herself, he’d nobly acted as if she hadn’t fallen apart,
as if she hadn’t blubbered and leaned on him and all in all behaved
like the one thing she never wanted to be: a helpless female. When
he’d suggested that she return for lunch today, she was afraid he
would remind her of the fool she’d made of herself, but he
hadn’t.
Still, it troubled her to think he had seen
her at her weakest. What if all his promises held only until they
were legally a couple, and then he took advantage of her—not
financially or even sexually, but emotionally. He knew how
frightened she was, and how much she hated to be frightened. He
knew what a strain she was under.
Yet she had to trust him. She’d run out of
options.
She shoved away from the bed, crossed to the
door and stepped outside. The night sky was dark, laced with pale
clouds. A tropical breeze floated across the parking lot, thick
with the perfume of the ocean.
Three days. Three days until she would be
Jonas Brenner’s wife. Three days to erase all her notions of white
weddings, of the grand organ at the Presbyterian church her family
had belonged to since before she was born, of the chapel’s long
center aisle covered with a white satin runner, her father proudly
bearing her down that aisle to deliver her to the man of her
dreams—someone tall, dark and handsome, with a wall full of framed
diplomas and a notable absence of jewelry on his ears. Three days
to replace her fantasies of a reception dinner at her parents’
country club with the reality that awaited her: a grunge-fest at
the Shipwreck.
Three days to come to her senses.
At this point, though, she wasn’t sure
whether coming to her senses meant going through with the marriage
or climbing into her car and hitting the road, searching for a new
hiding place, a refuge, a haven not only from Mick Morrow but from
Jonas Brenner and all the trouble he might well turn out to be.
Chapter Five
“ LET’S SEE, NOW: you’ve got
something old—” Kitty gestured toward the gold locket strung on a
chain around Pamela’s neck “—and something new—” she tapped the
white satin headband around which Pamela’s pale blond hair was
arranged. Two more dabs with a cosmetics brush in the vicinity of
Pamela’s eyes, and then Kitty hauled Pamela off the toilet seat and
guided her to the mirror above the sink, so Pamela could see for
herself the lush blue eye shadow Kitty had applied. “Something
borrowed and something blue,” she said, snapping shut the cake of
shadow and beaming proudly at her handiwork.
Pamela stared at the borrowed blue make-up,
wondering whether two of the traditional bridal requirements could
be met with a single item. Not that such details mattered. This
wedding was a farce. Kitty knew it as well as Pamela did.
“ I should have bought a new
dress,” she grumbled, scrutinizing the sleeveless white shift that
emphasized the ruler-straight lines of her physique. “This thing
looks like an oversize undershirt.”
“ It looks wonderful,” Kitty
assured her, preening beside her in a strapless flowered sun dress.
“Anyway, it’s white. How do I look?”
“ Spectacular,” Pamela said,
meaning it. Kitty’s cleavage bisected her sun-bronzed upper chest.
The flare of her dress emphasized her narrow waist. Her bright
blond hair glowed. Pamela wondered whether anyone would even notice
the bride standing in the shadow of her bridesmaid’s
resplendence.
“ I’m so excited,” Kitty
squealed. “I’ve been married four times, but I’ve never been a maid
of honor. Ever hear the expression, ‘Never a bridesmaid, always a
bride’?” When Pamela didn’t smile, Kitty slid her arm around
Pamela’s narrow shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Trust
me, Pamela—this is going to be the party of the summer. A major
blast. You’re going to have a great time.”
Pamela had never thought of weddings in terms
of blasts, major or otherwise. She’d certainly
as if she hadn’t blubbered and leaned on him and all in all behaved
like the one thing she never wanted to be: a helpless female. When
he’d suggested that she return for lunch today, she was afraid he
would remind her of the fool she’d made of herself, but he
hadn’t.
Still, it troubled her to think he had seen
her at her weakest. What if all his promises held only until they
were legally a couple, and then he took advantage of her—not
financially or even sexually, but emotionally. He knew how
frightened she was, and how much she hated to be frightened. He
knew what a strain she was under.
Yet she had to trust him. She’d run out of
options.
She shoved away from the bed, crossed to the
door and stepped outside. The night sky was dark, laced with pale
clouds. A tropical breeze floated across the parking lot, thick
with the perfume of the ocean.
Three days. Three days until she would be
Jonas Brenner’s wife. Three days to erase all her notions of white
weddings, of the grand organ at the Presbyterian church her family
had belonged to since before she was born, of the chapel’s long
center aisle covered with a white satin runner, her father proudly
bearing her down that aisle to deliver her to the man of her
dreams—someone tall, dark and handsome, with a wall full of framed
diplomas and a notable absence of jewelry on his ears. Three days
to replace her fantasies of a reception dinner at her parents’
country club with the reality that awaited her: a grunge-fest at
the Shipwreck.
Three days to come to her senses.
At this point, though, she wasn’t sure
whether coming to her senses meant going through with the marriage
or climbing into her car and hitting the road, searching for a new
hiding place, a refuge, a haven not only from Mick Morrow but from
Jonas Brenner and all the trouble he might well turn out to be.
Chapter Five
“ LET’S SEE, NOW: you’ve got
something old—” Kitty gestured toward the gold locket strung on a
chain around Pamela’s neck “—and something new—” she tapped the
white satin headband around which Pamela’s pale blond hair was
arranged. Two more dabs with a cosmetics brush in the vicinity of
Pamela’s eyes, and then Kitty hauled Pamela off the toilet seat and
guided her to the mirror above the sink, so Pamela could see for
herself the lush blue eye shadow Kitty had applied. “Something
borrowed and something blue,” she said, snapping shut the cake of
shadow and beaming proudly at her handiwork.
Pamela stared at the borrowed blue make-up,
wondering whether two of the traditional bridal requirements could
be met with a single item. Not that such details mattered. This
wedding was a farce. Kitty knew it as well as Pamela did.
“ I should have bought a new
dress,” she grumbled, scrutinizing the sleeveless white shift that
emphasized the ruler-straight lines of her physique. “This thing
looks like an oversize undershirt.”
“ It looks wonderful,” Kitty
assured her, preening beside her in a strapless flowered sun dress.
“Anyway, it’s white. How do I look?”
“ Spectacular,” Pamela said,
meaning it. Kitty’s cleavage bisected her sun-bronzed upper chest.
The flare of her dress emphasized her narrow waist. Her bright
blond hair glowed. Pamela wondered whether anyone would even notice
the bride standing in the shadow of her bridesmaid’s
resplendence.
“ I’m so excited,” Kitty
squealed. “I’ve been married four times, but I’ve never been a maid
of honor. Ever hear the expression, ‘Never a bridesmaid, always a
bride’?” When Pamela didn’t smile, Kitty slid her arm around
Pamela’s narrow shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Trust
me, Pamela—this is going to be the party of the summer. A major
blast. You’re going to have a great time.”
Pamela had never thought of weddings in terms
of blasts, major or otherwise. She’d certainly
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