Newlywed Games (20 page)

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Authors: Mary Davis

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Religious, #Contemporary, #Fiction

BOOK: Newlywed Games
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“I think you’re ready for the next step,” he said with a chuckle. “Pardon the pun.”

“What?” She stiffened. Something different? Panic rippled through her. She’d been doing so well. Why did he want to risk his feet?

“Relax,” he said. “Just
follow
where I lead you.” He turned her with a press of his hand and the slight lift of his shoulder. Around they swirled on the floor.

This leading thing really worked. It was almost easier than dancing the tight little box. When her eyes flickered to his in surprise, he smiled and her breath caught, held captive by his gaze. He looked as if he might kiss her. She leaned toward him expectantly…and stepped squarely on his foot.
He was leading, not leaning, stupid!

“I’m sorry. I forgot where my feet were supposed to go.” A nervous giggle escaped. “I guess I wasn’t paying very good attention. I got a little…”

“Distracted?” he finished for her.

A pleased smile captured his mouth, and she had the distinct sense that he knew—and was pleased—that he’d been the cause of her wayward thoughts. Or was he laughing at her? No. She wouldn’t think that of him.

“Shall we finish this dance?” He continued to masterfully lead her around the floor.

“It’s a good thing I danced with Brock first.” She tried to make light conversation.

“Pardon?”

She almost stepped wrong at the dark look on his face. “I—I got most of my toe stepping-on out of the way.” She forced her tone to be light, hoping it would remove the frown from his handsome features.

It worked. His face relaxed again and he smiled at her. “You aren’t a bad dancer. You catch on quickly.”

“It’s because you are good at this. I can really tell which way you are going to go.” That did it. The frown gave way to an amused smile. “I always thought that leading was a figment of the man’s—of someone’s imagination.”

The music came to an end, and they headed back to the table where hopefully their food would arrive soon.

Bruce’s hand rested lightly at the small of her back. Meghann kept her pace slow so as not to lose him as they wound their way back to the table.

“I’m sorry about getting your family involved in my mess,” Meghann said.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. It makes my mother just as happy as it does yours.”

“I was going to tell your brother the truth, but I was too busy stepping on his feet.”

Bruce took her by the elbow and brought them to a sudden stop. “Don’t. You can’t tell them. Any of them.”

“But this is my lie. They deserve the truth. I feel awful lying to them.”

“Listen. My family…well…they just wouldn’t understand. I need time to figure out how to explain this to them. My father has been out to prove
Christianity is a farce for as long as I can remember. When my youngest brother, Brice, and then I, accepted Christ…well, he was far from pleased. Our father sees no need for a god of any kind. He views all Christians as hypocritical religious fanatics. This would just prove his point.” He shook his head slightly. “I know this sounds manipulative, but I need time to think this through, to know how best to tell them what this is all about. And why.”

“I just thought telling Brock might help—”

“The last thing Brock will do is help matters. Trust me, it’s better he doesn’t know anything for now.” The bitterness in his voice when he spoke of his brother gave Meghann pause. What had happened to cause a breech between these two?

And how on earth had she landed smack in the middle of it?

By one little lie, Meg. That’s how.

Touché. She’d gotten herself into this mess. And she’d gotten Bruce into it. The least she could do was respect his wishes where his family was concerned.

“They won’t stay long, only a day or two. I’ll call them and explain everything after your mom is gone.”

“Speaking of mothers, I think your mom wants us back at the table.” She nodded toward where his mother was watching them intently, brows raised.

“Are you going to say anything to them?” he asked as he fell into step beside her.

No doubt about it, Bruce was walking a tightrope where his family was concerned, and it was all her fault. Her lie had become his lie and a stumbling block to his
family. She hated to promise more lies, but she felt she had little choice. “I won’t say anything.”

Bruce seated her as their salads were being served.

“For a wedding gift I’m calling Christopher. He’ll completely redo the apartment,” Olivia Halloway said enthusiastically to Meghann. “Whatever you want.”

“Redo?”

“Yes. Christopher is the decorator I hired to decorate the apartment when Bruce first moved in. Who knows what it would have looked like without him. But I’m afraid it is terribly masculine. Fine for a bachelor but not at all suited for a young couple.”

So that was why everything matched so beautifully. “But everything looks so new,” Meghann protested.

“No matter. Tell Christopher what you want. I’ll have him send the bill to Ivan.”

This was getting worse by the minute. Meg couldn’t let Bruce’s mother—or his father—spend money on a decorator when there was no real reason for it.

“They aren’t staying at the apartment for much longer. They found a wonderful house.” Meg’s mother broke in, and to Meg’s horror she went on to explain about their two places.

“Well then, we’ll just have Christopher do the
new
place.” Olivia looked positively delighted. “It will be all ready for you when you move in.”

“No!”

“Meghann!”

Clearly her mother was aghast at Meghann’s curt refusal, but Olivia laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm.

“That’s all right, if Meghann doesn’t want
Christopher, we’ll find a decorator she feels comfortable with.”

“No, no, no. There isn’t going to be any decorator or house or anything because—” The five stunned faces halted her. She clamped her mouth shut, realizing this was not the time or place to clear her conscience, but the truth screamed in her head all the same:
Because we aren’t really married!

Her words hung there in the silence, and Meghann looked at Bruce.
Do something!

But for once his mind-reading abilities seemed to be on the fritz. He just sat there, watching her, looking as stunned as the others.

Oh, bother!
She pushed away from the table, falling back on the only saving grace she could think of.

All out retreat.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing, keeping her back straight.

The three men scrambled to their feet as well, and she cleared her throat. “I…I need.” She threw her hands up. “Oh, forget it.”

With that, she marched away, leaving her so-called husband and his family standing there, staring after her, mouths agape.

Fifteen
 

 

M
EGHANN ENTERED THE LAVISH RESTROOM, DESPERATELY
longing for some peace and quiet. Like the rest of the restaurant, no expense was spared. An ornate vanity with plush stools graced the lounge that was separated from the stalls and sink. There were several women in the lounge chatting among themselves, but no one to make demands of her.

She moved to a sink, filling it with cool water. Dipping her hands in, she splashed her face gently, hoping to refresh her mind if not her spirit. Dabbing her face dry, she noticed the lounge had cleared out save one woman seated at the vanity. Meghann leaned toward the mirror to fix her lipstick and was on her way out when the woman spoke.

“That’s a drab little dress. Is it off the rack?”

Meghann turned to the woman at the mirror, a beautiful blond with striking facial features and an iridescent red dress. What little there was of the dress was clearly expensive. The woman’s eyes were a translucent sky blue and as cold as an arctic winter.

Meghann glanced around. There was no one else there, so the woman had to be talking to her. Meg studied her face again and frowned. She seemed vaguely familiar, but Meghann couldn’t quite place her. Not her face, anyway. But her manners, well, there was only one person she’d ever met who was that rude and condescending.

“I see your taste in jewelry hasn’t improved,” the woman sneered.

Charmaine Altman.

Meghann fingered her black beaded choker.

“Don’t think dressing up can change the fact that you are the hired help. Mummy and Daddy will see right through you. They’ll put an end to this little tryst.”

Mummy and Daddy? Good grief, the woman made it sound as though she were intimately acquainted with Bruce’s family.

Maybe she is.

No. Meg didn’t believe it. She lifted her chin a fraction. “Tryst? I don’t think so.” Charmaine Altman might be gorgeous, but her ill-mannered behavior marked her for what she was: common.

Unfortunately, the woman’s sarcasm was anything but common. She all but raised insults to an art form. “When I say tryst, I
mean
tryst. Your engagement has never been announced, and no one who is anyone at all has heard about you or this illusion of a marriage. You, love, are a well-guarded secret. I daresay that will be easier that way when he turns you loose.”

Meghann clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Turn her loose indeed! She flung her left hand toward
the contemptuous woman. “Does
this
look like a tryst?”

Take that!
Meg thought with satisfaction.

Charmaine glanced in the mirror at the ring and laughed haughtily. “That? You think that little trinket means anything? The one he offered me was considerably more substantial. That practically isn’t there. He obviously doesn’t think much of you.”

Meghann’s anger boiled. “This is a wedding ring.” She smiled sweetly. “Not a payoff.”

Charmaine’s eyes flickered at that.
Score a point for me,
Meg thought, but her pleasure was short lived.

The other woman shrugged elegantly. “Well, I admit I’m surprised he actually married you. He’s carried this game a bit further than usual.” She offered Meg a sympathetic smile. “But that is of little importance to me. He may be enamored with you for the moment, but he won’t stay faithful to you. You’re not his type.”

“And
you
are?” Meg almost choked on the thought. Not in a million years. No, a
trillion
years.

Charmaine turned gracefully on the stool and bore her icy gaze at Meghann. “Oh, absolutely. Bruce and I are cut from the same cloth. We’ll be together again before you know it.” A slow smile pulled at her mouth. “And I do mean
together,
in every sense of the word.”

Meghann stared at the woman. What was she saying? Surely she didn’t mean…A smug smile slid across the blond’s face.

“Oh, did your husband forget to mention the fact that we used to be lovers?” Mocking laughter twinkled in her eyes. She was obviously delighted to be the one to share this bit of information with Meghann.

It’s not true. It can’t be.

“Oh, my dear, dear child—” Charmaine touched her slender, manicured fingertips to her chest, where her ample cleavage showed—“you should see yourself. Your expression is absolutely precious. A mixture of shock and embarrassment with…what?…a hint of innocence. How unutterably quaint. No wonder Bruce is taken with you. You’re simply too sweet for words.”

Her mocking tone and chuckle rankled Meghann.

“But like anything sweet, you’ll lose your appeal before long. I daresay I broke poor Bruce’s heart when I left him. He begged me to come back. He’s merely using you to teach me a lesson. It’s like a game with him. He’s gone overboard with it, but I have learned my lesson. And when we get back together—and we will—I will keep a short leash on him.”

This couldn’t be happening.…

“Don’t shake your head at me, girl. Bruce said he couldn’t wait for us to be together again.” Charmaine turned back to the mirror and touched a slim hand to her hair. She looked at Meghann in the mirror. “Do you really think he’s at the hotel all the time…alone?”

Against Meg’s will, the mental picture of Bruce and Charmaine together formed in her head. The perfect match of tall, dark, and handsome with a blond beauty. The haunting image lodged in her brain. The restroom suddenly felt stuffy and confining.

Meg backed away, but in her rush to escape Charmaine, she nearly ran into a woman entering the restroom. After apologizing, she rushed out the front door of the restaurant.

She couldn’t go back to the table. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But she at least needed a few minutes to compose herself, to clear her head. Hopefully fresh air would accomplish that.

“What did you expect?” she whispered to herself. “Nothing good ever comes from a lie.” The young valet attendant looked at her expectantly. She shook her head and turned away from him.

Although the day had been pleasantly warm, the temperature had dropped considerably since sunset. She wrapped her arms around herself to no avail. It was as though the cold came from within as well as without. She drew in a couple of calming breaths. It would have to be enough. She turned to go back inside and nearly bumped into Bruce.

He steadied her, his hands on her upper arms. “What are you doing out here? It’s too cold.” He slipped out of his dinner jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. His warmth, his fragrance, enveloped her.

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