Here Comes the Groom (14 page)

Meredith began twisting her wedding ring. “The thing is,” she began, then stopped as her mother bopped toward them.

“Get ready for some action, girls. The stripper's finally arrived.”

Looking to where Pat was pointing, Jo saw Delwyn approaching a muscle-bound hunk standing at the door. “This is going to be interesting.”

The new arrival stepped into the light and Pat stifled a tipsy giggle. “Oh, how funny!”

Meredith gulped. “Ross,” she said faintly.

Delwyn cupped a hand to her mouth and yelled a question above the music. Ross inclined his head and listened politely. One corner of his mouth twitched, but otherwise nothing about the Iceman's demeanor suggested he was being asked if he got naked for a living.

He might have the body for it but to Jo everything about Ross Coltrane screamed soldier, from his bearing
and close-cropped dark hair to the uncompromising line of his jaw. He lifted his gaze and met hers. Even his eyes were battleship gray.

Of all the men in Dan's SAS family, Ross was the one Jo liked least.

“I've never understood the appeal of the strong silent type,” she confessed when Dan first asked what she thought of his troop mate. He'd killed himself laughing.

“That's because you're so alike. Both smart, pig-headed, loyal and laws unto yourselves.” Jo hadn't appreciated that.

But now, seeing the gaunt cheekbones and heavy limp as Ross started toward her, she swallowed a lump in her throat. He'd hate pity as much as she did, so she forced herself to keep her welcoming hug casual. “Just in time to buy the next round, Coltrane.”

“Is that before or after I take my clothes off?”

“I thought you guys were trained to multi-task?”

The music stopped as the DJ took a break. Ross's grin faded as he caught sight of Meredith. Ignoring her, he turned to greet Pat, who was tugging on his arm with tipsy dismay. “Oh, Ross, my poor boy, sit down. You look terr—”

“Mom,” Dan cut in harshly as he joined them, and Pat recollected herself. Swaying slightly, she patted her hair, as though aware of her dishevelment.

“Ignore me, Ross,” she said with dignity. “I'm a little drunk.” She saw her son's disapproval and giggled. “Oh, lighten up,” she said. “We've having such fun. We've been dancing and drinking…what was it again, sweetie?”

Delwyn moved closer to Ross. “A Sloe Comfortable Screw,” she told him. “Against the Wall, with a Kiss. That's with Galliano and Amaretto.”

Dan half groaned, half laughed. “No wonder you're all tanked.” He sat beside Jo and dropped a kiss on her mouth. His lips were cold from being outside. In the overheated fug of the bar, he smelled of fresh air and cypress. He was breaking her heart. “It's encouraging to see you're still sober.”

“I'm trying to take a more mature approach to my troubles these days.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Three drunken and unhappy women frowned at her.

“C'mon, Pat.” Delwyn tucked her arm through her new best friend's. “Les' go ask the DJ if he'll play ‘Girls Jus' Wanna Have Fun' again.”

Ross sat down next to his sister-in-law. “Don't you want to join them?” He tweaked the parasol behind her ear.

Blushing, Meredith yanked it out. “Delwyn put it there.”

Jo frowned at Ross. “Merry's been a really good sport about this.”

“I'll bet.”

D
AN LOOKED BETWEEN
his sister and his friend. “Am I missing something?” Normally they got on like a house on fire.

Merry folded her arms. “Have I told you, Danny, how much I appreciate you staying out of my marriage?”

Ross narrowed his eyes. “If that's a dig at me for taking my brother—”

“Taking him in is fine.” Merry turned on him. “It's the advice I object to!”

He snorted. “The facts pretty much speak for themselves, so don't play pious—”

Reaching across the table, Dan laid a hand on his friend's forearm. “Why don't you go get the beers?”

Without another word, Ross stood and limped toward the bar.

Dan looked at his sister. “What the hell was that about?”

She deflated like a balloon. “Call me a cab.”

“When I've got answers.”

Knowing it wouldn't work on him, Merry looked plaintively at Jo.

His lover folded. “I'm on it.” She nudged him to let her out of the booth. “Be gentle,” she murmured as she passed. Tonight she wore a navy jersey dress that flowed over every curve and as Dan watched her walk away he
noticed he wasn't the only male appreciating that.
Sorry,

guys, she's taken.

Jo didn't know yet that Ross was Dan's best man. Like she didn't know that the first of their wedding guests were arriving tonight. Of course, he'd expected to have his reluctant bride on side by now. He should have guessed she'd be stubborn about this.

Dan returned his attention to his little sister, wishing her twin were here to sort her out. But Viv was in New York designing costumes for a Broadway show that opened next week.

“Talk to me,” he said more quietly, following Jo's advice. “What
don't
I know about this breakup?”

Tears brimmed in her big brown eyes. “Please, Danny, I can't cope with a postmortem right now.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly and handed her a cocktail napkin. “But whatever it is, I'm on your side.”

Merry dabbed her eyes. “Even though one of your best mates is on the other?”

That could be a problem, but it wasn't hers. “Ross and I will work it out.”

Jo waved from the door.

“Taxi's here, go get your coat. I'll make sure Mom gets home safely.”

Tortured singing drew their attention to the dance floor. Arms around each other, Pat and Delwyn were singing at the top of their voices. “…take from me… Herman an' Wayne can't trample on our digg-ni-ty.”

“Oh, God.”

“I'll send Dad back,” Merry promised. Herman was babysitting his grandkids.

“Maybe seeing her like this will shock some sense into him.”

“I hope so.” Merry gave him a hug before she left. “You've got enough on your plate talking Jo into the wedding. I won't let Ross rile me again.”

“I'll talk to him, don't worry.”

He waited until his sister joined Jo then strode to the bar where Ross had lined up two beers on the brushed steel surface. What concerned Dan most was that a year ago the Iceman would have kept his feelings to himself.

Ross had been so badly injured that medics hadn't thought he'd live, let alone walk. But like Jo, the guy didn't recognize limitations. His relentless reconditioning regime was driven by the burning ambition to get back on active service.

He'd always been the consummate soldier, totally professional, dispassionate, even clinical in his duties. Ross would never let something as paltry as emotion ride him. Now he seemed to slow-burn with a cold rage that worried his superiors. As yet, they didn't need to make a decision about active duty, but when they did…and if they consulted Dan…

He rubbed his temple, knowing he'd have to argue against his friend's redeployment. One ambush, two deaths and the course of so many people's lives changed.

Dan pulled up a stool. “Mind explaining why you're picking on my sister?”

“Charlie's really hurting over this.”

“And Merry's not?” His friend's mouth tightened. “Oh, c'mon, Ross, this is Saint Meredith we're talking
about. She's been running after your little brother since the day they met.”

“Hey, he's never asked her to.”

“Or stopped her, either.” Dan picked up his glass.

“At least he didn't kiss someone else.”

D
AN'S BEER WENT DOWN
the wrong way and Ross had to thump him on the back. “She hasn't told you, has she?”

“Not yet,” he wheezed, “and I don't want to hear it from you.”

“Don't trust my version?”

“Don't trust Charlie. I assume that's where you got it.”

“You calling my baby brother a liar?”

“You calling my baby sister unfaithful?”

There was a tight silence. Both men gulped some beer. “Only one way to deal with this, Shep.” Ross put down his chilled glass and wiped his palms against his jeans. Dan followed suit.

Ross thrust out a hand. “Never speak of this again.” They shook on it. Picked up their beers again. “And to think you called me a cynic,” Ross added, “when I turned your other sister down for a date.”

Sipping his beer, Dan recalled his friend's reasoning at the time. “Yeah, there are sparks with Viv,” Ross had admitted, “but I don't want our friendship caught in the crossfire when it turns to shit. It's bad enough that my brother is marrying into your family.”

“You were right,” Dan said. “I was wrong. I'll never question your judgment again.”

“What if I told you to back off this wedding?” Dan scowled. “Thought not,” said Ross mildly. “Explain to me again why you're trying to marry an unwilling woman?”

“She's not unwilling…” To hell with it, Dan badly needed an ally. “Jo had cancer…thinks she's doing me a favor by trying to protect me.”

Ross's expressionless gaze went to Jo, who was talking to Anton at the other end of the bar. He took another sip of his beer. “What time am I due at the suit rental place tomorrow?”

Dan relaxed. “Ten.”

“I can't believe Nate's not here.”

The mirror behind the row of liquor bottles showed two guys sharing a drink. It should have been five. Dan raised his glass. “To absent friends.”

“To absent friends.”

The ale found its way down his constricted throat. It didn't make sense that Nate had cut himself off from his surviving SAS brothers, but then neither did Dan's sense of dread.

He'd believed if he devoted himself to living a meaningful life that he'd conquer his feelings of hopelessness over Steve and Lee's deaths. Single-minded dedication had always worked in the SAS. You committed to a mission, and regardless of setbacks, you never wavered from your objective.

But his marriage mission had only intensified his dread, and Dan couldn't say why.

“I'm starting to think it's more than grief with Nate,” he said to Ross.

The other man frowned. “I wish I could remember what happened but I was out cold most of it.”

“Nate did everything right. More than right. There's no reason for him to feel it.” “Feel what?”

“Guilt.”

Ross whistled silently. “You really think that's what it is?”

Dan nodded.

“I guess you'd recognize the signs.”

He forced himself to return his friend's piercing gaze. “I'm over it,” he lied.

“Good. Because you don't want that bullshit tainting what you have with Jo. That would be a tragedy and we've had enough of that this past year.” Ross raised his glass again. “To everything there is a season,” he said softly and Dan recognized the scripture he'd quoted at Steve's funeral. “And this is your time to sow, farmboy.” His gaze shifted over Dan's shoulder. “And to dance.”

“What?”

Pat seized his arm. “Come boogie with your mother. That spoilsport bar manager canceled our stripper so we'll have to make our own fun.”

Dan looked down at her flushed face and that awful hair that made her look like a cougar. His mother was
not
someone he wanted on the prowl. “Why don't you sit down and rest?”

“Pooh!” she said. “I could dance all night. And I'm not accepting excuses… Well, Ross has an excuse but—”

“Fine,” Dan cut her off. “Let's get this over with.” If she didn't dance with him she might dance with
someone who actually fancied her. Where the hell was Herman?

Before he followed Pat he turned back to Ross. “And what season is it for you?”

“A time to heal.” But they both knew healing was only a means to an end. Ross was bent on reprisal.

Thank God nothing had happened between Ross and Viv, thought Dan as he walked to the dance floor. His friend was a time bomb waiting to explode and Dan didn't want either of his little sisters anywhere near the detonation zone.

 

R
OSS
C
OLTRANE DIDN'T LIKE
being a passenger, at least not when Jo was driving.

He gripped the handhold above the car door whenever she accelerated and shoved his good foot on an imaginary brake every time they reached an intersection.

Hiding a smile, she took a corner sharply enough to drag a squeal from the tires.

Ross's arrogant air of male superiority had always punched her girl-power buttons. It had become a perverse challenge…trying to wring a whimper out of the Iceman.

He slanted her a sidelong glance but didn't say a word. They'd always had this rivalry, ever since he'd first realized Dan's best friend Jo was a girl. He still couldn't fathom that. He was a man's man, with no real interest in women except between the sheets.

She went over a speed bump a little faster than she should and his head hit the ceiling.

From her supine position along the backseat, Delwyn said faintly, “You're making me feel sick.”

“Oh, hon, I'm sorry.” Contrite, Jo eased her foot off the accelerator. She'd almost forgotten she had a second passenger, she'd been so eager to seize the opportunity to speak to Ross away from Dan when she'd offered to drop him at the farm. Dan was left waiting for Herman. “How about some fresh air?” Pressing a switch on the driver's door, she opened the back window and a chill blast lanced through the car's interior.

Delwyn's disheveled head popped up in the rearview mirror. Propping herself against the passenger door she stuck her face out into the black night with a groan, her long hair flapping back like the ears of a cocker spaniel.

Ross swung around to assess her, then shrugged off his jacket and passed it over. “Put this on to keep warm.”

“I'm never drinking cocktails again,” she moaned. “I'm sticking to Asti Spumante or beer.”

“It's only another couple blocks,” Jo reassured them. She really didn't want Delwyn throwing up in her car.

Ross turned back to the front. “It would serve you right for trying to wind me up, Swannie.”

“Then quit acting like you're being driven by Miss Daisy.” Over her shoulder she called to Delwyn. “If you can't wait to throw up, hon, use Ross's jacket.”

His mouth twitched and his incongruous dimple appeared. “All ammo for the best man's wedding speech, Bridezilla.”

Ross had been roped into best man? “Lucky it's not going to happen, then,” she retorted. “You and I are having a serious talk.” Jo parked in Delwyn's driveway
and got out of the car. Ross did the same. “It's okay, I've got her,” she said.

Ignoring Jo, Ross opened Delwyn's door. She was leaning against it and toppled sideways with a tipsy giggle. “Oops!”

He caught her falling weight, instinctively bracing on his bad leg. A grimace of pain tightened his features. Diving forward, Jo propped Delwyn to a sitting position.

“Don't you ever listen to good advice?”

“I'm fine.” Under the motion-activated outdoor lights his face was ashen.

“Let me guess,” she said, exasperated. “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” It was a favorite saying of the Special Forces. And in Jo's view, an idiotic one.

“You've got a smart mouth on you, Swannie.”

“And you're a stubborn alpha-hole. Go wait in the car.”

Shaking his head, Ross bent to hook one of Delwyn's arms over his shoulder. “I'm not leaving you to carry her by yourself. Swing your feet to the ground, that's it, Delwyn… She must have a good stone on you.”

Delwyn's lolling head snapped upright; she fixed Ross with a stare of bleary indignation. “Escuse
me,
but I los' two and a quarter pounds on my wedding diet.”

“Well, I think you
look
at least five pounds lighter,” Jo soothed, slinging Delwyn's other arm around her neck. “Doesn't she, Ross?”

“I didn't see her before,” he said with annoying male truthfulness. “On the count of three. One…two…three!”

They hauled Delwyn upright and she hung between them like a sack of potatoes.

“C'mon, sweetie,” Jo encouraged. She'd forgotten that drunks were deadweights. “We need you to walk now.”

“Jus' wanna go to sleep.”

“Only a few steps, I promise…you don't want to wake your flatmate, do you?”

“Don' care,” said Delwyn. “Don' care 'bout anything now Wayne's dumped me.”

Inside she shrugged off Jo's arm and collapsed on Ross' chest. “You wanna have sex? That'll show Wayne.” She hitched up a shoulder strap and licked her lips to make them shiny. “I mean, you do think I'm hot, right?”

Jo prayed Ross heard the plaintiveness in her voice.

“I think you're gorgeous,” he said.

Delwyn beamed and flapped an arm in Jo's direction. “Go 'way.”

I don't think so.

“But the thing is, Delwyn,” Ross lifted her off his chest, “you've seen me limping, right?”

She rolled her head to look at his leg. “Uh-huh.”

“Well…the…accident also affected my ability to satisfy a woman. Otherwise I'd be all over you.”

Jo hid a smile.

“Really?” Delwyn clutched his shirt. “Really.”

“Can I tell Wayne that? I mean you being hot for me, not about—you know.”

“That depends. How big is Wayne?” Delwyn indicated a picture in a heart-shaped frame on the mantel.
Even the wrench in his hand couldn't make the lanky mechanic look menacing. “Sure,” Ross said generously. “You can tell him.”

Delwyn's flatmate came out from the bathroom, clutching a towel around her, then fluffed up her wet hair as she caught sight of Ross. “What's going on?” Delwyn burst into tears.

“I want Wayne,” she wailed.

Leaving her to her flatmate's ministrations, they made their escape. “You can be nice,” Jo said as they walked back to the car. “Who knew?”

“Yeah, like I told Dan…you and I are nothing alike.”

She laughed. “And the impotence thing was inspired.”

“I'm glad you found that amusing.” The flatness of his tone gave rise to a terrible suspicion. No, thought Jo, Dan would have told me.

Assuming Ross had confided in him.

Unsure what to think, she changed the subject. “Dan said you want to go back…to operations, I mean.”

Ross clipped his seat belt. “As soon as the scars heal.” Unconsciously, he massaged one fist and her skin prick-led. The Iceman was the last person she'd expect to see in the thrall of revenge.

Disturbed, Jo refastened her own seat belt and started the engine. She knew from her mastectomy that external healing was the easiest part of the recovery journey. It was the internal scars, the ones you refused to acknowledge, that held you back. And she sensed Ross hadn't even begun that process.

This week it had become increasingly apparent that neither had Dan.

When he'd first joined the SAS, Jo had been a little jealous of Dan's bond with his fellow soldiers until it hit her that these guys held his life in their hands every time they were deployed. The closer the bond, the better their odds.

Which was why the survivors were suffering so much now. Not only had they lost buddies closer than brothers, they'd failed to keep one another safe.

However ambivalent she might feel about Ross personally, Jo would never question his loyalty to Dan. In fact she was banking on it.

“I'm worried about him, Ross,” she said abruptly. “I think Dan holds himself culpable. But he wasn't with you on patrol and he couldn't have done anything if he was.” Taking her eyes off the road, she glanced his way. “Could he?”

He was silent a moment. They'd left suburbia and were on country roads. No streetlights to illuminate his profile. “Do you know why we called him Shep?”

“I assume because he's a farmboy.”

Ross shook his head. “It's short for the good shepherd. As our signaler, it was always Dan's job to get us in.” He eased his leg forward. “And get us out. He knows there's no reason to blame himself, he knows he would probably have been another casualty. I've told him that. But he doesn't feel it. And feelings don't disappear just because you apply logic.”

“Love isn't a cure-all,” said Jo, “but I think Dan expected it to be. His faith in my ability to heal him is touching but—”

“It's misplaced,” Ross supplied. “The only person who can forgive him for not being with us is himself.”

“You've got to help me talk him out of this wedding,” she said desperately. “He's not making rational decisions right now.”

“Are you?”

“You tell me since apparently we're so much alike,” she snapped.

Ross smiled. “I'll help you,” he said, and Jo unclenched her hands on the steering wheel.

“Thank you.”

“And in return…”

Jo took her foot off the accelerator.