The Wedding Favor (10 page)

It really wasn’t fair.

She tugged her hand. He laced his fingers through hers.

“Someone will see,” she whispered.

“We’re supposed to be flirting,” he whispered back.

“
Flirting
, not
hand-holding
. If my mother sees—”

“What’s she gonna do? Skin some more puppies?”

“
What?
My mother might be a hard ass, but she’d never hurt a puppy!”

“What are you two whispering about?” Isabelle asked.

Vicky’s head snapped around. “Puppies,” she stammered, “we were talking about puppies.”

Isabelle cooed. “Ty loves dogs, don’t you, Ty?”

“Yup, love ’em,” Ty drawled agreeably. “In fact, I’m thinking about getting a puppy on the ranch. Neighbor’s mutt just had a litter, and there’s a pretty little black and white who’s got her eye on me.” He took a pull on his coffee. “Gonna call her Spot. She’s got Dalmatian in her.”

Vicky’s lights went on. Dalmatian . . . puppy skins . . . She caught Ty’s eye. He grinned, and her lips curved.
Cruella de Vil.
Why hadn’t she ever thought of that?

A moment later, the villainess herself swept onto the terrace, Pierre one step behind her. Watching him pull out Adrianna’s chair, Vicky wondered if she was looking at her next stepfather, and sincerely hoped not. After the inevitable divorce, family Christmases would be hell.

The coffee made its way down the table, along with the basket of pastries. Adrianna plucked out a
chausson aux pommes
, cracked it in half, and took a dainty bite.

Ty leaned back in his chair, eyed her appraisingly. She caught his look, raised her eyebrows a bare fraction, returning his stare.

“How many calories in that thing?” he asked, poking his chin at her pastry. No one was listening but Vicky. Her palms popped a sweat.

“I have no idea,” Adrianna said stiffly.

He walked his eyes down to her waistline, then back up. He smiled blandly. “Just wonderin’.”

Adrianna’s nostrils flared, then pinched. For a long, pregnant moment, she stared wordlessly at Ty while Vicky held her breath.

Then Pierre touched her arm, asking a question, and, deliberately, Adrianna turned her back on Ty.

Vicky let herself breathe. Then Ty leaned in, touched his lips to her ear. “What I said last night about watching your weight? I was kidding. You know that, right? If anything, you could stand a few more pounds. Not that you need them. You’re pretty much perfect like you are.”

Her jaw dropped. Warmth flooded her chest. He was . . . amazing. With one speaking look he’d taken down Adrianna, and now he’d called her, Victoria Westin, perfect. She couldn’t find any words.

He poured some orange juice, put the glass in her free hand. “Drink that.” She took a sip. Then he leaned in close again, and quietly, he began to hum.

It took her a moment, but when she recognized Cruella de Vil’s theme song, Vicky lost it. Orange juice spurted, dribbling down her chin. Ty started laughing. So did she, blotting her chin with the napkin he handed her, laughing until her stomach hurt. Her mother glared at her, of course, but everyone else laughed along with them, not knowing why, simply catching their wave of amusement.

Ty’s fingers tightened on hers again. This time, she squeezed back.

Chapter Ten

“F
our hundred euros.” Adrianna dangled a silky peignoir. “I could get the same thing for half that in New York.”

“Then you should have bought it in New York.” Vicky flipped through the rack. “I don’t understand why you waited until you were over here anyway. We could be sitting at a café now, drinking lattes and watching gorgeous Frenchmen stroll by.”

Adrianna arched one perfectly shaped brow. “Since when are you interested in man watching?”

Vicky arched a brow back at her. “Since I was thirteen. Just because I didn’t share it with you doesn’t mean I wasn’t interested.”

Adrianna continued to eye her. “Your attitude today leaves much to be desired.”

Ignoring her, Vicky pulled out a gauzy number, held it up at arm’s length.

Adrianna shook her head. “Isabelle is silk or satin.”

“How do you know what Isabelle is? And isn’t it a little creepy for you to be buying fuckwear for your daughter-in-law?”

Adrianna inhaled sharply. “Where did
that
language come from?” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s that Tyrell Brown, isn’t it? This foolish charade is throwing you together too much.”

“Ty’s never used the term ‘fuckwear.’ ” Vicky said it again for shock value. “He’s actually very nice.” It was almost worth putting up with him just to get under her mother’s skin.

Adrianna sniffed. “He’s a
cowboy
. A
Texan
, for heaven’s sake.”

“He’s also smart and funny. And he can be a whole lot kinder than the men I’ve met in New York.” When he wants to be, she added to herself. When he wants to be, he can be amazing.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Do
not
get involved with him, Victoria. Remember that our client’s appeal is on the line here. And remember that I’m tolerating this facade only on the condition that you reconcile with Winston.”

“I haven’t forgotten about the appeal.” How could she, when it hung over her head like a storm cloud? “But
your
memory is obviously slipping, because I didn’t promise to reconcile with Winston. I said I’d give him another chance to convince me he’s not pond slime. If he doesn’t succeed”—and he wouldn’t—“we won’t be reconciling.”

“Victoria—”

Out on the plaza, the church bell began to toll noon. Vicky headed for the door. “I’ll go tell Lil you’ll be joining us after you pay for the fuckwear.”

Outside, the plaza bustled with pedestrians crisscrossing the cobblestones, poking into shops, settling down for lunch under the brightly colored awnings that shaded the tables at every café. Brilliant sunlight bounced off windows, and off the tourists’ pricey sunglasses.

They’d arranged to meet Lil at one of the cafés for lunch. Vicky found her in the farthest seat from the street, still wearing her hat and sunglasses despite being almost invisible in the awning’s deepest shade. So far, she’d kept her pregnancy out of the press, but in a world where cell phones turned everyone into paparazzi, it was only a matter of time.

“I ordered sparkling water,” Lil said, greeting her with a smile, “but please go ahead and order wine. I’m jealous, but I’ll deal with it.”

“Okay, twist my arm.” Vicky signaled for a
pichet
with two glasses.

“Cute sundress.”

“Thanks.” It was daffodil with interlocking white rings, and white spaghetti straps that left her shoulders bare. Vicky shook back her unbound hair, enjoying the sweep of it across her skin.

“I remember sundresses,” Lil said. “Like I remember wine. And coffee.” She gave a rueful smile, shifted her hips into a more comfortable position. “So. Ty told Jack the whole story. The trial. The fake flirtation. How’s it going?”

Vicky bit her lip, deciding how much to say. Lil seemed nice, but still. Ty was Jack’s best friend, Isabelle’s former boyfriend, and he was close to Lil as well. Vicky wasn’t inclined to share her conflicting thoughts about him.

“I guess you could say I’m making the best of it. It really pisses off my mother, so that’s a plus.”

“Why is she pissed? Will there be a problem because of the case?”

“It’s hard to say. She’s afraid I’ll succumb to Ty’s charms, which would definitely be a conflict of interest. Completely unethical. We’d have to withdraw from handling the appeal. But since that isn’t going to happen, the only possible problem would be if someone back in the States found out that we’re sharing a house with him. That would create the appearance of impropriety—which is lawyer talk for ‘It would look bad’—so we’d have to withdraw anyway.” She shrugged. “But it’s unlikely anyone will find out, so I don’t foresee any problems on that front.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Vicky smiled. “Lawyers make everything sound complicated. That way we can charge more. But it boils down to this. Sharing a house
looks
bad; sex
is
bad. But since sex is
not
going to happen, there really isn’t anything to worry about.”

The waiter brought their drinks. Vicky took a sip of the delicious house red. “Mmm. Feels decadent to drink wine this early in the day.”

“Not decadent. French.” Lil cast a longing look at Vicky’s glass, then poured more sparkling water. “So, if the case won’t be a problem, why is your mother pissed?”

“Because she’s afraid I’m going to fall for Ty, and she wants me back together with my former fiancé.”

“The cheating snake oil salesman?”

Vicky sputtered her wine. “How’d you know?”

“That’s how Ty described him. Why does she want you back together with him?”

It was a question she often asked herself. “She claims it’s for financial security, so I won’t have to struggle like she did. And she did struggle, I know that. My dad came from an old, established family that ran through its money a few generations ago. He was a lawyer and he gave us a nice life, but when he died, all he left was some life insurance. Mother had to get a job.”

Vicky took another sip. “She grew up with the country club set. Never expected to work, much less support a child on her own. So she got married again pretty quickly—mostly for financial reasons—and used the life insurance to put herself through law school. When she graduated—summa cum laude—she went to work for the firm where my dad had worked. And she cut husband number two loose.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I know that sounds mercenary. But I can’t judge her too hard because she did it, at least in part, for me.” She twisted her lips. “But numbers three and four, they’re on her. I could never understand why she married either one of them. All I know is that it wasn’t for money. She’s made plenty of her own by working hard and investing well.”

She shrugged again. “Maybe she was lonely, I don’t know. But whatever her reasons were, I keep reminding her that it’s the twenty-first century and I’m already a lawyer. I don’t need a man to take care of me. And I certainly don’t need a cheating snake oil salesman.”

She cut a glance at Lil. “Sorry to unload on you.”

“Hey, I know what it’s like when a parent interferes in your love life. My uncle Pierre wasn’t always a fan of Jack’s. He had someone else in mind for me, someone he thought would take care of me.” She shrugged. “He came around eventually, and now we’re closer than ever. I hope that happens for you and your mother too. Try to remember that she wouldn’t be butting in if she didn’t love you.”

Vicky stifled a snort. “That’s hard to believe when she’s trying to control me. And she’s
always
trying to control me.” She glanced toward the lingerie shop. “Here she comes.” She topped off her wine. “I like this drinking with lunch thing. Now if I can just get her drunk too . . .”

She filled Adrianna’s glass, slid it in front of her as she sat down.

“Hello, Lilianne.” Adrianna tucked her shopping bag between her feet, quirked that damn eyebrow at Vicky. “Wine with lunch?”

“When in France . . .” Vicky saluted with her glass, then took another pull.

“Hmm.” Adrianna took a delicate sip. “Very nice. For house wine.”

“The house wines are usually local,” Lil said. “They’re often as good as any on the wine list.”

“I’m sure you’re right, dear.” Adrianna sounded anything but sure, and Vicky’s jaw clenched. If her mother insulted Lil . . .

But Adrianna relaxed into her chair. The waiter appeared and they ordered omelets and frites. As he walked away, Vicky found herself staring at his ass. Nice and tight. Like Ty’s.

Oh God, where did that come from? Maybe she should lay off the wine. Every time she got buzzed she started lusting after him. It wasn’t fair that he was hot. Hot and annoying. Annoyingly hot.

She took another swallow.

Adrianna and Lil began talking pregnancy. She tuned them out, let her gaze wander around the plaza, soaking in the colors. Window boxes overflowed with geraniums in scarlet and salmon and white; parti-colored umbrellas shaded groups of tourists drinking wine and eating omelets at the tables across the way.

What a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

Then Adrianna mentioned Ty’s name. Vicky’s ears perked up. This couldn’t be good.

“ . . . close friends with your husband?”

Lil nodded. “Jack and Ty go way back. Jack’s parents had a place in the hill country, not far from Ty’s ranch.”

“Yes, I heard about his ranch. Growing up in the East, I can’t quite picture it.” Adrianna’s voice lilted at the end, making it a question.

“It’s a big operation,” said Lil. Vicky heard pride in her tone. “His parents built it up from practically nothing, with help from Ty and his brother, Cody. Then his folks retired and Cody left for med school—he’s a doctor in Boston now—and Ty took over the whole thing. He runs a lot of cattle and about thirty head of horses, prime bloodstock. The ranch house is a hundred years old, very traditional and really lovely. He and Lissa were updating it when she died.”

“Did you know her?”

“No, but Jack did and he told me a lot about her.”

“But you’re friendly with Brown? He seems like an interesting man.” Adrianna lilted again.

Lil smiled. “If you’ve talked to Ty for ten minutes you know all there is to know about him. He’s funny, loyal, hardworking—though he likes to pretend he’s lazy. And he’s brilliant. When he finished his Ph.D., UT offered him an assistant professorship. He thought about it because he really liked teaching, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the ranch. Even though he’s lonely there.” She looked down at her glass. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that out loud, but it’s not a secret.”

No, it wasn’t. With everything else Tyrell was—and Vicky could add a few things to the list, like sarcastic, irritating, and, okay, sexy—his loneliness underlay it all. Beneath his easygoing manner, he held himself just a little bit apart.

Except when they were dancing. Then he was fully present. Not to mention erect.

“So young to lose his wife,” her mother was saying. “I know how hard that is. I lost my husband when I was twenty-seven. If not for Victoria, I don’t know if I could have gone on.”

Vicky’s eyes widened. Her mother sounded sincere, even emotional. The wine must be hitting her, because she never spoke about her feelings. At least not to her daughter.

Lil bought into it, tearing up. “Sorry, I’m a faucet these days.” She dabbed her eyes with her napkin, placed the other hand on her stomach, fingers spread protectively. “I cry over commercials. And forget the news, Jack won’t let me watch it anymore. It takes him an hour to quiet me down.”

“I was the same way with both of mine. It’s the hormones, it passes.” Adrianna patted Lil’s hand as Vicky looked on, amazed. Who was this woman, and what had she done with Cruella de Vil?

“Anyway,” Lil went on, “Ty’s a great guy. The best.” She smiled through misty eyes. “If I’d met him first, I probably would’ve fallen in love with him. He’s sweet and thoughtful. One of those guys who treats every woman like a princess.”

Vicky waited for the punch line. When it didn’t come, she stifled a snort. At no time had Tyrell Brown ever treated her like a princess, at least not when he wasn’t faking it for an audience. Maybe pregnancy was affecting Lil’s memory.

Or maybe Ty really hated her. Maybe those fleeting moments when he’d been sweet were completely phony.

Maybe . . . no,
definitely
. . . she shouldn’t believe a single word he said.

“N
ot bad for a guy who hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours.” Ricky handed off his clubs to the caddy. He’d arrived at the chateau just as they were leaving for the golf course.

“Saved our asses,” Ty said, sincerely. He’d paired with Ricky, who’d led them to a three-stroke victory over Jack and Matt. “I never could play worth a damn, and I’ve gotten worse with age.”

Matt was too pleased with life to care that his best man had beaten him. “Get you next time,” he said, clapping Ricky’s back. “Let’s head back to the chateau. The chef’s whipping up some fancy sandwiches.”

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Ricky wanted to know.

“Rehearsal at six,” Matt said, leading the way to the parking lot. “Hors d’oeuvres at eight at a restaurant in town. Open bar. Some kind of fancy cake. Isabelle set it all up, so it’ll be great.”

Back at the chateau, Ty grabbed a jambon and brie panini and a shower. Then he dug out his iPad and headed down to find a shady spot in the garden and check his e-mail. His foreman, Joe, ran the ranch with minimal interference from the boss, but occasionally things came up that Ty needed to know about. And he liked to keep tabs on his folks. Make sure they hadn’t been arrested.

The day was unseasonably warm. Cutting through the kitchen, he got his hands on a cold beer, then ambled out onto the terrace.

And stopped in his tracks.

Annemarie lay stretched out on a chaise, sunning herself in a hot pink bikini the size of two Cheez-Its and a Triscuit. A half-empty pitcher of sangria sweated on the table beside her.

Spotting him before he could retreat, she sat up abruptly, breasts bouncing like basketballs. Expecting—okay, hoping for—a clothing malfunction, he froze, not daring to blink. But her spaghetti straps must have concealed steel cables, because they didn’t snap like they should have under that kind of strain.