The Wedding Favor (5 page)

“Ha. The Chippendales wear tuxes every night.”

“Yeah, but not for long.” She heard the grin in his voice. “Probably wouldn’t work out though. That G-string looks painful.”

“How would you know?” She rolled her eyes again. “Did Oprah have the Chippendales on her show?”

“Maybe she did.”

He stepped around in front of her, jeans in place, and she had to admit they looked almost as good as the tux. All male, all Texan, Ty could sell stock in faded Levi’s.

He grabbed his T-shirt off a hook, and while he tugged it over his head she allowed herself one long last look at the shoulders, the chest, the rippling abs that she’d never handle again. Then she put them out of her mind.

“Hungry?”

“As a grizzly.”

Out on the sidewalk, he draped his arm over her shoulders, she wound hers around his waist, and they meandered through the bustling streets, finding their way to the Seine, then out onto the Pont Royal, pausing in the center of the bridge to lean on the wide stone rail and drink in the view. Twilight had given way to night. City lights glittered off the water.

Ty drew a deep breath. “I do love Paris in the summertime.” He looked over at her. “You miss living here?”

She turned in a slow circle, soaking it up; the ribbon of river curving into the distance, traversed by a dozen bridges, the Parisians hustling home with baguettes under their arms or walking arm-in-arm toward the lights of Left Bank cafés, the Eiffel Tower spearing the darkened sky.

“Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is. There’s nothing like this in Manhattan.” She sighed. “Ah well. Once I’m married, I’ll officially be a New Yorker.”

He grinned. “You don’t sound like a New
Yawker
. Still got that sexy-French-girl thing goin’ on.”

She elbowed him lightly. Then checked her watch. “It’s time.”

All at once, the white lights that sheathed the Eiffel Tower erupted into their insane twinkling dance, twenty thousand of them reflecting off every window and windshield in Paris, sparkling off the river’s surface, multiplied a trillionfold.

For five minutes they watched, bedazzled, until the twinkling ceased. Then Ty sighed, a contented sound. “I never get tired of that.”

Catching his hand, Isabelle tugged him toward the Left Bank. “Come on, I know a café where we can watch it all night. We’ll drink wine and I’ll tell you all about Matt.”

He let her tow him along, but he let out a groan. “Just how a man wants to spend his evening, hearing about the guy who took his place.”

“Hey, you dumped me, remember?”

“I remember the dumping as mutual.”

“But you said it first.”

“Only because you were too nice to say it.”

She gave up. You couldn’t win an argument with Ty.

They squeezed into a table just outside the door. It was intimate, with enough warm light spilling out to read each other’s expressions.

Around them, couples and groups of young people conversed in animated French. Ty checked them out. “People sound more interesting when I can’t understand them,” he mused. “I can imagine they’re talking about philosophy, or art. Or sex.”

She cocked her head, listening. “Strange, I don’t hear anyone discussing the perception of sexual experience under the competing doctrines of rationalism and empiricism.” She fluttered her lashes at him, prompting a chuckle. “But those two”—she poked her chin at a middle-aged couple—“are married . . . but not to each other.”

His ears perked up. “So they’re talking about sex?”

“Yes, they are. And no, I won’t translate.”

His face fell. “You’re a cruel woman, Isabelle. I love you, but you’re heartless.”

Unexpectedly, emotion swamped her. It happened at the oddest moments as the wedding drew near and her feelings ran high, triggered this time by the woeful look on Ty’s face. He was joking, of course, but she’d seen real sorrow there too often to forget it. And now he was hurting all over again, thanks to the trial. He wouldn’t say much about it except that he’d won and that the other lawyer was a bitch on wheels, but she knew it was heavy on his mind.

She also knew that she’d been his only real girlfriend in the seven years since Lissa died, so she was worried about how he’d handle her wedding, especially coming hard on the heels of the trial. Resting her fingers on the back of his hand, she said softly, “Thank you for coming, Ty. Thank you for standing up with me on my wedding day.”

He turned his hand over, laced his fingers through hers. Replied just as softly, “Sugar, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Then, predictably, he looked away. Beckoned to the waiter, and tried out his pitiful French. “
Vin rouge, un pichet, s’il vous plaît
.” He winked at Isabelle. “How’d I do?”

She squeezed his hand. Ty was more sensitive than any man she knew, but he liked to think it didn’t show. She loved him too much to call him on it, so she winked back. “
Très bien, mon ami.
” Then she ordered steak frites for him, an omelet for herself.

“You look thin,” she said after the waiter had gone.

He shrugged. “Lost my appetite for a while, with the trial and all. But I’m still big and bad.” He rotated his wrist, making his biceps jump. “You can stroke that baby if you want to.”

She jabbed it with a finger. “You always had the best arms.”

“Uh-oh, sounds like past tense.” He wagged his head mournfully. “Guess you found a guy with bigger guns. That explains a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you’re sprinting to the altar when you just met him six months ago.”

“Seven months.” She giggled. “Actually seven months and eight days.”

He rolled his eyes. “I guess you better tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s a stockbroker. Very successful, and soooo cute. He’s tall—”

“Whoa. Not taller than me? ’Cause I’d hate to have to kill him before the wedding.”

“You’re taller,” she assured him. Men’s egos were so fragile. “Anyway, he has blond hair and blue eyes like me, so it’s almost guaranteed that our children will too. He’s sweet and funny and
brilliant
, and I just want to gobble him up!” She beamed like the sun.

O
ut of nowhere, it punched him in the chest. Jealousy. Not of Matt, but of the wholehearted, full-bodied love that radiated from Isabelle. Lissa had glowed that way for him. Now, with a yearning so deep and strong it took his breath away, Ty wanted to feel that again, that bright-as-the-sun love shining just for him.

Christ, it hurt like a broken rib.

He sucked a breath, shook it off. Reminded himself that tonight was about Isabelle.

“So, where’d you meet him?”

“At Tiffany’s, how perfect is that? I was walking down Fifth Avenue and I happened to notice this really cute guy, and he kind of smiled at me too. And I went into Tiffany’s just to browse, you know how I like to do that. And he came in too. He was looking for a gift for his mother, and he asked my advice.”

Ty groaned. “Honey, you fell for that?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Seriously, Ty, he bought her a beautiful bracelet that I recommended. Anyway, by then it was lunchtime, so he asked if I knew a good place for Thai, and of course I did, just a few blocks away. I explained where it was, but he got confused—he’s terrible with directions. So he asked me to show him. Then he invited me to stay for lunch. And voilà”—she spread her hands—“while we were eating, I fell in love.”

Ty started to laugh. The wine appeared and the waiter poured it, and still Ty laughed, holding his side. He kept laughing until she socked him in the biceps.

“It’s not funny,” she huffed. “It was fate. I always find something I love in Tiffany’s, and that day I found him.”

It was so Isabelle.

“Where’s God’s gift tonight?” For the first time, Ty was looking forward to meeting him.

“His mother arrived today. His sister too.” She frowned. “They don’t always get along, so Matt’s having dinner with them. To keep the peace.”

“So he’s all that, and brave to boot. You did good, sweetheart.” He sipped his wine contentedly. He’d laughed the jealousy out of his system. Now he could enjoy her happiness wholeheartedly. “So, when do the festivities begin?”

“Tomorrow night, with cocktails and a buffet for the families and the wedding party. A few friends too.”

The food arrived and Ty cut into his steak, chewing the first bloody bite while Isabelle ticked off the schedule on her fingers.

“The rehearsal’s Friday evening. Some of the guests are arriving that day, so instead of dinner with the wedding party, we’re doing heavy hors d’oeuvres for everyone at eight. The wedding’s at four on Saturday, with the reception afterwards. We’ll have a harpist during the ceremony, then a band at the reception. I’m hoping Jack will sing a few songs.” She lilted it into a question, which meant she was hoping Ty would ask him. He nodded, and she went on. “Then Sunday there’s a brunch at noon before Matt and I leave for Greece.”

He swirled his wine. “Lots of logistics. How can I help?”

“I’m glad you asked.” She met his eyes with her big baby blues. “It’s simple, really. I need you to make sure everyone has a good time. That’s very important to me, Ty. The most important thing of all.”

She blinked slowly a few times, a mesmerizing experience he could never resist.

“The thing is,” she went on, “Matt’s mother is . . . well . . . she can be hard to get along with. I’m hoping you can charm her. Keep her in a good mood.”

“Got it.” He pretended to make a note. “Number one, charm Matt’s bitchy mama. What else?”

“Well, the person she’s bitchiest to is Matt’s sister. So I’d like you to make a special effort to be nice to her. You’ll like her. She’s smart and beautiful and really sweet.”

“Number two, be nice to Matt’s sweet, pretty sister. Sounds like work, but I’ll give it a go.”

She smiled innocently. “She’s getting over a bad breakup. So if you want to be
especially
nice to her . . .”

He smirked. “A sweet girl on the rebound at a wedding. Why, honey, you’re wasting my talents. Any amateur can hit that.”

She dropped the smile, leveled a look at him. “That’s exactly my point, Ty. She’s vulnerable. I’m putting her in
your
hands because you’ll be careful with her.”

He scratched his head. “Now you’re confusing me. Which is it? Do you want me to be ‘especially nice’ or ‘careful’? ’Cause they don’t always overlap, if you know what I mean.”

Her frustrated hiss made him bite back a grin. “Just find the place where they
do
overlap and work with it. Seriously, Ty, it’s important to Matt, and to me, that she has a good time.”

He knew she wasn’t worried only about Matt’s sister. She was also worried about him, about his inability to move past Lissa’s death and connect with another woman. He didn’t want her thinking about that this weekend, and if it took faking a flirtation for a few days to make her happy, he’d do it with bells on.

He squeezed her hand to let her know he’d been teasing. “She will. Everybody will, I promise you that. You just leave it to me.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.” Then she frowned again. “I wish she and her mother got along. It seemed like such a great idea for all of us to stay in the same house together—”

Ty held up a hand. “Whoa there, honey, what do you mean we’re all staying in the same house? What about that five-star hotel you promised me?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Papa rented a chateau.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Moving the wedding at the last minute—”

“You moved the wedding?” His heart started to thump. “It’s supposed to be here. In Paris.”

“Oops.” She giggled. “I guess I left you off the e-mail loop. Papa pulled some strings and we got permission to use the castle! It only came through two weeks ago, so I’ve been going crazy changing all the plans—”

“Isabelle. Honey.” He hung on by a thread. “Where’s the wedding gonna be?”

“About two hours from here—”

“What’s the name of the town?”

“Amboise.” She touched his hand. “Ty, do you feel all right? Are you going to throw up?”

Chapter Five

T
y should have loved Amboise. The cobbled streets, the mythical castle. The bare-legged French girls strolling in the plaza, drenched in lemony sunshine.

He had too much on his mind to appreciate any of it.

After pulling himself together at the café the night before, he’d gently questioned Isabelle and confirmed his fears—Matt’s sister was none other than Victoria fucking Westin. Bridesmaid to his groomsman.

He hadn’t told Isabelle, not after swearing an oath to make sure everyone had fun at the wedding. And he’d vowed to himself that if Victoria hadn’t already discovered the connection, he’d force her to keep her mouth shut too.

If he had to wring her scrawny neck to make her do it, well, any excuse for a party.

The first order of business was to find out if she was expecting him. He got his answer the minute she laid eyes on him.

Skimming down the chateau’s staircase in a sky blue sundress, her yellow hair swirling around bare shoulders, lips curved in a lighthearted smile, she spotted him at the front door and her eyes bugged out. Her jaw unhinged.

She slammed on the brakes, tried to turn around, tangled her feet, and toppled down the last two steps.

Matt and Isabelle, lip-locked on the porch behind him, didn’t notice until she hit the floor. By then Ty had shot forward.

Dropping on one knee, he blocked their view. “Pretend you don’t know me,” he hissed under his breath. Her mouth flapped in confusion. “Just fucking do it,” he snarled. “I’ll explain later.”

Then raising his voice, he crooned solicitously. “Honey, you took quite a tumble there.”

Matt dropped down at his side. “Vicky! Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond, just goggled at Ty. After a moment, Matt followed her gaze, suspicion narrowing his eyes.

Ty feigned concern. “She’s just discombobulated. Isn’t that right, Vicky?”

When Matt’s gaze swiveled back to her, Ty bared his teeth. She blinked. Then her eyes narrowed. Her jaw hardened.

And she was back, the bitch on wheels.

“I’m fine,” she said, sitting up. “Matt, would you get me some water?”

“Sure.” Matt helped her stand, then headed for the kitchen. Isabelle followed him, throwing an encouraging wink at Ty.

Alone, Ty and Vicky faced off. “You’ve got ten seconds,” she fired.

“Show me the gardens.”

“
What?
”

“When they get back, offer to show me the goddamn gardens.”

“I’m not showing you anything but the door!”

She started to spin away but he stepped in front of her. Forced himself to be civil. “Give me five minutes, for your brother’s sake. Then you can tattle if you want to.”

She glared at him. He glowered at her. Tension crackled.

Then footsteps sounded.

Rocking back on his heels, Ty shifted from menacing to flirtatious. “Why sure, Vicky. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d love to see the gardens. Isabelle told me about them.”

She took the water Matt handed her, gave Ty the fish eye over the rim. He sweated while she sipped.

Then, deliberately, she said, “I need to talk to you, Matt. Don’t disappear, okay? I’ll be back in five minutes.”

S
triding down the hallway, Vicky could feel Ty breathing down her neck. She wanted to turn around and punch him.

Why the hell was he here, anyway? And what was this charade about? Did it have something to do with his
friendship
with Isabelle? Hadn’t he said they were “friends with benefits”? Was he planning to cuckold her brother on the eve of his wedding? Did he really think she’d stand still for that?

With every step, fury built. When the back door shut behind them, she swung around. “Tyrell Brown—”

Quick as a snake, he clapped a hand over her mouth. “Keep it zipped till I tell you to talk.” His glance found the pergola and he hauled her underneath where they couldn’t be seen.

When he let her go, she slapped both hands on his chest and gave him a shove. “What the
hell
is
wrong
with you?” Mad enough to spit, she stepped in to shove him again but he cuffed her wrists and stuck his furious face right down in hers.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me. You, that’s what. You’re like a goddamn parasite, or athlete’s fucking foot. I can’t get rid of you.”

“Sure you can! Just leave! Because if you’re thinking about boinking Isabelle under my brother’s nose—”

“
Boinking
Isabelle?” He cast off her wrists, disgust on his face. “You can think what you want about me, but Isabelle wouldn’t cheat on anybody, she’s not built like that. And she’s crazy about your stupid brother.”

She set her jaw. “My brother is
not
stupid. He’s perfect, and he deserves the best. So if you ruin this wedding—”

“The last thing I want is to ruin this wedding, which is why I’m standing here talking when I’d rather be choking you.”

She folded her arms. “So talk.”

He heaved a breath, visibly throttled back his temper. “Look, until last night I had no idea that Matthew J. Donohue the Third was your brother. And Isabelle never told me she moved the wedding out here. I thought it was in Paris.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “Hell, if I’d known you and me were headed for the same place, I’d have jumped out of the plane.”

She snorted. Did he think this was buttering her up?

He ignored the snort. “The thing is, Isabelle’s got her heart set on everybody getting along and having fun this weekend. She asked me to see to it, and I promised her I would.”

Vicky barked a laugh. “You, the life of the party? Puh-leeze.”

His lips thinned. “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t know jack shit about me and you never will. But on this one thing, I’m pretty sure we agree. We both want Matt and Isabelle to enjoy their wedding, which they won’t do if they’re worried about us killing each other. So I’m asking you to be nice to me. That’s all. You don’t have to mean it. And I’ll be nice to you.”

Be nice. Right. In the last forty-eight hours, Tyrell Brown had frozen her out, scared her senseless, gotten her hornier than she’d ever been in her life and then
rejected
her, snarled at her like a wolf, and now he was strong-arming her. And he expected her to be
nice
to him for the next four days? While he pretended to be nice to her? It was the stupidest idea she’d ever heard.

Still, she wanted Matt’s wedding to be perfect.

“Even if I agreed to this idiotic scheme, Matt knows me better than anyone. I doubt I could fool him.”

“Yeah, well, Isabelle knows me pretty well too. We’ll just have to be convincing.” He crossed his arms. “She expects me to flirt with you. And she’ll expect you to flirt back.”

“Impossible.”

He curled his lip. “Trust me, I can flirt with a stump.”

“Oh, that I believe.” She curled her lip back at him. “I’m just not sure I can flirt with a moron.”

S
o little Miss Smarty-Pants had some smartass in her. Good for her. Ty paused a beat, let her relish it. Then took her down with one cheap shot.

“I guess that’s why Mommy sent you to law school,” he drawled. “She knew you’d make a shitty actress.”

Watching the color drain from her cheeks, he almost felt bad for her. Then, when she pulled herself right back together, he almost admired her. But when she pointed her chin at him, that’s when he knew he’d suckered her in.

Still, her snotty comeback had him itching to strangle her.

“Anything
you
can do,” she sneered down her nose, “
I
can do better.” And she flipped him the bird and stalked off.

He wanted to go after her. Oh God, did he want to. Every instinct howled to shake her till her eyes jiggled, then flip her over his knee for the striping she had coming.

Heroically, he fought off the urge. Told himself he’d won the round.

But damn it, it grated that she got the last word in. The woman was unbearable. He hated her guts.

And the next time he saw her, he’d have to be
nice
to her. God help him.

T
ake that, Tyrell Brown
, Vicky thought for the umpteenth time since she’d met him.

You watch. I’ll win an Oscar, a goddamn Oscar, for my seamless portrayal of a young woman falling hopelessly in love with a half-wit. I’ll be so convincing that you’ll believe it too. And then, when you fall for me, because you will, oh yes you will, then
I’ll
reject
you.
Ha! I’ll dump you at breakfast on Sunday morning, in front of everyone, and I’ll let them think it’s because we slept together Saturday night—which we won’t—and you were a crappy lover. I won’t say it, I’ll imply it, but everyone will think—

She stopped stalking in mid-stride and let out a groan. Everyone . . . including her mother.

Oh God, her mother.

Adrianna had ruined dinner the night before, picking apart Vicky’s trial tactics until Matt finally put his foot down. Now Vicky had to tell her that the plaintiff would be rooming with them for the weekend. Adrianna would immediately realize that they risked being disqualified from handling the appeal, and she’d be pissed. Maybe pissed enough to cause a stink, get Ty tossed out of the house, and make Matt and Isabelle miserable.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Matt was standing where she’d left him, at the foot of the stairs snuggling Isabelle.

“Have you seen Mother?”

“She’s up in her room,” he said. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Uh, actually I wanted to say a proper hello to Isabelle.” She flashed a smile at her almost-sister-in-law.

Isabelle smiled back, then cut to the chase. “What do you think of Ty?”

“Gorgeous.” That much was true. “So, how do you know him?” she asked casually, curious whether Matt knew Ty and Isabelle had been intimate.

“Through Jack. They’ve been friends forever. To hear them tell it, they tore up most of Texas.” She giggled, then must have worried she was hitting the wrong note, because she sobered abruptly. “Ty’s very sensitive. He lost his wife seven years ago, and he’s never gotten over it. But I think he’ll settle down again when he finds the right woman.”

“Has he had any girlfriends since his wife died?”

“Only me. We dated for a few months, then decided we were better off as friends.”

So Matt was okay with it. She felt a little bad for putting Isabelle on the spot, but she’d do worse to protect her brother. Even pretend she could stand Tyrell Brown.

Isabelle cleared her throat and got back on message. “He has a huge ranch in the Texas Hill Country. Cattle and horses, fifteen cowhands. He runs the whole thing from horseback. And he’s brilliant too. He even has a Ph.D.” She nodded along, trying to pull Vicky in. “His wife was passionate about abused animals, so he’s planning to use this big verdict he won to start an animal rescue ranch in her memory. Isn’t that sweet?”

Yes, it was. She hated to admit it, but the man was interesting. A study in contrasts—philosopher cowboy, monogamous womanizer. Sensitive jackass.

“Sounds like quite a guy,” she said, and Isabelle smiled, so obviously pleased with her matchmaking that Vicky found herself smiling back. Damn it, she loved Isabelle. If it made her happy to think that Vicky and Ty were hitting it off, then the least she could do was fake it for four days.

“I have to talk to Mother,” she said, though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Matt rubbed her arm. “Want me to tag along?”

“No, I’ve got this.” She grinned. “Go enjoy your last premarital sex.”

“H
ere?” Adrianna froze, her lips half glossed. She stared at Vicky in the bureau’s mirror. “Tyrell Brown is here?”

Vicky had seldom seen her mother stunned, but really, who could have envisioned a coincidence like this?

“Yes. And he asked me to pretend I don’t know him.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.” She explained the situation, watching Adrianna’s eyes narrow in the mirror.

“Does Matt know they were lovers?”

Vicky nodded. “Everything’s on the up and up in that respect. Tyrell’s just trying to spare them the stress of knowing that we’re adversaries. He thinks it’ll ruin the wedding for them. And I have to agree with him on that.” Although she hated to agree with him on anything.

Adrianna angled her head, a calculating look. “What’s he willing to do to keep us quiet?”

Victoria stared. “What do you mean, what’s he willing to do? Like, settle his case to avoid the appeal? Are you kidding?”

Adrianna blinked at her. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you thought it. God, Mother. That’s beyond unethical. It’s criminal.”

“Oh please.” Adrianna finished glossing her lips. “It was just a passing thought. And don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind too.”

“It most certainly did not.” Vicky stalked to the window, stared out at the castle’s battlements, simmering.

“Well.” Adrianna capped her lip gloss, fluffed her platinum hair. “If I’m going to cooperate with this charade, I want something from someone. Since you’re not willing to squeeze Brown, then
you’ll
have to bribe me.”

Victoria turned slowly. “Bribe you not to ruin Matt’s wedding?”

Adrianna eyed her in the mirror. “Perhaps I’m uncomfortable deceiving my son.”

Vicky dismissed that with a snort. “This is a new low, Mother. Threatening Matt’s happiness to coerce something from me.”

“A good attorney turns a setback into an advantage.”

“We’re not in court,” Vicky snapped. “We’re your children, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, and the well-being of both of my children is important to me.” She ignored Victoria’s eye roll. “If we’re not careful here, we could end up having to pull out of the appeal. So I’m turning what could prove to be a professional and financial setback for myself and the firm into an opportunity to promote your happiness as well as Matt’s.”

“Oh really? And how, exactly, are you going to promote my happiness?”

“You’d be happy with Winston.”

Vicky’s fists clenched. “Don’t go there, Mother. The weasel cheated on me. We were
engaged
and he
screwed another woman
.”