He didn’t knock anyone else for wanting to settle down, but he, personally, didn’t feel a compulsion to do so at this particular point in his life. Maybe when he was forty.

He could practically hear the snarky Ms. Doe smugly shouting
I knew it!
in his head.

Indeed, she’d pretty much described him to a tee—something that undoubtedly would have impressed him more if she hadn’t been such a pill about it. He felt a little guilty about the sarcastic comment he’d made, but this was substantially mitigated by the fact that she’d so obviously relished busting his balls first. Not the way things typically went when he hit on a woman—not to toot his own horn, but women really dug the FBI thing—but, oh well. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see her again.

Most thankfully.

Vaughn caught sight of The Boarding House, the restaurant where he was meeting Simon and Isabelle, and pushed all thoughts of the cantankerous Ms. Doe from his mind. Although he’d been to the bar several times, which was known for its massive chandelier made out of nine thousand wineglasses, he’d never eaten in the main dining room on the third floor. The space, he saw, had been designed with exposed beams, hardwood floors, large bay windows, and what appeared to be thousands of wine bottles artfully installed in the ceiling.

He saw Simon seated at a booth by one of the windows next to a pretty woman in her mid-to-late twenties with strawberry blond hair.

So this was the mysterious Isabelle.

He headed over to their table. Simon stood up, gripped his shoulder in hello, and immediately made the introductions.

“Isabelle, this is my brother, Vaughn. Vaughn . . . this is Isabelle.”

“It’s a pleasure, Isabelle,” Vaughn said warmly, while shaking her hand. This was obviously a big deal for Simon, so he planned to be on his best behavior. Which meant he’d save all embarrassing anecdotes about his brother at least until the main course.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “Simon’s told me so much about you.”

“I had to edit a few of the stories, but she gets the gist,” Simon teased.

Chuckling, Vaughn sat down. He noticed the seat next to him had a place setting.

“Isabelle’s sister is coming tonight, too,” Simon explained.

“Meeting both families?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “This is getting serious.”

“Actually, Simon has already met Sidney,” Isabelle said. “But we thought it would be nice to have dinner with both of you tonight.”

Vaughn thought that seemed a little . . . interesting. Perhaps something was up? “The more the merrier.” He took a sip of water, checking out Simon’s big goofy smile over the top of his glass.

Something was up, all right.

“Ah, perfect timing. There’s Sidney now.” Isabelle waved excitedly at someone across the restaurant.

Vaughn had his back to the entrance, so he turned around to look.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

It was the cantankerous Ms. Doe.

Catching sight of him in that very same moment, she stopped dead in her tracks. Vaughn was pretty sure she muttered
Oh shit
under her breath.

His sentiments exactly.

Sidney quickly recovered and headed over.

Isabelle got up from the table and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She turned to Vaughn. “This is Simon’s brother, Vaughn. Vaughn, my sister, Sidney.”

Vaughn stood up and held out his hand. Given the circumstances, he had no intention of indicating that they’d previously met. “Nice to meet you, Sidney.”

Locking eyes with him, she seemed to be on the same page. She slid her hand into his. “You, too.”

“Sid,” Simon said, as if they were old friends. He came around the table and pulled her in for a big hug.

Then they all took their seats, Vaughn next to Sidney. He folded his hands on the table.
Well, isn’t this cozy?

Isabelle looked at Simon. He shrugged, still with the goofy smile. She turned back to Sidney and Vaughn, speaking in a rush. “Okay, I know we should wait, so that you two can get to know each other a little better, but I can’t help it. Simon and I have some news.”

“In that case, Vaughn and I are happy to fast-forward through the getting-to-know-each-other part,” Sidney said with a charming smile.

“Quite happy,” he agreed, matching her charm with his own.

“Aw, you guys are so sweet. Well, then, I guess there’s no sense beating around the bush . . . ” Isabelle sneaked a look at Simon and then threw out her hands. “We’re getting married!”

Vaughn’s mouth fell open at the same time Sidney covered hers with her hands.

“Oh my god,” Sidney said.

He wholeheartedly concurred with that sentiment. His brother had
proposed
after only knowing Isabelle for three months? He’d thought they were going to announce that they were moving in together, which would’ve been a significant milestone in its own right. But
marriage
?

Kind of a big deal, that.

“This is such wonderful news,” Sidney said. With a huge grin, she stood up to hug her sister.

Vaughn looked across the table and saw his brother watching him with obvious hesitation.

Seeing that . . . got to him.

Okay, yes. In his mind, proposing to a woman after only knowing her for three months was utterly crazy. How could anyone be that certain, in such a short amount of time, about spending the rest of his or her life with just one person? His eye twitched at the mere thought. No more chase. No more fun one-night stands. No more thinking about that threesome you’d had with what’s-her-name and her hot friend, and wondering if they might be up for it again some time.
Poof—
all of that gone, just like that.

But this was Simon’s decision, not his. And while Vaughn wasn’t entirely sure he understood what had motivated his brother to propose this quickly, he
did
know that he wasn’t going to be the asshole who spoiled such a big moment.

So he, too, got up from his chair. He grinned and slapped Simon on the back. “My little brother’s getting married. Holy shit.”

Simon laughed and pulled him in for a brotherly hug.

More congratulations followed—Sidney hugged Simon, Vaughn hugged Isabelle, Vaughn and Sidney kept a mutual safe distance from each other—and then they all took their seats.

“One of the reasons Isabelle and I wanted to tell you first is because we’d like you to be the best man and maid of honor at the wedding,” Simon said.

Isabelle wagged her finger jokingly. “So no fast-forwarding over the getting-to-know-each-other part. As the two most important people in our lives”—she gestured between her and Simon—“you two are going to be stuck together a lot.”

“How much fun is this going to be?” Simon asked enthusiastically.

Vaughn and Sidney eyed each other skeptically.

Right.

 • • • 

ALL THINGS CONSIDERED,
dinner went fairly smoothly.

Vaughn had to hand it to Sidney—the woman had a stellar poker face. She wasn’t overly chatty with him, but she didn’t ignore him, either. Her tone, and the things she said, were perfectly polite.

It certainly helped that for the first hour of dinner, he and Sidney were barely required to speak to each other at all. Almost immediately after Simon and Isabelle dropped their engagement news, a swirling vortex of bridal shower/wedding reception/honeymoon talk descended upon the Roberts/Sinclair party, ensnaring all in its path. In response, Vaughn did what any special agent would do when finding himself in a situation in which he was thoroughly out of his comfort zone—he maintained as low a profile as possible and kept his mouth shut.

But when the desserts arrived, Isabelle and Simon tried to spark more of a dialogue between their siblings.

“Do you feel like you’re settled in at your new office?” Simon asked Sidney. He turned to Vaughn to explain. “Sidney recently moved back here after living in New York for several years.”

“I’m getting there,” Sidney said. “We closed our fund last week, so now is the time when I really get to work.”

“What is it you do?” Vaughn asked.
Other than bust the balls of men who innocently try to hit on you, that is.

“I used to be an investment banker. But I switched over to the buy side—now I’m a director at a private equity firm.”

“Sounds impressive.” Actually, as an agent on the FBI’s white-collar crime squad, Vaughn was familiar enough with Sidney’s business to know two things: one, having landed a director position, she was very good at what she did, and, two, she made a ton of money for doing it. But
she
didn’t need to know he was impressed from a professional standpoint. He could easily picture her in her high-powered job, in her fancy office, buying companies and figuring out how to turn them around and sell them at a profit.

Under different circumstances, he probably would’ve found that image rather sexy.

“Vaughn’s a special agent with the FBI,” Isabelle told Sidney, keeping the conversation going.

Sidney looked him over, likely remembering his teasing offer to show her his badge. “What kind of cases do you work on?”

“I’m on the white-collar crime squad. I mostly investigate public corruption crimes.”

“Vaughn does a lot of undercover work,” Simon said proudly. “He’s one of the small percentage of agents who’ve gone through the FBI’s undercover school at Quantico.”

“I didn’t realize you guys actually had a school for that,” Sidney said.

“Me, either.” Isabelle looked intrigued. “Are there classrooms and everything?”

“Yes, but most of the time we were off campus, using a nearby town to make the situations feel more authentic,” Vaughn said. “It’s basically three weeks of role-playing undercover scenarios and learning how to react if things go wrong.”

“How cool,” Isabelle said. “Isn’t that interesting, Sid?”

“Fascinating.” Her tone a touch dry, Sidney took a long sip of her wine.

And so the dance continued.

Vaughn and Sidney navigated their way through the chitchat, all politeness and congeniality, for the rest of the evening. The only time that façade broke was for a brief moment outside the restaurant, after they’d finished dinner. Isabelle hung back to use the restroom after saying her good-byes, and Simon stepped away to give his ticket to the valet.

Leaving Sidney and Vaughn alone.

She walked over to a waiting taxi. Vaughn followed and, being a gentleman, opened the door for her.

“I would offer to split a cab, but I’m afraid me and my ‘obviously healthy ego’ would crowd you too much.” He added a smooth smile just in case Simon was watching.

“Been waiting to say that all night, have you?” she quipped.

“Trust me, it’s by far the most polite of all the things I’ve been waiting to say all night.” He gestured with his hand—
don’t let the taxi door hit you on the way out
—then watched as she climbed into the car.

The slit of her pencil skirt parted mid-thigh as she scooted in.

She glanced up and caught him looking.

Yeah, whatever.
Vaughn shut the door firmly.

Pill or not, the woman had some damn fine legs.

 • • • 

SIDNEY SHOOK HER
head as the cab drove away from the restaurant, still in disbelief that the guy with whom she’d had her snarky run-in at the coffee shop was Simon’s
brother
. Isabelle’s future brother-in-law.

Apparently it was just one of those fluke coincidences. She, being efficient, had scheduled her date with William at a coffee shop close to the restaurant where she was later set to meet Simon and Isabelle. According to the conversation she’d overheard between Vaughn and Simon, Vaughn had left work later than expected, without enough time to fight traffic all the way home and change out of his suit, so he’d decided to kill a half-hour at the same café.

Fate undoubtedly was cracking herself up over this one.

She pulled out her phone to text Trish, and then saw it was after ten o’clock. Thinking it was a little late to be gossiping with anyone who had a four-month-old baby at home, she decided to hold off until the morning.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of her home, a turn-of-the-century brownstone town house that had been gut-rehabbed by the previous owners. Sidney paid the fare, cut across the street, and then let herself in through the front door. She set down her purse and kicked off her heels, her mind playing through Vaughn’s last comment to her.

Trust me, it’s by far the most polite of all the things I’ve been waiting to say all night.

He was so . . . smug. Annoying, too. And even more annoying was the fact that he just
had
to be good-looking, with his interesting undercover job—
Ooh, look at me, I’m a hot FBI agent, I went to school to be this bad-ass
—blah, blah, blah. And now her sister was marrying his brother, which meant that she would be stuck bumping into this guy for eternity.

Wonderful.

A knock at the front door jolted Sidney out of her reverie. Not expecting any company at ten thirty on a Friday night, she checked the security camera that linked to her television.

Surprisingly, it was Isabelle.

Sidney opened the front door and let her sister inside. “Hey, you. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again tonight.”