A Calculated Romance (4 page)

She parked in front of her apartment building.  The side street in Venice still had room for a few cars.  For the second time with Jim, she felt ashamed of her run down dwelling in a shabby part of town.  She told herself that she could afford the rent, so she had no reason to be embarrassed.

She'd just stopped when James tapped on her window.  She unlocked the car and turned off the ignition as he opened her door.  He helped her from the vehicle and escorted her around the building to her apartment.  Without her realizing, he'd somehow procured her keys from her clenched hand.

"I want to come up and make sure everything's safe," he said in a voice that sounded like a military command.  Bending the wills of others to his own seemed his specialty.

"All right."  The words slipped from Ireland's lips without any thought.  She'd never had a man in her apartment, and she regretted her answer almost immediately.

James slipped the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and fumbled for the light switch before climbing the private stairwell to her unit.  She followed, worrying what he might think of her tiny place.  By the time she reached the top of the steps, he'd already turned on the lights and had his head in her closet.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to the door at the back of the wardrobe.

How embarrassing.

"That's the bathroom."

James pushed through the racks that lined each side of the closet and opened the bathroom door.  Her apartment had a strange layout.  She heard the shower curtain rings slide along their metal rod as he checked to make sure no intruder hid there.  Then, he returned to the living area and headed for her small bedroom, popping his head inside. 

"All clear," he announced with a smile, back in the main room.

"Thank you," she said, moving towards the stairs.

In an instant, James joined her, catching her wrist and pulling her back towards him.  He took both her hands in his but kept a safe distance between them, holding her startled gaze for several seconds.

"I had a great time tonight, Ireland.  Lock up after I leave and be sure to get some rest tomorrow.  Saturday's going to be a big day," he said, giving her fingers a squeeze before trotting down the steps.

As soon as she heard the door close, Landi rushed down and bolted the entrance to her apartment.  Then, she ran up the stairs and to the window that looked onto the street.  She watched as James started his car and drove off. 

As tired as she was, Ireland had a difficult time falling asleep.  She felt a strong attraction to James and couldn't believe the care he'd taken with her.  After Saturday, she'd probably never see him again.  The thought troubled her.

Jim drove the hour to Palmdale and collapsed in his old bed at his father's house.  Thoughts of the sleeping girl on the Sinclair's patio kept him awake until dawn.

Chapter 4
-A Wedding to Remember-

Jim slept till noon when a call from Katrina hauled him from his bed.  She wanted to know if Ireland made it home all right.  She'd given her assistant the afternoon off and wouldn't see her until the wedding.

"Yes, I even followed her to her apartment to make sure she got in okay," he answered, barely awake.

"Did you try to kiss her good night?"

"Honestly, Kate, what kind of brother do you think I am?  No, I did not kiss your assistant."

"All right.  I had to ask.  Be on time tomorrow, okay?  Now put Dad back on the phone."

His sister was getting down right bossy.  By the looks his father made while giving monosyllabic answers to Kate, James assumed they were discussing him.  He shook his head and went back to bed.

Ireland spent the day in a fog.  She wasn't used to so little sleep.  After her morning classes, she returned home and prepared for the following day.  She set out all she would need for the wedding, ensuring nothing would be forgotten.  The idea of the upcoming nuptials made her nervous.  She'd never been in a wedding or even attended one.  She put some food in the alley for the stray cat she'd befriended and went to bed early.

By Saturday morning, she'd convinced herself of the foolishness of any attachment to James Crimshaw.  She believed him when he said he was no longer a playboy, but she sensed more to his story than he let on.  Besides, someone like him would never be truly interested in her.  She convinced herself he was just being nice to his sister's employee.  She'd probably never see him again after the wedding.

At twelve thirty, she packed up her car with her bridesmaid dress, shoes, belt, and other sundry items.  A makeup artist and hairdresser would help the girls get ready at the church.  She looked forward to the pampering, which seemed an incredible luxury to a girl who grew up in a trailer in Cadiz. 

  "Whoa, what have we here?" the hairdresser said upon taking a look at Ireland.  "These natural curls?" she asked.

Landi blushed a deep crimson.  Teased for her unruly carrot top as a child, she'd learned that letting her hair grow long, combined with lots of conditioner, eased the frizzy texture of her locks into soft ringlets.  

The hairdresser noticed the girl's embarrassment and quickly added, "I know women who would kill for your hair.  It's hard to reproduce this color, and you have so much body—what a blessing!"

Ireland's skin tone faded to pink.

"It's a bit much to handle when it rains," she said, eyes downcast.

"I can imagine.  If you ever want to straighten it, a Brazilian blow out is the way to go.  I'd be happy to give you a complimentary treatment if you'd let me take pictures to show my clients."

"Really?" she asked, incredulous.

"Of course.  You're so pretty, you'd make a great model.  It takes several hours, so you'd need to make an appointment in advance, of course.  Here, tuck my card away in your things and call me if you ever feel adventurous," the beautician said with a wink.

"Thank you," she replied, still stunned at the offer.

After piling her hair in an updo to match the other bridesmaids and leaving plenty of ringlets to frame Landi's angelic face, the beautician passed the girl off to the makeup artist.  Ireland caught a glimpse of Kiki, who'd already been through the process.

"Can you make me look like her?" she whispered, gesturing with a head nod towards the maid of honor.

"Your coloring is all wrong.  Don't worry. I'll fix you up," the expert replied.

The woman's words did nothing to reassure her.  She took another sidelong glance at her boss's best friend.  Kiki looked so beautiful, exotic, and glamorous.  Katrina had mentioned that her brother once dated the Hawaiian.

So, that's his type.

Ireland felt like crying, even though she'd convinced herself there was no point in hoping something would come of her friendship with James.  He dated natural beauties, while she needed to be
fixed
.  A flood of negative feelings promised to overwhelm her as she glimpsed her surroundings and the other bridesmaids.  She felt inferior in every way.  Struggling with insecurities a lifetime in the making, Landi determined to make the best of the day.  She owed Katrina that much.

Someone helped her into her gown as she fought to maintain control of her emotions.  She slipped on her bejeweled shoes and fled the makeshift dressing room for a bench in a deserted reception area.  She played with the bobbinet fabric of her formal garb, trying to catch her breath.  Its light hue, a mix of blue, grey, and purple, reminded her of the surf.  Her costume, and that's what it seemed, fit like a glove.    Rouched and crisscrossed from the sweetheart neckline to just below her bum, the material clung like a second skin.  A fancy rhinestone and seed pearl belt cinched her tiny waist, while the lower portion of the garment fanned out in the mermaid style.  Cool oxygen from an air conditioning vent sent a chill across her bare back.  The gown dipped low to just above the waist in the rear, where the sash's bow completed the feminine look.

"Here, have something to keep your strength up."

Ireland peered behind her long, wet lashes at a small plate of fruit and cheese.  Kiki sat down next to the girl, all smiles, and encouraged her to eat. 

"Have you ever been in a wedding before, Ireland?"

"No, I haven't, and I'm a bit nervous," she replied, feeling somewhat ashamed of her lack of experience.

"Don't worry," Kiki said, giving the girl's hand a squeeze.  "I've been in at least a dozen since high school, and they usually run like clockwork.  If you forget anything from the rehearsal, there's always someone nearby to give you a shove!" she joked.

Landi giggled, releasing some of the tension she felt.

"Wow, you've got a lot of experience with these things, then," the girl stated.

"Yes, but they are usually more informal in Hawaii.  We do a lot of outdoor weddings there. The guys wear Hawaiian shirts and the girls short dresses.  The bride and groom each don a large lei, usually made of big, green leaves.  A minister conducts a short service, and
boom
, it's all over."

"That sounds very nice, actually."

"Well, there's something to be said for dressing up too.  Landi, I've been meaning to tell you how lovely you look in that gown."

A look of amazement passed over the young girl's face.  She couldn't believe that the gorgeous Kiki thought
she
looked attractive.

"Thank you," she managed to mutter.

To her astonishment, Katrina's maid of honor went on to ask for her phone number and said she'd like to get together sometime after the wedding. 

"Really?  That would be great, Kiki," she said, unable to contain her excitement.  She desperately wanted to make friends with people here in Los Angeles.

Ireland began to relax and feel better, most of the negative thoughts she'd experienced moments before banished by Kiki's enthusiasm about her appearance and desire to meet up in the future.  The girls continued the friendly chit-chat until the wedding coordinator fetched them.

"It's go time!" Kiki said with a twinkle.  She squeezed Landi's hand again and led her off to meet the others.

The bridesmaids regrouped in the church foyer, where Ireland got her first good look at the bride.  Katrina appeared as if she'd just walked out of a fairy tale, while pride and love shone from Donald Crimshaw's face.  She wondered what having that kind of dad would be like.  He must have noticed her stare, because he shot Landi a dazzling smile and then a wink.  In that moment, she could tell where James got his handsome appearance and charm.  She couldn't help beaming at the bride and her father.

Someone swung the doors to the sanctuary open, and the wedding coordinator gave Ireland a shove towards the chapel.  Kiki had been correct about getting pushed into action.  Trembling slightly, she took her first steps past the other bridesmaids and into the church.  She was certain she heard a gasp from the guests.

Is something wrong with my dress?  Is it my face, or my hair?

Panic engulfed the girl as she flushed pink with embarrassment.  The aisle had been lined with a red runner.  She told herself she just had to get to the end of that carpeting and forced her chin up to face the crowd.  All her life, she'd tried to blend into the background and avoid being teased or picked on.  Having two hundred people drilling her with their eyes made her more than uncomfortable.  Ireland paused.  She clutched her beautiful pink and cream bouquet so tightly, her fingers cramped in position.  Looking down, she noticed that the florist had inserted pear shaped pearls into the arrangement.  She felt a strong urge to bolt as a familiar fear began to take hold of her insides.  Then, her eyes locked on James.

He looked nervous too.  A strange expression spread across his face that she could not interpret as he fixed his gaze on her.  She could tell
he
was not horrified by her appearance.  He began to rock slightly forward and nod in her direction, as if encouraging her down the aisle.  She resumed her progress toward the altar.  Something about his befuddled appearance calmed her.  If even the sophisticated James felt discomfited, then her own emotions weren't abnormal.  She kept her eyes trained on him and eventually produced a smile, which he returned.  Before she knew it, she'd reached her position.   Jim continued to rock back and forth, and she spotted large beads of sweat forming on his forehead which reflected the overhead spotlights.  She hoped he wouldn't faint.  Once, someone had described to her the dangers of groomsmen locking their knees, whatever that meant.

In a few moments, the rambunctious Sue joined her, then Linda, the groom's cousin, and finally, Kiki.  All the girls looked gorgeous.  Landi allowed her eyes to scan the groom and his party.  They were all handsome.  She didn't care if she was the ugly duckling of the group.  She'd made a new friend today, and that cheered her spirits.

Finally, the wedding march began, and Katrina and Donald appeared.  Another gasp arose from the congregation.  Her boss looked so beautiful that she understood the crowd's reaction, but she never considered that her own appearance might have produced the same response a few minutes earlier.  Landi caught a quick glimpse of the groom's reaction to his bride.  Robert's face reflected pure love, awe, and ardor, all at once.  She shifted her gaze back to James.  He beamed pride.  His forehead no longer shone with sweat beads, to her relief, although he still swayed slightly.

Mr. Crimshaw handed his daughter over to Robert LaSalla, and the minister delivered a short sermon on the Biblical definition of love as found in I Corinthians, chapter thirteen.  Ireland knew the chapter by heart.  Her thoughts briefly returned to the beat up van that collected her once a week for Sunday school and church.  Her foster parents couldn't be bothered, but they made sure she stood at the window at eight a.m., sharp, waiting for the church bus to take her to the closest house of worship.  Two old ladies and a single mother with two toddlers joined her on a regular basis.  Occasionally, the stray teenager would come along as well.  The passengers were kind people, and she enjoyed her time with them each week.  Later, in high school, the van broke down, and the small congregation couldn't afford the repairs.  Her days of attending church were over.

"Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?"  The minister's question brought Landi's thoughts back to the ceremony.

Donald stood.

"I do," he said.

The officiant had Katrina and Robert recite traditional vows and pronounced them man and wife.

"May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Robert LaSalla," he said, then added, "you may now kiss your bride."

The couple briefly looked towards their guests before the groom took Katrina's face in his hands and delivered what became a passionate kiss.  Landi felt a blush rise to her cheeks as a cheer rose from the congregation.  Robert still held Kate in an ardent embrace when she caught James staring at her.  She averted her eyes, but his intense look made her knees weak.

Finally, the happy couple came up for air.  The organist cut loose with an upbeat classical tune as the bride and groom headed up the aisle.  The wedding party filed after them, and when Ireland met James, he laced his arm through hers, sending a tingling sensation through her body.  Outside the church, they followed the photographer to a courtyard, where they posed for more pictures.

One shot required Jim to stand behind her, his hands firmly around her waist.   She could feel his rock hard abdomen, and his chest muscles rippled against her back before going taut.

He must work out a lot.

Then, the photographer instructed them to lean in opposite directions, turn their heads toward one another, and smile.  Landi felt James's powerful legs against her backside while he still held tight to her midsection.  She tried to control the blush she knew climbed up her neck—and her breathing.  She felt like her chest was no longer large enough to contain her pounding heart.  At last, everyone withdrew to the sanctuary for large group photos.

Wedding party shots completed, they retired to the vintage cars Robert had arranged to transport them to the reception while the bride and groom took more photographs.  Ireland and James climbed into a cream Rolls Royce with Kiki and Douglas, the groom's cousin.  Unlike any old car she'd ever seen, Katrina's assistant took in the details of the auto's interior as the others discussed how happy the newlyweds looked and how the touching ceremony came off without a hitch.